"Out of a worthless lump of clay, God has made a man today." --Fiddler on the Roof
When I finally rolled out of bed yesterday, I wasn't exactly optimistic about my day. I knew that most of it would be spent alone, and alone is one of my least favorite ways to spend a Saturday. So, I put my face on and got my things together, went back and forth from the door to my room picking up my forgotten keys, then my phone, then my gloves. I called my mom on my way out--she was just getting lunch, so I let her go and deposited a check. Then I headed to JiffyLube to get the oil changed in my car. I called my sister-in-law on the way and chatted with the kids because she was taking a nap. I got my car checked in and called my sister while I waited. She was just getting lunch, so I let her go and watched "Sons of Guns" on the discovery channel for a very long fifteen minutes while the experts saw to my car.
By the time I left JiffyLube, it was 3:00, and I was starving. So I took a break from running errands to get lunch. I pulled out of Arby's wondering where I should go to eat--I didn't feel like going home just yet, but where can a person eat lunch alone without looking like a creeper? A park, of course! So I drove to a little park a couple blocks away from my apartment, ate my lunch, and then headed for the swing-set. There's something truly magical about swinging--the wind blowing softly against your skin, the sky coming up to greet you and then falling away gently, the creek of the chain as you go back and forth. It was just lovely!
Of course, after all of that, who would want to go run more errands? No, I decided to have myself an adventure. I drove up to campus and headed for the Museum of Art. I spent the rest of the afternoon just wandering aimlessly through the museum and soaking in the beauty of the art. It's truly amazing what people can create by scratching on a copper plate, stroking canvas with a brush, shaping and molding clay, or carving into stone. I was particularly impressed with the display on the main floor, entitled, "Beauty and Belief". It was a massive collection of Islamic art in all different mediums, and it was beautiful to see the marriage of faith and talent in each piece. It is truly beautiful, the way passion--whether yours be art, music, sports, or science--can inspire faith and remind us of the things that matter most, encourage us to open our eyes, ears, minds, and hearts to the beauty that surrounds us and to the hand of the Lord in our lives.
I stayed there in the museum until the speakerphone announced that the museum was closing, and then slowly made my way out the door, holding onto that thought. It was quite fitting, really, that I would leave all of that beautiful and inspiring art only to be greeted by a breathtaking sunset. And since I was already in such a romantic (or should I say, 'Romantic') state of mind, what else was I to do but chase it? I got in my car and started driving. A few minutes later, I ended up sitting on a rock at the lake, watching the colors play across the water and listening to the ducks, and the geese flying overhead, and the lapping of the lake. And what had started out as a lonely, boring Saturday, miraculously became a pilgrimage to that place, where I saw one of God's masterpieces displayed before me.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Monday, December 12, 2011
Love Unconquerable, Unlimited, Unconditional
This Christmas season, I have decided to start a new tradition for myself: I've been getting reacquainted with Christ by studying the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. My dear friends, Jesus Christ lives! He is our Savior, our older brother, and our perfect exemplar. I can't tell you what an amazing experience I have had spending time with Him in my study--hearing His words, and seeing His example, and feeling His love.
I always liked to compare Christ's role in our lives to my brother's playing basketball in the driveway with his friends. I would sit on the step and watch them, wanting to be able to play and knowing that I was just too little to do it on my own. But eventually, Mark would come over and lift me up on his shoulders and walk over to the hoop, and one of his friends would hand me the ball, and they would all cheer when I tossed the ball into the hoop. That image has become so much more real since I lost Mark, and even though this isn't exactly what the Atonement of Christ does (it's only a small part), I know that Christ is my older brother--that I can be as close to Him as I am to Mark. I can grieve for Him, and miss Him, and want to be with Him, just like I do Mark.
And I do. The other night, I was reading in Mark 14, when Christ takes Peter, James, and John to Gethsemane. Most often, I skim over this part in these first gospels, until I get to Luke, because Luke uses such beautiful and powerful language. But as I studied these verses, my heart broke for my Savior:
"And he taketh with him Peter and James and John, and began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy;
And saith unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death: tarry ye here, and watch.
And he went forward a little, and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.
And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt.
And he cometh, and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, sleepest thou? couldest not thou watch one hour?" (Mark 14:33-37).
Three times, The Savior of the world knelt in agony, alone, and each time He came to His friends, whom He had brought with Him for support, He found them sleeping. Even after all they had experience with Him, they did not understand; they couldn't even stay awake as He suffered for the sins of the world. And at last, when the time came to fulfill the rest of the Atonement, He said, "Sleep on now, and take your rest" (Mark 14:41).
What great love! To suffer so much, alone, knowing that so many would not understand, that so many would reject and dismiss the priceless gift that He gave.
And so, this Christmas, I make a commitment to you and to my Savior, Jesus Christ:
I will strive to love as He did--withholding nothing, and asking for nothing in return.
I will strive to live my life as He did--in the service of my fellow man.
I will strive to forgive as He did--frankly and without condition.
But most of all, I will remember always what He gave for me, and stand as His witness in all things, in all times, and in all places.
