Yesterday, upon discovering (to my dismay) that Briggs Library is severely lacking in regular adult fiction, I ventured upstairs to the kids/young adult fiction and picked out five books I remember loving when I was 12 or so:
1. Lily's Crossing, by Patricia Reilly Giff
2. The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, by Avi
3. My Louisiana Sky, by Kimberly Willis Holt
4. The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963, by Christopher Paul Curtis
5. Our Only May Amelia, by Jennifer L. Holm
I practically had to pretend to be an elementary ed. major in order to avoid suspicion from the nosy check-out girl, but it's been very, very worth it so far.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A Shrieking Good Concert
I don't like being screamed at I don't like being screamed at.
I attended my first Symphonic Winds concert this afternoon. It was lovely, really, and as I was floating along on the music, exclaiming (privately) at the beauty of Oyate and the beauty of the nonsubzero day outside, the screams began.
They escalated until beautiful Oyate Hall echoed with the sounds of people dying, or fleeing in terror. I thought someone had pulled out a gun, I thought someone had seen a ghost, I thought the very worst.
But nope. It was all part of the music.
Apparently blood-curdling screams are very in right now.
As I surreptitiously tried to wipe off the tears that were threatening to fall out of my eyes, I noticed two little girls who were sitting a few rows in front of me. They looked about as frightened as I felt. They were clinging to their father with saucer eyes and mussed hair and probably asking him why were people screaming?
I wondered that myself as I tried to rub the goosebumps off of my arms.
I think I'm going to go hide under the covers now.
I attended my first Symphonic Winds concert this afternoon. It was lovely, really, and as I was floating along on the music, exclaiming (privately) at the beauty of Oyate and the beauty of the nonsubzero day outside, the screams began.
They escalated until beautiful Oyate Hall echoed with the sounds of people dying, or fleeing in terror. I thought someone had pulled out a gun, I thought someone had seen a ghost, I thought the very worst.
But nope. It was all part of the music.
Apparently blood-curdling screams are very in right now.
As I surreptitiously tried to wipe off the tears that were threatening to fall out of my eyes, I noticed two little girls who were sitting a few rows in front of me. They looked about as frightened as I felt. They were clinging to their father with saucer eyes and mussed hair and probably asking him why were people screaming?
I wondered that myself as I tried to rub the goosebumps off of my arms.
I think I'm going to go hide under the covers now.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Holly and the Clue to the Half Mast Flag
It's a busy day for me: 2 meetings, 2 different shifts for 2 different jobs, plus class and Pickleball club (later).
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.
I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.
All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.
I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.
I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.
All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.
I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.
Monday, January 31, 2011
The Hollow Men
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.***
I'm sorry, Mr. Eliot. I don't feel hollow. I don't feel stuffed (except after a weekend at home, away from Food Service). I feel alive, I feel fluid, I feel happy. And I don't wish to look outside at the swirling snow
And the people walking by
In big coats and shapeless hats
And to think to myself
This is nothing.
I'm an English major, Mr. Eliot.
I'm going to Austria this fall.
I'm twenty years old, but not quite grown up.
My life is big.
And I'm sorry, but I simply don't feel hollow.
***From T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men"
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.***
I'm sorry, Mr. Eliot. I don't feel hollow. I don't feel stuffed (except after a weekend at home, away from Food Service). I feel alive, I feel fluid, I feel happy. And I don't wish to look outside at the swirling snow
And the people walking by
In big coats and shapeless hats
And to think to myself
This is nothing.
I'm an English major, Mr. Eliot.
I'm going to Austria this fall.
I'm twenty years old, but not quite grown up.
My life is big.
And I'm sorry, but I simply don't feel hollow.
***From T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men"
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Weekend Update
Here's what's going on with me right now:
1. I want to study abroad in Salzburg. I want to so very, very badly, but of course there are things to think about like money and credits. And money.
2. I went to talk to my advisor yesterday about me prospectively studying abroad, and how I was worried about the fact that I've never taken a journalism class (and probably won't ever at UMM, as it's not a major offered here). I wanted to know if I would have to go to graduate school to study journalism in order to proceed with my career. My advisor assured me that plenty of UMM English majors have gone on to be journalists, and that journalism school isn't really necessary unless I want extra credentials (which would be nice, but if I don't need them, why waste time and money?). Furthermore (and this is where things really got good) my advisor informed me that he had recently received an email from a UMM alum who is the editor of an Arizona newspaper. This editor was wondering if there were any English majors who would be interested in a job at his newspaper. And my advisor gave me his email address, saying that I should contact him, and ask him some of the questions I have about a career in journalism. Can you believe it? I mean, only at UMM can you walk into a prof's office, intending to ask a few questions, and come out with an email address that may lead to an actual job after graduation. A job, my friends! For an English major! My Dad will be so proud.
