Merry Christmas Darling(s)

Oh my, it's Christmas Eve!

I'm sitting here in my Nana's home here in good old Princeton, Kentucky, watching It's a Wonderful Life.

Does everyone remember that film? I studied it this semester in my Film and Literature this semester.We watched the behind-the-scenes movie in class and I learned a few new facts:

Did you know Jimmy Stewart was nervous about the big telephone kissing scene with Donna Reed? He kept on asking the director to put off filming that scene. Apparently it had been a long time since Jimmy Stewart had filmed a scene of such caliber. Funny; good thing he got it right, huh?



I love that scene.
Even if Jimmy Stewart is just a tiny bit awkward.

Only a tiny bit.

Maybe more than a tiny bit. 

Well, Merry Christmas everyone!

It's a good thing Christmas is about a lot more than Jimmy Stewart and his awkward kissing scenes.

In Cold Blood

In Cold Blood: A True Account of a Multiple Murder and Its Consequences by Truman Capote

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Really well written. I especially appreciated reading it after my post-modern literature class in school where we learned a lot about this style of "new journalism" that became popular in the 1960's. If you like this then you should definitely read some Norman Mailer Armies of the Night.

The book was definitely disturbing though, especially in light of how it is true story. Don't read this one at night. For some reason motive-less murders don't make the best dream catchers...



View all my reviews

Top Ten Books I Wish Santa Would Bring Me!

I fully admit that I rarely do Top Ten Tuesdays, but I love this week's topic; it's by far the easiest one to come up with.  Here we go:

1. Armies of the Night by Norman Mailer: I read most of this in my post-modern literature class and absolutely loved it! Unfortunately, I didn't get to finish it (Sorry, Dr. Matthews!) but I desperately want to. Luckily, I already know I am getting this one for Christmas, thanks to my sister Maurine, and online shopping!

2. The Elements of Style by Strunk and White: I curse the day when I sold this book back to the bookstore on campus - what was I thinking?! Of course, back then I was a foolish History major with no concept of the real world. Ohhh, how I have learned. Once, again though, Maurine has proven to be an excellent Santa.

3. The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins: I've read the first two, but have yet to read the third. It's not that I'm totally in love with these books, but I think of them more as a hot commodity for my soon to come teaching days. Yes...let the children love me...and BOOKS!

4. The Help by Katheryn Stockett: I know this book is a pretty trendy one, but I firmly believe that a lot of book are trendy because they are actually good. Also, this book was recommended to me by several reliable sources, and I have been dying to read it since this summer. I just want to do it already!

5. The Autobiography of Mark Twain: Another really popular one these days, but hello! There's a REASON! It's Mark Twain! Can you say one of the most entertaining authors of all time? I would just love to get even a tiny glimpse into that creative mind. Not to mention, I am really trying to expand into biographies and autobiographies these days. I need some good ones to start out on.

6. The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson: I love Emily Dickinson! Right now I just have a pocket edition of her poetry. I would love a fancier edition to keep at home, or more accurately, tug around with me from apartment to apartment.

7. The Best American Essays, 2010: I love me some creative non-fiction essays, and I need more inspiration for an essay I am trying to write about pink pants. I have always been interested in this series of essay collections, because I wonder who really picks out what is "the best"; I wonder if I'll agree...regardless, I want the book!

8. The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead by Max Brooks: I admit that Travis has infected me (pun intended) with a interest in zombies. While I have not seen many zombie movies, I am definitely intrigued by reading about them, and let's face it, if there's a zombie apocalypse, I'm gonna survive.

9. C. S. Lewis Collection: I joined the C.S. Lewis society this semester (in my head I referred to us as the Narnians), and I just fell in love with Lewis after reading a few of his works. I really would love to own the whole collection and be able to peruse his mind at my own leisure.

10. Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert: I know, another trendy book, but I really am intrigued by this phenomenon. Plus, a lot of the English majors I have talked to really loved this book, so it can't be that bad. I figure, why not receive a little extra guidance in life, right???

Anyway, so that's all folks. What books do you wish Santa would bring you?

Emma Westerman Ashworth

This is the first in a series of posts about my great-great Grandmother, Emma Ashworth.

This semester, for my Utah History class, I was required to do a research paper (as per usual in history classes). Because I am lucky enough to have ancestors from Utah, I was actually able to turn this into a family history project, and what is even better is that I was able to do it on the woman I am named after.

I am her namesake.

I don't know how often I have considered that fact; I have the same name as someone else. Not just anyone else, but a woman to whom I owe my life. Dramatic? Or just realistic. After all, if Emma Ashworth had not joined the church and immigrated to Utah, then I would have never been born into the covenant. I wouldn't have the blessing of an eternal family. That's a lot.

Anyway, so I am going to write a series of blog posts telling about Emma's life, and possibly reflect on the significant her life holds for mine, and maybe draw some implications about the significant role we all play in life.

Woah, some lofty goals. So, here it goes:

Emma Westerman was born on February 28, 1859 in Bulcott, Nottinghamshire, England. She was one of seventeen children (SEVENTEEN -- I sometimes get overwhelmed by the four siblings I grew up with, I cannot understand what it would be like to have seventeen children!). 1859 falls into the Victorian time period -- apparently on April 14, 1859, Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities was published. That's right, Grandma Emma was born at the same time as Sydney Carton (for you Dickens-fans).

Emma was well known in the community she grew up in for being a sweet and contentious girl. She was a particularly devoted member of the Church of England, well known from her youth for being a religiously minded girl. She was so well liked, that some people even named her as Godmother to their children. While I am not Anglican, nor Catholic (the church from which Anglicanism stemmed - thank you Henry VIII), I understand that to be named as someone's Godmother is a great honor. Most parents search for Godparents who are well-respected and powerful, or at the very least someone who could really contribute to the happiness of the children. For Emma to be named, when she was such a young girl, the Godmother of anyone shows how well-liked she was in her community.

Emma shared a very special relationship with her father. Out of seventeen children, Emma and her father were by far the closest. The biographies written by her daughters and granddaughters all indicate that Emma had a deep love for her father. When William Ashworth arrived in England during the late 1870's as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormons), it was only Emma and her father who listened...


Well, that's all for this post! Hope you enjoyed it! I'm going to try and keep these posts brief and stretch them out so I don't exhaust you, my wonderful audience. Writing a historical account, especially a biography, is a lot harder than I thought; it's especially hard not to just start listing facts. Any recommendations on how I can make it better?

So, I actually do have Mono.

Dang it.

DANG IT.

Dang it.

I went to the doctor.
Nice guy, actually. Very concerned. Kind demeanor. Friendly, even.
I got my blood drawn.
And I didn't pass out!

It would have been a positive experience...

except for the end result, which was:

Mono.

Officially known as Mononucleosis.

What. A. Bummer.

But, it's actually not as bad as I thought it would be. Apparently there are varying degrees of Mono and I only have a more mild case (I'm hoping!). Plus, it helps that school is already over and my finals week is a piece of cake, so I don't have to do much beyond sleep.

I'm actually kind of excited because now I can find time to do those things I have been putting off. Here is the list:

1. Finish all of the grading for the little computer science sweet[boogers]hearts. I feel more justified in my lax work ethic this semester now that I know it has been mono ridden, but still, I'm feeling bad.

2. Knit. Travis taught me how to knit over Thanksgiving break, and I have a scarf I am determined to get most of the way through before finals.

3. Clean my room. My roommate Nicole has been a real trooper with my cleanliness this semester. I usually am pretty good about things, but in such small quarters I'm having trouble containing my mess.

4. Cook. I'm planning on making Travis dinner every night this week as a part of his Christmas present. I might post my creations on my blog as bragging rights. Or as mere proof that I can, in fact, cook.

5. Read. Wow. I can actually read again! It's a MIRACLE! First book on the list? In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. I hear it's gruesome, but I'm excited to read something new.

