I'm so mad.
I hate microsoft and their products. I hate that I can't even copy and paste anything out of my microsoft word documents until I buy Microsoft word (I've been using a trial edition). That is so stupid.
I sound like a child. I feel like a child that's been given a cool toy to play with and then gets it torn away. But I won't cry. I'm angry I've been manipulated to get to the point where I'm dependent on Microsoft Word. I've never had withdrawals from anything before.
I had a great post coming, and now I can't even copy and paste it in.
But I won't leave you stranded for long. Here's something to tide you (and me)over.
Last night, I had a dream that I was Batman, or someone like that. A superhero. And there was this velociraptor villain. He wasn't a velociraptor all the time, but only at night time, when his form was changed biologically to be that of a huge, black velociraptor. Now, I didn't know this (but I did), until he started to change into the velociraptor right in front of my eyes. Before then, I believed he was merely one of my schoolmates. We were friends. But he was conniving, and had stolen a chemical recipe and chemicals from our professor so he could use it on himself to feel powerful and accomplish some greedy aim(s). And then he turned into a velociraptor and started wreaking havoc on my metropolis. I was scared for a while, but then I realized that as a superhero (which he didn't know I was), I had to fight for the city's freedom, and my friend's freedom, because it's not freedom to be trapped inside a velociraptor. I felt the most brave I've ever felt, walking out into the moonlight to meet my destiny, who had now transformed (in the way which dreams are wont to transform things sans explanation)into a two or three story velociraptor looking machine, tearing in slow motion through the buildings on either side.
And then the dream ended and I woke up to sunshine.
So, I want to know... Knowing me, how do you you think Batman (as me) would have defeated his velociraptor-villain-friend? Freudian interpretations? Accompanying scores that seem appropriate?
(P.S. Yes, I would like some comments now)
Friday, April 23, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A Tree Grows in Provo-- or something akin to that kind of miracle
(Authors Note: Not gonna lie—I kinda want to put this on Wikipedia. And if it seems cheesy...bring on the wine. I wanted to remember this, and hopefully it will help you too as well. This is a tribute to all you fine people who made it happen. Go Team!)
In the tedious droll of quotidian life, it is easy to forget the miraculous. If we are not on our guard, the daily grind can shroud one in monotony.
But I am here to witness to the power of current miracles, and of a story whose impact would go down alongside the accounts of the Odyssey, Daniel in the Lions’ Den, and the American Revolution, if our world was not so preoccupied with other news. Rarely do we encounter the stuff from which legends are made, even rarer are our chances to participate in these happenings. And yet.
The culmination of the events I am about to describe took place on the thirteenth of April 2010, year of our Lord, in the humble town of Provo. But the story begins long before, perhaps in late January of the same year.
The team had been christened H1N1 (or N1H1, no one quite knew which), and were known on and off the field as Team Swine Flu. They were a co-ed intramural soccer team, just like any other intramural team, but perhaps with one too many players. Despite their average skills, team swine flu began the season terribly, even appallingly, suffering through losses as great as 10-0. This continued through the season. 7-0. 8-1. It was as though they had condemned themselves from their name, for their losses could be compared to the death of the ravaging disease. One game saw them tying, but just barely.
The team, near to admitting total defeat, kept playing only maintain their honor, even as their players lost morale and appendages (not really the latter—but it was kind of like that to their souls.)
But then, in the first game of the playoffs, something changed.
Perhaps it was only the small changes made by each player, an added intensity with which they played. Perhaps it was a star that dislodged itself from the sky and touched each players head with the blessings of heaven. They might have thought, after that first win during the play-offs, that some of this was luck—the other team didn’t have enough players to sub, they were running themselves out, etc, etc. How could be anything besides luck and perhaps a minimum amount of skill? But after this game, no one on the team let off the gas pedal, the intensity grew and accelerated into something more. Destiny had a plan.
Because suddenly, the team that had been playing so foully up till that point began playing most fowl-ly—taking to the field like the once ugly ducklings who, upon realizing their destinies as soccer swans, fly the skies with an inborn agility and inherent grace. And the mantra, adopted from Helen Keller, echoed in the interiors of their souls: “How can one consent to creep, when one feels the impulse to soar?”
