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Barefoot Ballad

~ brittanygolightly ~ 1 Comment
 “Summer afternoon – summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.”  
-Henry James

Dearest, Darlingest Summertime,

Every relationship must brave it at some point, if there’s ever a hope of progressing anywhere. The point has come for us I’m afraid. The DTR. These aren’t fun for either party, I know. I’ve been told by other lovers that I don’t act upon my feelings very adeptly, so, with that in mind, I feel like I owe it to you to express how I really feel about you. I’m so much more charming on paper, so please don’t think me cowardly for versing my feelings this way. I think it’ll be easier for me to truly elucidate how I feel if I refer to you in the Third Person. So here goes. I am deeply and importantly in love with summer. There are so many reasons why, really. The carelessness of summer, for one. I don’t mean carelessness as in void of generous thoughts for others or negligence or anything like that. I mean the without-a-care-in-the-world kind of carelessness that inevitably comes with the dawning of each summer morning. It’s impossible to wake up on the wrong side of the bed in the summer. In fact, I think that side hibernates during the summer. “Happy” gets redefined. I would say that sadness is an anatomical impossibility. ME! She who not only dabbles in emotion but drenches herself in it. I’m crossing my fingers that- Heaven forbid- any tragedy ever befall me, it will besummer me, because at least if something life alteringly disheartening happens between June 21st and whenev the last day of summer is, it will happen when I can cling to summer’s embrace. {If it weren’t so premature, I would say August 14th, the day Elvis died, should be the last day of summer. It might as well be the death of summer too, that way it can be the date for disarming not one but two things that make my heart beat. I never bother to learn what the last day of summer is because I don’t want to know the exact date of The End.} Anyways. Oh summer. You and your effulgent rays. I want to bask in you all of my days. There’s just so much that contributes to the wonder of it all (you).Here are just some of the culprits behind my undying love for you:
  
{The beach}
{Popsicles}
{Super Soaker fights with the neighborhood kids}
{Swimming at the grandparents & inventing dives with my brothers}
~To this day Alex maintains he invented the much acclaimed “Penguin Dive”… But he is sorely mistaken.~
{Swimming at our neighbor’s house down the street and me always thinking it was odd that Becky (the M.I.L.F.y mom) used her bras as bikini tops. Now I think it’s cool.}
{Crocodile Mile}
{Collecting sand dollars}
{Renting movies from 80’s Albertson’s}
{Staying in our family’s timeshare in Carlsbad with all my cousins}
{Frequent stops to the 7-11}
{Swimming lessons}
{The Beautiful South}
{Endless sunshine}
{Snow Cone shacks popping up like daisies}
{The smell of sunblock}
{The sound of lawn mowers}
{Endless BBQ’s(aka endless opportunities to eat a cheeseburger)}
{The. Pool.}
{Outdoor concerts}
{Warm nights}
{Sundresses}
{Bike rides}
 {Being tan}
{Watermelon}
{Sublime}
{Bonfires}
{Running through the sprinklers}
{Baseball games}
{Staying up late just because you can}
{Truth Or Dare}
{Summer salads}
{Black bean salsa}
{Corn on the cob}
{Whimsy being a part of every day living}
{Outdoor flea markets}
{Farmer’s markets}
{Strawberries}
{New sunglasses}
{Monsoons}
{No such thing as snow}
{Hiking}
{Ladybugs}
{S’mores}
{Floating the river}
{The Fourth of July}

{Fireworks!}
{Meteor showers}
{Bare feet}
{Night swimming}
{Camping}
{Grandma & Grandpa’s cabin}
{Fishing}
{Slurpies}
{Warmth}
{Sunsets}
{Picnics}
{Henna}

…To name a few. Oh summer. My only complaint is that you are ephemeral. If there were a way to capture you and keep you inside a glass bottle and drink you in and visit you any time of the year, I would sell my very soul. You can never understand the depth of my ardent adulation for you. I cherish you with all that is nearest and dearest to my heart; my allegiance is to you and you alone. Though I can appreciate fall’s alluring metamorphosis and spring’s cheerful awakening of life (winter- there is nothing upon which to congratulate you, I’m afraid), it is you, summer, to which all my enchantment is bestowed. How can I ever thank you for the exquisite rapture I find in your entity? I don’t know. But I can promise you this: You will always have my heart, my devotion, my loyalty. And when you fade into the changing colors of fall and then become absolutely absent in the abysmal winter, my heart will slow it’s beat for you, but will remain ever faithful. And when spring presents itself to to the world once again, my yearning heart will slowly find it’s normal beat again, and through the hope that comes with that awakened season, will meet it’s true source of life when spring gives way to you again. I remain yours affectionately and eternally,
Brittany Anne.
Peace and Love.

