The Prattler

Love my dad

2011-08-24T09:36:00.001-07:00

A text conversation:

9:36 AM
Me: "Are you at your office right now? I am on campus."

9:53 AM
Me: "Nevermind. I just wanted to say hi, but I am on my way home now. Puffed rice soon?"

10:04 AM
Dad: "I went looking 4 puffed rice just yesterday 4 u, but went to the wrong store. We'll make some soon ~ as brain food for college professors, u & me! --Dadster"

My dream as a TV writer

2011-08-01T07:58:00.001-07:00

Whenever I think about my future, I fantasize about my dream job writing comedy sketches with Tina Fey.

I have a plan which includes mailing Tina one of my scripts in an official-looking envelope with the word CONFIDENTIAL stamped in red across it. That way, she won't think it's fan mail. She will open it and find an amazing idea for a sketch to do on 30 Rock.

Here is a brief description:

Season 6 Episode 1 Miss Anti-Beauty

Jenna proudly wins first place in The Shallow Awards which prompts Liz to run for a New York beauty pageant called The Anti- Beauty Pageant. What she thinks is a feminist event liberating women from the archaic practice of beauty pageants actually turns out to be a pageant for the most unattractive middle class women of New York. When Tracy lets slip that Liz is entering a pageant, Jenna jealously signs up for the pageant too. Meanwhile, Jack reconnects with his younger dog-loving self when he agrees to be the voice on an animated movie featuring a jack russell terrier and his chihuahua backup singers. What he doesn't realize is that he has been cast as the dog-hating cat villain who seeks to destroy the dog's rise to stardom. Upset by the casting, Jack tries to ruin the movie to show the director that he should be top dog.

I really am going to write this skit. It will be spectacular. And when Tina opens her CONFIDENTIAL official-looking envelope to find this script, she is going to laugh her bossypants off and call to offer me a permanent position on 30 Rock.

I have no response to that.

2011-07-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

Kids really do say the darndest things. But so do my 18-year-old freshmen:

Mary-Lou: "How can I avoid using the word 'boobs' in my paper so often?"
Me: "Well, you might consider using 'breast' instead."

Tania: "I need you to treat me like a kindergartener."
Me: "Okay. Stop braiding Mary-Lou's hair."

Gertrude: "I am getting a colonoscopy on Monday."
Me: "Thanks for letting me know..."

Marcus: "Well, you might know about transitions, but I've seen a double rainbow."
Me: "Those actually exist?"
Marcus: "I will testify of it."

Jeff: "What's the difference between the wealthiest and the 43rd wealthiest person in America?"
Me: "42 people."

Teresa: "I like Elizabethan spelling and grammar better. Can I write 'thee' instead of 'you?'"
Me: "No, thou shalt not be permitted to write in such outdated fashion."

Me: "Give yourself a reading score on a scale of 0 to 5."
Greg: "5. Or 12. Whichever."
Shannon: "6."
Albert: ""
Stephanie: ""

Sometimes I wonder if my students all get together and plan on taking turns saying absurd things in class. What I should really be asking myself is, "What am I doing that makes them feel comfortable saying these things out loud?"

Christmas Card in July

2011-06-30T15:44:00.000-07:00

Dear loved ones and casual perusers,

Seasons greetings from the Peterson! That's right--the Peterson, not the Petersons. You know how hard it can be to get everyone in the family to submit their paragraphs* (darn those teenage girls on facebook)! I hope all my friends and family are doing well not to sunburn as you enjoy the weather around this holiday season. I, for one, have been working on my paleness and accomplishing so much more this year:

Rebecca (24) has been particularly peppy this summer. After a lazy spring term of taking one class about something literary she can't remember now and watching three re-run seasons of Ugly Betty on netflix while eating leftover Easter chocolate in bed, she awoke from her lazy-coma and started teaching again.

And what a teaching experience it has been! She has only insulted a handful (95% of the class) of students' writing and only had to talk to one student for manifesting a crush on her (gifts of candy, flirty winks, excessive emails with links to Justin Bieber music videos--just kidding on one of those). She really feels like she's reaching these students.

Besides teaching at BYU, Rebecca has impressed everyone in her ward as a Sunday School teacher by making sure to line up a substitute for herself every time she has a "headache," which is on a rotating schedule of every other Sunday.

Rebecca's dating life is especially exciting. Her boyfriend of two years invites her over almost weekly when she's showered to watch a movie of her choice to which she promptly falls asleep and drools a little.

Reading has also been a big part of her summer accomplishments. She spends what seems to be endless hours but is actually only about 25 seconds reading at the library almost every word on the back of the nearest self-help book.

Well, that's everything the Peterson has been up to! I just can't believe how the summer is flying by. Sometimes it seems like the construction workers and sprinkler attacks and mosquitos will last forever, but it's already slipping away. Here's to hoping your summer season goes just sizzlingly!

This is the best picture taken of me this year.

*Family members are welcome to submit their paragraphs in the comments section of this post. Please try not to brag, Blake.

That Dreaded Phrase

2011-05-31T22:01:00.000-07:00

Ever since I started this blog, I have made sure to post at least once a month. Well, today is the last day of May, so here is a post I constantly have stewing:

There is a certain phrase that makes me wince. I hear it in testimony meetings at church, in conversations as I walk across Brigham Square, and in my own living room. I have even heard the phrase come out of my own mouth. And I wince every time.

What is the phrase, you ask?

"Here at BYU"

"...especially here at BYU"
"you see [x] all the time here at BYU"
"we never worry about [x] here at BYU"

I don't know, the phrase "here at BYU" seems to assume so much about our community. It expects us to conform to a general, well-known trend even if we don't identify with it.

Sorry to bring it up; now that it's been pointed out, you will hear it everywhere--especially here at BYU.

That Little Disney Miracle

2011-04-19T22:31:00.001-07:00

Because I am so responsible, I went to Disneyland during BYU's reading days. I know what you are thinking... But I just HAD to, okay?

So here is something that happened when I was throwing all academic caution to the wind:

We stayed at Courtney and Meredith's aunt's house who lives half an hour away from Disneyland. The night before we went to the park, I woke up at 1 AM and had to run to the bathroom so I could puke up my dinner consumed 7 hours earlier.

I threw up twice and was shaking with full-body chills: the flu. I got the flu the night before Disneyland.

"That has got to be a whole lot of bad karma built up," I said.

Meredith brought me a blanket and I pathetically fell asleep while sitting on the bathroom floor. I threw up again and went back to the girls' sleeping room. We talked about how I would stay home in the morning and just have to come back to California later this year to use my already-purchased ticket. Too bad.

And here's the little miracle:

When I woke up again at 6:30 AM, I felt perfectly fine. I ate some toast and nothing came up. So I went! I rode the Peter Pan ride. I screamed my head off on Tower of Terror. I walked around the parks for 14 hours straight and sprayed on layer after layer of sunscreen (everywhere except my forgotten eyelids which are now bright pink and peeling). It was magical, and I was mysteriously and miraculously well enough to experience it.

So it turns out, that's actually some dang good karma. Or, as I said on the way to the park,

"It's a Disney miracle!"

Things I am okay admitting

2011-04-10T15:58:00.000-07:00

This is how I rank the loves in my life:

1. Jimmer. Noquestionlovelovelove.

2. Liz Lemon/Tina Fey

3. breakfast meats (sausage, bacon, etc)

4. Kyle

5. Korean potatoes from Sam Hawk's

6. my family and friends

7. books

8. The rest of the BYU basketball team

9. Hunger Games the movie 2012

10. blanket forts

11. the Talby experience

...

254. Public speaking

255. canned chicken

256. being corrected

257. posturing

...

562. Being attacked by someone in the shower a la Psycho

563. indie kids

564. gimmicks

Because, well, if you think about it

2011-04-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's not cool to admit (because grad students are notorious for griping about stress and the solitary nature of their intellectual pursuits waaaaaah), but...

"I am kind of loving grad school right now,"

she says as she doffs her blazer and settles into hours of reading over Pope.

...Okay, I wore flannel today. And I watched Scott Pilgrim instead of reading 18th-century-ites.

You see that? Grad school isn't what you think it will be with the reading and the leather patches and other such n such. But it's better.

This is what I love about it:

I love my mentorship and mentors, the department that pays for me to visit campuses and present creative essays at conferences, the practically free education I get to read and think about things I am passionate about, the teaching experience the university gives me, the friends in my program that are smarties and funnies, and the opportunity for creative pursuits.

I also love the word "cohort." And being a part of one too, but really that is just a side note to my love for the word.

Year one of Operation: Pretend-Like-I-Know-What-I-Am-Doing is almost at a close. And it's going by too quickly.
I feel like this is one of those elementary school line-ups on picture day. Except I am not the second shortest anymore (the shortest was the sole asian in my class every year who was too-fittingly named Amanda Short. Boy, the kids had fun with that one).

