Routines

Routines are weird things. Day after day they are the same and I get bored with them and wish they weren't there. But then without them nothing ever gets done, I get tired of inconsistency and wish for "normalcy." Because of Christmas and time off from work and visitors there hasn't been much of my normal routines these past couple of weeks. It's been fun but it has also kind of been tiring. Not so much tiring because of everything we've been doing, although I did get sore from sledding. But tired because I feel like I haven't accomplished anything, and tired because sometimes I don't know how to deal with the situations that arise, where I should be and what I should be doing. So, in some ways I'm glad the vacation is almost done.

A Christmas Poem

I'm not super happy with it, some of it is pretty clunky, but here it is anyway. Merry Christmas.

The Nativity is set up, to bless the Christmas days,
To remind us that the Father, sent his Son to earth, to save.
Joseph stands nearby protecting, his wife and little one.
Mary kneels beside the cradle pondering, all that has been done.
The shepherds sent by angles come, to see the Lamb of God.
The wisemen journey seeking, the Light below the star.
The angels from the Heavens, sing praises to their King.
The stable stands mute witness, that He will shelter all.
He needs no palace nor kingdom, to rule or reign above.
As a babe He was potential. Our faith in Him was strong.
Now he lives again, our Savior, our life, our song.

Jane Eyre

In High School I once did a Relay for Life with some of my friends. Having no idea what it would be like I brought a book to read. Just in case. Unfortunately it was drizzly most of the day/night, and my backpack was too close to the edge of the tent so my book got somewhat waterlogged. It was a borrowed book. I ended up buying another copy of the book to give to the person I borrowed it from because I felt bad. The book, as you might have guessed from the post title was Jane Eyre. Although I felt bad about ruining someone else's book I wasn't sorry to get my own (although waterlogged) copy.

I liked it when I read it the first time. I just finished reading it the second time and I don't know how I missed the power behind it. Jane has a moral strength you don't often see in books, especially not in the more romantic genres.

Here are a few quotes from it that really connected with me, this time around.

"I had the means of an excellent education placed within my reach; a fondness for some of my studies, and a desire to excel in all, together wit h a great delight in pleasing my teachers, especially such as I loved, urged me on:"          -p98

This is how I felt about my schooling.

"Life, however, was yet in my possession; with all of its requirements, and pains, and responsibilities. The burden must be carried; the want provided for; the suffering endured; the responsibility fulfilled."       -p365

I liked how she described life and the responsibility that is a part of it.

"Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive."         -p416

Sentimental December

Last week I was annoyed when I heard Christmas songs, and shook my head at Christmas displays in the stores. Now it's perfectly acceptable, rather nice actually. I feel like jumping into Christmas before Thanksgiving or even Halloween are plagued by a grass is greener mentality. Meaning they are ignoring the now in favor of a hazy future, even if that future looks good.
Anyway. As it is December first, and thus the Christmas season in my books I unpacked my few Christmas possessions. There is something enchanting about blowing off the dust of forgetfulness and pulling out old familiar items that seem to speak through the hands, whispering of past pleasantness with friends and a different me, even if there are no distinct memories. That I think, is part of the magic of the season. There are so many material items, foods, songs, and acted out traditions that only happen at Christmas that over and over again that enchanted dust is blown off.
The other day I was talking with my parents and brother about the one time we had Christmas with my grandparents. None of us remembered it very well at all. We decided that because it had been so entirely different from our other Christmases, so few of those memory things were unpacked or done that it hardly seemed like Christmas and so it faded from our minds like it barely existed.

Our DecemBear Advent Calandar

Clothes

Someone once told me while trying to convince 10 year old me to wear a fancy dress that "Every girl wants to be a princess." I did not, spitefully retort "Then I can be a princess in jeans."

I find clothes disturbing, but I suspect it is only because I think too much.
Sometimes when I walk through stores it makes me dizzy, there is just too much to look at and see, I find it overwhelming, and clothes shopping is even worse.
I took a class in college called the History of Clothing. A more complete name would have been Western Civilization and Culture as it Impacted and was Impacted by Clothing. It was fascinating. One of the things we talked about was how many of the cliques and trends in the last several decades are almost purely defined by their clothes. But the question to me is do you like certain clothes and are thus drawn to other people who like similar clothes and also happen to have other personality traits in common. Or do you have those personality traits and so you gravitate to people with those same traits and respect those people and as an effort to fit in or just in respect you end up wearing the same clothes. Perhaps that is irrelevant because it's a chicken and an egg type situation.
The other thing that seems crazy about clothes, is that no matter what other people say I am comfortable in what I'm comfortable in. Even if I hate it, but everyone else tells me it looks great, I just feel stupid, and vice versa.

So back to why I find clothes disturbing and feel almost dizzy when I'm shopping... When clothes shopping I often have an identity crisis. Am I that person who wears cargo pants and T-shirts? Am I that person who wears fitted jeans, and wool coats? Am I that person who wears skirts and casual blouses? Am I that person who wears blazers and button down the front shirts? So where am I supposed to look for clothes? The thing is, all of those people seem to be completely different to me, (yes, yes I know they are all me - I think I compartmentalize too much). This isn't just a problem I have when I'm in a store either, it happens when I look in my own closet. What's weird is I can wear nice jeans and a shirt one day and it makes me feel pretty the whole day, and I wear the exact same outfit the next week and it makes me self conscious. Like I said clothes are confusing.

