Important Things I Learned on Reading Days

-While working on my math take-home test, I learned that it's super hard to count in my head while listening to "1, 2, 3, 4" by the Plain White T's.

-When I tell myself "I'm going to be at the library by 10 am" I really mean that I'm going to sleep 12 hours straight and arrive on campus at 3 pm. But I feel okay about it because I was REALLY tired. (And, you know, sleep helps with that.)

-A surprising amount of fun can be had with only pretzels and a webcam.


-DrawSomething is a GREAT finals diversion.

-Somehow I am not stressed about my five finals and everything seem very manageable. Probably because last semester I had SEVEN finals. (the scars have not yet healed...)

-Why do finals and moving out always have to be the same week? Those are like the suckiest things that college students have to do regularly. (No worries, I've already started packing a week early).

-Without fail, I always sit by a sniffler at the library. WITHOUT FAIL. Except yesterday when I sat next to a man who kept freaking out at his notebook and whisper-yelling to no one.

I'm pretty sure that being a serial killer in his future.

Morning Motivation

I've been taking extra steps to try to get myself to wake up in the morning...

I still sleep in way too late. But I do it more deliberately because, hey, all my alarms now warn me of the consequences.

Straight Up Scholar.

Yesterday I had the blessed opportunity to enhance my knowledge of classroom management theories... aka: cram for my midterm. The really fun (aka: not fun) thing about the class is that it's chock full of theorists with strange names and their corresponding theories full of letters and numbers.

The three C's of discipline? The 4 dimensions of motivation? The 8 Z's of detention? Gotta know them all. (except the last one. i made it up.)

You should know that I am an extremely visual person. It gets out of hand sometimes.


I have to come up with an extremely unusual image or phrase to remember anything. It is both ridiculous and extremely enjoyable.

For example:

Remembering that Spencer Kagan developed the theory of "Win-Win Discipline" is cake when you realize that keggin' (kagan) is never a win-win.

Remembering that Thomas Gordon wrote "Discipline as Self-Control" is a no-brainer when you remember that Gordon sounds like gordo and gordo means fat in Spanish and then picture a fat person eating a donut with no self-control.

Lee and Marlene Carter's "Assertive Discipline" model is almost so easy it hurts. All you have to do is picture two elderly women named Lee and Marlene who are the assertive bullies in the nursing home. I mean, they steal pudding cups left and right, they push down people with canes, they race each other in wheelchairs. Dang Lee and Marlene. So assertive, I tell ya.

And grouping the theories by category is pretty simple too, especially when you remember that Dreikers and Albert took off their Glassers (glasses) and ditched their Nelson's custard to go Kagan (keggin') with Curwin. And Carter Skinnered a Bear, drank a Jones soda, and then went shopping at Marshall's. The imagery is both beautiful and unforgettable.

When there is a list of things to remember, I usually try to create something out of the letters. I faced some difficulty with the letters V, A, D and T (visibility, accessibility, distractability and traffic flow) until I realized that if you said it, it sounded like Vade-Teh, which is practically Vader, so I just drew Darth Vader on my paper. For studying purposes, you know.

And then I came across Friendliness, Attitude, Listening, and Compliments, which makes FALC, which is so close to millenium FALCon that the rest of the Star Wars memory aids practically wrote themselves.

It was a great afternoon of studying. I felt slightly insane.

But when I opened that test, I remembered every last thing!! A+

Being a weirdo works out sometimes.

Amy and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day.

It's 10:30 a.m. on a Thursday right now. I slept four hours last night. I was writing a stupid paper. Dumb paper. It was on a literacy theory that I didn't even like. Dumb paper.

Then I woke up late this morning, and my eyes were burning really bad. Like, really bad. I put in my contacts and it stung like crazy. Like, really stung. And my hair looked awful, so I tried to straighten it, but I gave up and threw on my clothes and began to walk to class.

I walked all the way down the stairs at my apartment complex before I realized it was raining. So then I walked all the way back up the stairs and back into my apartment and into my room to get my umbrella. It had stopped raining by the time I stepped back outside. I ran down the stairs and stepped in a huge puddle at the bottom so that one leg got all wet.

I ate two granola bars for my breakfast as I walked, and then my throat got really dry, so I pulled out my water bottle from my backpack just as I summited the massive hill. Except I dropped the water bottle, and the lid popped off and all the water rushed out and began gushing down the walkway, and all the people behind me had to dodge the water and it was really embarrassing. Then I had to chase my water bottle down the hill because it was rolling, and when I picked it up, all the water had fallen out and the spout where my mouth goes was covered in dirt anyways. I was really thirsty, too.

By the time I got to class, I was an entire ten minutes late and my hair was crazy and my nose was sniffly and my pant leg was still wet. We were doing presentations.

Right before it was my turn to present, something got in my contact lens, like a piece of grit or something, and I had to blink like crazy but I couldn't get it out, so I just presented my theory with a piece of grit in my eye. And my voice kept cracking because I was tired. And now, class is over and I'm sitting in a vending machine room drinking chocolate milk thinking about what a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day this is turning out to be.


