Monday, August 17, 2009

A story

If you saw two people (let's say girls, just for the sake of the story) walking around the mall laughing and chatting, you'd probably come to the conclusion that they were best friends.

Let's say that both girls have been shopping and both have some stuff to carry (purses, bags, drinks, etc). Girl #2 offers to help girl #1, even though they're both pretty similarly weighed down. Girl #1 accepts the help and hands girl #2 one bag. As time elapses, that one bag evolves into the majority of girl #1's stuff, except for a few little things. Girl #2 is fine with it; she's a buff chick; but after a while it gets pretty heavy.

Girl #2 tentatively asks if girl #1 can take a few things back. Girl #1 gives her a withering look, but takes two bags. In a little bit, girl #1 whines that they're too heavy, and girl #2 (feeling guilty) immediately loads them on.

Pretty soon, girl #2 can't keep up. Girl #1 is irritated and runs ahead to meet some other friends, leaving girl #2 with all the baggage. Girl #1 eventually comes sprinting back and girl #2 is ecstatic; she's hurt, naturally, when she finds out that all girl #1 wants is her iPod out of her jacket pocket (which girl #2 is carrying) and that when she finds it, she leaves again.

So it's no surprise when girl #2 puts her foot down, right? She's tired, blast it all, and girl #1 is perfectly capable of carrying her own crap. But girl #1 throws a fit. She accuses girl #2 of being needy and not caring about their friendship. Girl #2 throws out the fact that girl #1 hasn't done a bloody thing, while girl #2 has been doing all the work. Girl #1 snaps that she carried two of her bags that one time, remember? Girl #2 wearily concurs, and the quarrel is over.

Girl #1 turns around to go back to her other friends, notices that they've left, and then in a falsely sweet manner turns around and offers to buy girl #2 lunch and then shop some more. Girl #2 is disgusted, for she hasn't missed a detail of what just happened.

She resists the urge to drop girl #1's crap in the fountain and instead hands it back to girl #1wordlessly, then finishes her shopping alone.

****
Note from the author: This is not a true story in the literal sense.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Hullo, everyone and no one

Sorry about that last vague, bitter post about Feast and Ball. What happened was this: I spent the whole day getting dolled up, and then didn't get asked to dance by anyone except for a guy who only danced with me because the chick he REALLY wanted to dance with wasn't available.

So the drama-drama-drama wore me down until I remembered that a dance by any other name still sucks as bad.


And now it's summer. Hi, summer. How are you? I've mostly been working at Red Hanger, sleeping, reading, adding to my book and DVD collection, and tutoring this kid in Algebra.

As for hanging out with people, I've been hanging out with Sally, Frederick, Jim, and Adelaide; Felicity, Gemma, Pippa, and Miss Moore; Miss Marple and M. Poirot; Matilda; Ralph, Jack, Simon, Sam'n'eric, and Piggy; Silas, Eppie, and Godfrey; and Montmorency, Scarper, Vi, Fox-Sellwyn, Frank, and Tom.

Yep. I'm a loser. All those are fictional characters. From (respectively) The Sally Lockhart Mysteries by Philip Pullman, A Great and Terrible Beauty Series by Libba Bray, Agatha Christie's mysteries, Matilda by Roald Dahl, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, Silas Marner by George Eliot, and the Montmorency series by Elenore Updale.

And on days where I get sick of reading, I write little blurbs where I meet these characters!

Yep. Loser. Bless my soul!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Feast and Ball

Dances are useless.

Being gorgeous is useless.

The end.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

It's that time again!


Hoo hoo! Feast and Ball is on Saturday and I am STOKED!



For those of you who don't know, Feast and Ball is my school's Prom. Only BETTER because you don't have to have a date to go! Isn't that so boss?


You just get to go with a group of friends and hang out in the gardens (Thanksgiving Point; pictured here and here and here) for a few hours and flirt your brains out. It's lovely.

What am I wearing? Since Jaimi and Kayla don't read my blog, I'm going to write it here. (I've been keeping them in suspense for two weeks now.)

Picture this: Shimmery red dress with black hints. Floor length. Hoop skirt. Corset. Puffed sleeves. Black elbow-length gloves. (it's a dress slightly like the one Jo is wearing in the pic above)

I'm. So. Incredibly. Excited.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Who am I?

There's this poem I read called "The Invitation" which basically challenges the reader to really think about who they are. Without all their stuff. Without their so-called accomplishments. Without the people they hang out with. Without all the frippery the world uses to define you.

It was a frightening thought.

I wasn't in the best of moods when I came home from work, so I downed some food and planned on sulking on the computer, but then I realized that it was raining. I love the rain. So I decided that I'd go for a walk to one of my favorite places. It was during that time I figured out who I am, stripped down to the bones.