3. So far the New Year's work out resolution is going swimmingly. My quad has healed (with the help of intense icing (with ice, not with frosting), and my roommate and I have been at the gym almost every single day since Spring Semester began. On Thursday, we went to the first meeting of the newly-formed Pickleball Club. I haven't played Pickleball since middle school gym class, so I struggled a bit at first, but it got easier after a while. The funniest thing was that the club president was standing behind Maddie and I as we played against two other people, and he kept pulling me aside to say things like: "Are you a tennis player or something? Because, no offense, but you just missed the ball by a good two feet." Well, thanks. Thanks very much. And no, I'm not a tennis player. I was simply having some hand-eye-coordination problems. Happens to the best of us.
4. This week I've been watching (whenever I get a chance) the A&E (BBC) version of Pride and Prejudice. You know, the one with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth? I used to think that I infinitely preferred the newer, Keira Knightley P and P, but now I'm not so sure. I think I love them both for different reasons. The A&E is longer, so I think it develops the story a lot better, and gives us time to really get to know the characters. It's also way funnier. I just about die laughing whenever Mary opens her mouth. The Keira version, however, is a lot richer. I think the locations are more authentic, and the filmmaking highlights the story beautifully. (Ex: that scene at the Netherfield Ball when Lizzie and Darcy dance for the first time, and everyone else suddenly disappears. I love that). As for the big Jennifer Ehle/Keira Knightley Elizabeth Bennet showdown? I don't know if I can choose one. Not being overly familiar with the book version of P and P (forgive me, but I have trouble reading Jane Austen unless I'm in a very specific state of mind. Otherwise I get bored), I can't say who is the most Elizabeth Bennet Elizabeth Bennet. They both play her so differently, but both performances in my opinion are equally effective. They both deserve Darcy when they finally get him, and vice versa. And that, I think, is the main point.
1. I want to study abroad in Salzburg. I want to so very, very badly, but of course there are things to think about like money and credits. And money.
2. I went to talk to my advisor yesterday about me prospectively studying abroad, and how I was worried about the fact that I've never taken a journalism class (and probably won't ever at UMM, as it's not a major offered here). I wanted to know if I would have to go to graduate school to study journalism in order to proceed with my career. My advisor assured me that plenty of UMM English majors have gone on to be journalists, and that journalism school isn't really necessary unless I want extra credentials (which would be nice, but if I don't need them, why waste time and money?). Furthermore (and this is where things really got good) my advisor informed me that he had recently received an email from a UMM alum who is the editor of an Arizona newspaper. This editor was wondering if there were any English majors who would be interested in a job at his newspaper. And my advisor gave me his email address, saying that I should contact him, and ask him some of the questions I have about a career in journalism. Can you believe it? I mean, only at UMM can you walk into a prof's office, intending to ask a few questions, and come out with an email address that may lead to an actual job after graduation. A job, my friends! For an English major! My Dad will be so proud.
3. So far the New Year's work out resolution is going swimmingly. My quad has healed (with the help of intense icing (with ice, not with frosting), and my roommate and I have been at the gym almost every single day since Spring Semester began. On Thursday, we went to the first meeting of the newly-formed Pickleball Club. I haven't played Pickleball since middle school gym class, so I struggled a bit at first, but it got easier after a while. The funniest thing was that the club president was standing behind Maddie and I as we played against two other people, and he kept pulling me aside to say things like: "Are you a tennis player or something? Because, no offense, but you just missed the ball by a good two feet." Well, thanks. Thanks very much. And no, I'm not a tennis player. I was simply having some hand-eye-coordination problems. Happens to the best of us.
4. This week I've been watching (whenever I get a chance) the A&E (BBC) version of Pride and Prejudice. You know, the one with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth? I used to think that I infinitely preferred the newer, Keira Knightley P and P, but now I'm not so sure. I think I love them both for different reasons. The A&E is longer, so I think it develops the story a lot better, and gives us time to really get to know the characters. It's also way funnier. I just about die laughing whenever Mary opens her mouth. The Keira version, however, is a lot richer. I think the locations are more authentic, and the filmmaking highlights the story beautifully. (Ex: that scene at the Netherfield Ball when Lizzie and Darcy dance for the first time, and everyone else suddenly disappears. I love that). As for the big Jennifer Ehle/Keira Knightley Elizabeth Bennet showdown? I don't know if I can choose one. Not being overly familiar with the book version of P and P (forgive me, but I have trouble reading Jane Austen unless I'm in a very specific state of mind. Otherwise I get bored), I can't say who is the most Elizabeth Bennet Elizabeth Bennet. They both play her so differently, but both performances in my opinion are equally effective. They both deserve Darcy when they finally get him, and vice versa. And that, I think, is the main point.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Early Morning Breakthrough
This you should know about me: I'm kind of bad at talking about literature. At least, I'm bad at talking about literature in class.