I always liked to compare Christ's role in our lives to my brother's playing basketball in the driveway with his friends. I would sit on the step and watch them, wanting to be able to play and knowing that I was just too little to do it on my own. But eventually, Mark would come over and lift me up on his shoulders and walk over to the hoop, and one of his friends would hand me the ball, and they would all cheer when I tossed the ball into the hoop. That image has become so much more real since I lost Mark, and even though this isn't exactly what the Atonement of Christ does (it's only a small part), I know that Christ is my older brother--that I can be as close to Him as I am to Mark. I can grieve for Him, and miss Him, and want to be with Him, just like I do Mark.
And I do. The other night, I was reading in Mark 14, when Christ takes Peter, James, and John to Gethsemane. Most often, I skim over this part in these first gospels, until I get to Luke, because Luke uses such beautiful and powerful language. But as I studied these verses, my heart broke for my Savior:
"And he taketh with him Peter and James and John, and began to be sore amazed, and to be very heavy;
And saith unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death: tarry ye here, and watch.
And he went forward a little, and fell on the ground, and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.
And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt.
And he cometh, and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, sleepest thou? couldest not thou watch one hour?" (Mark 14:33-37).
Three times, The Savior of the world knelt in agony, alone, and each time He came to His friends, whom He had brought with Him for support, He found them sleeping. Even after all they had experience with Him, they did not understand; they couldn't even stay awake as He suffered for the sins of the world. And at last, when the time came to fulfill the rest of the Atonement, He said, "Sleep on now, and take your rest" (Mark 14:41).
What great love! To suffer so much, alone, knowing that so many would not understand, that so many would reject and dismiss the priceless gift that He gave.
And so, this Christmas, I make a commitment to you and to my Savior, Jesus Christ:
I will strive to love as He did--withholding nothing, and asking for nothing in return.
I will strive to live my life as He did--in the service of my fellow man.
I will strive to forgive as He did--frankly and without condition.
But most of all, I will remember always what He gave for me, and stand as His witness in all things, in all times, and in all places.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
23 Life Lessons Learned at the Cinema! Because I spend way too much time watching these movies ... But they're just so good!
1. "It's like in the great stories, .... The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think ... I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something[:] ... [t]hat there's some good left in this world, ... and it's worth fighting for!"
2. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."
3. "[He] can't carry it for you; but [He] can carry you!"
4. "Keep breathing. That's the key. Breathe."
5. "You pile up enough tomorrows and you'll be left with nothing but a bunch of empty yesterdays."
6. "You're life is an occasion. Rise to it!"
7. "We must face tomorrow, whatever it may hold, with determination, joy and bravery."
8. "We Breathe. We Pulse. We Regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. Thirty-seven seconds, well used, is a lifetime."
9. "When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does."
10. "[D]aisies are the friendliest flower[.]"
11. "Life doesn't always turn out the way you plan."
12. "A person's a person, no matter how small."
13. "There may be something there that wasn't there before."
14. "[A]ny fool can have courage. But honor, that's the real reason for you either do something or you don't. It's who you are and maybe who you want to be. If you die trying for something important, then you have both honor and courage, and that's pretty good."
15. "Love is not a feeling. It's an ability. "
16. "Instead of telling our young people to plan ahead, we should tell them to plan to be surprised."
17. "I thank whatever gods may be / For my unconquerable soul. / I am the master of my fate / I am the captain of my soul."
18. "Forgiveness liberates the soul."
19. "How do we inspire ourselves to greatness when nothing less will do? How do we inspire everyone around us? I sometimes think it is by using the work of others."
20. "Tomorrow's taken care of, one way or another."
21. "Fifty thousand men died right here on this field, fighting the same fight that we are still fighting among ourselves today. This green field right here, painted red, bubblin' with the blood of young boys. Smoke and hot lead pouring right through their bodies. Listen to their souls, men. I killed my brother with malice in my heart. Hatred destroyed my family. You listen, and you take a lesson from the dead. If we don't come together right now on this hallowed ground, we too will be destroyed, just like they were. I don't care if you like each other of not, but you will respect each other."
22. "[I]n such cases as these a good memory is unpardonable."
23. "What are men compared to rocks and mountains?"
2. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."
3. "[He] can't carry it for you; but [He] can carry you!"
4. "Keep breathing. That's the key. Breathe."
5. "You pile up enough tomorrows and you'll be left with nothing but a bunch of empty yesterdays."
6. "You're life is an occasion. Rise to it!"
7. "We must face tomorrow, whatever it may hold, with determination, joy and bravery."
8. "We Breathe. We Pulse. We Regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. Thirty-seven seconds, well used, is a lifetime."
9. "When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does."
10. "[D]aisies are the friendliest flower[.]"
11. "Life doesn't always turn out the way you plan."
12. "A person's a person, no matter how small."
13. "There may be something there that wasn't there before."
14. "[A]ny fool can have courage. But honor, that's the real reason for you either do something or you don't. It's who you are and maybe who you want to be. If you die trying for something important, then you have both honor and courage, and that's pretty good."
15. "Love is not a feeling. It's an ability. "
16. "Instead of telling our young people to plan ahead, we should tell them to plan to be surprised."
17. "I thank whatever gods may be / For my unconquerable soul. / I am the master of my fate / I am the captain of my soul."
18. "Forgiveness liberates the soul."
19. "How do we inspire ourselves to greatness when nothing less will do? How do we inspire everyone around us? I sometimes think it is by using the work of others."
20. "Tomorrow's taken care of, one way or another."
