Battered and Bruised

Well, the semester is almost over. Or rather, it is over, with the exception of finals. Anyway, I thought it would be appropriate to reflect on some of the events of this semester. First, about a week after my 21st birthday, I came to my car only to find a note tucked under the windshield. Stating "Sorry man, parking here is tight, " a Mr. Joe from MO proceeded to explain in eloquent prose that he had scratched my car. Thanks for being honest Mr. Joe. He ended up being very cooperative and helpful when I took it in to get it fixed, but boy was that a headache. Here's some pictures of the damage. It took a few shots to get the full extent because I took the pictures in the parking lot and, well, parking here is tight, so I didn't have a lot of room to back up.
So that was the "battered" part. Now, the bruised part. For my structural geology class, we were on a field trip to the Bridal Veil Falls fold. The trip involved some steep slopes and loose rocks. I'm sure one can see easily where this is going. As we were making the descent down another side, we were kind of sliding/hiking/walking/falling down the slope on the leaves and loose gravel. Not really too treacherous, but we looked kind of funny. Anyway, I was already down with about 3/4 of my class. We were just waiting when we heard from above the telltale warning shouts of "rock! John, look out, rock! John! Move!" Now, there are 3 Johns in my class. And all three were nowhere near me, so I figured, hey, I'm solid. I was standing on a steep slope anyway, so I couldn't exactly run. I couldn't exactly move at all, for that matter. So I just minded my own business when all of a sudden BAM! I was knocked clean off my feet, literally bowled over like a pin to a ball. The good news is that the fall wasn't too far because of the steep angle of the slope, and the ground was cushioned by leaves. The worst was the contact of the rock to my calf muscle. Thank goodness it wasn't my shin, or else I might've been dealing with fractured/broken/bruised bones. Instead, I just got a gnarly bruise that lasted for a month or so and a dimple in my calf when I flex. The picture shows the damage the night of. The bruise continued to darken for a few days afterward, but this is the immediate result. The penny is for scale. The flash on the camera made it very difficult to capture the extent of the bruise. So I put on my best tough face after brushing myself off and finished up the trip just fine. I went home and ripped off my pants and ran cold water in the tub where I sat on the edge and with a washcloth, cleaned the wound (there were a few little surficial cuts, but nothing too bad). I also screamed. It kind of hurt more than I let on. Good thing no one was home. The difference in size of my calves from the right leg to the left was comical. So then I put on some shorts, grabbed a bag of ice, and iced my calf while watching a few reruns of America's Next Top Model. Walking wasn't too bad or anything, I just didn't wear heels for a long time. Dancing was the worst because it was like having shin splints in my calf muscle. At least the first week, sharp pains would shoot up through the muscle while clogging every 15 minutes or so. I'd say that's not too bad and I ended up pretty lucky.
But wait! There's more! The whole ordeal wouldn't really be that interesting but for the fact that it was an assassination attempt on my life. For I soon came to discover that who should have dislodged the large rock but none other than the TA for the class! Why she would want to eradicate me, I still don't know, but there must've been malicious intent, as my geology friends jokingly informed me. So I guess I go down in BYU structural geology 375 history as the girl who got knocked over by a rock "thrown" by her TA. Woohoo.
Also of note, in the picture on the right, I am with the group near the top, in the green shirt, to the right.
So there's my battered and bruised semester. I did, however, go to Ikea with Tyler and his roommate Cameron, at which point I purchased a new cover for my down comforter. My bed is beautiful and I love it. This is where I go to rest and it is fabulous. So despite Dr. Jekyll having a bad run-in with a maroon Honda Civic, and despite my calf having a (permanent?) dent in the muscle, I have a wonderful place to sleep.
Other things, even over big or bigger things, have happened this semester than my car getting grossly scratched, my leg getting awesomely bruised, and my bed being fantastically comfortable and Swedishly colorful. But they all make for more interesting stories than the other options, which are much more normal happenings.

"I went to Maui to stay a week and remained five"-S.C.

So Tyler is making a point to prove how cultured he is through book and movie reviews. I thought I could do the same. But I should probably make a disclaimer that I'm not very critical of things like movies, even if they are just not that good. So... it probably won't be that interesting, but oh well. But here goes:

As I was walking home in the icy cold snow the other day, my mind wandered to a warmer time. Balmy air laced with tropical scents, the buzzing of a few harmless island insects, in the distance the rhythmic waves crashed, time seems to move slower, and everyone moves along with it. I sat in a cool, air-conditioned room with a skirt and flip flops, and my hair loosely braided. Although indoors, the scent of the air was still distinctly tropical, Pacific. This was Hawaii. During Spring, for my Pacific Regionalism class, we were asked to read the book "The Paradise Conspiracy" by the good sir Ian Wishart. I couldn't check it out, so I had to visit the library and sit and read it there, but somehow, that was suiting. But anyway, about the book: it's a true story about tax fraud in New Zealand and an investigative journalist (Wishart) who seeks the shady truth. The book reads well, although the convoluted jargon is at times hard to follow for someone who knows very little regarding the subject matter, such as myself. The whole idea is very romantic: small tax havens on islands like Cook Islands and big business scams sucking millions, if not billions, of NZ$ from the Queen's good Island to ciphon it off into their own pockets. The story is filled with twists, villains, lies, deceit, money, conspiracy (duh), murder, blackmailing, and of course, beautiful tropical paradises in which all of these escapades may take place. I don't know if I would have appreciated this book as much out of the context of Hawaii, but if one ever finds oneself on a tropical isle with a free afternoon, I would suggest picking it up.
On a related note, I really think there is something so fantastic about reading a book related to the place one is. That is why, should anyone be in Hawaii, or at the very least itching to get over there, they should pick up "Mark Twain's Letters from Hawaii." There's not much to say; it's Mark Twain. He's simply charming, in a witty, forward sort of way. He's a romantic at heart as well, and beautifully paints his experience with words. It was like he knew what I was thinking about my time in Hawaii (both good and bad) and put it in words so perfect that I could have never done the task myself, but needed to employ the good man Samuel Clemens to help me out. Reading this outside on the beach, or a bench during a light tropical storm was just perfect. So I think both these books are excellent for travel, or simply for a cold winter when one longs for humid beaches, crystal clear waters, and a good pineapple drink. Ah, reminiscing.
And now, back to writing my paper on the structural geology of the Bridal Veil Falls fold in Provo Canyon...

