Sunday, February 22, 2015

Serial, Star Wars and Misc.

Oh Ali! Your dress is so beautiful and you are the most beautiful person inside a most beautiful dress. I think it looks so great on you! And happy two year anniversary. I can't believe it's been that long. Seriously, the attic, the big bean bag, your mission call seems so close but so far away.

Those books sound good. You know, even though Daniel also served in the South I think he would be frustrated with Henrietta's people too. I think you are good in that you take people seriously no matter what. I will put that book on my to read list. Right now I am reading To Have and Have Not. I am not loving Ernest Hemmingway so much anymore. I really liked A Moveable Feast, The Sun Also Rises, and A Farewell to Arms. The books everyone else likes, haha. But this one just seems too rough. It's trying to convey the hard scrabble life of a fisherman in Cuba, but it is too drastic. "What the heck, they just killed his mate?!" "Wait, he doesn’t have an arm anymore?" "Oh man, shot to the stomach, that is rough." I just keep flinching through the whole book. I think I have read the Martian Chronicles. Ray Bradbury, right? If that's not right, then no, I haven't read the Martian Chronicles.

This week something surprising happened to me. I hung out with another girl for a couple hours kinda spontaneously. That doesn't sound surprising at all now that I am rereading this. I didn't realize that since dating Daniel I stopped going just hanging out with people. This girl, Laura, is in my ward and we decided to get hot chocolate on our way home from campus. And then we just chatted for three hours. Haha. And it felt so weird. Really familiar, because I can totally imagine doing something like that with you, Jordan or Amy, but so unlike what I usually do now. I just didn't realize how much my social life has changed until then. And it was so exciting to have someone who thought I was cool enough to just hang out for a few hours.

Star Wars. Daniel and I finished watching them in chronological order. I love Star Wars. That's all.

Serial. I finished it this weekend. I think Adnan is guilty. What do you think? Also, do all teenagers do drugs and have sex? So it's normal not to blink an eye at that, we just assume everyone does drugs and has sex and then decide whether or not they are a good kid from there up? That was surprising to me. Aaaand I really hope my kids don't do that stuff.

I hope to talk to you later today!

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

welcome back.

WOW Carla, you have reinvigorated the blog. Good thinking. I like it.

In response to your post, I would like to say: I have not read any of William Burroughs. But Derek did, and he told me about it, and he was enraged. He thought William Burroughs was a freak.

When is your spring break exactly? I think reading all of Harry Potter in Spanish is a brilliant idea. Maybe just start with book 1 for this break.

Wedding planning. . . most of the big stuff is taken care of or being taken care of, so I guess I feel a little less pressure. But yes, I agree that I feel in both camps. OH I don't even think I told you that I got my dress!! I'll send you a picture.


So Derek and I just got back from a trip to Portland and it was lovely. It actually ended up being a really good time to go on  a trip. This week isn't too busy, so I'm not scrambling to catch up or anything. It was very good to see Syd & Penelope. My favorite part of the trip was probably just going to church with them on Sunday and holding PJ the whole time, and then helping Syd make dinner afterward. It made me wish we lived closer together. I still feel like we're very close, and when we get together we don't need to get reacquainted, but then I feel like there are some things I can't ever understand about her life because I'm simply not there. Which makes me sad. But, oh well. I will do my best.

One other fun thing about the trip was that we spent most of the drive listening to audiobooks--The Martian Chronicles and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Have you ever read those? I really liked them both. The latter was very interesting indeed; if you haven't read it, you should, and tell me what you think. Here is the summary:

Her name was Henrietta Lacks, but scientists know her as HeLa. She was a poor black tobacco farmer whose cells—taken without her knowledge in 1951—became one of the most important tools in medicine, vital for developing the polio vaccine, cloning, gene mapping, and more. Henrietta's cells have been bought and sold by the billions, yet she remains virtually unknown, and her family can't afford health insurance. This phenomenal New York Times bestseller tells a riveting story of the collision between ethics, race, and medicine; of scientific discovery and faith healing; and of a daughter consumed with questions about the mother she never knew.

I think Derek was annoyed by it, because he was annoyed by Henrietta's living family members, whom the book spends a lot of time with. They are kind of a mess. But I liked them, because I feel like I know those people. They are very familiar to me.

I will leave you with one last adorable photo from the trip. Oh, and today is the two-year anniversary of me & Derek. That's a loooooooong time.



But you, Carla, will always be the apple of my eye.










Sunday, February 15, 2015

Coming back

I decided to start posting on this blog again. I have a few things on my mind today.

First of all, Happy Valentine's Day!