On Happy Moments

2011-03-30T07:37:00.000-07:00

My happiest moment of 2011

was at the mustache party

when I was somehow put in charge

of disorienting everyone

in the game of pin-the-mustache-on-casimir-pulaski

and you politely asked me,

whilst blindfolded,

to spin you,

so I took hold of your shoulders

and, spinning spinning,

I joyously turned you

in circle after circle

until you wandered away

with confused and infectious laughter.

That Emerson is just a bowl full of fortune cookies

2011-02-23T14:25:00.000-08:00

Today, in aphorism:

Pass or do not pass. There is no stepping-on-my-heels for three blocks straight, mister.

How do I love thee? Let me count the number of BYU basketball games you take me to.

I heard a fly buzz when I dried my pyre of laundry.

Good and bad are but names that I assign to people who ring doorbells vs. just walk right in.

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today I ate a polish dog for lunch. That is why it is called the present.

CAPPED OFF

2011-02-22T17:57:00.000-08:00

I am now officially, and curiously, what you might call "capped off."

As unbelievable as it sounds, I have been thinking in all caps for the past month. The once-gentle voice I use when I am thinking to myself somehow upgraded to booming I-told-you-it-was-better-at-the-IMAX surround sound. In other words, I thought in ALL CAPS.

Allow me to recap these loud conversations with myself:

When I brush my teeth in the morning with my extra soft brush toothbrush I think, GOSH, I HOPE MY GUMS DON'T RECEDE ANY FURTHER.

As I hurry up to campus in my navy pencil skirt with gray tights, I think, SORRY FEET-- THESE NEW SHOES ARE TOO PRETTY NOT TO WEAR TODAY.

While my mentor talks about taking his daughters to the Justin Bieber movie this weekend, I think, I KIND OF REALLY WANT TO SEE THAT MOVIE WHEN IT COMES TO THE DOLLAR THEATER. IF I'M BORED.

But some magic happened over the weekend:

I ate a pork taco at Los Hermanos,

saw a Cougarette concert,

had a massively girly sleepover,

flipped three fluffy pancakes,

engineered an enviable blanket fort,

cheered as Jimmer put up some shots,

played mini croquet,

bought shirts and jeans in Park City,

watched 4 episodes of The Office,

danced at a President's Day party,

gave a spiritual thought,

read a novella,

AND STOPPED THINKING IN CAPS!

That's right; I did all these things in a normal indoor thinking voice. Caps off to me!

Cupid, I think you missed one

2011-02-14T15:34:00.000-08:00

Flower man: "Do you know [girl] in #4?"

Me: "Yeah. I mean, sort of. She's my neighbor."

Flower man: "Do you think you could sign for her flowers and keep them in your apartment until she comes home?"

Me: "Oh, um, sure."

Me (signing clipboard and joking): "Wow, there's nothing as depressing as signing for another woman's flowers."

Flower man (handing over flowers and being serious): "Try being the deliverer of other people's love."

Did he just--? Snarky flower man!

Rooting for the home team

2011-02-01T10:40:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, a friend on facebook posted a status that asked,

"Why is it that we are so afraid of making mistakes?"

And for the first time ever, I had an optimistic answer to this question. Normally I chalk it up to the psychological nagging that we each have to be perfect or to fulfill self-made or societal expectations. But this time I thought,

"because we like ourselves. Deep down, we are rooting for the person we have known first and forever, and that we think is a pretty alright person. We are rooting for our success because we sympathize with ourselves."

A fairly frequent conversation

2011-01-27T14:22:00.000-08:00

Kyle: "Have you been eating lately?"

Me: "What do you mean? Yeah, I'm eating."

Kyle: "Did you eat lunch today?"

Me: "Yeah! I ate a whole box of Macaroni and Cheese by myself. Why?"

Kyle: "I am just checking. A healthy Rebecca is a happy Rebecca. And a happy Rebecca is a happy Kyle."

Pub-lick Spee-king

2011-01-27T11:17:00.000-08:00

Something horrible is going on in the world.

It’s called public speaking.

When I had to give a talk a couple weeks ago, I spent hours stressing over what I would say and how I would say it. When I had to teach class on Monday to 42 sophomores about Coleridge’s poems “Kubla Khan” and “Pantisocracy,” I barely slept the night before.

Since when has this been the case?

Did those years of vocal performance, acting, and giving school presentations have absolutely no payoff? What about last semester when I taught a class of college freshmen, or my Sunday school class from the book of Isaiah? What about that speech and debate festival I went to in high school where I dramatically read Sylvia Plath poems to a panel of judges? No? Nothing?!

In place of the smooth confidence I donned in a previous life, I have this nervous imagination. The night or even the hour before I have to speak in public, I fantasize about running away. I throw my notes on the ground, get in the car, and simply drive away. Whoever is depending on me will just have to scramble around because I am on my way out of the state with no luggage and no guilt for leaving. Only an open can of coke in the cup holder. I look ahead to a new destination where nobody asks me about the meter of cryptic English poetry. Usually it’s Disneyland.

But what really happens is this:

I stand up with my notes in hand and just start talking, eying the clock.

Aren't They Magnificent?

2011-01-09T22:01:00.001-08:00

It's been an interesting week living in my new apartment. I am not used to having a heated bedroom or a shower that has real, not imagined, water pressure.

But it's been great!

My roommate loves yoga and photography and making salsa in restaurant-size quantities, which is all very good. I love talking with her under our ceiling that is covered with glow-in-the-dark stars when we are supposed to be sleeping.

My other roommates are fun-loving sisters-- twins. Did I mention my lifetime obsession with the Olsen twins? I completely understand how Dwight feels.

I went home today for lunch, dinner, laundry, and games. I got schooled in speed Scrabble and Wacky 6 and contributed to setting off the fire alarm while helping with dinner. I left with happiness, washed clothes, and my hair smelling like smoky steak. Oh my goodness, I want to eat my hair now.

Why, I Oughta...

2011-01-03T21:43:00.000-08:00

I have been wanting that as a blog post title for a while now.

Now on to something relevant. A new semester is starting! I am taking British poetry, American lit, and helping to teach a transatlantic lit class as part of a mentorship. I have never been more excited for a semester! I feel like I got the dream schedule.

I am only a little sad to not have time to teach Writing 150 again this semester, mostly just because I miss the individual students I've already taught this year.

I miss the kid that would jokingly call me SISTER Peterson almost every class just because it annoyed me. He even wrote it in his comments on the student ratings.

I miss the girl that stayed after class to ask my opinion about study abroad programs.

I miss the guy who asked if he could wear a pirate costume to the early morning written final (Answer: Yes. As long as it's modest; we are at BYU for goodness Lady Gaga's sakes).

I miss the girl that asked if I canceled class (when I was sick) so that I could go to the new Harry Potter movie. Then she asked if I canceled class because I didn't want students to have to choose between school and their social lives.

I miss the guy who wrote brilliant essays with the world's wurste speling and punctushun.;':!/". (In my behalf, I am a first-year writing teacher, not a miracle worker).

But hopefully I will get to teach/mentor some new, just-as-amusing students this coming semester in the transatlantic lit class. If they are not as cool, why, I oughta go back to teaching Writing 150.

See what I did right there? C'mon, I had to try to work it in somehow.

(Don't) Keep the Change

2010-12-30T12:32:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about charitable donations lately and how to use good judgment in deciding where to donate my dollar-and-cents. I give 10% of my income to my church, but there are lots of other opportunities in addition to that.

I used to work with a girl, Kirsten, at BYU's Writing Center who recently started a charity to help her nephew come to the U.S. to receive medical treatment unavailable to him in Italy. The family is doing everything they can to help themselves and their son, but the father lost his job because of the poor economy. The son can only receive the treatment he needs by visiting a specialist in the U.S. This single trip and doctor visit will cost $8,000 and the family is unquestionably coming, even if it means they will sink lower in debt. (http://dylanfund.blogspot.com/)

Kirsten is a BYU student who is newly-married. She doesn't have a lot of money to spare. But she set up a fundraiser during finals week and is doing everything she can to help out. I am really moved by Kirsten's efforts to help people that are within her sphere of influence. She isn't looking far outside herself to donate to every charity in the world; she just wants to help her extended family.

I'm a college student with only a part time job. I'm not exactly rolling in it, but I'm doing just fine. And so I donated a bit to Kirsten's need. I wasn't looking for a charity to donate to, but this one came along and I feel the need to support it. It was easy since they have a Paypal set up, and no amount is too small (my donation will probably only pay for meals for one day).

I'm not encouraging everyone to donate to this charity (though I definitely think you should consider it). But I think we each have a few dollars we can shave off our savings to help others directly within our sphere of influence.

A Few of My Favorite Things

2010-12-01T18:45:00.000-08:00

This is the time of year when the weather gets colder, my skin gets dry, my throat gets sore, and my mood gets darker. To spread a little sunshine amidst these conditions, I want to share some of my favorite things of late:

L'Oreal Everstrong shampoo
I was recently recommended this shampoo by my friend Emily Belanger. If your hair is anything like mine (as dry as straw no matter how little I wash it), consider a sulfate-free shampoo like L'Oreal Everstrong (and PS. It's still cheap and goes a long way).

