Monday, December 6, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
I have been meaning to do a post on C.S. Lewis after an incredible symposium from a traveling scholar. His name is Christopher Mitchell and is from Wheaton College. He's amazing-too bad I ruined the tone of the presentation.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
For those who follow my blog-you will remember my post about zombies vs humans. Well I have found a college game to trump all games....
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
My mom once said that everyone has little experiences in our lives that are like gifts, and you need to enjoy them and remember them but remember that they are gifts and you can't repeat them. Mom-that's a depressing idea.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Here is a taste of her writing, and the context of the poem is a reaction against the AIDS epidemic and the young children who are forced to quickly become adults and help to sustain the family.
The head of the household
is a girl of thirteen
and her children are many.
Left-overs, moulting gulls,
wet unweaned sacks
she carries them under her arms
and on her back
though some must walk beside her
bearing their own bones and mash
when not on the floor
in sickness and distress
rolled up in rows
facing the open stall.
Moon and bone-cold stars
for ambulance, hearse,
the delivery vans
that will fetch and dispatch
the homeless, motherless
unclean and dead
and a girl of thirteen,
children in her arms,
house balanced on her head.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Here are my roomies and I just kickin' around with a witch who was able to take a break from her duties at Hogwarts and chill with the Loganites.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Remember the time that you hiked to the lake? It was about after mile 7 that I wanted to turn around, with my legs longing for the body of a marathoner and my eyes casting glances to the dirt trail which promised to take me home. We could have all turned back, without apology or explanation. We had gone long enough to tell others that we had experienced nature, hiked, travelled, and lived.
But we knew we hadn’t reached the pearl of the mountain, protected by steep terrain. The scene of the lake could be etched into our memories, or breathed into our souls with the feeling of the frost touching our lungs and the view reshaping our connection with nature.
So we walked and continued, and in continuing we were delighted and delightful.
And the lake was there, as promised. Just witnessing the pines (subjected to an existence of struggling in a desert) gather life from the pond during that fall was enough to give confidence to our own future, where we live in an equally dry and desert world. It was beautiful and grand and special because we-step after step, curse after curse-reached it. And it was more beautiful for it.
This view, with struggle and drive and hate and love was earned and to share it or pretend that others would ‘get it’ or feel the poison of envy from it cheapens it like the cheapness of a used love poem employed by the boy in his third serious relationship.
Sometimes I feel like there is an expectation in our digital world of facebook updates, twitter feeds, instant news, gchat, and texting to create a connection of information between those close to us, but more often than not with those distant, foreign, and losing the glow friendship.
The whoring of information will cheapen any experience.
Information gleaned from friends or given freely, like a rare lake found, should be protected through the bonds of friendship and not publicized with every blog post.
I think we forget that information doesn’t have to be shared to be real; increased value is given to that which is rare.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Tied-dye shirts and the poof. I have had numerous experiences with both, but this post is dedicated to the poof.
If you don’t know what the poof is you must come visit. Northern Utahans (I just had to look up if that is really what natives of Utah are called, and we are indeed Utahans) love to sport the high volume poof in their hair. The style is simple. You take straight, beautiful hair and ruin it my ratting the under layers, destroying them (and possibly the atmosphere) with hair spray in a can, and then smoothing the top. Thus adding 4 inches of height.
I was talking to my roommates about the poof and Annie said “everybody poofs.” As if that statement alone isn’t funny enough, I couldn’t stop thinking about the book “Everybody Poops,” a childhood classic. I digress.
Anyway, I look around and it’s true. Virtually 80% of the girls up here are sporting the poof proudly. It seems unspoken that there is a competition and the one with the most poof has the most power. Poof=power. An odd equation, but one which the Loganites (I didn’t look up that name. I am choosing to believe they are called Loganites because it sounds fantastic) hold to. Sometimes I sit in class and look around at the poofs, because it’s hard to see the professor due to said poof, and I just think about how much work the poof is. The irony of it all is I spend all morning attempting to rid myself of my natural poof, a product of very curly hair, and am always a little disappointed with the inevitable remaining poof. In my world poof= girls with a inferiority complex whose fake nails are always too short for them and their Aeropostal shirts have been dried one time too many. But alas, there is the small voice inside of me that, for .5 sec thinks, I’m so glad I have natural (or any sort) of volumne in my hair.