21. "Fifty thousand men died right here on this field, fighting the same fight that we are still fighting among ourselves today. This green field right here, painted red, bubblin' with the blood of young boys. Smoke and hot lead pouring right through their bodies. Listen to their souls, men. I killed my brother with malice in my heart. Hatred destroyed my family. You listen, and you take a lesson from the dead. If we don't come together right now on this hallowed ground, we too will be destroyed, just like they were. I don't care if you like each other of not, but you will respect each other."
22. "[I]n such cases as these a good memory is unpardonable."
23. "What are men compared to rocks and mountains?"
Monday, July 4, 2011
"Lightbulbs die, My Sweet. I will depart."
"When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written 'He dies.' That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is, 'He dies.' It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with 'He dies.' And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words 'He dies,' but because of the life we saw prior to the words.
. . .
"I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest 'He died.'" -- Mr. Magorium
I lost my brother about four days ago. He died in his sleep at the age of 34. His wife, Brooke, and their five beautiful children were in Utah visiting Brooke's family. I keep thinking that he's going to walk into the room and tell us all to quit the waterworks and go do something fun. I remember when I left to come down to BYU for the first time and I was making the rounds, getting teary-eyed. When I got to Mark, he laughed at me and said, "Are you done with your girl moment? Can I hug you now?"
Well, Mark, you're going to have to let me go through a few more girl moments, because I'm just not ready to say goodbye yet.
Remember that rocking horse you and Dad made for me when I was born? It's in the garage in Vernonia now. I remember writing a couple stories and essays about that horse. I always bragged to my friends that my big brother made it for me. You spoiled me, you know, you and Dad. You're both so good at everything, it makes it hard for a girl to find someone to fit the bill.
You were always looking out for me, you and your friends. I was the annoying little girl that wouldn't leave you alone. I remember sitting out on the steps when you were playing basketball and watching you. And then, eventually, you'd come over and put me on your shoulders and walk over the the hoop, and one of the guys would hand me the ball. Hehe,I remember when Big Brian let me steer your truck to David's while I was sitting on his knee.
I would get so mad at you back then! You were always holding my head with one hand and telling me to hit you, or pretending I was a typewriter, or flat-out wrestling me to the ground. And then there was the never-ending knuckle-popping! I wanted to scream! (I often did). You always had the same excuse: "It's for her own good; she's got to learn to defend herself. She's got to fight off all those boys." (Still waiting for that to happen, Mark).
But as much as I protested against you for that, I was always bragging about you to my friends. You were my hero. You were so strong and confident in everything you did. Whenever I pictured Nephi, this teenage prophet who was "large in stature" and completely stalwart in his faith, I pictured you.
Mom likes to tell the story of when you got your appendix removed. There was a game the next weekend and a bunch of your football friends showed up at the hospital with balloons and things. You convinced the doctor to let you play. Mom was so mad! She went out and got depends and made you wear them as extra padding on your side while you played. But you still went. You played, and you won the game.
And then you went on your mission. I still tell people that my claim to fame is the tape you sent from the MTC to play at my baptism. You gave a talk, remember, and a bunch of your buddies joined you in singing a song. And one of those buddies later became part of Jericho Road. I was always knew that my big brother would be there for me, even if he couldn't be physically present. I still know that you'll be there for me now.
I remember the night before we met you to say goodbye at the airport (back when you could do that), when it finally registered in my mind that I wasn't going to be able to see or talk to you for two whole years. I don't know if I ever told you, but I cried myself to sleep that night.
And I was so mad when you got home and ran off to get married right away, because I had finally started to like you. And then you were gone again.
But over the years, as I grew up, I talked to you more and more. And you went from being my bully big brother and my hero to being one of my best friends. And I would still get frustrated with you sometimes, because you always had to be right. I called it your "lawyer voice," that tone that you put on when you expected me to disagree with you and you were determined to show me that you were right. The most frustrating part about it was that you were right a lot of the time -- not all of the time, mind you, but a lot of the time.
You were always looking out for me, pushing me to be better without letting me think less of myself. And you always had good advice. I keep wanting to pick up the phone and talk to you, because I know you'd be able to tell me what to do.
I'm so glad that you called me on Wednesday, before you left us. I'm sure you had no idea how important that phone call would be, but I'm also sure that you were led by the Spirit to know what to say. I remember being concerned because you sounded so tired, but I didn't say anything because you had already started threatening boys again, and delivering the lecture that you meant for them. But then it changed. You started talking about trusting in the Lord and what it means to love someone. You said part of trusting the Lord is being willing to do the work, and make difficult decisions by yourself, and take a step into the dark. You said that marriage is part of that same trust -- that loving someone is as simple as wanting to make them happy, but that you have to be willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
You told me about your relationship with Brooke, and how you learned that this was true. You talked about how much she hates it when you leave your socks on the floor, and about how you had an epiphone about six months ago that you could make your wife happier each day by picking up your socks. So, you made an effort to start picking up your socks every day. At this point, you apologized for rambling and called this a stupid example, and then said something about how it's the little things like that that make the difference.
And then you said that you were proud of me, and that I would find somebody that would do whatever it took to make me happy, someone I would do whatever it took to make happy, as well.
