Life plan.
Life plan life plan life plan.
I have a college degree.
I have a job that is related to that degree. Ok. That is good news because not everyone can do that.
I pay for all my own stuff. Including a car payment and my phone bill and lots of other bills that I don't like to think about because it makes me feel too old and poor. This means I don't rely on mom for anything (wellllllllll OK sometimes I use her money to put gas in my car).
I want to get married at some point and have some babies that I can buy cute outfits.
Ultimately, I would like to teach high school film/media classes to juniors and seniors. Or English or something. No. Probably the film/media thing.
I don't think I want to be in Provo anymore because I feel like I'm stuck in a vortex of stasis. It's like my feet are stuck to a launching pad. Everything feels temporary. Plus male/female relationships are all kinds of jacked up.
I don't know where to go next or when to go there.
I don't have a lot of money saved up. Well I do, but I'm too scared to spend it on anything because I feel like it should be in a 401K or something.
I'm running away to Africa for 2 weeks.
Sometimes I play Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 to avoid grown up decisions.
I want to watch all of the movies Queen Latifah has been in.
Some days I feel like all options are good. Some days I feel like all options are bad. Well mostly just scary.
What I've decided is this: How my life changes doesn't matter as much as making the choices to cause change. I just need to move in any direction.
What if I move to Connecticut? That was my thought this evening.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
My Life Is A Little Depressing
So Blogger has this cool thing where you can just read all of the comments that have ever been posted to your blog in one neat little list. I was looking at this list for funsies and someone posted "Let's have a Footloose Party!" I immediately got really excited about whoever wanted to have this party with me. I was also really nervous that I had missed the opportunity they offered. I looked down where it says who posted the comment and was met with my own name. I had commented this as a response to someone saying they liked Kevin Bacon.
Footloose Party with myself. Epitome of sadness.
Footloose Party with myself. Epitome of sadness.
Adventures Outside
Once upon a time, I lived in the land of Florida where camping is something crazy hermits do in swamps and hiking is well... Impossible. Also in the land of Florida, there is no river rafting. Well, not that I know of. And if there is, it's probably real boring. Florida is flat, hot and humid. And you can get eaten by an alligator. Or herd of alligators. A gaggle, perhaps.
Florida is also magical and wonderful, but for you Nature Valley poster children out there, you may be disappointed to discover the closest thing to an incline you're likely to find is a highway overpass. Climbing these, btw, is not recommended.
Anyway.
Then I moved to Utah. I was 17 and excited about college. I was also freaking amazed every time I walked out of my dorm and encountered the incredible sight that was "mountains". I was entertained enough just looking at them and basking in their glory. It had never occurred to me to climb one. And, being a Florida girl in Utah, I felt a bit out of place when I was ambushed by my fellow college students wearing what they called Chacos as they asked me if I wanted to climb a mountain or sleep outside. Or climb a mountain then sleep outside. I mostly just said no. A couple of times I said yes. I hiked the blasted Y. Camping just sounded like a social experiment to see how many different ways you can die just from being outside.
So traversing the outdoors was a challenge for me both physically and conceptually.
Fast forward to this last summer. I was now seasoned in all things outdoors-y. I had been hiking at least twice and camped once over the span of 5 years. This meant I was a regular granola. I'm even waiting to hear back from Nature Valley about whether or not I can be on their next poster.
Nature Valley: You've been hiking HOW many times??
Asia: TWICE.
Nature Valley: Amazing!
Asia: And I own a Nalgene water bottle, sucka.
Nature Valley: It's too much!
Anyway, they're checkin' to see if I'm overqualified.
One fateful day last April, I got an email from my friend Sean about doing a camping/river rafting trip in central-ish Utah sometime this summer. I though it sounded fun and certainly within my abilities. We bought our tickets and planned our trip. Then we got super busy and summer filled up with random jobs/trips/other things that made it seem like our camping trip would never happen. But a couple of weeks ago, the stars aligned and the trip was planned. The group was Sean, me and his two older sisters. They were all born and raised in Utah and had camped at least 35,000 more times than me. Though my one short bout with sleeping outdoors was enough to count as at least 6 camping trips, they still had me by 34,994 camping experiences. My Nature Valley confidence was waning quickly.