I often wonder if the poof is natural though--or if they have invested in the ever classic tv infomercial of the bumpit. This invention, which comes in three sizes, allows for the unnatural look of the poof (sometimes referred to as the bump-hense bumpit) to be done in mere minuets. Thank you inventor--for further delaying the progress of women in Logan.
If you're wondering how a bumpit works I've added instructions.
The point of this post? To pledge to never intentionally poof and to keep a healthy perspective of how ridiculous the poof is. This could be a challenge because I am surrounded by it daily. Will you make the pledge?
Monday, September 13, 2010
My Ramblings in the United Kingdom
Sitting on the stain colored carpet in Bath, England the tears began to swell. I had just spoken with my brother about his second child, Marie, and had heard the phrase that we all knew was coming. She had passed away and her funeral would be the following week. That night, as I feel asleep, the song “When You Come Back Down” by Nickel Creek flowed through the white cord of my iPod into my mournful heart.
The lyrics told what I was unable to begin to think about “you got to leave me now, you got to go alone.” Marie, a child who hardly was able to experience the world, was leaving alone. And though I knew she was in pain, the thought of her death seemed incomprehensible. Leaving the arms of my brother was her only option, and the calming cadence of the song with the lyrics which said “I’ll be the other hand that always holds the line, Connectin’ in between your sweet heart and mine” helped me realize that our relationship still existed. She would not be forgotten. And now, having returned from living abroad, and with the passing years of Marie’s death, I still find myself listening to Nickel Creek and remembering Marie. The song “When You Come Back Down” has transformed from a song once easily neglected and forgotten, to a contemplative experience with focused thoughts on Marie.
Lyrics of songs have a way of helping to remove me from my life, and transport me to an experience and make it immortal. This has happened on numerous occasions when I listen to the Braveheart sound track. In a whirlwind of memories I find myself removed to a hike in Scotland.
After a long bus ride, where 40 of us were herded into a shaky double Decker bus, we were glad to be dropped at the base of a tall crag outside of Edinburgh. With this as my first experience in Scotland, I gazed at the rock face on the north side with respect and admiration.
This crag, detailed with golden bushes and thriving thistles, stood majestically as we began our ascent. Slowly, but determinedly, we rose with the swells of the wind toward the peak. As we approached the top, overlooking a scene previously only experienced in books, I was converted to the beauty of the highlands. Silently my gaze turned to the walled city and with the far distant hum of bagpipes, I fell in love with Scotland. The aged castle, with ivy and brush trying to take back the mark of man, stood in the distance. The guards were being changed. Scotsman dressed with their regalia, stood with pride while spectators watched. While absorbing the view, once claimed exclusively by my ancestors, my friend took me to the top where she and I listened to William Wallace’s “Freedom Speech” given to the Scottish Army as depicted in the movie Braveheart. Following the speech, we listened to the song titled “Freedom.”
This instrumental piece is intended to reflect the history of Scotland’s independence, with the crescendo’s matching the speeches arguing for freedom, and the almost forgotten bagpipes in the background representing the influence of Scotland. The song effectively creates a movement of passion and love for the Scotsman’s drive for their own freedom. The piece creates a surge of emotion and love for the land of the thistle.
When I reflect on my time in the United Kingdom I have a littering of memories. Some of these memories are vague and fleeting, but those that are associated with songs are captivating and create a picture that is as clear as yesterday’s memories. Nickel Creek helps me to remember the experience of Marie’s death, and experiencing the soundtrack of Braveheart in Scotland have allowed for more powerful memories which remain far longer than experiences not associated with music. The songs have transportive qualities, which allows for me to relive the experience, and over time I find myself appreciating the experiences more because of the interplay between the two.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Highlights of my life in Logan:
Teaching students who looked absolutely terrified in the first five minutes of class but by the end were discussing what types of skis are the best for this season and who will be the national football champion. (Clearly related to English)
Roommates who are just fantastic. I mean, they like Glee and bashing on boys, and I like Glee and bashing on boys, so basically I feel we're a match made in USU heaven.