Marie Callender pie
If you haven't had one of these pies, get in your car and drive over to Smiths where they carry an amazing array of these award-winning Marie Callender pies. I recently started watching the now-canceled yet fantastically quirky TV show "Pushing Daisies" in which a regular pie maker has the irregular ability to revive the dead and uses the power to revive his childhood sweetheart (who is a Zooey Deschanel lookalike). Anyway, the pie maker owns The Piehole and you can't get through an episode without hearing about pie this and pie that. Hence, my sudden craving for delicious pie when I previously did NOT like pie. Marie Callender does it best. Go for the razzleberry.

Mucinex
I have had a cold every two weeks this semester and the colds seem to get worse with each catching. I heard that Dayquil is now far less powerful than it used to be (apparently too many people were using the pseudoephedrine in it to make meth, so they removed the ingredient from it). Long story short, I needed a powerful over-the-counter drug and Mucinex worked GREAT.

Tights and Boots

When it's snowy outside and I still have to look nice and professional for my job, fashionable tights and boots are a good solution. I am looking to invest in even more boots, so let me know if you hear of a good sale or can recommend a quality brand.

Dystopian Young Adult Fiction

Do you love The Hunger Games? The Giver? Pretties? Then YOU, my friend, also love dystopian YA fiction like I do. I am looking forward to reading Matched by Allie Condie (it just came out this week). She is a BYU grad and already has a Disney movie deal to produce her upcoming trilogy. I have no idea if it will be good; it might actually turn out to be another Twilight-esque series, but I'm open to being prematurely optimistic.

So there's my recommended list of favorites. I hope you will try some of them out to beat those winter blues! Sorry I can't be like Oprah and give everyone reading this post a sample of my favorite things. If I could, I would add some more expensive, substantial items to the list so we could all benefit. (By the way, did you know it is Oprah's last season? We have reached the end of an era).

Checking It (twice)

2010-11-29T13:19:00.000-08:00

Here's how I did on my Thanksgiving break To-Do list:

~~-Laundry~~ I washed my whites only
-Grade student papers. I am currently halfway done. Not bad for a long break!
~~-Read The Giver~~ I love this book! Kyle let me read it on his Kindle.
~~-Clean the bathroom~~ Cleaning bathrooms are a necessary evil.
~~-Clean bedroom~~ My room has never felt bigger.
~~-C-mas shopping~~ Not all shopping is done, but the shopping I intended to do this break.
~~-Finish writing my own C-mas list~~ I usually resent doing this, but it beats grading papers.
~~-Make a website~~gr http://www.wix.com/prebecca/writing150
~~-Make student punctuation assignment~~ My students really need to review this before the final
~~-Make my own assignment schedule for rest of the semester~~t I have three big papers to work on and some smaller projects
-Haircut (next weekend maybe?)
-Facial with Emily (next weekend maybe?)
~~-Find out about Gold's Gym~~ Gold's is having a special right now: $25/mo, no contract, no fees!

I love getting things done and checking them off my list. I cross something off my little white notepad and that horizontal strike-through line I draw is a symbol of accomplishment! Now I know why Santa spends his time checking it twice.

Enjoying Thanksgiving Break

2010-11-24T15:14:00.000-08:00

It's Thanksgiving break! I am so excited to have some time off from the daily grind. I made a To Do list yesterday to be completed in the next 5 days:

-Laundry
-Grade student papers
-Read The Giver
-Clean the bathroom
-Clean bedroom
-C-mas shopping
-Finish writing my own C-mas list
-Make a website
-Make student punctuation assignment
-Make my own assignment schedule for rest of the semester
-Haircut
-Facial with Emily
-Find out about Gold's Gym

Okay, not all of these are fun things (some are), but I am one of those people that gets down when I am unproductive, even over a long weekend. I have had about 24 hours of break and all I have done is clean my room and bathroom and watch movies!!!

It's kind of a bummer when I have free time and Kyle still has to work. I tend to text him a lot on days like today:

9:00 AM
Me: Good morning! How is work going? Did you finish that thing you needed to do for Neil?
K: Morning! Yep, all is well here. How are you? Did you sleep well?
Me: I did! I was only scared for about three minutes when I thought about Elizabeth Smart's kidnapping.
K: But then you remembered that you don't have windows in your room?
Me: No. Then I pushed it out of my mind and sleep overcame me.
K: Oh good! :)

10:22 AM
Me: Hey, doesn't every American family lose pieces to games? My dad is trying to say we are reckless and wasteful. But I think that's normal.
K: Well, American families with young kids and grandkids. If pieces are lost with games that only adults play, it might be a little... Carefree :)
Me: My dad is upset that Boggle is missing one piece after having the game for thirty years. That's seven kids and at least four moves.
K: (No response)

10:49 AM
Me: What do you want to do tonight?
K:( No response)

12:17 PM
Me: I kind of wish I had blonde hair...
K: (No response)

12:23 PM
Me: Also, let's go to Asia! I want to get out of here and travel!
K: (No response)

12:26 PM
Me: I just added Eat Love Pray to the Netflix queue.
K: (No response)

12:27 PM
Me: Don't you just love the days I have off so I can text you all day?!
K: (No response)

1:03 PM
K: Just got back to my phone. I'm glad you don't have blonde hair. I want to travel too. And I DO love the days you have off so you can text me like crazy.

...And the day is only half over! What a good sport.

Well, I am off to cross out another thing from my list! Have a very happy Thanksgiving! It is my birthday tomorrow and I will be eating lots of turkey and pie at my cousins' house in Sandy. Lovely holiday season!

Where Scholar Meets Shopper

2010-11-10T21:30:00.001-08:00

A few things about myself:

I am not naturally a "shopper." I hate shopping in groups. I like to go by myself or with my significant other. I am not big on spending money at all, and I usually buy the cheapest thing at a restaurant when I go out to eat. I have a hard time motivating myself to exercise if I am not committed to a team or an exercise class. I dislike watching movies by myself and usually can't justify the luxury during the week.

HOWEVER...

Ever since I started graduate school, all I want to do is

shop,
eat out,
exercise,
and watch movies on Netflix.

Just when I should be cultivating deeper thoughts and rigorous intellectual pursuits, I seem to be getting shallower. Okay, it's not inherently shallow to do these things. It's just weird that all of a sudden, I feel a gravitational pull toward them. What's funny is that I have talked to a few of the other girls in my program and they have said similar things. What kind of subliminal messages are women being taught in this program? Just kidding. It must be that we are working so hard/ are stressed by expectations that we feel the need to simultaneously pamper ourselves. No idea. It just feels out of character for me.

Diverting

2010-11-05T20:05:00.000-07:00

So you know that thing in the tub faucet that you pull in order for the water to come out the showerhead? It's called a faucet diverter (I had to look that up). Whenever I turn off the showerhead after I shower, the water continues to trickle out the tub faucet. It trickles until the diverter randomly falls down and the remaining water in the pipes pours down from the faucet in one big flood.

Here's the thing: For years, this sudden sploosh of water has reminded me of a pregnant woman's water breaking. I don't know what it is, but I can't seem to shake that connotation. Every time I shower, that little diverter falls and I am suddenly thinking of pajama-ed, soon-to-be fathers breaking traffic laws as they speed to hospitals with their overdue wives in passenger seats having contractions and praying to God while assuring themselves it's going to be fine!

I told a coworker at the Writing Center a couple years ago that the reason I don't emphasize in creative writing is because of situations like these where I start noticing too much, feeling the weight of day-to-day observation and trying to convert them into interesting metaphors. They stick with me. I think that when creative writing is on the brain, it makes me perceive the world in more creative ways. That's not a bad thing at all; that's one of the great blessings of being creative--the ability to see the world in different ways. It just makes me feel like I am living so much in my head that sometimes I can't surface, like the faucet diverter has fallen and drowned out all other things.

The More Loving One

2010-11-01T13:47:00.000-07:00

I discovered the following poem a year ago in my British Modernism class. I was so moved that I bought a book of poetry by the poet. The title popped into my head this afternoon, so I pulled it out again. Re-reading it brings back good memories. I know it might not apply to all situations, but I think Auden is generally right.

Enjoy.

The More Loving One
by W.H. Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

My Nieces and Nephews

2010-10-15T16:14:00.000-07:00

(Adelaide Peterson, Taylor Hagen, Sydney Rosenberg)

How could I not be in love with these little girls?

And here are my nephews:

(Andrew & Forrest Peterson)

Aren't they the CUTEST?

I know there are lots of adorable children in the world, but I love these children especially.

"Rebecca or Ms. Peterson, but only those"

2010-09-10T14:38:00.000-07:00

That's what I made sure to tell my students they could call me on the first day of class. They cannot call me "Teacher," "Sister Peterson," or "Professor Peterson." I told them that everyone embarrassingly calls their teacher "mom" at some point, and that if that does happen, we will all just laugh and move on.