People keep saying how much you loved me, and how proud you were of me. And I knew it; I always heard it in your voice. I still feel it. When my home teachers came to give me a blessing after I heard the news, they said that Heavenly Father wanted me to know that you love me and that you're okay. I do know it. I hope you know that I love and miss you so much, and that I will always be proud that you are my big brother. I thank my Heavenly Father that I was blessed to have you in my life; I thank my Savior, Jesus Christ for making it possible for me to be your baby sister for Eternity. I hope and pray that I can live up to it.
All my love,
Debra
. . .
"I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest 'He died.'" -- Mr. Magorium
I lost my brother about four days ago. He died in his sleep at the age of 34. His wife, Brooke, and their five beautiful children were in Utah visiting Brooke's family. I keep thinking that he's going to walk into the room and tell us all to quit the waterworks and go do something fun. I remember when I left to come down to BYU for the first time and I was making the rounds, getting teary-eyed. When I got to Mark, he laughed at me and said, "Are you done with your girl moment? Can I hug you now?"
Well, Mark, you're going to have to let me go through a few more girl moments, because I'm just not ready to say goodbye yet.
Remember that rocking horse you and Dad made for me when I was born? It's in the garage in Vernonia now. I remember writing a couple stories and essays about that horse. I always bragged to my friends that my big brother made it for me. You spoiled me, you know, you and Dad. You're both so good at everything, it makes it hard for a girl to find someone to fit the bill.
You were always looking out for me, you and your friends. I was the annoying little girl that wouldn't leave you alone. I remember sitting out on the steps when you were playing basketball and watching you. And then, eventually, you'd come over and put me on your shoulders and walk over the the hoop, and one of the guys would hand me the ball. Hehe,I remember when Big Brian let me steer your truck to David's while I was sitting on his knee.
I would get so mad at you back then! You were always holding my head with one hand and telling me to hit you, or pretending I was a typewriter, or flat-out wrestling me to the ground. And then there was the never-ending knuckle-popping! I wanted to scream! (I often did). You always had the same excuse: "It's for her own good; she's got to learn to defend herself. She's got to fight off all those boys." (Still waiting for that to happen, Mark).
But as much as I protested against you for that, I was always bragging about you to my friends. You were my hero. You were so strong and confident in everything you did. Whenever I pictured Nephi, this teenage prophet who was "large in stature" and completely stalwart in his faith, I pictured you.
Mom likes to tell the story of when you got your appendix removed. There was a game the next weekend and a bunch of your football friends showed up at the hospital with balloons and things. You convinced the doctor to let you play. Mom was so mad! She went out and got depends and made you wear them as extra padding on your side while you played. But you still went. You played, and you won the game.
And then you went on your mission. I still tell people that my claim to fame is the tape you sent from the MTC to play at my baptism. You gave a talk, remember, and a bunch of your buddies joined you in singing a song. And one of those buddies later became part of Jericho Road. I was always knew that my big brother would be there for me, even if he couldn't be physically present. I still know that you'll be there for me now.
I remember the night before we met you to say goodbye at the airport (back when you could do that), when it finally registered in my mind that I wasn't going to be able to see or talk to you for two whole years. I don't know if I ever told you, but I cried myself to sleep that night.
And I was so mad when you got home and ran off to get married right away, because I had finally started to like you. And then you were gone again.
But over the years, as I grew up, I talked to you more and more. And you went from being my bully big brother and my hero to being one of my best friends. And I would still get frustrated with you sometimes, because you always had to be right. I called it your "lawyer voice," that tone that you put on when you expected me to disagree with you and you were determined to show me that you were right. The most frustrating part about it was that you were right a lot of the time -- not all of the time, mind you, but a lot of the time.
You were always looking out for me, pushing me to be better without letting me think less of myself. And you always had good advice. I keep wanting to pick up the phone and talk to you, because I know you'd be able to tell me what to do.
I'm so glad that you called me on Wednesday, before you left us. I'm sure you had no idea how important that phone call would be, but I'm also sure that you were led by the Spirit to know what to say. I remember being concerned because you sounded so tired, but I didn't say anything because you had already started threatening boys again, and delivering the lecture that you meant for them. But then it changed. You started talking about trusting in the Lord and what it means to love someone. You said part of trusting the Lord is being willing to do the work, and make difficult decisions by yourself, and take a step into the dark. You said that marriage is part of that same trust -- that loving someone is as simple as wanting to make them happy, but that you have to be willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
You told me about your relationship with Brooke, and how you learned that this was true. You talked about how much she hates it when you leave your socks on the floor, and about how you had an epiphone about six months ago that you could make your wife happier each day by picking up your socks. So, you made an effort to start picking up your socks every day. At this point, you apologized for rambling and called this a stupid example, and then said something about how it's the little things like that that make the difference.
And then you said that you were proud of me, and that I would find somebody that would do whatever it took to make me happy, someone I would do whatever it took to make happy, as well.
People keep saying how much you loved me, and how proud you were of me. And I knew it; I always heard it in your voice. I still feel it. When my home teachers came to give me a blessing after I heard the news, they said that Heavenly Father wanted me to know that you love me and that you're okay. I do know it. I hope you know that I love and miss you so much, and that I will always be proud that you are my big brother. I thank my Heavenly Father that I was blessed to have you in my life; I thank my Savior, Jesus Christ for making it possible for me to be your baby sister for Eternity. I hope and pray that I can live up to it.
