DC and what not

Alright, alright. I know you're all dying to hear how my life is going. To start things off right, I want to share this picture I made Jeff surreptitiously take with his phone the other day (if you can't tell, that Obama bill says ZERO $).

Secondly, my research is funny. Yes, you read that right, funny. Perhaps my sense of humor has become distorted since spending days alone in a basement, looking through papers and photos by myself while wearing dainty white gloves. But, perhaps not. This is my favorite find of late:

I am researching a playwrite named Henry Francis Downing. Mr. Downing was an African American diplomat to Liberia in the late 1800s. He tried trading, business, writing, everything. Pretty much failed at it all. Hence, I am trying to recover his plays and anything else on him because he was forgotten by the world (but not by me). Don't get my wrong, although he was a terrible writer, I somehow am fascinated by his story. I found two letters the other day, from Downing to Spingarn, a guy who helped found the research center where I am currently working.

Letter 1. Downing announcing that he would like to dedicate his new novel, “The American Calvary-Man” to Arthur Spingarn. Why? For Spingarn's efforts on the behalf of American Negroes. Downing asks whether Arthur will accept the book dedication, pretty please with a cherry on top. The letter is dated August 20,1916, from London, England.

Letter 2. Next letter, dated November of the same year. Downing writes to "Doctor Spingarn" saying that he accidentally sent a book dedication request to the Doctor’s brother, Arthur, which was an accident. He thought that Arthur was the Doctor. Whoops. Downing asks whether Doctor will accept the dedication because he is sooo wonderful and smart and cool. And besides, Arthur never wrote back anyway, so no hard feelings right?

The poor guy never got anything right.

Otherwise DC is hot, in more ways than one, ya know?

Lately

This has been me recently. I've been sleeping out of control and haven't known why. I thought I was depressed, suddenly lazy, and bored with everything. I went to the doctor on Monday because I thought I had strep, but hadn't put the symptoms together myself...turns out I have mono. Ugh. It's pretty terrible. I sleep at least 12 hours a day. And fall asleep whenever I need to accomplish anything remotely productive (of course).

Because I have been seriously slacking in the blogging department, Let's rewind a bit.
I went to Florida in April to present at the Multi-Ethnic Literature Conference in Boca Raton, aka I went to the Beach and Harry Potter World! The beaches in Florida are beautiful--the water was the same temperature as the air. My favorite part of HP world was walking through the castle, it's like being in a diorama (my dream of all dreams). PS. The butterbeer is fantastic.

Then my dear friend Whitney got married! So I got to trek to Arizona.
Then it snowed on memorial day and Jeff and I went skiing. 2 days before June.
I went to "Chad the Hair God" a few days ago and dyed my hair much darker. I feel like a real Campbell again--most of my cousins are brunette beauties. Chad knew most things about me just by looking. It was quite the experience.
I finish up spring term next week before I move to Washington DC! I'll be there for 2 months doing research at Howard University and can't wait. (The fact that Jeff got an internship with USAID may or may not have something to do with this)

Starry Waters

One time I was scuba diving in Hawaii with my family and I was scared. My guts felt squirmy and my breath came fast because it was night-time. The water above me was a great heavy block of oppression and made me feel claustrophobic, and I knew that at any moment, the creature from the black lagoon, or Jaws, or the kraken, would snatch me up. Fortunately I had my scuba buddy / mama with me and that made things a little bit better. Until my flashlight blacked out (somebody gave me a new one, don't worry).

We saw lobsters and fish in weird mucus cocoons. The coral and walls looked distorted, longer, and sinister in the dark--like in some disney movie when the forest turns evil and the tree limbs grab at the heroine. Well, I swear that coral arms and seaweed were writhing behind my back.

Because (as people enjoy constantly reminding me) I am a tiny person, my air supply lasted the longer than those with whom I was diving. When you dive, you need to take a rest stop about twenty feet below the surface before you go up so that your blood doesn't fill up with toxic gas. Ouch. By the time I reached the twenty foot stop, I was the only one under water anymore, as everyone else had already surfaced and boarded the boat.

I could see moon/starlight streaming down through the water and was no longer so anxious. Suddenly, everything was immensely peaceful and calm. Being squirmy, I waved my arms around in the water, and was immediately surrounded by stars. Tiny pinpricks of light filled the water where my arms had moved. Obviously, I started thrashing around to make more. I was weightless, suspended in this vast darkness, completely surrounded by light, by stars. I felt as though I was hanging still in space and time, looking out upon a beautiful, secret universe, reserved especially for me.

