The World According to a Modern Jo March

A Tip for Textbook Publishers

2011-10-28T02:19:00.002-06:00

We're reading A Streetcar Named Desire in my literary analysis class and I didn't actually purchase the book until now (as opposed to the beginning of the semester). Rather than take the "textbook" version at face value and just buy it, I decided to see if the normal play section in the bookstore had it for cheaper.

Not only was the version I found in the bookstore cheaper, the image on the cover was THIS:

That's right. A shirtless, adorable Marlon Brando. So for $7.99 I get the play AND a hot man? I'lltakeitI'lltakeitI'lltakeitI'lltakeit.

In contrast, my poor clueless classmates all got the version with this cover:

A weird minimalist painting that is clearly harping on the supposed anti-feminist themes. Pshaw. If you can resist the hot masculinity that is Stanley Kowalski, you are clearly a hater of all things wonderful. I don't generally drool over uber-masculine guys, but who could say no to this?

So I was thinking: I would be a lot happier paying the ridiculous fees that textbook companies charge us if I at least got some eye candy while doing so. Not straight out porn, but...

...

Awww, rats. Yeah, there's no way I can redeem that.

Triple Whammy of Awesome

2011-10-27T16:42:00.004-06:00

GUESS WHAT!!!!

A) I am a psychic.

B) I'm going to London.

C) I actually like school this year.

D) All of the above.

If you answered D) All of the above, you are correct! You don't actually win anything because of B and its subsequent costs, but maybe I'll give you a massage or do your dishes?

A- I am a psychic:

I know it sounds far-fetched, but it's totally true. I've correctly predicted the following: a brother's mission call, a friend's mission call, and both of my brothers' marriages long before the proposal (as in the first meeting for the one and three years before the other).

This instance isn't quite like the others. I had a dream last night where I married certain someone that I try not to think about ever. The circumstance was that he was being his usual stand-offish, never-wants-anything-to-do-with-me-ever self for days and days of dream time and then trick married me! What the heck? I gave him the what for, but was secretly glad to be united with him for time and all eternity.

Of course, I also dreamed that I was best friends with Zooey Deschanel and that Judy Garland was being held captive in a tree by hostile rednecks, so I pretty much discounted the dream as a whole.

BUT THEN I got a letter from him today in the mail. I haven't opened it yet because of the residual fear from the dream.

B- I'm going to London:

True story! I've wanted to go to London forever and now I'm finally doing it! Why am I going? Because I can, baby. Last winter semester I had the blues in a big way and started looking for inexpensive flights from SLC to London. I signed up for TripAdvisor and one day in August flights were only $900. I was all over that. I called my sister Amy up and she was also all over that because she's also wanted to go to Europe forever.

We leave next Thursday and will be gone for a whole week. Not being tied to a strict itinerary, we're going to run rampant! I may or may not post a report after returning.

C- I actually like school this year:

I know what you're thinking- what's up with that? It's a three part thing. My classes interest me and are smaller, my attitude is better, and I'm finding my niche. And, of course, I have LONDON to look forward to.

Charlotte Russe

2011-09-08T10:20:00.005-06:00

Anyone who knows me knows I'm not a big shopper. My mom and sisters particularly know that getting me to go clothes shopping is like taking a crocodile on a walk through a dog run: possible, but exhausting, painful, and most likely ending in tears and/or blood.

HOWever, I have a secret. If I had all the money in the world (or even just spending money in general; curse you, college expenses!), I would shop at Charlotte Russe every day. When I go to the mall, it takes considerable self-control not to get sucked into the whirling vortex of awesome that is Charlotte Russe.

Why Charlotte Russe? Let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time, I was seventeen and got asked on a date by a guy I'd liked for a while. I got it into my head that I had to wear a fantastic outfit for this date, so I went to the mall with a friend in search of the perfect top. We went to every single store--Forever 21, American Eagle, Aeropostale, Old Navy--all for naught. There was nothing that was "me" enough or if I did like it, it cost far beyond my meager earnings.

I was just about to give up when something in the window of Charlotte Russe caught my eye. I can't remember what it was, but I walked in and fell in love with just about everything on display. Everything was so chic, so classy, so bohemian! Nothing was too loud or ripped or neon. It was accessibly trendy.

I picked out a few things that caught my fancy, and then I found the clearance rack. Oh. My. Heavens. I ended up buying my perfect top from the clearance rack: a brown cowl-necked sweater that cost me $3.75. Not only was it cheap, it was good quality! I'm still wearing that sweater three years later and there aren't any holes, frays, or rips. The same goes for my $20 black corsetted-back vest. Good quality, and I can wear it to anything!

As such, I am a huge fan of Charlotte Russe. Not only do they have simple, appealing store layouts, they've got an incredibly fun and flavorful official site as well. If I were to make a fan site, I would have pics of celebrities and regular folk wearing Charlotte Russe apparel. (Yet another thing I love about CR: it looks good on everyone.) I'd have discussion boards where people could post ideas for new products or just discuss their favorite thing they've ever bought there. Maybe there'd be a section where the origins of CR are explained and introduce the owners. Of course there'd be a steady stream of posts to let everyone know what sales and deals are going on currently.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to close my eyes dream of the day when not all my money goes to living expenses so I can buy this and this and these.

The Return of the King S03 Ep. 09 (Part 2)

2011-06-09T15:26:00.008-06:00

In which Arthur and his crew get beat handily by Children of the Corn.

Category: Arthur and All His Friends (it's a two-fer!) Fail at a Basic Life Skill

Basic Life Skill Failed: Medieval Knowledge

The episode begins with a shot of what appears to be a quaint medieval village. (Which, even though I've been planning to analyze this episode for a week, makes me SUPER EXCITED for the Highland Games and Scottish Festival this weekend! Awwwwww yeah!)

Then the Lakewood bus pulls up and the image is ruined. It becomes apparent that this isn't an old-timey episode from way back in the day, but one where the kids get to go to a medieval fair full of creeps peddling their spurious wares, as well as the occasional awesome Knight of the Templar. But that's okay because this episode is definitely one of my favorites.

Mr. Ratburn leads them off the bus and Buster is immediately drawn to--what else?--the fair's food. A man with flowing blonde locks wearing a kilt is pushing a cart and proclaiming, in the best Scottish accent PBS could afford, "Haggis! Two for a dollar!" Buster writes down this "important information," then turns to Arthur (who I guess would know coz his dad makes weird food?) and asks, "What's haggis?"

(Side note: I've tried haggis. It tastes like nasty, gritty, meaty oatmeal. This dish was made for a kid without taste buds like Buster Baxter.)

Arthur is spared having to answer the question by Mr. Ratburn being distracted by a shiny gold statue of a griffin (which is probably made out of cake or chocolate). Blah blah blah, Arthur thinks his class can win it because they're "the smartest" and "work the hardest," when suddenly an earthquake shakes Elwood City and everyone dies!

Okay, not really, but by, oh, ten-elevenths of the way through the episode, Arthur and his peers are going to wish that's what happened.

No, the earth's rumbling is caused by a handful of uniform`ed children trouncing off their non-traditional white school bus, chanting a menacing song about their school.

Smug and smarmy, Mr. Pryce-Jones, the teacher of the kids from Glenbrook Academy, marches off the bus and up to Ratburn. It turns out that he was Ratburn's third grade teacher and the only reason the golden griffin isn't in his classroom is because Pryce-Jones always takes it home with him.

So it's on. Like Donkey Kong.

While the grownups try to one-up each other, the two groups of kids whisper and point at each other. Having worn both regular clothes and uniforms to school, I have it on good authority that the Lakewood kids immediately hate the Glenbrook students because they're wearing very smart-looking uniforms. The Glenbrook students hate the Lakewood kids because they get to wear whatever they want to school.

But it becomes apparent that if they weren't wearing different clothes, no one would be able to tell the two third-grade classes apart! The Glenbrook kids are *SPOILER ALERT* dopplegangers of the Lakewood kids, the product of an evil scientist gone mad with DNA samples!

Although...to be honest, if the Arthur animators had a wider repertoire, this would be more impressive.

Anyway, here's Arthur's doppleganger. Bam!

Francine's evil twin! She even has the same weird barrettes!

Muffy's dead ringer. Kind of. They have the same hair, so I'm assuming they look exactly alike.

The Brain's doppleganger. This one is a stretch. By the way The Brain reacts (a violent gasp), you'd think they looked exactly alike. Here's a hint, The Brain: you don't look remotely similar because you have no distinguishing features besides your intelligence and lavender sweater. Zing!

And the last of the main characters' doubles, the Buster "look-alike." No buck teeth, no rabbit ears. Just an eerie knack for putting away pies.

Anyhow, the Glenbrook kids whoop the heinies of the Lakewood kids in a maze challenge because they have Arthur, who can't figure out what "Hie thee hence" means, try to find his way through an uncomplicated maze. Ratburn even tells him to "use his head." Poor, dumb Arthur thinks that means to rip through the maze's cloth walls with his swollen noggin. They lose and Francine is sent to collect Arthur's remains.

The Sword in the Stone makes a cameo and Arthur returns to it several more times, convinced that he can figure out the trick.

Francine faces her dead ringer in a suction-cup archery match. And loses. (Because the Glenbrook girl slathers her arrow with spit and it knocks Francine's out of the bulls-eye. That doesn't work, btw. I tried it many a time with my dollar store archery set.)

The Lakewood kids lose a tug-of-war because the Glenbrook kids use leverage or whatever.

Arthur, Buster, Muffy, and Francine lounge on a picnic table near the lake after washing off the mud from the tug-of-war. (Where are the parent chaperons? This thing was created when I was a kid, and I most definitely had parent chaperons. Like, one for every five kids.) Mr. Ratburn comes up and tells them that Mr. Pryce-Jones is one of the best teachers private education could provide, teaching kids Latin in third grade (no one learns Latin in school anymore, especially not grade school). Mr. Ratburn muses out loud that he's not a "tough enough" teacher and the kids are horrified that they'll actually be competently taught. Quelle horror!

They take a break from the competition so they can eat a medieval lunch and the Glenbrook kids can mock the ignorance of what is supposed to be the brightest class at Lakewood. These mini-adults have clearly been bred without any normal emotions whatsoever. Mr. Pryce-Jones taunts Mr. Ratburn's teaching abilities because his (Ratburn's) third graders don't know the 42 English kings. (He has a whole 20 minute song.)

Heck, most third graders don't know the 44 presidents of the United States!

Arthur and his gang hope to high heaven that there's something at this fair they can win so Mr. Ratburn won't get even tougher. They think Buster can win the mincemeat pie eating contest, but then Glenbrook pulls out its most impressive victory of the day. Buster's doppleganger isn't just a mindless eating machine; he knows about the science of eating. He's been preparing for this contest weeks in advance. So Buster gets handed his butt on a medieval pie plate.

The Brain plays some weird trivia game and gets p'nwed because he doesn't give the answers that were correct in the Middle Ages. He does not win a sheep, as advertised in the wheel below.

Muffy loses a tennis match to her double. AND gets her heritage dissed. Turns out that Other Braid Girl is related to Henry V, a sore spot to Muffy because her family is a first generation of social climbers with no blue blood at all. Ouch, girl!

And finally, there is a collective failure at the castle building contest. Lakewood loses points for creativity and Glenbrook Academy wins.

After losing every contest, Buster finally admits his emotional eating. He asks if anyone else wants to get something to eat and Francine incredulously bursts "But you just ate six pies!" To which Buster responds, "I feel empty inside," with a haunted look on his pale, furry face.

It turns out, though, that the rules of the overall golden griffin competition was written in garglemesh (or is that Arabic?), so the Lakewood kids didn't ever have a chance to begin with.

Arthur somehow figures out how to get the sword out of the stone and is crowned King of the Medieval Fair. Mr. Pryce-Jones congratulates Mr. Ratburn on teaching such a free-thinking boy, which I can only take to mean that Pryce-Jones is as sarcastic as they come. Arthur? Free-thinking? Good heavens, "Arthur" is Latin for "conformity."

Ratburn is not replaced by Pryce-Jones, nor does he become "tougher," much to the disadvantage of his students. Where will they be in twenty years? In dead end jobs, slaving away their youth for a soon to be extinct floppy disk firm. Where will the Glenbrook kids be? Microsoft. Google. Yale.

Dad's Dessert Dilemma S03 Ep. 07 (Part 2)

2011-05-21T08:55:00.007-06:00

Arthur deserves its own blog post. My older brother directed me to a blog where the writer analyzed older episodes of Arthur, and I thought it was stinking hilarious. But the writer stopped after four posts over a year ago, so I'm totally stealing the idea and her three main categories. They are as follows.

1. Arthur Fails at a Basic Life Skill.

2. One of Arthur's Friends Fails at a Basic Life Skill.

3. D.W. is a Huge Witch.

I thought they were pretty accurate, as were the character descriptions which I have mostly copied from her, but edited at my discretion. I do not claim to be this clever.

* Arthur Read: Arthur is an eight-year old aardvark with a big heart, even bigger glasses, and some serious anxiety issues. Seriously, the guy gets worked up about everything. Nearly every episode involves Arthur freaking out about some minor issue and working himself into a kind of demented frenzy over it. These issues invariably have a very simple solution, but as Arthur really isn't very bright, he usually fails to figure this out until the last two minutes of the episode. His voice breaks about twenty-seven times over the course of the series.

* Buster Baxter: Arthur's best friend, Buster is a kind-hearted, if hyperactive, rabbit child. He is dorky, awkward and seems to have some sort of severe ADHD. Buster's parents are both completely inept, and he compensates for their lack of attention by telling outlandish stories and stress eating. Every now and then, Buster is randomly written out of the show so that he can go visit his absentee father.

* Francine Frensky: Francine Frensky is Arthur's other best friend. She seems to be some sort of Jewish monkey-like creature and has a natural talent for sports, music, and being a huge witch.

* Muffy Crosswire: The Blair Waldorf of the Arthur universe, Muffy, like Francine, appears to be some kind of monkey-thing. She is vain, cruel, self-centered and just generally unpleasant, but everyone puts up with her so that they can use her indoor swimming pool.

* Alan "The Brain" Powers: So, Arthur's an aardvark, Buster's a bunny...What the frak is The Brain? According to the PBS website he's an African-American bear cub, but as far as I'm concerned, the jury's still out on that one. Whatever the heck he is, The Brain is pompous, pretentious, and refuses to respond to any name other than "The Brain."

* Binky Barnes: Binky is a mildly sociopathic bulldog who randomly switches between being Arthur's close friend and Arthur's arch nemesis. Somewhat dim, Binky is quite possibly the tallest nine year old in history. He is also the reigning school bully, but he'd be a lot more terrifying if he didn't tuck his shirt into his pants.

* D.W. Read: D.W. is Arthur's little sister. She looks to be about four years old, but her real age is a major continuity problem for the writers. She is also a giant witch. And it's not just regular witchiness. D.W. legitimately seems to have a serious personality disorder. When not tormenting Arthur, being a snot to her friends or causing her baby sister bodily harm, D.W. can usually be found throwing a violent tantrum or talking to invisible people. (Becca here; I actually think D.W. is the funniest character on the show, but she does have issues.)

Without further ado, the first analysis.

Dad's Dessert Dilemma

In which Arthur takes pride in something that has little to do with him and Elwood City has a serious sugar addiction

Category: Arthur Fails at a Basic Life Skill

Basic Life Skill Failed: Having skills in general

The show begins with Mr. Read dashing the fourth wall by asking the audience if we're looking for Arthur. He proceeds to call for his firstborn (which is fruitless because he's out baking in his kitchen/garage or kitchenage and no one can hear him) and when Arthur doesn't respond, he assumes he's doing homework.

We, as the audience, dearly wish that that was the case. Instead, we are treated to a camera shot of Arthur shoving weird-looking cookies into his allegedly aardvark face as fast as his hands can move from plate to mouth, complete with revolting sound effects.

He ends up pouring the cookies in when his hands fail to keep up with his disgusting appetite. Mr. Read, I think it's safe to say that we are NOT looking for Arthur anymore and would rather stay out here in the kitchenage, curled up in fetal position.

But it turns out that hanging out with Mr. Read is only marginally better than hanging out with his son. He immediately launches into a lament as to how he's persecuted for his bold culinary innovations. In a flashback we see cinnamon toast souffle which deflates as it comes out of the toaster (not bad), chunky pudding balls (which look exactly the same as the cookies Arthur was snarfing not three seconds ago, so I don't know what he's all grossed out about), and Cranberry Prune Crumble (which actually sounds gross).

Arthur bursts in on this soliloquy (probably to steal more cookies or maybe eat straight brown sugar), but the minute his dad asks him to try something, he's gone. Mr. Read sits there, stunned, and we cut to the title card so we don't see a grown up animated aardvark cry into his manly apron.