So, it has been 2 weeks of teaching new BYU freshmen. On the first day of class, I definitely needed to establish my ethos and reassure my students that I am, in fact, a credible teacher and not some Catch Me If You Can impersonator.

"How old are you?"
"Are you a grad student?"
"How long have you been teaching?"
"You're young!"

I kid you not. Class has been going well, though. I have been experimenting with different approaches in class to see what is most effective for my students: video clips, group discussions, lectures, rush writes, power points, guest speakers, peer reviews, etc. Today, for example, our topic was simply, "The Writing Process." I invited a tutor from the BYU Writing Center to speak to my class for 10 minutes about this resource and how they can use it. Then I used a power point to talk about the idea of writing as a process rather than a product.

I first showed them the "Widely-Accepted Model," which is formulaic and non-descriptive:

Then I showed them the "Realistic Model," which is more accurate and entertaining:

I had fun making these, and my students had fun laughing and discussing them. The purpose for the lesson was to show students that writing is a process, a craft, and not just a product to be written the night before. I shared this quotation with them too:

So that's the teaching update if anyone was wondering. If you have any questions, feel free to email me or visit me during office hours.

Dear Santa, bring me a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils

2010-08-27T15:08:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been so excited for something that by the time it arrived, your enthusiasm was dissipated and in its place was sheer lethargy?

I was talking to my friend Lina today, who said that sometimes the two edges of life are boredom and overwhelming(edness). This is definitely a description of my life right now: A summer spent in boredom is turning into a fall of overwhelming(edness).

This summer, I learned the origin of the phrase "mountain of paperwork." Contrary to popular belief, this is NOT a figure of speech. It is a literal description of a stack of home alarm contracts that Pinnacle employees find on their desktops every morning. Monday through Friday, my coworkers and I would come into the office, greet each of our 3-feet-tall stacks (okay, they are more like bumps), and "climb" our way to the bottoms of the stacks. No wonder they call the company Pinnacle.

But this coming Monday, I start work as a grad student instructor at BYU. The stacks of papers will be much smaller, but far more engaging (I can dream, can't I?). I have been looking forward to this all summer--waiting and waiting and waiting--, but now I am not as excited. I feel like that bull behind the gate that gets so tired of waiting that it sluggishly slumps to the ground. And on top of that, I realize that I won't just be teaching. I will be a student again...Homework, tests, and lectures. Kill. Me. Now.

All I want to do is teach. Is it so wrong to start a two-year program with this attitude? Don't answer that.

"I felt instantly that for once it might be even more pleasant to entertain an audience than to be one of the crowd and bored." --HM Tomlinson, "Binding A Spell"

Sing it, HM-y.

The face of fake excitement

How eating cheese made me happy

2010-08-08T13:45:00.000-07:00

Today, my body said that I wanted two slices of cheese instead of only the one slice that I had planned to eat. I had the reflex to tell my body "no, that's enough dairy for you!" But after tuning in to what my body really needed, I ate another slice. This felt good for two reasons: 1. I took time to listen to what my body wanted, and 2. I was able to overcome a silly mental food rule of "don't eat more than one slice."

A few years ago, I couldn't say that I would have listened to what my body needed. I would have said, "you absolutely cannot have that cheese," sent my body to a time-out, and not let it out of its room for at least an hour or until it apologized.

But the truth is that our bodies are intelligent organisms that are able to self-regulate the nutrients they need. For me, it comes to down to tuning in to what my body needs, to listen to what foods it needs to consume. In short, it comes down to eating intuitively.

I realized I needed to eat intuitively when I found myself counting calories, testing to see how long I could go without eating, and having food on my mind all the time (even when I wasn't eating). I was both obsessed and haunted by food measurements and rules: only eat half of what is on my plate, skip breakfast, eat in private but not in public, feel guilty with every bite, etc. There were these little food police in my head blowing their whistles every time I lifted a spoon or even eyed food.

It was all these destructive habits that convinced me that I needed to make peace with food.

Here's what helped:

-There was a class at BYU that taught intuitive eating. My roommates took the class with me and we were able to talk about our individual eating issues.

-Reading the Intuitive Eating book by Resche & Tribole.

-Practicing intuitive eating principles on a daily basis. My habits didn't make it necessary for me to see a nutrition counselor or go to an eating disorder center (though for some people this is most effective and I support that). But I definitely needed the principles to break the bad habits I had formed.

Motivation:

I thought that limiting my food intake was making me a better person. Subconsciously, I wanted to be the exception: the one who needed very little food to function. But in my efforts to be an exception, I was distracted from living my life. I was internally struggling so much that I wasn't able to focus on my daily tasks and my relationships.

But I found that when I gently nourish my body by eating intuitively, I am a better friend, daughter, and sister. I can listen better and I am less irritable. Things that seemed overwhelming when I wasn't eating (like schoolwork or callings) are more pleasurable when I am feeding myself. And most of all, I don't beat myself up all the time. I don't feel bad, guilty, or broken. Instead, I feel fed, happy, and educated.

So, I've called a truce with food. And my life is 100 times better for that white flag.

Resources:
-"Intuitive Eating" by Resche & Tribole
- http://intuitiveeating.com/
- http://centerforchange.com

B-e-c-c-a is spelled almost the same as B-e-l-l-a

2010-07-12T21:35:00.001-07:00

Hold the phone, hold the applause, hold your freaking horses... I have something to share for Good News Minute.

Jacob Black's look alike sat next to me in church yesterday. In fact, he requested sitting next to me. We go so far back as the hallway of the Wilkinson Center where he asked me, a random passerby, if he might join me in attending my singles ward @ 9:00 AM.

I didn't realize that he looked so much like Jacob until I actually looked directly at his face over the hymn book and saw the similarities: the dark hair and skin, among other curious wolf-like qualities. Jaaaaacobbbb... I asked him what his name was. "Josh, " he said. Close enough.

He passed the sacrament to me. I passed it back. We laughed at the speakers' intentional jokes, and sometimes at the unintentional ones too. I took notes in my notebook, and he read his patriarchial blessing from his journal. I semi-expected him to morph into a wolf at the end of the meeting, or at least attend Sunday School shirtless. But he stayed human and shirted the whole time.

I would be jealous of me too, except that I didn't really know him, he wasn't REALLY Jacob Black, and he was gone once Relief Society started.

But still, Jacob looks pretty good in a white shirt, doesn't he?

Tending Other Gardens

2010-07-10T08:21:00.001-07:00

I feel armed. Not like I am very conscious of my arms, but more like I feel geared and ready to go... to the library. This morning I woke up at 7:45 thinking about the next books I will read (just finished a book last night). I ran upstairs right away and got on Goodreads, pulled out my Provo City Library card, and started salivating. They have a copy of Interpreter of Maladies? A book club set of Gilead? Ooooh, The Help! I heard that was good by many-a friend. Gosh, I love summer reading.

Unrelated side comment: For the past year, I have eaten nothing but Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast. I'm serious--except for special occasions like holidays or camping, I ALWAYS eat a small bowl of cheerios before I leave the house. Always. Even if it means that I will be two minutes late. I regularly choose breakfast over punctuality. Today, for absolutely no reason at all, I am eating Golden Grahams. They taste good, but different. And suddenly, I miss the familiar feel of little O's in my stomach.

I'm thinking now about my projects. I always have a few projects going on determined partly by season, partly by interest, and partly by how easy it will be to maintain my reading list and cheerio-eating. This summer, I started a garden in my backyard and a book club with some friends. How suburban of me. Here I am digging up radishes and talking about a well-written novel, and there are children in Africa or Uganda or low-class America starving. I actually hate when people say stuff like that, because the truth is that there is no corrolation between my novels and their daily diet. Unless they are going to burn my novel to build a fire that will cook their dinner, of course. How stupid of me not to think of that.

Another project is that I also recently decided that I want to be a nicer person. Believe it or not, the jury was out about if being significantly nice actually matters. I've had times when kindness is taken advantage of which has made me a bit more cautious of helping out. My dad always says this phrase that goes "no good deed goes unpunished." You know, you lend someone money and they expect more money every time. He's a regular do-gooder if I've seen one, but he's also seen good deeds that come back to bite.

And by the way, I'm not talking about saying things like "I like your skirt." A compliment is nice and it matters, but I guess I want to focus more on substantial types of niceness: giving people things that they really need.

Example #1: I recently helped someone get a job. She'd been looking for months, and I had known her for only one month. I asked my friend who is in the same field if she knew of anything. I passed along the information and within a week, she scored the position! She gave me a gift card to Barnes & Noble to thank me--she must have really needed the job. This is the third job I have directly helped someone get in the past year. I think it's important in this economy to try to help people be employed.

