A Blog of My Own

You're a Missionary Katie

2012-01-24T07:27:00.001-07:00

Over the course of Katie's mission to Poland for the LDS Church, I, Packerboy, her best brother besides Pence, will be posting blogs written by none other than Siostra Katie Young herself. When moved upon by the Spirit I will add additional commentary of which Siostra Young knows nothing about. I am expecting her blog to be taken to a whole new level as a result.

The following post was written a week ago in the hallowed halls of the Provo MTC. I didn't go on a mission so I don't really have a visual approximation of the inside. In my mind the MTC is just like Hogwarts but instead of being governed by magic it is controlled by the Spirit of God. I can just see Siostra Young sitting in the dining hall telling all who care to listen about how the expansive room is lit by pillars of fire controlled by the MTC President. She of course read about it in The MTC: A History. Maybe there is even a ginger kid rolling his eyes at the pedantic sister missionary with the Nancy Grace haircut. Of course he is harboring a little crush. We can only hope.

In the post below, Siostra Young takes us right into her life as a newbie missionary. She arrived on January 11 and got right to learning how to be a missionary. She is learning Polish, which is tough. She is also learning how to live without music, TV, and gummi bears, which is tougher. Read her inspiring message below.

Which one looks more magical? I think it's pretty obvious.

Hello Everyone,

So, today in the MTC, we had our third discussion with "Krzysztof," & my my attitude towards misssionary work changed. Because of my attempts to CONVERT EVERYONE when I showed up in KCMO, I've been incredibly leery of what I saw as pushing my testimony on people. However, God had helped me see and understand that there is a difference between trying to logically convince someone that the Gospel's true and missionary work.

Last night I decided to start studying 'desire' and conversion stories in the BoM. I repented and asked that I might be able to work on whatever God wanted me to work on during the mission.

Yesterday, I worked really hard and was very serious (and pushed back against one of my companion's ideas a little bit, as needed). I really thought about repentance and desire, especially the desires for my mission. I read in Enos and thought about what an investigator would need to feel in order to join the church (they keep asking us to think about that).

During class, I expressed concerns about having enough time to ponder what an investigator will need to be taught, etc. Also, our teacher encouraged us to ask our investigator if he would agree to be baptized if he found our teachings to be true. I was skeptical about this because of my background in KC and because Poland is 98% Catholic and to be Polish is to be Catholic. A lot of people will not join the Church just because they are Catholic Poles. Also, our second lesson hadn't gone quiet as well as the first.

So, during personal study, I read Enos and saw his desire for "the welfare of his brethren and the welfare fo the Lamanites. This seems like the perfect desire for my mission.

My companions and I had talked about teaching the Plan of Salvation. They wanted to divide the lesson right then, but I couldn't because I hadn't yet read. So I brought Preach My Gospel to the gym and read and walk (much to several elder's audible awe and wonder).

After I finished the chapter, my companions and I decided to focus on answering the questions: Where did I come from? Why am I here? and Where am I going? with a "how do I get there" focus. This became a very short lesson (in Polish) on the Atonement and repentance.

Tune in next week to find out what happened during this special discussion with our fake investigator who may or may not be my teacher.

In the meantime you can send Siostra Young:

A pair of yoga pants

A hobo style purse that will fit scriptures and a journal

V-neck men's undershirts in Med. or Sm.

Letters

A pear

Gummi bears

Juicy Juice juice boxes in fruit punch

Love you!

Sister Young

Well, that was just amazing right? I actually graded it and sent some comments back to her. I gave the post a B- overall. Hopefully she does better in the future. Make sure to check on here every so often for updates on the wonderful Siostra Young.

What Actually Happened

2011-11-10T15:42:00.007-07:00

This is one of those "It actually happened in my Life Posts." Namely, the Big Headed Kid became Elder Young. Spencer's been talking about and preparing for his mission for at least 18 months now. Every time he's been frustrated with his life he's said, "I just want to be on mission, so that I can move forward with my life." Last Wednesday, it finally happened for him, and I have proof thanks to a photo shoot in front of the Provo Temple, a block North of the MTC:Spencer is wearing a navy blue suit courtesy of Adrian's (St. George) and his favorite older sister (I pay him to say that).
As you can see, his suit makes him feel really cool (way cooler than that other missionary in the background).
But really, Elder Young is kind of a nerd.

But we love him, and we're proud of him. I feel really blessed to have been able to share in Pence's mission prep. He's a good kid with a good heart, and I know that he'll work hard and be awesome. Special thanks to The Advocate and the Archaeologist for lodging him during his pre-MTC visit to Provo and to Genial for being willing to take him to the MTC (despite his sister being 'straight crazy').

Elder Young will be serving in the Florida Tallahassee mission after about 2 more weeks in the MTC (lucky). I miss him already, and I do not know what to write him . . . I got my Catwoman stationary out, but all I can think of is "you have way better music on your ipod than I thought you did." "I suck at angry birds." "Kick ass!", etc. Let's see if I can come up with something more appropriate and supportive to say. Maybe if I wrote him on a Sunday . . .

(Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah for Israel!)

It Has Begun

2011-10-28T22:19:00.006-06:00

Siostra Young's wardrobe is beginning to take shape, and I must say I'm pretty pleased with the first two pieces. I never thought I'd actually be able to find a trench with a removable liner, but Mr. Calvin Klein decided to hook me up with this:

I also had concerns about finding a coat that would be warm enough, long enough, big enough, and beautiful enough to be The Garment I would be wearing for a good chunk of my mission. And then I found this pretty little thing:

I think it almost compensates for the fact that I couldn't buy cowboy boots the other day. Poland here I come! (except I should probably grade first . . . and stuff . . .)

Did I Mention that I Grew Up in Santaquin?

2011-10-24T17:07:00.006-06:00

So, I got my mission call to Poland(!!!). It's cold there, so my mom told me to look at Cabela's for "Long Underwear to wear over [my] garments." And I found a brand new Prettiest of Pretties! Behold, my heritage
The last time I owned boots I was 10, they were pink, and everyone else in my class had owned them for years.

Now I want these turquoise ones or maybe these:

Plus also, embroidery!

Unfortunately my clothing budget is allocated for my mission and I don't think cowboy boots are mission-approved.

:.(

But,

But,

But,

They're so pretty!!!

:(

(In other news, I can buy silk thermals. Silk. You can wear silk camping. What?)

Getting Read around the Web

2011-09-01T18:38:00.000-06:00

Guys! Guys! I'm totally famous. As a lot of you know, Bitch magazine linked to my review of Sucker Punch, which means that thousands feminists around the country might read a little bit of the in-depth treatise of a second-wave reading I did back in March.

Plus also, the Experimental Section Report I threw together last April when everything felt really August-y got published even though I submitted it late. It's not very good, so don't read it . . . unless you're really interested in my music section of 150.

The point is though, if the professor thing doesn't pan out (more on that later, probably), maybe I can get paid to write for the internets (totally original, practical, high-paying backup plan, I've got going, right? Mine's totally based on the fact that I'm like published and referenced on sites I didn't create . . . not that I got paid for either nod, but . . . maybe someone will volunteer to pay me eventually . . .).

Yay!

On Notice

2011-08-24T00:56:00.004-06:00

Dear Katie E.,

Being a curmudgeon may alienate your readers.

Dear Old Navy,

When you advertise that 'Mom' and 'Grandma' can get jeans for $15, I assume that I'm included in that because I could be a mom. Many women my age even have multiple children. Therefore when I go to your website to order the same bootcut jeans I've worn since high school (maybe, I should branch out a little . . .), I expect them to be $15. When I discovered that the only jean 'Mom' or 'Grandma' can buy for $15 is a pair of jeggings, you made my hit list. Bad Old Navy! Bad Store. The least you could have done was made your Mom jean

$15. Then I might have forgiven you for your false advertising.

Sincerely,
Katie E.

Dear Ann Hathaway,

You used to be charming

Even when you were pretty

Then I put up with your Sassy, Flirty Jane

(So inappropriate! And you the daughter of a clergyman.)

Probably because I hadn't read any Austen when I saw this. If that were not the case, I probably would have put you on notice then. Little did I know that you would be in Oscar-Award winning movies and be nominated for an Oscar yourself. I think these Oscar-affiliations may be the cause of the "Oscar Hosting" you did last year with James Franco (don't even get me started). Oh the Gaffes! You wanted to be funny so, so badly! I'm sorry, but you were just awkward. I pitied you then and liked you a little bit. Then you somehow managed to network your way into the role of "Selina Kyle/Catwoman." Now, that I've seen Get Smart and, more importantly, this

You are officially on notice. Please be less opportunistic. My hopes of getting this

as my Catwoman are crushed. I almost kind of wish that they'd continued with their adaptation of Year One and made you the matron of a cathouse

Ann, please, do something awesome while I'm on my mission. Any more shennanigans, and I may have to disassociate myself with you entirely.

Dear Bureaucrats Who Are Slowing Up My Life,

Stop it.

(This includes my landlord who still hasn't confirmed our housing and my dear, sweet bishop who is apparently rather busy, much to the detriment of my mission papers (in all fairness he's had 2.5 weeks and I took 3 months . . .). These bureaucrats do not include the people who finally assigned me an office today. To you I say: thank you!)

Dear Hair Trends,

Just when I was going to get a pixie, everybody and their mom got one. Therefor, you're on notice too. You may get off notice by providing me with a feasible alternative that I love. This

does not count. Because I work at BYU. Sigh. But this

just save your bacon (Mmmmmm . . . Bacon . . .). (And Hayden, by the way, I still like you because of Heroes. I even sometimes watch your Neutrogena commercials. Can you be Catwoman? I think you might do a slightly better job.)

Dear Everyone and Everything Else in My Life,

You frickin' rock!

Love,
Katie E.

A Public Service Announcement; Or, Havoc Wrought by the Seemingly-Benign

2011-08-18T17:58:00.006-06:00

Yesterday I received what will probably become my favorite email from the HBLL ever. It is as follows

Dear Katie,

Thank you for returning the book "Sesame and Lilies" to the library on August 16, 2011.
However, this book was returned with a copious amount of pink post-it notes stuck inside of it.
Please contact me with any information you have about this incident or if it occurred previous to your checkout.
If you placed the notes there, we would ask you to please come in between the hours of 8am and 10pm to remove them.
Thank you for your help!

Sincerely,
*Name
Mutilation Secretary
HBLL
Provo

My bad! I'll admit I was downright gleeful to discover that there was a "mutilation secretary," especially since the "mutilation" I had wrought was so easily corrected. So, I skipped over to the HBLL and learned that Mutilation Secretaries are student employees and not recent M.A.'s (blast!). I also removed all the offending pink post it notes, while ruminating on their overall innocence. Then I returned to the carrels, recycled the former residents of "Sesame and Lilies," and supposed my adventure to be over.

Not so, my friends. The custodians of the JKB decided that last night was the perfect time to shampoo the carpets of the carrels. After they finished their noisy work, I returned to the carrels and worked on my 150H syllabus. Then, the unthinkable happened! I looked down and saw another pink post it note under the wheel of my desk chair. I bent down, picked it up and saw this

Sure enough, my seemingly-benign pink post-it note had stained and therefor mutilated the carpet. Luckily, the mutilation secretary only monitors library books, or I'd be out a lot of money right now.

The moral of the story: Exercise caution when wielding pink post-it notes; they are prone to mutilation.

Epiphanies

2011-08-16T18:58:00.001-06:00

Yesterday, I passed up this

to buy this

And I did not even buy vegetables to do something awesome like this

or this

This series of somewhat poor choices led to the realization that I still eat like I'm 18. Here's hoping that I will make other, more adult choices to make up for it. (I haven't eaten any dinos yet; there's a start. Oh, and I didn't buy more THOR fruit snacks . . . but that was probably only because last time I bought them, Kraft or whoever was being waaaaaaay too stingy with the Mjolnir fruit snacks, and they're the best (and the best flavor). Maybe I eat like a five-year-old . . . I do have a lot of Mac 'N Cheese . . . and juice boxes. Crap. Epiphany #2.)

They're In

2011-08-06T20:09:00.001-06:00

That's right, people. The day you've been waiting for for severals months now is here: my mission papers are in (that is to say, I have an interview with the bishop tomorrow). The hardest part about getting my mission papers in, you may ask? Deciding on a photo. Now, this may come as a surprise given the wisdom teeth ordeal and the complete medical history (When I was nine, I had an ingrown toenail because I bit my toenails. Gross, I know. When I was 11, I had a plantar wart. I occasionally suffer from seasonal allergies and take OTC medication. All of these issues are readily resolved/treated.) and the crazy questions designed for 19 year-olds: Do you live with one parent, two parents, or a caregiver? Ummmm . . . None of the above? What are your extracurricular activities? Ummmmmm . . . GSA? Should I list Cheerleading and NHS? That was almost 10 years ago . . . So, yeah. There were some issues with getting the papers in, and the biggest problem was the photo . . . mostly because I accidentally washed my camera cord with a load of darks back in January. This meant I had to either coordinate with the roomies (i.e. my "caregivers") or pull an image off the internet.

Now, you read my blog and you know that I'm pretty good at finding pictures on the internet, but none of them really fit the "missionary bill." Let's just take a gander at my facebook profile pics to demonstrate what I mean. Lately, I've favored the somewhat imaginary:

Or characters I derive strength from

(especially during paper season).

Or characters I emphathize with

Or things I think are cool

On occasion, my profile picture will be of me

But none of these really fit the "dressed in missionary attire" bill. Luckily, my good friend Carolyn took a photo of me at this year's BYU English Symposium, and I think it works

The only problem was Carolyn is a legit photographer, so I had to shrink it without using PhotoShop (and we wept precious!).

But the point is: my mission papers are in. Where in the world do you think I'll go?

Update (Which May or May Not Involve a Little Light-Hearted Swearing where Appropriate. Hi Friends! (My Mom's Okay with Swearing Now that We've Had the Conversation about How I'm Not Actually a Lady Anyway))

2011-08-04T07:03:00.003-06:00

1. I went for a run. One whole Entire run. I'm totally going to be prepared for that 10K in September. For reals.

2. I got my wisdom teeth out. That was crazy and sleepy. And guess what, Oxycodone--the awesome narcotic that makes people feel all tingly-happy and hallucinatory? It just makes me sleepy. Hello Disappointment. Since it didn't make me high, Ima say that it's a new found low. But I learned that keeping a drug log is a great idea when you have to take drugs every three hours and the instructions even say wake yourself up and take the damn pain pills or there will be pain! lots of pain (in an Alan Tudck voice, no less). I also learned that the best food on a liquid diet is a sweet potato puree with enough butter to satisfy Paula Deen (followed closely by lime-flavored real fruit popsicles. (Thanks, Grandma.)) And. All that eating in bed means that I finally washed my sheets (No way!). Oh and I got to experience the second grossest thing of my whole-entire life: suctioning old food out of the sockets that once contained teeth (wait, when did I eat cottage cheese? GROSS! (you're happy I shared that fun little aspect of my wisdom teeth experience, right?)

3. I now go to bed when normal people wake up. It's 6 a.m. I haven't slept yet. I'll probably wake up around 2 p.m. tomorrow. (And they wonder why I can't make it to their silly 8 a.m. missionary correlation meeting when not going means 5 hours of sleep and going means 3). (And, seriously, no matter what anybody tells you this crazy bedtime has nothing to do with my new found Frontierville addiction or those geese who have been refusing to attract a fox for me to clobber for hours and hours now. I don't have a problem. Get off my back.)

4. Despite this very not adult behavior, I landed an adult job: teaching adjunct (which some claim is even more like prostitution than graduate instructorship. For realsies.) The real good news is that all three sections I'll be teaching are honors 150. So hopefully I won't be whining about my "Stupid Students" all the time because the Smart Students take the honors classes. Also they should freakin' thank me because they will be required to read this

and see this guy

perform.

They are freaking welcome in advance.

5. I don't actually have a contract for fall, but my roommate got a verbal confirmation. That'll keep me from being homeless, right? Right?! RIGHT?

6. This movie

is awesome.

But not as awesome as this movie

Seriously. Go see them if you haven't. Do it now. And tell Thor I love him. (Kenneth, stop freaking out. I love you too. O-M-G.)

7. No but seriously, the biggest sacrifice the Big Headed Kid and I are making to go on our missions is missing the chance to see this

and this

in the theatre.

Yeah. I'm sad for us too. (And yes, those are all fan made posters.) A big ole you're welcome to "our" converts and God and ourselves (because we will actually probably benefit the most from our missions). I guess it'll be worth it since we'll see them all eventually probably. Sigh.

8. I will probably put in my papers next week if the bishop and stake president are ok with that and if I remember to voluntarily go get some shots. (Crapola. (which is not to be confused with Crayola.)) My availability date will be Jan 1 or Jan 15. It all depends on what I'm feeling on the day I finally submit the papers I filled out in June at some point.

9. I still haven't moved out of the carrels. This made me feel like a loser last week. This week it makes me feel really glad I don't have to do the JKB-Home-JKB move. I just have to do the JKB-JKB move as soon as they tell me which office I'll be sharing with one other person instead of 50 other people (though, really people, if it's the Duck I might just quit on the spot. That one has mood swings and now that I don't care what he thinks about me, I'll start saying stuff and one of us will get belligerent. I'm not saying it'll be me, but he's practically a passivist, so . . . ) (And they trust me to teach honors. That's funny.)

10. I did not exactly read the 1930s British Women's books I was supposed to. (My bad. I started like 2.) But I did read the Thursday Next series, and it rocks. And I read R.E.D. and hope to use it to blog about how everyone is wrong about adaptations unless they've studied adaptation theory (and seriously who does that? . . . I mean . . . um . . . who does that outside of graduate school? Because that question offends fewer of my friends (i.e. audience)). I also started this

and was shocked by the bloody, gory violence. I have a pretty high threshold for such things, and I'm about five pages in. Just saying. . . . Maybe I should read The Road or All the Pretty Horses. . . or something not written by Cormac McCarthy.

To that end (etc.), I also started this

and it's great so far. And I read this

and it's FANTASTIC! So much better than the movie (which, ok fine, I need to watch again and then discuss in the fabled adaptation blogpost. Sigh. But I'm very serious when I say that the book definitely benefits by being more subtle, more symbolic, and by not being affiliated with Nicole Kidman or her crazy false nose in any way shape or form. I'm really just not buying this

Cunningham's Woolf is a lot closer to this

Just saying: someone missed the boat on the whole whimsical part of the suicidal lesbian author. Someone who thinks that British Ladies in Australia hit the dirt and whine until Wolverine agrees to drive their cattle across the Outback. Someone who is wrong about both these things, but does ok when she has to die of consumption, etc.)

11. Ok, it's 7 a.m. I really ought to go to bed now. My life freaking rocks! Wouldn't you say?

Sincerely,
Katie E.

A Fitness Goal That Might Actually Pan Out

2011-07-21T17:23:00.003-06:00

Guess what? I'm finally moving forward with my mission papers. Today, I went to the dentist to learn that I have no cavities, which hasn't happened since I was 12. (Don't worry, Packerboy has already congratulated me on finally figuring out how to brush and floss.) Tomorrow, my wisdom teeth are getting yanked, and I had a mission physical on Monday. This means that I could get my papers in next week, especially if the English department/comp office decides not to hire me for Fall.

