Social vindication, self-gratification and the definition of a Nerd.

I don't generally consider myself an anti-social person. In fact, I can become rather depressed and filled with angst when left alone for too long. Neither do I consider myself a shy person, though I can be very quiet and even timid in large groups. But something happened this semester. I became increasingly conscious as the weeks went by that I had not made many new friends at all. In fact, I knew very few people in our ward, and I still don't know even a quarter of the girls in our building. This realization began gnawing at my conscience until, finally, I had to do something about it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to bring myself out in ward activities much more than I had, because they were all too overwhelming, socially. There were too many people, all in little groups having their own conversations and for me there might as well have been a glass wall erected around each cluster. So, with the financial, physical and emotional support of Maddie and Sharlene, I planned a party at our apartment. This way, the size of the group would be limited, naturally, by the size of our apartment and the people that were willing to take time out of their Saturday night to get to know us and have fun. It would also put me in the position of co-hostess, a role which I am much more comfortable with than that of guest or participant. In this capacity, it was my job to make others feel welcome, to introduce myself and others, and to be actively involved in conversation. I loved it! We printed out invitations on Wednesday and taped them on every apartment door in the ward, thinking that we might get ten to fifteen people to show up, if we were lucky. When the night of the party came, we had about twenty people overall. A complete success! Costco supplied ninety percent of our refreshments, which of course meant that they were quite delectable. People were coming and going, but the core group stayed at around eight people, including Maddie and myself (Sharlene had a date ;P). We ate and chattered for a good forty-five minutes to an hour before starting up a wild game of Cranium, which my team very nearly won - I'll get you, Maddie, and your little friends, too (insert evil laugh)! Kiera and I kept up a steady stream of trash talk, which was pretty amusing, considering our individual personalities. We also were able to meet some great people, and have a lot of fun with friends, new, old and in between. Sadly, one of Maddie's Freshman lovers left early to do homework and the other could not make an appearance due to a previous engagement, but don't be too sad ... got a date out of it anyway("A.C.T. worked for me!"). And myself? I just got a silly little crush - lame! There are certain things about being a single young woman at BYU that I could do without. But at least this one is at least a little valid - I've actually held more than two-minutes' conversation with him and interacted with him socially more than once (his FHE group went to the same multi-FHE-group activity this week - I put the moves on. Sort of. You know. It's me.). Blah. All in all, the evening was an overwhelming success and social vindication.

New topic. Today I turned in a short story for my creative writing class. I spent all day yesterday working on said story as I decided on Monday that I did not like the story I had written and had to come up with a better idea. It was an interesting experience. I sat on Karina's papasan chair in the living room with snacks at my side and my computer on my lap and typed for eight hours, with a few brief intermissions for bathroom breaks and phone calls to my mom. At the end of the day, I had fallen in love with a completely alien story. It didn't really feel like I had written it, but I had. There were still some kinks that needed to be straightened out (ironed, if you will), but it was good. When I arrived in class and we all arranged our desks into a large circle, I had the feeling that I would be asked to read for the class workshop session. It didn't bother me until it happened. I was the first to be asked. At that moment I was seized with the fear of failure. I was sure he was going to stop me after every sentence and tell me how I needed to change it and it terrified me. This was my baby! I started reading and I felt my face glow red hot. My heart was beating faster than I could count and hard enough to escape my rib cage completely. I couldn't breathe correctly and I had to clear my throat and wet my lips. I'm being a bit melodramatic, but it was an intense feeling. Only, he didn't stop me after every sentence, or even after every paragraph. I went on to the second or third page before he stopped me with a question about a particular sentence structure that turned out to be correct. Then he started asking me why I set it in England and what was going to happen in the end and everyone wanted to hear what happened next. He liked it! They liked it! I had a girl come up to me after class and ask to read the rest of it, saying that she had really enjoyed it. Ha! Can you believe it?! I was so excited, I couldn't stand it! I know it sounds ridiculously self-gratifying (hence the title), but it was great!

