Trafalga.

Wednesday night came around and Eden was ready to laser tag it up with friends. Lively chatter filled the car on their way to the Trafalga Fun Center in Lehi and in any lull in conversation, you could hear Eden quietly shooting finger lasers at each passenger.

"Pew. Pew pew pew," she pewed.

Renae turned into the fun center's parking garage. Suddenly, all happiness and laughter ceased as uneasiness and fear settled into the hearts of the seven friends. They entered the Azkaban of all parking garages. While Renae turned a corner, looking for an empty space, Eden clutched Ariel and Eric's kneecaps, positive that at any moment, dementors would swoop in to steal her soul. No light fixtures were lit and after close examination, it appeared there weren't even light fixtures at all. The glow of the setting sun shone sparingly through the windows, if that's what you call the slits in the walls.

"At least there aren't any dead bodies, right?" Randi said. The friends all chuckled nervously as they left the car.

Randi spoke too soon. As they emerged from the dark shadows to a less shadowy area of the garage, Eden saw a body on the floor. Her heart stopped, then started again, beating five times faster than a regular day's worth of cardio.

The body moved.

A zombie? Eden's seen "World War Z." A bitten human can change in 12 seconds. She hated running, but this was a moment when her flight or fight instinct kicked in hardcore.

My flight or fight face.

Just as Eden was about take off, the body looked up and she realized what they were looking at. It was just one of those emo kids that exists in every junior high. She (or he...it was always hard to tell) was just being emo and introspective whilst another emo child was looking on. The Trafalga Fun Center parking garage seemed a proper setting for the youths of the night.

Right now.

Right now, I am sitting in the House of Representatives Chamber in Salt Lake City. The special session of the legislature was supposed to start at noon thirty, but apparently that was just a suggested time. It's a whole fracken hour later. I may seem calm and cool and collected, but this is how I really feel.

It's a shame these cushiony chairs are bolted to the floor.

Anyway, I charged my laptop, but there's always a fear that I'll run out of battery. Also, I fear that my car won't be where it I parked it. But that's always a weird fear of mine.

The major press is sitting to my left and across the way from me. And I'm sitting in these cushiony seats just waiting. And blogging. And waiting. With my press pass.

I'm trying out different smiles. Do you like this one?

And I'm nervous. I've never really gotten into politics, so I'm not sure if I can cover this effectively. We'll see. My editor's got my back.

The important people are slowly coming in. Slowly. C'mon people, I have class to attend later tonight. And laser tagging. If you have a Pass of All Passes, feel free to join. Even if you don't, come play.

Here's a song.

I'm learning to play this. And Tyler and I will perform it. For ourselves, mainly. 

Okay, I gotta go now. Gotta preserve my battery. It may be another hour before it actually begins.

Also, I realize that I might have gotten your hopes up about how cool this post actually was with my teaser line on Facebook and Twitter, so I apologize. I was just bored and wanted to write something. So here it is.

Okay, gotta go.

Update 7/18/2013: My article on the special session.

Happy Weekend.

Finally. The weekend is here. After my sick (pertaining to health) first half of the week to my sick (pertaining to awesomeness) jackpot of sources for my next article for The Universe, I'm exhausted.

But in the midst of it all, I have successfully executed an elevator pitch to the woman who could land me my dream job, won one of the biggest prizes in a raffle during a dinner with famous Utah bloggers, AND managed to stay awake in class. All while I felt like I could have thrown up at any second. (TMI? Sorry.)

Just some of the things I won. Courtesy of Breck's Vintage. Looks like there's a road trip or picnic on the horizon.

I've also made a goal with Ariel to make it to Seven Peaks at least once a week starting now through the rest of summer.

Why?

Because it's summer. Also, because I have ombre tan lines on my arms and legs. (Is that how you would describe those?) I need to even this out.

Feel free to join us.

Here's a summery, weekendy kind of song for you.

Have a good one, my friends.

Short post. Sexy post.

It was my mom's birthday the other day and my younger sister and I made videos for her. While I would love to put the videos up, Crystal gave me the idea to create gifs out of them.

So here they are, in all its sexy, gif-y glory.

Speaking of sexy, here's a compilation of the sexiest raps for you today. Thanks to Michelle and Sarah for sharing this with me.

I've never wanted a smartphone more in my life. Vine and SnapChat, prepare to be abused . . . in August. 

Newtown.

Written 6 months after the tragedy:

I remember sitting in the back of the cold room. It was always cold in that church building. Children's chatter filled the air as I sat there, glancing at each Primary teacher to make sure they didn't need my help.

