Here it is. I am officially and upper-classman. Not just "not a freshman." Not just living off campus. Not just a junior by credits. But today . . . today it is like I am finally a REAL adult. Today was my first day of classes as a 3rd year student--junior by both credits and years. And, let me tell you, it's AWESOME.
1) Job possibility. Today I woke up and went to an interview for an English TA position, which went okay. I'm really not sure at all how I did. I felt like it went too fast, but you know, maybe that's a good thing. I just really want this job. I need a job, and this will be perfect: not quite as much money as I was looking for, but it'll be enough, plus it's something I would enjoy immensely. Helping students new to the English major realizing that it's not just reading books--it's so full of so much more wonderful stuff of gladness. He interviewed 14 people, which sounds like a lot, but really isn't all that many when you consider how many probably applied. And I made the short list! But I find out tomorrow, so I'll keep you updated.
2) Classes. Let me just give you a preview of what my semester is looking like. After my interview, I spent 2 blissful hours of classtime in my favorite building, the JFSB. Writing with England peeps, so we get to make new memories. I have just missed being around them all. And then Engl 292, later British Literature, which I am SO excited for. I have missed studying literature so much. German, which will be fun, but will also kick my trash. Up for tomorrow is Floral Design, D&C, and mehr Deutsch. Also, choir auditions. Sort of a last minute thing. I wasn't going to try out again, but it just felt like something I should do, so I went and signed up for prelims on Friday, did them Saturday and then audition for Sister Applonie during my Floral Design class tomorrow because I got times mixed up, but it'll all work out, no worries.
3) Friends. They're just fabulous. Plus I got a random compliment from a random guy I didn't even know while I was walking up to campus today. Totally made my day. Yay BYU boys. :)
So yep. Good day. Life rocks. :)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
From June 6, 2009--London
(Note: As the new school year is starting and a lot of little different nuances are causing big changes in my life, I've been thinking a lot about the past, the present, and the future--how they are all connected, both in my individual life and the eternal scheme of things, and how they shape me and how I shape and perceive them. This is a combination of parts of my journal, written on my first day in London, particularly class and Westminster Abbey)
How do I make history? how do I make memory? The past is plastic--you change it, remake it. What is my concept of history? How do I make it? I'm not sure what my concept of the past is, how I fit into it. I think about it and reflect on memories a lot, almost living in the past. Especially if it's a good momentl I want to remember it forever, so I keep thinking about it so I don't forget. Perhaps thinking about history means I don't live in the present, but because I'm a product of my past, it's a part of me and I can't really help it. The past influences the present, whether I want it to or not and so remembering it almost helps me embrace today more--I want to redeem myself or make more wonderful memories.
Brother Merrill always used to say that to god, it's not that there is no time, it's just circular and He's in the middle. Everything is happening at once and He can see it all. The first time I thought about that, it confused the crap out of me. but it's making so much more sense.
I think the main thing I make memory out of is emotion, then sight and/or writing. I take events as the outline and fill them in with what I felt and saw and thought. But then again, other memories have different associations. When I think of piano, I feel the keys under my fingers and know music is coming out, but what the music is in my memory depends on what is happening in the present. I think about the stage and I feel the battery pack on my bra strap, am blinded by invisible lights of the past, and have the overwhelming urge to sing. My memories of the past almost take over the feelings of the present. So they shape each other--the present and future changing the past and the past influencing the present and future.
"You don't know history until time is past." -Rick. Even tangible history is revised as time goes on, because you don't know necessarily know who will live on and whose memory will disappear. They may seem unimportant at the time and then live on, or vice-versa. It's like that line from "Wonderful" in Wicked that becomes more and more true as time goes on:
A man's called a traitor or liberator;
A rich man's a thief or philanthropist.
Is one a crusader or ruthless invader?
It's all in which label is able to persist
Westminster Abbey is tangible history. But if that is so, what happens when some graves get worn down and are blank after years of wear? Are they forgotten to history?
I love Poet's Corner. It's a chance to say "thank you" to Eliot and Dickens and the like for those whose graves I haven't seen yet. It's just phenomenal that so many great people are buried or remembered here. I don't want to rub out any names because they should be remembered. Their books live on, though, their music, their poems and words. I just want to leave a copy of Middlemarch with a rose and a Thank You note on George Eliot's memorial. And Charles Dickens' grave. And Handel. And all of them. They are truly great followers of God. And their works bring me closer to Him (and them) and change me and make me a better person. Their works will continue to bear their testimonies through the world forever. Theirs were voices that will echo through time and proclaim the truth of the Savior and His Atonement. These people truly left their mark on me. Their present, although technically the past, is my present. Their future, mine.