Mr. Ratburn mentions that tomorrow is Galileo's birthday and that by way of celebration they'll be studying his theory of the solar system. Binky immediately raises his hand and proposes that they have a birthday party, and Buster, of course, demands that everyone bring cake and ice cream for him...for them to eat. "Cake" then becomes Mr. Ratburn's buzzword for the rest of the show. Once the idea is approved, (after gasping in shock) the kids begin volunteering their parents' food services.

Arthur rushes home and tells his mom that she has to meet his demands or he'll be a failure at life. Hardly fazed, Mrs. Read glances away from her dinosaur computer for long enough to tell him that she's busy, darnit, and that he should go ask his dad. Mr. Read pops out of nowhere, wearing his tear-stained apron (which I guess he wears everywhere?) and jumps at the opportunity to make his son like him. Arthur rejects the offering of affection by saying that he doesn't want anything "weird." Mr. Read laughs this off and goes back to his kitchenage for more crying. His mom assures Arthur that the dessert will be very unique and Arthur displays his closed-mindedness for all the world to see by saying "That's what I'm afraid of."

Being open to out-of-the-norm things is bad, kids. In fact, write that down. "Unique = bad." Got it? Good.

Mr. Read unveils the cake, which is WICKED SWEET. Seriously, Arthur? Seriously? He mopes off, sure that he'll get set on fire or ostracized or something for bringing a KICK-BUTT CAKE to a class party. (He has one of his fantasies where everyone hates him and his cake and even Buster won't eat it... Yeah, I've seen Buster lick a seven year old ham bone and eat a fifty year old sandwich. Not likely, dude.)

He hides it under a box when he gets to school and when Buster demands to see what his sugary homage is, mumbles something with his mouth full of cookie. Mr. Ratburn uses his superior cake finding skills, uncovers it, and everyone thinks it's an awesome and delicious cake. Arthur then realizes that he can use his dad in order to gain popularity, something he will never be able to accomplish on his own. Ever.

He volunteers his dad to make desserts for all sorts of mundane school functions. And Mr. Ratburn shows up at all of them, under the guise of "dropping off the spring reading list." It makes me kind of sad, actually. I want to sit him down and say, "Nigel, you don't have to hide your addiction. And you're invited to most of these functions, so it's okay to go eat some of that without having an excuse. It's what cake is FOR."

Arthur gets a big head (which is particularly irritating because he has nothing to do with his dad's desserts) and becomes drunk with popularity. As such, he gets threatened by Brain's mom bringing extra ice cream to school that would've gone to waste otherwise. He hurries home, intent on cracking the whip harder on his slacker dad, and his mom tells him to chill out.

It turns out that Arthur's madness is causing Mr. Read to fall behind on his work and Mr. Crosswire (who's at least three times more of a jerk than Muffy) is tres upset at him. While Arthur is trying to process this outside the kitchenage, D.W. comes along, realizes that Arthur's insanity will be their ruin, and begins inflicting bodily harm.

Mr. Read, smelling blood, comes out, somehow gets his kids to help him with Mr. Crosswire's order, and all is good in the city of Elwood.

Aaaaand Mr. Ratburn comes around to the kitchenage to "drop off the spring reading list," feigns surprise at the presence of cake, and follows Mr. Crosswire home to whatever swanky party he's throwing for himself (because no one else is good enough for the Crosswires).

Kids' Shows

2011-05-21T07:51:00.011-06:00

I watched a lot of public television growing up because A) we didn't have cable and B) it made me hecka smart. So I grew up with such classics Barney, Sesame Street, Puzzle Place, and Arthur.

Who knew that when I grew up (read: when my body had partially caught up with old spirit) I would be getting paid to watch PBS? I currently have a job at BYU Broadcasting (which will one day get me an ins with the BBC and then I can meet Claire Foy and all my dreams will come true) as a canary in the mine. I sit there, eyes glued to the screen(s), and the minute something goes wrong, I tell someone else to fix it via email or by hollering at my supervisors. Sometimes I have the resources to fix it myself, but these are rare occasions.

Anyway, the shifts I have this semester are for KBYU during the day. Which means six solid hours of kids' shows. Guess what I've begun doing? Yep, that's right. Analyzing TV shows written for (by?) children.

It's not all that bad, actually. There are some pretty solid shows out there. Arthur, Word Girl, and Martha Speaks are generally pretty enjoyable. However, I end up thinking about things way too much.

Like Super Why!, a show that airs when I'm not working but I saw plenty the last nine months. As far as teaching kids letters and values at the same time, it's not too shabby. But I have one major complaint.

Okay, count the (comparatively) human main characters with me.

From left to right, Wonder Red, Super Why, and Princess Presto. Three. Three out of the four main characters are humans. Which character got the catchphrase of "Let's give ourselves a big thumbs up!"?

That's right, good ol' Alpha Pig, who's got little trotters. The writers had three choices when it came to divvying out that catchphrase, and they gave it to the pig. *sigh*

Next on my agenda is Clifford the Big Red Dog. Who didn't think that a huge dog would be the coolest thing ever when they were younger? Hey, maybe you think that now. I'm not hatin'. But as you get older you start thinking things like "Holy Hannah, how do they FEED that monstrosity? Don't the Howards own an antique shop or something like that? How can they afford that sort of budget strain? Do they feed him criminals from the mainland?" and "Okay, maybe Emily Elizabeth chose Clifford because he was the step-headed red child runt of his litter and she felt bad for him, but maybe her parents were on board with the whole dog thing because he was so small. And then--irony!--they ended up with the biggest dog in the whole world. Man, they must be hating life." and "Yep. Cleaning up after him would suck. I don't understand how Emily Elizabeth can still love him."

But the thing that gets me every time is this image in the theme song.

At first you think "Lolz, a dog with his head sticking out of a building!" And then as you watch it day after day after day after day you think, "Hold on. The tail thing I can fathom. His tail is probably small enough to stick out one of those generic windows. But there is no way his head could fit through one of those. According to the theme song, he grew at a freakish rate, so maybe he stuck his head out the window to smell some of the fetid stenches that accompany city life and BAM! Enormous Clifford head! But I'm erring on the side of more gradual growth. So...what? The Howards, upon realizing that they'd been scammed by that puppy vendor, made Clifford stick his head out the window until he reached his peak size? How did they even get him out of there to move to Birdwell Island?"

Don't even get me started on Curious George. Sometimes I have to turn the volume down on that show because it makes me so anxious.

"Be a good little monkey!" The man in the yellow hat says. "And make sure to have Einstein's theory of relativity debunked by the time I get home!" He might as well add.

George hoots something incomprehensible then proceeds to *SPOILER ALERT* get into all sorts of trouble. I'm not going to dwell on that, however, or this post is going to become more of a manifesto.

What really bothers me is how he only has to say "Ooh ooh ah!" and maybe make some vague gesture and everyone knows what he's saying.

"Oh, you think that the British monarchy is a tired old tradition that ought to give way to the ministry?" says the man in the yellow hat, stroking his chin.

George chatters excitedly at being understood so perfectly. He then turns to Bill, one of the dumbest smart characters on the show, and hoots something while standing on his hands.

"You want to build a raft made entirely from pineapples?" says Bill, who for some reason thinks that all people who live in the city are monkeys and calls George "City Kid."

George screeches "Ahhh!" and gets his stash of pineapples out from under his bed.

And George never suffers the consequences of his actions. Someone always comes along and bails him out, therefore enabling him to continue with his ridiculous antics. I'm still waiting for the episode where George is curious as to why he can't dry his fur while in the tub. Where is your man in the yellow hat now, electrocuted monkey?

But then I realize that I could be watching Teletubbies or Boo Bah, and I shut my brain off and enjoy the relative coherency.

Oh, the controversy

2011-03-08T15:49:00.002-07:00

Lately there's been a bit of a hoopla about the Brandon Davies scandal at my school. For all you who don't know (I myself only have a vague idea of anything that occurs on my campus), Brandon Davies was a fairly proficient member of the basketball team and got booted off for violating the Honor Code (yes, capitals are necessary) by way of self-confessed pre-marital sexual intercourse.

The collective Mormon reaction has been somewhat divided; some people say it's bad publicity for the church, some say it's good publicity for the church, some respect him for his willingness to come forward and confess, and some say "good riddance, sinner!"

The rest of the country (coz let's be honest; Mormons make up less than 1.98% of the population here) has been similarly torn. Some say we're archaic in our beliefs, some say it's good to see a college sticking by its rules, etc etc.

So that's the basic back story. It hasn't really affected me much except it's been all over my school's paper, my friends' Facebook statuses, and whatnot.

I was watching the Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live (my only real contact with current events) and lo and behold, there was that story. Again. Here's what Seth Meyers had to say:

A member of the Brigham Young University basketball team has been suspended for the rest of the season for violating the school's honor code by having pre-marital sex. The player says he feels terrible, but has a pretty good idea how he's gonna cheer himself up. (laughter from the audience)

And instead of feeling outraged and indignant, I just felt...amused. Amused in a sad sort of way. People just don't get the gravity of sexual sin. There's a great talk by Elder Holland called "Of Souls, Symbols, and Sacraments." Messing with procreative powers and bringing souls into this world without proper authority is just as harmful as taking souls out of it unbidden. Even with protection, it's a communion, a sacred act used to bring man and wife closer to each other and God.

Anyway, that's all. I feel blessed to have this knowledge and to go to a school where it's the norm.

A Feast of Becca Proportions

2010-11-29T16:13:00.006-07:00

I've had sundry ideas about posts over the last few weeks; I've just been too lazy to actually write them. You know what that means? A single post dedicated to more topics than anyone should be able to digest in one sitting! Please, consider this my Thanksgiving gift to you. A tasty array of subjects that you'll visit, fill your plate, stuff yourself senseless, and repeat!

1) I'm wearing a BYU-Idaho hoodie. Despite the fact that I attend the southern Brigham Young University (and it being 27 balmy degrees Fahrenheit), today my outerwear consists only of a navy blue hoodie sporting the logo of my older siblings' school. Here's my reasoning: A hoodie made for students attending Frozen Wasteland University must be a thousand times warmer and more effective than any other coat, hoodie, or parka (excepting coats and parkas made for BYU-I students, of course). Is it working? Pretty much, yeah.

2) The Turn of the Century. I was at work (BYU Broadcasting, "monitoring" TV), vaguely watching some sort of Education Week discourse about health and nutrition when the woman said something that caught my attention.

"The Atkins Diet became very popular at the turn of the century..."

My first thought was: "Wait, what? No it wasn't. It was popular late 90's, early 2000's. I was alive for that one. Turn of the century? What is she on about?"

And then I realized that "Turn of the Century" can be applied to the early 21st century. To be honest, I got a little depressed that the phrase won't be associated with bustles and spats anymore.

3) Rice. I'm a rice fiend. I probably should have been born an Asian, cos I could eat rice all the live long day, every live long day.

Have you ever looked at a rice field? Not very appetizing. Especially when the workers don't wear shoes. Then it's gross. But somehow I can't equate the solid deliciousness of rice with the ickyness of the fields. Oh well.

4) Third World Countries. I'm taking an anthropology class this semester, and then whole time I've wondered about anthropological studies. Think about it. We leave our own "advanced" culture to study people we think are less developed. What if the people in third world countries did the same?

[The following is an excerpt from the anthropological journal of Gai, a Bushman studying the Utah Mormons]

Today I participated in a cultural ritual that involved singing, very little eating, and crying women. They called it "Sacrament Meeting." The men wore silly things around their necks which had no purpose whatsoever. When asked, they seemed bewildered that anyone would question the authority of the "tie." The men and women were separated for different meetings. The children were left to the less fortunate men and women to be taught the traditions of their people, some of which involving "popcorn trees" and "snowmen." (I am trying my best to understand these people, but really? Snowmen?)

I'm pretty sure there are tons of books circulating third world countries filled with amused studies of us first world snobs.

5) The Croatian waterfalls of the Plitvice Lakes. I was at work, watching "Rick Steves' Europe" when I saw the most beautiful national park! It's called the Plitvice Lakes National Park and it is gorgeous. Behold!

I've been to my fair share of national parks, but that is something else! Croatia is now on my list of places to go before I die.

6) My Grandma Dottie. My Grandma Dottie is totally my best friend. My family spent Thanksgiving at my maternal parents' house, and I was once again reminded of her awesomeness. She was cracking jokes the whole time, poking fun at my mom, telling hilarious stories about my grandpa, the whole nine yards. She and I are two peas in a pod; we both love making pies, and we both love making jokes.

When we were in Idaho a few months ago for my nephew's blessing, she and I were sitting together on the couch while my sister-in-law's family were singing for us (at my dad's request). And we laughed the whole time. I can't even remember what was so funny, but she was giggling and I was snorting and everyone was looking at us like we were on crack. My little brother Seth finally had to sit between us to get us to knock it off. It was only partially effective.

Well, that's it. Aren't you in a coma yet? No? Have some pie.

Hi, my name is Becca, and I'm a nerd.

2010-11-15T00:17:00.003-07:00

So there was this one time when I was eight years old.

Crazy, right?

Anyway, I was in second grade and there was this craze going around. (No, I'm not talking about Pokémon, although it did emerge in the same period now that you mention it.) There was some stupid book that everyone was reading! Good gravy, it drove me to distraction.

And because I am a non-conformist, I hated it purely on the principle that everyone seemed to be raving about it.

In my rebellion I spitefully called it "Harry Snotter."

Then one day I was bothering my older brother Brandon who was reading the first one. He was ignoring me, so I read over his shoulder to irritate him more.

"How did you get here?"

"Flew," grunted Hagrid.

"Hey," I said, "what's going on? Who flew? Flew how? Who's this guy? His best friend?"

I don't remember what happened next, but Brandon probably told me to scramoose and my curiosity gnawed at me the rest of the day. Somehow I got my hands on a copy of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" and promptly devoured it.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand thus began my eight year love affair with Harry Potter.

For said next nine years it was exceedingly easy to shop for me; if it had "Harry Potter" on the label, I was likely to scream in excitement.

This wasn't the legit WB merchandise either; this was the early stuff. Troll booger glue. Terrible day-by-day calendars with awful illustrations. Sticker books of said awful illustrations. Goofy-looking wand keychains. Puzzles of said awful illustrations. Snow globes. Bertie Botts. Weird figurines.

Then in the fourth grade, the first movie came out. This started the merchandise as we know it; robes, stuffed owls, action figures, posters of Dan, Emma, and the ginger. As the years and movies progressed, the paraphernalia got steadily cooler. Cooler robes. Cooler action figures. Cooler wands. Cooler posters.

(When I go home, I'll take pictures of my stuff and post them.)

I grew up with Harry Potter. I grew up with the characters, and I especially grew up with the actors. Emma Watson's only a year and a half older than I am (despite being three hundred times more talented, gorgeous, and amazing). I lived, slept, and breathed Harry Potter.

And then the seventh book came out, and I was furious with JK Rowling for pairing Harry and Ginny and the other ginger and Hermione. Hermione is far too good for that one ginger kid, and the same with Harry and Ginny. Good grief, where was Ginny in the seventh book? NOT THERE, that's where. Pulling silly pranks on Snape at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione have one of the best relationships in literary history, and there is no closure.

I was mad.

So I bid the Harry Potter franchise goodbye. I took down my posters, mostly covered my Gryffindor fireplace painted on my wall, and packed everything up to put it in my closet.

How is it that then even after three years famine I can still tell you trivial facts from the books? How is it that even now none of my family members wants to challenge me to Harry Potter games? How is it that I still bought tickets to the midnight showing of Deathly Hallows Part I? How is it that I'm still dressing up?

Hi, my name is Becca, and I'm a Harry Potter nerd through and through.

Take THAT, Social Norm!

2010-11-05T12:52:00.002-06:00

At the beginning of the semester my friend Cami told me about a psychology class that was assigned to go into the Wilk and break social norms and observe peoples' reactions. One girl took a fry out of a guy's hand, ate it in front of him, then walked off. My reaction was somewhere along the lines of:

"MAN! I am SO in the wrong classes!" followed by me assuring Cami that if I had the opportunity, I wouldn't be uncomfortable in the slightest breaking social norms. In fact, I would relish it.

Today was the Day of Reckoning.

We were talking about social norms in my anthropology lab and twenty minutes before the end of class, our TA took us outside and said, "Have at it. Go break some rules."

There was a lot of hesitating. No one wanted to go by themselves or they couldn't think of anything.

I totally wanted to rip a guy's earphones out, but I chickened out because I would feel bad. The same with my idea of taking someone's phone, saying, "Halla!" into it, then handing it back without a word.

Instead, this girl in my class and I settled for knocking all the bikes in the rack over. We got several dirty looks from passerbys, but no one actually said anything. The whole time I kinda wanted to go back and fix it.

Darn social training.

