"But My Lips Hurt Real Bad..."

This cold weather is causing my lips to bleed, I should get some intensive care chapstick.

Classes are off to a good start. I'm excited in particular about taking French and Italian Cinema. I really contemplated taking the History of Jazz, but I think it was more expensive...and my best friend has already taken it. I figure we can compare notes on both classes and become doubly cultured and intelligent. It'll be all kinds of cool.

I'm in History 220 right now, and the professor is really funny. He's going through the syllabus, and he gets to the University Cheating Policy, which I'm almost certain is required to be in every syllabus written at BYU. Anyway, he said the following:

"Don't cheat, because if you do, things will heat up for you later...like when the flames are burning you in Hell."

He then goes on for about 2 minutes about how he doesn't to have to come down and relieve your suffering if you do choose to cheat, so you should probably just not do it. He gets off topic a lot, but it's entertaining, and that's more than I was expecting for my tuition, so it can't be all bad, right?

I'm also taking Computer Science classes, for my computer science teaching minor, which is now replacing physics teaching. Turns out, I'm just not that good at physics. Anyway, I walk into the class on the first day of school, and there are about 80 guys in there, in varying stages of relationships (single--->married). There are a whopping 4 girls. One of these girls is a continuing education student, so she's had a few kids, and she's definitely married. The other two girls who are there aren't white. Turns out, at least on Monday in this class, I am the only single white female. Since when does that happen at BYU...or most anywhere else? I can't really recall ever having been in the minority before...unless being LDS is what we're judging by. Anyway, I thought it was funny.

School is looking good, Summer isn't far away, and things are looking good for the next few semesters. As long as I do this right, I should be able to graduate in December of 2007. Then it's hopefully into a real job, and life will be terribly and incredibly good...

...as if it weren't already!

Everlasting Goldfishers

I seem to have had incredible luck with certain things that many people can't help but kill--plants...relationships...and recently, goldfish.

I got back to my room today after being gone for about 10 days. Before leaving, I fished a goldfish out of a toilet on one of the other floors. We're technically just supposed to flush them...but he was so cute and, well, shiny, that I decided he deserved a fighting chance. I filled up a bowl that I have with clean water, stuck some marbles in the bottom, grabbed a few baby spider plants off a plant that I got from my best friend's mom...you know, for oxygen! I then crumbled up a few pieces of stale cheerio into the bottom, and wished the fish a happy life, and a Merry Christmas.

I walked into my room fully expecting him to be dead in the bowl. Sad as it might be, I could at least feel alright flushing a dead fish...I mean, at least he wasn't alive, right? Well, my little fishy friend was and is alive as ever. He was stuck in a bowl with less than half the water that I originally put in there, and no more cheerio, but he's alive and kickin'.

That's where my story continues. The thing is, all the fish I've ever had are hearty fish. I went to a fair with a guy named Alex when I was living in California, and we managed to win one of those silly little goldfish from the game where you have to toss a ping pong ball into the fish bowl. Well, that fish lived in my house for about 5 months, and then we had to move, so I gave the fish to his little sister. I talked to her again about a year later, and the fish was still alive..swimming in the fish tank with all her other fish, just as not-dead as ever.

Last year, I swiped a fish from the big dance they do here. They put them on the tables, and then they just flush them all afterwards, so I decided just to take one. I took the whole little bowl, snuck it home, transplanted the fish into a cup of my own, and then returned the rest of the stuff to where I'd gotten it...just sans fish. This fish lived in the office of our building, and bore the name of the general manager of housing for our area...after all, you can't flush the manager, right? After a little while, my Hall Advisor said we should probably get rid of it, and she gave it to a brother nearby. At last word, which was about 7-9 months later, that fish too was also alive and kickin'.

So now I've created a problem for myself. Not only did the fish live, now I'm attached. He's managed to survive 10 days on his own in a little bowl in my room with nothing but plants for oxygen and stale cheerio for food, and he survived for a few days in a Dorm Toilet. Can I really just end this guy's life with a singular non-caring trip down the porcelain basin?

I just don't think I have it in me. If you want a fish, let me know, this one is apparently hearty.

"...Be Good, for Goodness' Sake..."

I've been listening to about a hundred different singers sing the same songs at work lately. I've been picking out my favorites--like the Boy Band that sang the whole of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer as a ballad...or the song that's chorus goes, "Mamacita, donde esta Santa Claus, it's Christmas Eve." and has a section where Santa cheers on reindeer like Pedro, and says, "Ole! Ole! Ole!" instead of "Ho! Ho! Ho!" So funny, I laugh every single time.

