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.