Monday, August 31, 2009

Holy Crap: People

ONCE upon a time, it was summer. And people were scarce. I would walk through Brigham square, past the JFSB and never once worry about running into people. Well, that hasn't changed. It's still impossible to run into people. But now it is because you are so tightly wedged between 30,000 bodies, that you can't move anywhere but with the crowd. Way to be, BYU. Making crowd-followers of all of us. Really, I felt like a cow today, being herded and prodded in way too many ways, at way too many angles. I was choking on people. They were everywhere.

AND all of them had babies. Babies, toddlers--they were being pushed and pulled, toted and carried by people who look like they're my age. BYU is weird.

NOT only were the sidewalks and stairs clogged, the buildings were breaking at the seams. There were so many people, just standing in hallways, thinking it was a perfectly normal time to stop and talk to Caroline, your old roommate from sophomore year: "Like, OMG! It's been forever! Tell me your whole life story while I stand here, selfishly causing a traffic jam. Time? Oh, I totally have time! Don't mind the crowds around me--you are so important right now! So let us stand together and chat about the economy and health care and the newest episode of Barney." Ya, don't mind me. I'm only pressed up against a wall so tightly, black spots are floating across my vision and I don't know which way is up and which was is down. Thank you.

BUT I eventually managed to wriggle out from that position, pushing through a mountain of backpacks and a sea of very wet people, into a classroom of, oh, just 500 students. Summer, my biggest class was one of thirty students. Now I was sitting in the auditorium I had NSO in, and it's a class. There were thirteen TA's.

THE whole day, I couldn't help but laugh at all the people. I was just in shock. The babies, the parents, the freshmen, the I-can't-believe-a-freshman-is-looking-at-me-right-now--it was a crowd. I came home just to get away. 30, 000 people; I never realized it would be so dense. I don't even want to talk about the bookstore.

IT was worse than Disneyland.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Aida

BEST musical ever.

END of story.

PLUS, Laura and Mommy pretty much rock. And food. And shopping. ANd really badly done manicures...well, not so much. Still, it was fun. And I'm glad I got a vacation, even if it is no longer summer.

HOPEFULLY I have some more awesome-er stories to tell at a later date. Right now, the simple fact is my eye hurts and I just spent four hours in a car, singing at the top of my lungs in the most awful way possible. In a surprise twist, mom managed to not kill me. So that's cool.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Home Again

EXCEPT not really. I miss Bowen Hall. But it's alright, it's ok. Because Harris is pretty sweet, I guess. There's a big parking lot. That's gotta count for something. And the windows are painted--Every time I pass by I want to sing "H-H-H-Harris." Because that's what it says.

ANYWAYS.

WHEN my mom abandoned me around 7ish, I was home alone. Very bored. Very much UN-excited to be back. But then Chelsea called and she's all "we're coming over to see you!" And I was so very excited. I stopped unpacking, waiting eagerly for their arrival. But then Chelsea called telling me her car broke down. Her speedometer wasn't working and they were scared. So they had Kim drive and they came up and they are hilarious. Really, their apartment must be hilarious, because nothing is boring when they're around.

WE decided to walk to Helaman Halls and visit some people over there. But we passed some sprinklers on the way, so Kim and Chelsea went skipping through them. They also almost got hit by a car, darting across the street. Then it was dancing through parking lots, admiring Hinckley's grass, Michelle trying to hum "I'll Be" in the gazebo. I screamed "Krista" like she was my Adrian. And then Kim realized she lost her phone. We retraced our exact steps and I kept calling her phone. We were waiting for Harry Potter to start playing. But then the phone calls me. Creepy. Turns out some guy had heard Harry Potter, picked it up, and called me back. He said he'd meet us at the tower (that sounds dirty.). We were waiting there--Chelsea was checking out every guy that ever walked past--and some guy starts coming towards the bell tower. Chelsea got all excited because he looked cute and it was going to be a true love story, talking about it with their kids, saying how they met when she lost her phone. How precious. But then some guy bikes up to it and hands it over. He wasn't the cute one. But he gives it to us as we are laughing hysterically. The bad news: He found it in the sprinklers.

IT was sopping wet. And the buttons wouldn't work. We tried to take the battery out to dry. It was a stubborn one. I got it out once I started talking about cheese or something random. Michelle got all excited cuz it was like The Sword in the Stone. But we dried it and then put it back and the screen turned red. Like, Satan read. And the front screen said "Download" in formidable font. Satan had possessed Kim's phone. On BYU property. It was overwhelming. So we walked back to my apartment, and I was asking Kim why she hadn't kissed her boyfriend yet (ya, kim, why???). That's when some girls from my last apartment--oh, Bowen--saw me and stopped in a creepy fashion to say hi. One of them just went on over and decided Kim's phone was water damaged. Yes, that seemed to be the problem.

