vanity

So you know how vain I am now?
and do you remember how vain I was as a child and teenager?


I want to thank the heavens that created vanity, because I was compliling a bunch of pictures of myself for a wedding slideshow (which, BTW I am against, but my fiance and his family and MY family are allllll  for it) and I just know that if I didn't think I was so good looking, but actually knew how (un)attractive I was as a thirteen year old I never could have survived middle school.

I know that was one long sentence but you know what I mean.

I'm embarrassed for myself, years later.
But I've learned my lesson. Vain is the best way to be.
It keeps you happy and feeling good about yourself.

Grown-ups are pirates.

We kill pirates.

I always want to be a little kid and have fun!

I think what I mean is, being a grown up is hard.

what, am I dating a fifteen year old?

As I watched Travis shave via Skype (yes, I was watching Travis shave his face. Nothing strange there.)
Hey, he just called me spoiled!
Anyways, as I watched him shave, he cut himself.

It made me feel sad for his face and also, it made me giggle.
Except for that one big time (which doesn't really count at all, though I do still have a scar)I don't think I've cut myself shaving since I was fourteen.

Oh, Travis. You are silly.
and also, there's blood on your face.

and you missed a spot on your chin.

I would so very much like to be a part of your protestacular,

Sparknotes is the best way to waste time ever.
This is why: They have links EVERYWHERE literally labeled "Procrastinate."
Okay, if you insist.
Today I found this article on how to NOT be an adult.
Sweet.

aDULLt entertainment

Save yourself. Now, now, now(!), before it’s too late.

Here’s the thing: You’re looking like an adult these days, you’ve got the same brain capacity as adults, but you haven’t yet picked up the slew of adult habits that make adults so… [insert finger down throat here].

In the coming years, you may be tempted to do the following list of things. DO NOT! They are the trappings of everything mundane and lame about being an adult, and you must avoid, avoid, avoid(!) if you wish to retain your optimistic worldview, full of wonder and possibility and late nights and junk food.

The HOW NOT TO BE List:

1. Do not adopt a fatalistic world view.

Something happens between the age of 18 and 40 when it comes to the way people perceive and explain things. Fueled by curiosity, young people want to answer questions about how the world works with acute analysis and humor.

Full on grown ups answer almost every tough question with, “It is what it is.”

“It is what it is?” What?!? No. Sorry. No thanks. We like to think we can assert some control on our world, and “it is what it is” might be the least inspiring, most resigned little motto we’ve ever heard.

2. Do not buy those speakers that look like giant rocks.

Ahhh, the giant rock speakers. Honestly, if you must spend time, energy and money primping your future suburban patio, build a coy pond. There is just something very wrong about Santigold blasting out of a gigantic, plastic rock. Just, no.

3. Do not “abuse” quotation marks.

Why so many “adults” do this is beyond us. Didn’t they ever go to “school” and “learn” that “quotations” are for “dialogue” and sometimes for things that aren’t “really true,” so we put “quotes” around them to show that we don’t believe it?!?! Do they “do this” because they actually don’t believe that “half” of what they “say” or “write” is actually true?!?!? Adults need to learn about italics and bold, and not totally misuse quotation marks.

4. Do not respond questions about “you” with answers about “we.”

Question to Adult: “Where do you live, Matilda?”

Adult Answer: “We live in a condo on a lake. We like it there, but we think we need to repaint the exterior this summer to something a little more subdued, like a nice mauve.”

Ehem. Well, we at SparkNotes say Congratu-frickin-lations, Matilda, that you’ve actually managed to find a mate who shares your enthusiasm for mauve, but you are allowed to have your own personality and opinions!

5. Do not say, “I only read nonfiction.”

Well, well, well, what do we have here? A Mr. Serious? A Mr. Pretentious? A Mr. Anti-Imagination? Sorry, sir, we’re going to have to hit you over the head with that 900-page book about the Six Day War because we think taking the fantasy out of your library is a bad plan that results in you becoming a major snoozer of a dude. Sorry sir, FAIL.

You got old, Peter. You promised to never get old.

