favorite books

Probably because I am (was?) an English major, people often ask me about my favorite books--a question I don't find it easy to answer.

Wayne Booth says that books are like friends: each one offers a different experience. When you sit down with a book, you sit down with a particular type of experience. Rather than having favorite books, then, I have books that I return to again and again for particular types of experience. I have books for comfort (Little Women or An Old-Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott), books for nostalgia (Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery), books for hard thinking (anything by Kenneth Burke), books for not thinking (Ella Enchanted), books for fun (Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling), books for inspiration (Gifts from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindburgh or A Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L'Engle), and books for pure, unadulterated pleasure (Emma or Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen). All of these books provide me with the particular experience I need when I need it--they're all favorites in that sense, but I can't really call any of them my favorite book.

There are a few books, however, that I do at various times apply the title of favorite to when I have to answer the question. And they are these:

And There Was Light by Jacques Lusseyran
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis

I love these books. I've been trying to figure out exactly what it is about these books that puts them on the top of my favorites list. I realize that the experience offered by each of these books, although different, somehow link together for me. All of them provide me with a spiritual reading experience--an experience I'm not sure how to describe. Romans 8:16 talks about how the Spirit beareth witness with our spirits, telling us things about ourselves in a way that transcends verbal communication. These books speak to my spirit, which is why I call my experience with them spiritual. All of them have played an essential role in shaping the way I think about and interact with the world around me. I remember distinctly my first experience reading each of them.

I read The Chronicles of Narnia first when I was eleven. I cried when Aslan sacrificed himself in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. I recognized the clear parallel with Christian theology, and wondered if it was sacrilegious that I was crying for the lion. That moment marked the beginning of my understanding of the Atonement of Christ. When I read about Shasta's long walk with the Lion and the stripes on Aravis' back in The Horse and His Boy (my favorite of all the Chronicles), I imagined my own walk with God and what He might tell me about my journey. Aslan represented to me a very personal, very loving, very tangible view of God. I love these books for teaching me that God has a personality.

I read Les Miserables (complete and unabridged) for the first time when I was fourteen. I remember staying up until 4am one night to finish it and bawling through Jean Valjean's death. I had a headache all the next day because of too little sleep and too much crying. It was the book that really made me fall in love with reading--with the experience of losing myself in another's persons words, words that became mine too as I read them. I decided to major in English after reading Les Miserables.

As for And There Was Light, this book impacted me perhaps the most of all. It's the autobiography of a boy who was blinded at the age of seven and went on to lead a major resistance against Hitler during the German occupation of France. I read it when I was sixteen.

How can you resist a book that contains these opening lines?:

As I remember it, my story always starts out like a fairy tale, not an unusual one, but still a fairy tale. Once upon a time in Paris, between two world wars, there lived a happy little boy.

I think it was in August 2001 that I read And There Was Light. In September 2001, the words of Jacques Lusseyran would play through my head as I tried to process the tragedy of 9/11. Here he is describing how he mentally survived his interrogation from the SS:

One small piece of advice. In a spot like this don't go too far afield for help. Either it is right near you, in your heart, or it is nowhere. It is not a question of character, it is a question of reality. If you try to be strong, you will be weak. If you try to understand, you will go crazy. 

No, reality is not your character which, for its part, is only a by-product--I can't define it, a collection of elements. Reality is Here and Now. It is the life you are living in the moment. Don't be afraid to lose your soul there, for God is in it. 

Make all the gestures you like. Wash your hands if there is a place to wash them, stretch out on the ground, jump up and down, make a face, even shed tears if they help, or laugh, sing, curse. If you are a scholar--there is a gimmick for every category--do what I did that night. Reconstruct, out loud, Kant's arguments in the first chapters of his Critique of Pure Reason. It is hard work and absorbing. But don't believe any of it. Don't even believe in yourself. Only God exists. (245)

This book came to me during perhaps the most difficult year of my life and it taught me that it's important not just to cope with adversity. We must learn to thrive in spite of it and see the beauty available even in ugly times.

The fact that I read all of these "favorite" books at very formative ages says something about why the experience of reading them is still so special to me when I go back to them years later. Sometimes, as a jaded MA, schooled in the ability to maintain critical distance, I miss the magic (and, yes, I mean magic) of handing myself over to a book--of making myself vulnerable to all the emotions it asks me to feel and losing myself in believing it--in its honest expression of the thoughts and feelings of another human being and in the honesty and literalness of my own reading of it. I hadn't learned to really question books when I was teenager, so I simply experienced them. Sometimes experiencing them meant making them over in my own image and reading my own experiences and feelings into them perhaps too much, but isn't that the magic of reading? That uncritical process of connecting my spirit with the undefinable spirit of the book is what made reading so personal and so valuable. That was how I read when I was eleven, fourteen, and sixteen. And when I revisit these books, I can read like that again. I go back to them for that experience--the spiritual experience of reading.

What are your favorite books? And what experiences have they offered you?

stick it out: ira glass on the creative process

I think this bit from Ira Glass (which I found here) correctly identifies the problem I've had with any creative work I've done in, say, the past ten years. I quit when what I produce doesn't match up to the vision I have in my head. But what I really need to do is just produce lots and lots more of that unsatisfying work--produce it until it becomes satisfying.

