An Open Letter

Dear Boys,

Some advice on roping a girl into a confession session days before she is moving to another country during which you profess your love and ponder at length the truly mysterious circumstances as to why you never dated before now: Don't do it.

At the very best, she'll think you're either really slow on the uptake or simply a coward. At the very worst she'll think you're nothing but a shallow opportunist angling for a little NCMO.

And trust me, you don't want that to be the last memory this girl has of you.

Sincerely,

Meagan 'Do I look like a girl who's easy?' Brady

AWOL

I can't believe it's been over a month since my last post. My bad.

And I have so much to talk about, I don't even know where to begin.

I could talk about the miracle of finishing my dissertation on time.
Or my new B-list celebrity project.
Or that one time I accidentally went to the Strictly Come Dancing premiere.
Or how I won the Weakest Link.
Or saw Michael Ball perform.
Or GLEEKed out with Jonathan Groff after is new London show.

Or walked the red carpet next to Keira Knightley.

Or attended a cat funeral.

Or played leap Prague.

Or ate in a Lebanese harem.

Or successfully survived the Spider Wars of Fall 2010.

Or got a new gig as a book reviewer.

So much awesomeness, where does one begin?

little grey cells

Everybody loves a good murder, so everyone who is anyone is celebrating the 120th birthday of the Grand Dame of Mystery. There's even an official logo:

• London hotels that once boasted Christie as a guest are having special teas.
• ITV is having an Agatha Christie marathon all weekend
• BBC4 has commissioned three new radio dramatizations to play this week
• Even Google is in on it, quite cleverly too:

I decided the best way I could celebrate was by exercising my little grey cells by setting my

to work on my dissertation for a few hours.

Riveting...

Of course, I also took a lunchtime walk through

then rode home on the

After that, I murdered a delicious stuffed pork chop and washed it down with some non-alchoholic

which pretty much killed every last ounce of productivity in me, so now I've no choice but to head off to bed in my 8'x10' little room.

Because as Poirot always says, "There are those who have to exercise their little grey cells and some who lock people in them."

Apparently, I can do both.

drip, drip, drop, when the sky is cloudy, your pretty music can brighten the day

Yesterday I was so freakishly productive I hardly recognized myself. But that may have been partly due to the fact that the first time I looked in the mirror all day was at 2 o'clock in the morning and with all the eye-rubbing and hair-pulling and pyjama-wearing of the previous seventeen hours I looked more like this:

Needless to say, that's not a good look for me.

So today I returned to my usual dissertation put-offing habits. (off-putting?)

This meant that I was mostly curled up on the couch of our little garret lounge with my snuggie and laptop catching up on work, but throughout the afternoon I was distracted several times by sound of the rain falling on the skylight across the room.

So I finally gave in around 7 o'clock, put the kettle on for a nice cup of cocoa, turned on my latest Agatha Christie audio book, and spent discs 2-5 watching this:

I might be slightly nauseated at the saccharine tableau of describing the last two hours if I wasn't so completely and blissfully content.

*sigh*

Be our guest, be our guest!

So I decided to take a break from blogging about procrastinating my dissertation, to procrastinate my dissertation by writing about books. And now I'm procrastinating my dissertation to blog about that.

Still with me?

I took up an offer from The Blue Bookcase to submit a guest review of a book of my choice and they posted it here today.

I wrote about one of my favorite YA quick reads, Eva Ibbotson's The Countess Below Stairs, which has also been helpful in taking my time up in decidedly nonacademic ways (:

So if you feel like it, take a look at it, or any other reviews, and please leave some feedback!

(After all, if this dissertation schedule keeps on its current track, I may be looking for another profession...)

