Little Letters: A Little Old

Purely from my own observation, it seems to be that currently the craze in the blogging world are "Little Letters." You know the ones, where letters are written to anyone, but more particularly, anything. Bloggers are trying to become pen pals with inanimate objects. I find it a strange practice. I'll admit, I found it clever and cute the first 700 times I saw it, but I've seen well over 700 now and the cleverness and cuteness is quickly wearing off. One night, just a week or two ago, Megan and I were walking up to campus for a late night study session when this very subject of "Little Letters" became a topic of conversation. We soon began orally composing letters to everything around us, for example, "Dear Moon, Thank you for being so full, you really make the evening quite lovely" and others similar to this. By the time we reached the library we had nearly peed our pants from laughing so hard.

The next afternoon as I was sitting in the library, drained from reading too many pages about commerce in Amsterdam, I pulled out my computer to take a little break by completing a short Facebook check. To my delight and surprise I had one notification: Megan had written on my wall. As I clicked on my profile and read what she had to say, I let out a giggle, causing my fellow studiers to glance my way in annoyance. Here's what I saw:

Dear Mother Autumn,

Thank you for being so nice to me today. Thank you for the pretty leaves. I wish you could stay forever, I've loved having you in town. That's all.

Love,Megan

Because she had provided me with laugh, thought it only fair that I comment on the post and give her one (or two) back:

Dear Facebook,

Thank you for giving me a break from studying today. Oh, how I got

a laugh out of this post. I don't know what I would do without you.

Dear Feet,

Thank you for getting me to campus this morning. I'm sorry that I wear ouchy shoes sometimes. I really do appreciate you.

Love, Stacie

Megan and I are both Facebook friends with a man named Richard Peters. Richard Peters isn't real. He is a dummy and his account is being run and operated by a friend of a friend of Megan's. He must have seen our "little letters" and wanted to join in the fun. He wins for the best/funniest/most creative "little letter" hands down:

Dear Butt Cheeks,

Thank you for making everyday a joy. What with your fart muffling capabilities and your soft cushioning to provide ample comfort while sitting. I hope you never change.

Love, Richard

I laughed real hard when I read that. And when I'm in a need for a good laugh, I go back and read it again. If all "little letters" were like Richard's perhaps I wouldn't think the concept was so overused. Unfortunately, the majority of them are more similar to mine and Megan's letters.

I'm so ready for this craze to come to an end.

In the Past 24 Hours

These are my five favorite things that have happened:

1. I've realized that there aren't many things more satisfying than having a productive study session at the Harold and walking out feeling completely exhausted at midnight. First, that loud, booming voice comes over the intercom at precisely 11:45 announcing the closure of the library for the night and with a warning that "any unauthorized personnel who choose to remain in the building may be pressed with charges." (It's comforting to know that one of the police force's biggest concerns down here in happy valley is that students will want to study later than the library hours allow) After the man on the intercom ends his speech it's almost like all the students are participating in a well-rehearsed, choreographed show, because in one swift movement hundreds of backpacks are zipped and coats are buttoned throughout the library. But my favorite part is walking out of the atrium with a swarm of fellow students while they play a variety of tunes overhead. Last night was an invigorating rendition of Amazing Grace, complete with bagpipes. One time they played Broadway show tunes and that time, I couldn't help but dance my way out of the building.
2. For my World Civilizations class we were assigned to write 8 papers by the end of the semester. The catch was that we could get extra credit if they were in by midterms. Due to two weddings, getting ready for a study abroad, and finals, I knew that if I didn't get them done before midterms they would add extra, unnecessary stress come December. Today they were due in order to receive the promised extra credit and had to be in my professors hand by the time he walked out of the lecture hall at 8:50 am. Last night I printed them all off and set them on my desk, ready to be loaded into my backpack this morning. Something went wrong and rather than waking up at the 7:15 am time that my alarm clock had been set for, I woke up on my own at 8:39. Yes, I had 11 minutes to get up to campus before those papers I had worked hard to get done by midterms would be late and the extra credit would be but a far off fantasy of what might have been. I ran to the bathroom, brushed my teeth (skipped the rinsing and swallowed the paste) threw on some clothes, grabbed the papers and ran out the door. I drove to the closest parking lot and got out of the car at 8:46. I had four minutes remaining until the game was over and I still had an 8 minute walk ahead of me. I sprinted the remaining way and made it into the JFSB, room number B190 just as my professor was walking up the aisle to leave and with sweat dripping down my face and gasping for breath, I safely put my papers on top of the stack he was already holding. Talk about divine intervention, if I would have woken up 30 seconds later I would have been out of luck.
3. Today there were close to 50 second graders on a field trip to BYU campus. They were walking in a single file line, each holding a plastic ziplock bag full of leaves they had collected along the way. I can't tell you how tempted I was to skip Stats and join them. 2 1/2 more years and I'll be taking kids just like them on similar field trips for my profession. Watching them walk past the JKB today confirmed that I've chosen the right major for me. It made me oh so excited.
4. One of my favorite things is passing by people when they open a text and their face lights up with excitement. Today I walked past a girl who pulled out her phone and got a smile on her face that reached from ear to ear. Her eyes even smiled. Maybe her boyfriend sent her a cheesy "I love you" text or maybe her best friend sent her something referring to an inside joke they had the night before. All I know is that someone made her a very happy girl, and made me smile just a little too, watching the situation from afar.
5. My late night jog around Provo in the crisp autumn air. The crunch of leaves under my feet and the smell of October surrounded me while I ran to my latest iTunes purchases. It doesn't get much better than that.

