Cold sores!

Megan seems to always have cold sores in a lot of pictures we have. Mom says that megan used to complain she got them because mom would kiss her when mom had a cold sores...

Interesting.

I'm stuck at the Union because there is a 70 minute break between my math and physics class. So I take that time to eat here, then use the computer for a bit. I was playing around, and found a site that analyzes your responses to questions to see which major would suit you best.

Mine was a tie between two things:

engineering and english.

Hmm....is there a way to combine the two?

Any suggestions for poem #2?

Background info: we had to pick two of our favorite objects/subjects, and write as many words as we could about them, describing them, how they make us feel, etc. Then we were told to write a poem about the two objects, but we weren't allowed to use ANY of the words we just wrote down. Dang. Here's the rough draft, tell me what you think if you'd like. :)



Unable to read the faded parchment,
horrible, disjointed noise fills the ear.
Fat little balls of plumage cower
in the shadows, listening.
I tediously pound the bones
as strings break, wood splinters.
The golden eyes blink
as I feel the poem come
to life through the beast.
Sharp bills chatter uneasily.
Images erupt deep within—
Gradually the orbs with the
cracked claws emerge,
Swaying steadily to hideous vibrations.
I do not mind the monster
nor the relics of raptors with
scarlet ornaments on their heads.
I keep pounding the keys because
we all know we are
magnificent.

Old Pictures are Awesome!!!

Emily and Rick often reminds us of Poppy and Oscar.
Stupid wasps. Poor Oscar.

Remember Happy?

Megan and Rick

Dad and...Lucky?

Dad's lovely bus pass when he was in Sweden.

Probably just got off work. Poor girl.

Never seen her make a face!!

Dad's "girly" legs

Waiting for Rick to come home from his mission. I sure look happy, eh?

Family picture

I feel Oscar often pulls this (Rick's) pose for the camera. Wonder where he got it from?

Mom's outfit for the Iceberg!

Poetry notebook

For my intro to creative writing class, we have to carry around a pocket notebook with us at all times, in case we ever get inspired. We can't rely on memory. Too many times have I come up with a brilliant image or idea, only to forget it once I get home, or to a pen and paper. We had to read an essay on poetry notebooks, and this quote struck me:
"A good notebook entry must make us jump. Blasphemy and sex are highly recommended." No, my teacher didn't write this essay, don't worry. But it got me thinking: maybe 10 years ago, those kinds of things would make someone jump.

But today it's just the opposite: write down the things that are good and uplifting, and (gasp!) spiritual! In these days, that will make many people jump.

Too often we're being dragged down every day by the horrible media, the scandals, the immorality of society, focusing on the celebrities and their mistakes. Too often the brave "common" people who quietly do the right thing are overlooked. I intend to turn that around in my writing in this class. We're only being graded on attendance and turning in our work--the teacher doesn't have to like it.

We work shopped many of our classmates' poems last night, and everyone in my class seems intent on focusing on dark subjects/objects. Here's my poem I wrote. (We couldn't use any abstract words, and had to describe four specific abstract words with objects. Mine were "justice, mercy, gratitude, peace." Yes, I did pick them from a list of sixteen words. They were the most optimistic.)

Tired Scale

I fall and tumble to
the left...to the right.
I am hardly ever balanced.

If only…

Foes shook hands,
and unlocked—the doors of
cages of wild beasts.

Then I will be balanced.

Faces will greet one another
with beaming smiles
and leaking eyes.



Everyone complained it was too obvious and not deep. Well, I'll continue working on being more subtle and using more varied vocabulary. Just be aware I wrote this in twenty minutes. (Yes, I procrastinated. Yep, I learned my lesson. Already starting on the next poem.)

Ruby Slippers

My feet got all red and blistery at one point of training in the past couple of weeks (from kicking with fins all the time). They're mostly healed now.

A few days ago, I tried in vain to clack them together, saying in my head "there's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's NO place like HOME!" Not surprisingly, it didn't work.

Guess what? I'm coming home tomorrow evening.

Who needs little dinky ruby slippers anyway? We all know that Glinda did it. Not the shoes.

Not the shoes.

di dee dee dee dee dee...

First you hear the familiar fiddle playing. Then you hear a deep rich voice say “The Fiddler on the Roof. Sounds crazy, no?...You might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof. Trying to scratch out a pleasant tune without breaking his neck…how does one keep his balance? I can tell you that in one word: tradition!...”

The Fiddler on the Roof will always hold a very special place in my heart. It will forever be one of my favorite musicals and stories. As I was listening to the soundtrack the past few days, I realized why this story speaks to my heart so much: because these simple people’s lives mirror my own and my family’s, in the fact that we are a small minority that believes a certain way, and it’s sometimes hard to keep our balance.

Many of my friends don’t like this musical very much. I suppose it’s because it has a pretty fast start, but then seems to slow down, and guess what? Despite the fact it is a musical, it doesn’t end up perfect and happy and perky. (If you want that, watch High School Musical, or Mama Mia, or something of that type) At the end you’re left with watching poor Tevye, his wife, and last two daughters walking off in the snow with all they own in search of a new home.