Anyway. Santa Claus is coming to town plays at least twice an hour, and I always listen to the words. First, because they're vaguely stalker-esque (he sees you when you're sleeping, he knows if you're awake...creepy.), but the phrase that struck me in particular was the phrase, "He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good, for goodness sake."

What an interesting concept. Being good, solely for the sake of goodness...Now, the song isn't about that at all. It's about being good so that you get presents and not coal, but it brings up an interesting idea, even unintentionally. Being good just because it's good, and not because you're afraid of consequences--immediate or long term, but just because it's good to be good. Someday I'll get there...and do the right things simply because they are just that--the right things. Not because they're a more appealing option in the long run, or because they're just what I'm supposed to do, but because they're good...

Oh for goodness sake... :D

Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy New Year too, in case I don't write anything on here in the meantime. I've got a lot of stuff to get done, and only about a week at home with my family before some of us move out to Utah, to be followed later by the rest. Merry Christmas to all, Happy Holidays to the rest, and to all, a very good night.

A Beautiful Mind?

I'm taking a quick break from all my studying to let the world know that I still exist, and that I haven't forgotten that they too exist.

I'm sitting next to my window, which moments ago was covered with a physics problem that I'd worked out on it. I came up with the idea earlier today because I have to be on duty tonight, and it's been the best way I've ever done my homework. Right now, I'm looking forward to my classes next semester, because I can do more of my homework this way...It's gonna be amazing.

Anyway, I'm also laughing at the way I look today. Took a shower, and didn't do anything to my hair, which means it's down, for once. That honestly almost never happens. I'm also wearing glasses, because I can't remember the last time that I took my contacts out, and they were kind of glued to my eyeballs this morning. Needless to say, it's about time I got some new ones.

Anyway, back into my world of numbers and letters...And then onto Argentina. I'm doing all kinds of traveling in this little imaginative world of mine. Let's just hope that when Finals Week is over and done, I don't emerge with friends from those places that no one else can see....

Chronicles of Narnia

The movie was truly amazing, I highly reccomend it, and I won't go into it in too great of detail now, because I don't want you to get your hopes up too high and then see it and be dissapointed. Just know that I, Novel Concept, found it entirely worth my $8.25 to see it at 12:15 this morning...it was really really good.

I also really love the books. I'm not feeling particularly eloquent at the moment...though that could have a great something to do with the lateness of the hour. Regardless, C.S. Lewis is an incredible author, and I should probably try and get into one of the classes about him sometime whilest at BYU.

Happy Finals Everyone.

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Extreme
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Very Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Happy Thanksgiving!

You know what? I really am very thankful for everything I've got. The other day (today in fact) I was walking around campus singing that song from Mr. Holland's Opus (and other things...I just haven't seen them)

I've got daisies in green pastures, I've got my man, who could ask for anything more?

I've even got the more, and life is just plain great. I've been in an amazing mood, and I really don't know that I could ask for anything more.

Hope your turkey is good, and your blessing counting goes even better.

"I'm Glad You're Here!"

Hey Everyone!

Wisdom teeth surgery went well...really well in fact, and I have no complaints. I'm not swollen much anymore...I didn't swell much in the first place, and apart from being tired, I'm back to regular old me. Maybe even better.

For some reason, I feel more like myself in the past couple of days than I have in a little bit of awhile--I feel just plain happy. I have friends and family who love me, I have people who care about me, and I just saved 120% on my wisdom tooth extraction!

I think part of it comes from a general change of attitude that has accompanied my new job at Brick Oven--I work there and as an RA still, and despite the lack of sleep that working full time while going to school full time facilitates, I feel happier. I'm more financially secure, and that's always a good feeling, and work is also pretty fun. I just work the salad bar, but I really do enjoy it. It goes by pretty quickly, and it's not bad work.

Something else about work is interesting, and I thought that I would dislike it--it's a rule that you're supposed to smile. At first, the sassy little inner voice that I posses wanted to revolt against this particular rule, thinking things like, "yeah, whatever. I'll smile if I feel like smiling." (insert sassy head wiggle here). The more intelligent and socially conscious part of me agreed to the rule, and so I walked around work the first night smiling, while wearing a nametag that tells everyone that I'm glad that they chose to frequent Brick Oven that evening.

