On friendship.

This last weekend Hediyeh and Pete came from New York, and Lia Kim came from New Haven. It was nice simply to be with them, regardless of what we were doing. This was true even when we did very little--a walk here, a feast of grilled cheese and tomato soup there. Most of our time was spent talking, and also listening. Ofttimes the wind blew strongly in the background. Still, in those conversations I was reminded just how much I love being with people who have known me the length of time that these friends have. There is something so comforting in the depth and steadiness of relationships spanning years.

Then on Monday I basked in the glory of all that is Katie, and was deeply and irrevocably reminded of the beauty of new friendships--or newer friendships--and found myself amazed at the way nascent relationships may feel like they have spanned years. While previously camping in New Hampshire together, just minutes before falling asleep, Katie told me that friendship is "laughing and crying and thinking." I am convinced that she is right, and we have been all of those things for each other, and will continue to be so, thus providing the same sense of steadiness and depth. Thankfully Monday was a laughing day (and maybe a thinking day) where we could just make food and lay in my room on our respective computers for hours, warm and full and happy.

Tyson's band.

Today I learned Arson Car's afore pictured ep, Vestiges, is available on itunes. It was a nice discovery. Namely because its good, but also because the singer is important to me. Like a brother. I saw him every day of my life before moving to Boston, and he is one of the people I missed the very most after getting here. Now he is in England studying sort of the same thing I am studying, which is nice too, because his desire to go (as well as his previous desires) helped him understand my own dilemma of library school over law school perfectly. He also sent me this encouraging article a very long time ago. Thank you, T.H.

Critical Mass Boston.

This happened awhile ago. In fact, the last Friday of the last month ago. I don't even really remember quite what I wanted to say, except that it was lovely, and exhilarating, and I could not stop smiling. It also did so much to raise Boston in my estimation--something about seeing downtown in a more personal way, and basking in the camaraderie of fellow bikers. My friend went the previous month and told me that the people were the same as the people in Provo, with slightly different faces and different names. He was right. Or mostly right. Provo Critical Mass has more girls.

There were a plethora of skinny jeans and plaid shirts, bikes with bells, bikes with bubble machines, bikes hooked up to music players, etc., as well as an impressive biker who drummed the entire time. There were also cries of "Whose streets? Our streets," "Two wheels good, four wheels bad" (said to a motorcyclist), encouraging honks and cheers, not-so-encouraging honks and cheers, and questions from curious passerbys wondering what our bike ride was for (as if critical mass has to be for something). I liked one boy's answer: "For FUN!"

True. So true.

Goals.

Actually sleep.
Eat more real food than candy.

All Good Books.

A dear friend gave me this book list when I was 19. It has had greater influence on me and the way I see the world than any other single sheet of paper. It was by its recommendation that I mustered enough literary courage/stamina to tackle Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, and that I was first introduced to Saint-Exupery's Little Prince, as well as nearly every other book I have loved the most in my life. Thank you, Chris Wallace.

I will be grateful forever.

Speech.

When I was in middle and high school and could choose what I would speak on I always chose high jumping. Now that I am in grad school I choose existentialism, Russian literature, and children's books.

Yesterday was my bf, Meagan's birthday.

She helped to make this video. It is good.

Typophile Film Festival 5 Opening Titles from Brent Barson on Vimeo.

I love him even more for this.

“Of all the wonderful buildings that we have on this campus, none, I believe, is as important as the library. A library is the very heart and substance of a university. Without access of vast quantities of information, neither faculty nor student can do an accurate job. It is the foundation of research. It is the source of information, both old and new. It is a place for the ever-present challenge to dig for knowledge beyond that which is given in the classroom.” -Gordon B. Hinckley

Oh, and also, I miss him.

Today.

Today was a quiet, stay inside and listen to the rain, write in my journal and read young adult novels kind of day. It was also a lay in bed, watching conference in pajamas day--which are some of my favorite days.

Tonight Katie fed me, and gave me two things: a fairy wand that she made herself, and the soundtrack to Mary Poppins. So, so cute.

Our Autumnal Equinox.