Have you ever heard of William Burroughs? I listened to a little bit of This American Life when they featured another podcast episode that was all about Burroughs. Basically, I was really weirded out. I was wondering if you have read any of his stuff and what you think about it.

I watched a YouTube video on Severus Snape and now I am determined to read Harry Potter from the beginning to the end over my spring break! Possibly in Spanish. But then that would take me much longer than spring break, haha. What does one do with a spring break? It is such a luxury I am not used to. I would love to come visit you, but our airfare budget is pretty tight. My cousin just got engaged, so that is one more trip to Utah we are making this summer.

I would like to hear about your wedding plans. Are they all-consuming, or are you looking around and wondering what the big deal is with wedding planning. I felt in both camps, some things I was so obsessed about and other things I just didn't care.

Today we took a lady in our ward named Connie to the hospital to see her mother and that experience really got me thinking about trials and families and service. I feel so safe and secure and warm in our little apartment in Albany and it shakes me up to hear about family situations like Connie's and how ugly people can be. She talked about how her mother is bipolar how family member physically abused her. Connie's mother is also near death; if she didn't have a procedure to clear her lungs of fluid she could die in the next few days. It sounds like out of Connie's siblings, she is the only one who dealing with her mother's condition because the family doesn't get along. And Connie talked about trying to commit suicide and being in and out of hospitals. My first reaction is that I don't want to get involved. All this stuff makes me sad. Then I'm angry, because I feel like families and lives shouldn't be like that. And then I just get tired of people and how mean. Basically, I want the world to be perfect and I'm mad at how people keep messing it up. I was wondering if you ever felt this way on your mission and what conclusions you have come to?

That's about all the interesting things I have to say. One of these days I will come up with another historical hunk.

Here's a picture of the shore near my apartment. This is incentive to come visit me this summer.

Monday, July 22, 2013

May 26, 2013.

Dear, dear Ali,

Every time Sunday rolls around I have an incredible urge to write a very long letter which I will hand to you on the day of your departure. It seemed a little ridiculous to start writing this letter four months prior to your mission, so I waited until the much more sensible time of two months before your mission. Not premature or anything. Haha.

This letter is meant to tell you how great you are. Most of it will be from my perspective, but I know everyone you are friends with holds you in the highest of regards. So here's a history of us:

The most fortunate experience of my high school life was your suggestion that we be roommates, even more fortunate than being prom queen (hard to believe, I know). I was pretty confident we would get along (despite my fear that we would fight), but I had no idea that we were DESTINED to be the most fantastic college roommates. I could not have done freshman year without you. Looking back, I hardly had things to worry about, but navigating the waters of making new friends, having hard classes and adjusting to life away from home was made possible by your friendship. You were so nice to me. (You still are). I was always so excited for you to come home from class and keep me company in our tiny dorm room, or to meet up with you at the Cannon center to eat our daily meals. Everything was so fun and special with you, from seeing how much we could eat at the Cannon center to drawing a map of the world during General Conference. You are so non-judgmental and loving. I never felt self-conscious about anything with you. I can't imagine being uncomfortable about anything with you. I can go on and on about an illicit crush on my married writing professor or rave about Ben Snow's soothing voice and I know all that will come from you is delight in listening. So freshman year, you got me settled into college life. I could have been a drop-out if it weren't for you. I would still probably be at Iceberg.

In this letter I would just like to make a note of our epic  road trip at the end of the year. I don't think two other people could have had such a great time. I am so jealous of all your mission companions that get to live with you 24/7!

Sophomore year you worked hard at Brick Oven and earned so many hustle bucks! And took us out to eat. And won lots of writing awards. That's another thing about you. You are so freaking smart. Genius, I would say. I feel like a mother bragging about her child when I tell people about my roommate, Ali. Seriously, I live with a real, live genius. Apart from being an excellent writer, editor and thinker, you do everything so well. You plan things so well; I notice things always go smoothly when you are in charge. Your parties are a smashing success. You are good at making cakes and delicious food. You are crafty; those missionary tights presents are adorable, and you aren't even that girly. You show up all those girls who went through scrapbooking fads growing up. (Unless you were one of them, that's cool too). You know so many things about history, movies, books, people. You are so interesting. I will never get tired of talking to you. I have this fear that I will never fall in love because I'll make everyone of my boyfriends fall in love with you. Curses.

So sophomore year was rather boring. We both acknowledge that we had less than fun social lives. Hanging out with you was always great. We attended black history month dances and Martin Luther King Jr. day.