The odd thing about it is this. Wearing that nametag, and forcing myself to smile in the beginning eventually makes it so that I genuinely feel like smiling a little while later. I feel more like I'm serving people, and that they probably appreciate having a clean, well-stocked salad bar to come to. I end up feeling, in fact, that I really am glad that they chose to come to Brick Oven that night.

I've started to try the same approach in some of my other areas of life. When doing thing as an RA, I try to look at what I'm doing as service, and realize, that though no one might say anything, I bet they really do appreciate it. When I'm doing my schoolwork, I try to think of things as a service both to myself, and to my teachers, who likely appreciate not having to grade terrible papers, and would rather look at good ones.

It's been great! I'm excited about my school stuff again, I'm not feeling nearly as burned out, and I don't really want to just drop out of school and start trying my backup plans. I'm getting excited about applying for my major in January, I'm looking forward to more school and eventually even to graduation, and I'm feeling happier with myself and what I'm doing than I have in a little while.

It's marvelous folks, what a little dose of pretended happiness and excitement can do--try it, if you're clever enough, or a good enough actor/actress, maybe you'll even manage to fool yourself.

Wisdom Teeth

I go in tomorrow to get my wisdom teeth taken out, and then I take an experimental drug afterwards...or no drug at all...for about 24 hours. In return for this, I will get the knowledge that I have no wisdom teeth, and $160...I also don't pay a penny for them...other than the money I've already paid in bus fares.

I've realized my own humanity, in part...and in so realizing it, and the possibility(however small) that something could go wrong, and I could end up not only losing my wisdom teeth, but also my mental faculties...I figure I should make a will now, whilst I am still of 'sound mind' (guess everything really is relative).

To the RA's which I am pleased to work with--I give you my ID card, the powers of my Dining Plus, and the paycheck that should be coming from my second job in about two weeks--just pretend that I'm not gone...I'm sure no one will ever pick up on it.

To the Writers of the Board--You can have any aliases or reputation I might have acquired in the internet world...though that's not much. You're also welcome to my two assigned questions right now--I'd love for you to explain copyright laws and the history of the Oklahoma Sooners... ;)

To my Friends--You're welcome to take some of my other stuff--books, future road trips, good meals, etc. You just can't have my pillows...those are for Wafflewitz and LEB. I think Uffish gets my music collection too, all 17.5 gigs of it.

To My Best Friend--You can have all the pictures, and everything that the pictures might remind you of...you can also have the promise that I'll try not to be too drooling of an idiot...

To My Family...I think if I lost ALL my mental faculties, you'd be saddled with the burden of taking care of me...I probably should figure out some way to compensate you for that--I'll work on that.

Anyway...here's to free Wisdom Tooth Extraction, and the hope that I don't actually end up losing anything besides teeth. If I do...here's to hoping that someone else benefits from it :)

The Perils of Having No Doorstep

Let me explain the setting to you. See, I live in DT. We have elevators in our buildings, and in my particular building, there is one elevator that shows no mercy. The doors close and they sensor doesn't pick up the fact that there's someone in it, well...at least not until the doors are pushing on something in the middle and finally open up. There's a couple who were saying goodnight. She's standing in the elevator, and he's standing right outside of it.

I'm sitting in the office reading my book, and the curtains are drawn, this is so that I don't watch these scenes, because they make us all equally uncomfortable. I can't help but listen to their conversation though.

"Well...call me tomorrow, ok?"
"Yeah. Love you."

These sentiments are followed by a few smacking noises...actually, it was about 6--I counted after a little while. Suddenly, I hear the elevator doors closing with their usual avengence. I'm assuming this is because she's stepped inside the elevator....

You know what happens when you assume...

Anyway, Suddenly I hear her say "Ouch!" and he clamors saying, "Oh my goodness! Are you ok?"

Apparently, they'd been having a longer, less smacking goodnight kiss, I'm assuming their eyes were closed, and the elevator doors had closed on her. Finally, they actually parted, after getting over the shock of having their kiss cut short by the elevator. I sat in the office trying my hardest not to laugh out loud, as the glass on that window is not very thick, and they would have been completely embarassed.

I've decided to nickname the elevator though. I think it should become the Chastity 2000.

Holy Moley!

Friends, Neighbors, Romans, Countrymen, and Fellow Science Friends, and especially our Dear Avagadro

Stop the Clock: it's MOLE DAY!

Yes friends, that's right! Today, October 23, (or 10/23) is our very favorite atomic buddy's very own day. Hope you all celebrated in one way or another.

