A New Era

Merry Christmas!

Tonight, because I'm waiting for Dad to get out of the bathroom so I can get to my toothbrush, and because, self-centered as it may seem, I'm incredibly excited about the gifts I received today, I'm going to tell you about them.

Here's the haul:

A Clarisonic (yeah, I know I'm weird, but I love trying new beauty products/gadgets. And this one is supposed to help a lot with dry skin, which I have in abundance this time of year.)

A watch (so I can time myself running (or at least have the option. When it comes to running, sometimes I lie to myself about how long I actually go for. And yes, I do sleep well at night.)

2 movies (the new Jane Eyre (Amelia we're so watching this together sometime), and the final Harry Potter)

A lovely sweater

2 books (the prettiest edition of Gone With the Wind I've ever seen (my old one is a gross little paperback that looks like a trashy romance novel from a distance), and Inheritance (FINALLY I GET TO READ IT. I'VE HAD TO WAIT FOR MONTHS AND MONTHS)

A Madison rowing team t-shirt so I can cheer on my baby sister properly

Slippers

An itunes card

Mittens

A word of the day calendar (yes, yes: my family knows me well)

A pair of Tom's

Aaaanndd....an iphone.

I am now the proud owner of an iphone. It's so funny, because I didn't have an iphone on my list, and have never really hinted about wanting one. I mean, obviously I have always admired them and thought that down the line I'd like to own one. But they're just so expensive, and frankly, I didn't think I was cool enough or high tech enough for an iphone. I don't think I'm quite the type to carry around a fancy phone, just like I'm not the type to wear a pantsuit or apply eye shadow successfully or walk down the aisle on my wedding day without tripping (fingers crossed, folks). However, now that I have one, I think that maybe I can change.

This is a new era, my friends, and I'm beginning it proudly, with iphone in pocket and confidence in heart.

Merry Christmas.

Reasons Why I'm a Goon

1. I post way too many lists on this blog

2. I thought of my New Year's Resolution today, and got so excited about it that I wanted to start immediately...but then decided to wait until January 1st so that I can call it a New Year's Resolution.

3. I began drinking tea about a month ago because it's a romantic thing to do.

4. I cried four times watching Finding Neverland last night.

5. I read books aloud to myself sometimes.

6. I don't just love movie trailers; I analyze movie trailers as I watch them, picking out what's good and bad about how they're put together.

7. I secretly want to make movie trailers for a living.

8. I asked for a subscription to National Geographic for Christmas

9. I've had the same plastic key chain on my backpack since 9th grade. It's a plastic light-up skull that I found in a Froot Loops box, and I like to think that it got me successfully through quite a few Speech seasons. Now I just use it as a general good luck charm.

10. I spend a lot of time reading food blogs and bookmarking recipes to make at a later date. When I have an actual oven. And counter space. And money.

11. To fall asleep at night, I listen to an episode of the Stuff You Missed in History Class podcast. A few nights ago I made the mistake of listening to the episode about the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. Then I got scared and had to turn the light back on.

Just Like Elizabeth

It's raining here in Salzburg.
It has been raining all evening.
And you know what I just realized?
That my laundry is hanging outside, and has been since this afternoon.

I was upset about this, about having to throw on a coat over my jammies (yes, I call pajamas jammies. Don't judge), having to hunt down my ipod (because you can't do anything epic without a soundtrack), and having to run out in the cold to fetch cold, wet clothes.

I was upset, that is, until a friend pointed out that this situation sounds a lot like a scene in Pride and Prejudice (new version), where Elizabeth is snatching clothes off the line in the rain.

Needless to say, I'm now feeling pretty good about going outside.

Also, in case you're wondering why I've been so lazy as of late with my posting, check my other blog. Vienna last weekend. It's all there.

In Which I'm Still Working At Target

Hello, blog.
Today I'm feeling a little down. All of my friends are in Morris. Together. Walking the mall and exploring the HFA and shopping the (ridiculously overpriced) bookstore.
And I'm at home, still working at Target.

I don't leave until September 9th, which I may or may not have mentioned. I'm glad that I have the extra time at home to earn more money, to celebrate my birthday, to spend time with my family, but it's a bad feeling to be left behind.