You've read that book, right? Well not Amy, but Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day. I was just thinking about it because we read it in my drama class last week and talked about it last night.

I mean, poor Alexander! First of all, he woke up with gum in his hair and that's awful! And he didn't even get a prize in his cereal box, and his best friend decides to demote him to third best friend, and he gets a cavity and then at bedtime, he has to wear his railroad pajamas. And he hates his railroad pajamas. Like, really hates them.

It really was a bad day, and he didn't forget it. He wouldn't let himself forget it.

But you know how Shakespeare said that a rose by any other name smells as sweet? I disagree. If you call a rose a mucky-rotten-scum pocket you will probably think it smells a little less sweet. And if you call a bad day "bad" it's going to be bad, and when you call a bad day "good," it might be at least mediocre.

So I'm embracing my mediocre day, thankful that I get to go to my world religions class with the amazing professor who is possibly my favorite ever at BYU. And I get out of class at 1:30 and don't even have any commitments this afternoon so I can take a good nap in my warm bedroom with my new space heater.

This is turning out to be a pretty good, acceptable, semi-decent, all right day. And I'm gonna enjoy it.

Green Redemption?

For those of you who are following the Drama Class soap-opera-esque storyline, there has been a new development! (And if you haven't, you will probably be super confused so read about it here.)

I've been managing to blend into my drama class pretty well, even making a few friends and such, and so far keeping off the panic attacks that come from the thought of performing in front of a crowd. (which I have to do next week, kill me.)

i approve this message as it applies to drama class.

Last night, we had a substitute teacher because our professor was sick. Things were going well, even though she called on me to come up and showcase a drama technique. Luckily, it was miming. So all I had to do was sit on the floor in front of the class and pretend to be hiding behind a gravestone. (I know. weird.)

But then, half-way through the night, she began talking about the whole color scheme thing. I guess it's a drama-teacher obsession, because she was all into the colors too.

And then I heard the words slip out of her mouth: "Is anyone in here a GREEN?"

I felt all eyes turn to me. My heart began racing and my face grew a little hot. It was at this moment that I realized I was wearing a green sweatshirt. DANGIT.

I raised my hand. "I am!" So much for everyone forgetting about that horrific first day.

The substitute professor said, "So am I! I'm so green it's not even funny. So I get ya girl. What did you think when you were taking that test?"

I weighed my options: honesty? or brown-nosing?

Honesty: "I was pretty skeptical. And I thought it was dumb."

She said, "Yup. You're a green!"

So now, I'm just more confused. But I feel like I am pretty tired of being labeled a green. Although at least this time the professor was on my side instead of telling the whole class that I was a social leper, and my classmates don't really hate me.

But still,

Wednesday nights will be the death of me.

Forlorn in the Freezer Aisle.

In the freezer section of the grocery store on Saturday, Sarah exclaimed loudly:

"WHOAH that's a big lasagna!"

Then I said, "Nope, it's just a family sized lasagna.
We're just used to buying the individual sized ones..."

DEPRESSING.

And then we bought our mini frozen lasagnas and cried because we felt like orphaned college students with no family to eat a large lasagna with. (but we really didn't.)

In other news: Sarah now has a blog of her very own! So if you enjoy laughter, you should probably give it a read and show her some love, because she's a gem.

It's Not Easy Being Green.

Oh gosh you guys. I wasn't going to tell this story. It's dumb. But you persuaded me. jerks. jk. but for reals.

I was super nervous for my first drama class, for four reasons.

1. I don't do drama. I'm a drama queen (ha), but I'm no actress.
2. The class is almost four hours long. At night.
3. I have a fear of public speaking /slash/ looking stupid /slash/ looking stupid while public speaking.
4. The ratings for this professor said she makes you get out of your comfort zone.

I like my comfort zone.

So of course when class started and I only knew a couple of people in the room, I was quite tense and ill at ease. I sat there with my fists clenched under my desk, and it didn't help that moments before this class started, I got some bad news that made me quite emotionally unstable. And then it didn't help that I started crying during the opening prayer.

Bad start.

So I sat there, all nervous and awkward-like, and tried desperately to convince myself that I was totally normal and everyone was going to love me, and hey, maybe I'd make a great actress and everyone in this class would be my eventual besties and such. But then, the professor handed out a personality test; you know, the kind where you find out what color you are.

BLUE: nurturers, people-persons, emotionally motivated, etc.
GOLD: organization lovers, those who love structure, go-getters, etc.
GREEN: independent thinkers, competence-driven, math/science type of mind, etc.
ORANGE: very impulsive, love being in the spotlight, very competitive, hate structure, etc.

I took the test honestly, and I almost tied for three colors: green (35 points), blue (32 points), and gold (31 points). And I thought it represented me pretty dang well too. You see....

I'm very much a people person with a nurturing emotional side, and I love structure and organization, but on top of all that, I am an independent thinker. I resist just agreeing with people for the sake of agreeing and I refuse to do things that don't make sense to me.

Our professor told us that most the class was probably blue (being nurturing elem. ed majors and all), and gestured to a part of the room for "blues" to congregate. She knowingly predicted that there'd be a few "golds" and a few "oranges" and pointed out their areas as well. But nothing about green. The class began moving excitedly, while I sat there, forgotten.

