Lesson Learned, Tough stuff.

I'm a genius. Things that don't look like they'll fit into slots in your computer probably will not fit into said slots and should not be forced in anyway. Lesson learned. The computer is fine. The brand new 4gb memory stick, however, is not. This means that all the pics on it are...gone. Gone gone gone. Gone are the hopes of new Facebook albums, and illustrated blog posts detailing winter break fun. Gone are the videos of my attempts at hip-hop immortality (this is actually a very shiny silver lining...)
It could be worse. The pictures/videos on now-defunct memory stick are actually very small in number and fall into three categories: 1)Joey and Janice's Day of Fun...s, 2)Roadtrip with the ickle Dannykins back to California, including a pit-stop in St. George to see my favorite sister missionary, and 3)January 19 Beach Trip of Sunshiny Goodness with Hannah and aforementioned ickle Dannykins.
What's that? You can only imagine how spectacular these pictures and their accompanying stories were? You want nothing more than to get a taste of what was lost, no matter how pathetic the attempt to recreate such memories? Fear not, huddled masses. I understand.
Coming soon: Pathetic Attempts at Re(-)creation...

Bare Naked Snobbery and Righteous Indignation

Note: Reading through this, it really is pure, unadulterated snobbery and indignation. Consider yourself warned. I also don't mean this as a personal attack on anyone I know and love...maybe on some I know and don't love, though...jk :-) I write this as a response to a general attitude. I promise. Heartsies :-)


I hate Twilight. I love hating Twilight. Hating Twilight has become a passion of mine. I can't let it die. I read the first three books. I couldn't put them down. I hated myself for that. By the end of the third book, I hated all of the characters (though Rosalie was starting to grow on me, mostly because she was the only one that recognized just how mentally deficient Bella was). I wanted the fourth book to be two pages long: Edward bites Bella. He loses control. Bella dies. Edward, the psychopath that he is, laughs and finds another personality-less teenager to manipulate. That's a whole lot of hate and uncharitable feelings to be coming from one average-sized girl. I refused to read the fourth book, out of principle, but still wanted to know what happens. I looked it up online. I swear I vomited at least three times just reading the synopsis. Really? REALLY?

I could attack Twilight for its writing style. I'm not a very good writer, but I'm convinced I could write better dialogue than Stephenie Meyer. I'll leave that alone for now, though.

Those who defend Twilight say it's just harmless fantasy lit. Escapist fluff. This terrifies me. What are these women escaping to? An abusive (yes, abusive. I'll say it again, ABUSIVE) relationship with a vampire?! Really? REALLY? A vampire who is infinitely stronger, smarter, faster, richer, and more powerful than you? And the only way you'll ever become anything close to his equal is by sacrificing your own life and future to attach yourself to him for eternity? This is what we want?? What a message to be sending to the media, who can't help but fixate on Meyer's Mormonism. To those who would tell me to stop thinking about it so hard, it's just a fun story, I would strike a deal. I'll stop thinking about it so hard as soon as you start thinking about it a little. I know, I'm a snob and a jerk about it. Here is a great article to get you started thinking. :-)

I'm not a fan of censorship or dictating what others should or shouldn't read. But I wish I had sat down and had a frank discussion about this with the teenage girls I used to work with who called Twilight their Bible, instead of just rolling my eyes whenever they started read it for the umpteenth time. I think (/hope/pray) that this is just a fad. Once all the movies have been made and people start coming to their senses, Twilight will die an ignominious death. If however, my teenage daughters one day in the distant future stumble across it (or any other such "escapist" chick-lit) and want to read it, that's fine. I only hope I will have taught them well enough that they'll laugh at all the wrong parts, feel sorry for Bella, and walk away emotionally unharmed. If not, well, we'll have a good long chat.

The Year in Books

I know it's only the beginning of November, but considering the amount of work I've been procrastinating, I'm not going to leave the library until Christmas break. So I might as well procrastinate a little more today and review the books I've read this year that I really dug and have stayed with me through the months.

• Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis: I got it for Christmas last year, and though I'm not usually in to much science fiction, I'm definitely in to C.S. Lewis. It's a little thin on plot, but big on ideas. Basically a British philologist is captured by two bad guys and they take him to Mars to offer him up as sacrifice to the ruling beings there. He escapes when they arrive and travels the planet, studying and making friends with the different life forms there. He learns that all the planets were originally connected, each with their own ruling spirit that could communicate with the spirits over other planets. Earth, however, rebelled and destroyed its ruling spirit, and so they call it the Silent Planet. Because this is Lewis, there are of course billions of religious undertones, and they're the most interesting parts of the book. This is the first in a series of three, and is definitely my favorite. The second, Perelandra, is about the philologist's trip to Venus. Again, it's definitely thin on plot, but the ideas about The Fall are fascinating. That Hideous Strength is set on Earth and is sort of a "Last Days" book. This one is more plot driven, and mostly succeeds in creeping me out a little. Again, some great ideas on spirituality, but weird imagery.



• The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: I remember hearing about this book in middle school because it was one of the optional books for our group reports, but required parental permission to read. The kids that read it were the rebels :-) I picked it up one day at work to read while watching the showers and immediately fell in love with Holden Caulfield. He was honestly one of the most relatable characters I had read in a long time. I wonder what that says about me...:-) I would much much much rather my teenagers read this book instead of something inane and ridiculous like Twilight. Both have ridiculously flawed main characters who are emotionally unstable, but in Twilight that's apparently a good attribute. I'd take a Holden over a Bella any day. And yes, it really really really really pains me to admit I've read Twilight.
  
  
  
• A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini: I read The Kite Runner last year and loved the imagery, the characters, and the humanity depicted. Then, this summer my Mum recommended Hosseini's second book. I read it in about three hours, then cried for another two. Hosseini's gift is creating characters who are so real, even though they're so foreign to American readers. Dan read it after I did, and one night he, Mum, and I sat on Mum's bed discussing it. All we had to say was "Maryam..." and look at each other and we almost started crying again.

• Life of Pi by Yann Martel: After hearing that I had been accepted to CGU to study religion, a friend at work recommended this book. I loved it all-- Pi's devotion to any religion he can find, his relationship with the Bengal Tiger Richard Parker, the open ending. Yes, it's about a boy trapped on the ocean in a lifeboat with a tiger. Read it anyway. Nay, read it for that reason.



• The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd: Julie sent me this book right after I moved to CA, so I read it one Saturday night before I found a social life and had too much homework. The prose is very lyrical--I had to read some things twice they were so beautifully said. That's a rarity for me :-) The conclusion is fairly obvious, but the images of the female divine make it all worth it. This book is very female-empowered, but not to the point of disempowering men. A profound story of a girl discovering her individual divinity.



• A Mormon Mother by Annie Clark Tanner: I read this book for my "Mormonism Through the Eyes of Women" class and it broke my heart. Annie Tanner tells her own story of becoming a polygamous wife in late 19th century Utah, raising children alone, watching the church disavow polygamy, and coming to terms with a rapidly modernized society. She's my new hero. Most heart-breaking moment: being dropped off at the train station by her new husband and his first wife so she can go home to her mother's house. She can't tell anyone she just got married, and won't see her husband again for a few weeks. She sits at the table eating bread, thinking of all her friends who were lucky enough to be first wives and all the fun things involved in their weddings. Oh Annie.
  


• Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card: I went to an Anberlin show a couple weeks ago in Pomona. I was by myself and had no interest in the three opening bands, so I wandered around the shops in the neighborhood for awhile. I found this in a 2nd-hand book store, had always heard good things about it, had an hour or so to kill, and it was only a couple bucks. I absolutely loved the first two-thirds. Ender's development into a powerful leader is really well written, and the war-games, I must admit, are tons of fun to read about. The last third seemed really rushed to me, and the conclusion therefore was unsatisfying. But overall, like most of Card's stuff that I've read, the characters make it worth it.