AT one point or the other, Chelsea got all excited and shouted something right as this group of girls walked by. I don't know what she said, but I swear it sounded like "Oh, look! A slut!" It was hilarious. Especially since what she said didn't sound at all like that. At all. But that's what I heard her scream as a bunch of girls passed us.

BUT then I had to say farewell to my collegiate friends and I walked back to my apartment all alone, past the random, frightening rape corner. All alone. But I wasn't afraid. I had my rape whistle.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Ode To Technology

JUST tonight, Laura and I were talking. On mom's phone (mostly because mom, 3.5 seconds after sending a text, wanted to know what was taking Laura so long in replying. Silly.). So, we were chatting up a storm and I missed her face so I told her I wanted to see it and she's all "SKYPE!!!!!!!"

SO the next ten minutes for me were finding the skype website (it is skype, not scype) and then downloading it. My computer was trying to decide if it would take eight minutes or seven, so for five minutes it was switching between the two. But eventually it got it. The anticipation was building. We were making accounts, we were filling out info, we were agreeing to the terms. And then, of all things magical, her voice! I freaked out and we were both squealing. And then we found the video button and--BOOM!--there was my Laura! Oh, hearts to her.

WE talked and talked. I showed her my shoes, she showed me her sexy-man wall. Then mommy and daddy came in and we were laughing because it was like we were with each other. She's so pretty. And then Shelby showed up and she lived up to the name wonderfully--she was such a doll! I love her already.

LAURA and I were crazy. I was more so. Because I was tired and loopy and going from very bored to very happy is never a good thing. It was insane. I showed her my coat, I pretended to be frozen. Whenever she turned away, I made a face so that when she turned back there'd I'd be looking more retarded than ever. At one point she froze in the middle of pretending to sign beautiful girl. It was hilarious. Then she asked for a tour of the house and I kept getting scared, thinking somethings gonna just pop up in the video. Actually, as I was passing the front door, I wondered what it would be like if Laura suddenly said "omigosh there's a man looking in here." Heart attack. I know, paranoia. I should work on that.

SHE had me wake up sophie and sophie did not like that at all. She just stared at me like I was retarded, holding a computer on my shoulder. Then it was time for bed. So we kissed each other's cheeks, eskimo kisses, and then, alas, a skype hug. It was a beautiful moment, one I will treasure forever and ever. I love my laura.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Life At Home

PRETTY much, Centerville, UT is boring. Everything closes at ten. Blockbuster closes at ten. Everything just shuts down and you're wondering what you're supposed to do for another three hours. Really, I didn't realize how exciting college was until I went without it. It hasn't even been a week, but I've never been so bored. Hence my not writing for so long. There's nothing to write about. I mean, there is. Like Sarah and Chelsee and quick runs to Target before it closes--at ten. But, during summer term, in my dorm, with all my roommates, surrounded by all these teenagers, I had to pick and choose which activities to write about. Now I just drum my fingers, stare at the clock, and wonder what I'm supposed to do with myself.

I watch disney channel now. Gross. It's retarded and I never laugh, but I still watch it.

FACEBOOK stalking is now my life source.

SOPHIE is no longer annoying to me. We have bonded.

I call Justin's phone and leave long messages because he can't answer because he's in basic training.

I shop by myself, even. How boring is that?

BUT I have had fun with Sarah and Chelsee. Everyone else has gone off to school. I still have another week. Anyways, they've come over and we've watched movies. We ate sushi. We made porno bracelets. I made Sarah lunch. We went to the mall.

I also had five cavities removed and my mouth still hurts. It's not fun being shot in the face. Not fun at all. It also happens to be ridiculously expensive.

THIS past week, though it has dragged endlessly on, has been successful in one way: I have gotten a lot of clothes. I got three pairs of jeans, which were needed. I even got a pair of tapered jeans (which are skinny jeans, minus the "ultra"). I have two new fall/wintery jacket/sweater...things. I got some boots, some church heels--with a strap so I can walk in them. And that's about it. which is sad, considering how much I spent. Really, why are clothes so expensive now?

IN case you were worried, I have been happy. I've had a lot of fun. And I'm glad I got a little bit of the summer boredom. But I am very, very ready to go back to college. I'm excited for my roommates--though I did read this article about how roommates are evil and it made me very, very afraid--and I'm excited for the energy of dorms and I'm actually excited to go back to class and learn something. HS didn't teach me anything, but college, man it's fun.