I'm still reeling from the idea that I'm healthy and from a few things that happened during these appointments, especially the physical. There was a mild identity crisis induced by the discovery that my blood type is O+. Heretofor, I've been the only A bloodtype in my O family—a genetic impossibility that has led to some slightly inappropriate family jokes. Turns out, I am really, truly my father's daughter, and those Lakeview Hospital nurses seriously screwed up the first attempt to determine my blood type back in '85. My mission physical also included my first breast exam and a 2 second, external pelvic exam (also my first). Both of which were interesting. The doctor and I were both in a professional, only-as-thorough-as-necessary, make -it-quick frame of mind, and it was relatively painless, though odd. The most traumatic part of my mission physical actually turned out to be learning my weight. Sigh.

At the risk of another "pitiful" (thanks, Mom) blogpost, just let me say that I really love my body, and not just because I'm curvy. However, I don't keep a scale, and I rarely weigh myself. I generally determine my level of health/fitness through how much pudge hangs over the front of my jeans (if any), the amount and types of food I'm eating, and whether it's been hours, days, weeks, or months since the last time I worked out. All of these factors are in a No Bueno zone, which lead to a weight that is definitely not on any state-issued id I possess.

Now, I have been talking about working out all summer long. There's been talk of hiking, and busting out one of my many workout DVDs. But then, that requires me to get off the couch and put down the remote or the book. I guess general health concerns aren't enough of a motivating factor for me (Semenza would be so disappointed), nor is the possibility of adult-onset diabetes or congenital heart failure, both of which run in my family a little bit. Sigh.

Luckily for me, Hippie Dino Girl presented me with an amazing motivator:

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;The Dirty &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

The Dirty Dash: a muddy 10K packed full of fun obstacles, which looks like a total blast. Needless to say, I'm off to go for my first run in like years right now; we'll see how I do. Any tips for training for a 10K? I figure I'll run a lot and do some cross-training to prepare for the obstacles as well. Maybe I will be breaking out that yoga tape . . . or the ballet tape . . . or maybe even the bollywood burn tape . . .Maybe I'll just do some sit ups and push ups, but first: running.

Oh and, you're totally welcome to join us if you want. More info at http://www.thedirtydash.com/.

How Can A Literary Adaptation Be So Sumptuous?; Or, Misadventures of An Anglophile Part V: The Telly

2011-07-15T18:33:00.004-06:00

Lately, I've become an expert on watching TV, especially British TV. So, to celebrate my ever-deepening Anglophile geekery, I thought I would share some of my recent BBC, etc. discoveries. (That way you can get a view of what I do most days.)

How about a little Rufus to start us off? You remember the delectable Rufus Sewell, right?

My favorite movie boyfriend will be starring as a detective in BBC1's new crime series, which is set in Venice. The three-episode series is called Zen and will be airing in the States on Masterpiece Mystery beginning this Sunday! The sad news is BBC apparently dropped them after three episodes, so we'll see if they can find a new UK venue for series 2. In the meantime, there will be Rufus for the next three weeks!

However, if you're like me, that is just not enough British tv. In which case, allow me to recommend a few shows that can only be classed as "brilliant." In my experience, there are two camps of British TV that have made an impact on the States. The first, of course, is the period piece/SLA (Sumptuous Literary Adaptation), which is perhaps best know for the A&E P&P with all that Firthiness

(You watch her play, Mr. Darcy. You just watch her play. He-loves-her-swoon!)

I think that most of you are familiar with P&P and the adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell's North and South

(I would look back at you, Richard Armitage. Really, I would.)

And probably a Jane Eyre or 27 Jane Eyres. Really, there are a lot of high quality adaptations out there to love. Two tv shows (rather than miniseries) that I've loved lately are

and

These are both really great series dealing with the long fin de siecle (as it were). Lark Rise to Candleford is set in the 1880s. The main character, Laura Timmins, grew up in Lark Rise, a small farming community in rural England. In her late teens she is apprenticed out to the local postmistress of Candelford (yes, that is Lydia from The P&P, only she's like all practical and mature and stuff in Lark Rise. It's kind of crazy). Laura compulsively journals, and we get nice, focused episodes that deal with town v. hamlet politics, new technologies, new ideologies, the Woman Question, marriage, making a living, and young love. It's really great, and Netflix has it on DVD. And let me tell ya, for me, appreciating this photo

was about the same as enjoying this one

And Alfie's not even the hottest boy in Lark Rise or Candleford to decide that life begins and ends in Laura Timmin's presence. (Plus also, there's a hottie Marxist. You know how I love a hottie Marxist.)

Downton Abbey is nothing like Northanger Abbey, except for the fact that they're both awesome. The first series begins with the sinking of the Titanic and ends with the U.K.'s entrance into The Great War (WWI, that is). It's not an adaptation, but it still deals with so many issues and events of the period. Plus, it has a great Upstairs/Downstairs dynamic. And there's Maggie Smith and Brendan Coyle (who's also in Lark Rise) and class issues and women's issues and it's so very, very British. Also, I think I've fallen in love with one Matthew Crawley as played by

Dan Stevens, who, as you can tell from the Penguin classic he's holding, read English Literature at Cambridge. This simple fact, combined with those piercing blue eyes and the dashing smile that is impossible to find on google, means that I am pretty much in love. (Sorry, Rufus!) It really adds to Downton's delights (And don't worry, his hair is a lot less feathered than it was in the most recent Sense and Sensibility (shudders).)

Oh! and for those of you who've seen the first series of Downton, let me just mention that series two features a character named "Vera Bates" in every episode, which I'm choosing to read as a nod to von Arnim. Are you ready for the drama? Plus also, all the war drama! I like this show.

So . . . I also wanted to mention some great British comedies and talk a little bit about Doctor Who and Sherlock, but I think I'll have to save them for another post and another day. Hopefully soon because I really want to talk about a comedy with an Orlando-like time frame and a sketch comedy show by these guys

Tune in next week for the comedic half of this post (unless programming is interrupted by procrastination and the score of medical appointments one must undergo in order to serve the Lord). Until then, happy viewing!

To Speak with Perfect Candor

2011-07-14T03:55:00.005-06:00

Today, I went on missionary committee visits in my ward. Our ward is new, and we are trying to figure the status of the people whose records we have, so we can help those who are struggling. So, a nice young man and I visited about six people. We saw some success. We visited everyone on our list, and we convinced one young man to come to a pool party (probably). My companion, as it were, did most of the talking. I petted all of the dogs, asked a very impertinent question and didn't remember that I had met one of our less actives (which is kind of a missionary committee member failure).

As you can tell from my relative silence and my focus on my mistakes, I was not ueber-comfortable with going on these visits. There are periods of my life wherein I am warm, open, loving, and welcoming. I'm full of love and the Spirit, and I can see the good in people along with their talents and their potential. These are happy times. Then there are other periods--usually when I'm insecure or don't feel like I'm progressing or being productive--when I don't like people and I hate being around them.

The other day I walked into a six year old who wasn't looking where he was going. He walked right into me. It was unavoidable, or at least that's what I thought until I was 20 yards further down the sidewalk and he yelled, "Learn some manners!" He was right. A simple "excuse me" would have been much better decorum; it could have prevented the collision or at least smoothed it over and made things a little bit better. That's right folks, a six year old has a firmer grasp on the best methods of dealing with people than I do.

In a lot of ways, that's ok. We all have strengths and weaknesses; talents and foibles; idiosyncracies and normalities, etc., even when we're six. (We also have parents, who--hopefully--teach us a lot of manners at that time.) However, the fact remains: I don't like people right now and will do anythin I can to avoid talking to them. I don't like feeling like this. I really do prefer loving the people around me and delighting in their successes, but for some reason, that's not really happening right now. Like I say, my struggles come down to my insecurities and my inability to look beyond them. I currently hate people; they scare me. I hate talking to guys right now because I don't want to open up and play the dating game or undergo the ritual of approbation or disapproval involved (plus, I haven't worked out in forever and my uncovered-because-it's-summer relief-society arms do not make me feel pretty (they're not quite relief society arms, but they are neither toned nor sleek)). I don't trust guys to appreciate me (or my feminism). I just don't.

I also don't want to talk to girls because I do not know what's going on with my life. Despite the successful, productive completion of every aspect of my degree, I usually wake up at 11 a.m. and spend the day watching TV and playing Frontierville on Facebook. I used to be so productive; there was power in my life. I knew who I was and where I was going. Every single day, I did a little bit more to get me where I wanted to be. Now, I know who I am and where I want to go, but I'm missing the daily actions that move me towards that person. Every other day or so, I do a few productive things, but there are items on my to-do list from April that might never get checked off and important, basic questions that I don't have answers for. I don't have anything to share right now. I don't know where I'm going on mission or when I'll get my papers in. I don't know where I want to go for a PhD. I'm doing so little every day; it feels like I'm not living up to my potential. I seem to be doing too much navel gazing and really, not enough reading and not enough loving.

I want to love like I used to. There used to be a warmth to my soul with room for just about everyone who came into my life, but I don't feel that as much any more. Instead, I am cutting people out of my life or just allowing friendships to slip away into nothingness. I used to think that I could have it all and do it all. Now, I'm scared that "motherhood means mental freeze" or worse, motherhood and professorship are mutually exclusive. I know that this isn't true (and that it's silly to worry about it right now anyway). I sometimes think that I am allowing myself to shrivel up because I'm afraid that I won't be able to have everything I want. On the one hand, I'm afraid that I won't get into a PhD program, that I won't ever marry, that I will be menopausal or post-menopausal or infertile when I do marry, that I will suddenly have to drop everything else and give my all to my children. I worry that I'm selfish: sometimes, a tiny part of me wants to just have a career and not a family. I would never choose this, but I know that there are some women that "through no fault of their own never marry in this lifetime." Sometimes I want to be one of these women. Would that really be so bad? Yes, Katie. Yes, it would.

I still have a great capacity to love, and I want to love my friends, my family, my sources of animosity, apathy or annoyance and eventually, I want to love one who truly loves me and have that work out in a big way. However, right now, my capacity to love is often swallowed up in the negative, selfish, self-centered emnity that has singed the edges of my current, limited perspective. It's currently difficult for me to abide weakness or too much success in the people I love. The weakness because it reminds me of my own, and the success because it makes me feel my lacks. This is an evil, sinful frame of mind. God is love. I need to love and love more abundantly. This needs to extend to as many people and things as possible. I need to let go of my faults and foibles and stop focusing on those of others. I need to think about the productive, successful things I do in a given day instead of focusing on my failings and flailings. I need to allow others their happiness, their success, and their flaws, faults, and difficulties. There needs to be room in my life and my heart for everyone because really, only then will there be room in my heart for my life and all that it can be.

I love you, readers. I'm sorry that this is not a witty re-telling of my amazing thesis defense or a post announcing Neville's new-found hotness, the brilliance of the Breeders, or the delights of a Meaghan Smith concert. This is honestly what my life is right now. I hope you're enjoying your view. If not, complain loudly. If George Emerson volunteers to switch rooms, give him my phone number. That could be just what I need to stop lying to myself about my life and my feelings, and in the end, admit that I can fall in love. (Did I mention that George Emerson became my book boyfriend back in January? Sexy, Marxist, feminist that he is.)

I Have a New Favorite Hippie

2011-06-06T21:24:00.012-06:00

Don't worry, Joni is still my favorite hippie of all time, but Vashti Bunyan is giving her a run for her money right now. Vashti Bunyan is a British artist who tried to launch a career in the 60s. She soon got discouraged and gave up (according to wikipedia); however, there has been renewed interest in her of late, and she released an album in 2000 (I prefer the original 60s stuff: The hippie vibe is stronger).

Her voice is haunting and the songs have a cool earthy, hippie, folkloric quality to them. They're so beautiful. Here's four of them:

I really love the analogy between tears and autumn leaves in "Autumn Tears" and the questions she poses in "How Do I Know?" I also love how love isn't a given with her. Joni's songs are often ardent quests to have love and build love despite the factors that make love impossible. There's a lot of drive and passion and desire, even in happy songs or non-commital songs (like "Cactus Tree" or "You Turn Me on, I'm a Radio"). With Vashti, love is often a cheap construction which she simply, deftly deconstructs and abandons. And I love that. Because I'm a cynic? Yes, but also no. I love this because I've spent a lot of my life Ted Mosby-ing (i.e. I've decide that I will get married as soon as possible and any one that I meet could be my spouse in three months!). It's nice to have a reminder that "I Don't Know What Love Is"

or to get advice like "Don't Believe What They Say."

This is not to say that I don't believe in love. I do. It's very real; however, after having too many experiences like this one*

I believe that misidentifying or rushing love is very dangerous. When that sentiment is expressed via harps and a sweet voice, something in me sings and I find myself claiming to have a new favorite hippie: Vashti Bunyan (who denies being related to the Pilgrim's Progress guy, for the record ;).

*Please note, her songs are only about 2 minutes each. Please listen to one or two or three of these, and tell me what you think! Also note, I LOVE the hand imagery in "Love Song." Such beautiful metaphors. I hope you like it too!

A Positive, Ego-Boosting Spin on Teaching

2011-06-04T01:43:00.007-06:00

One of my friends from the cohort reminded me recently that I love teaching because I am able to share things I love, am passionate about, and find beautiful with others. Sometimes, I focus on the negative aspects of teaching. It's so personal and intimate, especially where writing and sharing thoughts are concerned. Often, personalities will clash and defenses go up, resulting in unnecessary drama and pain. Most mentions of teaching on this blog have dealt with this aspect, usually informed by mean comments in my student ratings. However, I'm really grateful for the opportunities I've had to teach. I love generating ideas with my students and seeing them enjoy writing or get excited about their papers or their ideas. I've genuinely love several of my students, and I'm grateful for the ones who were humble enough to let me teach them. Some of them have loved me too. And guess what? I have proof to turn to when I need to. These are some of the positve comments from my student ratings. (They like me! They really like me!)

*Please note, I did teach them grammar, usage, and punctuation, but sometimes things just don't sink in. I'm copying and pasting their comments, so none of the errors that follow are mine (I promise!). *

Glowing Praise from the Music Sections of ENGL 150 (because, like F.E.A.T., I ROCK!):

I do think I became a better writer as a result of Ms. Young's instruction. I have a better understanding on the mechanics of writing. I am more clear on the writing process.

I really enjoyed this course - and I didn't think that I would. Ms. Young gave very useful feedback and I felt like I had enough freedom to do what I wanted and write about what I wanted, while still learning and having the structure of an actual class. I also really loved writing about music. It was so much more accessible to me than another subject would have been, and made the concepts of this course easier to grasp and get a hold of.

This is by far the best English class I've taken at BYU and possibly my favorite class I've taken of any subject here. The atmosphere of the class is fun and easy-going but still maintains a level of seriousness that invites a desire to learn. Ms. Young is a new teacher but she didn't show any sign of inadequacy. In fact, she new the material very well and laid it out in a very effective way. Every piece of material was discussed thoroughly. Assignments were appropriate and reasonable. I could tell that Ms. Young was completely genuine in how she cared for us and our learning experience. She wasn't afraid to develop positive relationships with her students and she was very understanding. On top of it all, she was funny and inviting which made for a class where no one felt like a stranger and no one (generally speaking) was afraid to contribute. I managed to laugh pretty much every single class period.

I felt that Miss Young was a good instructor and she helped me improve my writing techniques. I actually did like the music angle for the course, because I felt it gave the course a more solid foundation and it helped focus our paper topics.

Thoroughly enjoyed this class and learnt much much more than I expected too

More than anything I appreciate Ms Young's willingness to help me out in seeing that I am successful in the class.

I absolutely loved this course. I was not excited about taking it but the fact that it was centered on music made it something enjoyable instead of something to be endured. Giving students the opportunity to choose what to write about is a something a wonderful idea and i hope this course will be offered again. This course exceeded all of my expectations and then some. It was fantastic.

Katie Young was a great instructor. She always made sure we understood things and if we didn't she would set up times for us to come in and talk to her. I really liked this music section especially because it was a lot more interesting to write about the topics. It didn't seem like we were writing a paper for school yet we still learned how to write effectively. I loved this class and the teacher!

great class taught by a teacher who shows genuine interest in her students work. by far the best writing experience I've had. [Thank you. Next time we'll work on capitalization, eh student? ;) ]

Great teacher.

I loved the conferences that allowed us to meet with the teacher and go over our papers together. It allowed for greater success.

From Technical Writing (Wait, what? Some of the 316 students actually enjoyed your class, Katie? No way!):

Ms. Young's speed writing exercises were a great way to get class participation and developed thought on different subjects. Ms. Young gave great response to my work.

This is a great course that helps me learn how to write professional document. The instructor is very profesional and I appreciate the diligence she put into the lesson preparaion and her efforts to help me.

I have never been a fan of writing, however, I know that technical writing will be a large part of my field. I feel I have learned many valuable skills necessary to design and write technical documents. Thank you.

Thanks a bunch

I learned a lot of useful skills and I really enjoyed the class. Ms. Young is a great teacher.

Katie was very knowledgeable, and quite helpful with students who sought one-on-one help.

Since it is Summer semester there was little time to really focus on the assignments, however, all the assignments were useful. Miss Young was understanding and very helpful when it came to explaining assignments.

Enthusiastic and driven, she is doing well and will be a great teacher.

Katie made Technical Writing interesting. Thank you!

Katie was really organized, and was always willing to meet with us and help us. She made class interesting and fun.

Katie was a good instructor. She was friendly and outgoing, and cared about students' learning experience.

From regular 150 (i.e. My First year of teaching):

Thank you Ms. Young. I will definitely carry on with me what you've taught me.

I LOVED this class!! [emphasis original] I learned so much about writing that will be able to help my with everything in the future.

I like how Ms. Young set aside specific days for conferences with her which were helpful in knowing how to improve a paper. She is a really good teacher; she got along with all the students, and she knew how to make things fun.

Ms. Young is extremely bright and vibrant. I enjoyed the way she taught, her interaction with the students and her willingness to teach us and help us.

Great teacher and a good class.

Katie was a great teacher, and I truly enjoyed taking this class. I actually enjoy writing now, and I never thought that would happen. She helped me to gain confidence in myself and my writing abilities.

Some Final Thoughts
Hopefully, this hasn't been too overindulgent. I just wanted a place to have these happy thoughts collected. It appears that my students like me. They think I'm fun, and they know that I care about them and their learning. These comments reflect my strengths as a teacher, and it's good to have them around. Teaching has been a blessing in so many ways. I'm excited about the prospect of teaching in the future and the possibility of adding to these strengths and generating even more positive feedback. There is still the negative feedback (you don't want to see the other, nastier things, I promise, especially not those from 316), but I did see some success. My students learned about writing, and they learned that professors can be very invested in their learning. I'm grateful for all my teaching experiences and the variety of teaching jobs I've experienced. I know that certain students of mine needed me rather than another teacher, and I'm honored to have worked with them. Teaching will always have its challenges, but there is joy as well. I love my students, and I look forward to future teaching prospects.