Grandma Knows Best

I just got off the phone with my favorite "Ol' Girl". Some highlights of our conversation: (make sure you imagine a sweet 83 year old grandma voice saying these things)

-"I just think McCain is such a smart-ass."

-"Just think, if something happened to him, all the tea parties she'd throw..." (regarding Sarah Palin, in a really disgusted voice)

-"He's just such a smart-alec." Me: "That's not what you said earlier, Grandma." Grandma: "Well, I'm trying to clean my language up," followed by a giggle because we both know that's never going to happen.

Yeah, my grandma rocks.

Rwanda

Today is my mum's birthday. In honor of such a tremendous event, I'd like to pay tribute to her by relating an embarrassing story about her, and I do so with love.

One fall evening last year, the Kennards were lounging about the living room trying to decide where to go for dinner. Of course, any decision requires a long, drawn-out discussion with much bandying about (it's the Kennard way, you see), so we were lounging for quite a while. In the midst of the lounging, my brother mentioned that he had been amazed to text the word "Rwanda" successfully with his phone in predictive mode. Determined to prove or disprove his claim, we each pulled out our phones and tried it. It worked. Then, still with no dinner-plan conclusion in sight, my siblings and I decided to each text "Rwanda" to another family member. I sent the message to my dear mum, knowing that a) she hadn't been paying much attention to our discussion, and b) she never turns her phone on. We enjoyed our thirty seconds of fun, finally reached a satisfying conclusion, and left for dinner.

Our story now jumps forward five or six days. In the darkest hours of the night, I was enjoying a peaceful slumber. My door swung suddenly open and I was rudely awakened by the beam of the hall light shining directly into my sleepy face. My mum stood in the doorway in her robe and slippers, hunched with fatigue and hair awry. I'm sure I said something quite intelligent, such as, "Well, Mother, whatever could the matter be that you would so rudely waken me," but I fear only a muffled "Whuh?" came to be articulated. She whispered, "Just making sure you're okay. Go back to sleep," and closed the door. I, being most bewildered, but grateful to return to my comatose state, quickly forgot the matter and fell promptly asleep.

The event remained mostly forgotten the next day, until my brother came to pick me up after work and I learned the full tale of what had transpired in the night. Mum had been awoken by the sound of the home phone ringing strangely. She picked it up, and heard nothing--not even a dialtone. She hung up, then tried again. Still, nothing. Dad was away on business, and Mum's first thought was of the urban legend, "The Babysitter," and that someone had cut the phone lines (overactive imaginationing is also the Kennard way, in addition to bandying about). She panicked when she heard movement downstairs, but managed to calm herself down enough to realize it was probably my older sister getting up to use the bathroom (that's the Julie way). She gathered her courage and went down to see if Julie, if indeed it was Julie, knew what was wrong with the phones. Julie, showing great presence of mind at such an hour, remembered that the phone company had recently informed us they'd be doing maintenance and we'd therefore be out of service for a few hours. Accepting this answer, yet still slightly frazzled, Mum trudged back upstairs to bed. She decided that since the phone was out, she'd better pull out her cell phone to have at the ready, should the need arise. She turned the phone on, then received quite a startle when the phone immediately--and loudly--beeped, informing her of a text message from her darling daughter, me. "But why on earth would my darling daughter send me a text at such an ungodly hour?" Mum wondered. Her weary befuddlement was amplified when she saw the content of the message: a single word, "Rwanda." Her motherly and imaginative instincts now in full swing, she concluded that someone had, indeed, broken into the home, was in my room about to end my young, promising life, and that my only opportunity to cry for help was to reach for my phone and beg my mum to save me, only I just had time for one word, and the one word that most exemplified my distress was "RWANDA!!!!!!" Mum, as any warm-blooded mother would, sprang from her room and burst into mine, ready to bare-handedly beat away the nefarious foe who would seek to end such an innocent life. Imagine her joy, and perhaps her feeling of underappreciation, when her efforts were met with a gruff "whuh," and a sleepy glare. Satisfied that her cubs were safe, my mama bear trudged back to bed and the restful sleep of the victor.