Then she exclaimed: "Oh! And every once in a while, we'll get ONE green in the class!" and left it at that. I still sat there, panicked. I was a "green."

I raised my hand and told her so. "We have a GREEN!!!!" she exclaimed with excitement, "You will be with me!"

So while the rest of the class bonded with each other and probably became instant besties, I was whisked to a chair in the front of the room, away from all my peers, to talk about my personality with my drama professor.

She talked to me about my "green" aspects, and I told her the things I identified with and didn't identify with. And then, I had to stand up in front of the whole class full of people wondering why I was the only green to explain my "green-ness" (while also strongly emphasizing that I had almost tied with blue and gold so everyone understood I was just like them too and not some total freakazoid.)

It was then that my professor took it upon herself to describe the "typical Green" while I sat there, facing the class:
-doesn't understand emotions.
-would rather spend time with computers than with human interaction.
-may say things like "I am all alone, but don't feel bad for me, because I like to be alone."
-"live long and prosper" (please note she did the Star Trek sign while saying this.)

While she said these things, the whole class of sensitive nurturers just stared at me, their emotionally-motivated, people-loving eyes penetrating my uncaring green soul.

Maybe they weren't judging me, but.. they were totally judging me.

personally, I find the Green Giant very attractive and he's green.
so take that, haters.

Then we talked about what color of people we most identify with and which color we least identify with or struggle getting along with. I sat facing the class while most of them seemed to agree that the color they least understood was GREEN. Some of them even described "green" people they had conflicts with in the past.

Pretty sure they hated me by association at that point.

We spent two hours talking about our colors. It wouldn't have been so bad to be unique. In fact, I might have loved it on a different day when I was feeling more outgoing and less like my emotions would crumble at any point in time into a mess of tears. At the end of class, our professor assured us that we wouldn't have to divide according to our colors again, and that she wouldn't even remember our colors. Then she pointed at me and said, "Except for you, because you're the only GREEN!!"

Next time I have to take a personality test, I am going to lie, cheat and steal my way to be the majority color in the room.

I've also decided to avoid wearing the color green to that class at all costs, even if it falls on St. Patrick's Day, in order to NOT remind my green-prejudiced class that I am the only green. Maybe if I never wear green they'll just forget it all happened and accept me as one of them. I am willing to endure pinching injuries.

Other things that are out for drama class: taking broccoli as a snack, any talk about environmentalism, and grass stains. This just got real.

Sing it Kermit.

(DISCLAIMER: please note that any/all emotional trauma has been resolved by this point through telling this story to many friends and laughing extremely hard. also, my class may not hate me as much as implied (but we'll see for sure next week) (ha). please also note that my newly acquired aversion to the color green, however, is painfully real.)

2011 Moments

Well, here I am, safely at home on New Years Eve with no party plans, ringing in the new year with Paula Francis on the Channel 8 News (she rocks). Personally, though, I think that home is the best place to be on this night, especially in Las Vegas. Twenty consecutive years of watching the local news on New Years Eves has taught me that the streets are filled with drunk people who like climbing traffic lights. (very entertaining from the couch)

2011 came and went, full of ups and downs, can't believe it flew by so fast, grateful for things, blah blah blah... HERE'S THE SCOOP:

The Oh-No-She-Didn't Moments of 2011:

Dancing to the Single Ladies at my ward talent show. So psyched for it. So much bitter regret for the rest of my life (if you possess video evidence of this, please destroy it now).

Not making it into the SDSU- BYU came on January 26th. I was sick, and I couldn't camp out in a blizzard for a wristband. That game was so good, and they even got to storm the court. On my deathbed, I may still be sad that I wasn't in the Marriott Center for that game.


So much homework. So many busy stressful days. Winter semester was hard. Then summer semester was hard. Then fall semester was KILLER. (mandatory ending on positive note: But I learned a lot and I survived!)
Uncertainty, stress, taking chances, and crying to my mom. It's part of growing up. (except the crying to my mom part, because that's still kind of immature).

The HOLLA!!! moments of 2011:

Devoting my life to the greatest season of BYU Basketball ever. One word: JIMMERED.

In relation to the last topic, my Jimmer Birthday party in February provided enough happiness to last a lifetime. Especially the game of "Pin the Three-Pointer in the Net."
Going to Disneyland for the first time since I was twelve, and this time a bird didn't even poop on
me.
Spending the summer in Provo. Even though I was taking classes, it's true what everyone says: Provo is just better in the summer time!!! And living with Ashley was GREAT. And we went camping with our ward!

Starting the elementary education program at BYU has been an incredible experience: incredibly hard, incredibly frustrating at times, but incredibly rewarding! Nothing like kids to give you purpose in life.
All in all: great year.

It's always amazing to realize how much you grow in such a short time. It's kind of like leg hair.




PS. I just joined Brooke's link-up. Check it out. She is an amazing girl I met in the elementary ed program!

Library Love

I sat across from a girl in the library today. She was studying chemistry and had a nice smile, which I knew because she showed it to me when I sat down diagonally across the table from her.