Last one. I don't know if you've noticed (see above paragraph), but I am a complete English nerd. I love it! I love the boundless possibilities presented by the knowledge that the more you understand about the rules, the more masterfully you can use them or break them in half and throw them into the sea. I love the myriad of successful and not-so-successful authors, past and present, who have demonstrated those possibilities. It's a beautiful world, the world of literature and literary history and creative writing - *sigh*. I say, I am an English nerd. This is very important because I am not an English geek. There is a very big difference. A nerd is one who is passionate about their subject of learning, or about learning in general, who can often be socially awkward or clumsy, but who is always aware of social contexts and decorum and therefore remains socially adept and acceptable. That's me. A geek is one whose passion for learning often turns into an obsession; they often have a great cerebral capacity to store information and like to share random facts, often completely out of context. Geeks generally seem to be in their own little world, and have little understanding or respect for social boundaries. I explained the first half of this theory, the definition of a Nerd, to my brother the other day. His reaction and the fact that I have not only spent the time and effort to come up with this but also blogged about it culminate in the establishment of the fact that I am a self-proclaimed nerd. Thank you, one and all.

On Halloween Night Things go Bump in the Night

I began my celebration of this All Hallows Eve as Rosie the Riveter, due to the fact that I had a costume more readily available and less care-intensive than Marylin Monroe(but don't you worry, Marylin came out later ;*). At the ward dance party, we were among the first to arrive (as usual) and it was awkward (big surprise), and the music was pretty lame, but it was still fun. We won the prize for best chili, which wasn't as great of a compliment because we were the only ones who brought chili aside from the activity committee members. Sharlene won the prize for best costume; we hunted through DI until we found an ugly, purple dress that I'm sure once belonged to a 12-year-old beehive, cut the top layer of material off of the skirt, pinned it up to knee-length before drawing, cutting out, and stapling pictures of stars, moons, sun, saturn, and of course the Magic School Bus, together with her curly hair tied up in a crazy do to create the fabulous Ms. Frizzle. It was amazing! Maddie also looked amazing (as usual)in her cave girl outfit, complete with a messy side pony tail and heavy brown eye make-up. We had a blast together!

Also, I would be remiss if I didn't bring to your attention that alias Andrew Bingley, mentioned in a previous post, did in fact accept the invitation to join us at the party and again to accompany us to our apartment to watch a movie. ;P Oh, the fates!

Let the Wild Rumpus Start!

Three of my roommates and I went to see "Where the Wild Things Are" tonight and it was AMAZING! I realized on the way to the theatre that it would be the first time that all four of us (Karina, Maddie, Sharlene, and I) were doing something fun together. This is an incredible feat. Karina, Maddie, and I found housing together for this year after being thrown together at The Villa (so many memories *sigh*)but Sharlene didn't join us until Summer term and Maddie had left for home. After being reunited (physically, at least) this fall, the four of us have had a hard time finding that friendship again. This was kind of perfect considering the story told in the theatre. Watch it! I promise you won't regret it!

PS: Bet you can't guess which character I relate to the most :P

Sweet Validation

Walking the pleasant one-mile slope to my apartment from campus, I'm sure observant passersby would have laughed to see my childlike grin, but I just couldn't help it! You may mock me when I tell you the cause, but I know you have probably felt a similar sense of exhilaration at some point. My creative writing professor returned our graded collections of poetry today. He started out by giving the traditional introductory lecture in which he expressed his general satisfaction with our work and spoke of general strengths and weaknesses that he saw throughout the class's collections, and so forth. As he went on, the anxiety and excitement in the class rose. We knew what was coming. At last he brought out the giant stack of papers, some few bearing the badge of honor (an orange sticky note) that named them worthy to be read before the class. He began. Inside my head I had reverted to elementary school and I began to chant the mantra: "Please read mine, please!" I wanted so badly for the teacher to validate my hard work and to tell me that I had done a good job, that I wasn't a horrible poet like I had feared. Sounds wonderfully melodramatic, doesn't it? Well, he read a few poems from other collections and I calmed down, telling myself it didn't matter, that he wasn't going to read any of my poems and that it was okay that he wasn't going to because it didn't matter. As I was saying this to myself, what did I hear but the title of my elegy ("Grandpa Said"),and then the first line, and the second ... He was reading my poem! He liked it! And I could tell from the reactions of my classmates that they liked it, too! Call me crazy, but it made my day!