I'm ready for my school year to start, too. Is this how it's going to feel every August once I've graduated from college? Sad and lonely and like I'm missing out on everything? If so, I may have to reconsider going to graduate school. Or live in Morris for the rest of my life. Both valid options.

To all of you lounging in your half-unpacked college dorm rooms right now, I wish you the very best. But is there room on that futon for me? It will only be for a few weeks, I promise.

P.S. I've just returned from renting Jane Eyre (new version) from the local Video Vault. If there's anything that can cheer me up, it's a historical romantic drama adapted from a mid-19th century gothic novel.

Variations on Treasure Island

I love this song. And the movie that goes with it. Treasure Planet is so very, very underrated. It didn't get great reviews when it first came out, and most people would forget to include it if asked to list Disney movies.

But I happen to love it.

Mostly, I think, because I love the story of Treasure Island in general. My English class was forced to read the book in middle school, by a teacher we felt comfortable enough with to complain about it to. He made us keep at it, though, and would gather us every morning to make sure we understood what we had read the previous day: "You guys get what's happening now, right? Silver is going after the treasure himself. You got that, right?" He would say it not in an anxious way, but in a way that suggested that he didn't want us to miss a minute of the story. It was just too good. And it was.

You know what my all time favorite Treasure Island adaptation is, though? One I like even more than Treasure Planet? Muppet Treasure Island. I laugh at that movie. I laugh like a five-year-old at that movie: "I think I smell something burning...AAAAHHHH!"

Veering away from Treasure Island and all of its delights, I should let you know that you won't be hearing from me in a while. I'm going on vacation to the exotic land of Wisconsin. In all seriousness, though, I am so very excited for this trip. It's the first vacation I've had this summer; I haven't had more than a few days off in a row since the middle of May, and I certainly haven't taken any extended treks during those brief periods (excepting my travels in Little House on the Prairie Land). Now I have a nice large chunk of time, and I'm filling it with a five hour road trip (which I, of course, have prepared for with help from my local library), and with family I haven't seen in a long time.

See you Thursday. Stay gold.

Free Movies

I absolutely bless the day when I discovered that my local library allows card holders to check out any quantity of movies for an entire week. For free.

And that library has good movies, too. Here's what I picked out today after work:

1. Shakespeare in Love
2. Howl
3. La Vie En Rose
4. Emma (BBC series starring Romola Garai)
5. Little Women (1933 version with Katherine Hepburn as Jo. I've never seen this version. Seems criminal, I know.)
6. Garden State (This is the wild card movie. But someone told me it's good, and I always love a good Natalie Portman film, so I'm giving it a try.)

A Novel in Eleven Parts

If I were to write a novel, in parts, detailing last Friday’s*** adventure , it would probably look something like this:

Part One:
In which Mother and I embark on an iconic road trip across Southeastern Minnesota. Prior to departure, I debate for 4 minutes over which book to choose for my third. First was Persuasion, second was a lighter read on loan from Mother, and third was eventually determined to be This Way for The Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen. It's important to have genre and tone balance amongst one's road trip book choices. And it's important to bring three books. You finish one, you spill a hot beverage on one, and you're still set.

Part Two:
In which I do not read one page, but instead feel the same excited thumping in my chest I felt ten years ago, when I last visited Pepin, Wisconsin***.

***A note on Pepin, Wisconsin: Laura Ingalls Wilder was born there. Hence the heart palpitations.

Part Three:
In which I discover that I am too tall for log cabin doorways, in which my excitement turns quickly into a lump in my throat that must surely be deep emotion at seeing (once again) the birthplace of one's childhood (and present) idol.

Part Four:
In which I force Mother to traipse through a local cemetery looking for Ingalls relations. Here will be a dramatic moment in which I think I spot something. I race towards a marker in the distance...(anticlimax begin) only to realize mid-Julie-Andrews-leap that the tombstone is much too glittering and grand and new to be what I'm looking for.

Part Five:
In which we break for pie. Literally. I had peanut butter, Mother had blueberry. Just guess who chose the tastier slice.