It was really quite marvelous.

*The "stars" were phosphorescent plankton that light up with movement.

Conspiracy

My little brother Matt included this gem in his letter home this week:

So I heard there was a crazy earthquake in Japan. That is pretty crazy. January 11. We were talking to Nelson [his investigator] and he was telling us how he analyzes everything to an extreme. I was like well what do you mean? He then proceeded to say this mind blowing coincidence (?)

The attach on the Twin Towers was on September 11.
The earthquake in Haiti was on January 11 and 12.
The Japan earthquake/tsunami occurred on March 11.

That is 3 of the most major, recent disasters to have happened.

What is 3 times 11? 333

Christ was 33 when he was crucified.

----------

I would like to add that Christ appeared to the Nephites in 3 Nephi 11.

What does it all mean?

V Day

Let's review why I think Valentines is horribly awkward and annoying.

1. Once in high school I went on a few dates with a cutie on the guys soccer team. We hung out for a while but then things sort of tapered off because I wasn't feeling it. But of course Valentines day came around. For some reason, he saw this as the prime opportunity to declare his love to me. Well, that day at school he brought me a dozen roses but was too nervous to give them to me. I usually worked through lunch in the student government room, so the boy came there, threw the roses at me and ran out of there. Seriously.
Later that night I had a soccer game and went to bed around 11. My mom came in and woke me around midnight, saying "there's a bunch of boys at the door for you; you need to go out there." What boys? I mumbled? "I don't know, but they're in tuxes and there are roses so go!" WHAT?! I told her there was NO WAY I would go out there, having been recently asleep, wearing booty shorts and no bra. My mom forced me to go out there.
So, I arrive at the front door, and who awaits? The soccer boy, who was also in an a capella group with all of the popular boys at my school. Like 8 of them.
They proceeded to sing me several songs. All eyes on me. Dance moves, the occasional rose, and soccer boy kneeling with arms outstretched belting his heart out. I had no idea where to look or what to do. My mom was around the corner crying because she was laughing so hard.
This is my personal idea of hell, people. I hate a capella music, I hate valentines day, I hate being awoke in the middle of the night, and now, I hated the soccer kid.

2. On the same day, when I had arrived home from school, I found a bunch of crap on my porch with my name on it. A teddy bear and chocolates and stuff. I hate teddy bears. Nobody wants a plush toy. There was a note from a guy that said he had loved me since grade school. Keep in mind, we literally hand't spoken since grade school.

Ever since that fateful day, I have disliked <3 day. Random guys come out of the word work, thinking that this day is their excuse to be unacceptably aggressive in proclaiming their affections. Oh, bother.
Here's to wishing all of you a Happy Valentines!

rice-o-bice

Sometimes life is just stressful. It's been one of those weeks (for several weeks).

So, I was super happy to talk to my sister today. While talking about the bachelor or something, I heard my niece singing in the background: "we gone light it up like it's rice-o-bice." Apparently my nieces love the song "Dynamite" and mistook the word dynamite for "rice-o-bice."

A few days ago, I was talking to same said sister and asked what she was doing. She said she was outside at her new house sitting in the sun-shine, listening to my 3-year-old niece "sing her life story." What is more lovely and sweet than that?

And guess what? I am going home to see them on Wednesday. Praise heaven. Hallelujah.

New Year

My little brother, Matt, is serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in New York. He wrote me a letter including a list of new year's resolutions:

1. Go on at least 1 sexy date per week
2. Do 7 FUN things per week
3. Get good grades again
4. Eat ice cream every single day
5. Play soccer and score lots of goals
6. SPLURGE
7. Continue to be amazing!

I'm not sure what he is referring to when he says "splurge"...I guess that he is acknowledging the 7 fun things and ice cream will get pricey. As I was reading, I suspected that he chose those specific activities because he can't do them right now, and they sound fun (I guess he could eat ice cream but that's it). He's got nostalgia for pre-mish life.

I miss that boy!

thursday

Nearing the end, but not the end of the week and I am
tired.
Tired of my classes and my students calling me when I'm asleep to ask for deadline extensions (really?), and of dreary days that look cold and feel colder.

And somehow I've managed to stay healthy all semester until the hell of finals and grading and paper paper paper writing set in this week.

And the snow on the mountains is taunting me because the only thing that makes utah livable in the winter is escaping to the mountains to ski, but I can't go until I cross off all of those to-do's on that never-ending scroll of paper.