SO, there it is. I'm officially out of the nest. It's nice to be home and comfortable, but I'm glad it's just like a vacation. Because college is pretty sweet.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Drive Off Into Death

MOSTLY, I come home to discover all my usual cars are dead. Of course. I mean, no one's been around to drive them and yet...they die. How poetic. So, it's Saturday and I'm thinking about everything I have to do before college and I'm freaking out because I have no mode of transportation. Then it's Sunday and I can't get to Amanda's ward because I have no car. Sad day. I'm doing my usual whining and moaning and dad, being ever-so-helpful, points out that there is indeed a car I could drive. Justin's. Lovely. Except it's stick shift. Kill me.

DAD decides to teach me how to drive it. Another lovely. He gives me a five-minute lesson using legos to explain the inner-workings of an engine. All of it = way over my head. But I nodded in all the right places and he never caught on to the fact that I had no idea what he was saying. After that, he drives me to a parking lot, tells me which peddle is clutch, and forces me into the drivers seat. There was something about a gauge and a 1 and the red zone and killing "it" and gears and 1-5 and yadayadayada. Like, WTC? Once again, I nod in all the right places. Then it's

Jerk
swerve
die
restart
grinding
quail
tears
dad laughing
stop
revving the engine
whiplash
OMG
1st gear
2nd gear--no, wait, that's 5th gear
reverse
and death

IT was so much fun. Let me tell you. Especially when he decides I'm ready to hit the real road. Ha. Funny. But, no, he was serious.

I had an anxiety attack.

I mean, I survived, but I had an anxiety attack. It's just way too much thinking to do at once: which gear, when clutch, what to do at stop signs, omigosh there's a quail in the middle of the road, and on and on and on. Why would people WANT to drive stick? It's horrible. It's awful. And I can't do it. How sad.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

An Apology

ON August 13, Michelle, Kim, and Chelsea all came to visit me. They were down for orientation at UVU and they came and saw me! The happiest moment of my life: seeing them swerve into the turning lane and into the middle of the road, right outside my apartment. They almost died, which was not the happy part. The happy part was seeing them. And laughing. Because they always make me laugh.

BUT, alas, I did not mention them on that wonderful day. Blame my computer. It didn't save a draft and in the rewrite, I forget to RE-mention them. So, here I am, apologizing for making them feel unloved. Because I do love them. And I love the fact that they love me.

WE just chilled together and I avoided Shakespeare homework. It was wonderful. And they are all so getting married before me. Because it is them, not me, who are dating the RM's. Kim has a 23 year old. Say wha'?? Ya. And Chelsea is now hearting on a 21. What happened? I'm the one at BYU. Seems like I missed out. Well, me and Michelle together. She's still waiting for...Sam...Peter...Bob (?) to bring her some german posies.

I love those girls so very much. And I am glad they made me laugh and that they took pictures with me at my not-so-very best. It was all wonderful and I feel jut awful for not mentioning it. So, here's to you guys: you rock my socks off--every day of my life.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Running On Empty, But Still Running

LAST night was the last night of summer term. Sadness. I really was so depressed, but that just led to a very interesting day. And night. And morning.

ON August 13, I woke up at 7:29 (even numbers are not allowed) to study for my Shakespeare final at 9:00. Close to 11:00, I walked out, finished with that class forever. I don't even want to know my grade. I just put that far behind me. I was beaming, I was so relieved to be finished. I survived! Miracles of miracles, mind you. But my happiness was crushed when I came home to discover that Elly was leaving. I don't really like change. It makes me sad. We were hanging out in the hallway, waiting for her aunt to come and take her away. Of course we took a zillion and a half pictures, as follows:

THIS is Elly and I. We match. Nope, not planned, we're just cool like that.

BY the time her aunt did come, there was a huge gathering in the lobby. And by huge I mean Amanda, Sara, Kristi, Emily, Janelle, and me. Still. We all decided to go to The Skyroom, which is this desperate-to-be-ostentatious overpriced buffet. But it was fun. It was sort of in celebration of Sara's birthday so I tied her remaining balloons to her butt loop, keeping her on a tight, rather ridiculous leash. It was hilarious. We walked her across campus. Like a dog.

AFTERWARDS, I was becoming moody and melancholic. It seems like forever since I've known these girls! And now we're all not together anymore. I mean, we'll see each other. But it won't be the same. And it was sad. Plus, Amanda was tired and Sara and her were doing cleaning checks. So I hung out with Paige and Julia--my FHE sisters. They happen to be hilarious.

PAIGE & Julia, adorable as usual.

WHEN it started to pour--and I mean pour--Janelle, Paige and I ran across campus to rescue the stranded Julia who was hiding in the shelter of the Wilk. We tore through the rain, laughing breathlessly, skidding across grass and nearly dying on slippery pavement. We were sopping wet. Rain really is fun. Then we watched Iron Man, where Sara got friendly with her man. (I'm talking MAJOR pda here.) But that ended at 11. And Amanda wanted to go to bed. Uh, heck no! It was our last night. So I made the executive decision that we must all make brownies. And by all I mean Janelle, Julia, Paige, Sara, Amanda, and me. The cool kids.