I talk to myself and have jolly conversations. I talk to birds, cows, and any other wildlife that happen to be in the area, and I enjoy it thoroughly.

I laugh because I'm soaked to my knees from walking in the wild wet grass, and I lift my face to be kissed by the descending drops.

I notice small things; trees are blossoming in pinks and whites, there's an unusually beautiful pebble lying on the ground, the drizzly pavement makes elegant reflecting puddles for the streetlights.

I mourn the nearly-empty canal.

I found out who I am while I was standing in the middle of a forgotten field:

I'm me.

I don't need the meds, I don't have to deal with the drama, I don't need to waste my time worrying what other people think about me.

I'm satisfied with merely being.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Compliment of the century

Dear Blog,

I realize I haven't hung out with you for a while. I also realize that it's been even longer since I used you to post anything actually worth reading. *shuffles feet* What I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I wish I could say that things will get better from here on out, but I just don't know.

...

No, please don't cry! It's not you! It's me! It's me! I'll change; I swear I will!

Yours most sincerely, affectionately, and devotedly,

Modern Jo March

***

I'm sorry you guys had to see that. My blog and I are going through a rough patch; we'll be okay, though, once my creative juices start flowing. Granted, that could be a very long period of time, but we'll make it.

...

Man, I wrote all that in the hopes that my brain would suddenly light up with ideas, but not so. Dang. Oh, well. I'll just type one story and then go mop the floor.

Last night when I was hanging out with Jaimi (we were on our way to go Peep a guy's car; Korinne, I couldn't stop! I have an illness!), she gave me the compliment of the century.

"Becca," she said, "I'm glad you're too sensible to have a boyfriend."

Needless to say, I laughed. Hard. Jaimi got all worried, thinking she'd said something wrong, but after my tears of mirth had stopped flowing, I said,

"Jaimi, coming from you, that is the ultimate compliment. Thank you."

Come to think of it, I can't explain exactly why I found it so funny; it just was. It was so totally opposite of everything society teaches teenage girls.

*grins* Awesome.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Rambly

As much as I love Perelandra, I really don't want to write a response to it right now. I mean, it's very fascinating to think what would have happened if Adam and Even HADN'T eaten the fruit...but I'm not into it right now.

SO don't want to do my Calculus make-up work...(by the way, the AP test costs $121! That's some mighty expensive failure right there. I know, I know; "Becca, why don't you just study?" Because studying won't help me with stuff I haven't learned yet!)

Or read Paradise Lost. Have I mentioned how much I hate poetry? Especially 200 page long poetry? I fell asleep twice (for undisclosed periods of time) during Great Ideas this morning. And when we read it out loud? Sorry, Satan, as much as I sympathize with your being kicked out on your butt from heaven, I don't care enough to listen to Milton go on and on and ON about the thirteen different kinds of angels.

*yawns* Should I make my dress for Feast and Ball this year? Or should I rent one? Or should I just buy one? *wanders Internetilly across multitudinous websites* Ooh, I think we're gonna do a Southern belle one this year... Ow ow!

Okay, I'm done now.

Oooh, and maybe a wig tambien? No! Becca! Go to bed! Dresses later! Finish your response!

Friday, March 27, 2009

And so...

And so the longest week of my life meanders into the weekend.

Man, I've never been so ready for a weekend in my life, and I didn't even have any stressful homework or anything. (Or if I did, I didn't do it.)

In human development we talked about how men literally can think of nothing. I am supremely jealous. If I could completely blank my mind, my life would be five hundred zillion times easier. As it is, if I want to have some mental quiet, I have to flip through celebrity magazines. There is no easier way for me to stop thinking of things that stress me out/irritate me than to read about celebs being human.

It's sickeningly comforting, and it's the only consistent method. Some days I can use Jane Austen, but only if I'm not feeling anti-love. (Which I am this week.)

...

One of these days I'm going to figure out how to even out my mood swings. Until that day comes, I think I'll see how Brangelina is doing...

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

My Psalm

Lord, too often I invite Thee only to
the funerals
the pity parties
the gloomy hours.

Today I invite Thee to
Rejoice with me!
Come celebrate
my blessings
my successes
my gratitude.

For all I have is Thine
And I will gladly share my
Joy with Thee
Forever and Forever. Amen.

I wrote that the other day when I was feeling particularly happy. It applies to today as well. Today the sun was shining, we ate lunch on the lawn, I got to go longboarding in the parking lot (long story...), and I love my friends.

I am grateful.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Even I'M not sure what this is

I have nothing to write.

Scratch that; I have lots of things I could potentially write, but won't because they're boring and/or inapplicable to normal life.

I should probably go practice my Solo and Ensemble song, seeing as I have to perform it in roughly a week...memorized...in Spanish. I need to find an accompanist as well.

