So This is Christmas

Christmas Eve, yo. It's where it's at.

I honestly was strangely apathetic about coming home for Christmas this year. It seemed like I had just seen my family at Thanksgiving, and I just didn't miss home that much. I was having a good time with all my friends in Provo, and I almost wished that I could stay and enjoy the school-free days with the Utah crowd. Almost. Sounds pretty heartless, I know. I'm a pretty terrible person.

But as it turns out, I underestimated home. First off, Minnesota is at its ridiculous snowy best, with over a foot and a half on the ground and more on the way tonight. I love this state so dang much. Looking out the back sliding door at the snow-covered lake and trees is such a familiar thing that it almost makes me cry. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

My friends are another thing altogether. I had almost forgotten how insane these kids are. I love the social life down at BYU, but I just can't entirely be myself (yet) with them. I have history with the people here. We could write entire books of our inside jokes. Though we all believe different things and have different lives now, we can still see each other once or twice a year and act like the good times never ended.

And my family . . . what to even say about them? So freakin' weird, for one thing. So freakin' awesome, for another. My little (and taller than me) sister Rina and I just made a Christmas Eve dinner centerpiece out of plastic chickens and vegetable leftovers. You can't buy Kodak moments like that. Though I've changed over the past few years away from home, I can still come back and know that these stinkers have to love me no matter what. It's great.

Tonight and we're going to celebrate a Christmas Eve of the Watts variety. Activities and appetizers will include, but not be limited to: open-faced sandwiches, fancy cheese, sushi rolls, the infamous rice pudding with the hidden almond (whoever finds it gets good luck!), opening one present early, acting out the Christmas story (which is an adventure on its own. The wise men tend to turn out as hippies...), singing Christmas hymns around the piano, and the traditional sauna with its following glass of cold juice.

After we go to "sleep" tonight, the parents will stay up wrapping last-minute presents and putting them under the tree. Tomorrow morning, we'll wake up nice and late, line up in the hallway in order of age, take the mandatory picture, then commence with the very extensive task of opening presents one by one, again in order of age.

Afterwards will be stockings (with that coveted chocolate orange) and a light breakfast of those weird little one-serving boxes of cereal. After a day of lounging around with our presents and trying not to eat our chocolate oranges all in one sitting, we'll once again sit down together at the dinner table for Christmas ham and all that other stuff.

So this is Christmas. You know what? I'm kind of a fan. Not to mention the fact that it's a time to celebrate the most important birth the world has ever seen. Without Him none of this peace and joy would be possible. I'm incredibly grateful that it is. I hope you all keep the message of Jesus Christ in your hearts throughout the whole year. Never be afraid to share it; it's the greatest news in the world. I'm so fortunate to have it in my life.

Well, I'm off to find that almond. Merry Christmas to all :)

Yup.

Today I am blogging by rabid request of my raging fan base, not because I'm feel any variety of inspired. So we'll see how this turns out.

I left the foggy skies of Salt Lake City yesterday morning on a little plan destined for Chicago, where I spent all of the half hour it took to get to my other plane and take off on a plane bound for Pennsylvania. I landed in Pittsburgh a bit after 6, if I remember right. After waiting an intolerable amount of time to get picked up (less than half an hour), I was once again in the presence of (part of) my lovely family.

As I learned later , SLC actually ended up closing the airport for a time that evening, and BYU campus was even shut down. I'm lucky I got out when I did, although I do love me a good snowstorm. I also learned later that the anticipated blizzard was quite a let-down, at least in Provo. I now allow myself a silent smile of gratification that I didn't miss out on much.

After arriving at my uncle's house, I was promptly fed several helpings of homemade lasagna, garlic bread, and salad. It was so beautiful I almost cried. Besides seeing the family, free delicious food for THREE WHOLE DAYS is what most excited me when looking forward to Thanksgiving break. This morning I ate pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Dinner tonight was chili from scratch and Brazilian cornbread. Life is incredible.

I just turned on "The Final Countdown," and I automaticaly feel a lot more epic...That song should be the background to life. Everything would be better. Everything.

Ummm yeah. I'm really not feeling inspired right now. I'm kind of in a been-doing-Arabic-for-too-long-and-it's-kind-of-nighttime-and-I-haven't-stood-up-much-today stupor, and it's not very conducive to writing anything at all witty or interesting. I apologize to the aforementioned raging fan base.