Cafe Rio that has this amazing thing called taco Tuesdays where you can buy a pork taco for $1.50. I almost wanted to cry I was so happy.
Realizing that I am still a BYU cougar with the following events.
1. In my institute class my professor asked where I was from and when I said Provo he replied "we like you so much more for choosing us over BYU." My retort "I graduated from BYU and am still a cougar at heart." Though this phrase was a lot creepier said aloud than anticipated I gracefully accepted the boos from the class. Who knew there was a rival between USU and BYU...apparently only USU.
2. When BYU just announced their independence I got a grin on my face that hasn't left. I proceed to tell my roommates all about it. They didn't really care but they loved my enthusiasm.
Life is good.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
This blog of mine is not a book review, I promise. I read far too many books to have the small sampling here be a credit to the books that I digest, but, sometimes books are so powerful that I can't stop thinking about them and so I have to write about them.
I realized that This Side of Paradise was such a book when I was at a restaurant talking with Rebbie last night and I had my hands in the air in exclamation and admiration. Regrettably, I can not take that moment back but it doesn't diminish the love I have for the book.
I have known the author, F. Scott Fitzgerald, for some time. Yes, I know that I don't technically "know" him but I'm relatively well versed in his work. For instance, my favorite quote is from his book The Great Gatsby where it closes saying, "And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
This Side of Paradise is currently one of my favorite books-of all time. I tried to start this book four years ago, at the beginning of what would be some of the most definitive years of my life. I couldn't get past page 60 (partly because the book was broken and the pages were falling out, but mostly because I couldn't relate to the context). I am so grateful I attempted again when I did.
The book is a recursive glance into the protagonist years as a college student and his transition on. What a fitting theme. It talks about lost love that can never be repeated, the friendships that come to define us but have faded, intellectual growth, questioning of systems, the mistakes of youth, and a love for the loss of innocence. The brilliance in the book though is showing that it is not the innocence that is missed, but the action of losing it.
I believe in the saying that the worst thing for a book is a plot--because it takes away from the art of writing. This novel does not have a strong plot/story line, with its skills lying in the realism of the writing as well as deep, humanistic themes. (So, you really have to give this book a chance, the ending is worth everything and more.)
I am so in love with the way that Fitzgerald writes that I can't stand the injustice that I am giving his novel by attempting to describe it in such incomparable terms.
I would recommend this book to anyone, but I would strongly recommend it to any recently graduated college student who can relate to the development of Amory Blaine.
To close, Fitzgerald wrote "His youth seemed never so vanished as now in the contrast between the utter loneliness of this visit and that riotous, joyful party of four years before."
A toast to the party of four years ago.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
44 new students on Monday.
I think I may have the best job ever.
Friday, August 20, 2010
And as the play of the weather unfolds so does each day, each season, and each new school year. The change in the weather that causes the excitement is like the change in each of our lives. And just as the feeling of knowing rain is coming without feeling the drops, instinct claims controls and whispers that change is forthcoming.
I feel that change is coming. I hope it’s as pleasant as the rain.
Monday, August 16, 2010
There are a select few, never ending, conflicts in this world that always have, and always will, dictate conversation, make history, and give the dreamer hope in the future. Examples of such are good vs evil, Israel vs Palestine, maple donut vs the chocolate donut from 7-11, diet dr. pepper vs dr. pepper, English vs math, glasses vs contacts, and the list continues. My own polar conflict is nature vs me.
Nature. Just the name makes me think of the fights we have been in throughout my life. It started out as an innocent fight—I didn’t want to go to girl’s camp because I had a hard time sleeping on the ground. Nature’s intuition felt my dislike for it and promptly I fell into a lake. At this moment I knew nature was a bully. Nature, a very unforgiving foe, then sabotaged my love for my cabin by having bats in the rafters and in my room. This was when the true divorce happened. I hated nature, and it was too big for me to do anything against it but to loath it. My hatred only increased with the sun rash nature so lovingly gave me in Lake Powell. Two years later, thinking that both nature and I had grown up and that the feud was over, I went rock climbing down in Moab. Nature, along with Johnson & Johnson sunscreen, gave my eye a crazy reaction and sent me back to the hotel.
