Let Hell Week Begin...

Thus begins our tech runs for Holes. 9-2 classes. 6-11 rehearsals. 8 credits. Yep I'm might have just entered the realm of insanity. It's about time I joined all of you guys who live a crazy busy life. ;)

Tonight I don my long, curly, goregeously Gothic, Latvian wig. And a tiny corselet that reminds me why I'm glad I was born in this time period. Then I get to marry my "dad's" best friend, the old, fat pig farmer Igor Barkov. It's times like these that remind me of why I love theatre. (Wish you all could see me squeal like a pig.)

Why Emily hasn't gone grocery shopping...

In response to Sheila's response on my blog I am updating. Not because I have the time and not because all of you are hanging on my every word, but because I love Sheila. Yes, sweetheart that was for you. :) I realize that the whole Rob thing is a dead horse I've resurrected just to beat back into the ground. But, those of you who know me know that I'll probably be dealing with that on some degree for the rest of my life. In a much happier sense I am sure.

So it's been a blessing that I haven't been grocery shopping.
1. Because I don't have the money
2. Because I don't have to ride the bus to get to the store
3. Because I don't have to feel guilty for asking my parents for money.
4. Because this punk girl who owes me 130 smackos still hasn't paid me because "wo is her, she doesn't have the money either." I'm sorry but screwing me over doesn't really cut it. She promised that she would pay me absolutely no later than May 1. Welcome to May 10 and her second housing reimbursement is due. Snarl.
5. Because the creamery's selection is really getting boring. And who wants to pay five bucks for a Box of Honey Nut Cheerios.

I sound bitter. I'm really not. I'm loving college right now. I have a feeling this going to be a long blog as I explain what's going on in my brain and in my life.

I love my new apartment and the people living at and around my complex. This is where the not having to pay for my dinners partly comes in. I've actually been asked out on dates. It's been the weirdest thing. And I feel kind of guilty because I'm so used to doing the asking and at least going dutch on the bill. The guys at my complex are older and all of them have jobs and cars. So I've gone to restaurants rather than the normal Cougareat. My brother would be proud. I've actually gotten out.

I wrote about two pages more and all of it got deleted. I love you all and want you to know what's going on in my life, but I do not have another half hour to spend trying to remember what I typed. Darn technology.

Loving the love of my life

It's a Saturday. I'm going out with the girls for Coldstone and a movie at the dollar theatre. That should be nice. Currently I'm listening to A New Brain, a musical about a homosexual couple struggling with the problems that heterosexuals face. And darn it, all I can think about is Rob. I still love him... and I think I will all my life. It's so frustrating because I know he's happy with Kyle. And I love Kyle; he's great and he makes Rob happy. And Rob's happiness is all I care about.

So there's one song on the CD called "An Invitation to Sleep in My Arms." Gordo has brain problems, possibly a tumor, so everyone is unsure how much longer he will live. His boss is expecting him to finish writing the song to his musical by that night or he'll lose his job. But Roger, his lover, has just invited him to sleep in his arms. Who knows how much more time they have to share with each other in life. And they argue about which is more important. Here are some of the lyrics:

Roger:

Would you ever
Consider
Lying close to me tonight?
Could be exciting.
I'm inviting you to sleep in my arms.
Maybe we'll laugh to loud
Maybe we'll dance and you will sing.
Maybe we'll smile at all the pleasures
Sex and eating often bring.
Maybe we'll say no words.
Just saying nothing is sublime.
Maybe we'll read a book you always meant to read
For which you never had the time.

Forget the writing,
I'm inviting you
To sleep in my arms.
And if you snore,
I'll let you snore.
Maybe there's more,
Maybe there's more.

It's funny. When I romantically loved Rob all I wanted was to sleep in his arms. Just wake up and see him smile at me and stroke my hair. I hope he's happy and getting everything he ever wanted.

It's not that I'm not dating. I am. More so right now than I ever have. (Don't think that's a ton, it's like twice a month.) But in that very back corners a part of my heart is saved for him. I know in time that will go away. I anticipate it. But still I love him. I think I always will.

