Showing posts with label byu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label byu. Show all posts

Friday, January 15, 2016

In the news . . .

If you were wondering what I did during my last year at BYU, this is a part of the answer. 

(I really wanted to make the link read: OXFORD MOM LEARNS WAY WEIRD TRICK, but I didn't. But obviously I still wanted to say it so I included it above. Anyway. I'm weird. Moving on.) 

I got the chance to work on a great project with Professor Jill Rudy on fairy tales in television. You should definitely check out the article and check out the teleogrpahy we created. 

(Also, I am counting this as making it onto the BYU homepage. Bucketlist check!) 

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Rise and Shout

. . . this just in.





You know it's big when Bronco celebrates like that.

Welcome back, college football. I've missed you.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

"The end is where we start from"

"What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from." -- T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding


Last week, I graduated from BYU.

There still are no words to describe everything.
Endings.
And beginnings.
Pomp and circumstance.
Ceremony and ritual.
Faith and intellect.

So I think. I think the best way to record this is through pictures. Pictures and poetry. And a bit of prose.


"And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home, 
Taking its place to support the others, 
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious, 
An easy commerce of the old and the new, 
The common word exact without vulgarity, 
The formal word precise but not pedantic, 
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning." 

 Sharisa and I started our BYU experience together and ended it together. We were roommates for 5 years. 


And the lovely Hannah and I were also freshman roommates. 



The best part of the day? Spending time with my loved ones--friends, families, and mentors. All celebrating this accomplishment. 


Probably one of my favorite pictures from the day of cousin Michael and me. 

Although this one's also pretty good. 

 My wonderful grandmother. 

And wonderful, supportive parents. 

"We die with the dying: 
See, they depart, and we go with them. 
We are born with the dead: 
See, they return, and bring us with them. 
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern 
Of timeless moments." 


#ShamelessSelfie

I loved the commencement and convocation addresses. Probably because it was my actual graduation and I'm like, "This is for me!" But also because they were quite good. I especially loved the ones for the College of Humanities Convocation. One of the speakers spoke about Middlemarch and the character of Dorothea. So, of course, I was all ears. Because I love that book (goodness, I wrote my English capstone paper about that book). And I have a lot in common with Dorothea. And I believe in the importance of trying to see the world through another's point of view and to empathize.

And shouldn't humanities graduates be able to do that the best? I think that we have a responsibility to do that the best.

Honestly, as BYU students, we all have that responsibility.

"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of our exploring 
Will be to arrive where we started 
And know the place for the first time."  -- T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding" 

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Just some good, old-fashioned nostalgia

Guys. A few hours ago I finished my last final as an undergraduate. 

I am done. Done!

This is what it looks like when you finish finals. Relief/exhaustion. 

You know, I always thought that I would finish my BYU career kind of like Rocky making it to the top of the Philadelphia Museum of Art stairs. That I would be exhausted but triumphant. And although that is partly how I feel, in all honesty, I feel like this: 


After the most INSANE finals week I have ever had (including a weekend conference to Philly and a freak, violent case of food poisoning and/or stomach flu which took away prime studying time), I don't feel like I ran triumphantly across the finish line. I feel like I collapsed five feet from the end, crawled, and then face-planted it across that line.

But I made it, right? 

Anyway. Since I've finished classes and finals, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic. (It's me. That's what I do when I come to an end of a chapter. I self-reflect and I get all wistful about parking lots and stairways. It's kind of cute, actually.) So today I walked around some of my favorite haunts on campus and remembered. 


That hill. I climbed it way too many times. 

 This has been one of my favorite walkways since freshman year. 


You just never know what you're going to find. Like tea cups hanging from trees. Oh, those artsy art majors. 

 The HFAC. The number of performances I attended here is enormously high. So are the amounts of dates I went to here. 
Whereas the number of dates I went on here is zero. Which is a good thing, because it would be weird to have a date at the Administration Building. 

 The JKB. I had soooooo many classes here. English, Russian, and history classes specifically. (Also, I have a lot of awkward flirting stories from this building. Especially from before the mission. After the mission, too, but especially before. Anyway. Moving on.) 

I have never had a class here. And I am a-ok with that. 

 The Library! Affectionately known as "Harold." Good ol' Harold. So many memories here. 


The JFSB. My second home at Provo. I know this building intimately. I could write an entire personal essay about how much I love this building. But really. Classrooms in the basement, History department on the 2nd floor, German/Russian on the 3rd, and English on the 4th. Love this building. Love this courtyard. The number of hours studying here and meditating here . . . just a good, good place for the soul. 

 Did you know that once upon a time I thought I was going to be a geography major and had a few geography classes in this building? Now you know. 

The Testing Center. Ohhhhhh, the Testing Center. 

 The Writing Fellows Office! A haven in the center of the Testing Center. I like this place. 

 And I like these people. Very much. 

