He's just not that into me...

I suck at living my life so from now on each of you is going to take a day of the week and run my life. Ha ha. But seriously. If I have to tell my therapist one more time, "you told me so." I'm going to freak. So, yes, I should be in graduate school right now, so yes, I shouldn't take life so seriously, so yes, moving to Las Vegas to run away from my life was a bad idea. To be honest, when it comes to my life, I feel like I make nothing but bad choices. A dear friend (if you know who I'm talking about you know that was sarcastic) recently asked me "What in the HELL are you doing with your life right now?" My answer...silence. If I knew that, we wouldn't have been having a conversation right then, or ever. So, I spent all day today fighting with my mom about everything from my car, to what I majored in in college, to my religion, to the boy (or lack of one)in my life. In between these arguments I read He's Just Not That Into You. Let me tell you. He's just not that into me. "Beware of the word 'friend.' It can often be used by men or the women that love them to excuse the most unfriendly behavior. Personally, when I'm picking friends, I like the ones who don't make me cry myself to sleep." Also, "...What I can do is paint you a picture of what you'll never see when you're with a guy who's really into you: You'll never see you staring maniacally at your phone, willing it to ring. You'll never see you ruining an evening with friends because your calling for your messages every fifteen seconds. You'll never see you hating yourself for calling him when you know you shouldn't have." I've accepted this. And the best part is, as this realization dawned on me, rather than falling back on the old stand by and crying, I just started laughing. I think it's a relief to Finally be free of the confusion. And I'm going to take the advice of the book, "There's a guy out there who will want to tell everyone that he's your boyfriend. Quit goofing around and go find him." So, I now have the boy thing figured out. That just leaves every other aspect of my life out of whack. Whatev.

New Year's Resolution

I have always been the kind of person who hates making New Year's Resolutions. I have always thought that it was dumb. No one ever keeps them. I mean, it's nice to think that I will loose a thousand pounds this year or get rid of all my stuff or stop drinking pepsi... but I won't. However, in 2009 there is something I would like to resolve. This time next year I will not be in the same crappy non-relationship with the same stupid non-man (To borrow from Miranda Lambert- "he doesn't look much like a man from where I stand" or to borrow from Luke Crane- "tell him to be a man"). I wanted things to change but I didn't make any effort to change them, "They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." I'm done being a victim and I'm done being a plaything.
Today, my whole extended family got together to celebrate the new year and my seventeen year old cousin brought his seventeen year old girlfriend... and she was wearing his promise ring. They are planning a temple wedding. My seventeen year old cousin is mature enough to be in a healthy relationship, but I can't pull it off. My uncle took immense pleasure in pointing out that both my seventeen year old cousin and my fifteen year old cousin would probably get married before me. I'm the only person in my whole extended family over the age of twelve who isn't in a serious relationship. Something has to change. My mother wants grandchildren. Ha ha! So, the thing that I've decided needs to change is that HE needs to go. Away. And I'm going to need some help, but not from Nicole because we've already proved that she is really bad at it... Ha ha (You shouldn't have given the phone back to me- I still love you though).

Kindly Unspoken

So this is Kate Voegele, not Taylor Swift...

As high as the moon
So high were my spirits
When you sang out my name

And coming from you
It was enough just to hear it
Oh, it rang like the bells did today

But even the sturdiest ground
Can shift and can tremble and let us fall down…

Kindly unspoken
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words
It’s lucky I’m clever
Cause if I didn’t know better
I’d believe only that which I’d heard

In the days of my folly
I followed your lead
Did what Simon Says to do

But I won’t let melancholy
Play me for a fool
Oh, no I’m on my way somewhere new

And as far as your lack of something to say
Well, to tell me goodbye there was no better way

Kindly unspoken
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words
It’s lucky I’m clever
If I didn’t know better
I’d believe only that which I’d heard

So don’t keep me up till the dawn
With words that’ll keep leading me on
I know much better than to wait for an answer from you

Kindly unspoken
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words
It’s lucky I’m clever
If I didn’t know better
I’d believe only that which I’d heard

You're Not Sorry

All this time I was wasting hoping you would come around.
I've been giving out chances every time and all you do is let me down.
And it's taken me this long baby but I figured you out.
And you think it will be fine again but not this time around.