This decade long feud, one which I thought would always be a thorn in my side, was mediated this weekend. I hiked a mountain. I didn’t just go on a hike-I hiked Timpanogos and went camping in the woods with a hammock (first time real camping-woot woot). I went with two boys who are legit hikers and though I know I slowed them down, they were saints to help me experience nature in a positive way. We started at 7 and got to emerald lake at 10. There we made camp and then woke up at 4 and hiked to the summit to see the sunrise. We then came home at around 11. I am happy to say that nature and I got along splendidly. I picked up some trash littering her mountain side, while she only gave me a giant blister, sore body, and sunburned lips instead of the very likely broken neck.
Will I ever hike Timp again? No. Will I tell everyone that I have done it? Yes. Will I start getting in shape now because the hike helped me realize that my heart needs a little more cheerios and a little less chocolate cake? Hopefully, but probably not.
Anyway, it was a great adventure and I highly recommend any girl to convince Devin and Chris to take them on an adventure. Fun guaranteed.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Mandi and I flew out to Michigan to pick up our dear friend Erica who had just graduated college and needed to get back to Zion, which meant driving her car home. We flew into Detroit, Michigan and started our trek.
Loved: Ann Arbor is such a gorgeous college town. The school itself breathes history and richness that is beyond wealth. It’s a mix of education and status ranking…and money. The buildings were architecture gems with the music school being the shape of a piano, and the library having leather upholstered doors and great rooms similar to Oxford and Cambridge. Big plus, it had squirrels everywhere. It was so fun to see where Erica has lived for the last four years. The food was great, her friends were better, and this trip cemented an 8 year friendship.
Loved less: Detroit was a very sad city. We went to an art exhibit in a very abandoned part of town which had put creepy stuffed animals and junk in abandoned houses. If you want to experience recession, walk over to Detroit.
Loved: Truth is I had completely forgotten that we drove through Indiana so I loved how short the drive was.
Loved less: How sad the forgotten people of Indiana must be when they realize their state is neglected.
Loved: Chicago! It was such a fun city, and so fun to experience it with two of my best friends. We walked down millennium mile, had deep dish pizza, went shopping, and took the most amazing boat tour. It’s a boat tour that goes on the Chicago River, and describes all of the architecture. The buildings there are amazing, and it’s rumored that Oprah was hanging out there when we were there too.
Loved less: That we didn’t get to spend much time there and that I was driving into the city with a stick car in stop-and-go traffic for 90 min.
Loved: The rolling hills and the sunshine.
Loved less: That I didn’t get to see the corn fully ripe in these fields. I am sure they look beautiful.
Loved: Getting out of that city.
Loved less: The b&b we stayed at. True story, we rolled up far into the night on a deserted road to find a very secluded house, with possible murderers lurking in the bushes, and realized that was where we were sleeping for the night. It got far worse when Mandi and I looked into our room and saw the 30+ clowns who were looking at us with menacing glares. Once the music box with murder themed songs started to play we considered ourselves dead. It’s amazing we got out.
Loved: Experiencing the true west. Dirt, dirt, and more dirt.
Loved less: That we were still driving at this point, a drive which took us 24 hours in the car. Good thing we had podcasts, music, and as always a political/controversial conversation happening.
All throughout the trip we realized we were missing the other member of our posse-miss Kellee Marie Cook. She was in NYC doing an internship. She was there with two other candy shoppers (Reb and Ky) and I knew that I had to get out and party with them. So after I got home I was off to NYC!
Loved: Seeing my friends who I had missed more than anything. Loved the beach, the Broadway show Jersey Boys, food (Max Brenner, La Esquina, Stardust, Grimaldi’s , Brooklyn ice cream….the list could easily go on).
Loved Less: Cooney island freak show, the price of taxis, the heat of the subway, and not being able to buy everything I saw in the stores.
After New York, Ky, Kel and I hurried off to meet my parents in D.C. The only way to travel is the megabus. Yup, that classy bus was a $15.00 trip, and 5 hours of road-tripping fun.