The Maeser Building. Every time I walked into this building, something good happened. A scholarship, a job, and some of the best people I have ever met. The BYU Honors Program is full of incredible, stellar people. 

If you got this far, thanks for taking a trip down memory lane with me. There is so much I could say (and probably will, once I have time to actually think, process, and write), but basically, this place has been good to me. And I honestly can't think of a prettier place to have a university campus. 



It's been real, BYU. 

. . . don't forget me? 

Monday, April 20, 2015

dream.

i was a little girl 
alone in my little world 
who dreamed of a little home for me. 
i played pretend the trees
and fed my houseguests bark and leaves
and laughed in my pretty bed of green. 

i had a dream 
i could fly 
from the highest swing 
i had a dream. -- "dream," priscilla ahn 



It's my last week of BYU.
That, of course, brings a whole flood of emotions.
A lot of nostalgia.
And a lot of gratitude.
Gratitude for the opportunities that I've had and the education I've received.
I am grateful for the people who have come into my life here and who have touched me in so many ways.
I am grateful that I've had a full time here at BYU. I have done so much. And (hopefully) given so much.
And I'm grateful for the person I've become.

long walks in the dark 
through woods grown behind the park 
i asked God who i'm supposed to be
the stars smiled down at me
God answered in silent reverie 
i said a prayer 
and fell asleep. 

i had a dream 
i could fly 
from the highest tree
i had a dream. 

One of the most enlightening pieces of life advice I've ever received was in a professor's office at BYU.
"It sounds trite, but what it comes down to it, the heart wants what the heart wants. So. What do you want?"
What do I want?
What are those desires--those innermost, sacred desires of my heart?
Those desires matter far more than we realize.
I received follow-up advice at a seminar table in Philadelphia last week. This woman knew nothing about the conversation I had had at BYU. She simply said,
"I'm so glad that you chose Oxford--because I think you really want it. And, I have no doubt you will be on the forefront of the intellectual stage . . . if you choose it. Because what you want really does matter."
What do you want?
What are those desires?
God grants us the desires of our hearts. He often directs us through those desires.
Following hearts and following God.
They are often one and the same.
Because if God is the giver of good gifts (as I believe Him to be), sometimes the thing that is holding us back from happiness is not God, but rather our own fears.
"I choose this because . . . because I want it."
"Then what more do you want from me?"

now i'm old and getting gray 
i don't know what's left to say 
about this life i'm willing to leave. 
i lived it full, i lived it well
so many tales i've lived to tell
i'm ready now
i'm ready now
i'm ready now
to fly from the highest wing. 

i had a dream. 

My time at BYU has been full. It has been good. It has been filled with joy, sorrow, stress, fun, heartache, euphoria, chances for learning and growth, and so many incredible people.

Those people--those connections--those relationships--have painted brushstrokes upon my soul. And have made the canvas of my life beautiful.

And for that I am grateful.

Choosing Everything, Brian Kershisnik

Song of the day: "Dream," Priscilla Ahn

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Why I love Tolstoy class [part the second]

If you couldn't tell from the post below, I loved my Tolstoy class this semester.

But only part of it was because of the life-changing, soul-searching questions and themes Tolstoy brings up.

A big part of it was because three of my roommates and I were in the class together and that our brilliantly snarky professor loves us. [He calls us the "Fab Four." And we are not opposed to that at all.]

And, since he is a brilliantly snarky Russian literature professor, I collected a slew of quotes from him. There was something great and new every day. Here are some of the quotes from the semester:

P (on the first day of class): This is Eating Disorders 325 . . .

(Someone realizes they're in the wrong class and leaves)
P: I am so glad he's gone.

P: I don't see silence or shyness as a character flaw.

P: I think anger is a great motivator to get me out of bed. But it's kind of a junky energy--doesn't get me anywhere.

Student: It's like if you were given a great sum of money and you decided to hoard it, and you become, like-
P: Happy
S: Like Gollum.

P: We're never too far from our junior high selves.

Student: Maria got on my nerves . . .
P: Because she's a Christian?
S: Um, no . . .

P: I'm not saying pregnant women should be given a pass--but they pretty much should. Especially in Russia in 1805.

P: A lot of nice people are going to say a lot of nice things about you. Don't believe any of them.

P: Pierre emerges from a bastion of nerdery. And there's no room in this world for anyone like that.

P: The real men in Tolstoy know how to hunt. But they also are great dancers and ice skaters.

Student: Is it normal for 30-year-old men to propose to 18-year-old girls?
P: Yes.
S: Was or is?
P: Sure. I mean -- I sure hope not now.

P (about Natasha in War and Peace): Can't a girl have a little fun? It seems not.

P (about Maria in War and Peace): Would you prefer her to be Alma the Younger, intent on destroying the church of God?

P (about any number of characters in Tolstoy): Is this someone who is ready to enter the complex world of adult relationships? It appears not.