Spring we jumped over flames while miss Klemm played a pan flute. Summer we danced along the esplanade with abandon, chanting our gratitude and longing for summer's sun and its silent promise of a return to warmth. Fall was more somber. Perhaps rightly so. Perhaps different seasons require different ceremonies. And so we found ourselves on summer's dock, sitting in a circle, enclosing a single pumpkin candle. Each person expressed gratitude for one thing: Katie for water cycles, Austin for the great poets, Julia for circles and their inclusiveness, Jared for his ears and the joy of sound, me for kindness and sincerity, others for still more. Next we shared poems, or scriptures, or drawings signifying what autumn means to us. There was a lot of talk about harvests and preparing for winter, but also about returning to the center of ourselves, and handling this transition with solace. Elizabeth made an interesting point that while winter and summer are steady--you look out the window and things look the same from day to day--fall and spring are somewhat transitory. And it is true. We stood at the water's edge with a pistachio in hand. Katie asked us to reflect on our last year, and those aspects we wished to preserve and internalize, as well as those aspects we wished to discard, before we placed the meat portion in our mouth and cast the shell aside. The symbolism was simple, but meaningful. There was still chanting, and even jumping over the solitary flame (just for good measure), but it was quieter, less complex. The chanting grew softer instead of louder, and our leap was not backed by flute.

I am still a little afraid of winter.

Saint-Exupery and his little prince.

(For Erin and Rachel.)

• Saint-Exupery was born in Lyon, France in 1900.
• Flying was his earliest ambition.
• He was not the most studious of children and failed the examination that would have allowed him to enter the French naval academy, so instead studied architecture at a renowned art school before joining the military in 1921.
• It was in the military that he first learned how to pilot.
• He had to give it up for a time to appease his then-fiance's father, who believed it was too dangerous of a career.
• When the relationship fell apart he returned to the air, this time to carry mail to distant lands.
• At the Parisian home of a distant relative, Proust, the secretary of a French magazine asked him to write something. He did so.
• It was a short story, largely autobiographical in nature about a pilot who became depressed each time he left his plane.
• It was published in the April edition of that year, and was met with success and also surprise.
• From that time forth Saint-Exupery continued to write about aviation.
• Other pilots became distrustful of him, and felt like he was betraying secrets they didn't know they had.
• He was not always the most careful flyer, and had some very serious accidents, many of which were his own fault.
• In 1935 he crashed in the Libyan desert. He and his copilot wandered for three days without water and suffered many hallucinations before being rescued and given a native restorative treatment.
• In 1938 a crash put him in a coma for several days, fractured his skull in seven places, and almost robbed him of an arm.
• Shortly thereafter he moved to New York with his wife--to heal, and also to escape German occupied France.
• His American publishers were also influential in this move: they got his visa, booked his boat ride, found him a flat overlooking Central Park, and commissioned him to write a book on his philosophy of the war, which they hoped would explain French defeatism to an American audience who didn't understand.
• The book, Flight to Arras, originally received approval by the Germans, but that approval was quickly rescinded.
• Around this time Saint-Ex began work on The Little Prince.
• A story suggests that one of his publishers caught him drawing a small child on his table cloth and asked who it was. He answered, "Nothing much. It is the child in my heart." The publisher then requested he write the tale of this child.
• Another proposes it was the wife of the publisher, who wanted him to write a fairy tale before that coming Christmas.
• Still another story says Saint-Ex was sitting on the idea for seven years or so, and that he received further inspiration by hearing Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid while lying in a hospital bed in New York. This version also mentions the gift of a watercolor set received around the same time.
• Whatever its inception, The Little Prince was written during the course of a summer and most of a fall, almost entirely at nighttime, on a diet of coffee and cigarettes.
• He frequently called his friends during all hours of that nighttime to discuss what he had just written.
• He also employed their services for his illustrations. "The son of philosopher De Konnick supposedly served as the model for certain poses. Sylvia Reinhardt's boxer dog for the tiger, and a friend's poodle provided the inspiration for the drawing of the famous sheep," and so forth.
• It came out April 6, 1943 in both French and English and was given a lot of press from the New York Times.
• People were not quite sure what to make of it. It was so different than what he'd written before, and it was unclear whether it was a fable for children or adults.
• The aviator-turned-poet died just one year later on July 31, 1944 while on a reconnaissance mission for the allies. He was 8 years older than the standard age limit for pilots at that time.
• An unsent letter was found in his barracks: "I do not care if I die in the war...but if I come back alive...there will be only one question for me: What can one say to mankind? What does one have to say to mankind?"
• It is estimated that over 80 million copies of The Little Prince have been sold worldwide. Another claim states that it "is the best best-selling book after the Bible and Karl Marx's Das Kapital."
• The Little Prince has been translated into over 210 different languages and dialects, including Latin.
• First edition prints generally range from $2,000-$20,000.

