La Vida Llena...

Girl, where you BEEN?

2011-03-15T20:20:00.000-07:00

Over here:

There Once Were Some Lemons

Pretending to be somebody's wife already.

Peace.

A Word on Cold Sores

2011-01-18T15:50:00.000-08:00

My people are plagued with cold sores.

Whilst on our grand end-of-2010 tour of Europe and the Middle East, two of my four sisters, along with my mom, contracted cold sores. They're obnoxious, festering, and ugly (the sores, not the sisters). They're contagious as [insert uncomfortable and embarrassing disease of your choice here]. They're also impossible to cure, though there is a vaccine for the fortunately unaffected, which I strongly recommend. I italicized that adverb, so you best be listening to me.

Then, less than 48-hours of leaving my family for Provo, I noticed a small bump under my left nostril. Weird. Suspiciously pre-cold-sore-y. But, I mean, my nose hole? Unlikely.

Oh holy Hannah, the next day was horrible. I had a huge long blister, or series of blisters I suppose, under that same left nostril. Another little blister mocked me from the right edge of my bottom lip. Throughout the next two days, a twin blister spread under my right nostril, making me a mouth-breathing monster. The kicker: the cold sores erupted on the first day of my new job. Oh, rapture. Hello, magazine industry, behold thy newest intern. On second thought, don't look at her, she's hideous.

What I find most ironic is that on my first day, HR wanted my photo for a new ID. This in itself isn't ironic; it's normal at a new job. The kicker is that for the last two photos taken for my BYU ID, I also had, you guessed it, cold sores.

So, you know, the universe shines on all creatures, including its most pathetic, namely me. But life rolls on, and I'm a happy girl at my internship and in my personal life. (Hint: boy.)

More Delinquence...

2011-01-14T14:27:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time since I've posted. That's all I'm going to say on the matter.

Announcement: Life is sweet.

It is so, so good.

I feel so blessed to be interning with the Friend magazine, a publication for children produced by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I get to read mail from kids all over the world, write stories to my heart's content, and pitch new ideas for the magazine. Oh, and I'm in charge of the recipe, art, and poetry departments, which is about as fantastic a job as I could hope for.

You can check us out at the Friend website, which features the normal magazine departments, as well as coloring, cartoon, and activity pages. Or keep up with us on our Facebook page (managed by yours truly).

In other news, I've submitted an essay for the David O. McKay Essay Contest, and am prepping submissions to BYU's Inscape and the BYU Magazine Essay Contest. Fingers crossed for some moolah!

In other other news, I'm (trying) to get ready for the GRE. Grad school, here I come!

Here's to another outstanding year.

"The Dog Ate My Homework."

2010-11-30T14:47:00.000-08:00

I was brave and emailed this to one of my English Ed professors -- a female -- explaining my absence today. I don't have the chutzpa to send it to my male English Ed professor, whose class I also missed. So, due to my cowardess, I will post it on the World Wide Web for all to see:

Dear Dr. Dean,

Since I am not in class right now as I should be, I thought I'd write something tragic and comical to explain my absence.

I am on my period right now, and like any responsible female with a menstrual cycle, I carry around a small supply of tampons with me at all times. Today, I felt even more responsible since I remembered to pack a nutritious lunch of yogurt, soup, and an orange. "Wow, I am a competent, happy adult," I thought to myself.

It was going to be a great day. Or so I thought.

Pretty early in the morning, at work, I knew something was wrong because of some serious cramping. Perhaps it was not going to be a great day, but since I was prepared for the worst my period could throw at me, I did not fear.

By the time Engl 420 with Dr. Crowe was about to start, I knew I needed to go to the bathroom to change my tampon. My flow had been heavy today, and it would be my second trip before noon to take care of things. Imagine my horror when I reached down into the depths of my backpack, only to discover that my tampons -- conveniently paper wrapped, with a cardboard applicator, all so wonderfully absorbent and eager for moisture -- were soaking wet. In chicken broth. With parsley flakes clinging to them. In my backpack. On a very heavy period day. And that the chicken broth had also leaked onto homework. Books. A leather keychain from Uruguay. Post-it notes. My work notebook.

I do thank my lucky stars that my backpack is inversely waterproof, because the broth formed a small lake in the bottom of my backpack, prohibiting even one drop from escaping. No, everything sat in a lovely chicken broth marinade for probably an hour or more. Lucky me.

I improvised for Dr. Crowe's class, thinking I might make it and that miraculously I wouldn't smell too strongly of chicken soup as I held all my books and papers outside my backpack, piling my other smaller personal items in an upper, external pocket away from the chicken broth sea in my bag, with lumpy chunks of sodden paper towel frantically absorbing the mess. The mess was contained, but beyond that I still stunk of chicken, my things were getting more ruined by the minute, and I still needed a tampon desperately. So, I'm sorry to report that I fled for the confines of my tiny home south of campus.

And that is why, Dr. Dean, I was not in class today. I'll contact a classmate to get notes for the day, but would you please send me any handouts from today? If it is more convenient, I can pass by your office tomorrow, too.

Thanks,

Hilary

PS - This story is 100% true. Devastatingly, horribly, wonderfully true.

You've Come a Long Way, Baby

2010-11-03T08:40:00.001-07:00

This made me guffaw. Happy Wednesday!

In other news, NaNoWriMo is hard! 1,667 words is a lot of words to write in one day, and when you're inexperienced like me, well, sometimes I feel like someone's asking me to do 20 cartwheels per day when really I can't even do one. Anyway.

It is nice to have your no. 1 responsibility be to write and not necessarily to craft. So it's just pouring out the words and worrying about all the details later. Yay novels!

TBF @ PCL 2010 with Scott Westerfeld

2010-10-30T16:39:00.000-07:00

It ROCKED!

(Photos taken on my new phone. The era of the flip phone has ended. Good riddance.)

Okay, with that overly simplistic statement out of the way, the first Teen Book Fest at the Provo City Library was an enormous success in this girl's humble opinion. Several hundred people turned out for Scott Westerfeld's keynote address, and many more people came for three hours of book giveaways, signings, and readings by Westerfeld and 15 Utah authors, including Chris Crowe (my YA Lit professor), Brandon Mull of Fablehaven fame, the prolific Brandon Sanderson, up-and-coming novelist Ally Condie, and two of my personal favorites, Ann Dee Ellis and Carol Lynch Williams. Other festivities included DIY Specials tattoo face painting, steampunk jewelry making, Smash Brother Brawl on the Wii-ing (sorry, I just really wanted you all to say Wii-ing in your heads), Literary Jeopardy, and much general merry-making.

Sigh, my heart is full.

And you gotta love a dozen or so librarians dressed in steampunk garb. Not sure what steampunk is? Talk to Wikipedia. There's also an interesting article about steampunk costuming with great pictures here.

Why the steampunk? Westerfeld, probably best known for the Uglies series, has just released book 2 of the Leviathan triology, a steampunk take on WWI (what would happen if the Archduke were murdered... and you were his kid? And the world had its high tech revolution 100 years ago?). I confess that I have not read Leviathan, or the second book, Behemoth, but after yesterday's cultural immersion, I am fascinated and have both books waiting for my indulgence. Trick is, I have to finish Tenderness by Robert Cormier first. Shudder. I'm not sure how much more I can take inside the mind of an 18-year-old psychopathic serial killer. It's taxing, let's put it that way.

Anyway, back to Westerfeld. He was a fantastic lecturer, talking primarily on the experience of collaborating with illustrator Keith Thompson. FASCINATING. It all began when he received the Japanese edition of Uglies, complete with illustrations. Westerfeld posted one of the illustrations on his blog - Tally and Shay on their hoverboards - and mayhem ensued on the internet.

English-language fans were outraged - where were their illustrations??

Westerfeld said a wise 12-year-old Japanese Manga reader explained that in Japan, about 90% of what is published includes illustrations throughout. It's part of their reading experience. It would be weird NOT to have illustrations, even in a novel for an adult audience.

So Westerfeld thought that was pretty awesome, and because he was cool and famous enough to boss around his editors (I assume), he was able to write an illustrated novel. Hello Leviathan. Westerfeld describes the artwork in the books as "Victorian Manga". Westerfeld said that after the first 5 or 6 chapters, Thompson caught up to him in the illustration process. Thompson was like, "Hello, I need more chapters to do my job!" So Westerfeld said he should move forward with a few illustrations, and he would write them in. And so they procdeded, Westerfeld and Thompson co-developing some of the wild steampunk inventions that feature in the novel.

Pretty sweet.

Westerfeld was a great storyteller. I know Provo Channel 17 taped everything. I'll post when/if I ever find it rebroadcast. The whole thing was quite tasty. Can't wait for next year's Book Fest.

(Will I even be here??)

Without Question, I Have a Problem

2010-10-23T17:11:00.001-07:00

I like to read. A lot.

We're talking possibly unhealthy amounts of love for the act of reading.

In the last 6 weeks, I've read 24 books.

I read books at red lights.

I read books while I'm walking places.

Once, a boy I know who's pretty cute and nice and funny saw me reading a book in the Subway line here on campus. He was waiting in the Teriyaki Stix line. I really liked the book I was reading. He invited me to eat lunch with him. Tempting. But the book was better. I lied. I said I had to get right back to work, that I had things to do at the office during lunch. It wasn't true. I just wanted to keep reading my book in the precious 52 minutes remaining of my lunch hour.

I read every night in bed before I go to sleep.

I read books while watching movies.

I read books instead of doing homework.

I read instead of answering the phone.

I currently have 13 books checked out from the BYU library. I also have 11 books checked out from the Provo public library.

I need help.

Instead of Doing Homework

2010-09-22T20:06:00.000-07:00

Simini and I have been brainstorming. She's a great illustrator. I like to write. So we feel pretty qualified to organize a collaborative work with some of the best in the business. I ask you now, general public, to consider the following plan of utter and shocking brilliance:

First, contact Danielle Steel.
Kindly ask her for the rights to re-illustrate her children's book masterpiece, Freddie's Accident.
Intrigued? You should be. Check out the manuscript. Favorite excerpts include -

One afternoon, when his sisters and some of their friends were playing in the backyard, Freddie decided he had had enough of girls. I'm not going to analyze this one too deeply.

Suddenly, Freddie kicked the ball right out into the street. Without looking left or right to check for traffic, he ran into the street to get the ball. He knew John would be mad if he lost it. Freddie ran right after the ball without ever looking to see if there were any cars coming, and suddenly, there was a terrible screech. Someone was shouting at him, he could hear a car horn right near his ears, and just as he heard it, he felt something very big knock him down and hit him very hard on the shoulder. Who knew getting hit by a car could be so excrutiatingly extended and bland?

"Remember," the doctor said, "never run into the street after a ball. Never cross a street without looking, or without a grown-up. Never play in the street. And never, ever go anywhere with a stranger." Gee, thanks, doc!

Freddie's Mommy made him some soup that night. When he came into the kitchen, she told him to sit down at the kitchen table. And when Megan and Allison came in and started chasing each other around the room, she told them to sit down too. "It's very dangerous to run around in the kitchen. Stay away from the stove. There are hot pots here, and you could get burned if you touch them, or spill them." One trip to the hospital in one day was more than enough, she said, and Freddie agreed with her. He knew many of the other kitchen rules: Don't use sharp knives; don't play with kitchen equipment; and don't use any of the machines without a grown-up. And, of course, don't use the oven or the stove, and don't ever play with matches. And don't breathe. And never leave the house without your bubble suit! And be sure to bathe in Purell thrice daily!

Got a feel for it? Good.

Now, Simini suggested, and I concur, that Freddie's Accident might be better exploited, er, I mean, developed as a graphic novel chapter book for young readers. Each chapter could be a new accident:

Freddie and the Lawn Mower
Freddie Learns about Rabies
Freddie's Frozen Flagpole Debacle
Freddie: Watch out for Carbon Monoxide Poisoning!

Thi$ idea i$ $ounding $uper $well...

Of course, for illustration, we'd have to go with none other than the feminine, delicate, sensitive artist, Allie Brosh.

Insightful.
Moving.
Artistically bold and honest.

I think our next step is to set up a Twitter chat with our team. Feedback?

For You, Lurlene

2010-09-17T14:09:00.001-07:00

I had to read a Lurlene McDaniel book for my Adolescent Lit class. We've got to survey the good, the bad, and the ugly, people.

As restitution for my suffering, I'd just like to take a moment to openly mock Lurlene McDaniel.

Actually, it's the easiest thing I will do today. I will reproduce here, verbatim, her "You'll Want to Read These Other Inspiring Novels by Lurlene McDaniel" list. The mockery will then be perfectly self-inflicted.

Ahem.

One Last Wish novels

Mourning Song

A Time to Die

Mother, Help Me Live

Someone Dies, Someone Lives

Sixteen and Dying

Let Him Live

The Legacy: Making Wishes Come True

Please Don't Die

She Died Too Young

All the Days of Her Life

A Season for Goodbye

Reach for Tomorrow

The Dawn Rochelle novels

I Want to Live

So Much to Live For

No Time to Cry

To Live Again

Other fiction by Lurlene McDaniel

Angel's in Pink: Kathleen's Story

The Time Capsule

Garden of Angels

A Rose for Melinda

Telling Christina Goodbye

How Do I Love Thee: Three Stories

Angel of Mercy

Angel of Hope

Starry, Starry Night: Three Holiday Stories

The Girl Death Left Behind

Angels Watching Over Me

Lifted Up by Angels

Until Angels Close My Eyes

Till Death Do Us Part

For Better, for Worse, Forever

I'll Be Seeing You

Saving Jessica

Don't Die, My Love

Too Young to Die (didn't we already have this one???)

Goodbye Doesn't Mean Forever

Somewhere Between Life and Death

Time to Let Go

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

When Happily Ever After Ends

and my all time favorite,

drum roll please...

BABY ALICIA IS DYING.

Excerpts from Angels in Pink: Raina's Story forthcoming.

Hilary's Rules for Completing Long Reading Assignments

2010-09-06T15:05:00.000-07:00

First, the Qualifications for Long Reading Assignment Status:

1. Longer than 5 textbook pages OR longer than 2 academic publication pages, the latter of which intimidate me inexplicably.