Before we met up, Sean had asked me a few questions that further challenged this confidence.
Sean: Are you ok just sleeping outside on a tarp or do you need a tent?
Hm? Did people do that? It seemed like a tent was sufficiently primordial. Sleeping on a tarp increased the likelihood of death and animal molestation by at least 73%. It was a tough call. But I was determined not to be the little nancy that needed a tent, so I said something like:
Asia: Whatev! I'm down!
Luckily it was all over texts and he couldn't see the trepidation in my eyes.
Sean: We're bringing some bikes in case we want to go for a ride. Are you interested?
This one was a bit trickier because I knew that mountain biking was something I most likely couldn't do. The last bike I had been on was barbie-themed. And even that was on a flat neighborhood road. And even THAT ended badly.
Asia: I don't know anything about mountain biking.
Sean: You just put your feet on the pedals...
He was making fun of me. It was a challenge. One I wanted to meet and metaphorically punch his face with. But I also didn't want to end up a bloody heap at the base of a mountain, so I replied with a sheepish:
Asia: Well, if you don't think it'll be too hard, I'll try it, but it's really no big deal for you to go without me.
He said if I felt like it, we could take turns on his bike. I let it drop. He didn't bring it up again. Touché.
We met up and began the 3 hour drive down to Moab. We left after dark due to work schedule maneuvering and almost immediately ran into a huge lightning storm. It was a lot of lightning. Like... sleeping outside seems like an issue if there's an 80% chance of death by electrocution.
But on we went!
When we arrived in Moab about 3 hours later, we found a dirt road, pulled over and prepared for the evening. Luckily Sean had thrown a $30 K-Mart tent into the car -- "just in case". We set it up, changed into jammies and jumped in just before an enormous rain/lightning/thunder storm. As I lay there in the dark, both feeling and hearing the tent get completely thrashed in the storm, both spooning and being spooned by girls I didn't know I was close enough to for such close proximity, I was caught by the incredulity of the situation. It made me smile. It also made me feel like I was really roughin' it.
RAFTING
The next morning, we headed out for our rafting adventure. It wasn't long before we found ourselves standing on the side of a beautiful river in Moab, Utah. We strapped on life jackets and were asked by a man with a very nice bod if we wanted to go down the river in a raft or an inflatable kayak.
Another toughie. Kayaks? I hardly had time to think; my party of native Utahns were dividing us into pairs and claiming our kayaks. I mostly cowared behind Aubry, the sister I was paired with as a kayaking companion. I started to feel very sorry for Aubry. Accepting me as a kayaking partner surely meant death or getting stranded somewhere dry and lonely. But then I decided to man-up. I could kayak! People kayaked all the time. Asia is a kayak-er!
Plus there would probably be a little tutorial, right? Or a little safety rope? Surely they weren't going to trust that I could control this thing, right?
Right?
As we were preparing to get in the river, hot bod Joe came around and asked us if we felt confident in our ability to paddle our kayaks to the side of the river after we had been on the river for a few minutes. I couldn't bring myself to say yes. However, Aubry answered for both of us.
And we were off.
It was beautiful and serene. The river was lined on both sides by tall, red mountains with scattered groups of sparse trees. The weather was perfect, too. Clear sky, but not too hot. A rarity for Utah in July. The beauty of the scenery could, perhaps be blamed for the blunder that occurred after being on the river a mere matter of minutes.
I realized all too late that hot bod Joe's challenge was just that... a challenge. I was in the back, which meant I was in charge of steering. This meant we spinning in a lof of circles and trying (but nearly failing) not to tip over. It also meant that, when the time came to steer toward our group on the banks of the river, we were in no position to join them. Facing backwards, we floated right past them, staring blankly. A pitiful, more helpless version of deer in headlights. As we floated by, our party waved their arms and yelled things. I lamely splashed my paddle in the water a few times. Sean and his sister just smiled. I could tell that hot bod Joe lost all his confidence in us.