I'm BACK! And Some News and Like Books and Stuff

2011-05-27T18:15:00.006-06:00

Okay, so I've seen success with my plans. I started my mission papers (and haven't looked at them for weeks). I haven't worked out or been to the temple (not once). I've watched a TON of TV: Parks and Rec, Justified, and season finales, oh my! I've continued to go to bed too late and wake up too late, but I'm beginning to get back to a more reasonable schedule. (Goodbye, 4 a.m.; you're too crazy to be my friend.)

I've also done this crazy impossible thing called scheduled my thesis defense (WHAT?!). It's true. I finished revising my thesis to incorporate my readers' suggestions and sent it in to Dr. Fox about a week and a half ago. Within five days, my defense was scheduled for June 8 from 9-11 in the morning (which is going to be a challenge). So now I have less than two weeks to prepare. I've settled on a reading list, and I'm theoretically studying. I need to read and re-read a ton of things, including some lit and theory from my classes, my thesis, and the sources that make up the argument upon which my thesis stands. I should probably be doing that right now.

The biggest part of me is in denial about the whole thing actually happening. It will be over so soon. I'm ready (?), and I'm nervous. Whenever Dr. Fox, Jamie, and Leslee ask me questions about my thesis, I've either spoken in generalities or said, "Let me look at that and get back to you." I really need to brush up on all sorts of things, but at the same time, I have a clear argument in the thesis and a clear emphasis in the program. I should be fine. My committee is really nice, and I've always been good at talking about literature and commenting in class, etc. If I prepare, I will not fail. (i.e. Pray for me!)

So that's definitely looming, but I can see beyond the defense. It looks a little bit like this:

A lot of it is a black hole of nothingness, but there are some things that will definitely be filling it.

First, I will be working hard on the mission papers. I'll even contact financial aid and the dentist and the health center. Then I'll actually be able to turn in my mission papers and become a missionary. And shop for missionary clothes! I really miss wearing blazers (because I'm a weirdy), and I'm exited about the prospect of pretty clothes and new shoes and new scriptures and stuff. I better not be called to a mission that still makes the sisters wear pantyhose! I would also prefer a temperate zone or colder. Of course, God's got somewhere in mind already, so all of these preferences mean next to nothing, but there they are, all set up for the a delightful contrast when I get called to like Tahiti or something.

Second, I probably need a job. I really need to stop spending so much time on the couch, and having a source of income is preferable to the alternative. I've been contacted by a company I used to freelance for, but I would like something more consistent. I might need to hit the pavement again. I really need to not go back to WSP, but that might happen if I get desperate and they feel like they can pay me. Let's hope I can find something solid; it should be short term, so it doesn't really matter what it is. I just want it to use my skills. I have a master's, let the position (if not the income) reflect such degree and experience. Please!

Third, I will spending time with novels written by British women in the 1920s and 1930s in the hopes of developing a dissertation topic because then I can based the rest of my life on this field! I recently read (and would highly recommend) Dodie Smith's I Capture the Castle, and I loved it so much that I need to discover what else is out there. I love the interwar period and very little has been done on the women novelists of this time. Enter Katie E. Young, Scholar Extraordinaire (as long as she's working with the obscure).

I'm going to start with Winifred Holtby's South Riding,

which was recently adapted as a BBC miniseries.

Based on my research, this adaptation needs to be about twice as long in order to treat everything well (I was less than pleased with it). I have high hopes about the novel. It's about 550 pages and is a traditional social problem novel, which sounds promising for a literary critic (unless the writing's bad . . . everybody cross your fingers!). It doesn't look like much has been done on Holtby, so (as long as everyone keeps their hands off her for the next several years) I'm in the clear for a dissertation project.

In addition to South Riding, I want to read some Rebecca West, Katherine Mansfield, Vera Brittain, Djuna Barnes, and May Sinclair. I also want to read H.D.'s novels, Vita Sackville-West's novels, Radclyffe Hall's The Well of Loneliness, and Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea. Plus also, I'll be reading as many Persephone Books as possible, starting with Julia Stratchey's Cheerful Weather for the Wedding.

So, yeah, it looks like I'm enrolling myself in a seminar on Women's literature in the 1920s and 1930s. I used to despair at the thought that eventually there would be no more literature classes to take, but now I have the chance to design my own reading lists and develop a true and thorough scholarly expertise. This is one of the most exciting scholarly prospects of my life. We'll see where it goes.

Fourth, I should probably keep going with all that other productive, adult stuff I should be doing: y'know, like working out and sleeping like a human being and going to the temple. I should probably also read the mission library or something and call my family.

Overall, life is good, and God is great. The funk is more or less over, and the future looks awesome. Yea for literature!

Getting Ahead of Myself in Order to Heal, Deal, and Get on with the Whole Moving Forward Thing

2011-05-06T15:33:00.007-06:00

So, schedules and discipline and hard work are all good ways to get out of a funk, but I've discovered that what I need is to lick my wounds, heal, and remember that I am a scholar. To that end, I've devised a reading list that pulls almost exclusively from the seminars I took from committee members (and features no classicism, which will shortly be reflected in my program of study). This was a great step towards remembering my scholarly identity, which, guess what?, I've worked really hard to develop over the past two years.

I also jumped the gun and started creating some of the documents that come into being when one is ready to defend one's thesis. I am not ready to defend my thesis, but in order to get there, I need to remind myself that I will get there. I need to have real hope and faith in the future. To that end, I give you [drumroll, please] the title page of my thesis:

More than "Wisteria and Sunshine": The Garden as a Space of Female Introspection and Identity in Elizabeth von Arnim's The Enchanted April and Vera

Katie Elizabeth Young

A thesis submitted to the faculty of
Brigham Young University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts

C. Jay Fox, Chair
Jamie Horrocks
Leslee Thorne-Murphy

Department of English

Brigham Young University

June 2011

I'n't pretty? It's my title, my name, my committee, my degree; in essence, it's my scholarly identity and the reminder that I am a scholar (and maybe even a Scholar), a reminder that I desperately need right now. I'm getting there—through the backdoor, but I'm getting there nonetheless. I will defend. I will finish writing. I will be pleased with both endeavors. Then, I will go on a mission. Then there will be a PhD and a professorship and maybe even a family. There is hope smiling brightly before me; I'm endeavoring to return that smile, and it's getting ever easier. Here's hoping that I continue on this path.

Getting Funky: Or, How This April Was Not So Much Enchanted to the Extent that It Resembled an August; Sigh.

2011-04-30T13:13:00.010-06:00

One of the two von Arnim novels my thesis is on is called The Enchanted April. If you haven't read it (or seen the movie/play), then know that it is the story of four British women who spend an April in Italy. The idyllic atmosphere allows them to escape the stuffiness of their British lives, full of duty and honor. This allows them to be recalled to life (without sacrificing their lives--Sydney) and recalled to love. It is a delightful novel and a delightful situation that I would like to have one day. I've had two Aprils since discovering The Enchanted April; neither of them have been particularly or wholly enchanted.

During April 2010, I was stressed out, trying to finish things, re-reading The Enchanted April, writing about it, grading for 3 classes (150, 316, and Study Abroad), and, oh yeah, planning for, packing for, getting excited about, and going to LONDON! So, this April was not purely, strictly enchanted, but there were enchanted things about it and the ending (coupled with writing on von Arnim and Acing my seminar from Dr. Fox) cast a certain enchantment on the whole that may never be matched or repeated. However, there will be other enchantments and other enchanted Aprils, I'm sure.

This was not one of them.

Sigh.

I wish I had uplifting things to share. Instead, I have a funk to relate. I'll end with my plans for the future and the ways I'm seeking Hope and Faith as those are the only things powerful enough to give me the strength to move forward and do great things.

Or . . .

Maybe we can skip the part where I talk about the funk in detail? Yeah? Let's see what do you need to know . . .

I probably shouldn't have taken a seminar this semester, and I definitely shouldn't have taken the one where my creativity got beaten down until I was saying nothing original or significant. Grad school grade fail #2. Sigh.

I hate it when things end, especially when I'm left without a clear, concrete plan.

I hate it when I have to say goodbye to so many people I love all at once. Between the 15 or so members of my cohort who actually finished and graduated, Hippie Dino Girl's departure to merry old England, certain Geek Out Night Crew members moving to SLC, and Packerboy and Mrs. Foxy's graduation and subsequent departure, I feel a little left behind, a little abandoned, and very happy about the lives and future of all these people whom I love. Mostly though, I just miss them. All of them and the way my life used to be because of them. This is complicated by the fact that my life will soon change in big ways too. The unknown future is scary.

But. The thing is. My known future is scary too. I haven't been productive for 3 weeks now. Dr. Fox gave me finals off from my thesis. Grading was easy to finish off for the semester. I submitted my grades 9 days before the deadline and was done with 376 before finals began. This meant that I had two weeks to work on the Talbot paper, which given the soul-crushing oppression meant I'd work on it for about 4 hours a day. The other 20 hours a day I spent mourning, being frustrated, reading Fables, sleeping (from 3 a.m. to noon), being somewhat social, and lounging about. This is the nature of my funk. I need to shake it and just write my thesis.

I am one, maybe two revisions away from finishing. It feels weird. I feel like I'm already done, and I don't want to finish (mostly because I will be left with nothing concrete in my life, but partially because mourning is hard work (I have to mourn my grades too and the lost of my guarantee to PhD programs, which, let's be honest I never had: High School GPA 3.78, B.A. major GPA 3.76, M.A. GPA 3.78. I'm sensing a pattern. This pattern may not preclude PhD study, but I don't have a guarantee. That's for sure. (I'm also sensing the fact that I am not a 4.0 student. Stupid unrealistic expectations. Sigh.)).

So. There's my funk. I feel less capable than I normally do, but I have a game plan to counteract this funk. I will put it into writing and then I will follow it. (I've been meaning to do this for 3 weeks, but wasn't ready for it. I think I am now. I think.)

1. Meet my bishop tomorrow and move forward with the mission thing. Thanks for participating in my Help Me Plan My Life Quiz. My funk would have me read comic books and eat gummi bears on someone else's dime, but that's not really an option. I definitely need a break from teaching (but I must say: I am a good teacher, and I was meant to teach certain students at certain times during the last two years. I probably shouldn't ever teach 316 again, but I can teach 150 and I'm decent with the lit and will improve with study and experience). Editing for a literary journal or textbook company would be the perfect professional way to pass the year between MA and PhD, and I would love it. I really would. But. For the first time since I was 21 (or maybe even 18), I want to serve a mission. It feels right, and I love the excuse not to worry about dating or having my application rejected. And. It feels very right. I've felt like God had something specific planned for my post-MA. I'm pretty sure that that thing is a mission.

2. In order to really move forward with the mission, I need to finish my thesis. So starting Monday, I will wake up at 10 a.m. (baby steps), shower, go to campus, and work. I think I'm one or maybe two revisions away from scheduling. I'm so close! I just need to do it. And I can. The whole time I was "working" on the Talbot paper, I wished I was (reading comic books and) working on my thesis. It's scary again, but I think it can be fun to get in to it again and revisit my argument in all its originality and splendor. My thesis is modern, and it deals with women. It's what I do, and I can do good things and hard things. I can move forward with my life.

3. Additionally, I want to work out three times a week (yoga, jump roping, ballet, bollywood burn, etc.)

4. I want to go to the temple once every two weeks. (I'm also sitting in on a temple class. Should be fun. (I had to take a long, cynical journey to find the right religion class to sit in on. I think I made it.))

5. I want to read for fun.

6. I want to have fun.

7. I should probably find some sort of a job. Maybe. If I can find something light, yet happy and Katie-like, then I should find a job. If I can't, I'll wait until the thesis is done. It could be a way to get me out of bed though. It's nice to have obligations.

8. I need to finish reading The Book of Mormon (this time around: I'm currently in 3rd Nephi) and then turn towards topical scripture study and/or The Doctrine and Covenants, which I love. There's so much hope and evidence of God's interventionist side in The Doctrine and Covenants.

9. I need to call my family more.

10. I need to read comic books in moderation and find balance in my life as a whole. I think this game plan will get me there as long as I'm disciplined enough to see me through.

So. Goodbye, Funky April. Hello, May. Here's hoping that you will be a little enchanted, very hope-filled, and maybe even a little fruitful. But if not . . . onward and upward until I find the Hope and Peace that will come eventually as I go forward with faith.

Dear Providence,

Here's looking at you, kid

-Katie E.

Help Me Plan My Life

2011-04-12T21:33:00.001-06:00

We all know that graduating = sudden unemployment and that graduating with a degree in the Arts or Humanities = sudden unemployment with no obviously marketable skills (or at least with no obvious way to market one's skills). This caused me great distress last time I graduated, so to avoid such pain, I ask for your assistance. There is a poll to the right, please vote as to what you think I should do next year.

Options include

Go on a Mission
Teach Composition
Edit for a Scholarly Journal or Publishing Company
Convince Someone Else to Support Me while I Read Comic Books and Eat Gummi Bears.

Rest assured that I will be pursuing a PhD while pursuing any of these options; it just seems prudent to find a way to pay for the internet, application fees, GRE fees, food, clothing, shelter, DVDs, books, music, etc. in the meantime.

Please advise soonest (You may vote in the comments as well.).

Thanks and love,
Katie E.

Anecdotes, et al. Focusing on Love and My Inability to Count and Decide

2011-04-08T20:35:00.011-06:00

Okay. I'm tired of the less-than-stellar album covers on my blog. Yes, Christina has great pipes and awesome arrangements, but we've gotta get some music with some street cred up in here (you can tell that I have street cred because I use phrases like "street cred" and "up in here"). To that end, I give you

My Top 5 Favorite Love Songs of All Time

Not that I'm in love, but we're gearing up for wedding season here in Provo, and I'd like to give you a break from "God Bless the Broken Road" and "Firework" (and "Friday," too, but that's not really a sappy wedding song). So, without further delay, I give you

Honorable Mention 2: "Home" by Chantal Kreviak.

I love this song. It's sweet. It's tender. It's included on the Dawson's Creek soundtrack and borders on the sappy thing we're trying to avoid, so it can't make the top 5.

Honorable Mention 1: Rent's "I'll Cover You (Reprise)" by Jonathan Larsen as sung by Jesse L. Martin, playing Collins. (Song starts at 1:56.)

Admittedly, this one is in large part about the pathos that has built up in the movie to this point, which is why this is an honorable mention. But, I love the basic sentiment and the emotion in Martin's voice.

5. "Come Away with Me" by Norah Jones

I love this song for the song itself: for the images of kissing "on a mountain top," the "rain on a tin roof," etc. But I also love this song for a particular association I have with it. See there was once this boy . . . Just kidding! There was once this dance that the BYU Dancer's Company did a few times that used this song as its music. The dancers were a couple, a man and a woman, dressed in white. Most of the dance was a series of beautiful lifts and tucks-and-rolls. He'd support her, and she'd support him as they exulted in their love and their relationship. I tried to find a video of the dance so that you could understand the deeper level of meaning it gives the song, but I couldn't find it (I didn't use any internet voodoo, so there you go).

4. "All I Want" by Joni Mitchell

On occasion at my church, they make young single adults and teenagers make lists of what they're looking for in a mate. I (and most other sane people) hate this activity. The last time I had to do this, I wrote down "All I want or need our love to do is to bring out the best in me and in you, too." I then addended my statement with "worthy priesthood holder who loves me for my very essence and inspires me to do the same." And that, friends, is what I'm looking for in a husband.

2. It's a tie! Between Velvet Underground songs. First "I'll Be Your Mirror"

This is sweet and kind, and something that I probably do too willingly. But I really like the idea of two people being there to say to each other, "Stop being so negative! You rock! I love you! You can do this!" (Yes, I'm hoping for a personal cheerleader to get me through my PhD to join the current squad of God + Mom + other people who currently love me. I'm really kind of blessed, aren't I?)

2. (Again. Because it's a tie)

Okay, let's be honest. This isn't a tie. "I Found a Reason" is way better than "I'll Be Your Mirror," but my desire include them both led to this supposed "tie." Anyways, I love this song. I love that you could waltz to it if you so desired, and I adore the line "What comes is better than what came before." It's optimistic to the extreme, but somehow grounded, yes? Maybe? Any way, I like this love song.

And now, we come to the big kahuna . . . or at least we would if I hadn't just remembered that I want to mention a previously posted Nick Cave song

and a song by Chrisette Michelle:

"Love Is You" by Chrisette Michelle, whom I love.

And now it's time to reveal my number one love song of all time:
1. "Thank You" by Led Zeppelin.

I think I love something about the fact that my favorite love song is not only not by Mariah Carey or Celine Dion, but is by an amazing rock band (because I'm elitist music nerd, that appeals to me). However, this song really is my favorite because there's so much commitment behind the emotion. This is not sappy. It's not about sex or lust. It's about love and commitment and the gratitude that you've found someone with whom to "walk the miles" hand in hand. There's nothing more beautiful than that. If any song will be played at my wedding, it will be this one. (And you wouldn't believe how hard it is to find a non-kitschy video for this non-kitschy song. It's ridiculous. (There's even a fan who uses it to declare his love for Zooey Deschanel (presh . . . Hopefully his name's not Tom; I don't see that one working out for him.)))

And there you have it, folks: my "Top Five" favorite love songs. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming (and grading, and writing, and working) . . . That is . . . after we make "My Top Five" an even ten with the King himself

because I "Can't Help Falling in Love with You," gentle readers.

(OH! P.S. My committee will be my committee for the duration, and I have permission from my chair to avoid my thesis until after finals. God loves me. Yea for love!)

Just So You Know

2011-04-07T16:01:00.010-06:00

I bought this:

Because Christina Aguilera has an amazing voice and the album is more traditional pop and not quite so "Dirrty" as some of her other offerings (or as hilarious, for that matter).

Anyways, my itunes processed "Back to Basics" alike so:

which I find somewhat hilarious. The website were I found this photo says that "Charlie Hinds is a worship leader in Cincinatti, Ohio." Perhaps not the best image for the decade's earliest dirtiest princess of pop.

Speaking of princesses, I've been reading this

lately (when I'm not "tirelessly" "working on my thesis," "grading," stressing out about my Talbot paper, or retiring from GSA—too much work, lately, I'm telling ya), and I love it! As the series title denotes, Fables is a reinterpretation of classic fairy tales and fables mostly of the European variety including some literature (like Kipling, who recorded (stole?) Indian stories/fables). I'm seriously loving it, especially the story of how Snow White, assistant mayor of Fabletown, falls in love with Bigby (as in "Big Bad") Wolf, sheriff of Fabletown. It's pretty great, just so you know.

Also, just so you know, I think that what I really want to do next year is some professional, academic, literary editing, like at Norton or Longman or Broadview or Modern Fiction Studies or Modernism/Modernity or the Journal of Modern Literature or maybe even PMLA or something. Any leads or connections? Can someone arrange for that to fall in my lap? (Here's looking at you, Big Guy.)

Behold the Power of Collaboration!

2011-04-05T22:26:00.010-06:00

This year's cohort has produced an amazing t-shirt. I adore it! The idea was collaborative. The creation was collaborative. The design was done by one, Kristin Lowe, and the final product is amazing.

Behold:

I love my cohort!

(See facebook for a version that you can actually read and marvel at.)