And soar they did, to meet the stakes which rose higher and higher, as they continued to win in the playoff games.
Think Mighty ducks. Think Angels in the Outfield. Think Remember the Titans. Think that movie about the Kentucky Football team. And then think better. This fortuitous event was better than all of them, because it didn’t happen on a big screen, book-ended by advertisements and credits. There was not an Aaron Copland symphony playing somewhere in the background, only the shouts of “Dang” and “Gosh” along with the pounding of hearts, echoing up and down through the expanse of the indoor practice facility. This event happened in the third dimension, with real blood, sweat and tears. It was as real as any history in a book... and even more real, because we lived through it. Let no one doubt the miraculous nature of what continued to transpire.
On Saturday the 10th, team Swine Flu played a team that, like Goliaths, marched out onto the field with a most assured smugness; their men were indeed, lithe, tall giants and their women were blonde, tan and quick. All wore actual cleats. But in the first minute of the game, through some deft passing and a stellar move by forward Jason Akinaka, Swine Flu put a goal into the opposite net, much to the astonishment of both teams. It is believed that this moment must have done something to challenge the expectations of all. Mentally, a table had turned. David’s sticks and stones were not to be trifled with. But the game continued, very tensely, as the team of Goliaths and Jezebels returned to the field to score four points, while Swine flu held the lead at 5. At this point, even the Richter scale could not measure the amount of energy caused by the friction and play between the two teams. Certain members on the sidelines could not repress the urge to jump up and down through the whole game, shouting recklessly at the top of their lungs—perhaps last-minute prayers for deliverance and salvation, for the field that day would be someone’s deathbed. Spectators and participants alike held their hearts in their hands, as though this sort of Faustian sacrifice might yield a victory. Indeed, there might have been a match of sudden death, for in a final effort, team Goliath had intensified their playing and put the ball up field. As everyone rushed to the ball-- goalie, defenders, offense, midfield-- the ball was lost and popped out from under a huge dog-pile that had formed just feet from it. It rolled, apathetically, beside the goal, so precariously—nearly kissing the white line. The strength behind a golf putt would have put the ball in. And both teams knew this, and a brief moment of silence stilled over the crowd before the storm of agony and clothes-rending. But a swift delivery from one of the prime defenders on Swine Flu found that ambivalent ball and expertly delivered the team out of danger, kicking it to the sideline as the buzzer rang, and Team Swine flu was hailed victorious, with a lead of 5.
But that had only been the semi final. The final, which took place, as aforementioned, on Tuesday, April 13th, was also quite intense. This was it. Some of the members of the team might have doubted their ability to compete with the other highest ranked team in the division, looking back and seeing how far they had come in so short a time. These individuals were lacking in faith, but this was made up for by the stalwart playing of the rest of the team, who were all still reeling from the thrill of defeating the Goliaths of Saturday’s game. After three goals by the exceptional Alissa, the Swine Flu was winning and holding their own. The intensity never died… this team had come too far to know that the game was not over until the very end. A very real magic was tangible in the facility that night, amplified by sweat, trepidation, and anticipation. So as Kristine Jaussi placed the team’s final goal into the net, finalizing the score at 8-2, the victory buzzer blared, and the crowds rushed the field in a cry and celebration of victory that lasted for minutes. Oh to be in that mosh pit!!! One could almost believe that the ceiling had opened up and fireworks fell from the sky while angels sounded celestial horns, or, to be creative-- theremins. Victory had never tasted so sweet, and probably would not for a long while to the team, and the members of which who would be leaving the ward in the following week, to follow the beat of their own drums, leaving the nest to fledge their separate ways. But one memento they would always have to carry, cherish, and wear: a generic shirt printed with the words of triumph: “BYU Intramural Champion.” And on the back: “Those who say ‘it’s just a shirt.’ don’t get it.”
It was a shirt that was more than a shirt.
And a game that was more than a game, a win that was more than a win.
It bore the mark of myth and legend, but also of religious testament. It was pure human resilience, betterment, and a refusal to accept fate. It was a stand against the odds, and the narrow limits of empiricist thinking: one that will never be forgotten as long as we have the gumption to retell and extol it for future generations. Ultimately, it is a story too exquisite to be cheapened by the structures of cinematic retelling. The only unfortunate part of this tale is that the greater part of Utah—nay, the World itself!--- will never know the miraculous comeback of the BYU 183rd Ward’s own: the Team Swine Flu.