It's the same kind of advice I give to my students: You don't know what to write? You don't know how to say it? Well, just pound something out. Even if it's bad, just pound it out because then you at least have something to work with--something to revise, something to turn in, something. I'm always surprised at how exponentially better a student's writing can become when that student simply produces even one additional, genuinely-revised draft. When she's willing to start over and try it again, her mind starts to make sense of that messy first draft. It doesn't usually make the final draft all the student wants it to be, but it moves it a little closer to what she envisions.

I think creative types (or maybe it's just me, and I don't know if I really qualify as a creative type) sometimes don't want to believe that creativity itself can come down to practice and skill. Granted, some people just seem to have a personality or a mind that's more bent towards creative work. But innate talent isn't enough. Success comes with persistence and hard work. And there's not a way around that.

I guess it's time for me to follow the advice to just pound stuff out.

were you there?

what changes us

"Souls are made sweet not by taking the acid fluids out, but by putting something in—a great Love, a new Spirit, the Spirit of Christ. Christ, the Spirit of Christ, interpenetrating ours, sweetens, purifies, transforms all. This only can eradicate what is wrong, work a chemical change, renovate and regenerate, and rehabilitate the inner man. Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. 

CHRIST DOES."

Today, I read a sermon called "The Greatest Thing in the World," written by Henry Drummond and published first, I think, in 1891. Although the whole sermon is worth reading, I was most struck by the quote above. In recent months, I've been spending a lot of time trying to get things done by will power alone. I make all kinds of determinations about what I'm going to accomplish and what habits I'm going to change and how I'm going to have a good attitude about it all and . . . nothing changes. I determine and determine and I don't make much progress. I think my problem comes in not recognizing the truth expressed above.

This quote from the sermon comes in a section on how maintaining a good temper is part of love. Immediately before this quote, Drummond describes the dangers of doing right and feeling wrong: "[Temper]," he writes, "is the intermittent fever which bespeaks unintermittent disease within; the occasional bubble escaping to the surface which betrays some rottenness underneath; a sample of the most hidden products of the soul dropped involuntarily when off one's guard; in a word, the lightning form of a hundred hideous and un-Christian sins. A want of patience, a want of kindness, a want of generosity, a want of courtesy, a want of unselfishness, are all instantaneously symbolized in one flash of Temper."

I think this something I'm afraid of--that my outward attempts at goodness aren't penetrating what's inside. That I'm not changing because there is rottenness underneath--and you can't just cover it up. You've got to root it out.

It's not enough to just try to make our outward actions match our ideals--our hearts have to be right on the inside. Drummond's description of the rottenness bubbling underneath reminds me of C. Terry Warner's ideas in Bonds That Make Us Free. Often, we act (self-)righteously and congratulate ourselves on our good behavior and long-suffering when inside our hearts we are at war with those around us. I recognize my own tendencies to fall into this trap of self-justification. The only thing is that recognition alone doesn't solve the problem.

I recognize where I go wrong, and then I become overwhelmed by the sheer number of things I need to fix about myself. Drummond's sermon could have sent me spiraling back into a cycle of guilt and frustration, but the quote at the top of this page prevents that from happening. "Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. CHRIST DOES." I recognize the wrong inside me and that leads me to want to change, but the key here is that I can't change myself. The burden of guilt and feeling of being convicted that I sometimes feel lifts when I accept this truth: "Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. CHRIST DOES."

This is why all my best resolutions over the past few months have failed: I've been trying to change things about me while utilizing only my own will power. Reading Drummond's sermon today showed me that I can make determinations all I like, but until I turn the process of change over to Christ, I won't make any progress. I have to be willing, but my will-power won't change me. I have to give Him time, but time won't change me.

Christ will change me.

I find that thought so comforting and relieving. I can leave it up to Him to do His work of changing, and I can stop worrying so much about myself.

Forgetting to worry about myself in turn allows me to focus my attention outward: towards God and those around me. An outward focus leads me to love and this thing, love, Drummond concludes, is the greatest thing in the world. It's Christ's ability to change us that opens in us the capacity for love, the most Godlike quality of all. Said another way, it's the capacity for love, given to us by Christ, that changes us.

indian curry wrap

For lunch this afternoon, I gathered together all the vegetables and leftover things in my fridge that I needed to use before they went bad and started experimenting. The result was this curry concoction:
 

Feel free to salivate.

This dish was inspired by two different curry recipes that my roommate and I have cooked up over the past couple of weeks. I sort of mixed the recipes together, and BAM, the Indian Curry Wrap was born.

To recreate this deliciousness, you'll need:

2 medium red potatoes
1/2 medium yellow onion
1 zucchini
1-2 tbsp coconut oil or olive oil
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp curry power (yellow)
1/2 tsp ground ginger
Salt to taste
3/4 cups of black-eyed peas
2 roma tomatoes

(Note: I'm mostly guesstimating on the amounts here--particularly with the spices: I mostly just threw stuff in until it seemed good and in amounts that seemed to work.)