We were able to eventually get to a tree and grab a poky branch. We waited there until we saw our group pass us. With our eyes unable to meet those of our counterparts, we clumsily paddled out to join them. My kayak tutorial came then. A shout from hot bod Joe -- "The person in the back is for steering."
Screw you, hot bod Joe. I'm from Florida.
From there it became a comedy of errors. We got caught in what seemed like an underwater forest, scooting our bums in order to escape our twiggy captors. Then we got caught on a random sand bar. For this one, we actually had to get out, push the kayak forward and get back in.
I thought a lack of tutorial would surely produce many inept kayak-ers. Someone to commiserate with. But no. It seemed as though the only people not well versed in the ways of the river-tamers were myself and my stalwart companion. Aubry was extremely patient with me throughout, thank goodness.
After a little while, we selflessly surrendered our kayaks to a couple that wanted to get out of the large raft. We said things like: "Just when we were starting to get it!" and sort-of believed them. Swapping spots with the now kayakers, we ended up at the very front of a raft filled with some random strangers and lots of children.
The highlight of this episode was feeling my body fling out of the raft into the rapids and thrash between the raft itself and the large waves that ravaged it. Aubry, in a noble attempt to keep me in the raft, fell out herself. Upon being pulled back in, a small child looked at me and said, "You fell out. I didn't."
True, sassy child. Very true. And that may be the perfect coda to my life as Davy Crockett's wannabe progeny. But, I must say, despite the somewhat sordid and hopelessly inept nature of my camping/rafting experience... I had a BLAST.
So suck it, Nature Valley.
Florida is also magical and wonderful, but for you Nature Valley poster children out there, you may be disappointed to discover the closest thing to an incline you're likely to find is a highway overpass. Climbing these, btw, is not recommended.
Anyway.
Then I moved to Utah. I was 17 and excited about college. I was also freaking amazed every time I walked out of my dorm and encountered the incredible sight that was "mountains". I was entertained enough just looking at them and basking in their glory. It had never occurred to me to climb one. And, being a Florida girl in Utah, I felt a bit out of place when I was ambushed by my fellow college students wearing what they called Chacos as they asked me if I wanted to climb a mountain or sleep outside. Or climb a mountain then sleep outside. I mostly just said no. A couple of times I said yes. I hiked the blasted Y. Camping just sounded like a social experiment to see how many different ways you can die just from being outside.
So traversing the outdoors was a challenge for me both physically and conceptually.
Fast forward to this last summer. I was now seasoned in all things outdoors-y. I had been hiking at least twice and camped once over the span of 5 years. This meant I was a regular granola. I'm even waiting to hear back from Nature Valley about whether or not I can be on their next poster.
Nature Valley: You've been hiking HOW many times??
Asia: TWICE.
Nature Valley: Amazing!
Asia: And I own a Nalgene water bottle, sucka.
Nature Valley: It's too much!
Anyway, they're checkin' to see if I'm overqualified.
One fateful day last April, I got an email from my friend Sean about doing a camping/river rafting trip in central-ish Utah sometime this summer. I though it sounded fun and certainly within my abilities. We bought our tickets and planned our trip. Then we got super busy and summer filled up with random jobs/trips/other things that made it seem like our camping trip would never happen. But a couple of weeks ago, the stars aligned and the trip was planned. The group was Sean, me and his two older sisters. They were all born and raised in Utah and had camped at least 35,000 more times than me. Though my one short bout with sleeping outdoors was enough to count as at least 6 camping trips, they still had me by 34,994 camping experiences. My Nature Valley confidence was waning quickly.
Before we met up, Sean had asked me a few questions that further challenged this confidence.
Sean: Are you ok just sleeping outside on a tarp or do you need a tent?
Hm? Did people do that? It seemed like a tent was sufficiently primordial. Sleeping on a tarp increased the likelihood of death and animal molestation by at least 73%. It was a tough call. But I was determined not to be the little nancy that needed a tent, so I said something like:
Asia: Whatev! I'm down!