Part Six:
In which we visit the disappointing local Laura Ingalls Wilder museum. After several minutes of pawing through unconnected junk, I finally venture to ask the romance novel reader behind the counter if there's anything that actually belonged to a member of the Ingalls family. Pointing a scraggly finger, she says in a scraggly voice,*** "Two quilts at the bottom of that display case." We look, and there they are. One is rather plain (faded navy and white), but one is beautiful and green and yellow and patchy and looks as though it had been made out of little prairie dresses, all cut into pieces (which, of course, it probably had been). It belonged to either Laura or Rose, and it's strongly suspected that Caroline made it.

***Note: I did marvelous impressions of this lady and her voice all the way home, to much acclaim. Since I can't be with you now to repeat my performance, you will simply have to imagine it. Hint: The Nanny minus the funny plus about a thousand cigarettes plus some grey hairs minus enthusiasm plus bitterness at having to man a dusty old museum day after day. Plus annoyance (her romance novel looked riveting).

Part Seven:
In which Mother and I continue our journey, winding along the St. Croix through hippie towns and unincorporated towns and cult towns and unincorporated hippie cult towns.

Part Eight:
In which we arrive in Red Wing, Minnesota, and attend a production of The Sound of Music in the beautiful (yet stifling hot) Sheldon theater. The thing about seeing The Sound of Music live is that you can’t very well fast forward through the dreaded “Climb Every Mountain" Scene. Gosh, I hate that song. It’s very inspiring, the actress performed it beautifully, and yet, I was practically rolling around in the aisles covering my ears and humming. How I hate that song.

An entertaining part about the play was that at a few different points, Reverend Mother’s skirt (robe?) got caught on the edge of her chair as she stood. Both times I waited breathlessly (okay, okay, eagerly) for the chair to be dragged down with a deafening crash, but her skirt always pulled off just in time.

Overall, it was a good play. Maria was fantastic. The children were cute (although Friedrich wasn’t a creeper! Amelia, I know we’ve discussed this in the past, but the next time you watch The Sound of Music movie version, keep your eye on Friedrich. He’s always standing awkwardly close to Maria, and he’s always trying to edge even closer.).

Part Nine:
In which we exit the theater, sucking in deep, cool, buggy breaths of night air. As we walk along the sidewalk, an open-air Jeep rumbles past. Over the rumblings, just barely, we could hear the driver and the passenger singing “Do Re Mi” with gusto.

Part Ten:
In which we hurtle home through the dark in The Black Beast (as our van is affectionately known). In which I am reminded of how lit up and beautiful St. Paul is at night, and why when I was little I used to force myself to stay awake whenever we drove through on our way home from Christmas Programs or Grandpa's house. How wonderful everything is at night.

Part Eleven:
In which we arrive home, and Mother promptly uploads the day’s photographs to Facebook. In which I groan inwardly as I see her do this. In which I decide to suck it up and be a darling daughter and say nothing. We make fun of Reverend Mother instead.

***Note: I did indeed begin writing this post last Friday. Obviously it’s taken me a few days to conjure up the masterpiece you are now reading. Sorry.

***Note: (Before you search, I should tell you that there aren’t any stars above that refer you to this note. I needed to write one more, though.) I apologize for the tense changes in the above ‘masterpiece.’ Someday I’ll go through and correct them. But not tonight.

***Note: A final note: I don't call my Mother "Mother" in real life. "Ma" when we tour log cabins. "Mommy Dearest" in bookstores. "Mom" in public. But never "Mother."

Today

Today

I worked.
What else can I say about that?
Well, a lot. But I won't.

I basked in the finished Hemingway book
and I find that the crazygeniusbastard got me after all.
(You knew he would, didn't you?)

I paid my dues at the library.
$8.00 is the price of submerging in one book
and ignoring all others.
I've never felt quite so judged by a librarian before.
20 is clearly past the age when one can be grinned at by spectacled old matrons:
"Oh how sweet! She's a reader!"
Now I'm just a schmuck who can't bother to return things on time.

I had a dance party by myself.
And pulled a muscle in my shoulder.
By myself.