I am not an expert in this field but I do try to keep up to date with the Bundesliga. -Angela Merkel

First, some disclaimers:

1. I had to google like 10 things about this blog title.
a.I had no idea what a Bundesliga is.
i. But I think it sounds awesome.
ii. And according to Wikipedia it is, in fact, quite awesome.
b. I have no idea who Angela Merkel is.
i. But Merkel sounds like Urkel, who is awesome.
ii. And according to Wikipedia she is the Chancellor of Germany. So...awesome?
c. Okay, so maybe not 10...
2. I read a quote earlier this week about not being an expert but still being entitled to speak on a subject, but I couldn't remember where, so I googled to find said quote, couldn't, but came up with this one instead.
a. It says basically the same thing.
i. Non-expert = should stop right there
ii. But = carry on anyway
b. I have nothing to say here, but one of the few things I remember from learning to outline is that you have to have at least two items in each level of an outline for some reason*
3. I'd like to stress that I am so not an expert in what is about to come next, so continue at your own risk.
a. If you want to stop, for a safer (and let's be honest, funnier) version what I'm about to say:
i. Read this.
ii. And this.
iii. And this.
iv. And maybe this.
v. And this.
vi. And even this. (Bet you didn't think math would ever come into MY blog, did ya?)
vii. And now you can just leave me like this.
b. If you're brave enough to stay on board, here goes...

So I have this theory called Procrastination = Good Grades. I've formed this theory over years of research in the areas of putting off, postponing, ignoring, and delaying, and all with good to excellent results.

For example: Freshman Year, Physical Science 100

I signed up for Physical Science 100 as an online class. There was a once-a-week session with the professor in a classroom at the ESC, but I never went. There were tests every three weeks or so, but I never studied. Thus, I approached the final sporting a solid C-.

Unfortunately, a C- wouldn't cut it, as I had a GPA to maintain, so on the last day of finals, after all my other tests were done, I took my textbook to the library and read it from cover to cover, literally, then ran to the JSB and word vomited all over a bubble sheet.

I walked away 30 minutes later with an A in the class.

-----

But it's not just academics that prove this theory to be true (and here's where I get to the part I know nothing about). Life also give us numerous proofs.

For example: Growing a Baby

Now obviously I've never had a baby myself, but I had Stace Salmans for health so I actually did work in that class. Also I've had enough friends who write enough blogs that cover every. little. detail. about the process that I feel like I at least have a rudimentary understanding. To wit:

The longer you cook it = the better it tastes.

(And by tastes I mean has all its fingers and toes, is fully developed in its various systems, and the more you just want to eat it up. I can personally attest to this fact in that my lungs were still doughy when I came out of the oven, and have been pretty unappetizing ever since.)

-----

So when it comes to my own baby of sorts (I shall call him Baby D), I believe the same logic holds. The longer I keep him inside, growing, and changing, and circling, and forming, and reforming, the yummier Baby D will be when I let him out. Makes sense right?

I mean, I can do all my research months in advance, find the right name (thesis), build a sturdy crib (outline), gather people together to give me lots of perfect little clothes (quotes), accessories (statistics), and blankets (a September 28th appointment with a heat binder), and that's all well and good.

Only, my supervisors want Baby D now. They want to poke him and prod him and take him apart piece by piece, put him back together again, but in a different construction. And have me cook him some more.

And that's just not natural.

And so I procrastinate.

*Pathetically, I do believe this outline is more complex than the actual outline for my actual dissertation, that I should actually be working on...

update

So I was thinking about writing a short blog about the fun and crazy things I've done to avoid working on my thesis, but at the rate I'm going, I should probably start looking for a book deal...

See you when I finally finish. Slash never.

coinkidink*

I met a truly lovely and slightly tipsy old man on the tube this afternoon. He told me I looked like Meryl Streep. I was unbelievably flattered (more like unbelieving and flattered) and left the station with a smile on my face.

Then, by the strangest of coincidences, I was sorting through some pictures on my laptop tonight, trying to clear some space on my alarmingly full hard drive and stumbled across this picture (circa 2004):

Looks like he was right, right?

Gotta love those beer goggles...

*Merriam Webster defines coincidence thusly: the occurrence of events that happen at the same time by accident but seem to have some connection. Not quite as cool as a syzygy, as only two events need occur, but still cool enough for this blog. In fact, I think I might make coinkidink another new feature that I promptly stop featuring...

inconcievable [sic]

So I do freelance editing on the side for a few different companies. It's usually pretty simple stuff and the extra cash is nice, although I have had to pull a few all-nighters to finish a project with a hard deadline on time and the older I get the more money those seem to be worth. (Oh, to be a freshman again.)