Growing up with Books

In my elementary school if  we read 100 books or a specific number of pages (depending on the grade level) during the year we got a reading award for it, which included a medal and a book. These are the books I earned for each year. Some I don't read very much anymore. But they are good books, and I still have them.
This week I reread The View from Saturday by E. L. Konisburg. It was at least the third time I read it, once when I got it in fifth grade, once the summer after I graduated High School, and then now. Among other things this is what I wrote about it when I read it after High School "I still don't really understand it....."
Which I found funny because this time when I had finished I thought, "Oh, I get it." I would have never picked this book on my own, but because it was a gift it came into my life, and I'm glad of it.
There is something special about books that you grow up with. That you have read throughout your life, and they are still good. Maybe that is why my brother and sister have said that there are several series every kid should grow up with. I've grown up with this one.
The list we have at present of such important series are:
Laura Ingall's Wilder
Narnia (I got a copy of the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe in 4th grade).
Harry Potter
Lord of the Rings

Writing

Recently I have been writing a lot, at least it feels like quite a bit to me. Every day I aim for a 1000 written words, or 2000 typed words, or more often a combination of the two, on a single novel-to-be. It has been an interesting experience. It is exciting, painful, exhausting, overwhelming bizarre.
Exciting: It is cool to be able to feel a wad of papers in my hand, and think, I wrote all this (and yes I do most of my writing with pen and paper, and then type it in). And when I reread parts of it when I was editing it actually took a while. This isn't just a short piece.
Painful: It is a lot of work to convince myself to do everyday. And sometimes I am just at a complete loss of what else to say, or how to say it.
Exhausting: Sometimes I'm just tired, I literally feel drained (pun intended), that happens especially towards the end of the week.
Overwhelming: How do you create a world, a culture, and interesting people all by yourself? You don't. I've talked to my brother a lot, and in all actuality the story was originally his.
Bizarre: It is strange to be thinking about what happens next, or reliving scenes, while I walk around, or do my laundry, etc. just like I do with books that I'm reading.

So don't judge my writing on just this, please. Hopefully, I will spend more time editing my book then I do on my blog posts, which are not always literary masterpieces. (Aren't you glad. Literary Masterpieces can be awfully dense at times).

Philosophy of the Fern

I like ferns. I think they are pretty, especially fields of them. Thus I have decided that ferns, especially the lacy type, might be my favorite flowers.
I'm not a very good fern though, although I respect ferns a lot. To me, people that lift, inspire and encourage others are great ferns, basically people that make others look better. This is because when people make bouquets of flowers they often put ferns or other leafy green plants in with the flowers. They add a pretty contrast and make the flowers look better.
At church last week I gave a lesson on leadership, I was amazed at how important being a fern is to being a good leader, far more important then being a good flower.
So to all the people that are ferns. Thank you.
Like Sam, Hyrum, Samwise, Hannah, and Mark.

Epistemology

I know that getting a sunburn hurts. I know that the world revolves around the sun. I know the rhyme "Mary had a Little Lamb." I know that I am a child of God.
The thing is I know all of these things differently.
Epistemology is the study of how we know things. In one of my anthropology classes we talked about this quite a lot, and it has changed my perspective, especially in the "science v. religion" debate. According to the Anthropologist James Lett* there are seven ways of knowing things: (1) experiences through the senses, (2) logic, (3) expert opinion, (4) common knowledge, (5) intuition, (6) revelation and (7) faith.
My opening statements each fall into the above categories, and the most powerful thing about this, is that all of them are legitimate ways of knowing. Yes, sometimes experts debunk what common knowledge has taught us for decades, but there is still power in common knowledge. And sometimes our senses are hoodwinked. The point is though, that when I explain that I know something through faith, an expert can't negate that, because it's like comparing apples and oranges (as they say.... why not raisins and turtles?) it's irrelevant. There are different ways  of knowing, but they definitely all have a place.

*Lett, James W. (1987). The Human Enterprise. Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press.

Fall Fun

Buried Treasure

I went to find some buried treasure,
Deep within the ground.
I took a bucket and a shovel,
To see what could be found.

I had no map to tell me.
No x's marked the spot.
But a row of withered stems
Revealed to me a lot.

I did not dig directly there,
But a little farther back.
I did not want to hurt the treasure,
Or make it hard to pack.

A shovelful of dirt I turned.
I reached down, fingers cold,
And rolling from the ground
Was finally *Yukon Gold!

*Yukon Gold is a variety of potato.

English Blood and Manners

Conversation between John and George Knightley after several months of separation,  from the book Emma by Jane Austen:
". . .John Knightley made his appearance, and "How d'ye do, George?" and "John, how are you?" succeeded in the true English style, burying under a calmness that seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which would have led either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the good of the other."

My blood is 9/32s English (as in from England) for whatever that counts for. But, I connected with this description because I have experienced it. Even when I haven't seen my siblings for a long time, and I have been jumping about all day/week long because I'm excited to see them but then when they finally come all they get is a "hi" and a tendency to stay in the same room. Maybe in that way we are a little more than 9/32s English.