I was studying Child Development and blasting the Killers through my headphones and hoping it wasn't loud enough to disturb anyone. (it wasn't, I kept checking)

A nice-looking boy walked over and set his things down directly across from her at the table. I couldn't hear what he said because of the glorious sound of Brandon Flowers in my ears, but I assume he asked her to watch his things. And then he walked away.

I looked up at the girl. She watched him walk away. For a super long time. And then she started smiling like a twitterpated schoolgirl with a hopeful glint in her eye. Aw.

He came back and sat down across from her. They studied, and I studied, and we all just studied like miserable college students during finals week.

But once, they caught each others' eye and then looked down quickly. I watched them out of the corner of my eye, and both were suppressing little smiles as their eyes fixated on their textbooks.

After a while, she got up and left for a few minutes. He watched her walk away. For a super long time. Even after she was out of sight, he sat there and stared at the place she disappeared from with a goofy smile.

It was killing me. I was ready to whisper "Dude, you gotta ask her out. She likes you too, trust me" but then I began questioning my ability to play Cupid without being super awkward. So I decided to sit back and have faith in his smoothness with the ladies.

She came back, and they smiled, and even while my concentration was focused on especially good Killers songs and Vygotsky's zone of proximal development, I couldn't help but notice that there was a tension at our table. Yes. Romantic tension, ladies and gentlemen.

When she started packing up her things a while later, I crossed my fingers under the table of love. C'mon man. C'MON.

She lingered.

.. and smiled at him. He smiled at her, terror in his eyes. But then: action. "What's your name?" he asked. And then: "would you like to go out to lunch with me sometime?" She said yes, numbers were exchanged, and fate was set in motion.

I so appreciated this tender exchange taking place right before my eyes. It helped to alleviate my hopeless screw-finals mentality, and reminded me that sometimes guys really do ask girls out, even if they just forget to ask me sometimes. (bahaha) Have you ever been asked out in a library?

I'm hoping they get married. Because then they could take engagement photos like this one:

via pinterest

ajklsjglkdajdg;... SO CUTE.

On Being Really Cold.

This morning when I was walking to class at 7:45 am, I checked my phone and it said it was 8 degrees.

Then I cried. (JK. I would have but the tears would have frozen anyway.)

I was wearing 3 shirts, a thick sweatshirt, my warmest parka, a thick knit hat pulled down low, gloves, and two pairs of thick socks with my insulated snow boots. So overall, I was doing okay warmth wise, I would say, other than the sensation that someone was repeatedly slapping me across the face.

Except that they don't really make any winter gear for your tongue, which truly is a shame. I don't recall ever having this experience, but I literally thought my tongue was freezing inside my mouth as I walked. When the cold air came into contact with my tongue, it felt like it was going to turn into an icicle. So that was fun.

via pinterest

I HAVE PROBLEMS WITH THE COLD. Just putting that out there. It truly baffles me to this day. When I'm cold, my entire face turns red, and not "cute rosy cheeks" kind of red, but like, "straight up skin disease" red. And my nose instantly runs like crazy and then my eyes water so much that it looks like I walk around campus sobbing, and when I see friends they seem concerned, but I can't assure them that I'm fine, because sometimes my lips get really numb and its hard for me to talk normally.

UGHHHH.

But I really am getting better. My first year living in Utah, I was really miserable when the earth turned into a frozen wasteland. I think it's because being really, really cold was such a foreign feeling to me that my instinct was to panic and assume that I was going to die.

But now that I know that cold air won't kill me, I think I'm okay. I am even trying to have a positive attitude about it. I think it even lasted about 10 minutes, up until I thought my tongue was frozen over.

Someone please knit a tongue mitten for me. I will love you.

Planner Preoccupation

Yesterday morning at 8 am, I arrived at my classroom, opened my backpack and reached around inside. Suddenly, my heart starting racing wildly, my palms began to sweat intensely, and I started to feel a little light headed. I wondered how I would even survive the day.

No, I didn't have a panic attack; I just realized that I left my planner at my apartment!! For the first time this entire semester! It was terrible.

I don't know how it happened, but over the last few busy months, my planner has become like air to me. I NEED IT TO BREATHE. I've always been a planner-nerd, but this semester has seriously killed some brain cells, because I cannot accomplish anything unless it is scheduled in my planner. I carry my planner with me every day to school, to church, even to the grocery store. IT'S STRAIGHT UP SAD.

It's gotten to the point where I think I would roam the streets of Provo with no purpose in life, eating garbage and drinking out of gutters with a perplexed look on my face if I ever lost it.

I hope I never lose it.

today I put eating breakfast on my to-do list. I would not have done it otherwise.

I am convinced that the greatest feeling in the world is checking off a box on your to-do list. The box just stares at you, menacingly blank inside those four, crisp lines, taunting your inability to get things done. But once you finally achieve a task, all your effort culminates into a neat little X. Proof that you are actually a productive human being. Ahhhh. Feels so good.

Confession: sometimes, when it gets to be bedtime, and there are more boxes unchecked than checked on my to-do list, I write in productive things I did and check them off. It makes me feel better about myself.