Anyway, I started this job when I was back in the states visiting and I have still. not. finished. it. At this point it's basically three weeks later than they wanted it. And the craziest part is that it's not like it'll take hours and hours to finish. Minutes actually. I'd say thirty and that's on the generous side. But I just cannot make myself sit down and finish it. And it's been this way for ages.

I packed it along with a half-finished book for the flight back to London, but instead of working on it, I finished the book, watched everything that looked decent on in-flight entertainment, and then started the book again.

I sat down in our lounge with the manuscript and 30 minutes of battery life left on my laptop, determined to use the limited time to force myself to finish quickly. Instead, I let the battery die and watched my first ever episode of Hollyoaks. (Incidentally, it will be my last ever episode as well.)

I finally took the plunge and deliberately left my book at home on the long tube ride from my house to Russell Square, but instead of cracking the pages AT ALL, I spent the whole time running through tube station names in my head to figure out the answer to this*:

And I should be working on it now, because I did in fact send an email telling them to expect in their inbox first thing Monday morning, but instead I'm writing this blog, so what can you do?

Well, this comes to mind:

This is Riley and me on our trip to Ireland this April. You might not be able to tell, but those are the Cliffs of Moher (a.k.a. Insanity) behind us. So of course, along with every other American there, we started quoting lines from The Princess Bride. One of our favourites being this flagrant misuse. So amidst the rain/hail/gale-force winds we hunkered down to make a sign for our picture. Only, we couldn't remember how to spell it. Did it follow the 'i' before 'e' rule or was it one of the exceptions? So on a scrap piece of paper we wrote down both options, picked the one that looked right, and scribbled out our sign on the increasingly damp paper.

Except, we chose the wrong one.

Normally that wouldn't be that remarkable, but Riley and I are both editors by profession. As in, that's what we do for a living. So here we are, attempting to display a cleverly worded homage to a classic movie atop the Cliffs of Moher, a place where I doubt I will ever go again in my life, and we spell it WRONG. Oh, the irony of it all.

-------------------

So anyway, I'm tempted to send in a copy of this picture with an accompanying explanation tomorrow instead of the finished manuscript. It may shred my reputation with the publisher, but it's nearly midnight and I've spent way too many sleepless nights avoiding this job to give in an get 'er done now...

*By the way, the two stations are Mansion House and South Ealing

good, better, best.

Yes, I may or may not have been reminded about this talk by a recent blog we a know and loathe (love), but that's beside the point.

Today was totally one of those days.

You know, the kind where you have absolutely too much to do so you hurl yourself from task to task trying to get at least some of them done and in fact pretty much fail at all of them? Yes, that kind of day.

I can't handle two days in a row like this, so I used the tube ride home tonight to make a game plan. I started constructing an elaborate schedule in my head and planned to spend an hour or so laying it down in a color-coded calendar when I got home, but instead, this blog title popped into my head, so I decided to read it first. This line stood out to me:

Remember, don’t magnify the work to be done—simplify it.

Ever since I was assigned Elder Scott for my final project in the Teachings of the Living Prophets class at BYU I've loved his words of wisdom, and this was no exception. So instead of pouring valuable time into a huge project to keep track of my projects, I pulled out some post-it notes and made a few lists that looked something like this:

• Good Things
• Better Things
• Best Things

Because nothing shoots straight through the heart faster than a bulleted list.

Read the rest of Elder Oak's talk here.

The spiritual application of horoscopes

Today at FHE, the person assigned to give the spiritual thought was stuck on a train and was unable to make it; so literally at the last minute, another member volunteered to do it. The thought was short and to the point, but as someone sitting next to me commented, it was probably the best FHE thought he had ever heard. I had to agree. And since it was quite a perfect syzygy of events and connections, I thought I'd share it here.

First, the speaker shared a scripture he had come across in his scripture reading the night before:

For he that diligently seeketh shall find; and the mysteries of God shall be unfolded unto them, by the power of the Holy Ghost, as well in these times as in times of old, and as well in times of old as in times to come; wherefore, the course of the Lord is one eternal round.