Example #2: I knew my spectacled 15-year-old sister had been wanting contacts for a while, but couldn't figure out how to do it. She was scared of touching her eye. I had the same problem about six months ago until someone took the time to help me go to the optometrist and figure it all out. It has made a world of difference! So earlier this week I spent just an hour helping my little sister (I even put the contacts in her eye for her the first time--I've never put in anyone else's contacts for them before). Now she can do it herself forever!

Other things that matter to people: giving rides, remembering birthdays, doing dishes, free babysitting, compromising, being generous with time, being the one to call first for hanging out or visiting teaching, sitting by someone at church, letting someone know about an event they would be interested in, giving feedback on grad school applications or essays, being on time when it matters, giving people nice nicknames so they know you like them, helping to clean up at a barbecue or wedding reception, loaning or returning books, writing genuine comments on someone's blog, cleaning the bathroom, making a big deal about someone's good test score, investing in others' ideas, and asking follow-up questions about someone's life.

These are all things I have done in the past two weeks and I am now deciding that "Kindness Counts" (I got that motto from the American Girl magazine when I was ten). I guess I have gotten my second wind. I used to subconsciously think that good deeds--while helping others--were meant to make one's self feel good, that THAT was my motivation. And sometimes they do feel good. But other times, it really takes bending over backward on one's own part to help someone else.

So my motivation now is seeing people GROW in POSITIVE WAYS. I love watching things grow: gardens, babies, organizations, etc. It's so much easier to accomplish things when someone encourages me; It may be true for other people too. Growth is hard, and we need to help people with it.

Anyway, I've talked long enough about stuff that most people reading this have probably already figured out ages ago. I guess I have just been sorting through things lately. Isn't that an interesting phrase--"sorting through things?" It's usually not pleasant things that people "sort through," but wouldn't it be nice if it were? I would love to know that what someone is sorting through is only their DVD collection. Meg Ryan flicks, Pixar movies, foreign films... Or sorting playing cards into their respective suits. Clubs and spades over here, diamonds and hearts over there, they explain. Or maybe they sort through their To-Read list on Goodreads to pick their next book. Gilead, The Help, Interpreter of Maladies. Wouldn't that be nice!

"I like you more than my life, but less than living."

2010-06-01T17:35:00.000-07:00

This is a post about what I like, more or less. Literally.

I walked through my little sister's room today and saw this written on her whiteboard:

"I like Michelle more than cookies, but less than breathing."

Interesting template:

"I like _____ more than _____, but less than _____."

I tried out some of my own:

"I like Jimmy Fallon more than Jay Leno, but less than David Letterman."

"I like facebook more than tweets, but less than blogs."

"I like Obama more than intolerance, but less than unaccounted-for money."

"I like red velvet cupcakes more than yellow cake, but less than Amanda's brownies."

"I like South Korea more than North Korea, but less than ALL OF EUROPE."

But in my inattention, I left out the coolest parts of the original statement: 1. the fact that the interests of comparison are totally unrelated, 2. that all things must be likes, and 3. there is an order of person, noun, and verb. This is a correct template:

"I like _(liked person)_ more than _(liked unrelated item)_, but less than _(liked unrelated verb)_."

Slightly more complicated, but infinitely more creative in its output:

"I like Brittany more than ribbon dancers, but less than daydreaming."

"I like Dad more than homemade wheat bread, but less than walking."

"I like my doctor more than gardens, but less than talking."

"I like Edith Wharton more than cell phones, but less than blinking."

"I like Drew Barrymore more than the color yellow, but less than singing."

"I like baby Taylor more than blue canvas shoes, but less than learning."

I like the idea of eclectic interests intersecting to produce unlikely (non?)sense. I recommend this to anyone who has a few moments to let their mind wander into their personal hierarchy of interests. You might like doing it, but less than I did.

Why Half Birthdays Are Halfway Worth Thinking About

2010-05-26T12:30:00.000-07:00

It was my half birthday yesterday. I am 23.5-years-old plus one day. I have breathed approximately 147,742,620 times and blinked an estimated 188,000,000 times in my life.

How come we don't celebrate half birthdays? For my half birthday, I ate half a sandwich at Jason's Deli (tuna melt), watched half of the teeny-bopper film Nancy Drew which stars Julia Roberts' half-size niece, half-watered my garden since it snowed the day before, and was a half minute late to a job interview I was only half interested in. I didn't even realize it was my half birthday until it was half over. Man I'm good.

I wonder what it would be like if we measured ourselves by half-years instead of full years. I would be 47-half-years-old instead of 23-years-old, which would make me feel much more legitimate because bigger numbers seem more powerful; they are the sages of the numeric world, the digits that don't leave the house very often anymore and ask you to dial a phone number for them because they can't see those small, less powerful numbers on the phone.

With half years instead of full years, our calendars would be shorter, which would be great because it means I get to buy TWO calendars in 12 months and wouldn't have to decide between an impressionist art calendar and an Office calendar. I GET BOTH.

I once threw a surprise half-birthday party for my friend Chelsea. Her birthday is in the summer when all the roommates were leaving, so we did a surprise party on February 25th. We frosted half of the cupcakes and decorated half of the party room and invited only half of her friends (just kidding, they were all there). I bet she had only half as much fun than she would have on her real birthday, and I am half sorry for that.

I was at the half-year mark yesterday, but today I am already on my way to a full year. In contrast to yesterday, today I made and ate a full sandwich for lunch (chicken, swiss, and tomato melt), finished the Nancy Drew movie, watered my garden completely, and accepted a full-time job. Maybe half-years are lucky: whatever you start on the half-year mark is sure to be finished on its way to the full year.

That's worth at least half of a thought, isn't it?

No, it's YOUR turn to blog

2010-05-19T16:19:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, it's MY turn to blog... I haven't been blogging because I have been in transition for the past month. First of all, I graduated! The best part was the party I had that night with my family. Think fajitas, balloons, cards, pictures, and a very delicious cake. (I would put up some pictures, but my dad took the camera to St. George with him. Check facebook later).

The day after graduation, I went with Kyle to visit his brother in Seattle. This was so fun for me because I grew up in Seattle in the city just next to where we were staying.

We flew on a plane. I hate flying because I always get sick (and flying Southwest is usually a smelly experience). But I look pretty cheerful here.

The first thing we did was visit my favorite childhood park: Farrel McWhirter Park in Redmond, WA. What's cool about this park is that it is an older, natural park. Visitors hike through trails in the woods, dead wood is left to rot (which enriches the soil), and streams are carefully preserved and protected from erosion.

Why yes, we are balancing on logs. And yes, the camera was on a timer. Isn't all that foliage gorgeous? That's pretty much how it is everywhere in the Northwest.

I like to make myself dizzy on the tire swing.

And Kyle likes to look goofy by the horse pasture. I put a baby daisy on his coat zipper.

We also visited my old elementary school, Hollywood Hill Elementary, in Woodinville. It is this little school hidden in the woods that emphasized creative writing and ocean life in the Puget Sound.

At the school, we visited the memorial sites of my teacher who died of cancer and my sister's friend who died from an accident.

Susan Holmberg was my 2nd grade teacher. She taught all her students ASL to the song "What A Wonderful World." At her school memorial service, all her former students were invited to perform the song together. I was in 5th/6th grade then. There were so many of us at the memorial that got up and remembered all the ASL to the song.

Betsy Anderson was my sister's friend who was run over by a bus right in front of the school. It was a terrible tragedy for the family.

We also drove in my old neighborhood. We wanted to stop and take a picture, but an old man was out in the front yard and we didn't want to look like crazy stalkers. So I snapped a picture as we drove slowly past it... Because that's not as creepy?

I love this house. I spent ages 2-12 here. We had these great horse trails behind the house where we would spend all summer hiking and picking blackberries.

Here we are in downtown Seattle:

We bought some seedless grapes from a man in exchange for him taking this picture. The most expensive non-professional photo ever, haha.

I used to love coming to Pike Place Market as a kid, and visiting it again was just as fun. I wrote a short paragraph as part of a creative essay about Pike Place:

"The smell of fresh fish wafts in the air as I watch king salmon being tossed above my head. Hoh! The fish sellers yell to each other as they cast their arms out and catch a flying fish in a bundle of newspapers. The grungy market is damp with new rainwater and the plenteous seafood gives it a harbor-feel, as if a wharf itself on the Seattle waterfront. As a little girl, I remember walking with my father among the flower and fruit stands toward my favorite shop. When we arrived at the market in the morning, we'd look on at the fish counter, amused at the first-time visiors marveling at the "flying" fish, until I begged my father to buy me mini-donuts, fresh fish'n chips, and take me to the nick-knack shop."

Well, this post is getting too long, so I will post the second part of the trip in an upcoming post. I have some awesome pictures from visiting La Conner and Whidby Island. I will just end this by saying how nice it was to go back to my roots after 11 years of being gone.

I have a Bachelor of Arts degree.