Shhh....

The Return of the Cave.

Long, long ago (last school year), I had an awesome/ funny/ chill roommate named Anne. Anne and I bonded very strongly over something: we. hated. the. cold. weather. with. a. passion.

And so, when the bitterly frigid winter winds crept into Provo, Anne and I took refuge in our room. More specifically, in our beds. You see, even our apartment was cold, and we both owned heated mattress pads (Anne purchased hers after I testified of their necessity), and on most days, there was nowhere we wanted to be more than tucked away warmly in our beds. (except Hawaii, which is where Anne transferred, the lucky dog.)

human toaster oven. essential of life.

So night after night, we'd come home from school and work and activities and social outings (we weren't total hermits, mind you), and promptly hop into our beds and crank our mattress heaters up. We'd do our homework there, we'd talk across the room from our beds, and we'd often tuck ourselves in and watch shows on Hulu into the night. Our apartment was on the first floor, but it was actually underground, therefore our bedroom was in the basement and only received minimal light.... even at high noon when not a cloud was in the sky. (Seriously, that place was DARK. You could not see the sky from the window.)

This is what became known as "our cave."

It was how we survived the winter, all tucked away in our dark, cozy lair of a bedroom.

The seasons changed, and Anne started school at BYU-Hawaii, where she now lives near the beach and is probably way warmer and tanner than she could have ever hoped to be. And I lived in Provo all summer when the weather was perfectly warm, and then started the Elementary education program in the fall, becoming busy and bustling and productive every single day.

My bed became but a distant stranger.

But, alas, the winds of change blew again, and the mercury began to drop, the mountains began to turn white, and my schedule became less busy (as I finished with two of my seven classes). I began to find myself with more free time than I could have dreamed of. It began with 8 am alarm clocks and early, productive mornings, but as the mornings became darker and the days became colder, IT somehow happened.

IT HAPPENED.

And I want Anne to know about it. What happened, you ask??

THE RETURN OF THE CAVE DWELLING.

Welcome to the place I now prefer to spend all my free time:

no need to make the bed anymore, I climb into it so often...

At least this time my "cave" includes a large window with plenty of natural light to go along with the comfy sheets and plentiful pillows!

Please don't judge me: I am cold ALL the time. And I just wasn't made for cold weather. Or, you know, using my time to accomplish things.

ha. ha. ha.

p.s. I wrote this post sitting in my bed. At 3 pm. ha. ha. ha.

I Struggle with Dressing Myself.

Today was a special day...

...because today I accidentally wore my shirt backwards. To school.

I got ready really, really, lightening fast before dashing out my front door. As I walked, I thought the neckline of my shirt was suddenly uncomfortably high, but I didn't think much of it.

When Kirsi and I discovered together that my shirt was backwards during the forum, we laughed until we cried. No really, there were tears. And they weren't because Senator Joe Lieberman's speech was emotional (no 'ffense Senator, it was still good).

she's so proud of me.

scandalous back exposure.

EMBARRASSING.

Don't worry. I switched it around. But not before I ran into one of the elementary school students from the math class I tutor AND her mother.

She said, "Mommy! There's my teacher!"

And all I could think about when I met her was: this woman probably is wondering how I could possibly be a competent teacher if I can't dress myself properly.

WELCOME TO MY LIFE PEOPLE. I'm just cute like this all the time.

Ode to My Backpack.

I've had nightmares before, terrible nightmares. Nightmares about dying, falling from great heights and showing up somewhere naked. But no nightmare has been worse than the nightmares in which I've lost my backpack.

My backpack is my life.

meet my backpack. ain't it a beaut'?

As a college student, my backpack goes with me everywhere I go. It's on my back when I walk out my front door in the morning and it's on my back when I walk into my apartment at night. It goes with me all over campus, and all over town sometimes. It carries my most expensive possession (my computer) and my life-sustaining essentials (granola bars, fruit snacks, sack lunches, lotion, bandaids, advil, chapstick, and my planner, without which, I would be a goner).

It's my footrest when my back hurts in classes and I need to slouch in my chair and prop my feet up. I've used it many a time as a pillow for an emergency on campus sleep-off-a-headache nap. It's my favorite accessory, and sometimes I feel like an outfit is not complete without it.

BFFs

My backpack is one of my greatest friends, for I spend more waking hours with it than anything or anyone else. Sometimes I whisper secrets into the pockets of my backpack. Not really. But I might try it.

My backpack has the capability to hold amazing quantities of stuff without looking chubby. Sometimes I think it is a miracle backpack (hushed whisper).

My backpack has smelled funky for the last few weeks. Something about old peanut butter sandwiches being lost in its depths. It survived the great Gatorade spill of 2011 a few weeks ago, but since the great BYU chocolate milk spill of a few days ago, I figured it was time to give Mr. Backpack a spa treatment. Yep, my backpack is having a good ol' spin in the washing machine as I type. I found 18 pounds of half pieces of gum in the bottom when I cleaned it out (I always tear them in half). I also found my favorite pair of earrings, which I thought I lost in mid-July.

chocolate milk stains: the downside of owning a white backpack.