AS soon as the brownies hit the system, we were goners. Amanda became insanely hyper. Like catch-a-duck-and-lie-in-the-road hyper.

WE danced...


WE drank...


WE brought sexy back...


WE even watched Signs. Which was way more stressful than excepted.

AFTER all this, we were to the point of being so tired we forget we're tired and the clock lied to us:

BUT being normal college kids, we celebrated our achievement of not sleeping by not going to bed till six. In that hour and a half, we said goodbye to Julia and Sara vacuumed the hallway. We also exhausted Kristi (the RA) who was supposed to get up at 5:30, but slept through her alarm because, hello, we were dancing in the kitchen.

ALL in all, it was a good night....slash morning. I didn't sleep. Well, I may have closed my eyes for an hour. But heaven knows I was awake when our neighbor randomly appeared in my bedroom, asking if Sara was awake. Scare me half to death, thank you.

NOW it is 4:00 p.m. of the 14th and I am all alone in my apartment. Everyone has moved out. Everyone. My roommates and my FHE sisters and my neighbors are no more. The summer is finished. It is sad. But, hey, now that Sara is gone, my room is truly clean for the first time...ever. There really is always a silver lining, isn't there?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

There's Something Exciting About Life

MY first final went beautifully. Except the testing center was full. And that place is huge. It was so weird walking in there, weaving in and out of desks and past stressed out people. Hair was falling out. It was floating in the air, just screaming, "I HATE FINALS!!"

I found a desk pressed against a wall with little-to-no leg room, sat down with my BOM final--six pages. Gross.--and started clicking my mechanical pencil. I got a few dirty looks. Ah, well. It's a stress reliever.

TWO hours later, I walked out. My hair was ruined because I'd been gripping it so hard. My hand hurt from writing three essays. Most of which, I BS'd on. Which is probably double-bad, seeing as it is a religion final. And you can't BS about church stuff. I'll probably be struck down with lightning. No, it wasn't all bad. I was pretty confident.

GOOD thing too, because I walked out of there with 90%. Oh, ya, baby, I'm good. Except now I have to worry about my Shakespeare final. And I am very worried about that final. Gross. For the last two hours, I've been memorizing different thesis statements for each of the plays we've studied in class: Love's Labour's Lost, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Twelfth Night (which, according to Amanda, is actually Fifteenth Night), Othello, Macbeth, and King Lear. I have various quotes and motifs and themes memorized from and for each play, but these thesis statements just aren't sticking. Probably because they're total crap. But it was Sara's birthday and I was distracted. I made some wicked sweet alfredo.

IT was a very fun day, without the finals. Every time I saw Sara, I wished her a happy birthday (Happy Birthday, Sara!). And we made her an elaborately layered cake. Mostly because the first cake was super shrimpy. That was weird. it was like a centimeters tall, no joke. I've never seen such a small cake. So we decided to make two mixes and just stack them for a normal sized cake. But, if the first cake was abnormally small, the second was ridiculously huge. That cake turned into a five inch masterpiece of chocolate-Vanilla extravaganza-ness. Now Sara is an adult. And we celebrated by breaking the rules and lighting candles with matches. What good is being an adult if you can't break a few rules, right?

SO today was fun. Except for Amanda packed everything up and it made me cry. This is the end. It's so crazy. We're never ever going to sit down and just have a meal together as roommates. Because summer term is over. It's over. I really could cry. I'm gonna miss them all. This summer was insanely fun and surprisingly so. I totally lucked out in my roommates. I loveth them.

EVEN if they have never seen Indepandance Day.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The Voice of the Insane

LIFE is really funny when your brain shuts down. <-- deep thought of the day.

I have never studied for so long in my entire life. No, correction: I've never studied. Because, let's face it, High School is easy. And I have a pretty good memory. But I also never had to take finals that were worth half the entire grade. So. Today I sat down and started studying for Shakespeare. I have to know motifs, characters, plot, themes well enough to recognize a passage from each of the six plays we studied this year. I listed said subjects and then proceeded to add detail.

FOUR hours later....

I still wasn't done. I love Shakespeare, but that was pushing it. I never knew studying could hurt so much. I would stare at the page and my eyes would cross. My head was pounding and my back hurt. The world got fuzzy. My mind was coherent but my mouth wouldn't work. It took me half an hour to get out the advice I was giving Laura: "Don't treat your HS teachers like you treated your LPA teachers." But the "treat" just messed me up. I said all sorts of things. I just became so confuddled.

BUT I was on facebook--because my brain needed to chill out--and one of my friends had this picture of this really fat gopher. And I just couldn't stop laughing:


MAYBE it's just funny when the world is blurry and words like "witches" makes you wonder where people come up with these spellings. (really, though, witches? How weird is that? It took me like half an hour to spell out on my review sheet. I think I first put it down as "Whitches"...which makes more sense.)