P (as someone's cell phone goes off in class): I like to see my life as run by some sort of soundtrack. So thank you for that.

P (about Helene in War and Peace): She's torn between two lovers . . . as we often are.

P (who is a grammar freak): Cover-up is what I saw in the Daily Universe today. "A government cover-up." Think of all the implications of what this means.

P: No, no, I love wasting time. It's the one thing I do well. That and waste your time.

P: I'm still waiting for the sequel to War and Peace: "War, What is it Good For?"

P (impersonating complaining student): "You don't understand, professor, I never get Cs."
Well, you just did. [eye roll] Weird.

P (about Kitty in Anna Karenina): Because when you are experiencing heartbreak, you go away--you go to Germany, because nothing bad ever happens in Germany.

P (about Tolstoy writing Anna Karenina): So, why did he write this. I mean, he could have taken out an ad in the newspaper: "Adultery is bad."

P: Let me tell you, as someone who does absolutely nothing except look extraordinarily beautiful, it's not easy.

P: "Hate ON her?" We can do better than this. We have devolved. 

P (just finding out that Greer had hurt her leg): You didn't play it up. I would have played it up.

P (to student): Just don't quote me anymore.

P (to student): No, no, it's all right. You're great. 

P (impersonating person in a modern art museum): "I could have done that."
Then I say, "Well, you didn't do it."
And then my wife tugs my arm.

P (talking about men saying that their wives are so much better/spiritual than them): That's what men say when they're in trouble. "Oh, my wife is just so much better than I am." Then you know they're atoning for something that week.

P: Buzzed driving is drunk driving. I heard it on the radio.

P: A new child? Great, another person to disappoint.

P (pleased with himself after returning from a trip to Arizona): Sunshine suits me.

P: It's a lot of dazzle. Like jazz hand dazzle.

P: I hope you're never my bishop one day.

P: You didn't know it was "bring a picture to share" day?

P (wearing a hideous sweater and wanting compliments to satisfy his pride): You like my sweater, don't you, Dillon?
D: Yes.
P: See, Emily?

P (being upset/annoyed that we all know the story of feeding the two wolves and he doesn't): All right, you guys know it, I don't. I don't want a wolf.
Clarissa: They're inside you.
P: Really, Clarissa, inside me? You can do better than that.

P (to me after Emily interrupts me): Does she do this a lot?
Greer: Only when we raise hands in our apartment.
P: Hurry, before she interrupts someone else.

P (to student): You just printed it out? Seconds before it's due? Poor you.

P (impersonating Tolstoy talking to historians): If you don't like it, go away. I'll give you a cookie.

P: We are only a step away from the kindergarten class that released us a few years ago.

P: Every once in awhile I'll get a student who comes into my class the day before class ends and asks me, "How can I do well in this course?"
"It's over."

P: You should write a paper on that. It's due Thursday.

P: Once I'm told, I want to defy it because I can.

P (about student evaluations): I used to get "You're a jerk" quite a lot. Last year I got: "You're such a jerk. So that's better.
And then two years I found out about Rate My Professor. Someone said on my evaluation: "Rate My Professor has a chili pepper for you. Some people are so delusional."
I bet Dr. Brown [another Russian professor--they are best friends] has 5 chili peppers.
I tell him sometimes, "Tony, I just want to punch your beautiful face." But he's just so genuine and kind. I can't do it.

P (on the last day/last seconds of class): What can I say? I adore you. Now leave! Be free! Be free!

Basically, I love this professor. And I love that he loves us. (Also, he knows a lot about the Fab Four since we did personal essays about the uncertainties in our lives for our final projects . . . so he knows more about our angst than anyone should.)

But he's got our backs. And it's nice to know that we can count on him to fight for us if we needed him to. He could pulverize anyone with his snark.

Why I love Tolstoy class [part 1]

This semester my favorite class was my Tolstoy class. I learned so much from that class and the books we read, especially War and Peace and Anna Karenina. I think everyone should read these books (believe me, you'll be a better person from reading them). But, since I know that you probably don't have time to read all of the books you have to read (not including the ones you want to read), indulge me as I include some of my favorite Tolstoyan themes/quotes which impacted me this semester.

-Learning how to deal with uncertainty. The protagonists of Tolstoy's works have to deal with uncertainty--in life, love, death . . . everything (just like us . . . weird). How the characters decide to deal with uncertainty (whether embracing it or avoiding it) says a lot about their ability to live a fulfilling life.

-Learning how to die. Another major Tolstoyan theme is embracing death--greeting it like an old friend. How a character dies says a lot about how they lived.

-Prosaic vs. Romantic love. This theme is especially in Anna Karenina. Sure, romantic love is nice and is important to relationships . . . but it shouldn't be what your relationship/marriage is built on. Because marriage isn't just about kisses and roses and perfume. It is about who's going to take out the trash and change the diapers and get the bills paid. We can't live in our fantasy worlds of romantic love. We have to go out and actually live. 