6.Sleep. Somewhere in there, I'll sleep.

And then Friday it's back to North Carolina! C-R-A-Z-Y! But I'm excited to celebrate Christmas with my parents, I'm really in the Christmas mood today. I'm loving it! :)

So, I think I have Mono.

Yep.
For the past several weeks, I have been incredibly exhausted, battling a constant headache, and fighting the urge to spit because my throat is so swollen. I have needed a nap everyday, just to get through.
Today, it occurred to me that this might not be normal.
Today, it occurred to me that I might be a little sick.
Today, it occurred to me that Amber had Mono.

Ugh.

But oddly enough (and maybe it's due to the fact that I just woke up from a one and a half hour nap), I am feeling really good right now.

Mentally, if not physically.

Today, I finished two term papers. I am actually really proud of them; I know there can still be polishing, but I really feel like at least one of them represents some of my best work. Here's hoping the professor agrees!

Today, I was able to wake up at 8:30. I haven't been able to do this for the past three weeks simply because I have been so exhausted. I firmly believe that I was able to do this because Travis (and his roommate Steve) gave me a blessing last night. In it, I was promised the blessing of strength. Today is the first day I have felt any resemblance of strength in my body.

Today, I was able to get out of class early and see Travis for a whole hour before his Folk Dance dinner started. I guess this isn't a big deal, since I spend most of my time with him these days, but I find myself more and more grateful for any time I get to spend with him everyday. Call it Christmas break blues.

Today, I realized that because of my illness, I have been thinking about Heavenly Father and the Savior a lot more. When I am walking up the hill on South campus, and I feel like my body is about the break into a million pieces, and yet I still make it to the top, I keep thinking that Heavenly Father must have pulled me up those last few steps. I think about the Word of Wisdom, and how it is so important to our lives. I realize now that while I have been living the letter of that particular law (yes, Mom, rejoice!), I haven't necessarily been living the spirit. I need to take care of my body. It is a gift from Heavenly Father and when I don't treat it well, by not sleeping enough, or not eating the right food, or exercising at all, I am dishonoring that gift.

Gifts. I have so many gifts. I love Christmas.

I realize that this post doesn't make much sense, and is just another in a now long line of my new hokey/corny/happy-go-lucky posts, I hope people can appreciate the sentiment.

It's Christmas. There is always something to be grateful for at Christmas.

And I'm guessing that just maybe there is something to be grateful for other times as well.

:)

"the dearest freshness deep down things"

So, I recognize that I have been very happy-go-lucky recently and have written a whole bunch of sappy posts about how great my life is.

I guess this doesn't make for the best reading, eh?

Maybe I should be more edgy, more cynical, more everything, and really, I try. But sometimes I just want to tell the world how great my life is. I don't think that's a bad thing.

But I can write about things with a little more substance.

Last night, I listened to a talk by Jeffery R. Holland entitled Safety for the Soul. In this talk, Elder Holland bares a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon and its truth. He sites a number of specific evidences to support his position of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, but the strongest evidence he has is by far his own testimony.

My favorite moment from this talk is this:

"I ask that my testimony of the Book of Mormon and all that it implies, given today under my own oath and office, be recorded by men on earth and angels in heaven. I hope I have a few years left in my “last days,” but whether I do or do not, I want it absolutely clear when I stand before the judgment bar of God that I declared to the world, in the most straightforward language I could summon, that the Book of Mormon is true, that it came forth the way Joseph said it came forth and was given to bring happiness and hope to the faithful in the travail of the latter days."

I feel like I should contribute my own testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. 

I know it's true. I've read it, I've prayed about it, and I have felt that it is true. How can it not be? The book is full of stories and messages that encourage me at every moment, of every day, to be a better person. It tells me to sacrifice, to love my fellow man, and to lean on my Savior in all situations. While reading that book, I find answers to my questions, I find peace in my trials, and more than anything I find myself one step closer to understanding and knowing my Heavenly Father and his son Jesus Christ. 

I have seen lives changes from this book, and most importantly, I have seen my life change from this book. I can recall times when I have read less from this book, and I know that those are the times when I have been living less, not having the full life I could be having. But when I read, when I study the verses and chapters, I know I can be better. I know I am already better. 

When I have children, they will know this book. They will be raised, like I was, to read this book every day and grow from it every day. 

I'm sorry if any of my readers are uncomfortable with religion or maybe with Mormons specifically, but hopefully this blog is a testament from someone who is just a typical girl, perfectly ordinary in every way, that the Book of Mormon makes anyone who reads it extraordinary. I love this book and this gospel. It will carry me through the challenges I face now, and the challenges I am one day sure to face.

How's that for deep? :)

Be-lated Thanksgiving:

I figure, why not show what I'm grateful for after Thanksgiving?

That way I can be more self-righteous and prove that I show my gratitude on days other than Thanksgiving.

Plus, I've been too busy to post.

Because this has been the BEST THANKSGIVING BREAK EVER!

But anyway, here it is:

WHAT I AM GRATEFUL FOR IN THIS EXACT MOMENT:


1. Food. Specifically rainbow J-ELLO, smoked turkey, and delicious mashed potatoes.

2. No School. 'Nuff said.

3.The fact that Harry Potter has another movie coming out, because the one I saw last night was L-A-M-E. Sorry friends, I know a lot of you liked the movie, but really, it was half the book, half the movie. They could have done all of that in ninety minutes. I mean, and maybe it followed the book almost perfectly, but this would have been time for a little deviation. Adaptation doesn't mean translation (thank you film & lit class). Oh, and I still think Harry needs a few more acting classes, or maybe just more of a personality. Maybe that's what the whole film was lacking, personality. Here's crossing my fingers for the last one!

4. Cell phones that allow me to communicate with family and friends who are not near me.

5. The gospel. As always.

6. And this kid:

Ohhhhh, he makes me so happy :) and so grateful!

...

So, I admit it.
There are times when I read my own blog.
I know, it's a little sad.
I mean, who actually reads their own blog?
But don't worry; it's not like I am sitting there reading my blog, thinking "Oh my gosh, I am so BRILLIANT! How do I not have an award of some kind by now?"

False.
I just read it to edit, and do a little self-reflecting.
This time, while reading, I noticed a particular habit of mine that I never noticed before.

I LOVE ELLIPSIS.

No kidding, I use them all the time. I just read through some of my posts, and I bet I have over twenty-five ellipsis in just these few posts.

Now you may be wondering a couple things:

1. What are ellipsis?
 According to dictionary.com: 

Printing . a mark or marks as ——, …, or * * *, to indicate an omission or suppression of letters or words.

2. Why is this significant?
I'm not quite sure. Maybe it means that I like to hold things back from the audience. I like to pique your interest by adding an ominous "..." to every sentence I have. Or maybe I am afraid of revealing my whole self to the audience, and hide my real feelings behind my "...." Or, maybe I just can't come up with enough to say, so I make up for it with "..."; It hides my inner lack of creativity. Or, maybe it's an indication of my own thought process, how there are significant pauses in almost every thought I have. Does it mean I'm stupid?!

Okay, I recognize that I am taking this a bit far. But honestly, doesn't our writing style reflect a little bit of who we are? Especially for an English major, like me?

What are your grammatical habits? Maybe it's boring to you, but I can't help but wonder if there isn't something hidden behind every dotted "i" or crossed "t".

Who knows...

When I Stumble, I Fall...

Hello World,

I am sick.
Very sick.
Not throw-up sick.
I probably could be throw-up sick, but I hate throwing up, so I am NOT throw-up sick.
I think this will last 24 hours.
CORRECTION: It can only last 24 hours.
Why?
Because I have too much to do to waste time being sick.

Although, there are some advantages to being sick...
Like being able to write this blog entry.

Yay!

So, I thought I would ramble on here for awhile before returning to Hulu, the saving-grace of all sick people.