2. Regardless of length, beastly philosophical approach OR intense word choice OR both.

Second, the Rules:

1. You must read the equivalent of one page from an academic publication before being rewarded.

2. You do not have to perfectly understand each page, but you must get the overall gist before being rewarded.

3. If you cheat, you have to read two horrible pages in a row. No exceptions.

Third, the Rewards:

1. Paint two finger nails (one coat limit, please).

2. Watch one episode of Vlogbrothers.

3. Go to the bathroom and read one chapter of Elsewhere. To prevent cheating, the bathroom is conveniently claustrophobic and dank.

4. Go upstairs and say hello to Simini. 5 minute limit.

5. Only one reward per page read.

In an Emergency:

HUMONGOUS SWIG

It's going to be a long semester. Photo credits: Simini.

The End.

2010-07-11T21:58:00.000-07:00

I spent all day Saturday with my mom and her family in Beaver, Minersville, and Adamsville, Utah, learning more about my Gillins line (maternal grandfathers family. I photographed over 100 grave sites to put on findagrave.com, but I also caught some neat shots of my early family's Adamsville stomping grounds. Some photos for your enlightenment:

The old family own. My fifth-great grandfather built this home after immigrating from England, living in Philadelphia for several years, and then crossing the plains to join the saints in Utah. This home is amazing, there are four large rooms on the main floor, each with a fireplace. I was so impressed with the beautiful brick, the simple layout. It was a very large home for the 19th century. Heck, it's still a big home! Wish I had a good chunk of cash, I'd pay to move this house and restore it...

What. The. ...

2010-06-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

I stole this from Cakewrecks, but it was just too horrifying to not share with all y'all... all.

An iPad wedding.

Eck, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.

Darn you, iPad! Imma take you down, foo!

Sometimes a girl needs a little work done...

2010-06-24T17:39:00.000-07:00

Okay, I disagree intensely with this post title. However, the blog was a little blah. Thank you Simini for addicting me even more deeply to the internet.

So, will be door 1, 2, 3, or 4?

Two Nice Thoughts from Daddy-Long-Legs

2010-06-09T21:41:00.000-07:00

I finished Daddy-Long-Legs today. It's a super-quick read, but... I only ever managed to read it during class, and thus was limited to Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 10 AM to 2 PM, whilst attempting to look attentive and studious during lectures.

Anyway, the book is written by Jean Webster. Check out this genealogy: obviously, the famous Webster family; her mother, Annie Clemens, was Mark Twain's niece; her father, Charles Luther Webster, was a member of Mark Twain's publishing firm; also in her family tree were the notable Daniel Boone and Eli Whitney. Awesome!

Ironically, no one really took her seriously in the beginning. She was also a terrible speller.

Anyway, her very likable protagonist Judy (Jerusha) has two killer quotes. I know they'll seem ridiculous, but they struck a chord with me.

1. "I don't agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. The happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindness. I have no faith in misanthropes."

2. "It isn't the great big pleasures that count the most; it's making a great deal out of the little ones - I've discovered the true secret of happiness, Daddy, and that is to live in the now. Not to be forever regretting the past, or anticipating the future, but to get the most that you can out of this very instant."

Nice, huh?

Bonus Thumbs Up

2010-06-08T17:50:00.000-07:00

POMPLAMOOSE!

Best lyrics of this "Single Ladies" cover are when Nataly Dawn sings, "Don't make me sing this part of the song, the lyrics are so bad, so we're going to skip ahead to the single ladies part instead!"

Props. Make sure you watch the video because their music is very much a visual experience. Bought their CD Tribute to Famous People and the 3 More Songs Woot! dealio.

Thumbs up. Thumbs down.

2010-06-08T17:24:00.000-07:00

Thumbs up: 500 Days of Summer

Cool cinematography, nonlinear storyline, KILLER wardrobe. Scarily accurate representation of certain aspects of my life. Thoroughly enjoyed it.

Thumbs down: Letters to Juliet

Wow, so terrible. So painful. Terrible script, worse acting. Good thing Italy is beautiful. That saved the movie. Vanessa Redgrave was the strongest actor; sort of gave one the impression that she was intimidated into doing the movie. Did someone have a gun to her back? Probably. The Taylor Swift song was the highlight of the movie. The highlight. People, that's just sad.

Thumbs up: Pretzel M&Ms and Lindt's A Touch of Sea Salt Dark Chocolate

Ok, I didn't like my first bite of pretzel M&Ms, but after a handful, I was hooked. So scrumptious! I mean, just a chocolate covered pretzel with a hard shell. And if you were to take the pretzel part away, you'd have Lindt's A Touch of Sea Salt Dark Chocolate. Oh. My. Gosh. It's amazing. I know, I was skeptical as well. But it's that addictive sweet and salty element... minus the carbs of a pretzel! Yay.

Thumbs down: Taco Time

Just gross. Enough said.

And to end on a positive note, thumbs up: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, and Daddy-Long-Legs

Lovin' the Garmin

2010-05-25T11:52:00.000-07:00

It's so cool. It's so great. Got me to school when I was pretty late. Need proof? Just look at the time. I'm supposed to be in class in 4 minutes. Woops...

Yes, that is snow. In the end of May. Thank you, Utah.

Anyway, I want a Garmin! This is Tam's. I borrowed/stole it for the weekend. It did a great job, it took us to Disneyland and back. See?

Thank you, Garmin. Thank you.

Finally back in the reading saddle.

2010-05-24T10:51:00.001-07:00

Oh, rapture! I've been invited to join a book club. The Writers Reading Club. Ah, what zen.

Our first book is Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer. I need a snazzier name if I'm ever going to write a novel.

That is all.

Smile.ly

2010-05-21T06:13:00.001-07:00

Just trying this out...

http://smile.ly/14383.cfm

Why aren't these action dolls on the market?

2010-05-19T17:33:00.000-07:00

About 75% of my readership (that is, 3 of the 4 of you) has already seen this video. But it deserves a second view. Enjoy.

For an extra laugh, go to the actual page and read the comments below the video. Hi-lar-i-ous.

Oh yeah, so I did have a birthday...

2010-05-15T08:17:00.000-07:00

Here's my cute cake from Nothing Bundt Cakes:

If you try to count the candles, I may have to kill you.

Chocolate Chocolate Chip. With that inimitable cream-cheese-and-butter-divinity of a frosting. I love how they "fill" the hole in the Bundt with frosting. It's good to be decadent.

Can you tell I'm channeling Julie/Julia? I think it's one of my new favorite films. And now to scrounge up Mom's copy of Julia Child's book...

I also got some wonderful things for my birthday: a new cutting mat, fat quarters and squares of assorted blue, orange, and brown fabrics, some more pins and hand needles, and the books below.

I really like getting free stuff!

2010-05-15T07:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I got several things for free! Belated birthday prezzies!

First, I got an email from Goodreads that I had won the book First Comes Love, Then Comes Malaria: How a Peace Corps Poster Boy Won My Heart & a Third-World Adventure Changed My Life by Eve Brown-Waite. Can't wait to get it in my mailbox... for free!!... in a few weeks. I heart Goodreads. Go there. Be my friend.

Then, Simini dropped the happiness bomb on me last night by giving me a free month's pass to Netflix. THANK YOU!!! I knew that I'd get DVDs in my mailbox but I didn't know there were movies online, ripe for the plucking. I'm watching Julie & Julia right now. So charming. I want to whip up chocolate mousse and incredible pans of butter-seared fish! Ah, to be a hip, powerful woman and a domestic goddess as well. That is my life's ambition.

I also discovered MoneySavingMom.com. I think I have some tuna and some toothpaste coming in the mail. We'll see. Oh, the rapture of shiny packages of free stuff in the shadowy recesses of my mailbox!

More of the Roadtrip.

2010-05-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

Some more rockin' pictures:

I must have this chair! It is so cool!

As is this great old record player.

Annie and I thought this how was pretty sweet.

Great front porch. I love that people restore old pioneer homes.

Anyone want a tuna hoagie?

Annie picked out some scrummy bread. Crumbs all over the car on the way home, I assure you.

Annie is shocked by local signage.

With good reason.

I hollered at Annie in a panic to snap a photo of this awesome restaurant. It involved frantically rolling down the window and leaning out, blindly snapping the photo. It turned out AWESOME. Annie titled it, "Accidentally Dynamic."

Open Road

2010-04-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

Annie and I paid Grandma and Grandpa Gillins a visit this week. I'll let the photos do the talking.
Pickles for sale at the gas station in Scipio, Utah. We didn't buy one. But it's an excellent specimen of a linguistic aberration.
Annie worked on some origami. Of course.
And she picked out some gems from the swanky rock pile.
Which one, which one...
Some cool stuff.

These are "The Girls." Misty, arthritic old girl. I knew her in her more nimble days. Grayboy, who is neither gray nor a boy. She's a recent addition, just showed up and never left again. And then Daisy. Oh Daisy. The least hygenic feline on the planet. She craves affection, but no will touch her because she is dandruffy and her hair sheds like it's her job to shed. And she has a snaggle tooth. And she drools. Love you, Daisy.

Springy Yumminess

2010-04-26T17:05:00.001-07:00

Because you're all so wonderful, here's a scrumptious picture, inspired by Rachel's scone picture that looked so indulgent.

I give you my masterpiece, Lemon Poppyseed Bread with a Lemon Glaze Drizzle:
This will be my contribution to the singles ward BBQ tonight. Now, unlike Rachel, I cannot claim domestic goddess-hood because... Betty Crocker made this bread for me. Two boxes of mix, some oil, flour, water, eggs, and there it is. So, I admit sneakery. But isn't it pretty? Mom's platter. I can't call it antique because I don't think it's even as old as she is... Hehe. But it's cool underneath. And some clippings from the yard. Spring has sprung!

MonaLisa's Makes Me Smile.

2010-04-24T21:09:00.000-07:00

Some stuff that's going on with me lately (aka, how I've been wasting my time):
Le baby quilt. Le finished. Ended up just binding it with its own backing. Luckily I still had an inch of fraying flannel backing left. Turned out cute.
Rolling yarn. OMG. So addicting. So great. Anyone have some skeins, or better yet, some tangled masses of yarn that I can sort out and roll? I'm thinking about experimenting with some different stitches with that multi-colored yarn. Doll scarves? Probably.

Okay, so on to the big news. Mom and I went to MonaLisa's Consignment in American Fork. Wow, I had way more fun than should be allowed. I need to take pictures of Mom's buys still, but look what I got:
Volume 2 of some obscure children's story book line. Published 1953. Don't think it has any real value. But it's funky. See?
A nice spread of fairy tales and children's classics.
That's one mean Rumpelstiltskin. Book was $6.99.

And then this awesomeness:
This is a hand-crocheted/tatted European lace pillow case. $9.99. Plans? Split open the pillow case and sew each square of lace onto some bold fabric, either a dark blue or brown or a mustard yellow. Sew that piece of fabric with the lace on it to a white backing, and stuff. Voila, two sweet pillows. Sort of this effect. And this. Oo, and this too. Okay, last one. We shall see.

So yep, that's it. School starts next week. Gotta pack in the slackerage while I still can...

Crisis Averted

2010-04-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

So today, after a few hours of panic over a bobbin case, I started and finished my first sewing project on the machine since returning from my mission. And it turned out pretty darn cute, if I do say so myself!

The Diaper Clutch:
Amy at "Diary of a Quilter" came up with this tutorial, it was so easy and way cute!
Love this fabric, from Just Sew here in Highland. Also love the contrast top stitching:
It's lime green stitching in case you can't see.

Okay, some I'm obviously really proud of myself. It took a lot of fiddling with the upper thread tension dial just to get my machine to sew, but once I struck a good balance, it was smooth sailing. Fun easy project. Just need to buy a slim pack of baby wipes and stick in a few diapers, and voila!

Bonus picture: doggy love.

Tedium, and what I'd rather be doing.

2010-04-14T20:36:00.001-07:00

A little picture that reflects the chaos that is my brain:

My desk. My laptop, watching The Biggest Loser. My sewing machine, the alluring siren enticing me to quit working and sew sew sew. (Newest endeavor: Diaper clutch. We have some baby showers coming up. Shout-out to Rachel Watkins Allen, another extraordinary cousin, who inadvertently got me addicted to quilting/sewing blogs.) My cell phone. Some Mod Podge and tissue paper, a failed Easter egg project. Not so much failed as never-commenced. My religious library, with Ecuadorian jade bookends. Old photos and a jewelry box. My iPod. Two lamps, neither of which I use. Tedium, aka placing 1000 labels on 1000 CD envelopes, soon to be stuffed with 1000 CDs of music from Liahona.net and subsequently shipped to Tonga, where Annie (artsy sista) and her art major cronies shall distribute them this summer. It ain't glamorous work, but it pays the bills. Or rather, it earns my keep in my parents' house (thanks, yous guys!).

PS - I finished the hand-quilting on that baby blanket. Still on a quest for a good binding material. Lemme know if anyone has suggestions. I've looked at just binding with the excess backing (flannel) or doing a ribbon blanket binding.

I'm a fan!

2010-04-02T07:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've known Christopher Woodhouse all of my life, seeing as he is my cousin and only 3 months older than me. We were in diapers and preschool together, so it is very interesting to observe Christopher as an adult. He is even more charming, more creative, and more hilarious than ever before.

People, I give you Man vs. Burly.

Pee-your-pants funny. What a champ.

Love you, Chris!

Teenage Angst

2010-03-27T13:45:00.000-07:00

So this is hilarious, I was going through some boxes in my room and found a bunch of old English projects from high school. I'm glad I saved them; it'll give my own students a good laugh. I just about fell over when I found a project called "SUFFER" that I put together during our Holocaust literature unit. Nothing to laugh about here, of course, but as part of the assignment, I had to produce my own piece of writing that reflected on human suffering and pain. Charming. Thank you, Mrs. Darcy, for encouraging us all to explore the depths of our angst.

So I submit to you all for your literary critique, a reflective poem written by 15-year-old Hilary, "Defect."

Defect

Collect yourself.

You should know every step,
We've been here before.
With your eyes closed
You should find this door.

Honestly.

Why do you hurt yourself
With every stutter you make?
The mortification you endure...
Can't you hear your heart break?