Suckerpunching Your Audience Is Not a Good Idea; or, I Know You're Trying to Tell Me Something, but I Just Don't Know What It Is

2011-03-30T21:35:00.026-06:00

So, today I did something I have never done before: I went to a movie in the theater all by myself. Other than the fact that there was no one to help me juggle ticket, popcorn, bag, and cherry coke, it was pretty much the same as going to a movie with other people: perfectly delightful . . . depending on the movie.

And what did I see? Well, I few months ago I saw this trailer:

This trailer promises: a comic book feel, Led Zeppelin, other awesome music, lots of action, female empowerment up the wazoo, and an interesting look at the battle against sexual victimization. Any one of these things is enough to get my butt in a comfy theater seat on the back row, so despite the wholly negative response to this movie by the cohort, I went to Sucker Punch. (Warning: The rest of this post will be an analysis and will therefor contain many, many spoilers.)

So, let's see how many of the promises this trailer makes were fulfilled:

1. A comic book feel? Check. Really, it was visually stunning, and took its audience to places that are usually the domain of Vertigo, Dark Horse, and Wildstorm: crazy fantasy that is avant garde and kitschy at the same time in a way that only a comic book can really pull off (including steam punk WWI Kaiser soldiers, for example).

2. Led Zeppelin? No check. No Led Zeppelin. At All. Not even "When the Levee Breaks," which is the song in the trailer and really does fit the situation. Music fail.

3. Other awesome music? Well, they messed with The Pixies. Twice. No but really! Who thinks they can cover The Pixes? That's like covering The Velvet Underground or Joy Division. Sure, it's been done, but rarely has it been done well.

However, they messed with The Pixies because they did a lot of covers and reinterpretations of classic pieces including this phenomenal cover of the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams" sung by Emily Browning, the star of Sucker Punch. So, other awesome music? Check? Minus? The Pixies cover is growing on me now that I've recovered from the initial shock, so check probably.

4. Lots of action? Check. Period. Not of the sexual variety. Just of the violence variety, which is what I prefer. (I'm kind of a prude. The type of prude who loves dirty jokes and can talk about the phallic firs in "Oread" in a seminar at BYU for five minutes straight.)

5. Female empowerment up the wazoo? Check. No wait. Absolutely no check. You FAIL, Zach Snyder. FAIL! But wait, check . . . ?

This is where my title comes into play. You see, I am convinced that Zach Snyder thinks he did something amazing. That he said something and that it was new and different and Important. But. I just don't understand what it was that he was saying. I don't understand at all. I do know that what he was saying has something to do with sex, violence, and power. But I don't know what it is he's trying to say.

You see, (here come the spoilers:) Sucker Punch is set up as a frame narrative. A young girl loses her mother. Her stepfather (father?) is obviously sexually abusive. When she fights against this abuse, he locks her in her room and goes to abuse her younger sister. She grabs a gun, threatens her step-father, and accidentally kills her sister. Her stepfather then takes her to an insane asylum and arranges with for orderly (he has far too much power for an orderly, but that could be the point) to organize a lobotomy for her. "Babydoll," who, by the way, looks like this:

(if that's not empowerment, I don't know what is. Just look: heels, a mini-skirt, exposed midriff, exposed upper thigh, pigtails, juvenile sailor suit, and overall little-girl look. That says kick ass woman to me). Any way, Babydoll then decides that she is going to escape from the asylum rather than be lobotomized (good idea). However, mental patients don't have a lot of power. Luckily, she is advised by her shrink that if she creates a world, then she'll have control over it. So, she creates a world in which she can be an empowered victim as the new, virgin soon-to-be-whore in a bordello. Oh boy, the empowerment. Her female shrink is the dance master/matron and the evil, all-too-powerful male orderly is the pimp. Babydoll and her fellow female inmates are hookers who dance before fulfilling sexual fantasies. Babydoll hatches a plan for escape and enlists the help of some of her fellow inmates.

There's Amber, a transportation expert in the deeper frame of this extended fantasy, who wields a lollipop as a tool of sexual appeal that doubles as a tough-girl cigarette lookalike:

She also pilots both vehicles in the background of this poster. Things end for Amber when she gets shot in the head in the bordello (who knows what happens at the asylum).

Then there's Vanessa Hudgens, yes, that's right. Vanessa Hudgens of High School Musical fame. Her character name is Blondie. She is not blond. She is not dumb. She is a snitch whose main contribution was a suggestion for Amber to kiss the mayor's neck. She was nowhere near as annoying as I suspected she would be, but I am very confused about what Snyder is trying to say about her or through her.

Please note, "She likes it rough." In other words, "ladies, you can look all tough and empowered, but I'm just going to reduce your power to sex because that's all the power you'll ever have/deserve. Congratulations, you are my sex toy. (Also, I called you 'ladies' because I'm a condescending jackass.)" (I--Katie E.--am so tired of that word.)

She also gets shot in the head.

Then we have the delightful Jena Malone as Rocket. I love Jena Malone in everything she does. (In Saved, in P&P, and in Sucker Punch. In everything I've seen that she does):

But. The thing is Rocket is so weak and victimized. So weak and victimized. She almost gets raped, but Babydoll saves her. In the bordello, she is the over-protected younger sister of Sweet Pea (see below). She cannot get through a battle without being saved at least once by Sweet Pea. In the end, she dies to save Sweet Pea (again, maybe just in the bordello . . .). The man who kills and attempts to rape her goes unpunished. She insists on supporting Babydoll's plan, but she is physically WEAK.

Then there's Rocket's older sister, Sweet Pea who is my favorite. She is much more suited for this than she was for Bright Star. She "is the strongest" (according to Babydoll and Zach Snyder), and she is who the story is really about (this is how Snyder sucker punches the audience: you think the movie is about Babydoll until she sacrifices herself so that Sweet Pea--the soul survivor of our merry band of empowered women who are utterly victimized--can escape) (Again, see title).

So, obviously, these women have no need for the major weaponry they're sporting in an insane asylum or a bordello, and this is where the sex/violence/power triad really gets complicated. You see, Babydoll is an amazing dancer. For a whore. In a bordello. Whose main purpose is to sexually arose men before they sleep with her. Awesome. Anyway, her plan involves acquiring 4 items from various men that will aid in their escape. So, Babydoll entrances the men by dancing (and "moaning and gyrating") while one of her conspirators steals a map, a lighter, and a knife.

This leads to another level of the frame: all five women (or fewer depending on where we are in the plot . . .) enter a fantastical battle with an objective to steal a map, procure the stones that give a dragon the ability to breathe fire, and stop a bomb from exploding. This is where the action comes in and it is epic. So epic. Babydoll and Sweet Pea always kick ass. Always. You watch Sweet Pea save Rocket. Rocket occasionally hurts or kills someone or something. Amber pilots her vehicles with precision and without fear. Hudgens is as believable as the rest of them. They always succeed in procuring the item, and you think, yes, this kicks ass. These women are fully empowered.

But then. You remember that what's really going on at this point in the story is that Babydoll is dancing. And gyrating. And moaning. And it's not so much the actual empowerment they're portraying as it is the fake kind of female empowerment that results in "feminist Playboy playmates" who are taking hold of their sexuality by allowing men to see them naked. However, Snyder is not necessarily making the argument that these women are using sex for power. There is no actual sex in this movie. None whatsoever. There is no actual erotic dancing in this movie. There is some barre work (think ballet), and before every battle you see Babydoll sway back and forth to some music. But you never actually see her dance. However, you do know that that is occurring on one level of the frame narrative every time there is an epic battle. So, you know that Snyder is linking sex with power. To what end? I don't know.

Snyder also links sex with violence (this will address trailer promise #6 (see above)). There are about 5 attempted rapes, all of which Babydoll stops with violence. Rape is a violent act, perhaps even more than it is a sexual act. As men violently attempt to take Babydoll's sexual freedom from her, she stops each of them with violence or the threat of violence. She never kills anyone. She avoids rape in every instance. And she ends the movie as a lobotomized victim with no will and no capacity for a normal, healthy life. Yea! Female Empowerment.

Violence is also coupled with sex and power in the bordello as the pimp/orderly threatens his "sex toys." He often grabs the shrink/madame in a sexual manner to ensure that his threats are understood and will be followed. In at least two scenes, he couples verbal threats with body language that generally leads to kissing and then violently grabs hair, spanks a woman, throws her around, or shoots her in the head (and then shoots her friend in the head and then says "Here take this. I hate guns.") The movie ends with four of the five girls victimized under his hand. Only Sweet Pea escapes the asylum by boarding a bus and riding off into the sunset.

At the end of the day, all truly empowered characters are male (the orderlies, all policemen, the step-father, the cook, the guards, the bus-driver/mentor who gives Babydoll her plan), etc., and all of the women are victimized. One of them has a chance at a normal life. The shrink seems to take back some power from the orderly, not through her knowledge, skill, sexuality, violence, or power, but by calling in the cops. Who are all male. Men are definitely empowered in this movie. The women? Not so much.

Now, I think that (my best guess at) what Zach Snyder et al. were trying to say is that sex is not a form of female empowerment and that there are no real forms of female empowerment whatsoever. However, that is just not acceptable. Maybe he's only making this claim about female victims of trauma/rape. However, that is still not acceptable. Feminism exists. There have been many waves and many theories on the subject. It would be nice if some of them were consulted in the making of this movie.

I am glad I saw this movie. I will probably be purchasing tracks of the soundtrack. However, I will not be purchasing the movie itself. I would like to tell Zach Snyder two things:

1. Figure out what your thesis/main point/argument is BEFORE you make a movie

2. Your thoughts on feminism are very narrow and very wrong. You need to brush up your theory and/or make it clear in your work that you understand "The Sex that Is Not One," "The Laugh of the Medusa," "Mourning and Melancholia," The Second Sex, "Approaching Abjection," etc.

And I suppose that is what I think about Sucker Punch. Go see it. Tell me if you agree. Maybe I'll change my mind.

In Other News

2011-03-21T22:41:00.003-06:00

Dear Britney Spears:

This is kind of a slap in the face to the nice fortune teller's profession. Maybe if you don't want your fortune told, you shouldn't go to her place of business. Just a thought.

Sincerely,
Katie E.

It was Joyce

2011-03-21T17:31:00.004-06:00

It was the first sentence of chapter 13 of Ulysses. We taught it in ENGL 376 that day, and based on the students' lack of appreciation for Getrude Stein, I assumed that I would need to vent and defend Joyce (again). I planned a whole blogpost about how Joyce was a genius and about how I sometimes risk really important relationships to defend him (because I'm proud and pigheaded). But the students didn't hate Joyce, and we had a great discussion and moved on with our lives.

So, sorry to everyone for keeping you in suspense, especially Megcellent, who not only didn't google before guessing, but wouldn't google afterward either.

More about my life soon. I'm sure you'd love to hear all about the thesising and the possibility of rejection looming in my future. Fun, eh?

-key

Guess Who Wrote It?; Or, A Prequel to "About a Book, Edition Eight"

2011-02-22T22:41:00.011-07:00

The following sentence begins a chapter of a novel:

The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace.

Leave your guesses as to who wrote it in the comments. I welcome as many guesses as possible, even if you've never commented before. In my next post, I'll reveal the answer and my thoughts on the text. Bonus points if you can also name the novel.

And No Googling!

What It's Like to Feel Alive

2011-02-03T00:41:00.009-07:00

It's been cold here in Provo the last two days, like Michigan cold. Like it's colder here now than it was on several of the days I spent at home in Michigan over Christmas and New Year's. I even did the unthinkable today: I wore a sweater AND a coat. It was that cold. I knew that this was perhaps the one day this year that I could put a coat on over a sweater, speedwalk to campus (me? Running late? Never!), and arrive without sweating even when entering the overheated buildings that comprise Brigham Young University in the winter. I was right: no sweat; I was a little bit too warm for my tastes, but I did not break a sweat.

After a few hours of general officing in the carrels (and one great discussion that concluded with the image of Gloria Cronin as Catwoman), I decided to venture forth for lunch. So, I donned my scarf and coat over my thick, navy sweater and strutted into the brisque, winter air. On my way back from lunch, still appropriately attired, I was assaulted by the sweeping winter wind one would expect to come off a large body of water. I did not shrink from this cold. Rather, as it hit isolated, minuscule nerve receptors throughout my body, I went forth to meet it and thought to myself, "My nerves work. My body and I accept this cold. This is what it's like to feel alive." I was invigorated. I did not wear my coat over my sweater for the rest of the day. I remembered that I was a Young from Michigan. It wasn't that cold if I wasn't walking that far. I had a sweater, and it was fine. The wind was a reminder that I was really, truly alive.

Two hours later, I did another unthinkable thing: I emailed Dr. Fox a draft of my thesis. It's the first one he'll see, but there are 15 drafts in my desktop's "Thesis" folder and 26 "Latest" emails-to-self in my inbox as backup. On the one hand, this was a triumph. This is what I've been working on for almost a year now. This is my fresh, new idea on a fresh, new author of 90-year-old texts. This is von Arnim's garden and her writing and her feminism. But. It's also not ready. It's not defensible. It's not publishable. It's finished, but it is the very, very beginning. And. Dr. Fox is going to read it tomorrow morning and then meet with me tomorrow afternoon, which will be a ridiculously short 26 hour turn-around. I was hoping for a break. I'm very frustrated with my writing right now. I've lost confidence in my ability to analyze, and knowing what an article looks like has only helped me determine that what I've written is not an article. I know you might be tired of my somewhat self-deprecatory attitude towards my thesis, but just know, it is a very humbling experience. It is at times so humbling, that I have become somewhat numb about the process and my life in general.

In some ways, losing confidence in myself and my writing has led to my losing focus overall. I'm in denial. (Here it comes again): Three or four short months and I'll be done forever. I will never be a student at BYU again. This should be exciting. I have another adult, professional year ahead of me, and I have more experience, more education, and more skills this time. I could teach composition to undergrads, I could teach at a college-prep high school for troubled inner-city youth, I could work for a literary-style publishing company--maybe even one in England that focuses on publishing worthy works written by women in the twentieth century. Maybe. I have options, and I have skills, but I also have fear. Yea, even fears of a debilitating nature.

I don't want to never be a BYU student again. BYU was the school I was supposed to go to at a very specific time in my life, not once, but twice. It was the only school to let me in, not once, but twice. It has my very favorite library in the world. BYU is my home. Provo is very much my home, but, I've been here a very long time, and I see the cracks in the walls and the flaws in the design. I cannot teach privileged youth who all think the same way again. I do not want to.

But it would be so easy to. So very easy. I would be a great adjunct faculty member, and really, if it meant teaching Introduction to Literary Theory and The Greatest Hits of British Literature, I would be so excited to do it. But it doesn't. It means teaching First Year Writing Again. It means teaching Technical Writing again. It means putting together a CV and a resume. It means writing a cover letter and facing the possibility of rejection, again. And really, I'm not The Most qualified teaching candidate the comp office will have applying for the coming year. I could possibly be in the top 5, but no higher. Why would they hire me? And how do I write a cover letter if I don't Know that I want to work here? What would Brett and Bryan say in their letters of recommendation? Do I really have a shot at all?

But the thing is, these are the questions (or the types of questions) I have to face no matter what. No matter where I apply with my MA in English literature, I will have to face the fact that I am one of many qualified applications. I may apply for jobs I don't want. I have to ask for and go with the recommendations available to me. I have to teach the students that come my way, and I have to take the opportunities that come as well.

This is scary, but I can do it. I know what it's like to feel alive. It's been awhile since I've felt truly alive, but I know what it's like to scream for joy at admission for graduate school. I know what it's like to sit in your convocation ceremony and discover your conviction to get a PhD while the woman who gave you a proper introduction to Woolf speaks of her own experience as a female scholar. I know what it's like to feel the sting of rejection at every turn. I know what it is to give one's life to God, wholeheartedly. No matter if that heart contains doubt or faith, I know that God can make of it something great, something full of the courage of one's convictions. I know what it's like to walk two miles to and from a library in the twilight of a late autumn with a light jacket, one's thoughts, and the golden hue of the evening for company. I know what it's like to feel the chill winter wind enter the crevasses of one's nerves as a reminder that there is life in things that are harsh, bleak, and painful.

I can remember that God loves me and will be there for me. I can make my thesis great. My thirty pages of close reading can become an article. I can trust in my committee to give me feedback, love, strength, and encouragement as I move forward in this process. I can trust Dr. Fox to give me an informal practice defense tomorrow. I can iron out the ideas and the theory. I can craft an argument.

And what's more, I can survive the last few months of my master's degree and even find joy in the journey. This has been the right thing in my life at the right time in my life. God always has a plan, and as I prepare and live my life, I will be able to find God's plan for me for 2011-2012. I can feel alive. I don't have to be numbed by the cold, harsh realities of this winter. There is no reason for discontent. There can be stress and there can be fear; but really, there must not be cowardice, shrinking, or debilitating fear. I must sally forth. How else am I to know that God still loves me, I can still write, I am employable, and I am still alive?

A Few More Notes

2011-01-21T17:08:00.008-07:00

Dear Alanis:
I'm sorry for the elitest period in which I ignored you in accordance with The Rolling Stone Album Guide. Thank you for forgiving me. It's good to be reunited.

Dear Patsy Cline and The White Stripes:
Thanks for the reminder about my ontology. Much obliged, Dearies.

Dear Students:
Sorry about all that Kurt Cobain craziness. Good job today. Thank you for all your good work.

Dear Cohort:
You make me happy and are incredibly entertaining and supportive, even when you institute creepy cat stalking. Thank you.

Dear Lou Ann:
You are perhaps the scariest bad cop ever. Good job. I definitely felt like I got punched in the gut at your graduation deadlines and procedures meeting. Thank goodness for June graduation with the option to walk in April.

Dear Dr. Fox:
Thank you for being my chair and having expectations for excellence and like, to see my work and stuff. You'll see some soon, I promise. Hopefully, it won't disappoint or be Not Actually a Draft. (Fingers crossed!)

Dear Jamie:
Thanks for the vote of confidence on my teaching. I hope not to disappoint. Teaching literature. Living the dream (hopefully not like the one where I end up teaching in my underwear or feeling like I am; hopefully more like the one where I save the world and make everything better).

Dear Leslee:
Thank you for recognizing my ability to analyze. I needed that.

Dear Thesis:
I will write you. I will finish as much as possible tonight. I can write. I can draft. I can analyze. I can even do those very hard things: laying out my theory and working in other scholars; I can get better at this as I do it. It will be okay.

Dear April:
You are crazy. Please stay away as long as possible.

Dear 2011:
Really? Who said you could come around? Ok, fine. Stay, but you better be awesome. I have a particle of faith that you can be. Really. But I haven't the foggiest what you'll hold, and that scares me, quite a lot actually. But it'll be ok . . . if I have enough faith (and gummi bears, etc.)

Dear grad schools and journals (and [humphun] men):
One of you will love me eventually, right? Could you manifest yourself as soon as the time is precisely right? That would be ducky. Thanks.

Dear Katie:
Keep calm and carry on. Enjoy your successes, opportunities, friends, family, and opportunities to serve. All will be well. Just keep moving forward, remember God loves you, and use your talents to bring about your success and your happiness.

Dear Downton:
Here's lookin' at you, Kid.

Sincerely,
Katie E.

