oh

and i have a post i really want to write about the fourth of july, but that will have to wait for now. it is pretty amusing. at least i think so. perceptions about America are just so interesting - and i'd love to hear yours soon. but, do, do enjoy the poetry below. it's nice.

miles to go before i sleep

It is certainly not snowing right now in Utah and I am actually not very near the woods, but the last stanza of this poem kept coming to my mind today. I've concluded that I, in fact, really like Robert Frost. I just do.

My dad used to always say the last two lines of this poem to me when I was working on a big project for school. Today is no exception - big projects, especially papers, are my intellectual bane. I'd much rather write mindless posts and eat sorbet, but whatever. My grandpa reminded me of the third to last line this morning over a bowl of cereal, (I attempted hermitage today by going to my grandparent's to work on my project, but I guess hermitage is supposed to be in solitude. I'd much rather have company though.), and I thought it fitting to my current position in life. I think it is simply a lovely poem and it has the musicality of a snowy evening, a quiet wood, and heavy thoughts.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost

the next wave in design

what do you think of when you see this picture? try and visualize this furniture in any other place besides where you are picturing it now. how many places could you picture this piece of furniture looking 'at home,' appropriate, and comfortable?

i tried this exercise as i gazed at one of these chairs sitting in my friend's college apartment. i thought, 'now that's interesting. maybe i could go for that look in the apartment, ya know, sorta different and vintage.' but, really, can you picture this looking classy anywhere but, well, wherever you're visualizing (grass, backyard, fireworks, parade)? a nice hotel lobby, behind an oak conference room desk, in a snazzy little restaurant? i mean, really, no matter how cool you are, i truly wonder if you could pull that off - you know, the way some people make the ugliest clothes look cool. i'm actually really drawn to the practicality of this furniture - but the design is just not made to appease aesthetics... or is it, readers? i'm really hoping to be proved wrong. i think these chairs are fabulous.

i'll tell my grandkids that...

my great-grandma was the first woman to drive a car in heber city. i saw a woman run for president for the first time. i used to listen to cassette tapes and remember the first CDs i ever owned (all 4 one, celine dion. hahaha) i remember when we got a DVD player to replace our VHS and using the old macs in elementary school to play computer games when laptops were unheard of. i remember (in COLLEGE) using a whiteboard to write down missed phone calls to roommates for people who had called on our landline. i can say that i saw the day when gas prices reached $4/gallon and i tracked the price of a barrel of oil as it climbed a dollar more each day - and that $4 used to be a lot. they probably won't believe me.

uncultured philistine

we went to see iron man this week with my brothers and sister-in-law (pretty good show, i'd say. funny). the theatre is usually a pretty loud place, but before the showing i stepped into the girl's room and to my delight there was one of my absolute favorite pieces of music playing: Mozart's piano concerto no. 23 in A. as i thought how incredibly lovely the music was, two girls walked in and one scoffed to the other, "elevator music? ugh." hmmm. i thought. now that's what i call ironic.

but, i cannot justify pointing any fingers at people's lack of culture. for you see, only earlier that day at the Phoenix art museum, i had slighted a painting that i thought dull and uninteresting and even said to myself, "well, i haven't got all day and i want to make sure i spend time on things i really like," only to see my brother take a cell phone picture of that very painting and say, "cool! a picasso!"

fahrenheit 451

i've deemed myself a failure of a conservationist. i've always believed you shouldn't waste anything if it can be helped. that is why i agreed to watch over rachel's pasta when she left because i believed it was the right thing to do. she was gonna just leave it, but i insisted that i would watch over it for her and, quote, "put it in a cute tupperware for you to have when you get back." after all, that's what friends are for.

i leaned on the counter and watched the bowtie pasta bubble up and thought about how the sound of boiling water was really quite lovely.

no sooner did i walk away from that fateful pan of pasta then i was immediately distracted by the idea to download this one counting crows song that i hadn't heard in years. this led to a saunter to my room and an attempt to work on my thesis. this was followed by my bed looking oh-so-welcoming for a midday nappy nap. which i took. until i heard a beeping.

following my efforts to turn off every burner in the house in an attempt to figure out what the heck was going on (remember, i had just been sleeping), i reached the knob that was on medium-high, still faithfully heating the remains of a beautiful bubbling bowtie...mess.

the following are a series of text messages concerning the event:

me to rachel
just so you know, our fire alarm works. i fell asleep and forgot about your pasta. yeah...
(i wanted to break it to her gently. fewer details the better.)

rachel to me
[no response]
(i didn't know she'd take it that hard.)

me to emma and rachel
nobody hate me please. the house smells a tad smoky...just don't come home for a couple of hours...
(total understatement. try a couple of days! this text is accompanied by the thought: "i sure hope rachel wasn't that attached to that pan...")

emma to me
lol...what i totally hate you! lol well this is the first time it isn't me! yeah! lol
(we can all see that emma likes exclamation points and "lol." and that is what earns her faithful blog readers - exclamation points and cute acronyms. i need to use more of those.)

me to emma
oh you have no idea. let's just say that our fire alarm works.

emma to me
lol! that's awesome! i have never done that before!
(yeah, jana, i'm not THAT stupid.)

me to emma
just a classic Jana b. moment.

emma to me
lol! i wish i would have been there to see it! and take pictures!

me to emma
yeah, we definitely don't have enough pictures of me being a moron.

emma to me
me neither! ugg we r two of a kind my friend!

me to emma
yes indeed.

emma to me
hehehehehheee!

i'm just glad i'll be gone all next week. this apartment is going to smell pret-ty awesome for a while. so, if you have any referrals for me, i'm still single. (i know. shocking, right?) my homemaking skills have yet to meet their rival.

how does one obtain self-esteem?

i wrote this in my notebook yesterday and i am seeking an answer. after some conversation with a dear friend, i thought of this question. no matter how many treatments or conversations with a counselor, etc., you have, no one can simply bestow self-esteem upon you. then, where does it come from? i'd appreciate your insights.