So I'm not as bold as I previously supposed. Which is a bummer cos I always saw myself as a non-conformist type. Yeah. Not so much.

After class, I had an empty milk jug (chocolate milk for the class; deeeelish), so I decided then and there to hand it to some passerby without saying anything and then walk off.

So there I was, walking towards the SWKT with a milk jug in hand when a poor unsuspecting young man happened to walk past me. I held out the milk jug to him silently.

He kept his hands firmly glued in his pockets and said, "Uh, what's this?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. You just look like you needed an empty milk jug in your life."

This seemed to satisfy him and he took it. I walked off. He stood there looking bewildered for a while, then went on his way.

Worth it? Oh yesh.

However, I'm still not as hardcore as I would like to believe. That whole time I had people from my anthro class watching my back. This will have to change.

Or not, and I can continue talking big without anything whatsoever to prove my hardcoreness.

Either/or.

Adventures in Science

2010-10-15T16:40:00.003-06:00

So my roommate Kerri is a genius. She's a PDBio major and is ridiculously good at science and math.

Today she had to drop something off to her food science professor, and I went with her because I had nothing better to do. (And she had to use my ID card to print said paper.)

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The Eyring Science Center," she replied.

I've been on campus for two months now, and I don't think I've even come close to going into every single building. However, there are some buildings that I hoped never to have to enter. Ever. These are the science and math buildings.

Kerri walked in with great ease, but I immediately tensed up. I don't belong in left-brain settings. It's like putting a lump of tofu in the middle of a bunch of hungry vegans: bad news bears.

To try to make me more comfortable, Kerri led me around to some cool displays they had, kind of like a parent leading their child gently into shark-infested waters. There was one where you could feel the weight difference between lead and nylon. You couldn't even lift the neuron star one cos it was glued down. I was bitter. She pointed out that it was funny because neuron stars are uber dense.

I hate science jokes.

And then she had me stand on two little yellow feet painted on the floor in front of a display. Everything about it screamed "SCIENCE TRAP!"

[Science trap (n)- an exhibit in a scientific setting that is designed to expressly make the everyday person look like a total goob.]

There was a pedestal in front of me that appeared to have a dollar bill behind a lightbulb. Trap. There was also a huge concave mirror not three feet away from that. Trap. Kerri told me to walk forward and try to grab the dollar. TRAP.

I didn't fall for it.

But it got me thinking; if sciency and mathy people really wanted to embarrass all their mentally inferior peers into never coming into a building again, why not screen IQs at the door?

[Begin scene: KERRI and BECCA are again walking into the ESC:

there is a contraption that looks vaguely like a metal detector flanking the door]

KERRI: (walks through the door)

MACHINE: Ding!

KERRI: Come on, Becca.

BECCA: (hesitating) I dunno, K-sho. This looks spurious at best.

KERRI: (rolls eyes)

BECCA: All right.... (walks through door)

MACHINE: BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! Security breach! Someone with an IQ less than 100 has entered the building! Security! Security!

BECCA: (sulking) I told you so.

[Scene closes on BECCA being escorted out of the building by a robocop.]

Although the robocop part is pretty cool, I'd better make sure this idea never falls into the hands of any Brains. They can keep inventing ways to make gas cheaper.

Irony Never Faileth

2010-10-04T18:12:00.004-06:00

I went to the dentist last Thursday. I was really excited, too, because they usually tell me what a dismal flosser I am, and since my last visit I've flossed EVERY DAY to show them who's boss. Also, to cut down on my cavities. My dad makes me pay the co-pay for getting my cavities done and last time I had three. Yikes. I was determined not to let that happen again. (Not to mention I hate that terrible shot they stick clear down into your jawbone to numb you.)

The hygienist asked me how my flossing had been; I told her I never miss a day. I am a religious flosser. I brush morning and night. I've been cutting down my soda intake.

She could tell I wasn't lying because my teeth looked so good; she even said how I'd made her job easier by keeping my teeth in such good shape.

Then the dentist came in to look at my X-rays.

I held my breath and crossed every appendage in the hopes that, finally, I'd conquered the Great Satan (my cavities).

Five.

I had FIVE CAVITIES.

That's worse than when I wasn't flossing! I felt cheated! I felt indignant! I felt furious! It's enough to make me sell my teeth and live on liquefied food the rest of my life! (Not really; that's gross.)

But really? There is no way anyone can tell me that all teeth are created equal.

Mine are out to get me. Haters.

Don't Do It!

2010-10-01T17:02:00.004-06:00

Today I saw a girl decked out in running gear standing at the bottom of the stairs of a ridiculously steep hill. Her hands were on her hips and one could almost hear her thoughts,

"Should I run the stairs? No one would care if I did. It's unseasonably hot, and I'm half dehydrated anyway. I think I will..."

Her body automatically shifted into a ready-to-run position.

At this point I wanted to shout,

"No! Your life is still worth living! Don't run! I'll call the campus police and counselling center and we'll help you through this. Stay there! Just. Don't. Run."

It was much like watching someone poised at the top of the Chrysler Tower, ready to jump-- it could only end in tears and great bodily harm.

...

I'm not much of a runner.

Bums

2010-09-21T15:54:00.011-06:00

There's one sight that's more common than almost any other on campus, and, surprisingly, it's not nasty hair. No, what I see more often than not is people passed out on sundry objects, such as the floor, couches, benches, chairs, the lawn, etc.

Walking through campus is kind of like this:

Hey, who needs to go to a big city like New York or LA when you can see sad sights like this in your own backcampus?

I admit, though, that I have on occasion succumbed to slumber on campus. Most notably the benches in the JSB. One day I woke up to a text from my bestie, Kaitlynn, asking what I was doing.

Me: Uh, just woke up from a nap.

Kaitlynn: In your apartment? Don't you have class soon?

Me: Uh....on a bench.

Kaitlynn: What the heck? They let you do that?

Me: I guess so. There are people sleeping all over campus.

Kaitlynn: Man, BYU is like the home of the legalized bums.

After seeing these pictures I stole from Seen @BYU on Facebook, I'm sure you'll be compelled to agree.

I know sleep is supposedly hard to come by as a college student, but some of these are just ridiculous. I just might have to start carrying Police Crime Scene tape around.

The "M" Word

2010-09-18T00:53:00.004-06:00

Last Sunday Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles held a fireside for the 18-30 demographic of church members. I was privileged to be one of the (relative) few who were in the Marriott Center where it was being filmed and broadcasted.

I love Elder Scott! I know we're not supposed to have favorites coz, hello, they're all prophets of God, but he is definitely up there on my personal list.

So to say I hated the talk would be misleading. It was more...heavy-handed. When asked about said talk, a BYU coed put it this way:

"We all have to get married. Tonight."

Marriage is a wonderful, beautiful, hard thing. I definitely plan on getting married............just not right now. When I'm nineteen. Just graduated from high school.

I mean, I can barely take care of myself! How on earth am I supposed to be able to take care of a husband?

[Open scene: BECCA approaches door of quaint apartment, dressed in classy 50's housewife attire. She fishes the key from her attractive clutch and opens the door.]

BECCA: Hullo, darling! I'm home!

[Her hand gropes for a light switch; however the light only reveals a horrifying sight.]

BECCA: Darling?

[HUSBAND FIGURE is lying belly-up on the living room floor, reminiscent of a dead goldfish (you know the look)]

BECCA: Oh....fuffernoggin! I forgot to feed him! Poor, poor darling. Well, I suppose I'll just have to flush him and find a new one.

[Cut scene]

Pretty grim, eh? Nevertheless, despite it being a prominent topic at church, firesides, and devotionals, I just want everyone to know it's not all we talk about at BYU. Sometimes we talk about the Gospel, too; just not as often.

(Dear Mother, this is for you. Stop misquoting Queen Gertrude from Hamlet! I know you're doing it, so knock it off.)

Things I've Learned Living on My Own

2010-09-13T22:11:00.002-06:00

This is totally NOT a soul-searching, deep, meaningful post. Here is an example of what I will not be posting---

In the past two weeks I've learned who I am; a strong, resilient, adaptable young woman who is a pillar of integrity among young women.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING. Y'all are not reading this for that kinda jank. So here we go; more valuable, more hilarious things I've learned while living on my own.

1) Produce actually goes bad. I know, you're wondering what kind of weird family I come from. (My mom is probably shaking her head right now.) But in my family when we get produce, like apples and carrots and stuff, it is gone by the following week at the latest.

So before I moved in my mom took me shopping, and I totally loaded up on produce. It was wonderful. And then all of a sudden my blueberries were growing stuff on them. What the heck? Produce goes rotten? What's up with that?

2) Three girls shedding > five dogs shedding. Seriously? Our bathroom floor looks like a hair salon. We could keep all the the loose hairs and make several wigs.

3) Biking is a great way to quell speeding. I have the need for speed. If it's fast and kinda dangerous, I'm all over it. Driving a car is hard for me because I always want to go at least ten over the speed limit. Which has landed me two tickets ($300 in all) and a near suspension of my license.

Biking is the cure! If you want to go fast, you have to work for it. And you definitely can not get ticketed for speeding on a bike. As far as I know. Also, going downhill is the bomb. I love that rush.

Also, no chance of Freshman Fifteen for me! Yes!

4) Cooking for less than nine people is hard. I'm still having a hard time adjusting servings and portions. I'm used to doubling, if not tripling, the recipe; what is this halving the recipe?

5) And yet three girls eat a LOT. No bull. I made an apple pie last night and it was gone when I got home at five today. What. The. Heck. A 9" apple pie! And today Kerri and I ate chicken cordon bleus and an entire acorn squash for dinner. We almost exploded.

6) One bathroom is NOT enough. I know, I know. Typical girl complaint. But really, on Sunday mornings it's killer when you have to go to the bathroom and someone's in the bathroom showering or doing their hair AND THE DOOR IS LOCKED. I almost punched a hole through the wall on one occasion.

7) Not having friends is okay. I have the most chill roommates in the history of the universe. So we mostly just end up sitting in our apartment doing homework and randomly talking to each other. The running gag between Kerri and me right now is how we don't have any friends and how we don't really need to keep our apartment neat because no one ever comes to visit us.

8) Singles wards are boring. I miss my Sunbeams and Nursery kids. What is Sacrament Meeting without that one kid who won't stop screaming? Good heavens.

9) I'm still a dork. I found the Liberty's Kids TV show on Netflix and geeked out like a moron. I love kids' shows and I especially love historic kids' shows. DORK.

That's all. I'm not going to post a #10. So hah. If I think of anything else funny/insightful, I'll blog it. Until then, I remain,

Modern Jo

PS- Angela Lansbury is amazing. She's terrifying in The Manchurian Candidate.

Mullets 'n' Mustaches

2010-09-03T23:57:00.006-06:00

My topic this week is hair; specifically mustaches and mullets. At BYU men are only allowed to have well-trimmed mustaches and hair to their collars. Which, of course, causes some young men to push the limits.

I've only been at BYU for a week, and I've seen at least five nasty mustaches (for future reference, there is no other kind) and more than a few mini-mullets.

This is not a tragedy unique to BYU alone; no, this follicle faux-paus is spreading far and wide, much like alcohol at a frat party. Who knows where it started? Who knows where it's going? Who knows what will stop the madness?

I'd like to talk to the person who thought it'd be a good idea to try to bring mullets and mustaches back to decent society. They've always thrived in such rural and somewhat primitive places as Preston, Idaho and Lakeland, Tennessee. Mullets and upper lip hair in those areas are natural wildlife; somewhere along the line of evolution they attached themselves to human heads to feed on braincells.

Those of us in metropolitan areas, however, have been fighting the creatures since the mirror was invented. No one looks good with either hair option. Sometimes we are able to hold them off for decades at a time, but they always inevitably edge their way back into polite society.

Today is one of those times. This blog post is about raising awareness about disgusting hair habits.

"Just what is it about mullets and mustaches that's so offensive?" you may ask.

In response I ask, "What's so offensive about spiders and snakes?"

You say, "I don't mind spiders and snakes."

To which I reply, "Would you like them in close contact? Would you like them on the head of someone you love? Would you like to see them in every family picture from here to 2055?"

"When you put it that way..." you say.

"Exactly." I say (without gloating coz you're already feeling pretty dumb at this point).

Mullets and mustaches destroy one's credibility. When was the last time you took a mulletman seriously? Or been able to do more than cringe or laugh at a man with a ridiculous mustache (again, there is no other kind)? If someone wears a mullet or mustache in a comedic sketch, it's usually to make fun of someone.

There is NO ONE IN THE WORLD WHO CAN PULL OFF EITHER A MUSTACHE OR MULLET. There are precious few men who can almost pull it off, but chances are YOU (yeah, YOU) are not one unless you are John Stamos.

I'm not going to lie; John Stamos is one very very attractive man. Unfortunately he got trapped in the eighties and early nineties. We can forgive him for that, right? For the first three seasons you know you watched Full House and laughed at Uncle Jesse's mullet, all the while admitting how very very attractive he was. Blessed was the day when Stephanie accidentally cut it off and he had to go to this:

He still has somewhat of a mullet, but I have never any other mullet look this good. Ever.

So there's the only exception. I will now take questions from the audience.

You, sir, with the grody bristles erupting between your lip and nose? You clearly haven't been listening; there is NEVER an exception to the "mustaches are gross from eternity to eternity" rule.

I ought to cite you for public indecency.

You, sir, with the faux-hawk and hair creeping down into your collar? Aren't you an exception?

Are you John Stamos?

No?

SHAVE IT OFF!

This is all. If you or someone you love currently has a hairy parasite in the head and/or face region, please don't hesitate to act in their best interest and take whatever measures are necessary to remove it.

Shave a mullet, save a life. Shave a mustache, earn a medal of honor.

Lost Tooth

2010-08-26T16:30:00.002-06:00

My littlest brother Micah lost his first tooth two weeks ago and it recalled some quite vivid images from my own childhood.

The very first tooth I lost was taken out in quite a violent episode. Okay, not that violent, but my parents had left the house one Sunday afternoon for whatever reason and we were wrestling. I think it might've been just me, Matt, and Brandon. Anyway, being considerably smaller than both of my older brothers, I had to use secret weapons. Like biting. And....yeah, mostly just biting.

So there we were, destroying the TV room for the zillionth time when I launched my prize-winning attack on Matt; I bit his shoulder. I can't remember what his reaction was, but all of a sudden I had the sensation of something small and hard rolling around in my mouth.

I spit it out and VOILA! My first baby tooth had left my mouth in a blaze of glory. Matt's Sunday shirt was stained a teensy tiny bit on the shoulder for a while.

When my parents came home I showed them my tooth and they asked how I lost it. I told them. I can't remember much past this point, but I'm sure their reaction encompassed rolled eyes and raised brows.

My other teeth came out without a fuss. I just pulled 'em. Except for one of my front teeth. It was close to Easter, and I was eating caramel at my grandparents' house. I bit into it and had a weird sensation again. I pulled the caramel back out and there was my big ol' front tooth sticking out of it. It unsettled me, so I threw it away. To this day, that kind of caramel still kind of grosses me out.

Anyway, I'm biding my time till school starts on Monday. I might do some more blogging between now and then. We'll just see.

Don't even ask...

2010-07-09T19:03:00.002-06:00

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala.

Aw, nerds. I was going to post something and now I can't remember what it was.

And it's SO helpful that Jonathan is sitting at my shoulder like a parrot, reading and watching EVERYTHING I TYPE.

Jonathan: Hey! I find that very offensive! I really do! And why are you posting what I'm saying? I'm gonna punch you in the face if you don't stop!

Me: *calmly keeps typing*

Jonathan: *giggling uncontrollably*

Micah: *joins the fray* DON'T! DO THAT! *whispers* (Write it down.)

They think they're so funny.

Jonathan: Have you thought what you're gonna write about? How I'm so awesome? *realizes I'm transcribing again* I hate you so much! I really do!

I'm editing this at my discretion. There's a lot of unintelligible stuff coming out of their mouths. Maybe I'll interview Micah.

Micah: Don't you dare!

Becca: Why not?

Micah: *growls*

Me: No, no tiger language. There aren't any tigers reading my blog.

Micah: I hate you! I hate you SO MUCH! I hate you than everything!

Me:...whatever that's supposed to mean...

Jonathan: HEY! I find your typing VERY offensive!

Hmm, maybe not. Little brothers, it appears, are very unwilling interviewees. It's funny how whenever I want them to do something for me, they disappear off the face of the earth; and yet, when I want them to scramoose, they cling to me like cheese to a steak. (as per my new job)

Micah: I hate you more than the universe. *whispers* (put that on.)

So, somebody help a sister out--- does that mean he hates me more than the universe hates me or that he hates me more than he hates the universe?

Jonathan: *unhelpful commentary*

Anyway, so as I was saying, what was I going to post about? I swear, I'm getting older by the minute. And since I never know who's reading this, I had to strike a sentence. But don't worry; it was really really really really really funny. Okay, not so much.