I also just want a college to be like, "Come here! We'll give you 90% off tuition coz you're awesome!" I'm tired of having to sort through the hundreds of college brochures I get weekly. Want to hear something funny, though? I haven't received a single letter from a Mormon university. I've had letters from St. John's Methodist University, Barnard and the Jewish Theological Seminary, New York University, New York Conservatory of the Dramatic Arts, Boston University, Arizona State, University of Miami, Reed College, and Kalamazu University.

And anything from BYU, BYU-I, BYU-H, or Southern Virginia University (Mormon-run)? Absolutely not. My tithing dollars at work...

Where the heck is my family? I came home from work to an empty, locked house with evidence of dinner being made, but no food evident in the fridge, on top of the mircrowave, or on the table.

Maybe that's why I'm feeling so "bleh." I haven't eaten since noon! Silly Becca. Go eat something!

Cuss on a bus. And I just overdrafted my checking account coz Zazzle is being stupid. I've ordered the same order THREE TIMES and each time they've been like "You don't own the Three Amigos, which you put on a sticker and the inside of a card. Yoink! We're going to cancel your ENTIRE ORDER." And so I've reordered and reordered and my checking account is like, "What the heck? Oh well, we're going to have to charge you for overdrafting, sucker."

Gah. I'm going to go eat something. Sitting here and blogging about my stupid last half-hour isn't going to help my attitude.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Who says?

Hey, random thought; who said Humpty Dumpty was a giant egg man? The nursery rhyme says absolutely NOTHING about Humpty Dumpty being a giant egg man.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
And all the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again.

*pauses to research the origins of Humpty Dumpty*

Well, would you look at that. Apparently the rhyme was supposed to be some sort of lame riddle! I guess it's not entirely lame; "humpty dumpty" is early 19th century slang for a short, clumsy person, as well as a concoction of brandy boiled with ale. But anyway, the answer to the riddle appears to be an egg because certainly a person would not suffer irreparable damage if they fell off a wall.

What a disappointment.

I thought I'd discovered some missing link in today's culture as we know it...

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Begone, fetid stenches of teenage rubbish!

I've been reading Perelandra for my CS Lewis class, and it is absolutely fascinating. What basically happens is this guy goes to Venus (or Perelandra, as they call it) and meets the Adam and Eve God put there. Is that not the most intriguing plot for a novel you've ever heard?

I mean, why not? The scriptures state that God made worlds without end; why should ours be the only one with inhabitants? Everything's in this state of bliss, and the Lady is naive a la Eve fashion. They even have restrictions, only it's not fruit this time. The King and the Lady are forbidden to sleep and settle on what they call the Fixed Land. (Everything else just sort of floats around on this endless sea of glossy, wonderful liquid.)

Mind-tickling. I've been thinking about it all afternoon.

***

In other Becca-related news, I have officially decided to become the Drama Police. Or maybe just being Drama Exempt. I'd have this badge that I'd pull out when people started being typical humans:

Drama Queen: *sighs dramatically* You will NOT believe what HE just SAID to me! I've never been so---

Me: Uh uh uh! *pulls out Drama Exemption badge* I am protected by law from your inane drama. If you continue, you are risking a fine of $2,500 or three years minimum in jail.

Drama Queen: Drat. *goes off to find some unfortunate soul to suck into her vortex of overblown problems*

Or some kind of weapon:

Mr. Collins: Becca, we need to discuss our relationship.

Me: Sounds legit...wait a second. We don't have an actual relationship beyond just being flirty friends! Get back, foul demon! *pulls out Drama Exemption plus three broadsword*

Maybe air freshener!

Me: ...so then I told him that I'd totally go on a date with him. Cool, huh?

Drama Queen: Yeah, I guess.

Me: What's wrong?

Drama Queen: *clearly exaggerated* Oh, nothing...but if you REALLY want to know---

Me: Oh, no you don't! *sniffs the air* I smell unnecessary drama! *sprays Drama-Eater (crisp linen scent) into the air* Begone, fetid stenches of teenage rubbish!

You know, it might actually be worth going into the scientific field just so I can invent stuff like that.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Weird

I had this best friend from 2nd to 7th grade who I was really close to. Seriously, we would do everything together. Her family was pretty much my second family for five years. I know them as well as I know my own; what they like, what they hate, which hand is their strongest, and their inside jokes. We went to volleyball camp in Idaho together, went to the release party of HP 5, went to the premiere of HP 2 (the movie), and played Star Wars, Quidditch, Lord of the Rings, and sundry other pretend games.

In 7th grade, we sort of drifted. And by sort of, I mean really. I stopped seeing her. Period. Ever. I haven't seen her in person for like five years now.