In the tedious droll of quotidian life, it is easy to forget the miraculous. If we are not on our guard, the daily grind can shroud one in monotony.
But I am here to witness to the power of current miracles, and of a story whose impact would go down alongside the accounts of the Odyssey, Daniel in the Lions’ Den, and the American Revolution, if our world was not so preoccupied with other news. Rarely do we encounter the stuff from which legends are made, even rarer are our chances to participate in these happenings. And yet.
The culmination of the events I am about to describe took place on the thirteenth of April 2010, year of our Lord, in the humble town of Provo. But the story begins long before, perhaps in late January of the same year.
The team had been christened H1N1 (or N1H1, no one quite knew which), and were known on and off the field as Team Swine Flu. They were a co-ed intramural soccer team, just like any other intramural team, but perhaps with one too many players. Despite their average skills, team swine flu began the season terribly, even appallingly, suffering through losses as great as 10-0. This continued through the season. 7-0. 8-1. It was as though they had condemned themselves from their name, for their losses could be compared to the death of the ravaging disease. One game saw them tying, but just barely.
The team, near to admitting total defeat, kept playing only maintain their honor, even as their players lost morale and appendages (not really the latter—but it was kind of like that to their souls.)
But then, in the first game of the playoffs, something changed.
Perhaps it was only the small changes made by each player, an added intensity with which they played. Perhaps it was a star that dislodged itself from the sky and touched each players head with the blessings of heaven. They might have thought, after that first win during the play-offs, that some of this was luck—the other team didn’t have enough players to sub, they were running themselves out, etc, etc. How could be anything besides luck and perhaps a minimum amount of skill? But after this game, no one on the team let off the gas pedal, the intensity grew and accelerated into something more. Destiny had a plan.
Because suddenly, the team that had been playing so foully up till that point began playing most fowl-ly—taking to the field like the once ugly ducklings who, upon realizing their destinies as soccer swans, fly the skies with an inborn agility and inherent grace. And the mantra, adopted from Helen Keller, echoed in the interiors of their souls: “How can one consent to creep, when one feels the impulse to soar?”
And soar they did, to meet the stakes which rose higher and higher, as they continued to win in the playoff games.
Think Mighty ducks. Think Angels in the Outfield. Think Remember the Titans. Think that movie about the Kentucky Football team. And then think better. This fortuitous event was better than all of them, because it didn’t happen on a big screen, book-ended by advertisements and credits. There was not an Aaron Copland symphony playing somewhere in the background, only the shouts of “Dang” and “Gosh” along with the pounding of hearts, echoing up and down through the expanse of the indoor practice facility. This event happened in the third dimension, with real blood, sweat and tears. It was as real as any history in a book... and even more real, because we lived through it. Let no one doubt the miraculous nature of what continued to transpire.
On Saturday the 10th, team Swine Flu played a team that, like Goliaths, marched out onto the field with a most assured smugness; their men were indeed, lithe, tall giants and their women were blonde, tan and quick. All wore actual cleats. But in the first minute of the game, through some deft passing and a stellar move by forward Jason Akinaka, Swine Flu put a goal into the opposite net, much to the astonishment of both teams. It is believed that this moment must have done something to challenge the expectations of all. Mentally, a table had turned. David’s sticks and stones were not to be trifled with. But the game continued, very tensely, as the team of Goliaths and Jezebels returned to the field to score four points, while Swine flu held the lead at 5. At this point, even the Richter scale could not measure the amount of energy caused by the friction and play between the two teams. Certain members on the sidelines could not repress the urge to jump up and down through the whole game, shouting recklessly at the top of their lungs—perhaps last-minute prayers for deliverance and salvation, for the field that day would be someone’s deathbed. Spectators and participants alike held their hearts in their hands, as though this sort of Faustian sacrifice might yield a victory. Indeed, there might have been a match of sudden death, for in a final effort, team Goliath had intensified their playing and put the ball up field. As everyone rushed to the ball-- goalie, defenders, offense, midfield-- the ball was lost and popped out from under a huge dog-pile that had formed just feet from it. It rolled, apathetically, beside the goal, so precariously—nearly kissing the white line. The strength behind a golf putt would have put the ball in. And both teams knew this, and a brief moment of silence stilled over the crowd before the storm of agony and clothes-rending. But a swift delivery from one of the prime defenders on Swine Flu found that ambivalent ball and expertly delivered the team out of danger, kicking it to the sideline as the buzzer rang, and Team Swine flu was hailed victorious, with a lead of 5.