-1 Nephi 10:19

Second, he recounted a discussion he had with his sister at the breakfast table this morning. Apparently she is big into horoscopes and had the paper out to read about how her day would go. The speaker admitted that he feels horoscopes are a 'load of stuff and nonsense' and said he told his sister as much. When she protested, he explained his opinion:

You read the horoscopes in the morning, so of course that's what you're going to think about during the day. You process everything that happens in reference to what you read, and so you MAKE your horoscope come true. One day try not reading your horoscope until the end of the day and then see how 'true' it is. I think you'll find that it's not really accurate at all.

And that, he said, is when the penny dropped.

So third, he remembered his scripture reading from the night before. (A miracle. For though he usually reads his scriptures at night, he often wakes up in the morning with the page still open where he began, having failed to internalize what he'd read.) He then applied his logic about the worth of horoscopes to the worth of daily scripture study:

If he were to read his scriptures in the morning, that's what he'd think about during the day. He'd process everything that happened to him in reference to what he had read, and thus he would stand a better chance of DOING what they commanded and MAKING the promises of kept covenants come true. By reading at night, there was still the possibility that some of his actions during the day might be reflected in the scriptures, but much of their power and value would be diminished.

----------

So what I got from his thought is this: As the scripture states, when we diligently seek for spiritual manifestations to strengthen our faith, answer our questions, and give us comfort, the Lord is fully prepared to bless us with what we need and even what we want.

This is the best argument I have ever heard in favor of morning reading, and as a night-reader myself, I've made a goal to switch the the morning and see if I can make myself a good horoscope or two (:

What am I doing here?

Why am I studying here in London when I could be back in P-town studying like a scholar, scholar?

A blog for Adriane, et al.

Dear Adriane,

I'm still fighting jetlag, but in my late-night facebook trawling whilst attempting to numb my brain into a REM cycle (and I just spent way too much time there trying to find verbs that could carry an extended laundry metaphor before I gave up to switch my actual laundry), I came across this article posted by my cousin Susan on her page and it sure made me sit up and take notice.

So read this: (I'll wait. Oh, and you can double-click to make it bigger.)


So after the first column these were some of my initial thoughts:

1. I want to fly to Washington right now so I can find Tacoma and punch her stupid, insensitive face.
2. If all her single, childless friends feel the same way, heaven forbid they ever breed amongst themselves and propagate their stupidity exponentially.
3. I really hope I've never even approached this level of insensitivity and am so, SO sorry if I have.

Then I read Carolyn's response, and had some more thoughts:

1. Should I ever have children, I'm naming my first-born child Carolyn. Even if he's a boy I don't care. I'll give his future wife this article and she'll thank me.
2. She is treating Tacoma much more humanely than I'd ever be able to.
3. This is one of the best explanations of the role of a mother that I have ever seen, especially a young mother. Having never been a mother, I hope this doesn't sound presumptuous or offensive, but what I've seen of the Herculean efforts mothers make on a daily basis which must more often than not make them feel like more like Sisyphus makes this ring true to me.
4. She sums up in one sentence why I am not ready to me a mother: 'It's resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.' A further distillation can produce a single word: Unselfishness.

So, I'd just like to give a brief shout out to my best friend, the uh-MAZ-ing mother of my two most favourite 'nephews' and the funniest person I know. I hope you know that I've seen how much work and sacrifice and effort and sweat and laughter and love you put into each and every moment, each and every day.

I honestly shake my head in awe at what you do while I use selfishly my MA program as an excuse to relax and enjoy...

You are my hero.

Love,

Meagan

In Memoriam Wells L. Brady

We keep the day. With festal cheer, With books and music, surely we Will drink to him, whate'er he be, And sing the songs he loved to hear.

-Tennyson

In Memoriam A.H.H.

I'm back in Orem for a few weeks helping the fam with the move and today, as we amassed enough giveaways to stock DI for the next year, Tay and La introduced me to some of the quality American television I've been missing for the last few months via Hulu. Throughout the day, these two commercials from American Airlines deservedly got a lot of air time.

My grandpa served in the U.S. Navy before, during, and after WWII and I welcome opportunities like today to remember the sacrifice he and others like him made for our country.