Luckily it was all over texts and he couldn't see the trepidation in my eyes.
Sean: We're bringing some bikes in case we want to go for a ride. Are you interested?
This one was a bit trickier because I knew that mountain biking was something I most likely couldn't do. The last bike I had been on was barbie-themed. And even that was on a flat neighborhood road. And even THAT ended badly.
Asia: I don't know anything about mountain biking.
Sean: You just put your feet on the pedals...
He was making fun of me. It was a challenge. One I wanted to meet and metaphorically punch his face with. But I also didn't want to end up a bloody heap at the base of a mountain, so I replied with a sheepish:
Asia: Well, if you don't think it'll be too hard, I'll try it, but it's really no big deal for you to go without me.
He said if I felt like it, we could take turns on his bike. I let it drop. He didn't bring it up again. Touché.
We met up and began the 3 hour drive down to Moab. We left after dark due to work schedule maneuvering and almost immediately ran into a huge lightning storm. It was a lot of lightning. Like... sleeping outside seems like an issue if there's an 80% chance of death by electrocution.
But on we went!
When we arrived in Moab about 3 hours later, we found a dirt road, pulled over and prepared for the evening. Luckily Sean had thrown a $30 K-Mart tent into the car -- "just in case". We set it up, changed into jammies and jumped in just before an enormous rain/lightning/thunder storm. As I lay there in the dark, both feeling and hearing the tent get completely thrashed in the storm, both spooning and being spooned by girls I didn't know I was close enough to for such close proximity, I was caught by the incredulity of the situation. It made me smile. It also made me feel like I was really roughin' it.
RAFTING
The next morning, we headed out for our rafting adventure. It wasn't long before we found ourselves standing on the side of a beautiful river in Moab, Utah. We strapped on life jackets and were asked by a man with a very nice bod if we wanted to go down the river in a raft or an inflatable kayak.
Another toughie. Kayaks? I hardly had time to think; my party of native Utahns were dividing us into pairs and claiming our kayaks. I mostly cowared behind Aubry, the sister I was paired with as a kayaking companion. I started to feel very sorry for Aubry. Accepting me as a kayaking partner surely meant death or getting stranded somewhere dry and lonely. But then I decided to man-up. I could kayak! People kayaked all the time. Asia is a kayak-er!
Plus there would probably be a little tutorial, right? Or a little safety rope? Surely they weren't going to trust that I could control this thing, right?
Right?
As we were preparing to get in the river, hot bod Joe came around and asked us if we felt confident in our ability to paddle our kayaks to the side of the river after we had been on the river for a few minutes. I couldn't bring myself to say yes. However, Aubry answered for both of us.
And we were off.
It was beautiful and serene. The river was lined on both sides by tall, red mountains with scattered groups of sparse trees. The weather was perfect, too. Clear sky, but not too hot. A rarity for Utah in July. The beauty of the scenery could, perhaps be blamed for the blunder that occurred after being on the river a mere matter of minutes.
I realized all too late that hot bod Joe's challenge was just that... a challenge. I was in the back, which meant I was in charge of steering. This meant we spinning in a lof of circles and trying (but nearly failing) not to tip over. It also meant that, when the time came to steer toward our group on the banks of the river, we were in no position to join them. Facing backwards, we floated right past them, staring blankly. A pitiful, more helpless version of deer in headlights. As we floated by, our party waved their arms and yelled things. I lamely splashed my paddle in the water a few times. Sean and his sister just smiled. I could tell that hot bod Joe lost all his confidence in us.
We were able to eventually get to a tree and grab a poky branch. We waited there until we saw our group pass us. With our eyes unable to meet those of our counterparts, we clumsily paddled out to join them. My kayak tutorial came then. A shout from hot bod Joe -- "The person in the back is for steering."
Screw you, hot bod Joe. I'm from Florida.
From there it became a comedy of errors. We got caught in what seemed like an underwater forest, scooting our bums in order to escape our twiggy captors. Then we got caught on a random sand bar. For this one, we actually had to get out, push the kayak forward and get back in.