But that had only been the semi final. The final, which took place, as aforementioned, on Tuesday, April 13th, was also quite intense. This was it. Some of the members of the team might have doubted their ability to compete with the other highest ranked team in the division, looking back and seeing how far they had come in so short a time. These individuals were lacking in faith, but this was made up for by the stalwart playing of the rest of the team, who were all still reeling from the thrill of defeating the Goliaths of Saturday’s game. After three goals by the exceptional Alissa, the Swine Flu was winning and holding their own. The intensity never died… this team had come too far to know that the game was not over until the very end. A very real magic was tangible in the facility that night, amplified by sweat, trepidation, and anticipation. So as Kristine Jaussi placed the team’s final goal into the net, finalizing the score at 8-2, the victory buzzer blared, and the crowds rushed the field in a cry and celebration of victory that lasted for minutes. Oh to be in that mosh pit!!! One could almost believe that the ceiling had opened up and fireworks fell from the sky while angels sounded celestial horns, or, to be creative-- theremins. Victory had never tasted so sweet, and probably would not for a long while to the team, and the members of which who would be leaving the ward in the following week, to follow the beat of their own drums, leaving the nest to fledge their separate ways. But one memento they would always have to carry, cherish, and wear: a generic shirt printed with the words of triumph: “BYU Intramural Champion.” And on the back: “Those who say ‘it’s just a shirt.’ don’t get it.”
It was a shirt that was more than a shirt.
And a game that was more than a game, a win that was more than a win.
It bore the mark of myth and legend, but also of religious testament. It was pure human resilience, betterment, and a refusal to accept fate. It was a stand against the odds, and the narrow limits of empiricist thinking: one that will never be forgotten as long as we have the gumption to retell and extol it for future generations. Ultimately, it is a story too exquisite to be cheapened by the structures of cinematic retelling. The only unfortunate part of this tale is that the greater part of Utah—nay, the World itself!--- will never know the miraculous comeback of the BYU 183rd Ward’s own: the Team Swine Flu.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
What Freedom Means to Me... and the little ones.
For the English Society Closing Social tonight, we read and judged public school entries for Provo's Freedom Festival Essay Contest, based on the perennial theme of "American Values: Family, Freedom, God, and Country." Which is about as broad as a contest prompt can be. Gotta start synthesis training early, I guess. We had a grand old time eating pizza and looking through the essays to score them. My category of judging was the 4-6 grade level. Here are just a few excerpts from the best of the the best, in all their astute, ambiguous, didactic, and totally "wha--?" glory...
"How cool is it that I can say my grandfather is one of the people who gave me my freedom. Proud. That is what everyone I know says. We are proud to be Americans."
"About 200 years ago, many African-Americans were slaves. They all went through tough times by being punished for not doing their job, not listening to their masters, reading and writing, the possibilities are endless."
"Policemen guard the roads, stop people from speeding, stop thieves, and protect us. Doctors heal us, help us, save us, and help us survive. America is the best place I could ever dream of living."
"If you're upset with your family, don't be. They are the only family you've got. Love and care for them. They're the best."
"My country is so cool. We are free, smart, and much more. We were the first ones to the moon, we invented tons of things and we can be so proud of so many things we do."
"We have medicine for pets and other objects."
"There are so many things that need an explanation that science won't suffice for. God is that explanation."
"The Constitution gives us rights... No other country can say that and really mean it."
"America is a land of values. We value many things that mixed with other personal values, can brighten a life. Many countries do not possess these values, such as East Germany, parts of China, and other countries around the world."
"America is the greatest place in the history of the world."
"Peace comes from minding your own business."
