On Feeling Pensive and Opening Up

Tonight I went to a volleyball game with an old friend from my freshman year. We were supposed to meet up there with a few of her friends, watch the game, and then head to her apartment and watch a movie. We've done this before and she is one of my favorite friends to spend time with and especially to watch movies with because she reacts in the right spots and always makes just the right amount of comments. Last time we watched a sappy Nicholas Sparks novel-turned-movie and we made snarky comments every few minutes. It's rather enjoyable.

Tonight our plans shifted a little bit. A new friend from one of her classes came to the game with us, but I wasn't too worried. The original plan still held, as far as I knew. After the game, he said we were both invited to his apartment to hang out with some other people and we'd decide from there what would happen. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but I've known for a while that I need to try to break my bubble, put myself out there and meet some new people. Here was a perfect opportunity. Still a bit unwilling, I agreed to go. He offered to drive us both there so we wouldn't get a boot in his parking lot. This was very nice, but it made me uncomfortable since I wouldn't necessarily be able to leave early if I wanted to. But in the name of friendliness (or a lack of it on my part) I just went along.

Now, the funny thing is.....nothing really went wrong. Nothing happened that made me want to run screaming from the room. There ended up being about 9 people there, which is not exactly what people would call a large party. It wasn't even a party. Nobody was rude to me at all, nobody said anything offensive, I was making nice conversation with a few people, they were asking me questions, everything was relatively normal. But the whole time, I just felt really uncomfortable. I wished and wished that my friend and I had been able to watch a movie at her apartment like we had originally planned. We started playing a board game that really required getting out of one's comfort zone. My discomfort skyrocketed. I knew one out of nine other people and the tasks of the game were really embarrassing. The thought finally formed in my head in words what I had been feeling for about 20 minutes. "I want to get out of here. I want to be at home. Alone."

My freshman year of college, I would have loved this sort of thing. I was all about meeting new people and making as many friends as I could. I liked to run around and do stupid things like spray mustard on random people's windows with a large loud group (I was only 18). Friends of friends became my friends. My Facebook friend count escalated. I liked to play crazy games that would let me show off a bit.

So tonight, I'm feeling pensive. To make sure this is what I was really feeling, I looked up the adjective in the dictionary. This was the second entry:

expressing or revealing thoughtfulness, usually marked by some sadness.

I'm feeling pensive. I feel very philosophical which is laced around the edges with a slight bit of sadness. Two and a half years later, I feel no need to meet anybody new. There are even people in my life that I knew before that I have no desire to see again. When I first came home from my mission, I thought this was a normal thing and that it would pass. Now, however, I know that although it is normal, it is not going to pass. I've discovered that I'm an introvert and while many people who know me wouldn't label me as 'shy,' I don't need a lot of people around me to be content.  I 'gear up' for life by being alone. Being alone is what 'recharges' me. And if I'm not alone, being with some or all of my small group of 10 or less close friends is all I need. In addition, when I'm with those friends, I'm perfectly content just sitting around and talking or playing a board game (one of the suggestions for tonight was a scavenger hunt with a pre-written list of things to do. Get 3 strangers to serenade you? I almost died).

Meeting new people and being the first one to be friendly and say hi, for me, feels very vulnerable. I usually end up replaying the scene in my head, hashing out all the dumb things I said and then wonder what that person thinks of me. It's hard for me to really 'be myself' around people and let them see what I really think and act like. And, in my brain, I don't see any reason to open myself up to vulnerable situations when I already have enough people who I know care about me and like to spend time with me. The rest of the time I enjoy being alone.

So in my uncomfortable situation tonight, when I really started to yearn for my dingy apartment, I announced before rolling the die that this would be my last one. It was. I got up and awkwardly left after my turn. Nobody else left. My friend stayed there. I declined a ride from the kid who had brought us there and said I would walk. It really wasn't far. While walking to my car, all the thoughts I just wrote out went through my head again. Those people were very nice but I have no desire to see any of them again (except for my friend I originally went to the game with). I don't need to. For some reason, this makes me feel a sweet kind of loneliness. Upon arriving home and being in my room - alone - I felt comfortable and happy again. Will I eventually reach out and make a few new and, hopefully, close friends? I hope so. But for now, I'll probably just eat a sandwich, watch an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore show, read a little bit and then head to bed. Let the real charging up begin. Alone.