I am no longer a teenager.
I am officially "in my twenties."

How strange.

a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker

there are three things I want to be when I grow up.
Sure, there are lots of other things, like an artist, a photographer, a journalist, a chef, a young women's president, a surf bum, a french whatever, a filmmaker, a musicen....
But there are three main things. Three things that I WILL BE in the next ten years, so help me.

- a teacher

- a writer

- a mother

I know, talk about classic, cliché mormon girl at BYU. Some days I wake up wanting to be one of the above so bad it hurts.
I've been sore all week.
For real, my stomach hurts, I can't concentrate. I get simultaneously amazed and astonished that I can be so close to all these things, and then freak out at the possibility that they might all be so far in the future.

This is not a joke, ask Lauren, or Travis. I make lesson plans.
All the time. Toady I was reading literature from the Harlem Renaissance for my American Literature class, and I was planning how to teach Langston Hughes. I thought of assignments, and discussions, I was trying to think about how to test the kids on different concepts.
My favorite game (especially to keep my mind busy when I'm modeling) is to pretend I'm a teacher introducing myself to my new class.
"Hello, I'm your teacher, Ms. Froelich," I say. "Just to help you guys get to know me a little better, I'm going to introduce myself. I went to BYU, and graduated with a degree in English Teaching, and Comparative Literature, and got a minor in French. I lived in France for four months on a study abroad, and then in London for almost a year, studying British Literature and Culture. I have two books published, and another coming out in May."
I say.
Then I talk about my husband and how he's something awesome or other. Then they ask questions.
"Oh, are you related to Becky Froelich, the singer/song-writer?" one asks.
"Actually, that's also me!" I say.
"You went to BYU?" one asks, "Did you ever meet [insert all my friends who I know will be famous]"
"Why, yes!" I say. "We're the best of friends, I'll see if he/she will come in to meet you all."

lalala.
Okay. I know that's fake. I know that I will probably have nothing cooler to say than "I'm Becky. I went to BYU. I grew up in the Midwest." but here's hoping, right?

The second thing I want to be is a writer. Honestly, I feel like I might be closer to this goal than any of the others. Not to sound vain, but I am a pretty good writer. You guys only get the crappy, poorly written tip of the ice berg on this blog. I am almost finished with a book, and I think if I can get an agent to represent me, then I can sell it.
All I ever do is write. I go through about a journal a month, as well as this blog, and let me just promise, my blog and journal say very different things.
I also am in the midst of writing at least two actual books. I love it. I love it. I eat/breathe/andsleep it.

and lastly, I want to be a mother.
Okay. I am very against those young women activities where the teacher is like "Let's write down everything about your future husband and how great he's going to be, and all your kids names, and blah blah blah."
I hate it. BBBUUT, call me a hypocrite.
I have all my kids' rooms decorated. I have names picked out. I can almost taste the baby shower cake. I see babies or children anywhere, in church, in a store, on camous, outside and I start making faces and noises, and trying to think of ways to steal the child and make it call me mommy.
Don't freak out. I will not actually kidnap your child.
I just get teary-eyed when I see people holding babies: people or kittens. Whatever. I can't handle it. I stalk through tons of blogs, and weep, (yes weep, I cried for a half hour today) looking through pictures of their children.
Don't get me wrong. I can wait a couple more years. I'm not going to jump the next man I see, or take home the next baby I pass....
but I always kind of want to.

how's that for a delve into my crazy mind?

"people don't choose to be sheltered."

I like to judge people who are super sheltered, because they don't understand so many things that I think are fundamental to both survival and happiness.
I was thinking of the little catchphrase mormons use: "Be in the world, but not of it."
but I think I have a different interpretation than most people.
I would say it's similar to saying: "Make the world, don't let it make you."

Here's what I thought about today:

I was sheltered. Yes, I knew a lot about sex, drugs, and rock and roll (I went to public school, after all, and had parents who were honest with me if I had questions about anything... not like I ever wanted to ask them.) Most of my friends were not mormon, and I when they said things or told dirty jokes I overheard them, (and went home to look things up online). But I didn't watch R-rated movies. I didn't swear . I understood the word of wisdom and law of chastity.
I had a pretty good balance, I'd say.