The Grave of the Unknown Warrior says, he "gave the most that man can give, Life itself for God, for King and country, for loved ones home and empire, for the sacred cause of justives and freedom of the world. They buried him among the kings because he had done good toward God and toward his house . . . unknown and yet well known . . . the Lord knoweth them that are His." Although his name and specific actions are forgotten to mankind, his sacrifice is not forgotten. Even if his individuality is lost to time, his imprint is still left upon the world. And God never forgets. He knows. He saw it happen, He sees it happen, He is watching it happen, and He will continue to see. Time is one continual round and cycle, reshaping itself, being reshaped by those who are remembering it, living it, planning it. How does history affect me? And how do I affect it?
How do I make history? how do I make memory? The past is plastic--you change it, remake it. What is my concept of history? How do I make it? I'm not sure what my concept of the past is, how I fit into it. I think about it and reflect on memories a lot, almost living in the past. Especially if it's a good momentl I want to remember it forever, so I keep thinking about it so I don't forget. Perhaps thinking about history means I don't live in the present, but because I'm a product of my past, it's a part of me and I can't really help it. The past influences the present, whether I want it to or not and so remembering it almost helps me embrace today more--I want to redeem myself or make more wonderful memories.
Brother Merrill always used to say that to god, it's not that there is no time, it's just circular and He's in the middle. Everything is happening at once and He can see it all. The first time I thought about that, it confused the crap out of me. but it's making so much more sense.
I think the main thing I make memory out of is emotion, then sight and/or writing. I take events as the outline and fill them in with what I felt and saw and thought. But then again, other memories have different associations. When I think of piano, I feel the keys under my fingers and know music is coming out, but what the music is in my memory depends on what is happening in the present. I think about the stage and I feel the battery pack on my bra strap, am blinded by invisible lights of the past, and have the overwhelming urge to sing. My memories of the past almost take over the feelings of the present. So they shape each other--the present and future changing the past and the past influencing the present and future.
"You don't know history until time is past." -Rick. Even tangible history is revised as time goes on, because you don't know necessarily know who will live on and whose memory will disappear. They may seem unimportant at the time and then live on, or vice-versa. It's like that line from "Wonderful" in Wicked that becomes more and more true as time goes on:
A man's called a traitor or liberator;
A rich man's a thief or philanthropist.
Is one a crusader or ruthless invader?
It's all in which label is able to persist
Westminster Abbey is tangible history. But if that is so, what happens when some graves get worn down and are blank after years of wear? Are they forgotten to history?
I love Poet's Corner. It's a chance to say "thank you" to Eliot and Dickens and the like for those whose graves I haven't seen yet. It's just phenomenal that so many great people are buried or remembered here. I don't want to rub out any names because they should be remembered. Their books live on, though, their music, their poems and words. I just want to leave a copy of Middlemarch with a rose and a Thank You note on George Eliot's memorial. And Charles Dickens' grave. And Handel. And all of them. They are truly great followers of God. And their works bring me closer to Him (and them) and change me and make me a better person. Their works will continue to bear their testimonies through the world forever. Theirs were voices that will echo through time and proclaim the truth of the Savior and His Atonement. These people truly left their mark on me. Their present, although technically the past, is my present. Their future, mine.
The Grave of the Unknown Warrior says, he "gave the most that man can give, Life itself for God, for King and country, for loved ones home and empire, for the sacred cause of justives and freedom of the world. They buried him among the kings because he had done good toward God and toward his house . . . unknown and yet well known . . . the Lord knoweth them that are His." Although his name and specific actions are forgotten to mankind, his sacrifice is not forgotten. Even if his individuality is lost to time, his imprint is still left upon the world. And God never forgets. He knows. He saw it happen, He sees it happen, He is watching it happen, and He will continue to see. Time is one continual round and cycle, reshaping itself, being reshaped by those who are remembering it, living it, planning it. How does history affect me? And how do I affect it?
Friday, August 21, 2009
ARHGHLKADFHLKAHGPPPPFFFT
You know what's frustrating? When you waited too long to get a drink and brush your teeth and now it's after midnight and you can't eat or drink anything because you get your wisdom teeth out in 9 hours and if you eat or drink anything now, they won't be able to put you under. Sigh.
And you know what's beautiful? This: http://oodilolly.blogspot.com/ As in, the most recent post on my dear friend Bentley's blog. That is what I have felt like for the past 2 months. That is what I felt like in London after the trip ended. Yes, I was with my mom, but THEY weren't there. Yes, I love England, but it just wouldn't be the same now without THEM. But Bentley captured that emotion in a way I couldn't. He went on one of his epic journeys, and took us all with him, even if we weren't physically there. And he wrote about it, and let me know that I'm not alone in the feeling of love that I have for everyone who went on the program with me.