Today, however, today was a breakthrough.
We're studying Carl Sandburg in class. I love Carl Sandburg. He writes poetry the way I think I would write poetry if I had sufficient talent in the area.
Anyway, here's the poem we were talking about ("Child of the Romans"):
THE dago shovelman sits by the railroad track
Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna.
A train whirls by, and men and women at tables
Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils,
Eat steaks running with brown gravy,
Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee.
The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna,
Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy,
And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day's work
Keeping the road-bed so the roses and jonquils
Shake hardly at all in the cut glass vases
Standing slender on the tables in the dining cars.
And all of the sudden, while staring at this poem, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, hoping to goodness the professor wouldn't call on me, I got it. I was pulling out patterns and symbols and random observations like there was no tomorrow.
I guess "Child of the Romans" is kind of an obvious poem, but it was a proud moment for me nonetheless. I think I'm officially an English major now.
Today, however, today was a breakthrough.
We're studying Carl Sandburg in class. I love Carl Sandburg. He writes poetry the way I think I would write poetry if I had sufficient talent in the area.
Anyway, here's the poem we were talking about ("Child of the Romans"):
THE dago shovelman sits by the railroad track
Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna.
A train whirls by, and men and women at tables
Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils,
Eat steaks running with brown gravy,
Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee.
The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna,
Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy,
And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day's work
Keeping the road-bed so the roses and jonquils
Shake hardly at all in the cut glass vases
Standing slender on the tables in the dining cars.
And all of the sudden, while staring at this poem, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, hoping to goodness the professor wouldn't call on me, I got it. I was pulling out patterns and symbols and random observations like there was no tomorrow.
I guess "Child of the Romans" is kind of an obvious poem, but it was a proud moment for me nonetheless. I think I'm officially an English major now.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Pains, Classes, Plans
Honestly, I don't think I've ever ached so much in my entire life. My muscles seem to have aged about 50 years overnight. I can't roll over in bed without effort. Walking is done gingerly and very, very slowly. Stairs are nearly impossible. When limping around campus nowadays, it's not uncommon to hear cries of "gimpy!" aimed in my direction. Snowballs, too. I'm the Tiny Tim of Morris. I'm Terry in An Affair to Remember, only without the nice painting.
All my pain, humiliatingly enough, is not the result of a romantic accident or even a knife fight. Nope, it's the result of two hours in the RFC on Sunday playing volleyball, and an hour yesterday of playing badminton. Both activities might have turned out all right, but when I play sports, I tend to perform uncoordinated lunges and dives that stretch my body in ways it's probably not meant to be stretched. Three hours of acrobatics, I suppose, were bound to bring pain.
In other news, I'll give you a list of my spring classes:
American Literature 20th century and forward
Beginning German II
The Trial of Galileo (Honors)
Art History Renaissance to Modern
In other other news, I've recently begun planning for my Great Study Abroad Semester. I know I want to go somewhere where I can practice my German, and I obviously need to go somewhere where I can take courses that pertain to my major. The search is currently narrowed down to Austria and Germany, with Austria inching ahead. Salzburg especially is looking really good right now, probably because of my passionate devotion to The Sound of Music. Will keep you updated.
All my pain, humiliatingly enough, is not the result of a romantic accident or even a knife fight. Nope, it's the result of two hours in the RFC on Sunday playing volleyball, and an hour yesterday of playing badminton. Both activities might have turned out all right, but when I play sports, I tend to perform uncoordinated lunges and dives that stretch my body in ways it's probably not meant to be stretched. Three hours of acrobatics, I suppose, were bound to bring pain.
In other news, I'll give you a list of my spring classes:
American Literature 20th century and forward
Beginning German II
The Trial of Galileo (Honors)
Art History Renaissance to Modern
In other other news, I've recently begun planning for my Great Study Abroad Semester. I know I want to go somewhere where I can practice my German, and I obviously need to go somewhere where I can take courses that pertain to my major. The search is currently narrowed down to Austria and Germany, with Austria inching ahead. Salzburg especially is looking really good right now, probably because of my passionate devotion to The Sound of Music. Will keep you updated.
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