W-O-W.

It's weird to be going to school at good ol' BYU like always, but then think holy cow, I'm getting married in less than two months. But then I think that even after I'm married I'll still be going to good ol' BYU like always. So then I think I am in this weird life limbo where even though I'll be making the big, huge life choice I also try to remember that life will probably continue somewhat normally post-marriage only that Matt won't have to go home to his house every night and we'll get to eat breakfast together sometimes. That part--the Matt being around more of the time part--seems to justify making the big, huge life leap. Marriage. W-O-W.

That being said I sometimes handle being engaged pretty normally, but also sometimes I freak about it in both the oh-my-gosh-this-is-so-scary and the oh-my-gosh-this-is-so-exciting ways. Basically there are a lot of mood swings a-going on and Matt's virtue of patience (while definitely a pre-engagement quality) gets to  be refined with fire. Lucky boy.

Wedding planning has gone (thus far) pretty smoothly because we have a lot of wonderful people in our lives who know much more than we do about the art of wedding planning and marriage preparation. We have  wonderful parents who are backing this whole shin-dig, my Mom lets me call her whenever I want so I can give her wedding assignments and she can give me emotional stability. I have wonderful grad school friends like Marinda and Laura who let me go on and on about wedding stuff but who also give me wonderful advice on how to find a thesis chair and proffer theories on why Walter Scott's The Heart of Midlothian was a bestseller. My bestie Grace lets me borrow her sister to take engagement pictures (for free! Thank you Kristi!) and lets me talk to herself (Grace) about all my fears and hopes. And that's the best, because the very reason you have a bestie is because they know your whole entire relationship/life history so you don't have to explain very much about anything and can just talk and eat good food and just understand life and all its varied frustrations and goodnesses. And then there's my lovely Grandma who I talk to for hours-on-end. And my super-talented friend Claire who is designing our wedding invitations pro bono with mad skillz and I love her and her illustrations of the Bountiful temple so, so much. And I just love all the lovely people in my life (where do they all come from?) And I love R.E.M. and Coldplay and the Beatles because they just get my life right now. They put a man on the moon? Norwegian wood is good? Yes.

Yesterday Matt and I were driving home to Provo from an absolutely lovely Saturday spent in Layton (discounted wedding cakes, pork tacos, high-school productions of Curtain anyone?) and it was just one of those happy, happy times when the capacity to feel happiness and peace is tremendous-fold and it was all I could do to soak up that very, very good life moment with big, deep breaths. Because right then it was the best thing ever to hold Matt's hand and kiss him at every red stoplight. Because we're getting married and we love each other and because we live in a beautiful world. Yeah we do, yeah we do.

I love the people who help me love life.

On Being Sick, Loving Matthew, Bonsai Men, and Friends.

Disclaimer: This blog post touches upon several unrelated things. And I make little effort to connect these things to each other because coming up with transition sentences is too hard when you're sick. 

Right now I'm curled up in my bed being all sickly-like. I'd never before been able to claim a flu-migraine, but hey, life's all about new experiences, right? Anyway, I'm migraine-recovering and have been trying to read The Absentee, but it hurts my head too much. Not because Maria Edgeworth isn't awesome or anything, but because 18th century moral literature is apparently too much for my aching brain.

So in lieu of being restricted to my bed and not being able to read, I thought I'd do some blog catch-up (because facebooking and blogging do not seem to strain the brain to the same extent). This semester has been only mildly stressful so far. I'm trying to stay focused on my classes which are interesting and challenging even though my main thoughts seem to fluctuate between 1) I love Matthew and 2) I really love Matthew. 

See how beautiful he is? I can't help it. The Long Eighteenth Century has nothing on him. Nothing!

Speaking of beautiful things about a month ago when I was back in DC my family and I went to see the National Bonsai Tree Museum. It was pretty cool. I liked almost all the bonsai trees, but was most fascinated by the little bonsai men. Because bonsai trees with little bonsai men next to them all of the sudden look magical and mysterious and like bonafide landscapes instead of weirdly stunted tree bush things.