On a happier note, tomorrow's Thanksgiving! I look forward to hours of pure gluttony. It shall be beautiful.

Cheers!

Bookworm

I miss reading for pleasure.

I used to read all the time. My family would go to the library and come out loaded down with books. I’d be so excited to read them that I’d get started in the car, only reluctantly getting out when we got home. As soon as we got inside and put away the rest of our newfound treasures, I plopped my little bookworm behind on the couch and read and read and read.

I had a tendency to keep reading until I finished a book. I wouldn’t eat, I’d stay up late, and eventually my mom got would get fed up with it all. One of the most ironic parts of my childhood was that, while my friends’ parents were pulling their hair out trying to get their kids to actually read, my parents were practically bald from trying to get me to focus on other things when I was in the middle of a book. It was a constant struggle.

I never identified myself as a student until I came to college. In grade school, I was just going to school because I had to, and learning was a relatively passive thing unless I really enjoyed the topic. Here and now, being a student is my life; it defines me. Not only do I spend a lot of time in class and doing homework, but the way I socialize and spend my free time is affected by the college atmosphere. Being a student is a full-time gig.

Unfortunately, this full-time gig doesn’t really allow time for my reading habits. The only novels I’ve read lately have been assigned. If I decided to go to the library and pick up some reading material that I was truly interested in, the results would be disastrous. Though I do tend to waste a bit of time on Facebook and blogging and watching movies and such, these things are quick and not nearly as time-consuming as reading a book is for me.

So I just don’t really read. During the week, there’s never a free period of time long enough to read an entire book. On the weekends, I’m restless from hours of classrooms and computer screens, so I go out and have fun with friends instead of reading. I haven’t really even thought about reading a book recreationally this entire semester. How sad is that?

Man, once I get out of this pit of homework that I seem always to be scrambling out of, I’m gonna hit up a library.

Batman Begins

I write this post while sitting on the floor of my apartment, watching Pocahontas, attempting to do Arabic homework, and smelling the wonderful loaves of banana bread I just put in the oven. Two of my roommates are on the couch; the other three are sleeping (I think). Our new brown and white bunny named Batman is currently trying to eat my shoulder.

He is not succeeding.

It's times like these that I'm glad I'm exactly where I am in life. High school's done and over with, but I'm still not quite assimilated into the adult world. I'm a college student, studying hard, working 17 hours a week, maintaining some semblance of a social life, and having an altogether awesome, hectic time of it.

Sure, sometimes I have brief moments of sanity where I realize exactly how much needs to be done and how little time I have to do it. In all reality, I should have absolutely no social life at all, except two designated hours on Friday nights for light small talk with other humans. But....really? It's not realistic to expect that. The challenge is finding the right balance; I'm still experimenting a bit with that.

This banana bread smells so freaking good. My salivary glands are working overtime. John Smith's dreamy good looks are not helping matters. This is getting ridiculous.

Only 20 more minutes...in the meantime, I should mosey on back to the Arabic dual system and all such nonsense. See you in the morning!

Todaydaydaydayday

My first words this morning were probably along the lines of, "Eaarghtimeinterviewnoooo!"

Yeah, you guessed it, I had a job interview on campus and I woke up 20 minutes before it started. Good job. 18 gazillion brownie points for you.

After galloping to the bus stop half-dressed, I moseyed in a rather swift manner to the Morris Center. I asked for Laura Thomas, as directed, then waited around for 10 minutes as the secretaries tried to figure out who that was. So all my rush was for naught. Ah, me.

The interview itself went rather well, even though I had low self-esteem due to my two major self-esteem killers: glasses and unshaven legs. I don't know what it is; I am usually a pretty confident person, but those two things...I can never look people in the eye. It's pretty rough.

After that I went to Brit Lit and pretended I agreed with what the teacher was talking about, then I went to Arabic and pretended I knew what the teacher was even saying.

Lunch was an adventure. I didn't have my wallet with me, so I wasn't able to buy food. Being the creative person I am, I decided to hit up one of the business school's many free-food socials. I was in luck; the finance club was serving up In-N-Out burgers. Sooo, I headed over to room 240 and pretended I was interested in what the guy in front was saying. As I waited in line, I made conversation with people and pretended I was looking into the finance major in a desperate attempt to not look like an aspiring writer who just wanted the free food (which is what I was). Not one of my prouder moments, I'll admit.