A Rumination on Cynicism, Mormon Blogging, and Womanhood that Is Probably too Long for this Genre

2011-01-16T23:50:00.012-07:00

Today, after explicating the New Women issues in the latest episode of Downton Abbey, I ran across an article titled "Why I Can't Stop Reading Mormon Housewife Blogs" by a self-proclaimed "standard-issue late-20-something childless overeducated atheist feminist." Of course, I was intrigued by the idea that an outsider found Mormon mommy blogs so addictive, so I read her article. Apparently, she is not alone: several of her friends take a break from their doctoral studies and their highly competitive jobs to keep up with Nie Nie and sundry other hipster/indie Mormon Mommies who love their lives, their husbands, their children, and their pottery barn houses.

I went into this article thinking that I would come out feeling about like I do when I read Hopefully Mormon: tearful, full of the Spirit, and proud of the knowledge that everyday members are reaching out through their blogs and testifying of the truthfulness of the Gospel to whomever they may reach. But this wasn't really my experience. I read the article ignoring the somewhat fallacious reasoning behind sentences like "As someone married to a former Saint (my husband left the church as a teenager), I certainly have no illusions about what life as a Mormon would be like." Then, I began to suppose that maybe this author's "obsession" had more to do with the failings of Third-Wave feminism than with the beauty of the blogs themselves. So, I did a little blogstalking.

For the most part—Nie Nie, of course, being an exception of sorts—these were photoblogs. The women were married. Their husbands had jobs, careers, fellowships in grad programs, etc. The women wore chic, thrifty clothing and so did their newborns and toddlers. They crafted, sewed, made jam, decorated their homes, and sometimes resembled TAMN, in some ways, just a little bit. Their photography was high quality and prolific. Their prose was there, if it was necessary. lowercase letters began all the sentences of one blog—it's too cool for the convention of Capitalization.

I rolled my eyes. I rolled my eyes at a discussion of the change in one blogger's astrological sign. I rolled my eyes at one blogger's dismay when her husband wanted to do another year of grad school post-JD.

Admittedly, I was jealous of the pretty clothes; the nerdy, smart husbands; the adorably pudgy cherubs posing as these women's offspring; the tiny, trendy IKEA catalog apartments; etc. But, I was also concerned about what I didn't see: mention of careers beyond blogging, crafting, or sewing; education for self rather than husband; interest in books or big ideas; posts about the culture of NYC and DC where two of the blogs were set (one women took her toddler to the MET, which was comforting).

Now, I understand that my life and my life goals are not typical for LDS women, and I remember the years I spent longing to be a stay-at-home mom with a BA, an adorable husband, and three or four cherubs of my own. I thought I'd have that by now (Step 1: Get married at the end of freshman year. {guffaw!} Silly Katie!). Instead, I have a lot of things these women don't seem to blog about: professional goals that I'm working on right now, upper-level education and goals for more, teaching experience, books I'm currently reading, desires to be surrounded with a great many educated women to stand as examples alongside some mature, manly men who support and encourage intelligent women in lofty goals. Perhaps all I have are my goals, especially in comparison to these women. But I do believe that these women and I share one thing: a knowledge that God directs our individual lives. He's just directing mine differently than he's directing theirs. We appear to be different types of people.

My daily life probably resembles that of the article's author and her friends, rather than these blogHERs. I spend at least 15 hours a day concerned with my work: have I read enough, am I prepared for class, when was the last time I worked on my thesis?, will I ever have a full draft?, do I really get to pursue a profession based on reading, discussing, thinking about, and writing about literature? I love poetry, modernism, women authors, von Arnim, music, high art, and libraries. I love my office and my carrel. I don't have a poetry barn home. My housekeeping skills haven't reared their head, nor lifted a finger in days, weeks, months, who knows. But, I have an office, a desk cluttered around the sides and clear in front, shelves buckling under the weight of about 80 books, a full file drawer, and a closet full of professional attire (including a vintagey houndstooth suit that makes me feel a little bit like Kim Novak).

I want a family; I do. I want to meet and marry a nerdy boy who loves me because of who I am at my very core. I know that I might demand more of my family and my husband than these prolific bloggers. We've chosen different professions. But, I also know that I need to have a life of the mind, a house with more books than cutesy furniture, and a home wherein everyone is expected to think and read (hopefully my children will love to read, "but if not . . . "), and an understanding that we as a family do, not only what's best for the family, but also what's best for the individual. I've read The Feminine Mystique, Madeleine L'Engle's Crosswicks Journals, "The Family: A Proclamation to the World," the standard works, and my patriarchal blessing, and I know—I know I know—that this is the way to my future happiness.

A Blog of My Own is so named because it is my personal blog. One day, there will be children to blog about when it strikes my fancy and a husband to be mentioned and loved (and encouraged to blog on his own); but, this will always be A Blog of My Own, and I will always have my own thoughts, my own goals, my own struggles, my own profession, my own loves, and my own fate.

I hope I haven't been unfair. It really is admirable that these women lead these beautiful lives. They seem to be happy Latter-day Saints, and they are inspiring and, in some ways, comforting women in different circumstances. I once wanted their lives, and now I find I want something very different—something perhaps more akin to the lives of the "young, feminist atheist[s] who can't bake a cupcake [but are . . . ] addicted to the shiny, happy lives of these women?" Something that God spent two painful, proletariat years and two happy, academic years convincing me of. I want to be a professor of British Modernism. I want to be a wife, a mother, and a Saint. I wish to be righteous and to do the Will of God. I wish to fill my house with more books than it can contain, and I want the Love of God to permeate my home, my family, and my life. I can only feel this love if I am happy, and God has shown me how to make that happen. Step 1: Write a thesis; Step 2: Pray, study, fast, serve, work until married, tenured, and proven fertile; Step 3: Continue into the Eternities, ever doing the Will of the Father. Yes, this life is different from the norm, but it will be the life that will make me happy. The life that will make me praise God from whom all blessings flow. Have I not great reason to rejoice?

Addendum: Blogs by my dear Mormon Friends that I Love Reading (just in case you've begun to suppose I dislike the Mormon blog or the Mormon Mommy blog):

The Voice of Reason by Miss (Mrs.?) Nemesis: This one's been around for years, and it is a gem! This nerdy librarian starts off single, gets an MLS in the UK, begins librarying in Utah, meets a Gentleman Friend who becomes a Gentleman Husband, becomes Mrs. Adventure's sister in law, and reproduces. Along the way she rhapsodizes on brie, Sumptuous Literary Adaptations, the Precii (her nieces and nephews), books, and England. She also spends time being "The Voice of Reason" and "giving the eyebrow" to crazies of all shapes and sizes for a number of infractions. It is a must read.

A Thing with Feathers: A public, personal blog written by a good grad school buddy of mine. This delightful blog works mostly in snippets, but manages to provide optimistic, though candid snapshots of the wonderful life of my dear snarky, intelligent friend, Kjerstin.

Hopefully Mormon: This is another wonderful Kjerstin project. She and two friends/family members organized a blog that posts refreshing, faith-based postcards created by individual Saints trying to encapsulate a piece of testimony. It always makes me feel the Spirit. It always makes me cry.

Annie and Roo & Esme too.: This is my dear friend Annie's personal family blog. I met Annie in some editing classes during my senior year at BYU and decided that I wanted to be friends with her. She's hilarious, a little bit shy, and endlessly fascinating. Annie's well-written, hilarious blog deals with travel (this week's dream destination: Slovenia), milestones of her daughter Esme's life (including "Practicing her Fascist Dictator pose"), and adjusting to life as it changes. The "Rooisms" are always slightly unusual and really hilarious whether they deal with his fascination with Star Wars or with reflections on being 13. Annie also records their courtship story at one point, which is really incredibly sweet and involves Dickens, Disneyland and Back to the Future.

The Scritchy Nib by elliespen, (to be fair, she is my bff and the other me): elliespen is always wonderfully witty. She usually crafts little gems of blogposts about events in her life, the nuances of her family or her passions: literature, writing, and movies. It's definitely worth checking out, especially if you love language or wit derived from juxtaposition all wrapped up in a concise little package. (Also check out the link to elliespen's infertility blog Two Times A Miss.)

Private blogs you should ask to read if you know the author:
N&N by Nattles (aka Natalie from the cohort)
We B'log Together by Megcellent and Papa G
Lost in Translation by the Knaughty Knitter,

Dear Student:

2011-01-13T20:13:00.005-07:00

Although I'm thrilled that you want to analyze the rhetoric of Joni Mitchell's "The Circle Game," it is my duty to inform you that Joni Mitchell is not a man. She is, in fact, a woman. She is, perhaps, the most feminine folk singer/musician of the 1960s and 1970s. So much so that she was featured in Shelia Weller's Girls like Us alongside Carol King and Carly Simon. It is very important that you allow Joni to be a woman while continuing to recognize her utter brilliance and the effective rhetoric of her lyrics.

Sincerely,
Ms. Young

P.S. I must say, Blue is a downright formative album for many-a woman, and Emma Thompson's character in Love Actually is only one of the "cold, unfeeling" women for whom Joni has provided an "emotional education." Please allow her to help her fellows.

Transitioning; Or, Breaking It All down and Looking for Hope

2011-01-08T22:18:00.005-07:00

Here it is: The very last semester of my graduate degree.

Last semester ended well. I worked very hard on the Leslee paper, and I think I did well on it. I put some effort into the Jamie paper, but I think her mercy and God's assistance in tapping into my gifts and talents saved my bacon in the end. As I wrote it, the ideas flowed really well, but I was spent from the work of the Leslee paper, so I didn't do my deal quite as well as I coulda/shoulda/woulda. I needed to start them both earlier. But what's done is done, and I loved both of these classes.

I then went home to Michigan and graded 43 research papers. The 316 papers are fittingly called technical reports, and I had to muscle through a lot of them. The 150 papers were on very interesting topics. Apparently, I didn't hit analysis hard enough in either class. Some of the 150 ones in particular were delightful. In a lot of ways, I'm going to miss those students.

And so, another semester bites the dust. I think I have less enthusiasm for this semester than I've had for any other thus far.

My first semester, I was STOKED to be in a graduate program. It was difficult; it was stressful, and there were many freak outs, but I'd worked so hard and I was there in school. It meant the world to me, and I was so very grateful for every opportunity (and there were so MANY!).

My second semester, I was thrilled to be taking Dr. Fox's modernism class, to be going to conferences, to be teaching upperclassmen, and to be preparing for LONDON! I discovered von Arnim, Evelyn Waugh, and New Women, and I set new records for what I could take on in a given semester (always remembering that one of my Bluestocking friends was doing so much more). It was delicious, and it was over so soon.

My first term, I was in LONDON. And I was in London! And there was art and literature and theatre and the grading was so very enjoyable. I learned so much about so much, and I felt fulfilled nearly every day. Wondrous.

My second term, I was glad to be home and excited for and intimidated by the prospect of my future. I had many freak outs and did some of my worst teaching (honestly. It wasn't all bad, but some it was my worst). I watched too much TV and spent too much time socializing. I pushed some people I care about very deeply away. I was rude to others. I chickened out of applying to PhD programs for 2011-2012. But. There were discoveries and my prospectus began to take shape. I knew I had something worthwhile, and it was a delight to read von Arnim. I escaped in her and in the novels I read in preparation for Leslee's class (which also saved my bacon). This was an important term, but I think I handled a lot of things with immaturity and cowardice. Honestly. I do.

My third semester, I was happy. Very happy. And. Intimidated by this thing called the prospectus. But! I was forming and developing a very clear scholarly identity. I was taking seminars on Women's Studies from my readers. As I got to know them both, I realized how grateful I was for their support and their investment in me and my scholarship. Through the readings, assignments, discussions and feedback, I think I grew the most this semester (the only one wherein I took two seminars on literature). I also found the Modernist playground with the epiphany to work Vera into my thesis! I was teaching 316, but I was doing it better than I did this summer. My experimental section was going really well, and I really liked those students. There was some ennui and some drama that honestly should have been more dramatic, but in a lot of ways, this was my favorite semester ever.

And now, I've reached my fourth semester. This is it. Whether I graduate in April or not, I will write and defend my thesis this semester. After this, I will never be a BYU student again. There will be no more seminars or carrels. The cohort will scatter to the four-winds, and this chapter will be over, over, over.

I had a frustrating first week of the semester. In a lot of ways, it doesn't really seem like it's really off the ground yet. I didn't work on my thesis at all (and yes, I had planned to). Dr. Talbot is taking a very experimental tact to the seminar: we have no required books to purchase, no scheduled readings, no assignments other than the seminar paper, etc. We know the basic concept of the course, but we've only had one lecture (not discussion, lecture). It was interesting and entertaining, and I left with concrete examples of the concept. However, I'm nervous about the amount of work and time that I'll need to spend on this experimental class.

ENGL 376: Modernism is a good thing. Friday's instruction was pedagogically informative, and I'm excited about the prospects involved in assisting with this course. I need to choose my teaching days. I'm still not incredibly sure of my role in the class, and I think the students are even less so (understandably). My favorite part of teaching is always conferencing and being aware of individuals and their concerns. I hope I'll be able to get that out of this course in addition to experience teaching literature and a regular discussion of my two favorite aspects of literature.

I spent a lot of time this week buying clothing for my ballet class, planning an abstract workshop for GSA, and working on my 150 syllabus. I hadn't realized that I was trying to modify an antiquated edition of my syllabus and I ended up logging at least 25-30 hours on that stupid thing this week. I was planning on 3 tops; now we know why I didn't work on my thesis (or at least one reason why). But it's done (at least for now).

So this semester, I'm dealing with a lot of stresses and pressures. The thing about theses I discovered in July is still (assumed to be) true: it's scary and intimidating when you don't do it and fun and interesting when you do. I need to get to the fun and interesting part again. I'm worried that my schedule isn't set up for the 5-10 p.m. focused work I usually do. I'm worried that I won't be able to make myself focus. I'm worried that I won't be able to secure a desirable position worthy of my education for my year off because I'll need to spend so much time on my thesis. But I hope--from the bottom of my heart, I hope--that I will be able to love everything I'm doing. There is potential. I'm dealing with great students, talented professors, and perhaps the best subject matter possible across the board. Once I move forward with my thesis and hit my stride with the semester overall, I think this will be a good one. There will still be the big, scary things I don't want to face again (like professional rejection and personal doubts), but I think I can love this. After all, it is academia, it's Modern, there's music, and I'm Katie.

And now a deep breath and into the fray!

How to Write a Thesis Draft in 15 Easy Steps

2010-12-18T11:49:00.008-07:00

Step 1: Take a seminar from each of your committee members

Step 2: Write all three seminar papers about your author

Steps 3-5: Open the Word file of each seminar paper

Step 6: Ctrl + N

Step 7-9: Ctrl + A; Ctrl + C; Ctrl + V; X3

Step 10: Move all Works Cited pages to the end and delete repeats

Step 11: Delete all MLA headers

Step 12: Save as Thesis Draft 1

Step 13: Marvel at your brand new 30 page draft!

Step 14: Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow

Step 15: Procrastinate revising your draft into something coherent until January

Triumph!

2010-12-13T20:16:00.004-07:00

As part of my experimental section, I have to write up my "findings," which will be published in Locutorium. So, I will be published before I graduate. HA! Look who's meeting (exceeding?) her 600 goals (attend two conferences, publish once)! Now if that whole "contributing to the (hot?) scholarly discusssion on von Arnim by publishing an article" thing pans out, I'll be sitting totally pretty. Rock on!

About a Book, Fifth Edition: Wherein Katie E. Begins to Suspect that her Eyes May Be Bigger than her Stomach

2010-12-11T12:33:00.013-07:00

I will be taking the following home with me for Christmas (because I'm going to Michigan! for Christmas! I don't have to be jealous of Packerboy this year! I'll just miss him.) Anyway, I'm taking the following with me:

We're reading this for ENGL 376 (Modernism!), and I've never read it. The only Forster I have "read" is A Passage to India. I do not enjoy A Passage to India. But! I'm reading looking forward to reading A Room with a View, especially since it's a Forster that will feel more British (I think. . . . Maybe not), but it's at least a little more classic, a little more traditional, perhaps even a little more Bloomsbury. I'm excited! And I'm excited to discuss it with Jamie and our ENGL 376 class. (And apparently, there's an SLA with Helena Bonham Carter that I'll get to watch when I'm done.)

For my thesis, I feel the need to read the following texts for context:

The Secret Garden is more or less contemporary with von Arnim. Also, it's about gardens having healing properties and being a women's space and stuff, so my committee keeps bringing it up. I think they might also bring it up during my defense. It seems like a good idea to read it. So, I'm gonna read it (hopefully). There's an adaptation . . . that I've seen . . . so . . . yeah.

Rebecca has a ton of parallels to von Arnim's Vera, which has become my main text; hence, committee members' awareness and another possible talking point at the defense. However, this one is "a classic tale of romantic suspense" (as you can see on the tag line there), so I'm planning on it being interesting. I also get to watch a Hitchcock film when I'm done, so yea!

I've also requested this short story collection:

by Katherine Mansfield, a modern woman writer who is more well-known than von Arnim and less well-known than Woolf. She is also von Arnim's cousin. I've read a few of her pieces, but not nearly enough, and it's always nice to have short stories when traveling by air.

Finally, I ILLed:

I'm pretty sure that I've read most of this. But I'm also pretty sure that I'm going to buy

vol. 2 when I'm done.

I think, dare I say it, that this list may be just a little too heavy on the modernism and a little too light on the comic books. I may be taking drastic measures to correct this oversight (oh amazon prime, why do you make it so very easy to extravagantly spend Uncle Sam's money? It's downright unpatriotic of you).

Oh, I'm also going to try to squeeze this in

Because, really, I should have read this by now. And. Eames from Inception plays Heathcliff in a recent adaption, and I like Eames from Inception (yes, we have begun flirting around movie boyfriendhood. I'm also flirting with Joseph Gordan Leavitt, which makes watching Inception more fun for me than for the boys). Meanwhile, back to our discussion of Wuthering Heights: I think I want to track down this copy before I read it because the cover's really cool looking (much cooler than my Barnes and Noble Classic (Thanks, Mom!)).

So, yeah, I will either read these during Christmas Break amist spending time with my family, grading, playing Lego Batman and Lego Harry Potter and lounging around . . . or I will read them next year amidst PhD applications and (cross your fingers) teaching. Sometimes, it's hard to be a bibliophile.

I'm Saying Move On

2010-12-02T00:13:00.011-07:00

So, I've been thinking about myself and dating and my strengths, my weaknesses, my track record and what I've lost and gained through the arduous process of dealing with the opposite sex in Provo, UT. My life is run by reflection, analysis, conclusions, and catharsis, so I've decided it might do me some good to reflect on the good, the bad, and the ugly of the relationships of my adulthood. So, what follows is my point of view on what I learned from some of the men in my life and the text that is my past. I've coded things to protect the anonymity of the subjects of this post, but I'm afraid the code is all too easy to crack, especially if you know the stories already.