Here are a few pent-up thoughts:

1. Have you ever been to StumbleUpon? It's FANTASTIC. Really, if you are like me at all then you would love this site. Basically, you check off a list of things you are interested in, and then click a button that takes you to random places on the internet that have to do with things you like. It is pretty awesome, and practical. I use it for my job, actually. My job asks me to be well informed on technology news, so I just clicked a whole bunch of computer and technology topics, and BAM, it takes me there! I love it. And you can put different settings on to protect you from the obscene things on the internet.

Check it out, friends, I'm betting you'll like it.

2. I hate research papers. Okay, not completely, but I am seriously having trouble writing this paper about the role of Grandma in The American Dream. Not only does scholarship on Edward Albee suck, but my time restraints are starting to hurt. And being sick doesn't help.

I also need to do a research paper on my great-great grandmother Emma. And I need my mom to send me the material (HINT, HINT).

3. There is one plus side to being sick. This plus side is the simple facts that certain parties are oh-so-very kind to you when you are sick. Not that they aren't kind to you all the time, but they certainly do go the extra ten miles when your stomach feels like it's kicking you repeatedly with the sharp edge of a butterfly knife.

Oh heck, I'm tired of being vague.

Travis, the boyfriend, has been particularly marvelous during my illness.

He has:
-stopped by my house twice, despite a full schedule, and is coming by later
-offered to make me food, multiple times, although the nature of my illness has forced me to say no
-bought me flowers to make me feel better (three pink and cream gerbera daisies) :]
-bought me two cans of ginger ale, in hopes of calming the beast
-is picking up a book for me from the library
-given me many compliments (which is especially significant in light of the next one...)
-not thrown up at the site of my incredibly disheveled and un-showered state.

What more could a girl ask for?
I guess being sick isn't all that bad.

Sorry for the sappy Dad, but I gotta give props.

4. Life is so good right now, how did I get so lucky? I just keep on thinking back towards just a couple of months ago, when everything was so bad and I was negative about life. Well, not anymore! Heavenly Father has blessed me, and I am going to live it up! Wooooooooooot!

The Only Exception...

I've gotten sentimental recently, but this music video rocks.
 


Like I said, I've gotten sentimental. Don't worry too much World, I'm sure my cynicism is still buried somewhere beneath all of this fluff. But I think I'll be optimistic for a while.

White Mormon Female from the city of Charlotte, North Carolina

For my Multicultural Education class we are asked to gather three artifacts that help define our cultural background.

Because music can not only define a culture, but ourselves, I have decided to use three songs as my artifacts.

1: Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynard

 "Sweet Home Alabama" represents my cultural background because it refers to my Southern heritage. While I am not from Alabama myself, this song has come to be an anthem of the entire South, to which I feel a great connection. I feel like the South retains its own culture even after centuries have passed since the Civil War. The most notable difference was probably in my education. In the South, there are different elements emphasized, especially in History and English classes. Also, this song is notoriously "white" in nature, which definitely attests to my culture as a Caucasian female. 

2: Put On by Young Jeezy ft. Kanye West

"Put On" represents my culture because I come from the city of Charlotte. I was in the minority of both my middle and high school. Growing up a member of the national majority, but a local minority had a huge impact on my cultural heritage. In terms of education, I grew up with generally minority teachers, which means I experienced different teaching and discipline styles, and had different connections with my teachers. I also think I have a different perspective on teaching. If I believed all high schools were like the ones I observed in my 276R class then I would be in for a surprise later in my profession. I know what real discipline problems are; I've seen fights, I've seen blood in hallways, I've seen students yell at teachers, I've seen girls pull out weave. Because I went to my high school, I'm not under any illusions about perfect students or classrooms. I have been changed by growing up in the city. And really, I'm grateful for it. It makes me understand a little better.

3: Come Thou Fount by Sufjan Stevens

"Come Thou Fount" represents my culture because it is a very popular song in the LDS church. I grew up as a Mormon. This religion has shaped my whole life, my whole personality. The morals I have lived by since birth determined where I spent my time, who were my friends, and what I did. I would be a completely different person without the church! And, to be honest, the church has its own culture that I have always been a part of. I did, however, not choose the Mormon Tabernacle Choir version of "Come Thou Fount." I chose the Sufjan Stevens version instead because it indicates that I didn't grow up around a ton of Mormons, so I am a little different. Also, Sufjan Stevens kind of has an Indie feel about them, which is a part of my cultural background. There is a certain white culture, that really shaped what I like and do. Here is a cool site that kind of explores this white culture.

There you go friends! My culture in three songs.

Emma Verses the Sandworm [WARNING: RANT]

I need to say this:

I chose to do English because I like English.

I did not pick my major because it is easy.

I did not pick my major because I am afraid of science

I like science. In high school, I was the best in most of my science classes.

I more than passed the AP Bio test when most of the class failed it.

I didn't even study for it.

So, when you [yes, you, you chauvanist jerk who thinks the only real intelligence is that that is used in the "hard sciences"] hear that I am an English Education major, I hope you don't think it is because I am not as smart as you.

I could do what you do.

Could you do what I do?

Read The American Dream and write a 8-10 page paper for me. Read Julia Kristeva, and please explain to me what the abject means. Oh, and while your at it, please write a paper that places Virginia Woolf as an example of the artist archetype as explored in the short story "The Yellow Wallpaper."

Do that and tell me I'm not as smart as any physics major.

It's called using different parts of the brain.

It's times like these that I feel like double majoring just to prove that I can do whatever I want to do. I want to show the world that even though I haven't taken a science class since my freshman year, I can still learn science.

Anyone who wants to learn anything can do it.

Girl or boy.

Sorry. This is what results from grading posts about gender differences for two hours. Now I'm going to the bookstore to buy a book on computer programming and Strunk and White.

Hah. 

Oh. And just because I want to be a stay at home mom some day does not mean my education is less important. And I am not getting a degree just in case my future husband dies or anything like that.

I'm getting a degree because I am smart. And I want to be educated.

Euphoria, but no Ben and Jerry's

So, my hectic life is slowly becoming something that resembles normalcy...and I am so EXCITED!

My first block classes are coming to a close tomorrow, and it feels so good. Or it will feel so good after those two finals are done that I'm procrastinating studying for right now...

but whatever.

Anyway, I feel like I have complained so much recently about my first block classes that I really haven't taken the time to share the awesome experiences I have had...and really, there have been a few.

Tonight, I will just share one Reason Why I Can't Wait To Be An English Teacher:

I spent three weeks at Mapleton Jr. High where I worked with what has to be one of the greatest teachers around, Ms. Heaton. She was, and is, fantastic. She has been teaching for ten years, and yes, ladies and gentlemen, she still has it! Her lesson plans were phenomenal, her enthusiasm was inspiring, and her classroom management made be green with envy...if only I could wake up tomorrow and have ten years of experience telling me how to get thirteen-year-olds to respect me...if only!

The only thing better than Ms. Heaton was...the kids. Really. If anyone tells you they are in teaching for a reason other than kids, then they are doing it for the wrong reason!

Here, let me 'splain:

I taught a lesson on Making Connections  between the text and self, other texts, and the world. The lesson went okay. I was sick, of course, so I coughed through most of it. And the lesson itself was lacking in creativity. At the end of my 75 minute lesson, I really didn't know if the kids got it. As I read out loud to the class, one kid started falling asleep. As I walked around to discuss with groups, a couple kids hadn't done any of the worksheet. When I asked questions, I had to beg for answers. I was pretty sure I failed. I missed some important step in the teaching process where the kids actually get what you're teaching them.

Bummer.