Reconsider, Baby

~ brittanygolightly ~ 2 Comments
“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”
-Henry Ellis

 When I was little, one of my favorite movies ever was
Bye Bye Birdie starring the scandalous Ann-Margaret (I’ve loved her ever since, and ESPECIALLY after learning about her affair with Elvis- what more credibility does a woman NEED??). In that movie, her character Kim MacAfee, an endearingly naive 16-year old, coquettishly sings about the glory of being a woman, in which the last verse of her song is the following: 
 “How lovely to be a woman, and have one job to do:
To pick out a boy and train him, and then when you are through,
You’ve made him the man you want him to be…
Life’s lovely when you’re a woman, like me!”
In her defense, it was the 50’s. However, from the time we are little girls we begin to cultivate in our imaginations what life will someday bring us, including in the way of our “other half”. We are fed fairy tales about princesses and being rescued almost as much as we are fed our three square meals a day, and this inadvertently lends itself to enchanting (*cough* polluting) our minds with ideas of our very own future. As we grow up, though we slowly relinquish our childish, whimsical ideas of what life must someday mean for us, we do continue to sprout and cultivate fantasies of how our life will unfold and present itself to us. Through whatever stimulus or propaganda we encounter as we grow, our idea about what Life should look like and how it should happen gets molded and shaped and rearranged and finally, solidified… until we think we have the perfect schema of what it is. 

Picture this lifetime-generated idea of Life as a box. We inadvertently (and obviously hypothetically), fill this box with contents (requirements, stipulations, ideals) we feel are non-negotiable in order for us to accept it as really ours. The contents are different for everyone, but everyone has their box. It’s not wrong to have it, mind you- in fact, it’s good to have expectations for oneself and for what one wants. It can be a dangerous venture though, because if we become too enraptured with our figurative “hope chest”, it can blind us from seeing the goodness of reality.

I think that when Heaven designed me, It made me innately proclivitous to long for things. Sometimes I think it may be the tragic flaw of my humanity; to actually long for something in such a way that it comes to be somewhat of an adopted appendage. I call it a tragic flaw only because when paired with a propensity for addiction (another highly sought after trait I’ve been fortunate enough to have congenitally been given), it can be debilitating and thus hinder one’s [*ahem* my] progression as a human being. As someone who governs almost all decisions according to the argument her emotions protest, I know this to be true. This kinesthetic relationship with one’s feelings coupled with the aforementioned preconceived Box of Life, can be covertly malignant… Because one becomes intoxicated/disillusioned with an idea of what is “altogether necessary for [their] happiness” (-Christian Bale, American Psycho… And yes, I’m a psycho for even watching it… Whatev) all the while thinking one is being totally practical. Oh and when I say “one”, I am of course, referring to Yours Truly Scrumptious. But assuming I’m not the only “one” out there, what do we do when life throws a wrench in our spokes? In this context… What do we do when we encounter something  we just adore with every fiber of who we are but doesn’t quite fit into our box?
Do we give up the entity or give up the box? … 
Kim MacAfee sang about finding a malleable man and rearranging him to make him fit into whatever box she had contrived. That does not make being a woman lovely, that makes being a woman tedious. And how sad for that man, who probably was a good guy to begin with, right? I only use this example to compel the point that finding Happiness does not always mirror a contrived notion of “happiness”; that reconstructing an entity to make it more conducive to our conceived ideas of happiness can sometimes be more destructive to finding joy than constructive. 
In other words, I don’t think the answer comes in giving up one or the other, but in sometimes deciding which you have to rearrange to find Happiness. Whether it’s the entity or the box itself. 

I ask again, does one give up the entity or give up the box? … Maybe, you rearrange the box to fit around the entity, and get a reality better than anything even you, one who really has quite a talent for imagining things, could ever dream up yourself.

Peace and Love.


Always On My Mind

~ brittanygolightly ~ 3 Comments

“One cannot live well, love well, or sleep well, until one has dined well.” 
-Virginia Woolfe
My homeboy Vincent van Gogh once said,
“The way to know life is to love many things.” For those who aren’t familiar with our boy Vince- aside from the fact that he was a prolific Post-Impressionist during the late 19th century- he was also… ardently alive. His passion for living fueled his art, and, conversely, his art actually served as a cathartic means by which to release some of the stresses he indubitably brought upon himself because of the intensity in which he felt alive. It was Vince’s “loving of many things” which I’m sure allowed him to feel so passionately about the world and his circumstances and his aliveness. 
Let’s translate that ideaology to… Brittanyology. I feel that Vincent and I may be kindred spirits for several reasons which are far too convoluted to discuss on this simple minded little blog BUT it is the aforementioned quotation which I feel binds us because, it was something he preemptively said only because I wasn’t alive yet to say it. I am a self-prolaimed lover of many things. Many, many, many things. And as my dear, long-lost friend Grant used to say about me, if I love something, I “love the hell out of it.” (He also used to say, “and if you don’t like something, you HATE it. You are a living superlative.” I don’t think anyone’s ever pin-pointed my personality as acutely as did he that day. I miss you, my good man.) 
I could loquaciously divulge all the many, many, many things that allow me to fervently “know life”, and verbally illustrate why they make my cup so very half full. Instead, I’m going to concentrate on merely one aspect of my aliveness that sometimes brings me more joy than I’m comfortable admitting…
Have you ever taken a bite of something for the first time and had the immediate, soul-penetrating musing:
“Surely Heaven designed this with me in mind”?
{“Why, yes, yes I have- and don’t call me Shirley!” would be my resounding response.}
Among my most cherished memories are the poignant moments I’ve shared with my taste buds and had the aforementioned question resonate within my entire being. I remember getting strep throat a few years ago and upon convalescing, was grievously concerned that my taste buds would never heal. It was literally the most debilitating thought I’ve ever had. Oh, but they did. And how marvelously they’ve recovered. I’m afraid that words seem to fail me when it comes to describing those foods that have brought me such mellifluous joy, that have created a symphony in my mouth, that have turned my gray skies blue…
So, I will instead visually stimulate your own taste buds and allow you to cogitate on what you (or your taste buds) love so much that it truly does allow you to “know life” a little bit better. Indeed, at least for me “the way to know life is to love many ‘foods’.”
There is no humanly possible way I could deliver every, single food item with which I have an unhealthy relationship so I just narrowed it down to the ones I crave/dream about on a regular basis (in no particular order). Drumroll please… 
Chocolate Souffle Cake with Vanilla Bean sauce from CPK. And… you gotta go a’la mode or go home.
Carne asada esta sooooo good. My Pops raised me right.
I’ve been known to eat my body weight in cinnamon rolls in less than thirty minutes.
I’ll avo your cado any day of the weeeeek.
Dear Vegetarians, You. Are. Boring. Love, B. 
(Except for you, Em.)
P.S. Why do you think Heaven made animals?? 
It’s b/c of BBQ sauce. Duh.
Pesto, Pesto, you are the very best-o.