We live in the world. There is no getting around that. There's no reason that we should want to get around that, anyway. God made us a beautiful place to live, and filled it with beautiful people for us to live with.
We need to interact with and understand our societies, communities, culture, and politics, because even if we try not affect them, they will affect us. Schools teach our kids, communities keep them safe, politicians make decisions for them. We were never told to only love our neighbors if they love God, too. It is our responsibility to to be good citizens and neighbors, to be teachers, to do good, to spread the gospel. We can't do that if we are locked in our homes being "not of the world."

I am a product of what surrounds me. What I've read, where I've lived, who I've known, what I've listened to, seen, and said. I am a product of the world that surrounds me.
The big difference between the world that surrounds me, and the world that surrounds most people is that the gospel surrounds me, too.
Thus despite being "in the world," the world did not make me.

Did you see my lotus?
When we went to the Hare Krishna temple this summer, the tour guide told us of an important Hindu symbol. "It's like the mormon belief of being in the world, but not of it," he said.
The lotus flower lives in the water, yet it is not wet.
It cannot survive without the enviornment, and is an important part of the ecosystem.
Yet, it is not a part of the water. It is not surrounded, nor can it be consumed by the water.
The water and the lily are connected. The lily is on the water, the water flows through the lily.
But they are seperate.

I love this world. I love where I live, I love who I am, and what the world and the Lord have made me.
But I love that I can help to make the world, too.
The world wouldn't be the same without me, without any of us, and I'm going to try to make sure the difference I make will be a good one.

i did this on facebook, and so i published it here, too.

25 things about you if you're tagged. Then tag 25 other people.

1. I'm only doing this because Heather and Matt both tagged me to.

2. and if I wasn't writing this, I'd be reading about Love's Labours Lost on Sparknotes.

3. Every morning I wake up with a different song stuck in my head. This morning it was Rent, which I haven't listened to since Junior year.

4. I sleep in a bunk bed in my apartment.

5. Every morning my roommate turns the thermostat way up, and the heat is what wakes me. Then I get out of bed and turn it way down.

6. I'm trying to decide what to do with my life. It's easy to choose a major. A minor is hard because it decides what you'll do with your major, especially as ambiguous a major as English.

7. I miss all my friends. Whether you're in Minnesota, London, South Provo, or the Riv. I don't see you enough.

8. I am a model for art classes at BYU. It is not nude. Don't freak out.

9. I have a big bookshelf in my house filled with dozens of books, but whenever I'm looking for a specific book, it's never there.

10. My phone refuses to download a freaking ringtone and I'm sick of it.

11. I'm listening to the Sufjan Steven's Christmas Album, even though it's almost February.

12. I have two big Beatles posters in my house, and four little ones.

13. Paul is my favorite Beatle.

14. The idea of Valentines day scares me, because this is the first year I'm dating someone during February.

15. I am teaching myself the guitar. I am not terribly good, but I can get by.

16. I got a new journal on the 7th of this month. It's nearly full.

17. I usually write on my blog every day at least once, and I LOVE comments more than anything.

18. I'm writing a young adult novel. I'm about 50 pages in. I just figured out the main conflict, and I've been very anxious thinking of it.

19. I am very happy with my body, and usually my appearance in general.

20. I do wish I would go exercising, but I'm too lazy.

21. I kind of want to go tanning, but promised I would not.

22. I'm taking French. I love it, but I am bad at it.

23. Lisa is coming to visit me!

24. I have pirated copies of Slumdog Millionaire, Garden State, all three seasons of Arrested Development, and Harry Potter books on tape.

25. I am happy.

Not quite a grown-up

In about three months I'll be twenty.
But despite that fact that I will officially be an adult, not just legal, but not a teen, I still feel like I'm pretending when I act like a grown-up.
I noticed some inconsistencies in my life.
I pretend to be an adult, but from an on-lookers point of veiw, I am clearly not.
I hear you crying out for examples! Here they are:

I drink tea every morning.
From a Harry Potter mug.

