Spoke too soon . . .

Remember how I did a lovely post about our family's pet pinata?

Well, she died the other day.

It's a bit morbid, really. 

And although nothing like this happened . . . 

I still kind of felt like the little kid. But in the end, the promise of candy was too much for me. 

What can you do? I like my Milky Ways. 

R.I.P. Mamana. 

Why cleaning out your inbox is like cleaning your room

. . . because you just never know what you'll find.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am terrible at organizing my inbox. Like, I have good intentions. I'll try every once in awhile. I even have archive labels so that every email can have a home.

I just forget to use them.

Well, today was "Megan really needs to clean out her inbox day." It's a great day. I listen to music and podcasts and find gems like these in my inbox from a year-and-a-half ago:

Puritan valentines. How sweet.

"Your hair is still short."

I decided that when I graduated, I was going to chop my hair off.

So I did.

Here is my hair the day of graduation:

And here is my hair a few days after graduation:

Cuz sometimes you need a change, you know? 

Still, it's super weird. I haven't cut my hair since right before my mission (when I cut it to my ears--so super, super short). So having this change is, well, a change . . . especially since I cut off around ten inches. 

My favorite reaction was my four-year-old cousin. She saw me the day I cut my hair and said, "Megan--your hair is short." 

"Yes, it is short. And it will be short for a few months." 

The next day: "Megan, your hair is still short." 

She says that to me on a daily basis. And it's really cute. 

And a reminder that, yes, my hair is still short. 

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.

Falling off the pedestal . . . and still rolling . . .

So this happened:

Me: "I hate being put on pedestals. There are only two things you can do on a pedestal: look pretty, or fall off."

Em: "I know, it's the worst."

5 minutes later (in a conversation about how Nutella is one of my weaknesses)

Em: "You have weaknesses?"

Me: "Yes. Why?"

Em: "You're not allowed to have weaknesses. You're Megan Beth Armknecht."

Me: "Sister! You just put me on a pedestal."

Em: " . . . you're pretty."

We are so funny. How do people even stand it?

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.

This. Just this.

I cannot stop laughing. It gets me every time.

Just watch the video.



Eastern Europe. I love you.

Grease Meets Star Trek

I love stupid YouTube videos. I'm sure I've mentioned it on this blog before. Because I love them. It's probably unhealthy.

I was reminded of this classic not too long ago. Warning: if you watch it, you will waste 3.5 minutes of your life that you will never get back. And get a terribly banal and repetitive song stuck in your head. I mean, you're watching this and going, what is this? Because it makes no sense but you can't stop watching it. You just can't.

I mean, who would want to stop watching some Swedish or Finnish pop group in some kind of 70s Star Trek Meets Grease the Musical with dance moves from 80s aerobic workout videos and pageboy haircuts with some dude, wearing a gold chain that looks like the Deathly Hallows sign, looking straight into the camera singing about how he wants to hold you tender? I mean, it doesn't get any more twilight-zoney than this.





I am so having this be the first dance at my wedding.







Favorite part: Okay, even if you're not going to watch the entire thing, back me up on this. At 1:52, is that guy in the back rocking out to a toaster?! Because I'm pretty sure he's rocking out to a toaster.

Confession

I recently finished a project at work where I looked through old Great Works response papers and found the best ones to use for examples and got rid of bad examples.

Let me just say, there were a few papers that left me wondering, "Really? This was in the pile as a good example? How did it sneak in here?"

Like this one.

[The student* is writing about Electra and about the inevitability of fate which factors into the play.]

"This point is illustrated by the grotesque murder of Clytemnestra being justified as fulfillment of a fate granted by Apollo. This reminds me of my high school days . . ."

What, wait?! Hold the phone. This reminds you of your high school days? What, are you confessing a murder to us in your Great Works paper? Did you grow up in inner-city Los Angeles? Did you kill your own mother? Do I need to call the FBI?

". . . this reminds me of my high school days where I would procrastinate assignments instead of giving in to the inevitable reality that I had to complete the assignment."

Um, no, sir. That is not a good comparison. Matricide vs. homework procrastination. Hmm. Let me think. Yep, still a no-go.

Ah, the joys of editing. You never know when you'll strike comedy gold.