And your blundering movements!
Your body catches attention
As you trip through your life.
Don't you know they sense tension?

Each insult you pronounce,
A forked tongue protrudes and
To your careless mind your
Quick mouth alludes.

Come now.

The world will offer you successes
But in the end, aren't you clever?
You didn't do anything with
The laborious body you were given
And in the end you are still
Locked in the labyrinth of your mind.

The end. Thank goodness. Don't know what I was going through or what sparked this poem. It's funny, reading it I feel some of the awkward pain of high school, but it's sort of vague and impossible to place. Or maybe I just wanted a good grade, I got a perfect score on this beast of a project. Take that, system.

The Horror, the Horror!

2010-03-15T17:30:00.000-07:00

Two posts in one day. Overkill, right?

First of all, I got a hair cut:
But I am not so vain that I would blog about my new bangs. Although I do like them.

No no, I blog today about a much more serious assunto: project procrastination. In my reentry to civilian life post-mission, I have taken up the daunting task of cleaning out my room. Since the mission, I have become merciless with any and all forms of junk or trash, or sentimental knickknacks that keep me from letting go of the past. In my rummaging, I ran across some relics of long-forgotten projects. Presently, I can positively identify three unfinished projects that still, after YEARS, continue to lurk in the corners and dark places of my bedroom.

Sidelined Project #1: The blue baby blanket.
Okay, to be fair, the blue baby blanket, hereafter BBB, is not actually procrastinated. Yet. Although it has all the potential to be yet another eternal project. It's my first attempt at knitting in a really long time. Only once did I try to knit a scarf, using only the knit stitch, and I never got very far, so I'm not sure if that even counts. I've upgraded to purling as well, so the squares have a nice sweater look to them and a good stretch. I've finished two squares, 6"x6". Supposedly. I've been counting stitches and rows but there are no promises here. Should be cute. But as I said, tomorrow it might be backburnered because of...

Sidelined Project #2: The large denim quilt.
Here's the deal with large denim quilt, hereafter LDQ. LDQ has a little bit of a messy history... I started to make it for an ex-boyfriend who wanted to be a lawyer. For any quilters, the pattern is called "courthouse steps." Anyone think I'm pathetic yet? Anyway, this boy hasn't been in the picture for a long time, and therefore LDQ has sat under the bench in my room for... years. I pulled it out today with the intention of giving it the chuck, thinking that it hadn't turned out very well and that emotional ties would ruin the quilt for me. But I pulled it out today, and ya know, it's pretty cute! So cute that I thought, "To heck with what's-his-name, this quilt is great. And I'm going to finish for ME." Yeah, girl power. I had already cut the next set of pieces for each square, so I'm well on my way to finish this quilt. Well, not finish any time soon. Someday. I started this thing in 2005 so what's the rush, right?

Interestingly, though, what has become my first priority of abandoned projects is...

Sidelined Project #3: The ancient baby quilt.
Just how old is it, you ask? Well, Mom cut the pieces for the quilt a loooong time ago. I would conservatively estimate 12 years ago. I sewed the squares and tied the whole thing (white flannel backing and thin batting) back in 2003. Started hand quilting the squares in 2004. It's probably 60% done, then it needs binding. So I want to finish this sucker too. My handstitching is pretty pitiful. But a baby won't care, right?

So that's what I did today. I'm on a mission to finish these projects! Deadline: 2015.

Back to Reality

2010-03-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

Hi everybody.

So I left on an 18-month mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on August 13, 2008. If you do the math, works to see that I've been home from the beautiful land of Portugal for a little over a month now. And I have opened this blog several times since returning but have always closed it with a sigh, not sure where to pick up after so much time.

I felt bad for my dear blog, looking somewhat naked as its background that I had put up back in July 2008 doesn't exist anymore. So here ya go, Blog. Some new threads.

More to come later. That is all.

A New Look

2008-07-11T18:32:00.000-07:00

What do you guys think? I just discovered The Cutest Blog on the Block. I'm not sure if I like this idea or not. It is nice to shake things up a bit. Opinions?

Livros.

2008-07-01T20:23:00.000-07:00

I've been taking an online English class (American Lit 1914-1960, for those who are interested), and so most forms of free reading have been put on the back burner. Today I (finally) finished a YA book I had been trying to read all month. After I finished, I thought, "Hmm, I oughta blog about this." Then I remembered that in early May I read four books in five days, while basting in the Mexican sun. How did I forget to review those reads? My book reviews are some of the only semi-important material I have for my blog! So, I now present, in the order in which I read the books, some literary reviews:

1. The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin.
Yes, Steve Martin. The actor. Just knowing that Steve Martin wrote the book made it infinitely more amusing to read. Martin became the default narrator in my head. The plot revolves around a cripplingly neurotic recluse, Daniel Pecan Cambridge, and his bizarre maneuverings through a world of self-imposed rules and restrictions. The man takes 45 minutes to walk two blocks to Rite Aid because he can only cross the street at particular driveways that must perfectly face each other. Curbs=big no-no. This book was crude at times, but... a laugh from start to finish. Plus, I mean c'mon, Steve Martin?!? The guys a comic genius, on stage, on screen, and in print. I was very impressed.

2. The Man Who Ate the 747 by Ben Sherwood.
Ben Sherwood?!? Okay, maybe his name doesn't instantly ring a bell, but the man is the executive producer of Good Morning America. Pretty dang good, right? And Sherwood still found time to write a couple of novels. You know, in his "spare time" whatever that means! I really enjoyed this book, partly because the premise was so unique. J.J. Smith is Keeper of Records for the Book of Records, and he is sent around the world to document the impressive, the unbelievable, and the downright absurd. He lands in Nebraska for a while, to track a man eating an abandoned 747 to prove his love to Willa, the local newspaper lady. Less crude than Pleasure, and I think a very sincere look into the nature of real love. Not Hollywood love. Just real people who, yes, fall in love. It does happen. Great book.

K, my brain hurts. This shall be continued tomorrow...

Follow Your Heartichoke

2008-06-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

Alright, I'm lifting this from the Board, because I have to agree with habiba, it's the best stick-it-to-the-man story I've heard since School of Rock.

Scottsdale Community College, back in 1970, infuriated the student body by stripping its government of its control over school finances. Instead, precious funds were reassigned to bulking up a monstrous athletic program. In retaliation, the disgusted student body voted, and the SCC mascot was from that time forth the "Artichokes."

Aw yeah.

Speaking of jocks with an inflated sense of self-importance, my sisters and I watched Disney's Beauty and the Beast last night. What a classic! "It's not right for a woman to read. Soon she'll start getting ideas... thinking..."

Oh Gaston, what a cootie...

Dedicated to My Sisters, aka the Biggest SW Dweebs I Know

2008-05-31T22:37:00.000-07:00

Okay, just because I simultaneously discovered how to navigate YouTube and how to embed videos does not mean this is going to become a "look what I found on YouTube!" blog. Well, maybe it must become that for a time. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I just have to share this. Our family has a functioning R2-D2 replica, a motion-activated light saber that vibrates, and an encyclopedia of all things Star Wars. Tamara told us proudly that she discusses the finer points of Jaba's entourage on the bus home from school. We are big time losers in this house.

Pretty accurate, huh? Remember kids, don't talk back to Darth Vader, he'll getcha!

Made in Utah

2008-05-30T17:31:00.000-07:00

Tamara showed me this spoof video a few minutes ago. Some kids at LPHS made it. Yeah, there's not much to do here sometimes.

Things I found immensely amusing: the Heimlich maneuver, the heart-shaped legs, the flower hat, the state of that boy's bedroom. I would have at least made my bed.

I can't enjoy anything I write because I mercilessly edit...

2008-05-29T22:01:00.000-07:00

Received a reception? How am I an English major? I'm ashamed...

Incidentally, I always say the phrase "I'm ashamed..." with an accent. What accent, you inquire? The accent of the little "house detective" in the old Streisand/O'Neal film, "What's up, Doc?"

"Never heard of it?" Well, educate yourself.

Start at 1:55, and watch to 2:30. Or find yourself the entire film. It's hilarious, brilliantly staged and edited. The script is sidesplitting... Oh boy.

PS - That's a person named Eunice?

A Grenadilla in London

2008-05-29T21:10:00.000-07:00

I've been a little homesick for London. I miss that alternate universe! Sometimes it seems like it was all a wonderful dream...

Anyway, enough with the sentimental nonsense. Two summers ago, I lived in Quito, Ecuador for three months. While there, I got to experience fresh "exotic" fruit firsthand. I introduced my pallet to a lot of new produce, and some received a warmer reception than others. My favorite new fruit, hands down, was the grenadilla, or the "grenade" as we gringas chose to call it. While in the little village of Hampstead, on the outskirts of north London, I ran across an exotic fruit store that displayed out front, you'll never guess, grenadillas. These are so extraordinary, and there they were in Hampstead Heath! So of course, I had to buy one, and Rebecca and Kate each bought one too because, well, why not? Here's a picture of what this sweet little gem looks like:
Mmmm, right? I know, I know, it looks disgusting. The fruit looks like an orange grenade. The shell is pretty stiff, and sounds hollow when you thump your finger against it. Then break it open, and whoa! "What is this?" In Ecuador, we affectionately called the seed sacs "monkey brains," or "mocos" ("snot" in Spanish). You just have to go for it. You slurp out about, mmm, 10 sacs, and swish 'em around, break all the lining, get the sweet, sweet juice, and spit the seeds. Or swallow if you want. Makes for interesting bathroom experiences later. Here's a photo of moi enjoying my grenadilla inglesa on a park bench. Ay, !que rica fue!

Oh Youth...

2008-05-22T07:50:00.000-07:00

I've never been to beauty or hair school in any way, shape, or form, but being the oldest in a family of five girls, I've done my share of hair-dos. A few weeks ago, Tamara went to Prom. I curled her hair, and it took about two hours. Now, she doesn't have much hair, it's just a little longer than mine, but I'm special so I take forever. But... I'm pretty darn proud of it. (Photos courtesy of Trish... and my camera.)

There's a little corner of my face, which is about all I'm willing to post of me in an unshowered, untanned, and undieted state. Mostly, I just wanted to showcase my cute sister with her pre-prom nerves shining through a bit.

Oh my gosh, this took forever. She owes me big.

We were taking too long, so mom started doing her makeup. She looks like a pampered little brat. The truth is finally out... Kidding, Tam, kidding!

So pretty! The thing I love about Tamara is that she doesn't worry too much about it. The Watkins way.

The final product:

Hahahahaha... Good thing prom's not awkward or anything...

Stalking

2008-05-20T07:22:00.000-07:00

So I think the first thing just about every newly called missionary does is stalk her mission. At least, that's what I've been doing. I found this cool blog entry about a youth conference in Lisboa. I was so excited to see my mission president, Craig B. Terry, and his wife, Candice, sitting in the front row of one session of conference (see video at the end of the blog page). Oh, I'm already in love with the beautiful people and the beautiful language!

La Gringa

2008-05-19T13:13:00.000-07:00

"Gringa" is what I am, but it also happens to be the name of the most fabulous comestible I have ever... comested. Have you had a taco al pastor? If you have, you understand its bewitchment. If you haven't, well, I pity your poor soul. Let me tell you of its goodness.

First, you take a small corn tortilla. You drag it quickly through oil, brown it on both sides, and then lay it in another, sometimes unheated, corn tortilla. These tortillas should be the size of your hand. Next, you take pork, which has been marinated in a secret recipe that I have yet to figure out, and is presently roasting on a vertical spit. Regarding the secret recipe: one taco guy in Cabo San Lucas told me, "Um, it's paprika, I think. Mostly paprika powder. Uh huh." So it's secret. Anyway, shave off some of the spicy meat, directly into the tortillas. Then, take a couple little nicks off the pineapple, which is at the top of the spit. Catch the said pieces of pineapple in the tortilla from above your head, like so:

Then, pile on some cilantro and chopped onion. Oh my gosh. No sauce necessary, the meat is so juicy and flavorful, the cilantro so fresh and fragrant... I like to squeeze a lime wedge over it all, but that's it. MmmMMM!

Okay, so that's a taco al pastor. Are you ready to hear about "la gringa"? For those of you with heart conditions, this may be more than you can bear, so don't sue me if you go into cardiac arrest from my impending description.

Was that enough of a warning? Okay.

So, "la gringa" is all the components of a taco al pastor... BUT BETTER. I didn't think it was possible. Let me explain. Alright, instead of a pair of little corn tortillas, you take one larger flour tortilla. Now, this isn't your grocery store, precooked, smooshed bread sort of tortilla. This is pure lard and flour, baby. You can see through this puppy. It is rich and perfectly chewy-tender. On that base, melt some fresh Mexican cheese. Ahhhh I'm drooling... Next, throw on the meat and trimmings from the regular taco al pastor. Finally, eat. Change your life. My father and my trip to Baja California was all about the food. Wouldn't have it any other way. Scrumptious.

O Chamamento

2008-05-13T12:41:00.000-07:00

Just had to put this sucker up here. I got my mission call! Here's a video of my family participating in the call opening practice. It's pretty fun. Mary Jane really wanted me to go to Slovenia so I could live in a city called Ljubljana. Sorry Moj. Still, I'm thrilled with my mission destination, and can't wait to get going! This will be a summer of language study... I can't wait!

Snow in May (almost).

2008-05-04T21:55:00.000-07:00

So it snowed in May. Almost.

Happy Hands Club in Annie's Room

2008-05-04T21:26:00.000-07:00

I owe everyone big time. I'm sorry. I have no excuse for myself. So here's the first of a slurry of posts.

We were all hanging out in Annie's room the other night, just... not doing much. Annie is the sister chucking stuff at people at random intervals. I'm the one singing and whistling. Our friend Elise is curling Tamara's hair, practice run for Prom. Tamara is the sister doing happy hands' fun. Trish is the sister doing the ugly dance and kvetching about the internet. Mary Jane's on the bed with me I think.

This is what we do. We're the Watkins girls. Enjoy.