The bonsai men have nothing on Matthew. Obviously.

Finally, I really love my friends. About two weeks ago some of my freshmen friends decided to get together for a reunion of sorts. We hadn't all been together for a while and it was lovely to spend time together catching up and reflecting on our last 5 1/2 years (?!) in Provo. It's crazy we're getting so old, but it's also lovely seeing what cool and productive things my friends are doing with their lives. I'm just so proud of all of them; Michelle is the cutest pregnant woman imaginable, Melanie is a real-life dietitian, Grace & Sarah are both returned missionaries who are killing it in the professional world. I'm so lucky I have them as examples and support. They are awesome awesome awesome.

Yup, even when I'm sickly there's a lot to be happy about. Thanks bonsai men, friends, and Matthew. I love you all. 

Engaged

I'm going to marry this man.

Happy, happy, happy.

My Nice Camera, My Nice Books

A few months, on this very blog, I bemoaned (innocently) my lack of camera and cute blogsy photos. And then, yesterday, my goodly parents who (because they) read my blog (bless them) gifted me a camera so I can document my life with HD pictures. And never mind that I'm a rather horrible photographer, here's a post dedicated almost entirely to some of the hundreds of Christmas photos I took in my new-gift-induced photo-taking frenzy. Thanks Mum & Dad!

Christmas break is the best. Especially three week long Christmas breaks. And especially Christmas breaks back with the family in Northern Virginia. C'est la (very good) vie! I've also been able to make a strong foray into my Winter Break Reading List which I'm including below because hey, I like to know what y'all are reading and I like sharing.

The Wilder Life by Wendy McClure (for anyone who loved the Little House on the Prarie Books)
The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson (not really my go-to genre, but goodness is it entertaining)
A Scots Quair by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (everyone loves Scotland and prose that makes them weep with joy)
Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset (the medieval Norwegian equivalent of a A Scots Quair)
The Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain (snarky travel narratives=bueno)
The American by Henry James (So I have to read this for class, but it's probably very laudable and stuff)
Pursued and Assaulted Chastity by Margaret Cavendish (because chastity is awesome, especially when you use guns, poison, and manly disguises to fend off all those assaulters and pursuers)

Merry Christmas!

blogging for credit & satisfaction

Today's post is brought to you by Dreams from my Father: My father dreams that one day I will become an academic. Being able to say "my daughter, the English professor" would bring him great joy and happiness. The BYU graduate program was/is/can be the first step towards PhDdom, but in the midst of my current exhaustion all my greatest goals revolve around actually getting my MA and nothing more. Rest assured however, that I am working on increasing my goal longevity. If not for me, for my father. He deserves it.

Writing & Blogging in Graduate School

And now onto blogging about blogging. I started this blog yeeears ago when it was supposed to be all about art (of the visual form) and it has since evolved (devolved?) into thoughts and words of sporadic nature. The greatest joys I get from blogging these days are 1) procrastinating my homework and 2) knowing that my grandpa regularly reads my posts. However, today I am getting blogging satisfaction from a different source; today blogging is my homework.

In my 610 class "Composition & Pedagogy" we are doing a bitty-unit on new media and employing the legions of online powers (youtube, blogger, Twitter, Facebook, chat, etc.) in teaching settings. I am somewhat skeptical of this (mostly of Twitter), but employing these tools in writing class is intriguing. In fact, my own little writing class has a class blog where my students (are supposed to) post once a week. And reading those blog posts has actually become one of the most rewarding parts of teaching. Students who are stiff and uncomfortable in formal writing assignments write blog posts that are witty, humorous, and honest. I ask them to write about their own style, what they love/hate about peer review, and books they've read that use great imagery. And in this public-but-private space of blogging students tell me things that they haven't ever revealed in our classroom settings. It's fun. It humanizes my students and it humanizes me. Writing across graduate instructor and student divides. Writing across media. Writing about writing. Lovely.