-Value of self-reflection. Something that progressing Tolstoy characters have is the ability to self-reflect and self-criticize. These characters are then able to develop wisdom and empathy.

-Forgiveness and divine love. Because we all need second chances. There really isn't a statute of limitations on how many second chances we should get/should give others . . . unless we have given up. But we should be genuinely striving. And we should let others genuinely strive/change, too.

-Learning how to live. Tolstoy recommends a life of joy with gratitude and sorrow without resentment.

Quotes:

From War and Peace

“Yes, a new kind of happiness was revealed to me, one of the inalienable rights of man,” he thought to himself. [. . .] “Happiness beyond materialism, beyond all external, material influences, happiness known only to the soul, the happiness of loving! It is within the conception of all men, but it can be fully determined and ordained by God alone. But how did God ordain this law? And what about His Son?" (1020) 

 "Yes, it’s love, but not the kind of love that loves for a reason, a purpose, a cause, but the kind of love I felt for the first time when I was on my deathbed and I saw my enemy and loved him. I experienced the feeling of love that is the essence of the soul, love that seeks no object. I can feel it now, that blessed feeling. To love your neighbor and your enemy. To love everything, to love God in all His manifestations. You can love someone dear to you with human love, but it takes divine love to love your enemy. [. . .] When you love with human love you can change from love to hatred, but divine love cannot change. Nothing, not even death, can destroy it. It is the essence of the soul. How many people I have hated in the course of my life! And there’s nobody I have loved more and hated more than her.” 

And he found a clear mental image of Natasha, though not as he had seen her in the past, with all the charm that had given him such joy. For the first time, he caught an image of her soul. (War and Peace, 1020-1021)

“And out there beyond the forests and fields lay all the shimmering, beckoning distance of infinity. Pierre glanced up at the sky and the play of the stars receding into the depths. ‘And it’s all mine, and it’s all within me, and it all adds up to me!’ thought Pierre. ‘And they caught all that, shut it up in a shed, and boarded it in!’” (War and Peace, 1134)

“Life is everything. Life is God. Everything is in flux and movement, and this movement is God. And while there is life there is pleasure in being conscious of the Godhead. To love life is to love God. The hardest and most blessed thing is to love this life even in suffering, innocent suffering.” (War and Peace, 1184)

“No, nothing is certain, nothing but the nothingness of all that we can understand, and the splendor of something we can’t understand, but know to be infinitely important!” (War and Peace, 313)

“It was clear and frosty. A dark, starlit heaven looked down on the black roofs and the dirty, dusky streets. Only by looking up at the sky could Pierre distance himself from the disgusting squalor of all earthly things as compared with the heights to which his soul had now been taken.” (War and Peace, 663)

“And there in the middle, high about Prechistensky Boulevard, amidst a scattering of stars on every side but catching the eye through its closeness to the earth, its pure white light and the long uplift of its tail, shone the comet, the huge, brilliant comet of 1812, that popular harbinger of untold horrors and the end of the world. But this bright comet with its long, shiny tail held no fears for Pierre. Quite the reverse: Pierre’s eyes glittered with tears of rapture as he gazed up at this radiant star, which must have traced its parabola through infinite space at speeds unimaginable and now suddenly seemed to have picked its spot in the black sky and impaled itself like an arrow piercing the earth, and stuck there, with its strong upthrusting tail and its brilliant display of whiteness amidst the infinity of scintillating stars. This heavenly body seemed perfectly attuned to Pierre’s newly melted heart, as it gathered reassurance and blossomed into new life.” (War and Peace 663)

From Anna Karenina: 

“Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” (Epigraph)

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” (1)

“This is the life! How good! This is how I’d like to live!”
“Who’s stopping you?” said Levin, smiling. (162)

“You can’t understand it. For you men, who are free and can choose, it’s always clear whom you love. But a young girl in a state of expectation, with that feminine, maidenly modesty, a girl who sees you men from afar, who takes everything on trust—a girl may and does sometimes feel that she doesn’t know who she loves or what to say. [. . .] Her heart speaks, but consider: you men have your eye on a girl, you visit the house, you make friends, you watch, you wait to see if you’re going to find what you love, and then, once you’re convinced of your love, you propose.”

“Well, it’s not quite like that.”

“Never mind, you propose when your love has ripened or when the scale tips towards one of your two choices. But a girl isn’t asked. She’s expected to choose for herself, but she can’t choose and only answers yes or no.” (270)

“He looked at the sky, hoping to find there the shell he had admired, which had embodied for him the whole train of thoughts and feelings of the past night. There was no longer anything resembling a shell in the sky. There, in the inaccessible heights, a mysterious change had already been accomplished. No trace of the shell was left, but spread over half the sky was a smooth carpet of ever diminishing fleecy clouds. The sky had turned blue and radiant, and with the same tenderness, yet also with the same inaccessibility, it returned his questioning look.