Preferred Conflict

High School. The bell rings. It's 2:02. I leave my last class gratefully. It's been a rough day. Dodging through the crowded hallways, with lockers slamming all around, backpacks and elbows pushing, and voices calling, I catch myself holding my breath. Finally I manage to get to my own locker, dump my books in and take some folders out and stuff them in my bag. I dart through the hallway again to the closet door, one not very many people use. The door shuts behind me and a gust of wind buffets me from the front. I dig in my heels and start walking. And smile up at the grey sky, and the wind whipping my hair. 

---

In high school English class we talked about the types of conflict in books: 

Man v. Man (ex. Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling)

Man v. Society (ex. The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne)

Man v. Nature (ex. Hatchet by Gary Paulson)

I think that's most of them. 

As shown by the first paragraph I have always preferred the man v. nature conflict in my own life. I went gladly to it and away from the man v. society/man. And because of that (I think) I have always kind of wanted to help out at a natural disaster. Some people might find that weird, but I guess I find that sort of thing less disturbing then working with abused children, unemployed parents, or war torn families. There's more than one way to serve, I guess.

Type 2 Fun

One of my friends from my Archaeology Fieldschool last year told me about something called Type 2 Fun. The idea is that many things are fun, jumping in puddles, playing games, a good conversation, watching a movie, reading a book, etc. All those things you would say while doing "this is fun." Those things are considered Type 1 Fun. Just typical fun things.
But there are other types of things that are Type 2. Meaning they are usually really difficult, daunting, and maybe even depressing while we live through them. They challenge us, test our reserves, and are ultimately very rewarding. During the experience you will probably never say "this is fun" but later when you are telling your story and the pain, cold, and stress is slightly blurred by time then you kind of laugh and say "that was fun."
 For my Type 2 Fun things that I've done is camping and working on an Archaeological dig at 10,000 feet elevation with it snowing for several days in a row, which included shifting through wet pebbles without gloves in below freezing weather (see picture). Walking door to door as a missionary when I was fasting, or the intense missionary schedule. The class History and Theory of Anthropology.
However, even though those things are not often going to make me say "woohoo" having a good attitude is still important, because if my attitude isn't at least decent then I might not finish it, and it might just leave me feeling bitter instead of having that opportunity to say instead, that was Type 2 Fun.

Adventures for the Next Generation

When I was a little, maybe before I was eight or so I remember my oldest brother playing a particular computer game. And later I remember watching my other brothers playing it. A few years ago one of my brothers gave me seven games in the series and so of course we had to play them again. Last week I hung out with my oldest brother's children. They noticed a game on my computer... Yes the one in question, and got addicted, so I let them borrow them. I was pretty excited to share with them a series of games that I have enjoyed a lot. There is something about passing things you love to new people, and especially to a new generation, so that they can discover anew it's delights. In a sense it is sharing with them your own memories, and yet letting them create their own at the same time.

The games are King's Quest. They are a set of adventure/puzzle games (that you usually need a walkthrough for-- which by the way is partly why I remember them so early, because they were frustrating because we first played them before the age of easy internet access, and hence no walkthroughs). They follow the story of Sir Graham as he becomes King of Daventry (I), finds a wife (II), and rescues his family (V). His son, Alexander (III, VI), and daughter, Rosella (IV, VII), also have a series of adventures. For more information visit AGDInteractive Studios, they have made excellent remakes of the first three.
This is my quick pixel drawing of King Graham.
Happy Adventuring!

School's Out

School starts tomorrow. But not for me. It's the first time since I was five that I am not going to school in the fall. That is not counting the two years absence I took for my mission, but that is different because in a sense I was just starting a different kind of schooling.
It's kind of weird. In High School I don't think I ever thought I would feel wistful to not be starting school again. However, after an idea I got from a fellow blogger, I am going to make up my own classes. I have done that off and on this summer as well, because I like it. Some of my former blog posts have come about because of it, including Archery and Figure Drawing. I think I like not being in school, but still learning.

On Pleasing Peas

One of my favorite fresh vegetables are peas. Walking out into the garden, lifting up the light green bushes, in and amongst the leaves are the little pods. Flat but full of potential. Fat, the skins bulging, with a hint of grey, showing age. And then the perfect ones, rounded, but not full. I pick one and squeeze the far end to make it open with a subdued pop. The pod splits perfectly down the little groove and inside are the little, round, fresh, green peas. I love opening and shutting the pod half the peas connected to each side. They interlock, and break apart like clasped fingers. And then running my thumb down the center shuffling them free into my hand. Biting each one, separately, the juice squirting pleasantly, and then viewing the uneaten half, shells upon shells. They taste of spring.
My family also often chews the pod up. It tastes like the color green, but it is almost a pity to leave that perfect round pod (that shows almost no evidence of being opened and empty) chewed, torn an
d used up.