But then, the next day, Lisa came into the classroom in a particularly good mood. She's a pretty talkative little girl, so I only partially tuned in when she started sharing the details of the dessert her mom prepared for her last night. But then, I heard a change in subject...
"So my mom always makes me read for thirty minutes every night." She explained. I couldn't figure out who she was talking to. She was half way across the room, and no one seemed to be listening to her. Her voice, however, increased.
"I usually hate reading. But last night, I actually kind of liked it, because I kept on trying to make connections to me."

yes.
yes.
YES!!!!!!!!!!
I had to fight the urge to go up to that little girl and hug the daylights out of her. I grinned until my cheeks hurt the rest of the day and I think I almost pranced out of the room when I left that day.

And all I could think, all that went through my head was...

Holy crap. I'm a teacher.

Giving Up.

No, I am not giving up on this blog.

I know, it may seem as if I have given up on this blog, but I promise I haven't. I just have the most insane schedule ever. No joke. I'm sitting here, thinking about what I have going on in my life right now in this moment and I am actually trying to prevent tears from gathering. I am just so tired.

I'm pretty sure I'm living two lives right now. One is the one I live every morning from 6:00 am until 12:00 pm. In that life I am a dedicated student teacher. I dress up in fancy professional clothes, I catch my carpool, I discuss education issues and how I want to be a better teacher. I am happy, put-together, and very, very professional. Then there is the life I live the rest of the day, from 12:00 pm to 12:00 am. In this life I am the crazy, scatterbrained college student, ill prepared for class, moody, trying to fight anger and sleep 95% of the time. I see my friends as often as possible, and still it is never enough. I turn in papers, I work as hard as possible to keep a gaggle of senior computer science majors happy, I read book after book, and I don't read enough. I stress, and I cry, a lot.

I wonder sometimes which person I am; am I this happy soon-to-be teacher? Or am I this moody college student who can't figure out which shampoo to use?

And is there more? I have so much more I want to do. I want to write in this blog. I want to write another creative non-fiction piece. I want to go to crazy dance parties. I want to cook elaborate meals. I want to learn to bake. I want to date random people. I want to fall in love. I want it to be Thanksgiving. I want it to be Christmas.

There is just so much, too much, sometimes.

But, you know what? I AM SO LUCKY!

Sorry, after that little rant of frustration I realize I need to now show how incredibly grateful I am for this big-crazy-overwhelming life I lead.

In General Conference last week, Thomas S. Monson spoke on gratitude.

He said, "To express gratitude is gracious and honorable, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live with gratitude ever in our hearts is to touch heaven."

When he said that, I know that President Monson was speaking to me. It is so hard to remember gratitude. It is so easy to get caught in what I don't have, especially this year. So often now a days, I find myself looking back to those easy years, to my freshman year, and wishing everything was just the same as it was then. I wish that I had my boyfriend back, my easy classes, my easy calling, everything.

But then, I sit up and I realize how much more I have now. I have more friends, I have closer bonds to my family, I have an amazing job, I have so much more knowledge, I have so much more experience, I have so much more hope, and I have such a stronger testimony. I am lucky to have had these past few years, and I am lucky to have the life I have now.

Now, they key is to live that way. So I'm going to start right now...

A moment

I don't have much time these days.

My mind is constantly full of assignments, readings, grades, lesson plans, group projects, and mild emotional breakdowns.

But here is an excerpt I came across from The Book Thief today.

It doesn't really make sense, especially if you don't know the characters, but for some reason this just hit me, and I wanted to let you guys know. How often do we have moments like this, when something strikes us so hard, that we can barely recover? How often do I let my exhaustion build up to the point that I can't even recognize these moments? I hope I can keep my mind clear enough to not miss a single one.



"Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "You told him about me?"

At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting.

Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death.

Of course I told him about you," Liesel said."

-Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Another one...

I wrote this one in my creative writing class after fulfilling an assignment to go to the Museum of Art (MOA).

Photo Gallery

I descend down stairs
To stares
Of glossy-eyed gazers
Through black-framed glass.

I question the frozen faces.
Perhaps
These stony smiles can answer
My unquenchable qualms.

They refuse, those frigid guards,
And howl
Like gray backed wolves
For me to shuffle, squibble, squirm along.




I definitely have a ways to go before I'm a poet, but I like messing with words and syllables. Fun stuff!

Freestyle!

Here's a poem I wrote on the fly. I'll probably add more soon!

Hesitation

I once found an answer
Hiding in the corner
Of a dimly lit room,
With woven carpets of
Almost forest-like shades of green.

The red-rimmed arm chair
Almost blocked from view
The quivering key
That cowered next to
The burdened oak bookshelf, that
Almost won 
With its volumes of
Almost-answers and
Almost-rights.

But I saw it.
I snatched it.
It shook in my clutched fist.
My answered prayer
Almost seemed to know
That it contained more turmoil
Than peace.

I knew it too.
It told me to let go. I
Almost did.
Then, I tightened my grasp.

Tyger! Tyger!

Has anyone ever read William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Experience? 

We read it in my late British Literature class. 

I still remember the day we read "The Lamb" and "The Tyger." 

I remember my teacher looking at us from across the room, with eyes that not only burned, but seared my soul with captivation. 

"Which would you pick?" he asked, "A life of innocence? A lamb?"

I'm in his class again this semester, and he asked a similar question after discussing the Garden of Eden:

"Remember the happiest moment of your life up to this point. If you could, would you stop time and stay in that moment for the rest of your life? Would you have stayed in the Garden?"

I tried to think of my happiest moment. It took an unfortunately lengthy amount of time. I finally resolved on one night spent playing in the snow my freshman year of college. I can remember it so clearly; the cold sinking down my back as I was pelted with snow, the laughter that rang out as I sought pay back, and the sweetness of failing to learn how to waltz on icy pavement with the perfect dance partner.

Would I go back?

"Or would you pick the Tyger? Would you choose the pain that comes with experience?"

Things are darker with the Tyger. There is the unknown, there is the potential for failure, there is always pain.

It's been two years since that night in the snow. My dance partner is no longer perfect; in fact, he is barely a part of my life anymore. I'm fairly certain we broke up only a couple weeks after that night. I can't even remember. And I've experienced plenty of unrelated pain since. In fact, I can honestly say that the years since that night have probably been the most challenging of my life.

"Would you have stayed in the Garden?"

No. 

Life hurts. So, so, so, so much. There are things that happen that I don't understand and I'm fairly positive that I never will. Sometimes, I sit back and think "How on earth am I going to survive this one? Is anything good ever going to happen?" 

But, really, in between all of these horrible moments, there are a hundred really fantastic ones. And if I never tried, well then, I would never feel anything anyway. 

So there, I'm glad I tried. And I'm glad I hurt, even though the pain is sometimes more than I think I can handle. 

I take risks because I'm living. I'm not afraid to get hurt. 

Take that little Lamb, I'm going with the Tyger on this one.

It Begins Here...

So, school started.

Yeah, that definitely explains the lack of posting. Especially with my insane schedule. We're talking 12+ hours spent on campus. On Tuesday, I have 10 hours of class. No joke.

Not to say I am not enjoying it.

In fact, I would have to say this is one of my best semesters yet. I am actually starting the education program, which means field experience in high/middle schools, which means professional dress, which means SHOPPING! YES!

It's kind of fun to get a taste of what I will actually be doing with my life as an educator. There is so much more that goes into it than I first thought. Did you know that there are four moral dimensions of teacher?

-Enculturate with democracy
-Stewardship over schools
-Create a nurturing pedagogy
-Access to knowledge for all

Who knew? Actually, who even knows what that means? For educators, they sure use poor wording.

Cool New Website for the Week: teenreads.com
It's an excellent source on all young adult novels. It includes lists of popular novels, reviews, bios on authors, info on film adaptations, and a section titled "Cool and New" that keeps you updated on the ever-expanding genre of Young Adult literature. It was highly recommended by the education librarian, so I trust her. Check it out! I like it a lot; the "Cool and New" is especially helpful when looking for new reads.