I watched The Illusionist.
Mostly because of Edward Norton. Sorry.
And I was a little bit disappointed.
It's so very promising: period piece, dramatic, good actors, magic.
But at the end of it I smiled because things turned out.
And then I frowned, because wouldn't it have been more interesting if they hadn't?
A little more suspense, a trickier plot, and 20 more minutes might have helped.
I want to watch The Prestige so I can compare.

Now I'm turning to my long-awaited Sherman Alexie (The Absolutely True Diary).
Isn't it funny that I've read 100 pages of it already? In less than 24 hours of sporadic spurts?
Darn that Hemingway.

Stay gold, everyone.

Important Parts of Last Night

Let me tell you about last night.
Last night was Harry Potter (oh boy, don't tell me you didn't see this one coming).
And it was magnificent.
I mean, there were parts that made me shudder and wonder to myself what the heck were the directors thinking I don't understand why they couldn't stay true to the book here why are they jumping off a cliff good Lord why is Snape clutching a corpse this is bordering on disturbing why didn't they show Percy's big entrance that was one of my favorite parts oh my gosh Ginny please go away you make me sick sometimes.

Or something along those lines.

But I think over all, the movie, just like the book, had the ending that it needed and deserved.
That's really the most important thing, right?


There were other important parts of last night, though.

Like the feeling of complete panic that swept through the theater when the 3D glasses weren't working and everything was blurry. I was literally almost in cardiac arrest when The Man Behind the Curtain finally adjusted the projector correctly and the trailers came into focus.

Like when the Weasley family was mourning Fred and everything was quiet until I began to hear sniffing sounds coming from all around me. The entire theater was crying. The man next to me was crying. The ladywiththemostobnoxiousvoicei'veeverheard behind me was crying (loudly). And I suddenly felt like laughing. Until Harry began his walk towards the Forbidden Forest. Then I stopped laughing and started sniffing myself. I actually fogged up my own 3D glasses and had to wipe them. Not being a glasses-wearer, that was a new experience for me.

Like taking pictures in the lobby of people dressed up as Patronuses and Veela and Freds with bandaged ears and two twin boys with hair sprayed red.

Like when my friend and I had to visit the facilities before the movie. We waited in line for about 10 minutes before we finally got stalls. I was just trying to calculate what my odds of catching an STD from the toilet seat were when I heard my friend yell to me (from across the lavatory): "Holly! We flush ourselves in!" The entire bathroom erupted in echoing, nerdtastic giggles.

Like after the movie, when I decided not to wait for Bea (the GPS) to 'acquire satellite.' I thought I could manage to get home by myself. A sort of deluded Harriet Tubman, I convinced myself that I could find my way North. Apparently, I couldn't. I ended up goodnessknowswhere at 3 in the morning making illegal uturns in quiet neighborhoods and pleading with Bea to help me. She eventually did. Then the problem became keeping myself awake.

Like when I sang every Beatles song I know (which is, forgive me, an awful lot of Beatles songs) at the top of my lungs in order to keep myself awake. I was so tired that my voice was scratchy and pathetic but I made it home okay nonetheless. The dogs were happy to see me.

Yes, it's over. Yes, I'll never see another Harry Potter movie in a theater (unless I go to see this one again, which, let's face it, is highly likely). Yes, before the movie started, I was dreading it starting a little bit. Everyone was. Harry Potter began when we were all young. People have waited for Hogwarts letters, people have waited for the next book, the next movie.

But the waiting is over. It's all here.

I have a Harry Potter book on my lap right now. The Prisoner of Azkaban, because it's my favorite. And I'm thinking about how different it is every time I read these books. How there's always something new. Not because the books have changed, but because I have. And I will.

And as long as there's still that, I don't think anything has ended at all.

This Year's Fourth of July

The best thing about having a blog for almost-three years is that you can look back at posts. You can say, "I wonder what the younger, dorkier version of myself was doing on this day two years ago?" And then you can check. Of course, this checking back usually does come with quite a bit of humiliation. I just hang my head at some of the things I wrote about almost-three years ago.

Luckily, though, for this post, I only had to look back one year. Not so very embarrassing. One year ago, I spent the Fourth weekend on Lake Superior. I got terribly sunburned and had to walk around Target for the next few weeks with my nose peeling gorgeously. I tried (and failed) to read Crime and Punishment.