I thought a lack of tutorial would surely produce many inept kayak-ers. Someone to commiserate with. But no. It seemed as though the only people not well versed in the ways of the river-tamers were myself and my stalwart companion. Aubry was extremely patient with me throughout, thank goodness.
After a little while, we selflessly surrendered our kayaks to a couple that wanted to get out of the large raft. We said things like: "Just when we were starting to get it!" and sort-of believed them. Swapping spots with the now kayakers, we ended up at the very front of a raft filled with some random strangers and lots of children.
The highlight of this episode was feeling my body fling out of the raft into the rapids and thrash between the raft itself and the large waves that ravaged it. Aubry, in a noble attempt to keep me in the raft, fell out herself. Upon being pulled back in, a small child looked at me and said, "You fell out. I didn't."
True, sassy child. Very true. And that may be the perfect coda to my life as Davy Crockett's wannabe progeny. But, I must say, despite the somewhat sordid and hopelessly inept nature of my camping/rafting experience... I had a BLAST.
So suck it, Nature Valley.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
This can't be the right thing to say...
On a hot day in valley forge, my brain decided to take a little detour.
Let's rewind a bit... I'm in Pennsylvania for my work as production coordinator on a pretty nifty little reality tv show. I think you would like it. Anyway, part of this episode required a little jaunt to valley forge, where (hopefully) enlightenment would happen.
We arrived at 9am-ish and I immediately realized how little I know about valley forge. I want to say that I know my US history -- I definitely loved studying it and if I think about it too much I get all misty and patriotic --but I didn't realize that, aside from a visitors center and a few reconstructed huts, valley forge is just a huge, beautiful park. There is no admission and no walls around it. People were taking jogs and stuff.
We met up with a genteel, kind of older park ranger named George. George was super nice and really really looked like a park ranger. He even wore one of those park ranger hats. George showed us around the visitors center then came with us outside to shoot some cool scenes. It was super hot and humid and we were outside shooting for hours. We had water bottles in the car to help combat the environment and I was in charge of keeping people hydrated (among other things... I swear I have a real job). Enter brain issues:
Asia: George, would you like a...
Asia's brain: ...walker? That's not the right word... Walker? Water? Whopper? Walker? That's the one.
Asia: ...walker?
Asia's brain: well done.
Loooong pause
Asia's brain: wait a minute...
After another long, strange pause, my brain came to a realization:
Asia's brain: what happened? We thought this through! Wrong choice! How did this happen??
But George either misheard me or just opted to forgive the strange comment from the mentally challenged girl who's only visible duty was giving people walkers -- I mean water.
What a sweet guy, that George.
Let's rewind a bit... I'm in Pennsylvania for my work as production coordinator on a pretty nifty little reality tv show. I think you would like it. Anyway, part of this episode required a little jaunt to valley forge, where (hopefully) enlightenment would happen.
We arrived at 9am-ish and I immediately realized how little I know about valley forge. I want to say that I know my US history -- I definitely loved studying it and if I think about it too much I get all misty and patriotic --but I didn't realize that, aside from a visitors center and a few reconstructed huts, valley forge is just a huge, beautiful park. There is no admission and no walls around it. People were taking jogs and stuff.
We met up with a genteel, kind of older park ranger named George. George was super nice and really really looked like a park ranger. He even wore one of those park ranger hats. George showed us around the visitors center then came with us outside to shoot some cool scenes. It was super hot and humid and we were outside shooting for hours. We had water bottles in the car to help combat the environment and I was in charge of keeping people hydrated (among other things... I swear I have a real job). Enter brain issues:
Asia: George, would you like a...
Asia's brain: ...walker? That's not the right word... Walker? Water? Whopper? Walker? That's the one.
Asia: ...walker?
Asia's brain: well done.
Loooong pause
Asia's brain: wait a minute...
After another long, strange pause, my brain came to a realization:
Asia's brain: what happened? We thought this through! Wrong choice! How did this happen??
But George either misheard me or just opted to forgive the strange comment from the mentally challenged girl who's only visible duty was giving people walkers -- I mean water.
