Monday, September 27, 2010

So basically my otherwise sucky day was cheered up when the Love of My Life saw me driving the Land Rover. He waved.

That's progress.

Do your homework.

-Avery Jalaine

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Friday, September 24, 2010

Goin' to a football game.

Hate football.

Made some lemonade.


-Avery Jalaine

p.s. look at this:

Thursday, September 23, 2010

For Zack.

Dear Zack,

Since I am now aware that you actually did find this blog, I have a present for you.

(And yes, 'Zach' is not correct, but I decided that it was close enough. Enjoy.)

Courtesy of Mark Gleim.


You're welcome.
-Avery Jalaine

Friday, September 17, 2010

You know, I do not like the saying "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with."

But I want to be with the one I love.
I do not settle.

High five?
-Avery Jalaine

Thursday, September 16, 2010

-Avery Jalaine
(courtesy of Mark Gleim)

Secrets, Wishes, Metal Doors

I wonder if anyone has ever longed for me.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •


Everyday my mother puts an inspirational quote in my lunch. It's very amusing and uplifting. And so, to spread the love, Katie and I stick all of my quotes into Locker #1111 everyday. Today, the owner of Locker #1111 found the quotes. He was confused.


Also today, Katie, Lorin, and I wrote dark little secrets (both fake and real) on pieces of paper and stuck them into random lockers. Secrets included "I am not a virgin", "I am in love with my best friend", and "I have psychotherapy four times a week". None of these are true. To clarify: I am a virgin, I am not in love with my best friend (unless you want to count David Adams as my best friend, and then yes, it's true), and I have psychotherapy zero days a week, even though secretly, I really do think having a therapist would be quite handy because then you could just unload all your drama on them and they are paid to not judge you or tell you that you are lame.

Also, you are allowed to put wishes in lockers 1111 and 1234 and probably 123.

It was a great day.

I like the way that you are.
-Avery Jalaine

Monday, September 13, 2010

I Had a Dream About Someone I Once Loved.

It's confusing now. We're not perfect for each other. In fact, he's never loved me. But he has freckles and stuff. I'll consult the stars.

I loved you.
I love you.
I will always love you.
(Past Present Future)

-Avery Jalaine

Friday, September 10, 2010

Name of book that I long for terribly: This is Shyness by Leanne Hall.

Name of book that is impossible to find anywhere in America/download illegally off the internet: This is Shyness by Leanne Hall.

Darn Australia.

Enjoy these pictures. Have a nice Friday.

There is a sun outside, and it is shining.
-Avery Jalaine

p.s. Song of the day = Excuses by The Morning Benders. Whoa whoa.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

anyone lived in a pretty how town

Hi there, little friends.

I've been contemplating the universe and poetry lately, and as for the universe I'm still mystified, but for poetry: I've got the love. (Florence + The Machine might be the greatest band ever, yeah?)

Lately it's been running through my mind, catching my eyes, and I like the taste of it. It's a bit like singing when you read a good poem out loud, isn't it? I like it. The music, but there's none. A staff of twenty-six notes and complex chords like "hush" and "wasn't it lovely?" and "je t'aime". Words are just little songs.

I was going to make a nice little list my favorite poets, but it was really not "little" at all and I got stressed out and deleted it. I'm sorry.

That's not the point, anyway. The point of this post was so that I could show you this superlovelyawesomesadhappy? poem by one of my top 5 poets, E.E. Cummings. So brilliant. I always feel a bit sad that I wasn't the one to write his stuff. So jealous.

"anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that no one loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and no one stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
no one and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain "

-e.e. cummings

What a treasure, no? Go read it again. I like it when no one kisses his face. I think I'll share poetry more often. Heaven knows I have enough of it clogging up my hard drive. Maybe I'll even post a little of my own, if it isn't too embarrassing. I don't know. What would you think of it?

summer autumn winter spring. -Avery Jalaine

Monday, September 6, 2010

Thirty-Five Second Love Song

Song of the Day: West Coast by Coconut Records
Thought of the Day: "Do I dare / disturb the universe?" -TS Eliot

Sometimes I wonder about people. I wonder if they, like me, are something nondescript at school, a shy sort of somebody who does not create friction among their peers, but as they ride home in their friend's car, they undergo a metamorphosis of sorts and become something a shade lovelier, intelligent and thoughtful and at least semi-interesting.

