The thoughts of the earth are my thoughts.
The voice of the earth is my voice.
All that belongs to the earth belongs to me.
All that surrounds the earth surrounds me.
It is lovely indeed, it is lovely indeed.
Navajo Song
Fall--I'm ready for you.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Isn't it nice to know?
Depending on the day, I'm in a Yahoo! or a Google mood. Google's home page is so refreshingly sparse and unimposing, allowing me to take the initiative in what I see or read. I love that little text box of wonder which brings up fascinating results if you know what to put in. Yahoo!, on the other hand, is a barrage of advertisements, news stories, pop culture plugs, etc.; and the page is so distracting that I've forgotten what I wanted to search for if I had something in the first place. Who cares about contemporary literary theory, for example, a woman just grew a six foot zucchini! I thought that that kind of freak garden incident only happened in The Bernstein Bears (when Papa and Farmer Brown are competing in the pumpkin contest and they pull all kinds of tricks out for beefing up their produce), but no. Some of us are living normal lives and some of us are living in the shadow of our own squash. Literally. (Although the article did note that the zucchini was a 'shock'. Good to know.)
Seeing this kind of news make the front page of Yahoo! search engine brightens my day. Isn't it nice to know that in times of controversial war and political division, we can all come together over giant veggies? This story can brighten your day too, just don't get distracted by the top 5 celeb moms on your way to the link.
Seeing this kind of news make the front page of Yahoo! search engine brightens my day. Isn't it nice to know that in times of controversial war and political division, we can all come together over giant veggies? This story can brighten your day too, just don't get distracted by the top 5 celeb moms on your way to the link.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Looking back
By the time I get my pictures on, I'm so sick of Blogger that I want to say nothing else. I hope you enjoy these pics as much as I enjoyed my summer.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
p.s.
I don't really look down on people who shop at the bookstore. I have been worried that some readers might take me seriously.
Friday, August 29, 2008
The BYU Bookstore
I've never felt okay about purchasing clothes at the bookstore. Yes, it is a matter of pride. Yes, I look down on people who do buy clothes at the bookstore. (Don't worry if you are one of them because I will never know, and thus only look down on you generally and not specifically. This has interesting ramifications, since you now know that I look down on you and I don't. Strange.) Even though I have forbidden myself from buying clothes there, I sometimes walk through the clothes section wistfully fingering shirts and scanning the shoe collection*. On these occasions, I find myself wondering if the other shoppers think I'm actually shopping there, instead of just checking things out. Kind of like scoping the competition.
Why? Why do I feel this way? Even as a freshman, I instictively felt that buying clothes at the bookstore was something one did not do if one wanted to maintain one's oh-tres-cool role in the BYU cosmos. (Fun fact: did you know that the definition of cosmos is not simply a universe, but an ordered or harmonious universe? Making it the perfect word to describe BYU, Thank you dictionary.com for making me smarter one word at a time.) It has nothing to do with the styles of the clothes--ah! Suddenly I know why, and as a reader you should know that this is breaking news type of personal discovery, not some manufactured artificial realization. So here goes: 1. deep down I always pictured the buyers for the bookstore as older, out of touch mormon women who were making purchases based on what their daughters were into; 2. I didn't want to conform to the BYU sanctioned look, thinking that what they buy to sell must be what they hope we will wear....
At least my irrationality is never a surprise to me, having been diagnosed with irrational fears by complete strangers in the past.
*Here I reveal my hypocrisy. Once I bought a pair of magenta slip-ons from the bookstore because they were $15 and I'm a sucker for deals and I was going far away from BYU for the summer...incidentally I mixed up which hand was which and threw my shoes away promptly upon purchase because I thought they were the empty shoebox. Which act put me in the hilarious position of having to fetch my bookstore apparel out of a metal-lidded garbage can. Yuck.