 
Best formula ever, sorry to disappoint you Al Einstein: 
(1) Late Night with Chelsea Handler + (1) big fluffy bed 
+ (1-3) bowls of PB Crunch = Divine.
Sometimes really all I can think about for hours on end is a cheeseburger.
Creme brule. This is where words do indeed fail me.


I discovered these during one of my “organic only” phases. They’re organically delicious. But the wrapper isn’t bio-degradable, which is so disappointing.

 
 “Since when is it illegal to hide caprizzi salad anywhere?”
If only I knew where to buy cake bite seeds so that I could grow a cake bite tree. Lemme know if you ever come across any. (You can buy some actual cake bites here. They don’t sell the seeds though.)
I’m pretty sure pineapple was the fruit on that one tree that Eve wasn’t supposed to pick from. Because it’s positively sinful.

Not as sinful as this, though. I hate her.
Queso dip. I discovered this on an “organic only” phase too. Naturally.
Tip: Nachos from the gas station aren’t as good as they look. But I will hit that when a more viable option for hot cheese isn’t readily accessible. 
I am not even mad at the frozen yogurt craze and I’m crossing my fingers the dream never dies. My fave is Original Tart. I never try anything else. I’m not a dare devil.
Member cranberry limeades from Sonic? Best. Thing. Ever. Don’t get me started on nugget ice. Don’t eeeeven get me started.
I LOVE me some whole grain, American toast. But really? This > That. I love French toast, French kissing, and French fries. And in that order.
If you call this “Orange Sherbert”, I officially hate you. There’s only one “R” in sherbet, FYI.
And Oh Delilah… What would life be without creampuffs?? I don’t want to think about that right now. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
…

Peace and Love.

Artwork by Ju Duoqi, on display at the Paris-Beijing Photo Gallery, in the featured exhibit, “The Vegetable Museum”. This piece  is made out of various vegetables used in Chinese cuisine, including tofu, cabbage, and ginger. Radical.

Love Letters

~ brittanygolightly ~ 7 Comments
“The sudden bound from mournful resignation to infinite felicity seemed to upset me. Even now I am still beside myself and sometimes I tremble lest I should suddenly awaken from this dream divine.”
-Victor Hugo, in a “love letter” to his wife Adele