I'm also taking an adolescent development class. This could mean lots of good things for this blog. We're talking in-depth analysis of my own physical, cognitive, and social development. Hmmm...on second thought, I might keep that to myself. We'll see.

There is also Utah history, a jumble of obvious fun. My teacher seems like she just walked out of the family history center. Truthfully, she probably did. But, the cool thing is that instead of doing a research paper I can use research my own ancestors from Utah. My mom just sent me a couple diaries from my native-Utah grandmother to transcribe. Even though the diaries are from when my grandmother was on her mission in Texas, I am still hoping to incorporate them. So exciting!

I am also taking a post-modern American literature class. There is no better feeling than understanding the rise of post-structuralism. No. Better. Feeling.

So there is a brief synopsis of my new life. If only I could get it all in order!

One last thought,

In my education class, my professor wrote on the board:

English = analysis + synthesis of text.

I thought that was a pretty accurate description. But I came up with a few more:

English =
Life
Passion
Interest
Fundamental
Versitile
Potential
Language and Power
Understanding
Worlds

Any contribution to my list?

Top Ten Books I Can't Believe I've Never Read:

I'm doing it again! The Broke and the Bookish have put up another excellent Top Ten Tuesday subject, so I am going to feed my obsession with lists and participate!

TOP TEN BOOKS I CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE NEVER READ:

1. East of Eden by John Stienbeck
If you'll kindly look to the right you will notice East of Eden has been on my Goodreads "Currently Reading" shelf for some time. I picked up the book one night while on vacation, read the first chapter, and have yet to pick it up again. I am ashamed. I love Stienbeck; The Grapes of Wrath is one of my favorite American novels. I don't know why my hands never reach for it these days.

2. The Lord of the Flies by William Golding
It seems like everyone read this book in the ninth grade. Somehow, I missed out. Oh well, I saw the movie and I almost cried when Piggy died. I can't decide if I want to experience that again.

3. Brave New World by Adolus Huxley
I borrowed this book from my sister-in-law a little while ago, but I have yet to actually crack the cover. I hear it is a good read, especially in comparison to 1984. The print is just sooooo small...

4. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
Okay. I have a good reason for this one. My professor for Brit Lit assigned this book to be read in one class period. That's TWO DAYS to read Dickens' 250+ pages. Yeah. He obviously didn't realize I had a Russian test at the same time. Not happening.
(I'm still ashamed I never read it...I hope Dr. Walker never sees this post)

5. Anything by Virginia Woolf
This one is particularly shameful given the extended research paper I did on her a year ago. I've had Jacob's Room since that time period, but have yet to open it. At least I got an A on the paper.

6.Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll
I might be the only person in the world to have read Alice in Wonderland but not its companion. I think I missed out on some elements in the movie. (Did anyone like that movie? I was impartial)

7. Where the Red Fern Grows by by Wilson Rawls
I just can't muster the courage to read this book. I have a huge aversion to dog drama. I refuse to watch movies where dogs die ("The Secret Window," "I Am Legend"). Let's just say too much exposure to "Old Yeller" in elementary school. I don't think I could deal with a book about dogs dying any more than a movie. Never the less, I feel guilty for avoiding such a classic.

8. Anything by Henry David Thoreau
I love the transcendentalists. I feel like I'm selling them short by not showing any love to Thoreau.

9. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I have owned this book for, honestly, five years. I've started it at lease six times. I am going to Russia. I feel an obligation to read Russian authors. And yet, I cannot read it. I guess my will to be intelligent is overwhelmed by by will to be lethargic.

10. Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe
Dr. Burton, I am ashamed.

Great topic this week, what's on your list?

# 19

ANNOUNCEMENT:

For those of you who recall my birthday post I made a list of 20 things I wanted to do before I was 25. 

WELL, for all of you dreamers, goal-setters, list-maker-nerds, I have officially earned at least +10 awesome points in your books. This past week I accomplished #19 on my To-Do List.

19. Take a spontaneous road trip.

Yep. A little over a week ago my recently married friends encouraged me to accompany them to their 2nd wedding reception...in California. After a number of wish-washy "maybe's" I finally decided to go almost exactly 24 hours before take off time. 

Spontaneous much?

So, I enjoyed an entire week of California sunnin' and lovin' (less emphasis on the lovin'). I swam in a pool, I rode roller coasters, I saw an ice show, I was a stand-in maid-of-honor, I ate my weight in cupcakes, I stood in the Pacific Ocean, and had a blast with my friends. And, I went on a 9-hour car ride there and back! 

So good!

And, to add a little literary lovin to the mix, we listened to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde on the way to Cali and "Much Ado About Nothing" on the way back (we are intellectual road-tripping-college-students).

My friend downloaded these classics for free from LibriVox.org, a site that offers MP3s of books that are public domain. The reading is done by volunteers, so some of the recordings are a little shotty. "Much Ado About Nothing" was particularly irritating because over half of the male parts were read by women. I know, I know, in Shakespeare's time all of the parts were read by males, so maybe I should be rejoicing over this breakdown of gender barriers. The main problem with this recording was that there were some male readers, but they just had the minor roles. All of the important characters, Benedict, Claudius, Don John, and Co, were read by women. Blegh. Perhaps that's why I fell asleep for Acts II and III. Regardless, LibriVox.org is a pretty awesome site with a range of free classics that will make anyone feel intellectually accomplished without trying that hard. I recommend it.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, however, was a really excellent choice to listen to out loud. The voice inflection really did play up the mysterious nature of the book, and, in my opinion, made it a much more enjoyable read. I really think there are some books more inclined to reading out loud. Mysteries, thrillers, and dramas definitely fall into that category, but I wonder what other genres work well in an auditory setting. Any opinions on the matter? I'm pretty much convinced to listen to Mary Shelly's Frankenstien sometime; hopefully I'll enjoy it more the second time around. 

Anyway, the point of this post is to 1.Brag that I went to California and 2.Brag that I actually did intellectually stimulating activities while on my trip. 

Maybe I should be more humble...

Top Ten Tuesday

So, I have been following these other blogs [The Broke and the Bookish] that do this Top Ten Tuesday thing where bloggers create lists based on a new theme each week. Given my already disclosed obsession with lists, I suppose it is time for me to join the club.

Plus, I like this week's theme:

Top 10 Characters I Hate:

1. Macon from Someone Like You by Sarah Dessen.
This is my least favorite Dessen book, and mainly because Macon is such a sleaze bag. Sure, in the movie he comes off as dreamy and pure, but in the book he is just another trashy, pushy guy. Yuck.

2. Achilles from Ender's Shadow by Orson Scott Card
Ugh. This guy gives me the serious willies. Find every synonym for evil and disturbing in the thesaurus and you've got him. Sick. Sadistic. Demonic. Creepy. I could keep going.

3. Victor Frankenstien from Frankenstien by Mary Shelly
I'm sorry, I know that his life sucked and so many people close to him died, but oh my gosh, he was whiney, selfish, and in the end, very, very stupid. I felt like he was more of the monster than the Creature he created.

4. Daisy from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Daisy is one of the reasons why women are perpetually criticized. She makes my feminists senses tingle with disdain until my nose itches, and I hate itching my nose.

5. Richard III from Richard III by William Shakespeare
I think good-old-Richard is one of the most iconic villains in existence. But he really isn't one of those villains you just love to hate; you just hate him, a lot.

6. Catherine from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
I don't know why every iconic contemporary heroine must be obsessed with this book. Who wants what Catherine and Heathcliff had? And who WANTS to be like Catherine? She was a selfish jerk who married for money. Even in my emotion-driven high school days I knew she sucked.

7. Gene from A Separate Peace by John Knowles
I didn't feel bad for him. I felt bad for his best friend who he knocked out of a tree. On purpose.

8. Napolean from Animal Farm by George Orwell
He was based on Joseph Stalin, how could you not hate him?
And he killed Boxer. I'm still bitter over that and I haven't read the book since 9th grade. Yeah. Jerk.