The Bags I Carry... both under my eyes and from obligations

It's late. I should be working on my lesson for Enrichment. I should be reading my scriptures. I should be studying Spanish. But most of all I should be sleeping. Instead I feel compelled to write. I've just been so stressed lately. This weekend will not be a weekend. I have two tests on Monday, another Spanish test Wednesday, cleaning checks, Enrichment, and acting practice tomorrow, and performances to attend, Holes meetings, and dance midterms next week. Yay for me.

I saw "Left Behind" tonight. It was a modern dance performance of the women who were left behind when their husbands served in the Mormon Batallion. My modern dance teacher choreographed the best number. She is incredible and I love her. Everytime I see a performance I think, my word I want to be able to dance like that. The sad thing is I probably never will be able to, but I am working so hard at improving. My teacher says that I should not give up hope, and that I should audition for the production. Especially since she heard I could sing. (How does she KNOW that? I never told her.) I need to think positively. I need to believe that some day I might be able to move in the way I saw those women move.

I have no idea what I'm going to do about classes for this spring (and next fall). I'm so confused with life. I know I want to get a BFA in either Music Dance Theatre or Acting, but I don't know what that's going to be and how I'm going to be able to squeeze everything in. I wish life were just slightly more seamless right now. I can't think of anything else I want to do than act and sing. I really feel like that is where my calling is. So often I worry if Heavenly Father has a completely different objective for me.

I need sleep. I guess I'll get up early do yoga, prepare my enrichment lesson, shower, and study. Wow, that sounds social. I'm really trying to find balance. Obviously this weekend won't be a success. Cest la vie. I wish I could sleep for twelve hours. Five or six will have to do.

Waking up to the college life

This morning I was awakened to my wonderful friend Camie. I think it was the first time in a loooong time that anyone woke me up by tapping on my door or saying Good Morning to me. I realize that that makes me sound like a nut, but if you didn't know that already well then you really shouldn't be reading my blog. Anyway it was nine o'clock, a reasonable time on a Saturday I suppose. (I went to bed after four last night so my body didn't really agree.) But we had the nicest visit. I keep thinking about how she will be going to BYU-Idaho next year. That will really suck. We've both gotten to be so close. As girls usually talk about boys, she left me thinking about one in particular that I find rather intriguing.

First, it should be known that it takes me a long time to develop a crush on someone. It took me over three years to fall in love with my best friend, and another three to learn to love him in a different way when I was dealt the reality blow. So the fact that I was thinking about a boy on a half sunny/ half rainy Saturday was unique. I fell asleep with him on my mind and ended up dreaming about him. It was a weird dream where he held my hand in the produce section of the Creamery while we ducked out of view of this weird stalker boy that keeps following me around. I really have no idea why I am writing this. Perhaps the maudlin effects of Moulin Rouge are working on me. But honestly you think that watching a full hour of Mr. Bean would assuage those emotions. :)

As far as the basic details of my life go... Spanish is killer. I study for hours to get B's if I'm lucky. We just finished studying when to use the pluperfect subjunctive or pluperfect indicative, positive and negative pronoun modifiers, impersonal speech, and indirect speech. My brain is swimming. I don't know why I have the desire to keep studying this language, but I really want to learn it. My teacher is inspirational. She is from Columbia and just this week finished her thesis. So she's going to get her doctorate after a fifteen year struggle to learn English, to get an education, and to combat discrimination as a Latina. When I went out to dinner last night with my friends she was there. It's really fun talking to her because she needs to practice English and I need to practice Spanish so we switch. And she'll be like ohhh how you say frijol in English, and I'm like "Bean, maestra!" She calls me Tia because Emily is too difficult to pronounce. I like her nickname; it reminds me of Mrs. Mosser and my PA friends.