 Dear Kidneys,
Sorry about the 3 pound bag of Sweettart jellybeans I ate today.
Love, B
Dear All The Clothes I Hand-Washed Today,
You are annoying.
Love, B
Dear Jackson F. Brown,
You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. So far.
Love, B
Dear Lavendar,
I wish the whole world smelled like you.
Love, B
Dear Taco Bell Drive-Thru Man Whom Gave Me a Free Pepsi Today,
Thank you!
Love, B
Dear June,
I can’t wait see you again. I will basque in you.
Love, B
Dear Clean Sheets,
You may possibly be my highest ideal of earthly bliss.
Love, B
Dear Sleeping In- My Long-Lost Friend,
We will reunite someday.
Love, B
Dear Chewable Vitamin-C Tablets,
The jig is up. I know you’re candy in disguise. And I’m not mad.
Love, B
Dear Elvis,
Oh just… Everything. 
Love, B
Dear Beloved Cameo Collection,
Just thinking of you makes me serenely happy.
Love, B
Dear Webster’s Pocket Dictionary,
You are my favorite nerdy pleasure.
Love, B
Dear Pachelbel Canon in D,
You never stop giving. My soul is ardently enamored with you.
Love, B
Dear Ginger Ale,
I think I’m the only human under the age of 67 that drinks you. But I’ll drink you ’til I’m 67 at least. 
Love, B
Dear Singing In The Shower,
You make me supremely happy.
Love, B
Dear Always Sunny In Philadelphia,
You are completely inappropriate. But I love you just the same.
Love, B
Dear Tiramasu,
Thank you for all that you are.
Love, B
Dear Getting Waxed,
You’re so worth the agony.
Love, B
Dear Brothers On Missions,
Sometimes I miss you all the time.
Love, B
Dear Little Sisters,
Stop growing.
Love, B
Dear Popsicles (Dad),
I owe you: about four sets of tires, a totaled Range Rover, some car payments, among other things. You will probably never get them from me. But I love you more than Webster’s or I can express.
Love, B
Dear Mama,
I want to be you in most every way.
Love, B
Dear Scoliosis,
Go away.
Love, B
Dear Cheeseburgers,
I could eat one of you every. single. day.
Love, B
Dear Downloading Music Until The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning,
I may need to leave you for awhile and seek out some sort of 12-step program.
Love, B
Dear People Who Say “I Could Care Less”,
I hate you.
Love, B
Dear Les Miserables,
I think you were written just for me.
Love, B
Dear The Age of Innocence,
You are tragically beautiful. Just like Elpheba.
Love, B
Dear Pile Of Laundry I Have To Fold,
See you on my floor in a big pile tomorrow! Take care.
Love, B
Dear Organic Skim Milk,
I know you’re a scam. But I can’t stop!
Love, B
Dear Washing My Hair Every Day,
R.I.P.
Love, B
Dear Cary Grant,
You are intoxicating.
Love, B
Dear Hello Kitty,
I still kind of adore you and get a little thrill when I see you on stuff, like the Band-Aids I bought at Target last week.
Love, B
Dear March Madness,
I don’t get it.
Love, B
Dear Antique Stores,
How does one live life without you?
Love, B
Dear The Kardashians,
Be nicer to Scott. He’s kinda funny.
Love, B
Dear Bompa (My three-year old moniker for “Grandpa”),
My heart belongs to you.
Love, B
Dear Carla Bruni,
I loved you even more when I found out you had an affair with Mick Jagger. Please tell me there is a love child out there somewhere… And where I can buy their album…
Love, B
Dear French,
I want to learn you soon.
Love, B
Dear Hearing and Sight, 
Please never, never leave me.
Love, B
Dear Anne Shirley,
I want to be you. Minus the red hair of course.
Love, B
Dear Swimming Laps,
Let’s be friends again.
Love, B
Dear Now ‘N’ Laters,
I thought I’d be over you by now. It seems I’m not. 
Love, B
Dear Making Lists,
Please explain why crossing things off of you gives me such sick thrills? So much so that I write mindless things like, “Brush teeth” on you just so I can cross it off? I don’t understand.
Love, B
Dear Book About Jack The Ripper That I’m Reading,
You are a creep. And I am a creep for reading you in the first place.
Love, B
Dear The Word Diabolical,
I kind of love you.
Love, B
Dear Making Paper Chains To Count Down To Stuff,
I don’t think you’re juvenile. I appreciate everything you stand for.
Love, B
Dear The Phrase “Son of a B#*%$”,
You very well may be my go-to.
Love, B
Dear Scarlett O’ Hara,
So much of me wishes I could be you.
Love, B
Dear Kona Mochas at See’s Candies,
Marry me.
Love, B
…
Peace and Love.

Follow That Dream

~ brittanygolightly ~ 3 Comments
tumblr_n031yblsNb1r29g9xo1_1280.jpg
“There is a danger in the word someday when what it means is ‘not this day.’…The thought ‘Someday I will’ can be a thief of the opportunities of time and the blessings of eternity.”
-Henry B. Eyring

Someday I will:

Birth a child
Go to Greece
Go to grad school
Visit Green Gables
Get a gym membership
Read the Bible
See The Rolling Stones with my dad
Not live in snow
Have a beach house
See my Uncle Brad again
Choose someone else’s happiness over my own
Bathe in a waterfall(not even kidding)
Have a son named Henry
Learn how to sew
Cut my hair regularly
Watch the real news instead of E’s Daily Ten
Meet Matt Dillon
Not need my inhaler
Buy a beach cruiser
Be one with nature
Have a dog named Elvis
Be the best at something
See Van Gogh’s Memory of the Garden at Etten for real and somehow try to exit the premises with it on my “person”…
Know all there is to know about the mafia
Learn to make a souffle
Read all of Edith Wharton’s books
Sleep outside
Skinny-dip… again
See Les Mis in London
Read The Age of Innocence under a tree with minted Ginger Ale and… macaroons
Try Raspberry Cordial for real
Catch a fish
Buy something from Anthro not on sale
Recycle, Reduce, ReUse
Initiate a national ban against mayonnaise
Publish a manuscript
Drink however much water a day I’m supposed to
Plant a garden
Smile though my heart is aching
Dance in my kitchen with Mr. Wonderful
Have an intoxicating kiss in the rain just like Holly and Paul
Furnish a home in love, laughter, truth, and vintage
See India
Dedicate a whole day to Cary Grant movies
Perfect my glow
Personify “incandescently happy”
Play the piano again
Love a little girl named Fiona. Or Vivienne. Maybe I will love two little girls (!)
Perfectly epitomize Audrey H.
Master my “muchness”
Find the perfect pair of pencil pants
Visit Venice
Make love not war
Protest against littering
Sing on stage
Stop believing in mermaids
Bow at my Savior’s feet
Learn how to prioritize
Save money
Have a trellis of hydrangeas
Be enchanted by NY again
See the orchestra- any orchestra
Put my personal touch on the world
Sing Moonriver as a lullaby
Memorize all the parts of the brain and their functions
Learn to separate my imaginings from my realities
Learn to cope with my imaginings not being my realities
Try a Turkish Delight
Not go one day without praying
Hold a starfish
Will not want what I can never have
Reach my potential
Know every little thing about something utterly significant
Know every little thing about something utterly insignificant (I’m well on my way to that one already, actually)
Go almost all the way completely Green
Have to stop going to Strung Out shows…
Not regret not smoking weed
See an opera- any opera (which will most likely spoil everyday life for me forever-after)
Be the portrait of a lady- at least once
Be able to shop at a Farmer’s Market every Saturday morning
Know all about all the constellations
Care about politics
Dance to Moonriver in an ethereal white dress
Find meaning outside myself
Learn French
Put notes in my kids lunches

… Hopefully before my eternity runs out.