All my love,
Debra
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Feverish Thoughts Brought on by Sickness, Medication, and a Chick-Flick: Nothing to do with Kubla Khan
Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing with my life. There are times when I want nothing more than to drop everything and leave to visit some far-away, romantic place where I can find myself. Which is a ridiculous notion, altogether, come to think of it. I'm right here. No need to go gallumphing half-way around the world looking for myself. Although, the trip would be nice.
Other times, I think of finding a job at a bookstore or something, an average job with an average wage and an average work load, saving my money for the wild adventures conjured up in my free time, which free time I would spend reading and writing and drawing and doing all of those things that I'm always wanting to do and never having the time for.
And then, still, there is the idea of graduate school, doing research and defending theses and busting my rear end just so that I can turn around and start again from the other side of the room, standing by the whiteboard. It doesn't sound so glamorous that way, does it? Sometimes I feel like grad school is the real cop-out, like I'm so afraid of facing the real world that I've constructed this idea in my head that I need to stay in school forever, like I belong here. But what if I don't? What if closeting myself in a study to do research and grade papers is all it amounts to? I know this is all quite melodramatic, and I know that teaching is more than what I've painted it to be here, but that nagging question continues to echo in my head: What if?
What if my life doesn't end up like Meg Ryan's character in "You've Got Mail," or any number of female leads in any number of chick-flicks? Yes, I know it's sentimental and ridiculous. Yes, I know that it's girlish and pathetic to want someone like a young Tom Hanks to show up at my door with a hand-full of daisies, tucking me in and wanting to be my friend. But I still want it.
Anyway, you've had enough of my rambling, I'm sure. So, good night! And perhaps next time I write, I will be a bit more lucid and a bit less dramatic.
Other times, I think of finding a job at a bookstore or something, an average job with an average wage and an average work load, saving my money for the wild adventures conjured up in my free time, which free time I would spend reading and writing and drawing and doing all of those things that I'm always wanting to do and never having the time for.
And then, still, there is the idea of graduate school, doing research and defending theses and busting my rear end just so that I can turn around and start again from the other side of the room, standing by the whiteboard. It doesn't sound so glamorous that way, does it? Sometimes I feel like grad school is the real cop-out, like I'm so afraid of facing the real world that I've constructed this idea in my head that I need to stay in school forever, like I belong here. But what if I don't? What if closeting myself in a study to do research and grade papers is all it amounts to? I know this is all quite melodramatic, and I know that teaching is more than what I've painted it to be here, but that nagging question continues to echo in my head: What if?
What if my life doesn't end up like Meg Ryan's character in "You've Got Mail," or any number of female leads in any number of chick-flicks? Yes, I know it's sentimental and ridiculous. Yes, I know that it's girlish and pathetic to want someone like a young Tom Hanks to show up at my door with a hand-full of daisies, tucking me in and wanting to be my friend. But I still want it.
Anyway, you've had enough of my rambling, I'm sure. So, good night! And perhaps next time I write, I will be a bit more lucid and a bit less dramatic.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Dancing Queen, Young and Sweet, Just Turned Seventeen!
In a not-so-different time, in a not-so-distant land, there lives a beautiful young girl named Malia. Malia is the sweetest, brightest, and most precious Daughter of God I know -- and believe me, I do know. She's my sister's oldest, and she just celebrated her seventeenth birthday (... Seventeen! I feel absolutely decrepit!) here in Utah on Sunday. When she first arrived on Friday, I met her and Nicola (my sister) in the Bookstore on campus and introduced them to the cuisine of Provo: a little whole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that will forever be known to me as "The Carrot Place." (Another story, another time).
Afterward, we snuck into a physical science class full of Freshman (not too much older than Malia) and witnessed a humorous lecture on the different states of matter (most of which Malia was already familiar with - she's a science whiz) before going to my Literary Theory and Criticism class (not quite as much fun for Malia, but she survived it without the tiniest scratch. She didn't even doze off at all!).
Sadly, I wasn't able to spend much more time with her or Nicola. I didn't even get to introduce them to my roommates, who were very excited to meet Malia (and who wouldn't be?). But! I did get to meet them in Salt Lake on Malia's birthday to watch the Sunday afternoon session of General Conference with them and my brother-in-law (Erick) and nephew (Bryce), which was AMAZING! It was so hard to say goodbye that afternoon! I grew up with Malia and Bryce, babysitting them, teasing them, playing with them, loving them. They are both so smart and talented, and they both have amazing personalities and strengths. Malia is truly the sweetest and best seventeen-year-old I know! I love her so much! It's so hard and yet so amazing to watch her grow up and become the young woman that she is. I hope she knows how truly wonderful she is and how much she can do. She is a force for good, a quiet and beautiful strength to everyone she meets. I hope she knows how much she is loved and admired by her family and friends.
Happy Birthday, Malia!
Afterward, we snuck into a physical science class full of Freshman (not too much older than Malia) and witnessed a humorous lecture on the different states of matter (most of which Malia was already familiar with - she's a science whiz) before going to my Literary Theory and Criticism class (not quite as much fun for Malia, but she survived it without the tiniest scratch. She didn't even doze off at all!).
