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Monday, January 25, 2010

Make-Me-Happy Mondays

What makes me happy this Monday is birthday girl Taylor!

Here is a (ridiculous and rhyming) poem in her honor:

Taylor, I don't know what I would do without thee
Except be bored and significantly less happy

It's hard to believe you're twenty-one
It seems just yesterday we sat in your room and had fun
Oh, wait, that was yesterday, but your age is still shocking
Your glorious curls are always shiny and rocking

I accidentally typed "girls" in that line rather than "curls"
So it sounded quite sketchy...like...psychopath squirrels (?)

Your devotion to things truly makes me marvel
Gossip Girl, Twilight, Dollhouse, and Smallville

Perhaps "marvel" and "Smallville" do not rhyme, but, alas,
I lack your rhetoric and your bodacious...vocabulary

I had such fun with you in Tennessee
Sleeping, going to Target, and drinking Pal's tea
You helped me get through biology lab
When I really just wanted to give all the frogs a good stab

I cannot believe that was freshman year
and that we didn't know each other when we first got here

I thought you were pretty the first time I saw you, though!
Yes, of Jessica Alba, you reminded me so

You soon became one of my dearest friends
on campus
, nay, the planet
And in so many situations you have helped me keep my sanit-y
Together we've conquered papers, assignments, and tests galore
Without your friendship, I would have collapsed on the floor

Words cannot capture your importance to me
Just know I love everything about you
Congrats on being one-and-twenty!

Thursday, January 21, 2010


If you like Glee or High School Musical, you should watch this.
Actually, if you like musicals at all, you should watch this.

That little school might have sent me admissions material during my senior year of high school.
And I might have saved it
because I might have taken it as a pat on the back for working my behind off all four years.
Don't judge me.

Even though I thoroughly enjoyed this video
and watched all 16 minutes of it,
and even though I really love Rory Gilmore,
I'm glad I don't go to Yale.
So very, very glad.

But I do think Asbury should make a video like this
because our film majors produce better stuff
because our students have superior voices
because our admissions department is for sure more fun
because we could feature Dr. McKinley
and our better-lit library
and our new comm. arts building
and chapel!

That was the sad part about this video to me.
I kept somehow half-expecting it to culminate with the reveal of a glorious chapel full of Yale students, but it never did.
They have a billion theatre, sports, dance, and cultural groups, etc. etc. etc.,
but they don't have chapel.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Matt Wertz, please!

Matt Wertz' new live CD is temporarily available as a free download on his site!
I downloaded it last night and have been listening to it all day.

He is so amazing! You should be excited about this.

(All you have to do is Tweet the link or sign up for his emails. So easy.)

Get it while you still can!

Monday, January 18, 2010

Make-Me-Happy Mondays

What makes me happy this Monday is pretty obvious: three-day weekends!

And all they entail:

sleeping late

perusing bookstores without buying anything

laughing about really terrible movies




Monday, January 11, 2010

Make-Me-Happy Mondays

It's Monday! This means that it's time again to highlight one thing that makes me happy!

The original purpose of MMHM was to keep me focusing on cheery things instead of crummy things. It totally worked! All day I have debated what to choose, which has forced me to notice all of the little happy things that have happened today.

For instance, as I walked to my 9:00 class, I noticed a tiny snowman that some student had built in the middle of campus. That made me happy. Then I got to sit in between two friends in said class. That made me happy. Then chapel was awesome, and it just felt great to be back in Hughes with everybody. That made me happy. Then I had two packages in CPO. Then I got to eat lunch with lots of my friends and my beloved boss. Then I got out of my 2:00 early. Then a prospective student whom I gave a tour to last semester and who enrolled for this semester remembered me and stopped me to talk. Happy happy happy happy.

Wow, so much happy! I almost don't even know what to choose!

I have decided, however, that the overarching happy thing of the day is: being reunited with people you love.

Because it's really awesome not to be able to walk across campus without stopping to hug someone.

Wow, that picture almost makes me tear up.

What made you happy today?

Saturday, January 9, 2010

I finished

this book last night. (Okay, actually it was at like 2:00 this morning.)