Hylton Update

2008-03-25T11:37:00.001-07:00

I found a family history site for the family of my book's soldier. This note was attached to his file:

Joe, I have some information and a picture of Wm. H. Hylton that was in the book that belonged to my grandmother. It's titled "History of the First Methodist Church Dallas, Texas 1846-1946" compiled by Adolphus Werry. At the back of the book is a Memoriam section dedicated to 24 young men who lost their lives in service to their country during World War II. It reads as follows "Lieutenant William H. Hylton was born May 30, 1916 in Birmingham, Alabama. He was a graduate from Wilson * High School and was a student at S.M.U. when he enlisted. He was with West Texas Utilities at Dalhart. He was reported missing March 4, 1943. He was awarded the Air Medal with an oak leaf cluster. He is survived by his wife and his mother, Mrs. J. M. Campbell and sister, Mrs. R.H. Reed."

This site also lists Hylton as having had two wives, although that would have been a lot to handle before he even turned 27, although it's certainly possible. The site also listed his death date as 11 Mar 1943. I don't know what the seven days means, if they confirmed he was dead or whatnot. Still looking into it...

Oh, and the "H" stands for Haven.

Used books and military history.

2008-03-21T14:50:00.000-07:00

Today I whipped through P. G. Wodehouse's book of shorts called Eggs, Beans and Crumpets. I purchased this book at the famous Blackwell's in Oxford, on the very top floor. Beautifully, Blackwell's first opened as a used book shop of only 12 square feet with 700 items for sale. Look how it's grown! Nine quick shorts do the job of entertaining oneself on a six/seven-hour bus ride home from the west country.

The coolest thing about my book is... Well, several things. The book was originally published by Herbert Jenkins in 1940. My copy is a second publishing, and though I don't know the year this second publication happened, there is a name and military unit information on the title page. Cool, right? "William H. Hylton, 332nd 59d 91st group"

So the internet is a powerful thing. I typed in "322nd" and "Hylton" into Google. I found the previous owner! I have, inadvertently, forged a bond with this person. Here's his deal: the 322nd Bombardment Group was created on 19 Jun 1942, and was activated on 17 Jul 1942. Online, I found some "dailies" from the 91st BG, and they gave me a little more info regarding my Hylton. Wm. H. Hylton was a 2nd Lieutenant and a navigator. On 3 Jan 1943, he was listed as destroying an FW 190. The only other time he comes up in that record is on 4 Mar 1943, as "Lt. William Hylton - Bombadier" and, quite sadly, as MIA. The dailies go through December 1943, but he isn't mentioned again. A little more research, and I found that he was never found, and presumed dead. I also learned that he entered the service from Texas, for what that's worth. The 91st division were nicknamed "The Ragged Irregulars" because they were so depleted by fatalities and injuries. I found a nice commemorative plaque.
So now I'm on a mission. A 2nd Lt. is pretty decent standing in the Air Force, which makes me think that he was older. Maybe he had a family? Maybe they'd like his book back? I'm intrigued that it would surface in a book shop in Oxford. Somehow it made its way over from Germany. How?!?

Time will tell. I'm on the trail.

My sister is cooler than your sister!

2008-03-16T14:22:00.001-07:00

My sister Annie makes awesome art. Art is something I admire. The fact that my sister makes art is therefore something I admire about her. And that's not even touching the fact that said art is awesome. The art you see above was made for, you'll never guess so I'll tell you, a vending machine. Yup. BYU last semester sold some art through vending machines with proceeds going to charity. So that's cool, yes, but even cooler is this buff girl. We are all buff girls inside, I really do believe that. My arms might jiggle when I wave them, but don't be fooled. I'm a buff girl.

And I love my sister who wrote me a cool poem. In fact, as a send-off, I'll include that poem because I liked it so much:

A Sister's Lament

My dearest sister Heeree,
How very much I miss thee!
Thy blixy ways, with mem'ry fond,
I ponder oft; And gaze beyond
This campus small, across the sea
To where you learn and play without me.
Tho good I know your trip to be,
I'm saddened to the worst degree
By the lack of your good company
And former close proximity!
Perhaps my sorrow's naught but folly,
But, alas, I'm rendered melancholy.
Come back soon! My heart can't bear
The miles that lay 'twixt here and there!

I defy you to find a cooler sister. Except maybe my other three sisters can tie her for coolest...

La Hermana Gordon, and a lot of links

2008-03-07T07:01:00.000-08:00

I inadvertently stumbled upon my dear friend Christy's vimeo page. Oh, delight of my heart! She is a beautiful person, currently serving a mission for the Church in Spokane, Spanish-speaking. Girl is a huge role model to me, a big reason why I'm going to serve a mission as well. I should write her a letter, whoops...

We worked together on the Mormon Missionary Diaries project at the Harold B. Lee Library on the campus of Brigham Young University in Provo, UT.

Wow.

This is what happens when I do not want to do homework. Nay, not one bit.

Signing out, here is a picture of me and Christy at a How to Host a Murder party. She played a 1970s businesswoman. I played the token floozy. In memoriam, Christy.

Windgirl

2008-03-05T14:36:00.000-08:00

I've made a few really good friends on this trip. Honestly, everyone here's a champ; even if I don't love the person, no one is unbearable. I count this a great fortune when something as volatile as 40 girls and 1 guy in a small living space happens. But in this group, there are a few standouts. One of them is Abigail.

Things at which Abbie is good: making children smile, creating beautiful dance moves, dismounting from the top bunk, laughing from the diaphragm, discussing King Lear in the few hours before papers are due, looking gorgeous without makeup, reading at night with her headlamp, rollerblading in spandex, running through Hyde Park, being a card shark, winning every game ever, singing all sorts of happy songs, and in other ways fulfilling the wind element.

I love you, Abbie.

PS - When you die, can I have your sweatskirt from REI? Thanks.

This is a Tribute

2008-03-03T15:57:00.000-08:00

To Simini.

"Did you know that you can play darts with thumbtacks? Yes, yes you can." Ack I miss you!

Studio 111

2008-03-03T15:30:00.001-08:00

Oh the Cocherans! I love these people! They are funky artist friends of my family back home. They do a little of everything, and it is fun stuff, let me tell you. Their home is unreal, and walking through it an experience akin to passing through an incredible gallery of neo-groovy awesomeness. Nina made me a "Pat the Bunny" (well actually, "Pet the Puppy" but that's neither here nor there) retro notebook to console me for the removal of my wisdom teeth. Is that friendship or what?!?

Their greatest creations are their children, though. Their youngest daughter does karaoke like you wouldn't believe. So check out their site, give them some love, and appreciate the greatness.

Incidentally, here is a video their eldest son, my sister's greatest friend, put together. Of himself. Cleaning his room. Yes, I know it's cool.

Jesus Christ, The Son of God

2008-02-29T10:17:00.000-08:00

Ben wrote on his blog about the Church's newest site, Jesus Christ, The Son of God, and I have really enjoyed looking through it. I'll admit I haven't perused it thoroughly yet, but the site design is beautiful and I know the content is bound to be good. Very appropriate timing, with the latest issue of the Ensign/Liahona, which reflects this focus on Christ. I feel the time must be fast-approaching that the world realizes that Latter-day Saints are in fact Christians. He lives!

Cynefin

2008-02-25T12:49:00.000-08:00

I finished another book. After The Book Thief, it's hard to read any other piece of WWII lit. Talking with one of my professors before dinner tonight, he suggested that Markus Zusak perhaps wasn't the most exceptional writer (I'd agree; he abandoned the intensity of the whole color device pretty early on in the book, and it just wasn't the highest writing I've ever seen), but he was a superb storyteller. I agree wholeheartedly. I became wonderfully attached to the characters, who on paper are quite unremarkable, and are fascinatingly ambiguous, just as we all are. The Welsh Girl did not grip me like The Book Thief did.

But The Welsh Girl is intriguing in its own right. My favorite aspect of the novel was not the plot or even the characters, but the symbol of the sheep herds so vital to life in Esther's small village. Davies paints a world in which herders are tied to the flocks, and flocks are in turn tied to their land, unable to stay on strange land for long. This idea of attachment to a plot of land is called cynefin. Even more interesting to me is the necessity of the female animals to sustain the flock. After they do their duty to the flock, mature males are sent to town for sale for meat. The females, however, are the lifeblood of the flock. Esther wonders why the German refers to is native country as the "fatherland"; in her experience, the only appropriate term for that feeling of obligation to country is "motherland." Interesting.

Gotta love some matriarchal discussion.

The Dance

2008-02-25T10:31:00.000-08:00

In museums, it is obvious to me those patrons who are seasoned veterans and those who are ignorant novices of observing displayed art. For those who are more experienced, a general awareness exists of the dance, upon which enjoying a museum critically hangs. I would like to offer up, by way of illustration, my experience in the City Art Centre in Edinburgh this past weekend.

In the City Art Centre, 150 originals by renowned American photographer Ansel Adams were on display over three floors. The exhibit wasn't very crowded at all, and judging by the adherence to the rules of the dance by the vast majority of all patrons in the museum, I'm confident that my friends and I were among dedicated art buffs.

Here's how the dance works: two patrons stand side by side in front of one piece of art. In a nook, one patron has been moving counterclockwise through the display. The second patron, to avoid hurrying the first, has chosen to start at the opposite end of the display and move clockwise. Inevitably, the two merge at one piece. Both people look at the item for a while; finally, when someone is ready to move on, he or she steps backward, and moves around the second patron. The second patron then shifts the opposite direction, thus making room for the first to take a last goodbye before moving on to the next piece. The transition, if executed well, is seamless and comfortable. Ah, the dance.

Well, this wasn't as great a post as I had in my mind. The exhibit was fantastic. I'm glad Abbie decided to go up, because I wasn't totally thrilled about paying £2.50 to get in, but it was worth it. Surprisingly, though I am not from California, Adams' few shots of Utah made me so incredibly homesick. I especially liked this shot of the Manti temple.

Another favorite thing...

2008-02-18T08:39:00.000-08:00

McVitie's Ginger Nuts. So inexpensive. So tasty. I love you Ginger Nuts.

What I Love About London

2008-02-14T12:26:00.000-08:00

Dedicated to Jake.

Bitter Lemon:

Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Playground:

The bridge on the Serpentine at Hyde Park:

And its views:

The Central Line (incidentally, I hate the Circle Line):

Intriguing exhibits at the V&A:

That's all for now. More to follow?

Candid Camera

2008-02-08T14:06:00.000-08:00

My sister and her very good friend.

Much speculation surrounds this pair, but ultimately they are two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth, "two soles with but one... shoe."

Fifteen is a traumatic, wonderful age.

Here's to you, sis.

YORKIE: IT'S NOT FOR GIRLS!

2008-02-04T05:12:00.000-08:00

Two posts in one day! Lucky you.

So today at lunch I ran out and bought a Yorkie bar, because, well, I hadn't tried one yet here in sunny London (weather has been gorgeous, by the way, clear days have definitely outweighed the rainy) and I wanted something chocolatey.

I got home, busted it open, broke off one of the massive blocks (this ain't no Dove bar) and started nibbling some of the chocolate off. I pondered aloud, in my room shared with 13 other co-eds, "Why isn't it for girls? I don't see anything about this not for girls, honestly."

"It's a weight-gain stimulant!" someone shouted over the closet barricade that breaks our room into two uneven sides (mine being the smaller and much more cramped side, but quieter and darker at night, thank goodness). Weight gain? That was no good, I was already on my third brick of chocolate. "It has whey in it!" another voice shouted over. Um, well it is chocolate, so whey, a derivative of milk, might make its way (whey, haha) into the bar. But I will give them that whey is a common additive to bulk-up stuff. But the Yorkie bar?

Feeling an urban myth lurking about our room, and also to justify my happily devouring my new chocolate bar, I googled "YORKIE: IT'S NOT FOR GIRLS!" which is verbatim what appears on the wrapper:
Nestle UK was kind enough to debunk my silly roommates, confirming that "In 2001 the Yorkie 'It’s Not for Girls' campaign was launched because, in today’s society, there aren’t many things that a man can look at and say that’s for him." Fair enough, I'll consent to the truth of that. And though it will most certainly induce weight-gain, that is not its sole utility. Any guy pounding one of these before hitting the gym will be sorry to know that he is quite defeating the purpose.

And of course, Google is great for finding a wide range of all sorts of entertaining nonsense. I site example one, religious commentary and Yorkie bars:
And the more obvious chauvinism and Yorkie bars:
Favorite candy bars so far in the UK: Double Decker, mint Aero, Crunchy, and Lion. Yum.

A Giant Among Men

2008-02-04T02:29:00.001-08:00

Yesterday morning, in my long wait for afternoon church, I hopped online and watched a rebroadcast of President Gordon B. Hinckley's funeral services, which were held on Saturday. I have to confess, the last week, the week following President Hinckley's passing, I really didn't give much thought to any sadness. It seemed almost a relief for him to be reunited with his sweet wife and other friends and family he had loved so much in life. It wasn't until I watched the funeral and other programs aired about his full, productive, and selfless life yesterday that I actually let myself shed a few tears. He was a great man with a great legacy, both to his own family and to the wider family of the church.

I was so inspired by what I saw and heard that I scratched my Primary lesson (I teach 8-12 year-olds Sunday School) and made a powerpoint presentation of all that President Hinckley had done in his nearly 13 years as president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and prophet, seer, and revelator and holder of all priesthood keys in this dispensation. Beyond all his traveling, relations with the media, and humaritarian work, he also delivered the revelation The Family: A Proclamation to the World, instituted the Perpetual Education Fund, nearly tripled the number of operating temples, and so much more. My kids really loved it, especially because I typed up everything in Spanish and Portuguese so that everyone could participate, and I brought a map so we could see where in the world, significant to my diverse little group, temples had been built. It was pretty awesome to see temple growth, especially in 1999 and 2000. Overwhelming, actually.

Though I had been in the same room as President Hinckley on different occasions, I never knew him personally. However, I can bear witness to the validity of his calling and of the authority invested in him to act as the head of the Lord's true church on earth. He was duly prepared from a young age, and though an imperfect human as we all are, he provided an inspiring example of one who strove to "stand a little taller" as he advised us all to do. Reviewing his life, I realized what a body of counsel he gave to the members of the Church, especially to youth. That was me. He gave advice for my generation, and I feel renewed in my desire to pursue it.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

Gordon B. Hinckley, 1910-2008

Books

2008-01-17T05:49:00.000-08:00

So, I'm in London, and I haven't blogged about it, and people are going to be disappointed after today because any reference to London will be strictly coincidental. Sorry!