I love this story because you follow the life of a poor man who works hard each day to find happiness. He seems to be a simple man, but in his seemingly simple phrases and questions, you realize he is actually wise. You watch him forced to question his traditions and beliefs for the sake of his daughters (“On the other hand…”). But he heartbreakingly realizes that one has to draw the line somewhere, or he will indeed lose his balance as a fiddler on the roof (“There IS no other hand!”).

Not to mention all of the songs are awesome.

-Prologue/Tradition/Main Title This long intro is absolutely necessary to understand the traditions of the people of Anatevka, and what the fiddler on the roof symbolizes. Not to mention the music after all the singing is plain awesome. I wish I could do that!

-Matchmaker It’s mom’s fault I love this song so much.

-If I Were A Rich Man, partly dad’s fault, and mostly because we all feel this way. My favorite part of this song is that Tevye’s naming off all the things he’d love to have, but the greatest thing of all according to him was to have the time to study the scriptures seven hours everyday. When we think of wealth and riches, what do we think of? Time to read scriptures wasn’t even thought of until I listened to this song.

-Sabbath Prayer I just love listening to Tevye’s and Golde’s duet. Makes you feel happy and safe.

-To Life I love the hard sound in whatever they say after “to life” sounds like “lachiam.” There’s also some cool imagery in the lyrics (“while our hearts lie panting on the floor…”)

-Tevye’s Dream Mom hates this song. I know. I admire Fruma Sarah’s ability to sing so eerily. And it always makes me want to say Mozel Tov to everyone.

-Sunrise, Sunset. Listen to it. Need I say more?

-Do You Love Me? Definitely one of my favorites. It’s a cute song, an older couple married for 25 years realize that they do, in fact, love each other, even though it may not change a thing now but it’s nice to know.

-Anatevka Not exactly a happy song to end a musical with. But a fitting one for this story-helps us realize that the places we dwell in that we call our homes, are nothing really when family (or people) aren’t there anymore.

pensamiento debajo del sol

It's annoying when you're trying to enjoy yourself on the green grass stretched out before you, some palm trees swaying in the distance, and you are in your favorite relaxed position: face looking up to the dark blue sky, the nonexistent puffy white clouds, and you have your hands locked behind your head, so you can open up that chest and strreeeeeettttccccchhhh....

Then the stupid painful pounding happens. Everytime your pulse comes around to that left shoulder-there's a little gnome with his hammer clinking it at something inside my shoulder. So you sigh, and put your arms down to your side, causing the shoulder to pop several times from the transitioning of positions. Wince a little, or don't...happens so many times, you're quite used to it.

Close your eyes, feel the sun shining on your face, remember what it feels like in the spring? So warm, but not burning? Caresses you, makes you feel so good... That's what it feels like here. Not too hot or intense, but it's there for certain. Take nice deep breaths, and become so relaxed, nothing is tense, feels so good until...ah. It's a good thing I'm usually always moving because the pounding comes back.

Stupid gnome.

Then since my mind is idle, I think about my shoulder, and try to remember why I'm still swimming, when any person with common sense would stop and get it fixed. Oh yes, our team may make it to NCAA's. I have a chance to do something amazing, something once in a lifetime. But I never really wanted that, my coach did. So if I don't really care if I get this or not, why do I keep going?

I figure it all comes down to one of two things: either I'm really loyal, or just plain stupid.

Freedom!

So, after almost a week here in Mexico, our Coach finally decided to let us leave our little world of just the pool and the apartments and take some cabs to downtown La Loma (San Luis Potosi?). The cab ride was very frightening, but we arrived in one piece. (Dad asked if I saw any old cab drivers, the answer is no, no I have not. They were all in their twenties.) The following are just random pictures in no particular order of the sights and sounds I saw in my two hours of exploring Mexico life in a busy marketplace on a saturday afternoon. There were many stores, streets and streets that wound and curved, so we weren't always sure where we were. After the stores end, the marketplace begins, where you can buy anything. And I mean anything. My favorite part was the section where there were lots of tools, and you can hand someone your shoe, and they'll tear it apart and put it back together, better than before. There was also a station where you could get your scissors sharpened.

I admire Mexico's national emblem. It's pretty awesome.

This was in some building--they really really decorate their nativity scenes from this to disco balls, and all.

It doesn't seem like it here, but there were thousands and thousands of people on the streets.

Among the wares were these...sketchy sweatshirts.

I believe it's a cathedral. Is that what they're called? It was interesting: it was like Mexico's Temple Square. The market surrounds this building on all four sides.

Another shot of the Cathedral. Sidenote: when I took this picture, the bells were ringing.

Inside, it was very very very elaborate. From the stain glass windows, to the organ, etc. I'm just glad that casual bystanders can't just waltz into the Temples, snap a few shots (like I did) and leave.

My teammates practicing our sweet yoga moves while we wait for a cab or two to go back to our little haven in the middle of a rich town where we see no one.

Paintings

The night sky doesn't have that many stars. Disappointment.

The laundry room windows.

There are many paintings on display throughout the facility where we workout. Some of them are simple, while others appear simple but are really quite complex. Here are a few that really drew my eye. (There are probably around 25 in all)

I love finding deeper meanings and symbolism to apply to truths you and I already know. These paintings remind me of the fact that every person we see walking down the street looks simple and ordinary enough. But when you really focus all your attention to really look at that person, there are layers and layers and complexities and beauty in everyone.