American Symbols

When I was a sophomore in High school I wrote a paper about how four symbols of America were created/chosen, and how they helped unify different groups. The four symbols were the National Anthem, the Liberty Bell, the American Flag, and the Bald Eagle. Although reading it now, it isn't the best writing, it is interesting that I choose the topic. Essentially, how did inanimate objects affect the cultural and political climate in the nascent period of our country.
Last week some of my family and I were in the Washington DC Area (hence I'm slightly behind in posts). We went to the National History Museum where we saw the flag that flew over Ft. McHenry, and which inspired Francis Scott Key to write "The Star Spangled Banner." The day after we actually toured Ft. McHenry. While we were there we also spent a day in Philadelphia where we saw the Liberty Bell, and Betsy Ross' home. She is the supposed seamstress of the first flag. On the last day of our trip we visited the Patuxent Research Refuge, which is the only wildlife preserve who's first mission is research not preservation. They are known for the discovering the harmful effects of DDT on eagles, and were instrumental in helping save the Bald Eagle from extinction. So in one trip I was able to relive my paper.
In the exhibit for the Ft. McHenry Flag there was one thing that said the flag is important because of the memories and meanings each of us put into it. And indeed that is how symbols work. They are meaningless by themselves but with the strength of collective understanding, memory, fervor, and belief they can be powerful influences for good (or evil). In a sense I think that's what I hinted at in my original paper. Objects, can help create a feeling of unity for people by representing larger ideals.

Figure Drawing

As I said in my last post I have been experimenting with some drawing. I am not very good at drawing people so I thought I would practice. I looked up figure drawing up on wikipedia. It talked about how there are three main techniques, so I tried each of them out. They are all in charcoal, one of my preferred mediums, and they are based off of images I found using google images, (no I did not just make them up, and I was pretty diligent about drawing them accurately... except for the action poses).

Shapes: Draw the person based on the shapes they are made out of. Notice the emphasis on the outside boundaries.

Light: Draw the person based on the areas of light and dark. Notice the outside edges are only discernible  because of the shading. I liked the vividness of this style best, but sometimes it was hard to keep the boundaries accurate.

Anatomy: Draw the person's skeleton, and then add muscles, skin, etc. I failed miserably at this one because I don't know my anatomy good enough. I'm especially bad at doing people's heads this way, and I found keeping the shapes related to the skeleton difficult.

A combination: These action poses (which by the way were much more interesting to draw, and hence I put more effort into them) I did a basic outline, like in the shapes but then went back emphasized the light and dark. I think most of these turned out pretty well. By doing the outlines first it was easier to know where to do the shading.

Projects

So I have been working on some projects these last couple of weeks. And so here is some evidence.

 Here is a set of 8 by 7 feet shelves, that we made and put into the wall. And it's all filled up already.

 Here is a set of curtains that I made. The top of the window is a half circle and thus is not conducive for shades so we made curtains. I kind of wish I had made them a little longer.

I have also been doing some drawing and some writing. 

PS. I decided to do this post with lots of pictures because I haven't had any pictures for a while so yeah. There it is.

Prejudice

If someone you knew, and cared about, walked up and seriously said one of the three things below, which would be most offensive?
a) I hate your shoes, they are such an ugly shade of mahogany.
b) Your personality rubs me the wrong way, and really I just can't stand you.
c) I don't agree with your beliefs. They just don't make sense.

Think about it. Obviously these are somewhat generic insults but I tried to make them fundamentally different.
Prejudice exists. And here I am talking mostly about the US, because after all that is where I have had experience (and in other places and times I think the ideas I'm expressing are somewhat irrelevant because of the magnitude of the prejudices involved). Some people treat other races with great injustice and contempt. Others don't believe that women, or men, are capable or qualified. Anyway. There are lot's of forms of prejudice, I guess I don't need to list them all. But now back to the original question. Did you decide which is most offensive? Personally I would say answer b. The one that takes in you, you and only you. Just like the boy, Hiccup, from How to Train Your Dragon, who several times is told "You should change that." And he answers "What? You just gestured to all of me."
Which is not to say slights about personal beliefs or your favorite sport, hobby, or clothing are not taken personally at times. But the thing is I think it is easier to think that people pick on me because I'm a girl (I can't help that) or LDS (me and quite a few other people) then to know that they just don't like me as a person. Because if you accept that they really don't like you for you, then you are left with three options 1) punch them in the face 2) ignore the taunt or 3) realize that it might have some validity and take ownership of the imperfections it pointed out to you. Basically, I think it is far easier to blame other people's unpleasant behavior towards you on some prejudice that they hold, instead of realizing that you aren't perfect. For instance, "they didn't hire me because I'm a girl," instead of "they didn't hire me because I'm a slacker."
But then again I'm a privileged white girl what do I know.

Face Stealer

Flitting into the kitchen I interrupted my mom and her friend as they were talking. "Can we go play in the stream?" 

"Why don't you play on the trampoline instead," my Mom answered as she stirred the tomato sauce on the stove. 

I frowned but turned towards the door. 

"You know," my Mom's friend said as her own kids came tailing after me "You look like your sister, but you have your brother's facial expressions." 

"Uh, OK," and then I escaped out the door, my friends in tow.

* * * 

Laughter filled the little bedroom. I couldn't stop, and I wasn't the only one. We had been laughing at a story, but as I continued laughing I couldn't help notice our laughs.

I lay on the bottom bunk of a bunkbed in a little room. On the top bunk, and on the mattress set on the ground against the wall were my two companions. I was serving a mission for my church, and was living and working with two other women 24/7. Literally.

The Sister on the mattress on the floor turned to me. Despite the darkness I could tell. "Are you laughing for the same reason I am?" 

I nodded, still laughing, hearing the way our laughs had become almost indistinguishable. I had been working with her for about four months. 