Jonathan: *reading out loud*

Me: *PUNCH*

Jonathan: *giggles* This is so much fun! Punch me again!

Me: Aww, it's no fun when you WANT me to punch you. Get outta here.

I didn't really punch him. I'd feel bad. It's like clubbing a baby seal.

Here, Micah wants to tell a story.

Micah: One day I went to Seven Peaks.

Me: How enthralling.

Micah: Super fun. Asking questions? ARE YOU?

Me: Yeah, I guess. What made it so fun?

Micah: I got a tube!

Me: Of toothpaste?

Micah: Nooooo. No, at Seven Peaks, the tubes are like as big as regular tubes. If you exchange two tubes then you get a double tube. If you exchange three regular tube or one double tube and one regular tube, then you get...

Me: Owned with a p?

Dad: Micah, if you don't come eat your cake soon, I'm going to feed it to the Matt!

Micah: Ahhhhhh! *runs off* I'll finish it later!

Jonathan: All right, I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack.

Me: Huzzah.

Micah: All right, back to the story....

Jonathan: No way!

Jonathan and Micah: *get into a loud, raucous fight*

Me: Is it bedtime yet? They haven't been this giggly since that one time we were studying scriptures and someone cut the Gouda.

*to the boys* You guys have been very helpful. Now please, go away. Or I'll sit on your heads.

Jonathan: Of course! And let me go get you ten dollars too for being my favorite sister!

Micah: No way! I wanted to give her ten dollars!

Me: Calm down, boys, you can both give me ten dollars. I take cash, credit, and check.

Jonathan: *is incensed by what I just wrote*

Micah: *actually goes and gets Jonathan's ten dollar bill and gives it to me*

Jonathan: HEY!

Micah: All right, back to the story. All right, let's pick up where we left off. If you exchange...

Me: *gives Micah a Look; this story is super boring*

Micah: All right, then you get a triple tube. And I hate that fly so much. *jerks thumb at a big ol' dumb housefly stuck in the window*

*starts giggling uncontrollably* I went to the wave pool. It's actually pretty fun. There're actually WaAaAaVeS!

And now Matt wants in on the being in the blog post action.

Matt: Hey, I want to get in there.

Me: Done.

Micah: All right. Aaaaaaaaaaaand that's all I want to say.

Me: Thank you, Micah, it's been an honor.

Micah: Now I'll beat Jonathan up.

Jonathan: No you won't.

Jonathan and Micah: *get locked in a death struggle*

Me: No blood on the carpet, please. And please don't break the baby grand.

Wow. I don't even know what just happened. I'm going to go eat some of my blueberry cake now. And then finish "Hogfather" by Terry Pratchett. And I'm pretty sure I'll be locking the door to the basement to DISCOURAGE ANY LITTLE BROTHERS WHO MIGHT STILL BE READING OVER MY SHOULDER AND GETTING ANY IDEAS.

Ha. That got rid of them. Although I think they're locking themselves in the basement. I'ma sit on their heads. Anyone want to buy a six year old red head and a crazy eleven year old? Also known as, I'll pay you?

Quickie

2010-07-07T10:44:00.004-06:00

So I'm at the local library (literacy plug, literacy plug, literacy plug) right now after a most adventurous bike ride.

But first, I need to explain why I ride my bike to work. Here's the deal; I'm not a crazed health nut like some people (*coughsDADcoughs*), but I decided this summer that since my jobs aren't too far from my house, I might as well save gas money and burn calories by using the ol' wheel-machine-that-isn't-a-car.

Usually, it works out pretty good. I get all sweaty and gross, then I go chill at the library until I'm sufficiently cooleed down to be presented in public (no more red face, sweatvalanches, etc).

This morning, however, my bike had other plans.

My bike: SKREEEEEEEEECH!

Me: Uh, what just happened?

My bike: Mwahaha! I just snagged the hem of your jeans in my chain and RIPPED THEM ALL THE WAY TO MID-THIGH!

Me: Uh, was that really necessary?

My bike: No, probably not.

Me: Um, so, can you un-rip 'em?

My bike: Nope.

Me: Uh....that's not cool.

I was faced with an important decision then; turn around and get a new pair of jeans from home and get to work all sweaty and gross, or go to work with ripped pants (and by "ripped" I mean "not even pants anymore.")

My bike: [conversationally] You know, you do keep a spare pair of black jeans at Red Hanger.

Me: True. I'll just ride there and change. Thanks, evil bike!

My bike: Mwahaha! Oh, I mean, you're welcome.

And now my favorite pair of jeans is no more. RIP, Super-Comfortable-Jeans. I guess I'll be needing to go to Old Navy one of these days and get some more...

Yep. Mangled.

This is the final resting place- the dumpster behind Red Hanger.

Yeah, welcome to, I have skirts less open than that.

The hunter proudly poses with its kill.

Restless

2010-06-22T23:18:00.004-06:00

I am so very restless. And not like the Restless Leg Syndrome. I think I could handle that. They've got drugs for it, therapy and all that.

No, your modern Jo March has Wanderlust Syndrome.

I was born and raised in the same house, on the same street, in the same city, in the same state for EIGHTEEN YEARS. I'm ready to move out and be done and see different things.

Good thing I'm going to college, huh? Get out and experience some new stuff. Yeah. In Provo. Hoo hoo. Living large.

Hold on; let me make myself very clear. I do not regret my decision (for my decision it was indeed) to attend Brigham Young University. I know there's a reason for me to be there. And yes, I do get bitter and slightly resentful at times, but I know I'm supposed to be there.

It's just that we live on such a big earth with such rich history and such beautiful landscapes. And the cultures! Why on earth would someone want stay in one place for a long period of time?

Yes, I understand that money is an issue. Money is always an issue. Money will always be an issue. But I didn't wonder why people don't. I wonder why they don't even want to.

It's a good thing I've been biking to work(s) lately, or else I'd go mad with all this pent-up energy. Even now at 11:3o at night, I feel like pacing back and forth in the backyard. (That's not a bad idea, actually.)

I want to go. I want to experience. I want to explore. I want to meet people. I want to taste different food. I want to handle foreign money. I want to wake up everyday and face the day filled with spontaneity and adventure.

Reading can only get you so far. I've read at least four books since school got out and I'm sick to the teeth of reading. Dickens only made me hungrier for foreign climes, London in particular.

I know I'll probably be teased mercilessly for posting these thoughts, my siblings always do, but whatever. I needed an outlet and this sort-of-not-really helped.

The Summer "Pal" was BANNED

2010-06-10T19:54:00.003-06:00

Welcome to summer 2010. Yeah, I'm a couple weeks behind the times. But at least I'm not years behind, right?

If I was, the word "pal" would still be banned in my home.

A few years ago (gosh, probably five or so), my sister Brooke came home from college for the summer with the word "pal" littering her sentences. It was "pal" this and "pal" that. She'd be watching a TV show and if someone was doing something she didn't agree with she'd say, "Pal, we need to talk." Enter Brooke into a room: "Hey, pal, whacha doin?" Brooke on the phone: "Pal! We need to hang out!"

After a day or so of being exposed to this poisonous influence, all the younger kids picked up on it. It was like the Black Plague, only instead of having our limbs swell up and explode, we just said "pal" a whole lot.

It wasn't a big deal. Or so we thought. Apparently, it drove my dad insane. During one dinner, he finally put his foot down.

"No one is allowed to say 'pal' anymore!" he thundered.

I'm not entirely sure what the punishment was, but apparently we took the threat to heart. The word "pal" became a swearword.

Which made it extra funny the next Sunday when all the Primary kids sang "My Daddy is my Favorite Pal" in front of the congregation for Father's Day.

Random anecdote? Check.

Full House

2010-05-14T08:36:00.003-06:00

After clicking on some random links, I ended up watching some "best of Full House" clips on YouTube a month or two ago, and it was a really weird experience. I was about four or five when the show ended (not including reruns), but seeing Danny, Jesse, and Joey was like watching an old home video.

Like, really. I distinctly remember thinking that Danny was my dad and Jesse and Joey were my uncles.

And the weirdest part is I don't remember the girls at all. I sort of remembered DJ and I sort of remembered Michelle and then after I started Season One Stephanie started seeming more familiar, but if someone had asked me in January to tell them about the characters on Full House, I couldn't've said more than that I felt a strange connection to Jesse, Joey, and Danny.

Has anyone else had this experience with a TV show?

Writing

2010-04-12T22:03:00.002-06:00

On occasion, I find something that really inspires me to write. Or at least kind of makes me want to write.

Let me back up. Remember how I've been a ravenous book devourer since I was knee high to a pig's eye (which is possibly the most disgusting idiom ever)? Well, the last little while I haven't wanted to read anything.

And by "anything" I mean "anything substantial."

I've been gnawing on Stephen Hawking and all sorts of taoist/physics books for the longest time. These sorts of books are great and mind-expanding, but I got to the point where all I could think was, "If I have to read anything profound ever again...I'm gonna puke."

So I gave up reading entirely, which is a shame because the written word and I are really quite good friends. But like all good friends, we needed a break or someone's jugular would be ripped out.

Pretty soon, though, I got around to missing my wordy friends. So I wanted to read something without actually reading anything. Here's how it went:

[Enter BECCA, lovely and brilliant, crosses to the BOOKSHELF]

Becca: Hullo, darlings. How've you been?

Books: *mumble*

Becca: Well, Jane Austen, how about we start with you?

Jane Austen: You could, if you so desired, although I'm not entirely sure that I recommend it.

[BECCA suddenly finds Ms. Austen's sentence constructs too convoluted for her shrunken brain]

Becca: Nope, none of that. Agatha Christie?

Agatha Christie: *is silent*

Becca: This is alarming. Anyone? Anyone?

Books: *silence*

Twilight: *from the depths of hell in Becca's mind* Beeeeeecca....I'm heeeere.... Read me, Seymour! You want something easy....brainless.....sickly sweet.....

Becca: Never! I'll never give into your evil powers!

[Cut scene because I'm bored with the scriptyness]

Yeah, I never actually considered Twilight as a legit choice of reading material. So I read some Shannon Hale instead. And The Hunger Games.

Oh my fantastic. That cured my reading lethargy for G-E-W-D, gewd.

And now I'm all itchy inside. The premise of The Hunger Games was similar to an imagining I had floating in my head way back in fifth or sixth grade. I have so many ideas floating around in my head---

if

only

I

could

get

them

out

and

make

them

STAY!

If only I had some semblance of self control or discipline. I'm awful at making myself stick with something. The only time I get essays done is when I have a strict deadline that means life or death. Making myself write a story is another kettle of ponies entirely.

I enjoy writing; really I do. I love my characters: Alpha and Hazel and Emily; Nissy and Mairi and Aleksander; Ingrid and Ivory.... I love their situations and who each of them are.

I'll write a short story. Something small, with a beginning, middle, and end. Or maybe just one chapter. Just one....

But one that means something.

The Book Signing

2010-03-24T21:08:00.002-06:00

Two posts in one day? Super gasp, right? Well, whatever. I'm in the mood to write.

Last night I went to a book signing for the new Fablehaven book with my younger brother Jonathan. My parents would've taken him, only they were at a caucus (darn voters), so I left the house at about 6 and headed to Cottonwood High School.

I've never read Fablehaven. I've been up to my very attractive nostrils with all sorts of reading; The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Island of Dr. Moreau, Walden, Dancing Wu Li Masters, and The Tao of Physics. Not to mention the fact that it wasn't exactly at the top of my "To Read" list. So I was more than a little bewildered at all the inside jokes the Fablehaveners made during the night. The faeries were selling milk; the author was hidden by Shannon Hale (whose books I have read and enjoyed thoroughly) in knapsack; and there were all sorts of sphinxes and stuff all over the stage.

My expression most of the night was like: Whaaaa?

But Jonathan was really excited. He's been reading the series for a while now and all he could talk about was meeting Brandon Mull (the author) live and in person. I was glad I could help him with his wish; my all-time favorite authors are dead.

So after Mull got released from the knapsack (uhhhh...I still don't know what that was all about), he emerged in a flash of pyrotechnics and fake fog with heroic music playing in the background.

All I could imagine was Louisa May Alcott or Jane Austen getting the same reception. And I laughed.

Anyway, I was just about to start thinking that this guy was a total Stephanie Meyer-style poser when he started talking about one of his fans with cystic fibrosis. Not only did he tell him what would happen in the last book a few months ago, he gave him an advanced copy. The kid was doing so well that he flew out from Texas to the launch and Mull called him up to the stage to make him an honorary Knight of the Dawn.

Yeah, I pretty much started crying. (I also cried the whole time while watching Up.) It was a beautiful moment.

And then the program ended and people could get their books signed. They gave people letters from A to Z with about 100 people to a letter. The signing started at 8; by 9 they were only at H.

Jonathan and I had U.

I wanted to die.

Jonathan was happy because he had the new book to read; I finished The Island of Dr. Moreau at about 8:30 and my phone died so I couldn't text anyone.

Luckily, a few kids who go to Paradigm were there and they let us get in their O group. Jonathan was excited to have people to talk about the book with, and I was happy because I wouldn't be bored out of my skull til midnight.

It was about 10:25 by the time we got to see Brandon Mull and, unfortunately, there wasn't enough time allotted to get his signature personalized. But he still smiled at Jonathan, gave him a high five (Jonathan has since refused to wash his right hand), and was an all around good-natured guy.

So while meeting Victor Hugo or H.G. Wells is kind of out of the question for me, my little brother got to meet his favorite author live and in person.

Worth four hours of my life?

Yeah. Yeah it was.

Crossovers

2010-03-24T10:51:00.019-06:00

I love period pieces, especially ones based on my favorite books, I was watching the new 2009 BBC version of Emma last weekend (the one with Romola Garai and Johnny Lee Miller) and was reminded again why I love the British acting pool.

First, I absolutely love the Jane Austen-Agatha Christie crossovers. In the '96 version of Emma, Mrs. Elton-one of the most obnoxious, detestable characters in all of literary history- is played by Juliet Stevenson. Later in '07 she plays Gwenda in Christie's Ordeal by Innocence. She did such a good job as the nasty, moronic Mrs. Elton that my reaction when she was stabbed in the base of the skull was as follows:

Mrs.Elton/Gwenda: *is stabbed by the murderer*
Me: Woo hoo! I've been wanting to do that for five years! Oh, wait. She's the good guy this time...shoot. I still don't mind.

I'm fairly certain that my reaction would've been different had Juliet not played Mrs. Elton.

Funnily enough, the other JA-AC crossover on my mind also involves Mrs. E. In the '04 version of Murder at the Vicarage (with Geraldine McEwan) Christina Cole plays the snobby, precocious Lettice Protheroe and completely rocks the 40s look. She was brilliant as Mrs. Elton-she grates on my more when she's closer to my age-but didn't do the Regency look nearly as well.

Regency: meh. 40s: yes.

(Speaking of looking good, someone really should bring back the 40s. So classy! Check this out. Rachael Stirling:
Okay-looking. But now let's see Rachael Stirling in 40s style:

The coloring is better, the clothes are better, and the hair is better. Class! And the same goes for Christina Cole:

Again, okay-looking. Good features but...so...classless. Christina Cole in 40s style:

Much, much better.)

Ahem. Sorry about that tangent. Moving on, and then there are the Harry Potter-Jane Austen crossovers. Michael Gambon plays both the wise (if eccentric) Albus Dumbledore (RIP, Alby, RIP *sniff*) as well as the worry-prone, invalid Mr. Woodhouse. (Both parts were played extremely well.) Emma Thompson plays the slightly crazy Professor Trelawney and the responsible Eleanore (Sense and Sensibility). And who can forget Alan Rickman as the snarky Severus Snape and the reserved, gallant Colonel Brandon (S&S). With all due respect to his talent, he still grosses me out in that role.

I've always loved Emma; I connect with Miss Woodhouse more than any other Jane Austen heroine (yes, even more than Lizzie Bennett). We're both clever, meddlesome, well intentioned, and incurably vain. I loved Gwyneth Paltrow's portrayal of Emma for the longest time. Then my neighbor let me borrow the new BBC version with Romola Garai and Johnny Lee Miller.

Gwyneth got pushed to second chair. The new version is gorgeously done, and the characters look closer to the ages of the characters in the novel.

And Romola Garai!!! She was so real, so quick witted, so Emma! You know how Kiera Knightley never closes her mouth? (google it; I defy you to find one where it's completely closed) Romola has this characteristic little smirk that was absolutely perfect for the role.

(Okay, I lied. This is from Amazing Grace, but she uses it in Emma too.)