I make my own meals in my own kitchen every day.
Wearing only an apron, and underwear, usually.

I have a rather excessive collection of grown-up books.
Accompanied by many much oftener read children's books.

I got up early to get dressed and prepared for school.
Instead I am writing on my blog, and soon I will play my guitar.

I am listening to Simon and Garfunkel.
Very loudly. Very, very loudly.
and dancing.

I took grown-up perfume from my mother over Christmas to use and smell lovely.
Three days in a row, I have managed to squirt myself in the face with it.

I take vitamins every morning.
They are shaped like animals and come in four delicious flavors!

I wrote a list of essential things to do and buy, including tuition, phone bills, books.
Also including a new loofah, and funny coloured socks.


I wear relatively adult-type clothes from the Gap almost daily.
I refuse to wear a bra.

I use an adult vocabulary often.
Usually accompanied by a fake British Accent.

i'm sick of people telling to just be myself

Who else am I supposed to be anyway? I don't know how to be anyone else, and I can't imagine I'd be any happier as not me.
This is the problem: I feel like I'm "being myself," when I'm acting differently, dressing differently, listening to different music, reading different books, hanging with different people than "usual."

I enjoy all the things I do, the foods I eat, the music I try to play. so, even if I'm doing it because someone else I know did the same, I'm still being me.

I found a lovely quote today by Carl Sandburg.
"There are 10 men in me and I do not know or understand one of them."

I feel that way all the time. I am not just one person, with one personality.
Or rather, I don't just have one idea of who I am. I know who I am, and I can be anyone and anything.
I like to say to Lana, "I wish I was an Indie Kid."
Lana likes to say, "Just be yourself."

Myself could be an Indie kid. I know she probably means that I should do what comes naturally, but the truth is, everything comes naturally.
I feel as comfortable in sweats as a prom dress. I feel as comfortable in jeans as in a pencil skirt. I hardly ever feel like the clothes I'm wearing "aren't me."
Also, I found this. I wrote before pretty much anyone at all read my blogs, if you're interested: "this week."

so this is the new year,

and I don't feel any different.

but I do. Don't you? You know every year when you wake up early on your birthday and think "Today I am seventeen, eighteen, twenty-five, forty." and you look in the mirror, and think "but I am just the same as I was yesterday."

I am not the same as I was yesterday, at least, not quite, even if I feel the same. But I am definitely not the person I was one year ago, and the number of things that have happened since January 1st, 2008 is somewhat overwhelming to think about.

For a song as long as The New Year (by Death Cab) you'd think that there'd be more lyrics.

So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

I have really been trying to think of what to make a resolution about. I thought, "I will do better at work. I won't call in sick when I'm not sick. I won't stand around and avoid the supervisor instead of working."
I thought, "I will write in my journal everyday, and try to write something else. Work on a poem, a story, just describe something I see."
I thought, "I will do my freaking homework for once in my life. I'm better than the crappy grades that I get. Any intelligent person would be embarrassed by the report cards that I bring home."

So I stole Lauren's resolution. I am going to work hard.
You can (maybe) hold me to that.
Happy New Year.
Thank you for everything this last year, and all the years past.

Benjamin Button

this movie was long, and weird.
If you don't know the gist of it, here it is: a baby was born an old man. As he grew up, he got younger. He grew in reverse.
if you have three hours, please go see this. Some things were weird, like Cate Blanchet's CGIed face over the face of the girl who plays her as a child, and weird make up jobs that sometimes made the characters look like a poor first try of E.T.
But it was very touching, and unexpected. I cried a great deal.
You know how well I can handle movie that try to evoke tears.
Tears are almost always evoked.
I cried for probably an hour.
then later at dinner a little.
one of the main themes of the movie --and i don't think this spoils anything-- is being old before your time, and being young when everyone you know is gone.
i went with two of my grandparents, and afterward, my teary eyed 85 year-old great grandfather, said, "that was unexpected, and now is a bad time for me anyway"
his wife, my great grandmother louise, died nine years ago tomorrow. i loved her very much. i love my family very much.
That movie, through all it's strangeness, just reminded me how dearly i love them all. how afraid i am of losing them, and how much i hope that they are happy.
i haven't posted yet about the holidays at all, but i promise to. Until then, know that i love you.
i hope you are all happy and well this holiday season.

