Writing and Progression

And speaking of academic
written criticism.....

Last week in my English class about writing criticism, we were discussing the editorial and revising process. Among other things, our teacher noted that, as a work, our papers will never be "finished." To quote her exactly, a paper is not a product, it is a process. She used an example from her own life when she sent a so-called finished and ready article to a journal only to reread it, horrified at what she had submitted. The paper was no longer done and more changes were in order to improve the quality and style.

I think our own lives are much the same way, especially in our spiritual progression. We can never say we are "done." After working on something in a specific area of our life (or paper), when we step back and look at the big picture again, we'll surely find something that could use a little tweaking, some rewriting, or maybe the removal of a major paragraph or habit. The finished product we're working toward won't really be finished and thoroughly refined until after this life. But we can get as much of a head start as possible right now through another process called repentance. This is really comforting for me when I get weighed down by all the things I'm doing wrong, or worse, doing wrong over and over again.

The encouraging thing is that our "papers" don't have to be perfect to be acceptable. God isn't going to send us back a piece of paper with all things that are wrong in our current "draft" and tell us to come back when we've fixed them all. God knows we aren't perfect and all we have to do is try our best to keep improving. A friend pointed out to me that in the oft-quoted scripture in Moroni which says to "Come unto Christ and be perfected in Him," perfection is mentioned after coming to Christ. It doesn't say to become perfect and then we can come unto Christ, because we will never become perfect without Him. That means that I can reword and revise my draft as much as I need to for as long as it takes me until I can get it perfect. When will that be? I have no idea. But I am so happy and grateful that it's possible.

In Control...For Now

It's occurred to me that I don't have to have interesting things to say in order to make a blog post, nor do I have to go on and on as I tend to do when I have a subject I really feel strongly about. I can also write about the mundane or the everyday things in life, because I think those are good too and are more interesting in their own way. They can also be short.

Everyday Thing #1
For the past few days I've had the great feeling that I've really been in control and on top of my classes and homework and it's a GREAT feeling!! My typed-up "To Do" list shrinks at the appropriate times, papers are being written, readings are being read, tests are being studied for, I've found my rhythm for the semester. This is weird for me because usually it always feels like I'm drowning (which it did for the past couple of weeks, it is true) and like I'll never surface but, for the moment, I have! I have and I'm trying to enjoy it for as long as it lasts before all my midterms start (or triterms would be more accurate in some cases, as there are three intermittent tests in lots of classes nowadays) or whatever may happen that causes me to start to fall behind again. Here's to hoping that moment never comes!

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!