Her interactions with the other characters were positively believable. Her love for Miss Taylor/Mrs. Weston, her attachment to her father, her chemistry with Frank Churchill (who is played by Rupert Evans this time around rather than the nasty-haired Ewan McGregor. Compare and contrast:

Nasty haired Frank. Good-looking Frank.

As for Mr. Elton, he was still inane and obnoxious, but he was good looking enough to make Harriet's crush on him and his eventual marriage to the wealthy Mrs. Elton make sense. He had no money; why would she marry him if he looked like this?

Of course, Mrs. Elton was no beauty herself in that version. Blech. But contrast him to the new Mr. Elton.

Better looking. Not great, but better.

Anyway, the contrasts and similarities amused me. You don't have to read this; it's mostly for my own enjoyment. Another post is coming soon. About a book signing I attended last night.

Freedom to Fail

2010-02-03T22:52:00.002-07:00

Yeah yeah yeah. It's been a while since I blogged. Half a year or whatever. I haven't been in the writing groove for that long. I'm still not in the writing groove, but Brandon got on my case earlier today about "my fans" missing my writing.

So I'm writing.

I'm all getting ready to graduate and I'm sick of people telling me what to do. Why is it that grown ups are all two-faced? They're always saying "Reach for your dreams!" "You can be anything!" and "Go for it!" but then they turn around and kick you in the teeth with "You want to be an actress? Do something practical!"

Practical? What the heck does that mean? Is ANYTHING practical? If I have drive, shouldn't I be able to make anything work?

I'm not one of those "stick it to the man" sort of people who does things just to spite "the man." I don't rage against the machine. I'm not a non-conformist.

I'm just different.

I understand that being an actress isn't for everyone, but being a desk jockey isn't for me. I want to live a fulfilling life! Two things make me feel full to the brim with meaning and they're teaching little kids and acting. But of the two, I feel most accomplished before, during, and after a performance. I feel so alive!

Not many people get to feel that. It makes me sad to think so many people go through their lives without that wonderful emotion.

I'M NOT GOING TO BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.

I'm not going to let other people tell me what to do. I respect your opinion, but let me fail. Freedom isn't just about the freedom to succeed. It's about the freedom to fail, too.

A story

2009-08-17T00:20:00.003-06:00

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.

Hullo, everyone and no one

2009-07-24T22:02:00.003-06:00

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!

Feast and Ball

2009-05-17T19:41:00.003-06:00

Dances are useless.

Being gorgeous is useless.

The end.

It's that time again!

2009-05-13T20:44:00.004-06:00

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.

Who am I?

2009-04-14T20:24:00.002-06:00

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.

Compliment of the century

2009-04-11T19:26:00.002-06:00

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.

Rambly

2009-03-30T21:03:00.003-06:00

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!

And so...

2009-03-27T19:55:00.003-06:00

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...

My Psalm

2009-03-18T21:35:00.003-06:00

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.

Even I'M not sure what this is

2009-03-17T19:47:00.004-06:00

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.

Who says?

2009-03-15T19:09:00.002-06:00

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...

Begone, fetid stenches of teenage rubbish!

2009-03-05T19:42:00.003-07:00

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.

Weird

2009-03-01T14:26:00.004-07:00

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?

Am I crazy?

2009-02-18T21:40:00.005-07:00

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*

On the plus side...

2009-02-17T20:02:00.002-07:00

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.

A good quote

2009-02-15T18:07:00.002-07:00

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."

Once upon a time...

2009-02-14T20:01:00.002-07:00

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.

Eastern philosophy is the pants

2009-02-04T21:18:00.010-07:00

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 musings

2009-02-01T14:44:00.004-07:00

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!

B is not for Calculus!

2009-01-29T20:07:00.002-07:00

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. :)

C is for Calculus

2009-01-27T19:48:00.004-07:00

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.

No day but today

2009-01-21T20:56:00.003-07:00

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..."

Only thing I laughed at all day

2009-01-19T19:25:00.002-07:00

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

Disappointed and disgusted

2009-01-12T20:00:00.002-07:00

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.

Favorite quotes

2009-01-08T15:25:00.003-07:00

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)

Hopefully a vision of the future.

2009-01-03T23:25:00.004-07:00

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...

Blast!

2009-01-01T17:30:00.002-07:00

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.

2009-01-01T16:05:00.002-07:00

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!

The Worth of a Soul

2008-12-29T22:58:00.004-07:00

And this is infinitely more wonderful than anything I posted in the last one (possibly ever). Look at this! It's Liz Lemon Swindle's "The Worth of a Soul." Love love LOVE it!

Topsy-Turvy Jo

2008-12-29T22:13:00.002-07:00

I was feeling extremely nasty and gross yesterday, which ended with me sleeping for nearly 20 hours. It was simultaneously awful and blissful. My friend Lauren called during the time I was conscious (about a four hour period from ten to one) and asked if I wanted to come sledding today.

Sledding, I thought. Huh. Sledding...sledddddd.....sledding...

"Okay," I told her, with not a thought as to what the word "sledding" really incorporated. Snow. Wet snow. Speeding down a hill at breakneck speeds. Cold. Wet.

The first thing I said to my mum when I got up this morning was, "Hey, I'm going sledding with Lauren."

She kind of gave me a weird look, seeing as she came into my room last night when I was barely coherent and knew just how sick I was. But she's learned not to argue with me about things like that. And in my defense, I was feeling better.

So in typical topsy-turvy Jo form, I journeyed out into the cold wearing thermals, jeans, a coat, and a matching hat/glove/scarf set. (Sometimes I'm astounded at my own stupidity.)

It was really fun; I went off this killer jump twice and got some major air, but soundly knocked my head the second time around; flew screaming down the hill with Lauren; had a dangerous snowball fight; tackled a kid who weighs half as much as me and still lost; and got soundly wet.

Now my cough is twice as bad as it was last night, I have (had; Ibuprofen is better than a boyfriend) a headache the size of Toronto, and I feel all-around gross.

And do you want to know what the funniest/sickest part is? I'd do it again. Yeah, my friends are that cool.

Modern Jo + Boredom + Saturday Night = The iPod Shuffle Game

2008-12-27T20:27:00.003-07:00

So, on account of me being bored out of my everloving mind, and my friends having dropped off the face of the earth, I decided to play the iPod shuffle game. I got the questions from Cindy's blog and the songs come from my own little Sansa music player. Ready, go.

1. If someone says "Is that okay?" you say:
Patti-Class (Forbidden Broadway)

2. How would you describe yourself?
Joy in the Journey (Day of Celebration) HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

3. What do you look for in a guy?
Gliding (Ragtime)

4. How do you feel today?
We Dance (Once on this Island) Not really; not dance-y. Just jittery.

5. What is your life's purpose?
What is this Feeling? (Wicked) To hate people, apparently.

6. What is your motto?
Prolouge: Ragtime (Ragtime)

7. What do your friends think of you?
Cinderella at the Grave (Into the Woods)

8. What do your parents think of you?
The House Upon the Hill (The Secret Garden) I must be surly like Mary Lennox.

9. What do you think about often?
An Operatic Tragedy (Little Women) This one actually works! I constantly have stories and narrations in my head.

10. What do you think of your best friend?
Little Voice (Hilary Duff)

11. What do you think of the person you like?
So Yesterday (Hilary Duff) Hey! This one works, too! I don't like anyone right now, and the person I used to like is definitely so yesterday.

12. What is your life's story?
Joseph's Dream (Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat)

13. What do you want to do when you grow up?
For Good (Wicked)

14. What do you think when you see the person you like?
Nothing Like the City (Ragtime)

15. What will you dance to at your wedding?
Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (Mamma Mia) Yes ma'am; ABBA is the pants.

16. What is your hobby/interest?
The Voice Across the Moors (Jane Eyre) Being either a jerkwad minister or a slightly clairvoyant leading lady. Sounds healthy fo sho.

17. What is your biggest fear?
One Small Girl (Once on this Island) Midgets?

18. What is your biggest secret?
Take a Chance on Me (Little Women) I have a secret crush on Teddy!

19. What do you think of your friends?
The Cheat is Not Dead (Strong Bad Sings) This is the best song ever. Listen: http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail68.html

20. What song will they play at your funeral?
Do-Re-Mi (The Sound of Music) I sure hope not.

That was less amusing than I hoped. Maybe if I didn't have so many musicals on my Sansa... I can't even tell you how many finales and prologues and entr'actes I've got floating around on that thing.

I think I'm gonna go make emo/gothic/random Miis on the family Wii. Have fun with life, readers.

Merry Christmas to every one of dang ya'll!

2008-12-25T17:33:00.002-07:00

Merry Christmas!

Yeah, like you're really gonna read anything past that. But in case you are, I didn't get a phone. Phooey. And no, Brandon and Mandi, the cutesy little "smart phone" you got me does not count. I recall someone did that to Matt last year and I thought it was SOOOOO funny. It wasn't so funny when I first opened it (because by the time I opened it, it had become abundantly clear that I wouldn't be getting a real phone), but now it's amusing.

Mostly it's funny now because it makes noise when I press the buttons, so I've been following my parents around all day, pressing the buttons constantly, and making them wish I had a silent phone.

I really ought to take a lead from Micah, though. He really wanted a Nintendo DS. Although he didn't get it, he was still enthusiastic about all his other presents. When he opened his first present (a stuffed puppy), he said,

"Oh. It's not a DS, but I still really like it. Feel how soft it is!"

And don't get me wrong; I promise I'm not one of those spoiled brats who throws a fit and cries when they don't get what they want. I sulked for a little bit and let my nasty Hyde side out for a few well-chosen sarcastic comments, but I'm pretty much over it by now.

Plus, I'm going out to the T-Mobile store first thing tomorrow morning to buy a phone for myself. So :P, Santa. I'll get a Razr for $20 and get on Brooke and Eric's plan for like $10 a month.

It's beginning to look a lot like sick-mas...

2008-12-21T22:06:00.002-07:00

Ick. Not only is Christmas in four days and I'm not even close to done with my Christmas shopping, I currently feel like crawling in my bed and sleeping until I'm 100% better. I'm super cold, my chest is pressurized, my head is all achy, and I, in general, feel gross. I took Ibuprofen and Sudafed, but it's only worked a little bit. No bueno.

So I haven't felt like writing anything creatively for a while, but I wrote this snapshot-thing for my dad and my seminary teacher for Christmas, and I kind of like it. (Yeah, it's safe here; my dad never reads my blog and I already gave it to my seminary teacher.) Everyone always focuses on Mary and the Wise Men and the shepherds in the Nativity, but how did Joseph feel?

A Father’s Love
Becca Barrus

I had been anxious for the arrival of this Child, not only for Mary’s sake, but also because He was not mine. The Eternal Father had entrusted this lowly carpenter with the task of raising His Only Begotten in the flesh. What mortal wouldn’t be nervous about such responsibility? I also worried that, because He was not mine, I would not be able to love Him as my own, and that He would not love me as His father. A fervent prayer had burned in my heart since the angel's visit that I would be able to give him the love of a father.

The Savior was born in humble circumstances, much humbler than I had expected. A stable was not the sort of place I would have chosen for my wife to bear any child, let alone my Lord and King. But there was no room to be had anywhere in the city.

Mary looks up at me with her beautiful, exhausted brown eyes. She wants to know if I would like to hold Yeshua now that He is cleansed of the blood. I hesitate and she grasps my hand.

“Joseph.”

Her sweet voice mingles with an inner voice I have felt often since the night of the angel’s visit. The compassion, the gentleness, the warmth cause my heart to swell. I tentatively ease the Child from her arms.

He warms my hands and chest as I hold Him close. Every line of His innocent, bruised face fills me with overwhelming joy and gratitude. His hair is dark and thick, like His mother’s. I see His clear blue eyes for a moment before He closes them, undoubtedly a gift from His Father.

As this Child, this Savior of all mankind, snuggles closer to my chest, all my doubts ebb away. The love I feel for Him is more wondrous than any other feeling I have experienced. The love and purity I feel radiating from His tiny body causes tears to slip down my cheeks.

Mary lays a hand on my arm, and her serene joy penetrates my soul. I kiss her forehead softly, then I kiss Yeshua’s brow. A faint smile lights His features. Mary looks into my eyes, glowing with maternal pride. She wants to hold Him again. I hand the Child to His beautiful mother.

He is not my son, but I have tasted how His true Father must feel.

(If you are going to re-post this, send it, whatever, please give credit where credit is due.)

Oh my yes.

2008-12-15T21:24:00.002-07:00

So there's this thing called "Carols for a Cure" which is Broadway casts singing Christmas songs, putting them on a CD, and then giving the proceeds to AIDS research. Sometimes they're classics (like the Hairspray cast singing "Jolly Old Saint Nicholas") but sometimes they're NEW AND AWESOME CHRISTMAS SONGS THAT EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER SHOULD LISTEN TO! Such as "Angelo Rosenbaum" by the Lion King cast, which is about a Catholic Jew.

And BUM BA DA DUM! Twelve Days of Phantom!

Not only is it Phantom of the Opera (which is one of my favorite musicals), it's super hilarious. Who couldn't use a little late 19th century Parisian spice for their Christmas?

Christmas musings

2008-12-14T21:18:00.002-07:00

So I was thinking today (shocking, I know), and I was pondering on the true meaning of Christmas. You know how everyone's always saying that Christmas is about giving, giving, giving? Well, I was thinking of Christ and the Nativity and came to the conclusion that Christmas is also about receiving.

"What?" you're thinking. "This goes against everything I've ever been taught! Including the multiplication tables!"

Some people really have that whole giving thing down. They give so much that whenever you ask what they want for Christmas, they reply, "Oh, nothing" and you're stuck at the store, trying to imagine what they would like best. And then on Christmas morning they say, "Oh, Becca, you didn't have to get me anything. Here's this amazing present that you've wanted for fifteen years."

Since Christ gave His life for us and since He spent His whole life serving, the main lesson most people get from the Nativity is to serve our fellow man.

But think. His sacrifice is totally wasted if we don't choose to humbly receive it. He wants so badly for us to use the Atonement.

So that's why I think that learning how to receive graciously is just as important as learning to give. The end.

Christmas Memories

2008-12-08T20:04:00.004-07:00

I've actually been planning to blog this for a few days now, but every dang time I sit down to blog, someone or other always comes along and kicks me off the computer. Like now. My dad just came in and told me to come "interact" with the family. Uh.... okay... I'm off for a little interaction break...

*insert chintzy Christmas muzak here*

Yes, well, this is going to have to be fast coz they're gonna kick me off again in 10 minutes.

It's that magical time of the year, in case, like myself, you haven't noticed. I was driving to school one morning and a DJ said something about there only being so many shopping days til Christmas and I shouted,

"Como se WHAT?! It's December? Since when?!"

And another reminder from my little brother happened while we were at the dinner table. My oldest little brother was saying something about someone stalking him and Micah exclaimed,

"What's stalking? Where's MY stocking?!"

Hee hee. These flavors of the season got me thinking about other memorable Christmas moments. There was the year where a neighbor made us a Nativity scene out of white chocolate. When it came time to eat it around New Year's, we ate the sheep and camels and Wise Men and shepherds with relish. However, when it dwindled down to Joseph, Mary, and the baby Jesus, no one was comfortable enough with their standing in heaven to eat them. I think I finally braved Mary, but we threw Jesus away because we'd rather not eat the Savior of all mankind.

Further moments in future installments; now I should probably go write my Great Ideas paper or read some Agatha Christie.

Heck Week!

2008-11-30T22:24:00.002-07:00

In the wonderful world of theatre, there is a period before the show opens called "Heck Week." In this week, the cast and crew scrambles to get the sets, costumes, numbers, and lighting in order. Mr. Garrison (the WJHS theatre teacher) likens it to puberty; it's this totally awkward but necessary phase for a show that hopefully transforms it into a beautiful specimen of glory.

But kinda sucks while you're in it.

Most people hate Heck Week, but I'm a total fan. I love staying at the theatre for all hours of the night; I love the goofy backstage jokes (and man am I backstage a lot...); I love doing scene changes over and over and over until you get it right, dang it; I love the general air of stress and the relief when we're finally let out at like 11.

So I might not blog for a long time. And if I do, it might be about the inconspicableness of getting stampled by Cotis. (no, it's not supposed to make sense unless it does)

Blonde McBlonderson

2008-11-28T11:38:00.003-07:00

I consider myself to be a pretty bright individual, but some days I'm as blonde as blonde can be.

For example, I was playing Scattergories with my family over the Thanksgiving break and the letter was "R." I tore through the list with amazing speed, only to be stumped by "girls' names."

Rachel? I thought. No, Amy wants to name her first daughter Rachel; she'll totally have it. Rachelle? No, too close to Rachel. Rrrrrr.... Rrrrrr.... Ra....Ra....Ro...Ro...Re...Re...Reb...Rebe...Rebec....

"Duh!" I said out loud, scribbling my real name on the paper.

Rebecca.