Happy Mole Day!!

Funny Mental Connections

Today I went with Uffish to her favorite little used book store--it's a lot of fun. I love the smell of old books, and new books, and all those sorts of things, so it was a pleasant visit for me. The smell and all the stacks remind me of home, and unpacking. My mom has tons of books. I haven't read them all, but I'm almost certain that she has. The smell makes me feel at home.

Another funny thing, they were playing this great Jazz music that was kind of slow and it made me want to dance. Not dance all by myself, but to sway quietly with someone else. Maybe I've just had dancing on my mind lately. In my Argentine history class we've been studying the Tango and it's cultural significance. We've been watching different people who do the tango, and it's such a passionate dance, and so full of life and expression--it makes me wish I actually knew how to dance with some real steps. Guess it's another thing to add to the "To-Do" list...eventually.

You Know You're Alone on a Friday When...

So it's Friday night, and I'm sitting in my wonderfully decorated room again, all by my lonesome, and it's just past 11:00. I've contemplated these times in the past little while, and I've compiled a list:

You Know You're Alone on a Friday When

• Well, you are all by yourself and it happens to be Friday.
• You think about what to do with the rest of your evening, and you decide that a rousing game of solitaire sounds like a rollicking romp through the lands of fun and enchantment
• You begin to wonder how you could create some "intoxicating verbal shimmer"
• You realize that if you go out and "pitch some woo" or even "make some hay" it might remedy your current financial situation, as long as you get your very own tower and a little Rumplestiltskin.
• You listen to your playlist that's entitled "Upbeat Love Stuffs"
• You invite girls on your floor to watch the movie "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" that you recently acquired for a whopping $2.50.
• You are 20 years old and an RA and live in DT, and therefore have the ability to have girls on your floor...but very little other social life.
  

You Realize You're Completely Alright With it When:

• You refuse trips to Park City so that you can spend some of the evening alone--quiet time...what a rarity in college!
• You win your first game of solitaire, and therefore feel no need to play any others--you're already a winner!
• You've learned to make money stretch, and you've decided that you're going to get your wisdom teeth extracted for free, and then you're going to get paid $150 to participate in an after surgery pain medication study...who needs to pitch woo?
• You sing along with every single one of the songs on your playlist, while using the dance moves you just acquired while watching "Girls Just Want to Have Fun"
• You really do enjoy the company of the girls on your floor, and you're glad that you're an RA--it's a pretty sweet deal.

Sounds like a pretty good place to be to me. Happy Friday All!

Sleep, It's After Dinner

You know what? According to the tracker thing I have on this blog, most people read it between about 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning--that's bad for you. As Uffish has been told, and restated: without sleep, you will die.

This is a lesson that I'm readily learning over, and over, and over...you get the picture. I can't understand why I've been an idiot for so long on this issue. Why don't I just go to bed at a reasonable hour?

When I first got to college, it was a matter of "feeling independent." I'd basically had a bedtime for most of my life. Up until the time I was 12, bedtime was about 7:30 or 8:00, except on nights where Ghostwriter was on, and then I was allowed to stay up until 8:30. When I turned 12, bedtime was moved to 9:00 in order to accomodate mutual on Wednesday nights. When I got into high school, I was generally in bed by about 11:00, and if I was ever up as late as 12:00 or 1:00 it was because I had a huge paper due the next day, or I had gotten caught up in reading a good book, and I just couldn't put it down. Those nights came about once a month...at the most. I get to college, and I've got classes later, (well, later than early morning seminary, which required us to leave the house by about 5:40), no one cares what time I go to bed, and my roommate stays up playing on her computer, talking to people etc. Suddenly, I'm a free and independant freshman, and even though I've got work in the morning at 5:00 cutting fruit, I'm going to show off how well I can survive by staying up until 3:00!

In the words of Napoleon Dynamite: "IDIOT!"

Last year I got to be a little better...a very little. I would be up until about 12:00 or 1:00 talking to friends on the internet, and depending on how those talks went, I'd do one of two things--option one would be to start my homework after I got off, option two would be to go on a night walk with some of those friends until about 3:00 in the morning, and then come home, crash, wake up late the next morning, do some homework, and then go to class.

Guys, this is also a stupid idea.