Words, words, words

It is somewhat of a liberating experience when one puts down a book after reading two-hundred pages or so in one sitting ... until one tries to stand up and realizes one's foot is dead, and one cannot tell if it is one's head that is spinning or if it is the room. This was the state of things late this afternoon as I got up to go to my evening class. I am never excited to attend this class, which saddens me, because it is a history class and I love history. It's so fascinating to learn about the giants who have gone before and those who were not so giant who lived in this world and are now living in the next, to connect the dots between cultures and religions and peoples and nations and governments around the world and across time. It's fascinating! Alas, much to my chagrin, this brilliant time of discovery is clouded o'er by the idea of three hours of lecture starting at five. But I suppose I shouldn't complain; I survive it well enough. Well, I suppose that's all I have to say about today. It seems at times that my life has been taken over by school and that I have nothing else to talk about ... except maybe the lack of any sort of dating life at all, which is just depressing and pathetic, so I won't go into that. Until next time, my friends, adieu!

"I Could Have Danced All Night ..."

I'm sure you've been wondering what it is that I do, exactly, aside from write poetry for my Creative Writing class and avoid blogging for several months at a time. Well, my friends, tonight I shall tell you a story which will send chills down your spine. Okay, maybe not 'chills;' perhaps 'tingles,' or just a general feeling of mocking - I mean - enjoyment.

Tonight, this fateful 28th of October, my dear Madelane and I attended the Social Dance Lab in the Ballroom of the Wilk. What a night! The dance floor was shaking with cha-cha and fox trot, waltz and swing. The music was classy. The men were far too few ... *sigh.* Alas, much of my time was spent awkwardly swaying to the music and either making conversation with other ladies off the floor, or stalking the outskirts scouting for someone that wasn't already flirting with another girl or stuffing his face with food (with little success). Also, the soul of my right character shoe decided that it no longer wanted to be attached to the rest of the shoe, forcing me to wrap it in scotch tape, since we had no stronger adhesive readily available, and hope for the best. It was a little slippery, but I survived. As has become the routine, I had a fun time despite the ever-present awkwardness.

Maddie, on the other hand, seems to have done it again. Exhibit A: Alias James Darcy. Approximately 6'1." Returned missionary. Junior at BYU. Aspires to be an eye surgeon, giving sight to the blind, or something like that. This relatively good-looking young man is in our dance class, but is generally not very talkative in said class. Tonight, however, he was very willing to chat with Maddie. They talked for a good 5-10 minutes after dancing together. Up-dates to follow. Exhibit B: Alias Andrew Bingley. Approximately 6.' Freshman at BYU. Affectionately called "Pre-mi." Computer Science major, aspiring to work for the CIA, and a big fan of the white power ranger, as he announced to the floor at the end of the function. He stuck around with us for a good 45 minutes toward the end, after coming in and out of our company for the entirety of the dance. Despite his youth and over-enthusiasm, Allan is a very appealing young man, and very funny. They were hitting it off so well that I ended up giving him a ride to his car, which he had parked at the Marriot Building, not realizing that nearly all parking on campus opens up to students and the public after 7 PM. Oh, yes. Maddie has found yet another Freshman lover. Once more, up-dates to follow. Exhibit C: Alias Tyler Knightly. Approximately 6'1." Information systems major from Utah who is in our ward. Excellent dancer and another very attractive young man. Most of the time, he is surrounded by girls. But, there was a shining, glimmering moment of time when he was in between partners and about to head for the refreshment table and when Maddie was conveniently positioned about three feet to the left and back from where he was standing. Yet, after all of the success of the evening, she shied away and let him walk over to the table and become enveloped once more in a semi-circle of flirtatious females. Ah, well, there's always nest Sunday ...

Confessions of an Unwilling Romantic

Normally, I wouldn't bore you with yet another poem after that rather lengthy post, but I couldn't resist, and I'm sure you'll see why (not because I'm such a fabulous artist, but rather because the subject matter is quite dear to the hearts of most single BYU females, and most of my friends fit that category).