2010-04-23T22:50:00.000-07:00

A little birdhouse in your soul

2010-04-20T21:27:00.001-07:00

Today, I was playing croquet in the yard by myself imagining I was playing with the Queen of Hearts when I noticed a garden box in the northwest corner of the lawn. I politely excused myself from my imaginary company so I could look a little closer. It turns out there is a garden box in my yard! But it is covered in dead, dry weeds. I started pulling at some of them to see how easy they would come up and then I realized how manageable this would be as a project.

Tomorrow after my "final" at Dr. Matthews house, I am coming home and pulling weeds. Then I will break up the soil so it is conducive to planting (I am avoiding the word "fertile" because I hate that word). Then I will plant things!

Here's where I need help: What do I plant? What can be planted in the last week of April? I have never gardened in Utah, so I don't really know what works best for this climate. Any suggestions? If possible, I would like to grow some Cafe Rio salads, or those delicious wheat rolls that Kyle's mom makes, or maybe some orange Creamsicles to eat just in time for summer.

As an afterthought, I wonder if any store sells seeds that would grow tarts? I know someone who would appreciate some replacements for her missing tarts.

Consumerist Burnout

2010-04-08T14:29:00.000-07:00

I told my dad the other day that I wanted to move to a farm in a rural area. The purpose for this is so that I can grow my own food, be less addicted to technology, and reconnect with a slower (read as "natural") pace of life. He said that an agrarian society is unreasonable in this day and age.

The desire for farmland comes from my consumerism burnout. I am tired of consuming grocery store foods that have been sprayed with chemicals I know nothing about, turning to costly movies or restaurants for entertainment, and expecting constant/lightning feedback from too much use of computers. It's boring. And you want to know why? Because the pulses that drive these consumable items/activities are 1) efficiency and 2) cost-reducing. I guess I have reached the point where I no longer care if something is cost ineffective or inefficient if it means that I have no part in the creation of it.

In order to un-do the consumer in me, I asked myself this question:

What is the antithesis of consumerism?

Answer, according to me:

Creation.

Somehow, along the way to becoming the most suburban, hands-off girl you ever met, I lost sight of what it means to create a thing; I lost sense of the craft. I don't know where my clothes are made-- only that I buy them at the store. I don't know how circuits and electricity work enough beyond the fact that when I hit a switch, a light goes on. But I also know that I am not the only one to behave or think like this (food for thought, you reader).

So, in order to cure my consumerist ennui, I am putting forth a little effort to create a little more. I am:
*Cooking more from scratch instead of eating packaged foods. I made homemade rolls on Easter.
*Working on a painting (even though I have never painted before--you should have seen me at Michaels trying to figure out which paints to choose) to fill my leisure time.
*Going climbing every Friday to put more strength-type recreation into my schedule. I will climb a 5.10 yet!
*Reading a book on how to make candles. I went to a fair last summer and saw a family that dipped and carved beautiful candles.

This is a start. I may make a lot of weird-tasting home-foods before I get it right, or paint a lot of awful pictures before I like what I've done. But I don't really care about the consumable finish anymore. I just want to create something for a change.

Friend-Baby

2010-04-02T13:55:00.000-07:00

On my family's home computer, there is a button on the toolbar that says, "Create a baby using pictures of you and a friend! Subscription required."

When I first read this, I thought "silly computer, that's not how you create a baby." My second thought was, why would you want to combine photos with friends to see what your children will be like? Are you interested in having children with your friends? Do you just want to see freaky looking combinations? Because there are already plenty of freaky looking people in the world to look at without you creating fake friend babies. Type in "weird looking people" in the google images search engine and you will see what I mean.

I want to know who in my family put this button in the toolbar and more importantly, if they signed up for a subscription.

Chaotic Flight

2010-04-01T08:02:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in over a week. This is a long time for me. But I just have so many conflicting thoughts in my mind that I can't seem to commit to writing any sustained blog post. How sad is that-- I can't commit to making sense of my thoughts for ten minutes to write a short post? I would say that my mind is like a whirlpool, but that would imply it has some kind of order or shape to it. The thoughts in my mind are like the route of those spastic birds flinging their bodies around in chaotic flight, threatening to whack you in the face. Totally out of control.

Take me to the Rain City already

2010-03-21T14:24:00.000-07:00

I am going to Seattle the day after graduation for a week. Here are some things on my to-do list when I get there:

--Pike Place Market
--Fisherman's wharf, Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe, etc.
--Mariner's Game
--Skagit tulip festival
--Musical "Oh Our Town"
--Visit my old stomping grounds (elementary school, neighborhood, etc.)
--Perhaps make a day-trip to Victoria, Canada

That's already plenty, but does anyone have any other suggestions?

I would take Lincoln over Edward. Also, Captain Planet.

2010-03-18T07:21:00.000-07:00

I found two pieces of paper in an empty computer lab this morning.

One of them said:

"Here's Lincoln as a vampire! Of course, now people think they're cool and romantic, but people obviously weren't that stupid back then."

And the other:

"Our world is in peril. Gaia, the spirit of the Earth, can no longer stand the terrible destruction plaguing our planet. She sends five magic rings to five special young people:
Dwaame, from Africa, the power of Earth
From North America, Wheeler, with the power of Fire
From the Soviet Union, Linka, with the power of Wind
From Asia, Gi, with the power of Water
And from South America, Ma-ti, with the power of Heart.
When the five powers combine, they summon earth's greatest champion, Captain Planet.
"Go Planet!"
THE POWER IS YOURS!"

Does Captain Planet look a little like Tom Cruise to anyone else?

Senioritis: A near-deathly disease

2010-03-16T20:14:00.000-07:00

Senioritis. Must I go into generic musings on how this disease afflicts college seniors feeling they are looking too old to not already be in the "real world," high school almost-grads wanting one more adolescent summer, --heck, even preschoolers anxious to get out of a school that makes them sit on weirdly-colored squares of carpet for singing time--?

My senioritis has hit hard. With only four more weeks of the semester, I am starting to care less and less about schoolwork. The greatest evidence of this has been the clearly shoddy essays I've been turning in.

A paper was handed back to me today with the following note:

Dear Rebecca,

You write well, and this little essay is a pleasure to read. I say "little" because, obviously, the essay is on the short and under-supported side--the natural result of reformulating the project at the tenth or eleventh hour. You get away with a lot on sheer talent. (I mean that as praise and not as a jab.)

(NOTE: Rest of paper feedback removed for the interest of the blogger, or perhaps my own refusal to bare ALL my writing errors).

Thanks for the good read,
BYU professor

This professor was far too generous in his/her grading (the old softie). I literally started this assigned 6-8 page paper at 9:00 the night before, and only produced 5 pages of generic rambling-- something about poetry and science and how literary scholars probably all failed high school chemistry and so have no right to act like they like science now.

How did my professor know I started my paper so late?? Technically, it was the twenty-first hour, but I suppose he/she was speaking metaphorically.

And more importantly, how am I going to kick this senioritis? I better figure it out soon, or in fifty years, I will be a senior citizen looking forward to death.

The Stairs Less Traveled

2010-03-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I travel from a class in the basement of the JFSB to a seminar room on the fourth floor. This is equivalent to 6 floors (because the staircase from the basement to the first floor is actually double in length). I usually take the elevator to get from point A to point B.

Today is Tuesday. I walked out of my class in the basement toward the elevator. I reached my hand out to light the button and request a trip upward. But as I reached out my thumb (I like to hit elevator buttons with my thumb for some reason), a thought passed through my mind. What if I take the stairs today? I'm not late after all, and who knows, it could be fun.

I was semi-right about the fun part. Here are my thoughts in a simplified equation:

1 basement floor x (2 length)+4 above ground floors= 6 floors of possible funness

What I did not account for was energy (E). I'm not sure what the technical equation for this would be, but I imagine it would look a little like this:

1 basement floor x (2 length) x (.9E)+ 4 above ground floors x (E)^(-4)= 6 floors of not a lot of E, and slightly less funness.

But after taking the stairs instead of the elevator, I gained some ever-so-small feeling of accomplishment that made the burning in my legs all worth it. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the stairs.

My European Past

2010-03-08T12:40:00.001-08:00

Once upon a time, I lived in Paris.

It was magnifique.

http://rebeccaparis.blogspot.com

Some Splendid Soft Peaches

2010-03-07T13:02:00.000-08:00

"I had walked some twenty-five miles, and being very tired, not feeling like going any farther, I came to a peach tree by the wayside that was loaded with ripe fruit and picked some splendid soft peaches which were very delicious. I took as many as I wanted and turned aside in the piney woods where I had the earth for my bed and the heavens for my covering and God for my protection. I spent the night alone, yet I was not alone, for God was with me in answer to my prayers."

--John Brown

John Brown is my ancestor who was a Mormon pioneer. His personal journal was published and distributed to his family descendents a decade or so ago and I read it when I was 16. The guy was truly fascinating; he was a convert, a scholar, and a leader in the handcart treks. He was also a beautiful writer. The above passage is from his journal which was copied down into mine because I love it so much. Being kin somehow makes it more personal to me. It fortifies the personal belief that God really does hear and answer prayers, and that my family before me had a testimony of this.