Instructions:
Cut the potatoes into bite-sized pieces and put them in a small saucepan to boil. Chop the zucchini and onion and saute them in about a tablespoon of coconut oil (or olive oil) with the mustard seed in a wok or large saucepan. When the onions are slightly cooked, add the coriander, turmeric, chili powder, curry powder, and ginger. Cook for 4-5 minutes. Add black-eyed peas. Cook for 3 minutes. Add boiled potatoes and chopped fresh roma tomatoes. Saute for 1-2 minutes. Add salt to taste.

I served this with hummus in a tortilla, as pictured below (yay Costco tortillas), but I'm sure it would be good over rice or quinoa as well.

Enjoy!

when i grow up

So, I've been wondering . . . when do you know you've become a grown-up?

Is it when you finish college? Is it when you get married? Have kids? Start a career? If it's those items, then my score is win, fail, fail, and . . . half a win?

This past week, as a part of my new job, I signed up for my own personal health insurance. At twenty-six years old, I finally have a full-time job with benefits. Yes, big moment. But, as visiting faculty, I am not at the beginning end of a long career. My contract will be up in a year. I still need to think about what's next and my life definitely still feels (somewhat) wide open.

I remember when I was about thirteen or fourteen, we had a substitute, Bro. L., teach our Sunday School class. Bro. L. was a lawyer, and he wanted to get to know us a little by asking us what we wanted to be when we grew up. My classmates mumbled things like, "Um, I'm not sure," and "I think I want to be a nurse," or "I'm going to be a dentist." We were in middle school, and no one was very confident with their answers. When it was my turn, I said, "I want to be a mom."

Bro. L. wasn't satisfied by this and said, "Well, what else do you want to be?"

"A teacher, I guess," I replied. But I was a little offended. Was being a mom not good enough? I mean, really, if you can't say you just want to be a mom when you're sitting in a Mormon church, where can you say it?

I'm not offended by this anymore, however. I realize now, more than ten years after this incident, that not everyone graduates from college pregnant with a second child like my mom did, and so Bro. L. was perhaps right to ask what else I wanted to be.

I'm glad I became a teacher.

But, oddly, I still feel like I don't have an answer to the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" (Okay, I do have an answer, and it's still, "I want to be a mom." But, again, I hear Bro. L's voice, "Well, what else?) I figure, maybe it's okay that I'm still not completely certain because in a shaky economy, I'll probably get to move around a bit job-wise, even if I won't change careers seven times in my life.

Over the past few days, I've been mulling over the options.

1. I could head off to graduate school next fall, pursue a PhD in rhetoric and composition, and become a professor. This is a path that makes sense, and likely a path I'll end up following.

But here are my other recent ideas:

2. I could be a librarian! I would love to work at a school, or, even better,  at a city library where I could read books to kids who sit in rapt attention in a circle around me on a soft, plush carpet. (Yes, I know this isn't what librarians do all day . . . or maybe at all.) Simmons College even has an awesome program where you can pursue an MLS and a MA in children's literature at the same time. Google, however, told me that the prospects for librarians aren't much better than the prospects for academics. So, . . . on to my next career idea.

3. I could be a farmer!

Yes, I'm serious.

(When I told my sister the other day that I wanted to be a farmer, she laughed at me.)

But, I mean, really, wouldn't it be awesome to be a farmer? When I was nine and obsessed with horses like almost every other nine-year-old girl on the planet, I wanted to be a farmer badly. I sort of really wanted to marry a farmer too. (And, yes, the Little House series were my favorite books growing up--see previous post.)

I could be part of the young-hipster-sustainable-organic farming movement, and I could make delicious food from my farm, maybe open a cafe, learn how to can food, set up a booth at the farmer's market every year, sell my food as part of a co-op. I could have chickens as pets! What could be better?

Okay, maybe I'm romanticizing it a little, but, really, I kind of actually want to do this.

4. The only other option I came up with was: I could be a writer for children or young adults (again, re: I want to be Laura Ingalls Wilder). I've wanted to do this since I was young. But 1) it's hard to get published and 2) I'm too scared to let anyone else read my writing and 3) I'm not a very good writer. So I'd have to overcome a few obstacles, but hey, it's an option, right? I mean I was educated in the same English program as Stephenie Meyer, so I've got that going for me. (Ha.)

If only I weren't an idealistic English major, I might be able to come up with something that has the potential to actually make some money and have some security. Hmmm.

I could be an . . . an . . . accountant? (I keep thinking of that line from Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, "An accountant. According to the word, it must be a cross between a counter and a mutant.").

And, then, when I start my encore career, I can be a farmer who writes kids books. Right?

craftiness

So, on the heels of my post about The Home-Maker, I thought it'd be appropriate to report on my own attempts at doing crafty, homemaking type things.

Recently, I bought this dress at Ross for $8.99. (I love Ross.) It was a little short, but I figured for $8.99, it was worth the time it'd take to alter it.