Oh the weather outside is frightful

Yesterday, to mark the first day of December, there was a blizzard. Of course. I woke up and looked out my window, like I do every morning to check on the weather, and out of nowhere everything was blanketed in a thick layer of white. It snowed almost constantly for most of the day. I was foolish to think it wouldn't come by December. I mean, December, of COURSE it's going to snow. Since I got punked on the parking pass situation, my car is parked above ground, and it took like, 15 minutes to scrape off the powder. The thing is, powder is pretty easy to scrape off; it's the ice, I soon learned, that causes the real problems. The highlight of the snow experience culminated in me trying to put some cheese Tyler gave me into my car while our pizza was cooking. I went out with the cheese, unlocked my door, and pulled the handle. It didn't budge so I figured I'd pressed the wrong button on my remote, which is not outside of the realm of possibilities. I tried the other; no movement. I strained to read in the dark which was which and pressed "disarm" (which translates to "unlock," crazy Japanese cars). I pulled and pulled and pulled some more. It dawned on me. My car door was frozen shut. Frozen shut. I used my numb and throbbing fingers to pry off the ice-snow and breathed on the door frame. Yeah, I know, but I didn't know what else to do. I pulled and pulled and pulled and worried that my door handle would break off before the ice did. Then I noticed the huge icicle chunks hanging at the bottom of my car. I kicked them off and pulled and pulled and pulled again. Still nothing. So I repeated the pulling process. FINALLY the door crunched open, the sound of crushing ice echoing in the empty night. Unreal. I was not anticipating that battle, nor would I ever have thought that something like that happens in real life. On the upside, I'm getting better at driving on icy roads. By getting better, I mean I still drive about 5 mph, but I don't get hysterical that I'm going to slide off the road. Anyway, that's the weather update. Welcome to December.

The Season for Giving Thanks

So I guess I'm a little behind on the blogging. People have been getting on my case about not posting pictures too, so here:

1. This is the Tylers, not wanting their picture taken, in the cozy-plush lodge.
2. This is Tyler and I having a log-pillow fight in the robes from the rooms. It was pretty evenly matched. It's hard to tell from the picture. I took some pretty hard hits to the head and stomach, but in the end, I knew my brother could wrestle him and render him helpless if necessary.
3. Taking a "hike" wearing hats. I really wanted to go on a good, real hike, but no one thought hiking and Thanksgiving in the mountains were associated, so I settled for a stroll around the streets.
4. Tyler is enjoying the beauty of Lake Arrowhead and its resident ducks. It was very very freezing and windy this day.
5. Tyler, being his classy self.

Well, there you have it, dear family and friends. Pictures. From Thanksgiving. Boy, that took it out of me; it makes me not want to write those annoying words that my sister finds so useless on a blog. So you can just enjoy the pictures from your sister that is less important than the dog, eating food, and yachting, Megan. Megan, with the cold, frozen heart.
Also, for other pictures, see everyone else's blogs.

GSA-Geek Squad America

As I come to the close of my first experience at a geological conference, I must reflect on the many things I've seen and learned:

1. Soil scientists don't even hold a candle to geologists. There was a soil science technology booth at the expo next to the BYU booth and the guys (but mostly just one specifically) were WEIRD. And considering I'm at a geology conference, that's saying a lot.

2. Denver is host to a veritable cornucopia of diverse multi-cultural cuisines. Although I personally stuck to the traditionals (Hard Rock Cafe, The Cheesecake Factory, Sam's no. 3, Tokyo Joe's, etc.), a few BYU staff members have developed an affinity for Moroccan food. The nightly belly dancing has nothing to do with it... so I hear...

3. The U.S. Mint is cool, and gives out free pennies, and has never been robbed, and has its gift shop in a double-wide trailer a few feet away. Also, in the spirit of capitalism and not Andrew Mellon, the government is encouraging more coin collecting and is coming out with a line of $1 coins of all 37 dead presidents. They must be dead, sorry Bill. Additionally, in a few years will be a new line of pennies depicting four of President Lincoln's finest moments. On behalf of the U.S. Mint and the U.S. government, I would also like to take this time to explain that the phrase "In God We Trust" will still be on the presidential dollars, but on the edge. This will draw more people to look at it and reflect on religiosity because it is a novelty to find the hidden message. That is all.

4. The squirrels at the Colorado capitol building are HUGE!

5. Not a lot of geologists dressed up for Halloween. :(

6. But there was a lot of useless free stuff at the Expo! :)

7. Despite the deficit of victories in the Denver sports scene, fans are still loyal and selling World Series paraphernalia... for 75% off.

8. I met some people from NASA and the Smithsonian and other sundry areas that are researching something that can be coupled with the poster I presented and they were so nice! And people don't care if you don't 100% understand your research, so long as you smile and say things like "Well of course there is still so much more work to be done. These are just our preliminary conclusions, and hopefully as technologies advance, we'll have more accurate data and see more evidenciary support for our work... No, I'm still an undergrad."

9. Staying on the "Fun and Games" floor makes a world of difference. When the elevator is constantly inviting you to "come on down, you're on the fun and games floor!" it's hard not to get excited that you'll be walking away with a free washing machine or something.

10. When I first arrived in Denver, I thought it was pretty cut-and-dry as far as deciphering between the geologists, the baseball fans, and the locals. When someone I shared an elevator with asked if I was here for GSA, I didn't know if I should be mildly offended or relieved.

Overall, I've thoroughly enjoyed Denver. Some of the nicest guys are the ones with ponytails. I have seen more piercings here than I have in potentially the last 21 years of my life, which is all of it. But I definitely see the appeal of the mile-high city. I guess any large city would have similar appeal, but I'm not really familiar with them. But what's not to love? Four major sports teams (baseball, basketball, football and hockey), decent shopping, lots of food, mountains, public transit, and government buildings. Denver and I, we're friends. At the very least, acquaintances for now.

Welcome to Rocktober

Well, here I've found myself in the very heart of downtown Denver, arriving the same day as countless Sox and Rocks fans are flooding the mile-high city. The city is literally shrouded in a purple haze, as buildings are lighting up their facades with the Colorado team color. Thank goodness they're not sell-outs like the D-backs who now don red instead of purple and teal, or else there would be serious loyalty confusion. But I digress.

There is something that is so unique about being in a city while the World Series is going on there. Everyone was wearing purple. Everyone had Rockies paraphernalia. Every street was decked out with signs supporting the humble team. It was a truly beautiful thing. Now, I'm not intrinsically a Rockies fan. I'm going to be perfectly honest when I say I know very little about the National League in general. But the Red Sox swept the Angels and also spend more money than said team, so go Rockies! Also, for the first three years or so of my little brother's Little League career, he played on the Rockies, so I feel completely justified in my support. However, should Boston win, eh, no biggie. I just love the reaction of the home town when their team wins and that would be a fabulous thing to experience here.