Peace and Love.
Artwork: “Memories of the Garden at Etten” by Vincent Van Gogh

I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here

~ brittanygolightly ~ 7 Comments

“To a superior race of being the pretensions of mankind to extraordinary sanctity and virtue must seem… ridiculous.”
-William Hazlitt

Here are just a few things I will miss (not) about Provo. That is, when the blessed day that I extricate myself finally arrives…

1) V-necks and skinny jeans. On grown-ass men. How do they… nevermind. I don’t even want to think about how they accommodate themselves into the geometry of the skinny jean. And enough with the man-cleave. Your poor dads.
2) Guys who don’t know their shit’s weak. Basically, almost every guy being “That” guy.
3) Sword and Quill club at BYU.
4) Snow
5) Snow
6) Snow
7) No legit Mexican restaurants, except for La Casita. But that’s in Springville, so… Noted.
8) Girls who wear Nikes with every every every outfit. I.e.: BYU Sweatshirt, BYU sweatpants, Nikes; floral 90’s blouse, jeans, Nikes; Lacy bottom-trimmed camisole, White V-Neck T-Shirt, jean skirt, Nikes. Gruesome.
9) The filth that is commonly referred to as Fry Sauce. AKA pink mayo. Can we not?
10) No Dunkin’ Donuts! WTF.
11) The tweaker girls that work at Crest on 9th (I will however, miss the Crest gas stations themselves. Gems.)
12) Utah drivers. And this is from me, who took three tries to get licensed in the great state of CA.
13) P.P.D. aka Provo Police. Really? You take your job THAT seriously?
14) The weirdo rapist creepy As that talk to themselves riding the 832 and only have four teeth.
15) “Could care less”
16) Hipsters* (*see #1 and #28 for more information)
17) Being afraid to visit the Sev because of being mobbed by All-Stars. FYI: You’re 39. You mayyyy want to think about making some life choices. (Related: #24)
18) The unbelievably relentless toolishness of University Towing- who is solely responsible for my fear of parking anywhere in the U.S. that is not my driveway.
19) Snow
20) The sheer audacity of Utah breds referring to Utah lake as “The Beach.” For real?
21) No beach.

22) Utah Dating on Demand. Classic.

23) Shandies. You know who you are.

24) The most prolific trend/epidemic being douche-baggery- any and all forms. (Related: #28)

25) Snow

26) Having to break for DEER. Go. Back. To the mountain. Before I have my brother shoot your face.

27) The unparalleled ineptness of the natives- which can probably be attributed to delayed aftermath of polygamy. Mabes. Haha. I’m sorry, so because you “don’t work in produce”, does that mean that you are physically unable or forbidden to retrieve me a box from the warehouse, or that you are mentally unable/therefore forbidden to retrieve me a box from the warehouse? Ah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you an aneurysm by assuming you knew how to… cerebrate.

28) Oh! The slaughtering of anything and everything sacredly legit. Like, let me see… music for instance. Let me run through the tragical process with you:

-Step 1: “Exhibit A” (i.e. a song, a band, a clothing item, a movie, or, most recently, a restaurant, etc.) reaps “dope” status in California.
-Step 2: Rumor of “Exhibit A” makes it’s way to Utah, sometimes months or even years later.
-Step Threeve: A Mormo gets wind of “Exhibit A” and smothers it.
-Step 4: Said Mormo then proliferates “Exhibit A”‘s exposure by bearing their testimony about it. As everyone knows, once one Mormo gets ahold of something they like, it’s only a matter of time before it’s a Mormon Sensation. Thus leading directly to…
-Step 5: The whole Mormo population smothering and strangling and raping and pillaging and annihilating and pulverizing and stripping the legitimacy out of once sacred “Exhibit A”.
-Step 6: “Exhibit A” has now become and will forever remain… just one of the many, many components of douchebaggery.
And so ends the once sacredly legit status of “Exhibit A”. We will miss you. R.I.P.

29er) Having to drive forty minutes for a semi-satisfying shopping experience. So not ideal.

30) Snow

31) BYU couples. You’re gross.

Thanks P-Town. It’s been real. Peace and Love.

A Thing Called Love

~ brittanygolightly ~ 1 Comment

“You know what’s wrong with you?” -Audrey
“What?” -Cary
” [Enraptured sigh, slow batting of eyelashes] Nothing.” -Audrey
– Charade

So try as I may to front, I cannot betray the true romanticism that lurks and simmers deep within my soul. I cannot say where this deep-seeded enamoration for enamoration began, but all I know is, it is there, and it is so much a part of me that denying it would be like denying the existence of my very own beating heart or pathetically asthmatic, ever-struggling lungs. On my dresser in a little frame is the William Shakespeare quote: “To thine own self be true.” I see this six-syllabled B-slap-in-the-face every morning when I’m getting ready for the day and each morning renew my vow to follow it’s quiet little imploration to embrace all that is Brittany. For someone as vitriolic as I can be, it is truly extraordinary that my heart can beat for anything lovely. Oh, but it does. And I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I find myself utterly intoxicated with the idea of that four-letter word we refer to as L-O-V-E.