Willoughby
Willoughby may the most important man of my past (and may remain so until I find a Colonel Brandon). He screwed up. I screwed up. The thing itself was not all that healthy for either of us, nor was it really ever a Thing in the strictest sense of the word. But. I know I wouldn't be where I am without him, and I'll always be grateful for that. I haven't talked to him in a year and a half. I think he's married or seriously dating someone, and I'm happy for him and for the distance between us. But, there will always be those things that I first learned and experienced because of him. At the beginning and when things were good, Willoughby helped me to see how beautiful I am in every wit, and how beautiful a thing can be when both parties are excited by and appreciate each other's various attributes and general personality. He gave me The Cure and pushed me to discover music even more than the Grohlite, but he never let me be self-abasing about my comparitively-limited musical knowledge. He appreciated that I swore, and he made the HBLL all sparky. What's more, he gave me the practical experience of learning charity, long-suffering, and patience. One could argue that he was the unwillingly victim of such life lessons, but he was the impetus of a great many epiphanies in the most formative period of my life. Perhaps most importantly, he was the first to support me and push me towards my career. In one reading, I would not have reapplied to graduate school without Willoughby. In some sense, I owe him my present happiness and my future success, especially since I can look back and remember that sometimes a man really can: not only see and understand a woman's need for a career, but support her, push her towards it and love her all the more for her aspirations. The Smiths. The Faint. Joy Division. Nick Cave. Several Singles. Although Willoughby broke faith with all of us and caused near fatal emotional trama for this Marianne, I am and always will be grateful for my Willoughby.

The Duck?
Oh, the Duck. For a while there was walking and talking like a duck, but then The Duck turned out to be the Bruce Wayne to my Selina Kyle in a lot of ways. There was interest. Then frustration. Then deep, poorly-timed and reoccurring pain. Now, there is friendship: real, true friendship that isn't incredibly deep and may not last, but it's there and it could even come through in a pinch. I fostered a relationship between this Bruce and a Silver St. Cloud who is absolutely human and real and might even be sticking around, which would make me both happy and proud. I've always wanted someone who would fit easily into my family, and Bruce absolutely would; however, he doesn't fit with me. He makes a great friend and could even be a great brother if I had a shortage in that department (which I don't), but he didn't get me well enough to be my lover in any capacity. I was attracted to him. He was everything I told Mrs. Adventures I wanted three weeks before I met him, but there was nothing to fan the flame and there were plenty of stiffling gusts to kill it dead. From this experience, I learned that prescribing the attributes I want does no good in the absence of chemistry and action. I also learned how badly I want to date a good friend who will fit into my family and get me and appreciate me in a way The Duck never did despite our constant friendship. Bruce is a genuinely nice man who in his own way apologized to me for what I have found to be the normal behavior of BYU students. Would that I could be that nice and willingly to give, even when I don't see the point in giving. In a lot of ways, he showed me and reminded me of the milk of human kindness, and I'm grateful to have him in my life and in my past.

My Prufrockian Lover
During my sophomore year, we had an "apartment boyfriend" because several of us (or at least the two most outspoken of us) liked the same guy, who was intelligent, funny, talented, and suffering from clinical depression. This was the first English major I ever liked, and I liked him a lot for about nine months. He almost kissed me once. He never asked me out because "he thought I needed someone happier" than he could be at the time. I thought that was stupid then, but now I think it's true and I'm grateful that he didn't make me deal with his issues any more than I insisted. Two phone calls caused me to fall out of love with this man. First, I teasingly told him that he was very Prufrockian, and he agreed. I found Prufrock to be a broken, reprehensible man frozen in inaction. I couldn't date such a man. Then, he explained his ever growing distance from The Church. I was done with him after that. I failed to fellowship him when he needed it most because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to without wasting the time and energy of my heart (and because I felt that I couldn't change his mind or his resolve). My Prufrockian Lover taught me the reality of mental illness and the importance of compassion, understanding, patience, and gratitude as one develops relationships with such people. I have suspicions that this great lesson will continue to be a vital part of my life. It certainly helped me deal this summer. Oh, Prufrock. I was so young then. 20 felt so old at the time.

These are the big three of my life. There have also been sundry crushes and random dates and flirtations. And then there is

The One Man I Actually Dated
This one might still be too fresh for this exercise. Dating The Squirrel Lover mostly confirmed all of my theories about me and dating: it's in God's hands, but one must make choices, one must act, one must not blame God for one's choices. And. One must be honest with one's self. I had a lot of fun, but eventually I saw the gaps in the awesomeness of my relationship with the witty, nerdy boy who seemed to like to kiss me (at least during the middle 6 weeks of our 3 month relationship). The scariest thing that I learned from this relationship is that I am willing to allow myself to get swept up and go with the flow. It turns out, making a list of problems and issues to be discussed eventually does not actually lead to problem solving and moving forward. Instead, it leaves one to reflect on one's limited dating history. I'm happy that this happened in my life. I'm happier that it's over. I'm working on dealing with the fact that it's difficult to establish the distance necessary to stop being angry and actually deal and heal (by enacting the Atonement and forgiveness and what not) when one sees one's ex almost every day (and what was once constant and endearing has become constant and aggravating). I'm trying to be kind, especially this week for some reason, but I'm only human, so sometimes my efforts fall short and I bristle and scowl and levy biting remarks without turning to face the problem. I want this to be in the past. I want to move forward. I solemnly swear to do what I can to make that happen.

So there it is: the dirty laundry of my past. (I should really consider making this blog private). I'm hopeful that my future will hold better than these life forming experiences. I hope that I will be better in future. I hope I will be prepared for the real deal and that I will choose to both make it happen and allow it to happen in my life (I'm convinced that most of life's major events are a combination of the two). There is one single male whom I consider to be a friend of the right hand. He is full of charity for everyone and reinforces his love for me in epic detail in each of our interactions. I don't think I will ever (or should) date this man, but I am grateful for the hope and the love he brings into my life and the way he shows me that a deep and abiding love is possible in my life. I have the substantial dating experiences of an adult, and I can move forward knowing I have a history to draw from. I don't have to make rookie mistakes. I can roll with the punches. And. When I'm ready, I will date and love someone new. And eventually, things will actually work, and I will buy a temple dress and kneel at an alter. Until then, I will delight in my scholarship and seek to remember the lessons of the past as I shape my future (so that I can operate within the Jungian definition of modernism. Y'know how I love being a modern!).

Dreams Come True When You Believe

2010-11-24T11:36:00.009-07:00

Ok. I have a confession. I love No Doubt. (I know, you were hoping for something cooler, weren't you? Well just wait; there will be plenty of cool later.) I own all three of No Doubt's major studio albums.

Tragic Kingdom had been my catharsis album for years when Return of Saturn came out, and I was so stoked! Then when the videos of what's become my favorite No Doubt album came out, I was even more stoked. The woman who had always wanted (and led) "A Platinum Blonde Life" had dyed her hairPINK! And I loved it! From that time on, I have always wanted to have pink hair (yes, even though "there's a lot of cheese associated with the color pink").

Now, I attend a very conservative university with dress and grooming standards, and I also teach at this university. So pink hair is a dream that has never been realized, but I never gave up hope.

Lucky for me, JK Rowling created a character named Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks is an auror, a little bit of a punk rocker, and a metamorph, which means she can change her appearance at will. Consequently, Tonks often has pink hair . . . and sometimes sports a pig nose.

So, when the cohort started throwing around the idea of dressing up for the late night showing of Harry Potter we attended on opening weekend, I leapt at the chance to dress up as

TONKS! Here's the full outfit:Complete with piggie nose:

Don't mess with Harry!

Important Questions; or, A Heuristic for my Life

2010-11-17T18:34:00.013-07:00

Do I like sushi or just grated wasabi and pickeled ginger?

Will I ever be able to buy a brown flat and a black flat and maybe even corresponding boots?

Will I ever love a flat as much as I loved my racy puritan shoes?

When will I finally read Wuthering Heights?

How did it happen that I read Jane Eyre and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall before reading Wuthering Heights, especially since my mother gave me Emily's masterpiece when I was about 14?

How many other people would set out to purchase shoes and come back with four books, some food, no shoes, and the biggest smile ever?

Why do my students always need the most just when I have the least to give?

Why is a B such a big deal?

How can I be terrified of and envigorated by Paper Season all at the same time?

No but really, why is writing two 8-10 page papers so scary at this point in my education? (Maybe because one doesn't have enough of an argument and the other has problems in scope.)

Why aren't I reading Bilston's "Queen's of the Garden" right now?

How did I become an expert of sorts on a figure that seems to be interesting in the scholarly eye as we speak?
Does this mean my currently-non-existent thesis will get published?

Is it really time to start writing?
How am I not organized?
How late will I stay at the carrels today?

Are these list-like, incoherent posts annoying to read?
When will I next write something coherent and prosaic?

If the EEMC in my ward asked me if I was "afraid of" his being an engineer after I told him I wish to become a professor, does that mean that he's not intimidated by me and my aspirations? Does he understand what PhD and professorship entail?

How does a person come to esteem swearing, education, a deep and evidenced knowledge of the gospel, and a love of comic books nearly equally?

Does such a person exist?

Do I have to be yar?

Who has unsuspected depths?

What does one have to do to discover such CK Dexter Havens?

When will I make it to the temple again?

Are my priorities in line?

Do I love enough? Have I forgiven enough? Am I sufficiently humble?

What do I need to do to kick ass?

Where is the PhD program of my dreams? How come no one ever made me make a list of its most important attributes and hold myself to the standard I've set? Am I the PhD applicant of their dreams?

What is my future? Where am I going? Where are the peaches; I will dare to eat them as soon as they are found?

Things that Rock my Socks

2010-11-09T10:54:00.008-07:00

So I have been using the phrase "rocks my socks" a lot lately. I think I'm using it as an ironically corny version of my usual "rocks out hardcore," which is derived from my obssession with music. But I'm using it so often lately that I think we've got another list of a blogpost on my hands. So, without further ado, I give you, Things that Rock my Socks:

Jenny Lewis

Jenny Lewis has been an indie rock goddess since the very beginning of indie rock and she rocks my socks. I've been listening to a ton of Rilo Kiley lately, which is like destructive relationship indie rock that's just a little bit on the I-absolutely-cannot-play-this-for-my-students end of the content spectrum. But. Holy catharsis Batman!, I love it! My top five Rilo Kiley songs: "Portions for Foxes," "Silver Lining," "The Frug," "I Never," "Science vs. Romance" . . . "Go Ahead," "Bulletproof," "Give a Little Love," "Angels Hung Around" "Wires and Waves," "Don't Deconstruct Me" . . . and well, I don't owe The Execution of All Things, but I just purchased it because of this little number:

called "Paint's Peeling." It's a lot more alternative than a lot of their work, and I love that. It rocks my socks.

Other things that rock my socks:

Hippie Dino Girl's awesome Brontosaurus "Don't Forget" T-shirt.

Lego Batman and the fact that we're 80% done (only 20% away from unlocking Raj Agul and Hush (the fact that I can never remember how to spell Ra's Al Ghul's name does not rock my socks)). And the fact that we created a Montoya character that looks and acts like Montoya and a Zatanna character who is not wearing fishnets or heels, does not have hair, and cannot do magic. She's still cool though.

My student's personal essays, especially the ones that were actually essays and not personal narratives with a little bit of rumination thrown in for kicks. Really though, they were fun to read and even grade. I love this section and these students and how they just do the work. I've never had to give them the annoyed "Don't give me excuses. Just do the work" face. These papers are just great and the topics are so interesting. I'm really looking forward to the issues paper.

Megcellent. And elliespen. And Mrs. Adventures. And Just Jane. And the fact that, for the first time in a long time, I'm really genuinely looking forward to Just Jane. I feel like we've worked through the politics and the drama and what we're left with is the good thing we started with: good friends, good food, good books, and great discussion. Love it.

My scholarship. Except I miss it because I've had to do way too much of the grading lately and then I relax and don't do my deal. I miss my deal. I need to get going on my papers. Hopefully, writing them and researching them will rock my socks.

The members of my cohort. There is some hard-core sock rockin' there.

A ton of first years, especially those that came to the Brit Lit Prof/Grad "Dinner" at Nick Mason's, Albion Alliance, and all that Devoney Looser stuff.

Devoney Looser. I spent 4+ hours with her on Thursday and it was a dream come true. She rocks. So nice, so smart (and I didn't have to break her heart).

Gaining new-found confidence in Nick Mason's good opinion of me. Turns out, he thinks I'm a competent scholar, and he remembers my thesis topic.

Putting that B in the past. . . . More or less.

My roommates.

Going back to my old ways of good-heartedly stringing along a string of boys who may or may not be aware of my half-interest in them.

My family, especially Pence.

The National. Especially their album "High Violet."

Remembering that I whole-heartedly believe that faith is more important than feminism, no matter what sorts of militant second wave texts I'm reading.

Doing my calling.

My life.

And finally,

Buddy Holly.

So yeah, these are the things that are seriously rocking my socks right this very second. Now let's hope I can put this corny 50s phrase in the past where it belongs and get some research done.

Guess what?

2010-11-03T21:38:00.005-06:00

I will not be teaching technical writing next semester. Nor will I be teaching two sections of 150 or using a religion, etc. reader. I won't be talking about Shakespeare or theatre or American literature. I will be teaching another section of my experiment music section. And. I will be co-teaching a section of ENGL 376: British Lit 1900 to 1950. That's right: A Modernism mentorship for yours truly. With: Jamie Horrocks. And we're shaping the course through issues and definitions of gender in the modern period, and teaching Orlando and many other major and minor figures. And secondary criticism. We'll be looking at the literature, the history, and the social issues of the time.

My mentorship starts with Inter-Library Loaning several books so I can contribute to discussions of which texts to have our students read. Then. Once we've decided what we're going to have them read, we're going to order desk copies. For both of us. That's right, free British Modern books for your favorite bibliophile/modern-o-phile! So very awesome!

So basically, this happens to be one of the best days of my teaching career. Love it.

Dear Readers

2010-10-28T00:25:00.006-06:00

This is officially the 100th Blogpost on A Blog of One's Own. I'm pleased as punch about this. It's been great to have this venue to record and ponder so many spontaneous overflows of emotions. I think it may even have been healthy.

The really good news is I know I'm not writing to a vacuum. You may not have noticed, but the bottom of my blog has a "Big Brother Is Always Watching" blog counter. I also track my stats, and people from around the world read this collection of Fantastic Fanaticisms, Misadventures of an Anglophile, and Sighs on Dating (yes, that one's new, but it seems apt). However, these readers do not often comment (well, except for elliespen, The Knaughty Knitter, Mrs. Adventures, and Megscellent).

So, Dear Readers, this is your chance! Celebrate A Blog of One's Own's 100th posting by coming out of the woodwork. Whether I've met you in person or not, tell me that you read and tell me why. What were your favorite posts? Are there overarching themes that you enjoy following? Are you a friend of mine? Are you fascinated by my particular brand of Mormon feminism? Are you a fellow Modernist and Woolfite? Are you hoping to steal my ideas on von Arnim? Do you love music, movies, books, and comic books? Do you love making ridiculous Christmas lists months before December? In short, what do you love about my blog/me? There are so many possibilities.

Whether you choose to participate or not (this isn't 150 or 316, I can't make you write), know that I appreciate your support. I've chosen to keep A Blog of One's Own open to the public. It would be futile and discouraging to keep a blog without you, gentle readers.

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!
-Katie E.

Things I've Been Relishing Lately

2010-10-23T11:16:00.009-06:00

Swearing.

Eating meat without feeling shame, considering the future, or pondering gender binaries. Relishing in the sweet juiciness that comes with eating meat. BBQ. Hamburgers. Lamb. Meat Loaf (Beet Loaf, I love meat loaf). Pork. Chicken. I love (and need) meat.

Not having to reassert my worth as a human being after declining dish after dish saturated with cinnamon (or blueberries, or coconut, or fish).

Not having to justify my elitest-cook-who-never-eats-anything-homemade status.

Delighting in Modernism. Realizing how much less often I'm discussing The Essay and how much more often I'm discussing Modernism and my thesis in detail and Woolf and Women's Studies/Feminism/Gender Studies.

Looking forward to a 376 mentorship (hopefully) with Jamie wherein we'll discuss the greats through the lens and definitions of modernism and the present day. Coolest mentorship ever. (Yes, even cooler than London/England.) Keeping the details of this and pondering them in my heart.

Analysis and analytical thought.

Being a Scholar. The Duck and a Feline friend recently told me that I am the most scholarly scholar in the program (based on the hours I keep and my entrenchment in the carrels). This reminder was most liberating and enlightening.

Realizing that some men, yea even men in my life, can recognize the importance of my needing to have a career. This doesn't have to be A Thing, and it can be and is a beautiful thing.

Spending time with my friends as a given instead of something that takes effort and involves stress or pressure.

Loving dogs whole-heartedly without any sort of deference to cats (or squirrels). Remembering how and why I am a dog person and all that that entails.

Calling a spade a spade on a regular basis and treating said spade as such. Stopping or ignoring such spadehood instead of bristling or rolling my eyes and enduring.

Telling dirty jokes. Pointing out double entendres. Recognizing that sex exists and that it's okay say vagina, etc.

Having an unplanned weekend to play Lego Batman for hours, eat Indian food, watch (500) Days of Summer, chat with Genial and the Ex-Pat, fix Henry Moore (modern) jewelry while watching Jeeves and Wooster (modern), demonstrate visions of Yellow Wall-Paper creeping with Guileless, go to bed late, stay in bed late, and then research, research, research.

Supporting my dear friend who often gets shafted without thinking twice or looking back.

Laughing and talking at loud volumes with a great many of my favorite carrelmates.

Being GSA President with a great cabinet and an awesome anti-cabinet member.

Teaching. Having time to grade and conference without having to squeeze in someone else.

Being free to go anywhere in the US post-April. Mer's sister makes me want that to be DC, but I may go live with the Ex-Pat and teach at Wannabe Holy School, or I may stay with Guileless and Genial and teach at Holy School or Orem's Not Holy, but Not So Very Not Holy as Some School. I may even go somewhere not in the US. Or maybe I'll do something else. We'll see what God has in store.

Reading comic books.

Listening to, thinking about, and talking about hardcore Rock and Roll. And obscure, drug-driven, depress-ed Rock and Roll.

Looking attractive for me and me alone.

Anticipating a Thanksgiving with Quinn and Co. and a Christmas in Michigan without any curiosity about pinings. Celebrating my Quinn turning three with my Quinn for sure.

Being a Young of the George C.S. variety and realizing that anyone who wishes to strip me of said name should exult, appreciate, and participate in such Young-hood in a way that will be very rare.

Being single, in short.

Trusting that one day I will feel this liberated when I am not enjoying my wonderful single life. Trusting in God. Realizing that what I need to do is live my life, and I will be incadescently happy.

Remembering some of the good things, but not worrying about focusing on them.

Living my life.

Writing the blogpost I've been wanting to write for two weeks now. (You were wondering about the sudden increase in blogging, weren't you?)

Dear Student(s):

2010-10-21T18:12:00.003-06:00

I know that my class is a GE. I know that you have a major and a career path that involves the sciences. I know that you never want to do anything with the Humanities ever again. However, that does not give you the right to not try in my class. My class will actually teach you the skills and the genres you will be using to write for the rest of your life. It is worth your time and your effort. It may not be your most important priority (you're not mine, I don't expect to be yours), but it is worth an integritous, respectful effort on your part. Do better in the future or you will continue to earn grades you will probably find sub-par. Your behavior and your work is unacceptable. Please do better in the future.