I got a little better with that even, in doing my homework while talking to friends, and getting more stuff accomplished--walking less around Provo with friends who needed to talk for one reason or another...all better ideas. Moderation is key. Towards the end of the year, I was even getting to bed by about 2:00 on a regular basis, and I was committed to doing better that summer. Afterall, don't people who live in apartments go to bed earlier? I mean, I was sure that staying up untill all sorts of odd hours was purely a result of living in the dorms...right?

Wrong.

I moved into an apartment with Uffish and my sister, and three other awesome roommates. For a few nights at the beginning I was doing really well with getting to bed earlier, and getting enough sleep before going to classes at 8:00 the next morning, and all that jazz. I did not, however, continue in this pattern. Both Uffish and our friend who was living with us in our room--all of us--we all stayed up until all kinds of odd hours of the night. A big difference between them and myself though, was that they didn't have 8:00 classes...again, another stupid move. Then I started working from 10:00 pm to 6:00 am on the weekends, and from 8:oo pm-12:00 am each weeknight, and I was working about 40 hours a week, and taking classes full-time, and not sleeping when I was at home because my roommates were such great fun.

This is also bad for you.

At the beginning of this semester, I was committed to going to bed on time, sleeping like I needed to, when I needed to, and then being nicer to my body in general. This year, was going to be my year. It all worked well and good for about 3 weeks--I was in bed by midnight, and then getting up for classes and not being too tired...it was great! Then I got a bunch of the other RA's addicted to 24...and we stayed up until about 1:00 (sometimes later) to watch them for awhile. Even though we're now finished with the first 4 seasons, I still find myself stuck in the bad habit of staying up too late for no real good reason.

I've decided this should change. I am now setting a bedtime for myself on the weekdays. I'd like it to be 11:00, but I think I'm going to have to start with 11:30, just so that I can be asleep by then. Hopefully, I'll work down from there. Notable exceptions include being on duty, which goes from 8:00-12:00. Weekends, I think I should try to be in bed by like...2:00 at the latest, at least on a regular basis. Hopefully, setting this goal for myself will equal greater health, happiness, and all that jazz. I just researched some sites about sleeping, and they tell me that I'm doing a good thing. Check it out

Basically--all you 3:00-4:00 people need to go to bed, there's nothing on my blog that you won't be able to read in the morning after you've gotten a good night's sleep, and you'll be able to sleep better anyway. I promise, it's better for you, and maybe even better for everyone else around you too...

Thanksgiving is a Holiday Too.

One of my sad pet peeves is the fact that, insofar as marketing goes, Thanksgiving is no longer a holiday. The stores are decorated with about 4 holidays. Starting in September it's Halloween, around the middle of October it becomes Christmas, halfway through January it's Valentines Day, and sometime mid-June it becomes The Fourth of July. Then the stores are decorated with a multitude of other things--back to school, 'hooray it's summer' and the like.

What's wrong with Thanksgiving?

I know, I know. It's a holiday to celebrate food and pilgrims and corn and the like...But it's also fundamentally about being grateful--can't we celebrate gratitude...Even just a little?

You know what else bugs me? Those creepy carolers in the display window of the BYU bookstore. Scary...That's what they are. No one's mouth should ever naturally go into the shape of a over-streched rubber-band and then remain in that position as their head rotates mechanically from left to right...right to left...On a timed metronomic schedule. Also, those giant Santa Claus figures that sing carols and dance around--those things creep me out. I can handle my dad's huge blow-up Frosty doll that sits about 8 feet tall on our front lawn...But moving carolers and Santa Claus' don't do it for me.

Hopefully Not The Case...

A seven-year-old boy was at the center of a Provo courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him. The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be maintained to the degree possible. The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him more than his parents and he adamantly refused to live with her. When the judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy cried out that they also beat him. After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him. After two recesses to check legal references and confer with child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary custody to the BYU Cougars whom the judge firmly believes are not capable of beating anyone.

The Hills Are Alive

So, today I've got my hair looking something like a German Schoolgirl of sorts--all twisted around the sides and bottom, and I'm finding it highly amusing. With all the sunshine out right now, I feel as though I should be rnning through the mountains singing about how alive the hills are. I'll restrain myself for now, and just go about laughing at my own hair, and thinking how much more authentic I'd look if I managed to also get some ribbons, an aorpon, and a long skirt.

Ooh...it'd be even better if I got a ticket to Austria at the same time. That'd make it good and authentic.

(Disclaimer: I don't actually look anything like this lady...or her parrot.)