This year has been a little different.

I woke up at 11:15 this morning (only because my alarm made me). I stayed in bed until 11:40.
I had Crispex and milk for breakfast. I cleaned my bathroom immediately afterward because Mom was coming home and I had put off doing it all weekend. I took a shower in Mom and Dad's bathroom because my shower was filled with hazardous cleaning chemicals. I watched some Cake Boss on TV.
At 2:30 I took the dogs out to run around. I brought Dear Old Hemingway with me, but didn't end up reading much; it was much more fun to chase Ruby around with the hose. And then to attempt to chase Annie as well until she got smart and cowered by the steps, where Dear Old Hemingway lay. Darn dog knew I would never risk getting a book wet. Especially a library book. Darn dog.
The family got home at 3:06 and 3:10, respectively. I was happy to see them.
Then we all sat down at the kitchen table to plot things out. We decided on mini golf, and then some sort of dinner/ice cream combo afterwards.
I won at mini golf. I also got the only hole-in-one of the evening.
But I don't talk about that.
We decided to drive to S*** for dinner, which started out being a bad idea (it was packed), and ended up being a good idea (we ate on the river and it was delicious). We then sought out a place that has ridiculously huge ice creams (I got chocolate peanut butter-best thing in the world), and nearly died of thirst on the way home (ice cream always makes you thirsty, have you ever noticed?).
Also on the way home, we drove through S*** (different S***). Mom mentioned the time when Grandma, Grandpa, Amy and I set off to go to a nearby driving range and ended up lost in S*** due to my poor sense of direction. In my defense, I was only about 11. Also in my defense, I have a poor sense of direction.
At home, we all settled down on the couch to watch Love Actually, which is actually a really great movie. I'm currently trying to decide who I love more: Hugh Grant or Colin Firth. It's a toughie, right? Witty and down-to-earth and awkward or stoic and romantic and awkward? Notting Hill or Pride and Prejudice? Will ponder this, and consider moving to Britain, where a Hugh-Colin combo platter perfect man has to be waiting for me.

Happy Fourth everyone.

P.S. It just occured to me that in my effort to *** town names for the sake of privacy, I actually succeeded in making it look like I was ***-ing out profanities. And when you read this post, mentally subbing in said profanities, it's kind of funny. Sorry. I'm immature.

In Which A Trip to Half Price Books Straightens Me Out

Did anyone ever tell you that studying abroad involves a lot of paperwork? No one ever told me.
But paperwork has been my game these past few days. Visa application, financial aid schtuff, hideous passport pictures, etc.
I was coming out of the bank this afternoon after getting a signature notarized (not as exciting as I thought it would be), when all of the sudden my visa application blew out of my hands and across the parking lot. As it twirled towards the highway, and as I ran after it, all I was thinking was "if this darn thing blows into speeding traffic, you had better believe I'm going after it." Luckily, it didn't, so I didn't have to. But I would have.

I'm almost done with everything, though, and then all I'll have to worry about will be brushing up on my German and shopping for Europe-worthy clothes (you know: scarves, sweaters, more scarves, lederhosen. That type of thing).

In other news, I've been in a bit of a book funk ever since school ended; I've been starting books and not finishing them. I hate this funk. I hate not being able to write up finished books in my Read-a-Thon notebook. I hate puttering around listlessly in front of my bookshelf. I hate watching TV in desperation (although Billy Elliot was on the other night. Good movie).

Thankfully, a recent trip to the library, and a more recent trip to Half Price Books seem to have straightened me out.

Here are my HPB finds:
1. As I Lay Dying (with a sweet inscription to Kristi on the inside cover)-$3.00
2. My Antonia-$1.00
3. This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen (because how could I pass up a collection of concentration camp stories collected under a title like that?)-$6.98
4. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (I've wanted it ever since I read The Bell Jar last winter)-$9.98
5. Lolita (Am I going to actually read a Russian novel at last? Does this count as a Russian novel seeing as Nabokov didn't actually live in Russia for most of his life?)-$6.98

Feeling that my literary-fueled life has purpose again-priceless.