Loved: One of my best friends was from this state and I always heard stories from him about it. I loved driving through and seeing how green it was.
Loved Less: How short the trip was and how much I wanted to see there.
D.C. (technically not a state…)
Loved: Everything. I felt like home. I loved the vibe of the city—politics, shopping, politics, and people who wear really classy clothes. For those who didn’t know, I was obsessed with the show The West Wing, and am even more so now. I loved having ky and kel there and randomly Erica was in town so we went to dinner. (Big shout out to Mike and Dottie for housing us and letting me hang out with them there!) Loved hanging out with my parents, seeing museums, using the great underground system, and shopping in Georgetown. We went on a great tour of the capitol and just hung out!
Loved Less: That I knew I had to go home. New goal: move there.
Loved: Driving through a little bit of the state that will, eventually, become my home.
Loved less: That we just drove through it.
The triplets (a term ky, kel and I gave ourselves) went with my parents to Gettysburg.
Loved: Having a dad who literally knew everything about everything there. Loved experiencing the sacrifice of the soldiers during the civil war, and loved the prose of President Lincoln. Loved laughing with Ky and Kel, all of us college graduates and still sticking around with my rents.
Loved Less: That the tour took a really long time (like 6 hours) and though I love learning, it was a bit much.
America is BIG. Trust me, I drove across it. These trips were great because of the fun cities and things to do, but mostly because of the amazing people in my lives who I got to experience them with. As my friends start to get married, and with me moving in August, it was so fun to be able to do such cool things with them this summer. Making memories that will last a lifetime, and being able to truly appreciate the incredible influence they've had on my life makes me wonder if USU has anyone who is half as incredible to spend my time with. So, on to planning future trips that will be just as exciting.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
This is it--the library. Notice the frazzel look of me and MJ. We are tired of being here. This is officially the last time i'll be here studying (or as would be true to form not studying) as a BYU student. I am about to go and take my last final. Go COUGARS! I heart it here.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
He Is The Way, The Truth, The Light
The one with whom we must unite,
Brother and savior to us all.
He is the way, the truth, the light.
As mortals we discern our lives, finite
And dared to bring about His fall
The one with whom we must unite.
And to the blind, he gave them sight
And saved the sinners, one named Saul
He is the way, the truth, the light.
He served, and saved, and faced his plight
Never one to falter, or to fall.
The one with whom we must unite.
The man who sacrificed his right,
Christ hung and gave his life for all.
He is the way, the truth, the light.
He offers us, each one respite
If we but listen to his call,
The one with whom we must unite
He is the way, the truth, the light.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
the reveler of earths contours fall
Hushed tones with visions of renewal. we ‘re exposed
Seemingly passive aggressive nature against life breaks
and shines as a tool of renewal.
Flocked trees threaten to destroy layered perfection.
The guardian of white rabbits,
amending the scars of farm work.
It stays with silent temperance.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I actually think this piece is pretty entertaining. If you want to read something amazing, similar, and better written read the vingette titled "My Name" by Sandra Cisneros found in her novella House on Mango Street.
Sarah (with an H) no middle name Orme
To quote my mother, “can you believe they named their kid Abcde? How in the world will any of her teachers ever know how to say their name or spell it? I feel so bad for kids that get weird names.” This conversation of weird names rolls around every fall when the smell of sharpened pencils and new clothes are flowing through the neighborhoods as children ready themselves for school. My mom, a kindergarten teacher, joins the ranks of many educators who look with disgust on names that have difficult or weird spellings and bizarre pronunciations. Every year a select few of her students are chosen as victims of the conversation of weird names, followed by the discussion of how inconsiderate it is of parents to tag their children with titles that seem more fit for a suitcase in Switzerland than an American name. This, being the background of my own personal name giver, explains why each of the Orme children has names that are located within the rankings of the most popular names through the ages. The children in our family are named Chris, Nick, Matt and I follow the litter with the well-known, over-exploited, Mormon name Sarah (with an H of course).