Sadly, I wasn't able to spend much more time with her or Nicola. I didn't even get to introduce them to my roommates, who were very excited to meet Malia (and who wouldn't be?). But! I did get to meet them in Salt Lake on Malia's birthday to watch the Sunday afternoon session of General Conference with them and my brother-in-law (Erick) and nephew (Bryce), which was AMAZING! It was so hard to say goodbye that afternoon! I grew up with Malia and Bryce, babysitting them, teasing them, playing with them, loving them. They are both so smart and talented, and they both have amazing personalities and strengths. Malia is truly the sweetest and best seventeen-year-old I know! I love her so much! It's so hard and yet so amazing to watch her grow up and become the young woman that she is. I hope she knows how truly wonderful she is and how much she can do. She is a force for good, a quiet and beautiful strength to everyone she meets. I hope she knows how much she is loved and admired by her family and friends.
Happy Birthday, Malia!
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Introducing ... My brother's kids
Kaleb McKay
He's the oldest - 10 years old already, and still growing. He reminds me a lot of myself growing up: quiet and sensitive with a wild imagination that takes him anywhere and everywhere. He's a big fan of Percy Jackson and loves to learn about Greek mythology. He already knows a whole lot more than I do about it - it's all Greek to me! (I do apologize, but I simply couldn't resist - it's just so punny!). Kaleb also loves computer games, comics, legos, bologna, and, of course, his Auntie Debra, among other things. Recently, he's taken up karate, drawing, writing, photography, and directing, and aspires to be a stand-up comedian. When he's not distracted by his many ambitions, hobbies, and creations, he's also extremely helpful - the perfect little gentleman. I had a friend come in to introduce himself to the family before taking me to dinner a few weeks ago (No, I will not be blogging about it, and yes, you can safely assume that it was an awkward experience.). My brother, of course, stood up to shake my friend's hand. Kaleb was only two seconds behind him, holding his own hand and introducing himself. I wanted to scream with laughter and give him a big hug, but I figured it would probably be inappropriate, so I restrained myself. Bless his little heart, I love him!
Colin Joshua
The second in line. 8 years old. Colin is just about the opposite of Kaleb in so many ways. Fearless and extremely outgoing, Colin has friends wherever he goes. He loves all animals, but especially horses, and is determined to be a veterinarian when he grows up. Of course, it almost goes without saying that he loves to be outside. He's quite the dare-devil with a bicycle, and a gymnast to boot. It's incredible to watch him. But Colin has a softer side, as well. I remember a few years back, going through K-mart with Colin when he was just three or four; he found a pink stroller with hearts printed all over it and liked it so well, he held on to it, strolling around the store until my sister decided to buy it for him ... that didn't go over so well with my brother. Of course, he probably wouldn't make the same selection now. But he does do a wonderful job playing with his little sister, Abbey.
Chase Albert
Triple threat. 6 years old. Another boy, another completely unique personality. Chase is the athlete of the family. That's not to say the others aren't athletic; they're all smart, talented, and active kids. But Chase is the competitor. He does not like to lose, at all. He likes to be in control, and have everything in order, his way. True to form, he also loves cars, action heroes, spies, and anything "cool". I don't actually know what he wants to be when he grows up. That's something I'll have to ask him. Perhaps a fireman, or a superhero. It's so fun to watch his reactions to everything - he's just so animated. His little eyes light up and his eyebrows climb up - it's just adorable! Tonight, we watched The Spy Next Door, and throughout the entire movie, there was Chase sitting on his basketball bean-bag and just laughing away. I loved it! Definitely better than the movie!
Abigail Katherine
Affectionately called, Abbey Kate. Also known as Abbey, Abba-Dab, Sister, and of course, Princess. 4 years old, and going on 30. Someone asked me the other day whether I thought Abbey would turn out to be more of a princess or a tom-boy, being the only girl in a house full of boys. The truth is, she's already a little of both. To paraphrase my friend, she's the princess who can and will beat you up if you step out of line. She is definitely the boss, no question about it. Abbey loves dolls, dress-up, polly-pockets, tickle-tag, painted nails, pickles, and anything purple, pink, or shiny. Her collection of household toys includes a kitchen, complete with plastic food items, silverware, and dishes; a shopping cart; a high-chair; a vacuum; and of course, an ironing board (donated by her aunt for her 4th birthday). I nearly died of pure joy when she set her ironing board up next to mine the other week to iron with me. While she can be quite the little Madame at times (She could give a thirteen-year-old on her period a run for her money!), she's also incredibly sweet. Tonight, as we were watching the movie, she quietly went up to her mother and asked if it was time to turn the movie off and read scriptures. And when the movie was over she announced that she was ready for bed and reminded the boys that they needed to brush their teeth. What can I say? I love being an aunt!
To Be Announced
Yes. There is a fifth little Cox soon to be running around, but unfortunately we don't have a name for him yet. Yup. Another boy. Abbey was a little disappointed at first, but she's very excited for her baby to come. The official due date is the 21st of this month, the inducement is scheduled for the 19th, and we're all expecting a trip to the hospital any day now. It's very exciting. I can't wait to see what his personality will be like. It's just fascinating to watch them grow into themselves.