So now we're "friends" on Facebook and it's weird. I wrote on her wall, but I wasn't even sure what to say...

How can two people who were so close for five years suddenly have nothing to talk about?

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Am I crazy?

I was minding my own business driving to school on Tuesday when I noticed a red Dodge on the side of the road. Now, due to the fact that I may or may not have an unquantifiable fetish for red trucks, I took a closer look as I passed. And whaddya know! It's for sale! $1,800 is kind of out of my price range, but that's really good for a truck in that condition.

I also have this problem that once I get an idea in my head, it's super hard to get me to think of anything else. I obsessively clamp onto the weirdest things. Like the foreign exchange student idea. Or the cell phone idea. Or the Paradigm idea.

So I've been Craigslisting, eBaying, and KSL-classifieds-ing trucks all afternoon long. There's this 1970 Ford F250 going for $600 (cream-colored and the perfect twin for Jaimi's '75 Ford. His name is Gus).


Ooooor there's this '96 Ford F250 (forest green and has cab space) going for $1,200-ish.

Haven't decided yet, but I'm on the cusp of a life-altering choice. Truuuuuuuucks.....

Yes, they're gas guzzlers, and no, they're not environmentally healthy...but tell me you don't feel like drooling every time you see a big ol' truck. Especially if there's a cowboy involved...

...

*delighted shivers*

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

On the plus side...

Every month around that special time, I get...for want of a better word..."cranky." Cranky-slash-antisocial. Mostly I just draw into myself and ignore the world except for frequent trips to lash out at morons.

There is, however, a salvaged side to this burned toast. During this dangerous time period, my imagination skyrockets. Stories start spitting out of my eyeballs. Or, more accurately, old stories start getting newer furnishings, and new stories start to take shape.

Fabulous stuff. I'll write a snippet later.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

A good quote

I'm reading Madeleine L'engle's Walking on Water for my C. S. Lewis class (we're studying both Christian apologists), and today I came across a really, really fantastic story. (pg 75, Walking on Water)

The story starts with a Hasidic rabbi renowned for his piety. He was unexpectedly confronted one day by one of his devoted youthful disciples. In a burst of feeling, the young disciple exclaimed, "My master, I love you!" The ancient teacher looked up from his books and asked his fervent disciple, "Do you know what hurts me, my son?"

The young man was puzzled. Composing himself, he stuttered, "I don't understand your question, Rabbi. I am trying to tell you how much you mean to me, and you confuse me with irrelevant questions."

"My question is neither confusing nor irrelevant," rejoined the rabbi. "For if you do not know what hurts me, how can you truly love me?"

Isn't that so poignant? I absolutely love it because it applies to so many levels in life; religion, friends, family, significant others, etc.

It goes right along with my other favorite quote of the week; "Behind most anger is hurt."

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Once upon a time...

Today is Valentine's Day. If I were in the mood for a sarcastic, scathing rant, I'd totally hook you all up with the best anti-S.A.D. post you've ever read in your life. As it is, I'm not. Holidays, like everything else, are what you make of them. And this year I choose not to make Valentine's Day a big deal. No expectations of any kind. I don't expect today to suck, and I don't expect it to rock.

Ironically, it was Valentine's Day that gave me my first big pubescent self-esteem boost. A couple years ago I was being surly because my older brother Matt (the heartthrob) got so many gifts from girls and even my little brother Seth got a chocolate rose from someone, and I got stuck with, as usual, nada. Nothing. Not even pocket lint from a person I hate.

So my friend Hilary and I were getting ready to go to a dance a couple days later when my little brother Jonathan (then 7 or 8) burst in the front door.

"Becca!" he hollered (coz he won't ever merely talk if he has the option of yelling) "your boyfriend left you something!"

He was holding a heart-shaped balloon, a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and a silk rose. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. Things like that never happened to me. It was probably for Matt, and Jonathan had read the tag wrong.

"Whatever," I said. "Let me see those."

I read the tag on the rose and, sure enough, it was for me.

"Becca- I think you're a pretty cool girl. Later."

I still didn't believe it. It was someone's cruel, sick idea of a joke, or my dad trying to boost my self-esteem or something. Amy and Caryn convinced me otherwise, as did one of my guy friends. Amy and Caryn said it was a real, genuine boy because he'd left the price tag on the chocolates and the note sounded very boyish. My guy friend analyzed the mystery man's motives. He was quick to say he didn't think it was a joke, but rather that the unknown admirer was shy and not sure if I'd turn him down or not.

I never actually found out who left those things for me (not concretely, anyway). But hey, it's probably better this way; I got all the boosting of someone liking me without the awkwardness of perhaps not returning the affections. Whoa, hold on. Did I say "probably"? More like DEFINITELY. There is nothing worse than a persistent lover who you want nothing to do with romantically.