Well, karma was out to get me. All they had left by the time I made it through the line were various condiments and cans of pop. I grabbed a Sprite and left, feeling rather sad that all my hard work had gone to waste. It's a hard life.

After a lovely nap session in astronomy, I walked home and took a swim with Erin in Centennial's pool. Currently, I am sitting at the kitchen table waiting for my potatoes to bake, which is definitely not one of the most interactive cooking experiences. Perhaps I shall take up the time by learning a new skill, such as throwing ninja stars.

This post is really boring. Don't read it.

This week. Gah.

Gah in a good way because so many fun things are and have happened. Gah in a bad way because so many things are and have happened. Got it? Good.

Yesterday was the first day of classes, and I feel I was rather successful in not making a fool of myself or causing any of the teachers to hate me. First off was British Lit - woo woo! - and second was New Testament. Nothing too exciting to report.

Arabic, on the other hand . . . Well, you know that part in The Best Two Years where the new elder hears someone speaking Dutch and says, "...That's not the language I learned in the MTC"? Yeah, my first day in Arabic after four months of relative inactivity was akin to that. Yikes. Let's hope I'm a quick re-learner, otherwise I'll have to drop and take ASL or something floofy like that.'

Heh. Floofy.

Found out my good friend Jelly is in Astronomy with me, so that should be fun. But what will be MOST excellent is Songwriting. Basically, it's a once a week class learning about something I love while surrounding by good-looking, musical men. Like...let's say the BYU attractive ratio for men in general is about 15-20%, if I'm being generous. This class is about 75%. Yeah. This is going to be a LOVELY semester.

This morning I had the bus experience from heck trying to find my way to and from the BYU broadcasting building in southern Provo. I ended up in Springville, then got a ride from a random man because I was extraordinarily desperate to get to my interview and would have had to walk through 3 miles of construction in high heels otherwise. And the interview was hardly even an interview, it was more of him telling me what the job was like. Bah.

However, all my blisters and ulcers will be worth it, because tonight is my first real concert! John Mayer and Owl City . . . It will be epic. I am so incredibly excited. It's pretty much everything wonderful in life . . . friends, amazing guitar, staying up late, and two beautiful men who sing. Yes, please. I will most definitely be a happy camper once we get there. Get in my tummy. Yum yum.

Annnnyways. I must go and type my lovely New Testament reflection paper like a good girl. I'm such an angel.

Back in Black . . . er, Brownstone

Summer is over, and my stay in lovely Minnesota came to an end yesterday when I boarded a plane headed for Salt Lake City. I've worked hard in these past couple of months. I painted houses with College Pro for four months, which kinda sucked, but it's money now in my pocket. I finished up by helping out at Anoka marching band's spat camp. It was weird; there were still students in it who I was close to, but I was tossed into the position of instructor instead of peer. It was all rather disorienting. However, I learned plenty, got to know some people I'd been needing to get to know, and I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.

I am currently sitting at a round table in the middle of Brownstone condo #5, my new home for the next long while. I've met most of my new roommates, moved in....mm, two-thirds of my stuff (optimistically), and almost completely adjusted to the fact that school starts in 5 days. I've also installed the giant nose-shaped soap-dispenser given to me by my second-year roommate Erin, complete with frighteningly realistic green shower gel. I. Love. It.

Our apartment is slightly smaller than last year, but it's very pretty and I'm mostly pleased with it. Our lack of a balcony in comparison to some of the other Brownstone condos is disappointing, however. Ah, well. Maybe next year.

I hear our ward is on the older end of the scale...I'm a bit nervous about that, seeing as I'm only 18. Hopefully not too many desperate late-20s guys will fall in love with me. I do hate breaking hearts like that.

The Final Toilet Paper Famine (until next year, anyways)

All too soon, it was the end of the semester, and life was full of studying for finals and packing for home. Of course, this made us all much too distracted to worry about stocking up on toilet paper, and, once again, we were a bit undersupplied in the bathroom department. When someone finally bought toilet paper, the rescue was bittersweet: we would never have a toilet paper famine all together ever again.