My cousin Kevin is third generation navy, and he reverently keeps my grandpa's uniforms in pristine condition. Recently, he posted some pictures of them along with explanations of the different ribbons and markings:

'Ribbons in WWII were just that....ribbons! Handsewn on. From top left to right then bottom left to right:
- Navy Good Conduct medal (2 awards) - 8 years of 'not getting caught' as we used to say
- American Defense Medal (with star indicating overseas service) For service in the military PRIOR to December 7, 1941 (Pearl Harbor)
- American Campaign Medal - For service in the US during WWII
- Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal (with three bronze stars indicating specific actions in the Pacific)
- WWII Victory Medal - For WWII service'

Grandpa died over 11 years ago, but our family never fails to reminisce about the good memories we have of spending time with him and learning about his life. His military service was only one small part of who he was, but it helped shaped him, it help shaped this country, and it helps shape us.

I sometimes forget that veterans don't always qualify for senior citizens' benefits, so it helps to have these reminders that there are men and women out serving their country today who will be the heroes of future generations, as my grandpa is to me. In fact, they are already heroes. And I salute them.

April marches on.

As does the madness.

So it's April. And apparently it's been that way for quite a while. And realistically, it'll probably be May before I resurface again. But I'd just like to point out that not all madness can be a bad thing:

Yep. That's me who ended up in second place.

The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese. So hopefully I'll squeak through this month and see y'all later.

You may be right, I may be crazy...

...but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for...

I'm in the middle of two huge papers, I've got to finalize my dissertation topic, I'm prepping for a big work conference next week, I just got a new calling, my lease runs out in two weeks and I haven't found a new place yet, the next issue of Mormon Artist is supposed to be out in a week, and I've got two freelance jobs to finish up.

Basically, I'm flirting with insanity here.

But it turns out that nerves frayed beyond all other use are still highly conducive to picking the right teams for March Madness. At least in the first round.

Sure the craziness will some day end, and this probably won't last, but yes, that's my bracket in the #1 spot.

two letters: an apology for a long absence

Box Hill, photo by the talented and intrepid Lindsey Stevens.

May I come in?

You know you need never ask! Please do and tell me how you've been. It seems weeks since you've been here.

Yes, well. I stayed away at first because I thought it would be easier for me. And then I stayed away because I have something to tell you which I am afraid you will not like.

Nothing you could say would ever be unpleasant!

This is. That is, I'm afraid you will think it is. Though I think it a beautiful dream.

Whatever happened?

----------

What two letters of the alphabet are there that express perfection?

MA

(in Historical Research)

2 a.m. and I'm blogging 'cause I'm still awake...

I've got a bit on insomnia going again. This of course throws my whole routine into disarray. Instead of operating during normal working hours, I spend half the night puttering around and half the day pushing the snooze button on my mobile.

It wouldn't be so bad if I were in any way productive during these late night hours. I could be cleaning my room, working for my job, commenting on the countless blogs I read/stalk, blogging myself, or plowing through an inch or two of the immense stack of reading I need to catch up on. (Remember how I'm going to graduate school?)

But no.

Instead, I clock an embarrassing number of hours on Facebook, IMDB, Google Reader, and the BBC iPlayer.

I know this bad habit I'm forming is mostly my fault, but as was helpfully pointed out to me yesterday in Sunday school, passing the buck was one of the natural man's tendencies from pretty much the very beginning...

So I'm more than happy to split the blame with the fact that there's basically perpetual darkness in London this time of year. The weather man says it's getting a little lighter every day, but until I can kick this habit and see for myself what can I say? I suppose only this:

I don't believe him. And winter just isn't my season...

Flashback Friday: 2009 Year in Review

I tend not to make New Year's Resolutions--officially at least--but one thing that never fails to make my nonexistent list is journal writing. I am officially the world's worst journal writer. My paltry attempts to jumpstart my chronicling could literally fill a bookcase with beautiful notebooks full of empty pages.

So my first unofficial goal of 2010 is to sketch out a little more of my life than I did in 2009, which is sadly best represented through my (usually sketchy) facebook statii:

In January, Meagan Brady:
6 • writes on steamy mirrors and frosty windows
12 • dreamt about the freshman dorms and woke up feeling young again...
18 • spent 24 of the last 48 hours in InDesign and now feels InDesposed...
21 • coughs a second-hand smoke serenade
23 • buys plane tickets to Seattle from her Denver hotel room. She loves her job but misses her bed...