Keep it real, peeps, and don't neglect your other loves today; romantic love is all good and fine in its place, but abandoning those you love platonically for your significant other is a less than brilliant idea. Coz guess who you're going to turn to when you two lovebirds are having a rough time? That's right; the friend/sibling/parent. So keep those bonds intact, or you'll wish you had.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Eastern philosophy is the pants

Today's message comes from the very depths of my being. Are you ready for this?

TAKE A CHILL PILL, WESTERNERS. LIFE WILL BE OKAY.

We're studying Eastern philosophy in my Scholar class (Taoism, Hinduism, Buddhism, etc.), and it made me realize how lame we Westerners are.

For instance, in the bagavadghita (the Hindu text) Krishna explains to Arjuna that people shouldn't be attached to things or outcomes, but the means, if they are going to have peace.

The Tao says the same thing: don't fight the current of the Universe. It knows what It's doing. Whatever happens happens, so just go with the flow.

But no, Westerners have to do it their own way. Fight! Struggle! Independence! Must own everything! Gotta be uptight about stupid things like money and grades! Stress until your face blows up!

Relax, people. You can't fight the Universe.

...hold on. Do I hear some readers gasping at my use of the Universe? Am I actually referencing HEATHEN TEXTS?

Chill.There's truth in every civilization; both the Old and New Testaments say that. Truth is truth. Oh, and I believe there are lots of scriptures telling mortals to TRUST IN THE LORD, which is pretty much the same thing the Hindus and Taoists are saying.

Anyway, I had a lot of angry customers today who were flipping out because their clothes were ruined, their shirts didn't get boxed, or they didn't like the price of a pair of pants. I handled all situations calmly and civilly, but I felt sorry for them (after I said "cuss on a bus" several times to get my anger out when they left). Is it really going to matter in a year whether their shirts were boxed or not? Is it really going to matter that they spent a couple extra bucks on a shirt that got dry cleaned instead of laundered?

...

No. Chill out.

Instead, they get their way because they kick and scream like spoiled three-year-olds, and they don't learn self-mastery and the Way. Don't be attached to material things; nothing is as valuable as learning to master yourself and become one with the Universe.

SO CHILL, A'IGHT?

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Sunday musings

I love Sundays. They really help me refocus on what's really important; the Gospel and my Savior.

Today is just gorgeous. The sun is shining and the grass is starting to get greener. Tres tres belle. Of course, the inversion will probably be back after the next big snowstorm, but hey, why dwell on the nasty gloom? I'd rather enjoy the sun while I can.

In no particular order, I am going to jot down things that are on my mind right now:

-Pie. I'm making pie for dessert tonight (apple and cherry; *drools*).

-Sydney White. It's a Snow White spin off starring Amanda Bynes, and the main message is "Be a dork. Be yourself." I was thinking how some people actually hide who they are in order to "fit in," and my mind absolutely explodes. I can't ever imagine changing who I am to feel accepted. Why join someone else's group? Be the leader; start your own. If you're comfortable with who you are, there's no reason why you should change that.

-If you want to keep something on the DL, don't tell anyone. Shocking, I know, but I somehow imagined that if I told my mum and my best friends that it would stay quiet. But I told my mum, who told her friend, who just so happens to be one of my friends, who asked me about it in YW today when everyone else could hear.

"It" is not that bad. I'm not going to rehab or anything; quite the contrary, I finally got asked on a date. But man-o-man, has the news spread like a salmonella poisoning. And my date, Austin Wrathall, asked the other day why I hadn't blogged about it. Clearly he hasn't read this post, where I vowed never to blog about dating ever again. But since freaking everyone already knows, I might as blog it now.

Long story short is he was going to double with me and my date (although where the heck I'd scrape up a date is beyond me), but then the chick he asked said no, so Jaimi told him to ask me already and get it over with. So we're going to go to the Training Table and Barnes & Noble this Saturday and have a jolly time of it.

-Brooke gave me this awesome headscarf thing for Christmas, and I really love wearing it. I feel so Jewish/Bohemian.

That's all I'm going to write because Seth will have a cow if I don't get off this very second. Gut shabes!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

B is not for Calculus!

So, sisters concerned that I am slipping in the world coz I had a C in Calculus, I got my grade raised a whole letter because I did some test corrections! Score! Now I have a B, and am 5% away from an A. But the semester ends tomorrow, and I really don't have the time/motivation to do any more corrections, especially after doing the tan(x)csc(x) problem. It drove me mad! So I did all this work, and the derivative of tan(x)csc(x) is just tan(x)sec(x)!!!!!!!! Bah!