What a sweet guy, that George.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Really Good Movie Review: X-Men First Class
Kevin Bacon was behind the Cuban Missile Crisis. Knew it.
Also Magneto is foxy. Also James McAvoy.
Also Michael from Roswell was in it for like 4 seconds. Also the Mormon doctor from House.
Thank you for joining us for this edition of Really Good Movie Reviews.
Also Magneto is foxy. Also James McAvoy.
Also Michael from Roswell was in it for like 4 seconds. Also the Mormon doctor from House.
Thank you for joining us for this edition of Really Good Movie Reviews.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Popular Things to Hate
There are some things that have become popular to hate, therefore I have decided that I like. I enjoy defending things that people enjoy attacking, whether or not I have an opinion about them initially... my super hero defense instict kicks in and I decide that I like them just because no one else does.
See... I believe in balance in all things. I feel like if 99% of the universe has decided to hate a thing, I need to like it, just to help tip the scales back to some kind of 50/50 situation. Because there's nothing I love more than disagreement. Not argument, per se, but when people disagree, I feel that the world can keep moving and changing and getting better. It's when everyone is unanimous on something that I start getting nervous and become the deviant that shakes things up.
This doesn't apply when I really do care about something that everyone likes. Or if I really don't like something that people find generally offensive. It's when I don't particularly care or when I'm sitting on the fence that I decide to deviate. Here are some examples.
Friday by Rebecca Black:
First of all... who cares? There isn't really a second of all...
Story time. Recently I was at a music club watching a sketch comedy group. They played songs between the sketches and one of the songs they decided to play was Friday. Some obnoxious girl yelled out "Kill me!!" That just seemed unnecessary. It got under my skin a little bit. If R.B.'s not hurting anyone with her inane song about her excitement for the weekend, why do we need to get nasty...? I guess "kill me" girl failed to notice that when Ms Black went into the "Partying Partying" part, everyone in the club yelled "Yeah!" At the appropriate time. It's fun. It's silly. Don't hate.
Twilight:
I will go to bat for Twilight every time. People love to hate things. Twilight is an easy target. You can whine to me about how the writing is whatever whatever and the love story portrayed is unrealistic whatever whatever and there are too many shirtless boys (I don't think anyone says that actually...), but I stand by my previous thoughts. If someone had worked hard to make a thing that people enjoy and it's not hurting anyone, don't hate. You don't have to love Twilight, but leave the people that do alone. And bring on the shirtless men.
Inception:
Here's an example of the opposite thing. Because there were armies of people who flipped out over this movie, I decided to not love it. Mostly I don't have any strong feelings about it and I want to tip those scales. But I do love Leo.
Stuff I like that everyone else liked includes, among others: How to Train Your Dragon, Harry Potter and grilled cheese sandwiches.
SIDE NOTE: I can only really think of one movie that I hated. It was The Green Hornet and I personally disliked it because I found it morally offensive and disrespectful to it's audience. If you lah-oved it, by all means enjoy. But I will not watch it with you.
I just started typing as sentence that started like this "So maybe this means..." but then I couldn't think of an ending because I don't have any idea what this means. I'm a social deviant when it comes to movies and books that I don't have strong feelings toward. I guess.
See... I believe in balance in all things. I feel like if 99% of the universe has decided to hate a thing, I need to like it, just to help tip the scales back to some kind of 50/50 situation. Because there's nothing I love more than disagreement. Not argument, per se, but when people disagree, I feel that the world can keep moving and changing and getting better. It's when everyone is unanimous on something that I start getting nervous and become the deviant that shakes things up.
This doesn't apply when I really do care about something that everyone likes. Or if I really don't like something that people find generally offensive. It's when I don't particularly care or when I'm sitting on the fence that I decide to deviate. Here are some examples.
Friday by Rebecca Black:
First of all... who cares? There isn't really a second of all...