To Live

I do not know what it is that supersedes rational thought
when the mind meddles in matters of the heart,
why we conjure up images of charming princes and perfect gentlemen
to give us their hearts, neatly wrapped, in a shower of flattering words.
It is an acute torture of both mind and heart
when out of these sweet dreams we are confronted
with the sticky remnants of the ice cream tub and the blur of the television.
This is the pathetic state of impotence to which we drive ourselves.
But stop. This is not love; this is not even life.
To live is to forget what you long for,
to drink in the joy of the mundane and to glory in the unremarkable
adventures that wait for you in each minute of each hour of your life.
There are no charming princes on gleaming white horses. There are only
remarkable people who live remarkable lives under unremarkable circumstances.

Disclaimer

(Another disclaimer: I couldn't get the format to work exactly right with these poems - the lines that are off to the side are not supposed to be that way, in case you were trying to figure out the artistic meaning of their placement)

The Return of the Prodigal Blogger: Meditations on the life of a non-poet

Well, it's been a while! I promise I do exist and I have actually been having some very unremarkable adventures lately, but what can I say? I'm just going to have to be better at blogging more regularly. Today I would like to share with you some poems I've been working on for my creative writing class. This is my disclaimer: I'm not much of a poet, so don't get too excited or you'll be sorely disappointed, but what are blogs for if not to make a fool of yourself, right? Here it goes ...

Too Small

While my big brother

plays basketball with

his friends, I sit on the edge

of the lawn, watching

Wondering

Will I ever be Big enough?

Big enough to keep the steady rhythm

of the game, running

panting springing, pouncing –

Into the net. Swish, din, pat pat pat, shh.

Big enough to break away

from the force of gravity,

leap into the air, spinning

like a dance.

Big enough to feel the slap

of my brother’s hand on my back,

to laugh at his jokes,

to see him laugh at mine.

Big enough.

Then my big brother walks

over to my little corner, lifts

me on his shoulders, places the ball

between my two hands, too small.

My big brother and I

walk over to the hoop.

“There it is.

Take the shot.”

Big enough.

Swish, din, pat pat pat, shh.

Little girl

Little girls grow like daisies in spring,

dancing their way with arms reaching out as far as they can go.

Count the sun beams and the smiles that they bring

and you’ll be counting past the grown-up years but still, you will not know.

Somewhere in the process of counting bright smiles and sunny rays,

a little girl may just lose sight, over too-long miles and too-short days,

of the girl that she had been and the daisies she would pick,

‘till the little girl becomes lost in big thoughts and long lists

and the loudest sound heard is tick-tock-tick

and of all the things lost only one thing persists.

She dances her way still, though she stumbles a bit.

Through grown-up mazes, refuses to quit

But her arms strain under the weight of her books

and time drives her faster through a sea of unfamiliar faces.

She searches for friends, finds mostly strange looks

that question her quest as they go, counting paces.

Yes, the flooded crowd flows, a steady stream, trudging

Eyes locked in their place, minds cloudy with judging.

She dances her way still,

fixes a smile on her face, grasps a hope in her heart.

Perhaps some day she will

find her way out of the maze, stand apart.

At last the day’s ended and the little girl sighs

as she makes her way home with an eye to the skies.

Stumbles gently down the hill in the evening,

books closed, thoughts free,

Sees the clouds can’t bar the sun-beams streaming,

lighting mountain, rock, and tree.

So the little girl dancing from class to class

finds freedom in a blade of grass.

Grandpa said

Grandpa said patience

would always bring success,

except when it didn’t, because sometimes it wouldn’t,

and that was the way of things.

But he didn’t say it to me.

He whistled it to the fish in the stream as he sat on the bank,

waiting with patience.

Grandpa said a working man

would always find a way,

except when he didn’t, because sometimes he wouldn’t,

and that was the way of things.

But he didn’t say it to me.

He wore it in the palms of his hands as he did what he could,

a working man.

Grandpa said a man’s heart

would always lead him straight,

except when it didn’t, because sometimes it wouldn’t,

and that was the way of things.

But he didn’t say it to me.

He whispered the secret into Grandma’s ear, and took her hand in his,

a man’s heart.