9.Rogerson from Dreamland by Sarah Dessen
This book is designed to make you hate Rogerson, and honestly, it's hard to resist. He has no redeeming qualities. He makes me sick. And the way he destroys Caitlin, from the outside in, makes me never want to trust another male in my life.

10. Assef from The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
He is evil.

Hope you enjoyed!

Marathon Read!

Dear Readers,

I am so scatterbrained. After a month long vacation in my hometown, you would think I'd have a better handle on life. You know the math: One month + no homework + no job + minimal responsibility + beach + delicious food cooked by somebody else (in my case a very kind sister) = clear head for when reality strikes upon return.

False.

If anything, I resemble a slowly deflating flotation devise more now than I did when I left.

Ugh.

But you know what is the best escape from an overwhelming sense of overwhelmingness?

Reading a book.

So today, that is what I did. I read an entire book. In about five hours. Straight. It felt soooo good. It's also nice now that I live alone. I tend to get really crabby when I am in an intense-reading-session, so the fact that there was no one around to nag me and receive subsequent snarky remarks was good for all parties.

The book I read? Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater. I've seen it on a few blogs I follow, and then saw it in the bookstore today during a therapeutic browsing session. The cover is so beautiful that I couldn't resist reading it. Unfortunately, I am incredibly poor at the moment, so I couldn't buy it. But fortunately, it was at the BYU library. YAY school!

So, was it Shiver that drove my insane reading-feast, or my strong will to avoid reality?
A little of both.

Shiver is a story about a girl, Grace, who falls in love with a werewolf, Sam. Sound familiar? Don't worry, it would have been way too Twilight-esque for my taste if she hadn't fallen in love with the guy while he was still a wolf. More interesting, right? or maybe just weird? Okay, it is definitely a little weird, but rather than acting like Grace's wolf-romance is normal, the characters acknowledge the creep-factor. Don't worry friends, he does turn into a real boy, and the plot really picks up when he does. Basically, Sam (wolf-boy) and Grace (wannabe-wolf) fall in love and must fight to keep Sam human.

I sound like I'm mocking it, but actually, it was really intriguing. Stiefvater did a good job of creating the circumstances around this trans-species romance (can you say Little Mermaid?). The plot held up through most of the book, although about 3/4 of the way through I got a little queasy with the romantic proclamations. And the characters are fairly endearing. I thought Stiefvater could have done a better job with developing here characters because I didn't understand their motives 5/8 of the time. But once again, they are endearing. Grace and Sam, the main characters with a capital M, are a cute couple, with less oogling than Bella and Edward. Stiefvator plays with POV by having both of them narrate, which works okay, except that they start to sound the same after a while. The rest of the cast stay pretty flat and uninteresting, even though you can tell Stiefvater wanted to play with them more.

The best part of the book was Stiefvater's writing. It didn't always flow in content, but she had some figurative language that left my heart in a tizzy. Her metaphors were honest and unique, and while the lyrics she included were a little hokey, they were charming nonetheless.

In the end, I liked Shiver. I don't necessarily want to read the sequel Linger yet, because the characters were not that appealing to me (and I can't find it at any local library), but I am planning on reading her other book, Lament, in the next few days because I was so intrigued by her writing style.

Over all: Better than Twilight, worse than Goose Girl, and right on par with The Hunger Games. B-

And an A for distraction :]

Useless

What does it mean to do something useful with your life?

Does it mean to be like Ghandi or Mother Teresa and change the lives of millions of people?

Does it mean to be a doctor and save the lives of hundreds of people?

What about the nurse who helps the doctor? Does he/she get any of those "you helped somebody, your life now has a purpose" points?

What about the doctor who accidentally kills someone, does he/she lose points?

And what about that guy? You know, that guy who drives the bus you get on every day? Does his driving skills make his life useful? Does it matter that there are possibly 20 other people just waiting to replace him? Maybe some of them are wishing he could be a little bit less useful...

And what about me?

I want to be a teacher. Does that make my life meaningful?

What if I don't want to be a teacher the rest of my life? What if I am just using this meaningful career to do something less meaningful like make money so I can go to grad school?

Is that bad? 

Should I just be satisfied with my meaningful career and not hunt for any more personal satisfaction?

Is my goal to one day be a stay-at-home mom make my life more or less meaningful?

Does my politically correct use of "he/she" make my life more meaningful?

Okay, probably not.

You know what makes my life useful?

The fact that I'm living it.

Birthday Lists

Dear Reader,

I apologize for my recent decline in posts. I spent the last weekend here:

Amazing. 

And a perfectly valid excuse, no?

But on to my point...today is my 20th birthday! That's right, I am no longer a teenager! My mother can stop crying herself to sleep every night, for now I am a RESPONSIBLE ADULT!

Haha. Okay. Okay. I know, my humor really has picked up.

But guess who else turned 20 today?!

That's right! Soulja Boy and I both turned 20 today! Same day, same year...it's pretty obvious that we were separated at birth. I'm sure he misses me a bunch, I'll probably give him a call. Maybe he'll loan me those shades, I left mine at the beach.

Okay. Fine. I'll buy my own glasses.

But really, I've decided to commemorate today BY...making a list! YES! Lists are by far one of my most favorite things to make, so I am giving myself a present! (I now ask you, dear reader, to ignore the incredibly high nerd factor of someone who looks for excuses to make lists -- that can be your birthday present to me).

So here it is:
20 Things I, Emma SueAlice Baker, Want To Do Before I Am 25: 
(I have a talent for lists not their titles).

1. Get my Bachelors degree.
2. Go on a service abroad.
3. Buy a car.
4. Start working on a Masters degree.
5. Be a REALLY GOOD English teacher.
6. Write a short story or personal essay or poetry collection.
7. Get said work published in a literary magazine.
8. Be given a dozen roses.
9. Go to New York City.
10. Learn how to waltz with confidence.
11. Make temple covenants.
12. Conquer a fear. 
13. Have my whole family in one place at one time. All fourteen of them.
14. Read 100 books [for fun] in one year.
15. Write a poem in another language.
16. Own a collection. (I don't know of what...)
17. Improve physical health. No more stress-sick-Emma.
18. Eat something I've dreamed about.
19. Take a spontaneous road trip.
20. Figure out how to be an adult.

Hmmm...not bad, huh? Completely do-able, which is good. No unrealistic expectations, just my honest goals. I like how this says a lot about me with very few words. What would yours say?

I really do love lists. The way they summarize everything up into lovely, logical lists is so delicious. I think I am going to make lists a part of this blog -- like one list every week, a regular feature. There is no limit on the topics, so if you have any list ideas, please submit. In fact, if you have any lists of your own then share.

The Book Thief

            I rarely forget any of the books I read. I can recall the main character, plot and resolution to almost every book I've ever read. The characters, from that Loudest Little Lion to TeaCake and even Gilgamesh run around my head in a never ending 400 meter race (of course, if it's never ending then it must be more than 400 meters, but that is well beside the point). Those plots hang in my head on an endless dream catcher that takes up too much space on my cerebral cortex. Other than English test settings,  this talent doesn't serve a purpose other than clutter. And with my habit of forgetting homework assignments and losing dorm keys, I could definitely use less clutter.

Sometimes though, I like it.

After reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, I thanked God for a mental filtering system that chooses books over key locations.

Really, and I mean this with the greatest emphasis -- we're talking bold, italics, and OVERSIZED -- really, this is one of the best books I have read all year, and probably beyond that. 

Why:

     The Book Thief is a Young Adult WWII novel, and proves that there are endless lessons to be learned from the mid twentieth century. The story follows the life of a young German girl who is forced into a foster home after her parents are discovered as communists and taken away by the Nazis. The girl, Liesel, is illiterate when the story begins but discovers endless possibilities once the world of words is opened up to her. This novel covers all bases -- hiding a Jew, being sent off to war, the threat of bombing raids, tender family moments, and even a tiny, tiny bit of romance. Oh, and it is narrated by Death.