On Planning Ahead

You know how in young women's you made lists about your future spouse?

Or when you used to babysit as a twelve year old and some people had these weird rituals they went through with their kids before bed, that you had to step into? Example, one family had a little jar with song titles and scriptures next to the kid's bed, and the kids got to take turns pulling out little slips, and then singing and reading together.

I always loved that. I thought to myself "I will do that with my children."

You know in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, how Francie and Neely read a page of Shakespeare and a page from the Bible every night?

I always try and think of things that I will do with my future children. For years I've said things like, "I will read poetry to my children before bed, and great literature, and while they may read little kid books, they will only have literature before bed."
I still hold to that.
At least when they're little, I will read them Wordsworth and Keats, I will read them Beowulf if they want stories that have monsters in them, I will read them Tolkien if they want an adventure, but every night I will try to read them some literature. And more importantly, every night I will read them poetry.
About two weeks ago, I bought a beautiful, too-expensive leather bound journal. Since then, I try to copy a poem into it every night before bed. Not my poetry, of course, but great poetry.
Then, all the poems that I love will be in one place, and I will read my children a poem from the book every night.

Haha, oh my iTunes just sang, "You read your Emily Dickinson, and I my Robert Frost." (It's playing The Dangling Conversation, by Simon and Garfunkel)

These are the poems in my book so far, any suggestions? What poets and poems do you love? I literally have hundreds of pages to fill.

A Valediction Forbidding Mourning, In a Back Alley, The Altar, I taste a Liquor Never Brewed, The Evening of the Mind, Simon Lee, "They", Sweeny Among the Nightingales, Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day?, I Am a Little World Made Cunningly, Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening, and Ode on a Grecian Urn.

two things:

1. I have been awake eighteen hours now, no biggie, except that tomorrow I have a final, and a class.
what? you may say, finals are next week, and classes ended today!
yeah, apparently things like that mean nothing to bio teachers.

2. in exactly 4 months, I will be twenty years old.
Not a teenager.
I have a distinct memory of being twelve and imagining being a teenager, just a year away.
That was six years ago.
Ah, how the time flies.

now i'm a grown up.

Happy Valley

My mom had never heard anyone say that before.
She laughed and laughed.
Happy Valley.

Geez louise, who named this valley?

Saturday night I heard two Happy Valley boys say they had never heard of anti-mormon literature.
and they didn't know Jesus created the world.
I don't think they're bad mormons, not even a little, I just can't imagine being sheltered like that. I think it must be easier to be a mormon outside of utah, because then you're forced to figure out exactly what you believe.

I worry when I see people raised in the church who don't serve missions. I know their mothers taught them. Their fathers gave them the priesthood. Their bishops checked up on them and loved them, and they went on youth trips to all the places where testimonies are born.
What if my children grow up and decide they don't care? What if Jack doesn't serve a mission?

I was baptized when I was eight. I was just a little girl. Jack is going to get the priesthood in a year. He's just a little boy. He's going to go on a mission when he's nineteen. I'm still not a grown up now, and he won't be either. All my friends on missions are still just dorky 19 year old boys.
I've noticed that the Lord gives the important tasks to children.
Of course, the prophet is old, and so is the bishop. Daddys seem old when you're a little girl, but by the time you're the age he was when you started being around, all you can think is "What was he thinking having a wife and baby when he was just a kid?"
Yeah, that was one sentence, and yeah my parents were about two years younger than I am now when they got married.

I literally know hundreds of married teenagers.
Teenagers.
Teenagers.
I know four girls getting married this month. Ages: 18, 19, 20, 23

They are all so cute. But really, they're crazy. Not crazy for getting married, they are just a little nutso, and they all found nutso men to love them. The perfect mix for each of them. You'd think that I --admittedly crazy, but not as crazy as some of the above-- could at least find a boyfriend in the thousands-some good, handsome, mormon boys on campus. I don't mind if he's crazy, if it's good crazy.