Grandpa said life

would always be an adventure,

even when it wasn’t, because sometimes we can’t tell

that this is the way of things.

But he didn’t say it to me.

He showed it in stories, the life that he led,

his life that now discovers a new adventure.

He didn’t say it to me,

But I heard it, just the same.

Grandpa said patience,

a working man,

a man’s heart,

life is an adventure.

Learning to Love

My rocking horse sways

under shy infant fingers

until sure working hands

hold it, firm, standing still.

Another hand steadies me;

I lean back.

Hands lead to faces,

and faces to smiles

and hearts that glow with love

stronger than life.

I am drawn to the light of it,

my face to those faces

and breath escapes loudly

when my body follows –

much faster.

Another hand catches me;

I reach for it.

The hand that guided the wood

and shaped the small seat,

that smoothed the rough patches,

gave life to the horse,

and love.

It holds me, and I hold it.

My fingers close about that

hand. Five of mine and one of

his. He holds me

And I hold him.

My rocking horse sways

as I'm learning to love.

Waiting

Wide carpet, tall walls, spans of large tiles.

Motor walkways, ropes to keep people in line.

Rows of televisions, scrolling screens.

Signs that lead to more signs.

It is a world between worlds.

Crisp uniforms and hair tied back, neat.

Clear voices speak in controlled tones, a low buzz behind,

the Tower of Babble.

Cool air that is the air of everywhere

And nowhere, here in the

in-between

place

where people are

Waiting

waiting for friends and loved ones,

for co-workers and peers,

for home, for adventure, for success,

waiting.

Family Outing: Independence Day

First, a somewhat unrelated introduction: After a week of resumes, cover letters, office skills tests, and rejection e-mails, I celebrated Canada Day with "The Canadians" (They do have names, but why use names when you can identify them by their nationality?). That was a rockin' party, let me tell you! For the next three days we were quoting Canadian rap ... that's right. I can picture it now ... "So I know that you wanna be Canadian, please, even if in winter things tend to freeze. We've got the world monopoly on trees, and our country's surrounded by three different seas!"

... I love my friends, but that's a another post for another time.

This is the story of my Independence Day weekend with family - no, not my family ... rather, my sister-in-law's family (well, my brother and his family were there, but you get the picture). First, I must explain that they are all wonderful people and that no one in any way made me feel uncomfortable, but ... In order to understand the complete awkwardness of my experience, you must understand that I feel awkward at my own family reunions. Add to that the extended family of in-laws, and you get Debra hovering around her brother and standing on the outskirts of conversations for an entire weekend. Sounds fun, right? It was especially fun to play very competitive dodgeball for hours, because if there's one thing I'm good at, it's dodging flying objects. Oddly enough, the least awkward time of the weekend was the wedding reception on Monday night. I think it was because Mark wasn't as busy with other things, so we were able to talk a lot more, and he pulled me into more conversations, etc... Funny story: one of these conversations resulted in a date, but that, too, is another post for another time. Also, I've been supplanted as the cool Aunt, which makes me very sad. My niece and nephews would much rather play with their cousins or other aunts and uncles ... *sigh.* However, I realized in that extremely awkward setting that family is an amazing and very vital thing, and that my family is exceptional in every way. My brother and I may not agree on everything, but he's always watching out for me.
... and there you have it, a cheesey and sentimental ending to an awkward post about an awkward weekend.
Until next time, folks!

Greetings

Hello all! I'd like to thank the Academy, and my wonderful roommate, Karina, who is probably the only one reading this blog since she created it for me just the other day. Yes, I'm getting around to it. You'll have to have patience with me, Kari, because I'm still playing around with this whole blogging thing - very cool.

Well, not very interesting yet, folks, but hold on to your hats, because there will be more! Oh, yes, there will be more!

Dear Reader

This is Karina. I will not be the one writing on this glorious new blog. That distinct privilege belongs to my dear roommate, Debra. She's the best. Really. You'll adore her. It might take her a while to get the hang of the blogging world, but I have faith in her. So take good care of her. That goes for me too, since I'll be checking this here blog every day. So yeah. That's all.


Karina