That's all. :)

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

C is for Calculus

Oh, hello, reader(s). I sometimes forget that I have a blog; other times I'm merely too lazy to write in it.

In case you were interested, I am, as of this very second, looking up a recipe for French silk pie that doesn't require actual chocolate (here!), listening to Idina's new single, looking for scholarships/colleges I might apply to, hoping someone will say something even remotely intriguing on Facebook so I can pounce on them and pry deeply into their business, and wondering if it's weird how much I enjoy reading the American Girl books.

Look, I know they're geared towards like 2nd graders, but I sat down last night and got sucked into Samantha's tales from 1904 for at least half an hour. The writing is simple, but the tone is good. I can't wait until I have little girls of my own so I can read the books to them.

Me: Come on, girls, it's time for stories!

Daughter #1: What are we reading?

Me: Uh... it's a surprise.

Daughter #2: Ugh. Not American Girls again?

Me: ...

Daughter #1: Mum! You never read us anything else! Can't we read "Big Max" or "Calvin and Hobbes"?

Me: No. You'll listen to Addy's tale of post-slavery woes and triumphs, and you'll like it! *eye twitches*

My husband: Dear, why don't I read to the girls tonight?

Me: What?! Oh, I bet you're secretly reading them stories about Michael Jordan on the down-low. Well, I won't have it! Do you hear me?! I won't have it!!!

My husband: *to the girls* Mummy needs a little Zoloft break. We'll be back in a minute.

Hee hee. I love imagining my future.

*reads title of post*

Oh, yeah. So, I'm getting a 2 in Calculus, which is the equivalent of a C in a normal school. And you know what? I am completely 100 % okay with it. This morning I got back our most recent test and discovered, to my chagrin, that I'd gotten 20 out of 100 points possible. Bleeeeeeeech. I've never seen such an ugly score on paper before (well, mine).

Normally this would send me to the very fringe of my sanity. As it is, I say-- Meh. It's not worth fretting over. I'm doing very well in all of my other classes, and if a college looks at my GPA and notices it took a slight dip because of Calculus and judges me for it, I would recommend that they take a Calculus class and then get back to me. Plus, I'm going into the arts. Math should matter some, but not direly.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

No day but today

So, I'm over my whole "wanting to curl up and sleep for eternity" thing. And today I am grateful for a lot of things.

Blueberry pie---man oh man. My YW leader Missy made me one today and it is, honest to goodness, the best thing I have eaten in a while. *drools slightly*

[Pie tangent: pie may just be the best creation on the face of the planet. Air? Pssht. Water? Meh. It's okay. But pie is one of life's essentials. The chocolate ones are okay, but the best pies are the fruit ones. Especially cherry and rhubarb (is that a fruit?) and BLUEBERRY!]

Anyway, I'm grateful for double doses of Zoloft.

Not being interested in anyone right now. It really makes my life simpler.

My little Sansa music player. Thank heavens for it during long work hours. I hate listening to the radio because the only kind of music I generally listen to is Broadway, and we don't have Broadway station here.

My creative writing class. I learned the coolest thing today. In England back when women couldn't vote or own land, they could get off a murder charge if they killed someone during their PMS cycle. Is that not the coolest thing ever?!?! I said as much to the teacher, and she asked if I'd trade in my rights to land and voting to be able to kill people when I was on my cycle without fear of punishment. Helloooo! Who wouldn't?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand Idina quotes and interviews. Some of my favorites:

"Sometimes you don't know how you're going to make it through and you need some Twizzlers."

"Well, I'm a person who comes from musical theatre and it's constantly people going 'I like your show but I don't normally like musicals' and I wanna be like 'why can't we all get back to the time where once you've said everything you want to say and you still have all this emotion you just can't help but burst into song?' It's a beautiful thing, you know? It's like singing in the rain! They do it in the shower! Everybody does it!! It's just I do it for a living..."

Monday, January 19, 2009

Only thing I laughed at all day



Idina Menzel, you made me smile when all I wanted to do today is curl up and sleep for eternity. Thanks.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Disappointed and disgusted

I recently fell head-over-heels in love with the musical Ragtime. Fantastic music, historical content, strong characters, the show has everything! I listened to the show over and over and read the libretto a few times. But, as always, that wasn't enough; I wanted to read the story upon which the musical was based. I went onto the library website and looked up "Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow."

Not being in high demand, I got the book after only being on hold for a few days. I started reading it as soon as I got it.

"Whoa, skip that line," I said to myself only a few pages in.

A few pages later the same thing happened.

"That's uncalled for and inappropriate," I said, skipping it and thinking it was an isolated event; the author couldn't go on for 200 more pages like that, could he?

...