Onto junior year. I am so happy to be your roommate again. Ali, I just can't tell you what a lovely person you are. You are never in a bad mood, even when you wake up. You are so kind to others. You understand when people are talking to you, whether it be about school, English things, the world, or feelings. I can feel really troubled and worried about something and I know just talking to you will sort things out in my mind. You see things so clearly when I see them so muddled. You articulate everything I could never express, but want so badly for someone to understand. Even talking to you about math homework helps me solve problems. I don't know how you do that. I am going to miss that the most when you are gone; your unconditional listening. And when I talk to you, I feel like you really want to listen to me. Like I'm doing you a favor by telling you all my problems. And I would  like to note that I feel like you are as  much in my life as you were before you had a boyfriend, and I really appreciate that. Some people drop off the face of the planet, but I've never felt like you haven't had time to hang out with me because of Derek. You are awesome. I'm afraid to have someone leave who makes me feel so special, because you'll take some of my self-esteem with you.

I want you to know you are an amazing person. I know I joke about (although sometimes I'm half serious) about not wanting you to leave on your mission. But the truth is I really admire your decision. A mission is a selfless act of service and you have to think God and Christ are more important than things like school and money. Your decision shows a lot about the kind of person you are; dedicated, devout and Christ-like. I know I am lax about my spirituality; you have been a great example to me about saying personal prayers, having daily scripture study and pondering things about the gospel. I think you life has a lot of meaning because of those things. Thanks so much for being my best friend and my roommate. You will do a great job, Sister Maeser. The people of Florida are so lucky.

So I'm coming back to  this letter almost two months later. You have a week and a half until you go on your mission! And I will miss you so much. Reading this letter, I'm dissatisfied with all the things it doesn't say. There isn't a way I could tell you how grateful I am for your friendship unless I talk to you about it and then you manage to say exactly what I was thinking. But then that would defeat the point of writing you this secret letter. But Ali, you're great! You encompass everything good and true and comforting. (A little Ernest Hemingway language there, no?) I just love you so much. Living in an apartment with you makes me feel right at home. "Home is where the Ali is, " I always say. I feel exactly the same way I do about you as I do my brothers--that same kind of love. Basically, you are my sister.

And now you go on your mission in two days. I love you!



Thanks, thanks and thanks again.
Love,
Carla


Little tidbits I want to remind you about, but don't have particularly anything to say about:
  • My economic analysis of why we didn't have friends during a period of freshman year.
  • The journal game
  • Sharing a twin bed with you all sophomore year. Haha.
  • Latino Americano festival!
  • DI shopping trips.
  • Historical hunks
  • Megabed freshman year.
  • Simon and Garfunkel Halloween.
  • Cooking things together, like fajitas, breakfast and pita sandwiches.
  • Donating plasma and how you were terrible at it. Poor Ali.
  • Boysenberry Cheesecake shakes
  • Concerts in the park no one would come to but us
  • Titanic
  • The Beatles












Austin  must make us look good. The rest of these pictures are... um, less than flattering for both of us. Haha. 

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

"Pop music and poetry are the conversations I have with myself, the Baedekers with which I navigate crucial experiences."


This quote summarizes my life.

Let's revive this blog, shall we?

 Of pop & poetry
I read this article today instead of doing my actual homework. But I am posting it on here because I want to save it for future reference (future meaning Christmas break, when I intend to write a masterpiece of a paper subtitled something like "Echoes of Wordsworth in Pink Floyd's The Wall." I told you about that, right? I am so excited.)

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Happy Pioneer Day!

In celebration of this festive occasion, I am going to pull a grandpa move on you. And by that, I mean my grandpa. And by that, I mean I'm going to tell you a story about Karl G, my famed pioneer ancestor.

Here is an account he wrote himself, published in the 1889 Improvement Era. It's a pretty cool story by itself, but I find it especially significant to us because your pioneer ancestor Mr. Budge makes a notable appearance! (Tell your dad!) It just melts my heart to think of the deep spiritual relationship that our forbears shared with one another. If they could only see the truest of true friendships that their progenitors have built today, I am sure they would be proud.


There's a handsome guy.