I don't know what I want. But this is what I feel: Everyone here is a child. Like children, we need someone else to take care of us. Like all little girls, we want to play house, and have a little boy to hold hands with, and help rock the dolls to sleep.
I wish I had a best friend to love me, the way I could when I was little. But now I wish I had him to keep. Best friends for life, right?
Everyone else has a boy, and I am a jealous little girl. I want one too.

Making Wishes

I love to make wishes.
I make wishes at 11:11, and 12:34, and any number that is even remotely significant, like at 4:11, my birthday, if the radio station and the time are the same. If the miles on my car have some sort of a pattern.
I makes wishes when I sneeze. I make wishes when an eye lash falls onto my cheek. I make wishes when I see things that are new, because my exchange student friend from Chile used to make wishes every time she saw a squirrel, because they don't have squirrels in Chile.
I make wishes when I see squirrels.
I make wishes on dandelions, when pulling petals off flowers, when I'm falling asleep at night. When I see white horses. Shooting stars. Going through tunnels.

The problem here isn't that wishes don't come true, or that I'm too old to make wishes, or anything logical, the problem is that I am a mormon. The problem is that I was taught to pray, and ever since I was a child I would make a wish, blow out all the candles on my cake and think, "I wish I could get a bike for my birthday. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
I don't know how to end wishes.
Still, twenty years old I make a wish when I see my breath and think "I wish I could get a date for this weekend."
I walk along a few more steps feeling like I need to end my wish and find myself thinking "In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
But then I feel guilty, I've caught myself on dozens of occasions making a wish and then thinking, "Never mind, I'm sorry, it's inappropriate for me to ask that. I don't really need my roommates to bring me cake tonight." Because over time my childish playful wishes have all turned into prayers, and my prayer-wishes always feel guilty for asking for candy, boyfriends, ponies, and that I could somehow get accepted into Hogwarts.
This is a pain in the butt since literally several times a day I make a silly wish, or even a wish that is actually important to me, but maybe selfish, or not necessarily what I ought to be wishing for, and I find myself repenting for it.
Geez, louise.
I wish I could make some good ol' fashioned wishes.

I am still in Middle School?

Remember in elementary school, when you’d meet fifth graders? They were such adults, so old, as far as children go. And high schoolers? Do you remember how much it meant to have a high schooler talk to you, or be kind to you?
Remember thinking, “When I’m 16 I will be such an adult” ? Or how about, “When I’m in college, adults won’t intimidate me anymore” ?
False.
I meet girls the same age as me, and think “Okay, we’re peers.” Quick glance down, oh, you’re married.
I become intimidated.
I’m in classes where I am knowledgeable in the subject, and even older than a many of the people in there. I love your dress, where’d you get it? Oh, Paris?
I become intimidated.
What, you’re a convert? Hmm, you have the credits of a junior? Oh, you have an accent?
Why can’t I handle life without thinking everyone is more experienced than me, and then freaking out? Doesn’t there come a point in your life when you can meet someone with huge achievements, without feeling the need to brag about the cool things you’ve done, and still like and appreciate them?
I still feel like I’m in middle school.
Especially because, remember going to your best friends house where there was a hot older brother living? Yeah, me too. Remember that even though you liked a cute little boy, just your age at school, who maybe had buck teeth, or was short, or whose mother dressed him, despite the fact that you wrote him little-kid love notes in your diary that had a lock on it, and made up code names so you and your friends could talk about him secretly, you would go over to your best friend's house where her brother was lounging on the couch being both mean and obnoxious and blush and try to flirt, and say things to make him think you might be kind of funnier than the hot Asian girlfriend he already has?
Remember that even though you have no chance with this older brother, and would be no doubt a million times happier with your little buck-toothed crush, you know that if they were they in the same room would probably completely ignore little Bucky?
And then cry yourself to sleep because now, no one loves you?
Yeah, I feel like I’m in middle school.

I take my vitamins

So I can grow up big and strong.
This a red elephant.
Yes, these are for little children.