apparently i remember too much

my sister tells me that i may remember too much of our childhood. like the fact that we determined that the combination of blue, green, and purple was by far the holy trinity of color schemes. or that we would rush home from church in order to reenact what we were certain our cats had been doing while we were away--holding their own sacrament meetings.

i, however, feel that these memories are what keep me sane in the midst of all the chaos that has become my daily life. in fact, i am fairly certain that one of these memories recently saved my personal sanity. as i was walking around the hospital at work the other night, trying desperately to calm myself from the fury that naturally results from poor workplace treatment, i was suddenly struck with a vivid memory of my father.

you have to understand, i was terrified of my father as a child. i couldn't really tell you why; my father is absolutely wonderful, but he frightened me nonetheless. now, i have always recognized a lot of the amazing gifts that my dad gave me: a strong work ethic, a distinct sense of right and wrong, an intense love for books, and an amazing example of charity in unexpected environments. however, the other night none of these were coming to mind. i just remembered my father carrying me. you know, when i'd fall asleep in the car, on the couch, or even on the floor (those who know me well know that i can--and do--fall asleep most anywhere while doing most anything). the more i thought about it, the more my mind was permeated with childhood memories of the countless times that my dad would carry me from one inconvenient sleeping position to my bedroom, carefully treading the whole way in order to not wake me.

many years and two herneated discs--bart's--later, my dad has stopped carrying me to bed. it could be the fact that we live hundreds of miles away from each other or maybe even that i now make jesse carry me to bed (much to his dismay). last summer, however, at least 12 years after our last careful walk, my dad carried me to bed again. i was a pathetic wreck--fresh from the oral surgeon's office--i got my wisdom teeth out roughly seven years behind the national average-- filled with drugs and crying out of sheer confusion (note to self: becca + anesthesia = no good). this time, dad couldn't pretend to be quiet--he was a little more out of shape and apparently i have grown an inch or two. i'm sure that if i could watch it again, i'd probably laugh at him bumbling down the stairs with me weeping uncontrollably in his arms. strangely enough, this may go down in my personal all-time favorite moments in history. i liked having my daddy carry me to bed again; there was something reassuring about it...

so, i may remember too much--stretch pants, mariah carey impersonations--but i like it that way. after all, my memories are all i'll have in 50 years when i have been robbed of my ravishing good looks and stunning intellect.

apparently diabetes sucks

but only one thing about being diabetic really bothers me: judgments from those that i have barely met regarding my diet (e.g. "you eat a lot of sugar for a diabetic" ~new coworker). you know, sometimes a girl just needs a cookie.

miscellaneonity

All is summed up in the prayer which a young female human is said to have uttered recently: 'Oh God, make me a normal twentieth-century girl!' Thanks to our labours, this will mean increasingly, 'Make me a minx, a moron, and a parasite' ~Clive Staples

a few crucial updates in my incredibly normal life (warning--for those interested in anything remotely thoughtful or thought provoking, this blog is intended purely for mundane life updates):


i'm officially in love. with this ice cream. it blows my mind. my dear friend stephanie recently composed a blog regarding a book that had struck her so much that she wanted to hand it out on the street (and i strongly encourage anyone to check out her blog for more details). i had a similar experience with this.




moving on. jesse has finally started a blog, and it is highly worth examining. feel free to check it out. in addition to his blogging and new role as my golf instructor, he also found some time to practice his bruce campbell skills in preparation for the imminent zombie/living dead invasion.

i have given womanhood a second shot and just finished (thanks to a significant amount of help from my dear sister jilene and her patient husband david--aka jil and dave or dilene... i'm still trying that one out) making an ottoman for our sad, little living room. this baby was a sweet DI find, and after far too much time dedicated to sanding, staining, and upholstering, the project is complete.

at the advice of a friend, jesse recently checked out the public library book store (approximately three feet from our apartment... give or take a few hundred yards), and picked me up some SWEET finds for an even better price. it is, in a phrase, the happiest place on earth.