BYUSA Vs. The Daily U

2010-03-04T21:04:00.000-08:00

What happens when one disliked campus organization goes after another?

It probably looks a lot like this, an article written by the top newswriters at the Daily Universe providing insight (read as "incriminating") the "service" organization, BYUSA: http://universe.byu.edu/node/6561

I am graduating in April, and after all my time here, I honestly can't say which organization I dislike more. It's a tough call. Let's go over the facts:

Ding! Ding!

Round 1

BYUSA is horribly unaccountable for their outstanding expenses. As the article points out, $260,000 goes toward this club(?) in just 4 months. If this is a so-called service organization, why are their perks perhaps equivalent to the pay most students get at their jobs? Jamba Juice runs, dinners at Tucanos, and donations to VH1 are just not acceptable for any "volunteers," no matter how fat and happy they need to look at Homecoming Spectacular.

As great as it is that the Daily U has decided to blow the whistle on this issue, I resent the fact that they seem to want everyone to know that it is them blowing it: "Look at us! We're doing REAL JOURNALISM." In the first paragraph, they reference an ongoing debate that they brought up themselves. It's not like this budgeting issue was a highly debated topic before the paper was even involved.

Round 2

Adam Ruri is totally off his rocker if he thinks that volunteering "deserves rewards." Ummmm... Why is it called volunteer work if the volunteers are SO deserving of our thanks and monies? That's just not the nature of service, if that is their goal. If that isn't enough, in his defense of his beloved organization, Ruri either pawns all blame off onto other people or is unapologetic about the extravagent expenses.

The Daily U--despite the occasional talented writer--is generally sloppy in their reporting, whether it is in gathering their facts or in effectively communicating them. In the case of this article, it is their obvious bias. I understand that one of the purposes of journalism is to act as a watchdog against such abuses as BYUSA's, but reporters also have an obligation to remain unbiased. I know it's hard to pretend to be unbiased, but they totally missed the "unbiased" mark on this.

Round 3

BYUSA needs to get its image right, and not just in regards to their spending. On one hand, they set themselves up as shining examples of leadership, and on the other, as the humblest of students asking for no thanks. But both of these mentalities contribute to their sense of elitism and grant them immunity to criticism. They are the "do no harm" organization. Ruri is wrong in saying that if anyone criticizes their organization, they must not be enlightened or service-oriented people; I get it. And I don't like it.

Does the Daily U really want to set themselves up as the antagonist of the BYUSA establishment? They DO know that nobody will be fired or anything, right?

Ding! Ding!

Unfortunately, this isn't just a boxing match that can announce a winner at the end because of the bureaucratic system both these organizations are up against. But the good news is that the current politics between these organizations will fizzle out (at least for this year), and hopefully sooner rather than later. In the meantime, the rest of us in the student body will watch on, roll our eyes, and hope someone will put up at a campaign booth to vote BYUSA out of existence.

Dr. Pepper got me through the last 3 pages

2010-03-03T13:26:00.000-08:00

I really want a typewriter. It's true that the typewriter is a ghost from the technological past, that it doesn't let you backspace easily, or fix typos you made half of a page ago. But the great thing about the typewriter is that you can't check your email on it; you can't facebook stalk; you can't even access your blog or get directions from here to the dentist.

I just wrote a 6-page paper on a computer in 11 hours which I am convinced would have taken me only 5 hours on a typewriter.

When in doubt, find yourself a look alike and blame everything on him. If that doesn't work, trade in your computer for a typewriter. That's what I'm doing.

Accepted

2010-03-01T12:35:00.000-08:00

Blueberry Toes Too

2010-02-25T14:37:00.000-08:00

I've started showering at night to calm down my mind so I can fall sleep, which usually means I have a blow dryer going at around 11:30 PM every other night. One time last week, I finished blow drying my hair and realized that my feet were freezing (I have eternally cold feet-- plus I live in a deep dark basement), so I turned on the blow dryer again and blow dried my feet until they were warm. I've done this twice since then: dry hair, warm feet, and hop as fast as I can into bed and try to fall asleep before my feet get cold and my mind starts running again. Who would ever think of a hair dryer as a new sleep relaxation technique? What a great invention... And while we are on the topic, I think it would be fantastic if everyone on campus joined together with their blow dryers and extension cords to melt that huge pile of dirty snow in the center of Brigham Square that has been there since November.

2010-02-25T07:31:00.000-08:00

I got it / from my mama

2010-02-22T11:10:00.000-08:00

15-minute eye appointment: $75

Kicking frames from Insight Eyewear: $140

Seeing my niece's toothy smile from across the room: Priceless.

Once upon a time, Brandy was Cinderella.

2010-02-20T22:06:00.000-08:00

Today was up to snuff:

First of all, my tax refund doubled my bank account. This is the only time of the year in which I am grateful to be a poor student who doesn't own anything.

Secondly, I successfully put in and took out my first pair of contacts. For anyone who has worn contacts before, you KNOW how long it takes the first time: 40 minutes to get in, 15 minutes to get out. But I did it! When I was little, I used to call my dad's contacts "toncats," so I think that is what I am going to call mine from now on.

Thirdly, I went to a Cinderella ball in a singles ward. The girls "lose" a shoe the week before to the Elders Quorum and find their date at the dinner/ dance (whoever picked up their shoe). The evening was filled with canned chicken, a creepy Cinderella mannequin, and a guy balancing a ladder on his chin. But I think the best part was seeing girls in prom dresses from 2004 pop and locking it to hip hop songs after dinner. Oh to be young, and to look like you're still in high school.

Thank you, government, for my money back. Thank you, inventor of toncats. And thank you, boy, for letting me wear both my shoes while I dance.

I don't want to go to bed!

2010-02-17T23:28:00.000-08:00

Instead, I feel like...

Making more heart-shaped shortbread sugar cookies with pink cream cheese frosting and eating twelve of them and dancing my little kid dance to Beyonce's Halo song and imagining that I am back with my best friend when we were 13 and running around my house in the summer yelling "It's hotter than alaska in here!" and painting a big messy mural on my wall or several walls with green and purple and sunny-side-up yellow paint and marking them with my celebrity signature that I will use when I am not famous someday and jumping wildly into a warm pool that has night lights and water that is clean without using chlorine so it doesn't sting my eyes--I've seen it done before--and going to a big open field in Montana that I have never been to so that I can scream out all my secrets to any nearby coyotes who are also howling at the emptiness of the sky.

Hey you, let's do it. Come over here and let's get going on this list.

The Errors of "Hard Truth"

2010-02-17T13:05:00.000-08:00

I didn't want to say anything, but since I couldn't stop thinking about it, I thought I would post here. Last night I watched U.S. figure skater Johnny Weir compete in the Olympic short program. Afterward, I went online to see one of my friends had written as his facebook status: "Why do we have a Russian, flaming homsexual representing the USA for ice skating?"

I find this statement problematic and I want to clear a few things up.

First of all, learn how to spell "homosexual." But more importantly, how is it appropriate to use derogatory language about an assumed sexual orientation, such as "flaming?" My friend is LDS--he knows what it is like to be discriminated for his religious beliefs (being called a cult or polygamist among many names); how is it that he expects respect for his (and my) religion while name-calling someone else in regards to sexual orientation? Weir has actually never stated what his sexuality is, saying in an interview, "There are some things I keep sacred."

Secondly: the issue of Weir's perceived Russian-ness. The fact that my friend has a problem with any nationality (despite clear possession of citizenship) representing the U.S. in the Olympics seems to suggest a false ideal of American-ness that Weir does not embody, as if there is a right or wrong way to be American. Besides, Weir is not even Russian; he was born and grew up in Pennsylvania. He only speaks Russian to his Ukrainian coach, Galina Zmievskaya.

Thirdly: Discriminatory statements should not be broadcasted in a public domain such as facebook. I am not surprised that four comments among ten following this friend's status called him out for being offensive. But even more surprising was his response to them: "tis a hard truth to be spoken, sorry you took offense." I find it difficult to defend a derogatory statement as "truth."

I hope that this friend will think twice about publicly touting his supposedly "hard truth."

"I love my love because I know: my love loves me"

2010-02-07T22:30:00.000-08:00

In honor of Valentine's day rapidly approaching, I am posting a (non)love sonnet I wrote this past week. I haven't written very many sonnets before, but here it is. I tried the whole 14 lines, 10 syllables per line format.

Sand Sonnet: Love's Wisdom

Numberless grains from rocks of the ages,
Now assembled with earnest precision;

Carved are the pillars and dugged the moat,

Yet faulty are foundations.

For truth is construction thrice abused here,

As youth is weathered by time and by year:

A leveled plane and a plan dechambered,

And earth stretching on between seas and suns.

A tide approaches and all is remembered--

Hands plunged down, with shame, to hide.

Quickly thrust the beating life force inside.