“No,” he said to himself, “however good that life of simplicity and labor may be, I cannot go back to it. I love her.” (277-8)

“She could neither think nor desire anything outside her life with this man; but this new life had not begun yet, and she could not even picture it clearly to herself. There was nothing but expectation—the fear and joy of the new and unknown. And now the expectation, and the unknowness, and remorse at the renouncing of her former life – all this was about to end, and the new was to begin. This new could not help being frightening; but, frightening or not, it had already been accomplished six weeks earlier in her soul; now was merely the sanctifying of what had long ago been performed’ (453)

“I’ll tell you,” Levin said, smiling, “In my heart I can’t find any feeling of regret for my freedom!” (444)

“Levin felt more and more that all his thoughts about marriage, all his dreams of how he would arrange his life, were mere childishness, and that it was something he had not understood before, and now understood still less, though it was being accomplished over him; spasms were rising higher and higher in his breast, and disobedient tears were coming to his eyes” (454).

“He knew and felt only that what was being accomplished was similar to what had been accomplished a year ago in a hotel in a provincial capital, on the deathbed of his brother Nikolai. But that had been grief and this was joy. But that grief and this joy were equally outside all ordinary circumstances of life were like holes in this ordinary life, through which something higher showed. And just as painful, as tormenting in its coming, was what was now being accomplished; and just as inconceivably, in contemplating this higher thing, the soul rose to such heights as it had never known before, where reason was no longer able to overtake it.” (713).

“It was already quite dark, and in the south, where he was looking, there were no clouds. The clouds stood on the opposite side. From there came flashes of lightning and the roll of distant thunder. Levin listened to the drops monotonously dripping from the lindens in the garden and looked at the familiar triangle of stars and the branching Milky Way passing though it. At each flash of lightning not only the Milky Way but the bright stars also disappeared, but as soon as the lighting died out they reappeared in the same places, as if thrown by some unerring hand.
“Well, what is it that disturbs me?” Levin said to himself, feeling beforehand that the resolution of his doubts, though he did not know it yet, was already prepared in his soul” (815)

“This new feeling hasn’t changed me, hasn’t made me happy or suddenly enlightened, as I dreamed – just like the feeling for my son. Nor was there any surprise. And faith or not faith – I don’t know what it is – but this feeling has entered into me just as imperceptibly through suffering and has firmly lodged itself in my soul.

“I’ll get angry in the same way with the coachman Ivan, argue in the same way, speak my mind inappropriately, there will be the same wall between my soul's holy of holies and other people, even my wife, I’ll accuse her in the same way of my own fear and then regret it, I’ll fail in the same way to understand with my reason why I pray, and yet I will pray—but my life now, my whole life, regardless of all that may happen to me, every minute of it, is not only not meaningless, as it was before, but has the unquestionable meaning of the good which it is in my power to put into it!” (817) 

Life is meant to be lived with joy and purpose. And we are meant to take the dark threads and bright threads of this tapestry of life and use our experiences to help lift others. 

A life of joy with gratitude and sorrow without resentment. 

Living a life to be proud of. 

"If life could write itself, it would write like Tolstoy." --Virginia Woolf

Thursday, March 26, 2015

and are we there yet?

It's been one of those weeks.

That makes it sound like it's been a terrible week. It hasn't, I promise. There has been a lot of good in this week.

But it's just been busybusybusybusybusy.

Like, one of those weeks where I don't even know what I ate.

I must have eaten something.

Then again, don't ask me what because I really can't remember.

All I know is that I spent waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much time in the library this week.

Harold and I are in a relationship. But it's not a healthy one.

In fact, I think we're going to break up in a couple of weeks.

This is what you look like after 16 hours on campus. Yeah. Let's never do that ever again. 

Also, can we talk about how the library is doing all of these renovations after I leave? Where is the justice in that, people? I've done my time! I did my waiting! Twelve years of it! In Azkaban!

Look at BYU being all clever. I'm still mad, though.  Even the Monsters, Inc. reference cannot make me unmad at you, BYU. Why couldn't this south entrance have been created while I was on my mission instead of three weeks before I leave? Grr. 

(Okay, okay, it's not that dramatic. But I want an south door to the library and new carrels, too, thank you very much.)

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Living with Russian majors

. . . means that sometimes you get pictures like this in your fridge:


Nothing says roomie love like creepy pictures of Russian writers in the fridge.

And yes, we've been finding his face everywhere. The pantry, the bathroom.

Yeah. Yeah, it gives me nightmares, too.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Moscow and Rihanna

So this happened today: 

Professor (right before class): Megan, did you quote Rihanna in your last writing capture?* 

Me: Oh, yes. Yes, I did.**

Professor: Extra credit. [pause] I don't know Rihanna, but if I weren't married, I would totally go for her. 