And the only boys I've dated recently did impressions of mentally handicapped people and told me we should try out birth control to a room of people on the third time we'd ever talked--and I wonder if one day a normal male will be attracted to me.

And then today I had a peer review group find all of the nasty flaws in my argument that I was ignoring.

But my roommate is playing Pride and Prejudice music on the piano and I can hear it drifting up the stairs.

And I talked to my sisters yesterday.

And this morning I went on a walk when no one was out and it felt fresh and good to stretch my sore back.

And I got to spend a whole 6 days with my nieces and nephew last week in the sun, smelling the fresh lawn and rejoicing in them.

And I heard coldplay's new christmas song.

And my friend is glowing because she is engaged to the right man.

And I just found out my darling cousin-twin is coming to utah. Next friday.

And I am sitting in my quiet room as the sky grows darker and realizing that amidst the chaos of life, I am so, so blessed. And really, I wouldn't want things to be different.

weekend

As my brother and I drove to nana’s birthday we almost got lost in the labyrinth of great dark homes but wondered how because that country club was our summers, and how could we forget that? So we shared memories of sliding on the grass in our slippery skins and of holding hands hoping the other wouldn’t take the leap of faith from the high dive because then we would have to, and of putting grilled cheeses and popsicles on grandpa’s tab. When we walked inside I saw small girls with dark curling hair and white skin and big eyes. Girls who like ghost stories and want to be hobbits in the movies and who were born to carve serpentining scars through deep white powder. Girls that come from nana’s sons; she has five plus one daughter. Girls that share my blood, that are darker, dimpled versions of me.

Our dinner was pink steak and herbed creamy mashed potatoes with brown sugared squashes. The newest mother, one of the small dimpled girl had just written about fall squashes and her recipes, so we had all read and cooked and eaten the squashes as she had said to. So we compared the squashes at dinner to the ones we had eaten separately, but together. And they were warm with sugar and butter and smelled like fall and home. Then came the pie that one girl thought was just plain pie not apple pie because she didn’t know that pie comes in flavors. And we laughed and ate and laughed. And the room was full of us, connected by blood and memory, by loss and laughter, by pie and joy, and we were full.

Together we listened to the stories of our past, our history, our memory. A son-and- uncle told of nana shooting him with his bee-bee gun after he gloated over a glistening hummingbird’s body. Another son-and-uncle told of the sacrifice she made when she cared for three extra children that belonged to her twin because his wife died when she was twenty-seven, leaving her little clan motherless. They told of punishments and cleanliness, of arm-wrestling their mom, and of mud fights in the field, of being hit by cars and of a father who watched over them, day and night. One son-and-uncle said “Sometimes everything in your life is right, you are warm and you can hear your parents cooking bacon on a frigid morning in the drafty cabin and you know you are safe and warm and full.” Another reminded us that we are blessed to have the connections to one another that we do because any of us would do anything for the others, and that is what it means to be safe and warm and full.

We laughed and shared old stories again and again until the moon was overhead and the stars had been sparkling, reflecting in the pool outside for a long time. And as we left and kissed each other’s cheeks and promised more recipes and writing, we knew that everything was right.

Monday

Cold was drifting in with the neighbors dog’s voice when I woke up in my dark bedroom today. I opened the dusted blinds to check the forecast but things weren’t looking favorable, not that I could tell because I saw only black. So I hurried and stood out of the water stream behind the new shower curtain until the steam warmed enough to coax me in. I arrived to my class panting with a dripping head of shower and rain, and my students stared at me like they were bored and nervous (paper due at 8am. “we thought at 4pm.” Okay, by 4pm but I’m being real nice so you had better like me, please).

We talked about globalization and how it encompasses everything else and how they could write about avatar or invictus or torture in heath’s last movie, or poverty or aids or war. And I felt sad to think about Mandela in that tiny cell for twentysevenlongyearsofhislife. That is my life+five years. But my students don’t know my age because I trick them to think I am older to compensate for my doll baby face. My baby face framed by cold wet rain-and hot shower hair.

Waiting for those students to turn in their papers made it a long day so I went to hear about vampires: creepy, snarky, puffy guys with one nostril and pink skin, according to eastern European peasants in the eighteenth century.
A very long day.
My throat feels a little sore and my head is a bit aching but maybe it’s because I got too much sleep last night because I didn’t feel so hot when I went to bed (besides my temperature) but I felt cold when I woke up because it was misty and dark and still, with only one voice echoing in my room.