Last night, my geology buddies and I tried to hit up a rustic-looking, authentic pub (because oh yeah, I'm 21 and I could go to one of those now). It was packed to the gills with Rockies fans, so we found a Denny's-esque diner instead. The good news is that sports pub or not, everyone everywhere is showing the game. I love baseball. If the Rockies can just win tonight to take it to a 5-game series, I will be so happy, because let's face it, no right-minded BYU student is going to go to a sports bar on a Sunday, regardless of choice of food. And there's an ESPNzone that would make an excellent choice for a Monday night game-viewing location... So go CO!

Perhaps I'm just nostalgic of that wonderful 2002 postseason, when the Angels took it all the way and sent Barry home crying, to take more steroids and regain the spotlight 4 and a half years later as home run king*. But there is nothing like the World Series, and although Denver is certainly no OC, it's a pretty decent city, and they've brought their A-game in supporting this miracle of a late-bloomer team. What better time to have to go to a rock conference than when the Rockies are strutting their stuff? I can think of none.

It's my birthday!

Well, today is my birthday and I am officially 21. I feel so old now. I don't really feel old, I just feel old saying I'm 21. But thus far today has been good. My friend from Hawaii, Li Li, sent me a text at 1 in the morning, but I slept through it. It was, however, an unexpected way to kick off the birthday wishes. I got up extra early so I could go into the geology computer lab and throw together some form of a figure on Adobe Illustrator for my paper, but first, my roommates all woke up to sing to me and eat some birthday Entemann's. So nice. Then I went and spit out a decent enough figure right in time to head off to Chemistry. Then back to the geology computer lab to print out my Illustrator figure and stereographs. I stayed long enough to hear the beginnings of the 230 class, hehe, and then home to finish up my paper. I did! Which is like a birthday gift because I didn't have to stress at the last minute, even if it wasn't great. Then dance, then field trip. Seven peaks fault scarp, can't go wrong. It rained a little, but never enough to stop us. And there were random bones of something, also gypsum crystals. Then birthday. Tyler came over and I opened presents from him and my parents. They're all so thoughtful. Then Tyler and my roommates and I went out to dinner, Ottavio's. It was pretty good, and Tyler asked to have the accordian man play Happy Birthday for me. So the accordian man came and played. And some other guys sang too, in Italian. And gave me something that I think was meant to be gelato but was probably closer to ice cream. Afterward, Tyler and I went to his place to watch a movie/the Angels game. The game went long, and dang that Manny Ramirez, but Angels will do much better at home. So that's my 21st birthday. It was very nice. And a lot of people told me "happy birthday" on campus. I even ran into a girl from my ward last year that I never see and in passing we said "hey" and she said "Isn't it your birthday?" How nice, and random, of her to remember. And I don't feel as sick as I did a few days ago. I think I only blew my nose 3 times today. All in all, a very successful birthday. I am pleased. And tired. It's conference weekend so I think I'll get to bed. I need to wake up early so I can make pancakes or something.

All work and no play...

Well, it's been awhile since my last post, but the only thing to really happen in that time is that school has become significantly more hectic. I started work again officially last week, and it's kind of difficult figuring out exactly the things Dr. C wants me to do before GSA (which is in 3 weeks!!! Holy cow!). I can't believe it, but I think I have more writing assignments than any of my roommates, including an English major. The new thing in the Geology department these days is to try to improve our scientific writing skills. I guess it's a good thing because I definitely need to improve, but man, is it a lot of work. My structural geology class goes on lots of fun field trips, but then we have to write a paper after each one. That's basically a paper a week until it gets too cold for even the craziest of geologists to do field work (i.e. the rocks are completely covered by snow). And all my midterms are the week of the 15th, so that will be interesting. I'm actually enjoying my Chem 107 lab class. I feel like a real chemist, even though I refuse to buy a pair of scientific goggles. I think it'll get a lot harder though, at least that's what everyone says. In all this work, I've also managed to get myself sick. Just a head cold, nothing serious, but it is slowing me down just a bit.
On a different, brighter note, Friday's my birthday! And I'm getting old. I'll be 21. This is the last year people keep track of their age. From here on out, it's just old jokes. I have a field trip to Seven Peaks on my birthday. Apparently, my teacher didn't mean the water park and we're actually going to the literal seven peaks for which the park is named.
I think the water park would have been a nice gesture though.

See that's a metaphor, no wait, a simile

Today I was sitting next to this guy in Chemistry and he was wearing a very sharp cologne. Not offensive, just... sharp. It made my nose sting and my eyes water. Could I possibly have a negative response to pungent cologne? Yes. It was a truly painful experience. And it made it very difficult to focus on dear, sweet Dr. Brown's lecture. We have the same computer, he and I. But he has an Australian accent and I don't.

On a similar note, this weekend was amazing and deserves to be documented. So Friday, I was just chilling in my apartment with my roommates. I had already accepted the fact that I would spend the better part of the weekend working on lab write-ups. But my friend Jules said she had tickets to see The Format opening for some band she didn't know. I like The Format. But it was in Salt Lake. It was already 5ish. The gig started at 6. Was it worth it? Eh, sure. So my roommate Kelly and I hopped in my car and were off. We called the girl with the tickets, still debating, thinking we were going to miss The Format anyway because we were running so late. But she told us that there were actually 4 bands playing, and she thought The Format would be later. And also, that the main band performing was Jack's Mannequin. Well what were we waiting for?!? That was just the motivation we needed. So with the JM cd already playing in my car, we headed for the SLC.

Fast forward. We're at the U and rxBandits is finishing up their set. Perfect timing. The Format played, just the two guys, acoustic. Amazing. With his deep scoop neck shirt and vest and hat and hunched-over stance. They finished up and then people went nuts in anticipation for JM. It was like the indie version of Chain Reaction in Anaheim. I suffered minimal battle scars; just a bloodied toe and smashed feet in general, plus a mysterious scratch on my arm that I'm not sure exactly how it got there. All bruises are generally not severe/visible. And well worth it. Anyway, Jack's Mannequin was absolutely amazing. Fantastic. Words cannot even describe. What a wonderful alternative to a weekend of paper-writing.

And then we got slurpees. Mine was orange cream, blue vanilla, banana. It was delicious.