This was my church calling when I was home summer of 2012. Primary helper. I aided the children's Sunday School teachers if their kids were ever rowdy or if they just needed an extra pair of hands. And so I sat in the back, looking out for the panic in teachers' eyes and for children wiggling about. That was my cue to assist them.

At the front, the Primary president was giving an object lesson. I don't remember what it was, but she asked for a couple volunteers. A sea of small, eager hands waved frantically, each one hoping they would be picked. A small, blonde six-year-old's hand rocketed into the air ahead of everyone else's and she was chosen. As she was walking out of her row, I thought to myself, she must be a Parker, that blonde hair and high voice. I was in Nursery just the Sunday before helping her youngest sister slide down the slide and in Sunbeams the week before that taking another sister and her classmates to get a drink. The way each of them chirped filled my ears and quickly became a part of each of my summery Sundays. Blonde, beautiful and beaming, all three Parker children.

As she was heading towards the front, another child bumped into her. She turned and said something sassy.

Her mother, who was also a Primary teacher and who I knew only as Sister Parker, chuckled to herself. Brother Parker walked in then to drop off something with her and she relayed the story of their sassy daughter. They laughed.

"Oh Emilie."

It was that moment that I had a sudden urge to be married with children and to be able to sit back with my husband and watch our kids learn and grow to be people like us.

December 14th, I was in the Salt Lake Airport when the tragedy at Newtown hit the media. I landed in Hong Kong when plastered all over the televisions were videos of Newtown, the place where I spent some of my weekends, where some of my very good friends lived, where I went to church every week for many years. Anchors commented in Cantonese on the other side of the world. Pictures of Emilie and her classmates were surrounded by Chinese in newspapers. Brother Parker was on TV. And I cried in the little Hong Kong apartment, filled with sorrow, filled with grief for the young lives that ended too soon, too brutally.

I am home for the first time in almost a year, and six months after the tragedy, I am in Newtown, sitting in the back of the cold room, remembering.

This really isn't a post, but after, in a sort of way, paying homage to the place I met the Parkers, this is my way of saying, rest in peace, Emilie, and God comfort the Parker family and the families of the children.


December 14, 2013, one year after the tragedy:

theparkerfive.wordpress.com

Happy birthday Camille.

Dearest Camille,

Today is your birthday. I have an opened bottle of Martinelli's in hand and am toasting to you an exciting 21st year. I wish you a glorious day in Malawi as I celebrate here in America with people who love you.

Speaking of glorious, Wes and I made you a video.

I hope your birthday is the best and that the beginning of your 21st year is full of happiness and glory. Also, we must resume the Critiques when you come back. And perhaps we shall incorporate Wes' German Cupcake Critique. This week's, if you can't see it, is "Better than S" cupcake.

Happy birthday bud.

With much love,
Eden
Wes

Not too bad.

After this post, I had myself and some of you worried about me living alone this summer. And I guess it didn't help that I haven't posted on my blog in a while. But, as the title suggests, living by myself is not too bad. In fact, I love it. Don't get me wrong. I love people and I cannot wait till my darling roommates come back from Africa. But I have a feeling that when I think back on the summer of 2013, I will remember it as the summer of greatness and of growing up.

School and work have kept and still keeps me busy in the mornings and afternoons. But I have to admit, I didn't know what to do with myself those first, quiet May nights. So I cleaned. A lot. And it wasn't because the apartment needed cleaning, but because I had nothing better to do. I remember making a midnight run to Smiths solely for the purpose of purchasing Lime-A-Way. But hey, the water fixtures have never been shinier.

And on the especially quiet days/afternoons/nights, I decided to not only fill it with music, but with loud music. My sincerest apologies, neighbors.

Suddenly, I realized the greatest thing about living alone.

Those of you who know me in such a setting know how much I love to dance. But dancing in an empty apartment? That's a whole new realm of awesomeness. There's just something absolutely freeing about dancing off of everything--couches, chairs, stools, counters--in anything I want and without the fear of being stomped on or accidentally touching the bare, sweaty arms and exposed pectorals of grunting bros in tank tops (ugh, *shudder*). And when I'm too lazy to go to the gym? What an entertaining form of cardio.

Happy birthday Nicolle.

Dearest Nicolle,

Today is your birthday. I have yellow tulips in hand and have lit some candles for you. I wish you a beautiful day in Malawi as I celebrate here in America with people who love you.

I also made you a video. But first, here is the blooper take. And yes, that is a cardboard cutout of a horse. You said I couldn't have cats in the apartment while I am living here, so some friends brought over a horse for company. Perhaps I should name her Grace or Majesty...or Debbie.

But I digress. Onto the blooper take.

And here is the actual video.