Mormon Literature Sampler:

How I Became a "Mormon"

Karl G. Maeser
 


Only in compliance with the counsel of President F. D. Richards have I reluctantly yielded to the repeated solicitations of the editor to relate briefly in the columns of the Era the incidents preceding and accompanying my conversion to the great work of the latter days, and my baptism into The Church, at Dresden, Saxony, October 14, 1855.
As "Oberlehrer" at the Budich Institute, Neustadt, Dresden, I, like most of my fellow-teachers in Germany, had become imbued with the scepticism that characterizes to a large extent the tendency of modern higher education, but I was realizing at the same time the unsatisfactory condition of a mind that has nothing to rely on but the ever changing propositions of speculative philosophy.
Although filled with admiration of the indomitable courage, sincere devotion, and indefatigable energy of the great German Reformer, Martin Luther, I could not fail to see that his work had been merely all initiatory one, and that the various protestant sects, taking their initiative from the revolutionary stand of the heroic monk at Wittenberg and Worms, had entirely failed to comprehend the mission of the reformation. The only strength of Protestantism seemed to be its negative position to the Catholic church; while in most of the positive doctrines of the multifarious protestant sects their antagonism to one another culminated only too often in uncompromising zealotry. These ideas illustrate in the main my views on religious subjects, at that time, and are explanatory of the fact that scepticism had undermined the religious impressions of my childhood days, and why infidelity, now known by its modern name as agnosticism, was exercising its disintegrating influence upon me.
In that dark period of my life, when I was searching for a foothold among the political, social, philosophical, and religious opinions of the world, my attention was called to a pamphlet on the "Mormons," written by a man named Busch. The author wrote in a spirit of opposition to that strange people, but his very illogical deductions and sarcastic invectives aroused my curiosity, and an irresistible desire to know more about the subject of the author's animadversion caused me to make persistent inquiries concerning it. There were no "Mormons" in Saxony at that time, but, as I accidentally found in an illustrated paper, they had a mission in Denmark. Through an agent, I obtained the address of Elder Van Colt, then President of the Scandinavian mission. My letter addressed to that gentleman brought the answer that neither he nor his secretary could understand much German, but that Elder Daniel Tyler, President of the Swiss and German mission at Geneva, would give me all information I should desire on the subject of "Mormonism." I addressed myself, therefore, to that gentleman.
What I now relate in this paragraph, I never learned until twelve years later, at Beaver City, Utah, where Brother Tyler related it in my presence, at a meeting of the Relief Society. When my letter arrived at Geneva, headquarters of the mission, one of the traveling Elders suggested to President Tyler to have nothing to do with the writer of the letter, but to send it back without any answer, as it was most likely only a trick of the German police to catch our possible connections in that country. President Tyler declared that as the letter was impressing him quite differently, he would send it back as suggested, but that it would come back again with more added to it, if the Lord was with the writer. Thus I got my letter back without any explanation or signature, only in a new envelope addressed to me. I felt insulted, and sent it with a few words of inquiries about this strange procedure, to Elder Van Cott, at Copenhagen. By return mail I received an apology from President Van Cott, stating that there must be a mistake somewhere, as Elder Tyler was a good and wise man. He had, however, sent my letter again to Geneva with an endorsement. This led to a long correspondence between Elder Tyler and myself. Pamphlets and some books were forwarded to me. Having some conceited notions in those days about illiteracy, and no faith in Bible or religious doctrines, correspondence and publications had no other effect upon me than to convince me that "Mormonism" was a much bigger thing than I had anticipated. I therefore expressed a desire for having an Elder sent to me.
A few weeks after that request had been made, Elder William Budge, now President of Bear Lake Stake, arrived at my house. It was providential that such a man was the first "Mormon" I ever beheld, for, although scarcely able to make himself understood in German, he, by his winning and yet dignified personality, created an impression upon me and my family which was the keynote to an indispensable influence that hallowed the principles he advocated. After about eight weeks' sojourn in our family, during which time my brother-in-law, Brother Edward Schoenfeld, and wife, and another teacher at one of the public schools in Dresden, had become interested in the teachings of the "Mormon" Elder, Elder F. D. Richards, then President of the European mission, and Elder William Kimball, arrived in Dresden. A few interviews at which Elder Budge acted as interpreter, led to the baptism of eight souls in the river Elbe; the first baptisms after the order of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in that country.
On coming out of the water, I lifted both of my hands to heaven and said: "Father, if what I have done just now is pleasing unto thee, give me a testimony, and whatever thou shouldst require of my hands I shall do, even to the laying down of my life for this cause."
There seethed to be no response to my fervent appeal, and we walked home together, President Richards and Elder Budge at the right and the left of me, while the other three men walked some distance behind us, so as to attract no notice. The other members of the family were baptized a few days later. Our conversation was on the subject of the authority of the Priesthood, Elder Budge acting as interpreter. Suddenly I stopped Elder Budge from interpreting President Richards' remarks, as I understood them, and replied in German, when again the interpretation was not needed as President Richards understood me also. Thus we kept on conversing until we arrived at the point of separation, when the manifestation as suddenly ceased as it had come. It did not appear to me as strange at all while it lasted, but as soon as it stopped, I asked Brother Budge what that all meant, and received the answer that God had given me a testimony. For some time afterwards, whenever I conversed with President Richards, in England, we could understand each other more readily than when I was conversing with others, or rather trying to converse, until my progress in the English language made this capacity unnecessary.
This is the plain statement of the power of the Holy Spirit manifested to me by the mercy of my Heavenly Father, the first one of the many that have followed, and that have corroborated the sincere conviction of my soul, that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is of God and not of man.