He's the oldest - 10 years old already, and still growing. He reminds me a lot of myself growing up: quiet and sensitive with a wild imagination that takes him anywhere and everywhere. He's a big fan of Percy Jackson and loves to learn about Greek mythology. He already knows a whole lot more than I do about it - it's all Greek to me! (I do apologize, but I simply couldn't resist - it's just so punny!). Kaleb also loves computer games, comics, legos, bologna, and, of course, his Auntie Debra, among other things. Recently, he's taken up karate, drawing, writing, photography, and directing, and aspires to be a stand-up comedian. When he's not distracted by his many ambitions, hobbies, and creations, he's also extremely helpful - the perfect little gentleman. I had a friend come in to introduce himself to the family before taking me to dinner a few weeks ago (No, I will not be blogging about it, and yes, you can safely assume that it was an awkward experience.). My brother, of course, stood up to shake my friend's hand. Kaleb was only two seconds behind him, holding his own hand and introducing himself. I wanted to scream with laughter and give him a big hug, but I figured it would probably be inappropriate, so I restrained myself. Bless his little heart, I love him!
Colin Joshua
The second in line. 8 years old. Colin is just about the opposite of Kaleb in so many ways. Fearless and extremely outgoing, Colin has friends wherever he goes. He loves all animals, but especially horses, and is determined to be a veterinarian when he grows up. Of course, it almost goes without saying that he loves to be outside. He's quite the dare-devil with a bicycle, and a gymnast to boot. It's incredible to watch him. But Colin has a softer side, as well. I remember a few years back, going through K-mart with Colin when he was just three or four; he found a pink stroller with hearts printed all over it and liked it so well, he held on to it, strolling around the store until my sister decided to buy it for him ... that didn't go over so well with my brother. Of course, he probably wouldn't make the same selection now. But he does do a wonderful job playing with his little sister, Abbey.
Chase Albert
Triple threat. 6 years old. Another boy, another completely unique personality. Chase is the athlete of the family. That's not to say the others aren't athletic; they're all smart, talented, and active kids. But Chase is the competitor. He does not like to lose, at all. He likes to be in control, and have everything in order, his way. True to form, he also loves cars, action heroes, spies, and anything "cool". I don't actually know what he wants to be when he grows up. That's something I'll have to ask him. Perhaps a fireman, or a superhero. It's so fun to watch his reactions to everything - he's just so animated. His little eyes light up and his eyebrows climb up - it's just adorable! Tonight, we watched The Spy Next Door, and throughout the entire movie, there was Chase sitting on his basketball bean-bag and just laughing away. I loved it! Definitely better than the movie!
Abigail Katherine
Affectionately called, Abbey Kate. Also known as Abbey, Abba-Dab, Sister, and of course, Princess. 4 years old, and going on 30. Someone asked me the other day whether I thought Abbey would turn out to be more of a princess or a tom-boy, being the only girl in a house full of boys. The truth is, she's already a little of both. To paraphrase my friend, she's the princess who can and will beat you up if you step out of line. She is definitely the boss, no question about it. Abbey loves dolls, dress-up, polly-pockets, tickle-tag, painted nails, pickles, and anything purple, pink, or shiny. Her collection of household toys includes a kitchen, complete with plastic food items, silverware, and dishes; a shopping cart; a high-chair; a vacuum; and of course, an ironing board (donated by her aunt for her 4th birthday). I nearly died of pure joy when she set her ironing board up next to mine the other week to iron with me. While she can be quite the little Madame at times (She could give a thirteen-year-old on her period a run for her money!), she's also incredibly sweet. Tonight, as we were watching the movie, she quietly went up to her mother and asked if it was time to turn the movie off and read scriptures. And when the movie was over she announced that she was ready for bed and reminded the boys that they needed to brush their teeth. What can I say? I love being an aunt!
To Be Announced
Yes. There is a fifth little Cox soon to be running around, but unfortunately we don't have a name for him yet. Yup. Another boy. Abbey was a little disappointed at first, but she's very excited for her baby to come. The official due date is the 21st of this month, the inducement is scheduled for the 19th, and we're all expecting a trip to the hospital any day now. It's very exciting. I can't wait to see what his personality will be like. It's just fascinating to watch them grow into themselves.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Adventure in the Great Wide Somewhere ... A Summer in Yakima
I write to you, dear reader, from my own little corner of the world - at least for the summer - in Yakima, Washington. I'm sure you're wondering how I find the time to blog amid such grand adventure. I would say it took great diligence. But I would be lying through my teeth (a curious expression, don't you think? How do you lie, or even tell the truth, for that matter, without it going through your teeth? But I digress.). As you're obviously eager to know what it is that I'm doing here in Yakima, I will tell you.
I spend about five to seven hours of each day checking math and entering data for a fruit company, and another hour or so waiting for the numbers to find their way to my desk so that I can continue checking math and entering data. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it? That's what I thought. But it pays well, and it's a job, which is better than nothing.
You'll be relieved to know that the rest of my time is put to much better use. I'm staying with my big brother and his family. I've even started excercising each morning - if necessary, you have my permission to seek medical assistance for the shock. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm actually starting to enjoy it. It isn't exactly fun, but I just feel good after I've gone for a run ("run" being a very loose term).
Today, I went with my sister-in-law to watch my nephews play tennis. They're taking lessons at a friend's home, which friend also has a pool and allows them to swim in between classes. I watched the younger two at tennis for a few minutes, then had a nice relaxing time at the pool with little Abigail, my niece. After drying off to watch Kaleb, the oldest, I returned to a not-so-relaxing game of "get-Debra-with-whatever-water-toy-is-closest-to-you," headed by Colin, the second oldest. I had a blast! It was the first time I felt like I had really been able to have fun with the kids since I got here.