Hard things

Although I typically refrain from addressing anything serious or difficult via blogging, I feel compelled to confront the terribly hard topic of homosexuality. Most of you know that I am Mormon, and many of you are too. This is a very delicate topic, but I have been thinking about a lot lately--since Boyd K Packer's talk in general conference.

As is commonly known, many Mormons choose to abide by the 10 Commandments given to Moses in addition to others that have been given to prophets more recently. Two of the original 10 commandments are: Thou shalt not commit adultery, and, Thou shalt not covet. Like many other worshipers, including Christians and Jews, Mormons believe that no person is exempt from the edicts of God. We believe his word to be true and final.

That being said, homosexuality is a delicate issue. In his talk, Boyd Packer stated that God did not make people homosexual. I believe this to be true. I also believe that God did not give some people a particularly strong sex drive, health problems, mental disorders, or any manner of physical trials. I believe that those are the products of mortality, of having a body. And those who believe that God did make people homosexual (and who thus believe sodomy okay) do not believe God; he declared sodomy a sin.

I have heard multiple Mormons argue: "homosexual tendencies are no different from other trials. Some people have tendencies to be alcoholics, and others gamblers ect." While I am not trying to discredit anyone's opinions, I am not sure that those trials are similar at all. From what I understand (and I am no expert), many people feel attraction to the same sex from a very young age, and feel it at all times. Potential gamblers and alcoholics must first try gambling or alcohol to gain addictions; homosexuals don't need to fornicate to feel same-sex attraction. For this reason, I feel that this trial is particularly difficult, and I feel great sympathy for those with feelings of same-sex attraction (I am not trying to sound patronizing or reductive here).

Which brings me to my next point: the sin of homosexuality is sexual sin, covetousness, inappropriate thoughts. There is a distinction between acting upon tendencies and not acting. I believe that those who do not participate in or encourage those tendencies, who actively seek God's help, and who exercise faith will be blessed.

I believe the words of Boyd Packer. As I have said, this issue is hard and I debated for a long time about writing. I already fear some of the comments I may receive. Please know that Mormons believe in a gospel founded upon love, upon respect, upon kindness, upon not judging. And thus I think it is very important that Mormons recognize the difficulties surrounding this issue, that they do not dismiss and ignore it, that they make a conscious effort to think about it and to decide how they will treat their (spirit) brothers and sisters.

This may sound contradictory to those who disagree with me, but, my intent and Elder Packer's intent in speaking is not to be unkind or bigoted toward other people. It is to firmly support the commands of God.

you blog?!?!?

One of my students asked my if I have a blog and was shocked that I answered affirmatively. He asked me what I blog about...I had no idea how to respond. Probably because this was what I planned to write today:

Today I tried to catch a snake and it defecated on my hand. Truly.

The land of the ...and the home of the ....

Sometimes, I randomly think to myself: "Just doin' my duty for God and my country." Oddly enough, this usually happens when I am cleaning the bathroom, walking to campus, or engaging in an adrenaline-inducing activity.

The strangest part of this situation is that I hate phrases like that. Too much USA pride, which I always associate with hicks and old navy flag shirts, irks me. I can't really say why those things irk me, I really do like this place.

In conclusion, I am totally strange and full of contradictions.

The end.

Hello, Africa.

It has been a good summer.

Hunting

Many of you know I have a profound aversion for anything "hunting." I went to a store called Cabella's in UT the other day and almost threw up because of the hundreds of dead animals on display--including a grizzly bear and mountain lion. Although this aversion is basically irrational ( I eat meat often and realize those cows suffer a lot more than the deer), I am attempting to explain it here and now.

Story 1:
When I was a child, my grandfather would feed stray cats in the neighborhood. One such infamous cat was named blacky. He was always super mangy and frightening. At one point he attacked my grandpa who is diabetic and subsequently had to go to the hospital. I was under the impression that the cat broke and ripped up his arm, when really he only got a few cuts. Understandably, I was always terrified to enter their house for fear that blacky would be lurking, waiting for me. One day we road tripped up to my grandparent's home (12 hours in the car as a small child) and I was totally fried. We walked up onto the driveway to see this:


Some birds were eating blacky's cat food, which was unacceptable to g-pa because he so dearly loved the devil. So, logically, my grandpa had his GUN BARREL out the window pointing at the walk way (meaning me, as a small child) and had recently shot a bird which was flailing around, bloody and dying before my eyes. He told us to throw it in the trash which we would not do, so he came out and shot it a few more times. It still didn't die, but was thrown to its stinky grave still violently thrashing around.