Ever since I was little, I’ve been intrigued with the idea of falling in love, and that little fire of intrigue has not lost it’s flame as I’ve grown into womanhood. Indeed, it’s probably only burned more keenly. I think the underlying cause for this fascination lies in the sheer fact that I’ve never truly been in love. Not the kind that I’ve imagined about anyway. I love my parents, I love my sibs, I love cameos, I love Pepsi, and I’ve definitely been in incomplete-and-emotionally-draining-like with various people, but I’ve never, ever had the penetrating kind of romance that I’ve imagined about. So all I have to go off of are the resplendent enrapturations of others who have experienced what I’ve only devotedly wondered about- whether in music, or movies, or literature. {DISCLAIMER: I am WELL aware that all the aforementioned musings about love are merely contrived and artful attestions to appeal to the part within all of us that relishes in such- which is why we go see chick flicks in the first place… Anyway.} So, in the abysmal bleakness that is this season (Dear Utah, I hate you. Love, B.), I have nothing better to do than eat (another thing that I  four-letter-word) and blog about stuff that I know nothing about. In all my endless hours of filmage, reading, and hours and hours and hours of audiologically drinking-in my iTunes, I have compiled countless quotes about that little thing called Love that all describe, to some extent, why it is truly “all we need” (to quote them Beatles). In essence, each of these “testimonials” have played a part in constructing my admittedly whimsical ideal of what it means to be in love. I thought about categorizing them, since I’m an organize-aholic, and came up with the following categories:
-Bravery
-Submission to the throws of love
-Exquisite happiness
-Relinquishing of sensicalities
-The willingly possessed, belonging to one another
– Forever kind of love, eachother’s beginning and end… aka On and on and on kinda love

But then I decided to forgo the categorization of something that really is probably very uncategorizable. So here they are. Try your best to fight off the nausea and if at all possible, refrain from the compelling desire to roll your eyes. For however ridiculous and impossible and whimsical these ideas may be, you can’t deny that deep down, you wish they were true.

“Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.”
– erika jong

“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.“
-vincent Van gogh
(He had his heartbroken time after time… And he STILL had the balls to give it away again and again.)
“Widen your heart scope.”
– the killers
“When you’re too in love to let it go…But if you never try you’ll never know… Just what you’re worth.”
-coldplay
“I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love, above all. Not the artful postures of love, but the love that overthrows life. Un-biddable, ungovernable like a
riot in the heart and nothing to be done come ruin or rapture. Love as there has never been in a play. I will have love …”
-shakespeare in love

“I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.”

-carrie bradshaw

“open up my arms and fall…
Losing all control
Every dream inside my soul
… Kiss me
On that midnight street,
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain’t this life so sweet.”
-david gray

“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.”
-The One, The Only

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”
-mr. darcy
“You’re the sweetest little woman I ever had.”
-the rolling stones

“…completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy.”
-eliza bennett

“A woman should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”
-rhett butler

“…something so like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name…”
–Pride and Prejudice


“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere…
they’re in each other all along.“
–rumi
“…my highest ideal of earthly bliss.”
-my girl, anne shirley
“…sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults…”
– mr. knightley

“I love you every way there is to love a man.“
-nancy turner

“You got somethin’ I want plenty of.“
-Bob Dylan

“Each time you happen to me all over again.”
–The Age of Innocence
“Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.”

-mae west
And, correspondingly, maybe my favorite quote of all time:
“Nothing is too wonderful to be true.“
-william faderly
“There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.“
-vincent Van gogh

“Love is a portion of the soul itself.”

– victor hugo

“Let us be in love; let’s do ‘old and gray'”.
-the killers

“Remember today, for it is the beginning of always. Today marks the start of a brave new future filled with all your dreams can hold. Think truly to the future and make all those dreams come true.”
-dante alighieri

“The only way to know ourselves is to go too far.”
– Jason Cruz

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day.”
– noah calhoun
“I found a thrill to press my cheek to. “
-etta james
“And if you’ll let me, I will keep you here inside the stars. I will love the sound of my sheets- oh, you have moved beneath them.”
-rickie lee jones
“You touch me- I hear the sound of mandolins; you kiss me- with your kiss my life begins. You’re spring to me; all things to me. You’re life itself. Like a leaf clings to a tree, oh my darling- cling to me.”
-Nina Simone

“‘Sometimes’ is never quite enough.”
– alanis morissette

“Did you walk for the fear of love? Or, don’t you believe enough? Well I’ll cover us both- you can leave that to me.”
-imogen heap

“Don’t you know that I belong arm in arm with you, baby?”
-regina spektor
“I’d like to be the first white hair upon your head, your cherry pie, your daily bread. I’ll cook for free, i’ll make your bed…I’d like to be the owner of the zipper on your jeans… The beginning, the end, and everything in between. And be your slave, and be your queen.”
-shakira
“No love, no glory.” – damien rice

“She is loveliness itself.“
-mr. knightley

“Wherever you’re goin’, i’m goin’ your way.”
– moonriver
“At your feet.“
– marius to cosette, Les Miserables

 “Oh but if I had the stars from the darkest night, and the diamonds from the deepest ocean, I’d forsake them all for  your sweet kiss, for that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’.”
-Bob Dylan

“Moi je t’offrirai
Des perles de pluie
Venues de pays
Oþ il ne pleut pas
Je creuserai la terre
Jusqu’apr
Pour couvrir ton corps
D’or et de lumi
Je ferai un domaine
Oþ l’amour sera roi
Oþ l’amour sera loi
Oþ tu seras reine
ne me quitte pas“
-Nina Simone
(No, I don’t speak the French. Howev, I am so intoxicated by this song, “Ne Me Quitte Pas”, which, in English means, “Do Not Leave Me”, that I Google translated the lyrics and this verse of the song was particularly lovely. It says something like, ‘I will cover your body in gold and light… blah blah blah… Love is King and you are the Queen… Do not leave me.’ Enchanting, right?)