Welcome to the OC

So I realize that the class for which I started this blog is successfully over, but I think documenting is still a good idea, and since I finally went home for a semi-extended period of time (longest stay since Christmas), I have some tales.
For the break between Summer and Fall terms, I went home to California, "right back where I started from." Ah, state songs, gotta love 'em. Anyway, I digress. Tyler came down a few days later to visit me and the fam. We went to Downtown Disney where he got his first glimpses of the Happy Kingdom in about 20 years. We went to Laguna Beach and my brother introduced us to Chronic Taco... sounds appetizing, I know, but it's Chipotle-esque. And I had my first real burrito. I took him to the shopping wonders of the Irvine Spectrum, where I purchased this very computer that I'm on from the Apple store. Yes, I've converted to Mac. So far, so good. And it's pretty, although I'm super paranoid about getting smudges on the screen. Friday was a harbor cruise on my Grandpa's yacht. We ate cheese and crackers and talked about politics. It was all very yacht-ish. It was my first experience with the boat, and a rather successful one at that. Plus then we got to show Tyler the famous Surf City USA aka Huntington Beach and dine at Ruby's on the pier after watching the local fishermen. That night was followed up by a delightful Angels game in which the Angels beat the Blue Jays 3-0. Plus, Friday means Big Bang Friday so the game was followed by a high-budget fireworks show. Tyler didn't cheer for the Angels and got some weird looks for wearing his Mariners hat. To no avail. Angels are amazing.
Saturday we spent the day in LA. We went to Graumann's Chinese Theater and the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the La Brea tar pits (this was mostly for my sake) and UCLA campus and the Getty museum. Okay, the Getty museum has become a personal obsession of mine since my first visit my junior year of high school. I absolutely love it. The atmosphere, the architecture, the view, the gardens, and of course the art. It's just such an incredible place and I simply love everything about it. It has become an almost annual tradition now. Whenever I'm home, I always want to go to the Getty.
Anyway, back to the trip. Sunday was Church, of course, and a much-needed day of rest. I also discovered Tyler's love of ping pong while on this trip. He was always challenging me to a game. I beat him a few times. Monday was Disneyland day. We fulfilled a childhood dream of Tyler's by going on the Matterhorn. And I finally got to go to California Adventure. The place was nuts. It's an entire amusement park themed to the Golden State. I was impressed with Disney's recognition of her majesty and greatness (her being California). Also there was a giant orange with swings inside. That is all about that. Tuesday we took the yacht to Catalina Island. I haven't been over there in years, but not much has changed. We roamed around and played a round of mini-golf with my brother. It was actually pretty intense. We were on a tight schedule so it basically turned into a game of extreme speed golf, and we managed all but hole 7 on the 18-hole coarse. Wednesday we rested. Thursday was South Coast Plaza, the largest and chicest mall in Orange County. Friday, we drove back to good old Provo. It was a really busy break. But that's how we do it in Orange County.

La lingua d'italia e bellissimo!

In high school, I didn't take Spanish or French like normal kids. I took Latin. It's generally not a spoken language (but NEVER tell a Latin scholar it's a dead language), so I can't really speak it, but I can read it decently well and if I were Catholic, I could generally understand the Pope. But I'm not Catholic, I'm LDS, so I came to BYU and decided I needed to take a language. So I took Italian for a year. It's still rough, but I'm getting there. Although the class, especially 102, was torture, I'm glad I learned it. One thing I did learn while in Hawaii is that it's SUPER useful to speak another language so you can talk to each other in that language in front of other people. An example: really weird guys from Japan were talking to us. They were UH students. We wanted to leave. So with my broken Italian and my friends' basic Spanish, we were able to communicate that to each other without them knowing. They spoke to each other in Japanese so I don't feel bad at all. I just wish more people knew Italian. I wish I knew Italian, for that matter. Actually, I can get by fairly well conversing in Italian. I'm definitely not blessed with the gift of tongues, that much I know. Before I took Italian, I wanted to learn a Cyrillic and Asian language in addition to the Romantic language, but after the battle with learning Italian, that desire is not so strong. Still, my boyfriend speaks Ukrainian and Russian (he served in the Kiev mission) and his parents are mission pres. of the Russia Yekateringsberg mission (I don't know if I spelled that right at all) so I'd like to learn one of those languages. I'd rather learn Ukrainian, for some reason I like the less common of languages (like choosing to learn Italian, which is only spoken in Italy or Latin, which is only spoken in the Vatican) but with my terrible multi-lingual skills, or lack thereof, who knows.

Tutto io conosco e che io non capisco niente quando un RM d'italia parla velocemente, per esempio la mia professoressa per la classe da cento e due. Mamma mia!

I believe I can fly

This is perhaps one of my proudest moments in my entire life. The summer before I came up to college, I got to throw out the opening pitch to an Angels game. It was Mormon night at the Angels, an annual tradition in Orange County. My mom got a phone call asking if I would be willing to go on the field before the game where they could recognize a few students to represent the Mormon group that was there. I don't know why, but I didn't ask questions; of course I would. My mom (I don't know why they just asked for my mom to relay the message, but whatever) then received another phone call asking if I would be the one to actually throw out the opening pitch. Holy flying Disney angel wings! I have no idea why I was chosen, how my name got suggested, but whatever, when I get a stroke of luck, I take it. Problem: I didn't really know how to throw a ball. I practiced for a few hours, with my Dad and male friends coaching me through it.

Then, the day came. I got to go early to the game and go through a special door. They gave me a hat and the ball. There were a few other kids there too (I think 3 or 4 total) and we got escorted onto the field. The first player I saw was Chone Figgins, one of my absolute favorite players. I was so excited. And Vlad saw us and winked. I was freaking out, it was so cool. And then, the game was beginning, so we lined up around the mound, and I threw the ball to Scot Shields. He then came up to return the ball to me, gave me a side hug, and told me I threw a good strike. I held out the ball and he signed it. I was euphoric. Then the game started, I returned to the Mormons in the nosebleeds, and proceeded to watch the game I had started. So yeah, my claim to fame is that I threw out the opening pitch at an Angels game.

Note: Angels beat the Devils Rays that night. I think that's symbolic, Angels and Devils. Yeah.

To teach is to...