A Few Things

A few things:

1. Boy, am I clunky when I'm tired. I must have bashed my hip against a dozen different things today at work. Aforementioned tiredness stemmed from all of our smoke alarms going off at 3:38 a.m. this morning. For no apparent reason. And then, despite there being no apparent reason (Mom and I scoured the house), I couldn't get back to sleep. I kept thinking I smelled smoke, and then I had to mentally run through my fire escape route (I'm going traditional: out the window). And THEN I had to figure out which items I would save from my room in case of a fire****. Poetry book from my grandpa, my journal, and my laptop. If I really have lots of time, I would probably go for my 'writing' drawer as well.

2. My Mom just got a Facebook. My Mom just got a Facebook and friend requested me. I must be some sort of demon child, because I'm actually thinking about whether or not I should accept. It's not like I ever put anything really private or really crazy on FB that I wouldn't want my mother to see, it's just that FB is my thing. It's a young adult thing. It's uncharted parent-kid territory. And I don't know if I want to go there.

3. I mowed the lawn for the very first time today. I've wanted to try it for years and years, but since we have a ride mower, and since our yard is hilly and perilous, the job was always better left up to Dad. However, since the lake is down so many feet, and since the grass down there (where water used to be) is fluorishing, I decided to drag the push mower down and have at it. Mowing was actually kind of fun. In fact, the only downside was that my arms started to ache after awhile because the handle (?) was way too low. Another downside would be the dead fish. Another downside would be accidently running over a dead fish and having its half-rotted skin shoot out from under the mower and hit your bare leg. Another downside would be that when you screamed, you forgot that screams echo across lakes. Another downside would be that a fisherman in a boat far away heard you and looked up at you with annoyance and then shook his head. Another downside would be that you haven't read The Old Man and the Sea, so you can't even make a brilliant allusion here. Other than those things, though, mowing was good.

4. We are finally finally finally going to see Water for Elephants. I'm even behaving and refraining from reading reviews ahead of time. When I read reviews ahead of time, I tend to get really cynical about movies. This annoys my darling sister, who likes to give even the worst films some credit. So I'm staying away from IMDB. For now.


****Note: This is assuming that all family members/pets/pets who are family members are already safely out of the house.

Holly Movies

"The Painted Veil" is what my mom refers to as a "Holly Movie."

Holly Movies are historical dramas, usually artfully made, and usually romantic. They don't have to be sad, but many of them are because history is like that sometimes. Sometimes people die in Holly Movies. Holly Movies are sweeping, they're beautiful, and they're poignant. Holly Movies always take themselves seriously, which is good, I think. Stupid comedies are not Holly Movies.

Holly Movies are also, as you have probably guessed, my very favorite kind of movies.

Anyway, I saw "The Painted Veil" a few weeks ago when I checked it out from the library. I then proceeded to watch it three times in one weekend.

I then proceeded to go on itunes and buy this song.

I've been listening to it all day. It's raining out, and if you listen to this song, I'm sure you'll understand why it's the perfect song for a gloomy beautiful day.



P.S. Watch the movie as well. It's perfectly wonderful.

North Face

We finished the movie "North Face" today in German class.

It was about a group of climbers attempting to be the first people to scale the north face of the Eiger (a mountain in the Bernese Alps).

I guess I thought, after all the struggle, after all the frostbite and avalanches, that there would be at least a small happy ending.

But, without giving too much away, I have to tell you that there isn't.

That's what happens when you make movies based off of real life; things don't always end well.

Sometimes people die.

I walked back from class feeling sad, and I am still feeling sad. And I don't think it's because people died, exactly. It's because they tried so hard not to die, but they did anyway. The ogre that the mountain is named after managed to eat them up while they were still attached to their ropes, while they still clutched rocks.

I sat in my German class today, staring at a movie projected on a shiny whiteboard and wondered why in the world anyone would ever try to climb a mountain. People die on mountains. And not just throughout history. Not just back in the day. People die on mountains now, despite technology and despite global warming. Why would anyone risk that? Why would anyone risk their life to stand on the top of a gigantic mound of rock for a few seconds (because of course any longer and you suffocate for lack of oxygen)? I think I need someone to explain this to me sometime. I also think that maybe deep down I know the reason, but I just don't understand it. I sit on my bed and read books about mountains and I feel no desire to climb one. And I don't think that limits me. I don't feel any desire to fight against the elements. My battles are mainly mental, which is all right too.

