Texting is Not a Crime

So I've realized why it ticks me off so much when people criticize texting and say it's a "terrible form of communication." I'm a writer, I love talking to people, and I'm a huge fan of multi-tasking. Texting takes these three traits and puts them into one act. When I write/text a conversation to someone, I'm able to think about what I'm saying and word it in a way that really conveys what I want it to convey. It's like writing a letter, except it's extremely convenient and WAY quicker. I can also read and reread what the other person said without saying, "Could you repeat that?"

Texting also allows the recipient to decide when to read and respond to the other person, so you don't have to worry about disturbing someone while they're in the middle of something. I never just sit around and text someone, so I'm having a conversation while getting other things done (which are occasionally productive).

Yeah, I understand that a lot of people abuse texting - using dumb acronyms and texting during class (I admit, I'm not innocent of these things). But don't condemn the entire institution. That's just being close-minded.

Day of Hunger

My latest distraction from homework has been the Day of Hunger campaign, something about which I am very excited. Here's one of the posters:



Check out the Facebook event at http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=153084481411712 and the blog at http://dayofhunger.blogspot.com. Pleasepleaseplease share the news with everyone you know! The more people who participate, the better.

Hello, My Name Is....

"Alright, class, I want everyone to get to know each other a little better, so now we're going to go around the room and say our name, where we're from, our major, and something interesting about ourself."

Ever heard that before? I'd bet. The beginning of a new semester brings on that lovely week of syllabi and the same old "Hi, I'm Tasha. I'm an English major from Minnesota, and I'm secretly Osama bin Laden" or whatever it is I end up saying. Yeesh. I'm tired of it. I mean, the principle behind it is nice, but what does all that stuff matter, and who's going to remember it anyway?

Sometimes, I like to imagine what I would say if I really wanted to tell people who I was. It's not realistic, sure, but wouldn't we all learn so much more about each other if we had the opportunity to really tell about ourselves?

So, in honor of the new semester, here's what I would say:

Hi, guys. My name's Natasha Watts. Everyone called me Tasha up until college, when I started introducing myself as Natasha. It took me all last year to figure out that I hated doing that, because then it sounds like we're not even friends. The moral of the story is, call me Tasha. Another interesting tidbit about my name is that Natasha backwards is Ah, Satan. Eh? Ehhh? Crazy, I know.

I'm an English major, but I wish there was a way I could only major in the writing aspects of the language, because that's really what I'm interested in. I've wanted to write as a career since I could hold a pencil. Ironically enough, I'm not talented enough with words to describe the extent of my love for writing. Just know that it is a ridiculously large amount.

I plan on minoring in Arabic, mostly because after my study abroad in Egypt I'll only be one class short of the minor anyway. I'm in my second year of studying the language, and it is probably the hardest thing I have ever done to not quit. It should be a gazillion more than eight credits with the amount of time we have to put into that class. And yet, for some reason, I love it. I love the Arabic culture; I love the throaty sound of the language and the way it looks on paper; I love the weird Americanized Arabic pop music. However, when I signed up for my first Arabic class, I had no idea if I loved or not. I don't even really know why I did it.

Funny story about that - apparently when you sign up for Arabic, they send you an email warning you that the class is ridiculously hard and you should drop it if you're not willing to sell your soul to the BYU Arabic program. However, I added the class late and did not receive this email. Knowing me, I more than likely would have dropped the class on the spot. As it turns out, I didn't.

In the end, I'm studying Arabic because I grew up in Minnesota and Utah. I have virtually no experience with diversity in culture. Yet being a writer, I need to learn and grow and experience things that are different from what I'm used to. I need to meet people who think in different ways. If I learn this language, I'm hoping that I can experience the Middle Eastern culture in an inspiring and positive way. I believe that this area of the world will only continue to rise in importance to the rest of the world. I can't afford to ignore it.

You probably can't tell by all this dry writing, but I also love comedy. I harbor a secret dream of being a stand-up comedian because one of my favorite feelings in the world is making people laugh. I eat up that sort of attention like nobody's business.

I also (pseudo-secretly) dream of being a famous musician. I got a guitar for my 18th birthday and have been writing songs ever since. I absolutely adore singing and playing that thing. I could do it for hours.

What else about me? Hm...

I am extremely afraid of needles and numbness. Novocaine is my own personal hell.

I am addicted to bagels.

I have crazy mood swings, but as a whole I'm pretty positive.

For some reason, I can't like a guy unless he is a witty texter. It's kind of a sad bias, but oh, well.

I also play saxophone, but I haven't picked one up for half a year. I'm kind of sad about it, but at the same time I really have no desire to play it right now. I hope I can eventually get my chops back into shape, though, and play like the glory days. Someday.

I have really high self esteem, but I'm surprisingly insecure. My explanation of this is that I like myself and what I'm like; I'm not going to make any big changes in my personality for someone. And yet, I need to be a people-pleaser. I always wonder if people like me or if they're just being nice and don't actually enjoy being around me. It drives me nuts sometimes.

My biggest pet peeve is listening to people eat. Quiet, early-morning breakfasts before seminary with my brothers almost sent me to the crazy house.

I could go on talking about myself until the cows came home (I learned that phrase from my roommate, Erin), but I should probably be a little realistic. If you want to get to know me better, come up to me sometime and introduce yourself. You'll find out another interesting facet about me: I really like people, and yet I love very few. I can count on two hands the people that I really love. But don't worry your little head over that; I'll still enjoy being friends with you, and who knows? Maybe someday, I'll realize how important our friendship really is to me.

I'm Tasha, and I can't wait to meet you.

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!