In February, Meagan Brady:
3 • never did like rodents. She supports Spring and the right to bare arms.
9 • prickles at needles.
13 • bad grammar makes me [sic].
17 • can't wake up in the morning 'cause her bed lies vacant at night...
24 • attempts to clean her room. Again. (Once more unto the breach, my friends.)
27 • has been reduced to checking under her bed for monsters. Thanks a lot guys.
27 • sighs over sushi. Yum.

In March, Meagan Brady:
3 • is walking the dog. And her puppies too.
5 • once was blind but now she sees...
7 • wishes she could start every day with a baptism.
9 • thinks there's nothing quite getting an early start Monday morning...
10 • would rather be the second mouse...
12 • is sleepless in Seattle. Sans Tom Hanks. But with a sweet Meg Ryan early 90s-esque windblown 'do.
15 • is still sleepless in Seattle, but on a plane stuck on the runway. Not as cool.
16 • has a tummy ache from too much water and too much laughing.
21 • misses Sammy
23 • is manic mondaying. per the usual.
26 • is surprised at the number of pics that were on her camera. Oops.
30 • never knew that late nights + 'special brownies' + Mexican train = mayhem housed in faux Spanish accents. Fabulous.

In April, Meagan Brady:
1 • prepares to mess with texas...
4 • kind of loves Southern accents...
11 • soaks in rain and baseball. Love it.
15 • feels talking politics might make for more inane conversation than the talking about the weather. At least for today.
18 • knows way more about css files than she ever really wanted to...
19 • does not speak HTML...
21 • made her bed at 9 p.m. and it looked so comfy she got right in it!
26 • is going through tissues faster than Kleenex can chop down trees.

In May, Meagan Brady:
4 • thinks a little bit of mascara goes a long way to improve a Monday morning...
12 • is hoarse from cheering. Orem LAX is going to state!
16 • wishes flying were as fun as it used to be.
17 • 's birthday was earth-shattering. Well, at least earth-quaking...
27 • wants to sit on the front porch and eat a popsicle. So she is.

In June, Meagan Brady:
2 • is an 'uncle' again!
11 • hasn't been this tired since Winter Semester Finals Week 2004.
18 • only wants to play all day!
22 • STRESSES ALL THE TIME.
23 • burns things to melt stress. Thanks, friends...
24 • has been transformed...
25 • intends to live forever. So far, so good.
29 • + 2 weeks in July = East coast(ish) vacation(ish).

In July, Meagan Brady:
7 • might be leaking a little bit...
7 • is missing her flight. Right. This. Second.
9 • loves how her prairie diamond sparkles in the sunlight.
14 • just stopped at a red light and saw police in vests with drawn weapons start canvassing a neighborhood on Chicago's south side.
14 • waits for Harry Potter and reflects that she didn't stop to think about the consequences of wearing a black jumper and sweater, grey tights, and Mary Janes when she got dressed this morning...
16 • relaxes with a Boston cooler after a day of far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise, and imaginative, rambunctious cousins.
17 • eats lunch in the original greasy spoon cafe after literally running into Sister Tiffanee Barker in Kirtland, Ohio.
17 • 's car broke down in Buffalo, so she's chillaxing in the lobby of a hotel where she doesn't have reservations...
17 • arrives safe and sound in Rochester with a story that will make you cry with laughter.
19 • flies home with a ten-hour layover in NYC. Oh the possibilities...
19 • flops into Jet Blue seat 12F after a day of Liberty and Ellis Islands, Ground Zero, Trinity Church, the Manhattan Temple, Central Park, Times Square, and a hotdog outside Grand Central Station.
21 • endorses Photobooth as the next big thing in ab workouts...
22 • may or may not be watching Killer Klowns from Outer Space, but she's also eating homemade raspberry shortcake. So...
23 • dropped $1300 on a housing deposit and is starting to realize just how poor she's gonna be for the next 12 months...
29 • is ranch dressing. (As in dressing for the ranch...)