Dear Backpack,

From the moment I saw you the first week of freshman year at the bookstore sidewalk sale for only 25 dollars, I knew we were meant to be together. You have been with me through so many early morning classes, late nights walking home, campus naps, rainstorms (you were so brave), and library study sessions (thanks for holding so many snacks).

Backpack, even though it's I who have carried YOU through all these times, YOU have truly carried ME. And for that I thank you.

Love,
Amy...

..who should be doing her homework. but writing letters to inanimate objects is much more fun.

Breathing: A How To Guide.

One beautiful thing about Brigham Young University (other than the fact that Jimmer went here and I love him) is that it is built on top of a mountain.

Some say hill... but I say mountain, because hills are cute little green things that you go skipping down singing songs about how they are alive, but mountains are things that make your lungs explode and cause you to want to die.

And so, every BYU student's life consists of trekking up and down these inclines, especially those of us that live down the large hill south of campus. And of course, anyone who ever goes down to the athletic buildings west of campus have to tackle the infamous RB stairs, which look like this:


Oh, so sorry, wrong picture. They just look so similar sometimes! The RB stairs look more like this:


In addition to trekking up and down hills outside, every building has lots of stairs, and elevators are shameful things that everyone will look down upon you for using. (well not really, but kinda)

The point is, unless you are a superior athlete, you experience frequent episodes of breathlessness while traversing this beautiful campus. And that is why I am writing today... to lend support and advice. Because you always seem to be walking amongst non-out-of-breath people who have been walking on level ground when you emerge from a steep ascent like a mountain-climber.

There are several strategies for retaining your composure and cool factor (aka: swagger) while you are desperately out of breath.

1. The "Suff' and Huff":
You mount those last few steps before reaching the top. Your lungs are beginning to burn and you feel the lack of oxygen building in your brain. As your foot reaches the top of the stairs/hill, you begin gasping wildly for air. You walk towards your next class, and see a total hottie approaching. As you pass, you nonchalantly hold your breath and smile. Then as soon as he is out of earshot, you gasp like a fool and breathe as deeply and loudly as possible. You begin to pass someone else and hold your breath, or just breath as quietly as possible. Repeat, until you are breathing normally once again.

social appearance rating: 9... other than the sweat trickling down your brow, you appear totally normal to passers-by!
potential for suffocation: 10.... this is why I have named it the "suff' and then huff."

2. the "Vigorous Nose-Breathing" technique:
This technique is helpful in loud crowds, or in situations where people are mostly pretty far away from you, because it can get pretty loud (you know...). You keep your mouth closed and smile, and try to intake as much air as is humanly possible through your nostrils! Win! An occasional deep breath through the mouth is recommended.

amount of cool factor that remains intact, visually: 87%
amount of cool factor that remains intact, audibly: 0%, because you sound like a wheezing old man.

3. The "Man Those Stairs Made Me Sleepy!" method:
This one is simple: Just cover your mouth and pretend you are yawning like a bear coming out of hibernation while you desperately gasp for air. A bear that yawns for a really long time. Disregard the adrenaline that is pumping through your veins while you feign drowsiness.

success in camouflaging your out-of-shape-ness: high
chance for receiving concern from others that you have narcolepsy: very high

4. The "I Just Really Enjoy Whistling Silently" strategy:
This one is definitely one of my faves... you just purse your lips into whistle formation and breathe deeply. I enjoy it because you have the ability to take deep, life-sustaining breaths, but it keeps your mouth gasping to a minimum.

sustaining life: 5 stars
flirting by looking like your lips are puckered: 8 stars

5. the "I Shamelessly Enjoy Living" mindset:
In this method, you actually disregard what people think of your hot-mess desperate breathing, and decide that you enjoy a regular intake of air, so you just breathe as much air as you need and don't think about how people perceive you.

self-confidence and sensibility score: perfect 10
creativity in breathing technique: a disappointing ZERO.

And lastly,
6. "Exercise So You Are In Shape Enough that You're Not Actually Out of Breath When You Summit Over 100 Stairs."

But that's just crazy talk, so we won't go there.

Why I Don't Watch Scary Movies

When I was in high school, I went to lots of movie nights at my friend Jessica Welch's house, because that's where the cool kids went back then. One night began like the rest, but ended in my being traumatized and scarred for life.

Because we watched The Skeleton Key. I had never seen a scary movie before that day (other than an Alfred Hitchcock movie I had watched for an assignment, and I think my mom held my hand. and it wasn't that scary.) I remember thinking: oh, it can't be that badddd....

It was that bad. Because I drove home in terror, and I believe I turned around and checked my back seat every 1.3 seconds the entire drive home and then I slept with all the lights on in my bedroom. I'm pretty sure I had to sing "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam" to myself into the night until I was convinced I wouldn't be murdered by a creepy old voodoo woman.

I remember that I was a frequent babysitter when "When a Stranger Calls" came out, and thinking: you kiddin' me?? I'm not going to watch a movie that scares me from babysitting ever again.