You might think Death might not be an ideal narrator, but place your fears of morbidity aside. The Death narration is actually one of the most compelling elements to the novel, and, in an ironic turn, is often the only source of perspective and comic relief in some otherwise horrendous moments. 

         However, I won't sell Zusak short - his novel is not built on a quirky narrator. Death is just another voice among a cast of the most compelling characters I have ever met. An accordion playing Papa and a foul mouthed Mama prove not to be the model of perfect German parenthood, but rather models of real parental love. Max, the Jewish fist fighter, and Rudy, the German Jesse Owens-wannabe, are the best friends imaginable. Each main character, and even the minor ones, prove to be round and come alive as the reader embraces their unique, believable, quirks.

             Beyond The Book Thief's characters, its format is the picture of post modern literature. Death not only narrates the story of Liesel, but includes announcements, definitions, plot spoilers, and even a few pages from his own diary. Other stories, written by the characters, are included in their entirety, with illustrations. Such blending of formats causes the tale to take a dynamic feel with almost every turn of the page. In a book over 500 pages long, Zusak keeps your attention. 

        The writing is as dynamic as the format. His prose, while not wholly poetic, is fascinating by merit of his awesome, amazing, and astounding descriptions. Really, some of the metaphors he wrote created new connections in my mind. I could feel my neural synapses burning.

Here is an excerpt that I really love (and doesn't contain any spoilers, a hard thing to do):

"His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say "I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places."

     The last, and most important, reason why I love this book:

It has been several years since a book made me cry; I cried, hard, for the last twenty-something pages of the book. And it wasn't just a sad ending that pushed my tear ducts to the brink -- it was the lesson I learned about the power of words, death and life.

 Amazing cover. I need this edition.

Okay, okay. I guess it's true. I kind of really liked the book.

Lessons from an Aunt...

My current position: I am typing on the computer while my eight week old nephew, Cash, sits on my lap, clawing my arm with his surprisingly long baby-finger nails. My niece, Cora, has just finished pleading with me to give her ice cream, which she was forbidden after she knocked down a miniature kitchen while in yet another passion about food. My nephew, Bryant, is in the kitchen, repeating some sentence over and over again while my sister, Maurine, tries to coerce her husband, Erick, into loading the dishwasher with some dusty college psychology.

Hold on. The baby is crying.
Okay, all better. Thank you automatic swinging chair and fishy mobile.

After spending the past little while at my sister's house on vacation, I have a few excellent quotes I feel need to be shared with the world.

1. Cora got her front tooth chipped in half after running into a dryer door/Bryant. I went with my sister to the dentist office, the picture of sisterly moral support, and sat in the waiting room with Cora while Maurine went to feed Cash. An older woman enters the waiting room and takes and immediate liking to Cora (who doesn't?!). "Are you going to the dentist?" says the Kindly Old Lady. "Yes." (pronounced Yeeeeeeaaaasssss -- she extends the last word in every sentence). "Oh," KOL continues, "Do you have pretty little teeth?" Cora looks up and smiles, "Not anymore!"

2. Church. I go to primary with Maurine to hold Cash while she teaches sharing time (/avoid awkward Relief Society). The Bishop starts off primary with a stirring talk. Little Bryant, the precocious genius, answers almost every question. The Bishop asks "Bryant, what is Fast Sunday?" Bryant replies, "It's when you drive to church really fast because you missed Sacrament meeting."
I'm sorry Maurine, I'll try to wake up on time next Sunday!

3. Today we stopped at Office Depot for one of Maurine's fantastic coupon buys. Cora insisted on holding my hand the entire time. As she pulled me from one spot to another she started hopping slightly and, strangely enough, panting. Real panting, akin to an over excited dachshund.
"Cora," I said, "why are you panting?" She kept running, "It's because I'm so happy!"
That is the epitome of Cora.

4. Tonight, after a long, eventful day, I sat on the couch watching Cash while Maurine struggled to get Cora to bed (see above ice cream comment). Erick sat on the opposite couch and Bryant attempted to convince Erick to talk to him before he went to bed (A Small Allen Family Tradition: Erick will sometimes talk to Bryant and Cora right before they go to sleep. While this could be seen as an opportunity for patriarchal guidance, it usually ends up in giggles). Erick, tired from a long, 90 degree day, informed Bryant that tonight was not talking night. Bryant changed targets.
Bryant: Emma, will you talk to me?
Me: No.
Bryant: But why?!
Me: Because I talked to you all day.

Okay, so that last one was me. But you get the point.
My family is really great.

Main Characters:

Cora & Bryant

15 important things...

One of my favorite authors of all time (and the time before that) is Sarah Dessen. She is a fantastic young adult author who is at least 30% of why I made it through high school and 60% of my survival after my boyfriend left on his mission last year. Her books are young, romantic, and poignant -- everything I love.

Today I was reading through her blog (45% dorky) when I came across a speech she gave at the NC School of Math and Science. In it, she gives a list of 15 important things to know in life after high school. Here is her list:

1. If you’re in the midst of a breakup and the other person says, “It’s not you, it’s me,” don’t believe them. It’s you.

2. Some things you can skimp on. But if you buy cheap cars, electronics or shoes, you’ll regret it.

3. Don’t pull an all nighter before anything serious, whether it be a job interview or a major exam. It doesn’t matter how smart you are. Everyone is stupid when they are exhausted.

4. Travel. You won’t regret it.

5. Pay more than the minimum payment on your credit card every month. In fact, if you can, pay cash and skip the plastic altogether.

6. Love your family despite your differences, conflicts, and quirks. More often than not, they are the only ones who will always do the same for you.

7. On a related note, spend as much time as you can with your grandparents. Nobody will ever again love you so much and so unconditionally.

8. If you want a tattoo, think about it for at least a year before you get it. And don’t get someone’s name, unless it’s one of your grandparents.

9. Keep your attention on the road when you’re driving. Let your eye be your brake. (That one’s from my dad. Thanks, Dad!)

10. If you’re planning to start a sentence with “I don’t mean to be rude, but…” or some variation of such, just don’t say anything. Really. Just don’t.

11. Treat others the way you would like to be treated. It’s been said before, but bears repeating: kindness begets kindness.

12. If you’re ever tempted to litter, do this: assume that whatever you throw down on the ground, through your entire life, will join you in a small room in the hereafter. Do you want to spend eternity with that styrofoam cup? Didn’t think so.

13. The more you work, the more you work. This one is from my friend John, who is a farmer in Chatham County. He knows about work. But I think his point might be that there’s other things in life, as well. My other favorite of John’s is this: If you want to make a millon dollars farming, start with two million. Don’t know if any of you are planning the agricultural route, but it’s good information, at any rate.

14. Involve yourself in the world around you. Volunteer, run for office, pay attention. The greater your stake, the greater your return. And for that, your children and grandchildren will thank you later.

15. In every ending, there is a beginning. In every mistake, a lesson. And so, in every moment and every one, endless potential. 

I love this list. Not only does it validate my obsession to travel, but it really makes me think about everything I have learned since coming to college. SO...in honor of Sarah Dessen and my own progression, here is my list:

15 Things You Really Should Know After Two Years Of College:

1. If you don't do the dishes, no one will. Unfortunately, there is no magical maternal figure that will show up and do them for you. They really will just pile up. And grow mold. Purple mold.

2. Talk to your professors. Most professors are not demons bent on destroying your future via a GPA killing machine. A lot of them actually want to help you. Oh, and rude e-mails just make TAs want to give you worse grades, not better.

3. Roommates can make or break a year, choose wisely. You might not be best friends anymore after a year of living together. Now that I've said that, just know that you can put up with anything for one year. Believe me, ANYTHING.