Sometimes people die on mountains, and sometimes people die peacefully in their beds. But I wouldn't say that mountaineers have necessarily had any greater of a journey than those who die in bed. Maybe higher journeys, though.

"When you're at the bottom - Toni once told me - at the foot of the wall, and you look up, you ask yourself: How can anyone climb that? Why would anyone even want to? But hours later when you're at the top looking down, you've forgotten everything. Except the one person you promised you would come back to." -North Face (2008)

Some Advice From Mr. Lincoln

My favorite quote of all time (and this is difficult, because I adore quotes) is from Abraham Lincoln: "When you look for the worst in mankind, expecting to find it, you surely will."

It's also from Pollyanna, but I don't tell people that.

I was thinking about this quote today as I was puttering around my room attempting to clear away used Kleenex and blobs of NyQuil. I was thinking that it's very easy to notice something about another person, a negative quality, or a habit you don't like, and then to become completely consumed by it. Suddenly, whenever you're around that person, all you can think about is that one thing (selfishness, bragging, mouth breathing, etc.). Everything they do somehow lines up into your established perception of them. It's almost astounding how wrapped up in prejudice you can become. Soon you can hardly bear to be in their presence. They have absolutely nothing more to offer you besides that bad thing.

I've lost a few friends to this horrific spiral, and it wasn't until afterward that I realized what had happened. Sure, that one quality about them annoyed me. Sure, it made me not want to be friends with them so much. But was it really them, or was it just me? If I had simply forced myself to step back and look at the big picture, would I have seen something different?

Mr. Lincoln would probably say yes. Actually, I think he would first fix me with one of those x-ray, I-saved-the-United-States-now-what-the-heck-are-you-doing-with-YOUR-life stares that make you feel wretchedly petty, and then he would quirk one bushy eyebrow. And that would mean yes.

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.

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.

"We're Bonding, Aren't We?"

Last night, my roommate and I, under orders from certain New Years Resolutions, headed to the Regional Fitness Center to run around a bit. We decided to play badminton, which is great because you run around enough to get a work out, but you have enough fun that it doesn't feel like work.

Well, we were batting the birdie back and forth with more humor than skill, when a group of five boys, two of whom were international students, walked up and asked us if they could join. We said sure, assuming that two of them would assemble and oppose the two of us. To our surprise, all five of them clustered together on the other side of the net and proceeded to take us on.

Let me tell you, it was a lot of fun.
The birdie was smashed back and forth, often twirling in midair as rackets swished by, missing by entire feet.
Boys collided with boys on the other side, boys fell, laughing.
Serves were delivered out of order and overhand, often with fluorishes and mighty leaps.
No one, it seemed, could understand what any other person said, but it didn't seem to matter.
We were just seven college students having fun.

To be completely honest, it was the first time that I've really interacted with international students.
Not because I have anything against them, but because I'm always worried that I'll do something or say something they won't understand, or vice versa.
Badminton, even in rude form, I have learned, is easily translated into any language.

In fact, and you're probably going to groan at this next part, our entire time in the RFC reminded me of that moment in Father of the Bride 2, when Steve Martin and Martin Short are in the hospital running back and forth between Steve's wife and Steve's daughter, who are both in labor at the same time. Suddenly, Martin Short, in his funny Franck voice, grabs Steve Martin by the shoulders and says, "George...we're bonding, aren't we?" And Steve Martin smiles a slow smile of recognition and says "Yes, Franck. I think we are."

Hospital, badminton court. Same thing, really.

A Christmas List

After days of thought (I'm serious. Days) I have compiled the following list:

Holly Lynn Gruntner's Absolute Favorite Christmas Movies of All Time:

1. The Year Without a Santa Claus-My favorite of what I fondly call the "furry" animated Christmas films (you know what I mean-they're all on ABC every Christmas). Why do I like this one in particular so much? Two reasons: Snow Miser and Heat Miser.