Now, besides some simple hemming, I haven't done much sewing since I was a teenager (which means I haven't sewn in a lot of years). With the help of my friend, Valerie, I picked out some fabrics, and then set about trying to add a little to the dress on my own (with only occasional reference to Google). I started by making some yo-yo/button flowers (this is where Google came in) and pinning them on to try to give some unity to the dress since I was going to repeat the purple fabric . . .

. . . in the form of a ruffle like this:

And, here you have the finished product:

It took a good amount of time since I do all my sewing by hand, and I didn't have much time this week to work on it. I finished up the last of the stitching today while watching a couple episodes from Season 1 of Lark Rise to Candleford (which I'd never seen before, but am quite enjoying--thanks, Katie!). It reminded me of all the hand sewing I used to do while watching Little House on the Prairie in my younger years. (Yes, there may have been a time in my life when I wanted to be Laura Ingalls Wilder. And, come to think of it, that might be half the appeal of hand sewing for me . . .)

Anyways, the dress is done. And . . . it's a little different than I pictured, so I'm trying to decide if I like it.

It looks a little too homemade to me. But, hey, that's hip right now, isn't it? Etsy.com and such.

Right?

the home-maker

Earlier this summer, I read Dorothy Canfield Fisher's The Home-Maker, originally published in 1924. Despite its title and publication date, it's quite a forward-thinking novel (not that that stopped me from feeling embarrassed when people saw me reading a book that was ostensibly about home-making).

The Home-Maker is the story of an efficient, energetic housewife, Eva, who is utterly depressed with her life and utterly unfit for motherhood. Despite this, she devotes herself to her housekeeping and family life in order to fulfill traditional societal expectations for her. Although Eva is viewed by her neighbors throughout the novel as an unimpeachable and perfect mother, her children are completely stifled, stressed, and anxious around her, to the point that they literally become sick. Her husband, Lester, is also unhappy. He is a very insufficient breadwinner who cannot seem to make his way in the career world.

One day, Lester is fired from his job. Feeling he has failed his family in every possible way and that the most he can now do for them is die and let them collect life insurance money, Lester decides to commit suicide and make it look like an accident. But, the perpetually unsuccessful Lester is not successful at suicide either. Instead of dying, he becomes paralyzed and can no longer work.

Eva, always the perfect wife and mother, makes the sacrifice of entering the workforce to support her paralytic husband and her three children. As expected, she finds she's very good in the workplace and her husband in turn finds he's very good at home with the children. After working for a little while, Eva's personality changes. She becomes more relaxed, her relationships with her husband and children improve, and the family begins to genuinely enjoy their time together. Conversely, Lester benefits from being home and from watching his children grow and develop. He becomes a more attentive father and contributes to the family in ways he couldn't before.

Although the book is occasionally didactic and somewhat predictable (there is, however, a bit of surprise toward the end), I thought Fisher still managed to create a fairly compelling novel that is well worth a read.

In particular, I enjoyed how Fisher examines what it means to be a parent. This book is not really about liberation for women, although that's a theme. Really, it's more a book about liberation for families and individuals. Fisher argues that each member of a family inherently has specific talents and abilities, and that a person's role within the family should be dictated by what they have to give, rather than by what they are traditionally expected to do. Fisher makes it clear that she feels good parenting is a difficult and complicated process that requires respecting children as individuals with wills and personalities of their own, and not seeing them as creatures to be "managed." She recognizes the skill and intelligence it takes to parent well and to truly make a home, and is therefore just as passionate about celebrating the role of home-maker as she is about pushing for tolerance for working mothers. I find it interesting that Fisher seems against the idea of passing the parental role on to someone outside of the family circle. For Fisher, each family needs to figure out for themselves a lifestyle that respects and nourishes each member of that family, including the children.

P. S. Although The Home-Maker is, I think, still under copyright, you can access Fisher's Understood Betsy at Project Gutenberg. I actually read this book first, and stumbled onto The Home-Maker in an attempt to read more of this overlooked author. Understood Betsy is a children's novel about an overly-coddled little girl who learns how to take care of herself and develops some self-esteem. It's even more didactic than The Home-maker, but worth a read for the hilarious opening chapter alone.

reading around the web

Technology and Isolation
Waiting for Dave, as Told by His Lamp

The post above is commentary on this commercial by Ericsson, a Swedish telecommunications company. It's a creepy look at how technology can snuff out real relationships, and Krulwich makes some valid points about what's wrong with this picture of the future. But, hey, wouldn't it be fun if your carpet could tell you how long it's been since it was vacuumed or if your appliances used status updates and winky faces to communicate amongst themselves? It's like Beauty and the Beast for the 21st Century. I sort of love that.

Facebook and Google+
Zuckerberg Finds Fans on Google+

Zuckerberg apparently joined to check out his competition and is now the most popular person on Google+. Maybe he'll get hooked . . .

Personally, I'm all ready to drop Facebook for Google+. I'm tired of receiving updates on "friends" that I haven't spoken to in years and never really knew well to begin with. It seems that most of my news feed consists of updates from people on the periphery of my social circle. I also could do without notifications that someone has answered a question about someone else or that my distant acquaintances have adopted pigs or begun to herd sheep, or whatever it is people do in Farmville. You can't control your news feed sufficiently in Facebook for my tastes.