That's embarrassing. It took me almost two full minutes to think of my own name.

Welcome to Blondeness.

Para Mi Amiga Blanca

2008-11-24T20:46:00.002-07:00

I really should start blogging more often, especially since my awesome white friend Korinne loves reading the nonsense I crank out. (No slight on your taste, deary.)I always have a hard time thinking of what to write...

Today's sale's pitch is called "Why Becca Would Like a Cell Phone for Christmas": (Korinne is also a big advocate of this movement)

1)Mom and Dad, I know that you say I can use your cell phone at any time, but lately I've been using it more than you've used it in the past three years. :)

2) Korinne wants to have almost unlimited access to me when we need to vent about stupid people.

3) Brandon and Mandi can add me to their family line for only $10 a month; money is not a problemo for me, especially since I can fill up the Green Vomit for less than 20 bucks every two and a half week. Hoo hoo!

4) My stupid car got another flat tire today (second time in a month! ARGH!) and I had to use a freshman's phone to let my parents know my stupid tire wouldn't come off. Also, I had to use someone else's phone to call them after rehearsal today and when they called back, I'd already left.

5)My parents would be able to take it if they thought I was abusing it, and I would put up no resistance at all.

6) Why not?

Thoughts, comments, rebuttals?

In other news, I broke down and saw Twilight on Saturday (yes, Korinne had me read the books, and yes, it was Korinne who invited me to see it). I liked it! I went in with way way way way way WAY low expectations and came out happy. I liked Bella a lot more in the movie more than in the book, thank heavens. I'm even going to see it again this weekend with Jaimi. My only complaint was that when Edward went into the sunlight and was supposed to sparkle like diamonds, he merely glistened like glitter. Hee hee...

However, my approval of the movie does not prohibit me from posting this awesomepants spoof I found on YouTube. I busted a gut laughing at this thing. I hope you enjoy it as well.

More musings.

2008-11-18T19:39:00.002-07:00

Time to get back on the old bloggo horse. Nothing super deep this time around, either. Mostly just random musings/updates.

In my creative writing class (which is fantastic, btw), our next assignment is to write a fanfic. Hoo hoo! Taking other peoples' universes and playing in them is one of my very favorite things to do! But I can't decide what to write... I think I'm going to do a Little Women fanfic, in which Amy drowns and Jo marries Laurie, Jo goes to Europe instead of Amy and Jo marries Laurie, Amy gets killed in Europe in a Paris riot and Jo marries Laurie, or Amy's face scarred in a horrific accident involving acid, she moves to France, and takes up residence underneath the Paris Opera House, where she threatens the owners and trains singers.

I'm not an Amy March fan; is it obvious?

*cough* Anyway, what other fanfics could I do?

My other musings include:

1) Have you ever noticed how high energy and low braincells are a lethal combination? It's like little dogs that are hyped up, but aren't bright enough to run around in open areas and end up running into walls. My brain was on a herbal tea break all day today and I was exhausted, and then at lunch something muy exciting happened. My energy level went through the roof, but left my poor little braincells behind. Not a very good combination.

2) Why is it "stalking" when a not very good-looking guy follows a girl around, watches her in while she's in her bedroom, and stares at her all the time, but deemed "romantic" and "totally appropriate" when a hot guy like Edward Cullen does it? In fact, Edward Cullen is a VAMPIRE and is more dangerous than any ugly guy! Is this what we are teaching our youth?! (I am only being semi-sarcastic)

Grounded

2008-11-07T19:31:00.003-07:00

Sooooooooooo...

I should probably write something. And it should probably be entertaining or something.

...

I got nothing.

Well, I got grounded. But that's pretty much it.

No, I didn't get caught smoking pot again (hahaha).

No, I wasn't caught with a guy (although I totally told my YW group that and they were scandalized...haha).

No, I didn't get arrested or ticketed.

I can't think of any other reasons a person would be grounded, besides the actual reason.

Last Friday I spent nine hours at Kayla's house and I didn't call my parents to check in and Kayla had turned off her cell phone, so they couldn't get a hold of me. So they were less than thrilled when I got home at midnight. (Not to mention this was a repeated offense; I got in that late pretty much every weekend in October.)

And plus I started this new medication that can have a side-effect of suicidal tendencies, so when they couldn't reach me, they thought I'd offed myself.

So, yeah, I'm grounded, but I'm glad my parents care enough to ground me.

Discovery-o-rama

2008-10-30T21:28:00.002-06:00

Today I made the most important discovery of my life.

Seriously.

I am NOT joking.

Most Important Discovery EVER:

....

There is no Hell. There is only an eternal math class.

The discovery happened during Calculus (surprise surprise) and went a little something like this:

Calculus teacher: All right, today we're going to tackle the revenue formula, learn why completing the square works, and fight our way through a bunch of matrices.

Me: *blinks*

Calculus teacher: *throws out formulas faster than most people can inhale a piece of cake*

Me: *squints at the board*

Formulas: *make whistling noises as they generously clear the top of my head*

Calculus teacher: Any questions?

My brain: *catches fire, therefore rendering its owner incapable of asking what time it was, much less what had just happened on the board*

Kid who can actually keep up with this dizzying barrage: Yeah. How can we calculate the maximum worth of NBA players?

Calculus teacher: Excellent question! Well, if you take the....*begins pulling numbers out of the air like Cinderella's godmother*

Me: *regaining a few braincells* I think I'll draw an eyeball in the margin of the notes I'm not taking.

Calculus teacher: ...and then you square the revenue, then divide by negative infinity...

Me: *looks up at the board; it is covered in scary-looking numbers* Mmhmm. Negative infinity. Got it.

Calculus teacher: ...and voila! NBA players are paid more than firefighters, policemen, and other civil servants who actually work for a living COMBINED.

Me: You needed a stupid math problem to figure that out?

Okay, so it didn't actually go down like that; the real version was much more boring and involved me losing consciousness for minutes at a time, only to wake to find that we were still on the same Satanic problem. Anyway, the moral is still the same: Math = my own personal hell.

Hmmm.

2008-10-21T21:03:00.002-06:00

This may or may not be a thinking post. I haven't decided yet. I just noticed that my last post is like a week old and that I should probably whip out something new.

Thought for today: You never notice how many bumps a road has until you drive on it when you have a full bladder.

Thought for the week: Never post anything on your blog that you don't want your little brother to read. Josh was mad at me the other night and irrationally fumed, "You can't even get a date!"

...

Ouch.

Anyway, that's the last I'm going to blog about dating. Ever. In fact, that's the last I'm going to TALK about dating. It's like having a peg leg; deal with it. Talking about it will not make that shark spit your leg back out. So you'd better get used to stumping around and having people give you weird looks.

This next bit isn't mine coz I don't ever write poetry, but I read it on a friend's blog and decided to steal it.

The Man In The Glass

Anonymous

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn't your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass.
The fellow whose verdict counts most in you life
Is the one staring back from the glass.

You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
And think you're a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum
If you can't look him straight in the eye.

He's the fellow to please-never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear to the end.
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you've cheated the man in the glass.

How to be Less Intimidating

2008-10-12T18:51:00.002-06:00

Although the title makes this post sound like a "How-To" post, it's not really. It's actually a curious request for advice.

So I've been of dating age for a year, a week, and two days now, and not once have I been asked on a date. Maybe it's because I'm unattractive, but everyone tells me it's because all the guys I know are intimidated by me.

Which is stupid because most of the guys I know are pretty cool, and I wouldn't turn them down if they asked. I wouldn't want to date them steadily, but a fun date once in a while would be socially healthy.

What should I do? Should I ask them out? I mean, I'm all for the whole feminist "girls can ask guys out" thing, but I want to be the one who's asked at least once. Is there a way to seem more approachable without dumbing myself down or dressing like a floozy? Or do I just have to wait for someone (select few know who I'm talking about, if indeed I am referring to someone specific) to get brave enough to ask? I don't want to appear desperate, but subtlety is not working so well.

Ayudame, por favor.

Into the Mind of Korinne

2008-10-05T19:18:00.001-06:00

I went to Into the Woods again last night with my friend Korinne because her dad couldn't go since he had to go to Priesthood session. Isn't that swell of her?

Anyway, since I think interviews are fun to do and I haven't interviewed anyone besides my stomach, I decided to take a notebook along and interview Korinne about random stuff.

Me: Well, it's intermission and I'm here with Korinne Ivory. I'm not sure why I'm interviewing her, but I am. First question: What do you think about the show so far?

Korinne: (Are you going to be one of those people who writes down everything I say? Me: Yes.) I love it coz everything at Hale is amazing. It's pretty awesome. It's...ffffantastic...with an exclamation point. Little Red Ridinghood is great and that one stepsister...she's funny.

Me: What do you think of J-Biz? (he was a student teacher for the choir at WJHS; he played Cinderella's prince)

Korinne: He's not very prince-ish, but he's doing a good job. I can't picture my student teacher as a prince.

There is a pause as I run out of questions. I ask Korinne to help me out. She has no ideas. I remind her that all five people who read my blog will be reading this interview. She gets excited because some random Argentine has been on my blog, and Korinne wants to be Hispanic.

Me: What would you like to say to the Argentines?

Korinne: They probably think I'm a retard...Hola!

Another pause. She asks why I'm interviewing her again. I tell her it's because I've only ever interviewed one person for my blog, and it was my stomach. So I'm 0-1 in coolness.

Korinne: I'm cooler than your stomach!

Me: Yes you are. Now, if you could be any role in this show, what would you be?

Korinne: Uh....think think think...

Me: Or your top three.

Korinne: *pauses*

Me: Five? Your top five?

Korinne: Either Little Red Ridinghood or Cinderella...ooooor a character...whose name is...I don't know. Anyone! I could play anyone. Except a male. I'm not a male.

Me: Since you're an amazing soprano, you could rock Rapunzel's role.

Korinne: Oh yeah. I'm amazing. Jk! And I have long hair!

Me: True on both accounts.

Korinne: *points to some random audience members* You know how they're sitting right by the platform where the narrator stands sometimes? I thought they were in the show. I was like, "What role do they play?"

We both laugh and I tease her and neglect to write down what we both said.

Me: Would the role of the baker be greatly improved by Dehaan?

Korinne: Of course! I mean, the baker's good, but Dehaan would be better. Por supuesto.

Me: What role can you see me doing?

Korinne: *taps chin in thought* *starts playing with tongue* Maybe the stepmom coz I can see you shanking off the toe... I don't know if you can shank off a toe. Can you?

Me: I dunno. So you think I'd be cast solely for my shanking abilities?

Korinne: *laughs* Yeah, you have great shanking skills.

Me: Are you ready for Act II? It's kind of dark/depressing.

Korinne: It is? No! I don't like depressing! I like happily ever after!

Me: To be continued after Act II.

Korinne: Okay. I'll try to intelligent up a little.

Me: Hahaha.

Later, when we had arrived at Korinne's house, she asked me to finish the interview.

Me: I have no more questions.

Korinne: What was the question?

Me: I didn't ask one.

Korinne: What? You didn't ask one? How am I supposed to respond to nothing?! "Here, Korinne, here's some silence; respond to it."

And that's where the interview ends. My interviewing skills aren't so great yet, mostly because I can't write as fast as Korinne and I talk. Maybe next time I'll just record us and then type up a manuscript from that.

Into the Woods and Out of the Woods and Home before Dark!

2008-10-03T11:13:00.004-06:00

I don't really want to write anything today, but I would be remiss if I didn't review the production of Into the Woods I saw last night. (Into the Woods is Sondheim's mixed up fairy tale with lots of quick wit, quick lyrics, and deep social commentaries.)

Buuuuut I'm feeling really lazy, so I'm just going to give you some highlights.

- It was at Hale Center Theatre, so the revolving stage and the amazing sets and costumes dazzled my very eyeballs from their sockets. A-mazing.

- Little Red Riding Hood cracked me up like nobody's business. She was probably in her twenties and taller than Cinderella (she was 5 foot nothing, I swear), but she looked and acted exactly like a litter girl. She definitely stole the show. In one scene she threatens Jack (the beanstalk one) with a knife, then begins cleaning her nails with it.

- The Princes. Heavens to Betsy. SO funny. When Rapunzel's prince got blinded by the witch, he said "My EYES! (in that pompous princely tone that Edward uses in Enchanted)" staggered off-stage blindly and said "shoooot" under his breath. And of course, the "Agony" reprise is so repulsive and funny.

- The Baker's Wife continues to be my favorite character in the show (besides perhaps the witch, but I'll get to that in a sec). She's strong and human, funny and clear-thinking, and an all-around deep character. Haha, my favorite scene is when she attacks Cinderella in order to get her golden slipper and screams "I need your shoe to have a baby!"

- The witch is usually my favorite character. She's sarcastic and mean and powerful, but underneath all that, she really loves Rapunzel. I love "The Witch's Rap," "The Last Midnight," and "Lament." In Hale's production, however, our witch was also the director. Usually I'm okay with the director being in the show, but not if they don't rein themselves in. The witch, who isn't really a main character (she's more the voice of reason), hammed it up shamelessly last night. During her rap, she "fell asleep" and it took two minutes to wake her up. By the time she started singing again, I forgot what she had been singing about! The witch was better in the second act, but I was still kind of disappointed.

Hmmm, I think that's it. If anyone wants to hear about any of the other characters, let me know, all right? And yes, Mandi, Cinderella was very good, but I wish she had been a little spicier. (***NOTE: READ STU'S COMMENT*** Cecily is a freakin' trooper.)

And Brandon, I'll post my fable later. :)

UPDATE- Ironically, when I saw the show a second time, my only qualms were quieted. The witch was powerful and didn't try to ham it up too much, and Cecily was phenomenal. So much more depth in the second act. (probably due to her not getting a concussion this time!!!) I wish I'd seen her when she played Jo in Little Women a year or so ago!

Musings during a Primary Program

2008-09-28T20:11:00.002-06:00

Today we had our Annual Primary Program during Sacrament Meeting. For all those of you who don't know what a Primary Program is, it's when all the children under 12 in the congregation get up and share a spiel about the gospel. Children are said to be wise beyond their years, but mostly I just think they're hilarious. Here are some notes I took during the duration of forty-five minutes.

- "I (unintelligible) destiny." I'm not sure what this kid was saying, and I'm not entirely sure that destiny is part of church doctrine.

- "I incepted Hebenly Fadder's plan."

- After the three and four year olds got done with their bit, they went to sit down. Almost immediately a brawl began. "Hey, that's MY chair!" Howling and crying ensued. The toddlers involved remained upset during the whole program.

- While singing the song "Called to Serve" one little girl decided right then and there to bust out a solo. She grabbed the nearest mike (which wasn't on) and started singing until her teacher pulled her back.

- Micah, it seemed, had created interpretive dances for each one of the songs. He was highly entertaining to watch.

- The part with the most s's inevitably went to one of the only kids with a lisp. "Jethuth Chritht ith my Thavior and the Thavior of all mankind."

- My rebellious brother Josh has apparently taken up ventriloquism. He would barely move his lips, and yet sound would come out. (Sort of. He's not so good at the whole projecting part of singing yet.)

- The bishop's daughter started experimenting with the organ until he turned around and gave her "the eyebrow." This happened fairly fast; she only had time to press one key.

- I love when tall kids insist on standing on the topmost step of the step stool and they're sticking out three feet above the podium.

- I also love that some younger kids are clearer and more intelligible than the "cool" older kids. Example: A group of eight year olds quoted a scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants, which I could understand perfectly. I couldn't even tell what scripture the 11 year olds quoted. It sounded like "Mumble jumble wumble Lakers mumble grumble."

- The aformentioned Josh, when he got up to share his testimony, not-so subtly pointed out that he had actually turned 12 two days before and that he wasn't even supposed to be up there. Bless his heart.

I feel kind of bad, actually. I took more notes this Sunday than I've probably taken six months. Hopefully this is reawakening of a good habit. And if not, at least these funny childish acts have been immortalized. Who knows? Maybe that lisper will end up a famous orator or apostle. Maybe that mike-grabbing girl is the next Gladys Knight. You never know.

The Cast List

2008-09-24T21:20:00.002-06:00

Okay, okay, okay, okay. I'm getting down to it and posting. (Steph, it was your nudge that motivated me; I wasn't actually going to blog tonight.)

I didn't get the lead. But you know what? That's okay with me. I still have one more year at Paradigm. One more shot at the lead. At least I have a character with lines and a name.

I'm Mrs. Bixby, the shopkeeper's wife. As far as I know, I'm more "ensemble" than "supporting lead," but hey. I'm down with whatever I'm given. I trust Mr. Macy and Mrs. Steinmann's decision.

At least I am now. After seeing the cast list and seeing that I got the part I wanted the very least (she doesn't even sing; kind of a waste in my eyes), I had to take a time out. A literal time out.