I auditioned for a role in BYU's production of Holes. (Yes, the same Holes as the book and movie.) There are so few female parts, but I did end up getting one! My character is Myra, which no one probably even remembers. She has about six lines. However the only other female character that can be played by a girl my age has about twelve lines. To get an idea about who Myra is... In the beginning she is the girl that earns Stanley's great-grandfather his curse. The one that the fat pig debate is over. The director described the character to me as dumb as dirt. The only thing she has going for her is that she is incredibly beautiful. I don't know whether to find this description flattering or... well, fill in the blank if you want. So this should be interesting. This also clinches the fact that I will be staying here for the spring semester.

It is now two o'clock and the weird bell tower is ringing. I am still in my pijamas... I'm turning into a true college student. So this blog was kind of a weird hodgepodge of things. But that's kind of the way my life has been assimilated lately. Here's to dreaming of handholding, passing Spanish, and playing a ditz. (Which my parents keep saying is not too far of a stretch.)

Son of a...

So I'm taking TMA 121, Voice and Diction for acting majors. We study the International Phonetic Alphabet and are learning how to speak the Standard American dialect. To those of you who don't know how that's any different from normal speaking think of hearing Shakespeare performed. The actors don't sound like normal people, they sound kind of British. At the same time though they sound too American to be British. There you have it Standard American.

Well on Wednesday one of my fellow MDT friends in the class brought up the real reason we were all taking Voice and Diction. (Yeah, I know it's required for the Music Dance Theatre major but that's small beans when compared to this trying argument.) The girl--whose name also happens to be Emily-- (Welcome to BYU... where if you don't have five brothers and sisters and at least on of them is named Emily or Ryan you should transfer.) dropped the loaded question. "So if we're learning the original form of speech, or the proper way of speaking... how does one pronounce c-r-e-e-k?" A silence fell over the classroom. You may think I'm kidding but everyone held rapt attention. Unfortunately our teacher, who is red-headed, Mormon version of Jim Carey was being entertained by someone else. I dug out my International-Phonetic-Alphabet-Standard-American-Whatever-the-heck-else dictionary to see what the authorities said.

While flipping through the pages I couldn't help but remember sixth grade. I had a different teacher on Fridays for some weird reason that takes too long to explain. Mrs. Lavelle was an angel when compared to the regular teacher. Unlike the she-who-will-not-be-named, Mrs. Lavelle knew how to relate to us. During English class one day the creek/crick argument came up and she settled it on spot.

"This is the way I look at it. Do we have a town in our community called Beech Creek or Bitch Crick?" To sixth graders who had just started getting the flavor for cuss words on their tongues she taught us a lesson in proper English we would never forget.

So that's what I was thinking as I was looking up what the dictionary said. Here is the passage that I found:

"Creek" prounounced creek and crick, crick is much less frequently used in the South, but appears to be the native form in the North and East. Creek, originally a North British dialect form, is still native in the Appalachians. According to Horn's, Jordan's, and Luick's Historical English Grammars, crick represents the original word, later altered to creek and then spelt c-r-e-e-k. Crike is the much earlier recorded form. At first creek was not a spelling pronunciation, but the spelling creek doubtless encouraged it's spread. Luick thinks that American crick represents the normal Standard English development.

I couldn't believe it. All these years I grew up thinking I was better that the back woods Pennsylvania kids because I said creek. Turns out they were right and Mrs. Lavelle was wrong. I live near Bitch Crick.

The heartbreaker that I am

In a few short days we will have entered what I have now dubbed the Seargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club month. However, I refuse to wallow in my singlehood. The first reason is that V-day is just another completely commercialized holiday to get boys to spend money on roses or chocolates. (I don't like either, so in case a boy does feel like going out on a limb for me they don't have to spend much.) The second reason is I've been free for 19 years. 19 years of personal development! How many people can say that? Okay so maybe that's just a bunch of hoopla to convince myself that I am just too cool for a relationship. And that I intimidate boys. I've been told it's my height, it's my confidence, it's my femininity (riiight to that one), blah, blah, blah. Frankly it doesn't really matter.