"Your laugh is the same as mine."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

This is just two examples of one of my quirks. I copy people, not on purpose, but I do. Thankfully, I am far more likely to do it with people that I like, and am around a lot. But if I don't like them I am far less likely to do it. This is very convenient because I have very little control over it. Sometimes, I make a facial expression,  and I am struck that it is not my own. Usually I can pinpoint who's it is. A roommate, a friend, a sibling. "I just stole your face." I tell them. And then I have to explain, and they always ask "Which one?" Disappointingly I can rarely tell them because my face may know how to do it, but I don't know how to explain it. It's really an odd sensation. Like the example above, I have done it with my laugh, but only that once (it makes me wonder who's laugh do I have?). But I also sometimes do it with phrases that another person uses, although I think that is fairly common, and once in a while a gesture. Because of this I think I am also more aware of other peoples facial expressions, and on occasion I have noticed other people do it, mostly when they are siblings.

One of my brothers called me Koh, the face stealer from Avatar (a monster who steals faces). I hope mine isn't quite as offensive.

We

During the fall of 2011 I was in a nonfiction writing class. One of the major papers I wrote was entitled "We." I wanted to express the times in my life where I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself, whether it was my own family, my extended family, part of a this country, or as a missionary. I did a terrible job because I didn't have enough time to really understand what I wanted to show. I have been thinking about this a lot lately. This week I went to a pageant and I got a chance to talk to a member of the cast (a friend from 10 years ago). He was part of this huge unified endeavor and it made me a little jealous. Throughout my life I feel as though I have rarely felt that type of unity that I sense is common among sports teams and plays . Which is something I kind of crave. I think that is one reason why I am willing to comment during classes, although I rarely talk to the people around me because it is against my natural inclinations. I consider myself an introvert. This is quite the internal battle at times this desire to be part of something more... but without reaching out to talk to people. It's kind of problematic really.

Pixel Art and Other People's Projects

So my brothers were working on a fairly simple computer game (It uses an OpenSource game called TripleA that is basically Axis and Allies). They wanted to do it based on the TV series Avatar: The Last Airbender.* I volunteered to do the pixel art for the units, and I have been thoroughly enjoying it although it has taken quite a bit of time and effort. But here they are. Hopefully if you are familiar with the series you can see some resemblance. 

They are 48x48 pixels and meant to be seen at this size. 

The Earth Kingdom

The Fire Nation

The Water Tribes

The Air Nomads/White Lotus

Sometimes I just think it is interesting though how much easier it is to be motivated to do other peoples projects then my own... But only sometimes. It might partially depend on how enjoyable it is to work on it.

*This art and blog are in no way associated with Avatar: The Last Airbender

Socks

My sister gave me a pair of socks that epitomize how I think of socks. Ironically they look like shoes, which is not the point.

Here they are as normal a pair of little purple shoe socks as you can get. But flip. . .

and they have little monsters popping out!
I like exciting, colorful, and weird socks. I have ones with reindeer, strawberries, rainbows, and sheep to name just a few. And compared to the rest of my wardrobe they are beyond boisterous (and garish). Normally I wear plain jeans or dark pants and monocromatic T-Shirts, polos, or v-necks. I feel much more comfortable wearing relatively plain clothes. But I like exciting socks. I think this is because they don't always show. Socks are rarely the first thing someone notices about you. Thus, I feel like I can wear them and show my slightly odd self but as a footnote (don't mind the pun) not as the main point. Thus these socks that are more wild then say a pair of plain white socks are not as wild until you flip them up and reveal a little monster, almost as an afterthought.

Sand Ripples

This is the desert... actually it is just the St. Anthony Sand dunes. I guess I've never really been to a desert or even sand dunes before because I thought this was  amazing. I have been on plenty of beaches and played in sandboxes but the overwhelmingly large sand dunes with real live sand ripples was really neat. Even though we spent only a few minutes there I found it interesting. It was just one more peak into a world that gets bigger the more you see of it.

Archery

I woke up this morning with sore upper arms, a bruise on the first knuckle of my left hand and calluses or blisters on three fingers on my right hand. It has been the same for awhile now, two weeks exactly. The reason is obvious from the title: archery. I have been practicing with my brother's old bows. We have five arrows, 2 with broken nocks (the end that clips to the string of the bow), one with a bent point, and all but one have tattered or missing fletches (the feathers). The longbow I was practicing with for most of the time is now out of commission, the string, slightly frayed before, snapped on Friday as I pulled it back (sorry). The other bow, a recurve, is much heavier and I cannot pull it all the way back, plus only one of the five arrows (the one pictured) fits it. I'm going to keep playing around with it though.
I have enjoyed it. Although sometimes it takes me a while to get around to it, but when I do, it is so peaceful I often stay longer then I was planning. Wet grass cushions my feet, and the sun and shade mingle around me. I breath in through my nose as I draw an arrow across the string and shift the bow from horizontal to vertical and draw the string back against my cheek in The movement. Letting my breath go the arrow flies straight but with a slight spin that I can't even consciously see, and yet I do. The solid thunk lets me know my arrow hit it's mark, the cardboard box I'm aiming at (which doesn't help the fletching issue). Either that or it pierces the lawn nearby :).
A few weeks ago I went (gun) shooting with some friends for the first time. I shot a .22 and a shotgun with them. When I remembered what I was doing and lined up the sights correctly I could hit the eggs we were targeting. We left metal bullets and casings scattered everywhere, they are not reusable.  It was awfully loud, and although it took a little effort to hold up the end of the gun it was not particularly difficult. In some ways I think it was easier to hit the target then with a bow but I didn't like it as much. It probably didn't help that we were with several people I had never met before, it was a little awkward.
Although you shoot both guns and bows I just feel like they are totally different experiences. And I prefer the bow.