And you know what's beautiful? This: http://oodilolly.blogspot.com/ As in, the most recent post on my dear friend Bentley's blog. That is what I have felt like for the past 2 months. That is what I felt like in London after the trip ended. Yes, I was with my mom, but THEY weren't there. Yes, I love England, but it just wouldn't be the same now without THEM. But Bentley captured that emotion in a way I couldn't. He went on one of his epic journeys, and took us all with him, even if we weren't physically there. And he wrote about it, and let me know that I'm not alone in the feeling of love that I have for everyone who went on the program with me.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Quick update and some Blogging plans
I like lists. They keep me from rambling on too much.
1) LAST DAY OF WORK! LAST DAY OF WORK! Hopefully Chelsi calls me back sometime tomorrow about transferring down to a store in Prorem (aka Provo and/or Orem)
2) Wisdom teeth out on Friday morning
3) Driving back down to Provo on Monday
4) Last night = Jive reminiscing with Tysh and Risa. Awesome. I miss them and their coolness and Jive and it's coolness. So much fun. We laughed so hard and danced and sang and it was great. Coming soon: Elite Jive. Combination of the best of the best Jivers, in one Jive group.
Now. Blogging plans. In order to get some of my thoughts about essays organized for fall, and because I have some writing that I want to test out on some people, so for the next little bit, I'm probably going to be going through my journal from England and blogging some passages from it. So you'll be getting stuff about art and music and plays and thoughts and literature and England and wonderful and that was mostly not written at the moment of post, but will probably be edited and/or added to just a little bit. But yep. Helpful to me, interesting to you (hopefully!). TA-DA!
1) LAST DAY OF WORK! LAST DAY OF WORK! Hopefully Chelsi calls me back sometime tomorrow about transferring down to a store in Prorem (aka Provo and/or Orem)
2) Wisdom teeth out on Friday morning
3) Driving back down to Provo on Monday
4) Last night = Jive reminiscing with Tysh and Risa. Awesome. I miss them and their coolness and Jive and it's coolness. So much fun. We laughed so hard and danced and sang and it was great. Coming soon: Elite Jive. Combination of the best of the best Jivers, in one Jive group.
Now. Blogging plans. In order to get some of my thoughts about essays organized for fall, and because I have some writing that I want to test out on some people, so for the next little bit, I'm probably going to be going through my journal from England and blogging some passages from it. So you'll be getting stuff about art and music and plays and thoughts and literature and England and wonderful and that was mostly not written at the moment of post, but will probably be edited and/or added to just a little bit. But yep. Helpful to me, interesting to you (hopefully!). TA-DA!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
What I've Been Up To
Turning 20:
(Which is awesome, by the way. I've been saying I'm 20 for a while now, so it's nice to finally really be 20. No more teenage-ness! Whoo! I survived! I have a feeling 20 is going to be great!)
Pretending to like my family in Yellowstone: 
(P.S. I really do love my family. :D)
(P.S. I really do love my family. :D)Hiking with the fam: 
Getting piggy-back rides from my "little" sister:
Watching geysers:
(sorry that it's sideways, I didn't want to flip it...but this is Grand Geyser, the most awesome one we saw, better than Old Faithful, which is the next pic)
(sorry that it's sideways, I didn't want to flip it...but this is Grand Geyser, the most awesome one we saw, better than Old Faithful, which is the next pic)
Taking pictures of my siblings: 
(I love how Hannah looks stoned in the above pic)
(I love how Hannah looks stoned in the above pic)
I just accidentally deleted the picture of Elizabeth (and I have no pictures of Mikey), but I'm not going to put it up again because it was too much effort to put these up in the first place. Basically, I'm technology deficient. Basically I think that I don't know how to put pictures on my blog, because this was more difficult than it should have been. Anyway. Um yes. It's been a fairly awesome past week and a half. :)
P.S. Sorry these are blurry. It is my computer's fault. Also perhaps because they might be disproportionate because I had to de-size and then re-size lots of them to move pictures around. Like I said, technology deficient.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Mental
Over the past week, I've been writing an essay in my head.
You see, that's what I do. I write drafts of essays in my head. I form tentative sentences and ideas and move them around and structure everything. As a result, I almost never draft essays on paper. Which, in some classes, is fine, but now that I'm getting into higher level English classes...not so much. Anyway, I digress.
I've been drafting this essay. I write things in my head first because I'll get these ideas when I'm not around paper or a journal or something to start writing a paper in. Or they're just thoughts that I never really have any intention of writing down, but I've started to just kinda think in essay anyway. BUt this essay has been about what happened the summer of 2004 and how it changed me and made me who I am today.