Story 2:
My family took a backpacking trip to the wind river mountains. We fished during the day to catch dinner. I didn't really have a problem hooking them because it seemed pretty adult-ish and adventurous. My dad would remove the fish from the line and in one neat, swift crack, would whack the fish head, leaving it dead within seconds. Neat and tidy.
So, one afternoon my dad went up to get the fish cooking and left my little brother and I to get some more for dinner. Easy. We caught one and that is where everything went drastically wrong. We were unable to kill the fish:



We whacked his head repeatedly, guts and blood flying everywhere and all over us, but IT WOULD NOT DIE. Flailing and still alive, it totally freaked me out. We couldn't kill it but were making it suffer badly. Finally, screaming and covered in guts, we ran up to camp where my dad, surprised and alarmed, killed the dang thing with one hit.

And that, all you stalker boys, is why hunting is my deal-breaker.

*My uncle later shot blacky at the bequest of my grandmother, who was afraid she would get eaten alive. But never tell my grandfather--he thought the cat wandered away and died a peaceful death.

Beware the door.

This morning I arose at 4:30 am to take my darling roommate Rachel to the airport. It was fine because I had to go into work at 7 in SLC anyway. I was so tired after I dropped her off that I decided to find a parking lot so that I could take a quick nap in my car. I found an IHOP in a very sketchy area of town and settled down with many semi trucks for some zzzz's.

Once awake again I figured I should probably grab some breakfast in the IHOP. By the way, the prices at that restaurant are obscene for greasy eggs and overcooked pancakes. I digress-- the only other person in the place was "the tool." IHOP uniform unbuttoned to show his chest, shaved head, soul patch and an overall tough guy demeanor. His eye was stitched and he had bruises everywhere. It was also oozing.

He pestered me with questions even though it was now only 7am and I was clearly delirious, until he actually sat on my table asking me about my job and life. Not appropriate. He then informed me that he usually looked a lot better but got "hit with a door" last night. I think "door" is the codename of the girl's boyfriend with whom he cheated. He continually informed me we should have some coffee together because we were both so tired.

I got out of there in record time.

Keats

John Keats is my favorite poet right now. Here are two of his most famous poems:

I.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.


II.

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charactry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love; -- then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

Peanut butter and celery.

Disclaimer: My photo uploader on this blog is horrible and does not work. Thus the chronology of my photos is backward and I can't write between them.

Life has been a blur of late. I had eyelid surgery (skin cancer) the day before graduation and thus had a bloody, stitched eye for my glamor photos. I then went with my parents and aunt to disneyland because she has never been before. And despite what Baulldriard says, I still love that place. The Indiana Jones ride never ceases to amaze me.

For the past month I have been living in Boulder, CO with my sister and her darling, adorable babies. It has been delightful (think swimming, parks, walks, playing house, picnics, mountains and henna tatoos). My other siblings came out over the long weekend to run in the Boulder Boulder, a 10k / Party... Forty thousand hippies running together with bands playing, belly dancers, slip n slides ect. I obviously loved every second of it and came in 17,000 somethingth place.
Summer is my favorite season. I have done my best to spend as much time outside as possible and to eat plenty of watermelon, cinnamon toast and lemon yogurt.

PS the last photo is of my final project for my theater makeup class--I just couldn't resist.

PSS Note the photo of Carmen screaming on the "roller coaster." Afterward Lucy said it was boring.

I finished

Undergraduate.
4 years
51 Classes
80+ Exams
? Pages read
16 English classes
5 Folk bands
5 Countries visited
1 Study abroad
2 Performing tours
1 Missed tour due to surgery
5 Surgeries total
200+ Pages written
2 Senior Thesis papers
8 Stellar professors
5 Most roommates at once
1 Niece born
1 Nephew born
3 Grad schools to choose from
1 Grad school Rejection
1 Season pass to Park City ski resort
1 Season pass to Seven Peaks
50+ Boxes of Cereal consumed

Final Semester
3 Surgeries
5 A's
15+ Number of times skiing
1 Pair of new skis
1 Trip to Colorado
1 Trip to AZ for surgery
1 bloody/black eye
2 Graduation ceremonies
1 Trip to disneyland
1 Threw molotov cocktails
1 Hiked 17 miles through snow
1 Book club
1 Job as research assistant
1 Editing position

YAY! I'm done!

Senioritis or Sheer Genius?

I included this "diagram" in my Senior Capstone paper. I drew it using the paint accessory on my computer. It does make sense in context, I swear. Hahaha.