I highly recommend it. I read This Lullaby down in Destin during Spring break of my senior year of high school (Most fun week of my life? Probably) and loved it, so I decided to reread it over this Christmas break. Turns out, two and a half years proved to be the perfect amount of time in between reads. I remembered how the book ended–sort of–but I didn't remember any of the major plot points at all or even why I really liked it that much. But I liked it again!

I'm worried, however, that the fiction class I took last semester will forever put a slight damper on any and all fiction that I read from now on. Studying fiction took a little of the magic out of books and movies for me. I find myself reading books and watching movies now and having to shove aside thoughts like "That character could be developed a little more" and "Oh, the author is setting up the conflict." URGH. I just want to enjoy it.

And that's another thing. At the beginning of the semester, our professor asked us who our favorite fiction authors were. But she deemed about half of the class's choices to be "genre fiction" and "not real literature."

I'm sorry; is there a literature checklist somewhere that I don't have a copy of? I would like to get my hands on that checklist. Does it say things like:
  • Somebody must die (for example, by having his head chopped off by a guillotine or by being hit with a blunt ax)
  • Extra points if the main character tries to kill himself (for example, by sledding down a hill) and actually just succeeds in paralyzing himself and making his life even more miserable
  • The protagonist should never actually end up with the person he/she is pining for throughout the whole book (for example, because one of the characters is already betrothed or his/her beloved has commited suicide)
  • Extra points if the protagonist ends up realizing that he, himself, is corrupt (for example, because he has mercilessly killed lots of people or because he married his own mom)
  • Basically, the more death and heartbreak and human corruption, the more literary it is
Throughout my schooling, these seemed to be the criteria that my teachers would use in choosing the books they inflicted on us in any given semester. And if it weren't for Harry Potter and Meg Cabot and two good English teachers during my senior year of high school, I may have given up on reading altogether.

Perhaps the subject matter of This Lullaby was not as heavy as that of great literary classics, but the wording was much clearer in my opinion. The author also gave telling descriptions and revealed that she has a lot of insight into what motivates people. I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'm just tired of people deeming the books that I like to be of little worth or significance because they aren't "real literature." I feel like the undertone in their words is: you are unintelligent for liking what you do. Tell me, please, how would liking The Good Earth (or whatever) show that I was more intelligent? It would probably only show that I liked super depressing and boring things.

In other news, timing in my life is a funny thing. The first day back to school sophomore year, I went to go see The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 and basically bawled my eyes out during it because I was so sad that summer (both for me and for them) was over.

The same thing happened towards the end of Christmas break last year. The whole break was like Gilmore Girls-fest for me because I had borrowed the first few seasons on DVD from friends. Right before I had to return to school, I watched as Rory and Lorelai had to separate so Rory could go to Yale. Commence tears again.

One thing I forgot about This Lullaby was that the main character, Remy, is also about to head off to college, and–surprise of surprises–as I lay in bed reading about her packing up last night, I began to tear up again, knowing that I, myself, was just a day away from returning to school.

I'm just not good with endings and goodbyes.

"Some things don't last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down on the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there."
–Sarah Dessen, This Lullaby

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Yes, please!

So the sound in this is messed up, but I have to share it anyways.


I'm so glad they're turning the last book into two movies. I'd be so sad if this were the last one I had to look forward to!

Monday, January 4, 2010

Make-Me-Happy Mondays

This morning I woke up, glanced at the clock on my bedside table, and thought to myself, "This time next week, I will be in class. DANG IT."

Seriously, Christmas break is flying/has flown by ridiculously fast, and I'm not exactly eagerly anticipating the return to tests and studying and textbooks and papers and– Okay, I'm actually kind of upsetting myself right now just by typing all of that.

I don't want to sound ungrateful. It's not that I dislike college. I love college, and I love Asbury, and I am grateful that I get to go. I have hilarious and beautiful friends there, and I thoroughly enjoy the time that we spend watching movies and goofing off–and not dancing–inside and outside of the dorm. I love both of my jobs at school to the point that they don't really feel like jobs. I love random trips to Walmart and how everybody in the car sings along to whatever song is on the radio. I love how bizarre we all are and how funny everything gets when we're really really tired. And, seriously, when else in my life will I have access to this number of closets?