Just another regular day in Tolstoy class. 

*Writing captures are basically a way for us to discuss a scene/theme from our reading and say whether or not we did the reading. 

**I was talking about how Pierre and Natasha's coming together in burned-out Moscow was symbolic. Just like Moscow was burned, broken, Pierre and Natasha were both burned, broken, but they were able to rebuild their lives through the love they had found. So, obviously, I quoted "we found love in a hopeless place." It's only logical, right? 

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Oh what a circus

Maybe it's something in the air during the week of Valentine's Day, but I've encountered some strange things on BYU campus this week. Like, more than usual.

-Like some guy outside the HFAC jamming out to T-Swift. "I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home." Don't get me wrong, I like "Enchanted" just as much as the next person, but I will never get that image out of my head.

-Speaking of the HFAC, people come out of there singing and dancing all of the time. Like, I know why. #vocalperformancemajors
But sometimes it just catches me off guard.

-Also, can we just talk about the library this week? People need to stop playing FHE scavenger hunts in there. Cawing like a crow in the library? Not cool, people. Not. cool.

-This might be just because it's almost Valentine's Day, but the library also seems to be the spot for couples to make out. In front of everyone. On the fourth floor. On the first floor. It doesn't matter. Really, people? Really? Like, I'm all for kissing, but maybe you'd want to do it somewhere more private? Like the stacks? Just a suggestion, just a suggestion.

-Speaking of private moments, this takes the cake. It goes like this: Em and I were at the library, looking for a place to study. We finally decided on the 2nd floor--the area where they play classical music--because 1) there were lots of open tables there, and 2) why not.

So, I was grading papers while Em was working on a beast of a Russian essay. People come and go--up the stairs, down the stairs, sit down, etc. The circle of life in the HBLL. Then, this girl and guy come down the stairs. It looks like they're friends, but they sit at different tables--neighboring tables, but different tables. The guy starts playing with his phone. Nothing weird, right?

Wrong.

Because, not ten minutes later, two other guys come down the stairs--a blonde and a brunette (we'll call them Blondie and Bruno. Just because). Bruno looks way too excited to be in the library, and Blondie looks nervous.

Bruno goes over and stands to the side of the tables, really awkwardly, while Blondie takes the seat next to the girl.

Blondie: "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"
Girl: "Sure . . ."
Blondie: "Well, I just have to say--" (starts to get all emotional) "Ever since I met you, and then ever since that kiss in the canyons, I just knew that I loved you and I knew that you were the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and just--I love you. And Alexandra," he gets down on one knee and opens a small black box, "Will you marry me?"
Girl: "Yes. . . . But did it have to be in the library?"
Blondie: "I couldn't wait." (Embraces her)
Bruno (comes in from behind and throws these violet flower petals on the happy couple): "Hey, oh hey, congrats. That's awesome."

Em and Me: (hiding behind our laptops, just trying not to laugh--because here is this incredibly intimate moment, and it's unbearably awkward and I just couldn't look--yet I had to. I absolutely had to.)

Blondie: "Do you want to get out of here?"
Girl: "Yeah."
They leave, while Bruno and the other guy pick up the flower petals, leaving Em and me to try to keep it together--because this is, after all, the library. But it was just too much.

So we got up to leave so we could take a walk in the atrium, laugh, and talk about the sheer awkwardness and horribleness of it all. As we left, a girl sitting at a neighboring table said to us,

"I'm so glad we were able to witness that terribly awkward moment together."

But really.

First of all, this really happened.
Second of all, just no. No, no, no, no, no. Do NOT propose in the library, people! Out of all the places you could, why would you propose to your future wife in front of a dozen students you don't even know?
Third of all, the flower petals. The flower petals.
And fourth of all, "Did it have to be in the library?"

Em and I are 98% sure that it was fake. But that other 2% of me thinks that maybe it wasn't. I can't decide which is worse.

Friday, January 30, 2015

The hills are alive

This is what it feels like when you drop a pointless, time-consuming class that doesn't even matter to your major or future life plans:



Best decision I've made all week.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Just a little war and peace

We've started reading War and Peace in my Tolstoy class.

We're only 115 pages in. There are 1337 pages.

I am so excited. It's one of those books that just dares you to try to read it. And we get to analyze it in my literature class.

Not to mention, I love Tolstoy. He is one of my favorite authors. The way he writes about life, love, and loss . . . he understands the human journey, and how life is made up of the prosaic.

And he makes the prosaic beautiful.

Also, I've been thinking about this quote from my Tolstoy professor all week:

"Mistakes are not fatal. They are often just missteps. But that doesn't mean that we are off course."

I love that.

And I'm looking forward to reading this epic.

All 1337 pages of it.



Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Overheard at BYU, the Returned Missionary Edition

Just a couple of things I've noticed this Winter Semester at BYU:

--There are returned sister missionaries EVERYWHERE. The wave has returned, and they have all returned to Provo.

Not that this is a bad thing. I mean, I think it's great that there are more sisters serving missions. But it adds a different demographic to campus. And it means that there are conversations like this around campus on an hourly basis:

"Sister Clark! Wait, what's your first name?"
"Aubrey! What's yours?"  (I kid you not, I heard conversations like this about fifteen times yesterday.)

Students going up to devotional: "Where did you serve?"
"Atlanta. What about you?"
"Chile. This is my companion."

I have heard more conversations like this than ever before. And they're all coming from girls. Most of whom are younger than me when I left for a mission. Crazy.

Did I mention that I'm really glad that I never have to be a recently returned missionary ever again? Because I am. I'm really glad about. To everything there is a season, I know, but I'm at at a different season now, and I'm a-ok with that.

-Also, just FYI, NEVER go to the student gym until AFTER everyone has broken their New Year's Resolutions. Just don't do it.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Finals Week, part 2

So, I only have one more final left (yayyyyyyyy). It's my American Religious History final . . . which has been an incredible class, by the way. Life-changing. Paradigm-shifting. Intellectually challenging. The professor--he's just phenomenal and I want to be like him when I grow up.

Anyway, I've been cracking up as I've been reading my marginal comments for the class--my observations about my classmates, random Russian phrases, and the non sequitur comments from my professor. Because sometimes, professors are hilarious.

Just take a look:

(Talking about how he hates the phrase that Mormons like to attribute to Jesus): "I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it." Who came up with this? Where did it come from? First of all, Jesus never said this. And second of all, He did say it would be easy! He said, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." I want to change it. "I never said it would be easy . . . except I did."

(Talking about the differences in American religious culture during the Enlightenment vs. the 2nd Great Awakening): There's a reason Moroni didn't appear to Jefferson. Jefferson would have hanged himself.

(Talking about a historian whose book we read): Isn't she fabulous? She is so bright. She has a JD from Yale and PhD from Penn. I hate her. And she lives in a mansion outside Philly. And to top it all off, she runs marathons. Yep. Hate her.

-"If you can't have love, go for academic excellence."

(Impersonating Brigham Young): Brigham's in heaven going, "Why am I the only one people take it out on? No one ever takes it out on Spencer W. Kimball! --too short, too lovable--but me?! Just level with me, people, is it the beard or the 52 wives?"

(Talking about macaroons after coming back from a conference in Paris): Why did no one tell me about these? They are so light, refined, and delicious!"

"Ain't no one just tells it like it was."

American Religious History. History and politics. Faith, belief, and bloodshed. Good times, people, good times.

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

FINALS WEEK

. . . is a beast. 

That's all there is to it. 

And this semester has been a beast, too. 

Do you realize that I have written over 20 papers this semester? TWENTY. 

My brain is fried. Gone. Checked out forever.

I feel like I don't have an original thought left in my head. 

Hopefully some come back before my last final this Thursday. Because I'll have to impress. 

Sooooo, since my brain is dead, I've resorted to watching dumb YouTube videos. Because, hellllloooooo, that's what you do during Finals Week so that you don't go completely crazy. 

Laughing is always better than crying. 

This is probably the best thing I've found this week: 


I. can.not.stop.laughing. 

Saturday, November 22, 2014

My theory of devolution

 . . .  or on why I was never called to be a sister missionary on Temple Square.*

I have a theory that the further down the rabbit hole of the semester you go, the less you care about how you look. You know how at the beginning of the semester, everyone** is all bright and happy and wearing their shiny first-day-of-school faces? You wear your new shoes and jeans, curl your hair, make sure your makeup is perfect . . . it's like you have a date with success and expectation.

By Thanksgiving Break, you are ready to break-up with school. For good. Forever. El fin.

And so you just stop caring about what you wear.

I've noticed that for most people, the devolution starts around week 3 of school. I know that for me, it starts when I stop wearing my contacts and just put on my glasses. That doesn't mean that I'm dressed like a complete slob, but if I wake up later than I should and don't want to put on a lot of makeup, I'll just put my glasses on and call it good, claiming the favorite "Marian Librarian look." Classy, yet practical.

By midterms, it's practically over. There might be some days where people try--maybe there's that cute boy/girl in class that you are still trying to impress, maybe you are someone who believes in looking classy every single day of your life, but for most of us, we're just too tired to care anymore.

And by Thanksgiving Break, oh honey, it's game over. It's long gone and you are just waiting for finals to be over so you can spend all day in your pajamas and eat chocolate oranges.

EXHIBIT A: 
First day of school. Notice the bright eyes filled with hopes and expectations of good things to come and the carefully chosen first-day-of-school outfits. Also note the curled hair, bright colors, and sheepish grins.


VS. 