Fall is here. Hear the yell.

Back to school. Ring the bell.
1. I love fall temperatures.

2. Its accompanying brisk air makes me want to be outside as much as possible.

3. The leaves are already starting to change colors. For instance, a few days ago I passed a red tree while riding my bicycle. It was beautiful.

4. Sometimes I forget I have a bike here and walked 20 miles in 3 days.

5. I still like the crunch of acorns under foot.

6. I am genuinely happy to be in Boston.

7. Classes have been back in session for 3 weeks.

8. I have never felt better about school in my entire life.

9. My professors are both kind and competent.

10. The first point is extremely important to me, and has more influence on whether I like a class than anything else, likely because I am tender.

11. I finished an amazing YA novel. Uglies. For a class, but also for fun.

12. On Wednesdays I want to be a publisher.

13. I am learning about Saint-Exupéry and the first publication of The Little Prince. It is fascinating.

14. I went camping in New Hampshire. It was pretty, but cold.

15. There Austin recited Russian poetry on a canoe ride under the stars.

16. I saw Hyrum's favorite living singer. So, so good. Unbelievable.

17. I consequently heart Mark Lanegan, and his voice, and Revival.

18. I am sleeping so strange at night.

19. I always want to be the same thing for Halloween.

20. Boston Critical Mass is better than sliced bread.

Picking apples, making pies.

Yesterday day was fall time bliss in all its forms: gold leaves, orange leaves, red leaves, taking the scenic route, Northborough, Cambridge friends, apple orchards, apple cider, apple donuts, apple pie, apple everything, as well as hay rides, smiling children (including baby Søren), pumpkin patches, and freshly made kettle corn. Delicious. To wrap up this perfection, yesterday night was the RS broad cast and a night bike ride to and from Belmont with Katie, which inspired me to say, "Assuming we don't die, this will have been a really good idea," and inspired Katie to answer that she likes any sentence that begins that way. Thank you, New England for being so lovely.

One year.

2009

2008

I've been in Boston for over one year. I still remember so many things about that August 28, 2008 moving day, for instance that I ate breakfast with Lia and Becca at Guru's, but could hardly eat from scared feelings, then later sat with Becca in the basement of the HFAC, in her film lab. We both cried. At the Salt Lake Airport my mom asked me if I was making the right decision. I could only shake my head and tell her that I didn't know, but hoped so. And I did. I still do. A blog post written by my friend Chaunté reflecting on her own East Coast year mark inspired me to look at the things I've gained and the things I've lost.

The gains: An old New England home. A city that (graciously) feels like a town. That same city that does a good job living with its history. Museums. Trees. The Ocean. Dessert First Adventure Club. Outstitute. A new bicycle. An understanding of the value of one friend. An even deeper love for the Seawrights. A month of pizza. Vegan feasts and rooftop views. Trader Joes. Whole Foods. $15 bus rides to New York. A plethora of visitors. Classrooms primarily populated by women. Homework assignments that are largely practical and geared toward a real profession. Solstice/equinox celebrations that are nothing short of magical. Katie, Lisa, Ju, and Brian (among others).