Yeah, no such luck. It would get really good and engrossing, only to throw in another paragraph about sex. I really am okay with just innuendos and hints at it, but when it gets explicit, that's where I draw the line. I mean, for heaven's sake, it's a novel about the turn of the century and starving immigrants, oppressed Negroes, ignorant society people, and the waking of a nation. Sex was a part of it (duh, it's a part of civilization as a whole), but there are other ways to write the same thing without being super raunchy.

The same thing happened with 1984 and Wicked. Wicked is an excellent musical, but the book is embarrassingly obscene. 1984 may be considered a classic, but it was just sex sex sex (and actually it wasn't very explicit; but it was, no joke, on every single page by the middle of the book).

"But," some people may argue, "sex is only a symbol; it's a part of life; etc. etc."

Blah blah blah, excuses excuses. One of Victor Hugo's characters is a prostitute and he manages to be sensitive and modest about it the subject.

Anyway, I wish there was a way to clean flick books just like clean flicking movies. I really do like Doctorow's style and ideas; I'm just way uncomfortable with the stuff he throws in such a casual manner.

It kinda makes me wish I had the ideas first. :P Lame.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Favorite quotes

At Paradigm we have these things called commonplace books and in them you are supposed to write inspiring quotes and such. There are inspirational quotes in the front of my commonplace book, such as:

"It's much better, I think, to assume that the child is doing his part,
and that the seed you have planted will bear fruit in due time."
-Anne Sullivan

But the back of my commonplace book is filled with funny everyday quotes that come from my friends and classmates. Here are some of my favorite ones (explanations included...maybe).

Kayla: *talking about me* Secretly, she's a genius.
Me: What do you mean 'secretly'?!

Megan: In my opinion, hope is the second most beautiful thing in the world.
Me: *silently to Kayla* What's number one?
Kayla: *thinks, then points to self* Me!

Bro. McDonald: ...and welcome to Becca, who's accompanying Jaimi.
Me: Yeah, I'm her immoral support.

Me: Hey, Mr. Andrews, I'm gonna go to the bathroom, and I might be accompanied by my faithful dog.
Jaimi: Your WHAT?

Kim: The animals...how do I put this? The animals got along really well together. The lamb and the lion? They were tight.

Jaimi: Mr. Andrews! Becca is distracting me!
Me: Mr. Andrews! Jaimi is squirrel kissing at me!

Forget about taking one for the team; I'm taking one for the me.

Me: (Jaimi and I are writing what we think the headlines will be like in 50 years) I know! "Evil dictator Becca finally gets our of jail for trying to take over the world."
Jaimi: Okay. *writes*
Me: *reads* Hey! "Loser Becca gets out of jail for stealing a pack of gummy bears?!"

Shelby: Mr. Macy ate my soul...at my kitchen table...with my pepper!

Shelby: He's scary; he'll eat my soul.
Me: I thought he already did.
Shelby: I got another one.
Me: Oh yeah? Where did you get it?
Shelby: I found it in the back of your car.

Me: Dang. I really should start carrying my ID around.
Korinne: No, you shouldn't, coz then when people look at your debit card and quiz you on how to pronounce your last name, you should be like, "Smith! No, Johnson! No, wait!"

Calculator: Yup. 84-45 is STILL 39.

Liz (the madrigals' pianist): Hey, guys, I've never seen this song before, so don't listen to my mistakes.
Dauna: Liz, if you don't get this right, I'm gonna stone you!
Mrs. Steinmann: Let she who has never hit a wrong note cast the first stone.
Dauna:... I'm trying to decide if that was blasphemy.

Celeste: Is Jorje really your middle name?
Me: Yeah, just ask Jaimi.
Jaimi: Yeah, it is...minus the "je."

Kayla: My mistletoe is rancid!

Katy: *quoting a scene she wrote* "And I--like--went to--like--Jamba Juice and got--like--juice." Which is funny, coz you can't actually get juice at Jamba. They sell smoothies.

Nerdy, unattractive guy on the cultural winter movie: The question is, who's reproducing?
Me: Not you.

Korinne: *about the Hogwarts crest on my wall* What's the H stand for? Heretic?

Savannah: *about Les Miserables* After the prostitute, this book gets really boring.

Lauren: I'm not drunk on Eastern philosophy; I'm only buzzed, I swear!

Only YOU can prevent forest fires...and gullibility.

Michael: Hey, no fair! You have a female thinker! (during a Mind Trap game in which I was the only girl in the class and my team was kickin' trash)

Me: Be happy, k?
Jaimi: Ehnnn....
Me: Be less pissy.

Casey: Don't you touch our pop culture!

Mrs. Steinmann: Today we're going to have a lesson in Flirting 101.
Me: Is that really part of the curriculum?

(Mr. Macy and Clayne as the Beast and Prince Charming, respectively, are sword-fighting over the corpse of Snow White. Enter Belle aka Bria.)
Bria/Belle: What are you doing?
Mr. Macy/the Beast: Duh; fighting.