You know, the kind that little children have to have when they're cranky and upset and doing/on the verge of doing dangerous things.

I turned to Jaimi (who has been my support system all week long) and said, "Hi. Will you sluff your next class and come sit in the Green Vomit with me?"

"Biology? Heck yes. Let's go."

So we sat in my car for an hour (Mr. Andrews even saw us and let us be), and I cried and pouted and Jaimi was just generally my voice of reason. If I hadn't taken that time-out, I would've thrown a diva fit and dropped the play altogether. But I took a step back and realized how fortunate I was to get a named character. If I hadn't been expecting the lead, I would've been ecstatic. So why should that change?

And Amy reminded me of when we saw "Cinderella" at Tuhacan and how we hated the lead, and how her stepsisters made us bust our spleens. So I've decided to be the ensemble character who steals the show. *mischevious smile*

Jo March is making her way up into the world. Look out, Broadway! I'm going to be the BEST MRS. BIXBY THIS WORLD HAS EVER SEEN. Ding!

Crazy Monday

2008-09-22T19:56:00.002-06:00

So, today pretty much sucked up the wazoo. Not really badly, but enough that after Spanish 3 (my first class of the day) I went up to Jaimi and told her that I wanted to run away and join the circus because my life would never amount to anything. She managed to soothe me to the point that I agreed to face Calculus, and after that, the day wasn't as bad as it could've been.

Although, I was at work and a man dropped off EIGHTY FIVE shirts. They were dress shirts and all of them were still packaged and buttoned. Uck. He dropped it off about 45 minutes before we closed, and we were still tagging them 20 minutes after closing. I wanted to kill myself.

To blow off steam, I started talking. Anyone who knows me knows that I could talk the eyeballs out of a blind fish (whatever the heck that's supposed to mean) when I get in the mood. I thought of all the things I'd like to do to this guy when he picked up his shirts.

And somewhere in there, I started singing. I'm pretty sure my co-worker thought I was certifiably crazy, but whatever. I starting singing about how much I hated the shirts, and she said I should write a musical.

"No," I said after some consideration. "And even if there WAS a musical about dry cleaning, I wouldn't be in it. It would be like asking a concentration camp survivor to be in a play about the Nazis. Welcome to Bad Ideaville, USA."

I'm not sure why that was so funny at the time, but a lot of unfunny things have been hysterical to me lately. It's a sure sign that I'm becoming unhinged.

The cast list is going to be posted mid-morning tomorrow. This may be the staple to my sanity. :D But no sweat, right?

From Hilary to Behuthis

2008-09-21T20:00:00.003-06:00

(That title actually sounds like a pretty interesting book/movie title. I want everyone's ideas on what it would be about. You, too, blog stalkers.)

After reading my friend Sarah's blog (the chica is a literary genius), this post is going to seem so shallow and dumb, but I'm posting it anyway.

First off, happy seventeenth birthday to Hilary! I'm not sure if she reads my blog at all; however, I am wishing her most happy returns anyway. She is one of the only people who can keep up with my world famous mood swings. Hilary is also the reigning champion of effectively comforting me when I'm crying my eyeballs out. And she's got possibly the most gorgeous voice I've ever heard AND she's a kick-buttocks actress. Hilary, you're the pants. I wish I had a decent picture of the two of us to post here, but alas; 'tis not so.

One of my favorite Hilary memories is the one where we were walking home from Gardner Village or the cemetery and she got a blister... I'd say more if I was sure she wouldn't kill me in my bed for it. *mischievous grin*

This next sequence might be funny to some of you, and it might not be. Although I thought it was hilarious, I've been known snort uproariously at things such as the "p" being burnt out of the "pharmacy" sign.

Anyway, Micah tried to write his first and last name today and left his results lying around on the table. (I was going to post the actual paper, but blogger's not feeling like letting me upload it.)

I walked by it on my way through the kitchen, and I stopped to squint at it for a minute.

"Micah Behuthis? Who on earth is that? Behruhes?"

My mom immediately jumped to Micah's defense.

"It says 'Micah Barrus.' He's still working on his writing skills."

I'll say. During church today I had him trace letters on my back, and I couldn't tell a Q from an A. (Okay, so he did it correctly on the back of the "Behuthis" page; but still.)

That's all. I really stink at conclusions. The thought for this week is "Everyone is Different."

Another Audition

2008-09-19T18:45:00.002-06:00

At the command of my older brother, I'm blogging about my audition/callback experience for Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Despite my previous, ignorant hatred of the show, I decided to audition. I mean, it's not like I'm going to get any other chances any time soon, right? So I went and sang "Forget about the Boy" for Mrs. Steinmann and Mr. Macy (both amazing individuals).

I should explain that at auditions I either completely suck up the floor or totally rock. I totally rocked, if I may be so humble. Mr. Macy even told so me afterward. :) I rocked the high notes that I usually can't hit decently. Adrenaline pulsed through my body and added emotion I didn't even knew I had.

It was a good audition.

I got callbacks, as you can obviously tell from the top paragraph, and I went today from 3 to 5:30. I don't want to give my honest opinion so I don't jinx myself, but let's just say that I feel very very very very very good about my whole performance (especially in regard to some of the others). But that's all I'm going to say about that.

Anyway, I'm over my hatred of the show. As I've learned more about it, it's become more and more palatable to me. Especially since Milly has to civilize six brutes. I mean, hey, I do that every day with my little savage brothers!

The cast list is going to be posted on Tuesday. I'll letcha know what happens.

Friend hierarchy

2008-09-14T15:47:00.002-06:00

I use Facebook (the online social network) because it's a way to keep up with my friends that doesn't result in being cyber-preyed. (I read a scary book on cyber predators the other day; Sheep's_Clothing. It gave me nightmares.) However, the term "friend" is loosely defined on Facebook. It's pretty much anyone you know or know through somebody.

For example, I have ninety-one friends on Facebook, but I'd only count twenty-two of them as my real friends. Of the seventy left, I only really really know twenty (likes/dislikes, hobbies, family). The rest are people I know vaguely (brother-in-law's sister, sister-in-law's cousin, random people from school, friend's brother, etc).

In my opinion, there should be a way to differentiate between true friends and random people I would never hang out with. Instead of just a "friend" status, there should be "schoolmate," "vague acqaintance," "acquaintance," "cousin," "friend," and "close friend." There should probably be a "sibling" status, too, in case you aren't friends with your siblings, unlike myself. (Well, except for Josh, but he's on there illegally anyway; the moron changed his birthday so now it says he's 18. Liar!)

Or maybe even a "lackey" status. I have a few of those on Facebook...

Yeah, that's pretty much it. If I don't write for a while, it's because I'm completely engrossed in my schoolwork. Huzzah! I'm so excited for this year. I'll probably drop dead halfway through it, but it will be worth it. I've decided to get a five on the AP Calculus test if it kills me. There is no way I'm EVER taking math during college if I don't have to.

Happy!

2008-09-08T13:05:00.002-06:00

Before I start blogging about my first day back at Paradigm, I've got to set aside a few paragraphs for my little brother, Micah.

Today Micah is turning five years old! It's insane. It seems like just yesterday that he was a little obnoxious red-headed baby with a wheat allergy. Now he thinks I'M obnoxious and can eat whatever he dang well pleases. What would I do without him?

Like this morning, for instance. I was up along with everyone else for the first time since June, and my mum was talking to Micah about what birthday cereal he wanted.

"I want Raisin Bran!" (we never have to buy the stuff; no one but my dad and Micah eats it and we have several boxes in the basement)

Ew. Josh tried to tell Micah to get Crunch Berries or something, but Micah was staunch. He wanted Raisin Bran! What a character.

Yesterday we went to Temple Square on a family outing. Micah was playing the role of tour guide very well, despite the fact that he made up everything as he went. We were in the South visitors' center; the one with the big window with a view of the Salt Lake Temple.

In his tour guide voice, Micah pointed at the temple and said, "There was this one time where I was a good guy and the bad guys were in there and they were making fun of me, of course."

My mum and I exchanged amused glances.

"Micah, what building is that?"

"The great and spacious building." (from Lehi's dream)

Bless his little heart.

Happy Birthday, Crazypants!

Now for Paradigm. MAN I love that place! Seeing all my friends and the mentors and the not-even-half-finished school...it made my heart swell with love. (look, I already know I'm a nerd; if you didn't you've missed the last 65 posts) Even though I didn't have any actual classes, it was still the pants. Ms. Hanson pulled some strings and now I'm in her mentor class! She's possibly the coolest teacher at Paradigm (which is saying something because all the mentors at Paradigm are all really cool).

I'm ready to learn!

Mamma Mi-diocre

2008-09-06T14:21:00.002-06:00

There's this song on "Forbidden Broadway: Special Victims' Unit" called "Mamma Mi-diocre." Like all Forbidden Broadway songs, it's spot-on and hilarious.

(I've been trying to find a way to post it on my blog for about two hours now.)

Anyways, that's not the point. The reason Forbidden Broadway is so funny is that they either hit the truth right on the head, or they exaggerate it. The sort of stuff they say about "Mamma Mia" is that it's fantastic, but only compared to the dreck B'way has been cranking out lately.

I didn't really take this into account when Danika called up Thursday night and asked if I wanted to come see it. After all, FB mocks "Thoroughly Modern Millie" and says it didn't deserve to win the Tony for best musical. They could be wrong about "Mamma Mia," too, I thought. Plus, it's ABBA music! You can't go wrong, right?

Wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

It wasn't until 2 hours and &7.75 later that I fully realized this, though. "Mamma Mia" was tasteless and had possibly the worst plot I've ever had the misfortune to meet. There were a few (very few) funny lines, but musical lovers cannot live on humor alone.

You know that friend that everyone has who hates musicals because it's so unrealistic that people would break out into song like that? Well, that friend would be justified by "Mamma Mia." Rather than the traditional style where the songs are written for the musical, "Mamma Mia" was written around the ABBA songs. So each song was an awkward leap into the abyss. *shudder* It was good music with some pretty good vocals, but it just didn't make sense.

Also, too many innuendos and too much talk about sleeping around. The romantic relationships were woefully underdeveloped. Donna (Meryl Streep) and the Dynamos were obnoxiously juvenile. And couldn't they have at least dubbed Pierce Brosnan's voice? If dubbing is good enough for Audrey Hepburn (the queen of the screen), it's dang well good enough for James Bond.

If you want to rock out to some ABBA songs, go buy their CD. "Mamma Mia" is not worth your time or consideration. Period.

The Slurpee Adventure

2008-09-03T20:35:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was not so great. I mean, it was okay up until the whole work thing.

Today was almost the exact same; I woke up, did nothing productive, went to WJHS during lunch, came home, did nothing productive, then went to work.

Except today I went on The Slurpee Adventure! Dun duh da dun!

Actually, I was going to go on The Slurpee Adventure with Korinne yesterday, but I couldn't find her until lunchtime was almost over, so it was postponed until today.

As soon as I met Korinne by her locker, she said, "Becca, I drew you a picture! I did it in physics when I was bored."

There are some things I should probably explain:

1) The Green Vomit- The Green Vomit is my car, and was, sadly, being used by my older sister. We had to drive my big 15 passenger grey and white van. Just the two of us. It was awesome.

2) "I <3 School!"- Korinne likes to make fun of the fact that I love learning/school. One time she even said, "I'm Becca! I love learning! It's better than Disneyland!" (which is kinda true, actually...)

Anyway, I had to do some fancy driving and wrong-turning in order to maneuver the bus to the nearest 7-11. When we finally got there, apparently it's this hang-out for the Shady Creeps' Gang. Seriously. The only people there were shady gangsters. It was great.

And then--get this--Korinne was only going to do ONE flavor of Slurpee! Holy cow! Who does that? She said, "I think I'll get the pina colada..." and I said, "What now? Oh, yeah. You're my one-Slurpee-flavor friend. Weirdo. It's all about layering!" Then, in an act of supreme courage, she put all the flavors in her Slurpee.

I've never been so proud in my life.

So, I took her back to school for her fun half of the day, and I was left with a little life-saver to hold onto when that jerk-face swore at me during work. I hope he's grateful; he was one Slurpee and a Korinne-hug away from being repeatedly stabbed in the jugular with a hanger.

A Jonah Day

2008-09-02T19:56:00.002-06:00

Whoosh. Do you ever have one of those days where you could literally kill every annoying/inconvenient/stupid person you encounter? Anne Shirley calls those days "Jonah days."

I call them "I want to kill every annoying/inconvenient/stupid person who has the misfourtune to cross my path" days. (or IWtKEAISPwhtMtCmP for short)

Usually it's just my little brothers. They have this innate ability to get juuuust under my skin without actually breaking any house rules. Thus, when I punch them for being annoying, I'm the one who gets busted.

But today it was nearly every customer who darkened our door. Okay, that's not true. It's time to be rational, Becca. It was just the ones who dropped off more than 5 items of clothing. And the morons who had the audacity to come drop off 16 items of clothing 15 minutes before closing.

I'm usually okay with those morons, but when they all get together and decide that they're all gonna visit within minutes of each other, that's when I think it's about time to bust out the spike strips.

*sighs* I need a way to get rid of all of this irrational anger. Any suggestions?

PS- Is it technically lying when people ask you how you're doing and you say "good," even when you'd like to slit their tires?

Signs that I need to go back to school

2008-08-29T11:12:00.003-06:00

The top however-many-I-feel-like signs that I need to go back to school:

1) I went to go watch Wishbone today and it was a rerun. From the June.

2) The fact that watching Wishbone (even reruns) is usually the highlight of my day.

3) The only person I hang out with is Micah, my four year old little brother, because everyone else is back in school/has a life.

4) My friends ask me to help them with their essays for school. Not only do I do it, I enjoy doing it.

5) The majority of my day is spent thinking up new and innovative things I could do and then never doing them.

6) I sneak into WJHS at lunch to see my friends.

7) I eat breakfast at 10, then start thinking about what to eat for lunch at 11. It takes so long to decide that it's usually 1 by the time I actually eat.

8) I've probably read over fifty books this summer. And now I'm sick of reading. (gasp in horror, gentle readers; this is a big thing)

Yeah, I think that's it. Anyway, at least there won't be a full week of Jumpstart-ness. Since we're starting so late, full class days begin on the Thursday after we start. Huzzah!

Agony

2008-08-26T18:25:00.002-06:00

Paradigm is doing retarded Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (which, if any of you are interested, is on the list on Western musicals that I hate; Annie Get Your Gun, Oklahoma, and Paint Your Wagon are on that list, too) for our school musical. I'm sure I could get over that fact (after long sessions of therapy), if not for something else.

Jordan High is doing Thoroughly Modern Millie.

*writhes in sheer agony*

Thoroughly Modern Millie is on my "A" list of musicals. It's up there with Wicked, Little Women, Fiddler on the Roof, and Into the Woods. I would give my left lung to be in the chorus!

To be completely fair, though, I haven't actually seen SBfSB; however, I've heard most of the music and I've got a complete bias against country-sounding musicals. Ick.

Plus, there are at LEAST seven male roles that need to be filled. Which means we'll have to find at least seven guys who are willing to sing, act, and dance.

Which isn't gonna happen.

Two years ago, Paradigm did You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. There are quite a few guy roles, right? Linus, Schroader, and, por supuesto, Charlie Brown.

Not one guy auditioned. So our drama teacher made the best of it; he made it an all girl cast. They were all fabulous, but that strategy won't work for SBfSB. Um, awkwardness of awkwardnesses. No can do.

We'll just see...

....not worth titling....

2008-08-26T14:23:00.003-06:00

This is Ophelia.

She was driven insane when Prince Hamlet spurned her.

She drowned herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is Becca.

She went crazy for lots of reasons.

Not only does her school not start for another two weeks,
she just found out that her school musical is "Seven Brides for
Seven Brothers."

She's not going to drown herself, but I'd keep lakes/rivers/oceans
and all sharp objects away from her.

Seriously SO TICKED

2008-08-26T10:51:00.002-06:00

I am about ready to start bustin' heads, Chuck Norris style.

My family just got an email from Paradigm saying that we won't be starting until the 8th.

BUSTING HEADS!

Redneck Becca

2008-08-22T21:37:00.005-06:00

Today was a day of self discovery. Exactly what did I discover? An insane passion for extreme sports.

All right, so riding mechanical bulls is not "extreme." But it's harder than it looks.

I was always one of those people that scoffed at cowboys. And in that song "Live like You were Dying" where Tim sings about going 3.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu, I always thought, "What a loser. Less than 4 seconds... I coulda out-rode him!"

My family was at Snowbird today for one of my dad's work parties, so I did rode the Alpine Slide a couple of times, then got bored. (The line was obscenely long.) There was a mechanical bull randomly by the track, but I ignored it largely.