The number of things I love about college far far outweighs the number of things that I don't love. I'm talking like 50 to 1 probably. But for whatever reason, I am letting the few things I hate overshadow the great number of things I love.

So I have decided to institute on this blog...
Drum roll please...

Make-Me-Happy Mondays

Lots of other bloggers have Things-I-Like Thursdays. This is kind of like that, but it comes on Monday because, let's be honest, Mondays are a lot harder to get through than Thursdays.

So every Monday I will write about something that Makes Me Happy. That will make the yucky things easier to forget about.

On this inaugural Monday, I have chosen: how snow makes everything a little bit more like Narnia and Hogwarts.

(Because if magical worlds aren't happy, I don't know what is!)


Sunday, January 3, 2010

Current Obsession: 2009 Pop Mashup

My friend Marie-Claire just sent this on Facebook, and I have to share it because it's the best thing ever.

I know, right? Amazing!
I hope Owl City is in next year's. Via.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

I feel like an inordinate number of my friends are going through really hard things right now. And, honestly, to label what they're going through "really hard" trivializes their suffering to a point that I'm not comfortable with. Calculus tests are really hard. Biking up hills is really hard.

What they're dealing with is more along the lines of...something I don't have words for.

I don't want just to increase the intensity of my own words. Replace "really hard" with "extremely tough" and then replace that with "extraordinarily difficult." I feel like I'm not saying anything anymore.

All I really know is what they're going through seems unjust and overwhelming. Those don't seem like adjectives to which I can attach a magnitude.

And I just feel like I'm sitting on the sidelines, trying to encourage them but really being of no help at all.

I was thinking about this last night and remembered a poem that I found during my senior year of high school. It better describes how I am feeling than any words I can come up with.

In the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit
By Brooke Horvath

We are the children here, hesitant
to speak or touch, afraid of reprimand.
The nurses, doctors are adult; they tell us
to wash our hands, to be careful; they
say that everything will be all right;
they remind us when it’s time for bed, where
dreams fill with monitors that stop alarmed,
intravenous tubing, and disembodied cries like clues
dropping amid the tears and gauze
through which your eyes, Susan stare
blindly, your dry mouth working soundlessly.

Susan, if I could, I would hurt instead
with a clean, hard, physical pain, would take
this needle into my larger, drying vein
and have my stomach aspirated, which finds,
like yours, nothing but itself to work upon.
I would breathe through your congested lungs,
escaping this nauseous sickness of heart
that draws me back to stroke your red and jaundiced head
so new it shows the shape of birth, the stain
and strain of passage, to lift and hold your tiny hand
that does not feel or know me, though you hold
my life unstably as your own, as I would
hold yours, though tightly, tightly,
though not so tight you’d bruise or break.

It seems weird to say that I feel this way. Obviously none of my friends are babies, and I am their peer rather than their mother. But Brooke Horvath managed to capture what it feels like to watch someone you love suffer and to know that you are completely powerless to help her. She captured what it feels like to wish you could just pick up someone else's burden and strap it on your own back but to know that you can't.

I find myself saying the same things over and over to these girls.

I'm so sorry. I love you. I hope it gets better. I'm praying for you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I hope it gets better. I'm praying for you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I hope it gets better. I'm praying for you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I hope it gets better. I'm praying for you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I hope it gets better. I'm praying for you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I hope it gets better. I'm praying for you.

After a while, I don't feel like my words mean anything anymore. They are like worn out blue jeans or something. Blue jeans always seem sturdy enough at the beginning, like you'll get a lot of good use out of them. Gradually, the hems begin to fray, but you keep wearing them. One day, you notice that the knees are pretty threadbare, and before you know it, your jeans don't have knees at all and need to be thrown away because they're not really serving their purpose anymore. I feel like my words themselves are threadbare at this point, ready to be retired because they are no longer serving their purpose.

So now I'm powerless to help and wordless to encourage, and all I know is:

It wasn't supposed to be this way. And, wow, satan sucks.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Haven't Met You Yet

A happy song and a happy music video for you all.
I love the coloring in it.
This whole CD is really good.
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