And now, rather than study for my upcoming Stats test, which I should do, I'm going to end this stellar day at the international cinema watching the Japanese version of "The Ring" to get me in more of a Halloween-y mood. Words can't express how much I love international cinema.

And a special shout out to my little brother Ethan who just made the Junior High basketball team, so happy for you, buddy.

I Just Can't Do It

My favorite part about awkward dating stories are laughing about them with the roommates, friends and family for hours, even days afterwards. It's been such a great 12 hours full of so much laughter. I've had my fair share of them, but I think this is my best one yet. I promise, my story is better than yours, whatever it may be.

The Devil's Pet

Yesterday a black cat was wandering the streets of The Colony. I was afraid for my life every time I walked outside. Then some of the more brilliant people in my ward decided to put bowls of milk on their doorstep and feed the stray so that any chance of it leaving would be destroyed. If you know me at all you know that I'm terrified of cats. If I were to rank my top five fears, cats would fill the number one spot, no question. So you can imagine my fright when this little feline began appearing at various points throughout the day. I even had to cut my socializing short at break the fast and ward prayer in order to safely reside in my apartment, behind a closed door. Although Freud was a quack, I will admit that in this scenario he nailed it right on. I can trace the development of my fear of cats back to one cold, winter day in my childhood...

My best friend growing up owned a cat as a pet, something I can't fathom. It was snowy white with one green eye and one blue eye. I was always a little nervous around him, but afraid I was not. Then, one January day when I was a mere eight years old, it was a day like any other: Alyssa and I rushed over to Mikelle's to play with our American Girl Dolls, something we did six out of the seven days of the week. After several hours of playing make-believe we heard the phone ring. It was the phone call we dreaded every day: it was time to put the dolls away and go home for dinner. As we packed up our dolls and stood up to leave, the cat that had been perched on the chair watching us play arose and followed us out of the room. Just as my foot hit the first step on my descent down the stairs, this cat up and decides to bite me. On my rump. And again on my upper thigh. I'm not sure what I did to receive such treatment; I always thought I had treated him with respect. Sure, I wasn't one hundred percent comfortable and relaxed around him, but never had I ostracized him. Mikelle, of course felt horrible and immediately sent the cat to his room and locked the door. After a few tears were shed I hurried up the street and the comfort of my cat-free home had never felt so good. I suppose you could say it was a traumatizing event in my life. After all, it was the day the entire species of cats became the devil's pet in my mind.

And so, although I don't appreciate my fellow ward members encouraging this cat to remain in the neighborhood, I do have to admit that it helps me get in the mood for the next upcoming holiday. Black cat wandering the streets with Halloween just a few short weeks away: coincidence? I think not.

Do I Look Like I Speak French?

This afternoon I was on the fifth studying away and shortly after arriving, a girl wearing a red hat sat down at my table, and as library etiquette has it, she took the chair directly diagonal from me. It was a busy day on the fifth today and there came a point when all of the diagonals on the tables were filled, resulting in fellow students being forced to sit directly across/next to someone already residing at the table. This was the case with my table and soon a male character pulled up a chair next to my friend in the red hat. He must have seen that she was studying French and was delighted by this newfound information, so much so that he began chatting away with her in French. While he was thoroughly enjoying himself, she on the other hand was feeling highly uncomfortable and ended the conversation as rapidly as possible. Well, the girl in the red hat eventually packed up her bag and left the library. I was busy typing away on my computer with my headphones in listening to a little Miley when I heard this guy across the table speak to me. I hesitantly took out my headphones and asked him what he had said. He then repeated a phrase to me in French and when my face displayed complete confusion he shockingly asked, "Oh, do you not speak French?" No. No I do not. Do I look like I speak French? French. If it were Spanish I would be more understanding since I'm willing to bet that nearly 50% of students attending BYU speak it, but French? Just because the stranger in the red hat that happened to sit diagonal from me at the library speaks French does not mean that I do. I sadly revealed that unfortunately I am not bilingual and after a quick exchange of names I went back to writing about the Mexican War of Independence while nodding my head like yeah to Party in the USA. Later tonight as I was leaving my Humanities of Islam test review I walked past a bulletin board advertising a study abroad to Paris this winter. Since I apparently look like a natural in the French language maybe I should hit up that study abroad next year. Until then, my goal from now until the end of December is for some man in the library to start up a conversation with me in Arabic, assuming that I'm fluent and look shocked when I admit that I'm not. Fat chance of that happening, but it would make me feel more confident in my ability to pass my Arabic 101 class that I will be enrolled in come three months from yesterday.

General Conference Weekend

There is just something about general conference weekend that words can't really describe. This one weekend puts all my worries at ease and reassures me that everything will work out. Sometimes I forget how rare, yet lucky, it is that I get to listen to prophets who receive revelations purely for this day. What a blessing. Because I'm human, I occasionally doze off for a minute or two or get distracted while addressing hundreds of wedding announcements for my brother, and don't get everything out of the talks that I probably should; that's where the printed version comes in. Even though I don't remember every word that was spoken over the past two days, I do remember that every one of the addresses contained something that I needed to hear. I went into conference with questions and concerns I had and in a round about way, every one of them was covered. I heard exactly what I needed to hear and it was a testimony builder that the leaders of our church really do receive inspiration and revelations from God regarding what we as a church and individually need. They really do. General conference weekend always seems to fly by and I'm always sad to see it end. Those eight hours will get me through the next six months and I'm already looking forward to listening to the apostles and prophets six months from now.

October Gave a Party

October gave a party:

The leaves by hundreds came

The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,

And everything was grand.

Miss Weather led the dancing,

Professor Wind the band.

-George Cooper

(thanks to megan for showing me this poem)