Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
So it's been a while since I posted anything new.
I stared a creative writing class Monday.
We write a lot.
5 Minute Write...
Running is my favorite enemy. We have a love and hate relationship that I can’t live with or without. It’s a relationship ultimately dominated by one word: hate.
This hate hits me in stages as I run, increasing and decreasing in intensity and focus. Beginning the run, I hate how tense every muscle is. No amount of stretching or warming up can prepare them for the pavement they’ll have to absorb. Each muscle in my legs and hips and stomach feels like an un-oiled joint at the crux of a large, out-dated, bulky machine. I can feel the individual fibers straining to catch up, reluctantly contracting and loosening with each stride. My mind looks for things to distract me from the awkwardness of the first steps, but all it can come up with is more hate.
I hate the Sun, the rays that relentlessly seep through my heather-gray shirt. I hate the drag of my sweatpants against the humid breeze. I hate the rhythm of my ponytail penduluming against the back of my head, always one beat behind my steps. I hate my sweat-soaked clothing, how it suctions to my back and arms and hangs heavily everywhere else. I hate that I keep picturing my red, blood-infused face in my head, and the slight bounce of my cheeks as I run. I hate the sweat that slithers through my eyebrows and pools threateningly on the edge of my eyelashes. I hate the rock that ends up in the arch of my right shoe, stabbing my already tender feet. I hate that my music won’t go any louder, or drown out the constancy of the hate.
By the end of my run, I hate that I can’t run any longer. I miss synchronizing my steps with the beat of each song. I miss feeling my heart pound blood into the rest of my body, being able to feel the strength of my pulse in my neck and my fingers and my feet. I miss the predictability of each step on the track. I miss forcing myself to forget about everything else going on in my life to concentrate on the track ahead of me. I miss the synthesis of each muscle and nerve and bone and cell orchestrating the rhythm pushing my body forward. I miss the war between my body and my mind, and that sense of victory knowing that both have won.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
So as part of my job as a tutor for BYU- I, I get to do online tutoring. Basically what happens is college students from all over the country e-mail us weekly grammar exercises and essays, and we correct/critique them and send them back. It's pretty much the best job on campus, if not the world. In one semester I've been blessed to read an essay about child leashes (which had one paragraph dedicated to a hypothetical situation in which an adult, talking to another adult, forgets that what's on the end of the leash in their hands is an actual child, tugs on the leash to shut them up, and pulls the child to the ground, giving them a concussion), another essay about how we should all go back to the days of Mid-wifery (which was another tutor's student), and a grammar worksheet which hailed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as the most important invention of the 21st century (and you better believe this child was serious about it). One of my favorite assignments, though, was this one, where the student had to watch an hour of TV, or listen to an hour of radio, pick out all the cliches they heard, and modernize them to make them 'un-cliched.' So here it is, with a few notes (that I didn't send to this student)....
· Bad guys will always get killed by a snake, while the hero simply reaches out and picks it up with his bare hands. (VALID)
· Aliens usually speak English and have same colloquialisms. i.e. planet. (I DIDN'T KNOW 'PLANET' WAS A COLLOQUIALISM.)
- At least one of a pair of identical twins is born evil (CASE IN POINT: TWINS- STARRING DANNY DEVITO ND ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER.)
- Movie people can get cabs instantly, unless they are in danger, whereupon no cab can be found.
·People typing away on a computer will turn it off without saving the data. (VALID, EXCEPT I FEEL THEY'RE FORGETTING THE LANDMARK CASE OF PETER GIBBONS V. INITECH, IN THE MOVIE OFFICE SPACE, IN WHICH HE WAS FORCED TO WORK ON SATURDAY BECAUSE OF A LENGTHY DOCUMENT-SAVING PROCESS)
·If hero or villain takes an elevator, villain or hero can beat it by taking the stairs, even if the trip is 20 floors.
·Pastries are always in pink boxes (OR WHITE)
- Any lock can be picked with a credit card or paper clip (I WOULD ACCEPT THIS ONE, WERE THEY NOT FORGETTING THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THIS CLICHE- THE BOBBY PIN)
·Police Captain/lieutenants are always angry at their star detective and yell at him, threatening suspension if he doesn't drop the case. (THIS ONE, I LIKE)
·Explosions in space make noise. (NOW I'M BEGINNING TO WONDER WHAT HOUR OF TV THIS KID WAS WATCHING THAT HAD PASTRIES, A POLICE DETECTIVE, AN EXPLOSION IN SPACE, AND AN EVIL TWIN)
·Whenever anyone is chased into a staircase, she/he will run upstairs rather than down. (HOW ELSE ARE YOU GOING TO GET TO THE ROOFTOP FOR THE 'EDGE OF THE ROOFTOP' CONFRONTATION...GEEZ.)
Anyways, I thought it was amusing. Kudos to you, fellow movie analyst. Ku-DOS
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The quote's from American Beauty, a genius of a movie about the pitfalls of suburbia. It refers to the music the mother, played ever so brilliantly by Annette Benning, insists on playing over dinner every night.
I've been asking myself this same question ever since I heard the quote. Except, my elevator music isn't elevator music at all. My elevator music is mind games, mind games specific to behavior around guys.
A while back, I had a conversation with someone I used to date. I'd liked him for a while before the actual dating started, and I thought I was more than obvious about it. According to him, though, he thought I hated him. This isn't the first time I've heard this. I've heard similar things from everyone from my friends to other guys I've liked. Even my junior year English teacher who, to this day, is my hero, told me that I was "always hard to read," and that she could never tell whether I liked the class or not.
I've never been your classic flirt. I hate feeling like I'm transparent like that unless I'm positive that a guy likes me back. I don't know whether it's a weakness or a strength, or what to think about it, exactly. All I know is that the elevator music has to stop eventually.
And that's all I got.