But then I watched that movie on a Saturday afternoon with my freshman roommates because it was on TV. It was actually our first or second weekend of the college experience. I remember holding their hands and screaming so loud the walls of our dorm seemed to echo. Kirsi couldn't handle it, she mostly listened in from our bedroom down the hall. Can't blame her!

this was, collectively, all of us

It was only a couple weeks later that I saw my third scary movie, also with my freshman roommates. (can you say bad influence!) It was "Disturbia" and I'm pretty sure I screamed a lot and almost peed my pants.

I just get scared really easily, and I always have to hold someone's hand. Thankfully, my lil sis Sarah held my hand when we watched Harry Potter 7 so I wouldn't be scared by Voldemort, and my homegirl Ashley held my hand/ let me hold her arm during the scary parts of Super 8.

With Halloween around the corner, with it's haunted houses and spooky corn-mazes, I have come to a conclusion, and that is this: Being scared is almost never fun. Unless it is an excuse to hold a cute boy's hand, and then it is totally worth it.

How We Do Football Games...

BYU football games are an explosion of Cougar pride, time-honored tradition, and blue face paint. The atmosphere in Lavell Edwards Stadium consists of cheers and applause, laughter and despair, booing, chanting and singing. There is an electricity in the air when we win; a cloud of gloom sets in when we lose. If you are a Cougar fan, football games are the place to be.

Saturday night I sat with Sarah and Kirsi at the Utah State game. We sat and chatted about boys, school, friends, funny stories, our weeks. Then we turned to the field and cheered for a brief moment.

we took this awkwardly adorable picture in our matching shirts... holla!

We went to concessions and Sar and I got hot dogs, and we ate them and talked some more. Then we watched the half-time show. The game started up again and we sang to the marching band when they sang "Ohhh ohhh ohh baby!" or whatever that song is called. We cheered a little. Kirs and I started creating our own dance moves to the band and jamming on our own. We talked some more about random things, like nicknames and ice cream. Kirsi found a little football for her car antenna under her seat and it was really exciting. We talked some more about life and laughed a lot.

so. freakin. psyched.

Then we turned and watched the game for the last 5 minutes because it was finally exciting. We stood on our benches and concentrated on each play. We jumped up and down and screamed and crossed our fingers and screamed some more. And then our quarterback came through and one of our receivers caught an awesome pass in the end zone and we won and a bunch of hooligans rushed the field.

carry on, hooligans.

90 percent chat sesh.
10 percent football watching.

And that's how I do football games.

BYU Parking 101

Back in the day before I had a car in Provo, I used to walk... everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Like, really far sometimes. I once walked three miles in 20 degree weather to go to a museum for a homework assignment. I prided myself on my walking abilities, trekking the terrain of campus and the Provo area like an independent soldier, not reliant on a car for anything! Who needs a car to carry a gallon of milk and 4 bags of groceries home?? Pshaw!

Now I have a car. And so I drive pretty much everywhere.

Fact: it is easier.

Fact: I am now lazier.

For example. As you may have heard, I am taking a PE-teaching class this semester, which means class in the athletic building all the way up the hill, across campus and down the mountainside. It is really far from my apartment, which didn't used to phase me when I had class there back when I was a pedestrian warrior... but now?

I drive.

Please see the visual representation for further explanation.


It only makes sense.

Problem: The parking lots fill up by 8 am. So I usually drive over before 8 to park and then do homework until my 9 am class. Yesterday, however, after abusing the snooze button on my alarm clock, I found myself waking up with a gasp at 8:40 am.

It was the moment of truth. Do I accept the fact that there will be no parking and run straight to class since it will take me at least 20 minutes to walk there?

Or do I spend ten minutes brushing my teeth and putting on mascara and then drive over there, refusing to believe that there WILL be no parking. Not a maybe. A definite.

My life policy involves living in denial, so of course I drove. Yay!! I compiled the events that ensued into a BYU Parking 101 tutorial:

Step One: Pray that you will find a parking spot quickly so that you will be on time to class.

Step Two: See a dozen other cars circling the lot.

Step Three: Convince yourself that you are somehow superior to them and will somehow find a spot even though it is obvious that none of them can.

Step Four: Drive down each row of cars.

Step Five: Drive down each row of cars again, super fast.

Step Six: Freak out a little because it is now 9 am.

Step Seven: Almost get clipped by another car who whipped around a corner.

Step Eight: See a car two aisles away backing out. Punch the gas pedal and zoom over there, only to see the spot taken by a closer car.

Step Nine: See a man walking from the buildings to the parking lot.

Step Ten: Moment of truth. Your pride? Or getting to class sometime this century?

Step Eleven: Decision made.

Step Twelve: Begin creepily following said man in your car.

Step Thirteen: Look away casually when he repeatedly glances back at you looking creeped out and annoyed.

Step Fourteen. Continue driving slowly behind the man as he walks as if driving at 3 miles per hour directly behind him is purely by chance.

Step Fifteen: The target car has been reached. Aggressive blinker maneuver!!!

Step Sixteen: Endure dirty look as he pulls out. PARK IN SPOT. Shriek with joy.