We're all going separate ways now. One roommate is getting married; another will be teaching English in Russia. Erin and I will be living together in a condo next year, but the others have found new homes as well. Though the Riviera wasn't the most amazing place to live, we've made thousands of memories within its boundaries. We've dropped coconuts off our balcony. We've decorated a life-size policeman cutout with flowers. We've watched hours of Jane Austen movies. We've had picnics on the grass and parties on the roof. We've fell in love, had our hearts broken, and eaten a 3 pound bag of peanut butter M&M's in less than a day.

No one can doubt that it's been an interesting year, and I'll never forget it. However, now is the perfect time to look forward. I have a whole summer in front of me (longer than most kids', too...suckers :D). Hopefully I'll find a job soon, and that will probably keep me busy for the next few months, but there will also be plenty of time to make new friends and make new memories with old friends. I'm sure I'll have plenty of new inside jokes by the time August rolls around, as well as new scars, new heartaches, new insights, and a new, fabulous body (This will be due to Rachelle's and my weight loss challenge. If we fail to reach our weight loss goal we have to eat a bug. Crude . . . but effective).

All right, I've waxed eloquent for long enough. Time to go out and live life.

April Fool's Day

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

- e. e. cummings

Love the poet, love the quote. What I don't love is that you can't indent on blog posts. Is that true, or am I just being a moron? Probably both. Anyways.

My family never did anything super big for April Fool's Day, but there'd always be some sort of surprise waiting for breakfast: green eggs and ham or whatnot. Since last Thursday was my first April first away from home, I decided to go all out. I don't have time to detail everything that went on, but I'll provide a brief list of the hilarity that occurred.

The night before:

~ Silly string-ed a couple people.

~ Filled hundreds of Dixie cups with water and placed in front of our friends' apartment in a way in which they had to move them all in order to get out withoput getting their feet wet.

~ Cut out the little mechanism in a musical birthday card and affixed it to the neighboring apartment's door hinge. Whenever they opened the door, the music would play, and when the shut it, it would stop! Brilliant, I know.

~ Window marker on several cars, but it rained that night, so that didn't work out so well.

~ Rearranging the Riviera's pool furniture into a giant pyramid.

~ Just for the heck of it, Rachelle and I went hot tubbing afterward in all our clothes. That was a party.

~ After everyone else went to bed, I also dyed a couple roommates' milk; affixed my stuffed rat B'Crimefighter to the showerhead, changed Erin's phone to Spanish, and switched my number with her friend Nick's in her contacts list. This will come back later.

I woke up and opened my bedroom door the next morning to an avalanche of newspaper balls, courtesy of Rachelle and Erin. I left them laying around for a while, but when I couldn't shut my door to change, I decided to dispose of them by arranging them in Rachelle's bed to look like I was laying under the covers. She later retaliated by stealing and hiding my doorknob but made the mistake of telling a mutual friend about it on Facebook. I took care of that easily.

During the day:

~ Silly string-ed a couple more people, just to be obnoxious.

~ Texted Erin throughout the day under the guise of Nick. That was pretty fun, and she only became suspicious when I started talking about the excessive cat level in Provo.

~ While I was working I had enlisted some friends to trash a coworker's car (not really trash, but at least completely deface it with window marker), but it was snowing/raining again. I usually got a ride home with him, so they decided to prank me instead by putting dish soap under all the door handles except for his. Somehow, he ended up with crap on his hands I didn't, and I told him it was my roommates' fault. He got them back by calling Rachelle (with the number I provided) under the guise of a suave bassoonist named Leonard who had the hots for her. That was quite the party.

~ Also at work, I had some fun switching around silverware and juice dispensers and watching peoples' faces as they went to get apple juice and came back with orange.

Well, that's all the tomfoolery I can remember at this moment. Needless to say, it was a memorable April fool's Day for all, and I can't wait for next year . . .

Woops. I was going to write "The Dangers of Writing" but then I almost fell off the exercise ball we use as a chair and accidentally pressed enter.

I was going to write about a short story I'm working on, but I've decided to comment on my weekend instead.