A Terrible Experience Relived...Or Nearly So

If you know me at all or if you have spent any amount of time around me in the past three months, you know two things:

                     1. Science and I have never been friends.

                      2. Last semester I had a Biology class that nearly caused me to lose my mind with frustration until I hit a point where I stopped caring completely and totally.

Without going into too many details, suffice it to say that material covered on tests did not accurately reflect in any way what was covered in class, to the point that I wanted to hurl things at the professor and the TAs. It's an established fact: it was one of the worst, one of the most drawn-out, one of the most painful experiences of my life. Period.

In contrast, this semester I do not have any classes that will not be useful to me in someway in the future - not one - be it in my career choice or more advanced classes in my chosen field of university study. One of the courses this semester is a once-a-week British Literature class that lasts two and a half hours. With my regular work schedule and because of other prerequisites, this was about my only option for this class even though it was definitely not my first choice, but we do what we have to.

Last Wednesday was the first class period. On Tuesday at about 4:00 PM I received an email from the professor of this class welcoming us all to the world of Romantic and Victorian Literature. The syllabus was also attached along with a large reading assignment and a short (1-2 page) response paper due the next evening. This was odd, but what I found odd wasn't necessarily the fact that we had an assignment due the first day, rather it was the volume of the assignment and the fact that we had about 24 hours to do it in in addition to all of my other homework. But, I said to myself, that's college life! I read through the syllabus and spent a few hours on the assignment, although I still only did three-quarters of the reading, opting to read the huge summary of the Romantic Period and writing an overview of it and neglecting to read two pieces of literature written by authors of that period.

This evening I got to class and the professor instructed us to pull out a sheet of paper first thing. "We're going to have a little quiz," my professor said. Hmm. I immediately regretted not having read the two assigned readings and was about to pay for it on the first day of class. But it turned out that the quiz wasn't on our readings...

"Question number one. What are my office hours?"

What? Are you kidding me? I'm supposed to have retained your office hours, of all things on that syllabus?! That's why I have this thing, so I don't have to memorize your office hours!

"Question number two. What is my attendance policy?"

This is a joke.....why would I be worried about the attendance policy before the class even starts?? I mean, I had read over the entire syllabus, including the attendance policy, but I was a little more concerned with what kind of assignments we would be getting and what the weekly workload would look like, wasn't I??

The quiz continued. "How many children do I have? What is my late work policy? What are your reading journals supposed to look like?" And on and on for ten questions. This is outrageous, I thought to myself. If this is any portent of things to come in this class, I'm dropping it this very evening. Where had I experienced this before....? Ridiculous questions, no way of knowing on what we'd be tested...it was Bio 100 all over again!!! But...but this is supposed to be British Literature!

I felt that familiar sensation right around the bottom of my ribcage, as if a literal substance called anger or temper were rising up through my body and, unchecked, would come out of my mouth in the form of unrestrained, insulting fury. There is no way I'm staying in this class, absolutely no way! I started to think of other free times in my week when I could look for a British Lit class at home this evening when the time came to correct our quizzes. This is unbelievable, I thought. Who tests their class on the syllabus before anything on it has been explained?! Of all the stupid and pointless things to have to commit to memory!

Then, in a split second, my professor went from being cursed over and over in my mind to an elevated position rarely attained by any teacher I've had (well maybe not that high...)

"Of course I'm not quizzing you on the syllabus! Quizzes on reading material are stupid and only show a lack of trust between the professor and the student. If you say you've done your readings, you've done them! And if not, well....we'll see that in the papers and on the tests."

A wave of relief spread over my mind and heart and I'm sure my facial expression lightened considerably. Bless this man, this antithesis of my biology professor and all her ideals! I wouldn't have to drop the class at all!! In the hour that followed (we got out early since it was the first day and all), I not only was glad that I wouldn't have to drop the class, I was really looking forward to keeping the class and looked forward to some of the assignments and readings. With only two papers due and no silly quizzes on the readings? I don't think British Lit is going to be bad at all.

Every academic writer needs to read this....