Sincerely,
Ms. Young

It Worked Last Year . . .

2010-10-18T23:25:00.008-06:00

I know it may be a little early to begin asking for Christmas presents, but I've been such a good girl this year! I filed my prospectus today. I usually do my reading. I always do my writing. I sometimes do my grading . . . I was a great TA in LONDON! I found the beauty of the Modern Period, especially between the wars, and incorporated it into my thesis. I'm taking Talbot's seminar in the Winter. I think all of this means that I deserve this hat:

It's only $300, so if everyone who wants to buy me a Christmas present pools their money, Santa and I can make up the difference and we'll have a Christmas miracle!

(You do believe in miracles, don't you?)

Sigh

I suppose I could settle for a subscription to Modern Fiction Studies:

Modernism/Modernity:

and/or Twentieth Century Literature:

Don't worry. I've got the Wonder Woman subscription covered. (Thanks amazon!)

If all else fails, you could get me something Truly Awesome in the way of books, music, movies, or comic books. Christmas is less than 3 months away; if all y'all who love me get coordinated soon enough, you could even get me everything on my list!

(Hey, a girl can dream, can't she? Especially when's she's been as good as I have? And think of what a pretty Modernist I'd be in that beautiful Modern hat! I could wear it to my thesis defense. They'd pass me for sure. I love Modernism!)

What Came First?

2010-10-15T20:04:00.004-06:00

The White Stripes or the color scheme:

And since when are Jack and Meg perfect for hip hop and cool enough in the minds of this audience?

It's cool. I'm somewhat confused. This is a fantastic fanaticism.

I Love Poetry

2010-10-11T18:48:00.008-06:00

I only hang out with English majors, or so it seems. Most of my dear, supportive friends of the right hand, whom I love, need and treasure, are or were English majors. So. When I say that I have recently discovered that loving poetry is a rare thing, please note that this is an educated observation.

However, I really truly love poetry. A verse can contain so much more than any other type of literature in a much smaller space. It takes work to appreciate poetry, but after learning the language and understanding the genre, one can participate in the longest-lasting and arguably noblest art form in existence. I love it. Reading poetry makes me feel like I'm more than myself. Reading poetry leads to true catharsis. I do not understand why people, especially English majors, do not love poetry. I don't understand.

I have been using a quote from Maxine Kumin about writing in my first year writing diagnostic essay for three semesters now. Kumin says, "Writing is my salvation." Today, her writing was my salvation. Specifically, "Women and Horses" was my salvation today.

Women and Horses

After Auschwitz, to write a poem is barbaric.

-Theodor Adorno

After Auschwitz: after ten of my father's kin--

the ones who stayed--starved, then were gassed in the camps.

After Vietnam, after Korea, Kuwait, Somalia, Haiti, Afghanistan.

After the Towers. This late in the life of our haplessly orbiting world

let us celebrate whatever scraps the muse, that naked child,

can pluck from the still-smoldering dumps.

If there's a lyre around, strike it! A body, stand back, give it air!

Let us have sparrows laying their eggs in bluebird boxes.

Let us have bluebirds insouciantly nesting elsewhere.

Lend us navel-bared teens, eyebrow- and nose-ringed prodigies

crumbling breakfast bagels over dogeared and jelly-smeared texts.

Allow the able-bodied among us to have steamy sex.

Let there be fat old ladies in flowery tent dresses at bridge tables.

Howling babies in dirty diapers and babies serenely at rest.

War and detente will go on, detente and renewed tearing asunder,

we can never break free from the dark and degrading past.

Let us see life again, nevertheless, in the words of Isaac Babel

as a meadow over which women and horses wander.

I would explicate this, say why it is so very good, but I think I want it to stand on its own. I love many poems and many poets. Let poetry live. Let it be written, understood, and studied. Let it be loved. Let there be love. Let me love my poesy. Let me sing from the pastoral ridge and from Yeats's home in London. Let me see all of the human condition in five lines. Let me have my catharsis, especially when I need it. Let me love poetry.

Oh for the Love of Modernism!

2010-10-02T10:21:00.008-06:00

It's filed. The prospectus of one, Katie Elizabeth Young, has officially been signed by all three members of her committee. I did not lose funding. I did not allow my other duties (with the seminars and the teaching and the GSA and the clubs I've created oh my!) prevent me from being a scholar. Because, I am a Scholar. A Scholar. A scholar who will one day be a professor. A professor of British Modernism.

My thesis will be Modern. Last Saturday, I have an epiphany to work Vera into my thesis. This means I will be dealing with the 1898 and 1901 texts only cursorily by using other sources to establish my main claim in these first texts. Then I will devote whole sections to the 1923 text The Enchanted April and the 1921 text Vera. That's right, my thesis is no longer fin de siecle or trasitionary. It's modern. As I told Jamie, I feel like I found the Modernism playground and I'm excited to play in it. I'm also excited to build a career in Modernism based on this thesis. This writing sample for my PhD aps. This first article of my career(?). I have a career.

I celebrated my prospectus signing in several ways. First, I bought a delicious raspberry sweet roll. I purchased it in stress in an effort to eat the feelings of panic and fear when one of my readers was not in her office when I thought she'd be on the very last day she could sign the prospectus. However, ten minutes after I purchased the delicious sweet roll, I was able to call this reader and learn that she had in fact signed my prospectus and it could be taken to Aaron Eastley's office for approval. Therefore, the sweet roll tasted exactly like victory.

I spent most of the day reading the 1928 American text Quicksand by Nella Larson, who looks like this:

Quicksand is delightful. I'm loving the journey and the way the main character is being used to interrogate so many communities and so many facets of the human condition. I was supposed to read half before Monday. I'm two-thirds of the way in and will probably finish today. In the context of not only adding Vera, but allowing Vera to deepen and strenthen my claims in unknown ways, reading Quicksand further reaffirmed my love of Modernism and my excitement at the prospect of discovering all kinds of obscure texts written on both sides of the Atlantic during the Modern Period, especially those written by women. To this end, I've decided to buy as many books published by Persephone Books as possible. Persephone Books is a publishing company that focuses on books written by women in the twentieth century. I could build a career on reading and writing about their books. I love this company. Their books are beautifully designed paperbacks with flaps, just like a hardcopy book's book jacket, and a dove-gray spine. I'd love to give Persephone a shelf of her own.

One of my other celebrations involved buying a Persephone Book: Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Making of a Marioness. I kind of need to/probably should read The Secret Garden for my thesis, but I don't want to. I could write about The Making of a Marioness for Leslee's seminar (1901 is as modern as I can get in this Victorian seminar). I might do such a thing or maybe I won't. We'll see.

Also in celebration, I purchased a volume of Edna St. Vincent Millay's poetry. I love poetry and the more I read of St. Vincent Millay, the more she's becoming a favorite poet of mine. (A Modern American poet She is.)

Finally, Skoticus and I actually went on a date all by ourselves. Because my prospectus was filed and there was a gallery stroll. It was great. We saw two exhibits at the Covey Center for the Arts. One exhibited steam-punk-esque sculptures featuring bells and abstract paintings created through a what looked like a drip technique (they didn't quite sing like Pollock's do, but they were good nonetheless). The other exhibited a series of screenprint paintings with two mask-like faces in facing profiles. It was interesting and reminded me of the Andy Warhol people at the Tate Modern (and the kitschy behavior of the patrons of that exhibit). Then we saw an exhibit of photography and digital art. It's always great to see professional photography with Skoticus because I learn a lot about the art that I think I may know the least about.

After these two exhibits, we went to a rooftop concert and it was GREAT! The main act was The Lower Lights. They call themselves "A Hymn Revival" and this is perhaps the best description of their music. They took hymns, mostly LDS hymns, and arranged and re-interpreted them to fit the bluegrass genre. There are about 15 people in this band. It felt like watching A Prarie Home Companion Mormon Style without all that radio stuff. And it was wonderful. Their song selection was choice and their reinterpretations inspiring. I laughed, I cried, I felt the Spirit, and I loved sharing it with Skoticus.

This may have been my favorite Friday ever. Art, the boy, academic success, Modernism, professorial support, music, books, and a new spiritual experience, what more could a girl want? I love my life.

Big News

2010-09-13T20:26:00.008-06:00

For those who have not heard, I finished a draft of my prospectus! I have not filed the thing, nor am I close (I assume. We'll see what the committee thinks of the draft . . . gulp). But, I just wanted everyone on this thing called the interweb to know that I am, as my gchat status has been trying to convince me, a "Grad Student Extraordinaire" because I have a draft, and that makes me a scholar, scholar.

In other, less "Extraordinaire," scholarly news, I will be taking the GRE this Friday.

You see, back in June, before I got all distracted by concerts and food and squirrels, I decided that I was for sure applying to PhD programs this year and paid a small chunk of change to take this silly multiple choice test FOR THE THIRD TIME. So, I think I should. I think I might spend some time with my GRE flashcards this week, but then again maybe I won't. We'll see if I cancel my score or if I knock it out of the ballpark or if I decide that I don't want to spend 4 hours on a bus and 3 hours taking a test on Friday. Maybe it'll depend on how teaching goes.

I will absolutely be taking the subject test in October. We'll see what else happens as far as this year's whole PhD thing is concerned. Next year's will happen. Absolutely, no questions asked, I'm applying next year, but this year . . . we'll see what happens.

I have a prospectus draft in! And I think I'm proud of it. And it's written. It's not just a mass of thoughts. And I still really love Jamie's class. And I'm thrilled with my committee and the fact that I'll have taken and enjoyed a class from each of my readers. I'm a Scholar!

What does the future hold?

Things in My Life

2010-09-08T22:02:00.009-06:00

Things I Spend too much Time Doing

GSA. But it's so fun. Seriously, I have loved everything I've done for GSA. I really like my committee, and I feel like I have the support of both cohorts and the faculty. Plus also, it's week two and we've produced an edition of The Scrivener and had an opening social, and I've met with English Society people to get the conference going, attended a Graduate Advisory Council meeting, and spoken to the first years about GSA and what I wish I'd known in their place. I don't know why I love it, but I do. It's fun.

Teaching. It's a given though. I teach five days a week. I have got to stop doing that. I think I'd like having my teaching days and my student days separate. That seems preferable to doing it all all the time.

Worrying about whether or not my 316 students respect me (and whether they'll respect me more if I wear heels or flats).

Talking to people in the carrels. I'm so very good at this. Especially when some of my favorite people in the cohort are in the carrels next to mine. Some of those seating assignments are blessings with very high distraction potential.

Things I Need to Spend More Time Doing
Working on my prospectus. Actually, that's probably what I should be doing right now . . . I have a draft-like thing. It's even a good draft-like thing. . . . Except I haven't actually written the section wherein I lay out my actual argument. And then there's the fact that my reading load has tripled in the last two days, which is awesome since I thought I'd totally finished with that whole reading thing because no one has anything to say about von Arnim. Except they kind of do a little bit. I told one of my readers I'd have a solid draft by Tuesday. I can make that happen. If I work. This means that I need to WORK.

Reading for my Victorian seminar. I need to make sure I'm engaging in this reading and pulling out key arguments and important claims. I can do this, but it sometimes just doesn't happen.

Being productive in the carrels.

Maybe preparing for classes I teach. Jury's still out on that.

Watching Pushing Daisies and realizing that I don't have to covet Ned and Chuck, except that I do have to covet Chuck's wardrobe because Holy Awesome Beautiful Vintage Clothes Batman!

Going on dates, on the one hand . . .

Spending time with my friends, on the one hand . . .

Making sure that my family members aren't lonely or sad or destitute or bleeding or stressed or intimidated or mourning.

Eating delicious, homemade food.

Sleeping (again, this is a given).

Things I am Spending Just the Right Amount of Time Doing
Reading for Jamie Horrock's class. OH MY GOSH! I love this class. We're reading women's literature (generally by women and about women) alongside pieces of feminist literary theory. It's such a beautiful thing. The readings are great and twentieth century and run the gamet: intellectual, heart-wrenching, empathetic, saucy, snarky, academic, existential, dutiful, etc. There's so much variety and so much to say, and Jamie keeps it on a level that you can go really deep with the theory and the terminology or you can talk about facebook or how you feel or what you think as long as you relate these things back to the pieces themselves.

Thinking about how awesome it is to have Jamie Horrocks around to take classes from and get advice on theory for my thesis and on PhD applications and stuff. She's SO great. I want to be her less (because I have to be me and I like being me), but I sometimes think that she's around as a personal blessing just for me (and then I want everyone to have this awesome blessing and I'm grateful that she can and is blessing the lives of so many people and I'm sure God's blessing her too through this whole BYU thing). Yea for Jamie.

Going on dates. On the other hand . . .

Spending time with my friends. On the other hand . . .

Being productive at home (there's a couch in my room, which means no more confusing reading/homework time with bedtime, right?)

Things I Have to Say in Conclusion
I love my life. It's a great semester. With the responsibilities and the books and the writing and the stuff and the people, I'm sittin' pretty. I'm having a ton of fun. As long as I put in the time with my prospectus and get the sucker filed by Oct. 1, life will be a dream.

The Best August on Record

2010-08-24T11:01:00.012-06:00

This August has . . . (drumroll, please?) . . . Not Sucked! What? Wooooot! Apparently, the universe has gotten wind of my stormy relationship with August ("More skies of grey than any Russian play could guarantee.") and has decided to give me a break.

This August has had many of the stressful things in common with most of my stressful Augusts. I moved. I had too much on my plate. I didn't finish everything that I set out to do. I didn't really finish half of what I set out to do. I'm will be taking on monumental endeavors that will determine my FUTURE within a week. I need to impress both professors teaching my seminars, and I need to ace both seminars. I'm teaching on an experimental section, which will require a ton of work, and I'm beginning to think that my teaching style is not working (based on my student ratings . . . ).

However, there have been many, many good things in my life. My family's in town. I'm way excited about both my seminars and both sections I'm teaching and my duties as GSA president. I've had an amazing summer that involved London and much in the way of happy socializing. I moved in with my good friends, Guileless and Genial. And more than anything else, I've become a lot more zen. You see, I've started doing this thing called dating a boy (I'll wait while you recover from the shock ;) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . there, that should be enough time), and in addition to the endorphines that have made me happy, I think his zen attitude toward life has rubbed off on me. Either that or my major souvenir from London was the motto:

So yeah, all of these things have combined to make for a pretty awesome August. I hope for many more like it (and for happy Septembers to follow my awesome Augusts). Yea for school! And even . . . Summer?

(If you'd like to know more about the boy, you may check out his blog . . . (s); but the most important thing for you to know is that he's awesome. And he likes me. And I like him. And it's good. (And, yes, in some ways, he does remind me of Carter Hall.) Oh, and he really likes squirrels. That's important too.)

Double Alliteration Does Not Perfect Casting Make

2010-07-28T18:20:00.011-06:00

I'm confused. One of the things I like most about myself are the aspects of my personality and tastes that contridict each other. This allows me to love both creme brulee and Batman fruit snacks while realizing that "creme brulee can't be jello," or Batman fruit snacks, as the case may be. I love Ulysses and Quiver; Chucks and patent leather heels; the smell of a thick tome from special collections and a field of dry, yellow Utah weeds in the middle of the summer. I love Amy Adams and Janis Joplin. Just to review, for those of you who don't know, this is what Amy Adams looks like:

She is in a ton of stuff (see imdb), but her breakout role was playing Giselle in Enchanted. Her clear, bright, chipper soprano voice was perfectly well suited to this role: a princess lost in an urban wilderness looking for her one true love.

Now (for the substantially larger portion of you who will need the review), this is what Janis Joplin looks like (note the rare use of makeup in this hippie's life):

Janis Joplin sang at Woodstock. She is a classic American rock star who deals with the themes of perpetually unrequited love and women's empowerment through deep, soulful, blues-driven rock and roll whether she's being backed by Big Brother and the Holding Company or the Full-Tilt Boogie. She lived the hard, rock-and-roll lifestyle of the sixties complete with substance abuse and a tragically early death. She is most famous for her deep, gritty renditions of classics like Aretha Franklin's "Piece of My Heart" and her own stuff like "Move Over." The good in Janis' life always came hand-in-hand with the bad, but the woman was filled with song alike so:

So you can see how my loving both the squeaky-clean Adams and the gritty, harsh Joplin is another of my wonderful contridictions. Just imagine my confusion upon reading this piece which claims that Adams will be playing Joplin in an upcoming biopic. What?

Let's review, shall we? Adams:

will be playing Joplin

in an upcoming biopic. Now, as I've said, I love both of these women, and I know that Amy Adams is much, much more than Giselle. However, her pleasant lithing voice does not seem like a good match for the Joplin's wailing, gritty emotionally-charged Bansheehood. I could handle Kristen Stewart playing Joan Jett--moody brunettes, bad haircuts, Jett coaching Stewart; it works. However, if Amy Adams can pull off Janis Joplin, she will deserve an Oscar. I don't see it happening.

The project is still so up in the air that Adams might not be able to commit to the role when the film actually goes into production, but I find this news unsettling and downright confusing. Amy Adams as Janis Joplin? Maybe as Pearl, but as Janis . . . ? I just don't see it.

Lust and Madness, or About a Book, Fourth Edition

2010-07-21T20:05:00.022-06:00

It's no secret that I love books (note the title and banner of the blog and my major/chosen profession). I bought more books than anything else whilst in England, and my room is literally full of books (250+ by this point--I've been meaning to count again). My love of books extends beyond a love of reading. During an interview with Roger McFarland for a shelving position at the HBLL, my claim to loved books generated concern and a story about a former shelver who would halt her shelving duties to read. I quickly (frantically) reassured him that I loved books as physical, tangible objects. I love the way a book smells whether it be old and musty, new and fresh, or 4-color on glossy. I love it that books come in so many variations of shape and size, and I love covers so much that I very briefly considered a career in cover design and still submit that that would be a blast.

This love of covers can be an admiration for a beautiful piece of art

or history or the perfect interpretation and visual manifestation of the theme, plot, and tone of a novel.Beauty! As a matter of fact the clean design of this book with its strong lines and simple color scheme is a big part of the reason I read this novel: especially given the way it picked up on the design elements of the previous two books (this was just before all the hype hit, when it wasn't necessarily taboo among the intelligentsia). It's a little embarrassing in retrospect, but I really loved this design.

Sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, a design will inspire me to purchase books I already own. However, I have a rule that I will not purchase a new copy of a book if I already own a copy with a pretty design in good condition. The desire to break this rule is getting particularly bad in the case of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. I read this book for the first time in December 2007. This was in between undergrad and grad and the first round of applications and the first round of rejections. I was poor and reading whatever I wanted--trying to make a dent in the running reading list I keep in my head, so I checked The Bell Jar out of the Provo library. Not since reading Woolf had I been so compelled to annotate and underline a book, BUT this was a library copy so I did not. However, I finished the book and resolved to purchase it. The cover of the copy I read looked like this:

As I read the novel, I realized just how great this cover is. You see, The Bell Jar is the semi-autobiographical story of Esther Greenwood's gradual descent into madness. Plath equates her battle with mental illness to a bell jar which descends, traps its victim, and makes the outside world look hazy, distant, and nonsensical. So the cool focus technique of the cover photo of this design portrays the vision of one in a bell jar while portraying a faceless girl who could be under a bell jar of her own (which is very different from a room of one's own).