Google+'s Circles is the best idea to hit social networking in a long time. Granted, Facebook has a similar option available with lists, but Google+ makes it simpler to share what you want with who you want, ultimately allowing for the option of greater privacy and more meaningful sharing online. As I see it, Google+ is a cleaner, more grown-up version of Facebook. Although I imagine it might take a while for certain crowds to migrate, I think eventually many will realize that Facebook isn't really what they need or want out of a social network. Google+ allows you to interact with people online the same way you do in real life: on a person-to-person or group-to-group level. So, from here on out, if I'm ever suddenly overwhelmed by the need to let 400+ "friends" know what I had for breakfast, I'll use Twitter. Otherwise, Google+ should meet my needs for interacting with family, friends, and other groups online quite well.

On the other hand, I can't see myself deleting my Facebook until more people move to Google+, so here's hoping.

The Royal Couple
Royal Couple Are Adored from a Distance on Brief Visit to California

Fans paid $400 for a chance to watch Prince William play polo — $4,000 to join the couple for lunch.

Erica Stanislawski, 16, who said her father was a longtime member of the Santa Barbara Polo and Racquet Club, said that her interest was strictly about polo. “Polo is a great game,” she began.

Her friend Lauren Lantry, 16, interrupted. “I’m excited to see famous people!” she said. “The prince is really cute. And she’s the real deal and super-pretty.”

Thank Goodness!
Rebecca Black to Release "Friday" Follow-Up

Rebecca Black will release a new single next week. I know, I know. Try to contain your excitement.

Winnie-the-Pooh

Recently, I re-read Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner by A. A. Milne. Although I first read these books as a teenager, not as a child, I was well-prepared to love them thanks to Disney and some shortened storybooks about Pooh that I was very attached to as a child. (I may have watched Disney's cartoon about Pooh being stuck in Rabbit's hole about a million times as a child.) When I finally discovered the books themselves, I was delighted not just to find my favorite stories, but to see that A. A. Milne was a wise, witty, ironic author. It is clear that he loved telling and writing these stories as much as his son must have loved hearing them. I liked the way he included his conversations with his son in the book. You feel like you're listening in on their bedtime ritual. I'd love to read these books out loud to a child.

Obviously, one of the best things about these books are the characters. Although the Bear of Little Brain himself is always endearing, you really can't top Eeyore in my book. How can it get better than a gloomy, bitter, attention-starved stuffed donkey? It doesn't hurt that he also gets most of the best lines. One of my favorite Eeyore moments occurs when Eeyore suddenly realizes in the middle of his thank-you speech that a party he thought was for himself is actually for Pooh bear:

"I might have known," said Eeyore, "After all, one can't complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said 'Bother!' The Social Round. Always something going on."

I love it. Poor old Eeyore.

I also love this:

Pooh and Piglet walked home thoughtfully together in the golden evening, and for a long time they were silent."When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?" "What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?" "I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing," he said.

Mountain West Burrito

Yesterday, I met up with a couple of friends from my graduate program to chat about our plans for fall courses and eat lunch at Mountain West Burrito in Provo.

Before I arrived, I was already impressed with this place because they cook with only fresh, organic, locally-grown food. Even their meat is free range. And, ever since I read Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food last month, I've become very self-conscious (maybe too self-conscious) about my food and where it's coming from. It's nice to have an option for eating out that I can feel good about.

I ordered a roasted veggie burrito with a side of guacamole. (Each burrito already comes with a side of chips and salsa.) The roasted veggie burrito featured pinto beans and rice (was it brown rice?), zucchini, green peppers, onions, and probably some other stuff I didn't notice (I was paying more attention to planning a first-year writing course than getting the details right). Whatever was in it, it was yummy! The portions sizes are perfect: very filling without making you sick. The price is also great: my meal (including the add-on guacamole) was $7 even. Considering the quality of food, this is quite impressive.

This place almost makes up for this area having no Chipotle. Pretty sure I'll be a regular. You should go too.

P.S. Since I don't have a camera, you can check out this blog and their lovely photoed review of Mountain West Burrito for a better idea of the deliciousness that awaits you.

the music man, david archuleta . . . oh, and brad paisley

This afternoon, I saw The Music Man at the Utah Shakespearean Festival. My sister and I drove to Cedar City last night to stay with my friend, Valerie, a costume design major who made several of the most beautiful costumes in The Music Man.

I loved the show: talented performers, great voices, great dancing. It was executed expertly by the cast and crew. I particularly liked the performers who played Harold Hill and Marian. You should go see it.

I wish we'd had time to see more plays, particularly some of the Shakespearean plays, but we ended up leaving immediately after the performance (as soons as the lights went down and before the bows, actually), so I could get back to Provo in time to go to the Stadium of Fire, featuring David Archuleta and Brad Paisley. Don't be jealous.