ANYWAYS, one of my finals tomorrow and that should be interesting. Studying is lame, i have decided. How is being this loopy and tired good for you? Answer: it's not. I'll probably fail--just because I studied.

THAT, my friends, is what I would call irony. So, we shall see.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

The Self Defense Mojo Extravaganza

IT was just after ward prayer. Julia (my FHE sister, if you don't know) and I were just getting more and more hyper. The starbursts didn't help. And the fact that she was doing ballet as we talked about Jurassic Park and That Thing You Do didn't do much either. But she started asking me about Self Defense. I told her "I know how to break your arms and snap your ankles." She asked me to show her. And the self-defense-spirit within me could not say no.

SO we're in the lobby. Sara is sitting with Mr. W who has another stalked whom we shall call M. They're chilling on the couch. Amanda is watching Julia and I. Some girls were coming and going, including but not limited to the RA. And, still, I held nothing back.

"Julia, straddle me."

"Grab me from behind."

"Here is where I knee him."

"Get on top of me like you mean it."
"Don't kick, grab."
"Do you wanna learn a choke hold?"
"What if a woman attacks you? Grab her boobs."

IT was pretty intense. Especially with the innocent Mr. W whose poor ears were burning. Still, it was important to know. And Julia was way into. The blood was pumping and we were all superbly hyper. Besides, I needed the practice for my final tomorrow. (Fail. I can see it.) So I was teaching her the Elevator Lift, the Front-bear Attack Escape. I showed her the "Staying Alive" move and the Triangle Choke.

THAT was actually the funniest. Her face. She was flailing, going cross eyed because I forgot to tell her to tap out. Really, we were hyper. But we kicked butt. And everyone watching decided they wanted to take that class. So that's pretty awesome. I should be spokesperson or something. Except I was half asleep--even as I was hyper--and so I'd be telling funny stories without smiling, and saying half serious things with a drawl. It was one of the funniest nights of my life. Maybe you just had to be there.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Marshmallow Inferno

FIRST off, how weird is that word??! Marsh*Mall*Ow. Everyone says marshmEllo. But we're supposedly supposed to say marshmAllow. That just sounds silly. Marshmallow Marshmallow Marshmallow. Say that ten times fast. Ya, right.

ALSO we are out of toilet paper. You know how much toilet paper we've gone through? Like, 62 rolls. It's insane.

BUT, back to the marshmAllow.

ONE night, Amanda and I were hyper as usual and we decided we wanted s'mores. So we found some graham crackers (what the crap is a graham anyway?) and then some marshmAllows. And we turned on the stove. It was actually a really good roaster-of-marshmAllows. You stick it on a fork and toast it just over the red stove. They were near perfection, golden brown and beautiful. Then we got hyper-er. Sara came and joined us and we were stuffing our faces with disgusting s'mores. I don't even like s'mores. But it was fun.

WELl, alls well till Amanda decides she wants a burnt marshmAllow. So she's holding it, letting it smoke and then--POOF!--the marshmAllow bursts into flame. Like, one second it was just sitting there, suddenly hells fire has latched on and we're dancing around the kitchen, screaming. But laughing; always laughing. It was just this glowing orb of flame. Until Amanda blew it out, leaving the residue of a once-glorious marshmAllow. Our RA came running out of her room (because of our terrified squeals). She saw the burnt marshmAllow, saw us laughing to tears, the stove turned on high. She looked ready to yell at us--which only made us laugh harder--and then she just shook her head and walked away. It was hilarious. And being the smart college students that we are, we decided to do it again.

FLAMING marshmAllows are funny.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Smell the Chances

Life is nothing
but a moment.
An instant within
an instant.
We come, we go.
We are, we were.
But we live.
Here
is all we know.
Now
is all we have.
Yesterday
is a dream,
Tomorrow
is a hope.
From before
and ever after,
Life is nothing
but a moment.
-- Shelby Boyer

Thursday, August 6, 2009

For Ashley: What Now?!

An Analysis of Duke Orsino (Twelfth Night)
Act 1.i lines 1-8

"If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again, it had a dying fall;
O, it came ‘oer my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more,
‘Tis not so sweet now as it was before."

In Act I.i lines 1-8 of Twelfth Night, Shakespeare introduces Duke Orsino as a man entirely devoid of any self-awareness. Disparate within himself, Orsino lacks genuine feelings. He rambles, changing position and opinion constantly, for he has no true thought. His emotion is theatrical, unreal because it lacks real sentiment. He plays up his supposed misery for the sake of his own show. Ironically, we witness the duke’s self-importance—managed even while actually having no sincere self. Shakespeare disregards traditional bounds of characterization to bring to life an extreme, zealous lover who serves as a prime example of what not to be. With this first speech, Orsino comes forward all-at-once fickle, melancholic, and histrionic.