For while I think that it would be really cool to get to know someone at a more personal level and perhaps you know kiss a little, :) I've realized that relationships scare me. (Plus, can't you just get to know someone at a more personal level by just being friends?) I have applied my self-evaluation during my classes. Here is what I've discovered. Marriage is freakin' scary. And, I don't want it to happen to me for awhile. I think this is why I steer away from the returned missionaries. I actually decided to forgo my earlier plan of taking Doctrine and Covenants before Book of Mormon part 2 for this very reason. I sat in DC class surrounded by all of these guys that a couple of weeks ago were spouting off scripture in fifty different languages and for some reason (call it paranoia if you will) they all looked like they were going to pounce on me with an engagement ring (another thing I don't really like or want).

What all of this has to do with the Seargent Pepper month is kind of beyond me now. But any reference to the Beatles is usually a good one. I guess what I want is to have a boy pay me some interest. Even if it were to just to get to know me better as a friend. It's also kind of a reassurance that no I'm not the intimidating "Abominable Snow Girl" I think I am. (Personal joke, sorry.) So February looks interesting one way or the other. Either I'll find a friend or discover more of me... and if I get too lonely I'll just put on some George Harrison and call it a month.

Entropic Ramblings

Something occurred to me a couple of days ago in my religion class. It really had nothing to do with what we were talking about or was prompted by anything the professor said. (Sorry professor, I guess my mind was wandering.) But the thought entered my mind that while science has claimed that there is a universal law that states that all things lead to entropy, life is a constant battle against that. Think about it. The mere fact that you are thinking about it is expanding your mind. You are growing. That gives a whole different meaning to education. If all we can take with us when we die is the knowledge we gain in this life, how are we viewing our education? As something we are just trying to get through? This is primarily a provocative question made to guilt no one else but me. If I'm not enjoying myself I can't really blame anyone but yours truly. Plus, I need to look at education as a way I'm battling against stagnation and universal laws. It's kind of cool in a way, I get this vision of myself with a light saber, only without the dorky braids. (Took an imagination break there, catching the next train of thought...)

I've also thought about how all of things that Satan gets us to do are entropic. He wants to stunt our progression. Hmm. Interesting when I think of the ways he does it. Think of all of the drug problems and disorders people struggle with. The mental as well as physical parts of the body can disintegrate away. He's also the king of spiritual entropy. We don't read our scriptures or say prayers, and the light we have within us dwindles.

The coolest way I can think that entropy is battled against is the atonement and resurrection. The Plan of Salvation does just that, saves us from Eternal damnation. So it's back to the justice and mercy thing. There is a God so we have universal laws, we have entropy, we have justice. But He loves us and wants us to return to live with him so we have Eternal life. We have the atonement, we have mercy.

Alright, I guess that's enough of the religious ramblings. Sometimes when I go off like that I feel like I become saccharine and ingenuine. Is that because I live in the land of zoobies (to steal Sven's word) and am afraid that people will see my thoughts as just regurgitated Mormon speculation? Isn't that terrible, to feel original and unoriginal all in one setting? :) Talk about conflicting entropic and progressive forces. And am I being elitist by thinking that there is something wrong with swallowing and repeating the fodder of religious professors, lecturers, leaders, etc? Or because I think of myself as possibly being elite does that mean I've even more unoriginal because I belong to the Generation Xers who doubt everything people tell them?

Where am I?

I know a lot of times people question who they are and where they are going in life. And, I guess I shouldn't feel pained or rejected because life throws me a few curve balls. I just wish sometimes that I understood all that was put before me. I wish that I could be honest, honest with myself and honest with the people I interact with, especially the people I love most in this world. Because I do love them.

I think about the progress and "backslides" I have gone through this year. Yes, it's been hard but do I deserve a label? For that matter, does anyone? Even if someone is a drug-addict, an inebriate, depressed, or lost... isn't their experience unique and can anyone think they understand what that person is going through because they know their vice? I really am naive. Could I have it any other way, though? I love people. Even when they hurt me deeper than they'll ever know I love them. And, I forgive them. I pray they forgive me.

I am here somewhere. And, in my sojourn I'll discover more of me.