I might have driven 80-85 mph all the way home so as not to be late for David Archuleta. Truth be told, I'm kind of a big David Archuletta fan even though I'm about a decade outside of his target demographic, and I really only know one of his songs: "Crush." And I don't really like that song much.

Let me tell you why.

Last fall, I entered my name into a pool to get tickets to the annual Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas Concert. Tens of thousands put their names in every year and only a few receive tickets to the concert. To my surprise, sometime in October, I was mailed four tickets. I was ecstatic. Granted, I didn't really know anything about David Archuleta, but I had actually gotten four of the coveted tickets to MOTAB! I anxiously anticipated the concert night for two solid months.

Sadly, however, due to a series of unfortunate events, my group didn't make it into the concert. Like hundreds of others arriving too late and waiting in the obscenely long lines, we were turned away and invited to watch the concert elsewhere on Temple Square. We found some seats in the Tabernacle, but couldn't really hear anything. Although two months before, I hadn't cared for/had barely heard of David Archuleta, that night I felt a little cheated not be hearing him live in the Conference Center singing with the famed choir.

Flash forward six months. In June, I went to a book festival on campus. While perusing the program, I noticed that David Archuleta was set to appear at a particular stage at 1:30pm. I dutifully arrived at the spot at that time with my friends and thought happily about how I'd finally be able to hear him perform live and how the sound here in this smaller venue would beat what I missed out on in the Conference Center.

David Archuleta greeted the crowd and then sat down with an interviewer who, for half an hour, asked David question after question about books and authorship.

He didn't sing a note.

(His favorite book, though, is Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, in case you were wondering.)

Again, I was foiled.

So, come the evening of Stadium of Fire, I was pretty excited to watch David Archuletta perform. I was even tempted to wave my arms in synch to his music like the hundreds of teenage girls in attendance were doing. Okay, maybe not really, but I did enjoy the experience. This kid is a good performer and has a great voice, even if his music is really pop-y. He also strikes me as a really decent person who I think tries to stay true to his values despite his fame. I admire that.

Oh, yeah, and Brad Paisley was there too. He wasn't too bad himself.

As a parting note, here is a David Archuleta music video for you to enjoy, in case you weren't at Stadium of Fire tonight. Yeah, you're welcome.

A 122-years-overdue library book

was finally returned this month.

It's really too bad that the library isn't planning to collect the $37,000 fine. That kind of money could keep them going for a while after the end of libraries.

I like myself, and I have a lot of other great qualities as well.

If you haven't seen this yet, you're deprived. If you have seen it, watching it again is not a bad idea. Just sayin'.

Leaving the jungle

Then something began to hurt Mowgli inside him, as he had never been hurt in his life before, and he caught his breath and sobbed, and the tears ran down his face.

"What is it? What is it?" he said. "I do not wish to leave the jungle, and I do not know what this is. Am I dying, Bagheera?"

"No, Little Brother. That is only tears such as men use," said Bagheera. "Now I know thou art a man, and a man's cub no longer. The jungle is shut indeed to thee henceforward. Let them fall, Mowgli. They are only tears." So Mowgli sat and cried as though his heart would break; and he had never cried in all his life before.

From The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling

It's Not About You

Good advice for new college graduates.

You may now address me as Master

That's right. I did it. The MA is in the bag. (Thanks to Ananda for the picture!)

Now, on to the next big thing: holding and playing with these two adorable little girls every day for the next month. I know you're jealous.

California, here I come.

My new favorite website

This link contains excellent justification for study in the humanities and even some reasons to stay away from the infamous business major . . . Huzzah!

Check it out.

The end

Today was the last day of classes at BYU (my last last day of classes as a student here! Eek!). I asked my Writing 150 students to reflect briefly on what they learned from 150 that they will carry on to other classes or to life in general.

There were many smart and interesting comments, but I think my favorite came from a student who remarked that learning about rhetoric has helped her to better understand the process of expression and communication. She writes: "People just make a lot more sense now."

What this first-year student gained from Writing 150 is, I think, precisely what I've gained from a two-year master's program in rhetoric and composition. After all the response papers, seminar papers, discussions, lectures, late nights, mugs of herbal tea, readings, and the thesis, the most valuable thing I've gained is a greater understanding of who I am and who other people are and the ways in which we communicate with and influence one another.

The funny thing is, I feel like I'm now at the beginning of something instead of at the end of it. I love, love BYU and will miss being a student on this campus, but here at the end of it all, I'm more grateful than regretful. I'm grateful for what BYU has given me: the understanding, knowledge, and confidence that makes me excited to move on and eager for what's next.

After nearly seven years here, things (people, me, life) just make more sense now.

Thanks, BYU.

Decisions, decisions

As some of you may know, when it comes to big decisions, I like to agonize and analyze and over-analyze for days and weeks on end--a process that becomes occasionally irritating to my more decisive family members and friends.

Recently, I came up with a great solution to my indecisive nature: GoogleBATTLE. Rather than spending hours talking through decisions with anyone and everyone who'd listen, I'd just type my choices into GoogleBATTLE and go with the most popular option. Simple and efficient.