If you've ever been frustrated with the language of so-called academia, then you ought to read this essay by George Orwell. It's long but good. I even laughed out loud a few times. Every textbook writer, every essayist, every academic journalist, every professor should read this.

https://www.mtholyoke.edu/acad/intrel/orwell46.htm

Now look at this part of an essay that we had to read in another English class:

You will observe that from Magna Charta to the Declaration of Right it has been the uniform policy of our constitution to claim and assert our liberties as an entailed inheritance derived to us from our forefathers, and to betransmitted to our posterity — as an estate specially belonging to the people of this kingdom, without any reference whatever to any other more general or prior right. By this means our constitution preserves a unity in so great a diversity of its parts. We have an inheritable crown, an inheritable peerage, and a House of Commons and a people inheriting privileges, franchises,and liberties from a long line of ancestors.
This policy appears to me to be the result of profound reflection, or rather the happy effect of following nature, which is wisdom without reflection, and above it. A spirit of innovation is generally the result of a selfish temper and confined views. People will not look forward to posterity, who never look backward to their ancestors. Besides, the people of England well know that the idea of inheritance furnishes a sure principle of conservation and a sure principle of transmission, without at all excluding a principle of improvement. It leaves acquisition free, but it secures what it acquires. Whatever advantages are obtained by a state proceeding on these maxims are locked fast as in a sort of family settlement, grasped as in a kind of mortmain forever.

 What?

 I am pretty sure this one thing that George Orwell is talking about. Needless to say, with six large pages of this to read in tiny print....I didn't get all the way through it. 

Post-Christmas Blues and Something to Be Grateful For

It's that time of the year again. The presents have been opened, the family has come to visit, the food has been eaten, the clock reads about four thirty in the afternoon and that sinking feeling hits: Christmas is over. The day that you've been waiting for for days, weeks, and months, depending on your age, has come and gone. The "Christmas feel" that has been mounting all month, reaching its climax on Christmas Eve is no longer there. Now is the time when thoughts of returning to work and school creep in. The realization that rent is due, books need to be purchased, schedules need to be finalized; the Christmas rush may be through, but a different kind of rush is about to take off.

However, Christmas is not the sole occasion that this sort of glumness accompanies. Personally, I get these "Post-Holiday Blues" at the end of Thanksgiving Day as well as after my birthday in January, although the Christmas Day experience is by far the most depressing. Why does this happen?

Christmas is the most magical time of year. There is a special feeling that comes from listening to Christmas music, snow falling (sometimes), special Christmas events and parties, helping other people in any sort of capacity, and being with family. But that's the problem. Christmas is the most magical time of year. Magical. And, well....magic isn't real. And while the good experiences and feelings we have around Christmastime are more than authentic and real, what isn't real (or at least enduring) is the vacationing, the perpetual sweets, the lavish decorations, the irresponsibility, the napping, the presents, the whimsical days spent reading a fun book or staying up until all hours playing games. When I realize that I have to face reality again in a few days, that I'll have to start going back to classes and do unpleasant things like homework again, my perfect little Christmas world is shattered.


Hence the post-holiday depression. Quite a first-world problem, isn't it?

However, it is something that can really get me down if I don't do something about it. But what can be done?? I know I'm not the only person in the world who gets the post-holiday blues, and as a result, there are infinite methods through which it can be overcome. My own personal method is to find things that I'm excited for or grateful for in my old humdrum life at school. Whenever I get feeling particularly down, I try to specifically think about my life in Provo, since, especially during Winter semester, that is where I spend most of my time. Even though there will be rent to pay, textbooks to read, papers to write, and tests to take, there are a lot of good things that go with it and things that I will only be able to experience and do at this point in my life.

I'm not really sure how this applies, but
it made me laugh, so there.

Rabbi Harold Kushner said, "If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul." Sometimes I am a lot better at being grateful for the good things in my life right now than at other times. But I have seen that when I do find the good things in my life and am grateful for them that it becomes much easier to be grateful, I feel much, much happier and the Christmas blues don't seem to have as powerful of an impact on me.

Perhaps the thing I should be most grateful for in response to the post-holiday blues is the very fact that I was able to have such a great Christmas. I got to go home and be with the people I really love and enjoy spending time with. I was able to vacation, eat perpetual sweets, enjoy lavish decorations, be irresponsible, take naps as I pleased, and spend whimsical days reading fun books and staying up until all hours playing games.

So, while I'm not ready to go to class tomorrow and start all the inevitable reading assignments, I'm considerably more ready than I was on the 25th at 4:30 PM. The post-Christmas blues are all but gone.