Flowers

Here are some flowers that my mom and I made for my nieces and sister-in-law. They are made of chocolates (kisses), cellophane, straws, tape and ribbon.  The fake yellow flowers are just to add to the bouquet. It was kind of fun, although I'm not sure I would bother to do it again. I think they turned out nice though.

Graduation

This week I graduated from college. Last week I graduated from Institute (a religious studies program). So what is graduation? There is all that talk about beginnings, and becomings, achievements and awards. It also often seems to correlate with moving (at least for me). I know a lot of people that didn't walk, and I understand why. The whole program is often long and a little boring and shaking hands with people you have never met before. Plus, you have to buy the gowns. But I still don't regret going, although I wish more of my peers that I was close to had come, as well as my professors. Because the way I see graduation is not so much "Hah! I did it!" but more of mutual gratitude. After all it is only a piece of paper. If you did the work do need to have the actual paper and  attention too? Graduation is a conclusion, yes, it is a way to say "Hey look I can follow through and finish something." But more than that, I was saying "I care enough about this education, and the things I learned, and the experience, and the people that helped me on the way that I am willing to sit through a little pomp, so thank  you." I think that is why I was so sad that my teachers weren't there. At Institute graduation I talked to one of the leaders about how the ceremony and such was not for me, it was to say thank you to them. He responded that that was only partially true that graduations were also a way for the leaders, teachers, and parents to say "thanks for doing the work."

So thank you. To my parents, and siblings, and friends, and teachers. And especially those who came to support me.

Obsession or Disgust

This is a picture of a partial Tilapia skeleton, and something I've been thinking a lot about these past couple of weeks. I have been working on a school project where I am doing actual real research that has not been done before. I am trying to figure out if it is possible to identify the species of a fish based on only the vertebrae. And if it can be done, how do you do it. Basically we found out that you can sort of tell. :) It has definitely been interesting though, I have really enjoyed the thought process and the freedom to just try and figure it out on my own. But at times I have got frustrated with it (especially with my ineptitude at using spreadsheets and other computer programs that it would be helpful). Several mornings between being asleep and awake I have swam in a haze of vertebrae and spreadsheets. Occasionally when I close my eyes I see vertebrae dancing before my eyes. I've procrastinated other homework to work on this, and I've given up in disgust multiple times. So the question is: am I obsessed? or am I disgusted with the whole project? Perhaps they are the same thing.

An Interspecific Cultural Comparison of Canis lupus and Homo sapiens

This semester I took a capstone class to finish up my college career. I got to pick my own topic as long as it had something to do with Biological Anthropology. I choose to write about the similarities and differences between wolves and humans. It was a ten page paper and so I am not going to post it all here but I found it really interesting and almost wished that I had had more time to work through it all and add more details and sources and such. Here are two paragraphs that kind of sum up much of what I wrote.
"Wolves and humans have many commonalities, the crux of which can be narrowed down to our adaptable nature and diet. However, some of these similarities, especially diet, are difficult to see in our technologically advanced world, they are more obvious in examples from the human past when most humans were hunters and gatherers. Until more recently when humans began to populate almost every corner of the world, wolves had one of the most extensive ranges of any mammal (Paquet and Carbyn 2003). Both species have complex social hierarchies, and live in family groups. As predators we both prey on large and small animals as well as feeding on plants. Hunting can be done in packs or individually and both species are territorial. However, the biggest difference between us is that because of extra-somatic adaptations, such as clothing, and weapons, humans are even more adaptable than wolves. . . "
"Genetic disparity between species causes variation in behavior. A few of the most blatant examples of these differences between humans and wolves are found when contrasting reproduction and greater human adaptability. Wolves have larger litters than humans and are only in heat once a year. Plus, their cubs are fully mature in two years and quite capable for some time before that. Compared to humans’ slow maturation, single births and year round reproductive receptivity wolves are very distinct. These differences require diverse adaptive behaviors. Both species are quite adaptable, but because of humans ability to create culture, particularly material culture we adapt more readily to a larger variety of environments."

The Graveyard Book

This week I read The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. It was strange because it kind of felt like one of those books where there is no real plot it is just related stories and anecdotes from someone growing up like Louisa May Alcott's books. At the same time it felt like a novel with a single plot. After the book was a few pages written by the author about the process. This is what he wrote:
 "I wanted the book to be composed of short stories, because The Jungle Book was short stories. And I wanted it to be a novel, because it was a novel in my head. The tension between those two things was both a delight and a heartache as a writer."
No wonder that it felt the way it did. He definitely made it work though.
I also really enjoyed the premise of a little boy being raised in a graveyard by ghosts. And I liked how things like vampires and werewolves were portrayed in such a different light then they typically are.
At first I was disappointed that there was much more about Silas then there was about his parents, but when I talked to my sister about it she explained that when you are little parents are just there, they aren't exciting, so it is no wonder there wasn't much about them.
I thought the end was more sad then I was expecting though. He's only 16 and he can't go back... but I guess that is how growing up is, you can't go back. And this is what Gaiman said about that:
"I had set out to write a book about a childhood--it was Bod's childhood, and it was in a graveyard, but still, it was a childhood like any other; I was now writing about being a parent, and the fundamental most comical tragedy of parenthood: that if you do your job properly, if you, as a parent, raise your children well, they won't need you anymore."
This book definitely captured that feeling, because after all sometimes fiction is truer than reality.