*I have no idea who wrote this paper--his name wasn't on it. So if you come across this blog post and realize that it's your paper, I'm terribly sorry if I offended you.

. . . but thanks for the laugh, anyway.
 

Harry Potter Love

I stumbled upon this blog post today and can't stop laughing.

Look at this brilliance:

 {photo courtesy of yenniper.blogspot.com}

And this: 

 {also from yenniper.blogspot.com}

And my personal favorite:

{yenniper.blogspot.com}

Valentine's Day just became much more magical. 

Ice Cream Serenade

Tonight my mom, sister and I got some ice cream from I Like Ike's Cream. Because it was one of those nights when you just need some good ice cream. You know what I mean.

They serve Blue Bell ice cream, which is the best ice cream in the world, in case you were wondering. 

While the employees were scooping up our creamy dessert, Adele's "Someone Like You" came on their radio. 

And everyone started singing along. 

Everyone: the cashier, the girl scooping ice cream, the boy scooping ice cream, my little sister, the couple at the counter, the people outside, and the man in the moon.

Except for me. I was silently laughing at everyone. It was probably the funniest thing I've seen all day. 

Another funny thing? 

This video. Watch it. Laugh at it. It is great. 

Please Excuse Our Appearance

Serious blog-revamping going on. Hopefully I'll figure out the bugs and make the tweaks asap.

But meanwhile, for your viewing pleasure, here is the newest video of the Kid History series. Yes, I'm addicted. Yes, they are hilarious. nbd.

Delving into the Depths of My Psyche

Do you know why I'm writing this blog post?

because I'm afraid to check my e-mail and this will take up more time before I actually have to get up my courage and just look. 


Yes, my friends, I suffer from What-Megan-Doesn't-Know-Won't-Kill-Her Syndrome, or WMDKWKHS for short.

It most often occurs when I send an important e-mail that usually deals with:
A) A prestigious study abroad programme
B) Internships
C) Sending papers to TAs/professors

This is usually the procedure*:

9:10 am--Write an e-mail to director/employer/TA/professor.

9:15 am--Revise e-mail to director/employer/TA/professor.

9:20 am--Proofread e-mail to director/employer/TA/professor.

9:25 am--Look over e-mail again. Take out cliche phrases.

9:30 am--Send e-mail to director/employer/TA/professor.

Now, WMDKWKHS usually doesn't manifest itself for at least an hour. If the director/employer/TA/professor e-mails back within an hour, there is no time for WMDKWKHS to take effect, because worry doesn't set in. But let's be honest. Worry's going to set in. It's me we're talking about, people.

9:30 am to 5:30 pm--Life. Mull over e-mail during the day, worry over possible replies:

A) NO! You are not allowed to come on this amazing once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Now go to a corner and cry!

B) NO! We'd rather hire a monkey than you!

C) HAHAHAHAHAHA! This was the worst paper I've ever read in my life! And you call yourself an English major?!**

5:30 pm--Go to the computer and wonder if I should check e-mail. Decide against it. Could be bad news (see above). 

5:31 pm--Go on Facebook instead.

6:00 pm--I really probably should check my e-mail, just in case they've written back. That way I can deal with it . . .

7:00 pm--Really should check that e-mail . . .

7:15 pm--Let's watch all of the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings, instead. Yeah, that's a great idea.

6:45 am--Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz *Music in the background: "Grey ships pass into the west. . ."*

7:00 am--Wake up from a nightmare about orcs forcing me to eat computers with BBQ sauce.

7:01 am--Oh yeah . . . e-mail.

7:02 am--Go to computer.

7:03 am--Slowly type my username and password. Close my eyes, bracing myself to read the incriminating response from director/employer/TA/professor . . .

G-mail Inbox: You have 0 new messages.

Me: ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After that, the cycle continues indefinitely until I finally get a response.

And usually, it isn't bad. And if it is bad, I deal with it quickly and well.

It's just getting to the e-mail that's hard for me.

But here I go. I'm going to check that e-mail now.

Maybe.








*This is an exaggeration. Most of the time.
** Again, exaggeration. I don't really think anyone would write something like that. Unless they're sadists.

Only at BYU . . .

. . . would you come home after class and find this sitting on your couch:

And, it's the DELUXE edition!

I honestly have no idea where it came from.

It's most likely a sign.