Orsino is so absorbed within himself that he is completely unaware of who he is, what he wants, how he acts. He manifests himself as a man devoid of any real purpose, fickle and inconsistent. His serial indecisiveness reveals the shallowness of his own character. The fact that Orsino starts in the middle of things, with no explanation as to what about or to whom or why he is speaking, serves as a testament of his delusion that the world revolves around him. He thinks we should already know what he’s going through, what he’s thinking. So he starts the play without preamble, simply bursting forth in terrific groans and pangs of misery, all showing just how shallow his words are. Since he has no beginning, his words hold no substance. This immediate dive into the unknown makes Orsino’s fickle nature obvious (in medias res). Orsino speaks of death and violets, gorging and sweet smells—all in the same breath. He begins with one hope, then turns to another (apocarteresis). At first he wants music to violently destroy his love for Olivia. Then there is a sudden shift where he describes music and love as a “sweet sound,” reminding him of “a bank of violets.” But, once again, he changes, deciding suddenly it is “not so sweet now as it was before.” By the end of it we’re at a loss to know whether or not he still wants to die from love or if he now finds his pining refreshing. Orsino seems to enjoy changing his mind. The whole piece is a conjoining of contrasting ideas (antithesis), most apparent when he asks for “that strain again,” then decides “no more.” He has no real structure or point laid out. It becomes the ramblings of a poor soul, indecisive and erratic. Shakespeare gives Orsino a wasted mind, distracted by a love for languishing. As time wanes on, Shakespeare’s character becomes laughable; his fickle nature is the running joke of the play. It is, after all, only one like Orsino that can believably go from loving Olivia to accepting Viola so instantaneously.

The duke’s depressive, melancholic state is hardly authentic—except to himself. He wishes for love, rejecting it at the same time. In this first speech, Orsino comes across as a decidedly depressed, immensely melancholic man with little to be sad about. He exaggerates his pain, pleading for love to kill him (hyperbole): “If music be the food of love,” he groans, “give me excess if it; that…the appetite may sicken, and so die.” This overdone amplification becomes synonymous with Orsino. Within words you know you can’t take his love seriously. Orsino is only whining over his own misery, just looking for attention (exuscatatio). The whole speech is him playing up his pain, moaning about death and love and violets. We almost roll our eyes, sure no one—especially a man, a duke—could truly be so pathetic. But he continues: “That strain again, it had a dying fall.” He’s lamenting for the sake of lamenting (threnos). We see him strewn across a couch, one hand over his eyes, soft music in the background. He lies there, groaning and moaning, begging us to watch him cry. There’s a sort of commiseration he’s seeking, sure he can find it at the hand of music—the “food” of lovers (commiseratio). His melancholic nature, perfectly penned by Shakespeare, is all Orsino wishes to be known for. In his universe he sees it as admirable and something beautiful, unaware that the actual world around him is laughing.

The lack of character deepens, then, when with that fickle nature and depressed state, Shakespeare bestows upon Orsino an addiction to the grand theatrics. Playing up his own melancholy, Orsino wallows in histrionic dramatics. He is clamoring to gain attention and to have the audience nod in agreement with his incoherent speech (pathopoeia). The piece is fluffed with heavy imagery and poetical phrases. With the first line, Orsino sets up a metaphor—of music being the “food of love”—that continues throughout the piece, with him wishing to die by it only to hear it again. This extended and rather far-fetched metaphor serves to reveal just how overwrought Shakespeare’s Orsino can be (catachresis, conceit). In a paradoxical twist, the metaphor becomes a contradiction. He says music is the sustainer of love only to have it suddenly become the destroyer of love (oxymoron). Constantly, he plays with incongruities, saying the violets are “stealing and giving” in the same instant (paradox). This dramatic flare continues with his exclamation, “O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets” (ecphonesis). Also here, we see his poetic side—poetry, of course, always being a good way to pine for an inconsiderate lover. There is the alliteration of “sweet sound” and also some slight assonance with “breathes upon a bank.” But this sudden fit of imagery fails to seem connected. Before this, his entire speech had followed a single metaphor of music and food. Now he falls to flowers and soft sounds. Though lyrical, the picture serves little to no purpose in his desperate speech. It only adds more pomp, more theatrics, resulting in an overdone melodrama. The arrogance of Orsino’s flourishing language is extreme, only helping Shakespeare point out the ridiculousness he sees in human nature.