You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no no

Looking so innocent, I might believe you if I didn't know.
Could've loved you all my life if you hadn't left me waiting in the cold.
And you've got your share of secrets and I'm tired of being last to know.
And now you're asking me to listen cause it's worked each time before.

You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no no

You're not sorry ohh no no

You had me calling for you honey and it never would have gone away, no.
You used to shine so bright but I watch our loving fade.

So you don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
There's nothing left to beg for
And you tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, ohh no no

You're not sorry ohh no no no

Being Not Creative

From now on I'm just going to post the lyrics to whichever Taylor Swift song most accurately describes my life at the moment... why am I a seventeen year old girl? I don't know the answer to that question.

I'd Lie

I don't think that passenger seat
Has ever looked this good to me
He tells me about his night
And I count the colors in his eyes

He'll never fall in love
He swears, as he runs his fingers through his hair
I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong
And I don't think it ever crossed his mind
He tells a joke, I fake a smile
But I know all his favorite songs

And I could tell you
His favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him
I'd lie

He looks around the room
Innocently overlooks the truth
Shouldn't a light go on
Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long
And he sees everything black and white
Never let nobody see him cry
I don't let nobody see me wishin' he was mine

I could tell you
His favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him
I'd lie

He stands there, then walks away
My God, if I could only say
I'm holding every breath for you

He'd never tell you
But he can play guitar
I think he can see through everything but my heart
First thought when I wake up is
My God, he's beautiful
So I put on my make-up
And pray for a miracle

Yes, I could tell you
His favorite color's green
And he loves to argue
Oh, and it kills me
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him...
if you ask me if I love him...
I'd lie

Whoever said "All publicity is good publicity" was clearly not from Parowan...

AN AMERICAN MOMENT: Road to the inauguration

In Utah, the Parowan Prophet predicts disaster will prevent Obama from taking office

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Kirk McKoy / Los Angeles Times

Leland Freeborn and 12 other survivalists meet every Monday at his home. The group believes Leland is a prophet and they come to hear his predictions.

'He will not be the next president,' Leland Freeborn warns those who will listen. He and his followers expect nuclear explosions this Christmas season.

By PETER H. KING
December 13, 2008

Reporting from Parowan, Utah -- Our trip to the Parowan Prophet began with a letter to the St. George Spectrum. It was set among missives proposing that oil companies bail out Detroit automakers, that county inmates be forced to winter in tents, that lawyers be barred from public office. A rough crowd.

This particular letter to the editor in the St. George, Utah, newspaper carried the headline " 'Prophet' shares grim forecast," and it was signed by one Leland Freeborn of Parowan, who wrote that he was known to many as the Parowan Prophet.

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After establishing his bona fides as an international talk radio guest and proprietor of a survivalist website that has "passed more than 100,000 hits," Freeborn wrote:

"I think that you should hear what my opinion about the Obama election is: that he will not be the next president. I said on my home page in August that if he lost to expect to see the 'riots' that 2 Peter 2:13 tells us about. He didn't lose. But the story is not finished yet. I still think they may begin the riots before Christmas 2008, as I said."

These riots, according to his prophecy, will encourage the "old, hard-line Soviet guard" to seize the moment and rain down nukes on the United States, killing at least 100 million of us.

"Prepare now," Freeborn's letter concluded. "We are downwind from Las Vegas. I hope you can survive."



It took an hour to reach the prophet, a high-country drive through stunning red-rock formations, the color of which matches the politics in this corner of southern Utah. A freeway billboard, depicting a nuclear mushroom cloud, provided directions to the prophet's two-story house.

The frontyard seemed a staging ground for rapid flight -- two or three motor boats, a raft, a canoe, a recreational vehicle and an old sedan, parked with its engine running.

The man who answered our unexpected knock wore a cowboy hat with a big feather stuck in the band, and a beard suggestive of St. Nick. We asked to see the prophet. He said we had the right guy.

Freeborn hobbled out the door on crutches and eased into a wheelchair on the porch. As it turned out, he was heating the car not for rapid escape from a nuclear cloud, but to take a neighbor to the doctor.

"I only have nine minutes," he said.