2. Heidi (Shirley Temple version)-When my sister and I were little, my grandparents bought us a dozen Shirley Temple films on VHS. They had grown up seeing Shirley on the big screen, and wanted to pass her down. Heidi isn't my favorite S.T., but it's certainly the most Christmassy. Also, as in all the S.T.'s, there are plenty of wholesome, ridiculous, genuinely hilarious moments.

3. The Family Stone-This is one of the few on my list that came out fairly recently. Featuring an ensemble cast (think Diane Keaton, Rachel McAdams, Luke Wilson...), The Family Stone is first and foremost about (you guessed it) a family. A quirky, judgemental, close-knit family who has a little trouble accepting a certain outsider into their midst. I would highly highly recommend this one.

4. The Santa Claus-You've all seen it. You all probably love it. Bernard the Elf makes me laugh harder than any other sarcastic, dread-locked elf I know.

5. Joyeux Noel-I first saw this one in high school, in a War History class. It's about a moment in history I never knew about: during World War I, there was something called the Christmas Truce, when opposing sides stopped their shooting and got together for a celebration. Beautiful, beautiful film.

6. Home Alone-Again, you know this one. In my family, we actually watch Home Alone on Thanksgiving, but since it's still technically a Christmas film, I thought I'd list it.

7. It's a Wonderful Life-Only seen this one once, but I hope to get a hold of it this year as well.

8. Gremlins (yes, I consider this a Christmas movie)-Steven Spielberg. Green Goblins. Snow White. Furbies. Christmas. What better combination is there?

9. Love Actually-I hope you've seen this one. Please tell me you have. I don't know how to describe it. Romantic comedy, ensemble cast, and it's about...well...you know.

10. Elf-I KNOW HIM!

Cinderella

Right now I sort of feel like Cinderella, for the following reasons:
1. There's a ball going on, and I'm not going.
2. Because I have to do work.
3. And I'm sitting here watching the girls on my floor get dressed up.
4. And I wish I were going with them.


I'm unlike Cinderella for the following reasons:
1. I have no adorable rodent friends.
2. It's a not a prince's ball in the palace; it's a Yule Ball (that's right-Harry Potter style) in the Student Center.
3. There are no hideous step-relatives preventing me from going.
4. My 'work' consists of papers, and presentations, and general studying, not chores and laundry.

You know, Cinderella used to be my favorite story growing up. According to my parents, I used to beg them to read it to me. Unfortunately for them, it was quite a long read, for a picture book.

Nowadays, I'm not such a fan of old Cinderella. We still own the Disney version on VHS, and whenever I watch it I'm struck by what a weak character Cinderella is.

First of all, she's not very proactive. Instead of fighting to improve her own life, she relies on mice, and a dog, and a horse, and a fairy godmother to help her win her prince. She's constantly singing about the importance of dreams, but does she ever really take any risks to make her dreams come true? Nope. She goes to a ball and dances one dance with an incredibly shallow prince, who doesn't speak two words to her, and probably only likes her for her beauty.

Furthermore, what were her dreams in the first place? To fall in love? I mean, this girl has pretty much been locked up in a manor scrubbing floors her entire life. Doesn't she want to see a bit of the world? Get an education? Make some friends? Actually live a normal life for a bit? Apparently not.

To be completely fair to Cinderella, however, I decided to google her. See if she's really just all fluff. Here's what I found out:

The story of Cinderella is actually thought to have originated around the 1st Century B.C., when a Greek history named Strabo recorded this story about an Egyptian girl:
They tell the fabulous story that, when she was bathing, an eagle snatched one of her sandals from her maid and carried it to Memphis. While the king was administering justice in the open air, the eagle, when it arrived above his head, flung the sandal into his lap. The king, having been stirred both by the beautiful shape of the sandal and by the strangeness of the occurrence, sent men in all directions into the country in quest of the woman who wore the sandal. When she was found in the city of Naucratis, she was brought up to Memphis and became the wife of the king...[3][4]

Nothing else I found led me to believe Cinderella has any depth, although I do admire her longevity. I guess everyone likes a little blind romance.

And she does have some good qualities, I'll admit. What do they call her? "Ever gentle and kind." Certainly admirable, but not exactly my kind of heroine these days.