But I read a lot over Christmas break. And I kinda want to go through what I discovered.

First two books I read: Sequels to the LDS novel Charley, namely Sam and Adam's Story. Would have been a waste of time except they both read in about two hours each. I don't find Jack Weyland to be that gifted of a writer (I really, really don't, yikes), but I do enjoy reading literature about my unique religious culture. We are a nutty bunch sometimes. And even with Weyland's less-than-engaging writing style, it is nice to read about LDS culture without a filter or an encyclopedic narrative of terms and aspects of LDS life. And sometimes you need to read something so culturally "Mormon" to remind yourself that the culture is not the same as the gospel. Good thing, too.
Next two books I read: the rest of Pretties left over from my summer reading, and Specials, the last two books of the Uglies trilogy by Scott Westerfeld. It's hard for me to critique too much because I'm not extremely well-versed in YA science fiction, but I enjoyed them well enough. I thought that as a male writer, he did a good job writing inside a female protagonist's head. As a teacher, I thought that the series could pull well into discussion about dystopia, current environmental concerns, the nature and changeability of love, etc.

And then I read two more books: Looking for Alaska and An Abundance of Katherines, both by John Green, of whom I first became aware through the ever entertaining vlog, Brotherhood 2.0. I have to acknowledge that Green can write. Boy, can he write. And where Westerfeld's characters are a little inaccessible due to the futuristic time period, not to mention the fact that everyone has brain lesions and is anatomically reconfigured, I thought of dozens of people I knew in high school when I read Green's teenagers. Language was kind of intense, and though I suppose it's realistic, I don't think it's totally admirable, and I also knew plenty of people growing up who didn't feel the need to drop a vulgarity into every sentence. Still, I laughed, I cried... Green writes very well and is as funny on paper as he is on video.

I read another book my youngest sister brought home from school: So B. It. Wept. What a beautiful, mature story made carefully available to young readers. I highly recommend it, also a quick read.

And the grand finale, to trump them all: I just finished The Book Thief last night on the bus ride home from a day trip to Canterbury, Rye, and Beachy Head (there, gratuitous reference to England). I cried in front of everyone. It's a fairly sizable work for a YA book, over 500 pages with small font, but it reads quickly. It is divided into 10 parts with five or seven vignettes per part that follow a young girl, Leisel, from age 9 to age 14, and her experience living as a displaced child of Communist parents with German foster parents in Nazi Germany with a Jew in the basement. What I appreciated most about this book was its treatment of life for the average German during the war. I feel like general sentiments either highlight this so-called ignorance of Germans that anything like Auschwitz or Dachau was happening, or the belief that everyone living in Germany became a hardcore Nazi. Not so with Leisel and her foster family. I highly value the look into their neighborhood as people struggle to decide which of two evil paths to follow. Another favorite aspect of the book: narrated by Death, and a personified Death that I've never encountered before.

The Book Thief is important. And it's enjoyable. This type of book makes Green's angsty high schoolers seem pretty lame. I'm of the opinion that teenagers today are a bit too self-obsessed. I can verify this because I was myself, although I think not so bad as others. Relative comfort and opportunity has made my generation and the generation behind me soft, weak, and selfish. I'm sorry but I really do believe that. Even on my trip here, I'm surrounded by 39 girls my age, and a good part of them complain about everything and obsess about shopping. I'm sorry, but there are bigger issues in the world, and aspects of life that will be much, much more important than rain in London (hello!), homework on a semester abroad (hello?!?), and $90 leather boots from Top Shop (ugh). So bravo to Markus Zusak. A beautiful piece of literature that I think will become a lifetime book for me.

Juno

2007-12-12T22:01:00.000-08:00

Oh Juno, why aren't you released nationwide yet? I saw a poster for this, and the very pregnant teenager in grunge-semble turned me off. But Simini just showed me a trailer for Juno, a new Fox Searchlight film, and oh my. It's love.

Some review pages bash Juno for being as lame as Little Miss Sunshine. But wait... wasn't Little MIss Sunshine fabulous? Yes. Yes, it was. I heart that movie. I also, in a Diet Coke haze at some ungodly hour two nights ago (after midnight, that's all I know), I watched Garden State and enjoyed it. I laughed out loud a few times. So yay for independent films.

This week is the devil. Let us all get through finals. Amen.

Was blind, but now I see.

2007-12-09T08:30:00.000-08:00

On Friday, I put my eyes in Dr. Jesse Hunsaker's hands, and after 10 minutes in an operating room, my eyes could see better on their own than I can remember ever seeing in my entire life.

Three years ago, an eye doctor back home said my prescription for my glasses and contacts had finally stabilized and that I could be a good candidate for LASIK. I wasn't very old, so I didn't think very much of it. I had a pretty long history of poor vision. I have no recollection of seeing perfectly or even well on my own. I was a smart little kid, so I did a good job of getting through kindergarten and part of first grade without letting on that I was blind as a bat. Finally, one night we were watching TV as a family, and my mom, from the other room, asked what channel we were watching (brand new cable, so we're talking at least 20 channels, pretty impressive). I stood up, walked over to the cable box, arranged myself on the floor directly in front of it, and waited for my eyes to focus. The next week, I got my first pair of tortoise-shell, wire-rim glasses. You know the kind, with the little bar running straight between the tops of the two lenses. Very chic.

Later, in middle school, after years of hideous huge glasses, I got contact lenses, which I got used to very quickly and loved right away. About the same time, glasses technology changed, and they could shape lenses in such a way that they appear less thick from the sides. My beef is that my glasses still distort the shape of my face. I'm very nearsighted (although much improved from when I was younger and required bifocals), so my glasses make the sides of my face pull in and my eyes appear smaller. Not so cute.

Now in college, they've developed contact lenses that you can leave in for days at a time, and I loved those as well. Still, contacts tear. They fall out. They get itchy and irritating. I can't run around and play in glasses. Mine are too big anyway and fall off. So I went to talk to the good people at the Excel Eye Center. They took my measurements, confirmed that my -7.50 prescription was 20/20 for me, and set me up with a procedure date three weeks out. Three weeks of torture. I discovered that I liked those glasses, that my vision issues were manageable. Many have much worse vision than I do and get by just fine without LASIK. Was this a vanity thing? I got a discount because of my student insurance, but was this still ridiculous? I could lose my eye if things went wrong.

It's also dumb, but I felt I had three different visions. One without any correction, my "home base" of sorts. Old faithful. Then my vision with contacts, which was correct vision, including peripheral vision, with a somewhat magnified twist. Everything looked a little bigger with my contacts in than without. And then I had my vision with my glasses. No corrected peripheral vision, but everything is a little bit smaller. Which means I look a little bit daintier, which I always liked. So I worried about which "vision" I'd have after LASIK.

To my delight, I have a fourth vision. I never knew that both glasses and contacts change the quality of the image I see. Even to subtleties of color and crispness. My distance vision has never been this good, and it's getting better by the hour.

Anyway, back to the surgery, I got to the Excel Eye Center in Provo, on a rainy Friday morning with my mom in tow. I was so nervous. They took a bunch more measurements from me, and everyone was extremely friendly and supportive, although professional at the same time. The place was immaculate and well-ordered. They had a live-feed of the surgeries happening before mine, these big eyeballs on a TV screen. I couldn't watch. Normally, I'd be totally in to it. But knowing my eyes were going to be poked and prodded, I couldn't look. I asked my mom, "Am I doing the right thing?" She has been wanting this for me for a long time. "Yes, this is definitely the right thing." While I was in the room getting scans done of my eyes, they told my mom that they didn't often get to work with people as nearsighted as me, and that this would change my life in ways I couldn't understand until it was over.

They were right. They called my name, gave me a hair net thing and shoe covers and took my glasses. "Won't need those ever again." My heart started to pound at that point. The assistant prepped my eyes with an iodine rub and eye drops, and laughed and joked with me to help me stay calm. I went into the operating room after squeezing my mom's hand, and was set up on basically a reclined dentist's chair looking deal. "Would you like to hold a football or a bunny?" Without a seconds delay, I answered, "A bunny, please." Even laying down, I felt so nervous. I knew I could still say that I changed my mind, but it was all set up. I was terrified. They knew I was, so it was one big cheerleading fest in there.

For the faint of heart, I won't go into the details of the surgery, although I've got the whole thing on tape if anyone wants to see it. Afterwards, after losing my vision during the cuts, watching it get even dimmer with the flaps lifting and shutting, I was hoisted up to me feet and told I was all done. I looked around, just stunned. I couldn't say a word. Then I looked out the door and saw my mom. "Mommy, I can see you!" I started to bawl. I was so overwhelmed. It had been such an emotional rollercoaster for me to decide to go through with this. So I just cried and cried and hugged everyone I could find who had helped me. I have always depended on glasses or contacts just to survive. It was scary for me to give up that crutch. And my vision wasn't 20/20 the second I walked out of the operating room, but I would have been satisfied with what it was, it was such an improvement. Later that afternoon, they took off my eye guards and tested my vision. 20/25! I got the nickname "Eagle Eye" because rarely do people as nearsighted as me heal that quickly.

I'm still a little sensitive to bright light, but all things considered, I'm amazed. What a miracle! Now I think everyone should get LASIK. It's hard to imagine improving on my experience. I would do it over again in a heartbeat!

My cousin and Matt Damon

2007-12-01T19:47:00.000-08:00

What do they have in common?

"How do you like them apples?" My first exposure to this line was in health class in 10th grade, with... I can't remember my teacher's name. Anyway, some exceedingly lazy educator pirated the censored version of Good Will Hunting off NBC, and let it run in half hour blocks every other day for a few weeks.

So my cousin... Today was my mom's parents' 50th wedding anniversary, and festivities were held in their honor at my parents' house. The eclectic menagerie that is my mother's family came, amongst the bunch my eight-year-old cousin, who is in third grade in the next town over. Well, I remember how much I loved getting attention from my older cousins around his age, so when challenged (shyly) to a round of air hockey, I accepted. An hour later, my cousin beat me for the umpteenth time, triumphantly, hoisting himself halfway onto the table, yelling, "How do you like them apples?!?!?"

I don't know. They're alright. Besides, he was allowed to use two mallets (to my one) and his hands (while he instructed me severely several times to keep mine off the puck). So I'm not ashamed of losing. But "them apples"? I'm still reeling.

Blogging: It's What Needs to be Done, or, Things I Like Lately

2007-11-24T21:02:00.000-08:00

Diet Coke with Lime.

Feist. In 2005, a boy (hmm?) introduced me to "Mushaboom," a song I've been in love with since day one. Feist has recently come to international attention with the release of the new iPod Nano commercial, which features her song "1-2-3-4." What makes Feist awesome? She's nowhere near being tainted by attention, nor is she in any danger of becoming a sell-out. My roommate has looked up some of Feist's music videos. Please see My Moon My Man for an example of previously affirmed awesomeness. The woman is not afraid to sport a single Princess Leia bun, a killer trench-dress, and a dozen or so unisex background dancers, and rock out like the white girl she is. For another example of her white girliness, please refer to Feist and Gonzales live at Trash in London. Start at about 2 minutes. In conclusion, Sim put it best when she said that Feist "makes me want to play guitar... coolly." Yes, me too. Me too.

Sleep. I averaged about 10 hours a night over break. Needless to say, no homework was completed at all this week.

Yams. With toasty marshmallows.

Those fruit roll things they sell in the produce section. Except one is never enough. Wow, food dominates my life.

Mail. I got a letter from a friend on an LDS mission today. Well, it actually came yesterday, and I was chomping at the bit all yesterday and this morning to get a chance to read it. When you have to wait close to two months to hear from someone abroad, those letters are gold.

Enchanted. Holy cow. Sim and I saw it tonight (my second time). You know something is good if my roommate starts wheezing while she laughs. Amy Adams was really good at being an air-headed Disney ditz (thus confirming what we've always suspected of Disney "princesses"), and of course I was satisfied that she reformed and became a secure, confident female force to be reckoned with. It took me a second to get out of my head the Katie image from The Office, but she knocked this role out of the park. I also love James Marsden. I think he's incredibly versatile. I loved him in Hairspray this summer as well. Sim and I also confirmed that the best way to win a girl over is to hold her close in a slow dance and softly sing in her ear. Oh... It's good. Guys, don't do it if she doesn't dig you, though. That would have quite the opposite effect. But if you know she's into you, for Pete's sake DO IT! And please note, chest hair, though a natural part of life for many men, and possibly attractive to certain women, probably shouldn't be flaunted whilst wearing a loose bathrobe. And women probably shouldn't make a habit of playing with the chest hair of strangers. Just a thought.

And now I leave you for homework, or What Really Needs to Be Done.

Bonus Material

2007-11-18T18:28:00.000-08:00

Just for being such a great crowd...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59ZX5qdIEB0

Be amazed. He's something of an idol back home. We have an oboist and a flautist among my sisters, and this guy gives them some shred of hope that their hobbies can be cool someday.

Also, my roommate has taken to consulting me on composition for her art projects. Simini, I just don't know. All I know is, I like to see the other ear piece on your glasses. I want ear piece! That's all I know! Check her out, she's the coolest. Link to the right...

Buchidiot

2007-11-18T17:32:00.000-08:00

Jani, this one's for you.

I encountered, for the first time in my life, someone completely ignorant of the concept of a library, who should have known better.

I work as a reference desk assistant in the Special Collections department of my university's main library. My supervisor wasn't in, so I checked her messages during a slow part of my shift. A patron had called in looking for a copy of the book, Joseph Smith and Herbal Medicine.

Side note: I find the title of this book disappointing and somewhat upsetting, and if it weren't my job to help patrons find materials, I would have deleted the message right there. I'm embarrassed that the library not only had the book, but had seven copies over three editions both in SC as well as the religion department. Not that this is the library's fault; down in SC, we especially look to preserve anything written by or about the Church or church members. But this... Come on. Let's not make inferences where they oughtn't be made. Well, that's typical of my work. For every bona fide source we have about the Church in our locked stacks in SC, we have three or four sources of questionable repute, or downright blasphemous/anti-Church materials. But I digress...