Shakespeare brings Orsino to the stage front as a man too in love with himself to be taken seriously. Orsino plays up his pain, wallowing in the ideals of love without really caring. His lack of a self keeps his words and vows lacking. Everything he says, though poetic, is too inconsistent to be trusted. But Shakespeare’s Orsino doesn’t seem to mind. He is pleased with himself, sure to the very end that the world still circles about him; that, at any instant, he can command—whether he wish it to “play on” or if he has had “enough.” His fickle nature and elegiac, prima-donnaesque attitude immediately come together to not only define himself, but the entirety of the play. Twelfth Night’s satirical tinge depends on the likes of Orsino: characters that are too self absorbed to recognize their own, many faults. Shakespeare uses Orsino’s fickleness, his melancholy, and his histrionic escapades to reveal unto us the faults of man. We’re not meant to appreciate Orsino as one in good taste. We are meant to see him as he is: a man lacking any real substance.



Wednesday, August 5, 2009

When Brain is Fried, Be Crafty

AFTER four hours of classes all talking about finals which I am not prepared for, I became very much dejected. (On a happier note, I did receive my first College Paper back with a lovely grade of "A" which made me happy!) I was tired and the classrooms were cold and I was starting to realize how expensive living on ones own is--and I'm not even doing that yet. (Thanks, loving parents.) Plus, King Lear is just the worst play ever and studying for four hours is not good for ones health. I seriously have never read such a depressing play...and it was so boring. Ugh. So I walk home in the blistering heat, starving and weighed down with all the many things I have to do by Monday. Because it was too much to bear, I threw it all down (figuratively and metaphorically--I tossed my bag of twenty pound books on the bed and ignored it the rest of the night.) and instead turned to the project of creating a new diary. I had paper from an Enrichment activity and I had a plan and it turned out beautifully. Oh, I love cute diaries!

BECAUSE I love you, I have decided to share it with you. Note that the camera on my computer makes it look backwards. The letter on the front is indeed a "D"



























IT makes me happy. And it made me happy. I was very proud. Though it took me a good hour to complete. Stupid paper and cutting and scissors-ness. Really, it's not my fault I can't cut a straight line. It's not. Still, I am proud of it. And it's even cuter when it's not backwards.

SO, yes, that is how I spent my last Wednesday before finals. :) Life is good.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

My Run-in With the Law

NOTE: Mothers may burst out in furious anger at child's stupidy. Know now no child was harmed in the process behind the making of this post. ...Don't. Freak. Out.

FACT: Gretchen Wilson sucks and is impossible to get out of your head, no matter how many other songs you hear in a day/night/day.

OTHER fact, more pertinent to this story: Amanda and I should not be allowed to go out late at night. We get too hyper. And Hyper teenage girls are apt to do some very silly things. (Am I scaring you yet, mother?)

SEE, it was about ten o'clock at night when Amanda and Sara and I decided to go catch a duck. First, we wanted to try to go Duck TIpping but we thought that was too inhumane. So duck catching it was. We went stealth, sneaking up on the oblivious animals quacking in the dark. But we got scared about four feet away from them, so we just started squawking--as should be expected. Then Amanda, in her hyperactive, overly-giggly voice says "I wanna get in trouble with the cops." [insert high-pitched giggle] "I've never done something bad before!" Being a responsible adult, I told her that was a stupid, immature girl and proceeded to run across the street. At the crosswalk that really only goes between two parking lots and therefore is very UNbusy we were reminded of The Notebook.

Ally: "What are you doing? You're gonna get yourself killed."
Noah: "By all the cars?"
"...my dad and I used to come out here and watch the lights change."

IT'S a beautiful movie. And I suppose rather inspiring. It inspired us to lie down on the crosswalk. We only got to see it switch from Green to Yellow before we got too scared and stood up. At one point a car was coming still half a mile away and we got up screaming--Amanda did a beautiful imitation of Ally.

ANWAYS, we run away and begin talking to our FHE sisters, Paige and Julia. But Amanda shrieks--like a banshee. I swear she awoke the dead and scared the living to death--and we all jump up and down, scared of a spider that I am beginning to suspect was never there. It was a Phantom spider. Amanda insists otherwise. Well, we all go on a walk and then we come back and we're telling them about what Amanda poetically called "The Notebook Reenactment." And we decide to do it again.

THE ground was comfortably warm and it was actually highly entertaining, watching the lights switch. They were all talking about what the police reports would say when we were ran over and killed. [insert nervous laughter] That's when the car turned in very far away from actually hitting us, mother. And we stand up, screaming/laughing hysterically. And of all things ironic, the cop car was just coming up also to turn in--what are the odds? and he therefore saw us nearly not really get ran over. He tells us to stop being stupid--but in friendlier terms, a laugh in his eyes. Not really. He actually looked at us like we were retarded. But it was pretty funny. We all felt stupid. But, hey, like I said, it was Amanda's fault. She's the one who wanted to have a run-in with the coppers. Wish granted.