Story time. Recently I was at a music club watching a sketch comedy group. They played songs between the sketches and one of the songs they decided to play was Friday. Some obnoxious girl yelled out "Kill me!!" That just seemed unnecessary. It got under my skin a little bit. If R.B.'s not hurting anyone with her inane song about her excitement for the weekend, why do we need to get nasty...? I guess "kill me" girl failed to notice that when Ms Black went into the "Partying Partying" part, everyone in the club yelled "Yeah!" At the appropriate time. It's fun. It's silly. Don't hate.
Twilight:
I will go to bat for Twilight every time. People love to hate things. Twilight is an easy target. You can whine to me about how the writing is whatever whatever and the love story portrayed is unrealistic whatever whatever and there are too many shirtless boys (I don't think anyone says that actually...), but I stand by my previous thoughts. If someone had worked hard to make a thing that people enjoy and it's not hurting anyone, don't hate. You don't have to love Twilight, but leave the people that do alone. And bring on the shirtless men.
Inception:
Here's an example of the opposite thing. Because there were armies of people who flipped out over this movie, I decided to not love it. Mostly I don't have any strong feelings about it and I want to tip those scales. But I do love Leo.
Stuff I like that everyone else liked includes, among others: How to Train Your Dragon, Harry Potter and grilled cheese sandwiches.
SIDE NOTE: I can only really think of one movie that I hated. It was The Green Hornet and I personally disliked it because I found it morally offensive and disrespectful to it's audience. If you lah-oved it, by all means enjoy. But I will not watch it with you.
I just started typing as sentence that started like this "So maybe this means..." but then I couldn't think of an ending because I don't have any idea what this means. I'm a social deviant when it comes to movies and books that I don't have strong feelings toward. I guess.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
The Time I Had a Secret Enemy
One time I was in college.
While in college, I was required to take a "Writing about the Arts and Humanities" class. (Did I capitalize enough things in the title of that class? Probably not.) It was a dumb class, but it was required and who am I to stand in the way of academic increase?
Anyway.
On the first day of class, I sat down in the small classroom, identified a few people that I knew ("Hey!" "Oh, hey dude!" "Look at us, in a class.") then was introduced to my teacher, Sister Miller. Sister Miller was fine. I had no thoughts about her. She was an English teacher. I think she had curly hair. The end.
But I guess it was in that moment that she pinned me to be her nemesis.
Throughout the class, our interactions were quite limited. She assigned papers, I wrote the papers and turned them in, she would grade them and give them back. It was very standard. My writing wasn't awesome, but it wasn't terrible. I was the same "pretty much OK" student that I'd always been. As far as I knew, I was the same as all the other students in the class.
No reason to have a personal hatred toward me, right? Well... there were a few times that I remember, now that I think about it...
One day we were talking about argument, I guess and she was having everyone go around and say a statement that followed this pattern: "Although _________, however __________." Something about that format seemed off to me. I raised my hand.
Sister Miller: Yes, Asia?
Asia: Isn't it redundant to say both "although" and "however"? It should just be one or the other... right?
Sister Miller: I have a personal and intense hatred for all that you stand for.
OK she didn't say that... I don't remember what she said. But doesn't it seem weird for a college English professor to be teaching basic grammatical errors to her class...?
Anyway. The end of the class was approaching and we were supposed to break into groups and write a huge research paper on something related to our field. I told my group we could just turn in a research paper I had written in a previous semester for my film history class, which we did. It got a good grade and Sister Miller was none the wiser.
But on the last day of Writing about the Arts and Humanities, something strange happened. She was passing papers back to all the groups ("Cook? Here you go." "Davis? Here you are." "Brewer? Nice work!"). She walked by my desk and slyly set something on it that was not my final essay. It was a folded piece of notebook paper. I looked around, seeing if anyone else had received such a note. Nope. I opened it and read it.
It was kind of a mock-apology for "wasting my time" in her class. She said that if I wanted to be in an honors class, I should have just taken one and she was sorry if I felt that her class was a bust.
What?