I called this patron back, but got the answering machine for an herbal supplier in the next county over. Okay, easy enough. A few hours later, right before close, the phone rang again. Who would it be but our dear herbalist friend. The following is a reenactment of the conversation:

"Special Collections, this is Hilary, how can I help you?"

"Hello, this is Bob Jones (fake name in case that wasn't obvious), I'm calling back about the book Joseph Smith and Herbal Medicine. You said you had it?"

"Yes. We have editions from 1975, 1980, and 2001. We have multiple copies of the first and last editions, but only one of the 1980."

"Oh, so these are used books?"

Pause. I continued:

"Well, in theory... They are on the shelves both in our protected stacks and in the library itself, so yes, any patron would have had access to these copies."

"Oh, okay. So can I buy one of the newer ones?"

Okay, now wait. Buy? How many times have I just said the word "library"? Was that unclear?

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand. This is a library. We only lend out materials, we don't sell them."

Pause. Again. I pressed forward:

"I'm looking at the online card catalog description for this book as we speak, and the publisher is Bountiful Books, based out of Springville with Cedar Fort, Inc. It's a fairly popular LDS publisher. You could probably find this in a Deseret Book or a Seagull Books store."

Pause. He tries this time:

"Sooo... Deseret Book would have it?"

Aw, for the love of Pedro. Come on. Regaining my composure, I offer:

"Possibly, but I'm not sure. You'd have to check with the publisher or with those stores."

"Oh, okay. Do you have their number?"

Google, buddy. But I had nothing else to do, so I googled it for him. At this point, it was clear he needed all the help he could get. I gave him the most information I could, and sent him on his way. Now, I never saw him face to face, obviously, but I made the following assumptions just from his voice:

1. male
2. white
3. American
4. between 40 and 50 years old
5. completely inept

How did he not understand the concept of a library? Rarely does one buy anything from a library. I was so baffled. Apparently someone's partaken of a few too many herbs in his day...

2007-11-12T21:13:00.000-08:00

Someone so kindly alerted my attention to the fact that my vida has been seemingly un-llena, judging by the (in)frequency of my posts.

I'd like to plead whatever number says that computers are a pain in the patooty. I killed my iBook and my mom's Dell, as well as a brand new external hard drive this past month. I now have a new Dell Inspiron, and pray every waking moment of my existence that it will not die on me.

Other than that... I'm sorry people. I'm just uninspired lately. Simini's last post was extremely amusing. My wee little roommie... I'm going to miss that girl.

This is going to have to go up as it is. Consider this an IOU for better things to come.

ScEd 353 - Cultural Identity Report

2007-10-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Hey kids! Who said homework couldn't be fun? The following blog is actually a homework assignment for my multicultural ed class with the fabulous Dr. Ramona Cutri. For those random friends who actually read this lonely page, the assignment is (and I quote): "Create a 'conceptual webbing' of the various cultural, biological, economical and contextual factors that have influenced your identity, shaped your values, and influenced your learning. Place your name in the center of the web." The name in the center of the web part gets complicated a bit because this is a blog, and unavoidably linear. Oh well, here goes anyway. I think I'll start with "the basics" and move into more complex areas of the web that is me. :)

Hilary Watkins
Race (Color? I'm confused about this term now...): White/Caucasian/Anglo...?
Gender: Female
Heritage: Predominantly English, Welsh, Swedish, Norwegian, and Danish.
Birthday: May 13, 1987
Birthplace: Summit, NJ
Hometown: New Canaan, CT
Current location: Provo, UT
Family's current location: Alpine, UT
Place in family: Oldest of five girls; no brothers!
Financial situation: Born to a poor couple who acquired quite a bit of money through hard work and smart investing; now I've come full circle as a financially independent poor college student.
Education: Student at Brigham Young University; BA in English Teaching with a minor in TESOL K-12.
Political affiliation: Somewhere between the Republican and Democratic parties.
Religious affiliation: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Favorite foods: Sushi, dark chocolate, Diet Coke with lime, Indian food, grilled cheese, anything minty, ice cream, and good pizza. Being raised in the east, I'm a food snob.
Favorite colors: Green, blue, and brown (the colors of the outdoors). We are a walking family; we love Sunday strolls, and we like to spend time up American Fork Canyon.
Favorite holiday: Christmas. So many wonderful memories and traditions.
Things I love: Traveling (we have visited three continents as a family), music (I studied piano for 10 years and competed in New York), reading (my mother always read to us growing up), admiring the mountains and clouds (the move to Utah has opened up nature to me), playing with kittens at the pet store (I miss my pug Sammy at home), typing (I know this is crazy, but it's actually quite therapeutic, and I transcribed missionary journals for work for seven months), digging in the garden (my mom loves to garden), swimming (we have a pool), watching movies (a weekly roommate activity).
Things I hate: Forgetting things at home (which I do all the time, and which bothers my dad), sleeplessness (picked up from my dad), not liking any of the food in my apartment (again, food snobbery), people who brag about expensive clothing (we were raised with the understanding that material things are the last things we should be worrying about in this world), blindly conservative/liberal people (my parents have raised me to be a "free thinker" and to challenge norms).
Most life-changing experience: Living in Ecuador last summer for three months, working in orphanages and hospitals, and picking up as much Spanish as possible.
Life goals: To be a wife and mother (although I cannot guarantee the caliber of either), to have a positive influence in the lives of those around me, and to see more of the world and to understand what I can do to help improve it.

This is starting to look like one of those obnoxious "About Me" forwarded emails that we all used to be obsessed with in middle school. Hopefully this does the job for this assignment...

Mom, I have a headache in my belly.

2007-10-17T20:48:00.000-07:00

I used to tell my mom this when I was sick. And right now, it bears repeating.

What I ate after 4:20 today:
1. Approximately 1/2 cup Reduced Fat Cheez-its
2. 2 apple cinnamon rice cakes
3. 1 cup of milk
4. 1 slice of cheddar cheese
5. 1 cup of edamame

Then I booked it up the hill to work. When I got there, I craved chocolate and bought some Junior Mints in the break room. This proved unnecessary, as my co-worker Kimberly bought a jumbo bag of Reece's Pieces. So at least I didn't down the mints. But I ate a lot of Reece's Pieces. And that didn't feel so good. And so I sipped some water and tried to sit still, moaning gently... On the inside...

Quite unfortunately, tonight was the L. Tom Perry Special Collections 50th Anniversary Gala Event! complete with carrot cake and ice water. Of course I had a piece of cake, with way too much buttery cream cheesy icing.

So now the edamame, the rice cakes, and the skim milk (Team Healthy) are warring, somewhat unsuccessfully, against the cheese, the Cheez-its, the Reece's Pieces, and the carrot cake (Team Junkola). The carrot cake could have been healthy, but it succumbed to the cheesy creamy icing, and converted to the Dark Side. Or at least the winning side. Uck.

So much for yoga last night. Is it weird that I still want Chinese take-out right now?

The many sounds of Gummibears.

2007-10-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

A discussion with two of my roommates about the olden days of Disney afternoon cartoons brought many mixed memories to the surface. This is a collection of trivia, with the Gummibear grande finale.

Fact: In DuckTales, Uncle Scrooge is raising Huey, Dewey, and Louie because their guardian, Uncle Donald, joined the navy. Yeah, I know. But who isn't above a little subliminal messaging?

Fact: InTaleSpin, the she-bear who buys out Baloo's freight business is named Rebecca Cunningham. I grew up with a Rebecca Cunningham.

Fact: This is boring. Now to the good stuff.

Check out these bad boys. First, the original Gummibears theme. Second, the a cappella version, hailing from Brown University. And finally, the Swedish techno remix.

In conclusion, homework is overrated.

Addicted to Connectivity

2007-10-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

Well, our internet connection is down. It's been pretty lame all week, but after running some diagnosis tests over the phone with the frazzled Comcast lady today, our modem was pronounced dead. The brand new modem that TPM (our management group) finally bought us after living without our own modem for the whole summer and part of this semester. And pirating the mysterious "linksys" open network has proved less than successful, although the signal is unfrequented enough tonight for me to write this post. Roar, I just hate when things don't work. I didn't have anything desperately needing my attention online tonight, but I panic when I don't have an internet connection when I'm expecting to have one.

I know it's pathetic, but I get that way when I leave my cell phone at home, too. Just knowing that I'm supposed to be connected to the technological world but I'm not freaks me out. How bothersome. My thoughts turn to Thoreau in the woods. Simplify, simplify, simplify...

Of course, Thoreau only pulled off the whole Walden thing because Emerson and some existentialist buddies gave him land and helped him build his house and made sure he didn't starve. So civilization is somewhat necessary. It's just too bad that our civilization comes with so many screens, plugs, and flashing lights.

Can I just say, I love eating brownies and singing along to Regina Spektor with my roommate in our living room at 11:30 on a Sunday night, long after our responsible roommates have gone to bed. Shout out to ya, Sim.

According to Billy Crystal...

2007-10-12T22:47:00.000-07:00

...women and men can never be friends. My roommate and I watched When Harry Met Sally a few weeks ago. Besides having some riotously hysterical moments, it harped on the idea that men and women can never engage in a nonromantic relationship. Harry and Sally, though friends for the better part of the second half of the movie, eventually get together. So point proven, I guess.

Gosh darn it, why can't we all just be friends? I'm so sick of the anxiety of a relationship. I'm just happy to be alone. Not emotionally alone, I need and love my friends. Just unattached. Not worried about keeping someone else happy for once. Just me. I love my friends, but I also like the fact that I just don't get stuck on my friends like I get stuck on dates/boyfriends. My friends and I can all go our separate ways, and I know that in six weeks, four months, or two years, it'll still be like old times.

And so I fight. Eat it, Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan and Carey Fischer. Men and women can "just" be friends, so help me.

My date with the Rocky Mountain Express Cloggers.

2007-10-05T19:59:00.000-07:00

I forgot to write about my Clogger. Not like he clogs things up. He clogs. Like Irish dancing, but not. You can swing your arms around and such.

So I introduced myself to this tiny little kid who sits by my desk, and asked him how his work was coming. The seventh graders are working on a project in which they design their own worlds, complete with cultural norms, family norms, etc. So I've seen places called Eyeland (how punny), ESPN World, Marclar (Southpark reference, I'm sad that I know this), Heavenland, JimmyWorld, you get the idea. Well, this tiny little wisp of a boy shows me his brochure for his world. It's name? Rocky Mountain Express Cloggers Island World.

"You clog?" I croon.

He tells me all about his dance company and the features of his little clogging mecca-world. I walk away, and out of the corner of my eye, I see these skinny little limbs working their magic under Clogger's desk. He is dancing up a storm, trying to steal sneaky glances at me. Oh, I see you Clogger. Immobile torso, yes, but those clunky skater shoes furiously wearing away the carpet underneath your seat.

I gave him a sweet little smile and said, "I see you clogging under there." He grinned and blushed. I think I'm the first girl he's ever impressed. He invited me to his dance recital. In December. If I remember I'll go cheer on my cute little Clogger. Seventh grade is the best!

In the next class of seventh graders, there's a student from Brasilia, Brazil. When I introduced myself on the first day of my time at this junior high school, one of the students asked me if I spoke any other languages. When I confessed to speaking some Spanish and Portuguese, they all cajoled me to say something in the latter. I said something to the effect of, "I don't speak Portuguese very well, but I do speak a little bit." Brasilia responded in Portuguese, and we exchanged three or four times. The class went wild. It's fun to snag their attention. I still haven't cracked my ninth graders, but the seventh graders have been pretty easy.

Anyway, Brasilia was spotlighted today, and talked about her desire to be an author by profession. She announced that she had already begun her first novel. When she was done, I jotted down a self-publication website on a post-it (lulu.com, thank you Ben!) and "Good luck!" I quietly and quickly stuck it on her desk; I didn't say a peep, just turned around on the double. I did glance back though, and her face was priceless. Her head whipped around, and she was grinning. She's a very bright, very expressive girl. I see a lot of my seventh grade self in her. Eager, bursting with ideas, and all-too-easily obnoxious. People like Brasilia and me, we need allies. I love being a teacher because I get to be an intellectual, academic ally for kids like Brasilia. I don't know her well, but I have a feeling I will be receiving a copy of her self-published novel within the next year.

And randomly, things I learned I am bad at:

1. Tearing colored paper off the butcher rolls in the copy room.
2. Stapling said paper onto a bulletin board.
3. Reloading the stapler.
4. Handling fart jokes.
5. Handling sentences that run as follows: "So Marclar marclarred the marclar in the marclar, and Marclar marclarred Marclar back in the Marclar room."
6. Turning down flirty twelve year-olds.

I love education.

Chugg.

2007-10-04T11:50:00.000-07:00

I'm intrigued by a seventh-grader named Chugg.

I wish I were his mother. If my own kids have to look homely and sad, and there's a chance they will, I hope they look like Chugg.

Chugg is small and round. He wears sweatpants and striped or camo t-shirts. His hair is blond and sticks out at all the wrong angles. Chugg sports some glasses that magnify his eyes to comical proportions, and the ear pieces are dipped in rubber to help keep them on his head. He faithfully carries around one of the those fabric binders with a zipper. He's one of those pack rats whose binder is bursting at the seams. When "at ease," his mouth tends to hang open. His glasses are always sliding down his nose, so his head is always cocked back and to the side a little bit. He's irresistible!

At first I thought the teacher was calling him Chuck. During group work, I introduced myself to all the students, working my way around the room.

"You're Chuck, right?" I asked.

A squeak back: "Not Chuck, Chugg!"

I was hooked ever since. I didn't have his class today, but I ran into him in the hall. I asked him how he was doing. In typical Chugg fashion, he tilted his head back, squinted his eyes and pushed up his glasses, tugged a bit at his shirt and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to the main office, because... My locker is because..."

"Your locker is jammed?" I offered.

"No, because my coat, a part of my coat.... It's stuck like," and he waved his hands frantically up and down and then pursed his thumb and pointer finger together, "My coat is in the locker and I can't open it."

Last time I checked, that is what defines a jammed locker. Apparently my school-day terms are obsolete. Already. So that's Chugg.