All-American Hero

Alright class, today we're going to learn about one of my favorite stories from WWI--especially since today is the 87th anniversary of it.

Once there was this rabble rouser who lived in the hills of Tennessee. Most people never thought that he'd amount to much, especially since most of what he caused was trouble, and most of what he did was non-productive. People shook their heads and sighed at the mess that this poor troubled youth was. This poor troubled youth named Alvin C. York.

This is the point where, if you knew who Alvin C. York was, you'd gasp and get really excited, because you knew what was coming next, and it was one of your favorite stories too...bet you a bag of marbles not one of you got excited. What? You're still not excited? *sigh*

Alvin changed his life around a bit, after the death of a friend, and joined a Christian denomination (the fundamentalist Church of Christ in Christian Union to be precise). He was their song leader and Sunday School Teacher. Yessir, things were finally looking to be right for our friend Alvin.

But then (dun DUN DUN!) came the outbreak of WWI. Alvin got his draft card in the mail shortly after the war broke out. He petitioned for "contientious objector" status, as his newfound faith was pacifist, but was denied his petition based on the fact that his church wasn't a recognized Christian denomination. He was offered non-combatant service, but refused and went into the army after being convinced that America had just cause to be fighting.

"On October 8, 1918, York and 15 other soldiers under the command of Sergeant Bernard Early were dispatched to seize a German-held rail point during the Allies' Meuse-Argonne Offensive. The Americans lost their way and soon found themselves behind enemy lines. A brief firefight ensued with a superior German force, and in the confusion a group of Germans surrendered. However, German machine-gunners on a hill overlooking the scene soon noticed the small size of Early's patrol. Yelling in German for their comrades to take cover, the machine gunners opened fire on the Americans, cutting down half the detachment, including Sergeant Early.York immediately returned fire and with his marksman eye began picking off the German gunners. He then fearlessly charged the machine-gun nest. Several of the other surviving Americans followed his lead and probably contributed to the final total of 25 enemies killed. With his automatic pistol, York shot down six German soldiers sent out of the trench to intercept him. The German commander, thinking he had underestimated the size of the American force, surrendered as York reached the machine-gun nest. York and the other seven survivors took custody of some 90 Germans and on the way back to the Allied lines encountered 40 or so other enemy troops, who were coerced to surrender by the German major that the Americans had in their custody. The final tally was 132 prisoners.

York was promoted to the rank of sergeant and hailed as the greatest civilian soldier of the war by several Allied leaders. He was given a hero's welcome upon his return to the United States in 1919 and was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, the nation's highest military decoration. In the 1920s, he used his fame to raise funds for the York Industrial Institute (now Alvin C. York Institute), a school for underprivileged children in rural Tennessee. He later opened a Bible school.

Sergeant York, the 1941 film starring Gary Cooper, was based on his life. York died in 1964."

That last part is from Historychannel.com--I don't know that I could have told it any clearer. I absolutely love the story. This guy that no one thought anything of, who wasn't exactly in a place where he felt comfortable and at ease, totally excelled because he put some effort into it.

Moral(s) of the day:

Make the best of your situation, and one person can make a difference.
AND
Learn to shoot guns when you're little in case you need to take out enemy soldiers with machine guns.

Canuk, eh?

Apparently, my keyboard is compatable with Canada, it says so on the back. It was also made in Thailand--who knew that Canada and Thailand were on good terms?

Bah To All Papers

You know what? Papers make me feel nostolgic and day-dreamy. I can't yet decide if this is a coping mechanism, another way to procrastinate, or just some sort of rare phenomenon. I start thinking of lots of other places I'd rather be at that moment--right now my particular fancy has been with the ocean--either the rocky shores of New England, where I've never honestly been, or to the foggy beaches of northern California. I don't feel like seeing the sunny warm beaches of Florida and Southern California. Sure, those things are really pretty...but for the past few months I've had a sort of quietly desperate desire to go to a beach that makes it seem like you'd be able to be secluded--all alone with you, the ocean, and maybe a someone. Not a people-infested beach that's crawling with half clad women. There was this one beach that my family always used to go to in California when we lived there. It's called Zmudowski, and it's huge and long, and usually windy. The perfect kind of beach for wearing a sweater to and just wading. Or, you can body surf...if you feel so inclined to do so. I loved it, and right now, I really want to go back there.

Maybe all this dreaming comes from the fact that many of my papers are written when I ought to be sleeping....

Guess it's time to go to laundry now...maybe THAT will get my paper done.