Why? Why do I feel this way? Even as a freshman, I instictively felt that buying clothes at the bookstore was something one did not do if one wanted to maintain one's oh-tres-cool role in the BYU cosmos. (Fun fact: did you know that the definition of cosmos is not simply a universe, but an ordered or harmonious universe? Making it the perfect word to describe BYU, Thank you dictionary.com for making me smarter one word at a time.) It has nothing to do with the styles of the clothes--ah! Suddenly I know why, and as a reader you should know that this is breaking news type of personal discovery, not some manufactured artificial realization. So here goes: 1. deep down I always pictured the buyers for the bookstore as older, out of touch mormon women who were making purchases based on what their daughters were into; 2. I didn't want to conform to the BYU sanctioned look, thinking that what they buy to sell must be what they hope we will wear....
At least my irrationality is never a surprise to me, having been diagnosed with irrational fears by complete strangers in the past.
*Here I reveal my hypocrisy. Once I bought a pair of magenta slip-ons from the bookstore because they were $15 and I'm a sucker for deals and I was going far away from BYU for the summer...incidentally I mixed up which hand was which and threw my shoes away promptly upon purchase because I thought they were the empty shoebox. Which act put me in the hilarious position of having to fetch my bookstore apparel out of a metal-lidded garbage can. Yuck.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Reunited and it feels so good, ooh
I'm back at the BY and not a big fan of the pastelly "Charlie goes to Candy Mountain" background on the computer screens. There is a little pamphlet next to my computer entitled, "Answers to Common Questions." I would love to flip the page and find:
1. Yes
2. No
3. About an hour
4. The restroom is right around the corner
So the pamphlet I am envisioning slightly resembles a magic eight ball. Weird.
Do you ever wonder if you are boring? Like not on occasion, not when you haven't had enough sleep, not when you aren't reading enough books--but in your core, in your personality line-up, coming before bossy and after boastful. Perhaps being boring could count as a legitimate personal disadvantage, for which you could get a life handicap like in golf. I often wonder if I am boring (this is not a solicitation for comments on how non-boring I am, (Marie being most likely to respond with such), and in fact such comments are not allowed (note the bossiness)), and the thought doesn't really make me upset which is proof that it might be true.
I have always believed that boredom is a lens people put over their eyes--not a quality inherent in a subject or lesson, but since this belief doesn't allow me to be a boring person, I'm forced to give it up. Boredom is back on the menu.
When I was wondering about the me being boring thing, I remembered a recent dinner where I won the last portion of Kobe beef for having the best embarrassing moment. So maybe I'm not a boring person, just an embarrassing person.
Cheers.
ps I'm on an unexpected break right now in my job training, and I have the sneaking suspicion that my comrades are all using their break time to be productive and create brilliant lesson plans (things that boring people are happily excused from just by nature of incapability) while I piddle around on my blog.
1. Yes
2. No
3. About an hour
4. The restroom is right around the corner
So the pamphlet I am envisioning slightly resembles a magic eight ball. Weird.
Do you ever wonder if you are boring? Like not on occasion, not when you haven't had enough sleep, not when you aren't reading enough books--but in your core, in your personality line-up, coming before bossy and after boastful. Perhaps being boring could count as a legitimate personal disadvantage, for which you could get a life handicap like in golf. I often wonder if I am boring (this is not a solicitation for comments on how non-boring I am, (Marie being most likely to respond with such), and in fact such comments are not allowed (note the bossiness)), and the thought doesn't really make me upset which is proof that it might be true.
I have always believed that boredom is a lens people put over their eyes--not a quality inherent in a subject or lesson, but since this belief doesn't allow me to be a boring person, I'm forced to give it up. Boredom is back on the menu.
When I was wondering about the me being boring thing, I remembered a recent dinner where I won the last portion of Kobe beef for having the best embarrassing moment. So maybe I'm not a boring person, just an embarrassing person.
Cheers.
ps I'm on an unexpected break right now in my job training, and I have the sneaking suspicion that my comrades are all using their break time to be productive and create brilliant lesson plans (things that boring people are happily excused from just by nature of incapability) while I piddle around on my blog.
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