It caught Micah's eye, however, and he told me that he "wanted to ride the camel." Since he's not seven, though, he couldn't. So I let him ride vicariously through me. My first ride I was a little stiff, but it was so much fun!

And so I went again....

And again.....

It was pretty much the awesome-sauce pantalones from heaven. There were these guys in their 20's there and they were getting thrown left and right. It made me feel pretty good about myself. That, and Micah is the high-pitched screaming in the background. He thinks I'm so cool now.

I've decided that this would pretty much be a kick-butt date. Now if only I could find a guy who'd be willing to be thrown off a bull...or a guy who's willing to go on a date with me period....

PS- I hope you watch these videos more than once. They are taking a maddeningly long time to upload.

Relationship problems

2008-08-21T19:39:00.002-06:00

I've been having relationship problems lately. We agreed to separate for the summer, but now I'm ready to get back together. It's just been too long! He says he doesn't want me back for a couple weeks.

I'm ready to dive into a more serious relationship, but he says that he just wants to play for the first little while.

As angry as I am at him right now, I honestly can put up with it. I know that once we get over this rough patch, he'll sweep me off my feet and we'll get along again.

Who is this studly guy?

....well....uh....it's kind of embarrassing.....

...

It's my school. I know, I know; que un petardo! ("what a nerd" in Spanish) I know I'm a nerd. Everyone who knows me knows I'm a nerd. And I'm okay with that.

I've been waiting for school to start since the beginning of July. It's set to start on the 2nd of September (our new building isn't quite finished yet); however, the first week is known as "Jumpstart Week."

I was hoping it'd be "jumpstart" like "we're going to give you a mind-stretching essay that's due by the end of the week." Nope. It's "jumpstart" like "we're going to play games and get to know each other and talk about our school values." Seriously, we only have to go to school for four hours a day the first week.

That kind of thing is acceptable as a first-day-of-school thing. Maybe even the first and second days. But a whole week? I'm deeply saddened. We don't even get our final schedules until the 5th.

I'm sure that by the end of the first day I'll be elated and drugged up on joyness. But for right now, my soul is cast into the deep pit of woe and no man can drag me from thence.

The trend has begun...

2008-08-17T21:49:00.002-06:00

Apparently, somebody in Beijing read my last post and decided that The Pants would be a really cool building.

Behold!This is the new CCTV headquarters. One of my YW leaders excitedly informed me of its existence today during church. I couldn't believe my fortune. Woo hoo! Once I get China under my control, everyone else is pretty much hosed! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The Pants

2008-08-16T19:51:00.002-06:00

Have you ever wondered who starts trends? Who decided that the side bangs are cool? Who decided that the nasty baggy pants are cool? Who decided that "cool" is cool?

Ordinary people like you and me.

Of course, it's not the people that make something catchy. It's the catchiness in and of itself. It has to be almost universally appealing or it won't work.

Anyone who knows me knows that lately I've been using "the pants" as an expression of pleasure or approval. I used to think that I heard an old guy using it and picked it up, but I'm not so sure anymore. One day I texted Korinne and said, "You're the pants!"

She gave the reaction that I've heard many times since.

"I'm the what?"

People always react like that, but if they're exposed to me long enough, they start saying it. They even make up other jokes to go along with it. The first time I called my sister's friend Caryn the pants, she didn't even flinch.

"Yes! I've been the capris for so long! I'm glad I got promoted to the pants."

Even if it never catches on a huge scale, it can be my little quirk. It rolls off the tongue and screams "Becca!"

Oh, and the fact that school doesn't start til the 2nd of September for me?

SO NOT THE PANTS!

Little Women meets Harry Potter

2008-08-11T13:24:00.003-06:00

Okay, I have to get this off my chest; I hate fictional relationships that make absolutely no sense. It's all right when you look at people in real life and say, "How on earth did you two hook up?" because it's real. But for heaven's sake, if you're going to have two fictional characters get together, at least make it believable. Do I have any specific examples? You bet.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. The Harry/Ginny relationship is my biggest pet peeve ever. (Number two is Ron and Hermione; I'll explain why it's only #2 in a sec.) You have Harry Potter, main character, hero, complex, very well-rounded. And then you have Ginny Weasley. Red haired. Uh... Quidditch keeper? What the heck do we know about her? She's a hit with the boys, apparently. But that's it. What does she actually help Harry with? We barely see her in the first book; she sets Voldemort loose in the second book; she's pretty much nonexistent in books three and four; she semi-helps with the raid on the Ministry in the fifth book; I can't even remember her role in the sixth book besides making out with Harry; and she's got no role at all in the seventh book.

And the MAIN CHARACTER ends up marrying her and naming his children stupid names with her? (Albus Severus...I ask you!) Good job, JK.

Ron and Hermione make a little more sense; at least they sort of hang out in all the books. But of the two, Hermione is about a hundred times more important to the plot (and Harry's life) than Ron.

JK Rowling was an avid Little Women fan when she was younger, did you know that? (She likes being called "Jo," actually.) That little-known fact gave me a foundation for my theory:

She wants to inflict the same pain she felt when Laurie didn't marry Jo on our generation. Jo and Laurie (like Harry and Hermione) make perfect sense, too. But Louisa didn't want Jo to get married because she herself never married. So she had Jo shun Laurie.

Of course, the fans back in the 1800's wouldn't hear of Jo staying unmarried. So Louisa introduced Professor Bhaer, the kindly old German professor who thinks Jo is the pants. Jo agrees to marry him, and Laurie marries Amy (Jo's LITTLE SISTER; Ginny, anyone?).

Ms. Rowling is spreading her anguish to the Harry Potter generation. I guess that makes my irritation at Harry/Ginny and Hermione/Ron a bit more bearable.

But only a bit.

Seriously posting

2008-08-06T11:58:00.002-06:00

Hey! I'm finally buckling down and blogging! Remember how I promised how this post would be amusing/engaging? Well, I may or may not have been lying. We'll just have to see...

Yeah....nothing....

WAIT! I think I have a spark of creativity!

Mmm, nope. That'd be my stomach. Sometimes it talks to me. Want me to interpret?

Stomach: "Hey! Let's go get some Bajio!"

Me: "Nope. We got some yesterday, remember?"

Stomach: "Yeah, and remember how good it was? We could eat chimichangas all day!"

Me: "We probably could. But then we'd explode, like that guy on Batman."

Stomach: "Ew. That's gross, Becca."

Me: "I know, right? That's why we're not getting Bajio today."

Stomach: "*sighs* What about Panda? Can we go get Panda?"

Me: "*looks at clock* No. It's 12:50. We need to go make a pants cake with Lauren in a little bit."

Stomach: "Oooh! A pants cake is almost as good as Panda!"

Me: "We won't be eating it, stomach. It's for Gretchen and Missy."

Stomach: "...oh...."

Me: "Let's go make a sandwich so you stop whining, okay?"

Stomach: "Woot! Let's do it!"

So, I'm going to go get a sandwich for my loud stomach. I'll think of something funny/creative later, okay?

Warning; this is possibly the lamest post ever

2008-07-31T11:52:00.004-06:00

It's been a while since I've written, but I can honestly say that I've had nothing good to write. No musings, no stories, no critiques. I've seen plenty of movies in the past little while; however, none of them warrants a full review. The Dark Knight was all right. I'm not a huge fan of explosions and violence galore. Definitely, Maybe was better than I expected, which doesn't say a whole lot because my expectations were low. Abigail Breslin was absolutely repulsive. I have never seen a less endearing child. Merci Pour Le Chocolat is a French "suspense" movie about this crazy woman who drugs hot chocolate for fun... It was supposed to be Hitchcock-ian. I was not impressed.

I haven't read anything grippingly good either. Death on the Nile (Agatha Christie) doesn't count because I'd already seen the movie and guessed who the killer was. (That, however, is a fantastic movie; maybe I'll go rent it.)

And it doesn't help that I'm all gross and sick from this kidney infection I picked up this past week. Blech. It's time for a shower, and then I'm going to watch Little Women until my brains fall out. I promise that the next post will be more coherent and amusing than this one.

The Lord commanded "No Ponies"

2008-07-24T12:55:00.002-06:00

Another Micah story here; he's just s'dang funny that I had to share it.

He likes to talk to himself a lot, especially in our living room. So just a couple minutes ago I went in there and sat on the couch. Micah was not amused.

"Go away," he said in an irritated voice. "I'm talking to myself."

"Can I talk to yourself, too?"

"No. You can't listen to me." Death glare.

"Well, can I talk to myself while just so happening to be in the same room?"

"No." He flopped back onto the couch opposite me dramatically.

"I'll leave if you give me a pony." (ponies are my answer for everything)

Scowl. "There are no ponies in the land."

"What?"

"Only horses and other animals. God doesn't like ponies."

I grinned at him, which annoyed him even more. "So are you saying God didn't create ponies?"

"Yes. The Lord commanded 'No Ponies!'"

I left him alone then (he's still flopped on the couch) to have a huge long laugh without being scowled at. "The Lord commanded 'No Ponies'..." I had no idea.

Broken heart

2008-07-22T20:24:00.002-06:00

Do you remember my last experience of seeing Little Women: The Musical? It was mostly positive, right? (despite my complaints about Jo, but that was mostly jealousy) I thought, despite being a lowly city-run show, it was fantastic on the grounds that it was Little Women. No one can destroy or dismantle the musical completely, right?

Wrong.

Here in the Salt Lake Valley, Hale Center Theatre is a huge thing. The shows are expensive, and rightly so. I've been to several shows there (Little Women, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Secret Garden, Thoroughly Modern Millie, The Civil War, The Miracle Worker) and have been blown away every time. The effects, the acting, and the singing are all very professional. I have never walked away from a Hale Center show disappointed.

Which is why, when I saw that Hale Center Theatre-Orem was doing Little Women, I called my friend Hilary and told her that we simply must go on an excursion there. The tickets were a reasonable price, so I ordered them and we drove there Saturday night. I prepared myself to cry (I've cried all 4 times I've seen it previously) and laugh and enjoy myself.

I laughed. I enjoyed myself reasonably. But. I. Did. Not. Cry. I know that seems like a small thing for those of you who aren't well acquainted with Little Women, but it's huge. One of the most captivating things about Little Women anything (the movie, the musical, the novel) is that it manages to balance the humor and drama perfectly. We wouldn't love Jo as much if she didn't make us laugh; inversely, it wouldn't touch us so deeply if it didn't make us cry or ache.

The director played the humor card too much and didn't leave the audience any time to really connect with the characters. The last time, my only complaint was against Jo; this performance left me with complaints about almost every character except John Brooke (he's not a very round character anyway). Criticizing time.

Let's start with Jo. She had very good comedic timing, I'll give her that. The playbill said that she played Rita in Lucky Stiff, and I honestly think she would have shone in that role. It took me until halfway through the first act to realize who she reminded me of. Idina Menzel. She had the same kind of nasally style as Idina in Enchanted. Don't get me wrong; I loved Idina in Enchanted. She busted me up every time she took the screen. I love Idina. Just not as Jo. There was a certain lack in energy. I couldn't really differentiate between her vivacity before Beth died and afterwards. She just felt wrong.

Beth. She was very Beth-looking and a sweetheart to boot. Also, I've never seen a Beth in the musical cradle dolls like this Beth did, which I thought was an excellent idea. But she kept cradling this stuffed monkey, and I snorted with laughter every time I saw it. Did they have stuffed monkeys during the Civil War? Also, I know she was dying during "Some Things Are Meant to Be," but she could have sang a little louder and clearer.

Meg. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh. She had a good voice........ But, erm, you know how Meg is supposed to be the beauty of the family? Well, uh, this Meg...was rather large and...not...pretty... That's all I'm gonna say...

Amy. I think Amy was probably the one I liked the most. She, too, was rather large (almost bigger than Jo), but she was a good enough actress that I forgot about that.

I wasn't really supremely bugged by any other players. Not enough to give them their own paragraph anyway. Mr. Laurence had a fruity voice and expressions, Laurie handled Jo's rejection all wrong, and Professor Bhaer had an inconsistent accent and was boring. Small Umbrella put me to sleep. They didn't even do the umbrella kiss.

And you know the dream sequence in Fiddler on the Roof? How it's a total drug trip? "Weekly Volcano Press" was about five times worse. It's supposed to be slightly surreal, but this was ridiculous. The hag (as played by Marmee, who I felt apathetic towards) was this huge thing with bulging eyes and a protruding mouth. I looked at Hilary, who was stifling giggles, and said, "What on earth IS that?"

Well, I've ranted long enough. Hopefully my next experience with Little Women will bring rave reviews. And as long as I'm hoping, I might as well hope that I can be in the next show. Right, right?

Artists are special

2008-07-21T13:45:00.003-06:00

I love drawing. I taught myself how when I was in 7th grade and not learning anything at my crappy public school, and now I doodle on everything: note cards, notebooks, napkins, paper tablecloths, camp manuals, etc.

I especially love drawing people. Sometimes they're random people in my head, and sometimes I use people as models. (Not actual people; generally pictures from magazines or whatever.) But sometimes I get the weirdest urges...

I'll be walking along, minding my own blessed business, when I see someone and BAM. I get this almost uncontrollable urge to draw them. Usually it's people I see more than once, but don't know very well. I can't very well whip out a sketchpad and draw them right then and there; these things take time. And I can't ask for their picture. Can you imagine how weird that would be?

"Excuse me. I barely know you, but could I take your picture? I would love to draw you." Awkward!

Maybe I'm too sensitive. What do you all think? If a random person who you sort of knew came up and asked if they could draw you, would you be okay with it?

The reason I bring it up at all is because when I was at Girls' Camp last week, one of the stake YW directors was very draw-able. Not because she was super-gorgeous or anything; she just had a very aesthetically pleasing face with just the right lines. So I spent all 4 days debating whether or not I would ask if I could take her picture...

It's hard to have the drawing bug and not be able to draw what got it started in the first place. I got out my notebook and sketched sundry characters in my brain, but I was restless. Doodles filled my pages; however, nothing got me excited.

The end of the story is that I never did ask. And now I'm aching to draw! It's like getting an itch when you have a cast; you know that if you really tried, you could scratch it, but you don't know if it would be worth it. What do you think?

Little Brother-ism

2008-07-15T21:09:00.002-06:00

My little brother Micah is four years old and somewhat of a sassypants. He used to worship me, but that got lost somewhere... Now he thinks I'm annoying (imagine that!), despite the great care I take of him.

This past Saturday, he said he was hungry, so I told him I'd make him something. He said, no, he just wanted one of the sandwiches Mum had made a couple days before and stuck in the fridge.

"But Micah," I said, "You won't like it."

"Yes I will!" said Micah, ever contrary.

"It has Miracle Whip. You hate Miracle Whip."

"No, I love Miracle Whip!"

"But it has mustard."

"I like mustard!"

"It has ham."

"I like ham!"

All of these declarations of love from my little brother were false. He hates all those things! So, to show my horror at his falsehoods, I said dramatically,

"Lies! Scandal!"

By this time he'd taken the sandwich out of the fridge and, looking at me innocently, said,

"I like lies and a scandal."

...what a liar...

Corpse Auditions

2008-07-10T19:17:00.002-06:00

In order to replace a certain musical-which-shall-not-be-named addiction, I picked up the "Lucky Stiff" soundtrack at the library the other week. It's good, catchy music and has a hilarious plot.

Here's the run-down. There's this guy named Harry Witherspoon whose uncle was killed in Atlantic City. His Uncle Anthony is prepared to leave six million dollars to his nephew, but only if Harry wheels his uncle's body around Monte Carlo for a week and pretends that he's alive.

So, naturally, Harry tries it out. He wheels this dead guy around the stage the whole entire show, and the dead guy is very convincing. Which leads me to the question that nagged at my mind as I was drifting off to sleep last night: What kind of audition do they have for the guy who plays the corpse? He doesn't have to sing. He doesn't have to speak. He doesn't have to move. (Well, not counting his dance number...)

Do they just sit him in a chair and see how corpse-like he can be? Do they poke him? Do they tickle his nose?

This is one of those questions that will haunt me 'til the day I die.

The Inbox of no return...

2008-07-09T20:36:00.002-06:00

I have a confession to make: sometimes...I don't reply to emails for a very long time. It's not because I hate (or even dislike) the people who write to me or anything. And it's not like I let the emails rot for months (or even weeks) on end. They just sit there for a couple days, and I look at them and say, "Oh, dear. I really should write back to Beth. And that one from Meg has been sitting there far too long. I should write back..."

And of course I don't until a few days later. Is this a normal? Am I lazy? If it's an urgent email, such as one from Korinne saying how much she hates boys and would like to talk to me as soon as time permits, I reply as fast as anything. But the commonplace email usually marinates in my Inbox for a day at the least.

That leads me to the question of the day: does the majority of the technologically-savvy world reply to conversation emails faster or slower than I do?

Input and comments are greatly appreciated.