My sophomore year of high school, I had an incredible English teacher, Ms. Ryan. She's the one who suggested I read East of Eden. She would always encourage class discussion and there were some really bright kids that made it funny (they were like Phineas and Gene from A Separate Peace). I loved my freshmen high school Earth Science teacher, Mr. Evans. He wore shirts that said things like "heavy metals" with elements from the periodic table and coined the clever phrase "No zinc in the sink!". But in college, I've had some pretty good teachers too. I loved my Calc 113 teacher, Dr. Johnson. He was this old guy with an English accent. I had an incredible Comparative Politics teacher, Dr. Wade Jacoby, which was so nice after having such a terrible experience in Pl Sc 110. And I've never not liked any of my Geology professors. My top two might be Dr. Ritter and Dr. Christiansen though, thus far. And I had a really good clogging teacher, Rustin Van Katwyk. And of course, Dr. Wood for Chem 105. At BYU-Hawaii, I had a political science teacher from the Cook Islands, Dr. Jon Tiki Jonassen, and he was hilarious. He used to be the foreign affairs minster for CI, as well as the ambassador to New Zealand from Cook Islands, so he had tons of stories. I'm usually pretty accepting of teachers, and usually, the teachers I like are very professional in the classroom, or the intellectual type. Or at least, I don't think I'm smarter than them, as has been the case with a few... When I'm incredulous about something a teacher says, it usually means I want out of the class. The only 2 examples I can think of this though are the two I mentioned yesterday. Sometimes my Italian 102 teacher. And sometimes Brother Merrill, my Book of Mormon teacher, said some... interesting stuff. "All people who are popular are going to Hell. All people who go to parties are going to Hell." And then there was the time he looked straight into my soul in the middle of class. Whoa, that was weird. But he was a good guy.

Dante's inferno has nothing on this

Worst college teacher, easy. Brother Parry (or Perry, I don't even care to know which is right). He was my comparative literature teacher my freshmen year. I had an amazing English teacher in high school who urged me to pursue a major in an English field. I didn't want to; I wanted to do geology. But nonetheless, I figured I could at least take a few classes in English. Brother P killed books. He was incredibly dry and refused to allow opinions. If we didn't agree with his interpretation of Dante, we were definitively wrong. Although I am no feminist by any stretch of the imagination, my high school teacher was, so my analytical eye had been trained to catch those undertones. Bro P. was the opposite, and saw nothing of the sort. Because of our drastic clash of interpretations of literature, I lost my desire to try to impress him with his own regurgitated opinions. The best part of the class was that it was in the basement of the newly-constructed JFSB in one of the spinny rooms, so the chairs were really comfortable and the room could rotate. The soft chairs and dim mood lighting created a fantastic nap atmosphere. And I drew some great pictures. I had two of my best friends in the class with me, as well as some very choice characters from my ward (the topper and the scapegoat) so... although I learned nothing about Bro P's interpretations of The Book of the City of Ladies, Machiavelli's The Prince, Sophocles, etc., it served its purpose as an opportunity for hilarity and catching up on much-needed sleep. Bleh, just thinking about that class leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I also had a really bad TA once, in my Political Science 110 class. She was nuts. But that's another story.

If you get the choice to sit it out or dance...

I'm not too easily embarrassed. That's not to say I don't do embarrassing things, because I certainly do, but I just don't care. I'm reminded of Natasha on America's Next Top Model, the most recent cycle, where she was in the top 2 and during the walk-off, her skirt fell off and she didn't miss a step. That's kind of like my embarrassing moments. Because she handled it so well, Tyra didn't even notice and Twiggy praised her for her professional way of handling it... I do lots of awkward things. Lots. I was a cheerleader in high school and my Senior year, I was captain of my varsity squad. This means I got to be the one on the microphone at football games. Oh boy, whoever made that executive decision made a big mistake. I would say the most ridiculous things, but it never embarrassed me. I just thought it was funny. I'm sure there were plenty of other people who were embarrassed as a result, but oh well. Oh man, the squad that year was so much fun. We were out of control. I was big on stake dances that year too... and I'm sure I should have been embarrassed then too, but it just doesn't phase me when other people are watching me dance. Judge not, you know? I tend to be too loud. I get really into heated political discussions. I'm sarcastic and rude and blunt more than I should be. I'm not afraid to do something because of what other people might think. I'm just not a very reserved person, and that would probably lead to more embarrassing moments, if I cared enough to be embarrassed. But honestly, at the dance, who's more embarrassed: the wall-flower or the person in the middle of the circle?

I did get an A- in Chem 105. That's actually pretty embarrassing, not because it's a bad grade, but because it was an easy class and I should've done better.

Different names for the same thing

I like my names, first, middle and last. One day, I actually will change my name, my last name. It's called marriage. Girls are just lucky that way I guess. In elementary school, whenever we played whatever, I wanted my name to be Amy, so maybe that's the closest I can get to a legit answer of the question. I feel like that desire dates me as growing up in the 80s-90s. Amy was also the name of the original pink Power Ranger, back in the 1st grade. Maybe that had something to do with it.

Sidenote: I think an important question to ask would be favorite professional sports team. It's a big deal. Or what's your claim to fame/coolest thing you've ever done. I think of these two because my answers to both are intimately intertwined, and my team just beat Oakland last night. Still leading AL west. So I'm stoked.

I used to take English classes before college came along...

Admittedly, the last book I read was the 7th Harry Potter book. I loved it; it was fantastic. There was a fabulous review in the NY Times from about 2 or 3 days before it came out that I thought was wonderfully articulate and accurate about how Rowling doesn't try for anything "modern" but instead opts for a more "classic Hollywood ending," reminiscint of an old Hollywood where nothing was left up for speculation that involves serious plot matters. But I'm currently reading Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenin. I love Russian authors and the story is ab fab. I've found Kitty's plight to be incredibly insightful. How many countless times have I also found myself in the same heartwrenching situation, with multiple suitors begging my attention? Too many, simply too many.

I jest, mostly. But I really do love Russian authors. I read Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's August 1914 my freshmen year of high school and it was love. But before Harry Potter 7, I read Mark Twain's Letters from Hawaii. As I was living in Hawaii at the time, I found it very appropriate. Twain's another one of those great authors. Unlike me, he's funny-clever. I can respect that. Other authors that I simply adore: John Steinbeck (all-time favorite book is East of Eden), Ernest Hemmingway (esp. The Sun Also Rises), Isabel Allende (who would've thought I'd actually love magical realism?), Amy Tan (I was initially a doubter, but she proved her prowess as a novelist via The Hundred Secret Senses) and definitely Ray Bradbury (surprisingly or not, The Martian Chronicles was fantastic; he's a literary Midas-- everything he writes is gold). I feel somewhat like a horrid rebel/outcast from my gender for not having Jane Austin on the list, but I'll give her another shot some day. The Great Gatsby changed my life, as did The Catcher in the Rye (plus, Holden is just such a cool name), 1984, The Awakening, Brave New World, An Artist of the Floating World. I love Asian authors too, and those really esoteric reads like James Joyce or stream of consciousness style in general. And I read Twilight anyway for good measure and well-roundedness (this was based solely on a roommate recommendation, however).