Liszt Does it Again

It's that time of year.....not only is it Christmas time, but we are also at that point in the semester where students spend long hours in the library (or the 4th floor of the JFSB in my case) and frantically cram and plan out when to take final exams.

BUT!

That time of year is past and it is now time to really rejoice because finals are over! Today while wandering around campus in a shocked and dazed state, this piece kept coming into my head and I think it is an accurate portrayal of how I feel. The whole piece is great, but the first three minutes or so are especially pertinent.

Also, this is called a waltz, but I defy anybody to dance to it and make it look good.

Enjoy!

Pre-New Year's New Year's Resolution

I've been thinking about what to write about next. The last two or three posts were all about things that I reflected on throughout the day when I didn't really have anything else to think about. Finals week is about to start and that takes up a large part of my thinking time, whether it's organizing in which order I am going to take the unscheduled ones or double checking the days, times, and places of the scheduled ones and when I'm planning on studying what. And nobody wants to read about that!

So I've tried to come up with other things that I consciously or unconsciously think about during the day. It didn't take long before I realized one thing that I see nearly every day that triggers the same thought over and over, every time somebody runs past me in jogging shoes or I walk in between the two athletic buildings on campus and see sweaty people coming out of them:

I should start doing that.

Who can say aught against the benefits of working out? During the last three months of my mission, I became a convert to daily or at least regular exercise. My companion and I started running (at his insistence, I might add) two or three times a week in the morning at 6:30. It only took about fifteen minutes if that, but I was severely out of shape and am not the cheeriest of souls at such an hour of the day. After a few weeks we started running farther than just to the bridge and back and started doing laps around our block. One lap was about a mile and a half and we started running every day. I'll never know why I agreed to such a thing and while I never really looked forward to it per se (does anybody ever really look forward to working out at 6:30 in the morning?), I did begin to like how I felt after running. I also started to watch my eating habits and nearly eliminated Nutella from my diet (a far cry from one year before when two of us were downing one jar a week). In addition I started doing pushups in the evenings before bed and this is where I really started to see some improvement. My companion even convinced me to run two 5Ks or two laps around our block. I felt great!

Fast forward about two months to my first few weeks back home. One morning I woke up at 7:00 (it seems so much later than 6:30) determined to take up the same schedule. I put on my running shoes and shorts like an old pro and set out to run around my block two, maybe three times considering how much better I had become in those last three months. Perhaps I tried to go too fast too soon and overestimated my aerobic abilities and capacity, perhaps it was the change in elevation my companion warned me I'd see in returning to the mountains of Utah. Whatever it was, before I'd even gotten around the block one time, I was on the verge of cardiac arrest. Few things are more discouraging than feeling like you are about to give up the ghost after having run a quarter of a mile at age 21.

Ever since that day I have never gone running or done any intentional exercise of any sort. As a result, every time I see anybody running I get a little twinge of guilt that still hasn't stopped needling at me.

Now, I'm not a large person. I've stayed at the same weight for a couple of years now and I usually can eat whatever I want and nothing happens. I'm quite thin and I take a certain amount of pride in it.While I am infinitely grateful for this, there's one thing that's been nagging at me for a while (this takes place after I get that twinge of guilt upon seeing some proactive, in-shape soul), and that's the fact that I'm not getting any younger. I may be able to eat whatever I want now, but that surely won't be the case in ten or fifteen years. What am I going to do then?!

It usually takes me a long time and a lot of thinking before I make any sort of large personal change or decide to take on something that will require regular effort on my part (this blog for example), but I think I'm pretty close to deciding to take up running again. I figure that if I don't put my pride on the shelf now and work hard, I'll have to put it on the shelf in ten or fifteen years (maybe sooner, perish the the thought...) and work a lot harder then. I guess it's kind of my pre-New Year's New Year's Resolution. Since I've decided to make it a resolution, I should probably start running this week.....

Meh. I'll wait until after Christmas.

Christmas Cheer!

Christmas is a great time of year and what would December be without some holiday tunes to help the Christmas spirit along? In addition to the Carpenters, the Boston Pops Orchestra, and A Charlie Brown Christmas, here are a few of my more recent Christmas favorites. I'll let the artists speak for themselves. Enjoy!!