The roommates and I hit up the Holi Festival of Colors on Saturday, like everyone else who's at BYU. Apparently the Hindu temple in Spanish Fork does this every year, and it's one of the biggest celebrations of its kind (Yes! One sentence, two correct uses of it with an s!). Basically, it's thousands of white kids who don't even know what Hare Krishna means chanting it at the top of their lungs and throwing colored powder in the air. It's rather enjoyable.

Well, I'm going to cut this short since I need to get working on some Arabic. Goodness knows I could use a little discipline when it comes to "homework time."

The Dangers of

Layover

An airport terminal is a fascinating place. So many worlds collide, and yet rarely do these worlds leave a mark on each other: people walk quickly past each other, oblivious to the lives brushing against them with their tensed shoulders. There is an unavoidable disconnectedness, a sort of mortal limbo. No one is where he wants to be yet—he is in transition, whether this is a layover on his way to Mexico City or the place where he’ll pick up his checked baggage and walk out into Denver, Colorado.

A woman in a pink tracksuit hurries her little boy along, not even glancing at the skinny young man standing alone in khakis and an argyle sweater-vest. He has the sort of hairstyle that might have been popular in my sophomore year of high school, and He looks too young to be carrying the official-looking briefcase in his left hand; then again, maybe I’m too young to be sitting in an airport terminal with a notebook, contemplating the lives of hundreds of people whom I will never meet.

Fair enough.

Airports don’t get the attention they deserve. Each terminal is a smorgasbord of humanity: toddlers and senior citizens, college students and college dropouts, businessmen and mid-thirties yoga instructors from Miami. They teem with life, with memories, with upset stomachs and walking sticks and lost luggage. Every pair of feet rushing by has walked in different places, and my hands itch to write their stories. But what right do I have to put myself in their path? I certainly never earned it. Then again, if I never put myself into others’ lives, how will I ever be able to form any relationships at all? One must be willing to risk a thousand forgettable encounters in order to experience the one that is meaningful.

Self-Evaluation

I have come to a sad realization.

There are three groups of people who I find most ridiculous:

Females, because they make everything much more complicated than it should be, and they're alarmingly shallow at times.

English majors, because they are insufferably pompous.

And freshmen. For obvious reasons.

And yes, you may have realized--I fall into all three of these categories. What a sad, sad day . . .

The Joys of BYU

I applied for exactly three schools last year: Princeton University, Yale University, and good ol' Brigham Young University. I received rejection letters from all but one.

At the time, that was the worst possible thing that could happen. Princeton was my first choice. It just seemed so perfect to me: great academics, beautiful campus, far away from home (no offense), tons of smart kids to meet, etc, etc. So when I found out that I had only been admitted to BYU, my fall-back school, I was little less than devastated.

Then I got here, and my mind has been completely changed. Sure, there are plenty of negative sides to being a 17 year-old at the Mormon-est college in the world. Heck, sometimes, I wonder what in the world I'm doing here. But to be completely honest, I am ridiculously happy that I had to come to this place. Here are some of the reasons why:

~ This really is a beautiful campus. Every building is different, and I especially love the JFSB. It's gorgeous.

~ There are approximately 17,000 male students are here. Enough said.

~ Many of my classes begin with a prayer. Although some people are, for some reason or another, opposed to this, I'm quite a fan.

~ I randomly see guys on unicycles at least once a week. This brings me great joy for no reason whatsoever.

~ My entire ward is less than a minute's walk from my apartment.

~ Everything I learn reinforces my testimony of Jesus Christ. Funny how people think being educated should do the opposite. . .

~ People are ridiculously creative about date and hang-out ideas. Some activities in which I have participated: late-night mini-golfing with broomstick handles, marshmallow gun capture-the-flag, making newspaper outfits and going to Wal-Mart, several adventures on the roof of my apartment building, throwing paper airplanes from the second floor of the student center, unforseen Latin dancing, epic Love Sac battles, and, just last night, I sat in a hot tub with some good friends sipping Martinelli's from fancy wine glasses. We even put the bottles in a bucket of ice (well, snow) for effect and tried to coerce other innocents into joining us.

~ The Cannon Center. Who says a cafeteria has to have terrible food? Seriously, that place is legit. And did I mention all-you-can-eat?

~ We actually have good sports teams. This is quite a new experience for me (no offense, Anoka), and it sure makes it a lot easier to have school spirit.

~ Well, I'm sure there are many other reasons, but I probably should get ready to go to work now.