I get way more into books than I do with any other form of media. Having said that, I have been immensely pleased with the Pirates movies, but perhaps that is a result of my affinity for pirates that can possibly be traced back to a baton (yes, baton) routine from when I was 7 or 8 years old. Regardless, in my entertainment center in my apartment, as I (unfortunately) do not own a TV, the large space is filled with my somewhat feeble attempt at a growing personal library. I'm a self-admitted nerd.

Cheap Thrills

Well, before I heard the examples of other people, I would've said I'm the cheapest person I know. But I don't have any really blatant or embarrassingly obvious examples. I just don't tell people I have a car so I don't have to give rides.

Question

How about, what's the last book they've read, or what are they reading now (aside from textbooks, obviously). I think that's a pretty telling question. Or what do they do for fun, like hobbies? Maybe lots of geology majors would say the same thing ("... well, I go hiking. Duh") but not all of us have gone granola. Or hidden talents. Everyone's got a few. I don't know, I tried to think of something really clever but that's just not working out for me. Being clever, that is.

Haircuts: A History

Being a product of the 80s and growing up in that horrible fashion drought from about '89 to '97, there was a point in my Elementary School career where I had the "bird's nest bangs." These are the bangs that are curled and teased out not just to cover the forehead, but to create 360 degrees of hair badness. So somewhat in rebellion but mostly in ignorance, I grew out my bangs and went for the slick-straight middle part. I was blessed with very "fine" (I have a friend who refuses to say her hair is thin, but that it is "fine") hair that is always straight, no matter what I do to it, so this middle part look was really Avril Lavigne-ish. Not the greatest. I chopped off about 10 inches for the first time in my life in maybe the 7th grade. Debatable if it's been that short since. Maybe when I tried layering it for about two years of my life. Now I'm just going for the field camp look -- long, blunt, and braided.

Much too cool for 7th grade

I didn't post a blog for the last question because I honestly couldn't think of anything. I called my mom last night and asked her and she couldn't think of anything either. She said when I was a kid, I was pretty good and usually just read books or did puzzles. I wasn't very destructive.

My favorite cartoon is probably Pepper Ann. When I was younger and it was on Saturday mornings, I didn't have much of an appreciation for it, but by middle school, I realized the subtle genius of it. Granted, I was starting to phase out cartoons anyway, but that show is hilarious. There's a lot of humor that I defintely didn't get when I was younger that made sense when the reruns would play every day when I got home from school before Boy Meets World came on. And that's when I loved it. Spongebob Sqaurepants also has a lot of older humor. I can appreciate that.

I am ichthyophobic

I am absolutely terrified of fish. I had a really traumatizing experience in 5th grade involving trout. My 5th grade teacher, Mr. Bolling, was an avid fly fisher, so we raised trouts from eggs and released them in the wild (but not super wild, as I grew up in Orange County and it doesn't get really wild in the context of freshwater habitats). They were ugly, but whatever, I named one Bob and all's fine. A few weeks after they were released, Mr. Bolling brought in a bunch of dead trout for us to dissect. Were they the very same that we had raised from little eggs? Potentially. But I think what really got me was how disgusting it was. The smell of dead fish lingered in the classroom for weeks; I had to excuse myself multiple times during the dissection. And of course, it being 5th grade, all the very mature little boys were popping out the eyes and running around, pretending to lick them and shoving them in all the girls' faces saying "Mmm, tastes like chicken." Awesome. I was never a fan of fish, but thus was born my ichthyophobia.

In the following years, it has seriously been a source of much embarressment. I don't like eating fish, and I don't like touching fish. Therefore, although I love the ocean and grew up close to the California coast, it would take literally minutes of me mentally coaxing myself to go in the water. I had to tell myself that fish don't swim that shallow. One time I was on Catalina Island and there was a platform out about a hundred feet from the shore with ropes connecting it to land. I convinced myself that the flourishing fish population couldn't swim past the rope so I wouldn't be afraid to swim out and jump off the platform. Even in high school, at the first sight of life in the ocean, whether it be a jellyfish, sandshark, or a just plain ugly regular fish, I would hightail it out of there. Some years are worse than others. When there is a particularly warm current (i.e. El Nino), it attracts TONS of jellyfish. The biggest I've seen them is about a foot in diameter. They're clear white with purple trim (not that they're a window curtain, but kind of). And they scare the crap out of me. Every few years we get something called the "red tide," where there's an abundance of plankton or something and it makes the water look red, but at night when it's dark and the waves crash, they glow fluorescent blue. I think the glowing part is actually their eggs or something. Regardless, it looks super cool, but it's disgusting to swim in.

Last term, I lived in Hawaii. As a severe ichthyophobe, was this a very stupid thing? Yes, definitely. Fortunately, I didn't find out what Hukilau, the local Laie beach, means in Hawaiian til the very end of the term (it's something like, the locals catch loads of fishes here because the water is packed with them). And there were lots of turtles. I love turtles, so that was cool. Once, I went snorkeling at this place called Shark's Cove. It was a harrowing experience. When I get scared, I hyperventilate and flex my calves really hard. I don't know why, it's a fight or flight thing I guess. Anyway, someone should try that sometime, snorkeling while hyperventilating and using more energy to flex calves than swim. I was fine for awhile in the shallow side because it just looked like the old submarine ride at Disneyland (that has apparently been replaced by a new Finding Nemo feature) through my goggles so I convinced myself it was fake. But then my friend wanted us to go over to the deeper side. I almost died. We had to swim THROUGH a school of fish about the size of my hand and larger. The swells were up that day, so between it all, I had to avoid being smashed against the beautifully craggy basalt (although, if I had to go, being with basalt in my last moment would probably be the best way, especially if the other alternative is "swimming with the fishes," figuratively and literally). And my friend kept trying to point out the giant fishes (over a foot long). She even saw a squid, which I think was probably an octopus but I wouldn't know because I told her "No thanks" and when she saw it again I told her I would rather die than see a squid and acknowledge I was swimming with one. Once at Hukilau, we saw some local kids who had captured 2 or 3 octopii (? that would be the spelling in Latin, but I've heard arguments that it's octopuses. What do I know? After 4 years of high school Latin and English, I still couldn't tell you which is right) from the ocean we swim in. Disgusting.

