not all chocolate is created equal

I had a little thought. There are many different qualities of chocolate. The better the quality, the better the taste, the better the satisfaction. For the sake of a metaphor, I want to say a few things about a Hershey's chocolate bar, and compare it to the ideal piece of chocolate. An old, rather stale bar of Hershey's chocolate crunches around in your mouth with a very limited amount of pleasure. Only after long periods of coco derivation does this kind of chocolate satisfy any kind of craving. Now imagine the ideal square of chocolate, soft enough that it starts to melt in your hand before it ever touches your lips. Dark, rich, and creamy enough it demands complete attention until every last little drip is licked off every single finger.


I had a very large, rather overwhelming realization yesterday. Like a slap in the face that takes the wind out of you, I realized how much I don't know. It was as if someone had screamed an inch away from my face, "WAKE UP, DUMMY! YOU HAVE TO LEARN!" Instead of being frightened and intimidated (the emotions I would expect to accompany such a reality check), I was absolutely exhilarated, almost like the feeling you get at the moment the rollarcoaster starts the decent of the first massive hill. It took my breath away, that way. Before now, I have only ridden the small rollarcoasters, the ones with no loops, only an occasional, very short whooshing drop. This week, I sat down in the seat of The Big Rollarcoaster, and I have realized that I love rollarcoasters. I crave them, in fact. I have been eating Hershey's chocolate until now, and this week I tasted quality chocolate. I have only taken the first, small testing nibble of the darkest, most luxurious chocolate bar on Earth, only ridden to the top of the first big hill. This is just the beginning.

lines, lines, lines...

August 31. In Line at the Bookstore
A very large, very loud, very awkward boy wearing too much cologne, directing his comments at everyone else in line and at the same time absolutely no one at all: "Man! It's hot in here! What the heck was I thinking coming to the bookstore on the first day of classes, and at LUNCH TOO... hey, are you guys together? (said to the couple in front of him in line who were quite obviously together) I mean, like you'll go up to the thingy together?"
Man in relationship (attempting to keep the exchange as short and painless as possible): "...um..yeah."
Large, loud, awkward boy: "GREAT!... TWOFUR! haha...only FOUR people in front of me now! haha.."

I have absolutely no idea what "twofur" means. He might have started to say, "two for one" with his decidedly Utahn accent and half way through yelling the phrase as loud as his large lungs would let him realized that everyone was staring at him as though they had just seen him vomit, or he could have made up the phrase "twofur" just for the occasion. Perhaps he took pride in announcing his new invention to the entirety of all three levels of the bookstore. I will never know.

beautiful provo

Although Provo has a annoying lack of parking, it makes up for the short-coming by containing some of the most charming and delicious old houses I have ever laid eyes on - for the viewing pleasure of all those who use only their shoes to get to campus. Running through the streets this morning, I was completely out of breath. I was out of breath because 1) I am out of breath 90% of the time I am running, and 2) because I couldn't stop loving these beautiful houses. I'm sure that after the 40th time I exclaimed, "Oh! Look at that one! I love the trees and the grass and the ivy and the red door and the peeling paint!" the houses themselves were tired of being praised. I simply can't get enough of them! This fabulous house was my favorite this morning. I am still in love it. The picture doesn't come close to how enchanting it is in person, especially in the early morning.

The houses aren't all that make Provo beautiful. I walked out of my apartment this morning and the first thing I saw was the sun, barely coming over the towering mountains. The sky this morning was hazy; the entire city was covered in mist or smoke, making the mountains look painted in watercolors - so close to the color of the sky they were barely there at all. Several of the streets were lined with giant trees symmetrically placed on both sides, so you are almost always in the shade. Green is everywhere. Bushes, grass, trees, vines and flowers grow so close together it's hard to tell what's what. I know the only reason the green shocks me every time I step outside is because I come from a place where the dominant colors are brown and red: dirt and mountains. Red mountains, not green ones. So there it is, I am now in the opposite of what I have been in my entire life. I have moved from Red to Green.

week one in number 205

I am a college student - one of many studying to make a way for myself in the world and to make the world I live in a better place. I live on the middle level of a medium sized, moderately priced apartment building situated across the street from a large, gaudy complex with frills and several snug student houses with broken shutters. My building doesn't have frills or broken shutters, although it does have a quite convenient underground parking garage. This is a very ordinary building in this small city (which really feels more like a.. New York sized city or Hong Kong sized city this week).
But I am not ordinary.
I live in Number 205 with a girl from California who is at the moment, watching the new Hannah Montana movie. She has recently vowed herself off the Mexican food from Los Hermanos, the restaurant at which she waits tables, for forty days. She would like our entire apartment to share one large, combined wardrobe, and does not want me to make vegan cupcakes. Her name is Beth. I also live with a Chinese girl who is said to be brilliant. She is studying chemistry and working toward a Doctorate degree. I heard all of this from Beth - who lived with her a week alone before I moved in. Her name is Na Li, and I have only seen her long enough for her to introduce herself. She is pleasant and calm, and while she is at home, stays mainly in her room. And, last the best of all the game, I live with my sister, Natalie, who is a kindred spirit (as Anne of Green Gables would say). We make green smoothies, share clothes, jewelry, advice, and music, and we keep each other sane.
Today is the brink. The last evening before school dominates my existence. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I might get lost. And I miss my kitties.