The losses: A community of friends a short bike ride away. Doing the same things over and over (bike rides, music shows, art shows, dance parties). Living with people I deeply trust and care about. My little yellow house. Eden. Mountains. The campus that I came to love. Having professors who knew my name. Philosophy (which loss feels like a loss). Discussion Nights. Various clubs founded by Leland (Hot Chocolate Club, Churro Club, etc.). Daily trips to Smith's. Sunday dinners. Provo's first Friday of every month. The ability to easily straighten my hair. Meat, eggs, and most dairy products.

And like Chaunté, I wonder (and hope) that it was worth it.

Last fall I watched my skin turn pale in the mirror.

This year it is starting pale.

Come monday night we're in a state of grace.

Baby you would sleep much better. Maybe you would sleep much better.

What I did on my summer vacation. By Rachel Hunt.

Nannied three blonde haired children for a few days, and in doing so drove a mini van, made meals, packed school lunches, read bedtime stories, took the little boy to baseball practice and school, the middle girl to ballet, and the littlest girl to story time at the local library, etc. Wore my rain boots/had reason to wear my rain boots, more than anyone should have to in a summertime. Played tourist in my own town. Entertained visitors/at other times was a visitor. Rejuvenated an old favorite pastime of bedroom dance parties. Realized I like Boston more than New York. Slept on my third story roof. Was scared I'd fall off of said roof. Watched numerous sunsets and one sunrise. Rode a carousel. Picnicked. Swam in Walden Pond in the daytime. Swam in Walden Pond in the nighttime. Attended a few great music shows and one terrible music show. Read in Central Park. Read in Boston Common. Listened to records on front porches. Had discussions about philosophy and love on front porches. Lived on the river trail the first time I was home. Lived on my bike the first time I was home. Made weird, but maybe funny movies with my sister. Started running again. Stopped running again. Attended a good philosophy conference. Played a lot of scrabble. Lit a lot of sparklers. Traversed time zones. Read 15 books. Made a few new friends. Lost one friend (which point still makes me sad). Took a class that actually made me like library science. Went on a good field trip as part of that class. Gave a speech on existentialism, and another on Tolstoy/rekindled my love for Tolstoy. Turned in a 30 page project. Planted a garden. Took many, many evening strolls. Enjoyed the night air on those strolls and in general. Mourned the deaths of my aunt and high jump coach, respectively. Appreciated the offerings of farmer's markets in three states. Had sleepovers with Jessica in three states. Fell in love with the movie (500) Days of Summer. Fell in love with another movie called Two Lovers that is based on my favorite story by Dostoesky. Practically lived off of cherries and blueberries. Learned how to make vegan cupcakes. Ate a lot of gelato. Made conscious efforts to write in my journal. Swam in the Atlantic. Swam in the Pacific. Slept on the beach on the Pacific. Made fresh lemonade every day for a long while. Ate pizza and ice cream every day for a week. Began having more dreams than I have ever had and would wake up actually semi remembering them (including one featuring Aristotle and another where my first thought upon waking was, "The dilemma of determinism is..."). Got burnt out on museums. Later met a nice boy in a museum. Discovered my sister in law likes bikes. Held Henry. Loved Henry, and later Emmett, my second nephew who was not even in existence pre summer. Went to Disneyland for the second time this year. Was tutored in pinball to little avail. Tasted my first fig. In Provo actually slept. Woke up at 5ish on Labor Day to watch air balloons lift off the ground, and was glad I did. Spent time in Mass. in Wayland, Lowell, Wrentham, and the Berkshires, traveled to NYC three times, Utah twice, and Oregon, Nevada, Rhode Island, DC, California, and Colorado once each.

Late Summer Reads

Reading now:

Provo, Sweet Provo.

It was good for me to be among your mountains and wide open spaces. I miss them when I'm East, as well as being somewhere I can see the stars. I'm sorry that I didn't ride my bike as much as normal, or read as much as normal, or see as many friends as normal, or do anything as much as normal. I simply needed to sleep. Thank you for letting me, and for letting me spend time with family and a very few close friends, and later more friends at my hello/goodbye party. I liked seeing Jessica's new home in Salt Lake and eating Abby's homemade pizza before sitting on a curb with Derik talking about matters of consequence. I love Alicia's porch as always, and willingly could waste my time on it. Bless her for garden food and end of summer rituals involving dancing and sparklers.