Sometimes I'll pass someone in the halls and we really shouldn't notice each other, but then I see that they wear red shoes or have a thick notebook already halfway full or their mouth is in a halfway smile meant to be hidden, and I wonder who they are, really. It's funny that they go walking off and thinking of something that I couldn't even guess, and they saw me but I didn't stick to their mind, and as they go on down the hall and me in the opposite direction, I am still thinking of them and in a way, they are still with me. I wonder what they'd say if they knew.

They could be anyone, but what if I knew them and we were perfect for each other? Soul mates? Or even best friends. Or even just friends, but the kind that you could wave to in the hallways and talk about your family and they know your older brother's name.

I try to picture them at home, with a generic sort of mom and dad and innumerable brothers and sisters, twining around them without faces, as they do their homework, or don't, depending on what sort of person I have decided they are.

I try to conjure up a bedroom for them, and usually they listen to they same sort of music as me because usually the people I find worth wondering about look as though they might like the same music that I do.

I wonder about their handwriting, they way they dot their I's.

I wonder if they would call me something that isn't my name, maybe Roo, or maybe a nickname that is a shared joke. I wonder about their singing voice.

I wonder what car they drive and if they are the type that turns on the radio or leaves it off because they can't concentrate with it on.

I wonder about their hands, and how we'd feel, hand in hand.

I try picturing us together, and sometimes when I realize that we'll never be that: friends, best friends, soul mates; I begin to miss them. Can you miss someone that you don't know?

Go play.
-Avery Jalaine
p.s. I thought it was unendingly funny that Addy just tagged 'Roah' in one of her posts so I thought, in honor of her, I would too. For kicks.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Me, Avery

Last night was a hard night of on-the-verge-of-tears and Truths and a very sad Northern Downpour. My bedroom was a thousand degrees as Katie and I sat on an unmade bed and discussed everything that was wrong with our lives, wrong with the world.

Has it ever dawned on you that sometimes there is something that will never be? No matter how hard you work or how long you pray or how skinny you get, sometimes you will never become another person, just like you'd been planning on?

Or have you ever realized that someone with the life you wanted --- the life you wanted before last night --- does not have such a perfect life after all? In fact, their life sucks a little bit just like your life.

But as such, neither of your lives really suck at all, you both are just lame and whiny and wish things were more perfect than they already are.
My life is perfect. I am not starving to death. I live in Utah County, and while it is overwhelmingly Republican here and very judgmental, it is clean and wealthy and safe. My family is in the top 10% of the United States. I have a best friend. I am marginally more interesting than a lot of people. I am talented. My family is perfect and lovely. I have no addictions (not including ice) and frankly, there is no chance of me trying alcohol or drugs in the future. I am smart. I am not hideous (most days). I have my own room and my own kitten and my own playlist on iTunes. I am not a teenage mother. There is no war going on outside my window that threatens my life. I am loved.

And yet it is not. I am in high school. Boys do not see me from across the room and wish that they knew me. I am not skinny. I have only nine friends that I would be comfortable calling on the phone. I have no athletic coordination. I am most likely neurotic. I do not have a car. My computer is from 2001. I am overly emotional. I long for "boy drama" but there never is any. I dream too big for myself. I wish for impossible things. I am somewhat of a leper at school, based on my general strangeness and the knowledge of my peers that I write poetry. My hair is not blonde anymore. Some people hate me, or at least probably wouldn't cry if I died.

And yet, my life is still perfect. I shouldn't complain. But I do. Because I wish I had all of those first things, and that all of those second things would change. A few of them I can change, but in most cases, am too lazy and/or frightened to.

That's another truth of my life.

I am afraid to be wonderful. I am afraid to be fabulous or beautiful or someone that is craved by other people. I am afraid to be the purest form of myself. I am deluded by an image that I can change, but don't; by an insecurity that doesn't matter but it does; by a fear of fear itself.

I wish you could see how I really am.
(maybe you can; one day.)
Well now. This post was too long and too disruptive in itself. It's melancholy, but at least honest.

So here's my creed: I will change every sadness or wrong thing in my life that is in my power to change. And only after every single one of them is changed, only then can I complain about life's imperfections. I counted six things that I can change. Maybe next time you see me: I will be spectacular.

Song of the Day: The Girl by City & Colour, for me and katie.

Together, we'll be remarkable.
-Avery Jalaine