I dare you to sit in a public classroom in Provo, Ut and call the name Sarah. Guaranteed three girls will look of at you. Ok, it’s probable that the name Sarah does not have this dense of a population but it often feels like it. Rarely do I find myself in a world of being the only Sarah. There are many of us around. For many, a shared name is not that big of a deal considering you have a middle name. Well, I don’t. It is possible that I am currently the disappointment of my father because I have yet to marry-completing his claim that girls don’t need middle names because their last names feel that gap. My gap of a “no-middle-namer” is currently larger than ever. And to be honest, it is bizarre that the culture I have grown up in makes it seem like women don’t need a middle name because they get a new name eventually. I fear to continue with this thread of thought because it may turn into a “women deserve the same thing as men” and as not to let this topic deluge into that, I will just make mention again that I have an empty line, an absence on a page, where many fill in their middle name.
To recap—I have an all to common first name and I lack a middle name. Optimistically you would believe that the fates would grace me with a unique last name. One in which I can own as a unique part of my identity. Well, this reliance on fate, karma, or good-will is falsely put. My last name is Orme. The history is that there was a Welch rock named the rock d’orme…a rock that looks like a snake. After living in poverty in Europe we came to America searching for our fortunes and wound up in Provo, Ut, snuggled next to an all-familiar city. The neighboring city is named Orem. Seriously. This wanna-be-Provo city has confused anyone asking about my last name like platypuses are confused about what type of animal they are. Anyone who pronounces my last name will automatically ask if it is like the city, or ask if I own the city, or inquire if I know that there is a city like my last name. To complete this picture of confusion with the city, as I was student teaching last semester I heard giggling from the back. Finally, I asked the boys what they were talking about and they replied, “I think it’s so funny that you go by your title. Maybe you can bring your sash and crown next time.” The students address me as Miss Orme and had for a week legitimately believed I went by a “scholarship fund” award; a beauty pageant winner. Laughing, I took this as a compliment to my beauty and talents and explained to them why the city I hail from, Provo, is better than Orem.
To commoners without the name Sarah Orme, it may appear that though the name has seemingly common elements it makes up what is probably an uncommon name. That is what I used to think until a BYU student named Sarah Orme started working for my dad in the ASB. Call her a doppelganger, call her a replacement child for my father, or call her a BYU-I student who transferred to Provo, only to stay here for a semester before she got married and moved away. We became commonly confused.
What is in a name? To some it becomes more than an arbitrary title but a part of an inherent identity. This mentality, I believe, is wrong. Though there may be cities with my name, 785,170 women with the first name of Sarah in the United States, and a former BYU student with my exact name I have developed a relationship with my name, which I have come to love. Though I was named after a courageous women who crossed the plains, evading death in the Willie Martin Handcart Company, and though there is a book written about Sarah plain and tall, and though there is a women sitting with the sash of Miss Orem proudly portrayed, I am not one of them.
I am Sarah (with an H), who lacks a middle name, and who almost shares a surname with a neighboring city. I am a woman who is excited to meet those with similar and different names and to know them not for a tag, title, or need of identification for the U.S. census bureau, but for who they are. For people are people, names are just a way of helping them to remember which person is being referenced. A name is not an identity; it is a representation of the human need for separation and categorization. Happy for those with unique names, happy for those who like their names, and congratulations to those who paid $200.00 to the state to change their names. For me, I will keep my name and look expectantly to the future for confusion that my name will, without question, produce.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Teach seniors in high school
If you think that wise guys, or any other stand up comedy club is funny you clearly have not hung out with 18 year olds about to graduate. They are so funny. The sarcasm is so rich and if you're willing to laugh at your own mistakes all you do is laugh the day away. I truly love them so much and am going to miss them. Highlight of the day "what are you doing after graduation?" he replies, "go on a mission." I pause and say "that's great, but what about after?" He gives me a look of confusion and says "I don't know..." Truly, I don't think he realized life exists post mission. So funny.
Ramble around London
My study abroad gave me opportunities to travel that I never would have dreamed. I frequently think about the used bookstores that stole my heart, or the chocolate that made me gain 10 well-worth it pounds. I found friends who will last a lifetime and memories that will make me jealous of my 20 year old self for the rest of my life.