*Karl G. Maeser (1828-1901), one of Mormondom's most beloved educators, was born in Meiszen, Saxony, Germany. Well educated, Dr. Maeser became a successful German educator. He was baptized into the Church in 1855, after which he resigned his position and moved with his family to London, where he labored among German-speaking residents, building up a branch of the Church. In 1856, he emigrated to Philadelphia, where he labored for the Church until 1860, then moved to Utah and began teaching school. In 1864 he was called to become tutor to Brigham Young's family. Later, in 1867, while he was serving as an organist for the Tabernacle Choir, he was called to preside over the Swiss and German mission, where he founded the Church journal, Der Stern. In 1876 Brigham Young called Dr. Maeser to establish the Brigham Young Academy in Provo, Utah (later BYU), where he worked until his death, a leader in the Church Sunday School system and in the higher education program of the Church. This account of his conversion was published in the 1889 Improvement Era.

from http://mldb.byu.edu/kgmaeser.htm


Thursday, July 19, 2012

Stories

So, there is a little thing I have been doing these past weeks that I neglected to tell you about. I don't really know why I didn't mention it, but I think it will be easier to explain in blog post format so it's OK. I been writing some short stories! Because, I just realized, what I really want to do is be a writer and that's not one of those things in which you graduate with a degree and then apply for jobs and work your way up; if you want to do it, you just do it. And I figure, this is my last little snippet of free time before school starts, and then I may be off on a mission, and then who knows, so I've just been churning 'em out and hoping they're good. I've finished two and three quarters short stories (meaning one full story and three quarters of one and half of two others). I am pretty proud of myself.

The thing is, though, I feel like I have no idea what makes a good story. I mean, I've been reading a lot of them lately for practice--ones that are famous and ones that have been recently published in prominent magazines & journals, etc. And I know what I like and what I don't like. But it's sort of difficult to tell whether my own stories are hitting the mark or not. I rented a textbook from the library called, Behind the Short Story: From First to Final Draft, which has been rather helpful. What I mainly wanted to do in this post was to share with you a few inspirational quotes on writing I've gathered from this book, as well as from other sources.

"I can't explain inspiration. A writer is either compelled to write or not. And if I waited for inspiration I wouldn't really be a writer."  -Toni Morrison

". . . I don't believe much in style. In fact, most young writers screw themselves royally when they make a conscious effort at style. They overdo the metaphors and adverbs and clever phrases. They call attention to themselves, relentlessly, rather than to the fictional world they're trying to create. I'm not suggesting that writers should ignore the beauty and elegance of the language. But I am suggesting that such beauty and elegance must emerge organically from an effort to tell the truth. Style is a function of the truth. It is not some free-floating gloss you can dump on your work to make it shine. If you force your characters to face their darkest truths, the language of the story will naturally rise into the lyric register. It will have to do so, in order to express the depth of their feelings."  -Steve Almond

"I want stories to startle and engage me within the first few sentences, and in the middle to widen or deepen or sharpen my knowledge of human activity, and to end by giving me a sensation of a completed statement." -John Updike

"The fiction writer has to realize that he can't create compassion with compassion, or emotion with emotion, or thought with thought. He has to provide all these things with a body; he has to create a world with weight and extension."  -Flannery O'Connor

Also, there is a pretty cool thing I have learned already about writing. While it is easiest to come up with stories based on my own experience, I feel like those stories often end up boring and go nowhere. When I write a main character that is basically me, I don't know how to make the story interesting, even though I feel like my own feelings are very interesting. (The two stories that have stalled at half-finished are basically about me.) I have concluded that it is most fun for me as a writer to try to imagine someone very different from myself. So that accords with these wise words from C. Day Lewis: "We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand."

So anyway. By the end of this summer--mark my words--I will have a catalogue of mediocre stories! Then I will make them better, then I will submit them to BYU's literary magazine and writing contests, then depending on how that goes I will submit them to real literary magazines and writing contests, then I will be a real live writer and my life will be complete.