This just screams: Help me. I am drowning in papers and tests and not even awesome fishtail braids or BYU hoodies can save me. I have given up trying. I don't even care what other people think. 

It's a thing, people. It's a thing. The struggle is real.






*There is a reason I was never called to be a sister missionary on Temple Square, if you couldn't already tell. Because there are some days when I don't want to care what I look like. I am perfectly fine being a Frumpy-McFrumpster when I want to be. I remember in the MTC the MTC presidency telling sister missionaries to remember to put on makeup and a "belt or scarf around it" to complete your outfit. But believe me. When you're freezing in Ukraine and wrapped up in thermals, leggings, two pairs of woolen stockings, two pairs of gloves, sweaters, a heavy coat, scarf, and hat--you don't care what you look like. You are just trying not to freeze. 

**And by everyone, I mean almost everyone. Because there are always the people who never care. Ever. And who can blame them? 

In which I have another epic fail moment

First of all, you know those Pinterest Fail websites? I think they are the funniest things in the world. Because, my friends, schadenfreude. It is a real thing. Enjoyment from watching the failures of others. Ahh, I am a terrible person. But at least there's a term for it.

But really. I think they are just hilarious. I mean, just take a look at some of these epic fails:

This is what would happen if I tried to make it. 
via funnyuse.com


Those are just frightening. 
via funnyonlinepictures.com

Anyway. Pinterest fails are a favorite pastime of mine . . . both laughing at others' Pinterest fails and my own. (And if you want to see more epic Pinterest fails, go here, here, or here.) 

I've decided that I could start a  fail blog based on all the awkward things I've done. Because, if you know me at all, you know that I am both awkward and endearing. The queen of awkward. But I own it. Which makes it okay . . .? I don't know. In any case, I'm awkward. And I'm cool with that. 

This week, I had another FAIL blog moment. Here's how it went down. 

I was walking to the campus forum and I was climbing the stairs to the Marriott Center, when I saw a friend who I hadn't seen in about a year. We've been friends since sophomore year of high school, so you know, we're good friends. And we have seen each other's awkwardness. He's certainly used to mine. 

Anyway, I saw him and I decided to give him a big hug--because, you know, friendship. And then, out of nowhere, this girl appears next to him . . . a girl who he was waiting for and going to listen to the forum with. And she didn't look happy to see me there at all.  

*crickets* 
Me (thinking): This looks really bad. 

So we did quick awkward introductions and I backed off as quickly as possible. 

"Oh heyyyyyyyy. How do you know each other? Oh, that's great! That's just great. Yeah, nice to meet you. I'm leaving now. Enjoy listening to Mitt. I'm just going to go run away now. Okay, byeeeeeeeeeee." 

And I made a quick exit and disappeared in the crowd. Go me. 

Nailed it. 

Sunday, October 19, 2014

When third place is better than first

Remember when this happened last year?


Yeah, it was a pretty neat experience. 

This year I decided to enter the Brimhall Essay Contest again, because--why not? 

This year's theme was "Take Flight," and I wrote about Janie Thompson, who was the founder of BYU's Young Ambassadors and Living Legends programs. She was an incredible woman who magnified her talents and learned to replace faith with fear. Spunky Mormon women never cease to amaze and inspire me. 

Anyway. I didn't win this year. And that was perfectly fine with me. (Honestly, I think it would have been a little weird if I had won again . . . it would have been like, "Oh hai, guys. It's me again.") 

But I did get 3rd place. Which was perfect. Because it meant that I could watch the Homecoming Opening ceremonies with my dad and I didn't have to worry about speaking in front of the entire school. Instead, I got to enjoy listening to the winning essay and remember all of the emotion from last year. 

 Remember that time I can't take selfies? I'm still learning, people. Also, Dad for the win with his BYU-themed tie. 


Also, I got a free lunch and got to meet President Worthen. So, you know. Life is good. 


Thursday, October 16, 2014

It's been a long week.

You know those weeks where you just know it will be a miracle if you get through it all?

It's not that there are bad things going on. Just a lot of things.

And so sometimes you wonder. You wonder if you'll suffocate or rise above the chaos.

Yep. It's been one of those weeks.

Started Monday by accidentally sleeping in and then waking up twenty minutes before my first class started. That was fun. You forget how fast you can move when you have to. And the rest of the week followed the helter-skelter of Monday morning.

Dentist appointment, numb mouth, mint cookies, meeting the Mormons (still my favorite way to say that I saw the film: "I met the Mormons yesterday." Still funny.), three big essays, luncheons, cupcakes, dictators, getting emails from Georgetown telling me to apply for their grad school (!), and becoming best friends with random guys in the library (Cambridge. It sparks conversation.).

Yep, it's been a long week. But a good one. And bad. And everything in between. A regular week in the middle of the semester.

One week at a time.

One day at a time.

Give me time. I'll be fine. More than fine.