Dandelion

Yes I know this is not a dandelion. But tough luck.

Today I saw a dandelion
That greeted me of Spring
The light against the darkness
It promised me of more.

Springs Change

So, spring has arrived, after a couple of false starts. The warmer weather has been nice, and its been fun to have a picnic and play badminton and Frisbee (even thought they have come with some minor injuries). At times I almost felt like I shouldn't be enjoying it so much because I really do like winter, but the thing is change is nice. Especially familiar, predictable change. Why is that? Why are some changes anticipated and others dreaded even though neither is necessarily bad. I have been more or less dreading the changes that come with graduation. Ultimately I think it comes back to familiar versus unfamiliar change. Fog is inherently more frightening than sunny skies for those of us who are diurnal. I suppose this is natural but I don't think it is necessarily.

Things that Matter

Recently I have noticed that the stories that I keep coming back to, whether in song, film, or writing, are stories about things that matter. Freedom, love, courage, faith, teamwork, triumph, sacrifice. For me these include The Highway Man, Lord of the Rings, and The Witch of Blackbird Pond. I definitely enjoy things that are more about superficial things, like the book Dragonsdale by Salamandra Drake I read recently, and some of the more cheesy/lame chick flicks I've watched. But they just aren't things that I'm drawn back to over and over again, that catch my imagination and my interest. I am grateful to my friends and family and sometimes strangers who share with me, the things that they have found in their life that matter.

List of Happiness

My roommate recently showed me her list of things that make her happy. She said she liked making the list because it made her happy to think of all the things that made her happy. I kind of liked the idea and after pondering all week I came up with a list of some of the things that make me happy. It's interesting though because our lists were very different. People are different, so I guess it's not surprising. The list isn't in any particular order.
+ Rain or melting snow slowly dripping down into my hair.
+ Getting a new book, children's or novel not a text book.
+ Picking up a new book to read that looks like it will be good, or is highly recommended by a friend.
+ Picking up an old book that's like an old friend. (ex. Witch of Blackbird Pond, Richard Scarry's Best Storybook Ever).
+ Stomping through snow when I don't have too.
+ A really good conversation where we talk about something intellectually stimulating or emotionally analytical.
+ Walking along a street and smelling fresh laundry.
+ Creating something out of nothing (like my Rustic Project, or my paintings, or even gingerbread houses).
+ Cuddling inside a warm sleeping bag or a warm bed with my nose just a tiny bit cold.
+ The Holy Ghost telling me I am loved or otherwise inspired.
+ Taking down chairs and tables after a church event.
+ A feeling of camaraderie that I get when I am learning, or studying, or serving with others.
+ Rearranging my books and movies on my shelves.

Live in the Moment

At church when we sing hymns I always keep my book open until the very end of the song. My brother and others have taught me that. I think it is a good habit because it makes you stay focused on what you are doing right now. And that is a hard thing to do sometimes, especially when the task at present is boring, or annoying, or the task to come is nerving, or exciting. However when I'm focused in the moment I usually get more out of it. When I was on my LDS mission they called it "sprinting to the finish." Which means to carry on and finish strong. Basically, even through the last couple minutes of class I would rather go eat my lunch, I should stick around and actually listen. The last couple weeks of winter I should go play in the snow. This last semester of college I should enjoy the friendships and the homework (do I have too?).
The problem is.... sometimes I think I am too good at this and never actually plan ahead. Which is not good either. How do you live in the moment while still being prepared for the future?

Here's a rainbow. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Charlie

My roommate asked me to do this painting for her. It is a picture of her horse Charlie. She gave me a picture of the horse and I copied it pretty closely except for the sky. I based the sky on a picture I took up in the Wind Rivers over the summer. At first I was afraid that I would be really bored painting this picture, it isn't very action packed by any means, but I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. I think it probably helped that it was a pretty small painting. I think it's a 12 by 12 inches. I think it turned out decent.

Valentine's Day

This week we had Valentine's Day. Obviously. I don't know why but this year it seemed a bigger deal then normal. I know many people, especially single people do not like Valentine's Day even calling it Singles Awareness Day (SAD). And then others insist that it should be a day of Love AND friendship.  Now, granted I'm single, I understand why celebrating love when you don't really see it present in your own life can create emotions of longing, unhappiness, etc. The thing is, I think that ignoring the point of the holiday is unfair, or maybe just stupid. I didn't do any research on the origins of Valentines Day, but it doesn't matter because in our current culture the point is to celebrate romantic love, and why not? Why deny the fact. So what if you aren't in a relationship? So what if you are? Why can't Valentine's Day be about celebrating all the love filled relationships in your life. It's a good time to see the examples of others and to be grateful for that. So thanks Mom and Dad, for your good, stable, honest, close relationship. And for the examples of my siblings and their spouses, and for random couples I've met, and for my Bishop and his wife, and for Darcy and Elizabeth, and President and Sister Hinkley. I look forward to love in my own life.