Looking back, a lot happened that summer. I turned 15 and started wearing make-up every once in a while. I found out I was going to Europe with UAM the next summer. There was the Muffin Club, which has, incredibly, influenced my life in sooo many different ways. EFY, Handcart Trek, 4th year at Girl's Camp. Looking back on all those events, they seem like ages ago, but only about 3 years, not 5.
I turn 20 in 4 days, and over the past week-ish I've been drafting the personal essay of probably the most important summer of my teenage years. Events set in motion by that summer still continue to occur (I really wanted to use the word transpire there, because it's awesome, but it didn't seem to flow). And even though I've changed a lot from that angsty 15-year-old who still have half her teenage years ahead of her and basically all of high school and had no idea the grand experiences that would be in store for her in the next 5 years of her life, that girl is still very much a part of me.
In the mental-drafting of this essay, I can't help but seem to ask questions. English Lit type questions such as, "What novel can I apply most to these situations," "How did those few minutes when a bunch of us decided to form the most ridiculous and yet awesome of groups, the Muffin Club, change me," "What have I learned, and what am I still working on?" And in the inquiries, I'm finding that it is really only me who knows the answers. And although the questions might have originally been asked years ago, the answers are just now revealing themselves, and will be for years to come.
Maybe I should actually write this essay on paper. There's a lot I want to tell myself, but not the whole world. I fear the world will read the things that I want only me to know. Maybe I draft my essays in my head first, because I fear to actually let them out of my head. John Bennion, my fear of personal disclosure strikes again. It's all mental--both my essays and my fear.
And despite fears and problems and unanswered questions, I smile, because the past 5 years have brought some pretty amazing friends and experiences and joys into my life, whether it be through the MC, or UAM, TFHS, or BYU. Or a combination. Or something entirely different. You write personal essays by living, not by experimenting with words in your mind. Experiment with experience and let the words just come.
But not too much, because then you'll just ramble like me. haha. Sorry my posts are always so long, friends! I just get writing and then can't shut my brain and fingers up.
You see, that's what I do. I write drafts of essays in my head. I form tentative sentences and ideas and move them around and structure everything. As a result, I almost never draft essays on paper. Which, in some classes, is fine, but now that I'm getting into higher level English classes...not so much. Anyway, I digress.
I've been drafting this essay. I write things in my head first because I'll get these ideas when I'm not around paper or a journal or something to start writing a paper in. Or they're just thoughts that I never really have any intention of writing down, but I've started to just kinda think in essay anyway. BUt this essay has been about what happened the summer of 2004 and how it changed me and made me who I am today.
Looking back, a lot happened that summer. I turned 15 and started wearing make-up every once in a while. I found out I was going to Europe with UAM the next summer. There was the Muffin Club, which has, incredibly, influenced my life in sooo many different ways. EFY, Handcart Trek, 4th year at Girl's Camp. Looking back on all those events, they seem like ages ago, but only about 3 years, not 5.
I turn 20 in 4 days, and over the past week-ish I've been drafting the personal essay of probably the most important summer of my teenage years. Events set in motion by that summer still continue to occur (I really wanted to use the word transpire there, because it's awesome, but it didn't seem to flow). And even though I've changed a lot from that angsty 15-year-old who still have half her teenage years ahead of her and basically all of high school and had no idea the grand experiences that would be in store for her in the next 5 years of her life, that girl is still very much a part of me.
In the mental-drafting of this essay, I can't help but seem to ask questions. English Lit type questions such as, "What novel can I apply most to these situations," "How did those few minutes when a bunch of us decided to form the most ridiculous and yet awesome of groups, the Muffin Club, change me," "What have I learned, and what am I still working on?" And in the inquiries, I'm finding that it is really only me who knows the answers. And although the questions might have originally been asked years ago, the answers are just now revealing themselves, and will be for years to come.
Maybe I should actually write this essay on paper. There's a lot I want to tell myself, but not the whole world. I fear the world will read the things that I want only me to know. Maybe I draft my essays in my head first, because I fear to actually let them out of my head. John Bennion, my fear of personal disclosure strikes again. It's all mental--both my essays and my fear.
And despite fears and problems and unanswered questions, I smile, because the past 5 years have brought some pretty amazing friends and experiences and joys into my life, whether it be through the MC, or UAM, TFHS, or BYU. Or a combination. Or something entirely different. You write personal essays by living, not by experimenting with words in your mind. Experiment with experience and let the words just come.
But not too much, because then you'll just ramble like me. haha. Sorry my posts are always so long, friends! I just get writing and then can't shut my brain and fingers up.
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