Given the brilliance of this cover, I decided I must have it, and thus began my quest. Most bookstores were selling this edition:

It has some of the pretty elements of the Perennial classics edition, but without exploring the cool bell jar metaphor explicitly. I found this book in a ton of bookstores, and it took all my resolve not to purchase it even though it was the wrong design (that's how much I love feministic/women's studies fiction that deals with themes of mental illness and suicide, see love of Woolf).

Then just after I took the LSAT in a very relaxed, calm manner that involved some ribaldry, which my fellow test takers did not appreciate or enjoy, and some resolutions concerning professorship, I found myself in Sam Weller's bookstore. An attractive, nerdy, flirtatious employee helped me find the Plath section. They carried this edition:

which is interesting in its use of 1960s colors and themes. It also picks up on the initial setting and the first express break with reality/mental health in the story. However, these themes are not as central, important, or genius as the first design, so I didn't purchase it. However, flirting with a nerdy book clerk whose eyes light up when you mention Murakami made the experience totally worth it. I highly recommend it.

Thus the search continued. And continued. And continued. I thought about amazon, but the edition/design isn't always guaranteed through amazon (even though I love it). I tried a few used book stores in Provo, but they rarely had a copy, much less the right edition. Then I went to visit my parents in a tiny hamlet in Northern Michigan. We went on a family outing that involved a used bookstore. I thought to myself, "Dare I look." And then, of course, I channelled 'Pooky Old Tree, and thought, "Yes, I dare!" And guess what, they had it! The right edition, so now my personal library includes the dearly loved edition of a dearly loved book.

This should be the happy ending of a long, arduous journey , right? Not so my friends because this exists:

This is the very first edition of the novel. It portrays a woman literally under a bell jar. It's less subtle, but still awesome AND, if you'll note, the author is listed as "Victoria Lucas" not "Sylvia Plath." You see, when The Bell Jar was published Sylvia Plath was a published poet who received less notoriety than her husband, Ted Hughes. Her reputation as a poet was important to her and she didn't want this novel to damage it should the novel flop. Therefore, she published it under the nom de plume Victoria Lucas. Also, Plath was not in a great state of mental heath and the pen name created some distance from the autobiographical nature of the novel. So, yeah, I would like to own this edition because the design rocks and it is an important literary artifact. But I already own a copy of The Bell Jar, so I haven't purchased the Victoria Lucas.

I bought a ton of books in England, but none at the British Library. I had to physically remove myself from the gift shop in a moment of rare self control when I saw this little number.

The look of madness in her eye, the close crop job, the hazy photo treatment, and the beautiful repetition of color made me want to break all sorts of book buying rules. I believe I had to chant the chiding phrase "weight restrictions. weight restrictions. weight restrictions." and tell myself to exercise some self-control, for crying out loud.

Then just tonight as I was writing this blogpost I came across other editions that made me want to break the rules. I love the trippy feel of this edition (just add movement) and the way the vertigo can be equated to madness (I also love Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo . . . and bought my houndstooth suit because it looks grey from a distance and I felt like Kim Novak in it).

And then there's this:

which I found on the designer's actual website. You can tell she's a designer because this pic includes both covers and the spine, so important. I love the broken glass on top of the hazy photo. The design picks up on many of the elements that I love from previous designs, but I think it ups the ante. On her site, Sara Sidransky, the designer, says that the open clasp of the bracelet represents Esther's lack of control on life, etc. This is a new, cool twist--a new piece of visual rhetoric which expands on the existing theme. It's awesome, and I want it.

So the question is, if I love this many designs of the same novel, am I justified in collecting these editions and creating a little corner of my smallish library devoted to the beautiful editions The Bell Jar? I would round the collection off with this classic, leather-bound hardcover edition:

Sigh. Maybe one day I will have the money to spend on books I already own. Until then

Dear Sylvia and designers,

Thank you for your overall awesomeness. I love, love the novel and your beautiful, thought provoking interpretations. Keep up the good work, and maybe I will be able to add monetary support to the heart-of-hearts-type support I've been giving you.

Sincerely,

Katie E.

A Little Patriotism

2010-07-15T20:17:00.004-06:00

(It is July, afterall.)

I like being in America. I had shoe-string fries and a burger today. I've watched a ton of TV lately, which makes up for all of the TV I didn't want in London. Some of this TV was My Name Is Earl. It was trailer park-based, and it felt wonderful to watch. It reminded me of Santaquin and the differences between small town England (charming, quaint, steeped in centuries past, witty cab drivers and shopkeepers, and sheep) and small town America (charming, quaint, steeped in classic rock, misguided patriotism and hearts of gold). TV+Burger+Fries (not chips, fries)=American as Apple Pie, which is great news for me because I don't like cinnamon.

Other things I like about America:

Everyone speaks in the register to which my ears are accustomed (none of this British mumbling thing).
I have an office and a library card and tons of places to accidentally fall asleep while reading outside on the grass.
I run my own classroom and my own life.
I can do research whenever I want to, not that I do . . .
There's no pressure to go and see things that I will never, ever, ever have the opportunity to see again. I can stay home if I want. I can go out if I want. No pressure.

The most important thing I like about America:

Being with non-annoying people the majority of the time. Yes, there are EFYlings everywhere, and yes, that is ANNOYING. But, I get to hang out with members of the cohort and Just Jane and other friends that I haven't seen in a while. Most of the people I interact with are over 22. There's maturity and if there's drama it comes from dealing with life choices not from missing a train when there's another one coming in two minutes. Peers rock (y'know as long as there's no pressure, because peer pressure's a horrible thing for a girl in college).

So, yeah, life is good. I'm preparing for the GRE and theoretically researching PhD programs and thesis stuff. I'm preparing for fall in any way possible, but mostly I'm just enjoying my normal American life. There's beauty in so many simple things like books, friends, concerts, food, and long walks on summer nights. This isn't the most coherent or well-written of blogpost, but I'd just like to say, it's nice to be home.

The Girl Who Hated Fish

2010-06-27T20:39:00.012-06:00

There once was a girl who hated fish.

(and no, she wasn't from Nantucket). The Girl Who Hated Fish loved a beautiful little country named England. England was a land full of history, wonder, theatre, and rain: all things The Girl Who Hated Fish loved. So, The Girl Who Hated Fish decided to go to this lovely land as T.A. for a Shakespeare class (for the girl also loved the Bard).

Once in the lovely land of England, The Girl Who Hated Fish frolicked and wandered throughout the magical land seeing literary sites, museums, plays, and castles. She also sampled the wondrous food of the magical land. There was tea and teacake, juice and fruit, lamb and pasties, and tarts and candybars. There food was organic, plain, and simple: perfect for digestive health (which is a different story altogether, especially when one considers digestives).

However, there was one food that the magical land of England was famous for that The Girl Who Hated Fish wasn't sure she should try: fish and chips. The Girl Who Hated Fish wasn't sure about trying fish 'n chips because it has fish in it and she was The Girl Who Hated Fish. However, she wanted to be sure that she had the true British experience, so two days before she left, she decided that she must have some fish 'n chips lest the experience lose its magic. Natuarally, she was nervous:

But she trusted the taste of two things: deep fried food and vinegar.

So she took the plunge:

And guess what?

It was delicious:

And she ate all the fish and most of the chips:

Then she went to a play, but her GI tract, unaccustomed to such greasiness, persuaded her to leave early (turns out deep fried food is not the "healthiest meal for all the family," afterall). So, although The Girl Who Hated Fish enjoyed consuming the fish 'n chips of the magical land of England, she is still The Girl Who Hates Fish and won't be consuming any anytime soon.

The Prettiest of Pretties

2010-06-19T19:39:00.009-06:00

First, a few updates. The Henry Moore exhibit was superlative and transcendental and full of wonderful High Modern Art. Wicked was full of fans who literally applauded when Dr. Dillemon said a line the way they wanted him too. Henry Moore wins.

Second, I have not as of yet cut my hair. The bob with wipsy sidebangs won the poll. After a week of actually doing my hair again, I think I will go with the poll, but maybe a little longer than Charize had hers.

Third, the last three weeks of London were really truly amazing and included things like Swan Lake, Stratford, Grace Kelly's fashion, high tea in Kennsington Gardens with Victoria Sponge, and lot's of musicals, plays, and modern art.

Finally, it's great to be back in Provo with my desk, my life, and my good friends whom I love. There have been freak outs about how I have way too much going on in the fall, and I desperately want to move out of my current house. But all in all, it's great to be home.

Now, on to the prettiest of pretties. I must preface this by saying that I hate the color orange. I think it's an ugly, lurid wannabe brown associated with tacky things like furniture from the seventies (and yes, lime green and mustard yellow are also on my gross list). My favorite color, oddly enough, is orange's perfect complement: blue. However, one of the great loves of my life has heretofor always been orange:

This sexy little number contains the answers to some of life's most important questions, like

What are the different types of dashes and does each have a specific purpose?

When can I use numerals to represent a number and when should I write out the word?

What's an Oxford comma and must I use it?

How do I denote that I found a source on the web?

What's the difference between a restrictive and unrestrictive clause, and how do I properly punctuate each?

You can understand why this is one of the great loves of my life (given that I can rattle off the answers to all of these questions thanks to The Chicago Manual of Style). Do you see the beautiful design of the 15th edition? Can you understand why, of all the orange things in the world that are not naturally orange foodstuffs this is the orange thing that I not only allow into my life but my heart.

Now, some of you are asking why I'm rambling on about the color orange and a style guide, especially since you probably feel jiped about the whole I still haven't technically blogged about the last three weeks of London thing. Others of you love Chicago as much as I do and picked up on the "heretofor" in the sentence "However, one of the great loves of my life has heretofor always been orange." Because you know and love Chicago, you know what "heretofor" means and you're waiting for me to reveal what I know (that is if you don't already know what I know). Well, the facts are these:

Chicago University Press is publishing the long-awaited 16th edition of The Chicago Manual of Style on August 1, 2010, and it looks like this

according to amazon.com. This means that the institution with all of the beautiful answers to my wonderful questions has begun diassociating itself with dreaded orange while cultivating a relationship with pretty, pretty blue. In other words, one of the prettiest things in my life is getting even prettier in a few short weeks.

Now there are some implications that give me a moment's pause as I begin going gentle into this good night. First, the design of the cover of the 16th edtion is not nearly as strong as the perfectly balanced cover design of the wonderful 15th edition. Second, when you own "a chessboard, a change of shirt and over 200 books," it's really convenient to be able to spot the bright orange cover of The Chicago Manual of Style when you need it. Third, spotting said bright orange cover in the stacks of any friend's library will automatically make you closer friends; it's a fact. However, I love blue, and I am excited to have Good Ole Blue join Big Bright Orange on my shelves. (Yes, I did just christen my respective editions of a book, and yes, I am going on osterity funds to ensure that Good Ole Blue hits my shelves as soon after 8/1/10 as possible. Because happy is when all your dreams come true!)

So there you have it, the Prettiest of Pretties in my book is the 16th edition of The Chicago Manual of Style. Oh happy day!

It's a Guessing Game!

2010-06-07T16:34:00.005-06:00

Today I saw this:

And this:

Guess which I enjoyed more?

Remember How I Promised . . .

2010-05-30T18:14:00.002-06:00

. . . to update my blog all the time while I was in London, and then I went to Grasmere a week and a half ago and haven't really blogged since? Yeah, well, . . . I'm in London what do you expect!

I'm sitting on some blog posts about grocery stores in England (only it's way more interesting than it sounds and it includes pictures).

Cool shows I've seen lately (like London Assurance and Henry VIII), bad shows I've seen lately (The Fantasticks), the fight I had/am having with the West End musical, the lukewarmedness of a LOT of the shows I'm seeing (isn't probing true depth of human emotion supposed to be a part of theatre in addition to being a part of literature, film, etc.), and my plans to see Spamalot.

How DI and not being in a shopping mood made Portabello a little bit less cool than it was in Bedknobs and Broomsticks (there were no dancers or soldiers, either).

Touring the TOWER OF LONDON!!!! (Holy British History/Awesomeness Batman!)

Finally going to Hyde Park and then going back again.

Getting Indian food and gelato.

Buying books as souvenirs. Buying comic books.

Swooning over the National Theatre and Laurence Olivier's brillance, genius, talent, and overall awesome (with Vivien Leigh at the back of these thoughts).

Not going to as many museums lately. :(

Having to prioritize what I'll be able to see because I'm running out of time. :(

Going to Stratford this week.

Having lot's of people love my Sunday School lessons, especially one sassy old woman with poor hearing and eyesight who requested that I permanently relocate (she totally has a high brow (re. Queen's English) accent, too)).

So, yeah, a lot's happened, but I also have to write papers and I HAVE to do my laundry (I'm long overdue). So, yeah, a real posts are forthcoming . . . when I get back to Provo . . . or in an ideal world, at least . . .

I love London so much. I still maintain that I am a country mouse and will want to end up in the country, but I love it here. Because it's grand.

We Interupt This Newsfeed for a Very Important Report on an On-going Dilema

2010-05-23T14:51:00.021-06:00

I need to figure out what I want to do with my hair. Okay, this is what I look like:or at least this is what I look like while I'm pulling a Lizzie Bennett a la (as Miss Nem would say) Kiera "Hipbones" McKnightley because I went to the Lake District and saw awesome stuff like Dove Cottage and, y'know, this:

and ate amazing food at places that serve me tea in pretty, pretty china, alike so:

This is how long my hair is now:

There are some things to note about my hair right now. First, the above portrays the very first time I've blow dried my hair in about three weeks. It also portrays the beginning effects of humidity on my wavesque hair. Also note the not so much split, but definitely not cleanly cut ends. But most importantly note the length because, y'know, you can either cut hair or grow it out. Those are the only options.

Now my ideal haircut is this:

which I arrived at after having this cut:

(This is the best pic I have of my favorite haircut.) I could try to return to this cut.

However, since I have been doing my hair wet and letting it dry in many a twist/bun/updo, there is a little bit of damage to the front, so I was thinking maybe bangs. Then I was really thinking bangs when our tour guide at Dove Cottage had bangs with The cutest bob ever. It looked a little something like this:

and something even more like this:

I love it and I could absolutely do it; however, some of the celebrities who have this haircut are Katie Holmes, Katy Perry, and my all time favorite Rihanna, so yeah . . . that's almost reason not to get this haircut. Plus also, it's mostly done with really dark hair, and I don't often go in for dying mine.

I could bob it and then go with pretty side-swept bangs a la Charlize Theron here:

This might be the most likely option; however, there are two other options--a trimming it and growing it out, which can be pretty:

or throwing all caution to the wind and geting a pixie cut, which might look like this:

or this:

or like something else that might just make my face look fat. (And, Mom, rest assured, there is no way in hell I'd ever do that to my ears.)

You may wish to know how I look with a bob before you vote, so here's this:

Now have at it. You may vote via comment or poll, but either way you should be happy that I got to see a single daffodil in bloom (and many dead ones) while in Grasmere:

Dear amazing Grasmere which I might actually blog about someday intense of merely using it as a ploy to take you through my haircut ruminations. Cheers!

An Update before Skipping off to Frolick in DW's Daffodils

2010-05-17T16:58:00.013-06:00

Let the record show:
I really true have been there. This is the proof.

Okay, since I last posted I have:

toured the Globe and learned that that side of the river was basically mideval Vegas and that proper suitors were utterly appalling (no wonder it was so hard to get heirs).
attended a disappointing production of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Globe and was suddenly grateful for Macbeth's general awesomeness.

graded while realizing that the British Library has pretty much the same stuff on von Arnim that the HBLL has (I also realized that trying to research while grading leads to an epic fail on both counts, which looks like major procrastination in the form of paying $6.00 to watch two episodes of LOST).
toured Westminster, which was amazing, cuz, hi, centuries of British history literally entombed and exhibited for the public in an amazing Gothic Cathedral with a Poet's Corner (which I visited twice Chaucer and Caedmon and Browning oh my!) and hi, pretty:

and, plus also, hi, spiritual:

it's probably the my favorite thing thus far second only to the British Library . . . well, and the English Countryside (because I'm just not a city girl)

watched Eurydice and liked it, but didn't Marianne like I thought I would.
found gummi bears and rhapsodized about them because I kind of love them (especially when I haven't had any for three weeks, they're Haribo Goldbears, and the reds are RASPBERRY, which, hi, Best Fruit EVER!) Yea, gummi bears!
graded til 1:00 a.m. without finishing.
taught a Sacrament-prepared Sunday School lesson (it's always nice to use someone else's lesson plan).
attended the largest Munch and Mingle of my life. No but seriously, this potluck was better than most ward Christmas parties. Ridiculous, and a solid ward.
didn't go to Chawtton for the writing workshop because of a required matinee (and we wept, precious!), but scheduled an appropriately post-Romanticism (workshop deficient) trip
forgot that I am taking a class while I'm here. Again. And not for the last time.
attended class and watched subtle, yet effective paper-shaping through discussion. Awesome pedagogy, Lance.
graded and graded and graded (Katie:Grading::The Pioneer Children: . . .).
had delicious muligatawny soup from a carton.
went to see Robin Hood, which was really cool until Cate Blanchett revealed that she actually auditioned for Eowyn and had to settle for Galandriel. Sigh, but good action and hottie Russell Crowe. I love movies and really kind of miss them. Plays are great and all, but . . .
got really excited about the Lake District! which happens this week! Can you say Wordsworth, pretty, and country.

(Please note: Not actual Wordsworthian daffodils, not taken by me. There is no guarantee that there will be daffodils in the Lake District this week. Not even of any kind.)

Some Pictures, A List, and A Sigh of Satisfication Inspired by Jack (and Meg?)

2010-05-12T16:42:00.013-06:00

Here's an update. Yeah for the whole Daily blogging about my life thing I've got going. On Monday, I decided to go to the Lake District during travel weekend and wrote and read and stuff. On Tuesday, I went to the temple in the morning and did a session and initiatories and it was beautiful. Tuesday evening was full of literary nerdiness, such as

Catching the Hogwarts Express

Checking out Baker's Street

(221b Baker's Street, that is)

Chilling with Watson

Posing with Holmes

Pretending to be Nancy Drew

Heading over to the British Library where I saw

A Guttenberg Bible
The Beowulf Manuscript
An early edition of Piers Plowman

And handwritten, original drafts from the following authors:

Milton
Dryden
Samuel Johnson
Wordsworth
Jane Austen
Charlotte Bronte (i.e. Jane Eyre)
Lewis Carroll (Through the Looking Glass)
Thomas Hardy (i.e. Tess of the D'Urbervilles)
Harold Pinter
Oscar Wilde
Virginia Woolf (Mrs. Dalloway)
Ted Hughes (Birthday Letters)
Sylvia Plath
And I think two more that I'm forgetting . . .
And the Magna Carta.

Today the theater TA and I went down to the beautiful, amazing Tate Modern and saw an exhibit on the De Stijl avant-garde movement as driven by von Doesburg. It was AMAZING.

Then I saw a farce (which is so one of my favorite genres). I'm trying to decide whether or not to go to Bath this weekend, to find time to grade, and to go back to the British Library and do some research. We'll see what happens in the next few days. I know there will be happiness; I'm just not sure of the variety.