Consuming and Creating: Part 3: Output Theory

When I first posted about Consuming and Creating I never thought it would grow into multiple posts, but I just keep returning to the idea. Last semester I took a linguistics class and we discussed different theories about learning language. One of the most interesting was developed by Merrill Swain called the Output Theory. Building on other theories before her, she distinguished between input and output in language acquisition. Input is reading and listening activities, where output activities are writing and speaking based. Her theory emphasizes that students that provide output learn much faster then those who only receive input. In other words people who are using their new skills to create and interact are far more productive then those who only consume. This is very apparent in other types of activities too, you can't learn to sing just only by listening, or paint, or play soccer, only by watching others. It just doesn't work like that. We have to participate in life to actually live.

Retold Fairytales

This week I've been reading some books from a genre I call Retold Fairytales. Basically they are a subgenre of fantasy, and true to their name they are expanded versions often with unexpected twists of fairy tales that were originally recorded by people like the Grimm Brothers or Hans Christian Andersen. This genre is certainly not limited to books, many movies are retold fairytales (thank you Disney) and with the explosion in the book market there is even a TV show that is bases on fairytale characters. I own quite a few of the books, and I've read and watched even more, and I've even written a short story that I've already posted here. Some of my favorite authors in this genre are Robin McKinley (Spindle's End), Cameron Dokey (Golden) and Gail Carson Levine (Ella Enchanted). This week as I was reading I was thinking about why I liked them. There are two reasons, one is the fairly superficial reason that they have a little romance (usually clean) and end happily... something to do with that happily ever after bit. The other reason is more interesting, and it has to do with my idea of the Imperfect Canvas. The point behind retold fairytales is that you can recognize which story it is but although you can predict and expect certain things to happen, good authors still make the  characters fully developed and the motives for doing things change, and are unexpected, and it is cool how they manipulate the "restraints" of the original tale and craft into something new, meaningful, and creative. This is a very imperfect canvas, but I find it highly entertaining.

PS. I started listing authors but then didn't want to stop, so here are few more authors and retold fairytales that I've enjoyed. Shannon Hale (The Goose Girl), Susan Fletcher (Shadow Spinner), and Juliet Mariller (Wildwood Dancing).

Black and White Firehydrant

This Firehydrant is a modified version of a photograph I took. I did it for an assignment in my art class last semester. I think it turned out pretty well, it's kind of simple. To be honest though it was a huge pain, and took me far longer than I thought it would.

Venting

Sorry, I don't have a picture again this week.

Most people I think have vented about something in their life, and most people have listened to someone else vent. And when I say vent, I mean complaining a lot about a specific thing/person for an entire conversation. Sometimes people apologize for venting, other times I've heard things like "I just have to get it off my chest." This has made me wonder about whether venting is healthy or not. I've come to the conclusion that it can be both, it just depends on how it's done. 

For example one time when I was on my mission me and my companion ate at someone's house. The father of the house came home and complained about who we were working with and told us he didn't like the program that we were now working through. Needless to say we were miffed. As we drove away we had some plans to go stop by some other peoples homes but we were both so angry we didn't think that would be a good idea, so for a few minutes we vented to each other. I think it was healthy, in a way we were justifying ourselves and our work and discovering again that we were doing what we thought was right. Then we prayed, and I wanted to leave it at that. Be done. But my companion, was apparently not ready to let it go and she kept venting. That is when I think it becomes unhealthy. Instead of letting the frustration out, I think when we keep on venting about the same thing (whether it's to the same person or not) then it is just building up negative feelings instead of releasing them. 

Thus I think venting is good to a certain point. It can relieve frustration, but if it continues for too long it just builds up the frustration all over again. 

Alcatraz versus the Evil Librarians

This is going to be one of those few reviews I write and there aren't any spoilers. For Christmas I was given Alcatraz versus the Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson. I have read several of Sanderson's books, but this is a difference genre. And it is bizarre! I don't even know how to express how annoying, frustrating, intelligent, captivating, original, and clever it was. I still don't know how I feel about it.
It is a preteen adventure book, Harry Potter started out as the same genre. I would also include the Percy Jackson series as well as the Septimus Heap books. They are all about 12 year old boys (who all act older) who find out something amazing about themselves aka they have some magical ability and then they go out and save the world.
The thing about Alcatraz though is that Sanderson breaks all the rules. It's in first person and it's filled with foreshadowing and fake foreshadowing like "Little did I know that I was going to get attacked by sharks next." and then he goes and doesn't get attacked by sharks. But he does get attacked. And at the beginning or sometimes the middle of each chapter he embarks on random tangents about the correct way of reading books (from the beginning), and how thought provoking books are all about boys and their dead dogs. Which are genuinely intelligent and funny. Those asides definitely remind me of older authors like Dickens or Louisa May Alcott except their asides were usually moralistic.
But I think what might have been most frustrating is that throughout the whole book Alcatraz is trying to convince us that he's not a nice person. But he's not. And it gets annoying.
But the characters are interesting and well developed. The magic is original and complex. The plot is clever, and the voice is brilliant. I'm not surprised Sanderson wrote it. But I don't think I've ever read a book that was so purposefully irritating.
And I apologize, if you haven't read the book, this will probably not really make sense.