I think I've done a fair job of rambling on, so once again, my friend, I bid you adieu until another blogging day.
I spend about five to seven hours of each day checking math and entering data for a fruit company, and another hour or so waiting for the numbers to find their way to my desk so that I can continue checking math and entering data. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it? That's what I thought. But it pays well, and it's a job, which is better than nothing.
You'll be relieved to know that the rest of my time is put to much better use. I'm staying with my big brother and his family. I've even started excercising each morning - if necessary, you have my permission to seek medical assistance for the shock. And, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm actually starting to enjoy it. It isn't exactly fun, but I just feel good after I've gone for a run ("run" being a very loose term).
Today, I went with my sister-in-law to watch my nephews play tennis. They're taking lessons at a friend's home, which friend also has a pool and allows them to swim in between classes. I watched the younger two at tennis for a few minutes, then had a nice relaxing time at the pool with little Abigail, my niece. After drying off to watch Kaleb, the oldest, I returned to a not-so-relaxing game of "get-Debra-with-whatever-water-toy-is-closest-to-you," headed by Colin, the second oldest. I had a blast! It was the first time I felt like I had really been able to have fun with the kids since I got here.
I think I've done a fair job of rambling on, so once again, my friend, I bid you adieu until another blogging day.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Ryan Mayer's Running Shoes
I have a friend named Ryan Mayer. He has running shoes. He got them from his mother, and never really did much running before he got them. But every once in a while, now, he does go running in his running shoes, because he has them.
I have a friend named Debra Cox. She has a blog. Her friend set it up for her; she never really blogged before she had one. But every once in a while, now, she does write on her blog, because she has it.
Thank you.
I have a friend named Debra Cox. She has a blog. Her friend set it up for her; she never really blogged before she had one. But every once in a while, now, she does write on her blog, because she has it.
Thank you.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
"[F]riendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life ... thanks to a benevolent arrangement the greater part of life is sun."
-- Thomas Jefferson
"I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better."
-- Plutarch
Sometimes we get so caught up in the Good Times of a friendship that we forget our friends are human, and therefore susceptible to human faults. We ignore these little flaws until something happens -- an act of neglect, an injury, a disagreement. And then the flood gates are opened: every little fallibility grows by exponential proportions until the whole is too great for any mortal to bear without guilt. Disapproval turns to personal injury, which turns to resentment and progresses to the ultimate depravity of human relationship: apathy.
How sad that we can throw away such a precious gift so easily! Friendship is a kind of love that should be and can be so much stronger than that if we remember that we are all learning and growing on this earth. I would hate to be judged by my little mistakes and misunderstandings. Friends are there to help us grow, to love us the way we are while pushing us to be better. In the words of Mr. Knightly, "the truest friend does not doubt but hope."
Someone told me just the other day that when a friendship reaches a certain point, you don't have to see your friend's face or hear her voice to know who she is, to know that she loves you. Now, I'm still only twenty-one years old -- my parents have been married far longer than I've been alive -- but even I know that feeling. Do I know everything about my friends? Certainly not! I do know a lot about their personalities, beliefs, standards, behaviors, and yes, even some of their flaws. Sometimes I can predict down to the word how they will respond in a given situation. But I don't know how they developed those things; I don't know half of their potential for becoming even more amazing than they are. What I'm realizing now is that no matter what else I do or do not know, no matter what little mistakes we make in our friendships, I know that I don't have to see their faces, or hear their voices to see, hear, and feel their love. I hope that they feel the same.
"I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better."
-- Plutarch
Sometimes we get so caught up in the Good Times of a friendship that we forget our friends are human, and therefore susceptible to human faults. We ignore these little flaws until something happens -- an act of neglect, an injury, a disagreement. And then the flood gates are opened: every little fallibility grows by exponential proportions until the whole is too great for any mortal to bear without guilt. Disapproval turns to personal injury, which turns to resentment and progresses to the ultimate depravity of human relationship: apathy.
How sad that we can throw away such a precious gift so easily! Friendship is a kind of love that should be and can be so much stronger than that if we remember that we are all learning and growing on this earth. I would hate to be judged by my little mistakes and misunderstandings. Friends are there to help us grow, to love us the way we are while pushing us to be better. In the words of Mr. Knightly, "the truest friend does not doubt but hope."
Someone told me just the other day that when a friendship reaches a certain point, you don't have to see your friend's face or hear her voice to know who she is, to know that she loves you. Now, I'm still only twenty-one years old -- my parents have been married far longer than I've been alive -- but even I know that feeling. Do I know everything about my friends? Certainly not! I do know a lot about their personalities, beliefs, standards, behaviors, and yes, even some of their flaws. Sometimes I can predict down to the word how they will respond in a given situation. But I don't know how they developed those things; I don't know half of their potential for becoming even more amazing than they are. What I'm realizing now is that no matter what else I do or do not know, no matter what little mistakes we make in our friendships, I know that I don't have to see their faces, or hear their voices to see, hear, and feel their love. I hope that they feel the same.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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!
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!
Friday, October 30, 2009
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
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!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
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!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
"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 ...
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
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!
... 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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)