“I believe in kissing- kissing a lot.“
-Audrey Hepburn

Peace and L-O-V-E.



Little Sister

~ brittanygolightly ~ Leave a comment

“Bless you, my darling, and remember you are always in the heart- tucked oh so close there is no chance of escape- of your sister.” 
–Katherine Mansfield

Once upon a time, there was a scrawny, gawky, and terribly egocentric fourteen year old named Brittany Anne. Brittany was the oldest of three siblings, Alex, Ben, and Hanah. Though she loved all three of them very, very much, she did grow weary of fulfilling her role as the older sister and, in her own contrived imaginings, the “live-in indentured servant”. When Brittany’s diabolical mother told her that she was going to have another sibling for Brittany to watch all the time, you can imagine Brittany’s immediate repulsion: “ANOTHER kid to watch?? What kind of hotel is this?” In other words, she was utterly annoyed and overwhelmingly stressed. For nine months, while this alleged Sibling #4 was being gestationally baked, all Brittany could think about was how dreadful her life was going to become once the little dirtbag was born. By the time the fated day, April 30, 1998 finally arrived, Brittany’s mind had been well made up that this baby was on her own. Brittany had washed her hands of the entire affair. No more diapers, no more bottles, no more filthy rice cereal and baby food and baths. That would show her mom- the baby factory/slave driver. Even though it wasn’t the new baby’s fault that Brittany wasn’t utterly thrillified to have another sibling, there was really nothing she could do about it. All of these sinister thoughts surfed through Brittany’s brain all the way to the hospital. When Brittany finally saw her new baby sister, her first thought was, “Boy is she ever HUGE!” That new little baby was practically the size of a kindergartner. But she was cute. Brittany still wasn’t convinced though. After a couple days, the new little life-ruiner was allowed to come home. Brittany had no idea what she was in for. Upon arriving home, Brittany’s mom asked her to hold the new baby for a few minutes while she got settled. With much adolescent and estrogenical disdain, Brittany agreed. She took her new baby sister in her arms and sat down in a rocking chair in the family room. By some miracle, the house that was usually loud with chaos fell silent. Not a peep did Brittany hear as she sat there rocking her new baby sister. And it was in that rocking chair that something truly miraculous happened, and it took no more than three seconds. As Brittany rocked her brand-new, straight from the wings of Heaven, fifteen pound baby sister, her little black heart unleashed it’s stubborn grip and actually melted right into her toes. All at once, every feeling she had ever had of animosity was disintegrated and all she could feel for that new little person was love, love love. Her plan was foiled- she loved her new baby sister and there was no getting around it. All her previous feelings were diminished, and at that moment all she cared about was loving that new baby and being the absolute most legit big sister there ever was.
I love you Emme- I wasn’t completely a sister until there was you.
Peace and Love.

Change of Habit

~ brittanygolightly ~ 1 Comment

“A pessimist only sees the dark side of the clouds, and mopes; an optimist doesn’t see the clouds at all- he’s walking on them.”

-Leonard Louis Levanson
Recently I heard myself voicing this to one of my peeps: “I don’t seem to write my brother as much because my life is so good now that I have nothing to talk about.” Just days before this word vomit, I ran into one of my good friends whom I hadn’t seen or talked to in months. As we tried to figure out an explanation for this, he outted us: “It’s because we haven’t had any drama in our lives. Our lives have been so good that we haven’t needed each other!” Wow. That dreadful realization made me ache. Why is it that only when my life is seemingly pitiful do I feel the need to proclaim it? Why don’t I feel that need when my life is M. Poppins-esque in that it is “practically perfect in every way”? This proclivity of mine to vehemently declare my life’s despondencies and merely whisper my life’s little thrills is utterly disgraceful! Yesterday I drove right under a rainbow. A fully arched rainbow… In all my years I’ve never actually seen a WHOLE rainbow. I’ve only ever been able to witness HALF a rainbow. I couldn’t help but compare this to my life and how, for so long, I’ve only been able to see “half the rainbow”, hypothetically speaking, let alone anything at all through “the stormy clouds of my existence”. How can one lead a happy, fulfilling life, if they fail to see the rainbows through the storm, or, I guess, after the storm?
Thank goodness for that rainbow (BTW i’m fully aware of how utterly… gay… all this talk about rainbows sounds, but just humor your girl…), because it was just what I needed to change my perspective and compel me toward a life of Optimism. I used to say that optimism was boring. More word vomit. Because… in all sincerity, I’ve always sort of been an optimist in a pessimist’s clothing. This is making me sound like a contradictator, I know. First I say I’m Negative personified and then I promise that no, I really was a proponent of optimisticism. But, I say optimist in a pessimist’s clothing because, even though it was effortless for me to complain, and bemoan, and condemn, and be all estrogenical all the time… Sometimes, deep down, I still had this little flicker of hope that things were going to be just fine. So it is true what they say. Beauty is only skin deep because my ability to find the beauty in situations was always there, just buried deep down beneath the surface. That little flicker, try as it may, never really surfaced. But the fact that it flickered at all under such circumstances is kind of inspiring, right? Let that little deep seeded flicker of optimism surface, and it can change everything. Suddenly, everything is rosy, your Pepsi glass is always half full, there’s no such thing as a cloud without a silver lining, no tunnel without a light at the end, and all that jazzy jazz.
I heretofore pledge that I will now not only broadcast all the marvelousness in my life, but search tenaciously for it when it seems to be on holiday. There’s nothing like a rainbow to make you switch sides. Pa ha. Peace and Love.