It was enough time to sketch out his history -- a Mormon of substance, a father of 12, he had crashed his airplane in 1975 and fallen into a three-week coma, during which he went through "to the other side" and emerged a prophet.

Freeborn, now 66, took "a plural wife," as he put it, and parted ways with the church. He forfeited his wealth, spreading word of his prophecies. He appears to live now mainly on sales of newsletters and survival information packets advertised on his website.

Asked for examples of successful prophecies, he offered O.J. Simpson's murder acquittal and Al Gore's winning of the popular vote in 2000. But his core insight has been a repeated dream of seeing nuclear flashes to the west while shopping at a Wal-Mart during Christmas season.

And this, he warned, appears to be the year.

As Freeborn rose to leave, he said he would be hosting a weekly religious meeting that night. He urged us to come.

"If you can write a story," Freeborn said, "you can save a lot of lives in L.A."



There were about a dozen believers in the two front rooms, men and women of all ages, squeezed together on couches and dining room chairs.

All of them had broken with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints over polygamy and other departures from what they believe was the original vision of the church founder Joseph Smith. And all said they regarded Freeborn a prophet.

The cluttered room was filled with Bibles and religious tracts, government maps depicting potential nuclear targets, and framed photographs of mushroom clouds.

For 90 minutes -- while two boys played on the carpet with a calculator and a marked-up Book of Mormon -- the adults read aloud selected biblical verses, passages from Smith's biography and text pulled from an unidentified website.

After each reading, they discussed how these fragments all pointed to a singular end: nuclear destruction brought on by the Lord's wrath.

Freeborn sprawled in a stuffed chair, directing the discussion and sometimes correcting his acolytes. It was a congenial group, but not much given to small talk. As the night wound down, Freeborn returned to his core prophecy.

"I really believe we are out of time," he said. "I really do."

Freeborn conceded that he'd issued similar warnings many times before, and still the world kept spinning. Prophecy, he said, is not an exact science.

"I've been at it for 30 years, and I have always really believed it," he said. "Now, if we go on, that's great. Maybe we can get some more people to repent."

He seemed weary, referring to himself as a "gimpy old crippled guy from Parowan." He described going on radio and, mocked by the host, receiving not a single request from the audience for survival information. He said he has been shunned in town, his property vandalized. He recited from memory a scriptural passage about "scoffers."

The prophet's eyes reddened, and I could sense his frustration as he sized us up as two more likely nonsubscribers. As he dropped his head in contemplation, it occurred to me: How terrible it must be to believe what this man truly appears to believe, and yet have so few willing to listen.

Perhaps for our benefit, the group volunteered some secular support for Freeborn's prophecy. Perhaps economic meltdown would trigger the riots. Maybe there would be an uprising over an automaker bailout.

"One thought you might have," came a voice from somewhere behind me, "is that we don't have any leadership now until January. See what I am saying? We are in limbo. If they do something tomorrow, who is going to decide?"

The night's last word belonged to the prophet.

"Everything is coming together," Freeborn said, "and it fits right now."

He presented us with brown medicine bottles filled with iodide crystals -- to ward off the effects of radiation.

"I don't think you are going to finish your trip back East," the Parowan Prophet said, urging us to reconsider our journey to the inauguration.

Nonetheless, with our little brown bottles of iodide, we will press on. The rest of you are warned.

King is a Times staff writer.

This ran in the LA times...I have no words.

A few of my favorite things

"It´s only when you´re tested that you truly discover who you are. And it´s only when you´re tested that you discover who you can be. The person that you want to be does exist, somewhere in the other side of hard work and faith, and belief and beyond the HEARTACHE and fear of life."

"Sometimes pain becomes such a huge part of your life that you expect it to always be there…because you can't remember a time in your life when it wasn't. But then one day you feel something else-something that feels wrong, only because it's so unfamiliar. And in that moment you realize…you're happy."

"You know that romantic notion that all the garbage and pain is actually really healing, and beautiful, and sort of poetic? It's not, it's just garbage and it's pain. You know what's better? love. The day that you start thinking that love is overrated is the day that you're wrong. The only thing wrong with love, and faith, and belief is not having it."

"A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous."

"I never worry about diets. The only carrots that interest me are the number you get in a diamond."

"I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it."

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where –" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"– so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."