Ain't that great? My favorite is the third from last. I'm guessing this contestant used a pre-1989 encyclopedia to conduct his research. But anyways. Ya. America is great. Even though I am getting incredibly antsy to see beyond its borders, I'm grateful for my freedom. My freedom which allows me to go to school, and study Shakespeare, and write papers for my Shakespeare teacher, 10-page papers which have deadlines, one of which is due Monday and not started, which I must attend to now. Hasta!
"How cool is it that I can say my grandfather is one of the people who gave me my freedom. Proud. That is what everyone I know says. We are proud to be Americans."
"About 200 years ago, many African-Americans were slaves. They all went through tough times by being punished for not doing their job, not listening to their masters, reading and writing, the possibilities are endless."
"Policemen guard the roads, stop people from speeding, stop thieves, and protect us. Doctors heal us, help us, save us, and help us survive. America is the best place I could ever dream of living."
"If you're upset with your family, don't be. They are the only family you've got. Love and care for them. They're the best."
"My country is so cool. We are free, smart, and much more. We were the first ones to the moon, we invented tons of things and we can be so proud of so many things we do."
"We have medicine for pets and other objects."
"There are so many things that need an explanation that science won't suffice for. God is that explanation."
"The Constitution gives us rights... No other country can say that and really mean it."
"America is a land of values. We value many things that mixed with other personal values, can brighten a life. Many countries do not possess these values, such as East Germany, parts of China, and other countries around the world."
"America is the greatest place in the history of the world."
"Peace comes from minding your own business."
Ain't that great? My favorite is the third from last. I'm guessing this contestant used a pre-1989 encyclopedia to conduct his research. But anyways. Ya. America is great. Even though I am getting incredibly antsy to see beyond its borders, I'm grateful for my freedom. My freedom which allows me to go to school, and study Shakespeare, and write papers for my Shakespeare teacher, 10-page papers which have deadlines, one of which is due Monday and not started, which I must attend to now. Hasta!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
This is NOT a joke...
But it did make me laugh out loud at the supermarket.
Upon listening to my phone messages after being in class, message two is from my dear mom:
"Hey sweetie, you need to change your message ...And I got an interesting piece of mail in our mailbox today for you. It's from some place in American Fork called the 'Center for Advanced Reproductive Medicine.' It says 'We look forward to helping you achieve your goal of pregnancy.' And I just wanted to find out- um- if they mailed it to the wrong Emily K. Go-------... or if you are in fact, trying to reproduce on your own. I'd be very interested and curious to see. Give your mom a call back and let me know the big news..."
You know, it's flattering to get a stamped, snail-mail letter addressed directly to you in this day and age, but it's even more flattering when its contents reveal the yellow brick road to your subconcious desires-- what you didn't even know you wanted!
Maybe this company is partnering up with BYU... a preemptive strategy to add on that final layer of pressure-- "Oh, you're not wanting to have children? Our bad... it's just that, well, all your friends are doing it, we must have gotten their names mixed up with yours... same demographic brackets, ya know?" Ya.
Suffice it to say, the message had me suppressing guffaws for days. And if the original letter wasn't thrown away, I would scrapbook it.
Upon listening to my phone messages after being in class, message two is from my dear mom:
"Hey sweetie, you need to change your message ...And I got an interesting piece of mail in our mailbox today for you. It's from some place in American Fork called the 'Center for Advanced Reproductive Medicine.' It says 'We look forward to helping you achieve your goal of pregnancy.' And I just wanted to find out- um- if they mailed it to the wrong Emily K. Go-------... or if you are in fact, trying to reproduce on your own. I'd be very interested and curious to see. Give your mom a call back and let me know the big news..."
You know, it's flattering to get a stamped, snail-mail letter addressed directly to you in this day and age, but it's even more flattering when its contents reveal the yellow brick road to your subconcious desires-- what you didn't even know you wanted!
Maybe this company is partnering up with BYU... a preemptive strategy to add on that final layer of pressure-- "Oh, you're not wanting to have children? Our bad... it's just that, well, all your friends are doing it, we must have gotten their names mixed up with yours... same demographic brackets, ya know?" Ya.
Suffice it to say, the message had me suppressing guffaws for days. And if the original letter wasn't thrown away, I would scrapbook it.
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