All Shook Up

~ brittanygolightly ~ 1 Comment
“Any perceived inconsistency among various aspects of knowledge, feelings, and behavior, sets up an unpleasant internal state – cognitive dissonance – which people try to reduce whenever possible.”
-Henry Gleitman

Today I read something which was like a b-slap to the face, basically reiterating to me what a waste I am. That certain issue that has been quaking my soul for the greater portion of the last year of my life. Lucky for me, I was born with a brain. It’s quite marvelous. It allows me to decode and encode information, proliferate synapses, analyze and personally “logicate” incoming data, accommodate/assimilate my schemas, etc. Along with this ability to cognate, I believe that I have also been granted another entity, contributing vastly, yet not as tangibly, to my carbon-based existence- a spiritual component. I believe that human beings can be spiritual, whether or not they adopt a religious dogma into that schema is their choice. Still, that spiritual component of existence (regardless of religion) is there, acknowledged or not. I believe that it’s the part of you that governs your morality; is responsible for the guilt you feel when you’ve chosen a “wrong” instead of a “right”. Some refer to this as a conscience. But I choose to believe that it’s more than that. Your spirit- that is the best version of who you are meant to be. And that is why when you choose a Wrong instead of a Right, or maybe even an Acceptable instead of a Very Best, you don’t feel your very best. That feeling is an intrinsic sort of resonance, not a cognitive one. There is a difference between thinking something is wrong and feeling something is wrong. Therein lies the spiritual component of decision-making.
Truly, we all “know” what is wrong and what is right. We “know” because in employing our cognitive resources, we discover that it is not logical to lie, to cheat, or to steal because we “know” that there are always consequences for these things. Still, because we are human, we transgress. Or, we choose to transgress. So the “knowing” component of exercising morality is obviously not enough; the impending consequences are not enough. What can the culprit behind this cognitive dissonance be? The culprit is disregard. We abjure that spiritual aspect of our existence- the “feeling” component of choosing. What we so often may not acknowledge, is how it feels when we choose that Wrong, or even that Acceptable, in addition to our knowing it is not the Right or the Very Best for us. I think that if more human beings acknowledged the cognitive and the spiritual component of decision-making, the result would be a more harmonious sense of being and thus, in the long-run, a less dissolute society.
I can see how this idea might seem hopelessly naive to some; to others, it may just substantiate claims that my mind is still paying rent to Cloud Nine, so to speak. For once, though, I have actually taken a hiatus from my hypothetical Cloud Niner state of thinking, and have found myself engaged in a desperate cogitative quest to tap into that spirituality that has for so long been abandoned in my thoughts, my actions, my words, my very Brittany-ness. I don’t want to be part of a dissolute society; I want to be a proponent of the virtue which can heal it…
Why the inner conflict you ask? It is this: I really do believe that one’s spirit is the best version of who they can be, and I want to embrace that without forsaking the mind and the reasoning ability I’ve been given, because that, too, is so much part of who I am. I wonder then…Is it possible to make wrong decisions and feel right about them? Conversely, is it possible to make right decisions and feel unnerved/discontent? Is it possible to employ both one’s brain and one’s feeling-regulator (spirit), and have that decision induce inner harmony? Or, do you have to choose to employ one facet of aliveness over the other? Can they work harmoniously? For as long as I have been aware of and believe that it is in fact a real thing, I have chosen to trust in that spiritual aspect of aliveness. And with the aforementioned “quest for virtue”, my instinct was that I should just embrace the hell out of it. Yet logic tells me that I cannot ONLY seek this component’s approval. This seemingly dichotomous task of trying to utilize one without disturbing the other when faced with moralic decisions is perplexing to say the least. I have no real solution to this dilemma. In my lifetime, empirical evidence (aka personal experience) has shown that there really is no way for me to achieve complete copaseticism without allowing both my mind and my spirit a chance to defend their arguments. Howev, I will attest: when I have allowed each defendant to plead their case, rarely is there a dissonance between the two. When I have been truly judicial about my moral dilemmas, objectively weighing the Wrongs vs. the Consequences vs. the Feels Right For Nows vs. the Will It Feel Right Laters, I most always find that I am content with the aftermath of my decision. So then, maybe, cognition and spiritual conciousness can stand independently, but if used together, can bridge the dissonance?
Meh. Who knows.
Peace and Love.
P.S. This guy has some more thoughts on the subject. I thought it was interesting… http://sisyphusfragment.wordpress.com/2009/3/15/morals