Monday, August 3, 2009

I Was Stalked

SO, I was talking to my wonderfully lovely little sister Laura and I needed some privacy so I go outside. And I walk to the cool duck pond right next door. I'm walking and talking and I see this family of ducks--the "ducklings" were in that ugly stage where they are big but still have fluffy feathers. Not cute. So I mock them. Because, one, they're ducks. And, two, they were diving into the rocks, their little butts wiggling unabashedly in the air. It was funny. So I mock them and Laura laughs and then I move further down the path. But I don't feel alone.

I look over my shoulder and there are the ducks, all out of the water, following me. I am not even joking. They were slowly waddling their way down the very path I had just walked down.

I walk faster.

I pass more ducks. They give me the stink eye. And they start out of the water.

I walk faster.

WELL, I find a bench, pull my feet up under me and talk to Laura, growing more and more panicked as the ducks come closer and closer.

I don't know if you've noticed, but ducks are frightening out of water. They go stealth, waddling through the grass, snapping at who-knows what.

AND they got closer. By now I was sure I was going to die. I considered running away, screaming. But another family of ducks blocked me. So now I am surrounded by a baker's dozen worth of ducks and I'm whispering to Laura that the ducks are going to kill me. She doesn't believe me. I tell her, No, it's serious--I felt like I was in a sequel to "Birds" which would, of course, be "Ducks."

BUT they pass me, waddling mysteriously by, only stopping to scowl at me. I guess they don't like jokes about how ugly they are. But, really, ducks are ugly.

MEANWHILE I saw a robin hop all the way across a field in, like, five seconds--like a kangaroo. Which was entertaining except for the fact that it was bounding towards me. That also scared me. So, considering how stressed I had become, I decided the duck pond was not good for my health. So I walked home and hid under my covers.

...I hope the ducks didn't follow me.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

WHERE did the month of July go? One minute I'm watching lame fireworks on the 4th, the next I am studying for finals and scrambling to get all my assignments in. I mean, WTC!

BUT part of the issue is how surreal this whole summer feels. First, I'm at college. But it doesn't feel like college. I guess it's just not like I imagined college would be. There are too many married people and little children and grandparents and a million EFY snobs. I keep having to remind myself that, yes, this is a university. It feels like a little world; a small neighborhood. There's kids playing hopscotch in Brigham Square. Fifty year olds are wondering around. People ride unicycles. I've seen parasols. There are people reading on the grass! Holding hands is the "in" thing to do. A bell tower sings us hymns. It's like this la-la land of gumballs and cherry trees. Really, I'm not surprised by any of it anymore. It's life now.

Get up.
Get showered (in one of the most disturbingly dirty bathrooms ever).
Waste time on the computer.
Do homework because I'm good like that.
Get my bag.
Go to class.
Kick butt in Self Defense, nearly fall asleep in BOM, pay attention in Shakespeare.
Walk home.
Smile at familiar faces.
Eat food.
Have dinner.
Do dishes.
Laugh at Amanda's inability to go to bed when she says she will.
Talk about soulmates.
Watch a movie.
Waste time on the computer.
Write in my journal.
Read scriptures.
Go to bed.

and do it all over.

IN all honesty, I was walking home from Shakespeare the other day, not at all worried about the final--though I should be--and I realized I don't feel like I'm experiencing college. Now it's just...life. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'm uber amazing because I'm so content and right-at-home in this collegiate lifestyle. Still, it's pretty crazy that my summer has been spent in college and now HS seems far away and I laugh at the dumb EFY kids who are, in all actuality, my age. But I don't feel like a teenager anymore. Trust me: I act like one; I'm a total freshman. But the person I was in HS and the person I am now just seem too different to only be separated by one summer. Everything happened so fast. And now it's ending--just to begin again.

ANYWAYS, I'm just a little taken back that this term is already over and that in a few weeks I'll be facing a whole new beginning. I get caught up thinking about how much has been stuffed into one summer.

I'm friends with married people now.
I know senior guys who own numchucks.
Nobody's obsessed with Twilight.
I'm not overwhelmed by finals
or the testing center.
I don't faint every time I walk up the Devil's Backbone.
I'm not starving.
My roommates don't drive me insane.
I can break your ankles.
Campus isn't that big.
HFAC, JFSB, the Wilk, "devo's"--all terms I know!
I have a keychain.
Married people are my age.
I haven't gained fifteen pounds.
Fact: EFY kids suck.
Church is like a constant combined youth activity.
Food is expensive.
There's this obsession with sideburns. Really, guys, really?
Quote walls are retarded.
I haven't had a melt down.

THIS is all very good news. But, really, it is surreal how quickly everything fell into place. Eight weeks. Is that all? They just fled right by and now I'm different and everything is different. It's just...different.