In August, Meagan Brady:
3 • braces for another 24-hour crush.
3 • thinks she might be hyperventilating, but can't get enough oxygen in her brain to know for sure.
4 • appreciates people who help her talk it out and walk it off...
5 • came blearily stumbling in at 2AM to find a bottle of Pine-Sol in the fridge and a bottle of white grape juice on the counter. Her sixth sense says that someone has it in for her. Or maybe it was just 'The 6th Sense'...
13 • did the math. She has time for 38 more 24-hour crushes plus one 12-hour fling. Hmmm...
17 • sure does some stupid things for being such a smart alec...
21 • is going to the doctor. There will most likely be blood involved.
23 • takes masochism to a whole new level.
25 • needs a break from work ASAP.
28 • just blew through a 200-page manuscript in two hours. It's amazing what eight hours of sleep does for the brain...
29 • loves the smell of asbestos in the morning...
29 • may have used Lysol wipes instead of baby wipes to get all the dirt off her face. So this is what a chemical peel feels like...

In September, Meagan Brady:
1 • sold her car and did three loads of laundry this morning. She hasn't been this productive since that one time she cleaned her room back in 1997...
4 • is a speed demon. A safe speed demon.
13 • wants to go on a scenic drive. Probably not in the middle of the night though...
14 • can finally plan her London debut outfit based on the weather.com 10-day weather report.
18 • limps like a gimp from a charlie horse, of course.
21 • hates the sound that goodbyes make.
23 • made it to London. Sans luggage.
24 • has no dishes. So she's alternating Cheerios straight from the box and milk straight from the carton. Judge if you must...
25 • has luggage! And dishes! Now life is just a BOWL of Cheerios...
27 • loved Baroque night at St. Martin-in-the-Fields just as much as ever. Broken back night not as much.
27 • was an English major, so she's just going to say Happy 18th Birthday, Mom! (For the 32nd time.) All you math majors can solve for 'x'.
29 • dreams of Cortisone shots and memory foam mattress toppers...
29 • needs to pick out a first day of school outfit. Strangely, having an entire wardrobe of only four choices doesn't make the process any easier.

In October, Meagan Brady:
1 • saw Les Mis again last night. It was awesome. And as always, it reminded her how fabulous Orem High's production was. Now I am homesick. ):
1 • is here to audition for the role of kicker.
6 • thought it was just a drill, but those fire trucks were pretty real...
15 • is the blog-stalker from London showing up in your analytics.
20 • spent the morning with a first edition of the Book of Mormon in her hot little hands.
30 • is Mrs. Peacock, in the Library, with the Candlestick.

In November, Meagan Brady:
2 • thinks she has Daylight Savings to thank for her internal clock being reset to Mountain Standard Time...
3 • broke a World Record today. And saw Colin Firth. But not in that order.
8 • burns the candle from both ends. And up the middle. With a blowtorch.
11 • picks herself up off the floor after a pudding oh-so-appropriately labeled as 'chocolate overload'...
13 • is a mover and a breaker, apparently...
16 • plans to celebrate her half-birthday in style.
18 • has become nocturnal of late.
20 • gives you everything just by breathing...
24 • was on Team Jacob before you were. Or would be, if she cared enough to pick a team. But she doesn't. Obviously.
28 • sends good vibes to Provo from across the pond. And you can bet she's decked out in Cougar blue!
29 • now knows that someone whispering German sweet nothings into her ear isn't romantic, but rather...wet...

In December, Meagan Brady:
3 • is doing the same thing she does every day.
5 •loves when people break into spontaneous yet meticulously choreographed song and dance. And Tiny Tim, who did NOT die!
7 • just sold herself for £12...
10 • comforts herself that the 3-degree weather back home can be offset by long, hot, high-pressure showers...
12 • packs her suitcase full of goodies for all the good little boys and girls back home...
13 • IS FLYING HOME IN TWELVE HOURS!!!!!! (Er, not that she's excited about it or anything...:)
15 • is home, she's safe, she's alive (:
16 • takes here a nap, there a nap, everywhere a nap, nap.
20 • has missed all the fun stuff you can do in a car.
20 • did not mean it like that.
21 • used to play sports. Then she realized you can buy trophies. Now she’s good at everything.
22 • loves her some Cougar football!
23 • catches her breath at the shock of electricity that passes between us...
24 • orders her Christmas Eve pizza Good King Wenceslas-style: deep pan, crisp, and even...
28 • must. sleep.
28 • lives vicariously through herself.