Tonight, in an attempt to make a major life decision, I typed two options into GoogleBATTLE, blithely confident that this test would solve my problems.

The result?

A tie.

Back to the drawing board.

Best commercial ever?

I think possibly yes.

Collaboration!

Dreams

Last night, I dreamed that I lived and worked on a farm where my primary responsible was taking care of and choosing names for three teeny, tiny newly-hatched chicks. I woke up before I pinned down names for each of them (mostly because I couldn't tell them apart), but we managed to still get in a pretty good time playing hide-and-go-seek together. It's actually pretty hard to find baby chicks that are only two square inches in size.

Perhaps my subconscious wants a vacation?

Made with love

"Craftsmanship to be artistic in the final sense must be 'loving'; it must care deeply for the subject matter upon which skill is exercised."

--John Dewey, Art as Experience, p. 69

This is why, then, my Thai curry is art, and my thesis is not. Today I do the work of writing the thesis and tomorrow I practice the art of making curry. (Yum!)

Chicago it is, then

Thank you, everyone, for helping me to decide where to live next year. My poll officially closed last night, and as you can see, Chicago overwhelmingly received the most votes. So, I've decided to move there in August. What would I do without you all?

;)

P.S. By "I've decided to move to Chicago," I of course mean I've decided to delay making a real decision by sticking around Utah for a year while I attempt to save money and put together PhD applications. Then, come next January or February or so, I can let admissions committees decide my life for me. Good plan, no?

Now, the real problem will be if I get accepted nowhere and am, once again, stuck making a decision for myself.

P.P.S. "Provo" and "Salt Lake" together received 7 votes, so sticking around Utah really validates the actual results of the poll. Don't you ever think your vote doesn't count!

Sick of love?

I know there are a lot of single people out there who don't really enjoy Valentine's Day. I'm not sure why this is, since any holiday that places an appropriate emphasis on chocolate is fine by me. But for all the single ladies (and gentlemen) out there who find themselves feeling sick to their stomachs at the thought of Cupid, flowers, and hearts, I offer this simple four-step prescription to achieving catharsis and enjoying a Valentine's day for one.

First, listen to these love (?) songs for singles:

"Anthony," by Nickel Creek

"Hello . . . Goodbye," by Sean Watkins

"They're in Love, Where Am I?" by The Weepies

Second, engage in escapism by watching a movie which features the kind of love you're unlikely to find in real life. For maximum effect, view said movie on a big screen TV.

Third, eat lots of chocolate.

Fourth, think about the fact that even though lasting romantic love has not yet come your way, there are people in your life who do love you--like yourself, for example. So, go ahead, give yourself a hug. (Helpful instructions on how to do this can be found here.)

Repeat the above steps, if necessary, but do not exceed five doses within 24 hours.

Warning: If you have recently been in a relationship or think you may be in a relationship, the above steps may cause severe liver damage, or, at the very least, some heart disease. Please consult with a doctor before use.

Happy Valentine's Day!

P.S. If you haven't clicked on every link in this post, you've truly cheated yourself and the prescription simply will not work. XOXO.

Dear Enemy

Have any of you ever read a little book called Daddy-Long-Legs by Jean Webster, grand-niece of Mark Twain? Or, perhaps more likely, have you seen the movie starring Fred Astaire and Leslie Caron?

No, you say?

Yeah, me neither.

But, the other day, I did happen to read the sequel to Daddy-Long-Legs, a lovely little epistolatory novel called Dear Enemy. Although the novel is somewhat blighted by a heavy focus on eugenics, I actually quite enjoyed Webster's style and her main character.

Dear Enemy is the story of a young woman named Sallie McBride who, as a new college graduate (yay women's movement--this novel was published in 1915), agrees to manage an asylum that is refuge to 113 orphans. The novel is a collection of her letters, mostly to her friend Judy (who is apparently the star of Daddy-Long-Legs), recounting her adventures in superintending the orphanage. In the course of a year of living and working at this orphanage, Sallie grows out of her frivolous society ways, drops her politician boyfriend, and becomes an independent New Woman.

All in all, I recommend it. It's fairly humorous and unsentimental for a story about orphans that contains frequent discussions of alcoholism and insanity and includes a scene with a baby in a burning building.

Really, it is.

Enjoy.

"Jimmer, more interesting than the most interesting man in the world."

This is amazing and hilarious and possibly disturbing. Enjoy.

ESPN: Jimmer Mania spawns epic Facebook thread

A neverending story

Last semester, one of my students concluded her writing reflection with this idea: "But in the end, I neither love nor hate writing. It’s just one part of my life that will probably never go away, and I’ve accepted that."

In echo of her words, I write, "I neither love nor hate my thesis. It's just one part of my life that will probably never go away, and I've accepted that."

You know what I hate?

So, at FHE on Monday, we all shared pet peeves as a method of growing closer together. I always have a hard time identifying pet peeves to share when people ask me what really annoys me. But, today, two days post-FHE, I realized one of my pet peeves.

I hate those people who don't wear coats in single-digit or below-zero weather. I saw a couple of them on campus today. We all know these people are just trying to look tough so they can feel superior to all the Californians and other people around them.