Thursday's assignment (look! totally not procrastinating!) for my class (that I take not teach) was to write 500 words somewhere in the vast space of the internet and here I am. Back at my blog.

Sometimes (like when I get to write blog posts for homework) graduate school doesn't seem so daunting. Just arduous. It's exciting the things I get to do--like teach and take classes and think about new media--but I often wonder what it means to be an academic. To love research just because and analyze literature just because and spend hours in the library just because. I'm not sure I'm cut from that mold exactly. Sometimes I get stuck in rut just thinking of the hours I spend researching and writing ultimately culminate in a ten-page paper that only my professor will read/skim. Even dreaming big i.e. someday I’ll write a paper that will get published in a journal and maybe a few tens of people will read it, doesn't always do it for me.

I'm not saying writing only for me (or my professor) is purposeless. But it's also a dream of mine to write things that people want and will read. I don’t know many people who want or will read my paper on Titus Andronicus, or my pontifications on Sunset Song, but I have my blog and EVERYONE can read it. Even if they don't want to, they can.

That's kind of cool. And if I never become a serious scholar, or a published author, I have this little space that is my own and that is everyone's. Where I can write and dream and think and it's not just for me (though maybe it is). While I'm not sure how I feel about all of the new media, I love blogs and their potential and how I'm given a little space to write just because. And I like that. And I am of that mold. 

And of composition? Learning to write? Becoming a better writer? That is the ultimate blog potential: having a space to become aware of audience and voice and usage. And being able to write without spending hours in the library or hours drafting? Glorious.

A Day in the Life

I am convinced that my life would appear much cooler if I had a camera, preferably a nice one. In these days of subsistence living (work all summer and pay off tuition for the rest of the year--and alas, I didn't even work full-time this summer!) my cheapy lifestyle and my dinky phone and sans-camera existence make for an unimpressive online presence. Why do I care? I'm not sure. Facebook & blog jealousy I suppose. 

Anyway, here's a day in my life (typical, perhaps?) sans-pictures, sans-cutesy photos.

Hit snooze button on cell phone alarm at least four times (get twenty hazy minutes of extra sleep)

Awake.

Hastily finish last minute lesson plans. 

Apply make up.

Race to campus. 

Arrive at class a good five minutes before eight. Attempt to appear cool and collected. Again wonder why I insist on using my backpack instead of something more chic- and instructor-looking. Am pleased, however, with my semi-formal outfit of second-hand skinny slacks and vest w/button-up shirt. 

Teach--pontificate upon subjective grading of writing. Praise class blog posts. Introduce rhetorical analysis. Feel warm and fuzzy towards my students, am unsure how they feel about me (graduate instructor of little experience).

Eat breakfast burrito at Taco Bell.

Head off to the Maeser Building. 

Spend 6+ hours organizing and reviewing Fulbright applications, eating starbursts, scholarship consulting with the drop-ins, and making spreadsheets.

Race home to shower.

Am picked up by favorite other graduate student to drive to British Literature faculty/grad student dinner.

Apply make up in car.

Spend 2+ hours enjoying good food and geeking out about talking to professors like I'm a real person. Talk around my graduate emphasis saying vague things like the Renaissance and Romanticism in attempt to appear direction-full. Am still pleased with vest/button-up shirt outfit.

Am dropped off at M's apartment. Discuss going to International Cinema. Nix. Too tired. Talk until too sleepy to talk anymore. 

M. walks me home.

I fall asleep while watching Elizabeth: The Golden Age for my Renaissance Literature and Modern Film Adaptation seminar. 

Am happy. 

Boom. Truth.

"...the Church is not a place to go for comfort, to get our own prejudices validated, but a place to comfort others, even to be afflicted by them. It is a revealed and effective opportunity to give--to learn and experience the meaning of the Atonement and its power to change us through unconditional love. It is a place where we have many chances to repent and forgive--if, for a change, we can focus on our own failings and the needs of others to grow through their and our imperfect efforts."

Eugene England. Why the Church is as True as the Gospel

                                                                                                                                                 Thanks Mum.