Graduate from BYU
Well, I'm walking in April for good or for bad. It's a result of a lot of early mornings and late nights of studying to graduate but I think it was worth it. Too bad I have to go to spring semester and take a religion class......choice words are going through my head directed at the religion department (probably not good for Karma).
Those in the making:
Go to graduate school
This week I committed to go to Utah State University to get my masters in English (emphasizing in rhetoric and composition). They also have me teaching two classes of freshman English in the fall and then two in the winter. Welcome to teaching RMs that are my age. I really am so excited! It's close enough to home to visit but far enough to start to stretch my wings. Plus, I feel really good about it. I think I'm supposed to be there---this being the only thought that is getting me past the fact that it's in Logan. Plus, I get to teach (see item #1).
Live with my best friends
After years of convincing, Mandi finally succumbed to moving in with Kellee and I. To top it off I made a new best friend, Rebbie, and was able to continue the London experience with my bunk buddy Ky. Luckily Ky is friends with Mary so we truly have North Ogden represented and have created a family of friends.
Wear my hair curly
After years of insecurity about curly hair, I have been forced to get over it because I have to be at school at 7 am which means that I have ten minutes to get ready for school--the perfect amount of time to put gel in my hair and run out the door. Luckily the feedback has been good.
Those quickly approaching (hopefully):
Living back east
I have always wanted to live back east, and though it is not being realized now I am hoping that maybe during the summer after my first year of graduate school I will be able to do an internship there. Keep your fingers crossed.
Taking a creative writing class
I love English (which most of you know) and I have never taken a creative writing class. This skill, when learned, will hopefully realize my dream (which is also mentioned on whatwhitepeoplelike) to write a book. For all of my faithful readers I promise you a signed, first edition copies.
Mostly I just am sick of first dates....so this is my solution, for now, to get out of them (jk).
Well there is a quick update for you all.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Happy Saint Patrick's day. You are very right, as I am sure you are thinking that today is not, in fact, St. P's day. Additionally, you're right because I am not catholic and really don't care (usually) about saints' days. But, this years March 17th was so great I wanted to blog about it (blog being the measurement of truly great days). I taught, which is no surprise, but half way through the day I decided to walk down to the copy room. Understand that the English department are full of the snobs of the high school. We see ourselves as the 'true' educators, those with esoteric knowledge the we attempt to shove down the throats of 18 year-olds who only want to graduate in two months--and consequently don't care about English. Anyway, I forget what high school teachers are really like outside of the English wing. But this day helped me to remember. I stumbled upon a teacher who is a short little man, and was wearing a giant green hat, died red hair, a three piece green outfit, completed with fake ears which made him look like a 100% certified, out of the shire, leprechaun. All I could say was top of the morning and rushed off to find the last copy of the Luck of the Irish from blockbuster. One of the many reasons high school is the funniest job I've ever had. And, don't forget, by job I really mean indentured servant to the state of Utah because I spend 60 hours working without pay.
To close the day in St. P-day celebration, my roommate is a keyboardist to a Celtic band (true story) and they had a concert where they followed a bag piping band. It was fantastic...until they tried to make us do Celtic dancing which didn't go over so well. Maybe next time.....
Anyway, I was reading poetry a few nights ago and I stumbled upon this little poem which I think describes Rebbie to a T. And the other creative people in my life.
|WE are the music-makers,|
|And we are the dreamers of dreams,|
|Wandering by lone sea-breakers,|
|And sitting by desolate streams;|
|World-losers and world-forsakers,||5|
|On whom the pale moon gleams:|
|Yet we are the movers and shakers|
|Of the world for ever, it seems.|
|With wonderful deathless ditties|
|We build up the world's great cities,||10|
|And out of a fabulous story|
|We fashion an empire's glory:|
|One man with a dream, at pleasure,|
|Shall go forth and conquer a crown;|
|And three with a new song's measure||15|
|Can trample an empire down.|
|We, in the ages lying|
|In the buried past of the earth,|
|Built Nineveh with our sighing,|
|And Babel itself with our mirth;||20|
|And o'erthrew them with prophesying|
|To the old of the new world's worth;|
|For each age is a dream that is dying,|
|Or one that is coming to birth.|