lastly, i only have one week of summer school left. this is blog-worthy only because i am reaching my threshold of questions such as "is that what God thinks?" from students in the class...

alright, blog out.

joining the ranks

i got a set of golf clubs this week. alright, in the interest of full disclosure, i must admit that my daddy bought me a set of golf clubs (i'm not too proud to acknowledge it). now, i know what you are thinking: "but becca, whatever shall this do for your street cred? how are people to take you seriously as a bad-A if you're toting around a driver, some hybrids, and a putter?" well, i must admit that i also feared about this.

however, in the interest of my mental health, i have decided that it is time to take up a hobby other than reading books in dark crevices of my apartment; watching Gilmore Girls every day at noon (again, not too proud to admit it); and working in an office full of catty, old women.

well, friends, worry no more. i have found (quite to my relief) that i am not losing touch with any creativity that may have once pumped throug my wee little veins; i am merely joining the ranks of the bold, brave, ravishingly attractive, and stunningly creative/intelligent who have gone before. i give you, ladies and gentlemen, kenny g:

tonight at work i jammed a pencil into my hand

on accident, of course.
i did the same thing in sixth grade.
but in my thigh.
and not at work.

questions that make me question my career path

so, i'm taking a c.s. lewis class for the summer just to get a little caught up on my credits (i started my program a semester late and am trying to graduate on time... AHHH!!!). unfortunately, because the grad program doesn't offer any courses in the summer, i am actually in the class with a couple of girls from my program and a LOT of undergraduates.

let me make something clear, i have no problem with undergraduates. you may find this hard to believe, but i was once an undergraduate myself. however, as the fall semester approaches and i begin to contemplate my upcoming role as an English 101 instructor, i have been particularly shocked by some of the conversations in my class. examples:

teach: well, the problem with dualism is that good and evil will never be equal forces. good is, by nature, better than evil and will always triumph. that's why it's good.
kid in first row: so what you're saying is that if evil triumphs then it BECOMES good?
teach: no. no, that's not what i'm saying. evil will never triumph. that's why it's evil.
kifr: maybe you just don't get what i'm saying. see, if evil triumphs, then it is better than good, so it becomes good.
teach: no, i understand you. you're just wrong.

teach: well, you see, the problem was that lewis just got kant wrong, and he learned the hard way...
kifr: wait, wait, wait, you keep talking about some kant. what's a kant?
teach: oh, sorry, kant is a german philosopher. he's pretty influential in the philosophy world.
kifr: got it. kant. how do you spell that? c-a-u-n-t?
teach: no, he's german, so it's k...
kifr: (interrupting) on K-a-u-n-t?
teach: again, he's german... k-a-n-t. anyway, so lewis was probably more closely related to descartes.
kifr: what's descartes?
teach: another philosopher. see lewis aligned with descartes in his...
kifr: how do you spell that? d-e-k-a-r-t?
teach: no. d-e-s-...
kifr: OH d-e-S-k-a-r-t
teach. no. d-e-s-c-a-r-t-e-s
kifr: oh, that's actually pronounced DES-CAR-TES.

teach: lewis was really mocked for writing a science fiction story. see, at that point in time, science fiction was really seen as a lesser genre within literature.
kifr: it's not different AT ALL now. every time i ask to write a science fiction story in one of my writing workshops, the teacher says no. i still think that in literature they only like the boring, stupid stuff.
teach: well, i don't think that they want you to read the "boring" stuff so much as build a foundation. i also don't think that science fiction is looked at as a lesser genre... i think your teachers. well, frankly, (exasperated), i think your teachers might not think that you know what the hell your doing. and that's frightening.

kifr (after class): listen, i'm not a philosopher, ok? i study literature, not philosophy. i've never read any of these books, i've only seen the movies, ok? i don't CARE about the difference between pagan and christian infleunces, ok? i just care about the books.

why do i share this with a vast audience? frankly, because i doubt my own ability to patiently respond like my teacher did. when the fall comes, pray for me.