Celeste: Don't make me snap in a G formation!

Celeste: Naomi, check your XYQ.

Lauren: Man fast? More like man FEAST.

Tee hee. Is it sad that I have more of those quotes than I do inspirational quotes? But to end us, I'm going to share two of my favorite quotes from Les Miserables (in which I am on page 1404 out of 1464)

(***This one might not be very funny reading it off the bat, but it's hilarious after 1300 pages of heavy drama and the death of more than 5 main characters.***)

"Mademoiselle Euphrasie Fauchelevent has six hundred thousand francs."
It was Jean Valjean's voice.
"How is Mademoiselle Euphrasie involved?" asked grandfather, startled.
"That's me," answered Cosette.
(Les Mis, pg 1347)


"The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories that it has come to be disbelieved. Few people dare say nowadays that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet that is the way love begins, and only that way. The rest is only the rest, and comes afterwards. Nothing is more real than the great shocks that two souls give each other in exchanging this spark."
(
Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, pg 896)

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Hopefully a vision of the future.

I thought this dream was stinking hilarious (I woke up laughing; how often does that happen?), but maybe it's just a product of me being psychotic.

So it was normal in the sense that I was everywhere all at once and people kept changing personalities. But somehow I ended up in a show with Idina Menzel. (Wooot!) We were both in the chorus with this annoying moron named Ryan who was in my SBfSB cast who thinks he's more important/smart than he is. He had the nerve to pretend he was the director and would tell everyone what to do and how to do it. Mostly I just wanted to punch him in the face, but he usually ended up being embarrassed by a much more experienced person than himself.

Anyway, we were doing some sort of mob scene and Idina and I were discussing our approach. Ryan came up and was trying to explain what we should do.

"Yeah," he said arrogantly, "it should be really angry."

I rolled my eyes. "Sort of like the 'March of the Witch Hunters'?"

"Yeah! Like that!" He turned to Idina. "Have you seen Wicked?"

Idina and I just looked at each other and busted up laughing.

And then I woke up and had to pick Seth up from basketball practice, but I've been replaying it in my head all day. Man-o-man, what kind of moron do you have to be to ask an actress if she's seen a show she starred in? And the funny thing is, he'd totally do something like that. I just hope that, in that circumstance, Idina would let me help her cut him down with sarcastic jibes up the wazoo. You know like,

"Wait, is that the show with about the flamer?" (Me)

"No, that's The Boy from Oz. I think it's the one about the green chick. You know, the one that starred Kristin Chenoweth in the original cast." (Idina)

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Didn't the green chick win a Tony for her performance?"

"I think so. What was her name?"

"I dunno. It kinda sounds like your name, Idina, doesn't it?"

And at this point, the moron would realize we were mocking the everloving stupidity out of him, we would laugh, and then we'd finish rehearsing our scene while he cried in the bathroom. It would be a good day on Broadway.


In other news, I'm missing two of my best friends; one is in Illinois until school starts, the other one has dropped off the face of the earth and I'm not sure if it's my fault or not...

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Blast!

So, there I was with a loaf and two braids of perfectly risen, beautiful cinnamon bread. I went to put them into the oven when my mum said,

"Oh, yeah. The bottom element of the oven is broken. We can't cook these."

Blast.

So I had to go to my neighbor's house and cook them there instead, thereby depriving me of having my own house smelling of heavenly homemade white bread. Bummer and a half.

Oh, well. Still therapeutic, still delicious. :D

Waiting for my bread to rise.

Occasionally I have freak-fits, such as when I have this uncontrollable urge to be productive and therefore deep-clean the kitchen, the shower, or my room. Or the fits where I draw everything that comes within my range of vision. Or the fits where I read for hours on end without resurfacing.

Most of the time the fits come about when I'm feeling cranky or irritable or restless. My current freak came from me trying to head off my impending depression/PMS attack since I ran out of my Zoloft.

What's the current freak-fit?

Cooking.

I woke up today and said, "I am going to make some bread."

And I proceeded to make white bread. (Actually, I'm still in the process. The bread won't be "riz" for another half hour.) It's terribly therapeutic for me to measure out ingredients and then pound that dough until it gets all smooth and soft. And plus it smells better than anything in the entire world.

I'm trying to decide if I'm going to braid it and cover it with a cinnamon-sugar sauce or if I'm just going to roll the cinnamon-sugar sauce up and make normal loaves. I like braiding the dough, but at the same time, it never looks as cool after it gets baked. Normal loaves aren't as pretty, but they almost look gorgeous after they come out of the oven.

Hmm. Either way I win. Bread making is therapy that's cheap AND delicious!