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wouldn't it be nice

July 07, 2005 at 5:18 p.m.

I gotta take a break. 2 music degrees, one bachelors and one masters, no less than 8 classes on music theory and I think I can actually write 8 measures of music. HA! Silly me.

In church this Sunday I was asked to play violin for sacament meeting with the theme of the prophet Joseph Smith. So instead of finding some music I already have, I just HAD to play "A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief" - it was the hymn that the prophet asked John Taylor to sing to him as they sat in Carthage jail, moments before a mob stormed the jail and ended his life.
It's from a beautiful poem - the words are here.

So also, one of our other cool hyms is Praise to the Man - to the tune of Scotland the Brave. Lots of hymns are based on folk songs, and being in a celtic band, I play it alll the time.

Except they are in two differnt keys and I need a way to transition into the two, and my pianist doesn't know how to wing it.

I called my brother Dallin - presently a music student - and asked him how the heck I would do that. The two of us, thousands and thousands of dollars in debt from music school, wondering how the heck to transition from G major to C major (SO EASY!)... it's pathetic.

Good thing I got this personality to fall back on. Sheesh!

&*^%%^$%$#%$#@%$#!$#@%#^^&%$&^%#^%$#^%$#%$#

Currently being amused by the Fab Five. I heart Queer Eye. I wish they would PLEASE come make me over. Or I wish Jared was more of a wreck that I could sign him up. Oh yeah, and also that we lived in New York so he'd be eligible.

But, alas, Jared's geek chic ways are actually fitting him and adorable.

Dang it. I want Carson to toss his well-manicured hands at me.

*&^%*&^%&^%$^%$^%$#%#$@$#!%$#@@^%$#%$#^%$#^%

And before I begin this rant - I need to stress this - I AM NOT PREGNANT. Got it? Noooo bun in the oven - I don't want to start rumors here, I just thought I'd state that before I say -

I might be. Now, not PHYSICALLY - but I swear, I might be MENTALLY pregnant.

I cry at everything on TV lately. Even commercials! Now, that's not new I gess, but now Jared's around and I get embarassed when I start bawling because the old man in the commercial gets his diabetes medications on time.

I have to blame his on something. So I'l just pretend that I am hormonally challenged.

Oooo, how I WISH Jared could deal with my hormones for just one day. That would seriously rock.

*&^%*&^%&^%$^%$^%$#%#$@$#!%$#@@^%$#%$#^%$#^%

You know what I'd like? You know how easy is to have a conversation over IM with someone?

I wish I could have a little screen over my head so I could say exactly what I mean. That way, when people are misunderstanding me or when I'm too scared to get things out.

I have more that I hold inside now that I'm married, interestingly enough. 2 reasons for that - first, marital bliss is important so not EVERYTHING needs to be said - and second - I'm all about airing my insaneness out in public, but I don't know exactly how Jared feels about that, and I don't want to step over the line that way.

That being said, we had a massive fight back in February and I've been holding things in about it since then. It wasn't even until this Monday that I told him anything about it.

I wish I could type things into my text bubble above my head and have him see them. When I do come out and tell him things, he doesn't say much, but he treats me perfectly to silently say that it's okay and all he wants me to be is happy. It's like somehow, he guesses my bubble message.

But, I have felt emotionally constipated for the last few months. And there's loads I just don't feel like I can tell anyone, well, except my mom. And she's in Australia. Or New Zealand. So I'm REALLY constipated.

Emotionally. Why does that sounds so gross? Ech, whaddevah. I gotta feel my husband my home-made mac and cheese. It's good. Except it's a little creepy to me that I made dinner, tried to write music, and am planning on buying a house - AND I feel like I have to convince the world I'm not pregnant.

SUPERCRACK wonders who the heck wrote this.

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wife. mother. musician. bloggerist for 7 years. holding on for dear life.

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