Out of the mouths of babes.

2007-09-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

I'm a shoddy blogger. I'm sorry. Thank you to everyone that suffers through it, whomever you are.

I do have something fun to share today. Today was my last day with my first through fourth period kids. I had them all fill out a quick evaluation of my teaching skills. The results were varied, at times touching, and sometimes downright insulting. I had lots of good laughs to overpower my confusion or hurt, though. And although anonymous, I can figure out almost exactly who wrote what. Very fun.

The evaluation I put up on the overhead was as follows:

1. How do you think I managed the class on days when I was in charge? Was I too strict or not strict enough? What can I do to improve in this area?
2. What do you think of my teaching style? Was I interesting, boring, or somewhere in between? What can I do to improve in this area?
3. What do you wish I had done to make class more fun?
4. Please tell me what else I can do to be the best teacher possible!

Here's what they wrote. And I mean, EXACTLY what they wrote.

Period #1: ESOL

A. I think u managed the class good!
you were kool i guess every teacher has
to be kinda of strict But you werent that
STRiCt!
like i think you should work on like having more
conversation with us and getting to know us
more.
your teacher style was good i learned some/
thing new everyday
interesting!!!!
We just should of gotten to get the chance
to know each other.
Other then that u' were a chill & cool
teacher!! u were off
da BOMb
ama miss
u!!!

B. you did good could of been better
you need to have fun wit it but
dont loose control...

C. Perfectly Stict Don't need to work on
anything.
you were interesting
I Don't Know
nothinG *derrogatory racial comment scratched out by author, although why you'd belittle your own race is beyond me*
*a booger appears here*

D. You weren't really strict
but you teached us really well.
You would be really interesting
on your teaching.
You could of done more
activities.
I really think that you
are a great teather.
Think you for helping me
when I need help.
I'm really going to miss
You Good Luck!

E. Dear Hilary
I'am give you a 10 because you
did a great Job There nothing To
change you are going
To be a great Teacher and hope
you will come back again it was
Fun having you here.

F. You were perfectly managed the class, not to
strict and and not too little.
Some where in between.
Write down what your teaching.
Made it easyer.
Make something more easy.

G. How do you think I managed the class
on days when I was in charge? you were
awsome
a. you were not strict
b. nothing your great how you are
Your teaching style is perfect.
a. You are interesting
b. nothing your perfect the way you are
nothing because class is no fun
nothing, I don't know

H. I think you were strict enough
because I guess to be a good teacher
you can't be too soft or too hard
I think you were really good, just
pay attention when someone is behind
so every student can be on track
I think you were really helpful
I think you are an interesting
teacher but also you can be like
an understanding teacher,

Period #2: Containment

A. You were great

B. I think you did good
We didn't reallly get to
see your style you werent
here to long
hands on
come back

C. your were not stick
enough
you were interesting
Nothing
bring more Kandy!

D. 100%
great Awsome
Perfect Just keep
goin the way you are.

E. You were strict But not to strict
You are in Betwen
Been her longer
Stay the same.

F. you did pretty good when
you were in charge

G. good, you werent too strict.
you rock!!!
Lots of candies
Just be yourself.

H. I really liked it becdause I'm
tired of being bossed around
and you asked kindly and people
respect that. I don't think
you need to work on anything.
I think your just average nothing
too special.
maybe we could have done more
hands on things.
Have fun and be strict when you
need to be.

I. you are a Decent
teacher you Just Need
more experance.
I Dont Know
what your teaching style is
?
Pepole fear what they
Dont understand
so lern about your
students so you understand
them!

Period #4: Freshman English

A. I thought You were fine
in between
Play dodge ball on fridays
I thought you were fine

B. really Good. Not really Stricked
Good-and I loved the teaching
Play games or do Jokes
make the assignments
a little fun.

C. Good
Awsome, interesting
*The phrase "Give more candy" is scratched out here because I gave each of my fourth period kids 3 Oreos for being so good while my professor evaluated me yesterday.*
tell jokes.
Thats all

D. I thought you where
just fine
somewhere in Between
Let us Play more games
I think you where fine

E. You weren't strict you were nice
when you ask for our attention
we gave it to you & thats good
Your normal you always give examples
& say things that have happend to you
You did good you just need to speak louder
Nothing just make things more
fun!! and you'll do great

F. You were really nice &
controlled the class really well
it was a Lil boring but most
of the time pretty fun
i don't know.
Your nice! :)

G. no not strict at all but can work on
being striced
You are cool and can talk to
and you R Polite
Let us Play dogeball
to us you are the best
(if you're nice)
J/K
we'll miss you!!!!

H. you were fun.
just right
nothing
cool

I. I thought you were a good teacher.
I liked your teaching style. It was
really cool.
Like if we have quizes after we
learn, you could give candy
for the people who get the
right awnser.
you could be a little more
strict.

J. I think you was great. Because
you wern't to nice or 2 strict.
You somewhere in between.
But I understand you.
Have music.
You can get more intersting
facs about what we are
learning.

K. I think you did very well.
To be just right?.. umm i don't
think you should change a thing
sometimes you were boring... but
then again i think it was the
assignment.
i think you should show your
personality more.
You'll be great.

L. Good I really liked it. No it was
Perfect Not too strict
& Well yeah you were a really
good teacher You are Interesting.
You teach Really good.
Nothing. It's just right.
You did a Good Job Hilary!
We'll Miss You! :)

M. You were pretty cool and chill so I
liked that
we should have
You were a good teacher
and stay way chill! for
real chill teachers are dope
dude

Oh these kids... Even the booger paper will be cherished. I cried in fourth period today. I'm so sad to leave my kids.

I'm exhausted, but hopefully I'll get more about today down... some other time.

The moral of the story: chill teachers are dope dude!

Pandamonium and publication.

2007-09-20T22:36:00.000-07:00

Well, I survived yesterday without Shule just fine. I'm not sure about her sub, though.

I taught ESOL first period. The kids were pretty ornery. Oh well, water under the bridge. We got through it.

Containment was exceptionally good. I gave most of them the full 10 participation points for the day. A couple of guys fell asleep, so... No dice, kids. That class only has two girls in it. One regularly doesn't show, but the last one hasn't been coming the last few days either, so I hope she didn't drop out. Also, I learned a new drug term the other day, specifically, the term "420," and was tickled (if I'm allowed to be?) to see that a student had it emblazoned proudly on his right wrist, like a fake tattoo watch. Hopefully my class is not 4:20 time...

Third period, normally the harriest part of the morning, behaved themselves too. I had a nice chat with the sub, a first-timer fresh off an LDS mission. Green in so many ways, but pleasant nonetheless. If only he knew what was in store for him.

I offered him fourth period as a test run for the rest of the day. I had already modeled the lesson in second period, and I knew that my fourth period kids would behave for him. They did, and he was actually quite charming and had them eating out of his hand! I was kind of jealous. Here I am, with a passion and drive to teach, and Joe California shows up and knocks one out of the park! I felt better about bailing at lunch, though, knowing that he could handle these kids. At least, that's what I thought.

I looked over his notes on the attendance for the last 3 classes. I knew fifth was a big class, and prone to acting up, but it went alright from his brief notes. Sixth is small and decently manageable. Seventh though... Oi vey. Seventh period, a paper fight broke out, and the black button was pushed. The black button, you ask? A feature of the classroom I had failed to notice before, apparently. When kids get really out of hand, you can push a panic button of sorts and have reinforcements at your door in mere seconds. Incredible. I guess kids started jumping on each other, and so Sub had to call for back-up. Poor guy. That was probably the worst $50 he's ever made. Welcome to education.

Today was pretty normal, but a few things stick out that I want to mention. One of Shule's students from last year was hanging around her room before the bell yesterday, looking for someone to listen to her poem. Shule was trying to finish her lesson plans before heading out to a training meeting, so this student was passed on to me. Poet read me a rather angsty piece about her boyfriend, who moved north and avoids her calls now. Quite a lengthy composition, a sheet of lined paper, double sided. No recognizable trace of meter, no rhyme scheme. She did use the word "inscrutable" though, which does merit a nod. Still, I was so pleased that she had found a way to express herself constructively, instead of, as she put it, "tracking him down and screaming, and probably breaking something in the process." Too true. She then showed me the rest of her binder, about 300 handwritten pages of a novel. Already 28 chapters! I say this rather cheekily, but I really am impressed with her dedication. Apparently she has already finished another novel. Think Tolkienian scope of a new world and language system(s), with a dash of her own personal love life (strictly autobiographical), in another galaxy, with Leonardo DaVinci as the mentor figure, under the watchful tutelage of a tenth-grade editor, and voila! The novel. She's planning on mailing it to a publishing company in New York. I hope the rejection process doesn't discourage her too much. She did seem aware of the competition and the high standards of the industry. I just hope they go easy on her.

It got me thinking, though, about helping some students start up a literary magazine. My sister and I were involved with our high school's literary magazine back east, and loved our time listening to and voting on student submissions. Just knowing that some of these kids are writing and don't have a forum in which to share it kills the part of me that's seeking some unrealistic measure of justice. I might not even be in Provo after December, though, and I wonder how fair it is to start something in these students' lives that may be taken away from them so soon, not unlike other arenas of their lives. Still, if I could recruit a teacher to oversee the group, and teach them how to pass judgment fairly on others' writings... It could really be something productive and cathartic. Then again, I don't know how the school does clubs, if they do at all. The curse of dreaming big...

Back from prison? And the football incident.

2007-09-18T22:25:00.000-07:00

It's another week of interning wonders! I am especially wiped out today, so this will be brief.

Our ESOL kids are so darn smart. They learned the word "boycott" today, and my afro-coiffed student (although it is freshly braided to the crown of his head) said, "Boycott... Like you mean with the lead stuff from China?" He reads the news?!? I had to hear about that from my mom, and here was this kid who had actually picked up a newspaper or hovered on a news station long enough to get the gist of what was going on. Score one for the educational system! The class then proceeded to work in groups, discussing various ways boycott might be used in a sentence. When they reconvened to present to the class, almost everyone started off on a tirade against "whites" and the foolishness of those dumb and lazy white people who don't want to work, but want to deport their workers back to Central and South America. Now, I understand that these students have faced a lot of racism in their lives, far more than I have ever dealt with or will have to deal with. However, I spend a lot of time and energy helping to break down stereotypes against Latinos/as, and it's a little hurtful to hear my own race so tidily belittled and scoffed at. I'm not really sure how to deal with it. I kept my mouth shut in class. Shule tried to brush it off, saying things like, "That's not true..." but the kids were rather vocal. I felt hurt. It cuts both ways, people. Today was my most disappointing first period thus far.

Containment was same old. My flirty friend is back. I don't think he actually went to prison, but the kids sure thought it was great that a classmate might be in the slammer. He was not so bold today. He only said "thank you" to me when I brought him the reading chart he missed last week. So something happened. I'm having a hard time staying emotionally detached from the students. I worry about them all, and some are clearly having a harder time getting by financially and emotionally than others. So I hope my alleged jailbird didn't have too rough of a weekend.

No third period today because Tuesdays are shorter days for teacher in-service. Woo-hoo!

And last but not least, my beloved fourth period freshmen. I graded their paragraphs they wrote last week for a school-mandated prompt. The paragraphs are graded on a 1 to 4 scale, with 4 being exceptional. A 3 is a school-wide goal for our students. The school assumes they will hit about a 2 on their first shot, and many students will get a 1 if they don't really try at all. Well, I taught my kids exactly what they would need to do to get a 3, and though that felt odd at first and I wanted to "teach to the 4!" I knew I had to be realistic. Well, I had to give my whole class 2s, and I gave them good reasons for the scores they received, so the revisions should turn out really well. Anyway, one lone student, a shy girl from the left corner of the class, wrote a solid 3 paragraph. I was so proud! I asked her if she would read it to the class, but she said she would prefer if I just read it. I did, and her neighbors figured out that it was hers and made a fuss. To see her straighten up and look proud, if a little sheepish, was awesome. I wish all of my students could feel like that every day. I try to make them feel like they can do anything if they try hard enough, but sometimes I feel spread so thin that I worry I'm not reaching them all. And I only really have one class! Still, they're "mine," and I hope I don't lose their interest over the next couple of weeks...

No Shule tomorrow, so it's me and the sub to keep everyone in line! I'm terrified, but Shule emailed me the lesson plan, so hopefully nothing too catastrophic shall pass between 7:30 and 11:30 tomorrow morning.

Oh, the football incident. I almost forgot. Because Tuesdays are shorter, I also saw Shule's fifth and sixth period classes today. I can't remember which class, but one of the boys had a football and was hucking it to another kid a few seats behind him. I went over and asked him his name. "Juan." Conveniently, after I had called him Juan 17 times, I learned his real name, which was not Juan. Anyway, regardless of his name, I asked him to put the football in his backpack. He responded, "It doesn't fit." I said, "Then give it to me." Aaaand blank stares. Okay. I tried again with his two options. Stares. Hmm...Some teenagers are just indiscriminately mean. I certainly didn't want to stand there hovering over a football, calling a kid by someone else's name, looking like an inept idiot. I feel like I'm reliving eighth grade... Ouch. :(

"This is soooo ghetto..."

2007-09-13T23:00:00.000-07:00

Everything with these kids is "ghetto" or "gay." A friend told me on the phone today that I should have an activity in which they actually have to discover new adjectives that actually do something crazy - describe the object about which they are speaking! Handouts are not ghetto. Overheads are not gay. Geeze.

I also managed to steer clear of the overhead pens today. Yesterday, I came home up to my elbows in ink, and because I nervously touch my neck when I teach, I had blue smudges all around my hairline. Only minorly embarrassing...

School was pretty routine today. Some of my ESOL kids are getting excited about the letters to Senator Hatch they are currently drafting. I showed them how to create an appropriate heading for a business letter. They were so excited by how professional their letters looked once they changed the font from size 18 Curly to standard size 12 Times New Roman and slapped a few addresses and the date at the top. Amazing. My mom-student's letter is quite good. She is so proud of her work, which makes me want to burst. That's one of the most satisfying feelings I have ever experienced. Weird thing of the day: some of my kids freaked out when their letters overflowed to a second page. Somehow they had it in their heads that a letter should only be a page long. Oh, the panicked margin adjusting I saw today... I think psychologically it worries them that they're actually creating something substantial. It makes them more accountable for what they write, I think.