And though sand moves in silently (the sound),

The earth lacks depth enough to bury me,

And--for my failed heart!--grains enough to drown.

Edible Babies

2010-02-04T08:01:00.001-08:00

Yeah, you heard me. These babies are made of marzipan and you wanna know what the great thing is? You can eat them!

I would love to meet the person who thought of this. I am trying to follow this person's logic:

"Babies are just so darn cute, therefore, let's eat them!"
Or maybe it was...
"I need something to put atop this cake... how about a naked baby?!"

Baby shower desserts just got a little creepier.

The Wall Street Journal never leads ME astray

2010-02-04T07:34:00.000-08:00

What would you do if you had $104.3 million dollars to spare?

Would you buy this sculpture?

Somebody did. This is Alberto Giacometti's 1960 "Walking Man I," sold to an anonymous buyer at an auction in London last night. The sale of this sculpture broke the record for most spent on a piece of artwork at an auction (second to Monet's "Boy With a Pipe"), and most likely to produce buyer's remorse whenever a picture of starving African children comes on TV. Enjoy that expensive skeleton in your house, anonymous.

Say my name, say my name

2010-02-01T23:53:00.000-08:00

Today I was mistakenly called Heather, Rachel, and Emily. This is fnny to me becase these are my sisters' names, bt the people who got my name wrong wold not have known that.
Bt that's all okay, becase I was also called Be-KAH today by my little niece who has never said my name before.
Also, one of the keys on my keyboard is stck.

"Intellectuals are...

2010-01-30T14:17:00.000-08:00

unattractive people who wear oversize glasses and baggy clothes and are very boring and who make life dull for truly romantic people who know how to get the most out of life."

-Lorraine Hansberry (does not really believe this), in a list of illusions that stem from the idea that art cannot possibly be "social."

If it makes you feel any better...

2010-01-29T13:46:00.000-08:00

Remember that one day in class in which you meant to say "symbolism" and accidentally said "symbology" instead?

My professor said "symbology" in class today. Twice.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbology_(disambiguation)

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/symbology

I hope this makes you feel better. You know who you are...

Epistle to my homeboy

2010-01-26T15:28:00.000-08:00

Dear Dr. C.,
Thank you for letting us watch the death scene in Middlemarch instead of fast forwarding through it. Seeing crusty old Mr. Casaubon die in the film adaptation made waiting until page 482 worth it.

Dear Kayla/Krista/K__a from Romanticism class,
Watching you play solitaire hinders my ability to understand accentual syllabic verse in Wordsworth's poetry. You are responsible for my (un)success on that question of the midterm.

Dear Rebecca F.,
Thank you for meeting me for lunch. The chili was as good as I expected, and so was the conversation. I don't think there is necessarily a link between the two, but just in case there is, let's go eat chili again sometime.

Dear student named Rachel,
You made me explain topic sentences for 40 minutes, which I didn't really mind, but you should have just listened harder the first time. Of course I explained it perfectly, so it wasn't me.

Dear universe,
Today you are shifting. In a good way. So thanks for that.

If you're unhappy and you know it, clap your hands

2010-01-25T08:27:00.000-08:00

Clap, clap!

Return of Garlic Finger

2010-01-24T11:30:00.001-08:00

Tarragon Orange Chicken. 3 garlic cloves. 'Nuff said.

Thought for the day

2010-01-21T07:41:00.000-08:00

There was a provoking article in the WSJ earlier this month by Jeffrey Zaslow called "Killing Gossip With Kindness." I think this is something we all need to improve. Here's an excerpt from the article and a few relevant ad campaigns:

"Wendy Fandl sees a lot of children growing up without a lot of guidance. They say harsh and hurtful things about each other, and the words come too easily. Encouraged by the snarkiness in pop culture today, they seem more sarcastic than past generations.

'Kids are struggling,' says Ms. Fandl, who oversees an after-school program at Community Presbyterian Church in Delhi, Calif. 'They're looking for answers.'

Instead of answers, however, Ms. Fandl offers them questions.

She suggests that before they say something to or about someone else, they should ask themselves: 'Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?'

These three questions have been around for centuries, attributed to Socrates and Buddhist teachings, and linked to the tenets of Christianity and the Jewish prohibition on 'lashon hara,' or evil language. But now, in an age of cultural shrillness and unrestrained rumor-mongering on the Internet, these three questions (or variations of them) are finding new adherents. In schools, workplaces, churches, therapy groups—and at kitchen tables—the questions are being used to temper one of the uglier human impulses."

Read the full article at: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704160504574640111681307026.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWJut7KQhI4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NbtajOvAU10

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbKBvrEr2wE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amueaVHIZ6A

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdQBurXQOeQ

Ode to the side ponytail

2010-01-17T12:23:00.000-08:00

I am rockin a side ponytail today. I can only do this when I wear heels because then it makes me look sophisticated rather than like I am 12.

Here are the best of the best side ponytails:

Taking advantage of my blog to advertise

2010-01-16T10:24:00.000-08:00

I work on a podcast at the Writing Center called Word of Mouth. I didn't even know what a podcast was until a year ago. But now I help produce one. And it's awesome: http://wordofmouth.byu.edu/

If you ask me what my favorite episode is, I will probably say the current show every time. Right now is the Flash Fiction Part II show in which we read the winners from our fiction contest.

Well, I hope if you are reading this, you will go listen to the show. If you have already listened to it, I hope you will join the facebook group. If you have already joined that, I hope you will enter the Love/Hate poetry contest we are having. If you have done all this, I love/hate you; not even I have done all these things.

I didn't even know 10-month-olds could roll their eyes

2010-01-13T14:12:00.000-08:00

This is my little niece Taylor having such a great time with me over Christmas break. Wow. Children love me so much.

Christening The Prattler

2010-01-07T09:04:00.000-08:00

One reason I haven't had a blog is because I am intimidated by the overwhelming task of picking a decent title for it. If you don't have a great name for a blog, there's not much hope it will be awesome. I tend to think that a blog says a lot about a person, or a lot about the type of things they will blog about; naming a blog isn't just picking out a string of words that sound clever or profound or poetic; it's the christening of a label for yourself, a way to assign some kind of networld identity. So I guess you could say that I didn't know what I wanted my blogger identity to be. As if my real life self isn't hard enough to figure out.

(I tried really hard not to use the word "avatar" in that paragraph because I didn't want anyone to start thinking about computer animated blue-skinned creatures. But now you are thinking it anyway).

After much rumination, I came out with a few options for a blog title:

1. "Brevity Is the Soul of Wit (in 145 characters or less)"
This blog's entries would all be 145 characters or less, which, if you were wondering, is the length of a text message. But alas, I found it difficult to contain my ramblings to such concision.

2. "Raconteur: because life's fiction is more interesting than fact"
A raconteur is a storyteller. But then I realized that people might expect me to be an amazing storyteller if I had this title. Also, I didn't like the alliteration. Rebecca Raconteur.

3. I auditioned some of my favorite words to maybe form a blog around them: enumerate, trepidation, sanguine, quotidian, nuance, and claptrap. But all these words sound a bit... erudite, except in the case of claptrap which sounds like an incurable disease (it's not).

Hmm... I was not quite satisfied. So I tabled the idea of a blog for a while.

Then, on a day much like any other day, I found myself talking longer than people want to listen. It happens, and every time it does, I think of the phrase "prattling away." The word "prattle" is one of my favorite words. It reminds me of a section from Les Miserables when Jean Valjean takes Cosette into his keeping after her mother dies:

"She called him 'father' and knew him by no other name. He spent hours in watching her dress and undress her doll and listening to her prattle. From this moment life appeared to him full of interest; men seemed to him good and just; he no longer reproached anyone in his thoughts, and perceived no reason he should not live to a great age, now that this child loved him."

I love to prattle. If a person is prattling, it seems to suggest a general contentedness in life that there is time and attention for talking about whatever is on their mind, regardless of importance or interest. When a person prattles, it usually means that they are NOT complaining, disclosing, or yelling. It's not serious, but it's not not-serious. It's mundane prattle.

Therefore, I christen thee, blog, THE PRATTLER. May thou live up to thy potential.

They Call Me Garlic Finger

2010-01-05T15:21:00.000-08:00

Today is the second day of my last semester at BYU. I currently have 5 English classes, so I need to drop one (or even two if I feel like it).

I wish that I had more time to take all the classes I want.

I also wish that my left index finger would forever smell of fresh garlic like it has since last night when I made lemon garlic shrimp w/ bowtie pasta. The recipe called for 3 chopped cloves of garlic. That delicious garlicky smell stayed with me through all my classes today even though I washed my hands (and yes, I even showered). As my professor went over the syllabus and someone asks if we have to have THAT edition of Persuasion, I smell my finger and think of a large knife cutting repeatedly and cleanly through a small, white clove.

Olsen Twins

2010-01-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

Last night I dreamt that I had twin baby sisters named Mary-Kate and Ashley.

Yes, I still love the Olsen twins.