4.Do the reading. Or at least do the reading for the first few weeks. After you get a feel for the class you can judge if the reading is actually necessary. This goes for class attendance as well. Always go to class for the first few weeks -- even labs. You can't imagine the regret you'll feel when your classmate informs you that attendance counts in lab and you've skipped the first six weeks (not one of my best moves).

5.Spend wisely. You really don't need that new shirt. However, don't be afraid to have fun. Just use wise monetary judgment; think, cute blouse or weekend road trip...

6. Saying you have sick roommates is the perfect way to get an awkward date to leave. Always. The worse the illness, the faster the exit. Think Mono.

7.Family is still necessary in college. Possibly even more necessary than usual. Keep contact, especially with those near by. They are your perfect escape when the stress gets to be too much. Family and music.

8. Don't take 5 credit classes.

9. God falls under the absolutely necessary category. Really. Sometimes out at school there is nobody but you and God. Thank goodness He's there.

10.Sleep is a necessity, unfortunately. While a few all nighters are fun and usually worth it, consistent late nights are death to your body and grades. Take a couple nights to ignore those late night roommate chats and sleep; you'll like them a lot better when you can keep your eyes open.

11.Don't let fights simmer between roommates. Have it out. Speak your part. Don't be steamrolled. But don't be a jerk. Sometimes, you're wrong. Accept it and move on, there are more important things to worry about.

12. Boys come and go. And so do girls. Find those people who know you, accept you, love you, and help you to have the time of your life. Stick with them through thick and thin. In college things change all the time, all anyone wants is a little consistency; you can be that glue for someone else.

13. Please, go frolick some time. Or go lay down in the grass. Or jump in a pool. Smell some of those perfectly manicured campus flowers. Take the time to appreciate that you're YOUNG! you're FRESH! you have your whole life ahead of you and that ROCKS! In the midst of finals and that boy who will never love you there is a whole lot of really good life going on out there.

14. In combination with that, remember that there is a world outside of college. You are in a bubble. That bubble will not last forever. Be active in the world. Know the news, vote, volunteer, help.

15. As some friends once told me, this is your "me" time. Figure out who you are. Don't get lost in those thousands of people going to school with you every day. You're still you and you need to know what that means. Find values. Real ones. And stick with them. Don't let that first love change your mind, or the second one either. And you don't have to be the same person you were in high school; the fact that people can change is a beautiful thing.

So there is my list. I think I was talking to myself more than an audience. I'm still learning.
Did you like my list? Did I forget any? Feel free to add/make your own!

Example:

Well, the real reason that I posted "Introduction"  was because I wanted to share an image/text combination that saved a paper I wrote last winter. Actually, it's more than about making your papers cooler, visual art and written works are meant to be united, in my mind at least. I think that for many works of writing there is the perfect painting waiting to accompany it or explain it or increase its affect.
Here is my example: Tell me if you think Salvador Dali's "Visage of War" really amplifies the meaning of T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men." Both works are from similar time periods and situations, and are possibly sending similar messages, so doesn't the combination of them really increase meaning? Do you agree, disagree? Let me know.

The Hollow Men

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

      A penny for the Old Guy

      I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

      II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

      III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

      IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

      V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
                                Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
 

Introduction:

Today I calculated how many papers I wrote this past school year, and I believe the total comes to 25, ranging from 3 to 15 pages long. My! That is a lot of papers! And if you think about it, that equals well over a hundred papers for each teacher to read for each class - I should know, as a Teaching Assistant I have probably read over 200 papers last year alone. It's a night mare. So sometimes I wonder, in the midst of all of this writing and tree killing, how do I stand out? How can I make my professor remember me above all the others?

Answer: Take risks.

In all of the papers I graded I can only remember one; the author (whose name I've forgotten) made an analogy between China and Rip Van Winkle, that she pushed throughout the entire paper. With that analogy she made me wake up and really pay attention to what she was saying. Sure, it seemed a bit hokey, and I don't recommend doing such things beyond GE classes, but it does demonstrate how risks help papers.

What kind of risks should I take?
Well, I am still exploring that field, but here is one I used a bit in a Brit Lit class that served me well:
Images. That's right, using images is a gold mine of "LOOK AT ME"s in a paper. An image can be tastefully integrated into a paper so that it adds a new perspective on the work and/or theme you're discussing. It gives you, the author, a chance to show that you're horizons expand beyond the English/History field you write in and into a whole new realm.
But there are rules to using images: Don't stick them in the middle of the text, put it as a in-text reference in the back of the paper. And don't talk about an image but then not include it anywhere -- that just confuses the audience.

Okay, so why am I talking about this? Look to the next post for your answer!

fantastic fantasy =

Okay. It's confession time. That's right, be prepared for a mind-blower:

I have never read the Lord of the Rings before.
OH MY GOSH! I know! I am a disgusting, despicable, disturbing human being! While all of you other diligent readers were spending your high school careers reading important books such as the LOTR series, I was busy plucking through the library searching for the book with the pinkest cover and coolest font.

Despicable.

Dramatic?
A bit. But I really wish I had read them before. Now that I am diving in head first to the literary world of Hobbits and Tom Bombadil (who was not even in the movie, RIP OFF), I realize all that I have been missing.

Tolkien? Genius. No doubts about it. In my adolescent literature class last semester we talked about Tolkien's gift/obsession for languages and how the LOTR stemmed from that love. Tolkien believed that language and culture were so intertwined that when he decided to create his own language he wanted to create a culture to support it, and thence produced the Lord of the Rings series. His books in themselves show mastery of the English language, and an almost uncanny ability to create a new reality.

That's what I love most about his books. I have never ever been into fantasy much, but on occasion I come across a book or show that creates a world in which I am completely entrapped. They, as many of my professors put it, "suspend our disbelief." But, it's interesting, not all books or films do this for me. In my opinion specific, concrete details and endearing characters are what a fantasy world needs to trap an audience. Support for this opinion:

1. Harry Potter: That's right, I said it. And maybe I succumbing to some corporate machine, but anyone who can get millions of people to totally suspend their disbelief and think magic is cool again must have chops and be given props (intentional rhyme, thank you). Is the fact that Harry's cupboard under the stairs covered in spiders absolutely necessary to the plot? Or the moving staircases? No. And although everyone knows Harry got a bit angsty in the fifth book, we all still felt horrible for him when Sirius died. And who didn't read Ron and Hermione's first kiss more than once? Details + Characters = World!

More proof?
2.Avatar: The Last Airbender: Yes, some may say that this show is dorky (coughclosefamilymemberscough) but I promise it is amazing and believable. Did you know that penguin seals are awesome to sled on? No? That's why you need to watch the show! Really, this cartoon suspended my disbelief more than any other before. Their unique details, like interesting combo animals (like penguin seals), and a complicated political history that blends East Asian tradition with current problems creates a reality. On top of that, the characters are all round; they progress, the stumble, and they all have a sense of humor. If someone doesn't love Avatar Aang after watching the show just a few times, they lack a heart.

Now if you want an example of bad fantasy, just look at the Avatar: The Last Airbender movie. M. Night was almost offensive in his lack of development both in detail and in characters. I almost vomited when Sokka (incorrectly pronounce SOAK-A) had yet another close up on his large, expressionless face when Yue became the moon spirit. Why? I didn't believe it! That actor must have been taken off of the Twilight movies to perform that bad (incidentally, he was). M. Night must have gotten caught up in his high brow martial arts class, because he definitely forgot his audience on this one. The lack of details/characters + poor special effects = BUST, complete disbelief, no new world. The only good part of that movie was Dev Patel, and that's just because he's good looking and I know he can do better.

I have more proof of my theory (I wanted to branch into Eragon and the Hunger Games, and do I dare, Twilight?), but this post is a little long. Just keep this in mind if you ever plan on joining the scores of fantasy writers: Details + Character = WORLD!