I love the campus that was my campus and the 4th floor of the JFSB where I previously sat in class after class learning the ideas of Aristotle, Levinas, and Heidegger, and where there are offices of past professors who are more than professors to me, but mentors--friends. Thank you for letting me see Anderson who first gave me a handshake, and then a hug, and Paulsen who does the same, and is one of the kindest, wisest individuals I know, as well as the most adorable grandfather like figure you can imagine--even when he's not wearing one of his old school BYU sweaters. I love his smile when he first sees me. It is so big I know that he is happy. I know that I am happy. I love Kierkegaard because of him, and will be grateful forever. Thank you for allowing me to sit in on Anderson's Philosophy of Film class afterward with Derik, Tom Bell, and Adam. It was delightful.

The rest of that evening was important too. I lay on my bed talking with someone that it was good, but ultimately hard to see. Still I watered his grass for him before I skipped town because I told him I would, and because he was on his own way out when he stopped to say hello. I am glad that I could spend the next day with Meg (even though we accidentally ate meat at lunchtime) and the next nighttime with Abby eating a sucker and riding the ski lift at Sundance under the full moon. The canyon was beautiful. The night sky was beautiful.

California Adventures

For the fourth time in one year I boarded a plane in Boston and headed west. This most recent experience was by far the best because it consisted of an airport party with Julia and Marcus, wherein we ate exorbitantly priced airport candy and told each other ridiculous stories while waiting for our plane, then spent our NY layover eating pizza and watching 10 Things. Cameron's love remains pure. It was particularly nice to see Ju as she was away at Tanglewood for the summer playing her violin.

Meg picked me up at the airport since she was already in Salt Lake for a music show. I was so tired I could barely remember how to get to my parent's house, and was glad she knew the way. We roadtripped it to California the very next day, but first I visited Jessica on a borrowed bike. She had just returned from a run and sat on the curb eating cereal. Jared's mom kindly agreed to let us borrow her van that same morning, which made our trip significantly more comfortable than it otherwise would have been. (Thank you, Jared's mom.) And while I listened to much more hip hop than I would ever listen to of my own volition, we also sang along to Dashboard, Stars, The Smiths, and Magnetic Field's 69 Love Songs. I became obsessed with Coconut Records' West Coast, and all of us were obsessed with Walter Meego's Girls.

The first night in California was camping in the County of Orange, and laying in the tent whispering with Abby. It was also waking up in the middle of the night to a thunder and rain storm, and being glad Abby thought to put the rain cover on, "Just in case". Morning time was filled with cloudy skies, but breezes that smelled like a million bucks with the combination of campfires and ocean spray. We said hello to that ocean, again and again, and found it cold and seaweed strewn, but beautiful.

Emma drove down from Palo Alto on Abby's birthday. There were birthday back rubs, birthday cakes, birthday beaches, birthday babe, birthday everything. We also heard our friend's band play in West Hollywood, and ate dinner with Meg's aunt and uncle in West Lake, where they treated us with kindness upon kindness. The next day was Valencia, the best lemonade, a coy pond, figs, pinball, sushi and dancing recommendations, Hyrum and Pegah, and holding Henry for the first time. He is perfect. I told Hyrum I thought he looked like him. In response he pulled out his and Pegah's baby books, to compare.

Later there was Disneyland, reinstating Churro Club with what Leland calls the Holy Grail of all churros, and general keeping of the magic. In addition to the food and rides, the fireworks really were magical, as was the water show. I am glad Emma wanted to see both. Before heading out we all took the love meter test. I was blah. First time. Abby was hot stuff. Emma was burning. Meg was passionate. Jared was uncontrollable. I went again. Blah. Second time. So funny/mad. We spent the night in Marino Valley at Leland's, where we woke to Rowley hospitality, buckwheat pancakes with syrup and homemade strawberry jam, and his darling niece who looks like Coraline. Precious.