Step Seventeen: Bolt from car because you are now eight minutes late to class.

As you can see, parking at BYU after 8 am is a vicious and cutthroat procedure. If you try it, I strongly urge you to follow my patented 17 step program to help you find the spot of your dreams.

I more strongly urge you to wake up early so you don't have to attend class with bedhead. I even more strongly urge you to forgo driving when possible and just walk to class because:

a) it is good for your health.
b) it is good for the environment, and
c) you will receive less dirty looks from men after stalking them in your car.

I hope you've learned something.

Why Blogging Has Become a Low Priority...

These days, my life is looking like this, pretty much every day:

7 am: wake up after sleeping a mere 4-5 hours because I was doing homework into the night.

8 am: class. don't forget to take your daily morning slim fast can, or else you will starve.

8:15 am: receive 3 new homework assignments for the next class.

11 am: get out of class. do homework.

noon: eat lunch. go to some lab or another to do some crazy project. type up the essay that's due that you didn't get to. print out posters for teaching and laminate them. Hurry and do some reading because there is going to be a quiz on it. write some lesson plans.

2-ish: more class. receive at least 3 more homework assignments.

4 pm: get out of class. realize I am so hungry I may perish. then go to next class.

4 pm til 7 pm: go to more class. stomach rumbles so loud many presume a t-rex is at large. receive more homework.

7 pm: go to apartment. consume large quantities of food. or go to wendy's and consume large quantities of food there because you haven't actually been grocery shopping in 2 weeks and you ran out of cheerios which was basically all you ate anyways.

8 pm: do homework.

9 pm: do more homework.

10 pm: do some more homework.

11 pm: read a 40 page reading assignment that takes 2 hours and write an essay on it. (if only you could see the future, you would know the professor would choose not to collect it.

1 am: do more homework. make a pb&j sandwich for tomorrow, even though you know it will only get mashed in your backpack and you will likely throw it away without eating it. shame.

2 am: collapse from exhaustion into bed.

7 am: repeat.

Did I mention that I am taking 7 classes right now? They are kicking my trash. I plan to either continue this daily routine until:

a) I die,
b) my professors develop a sense of mercy, or
c) Jimmer decides to marry me and I drop out of school because I'm going to be a rich NBA wife.

All good options.

PS. Tomorrow I am teaching a 2nd grade PE class. Got my whistle and my cute laminated signs and CD of exercise songs. Lets hope I get some sleep tonight, because otherwise I feel bad for those second graders. I may curl up on the floor while they do jumping jacks. JK!
PPS: I included "Getcha Head in the Game" from High School Musical on my CD. Duh. How could I not pay tribute to my workout inspiration, Troy Bolton? The kids will love it.
PPPS. Do kids these days still like High School Musical? Oh dear.

I love school.

Today was the first day back to school. Kinda. Except that I was in school 2 weeks ago too. But nonetheless, today was the big she-bang. It was the day that everyone returned to BYU with their freshly printed schedules, wore their cutest outfits, and wandered around campus hoping to find their new classes... eventually.

The morning began with a brisk walk all the way up the hill and then across campus, down the RB stairs (aka the stairs of death) and into the field house. I had to wander into a random office to ask where the annex was, since it wasn't on any of the maps, and then once I got to the annex and met up with a group of classmates, a girl from our class came and told us that we were meeting in a computer lab upstairs. So we walked through the gym, up some bleachers, around a corner, up some stairs, around another corner, down some different stairs, and into a classroom.

I would have NEVER found that room on my own. In fact, I couldn't even find my way out of the building from that room. Yikes.

We learned about how to implement a discipline plan while teaching, and we were assigned the schools we are going to teach at this semester (Spanish Fork, Utah, here I come!). After class I trekked back up the stairs of death and met up with Sarah, my little sister, on her first day of college!

We went and got lunch together. Mine cost 43 cents. That's right. I finally filled up my bagel card babyyy!! Buy ten bagels, and the eleventh is free! (I only paid for the strawberry cream cheese. totally essential.) I love you BYU.



We ended up running into a girl that I actually wrote about on this blog before I knew her. She recognized me and it was fun to officially meet! And not in an elevator this time while I was struggling with a box. (Shoutout to Brooke!)

I went to my afternoon class, and the teacher said we can text him on his cell phone if we have questions and he'll respond. He talked to us about becoming excellent teachers. I accidentally fell asleep. But it was great.

In the girl's bathroom after class, a girl found an iPhone that someone left in a stall. There was a big group discussion about what to do to help the owner get her phone back the fastest. If we left it there, would she come back right away looking for it? Or would someone steal it later? Would she think to look in lost and found right away? The conclusion: call the phone owner's mom and tell her that her daughter's phone will be in lost and found. It made me smile that people here are so kind and helpful.

I love school so much. I love the feeling of progression. I love this campus. It feels like my second home. I love that after two years here, I see someone I know almost every few minutes. I love the fact that I am becoming a teacher. (Ahhhh).

guess who I ran into as I was writing this very post??!!!
only my former roomie and personal hero, Ashley! she's a gem.

But what I really, really love is FREE BAGELS.

hallelujah amen.