A note about Containment: I learned the other day that students are only put in Containment after fair warning, and can work their way out with good behavior. The school has students from a girls' home and a boys' home. Those kids and Containment kids have a special lunch so they can't interact with other students. The isolation is really unpleasant for them, so most of the students in Containment want to work well so they can be with their friends again. That's probably what makes that class one of Shule's easiest to deal with, surprisingly. Today was no exception. Incidentally, the boy that was sort of checking me out yesterday went to court after school, and rumor has it that he's in jail now. So maybe that won't be an issue anymore...

Third period was hard again, as usual. The whiny girl sets off the rest of the class like a spark and... The analogy escapes me. Anyway, she is seriously getting under my skin, in a bad way. Shule, bless her, has a hard time being disciplinarian in that class because there are a lot of demands on her attention. Whiny Girl was painting her nails during class, and Shule had a hard time following up with her about putting away the bottle of polish. I didn't want to disrepect Shule's control (because I generally sit back in that class and observe), but I seriously wanted to give that girl a piece of my mind. For a lot of students, they just want to do their thing for their own purposes; getting caught is an unfortunate hazard of that. Whiny Girl, however, wants to cause a scene. Well, if it's a scene she wants...

And fourth period... My class! Again, today was a great day. I'm really lucky, they are a great group of kids. Plus, freshmen still have a spark of innocence in them and actually thrive with praise. Some of the older kids here wouldn't bat an eyelash if you cut them a check for $5k right then and there. I got all their names today, too, which made for better inclusion and more responsive kids. I feel like they are starting to trust me. It goes both ways, they tested me a bit more today, but they also got into group work much more enthusiastically. They love showing me how they can problem solve and how detail-oriented they can be without being told to be. One girl with Cleopatra eye make-up got her whole group to box up this part of the paragraph, and underline that part, and circle errors... Who is this child?!? The great thing about a school setting such as this is that these kids get a chance to be leaders in ways that were never an option for them in their mainstream schools. One of my brightest and most motivated ESOL kids told me this morning that he's running for Student Council here. His face was GLOWING! Here he is truly among his peers, and he stands a shot at actually feeling the rush of participating in change and in earning the respect of other people.

Spark in a tinderbox. Is that the analogy?

No school tomorrow, because of teacher in-service, which means I can sleep in tomorrow. Yay!

My first class ever, and the misapplication of the term "racist."

2007-09-12T21:15:00.001-07:00

Today I did not encounter any tow trucks, so that right there made today a better day than yesterday.

I already taught my first class today. Shule is a jump-right-in kind of gal, and when she asked me if I felt like getting up in front of her fourth period class, who was I to say no? But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The day began as usual with ESOL, which is becoming my favorite class already. Maybe it's too early for my kids to be rowdy, but generally first period is calm and productive. I'm a little biased anyway, since I find ESL is a really interesting and growing field of education. This class has students from all grades (9-12 here, which is unusual for Utah), and the freshman tend to be very overwhelmed with the prospect of writing an entire letter. It's not that the English is difficult, although it is an ever-present concern and challenge. These kids aren't used to anyone asking them to do anything incredibly difficult. Yesterday I reviewed, corrected, and commented on all their letters. Some were remarkably good. Others struggled to get anything down on paper. I wrote on many of these letters that they were missing conclusion paragraphs. After brainstorming out loud with some of my froshies, I then turned the task over to them.

Four kids, independent of each other, listened to my huge long explanation of conclusion paragraphs and my suggestions for improvement, then turned to their keyboards and asked, "Sooo... What do I write?" I learned a valuable lesson today: Sometimes you have to walk away, or your kids will finagle a way for you to do the work for them. So I did a lot of walking away today.

Second period brought Shule and me out to Containment. Something about that room... It reeks to high heaven. It smells like stale incense mixed with moldy crackers or something. Now, the kids might just stink, especially since they are not allowed to leave the portable except for lunch. That's a lot of teenage boy smell floating around in a small space. There are also a number of large bluish black stains on the carpet. What they are, I don't care to find out, but they are highly suspect. Regardless of the stench, Shule's lesson went really well, and it was on that lesson I would model my own lesson in fourth period. I worry about some of the kids in Containment. Two of them fell asleep every few minutes, sitting straight up in their seats. Now, that makes me wonder what is going on outside of school with these kids. They might just be staying up late, but my mind goes to all the wild possibilities that might keep teenage boys awake in bed, including family troubles, sleeping disorders, or fear. I hope they're okay. Some of the aids were getting cranky that the two boys wouldn't keep alert, but I know that it's not always a respect issue. Then again, sometimes it is. I guess I'll never know.

Containment also afforded what I hope does not become a recurring experience in my early teaching years. One of the students, a very handsome (minus the barbed wire earrings) and well-built junior, was cracking some very friendly jokes with Shule at the start of class that I thought were exceptionally clever and good-natured, both qualities I wasn't expecting from him. Well, I was all smiles and appreciative laughter, but I definitely encouraged something that I shouldn't have. The rest of the class, I felt his eyes glued to me. I tried very hard to avoid his gaze. Admittedly, it got him really involved in the lesson, because he wanted me to look at him and smile or something, I don't know. We were warned about this at the start of the internship, that our male students might find something very exciting about "mature" older women who also happen to have access to grades. I will, of course, deflect any advances he may make in the future. I will not be an accessory to grade tampering!

Third period was kind of a wreck. Every teacher has an SEOP group third period, a group of students he/she sticks with for all four years. Shule's kids are juniors, and no one seems to take SEOP too seriously. Shule and my challenge is to come up with an activity to get them thinking about the reality and possibility of graduation. We're fine-tuning a collage project, with a written assignment of a letter to themselves for graduation day. We'll see how that goes down. These kids are hard to engage. The funniest part of the day happened here though. One of the kids, a redhead, had his pants ripped by another student today, and the FACS teacher offered to sew them up for him. Meanwhile the kid sat, humiliated, in gym shorts about two sizes too small for him. Another student, a girl with horribly dyed black hair, kept whiny to Shule about wanting to go to her locker, an activity clearly restricted to passing time. After this girl had a minor tantrum, Shule let the redhead go get his shorts so as to better cover himself and end his misery. Well, that just sent the whiny girl off the edge. Her next declaration went something like this:

"Shule, you let Redhead leave the class! You hate me, don't you? You're so racist!" Now, Shule is Latina, and the other two kids are Anglo. That is about the only place race factors in. If the girl with the awful black hair had said "sexist" instead of "racist," she might have had a better case, somehow suggesting that Shule hates her own gender, and therefore let the boy leave and not the girl. So a better case by just by a little bit. But even that is confounded by Shule's being a fairly empowered woman. So, I have no response to dyed-hair girl. Ah, kids...

Finally, fourth period. What a dream! It is amazing the adrenalin rush I got as soon as I stood up. I had about five minutes to draft out my version of Shule's lesson, but surprisingly everything went off without a hitch. I got these kids thinking, helping me. The only thing that slowed me down was not knowing names. But it's only my second day, so I won't be too hard on myself. I felt like I neglected about a half of the class because I didn't have time to get names. These kids are bullet trains; if you don't keep up with them, they derail in an instant, and then the whole class is a waste and impossible to reclaim. So even without getting to every student, I still communicated what I needed to. Shule's comments: very natural in front of the class, said "thank you" and built good rapport with students that way, called on one kid for not taking notes, didn't let kids shout out answers, steered tangents back to lesson material well... Yay! I get warm-fuzzies knowing that the lesson felt as good on the receiving end as I felt giving it.

After I taught, Shule and I debriefed and planned for tomorrow, and then I headed outside to my car. I opened my door, sat down, and started shaking. I didn't realize how exhausted I was. I put every ounce of my emotional and mental energy into that class period. Once I was off-duty, my body was ready to collapse. I don't know how to best deal with that. I'm sure it'll be an evolving experience. I teach again tomorrow, so hopefully I'll get used to this demand on my system to perform.

"Have a better day!" and "Are you nervous?"

2007-09-11T16:48:00.000-07:00

I thought today was going to be hard. This was the first on-site day of my 20 hour per week internship course, the first three weeks of which I will aid and teach at a high school for at-risk students and disciplinary cases here in Provo. I expected the dregs. I braced myself all weekend for an inevitable barage of obscenity, drugs, cruelty, promiscuity, insert favorite social depravity here. Quite tragically, my difficulties began much earlier than the morning bell today, let me tell you.

I had to be at my assigned school by 7:40 this morning, 15 minutes before the first period bell rang. I didn't sleep well last night, but I did leave myself enough time in the morning to run up to the Y to print off my resume for my mentor. Of course, the printing network was down. Campus-wide. So I hopped back in my rusty-chic Acura Legend and frantically called my roommates to see who had bothered to hook up a printer since we moved in. Bless her, Katie had, so I careened down 700 E., narrowly dodging the UTA buses that crash indifferently around Provo. Now, the aforementioned rusty-chic Acura Legend is quite stylish, and so sits rather low to the ground. It is also about as broad and long as a sedan can be legally, if legal limits exist, which is an argument for another time. Anyway, actually getting my car into and then parking it in our basement garage is such a headache, involving a complicated maneuver of pulling in and backing up about seven times. Thinking this would be a quick trip inside, I parked my Acura in front of the dumpster just south of my building. I flew up the stairs, burst into Katie's room in a whirlwind, waited for my overburdened iBook G4 to wake up, waited for the computer to recognize the printer, waited for the print job to send... A hurry up and wait situation. I was looking at 7:35 by that point. If I floored it, I would be just a minute or two late. I turned around, ran out of my place and down the two flights of stairs, only to see my beauty of a car hooked up to a tow truck. Argh...

Of course, there is a wonderful thing called a "half tow," so the guy dropped my car for $60.50. Now, I needed my car, but I hate throwing away money like that, especially because of my own stupidity. $60.50 is 7.5625 untaxed work hours for me. I still feel sick about it, but at that point, what could I have done? The poor tow guy was so sweet; he asked me if I was late for work, which was admittedly an awkward and somewhat unnecessary question, as I was standing there in gray slacks, a white button-down shirt, pearl earrings, and black dress shoes. I even blow-dried and straightened my hair today! C'mon. Duh. At least he was trying to soothe my obviously flustered soul. It wasn't much of a balm, but then beggars can't be choosers.

"No," I answered, "First day of an internship." This is going to sound masochistic, but I was kind of pleased with the gravity of my response. This was serious business. I was really impressed with how quickly he worked to get my car free from the blasted truck. His parting shot: "Have a better day!" I think it's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. He wasn't much older than me, and my one prior experience with a tow guy was less than agreeable. I think I'm going to write University Parking Enforcement a note asking them to thank that kid for me. Nobody is happy to see a tow truck, but he had the perfect demeanor for a tow truck driver/operator. Not many people can claim that, you know.

Alright, so on to the school. Though I was 10 minutes late for the first day, the other girl from BYU with the same school assignment had been on time but had only sat there in the main office, so I felt the clouds begin to part a bit. Almost as soon as I stepped into the office and announced myself, I was hustled out to my mentor's classroom. Fate worked her magic once again. I have been placed with the embodiment (albeit Latina, and I am very, if not lamentably, Anglo) of my vision for myself as a teacher. Shule (pronounced SOO-lay) is a perfect mentor for me. I'll be helping with her first four periods. Her first class of the day is ESOL, which is what I am studying for my minor (TESOL K-12). Ahhh-leluia! It's going to be a good way for me to brush up on my Spanish and continue my ESL work. Second period requires us to migrate to "Containment," which I'll explain in a moment. Third period is a school wide study hall period. They run announcements and Channel One (a national adolescent news channel broadcast in schools), and let everyone catch his/her breath and get themselves caught up on work. A great idea, especially when the school day is disproportionately split around lunch. Fourth period is standard freshman English. Well, standard for this school. I guess it's pretty unique held against the rest of the school district.

Okay, so "Containment" is an interesting thing. You would think that isolating these students in a special school for their specific behavioral needs would be extreme enough to create a constructive environment for learning. Apparently, not so for some students. This school has a portable classroom called "Containment" that is for students who, even in the "last straw" school, have found a way to label themselves as the troubled students. I was a little disturbed by the concept, especially when these students were very pleasant to me. Sure, everyone looked a bit rough around the edges, but no one was outwardly offensive. Oh well, trust the system I s'pose.

I've been interested to learn that students at this school are placed here for a variety of reasons. One of my ESOL students, at the ripe old age of 17, has a baby boy, and was transferred to this school to help spare her from her peers at her mainstream high school during her pregnancy, as well as to accomodate her schedule now, as she needs to nurse and somehow be a mother, even though I thought she was a freshman when I first saw her. I read some of her written work today. I was so moved and frustrated at the same time. If the strain of being a single teenage mother isn't enough already, add the stress of being the only illegal alien in your family. Her parents and brother's papers have all been processed, but hers hasn't gone through yet. She wanted to marry her baby's father, but the INS told her they would cancel her paperwork and she would have to start over if she did. And yet this girl has dreams of being a Registered Nurse, loves to get involved in Student Council, and has already started courses at a junior college. These kids are bright and have incredible potential. Some have met uncontrollable road blocks, and many more have made a few major mistakes that have dead-ended them. I don't know where to start. Grammar and formal letter structure seem so trivial. These kids need serious life coaching, life overhaul. But I guess that's what these teachers are doing, in a way. Shule is a great example of providing safe, constructive outlets for the anger many of these students feel about where both life and mistakes have brought them. It's therapeutic, and the intimate classes (8-18 students) allow for a high level of interaction and purposeful exchange of ideas.

Put your hands up and step away from the soapbox. One of my first period kids raised his hand after I introduced myself and asked me, with a smirk, "Are you nervous?" How subtly he tested my boundaries... I looked him square in the eyes and said, loudly, "NO." I really wasn't. I'm kind of glad my car almost got towed. I was so freaked out about that, I didn't have the energy to waste on jitters. I just marched in, got pushed in front of a class, and set off running.

I love what I have decided to do with my life. Day 1 done.