I tell this story because, well, we think it's funny (it's the Kennard way) and therefore make some reference to it at least once a week. Does Mum protest? Nay! She laughs along with us. Indeed, I believe it was my mum who first coined the phrase "good sport" and therefore should be earning handsome copyright profits. This is truly an example to be emulated.

In all seriousness, I love how my mom doesn't take herself so seriously. Seriously. This is something I still need to work on (seriously. Jana, if I have to hear the bulimic bohemian story one more time...).

The Post That Mom and Grandma Aren't Allowed to Read

This post is subtitled: "What Goes to Vegas, Stays in Vegas," or "The American Girl Who Went to Vegas With a Car...And Came Back Without." (yes, that's a slightly pathetic attempt to spoof a Hugh Grant movie)

Here's the story:

Jana was in Vegas on her very first grown-up business trip and since it's only about a three and a half hour drive from Claremont, I decided to drive up Tuesday after class and party with her. I packed a light overnight bag, hopped in my trusty, rusty '93 blue Oldsmobile "Brunhilde" (which, by the way, just a month ago drove all the way from Salt Lake to Claremont with NO problems whatsoever) and planned on getting to the Monte Carlo by 7:30. At about 6:30 I was jamming out to Journey's "Seperate Ways," a song which demands volume. I checked my rear-view mirror and saw that everyone behind me was merging away. I was a little offended until I noticed the smoke Bruni was puffing into their faces. Not. Good. I quickly pulled off onto the shoulder, and, assuming the car had overheated, let her sit for about thirty minutes or so. On the plus-side, there was a really cool sunset. Way to go, Sunset.

After a proper cool down, Bruni seemed ready to roll again. We set off with my eyes glued to the thermometer and ears pealed for strange noises. Such noises appeared around 7:30, just about half an hour outside of Vegas, and they were bad noises. Very bad. I pulled over again and knew she wasn't going to make it. I made some phone calls to Jana and AAA (thanks for the membership, Papa Bear!) and hunkered down to wait for the tow-truck. He showed up between 8:30 and 9 and towed me to Silverado Ranch, about 9 miles from the strip, singing country songs all the way. Jana had carpooled with her coworkers so she didn't have her car, and they were all at dinner west of Vegas, so I walked from the auto-shop to Walmart and bought a Lunchable to hold me over until Jana's coworkers finished dinner and could come pick me up. I don't know why a Lunchable, it just sounded good at the time. I decided to walk a little over a mile down to Las Vegas Blvd to see if there were any buses that could take me down to the strip. There weren't. Jana called and said that her coworkers were on their way and I should stay put so they could find me. I found a bench at a deserted bus stop and sat down to eat and decided to get some homework done while I was waiting. When John and Dave found me, they joked that they were excited to get home and tell their wives that they picked up a young blonde on Vegas Blvd. I assume they're going to leave off the part about how said blonde was eating a Lunchable and reading Kierkegaard....

I finally arrived at the casino around 11 and was reunited with my long lost sister. I dumped my stuff in Jana's room, we got a quick, LATE, dinner at the food court and strolled down to the Bellagio to watch the fountains. I liked 'em.

We wandered around a bit more and headed back to the Monte Carlo around 12:30 or 1 to find the guys deeply absorbed in the craps table and Diablo's Wheel. I decided to try my luck... :-) John had won about $500 at craps but lacked the patience to teach me how to play, so I just handed him 40 bucks and let him win it for me :-) I stood next to him and every once in a while he'd say, "we want a six...we really want a six" so then I'd cheer if a six was rolled. I'm real good at craps. In about twenty minutes John had turned my 40 into 125 big ones. I gave him a $5 tip for not losing my money, and happily pocketed my $80 extra. We stayed at the craps tables, with Jana playing wife/mother by holding on to the guys' winnings so they wouldn't blow them, until about 2:30 then called it a night.