Anyway, the moral of the story is, I have ichthyophobia. That is a fear of fish. And it is not only just fish with fins and tails and bulging eyes, although that is the main type, but also anything disgusting. Like octopuses/ii, and squids (which we had to dissect in the 7th grade; they told us to hold it like an ice cream cone, so I scooted my chair back and watched with one eye closed), jellyfish, and crustaceans in general. Shrimps are so creepy.

I am not, however, afraid of sharks, dolphins, whales, sea lions, otters, sting rays, turtles, etc.
Except for the sting ray that killed Steve Irwin, may he rest in peace.

A real funny joke

Yo' mama so poor, she hangs the toilet paper out to dry!

That's the best one I know.

**note: I did not actually write this post**

Weird food

I'm a super picky eater, so probably weirder than foods I eat are foods I don't eat. I don't like any seafood, beans, tomatoes, pickles, olives, mushrooms, bananas, etc. etc. Apparently that's pretty weird.

Pet peeves

One thing that drives me nuts is when people mispronounce my name. More when I was younger, people would say Tara like car instead of Tara like tare-a. I had teachers in middle school who consistently called me Tarr-a for my entire duration, despite multiple corrections. I don't get it as much in college, maybe because in Utah people are smart enough to realize that Tara rhymes with Sara. Intuitive.

Worst Date

Rather than worst date, I will explain what is maybe my worst "dating experience," as it unfortunately did not end at the date...

I was here last summer, and my ward combined with another ward because they were so small. There were 2 Sunday school teachers, one in my ward and one in the other. The one in my ward and I had been on some dates before, but we both weren't feeling it, and that was fine. Near the end of the term, the other teacher complimented my eyeshadow and then asked for my number in front of the other teacher. I was amused, so I gave it to him. Big mistake. This was before my 210 trip. Post 210, after I thought I was in the clear, he called. Everyone deserves a first date, so I agreed. We went to dinner, which is fine. He gave me some weird compliments like... just staring at me silently and then saying "Wow, you are just so beautiful." I guess that could be sweet but it wasn't, trust me. Afterward, he said he'd rented a movie and asked if we could use my apartment because his roommates were home. Fine, because so were mine and I needed their presence. We made carmel apples and watched the Aubry Hepburn version of Sabrina. This is a pretty harmless date, and because I was not in to it at all, I figured he'd never call back. The night ended with a hesitant side hug. If that were the end of it, it would've just been awkward, but not bad.

However, the next week he called back. I was on my way to a class and expecting a call from another boy, so I answered the phone on impulse. He asked me out for Friday, but I said no. I didn't have a date lined up, but I was planning on it, so I had to keep my evening free. He was a persistant little devil though. He asked me out for a weekday instead. I was in a hurry and needed to get rid of him, so, caught off guard, I agreed and hung up. Again, big mistake. Our second date, again, started with dinner. More weird compliments like "You have amazing hands. I would love to draw them sometime." Then monopoly in the Tanner building. This is the second time I have done this activity on a date. Word of advice: if this is ever on the date agenda, run away. Fast. Monopoly was whatever, but as we were walking back to his truck, he grabbed my hand! Holy heck, that is SO not okay. I was paralyzed, I did not close my hand, and as soon as I regained my senses, I pulled away. We then went to the duck pond south of campus to feed the ducks. Holy moly, I just wanted to go home. I was miserable. I kept my arms folded for the rest of the night. Post duck pond, he finally took me home. I'm pretty sure the night ended without a hug.

Well, it unfortunately doesn't end there. He continued to call and I flat out refused. Multiple times. I told him at first that I was too busy and didn't have time. He left a bottle of PowerAde on my doorstep with a note that said something like "Hope your week is good, even though it's crazy" or something like that. He continued to call, and I continued to be busy. I avoided him when I saw him. I panicked. He creeped me out, and maybe I'm a bad person because of it, but oh well. He sent me a single flower with another card and said something to the same effect of the PowerAde. For FHE that night, my roommates and I burned the card. A little melodramatic, but I was only a Sophomore. I guess you could say I was acting "sophomoric."

Finally, one Sunday he showed up at my apartment. Keeping to the honor code, we just stood in my front room. Half of my roommates were in the kitchen and he didn't ask for privacy. It was a horrible confrontation, at least in my opinion. He said he really enjoyed the time we'd spent together and wanted to keep being able to go out. I said no, I didn't see it happening. I'm a mean person. I explained how busy I was that semester and that I just wasn't seeing anything happening between him and me in the future. He left, and my roommates laughed. It was horribly awkward.

He had graduated, but every now and then I'd see him on campus or walking near the apartment complex where we live. I have literally walked blocks out of my way to avoid running into him. I'm just a terribly awkward person.

On top of it all, he was balding.

Color me crayola.

I'm a big fan of color in general, but I've actually been to the Crayola site before. I used to think I'd go with "tickle me pink" because I like pink and I think it's an accurate reflection of myself. In kindergarten, however, I was a fan of salmon. These days though, I'm liking anything from "purple mountain's majesty" to cerulean. I'm liking the purples and blues these days, but greens are always good, from sea foam to hunter to jungle to forest.

I'm also slightly embarrassed that I knew all those names without going on to the site. But I'm a big fan of crayola.

First loves don't count

This wholy depends on one's interpretation of the word "love" so I'm going to go with a loose one. My first love was books.

But really, in preschool, there was a kid named Dan Perlof. We were going to get married. This is no longer the case. Thank goodness.

My incredibly nerdy past

When I was a freshmen in High School, it was a schoolwide requirement to take an Earth Science class. There was one teacher that everyone didn't like and always did poorly in his class, and of course I had him; most of the kids did. After a year with Mr. Evans, I still loved the subject when everyone else thought rocks were dumb. Well, they're all dumb because rocks are cool. Because I still liked rocks after that class, it was kind of a testament that I was really passionate about the subject, and pretty much from that point on I knew I wanted to major in geology.

Maybe it predates that though. In the 4th grade we watched a really cool video on volcanoes. I remember going to the OC public library and checking out books on Pompeii and stuff afterward and being completely captivated by the subject. And now, eleven years later, I still love volcanoes.

I've always been so amazed by open-majors because I've always known what I would do when I got to college. I can't imagine people studying in a subject they're not passionate about; I think that would just be the most horrible thing. Luckily for me, I love rocks.