I didn't even think she knew my name. I was a completely anonymous student in the class. I definitely wasn't the most obnoxious and I definitely wasn't the student who cared least for the course. Yeah, it was dumb, but it was a GE... and I wasn't outwardly rude or sassy ever. She must have been receiving little cues from me all semester. Cues I wasn't intentionally sending, mind you. Little looks or questions that she built up in her mind as conniving and disrespectful.
When I got home, I opened an email to her. It looked like this:
Her response was weird:
What the H?
While in college, I was required to take a "Writing about the Arts and Humanities" class. (Did I capitalize enough things in the title of that class? Probably not.) It was a dumb class, but it was required and who am I to stand in the way of academic increase?
Anyway.
On the first day of class, I sat down in the small classroom, identified a few people that I knew ("Hey!" "Oh, hey dude!" "Look at us, in a class.") then was introduced to my teacher, Sister Miller. Sister Miller was fine. I had no thoughts about her. She was an English teacher. I think she had curly hair. The end.
But I guess it was in that moment that she pinned me to be her nemesis.
Throughout the class, our interactions were quite limited. She assigned papers, I wrote the papers and turned them in, she would grade them and give them back. It was very standard. My writing wasn't awesome, but it wasn't terrible. I was the same "pretty much OK" student that I'd always been. As far as I knew, I was the same as all the other students in the class.
No reason to have a personal hatred toward me, right? Well... there were a few times that I remember, now that I think about it...
One day we were talking about argument, I guess and she was having everyone go around and say a statement that followed this pattern: "Although _________, however __________." Something about that format seemed off to me. I raised my hand.
Sister Miller: Yes, Asia?
Asia: Isn't it redundant to say both "although" and "however"? It should just be one or the other... right?
Sister Miller: I have a personal and intense hatred for all that you stand for.
OK she didn't say that... I don't remember what she said. But doesn't it seem weird for a college English professor to be teaching basic grammatical errors to her class...?
Anyway. The end of the class was approaching and we were supposed to break into groups and write a huge research paper on something related to our field. I told my group we could just turn in a research paper I had written in a previous semester for my film history class, which we did. It got a good grade and Sister Miller was none the wiser.
But on the last day of Writing about the Arts and Humanities, something strange happened. She was passing papers back to all the groups ("Cook? Here you go." "Davis? Here you are." "Brewer? Nice work!"). She walked by my desk and slyly set something on it that was not my final essay. It was a folded piece of notebook paper. I looked around, seeing if anyone else had received such a note. Nope. I opened it and read it.
It was kind of a mock-apology for "wasting my time" in her class. She said that if I wanted to be in an honors class, I should have just taken one and she was sorry if I felt that her class was a bust.
What?
I didn't even think she knew my name. I was a completely anonymous student in the class. I definitely wasn't the most obnoxious and I definitely wasn't the student who cared least for the course. Yeah, it was dumb, but it was a GE... and I wasn't outwardly rude or sassy ever. She must have been receiving little cues from me all semester. Cues I wasn't intentionally sending, mind you. Little looks or questions that she built up in her mind as conniving and disrespectful.
When I got home, I opened an email to her. It looked like this:
Sister Miller,
I appreciate you taking the time to write me your sincere note, however I am confused about what made you feel the need to write it. I hope I haven't been terribly flippant about attendance or assignments. I know I haven't been the best student, but by no means do I regret taking the class. I admit that I took the class because it is a requirement for graduation, but I don't feel like it was a waste of time or effort. I'm very sorry to have made you feel this way. Thank you for your dedication to the course. Is there anything I can do for you?
I appreciate you taking the time to write me your sincere note, however I am confused about what made you feel the need to write it. I hope I haven't been terribly flippant about attendance or assignments. I know I haven't been the best student, but by no means do I regret taking the class. I admit that I took the class because it is a requirement for graduation, but I don't feel like it was a waste of time or effort. I'm very sorry to have made you feel this way. Thank you for your dedication to the course. Is there anything I can do for you?
Her response was weird:
Asia,
No, not a thing. I guess this is a question I should have been asking you earlier in the semester! But you came to class and will pass--so it's all good.
Have a lovely day.
Sister Miller
What the H?
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