I hope your birthday is great and that the beginning of your 21st year starts with much excitement and happiness. 

With much love,

Eden

Max

Sam

Derik

Mystery (who was sadly taken away by said friends)

Life is Art, You are the Artist

Oh hey there! I'm Sarah Swan, today's lucky guest blogger. Here's my deal. I'm from Seattle. I like puppies, cars, movies, music, and camping among other things. I usually make dumb faces when people take pictures of me. I always dance like nobody's watching, because they usually aren't.

And here's the deal with this post. I graduated from BYU in Film in December 2012, but walked early at the graduation ceremony in August. Then I was asked by the Film Department to speak at the graduation ceremony in April, which December graduates usually attend. So, I had two fake graduations. My first one was fake because I still had a semester to finish. My second graduation was fake because I'd already graduated and attended a ceremony. It was a big surprise and a huge honor to be chosen by the people I respect the most, my professors and advisers, to represent the department at the ceremony.

This is what I said at my second fake graduation.

Life is Art, You are the Artist 

Good afternoon everyone! My name is Sarah Swan. I’m from the Seattle area. And I’m honored to be speaking to you today as an official graduate of Media Arts Studies or, in other words, Film.

Like many of the graduates here today, I finished my course work in December. So, I’ve been out in the professional world making a living in film art direction. Art Direction or film design is the process of creating the sets where the story is filmed. Most of the people I work with have not gone to college. One of my co-workers has been pretty vocal that he feels it would be a waste of time to get a film degree. Perhaps some of the graduates have had similar discussions with some members of the audience. In my discussions at work, I kept quiet until I felt it would be appropriate for me to speak up. I think I surprised everyone when I said, “I wouldn’t trade my education for anything.”

It may be true that you don’t need a degree to furnish a film set. But it’s also true that my BYU education has been much more than just learning how to create and interpret films.

Professors and classes expanded my mind in ways I could not have done on my own. In history classes I was challenged with abstract films whose visuals read like poetry or international documentaries that made it clear there are usually more than two sides to every story. In theory classes I worked hard to wrap my mind around the metaphysical side to film interpretation and creation. The art that professors had us view, read, listen to, and discuss brought new insights that I’m glad to say have stretched and reorganized the way I see the world. I would be a very different person if I had skipped all of this and gone straight to working for a living.

Guest #5.

This is Sarah.

We're new friends, but I love her a lot. Before we kindled our friendship, I admired her from afar and thought she was the funniest when she conducted Sunday School. I don't remember what she said, but you can bet it was funny. We were, and still are, in the same Family Home Evening group. FHE has never been greater.

Sarah has one of those senses of humor that puts you at ease, making her super approachable. She graduated in Film, which is something that I also want to do in my life. At some point. She also drives a big truck, which is something that I also want to drive in my life. At some point. She makes killer enchiladas. Basically, she's super cool.

She hasn't witnessed my awkwardness yet. Maybe I'm getting less awkward. But I highly doubt that. In due time, though, Sarah. It'll come. And you'll laugh it off with me.

We rented a puppy named Miles once.

Sarah's great and I love her.

Welcome.

Update 5/30/13: Sarah's post

The Great Gatsby.

Before I begin my review, I had a panic attack in the theatre during this trailer

Talk about every person's worst nightmare.

Onto my review. My delayed review. And it's a short one too. Ehh, sorry!

First things first, Baz Luhrmann is incredible. He really is. And I loved many things about the film and his vision for the whole thing. The cinematography, the music, the characters--everything was so beautiful. And in the end, I give the film two thumbs up. It does the Fitzgerald classic proud. 

However, I felt two things, or rather characters, were underdeveloped. 

Baz could have done so much more with Daisy. 

Daisy, the center of Gatsby's obsession, the reason why he did all he did, why he tried so hard to break out of poverty in order to provide the extravagant lifestyle that Daisy always dreamt of.

To me, it seemed that the film simply just grazed the fact that Daisy didn't wait for Gatsby because he was penniless. I felt Baz could have inserted little comments here and there to further enhance Daisy's superficiality. He could have also had her seem more unsettled with her life because she hasn't yet realized that what she thought would make her happy didn't make her happy.

Jordan Baker. I don't know who that actress was, but she looked like a stretched, length-wise, version of Emily Blunt. And was a lot taller than Nick. Now, I haven't read the book in a while (so I guess that undermines my review), but from what I remember, Nick admired her because he thought that she was different than the people that surrounded them. Then he was incredibly let down when it turned out that she was just like everyone else.

I also am not the greatest fan of pointing out the symbolism so when Nick was all like, "the eyes of God were watching us" as the camera panned across the eyes of TJ Eckleburg.

Moving on.