Scar story

Ok, I have a few scars, but the stories are like, I looked down at my ankle and it was bleeding during a youth car wash for the Church, and it scarred. Or my cat scratched me under my left eye when I was maybe 2. Or I had chicken pox. Lame. But my most recently acquired scar (which hopefully won't end up scarring) is kind of a funny story. So while I was in Hawaii, there's a popular hike in Laie that a lot of students take, so two of my friends and I decided we needed to go before our trip ended. It had been raining that day, but it always rains in Hawaii so we figured we were good and set out at about 3:30. We were told it takes about 3-4 hours, at the most, so even though it starts getting dark around 7:30, we thought we'd be ending just in time. We set out and at the trailhead, it said it took about 1.5 hours to get to the Falls, where our hike ended. Granted, we're just 3 girls and we might have been going slower than average, but we looked at the time and it was 5:30. We decided to go til 6 or so before turning back to avoid getting caught in the dark. We kept going, and the trail got muddier from the rain earlier that day. At a few points, we were shin-deep in mud. 6 turned into 6:15, then 6:30, and finally, as we noticed the sun was setting, we decided that something was off and we needed to head back. Lo and behold, it got dark just as we got out of the muddy part. But there was still an hour or so left of hiking ahead of us. Although we had no flashlight, I did have the sense to bring a small booklamp about an inch in diameter. By light of the lamp, we managed to get ourselves lost in the middle of a field where the trail abruptly ended. We were lost for maybe an hour or so before finally getting back on the right trail. And there was fog and no moon, so it was very dark. It started raining about 3o seconds after we reached the trailhead, so we walked to food for the 15 minutes or so that it takes in the rain. Anyway, the scar comes in because my shoe rubbed my right ankle raw from being wet and wearing short socks. My friend Allison had both ankles rubbed raw. We were awesomely muddy. And then we ate at Taco Bell. In retrospect, it was really fun. And apparently, we missed the turnoff to the waterfalls and were on our way to summit instead, which is a 3.5 hour hike. So I don't think we're ridiculously slow hikers, and that makes me feel better.

Rocks

My favorite rock is basalt, so anything to do with basalt, I love. While in Hawaii last semester, I bought an olivine necklace (or peridotite, same deal), but that's not really a sample, but it is the "basalt mineral." But while at Shark's Cove, I took a piece of vesicular basalt. I think that's illegal because it's a state beach park, but it's basalt from Hawaii, and I couldn't resist. I have some other basalt too. A lot of it looks similar, because basalt often looks the same, but it's just so cool. I saw some basalt once with lots of olivine and pyroxene phenocrysts and I really liked that, so maybe one day I can have a sample like that one.

It's all relative

Today we learned about tabs and things in Word, and that's really helpful to me.

My family is relatively tame. Maybe I would say my grandpa. He is a nuclear physicist and one time I was helping him with some stuff in his office, answering phone calls and stuff, and both the White House and FBI called for him. He's been to Czechoslovakia before it split, and Russia and the U.S.S.R., which is a dream of mine that will forever be unfulfilled, as the U.S.S.R. no longer exists. He's heavily involved in the Yucca Mountain project, and even though I know very little about it, I know people talk about it all the time and it sounds important. He's written books, and sometimes with geologists. And he just bought a boat. Oh wait, the question was for craziest, not most awesome. Nevermind then.

Once I went to band camp

I learned about column breaks, which is something I have always wanted to know. The page breaks I learned how to use the hard way last Spring and it was really frustrating, so perhaps column breaks should have been intuitive but it wasn't, so I'm glad we discussed it today.

I play the flute. I started in the 4th grade and let it go by the wayside when I became more heavily involved in dance 4 or 5 years later, but in High School I was still asked to play maybe once a year in sacrament. I used to be pretty good in 6th grade or whatever, but these days, probably not so much.

Cars and things

Today I learned that driving to school is not, in fact, faster than walking. I also learned about the importance of having technical writing skills.
This is easy. I would definitely want a Hummer H3. It's the smaller one, so it's like the soccer mom's glorified suburban. I'm certainly no soccer mom, I just really like Arnold Schwarzenegger. And if he can own a fleet of hummers (mostly H2s though), surely I could have one for myself. I actually think it's ridiculous to see young moms driving hummers around suburban Orange County, where I'm from, but I see it all the time and I laugh. I'd actually maybe want a lighter blue BMW convertible, but not in Utah where it snows. Audi makes a nice one too.

Superheroes

Today I learned about how to make a resume, which is very useful because I haven't made a resume since maybe the 8th grade.

I think I've had the superhero conversation with my friends before, and I was dubbed BasaltGirl or something to that effect, because of my affinity for the black rock. This is a lot cooler than it sounds, though. Basically, I would be able to spew hot lava from my fingers and stop people in their tracks. And maybe I could also have that ability kind of like the Capri Sun commercials or Alex Mack where the kids kind of melt into this silver liquidy substance and can travel rapidly, which goes along with the theme of basalt because it's like a magma... that moves fast. Okay, so basically I'm a geek, but this superhero persona was not by choice but rather appointment by my peers. How sad.

Movies and such

Today in class we learned about color, and I think this topic will be helpful not only in web design, but also in coordinating my apartment.

No questions yet, but as I come across the need to create color schemes, they will probably arise.

For worst movies ever, it's a tie. First, Flight Plan. Freshmen year some friends and I decided to go see it and that was not a smart decision. I don't really remember why it was so bad, just that we made fun of it mercilessly for months afterward. Second, and I'm almost embarrassed to admit I've seen this, but it's a somewhat recent animated movie called Happily Never After or something to that effect. In my defense, it was free while I was in Hawaii and so whatever, the only thing I wasted was my time. I didn't know animations could be bad actors but that assumption is sorely wrong. It was painful, not even funny-bad like the aforementioned film, but just outright a cruel and awful experience. My apologies to anyone who has been through this, or if anyone enjoyed it and is offended. Although I highly doubt that person exists.

My very first blog

I learned how to set up a website without having to know html language, which is incredibly luxurious. Once, I had to test out of a Research and Technology class in high school and I had to learn how to write a basic html website and I was terrible at it, so I'm glad technology has caught up with the times.
I understand the basic stuff about creating our websites, but I'm concerned I don't know how to make it look professional.
If money were no object, I might have previously said somewhere tropical and exotic like French Polynesia, but after living in Hawaii for the past 2 months, I have found that that would be a huge mistake. I hate bugs and I'm terrified of fish, so I learned the hard way that while the basalt is gorgeous, the cockroaches don't die unless literally drowned in Raid. I appreciated Mark Twain's description of Hawaiian cockroaches that are the size of "peach leaves." So instead, I would want to go to Italy. I speak a very limited amount of Italian, but I love the culture and I love the history. And the food, which is delicious. And if I'm feeling particularly introverted, I could always camp in Italy too.