I slept in the next morning while Jana went to class, then woke up and had to deal with grown-up things. No fun. I called the auto-shop and they told me that my engine was eating itself. Seriously, those are the words they used. They just laughed when I said "So you're telling me I'm not gonna make it back to Southern California..." Bruni was officially dead. Mad props to Jana for helping me be a grown-up. I booked a seat on a Greyhound back to Claremont and made arrangements to donate my dead car to some charity. Then some of the guys needed to go to H&M to get stuff for their wives, and Jana and I certainly weren't going to turn down that opportunity, so we went to H&M with about 6 of her male coworkers who told us that we had a twenty minute maximum. Ha. Mad props to them for not being too mad at us for going thirty minutes over our alloted time :-) They then took us out to the auto shop to clean my car out and for me to kiss her goodbye. Sigh. My poor girl.

Jana and I really wanted to go on the roller coaster at New York New York before we left so the guys, even though they really just wanted to get on the road, took pity on us and we all blew $14 on a roller coaster. That was pretty good times...maybe not $14 worth of good times, but good times nonetheless. Who knew real-estate appraisers could be so fun? I sure didn't.

After the roller coaster the guys dropped me off at the Vegas Greyhound station. I love Greyhound, it's such an adventure! Three years ago I took a Greyhound to Colorado and back for a friend's wedding and had a great time. I made a new pot-head friend named Zane who involved me in a deep philosophical conversation, bought me a Gatorade, and fell asleep on my shoulder. He was good times. As I was waiting in line to board the bus to LA, a man walked in the door, stumbled up to me and muttered something like "You look like the kind of girl who wants to go to Nashville," followed by some unintelligble grumbling. I don't know why I don't find things like that scary...maybe it's because we dealt with it every day in Germany (missionaries are crazy magnets...ask anyone). I rolled my eyes, took a step back, and said "Excuse me, sir," in my most bored voice. He stumbled off for a minute, then came back and said "I know what you're like...girls are all the same," and stumbled out the door. It was kinda funny/sad. I got on the bus and had a row to myself. There was a little girl in front of me who looked to be about a little over a year old. She kept offering to share her Cheetos with me and in the process smashed them all over the back of her seat. I love Greyhound. I turned on my iPod, listened to some amazing music (I have excellent taste, what can I say), watched another beautiful sunset, and had great views of the stars out my window. The rest of the ride passed without incident. We got in to Claremont around 9:45, and I debated about whether to call someone to pick me up from the station or not since my roommates are out of town. My stubbornly independent streak got the best of me, and I decided that two miles really isn't that far to walk through a little college town. I forgot I had two heavy bags and was wearing $3 Old Navy flip-flops. But it was a nice night, and I had plenty of time to think about the advantages of not having a car (more to come on that in a later post). I got home, fed the cat, and crashed. I was carless, out about $100, had sore, filthy feet, but felt that life was great :-)

A super big shout-out to Jana, for rocking it up with me despite the stress, and to the guys at Integra. Again, who knew that real-estate appraisers were so much fun?? Thanks, y'all!!

Soundtrack

So I started this blog with the idea that I'd talk about songs and other things that get randomly stuck in my head. Funnily enough, that idea didn't stick. (oh, I SLAY me!) Not that I post that often...or have really found a direction that I'd want to take...but I digress. A friend of mine just started a blog (and yes, I am blog-stalking you) and she posted about what her life's soundtrack would look like. Which got me thinking...which led me to peruse my iTunes...which led to THIS!!!!!!:



1-You Make Me Feel So Young, Frank Sinatra
2-The Unwinding Cable Car, Anberlin
3-Jupiter from "The Planets", Gustav Holst
4-Motorcycle Drive By, Third Eye Blind
5-Rose Tint My World, Hopefield
6-What About, Peter Breinholt
7-Jesu, the Very Thought is Sweet, Mack Wilberg and the MoTabbers
8-People Should Smile More, Newton Faulkner

9-Don't Stop Believin', Journey

If my life were played to 44 minutes of footage, this is what you'd hear. What you'd see, however, is a completely different beast.

And, yes, blog-stalked friend, I have two of "your" songs on my list. I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to play the "I'm older and probably heard them first" card. So there.