"Look at me, it's 7 degrees outside, and I'm only wearing a t-shirt and shorts."

Seriously?

You should be wearing a shirt, a sweater, a hoodie, a coat, a scarf, boots, gloves, long pants, two pairs of socks, and thermals like any other normal person (cough, cough, me) would do on a day like today.

You know what I like, though? To end this on a positive note?

I like the people who get it. The people who understand that anything below 10 degrees is seriously and possibly deathly cold, and most of what's above 10 degrees is also pretty darn. The people who make comments like the following (both of which I heard today on campus):

"It's weather like this that makes you think that hell is cold." --Guy to his friend

"Hey, if I don't hang up, my hand is going to fall off." --Girl talking on her cellphone while she walked to campus.

Way to sport some common sense, people. You protect those unmittened hands from this hellish cold!

I don't wanna go to school . . .

when it feels like -9 outside. I hope I live to see this summer.

Southern California is sounding better and better all the time.

P.S. If you decide to make a comment, I'm accepting sympathy only. Please no "well-it-is-way-colder-here" or "it-was-much-colder-in-Canada-when-I-was-on-my-mission,-so-you're-a-wimp" type things. ;) Thank you!

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark

I'm sorry to announce that my poll seems to be mysteriously erasing votes. I do not know why and I'm not sure how to fix it.

Perhaps this is a sign that I shouldn't depend on other people or Internet polls to make major life decisions for me.

Or it's a sign that you should cast your votes in the comments section instead.

You decide, okay?

Vote to decide my new life . . .

because I don't know how to make my own decisions.

Poll to your right. --->

I promise I'll move to wherever gets the highest number of votes! Really!

Maybe.

Polls close in 20 days, so get out there and campaign for your top choice!

Thank you!

(Don't see an option you like? Alternative suggestions may be written in the comments below.)

First draft

I just finished and submitted my first draft of my thesis.

Is it an oxymoron to say you've "finished" a draft?

A lie

Says motivational speaker Denis Waitley,

“Procrastination is the fear of success. People procrastinate because they are afraid of the success that they know will result if they move ahead now. Because success is heavy, carries a responsibility with it, it is much easier to procrastinate and live on the 'someday I’ll' philosophy.”

Denis Waitley, I disagree.

Procrastination is not the fear of success: it is the fear of failure. It might also be the fear of unpleasant hard work. But it is not the fear of success. I do not procrastinate writing seminar papers and chunks of my thesis because I'm thinking, "Man, if I move ahead on this now, I will succeed and dazzle my professor, and, oh, wouldn't that be frightening?"

No, no, Denis.

I procrastinate because I'm thinking, "If I write this now and turn in the ideas currently floating around in my head, my professor will finally know that I'm a phony who has nothing really interesting to say. So, rather than writing a flop, I'll blog or check my email."

Because, really, who can fail at checking email?

Thesis-ing

In today's all-day, thesis-writing binge, I have

read a lot,
written a little,
eaten probably a pound of chocolate and two bowls of curry,
visited Facebook only a couple of times,
and chugged two* mugs of herbal tea.

Oh, and I showered, got ready, and put on make-up.

Not bad, eh?

*Addendum at 10:25pm: Make that three mugs of herbal tea.

End of the road?

When I was about fifteen, I planned out my life. I would study English Teaching in college, serve a mission, and go to graduate school. And then . . . ? I'd just figure out the next step.

Aside from changing my undergraduate major from English Teaching to English just after my mission, I've stuck to the plan. But, here I am, nearly at the end, and not quite sure what comes next.

So what do you do when your teenage wisdom runs out of steam? I feel a little lost, here at the end of the things I knew for sure I would do. I can now move anywhere and do anything that a Master's degree in English qualifies me for (which is, shockingly and surprisingly, very little). What now?

Suggestions?

"I'm getting upset!"

This past Thursday, I babysat my three-year old niece while my sister attended BYU's forum by Condeleezza Rice. My niece and I hung out at BYU's Bean Museum where she most enjoyed the playroom, a display of ducks, and a picture of a buffalo that was, she informed me, actually a gruffalo.

Afterwards, we had lunch with my sister and brother and then talked for a bit before my sister dropped my brother and me back off on campus. The conversation turned into a discussion of Rice's talk. My niece quickly became bored as everyone's undivided attention was not centered on her. She dealt with her boredom at first by demanding chocolate: "MOMMMMMYYY! I want some CHOCOLAAAATE!"

When her pleas went unheeded, she changed her tactics. Rather than trying to turn the tide of the conversation, she decided to end it instead. "Everybody STOP TALKING!! STOP TALKING NOW! STOP TALKIIIIINNNG!!"

When I asked her why she needed everyone to stop talking? "Because I'm trying to sleep, and it's too loud!"

I laughed a little. She looked stern, and, after unsuccessfully asking me for some chocolate and for help stopping the conversation, put on a pouty face and said, "I'm getting upset!"

"You're getting upset?"

"Yes, I'm getting upset!"

I gave her some chocolate.

It's rough to be three.