Bingham Boys.

Young, wild, & free.




So when was the last time you looked at someone? The last time you actually looked at someone's face, looked into their eyes, and didn't let yours dart away the second they met? When was the last time you held someone's gaze just a little too long? When was the last time you smiled at a complete stranger? When was the last time you told someone you didn't know to have a great day, and truly meant it?

When was the last time you felt like someone you didn't know cared? When was the last time you felt like someone you didn't know, wanted to know you? When was the last time you truly, absolutely knew you were doing something right in your life? When was the last time you were okay with getting lost a little? When was the last time you texted him first? When was the last time you danced out of pure joy, because you finally got the girl, finally got the job, finally got the part, finally got the grade?

When was the last time you did something crazy? When was the last time you kissed someone? When was the last time you jumped in a pool, or a pond, or a lake? When was the last time you trespassed?

So maybe he doesn't like you. Maybe he told you the girl he likes is in love with someone else, and maybe you know that that girl isn't you. Maybe he told you you're a good friend. Maybe he didn't say anything to you at all. Is that something you can change in the next fifteen minutes? Give yourself fifteen minutes and do something with them. Make moments, people; life is about the little things, no matter what your math teacher tells you about the ACT. You aren't going to get everything in life and that's a fact. It might not be something you'll always want to hear but it will always be something you need to live with. And that certainly doesn't mean you can't take the next fifteen minutes and find a stranger, talk to him, smile at him, flirt with him. It doesn't mean you can't blast music in the car, scream sing along even though your throat is already gone, follow random people around just because you can. It doesn't mean you can't take every oppurtunity to laugh. Memories don't make themselves, you guys. You have to go out, be actively searching for these moments, you have to be willing to say yes. You have to be willing to let go of all the bad minutes and immerse yourself in the next fifteen. Don't let the boys keep getting you down. Don't let your hair keep getting you down. Whatever you do, don't let technological difficulties get you down (yes, this is a reference to the two huge pictures.) Because you only have so many moments. Whatever anyone tells you about minutes and hours and days, life is composed of moments, chronologically stacked up in our heads. Make moments, not salt water.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Fairytales and Best Friends.

Sometimes, the memories overwhelm her,

they make her laugh or smile,

those pass.

Sometimes, the memories overwhelm her,

they make her curl up and weep and curse at the wind,

but those pass, too.

And today, it's like a text that went unanswered that you wonder about all day,

or a comment you saw that you meant to reply to but never did,

or waving and dancing and not caring about anyone but the girl beside you.

Can't I believe in love at first sight for just one more childhood dream of life?

All the rationalizations, all the justifications for the opposite arguement,

they're true and unstoppable and make sense,

but for one oblivious, childish moment I'd like to believe in a fairytale again,

in the tooth fairy I was so convinced I saw when I was five years old,

or the jingle bells I heard in the kitchen at night when I was three.

but they too, like all else, they pass.

For life, it passes, it will always pass, just as everything else- our problems, our worries, our fears, and indeed everything about us -will pass, and only when we're no longer breathing

are we immortal.

love always, laura elizabeth.



My here and nows keep turning into our then and theres.

I want to be remarkable.
I think everyone is remarkable, can't I be remarkable?
What a remarkable word, remarkable.

I think I'm made of a remarkabLY LARGE
conglomeration
of things I think I should be
and things I've always wanted to be
but are they really me?
Does that mean I myself am remarkable?
Except,
who am I?

If I died tomorrow,
would I be one of those people
that you have to sit and think
and make up new reasons and hidden intentions
that the person in question didn't even know
they did?
Does being remarkably plain mean you're remarkable?
But am I remarkably plain?
If I died today, would you think,
"She was remarkable at _____."
or
"She was remarkably _______."
or would you think,
"She was a good person and I'll miss her."
Because that's the standard.
I know people would think that, I know that's what most would think.
How many would think of me as a remarkable human?
Have I even done anything remarkable in my life?

Will I do something remarkable in my life?
Will someone I don't know remember me in thirty years?

I remember in eighth grade, I met a friend of a friend.
I heard her name but forgot instantly.
Sometime later, maybe a day, maybe a week,
I saw a girl in the hallway.  I remember thinking,
"She's pretty.  I wonder why she put that weird streak in her hair? I sort of like it... I wish I knew someone like that."
and then, as she passed, she smiled at me and said,
"Hi Laura!"
I was blown away.
That was remarkable.

Be someone who smiles at everyone you've seen in the hallways
and say hi to them all, too
because that is a remarkable thing to do.

tonight, I wonder
how I can be surrounded by so many
remarkable people and things
and not have anything to show for it.

tonight, I think of the irony
of blogging behind my
mom's back
of blogging instead of
finishing psychology homework
of blogging due to random
whims and random thoughts
of blogging without thinking
much at all.

what to you say to falling in love?

love, starfish

"I wish time would stop right now." "me too."

It's quite ridiculous how many times I've started a blog post about you and then slowly deleted the whole thing.

All I know is I want to be with you all day long.
All I know is I can't stop reliving that night.
All I know are the cat-napping butterflies in my stomach,
ready at moment's notice to rise and swirl around
and float my heart all over my body and make
my mouth go all dry and redirect my feet to
any possible place you might be.

I can't stop thinking about how your hand felt on mine,
or your heartbeat under my ear,
or your whisper on my skin,
or your hand in my hair,
or your arm around me,
or your laugh reverberating through my bones.
I can't stop thinking about how you made me,
make me feel.
I can't stop thinking about how Blaze was never like you,
how even when he was supposedly mine,
he never cared so much about these
random things about me.

You make me crazy.
You make my world go all crazy.
Can't we be crazy kids together?

Could we relive that Saturday night?
Could we fast forward to this Saturday night?
Could we fall in love?

love, hippie.