I was thinking about Thoroughly Modern Millie in comparison to my life today. Here's what I came up with:
He was Trevor Graydon. I, Millie Dillmount. No, he wasn't my employer, nor I a stenographer, but he was beyond my reach, all the same. He didn't call me John, nor was I a "modern," but I was fooling myself, just like Millie. I was a fool for him. I didn't have a Jimmy Smith, nor do I now, but it seems the this town is crawling with Miss Dorothy Browns. And just like Millie, I call them my friends and secretly envy them. And secretly wish they'd trip in their over-priced high-heels and "real lace."
I used "nor" way too many times for such a small paragraph.
I counted. Twelve. TWELVE of my friends have gotten engaged in the past two months. And that doesn't count the 5+ marriages. It's so weird to see all my friends moving on, being "grown-ups," starting new lives. What happened to 6th grade and prank calling the guys we liked? What happened to stake dances and the first time we got to drive to them by ourselves? What happened to making fun of the adults, of crushing on the missionaries who were SO much older than us? Now I'm supposed to be a grown-up, and I'm older than all the missionaries. Sick. "Why can't things just stay as they are?" That is a great question, Jo March. Why can't they? And here's another one: What the bloody heck am I doing wrong?!
Thomas and I went up Provo Canyon today. We walked up a horse trail and found this amazing field situated in the middle of all these green hills. We even saw some deer. I used my 35 mm film camera, Thomas used my Canon Rebel, so he took these.