Suspended

That feeling where you have just jumped off the ledge and are hanging in air, while your stomach alternates between a thrilling rush of adrenaline and a paralyzing terror of what's next. My summer is one slow motion leap into nothingness. Completely blind. The possibility for success glimmers at the end of a very long dark possibility of failure. At what? I don't know. Some days I don't care.

September is like this. Reflective. I've said so before. But up until this one I've been pushed along into the next transition. As I've also mentioned, even the transition into college wasn't as earth-shattering, even though I think I forget just what a big change it marked for me. But it was expected. I knew where I wanted to go. It was just what you did.

Now the free ride has reached the end of the tracks, and instead of a nice platform to stop and get off at there's a drop into the unknown. It's like those Calvin and Hobbes comics. The ones where they're hurtling down the side of a hill in a wagon (Radio Flyer perhaps?). I think I finally get those.

New Zealand or Bust!

Possibly bust...
I still have this picture that someone posted on the Tolkien board back in high school of our group of Tolkien freaks riding to New Zealand on a fell beast. I wish this were possible because plane tickets are expensive and I'm not about to use a paddle-boat.

But yes, as to the hallowed After-College Plan I have determined that I'd like to try living in New Zealand for a year through BUNAC. The only real goal I have had for my post-college life is to travel/live abroad. I have always been curious about new places and I enjoy the novelty of travel and the ability to see life through a different and more comprehensive perspective. After watching the vast majority of my friends enjoy extended study abroad tours I've been feeling a little left-out. Now is the ideal time for me to pick up and move as most of my friends are moving away or starting a new phase in life. It's apparent to me that I need to do the same. I've always been really independent and I want to be challenged and step into adulthood without relying on any crutches, and what better way to do so than to head out on my own? It's a really good opportunity for personal and growth and for me to define for myself what I value and what I want to do with my life. As yet I'm quite muddled on that point. Yes, it's a scary proposition, but if you don't take risks like this, you never do anything worth doing. And I still believe in a personal God who will provide for me, after his quirky fashion. I hope that wasn't blasphemous.

So now you know my reasons for living abroad, why New Zealand of all places you ask? Well - it's not because I'm an LOTR movie fanatic. It actually came about in backwards way. I'd looked at BUNAC's Work in Britain and Ireland program last year as a possibility, but decided that it was too uncertain as far as actually getting work and supporting yourself was concerned. Then immigration laws changed and the Britain program was put on hold. After bouncing around various English teaching possibilities including Japan and the Peace Corps (which I still think would be awesome) and deciding I wasn't a good fit, I returned to BUNAC on the day after graduation in a fit of desperation.

The Britain program was still on hiatus, but I decided to look at some of their other programs. The descriptions of New Zealand intrigued me and I decided to do more research. The more I read about and thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It's not particularly exotic or historical as compared to other places in the world, but it seemed to fit. But was it possible? I made a rough estimate of how much money I would need and then checked to see roughly how much I had made at the summer job I would be working again this summer. They matched. Suddenly this became a real-world proposition and not just another of Heidi's farfetched dreams that keep her sane. So after a conference with the parental units I decided to try for it.

And I think it's going to happen. My initial plan was to "apply" (it's not a competitive program) in mid-August and depart in mid-October, but I'm going to have to wait until I have more of my summer earnings under my belt. So now I'm hopeful that November will work out. I'm ancy on several points. October was planned because that is before most college students get out for summer break in mid-November. Now it's possible I may have to wait until December or so before I step on a plane and the job-competition will be tougher. Plus I'm concerned about cost of living and exchange rates and student loans and such, although I have a plan and I think I can swing it. I think I'm going to try for work in customer service because I already have some customer service experience. I keep wondering if I'm really suited to that sort of a job, but then I wonder that about any sort of job and I think it's just me being unsure of myself. I'm pretty willing to do anything I have to. Safety and finding a place to live are other concerns, but that's why I'm going through BUNAC.

It's by no means a guarantee, and I'm fine with that. It's been a bit of a struggle to come to terms with the uncertainty of my life right now, but I'm learning to take things one step at a time. I'll keep you all posted on any progress made. I feel pretty lukewarm right now: not really excited, but not indifferent. Mostly impatient to get to the next step and get out of that blasted hardware store.

Boxington

All 21 years of me sits atop my pink throne and looks down on my small kingdom of Boxington. Or rather, what used to be my kingdom. My country, with its four walls, three windows and blue carpet of a sea, has been invaded by outlying nations. Amidst the boxes of books and college paraphernalia that belong here by birthright lie boxes of immigrants from Kristinland, items not fit for basement storage. My father's desk and filing cabinet are firmly entrenched in the corner. Odds and ends recently relocated from our downstairs remodel fill up even more space. There is hardly room for me anymore.

I can't believe that I am once more sleeping on bunk beds (which are far too small, I hit my head last night). The top bunk is the only place that gets enough light for reading, so I crawl up to the ceiling with my Bronte and survey the geography below. It is odd to look down on such an amalgam of items ranging from childhood to adulthood. The whole of my development stares back at me in the form of stuffed animals, certificates of achievement, posters, art projects, little league trophies, CDs, college texts...

This room in which I was once queen and had many adventures is now void of all possibilities save that of storage space. I am its giant foreigner, trying to find space for my adult self. The knights from my castle set look at me with distrust when I open the closet door. Martin the Warrior's smile seems rather confused and weak as he surveys me from the wall. My polly pockets run back and forth between their little houses, whispering to each other, trying to figure out who the rather large blond lady is.

I suppose it would be a little depressing to be a foreigner in one's own room. The minute I walked across the platform and received my diploma COVER I became a nomad. I may return home, but it's not really home for the present. That's okay though. I much prefer the boxes as they assure me I won't be sticking around for long. Only a few long months of drudgery and I can be out. There may still be drudgery, but at least it will be somewhere new. I'm rather excited about being a nomad. For someone who's lived in the same place all her life, it's a rather mysterious state of being. I hope I move around a lot. At least, I think I do. I couldn't really say what it's like to move. I think there are boxes involved.

Paper or plastic?

I've always been terrible at decision-making. Ordering at restaurants is always an ordeal. I spend far too long in the cereal aisle of the grocery store contemplating whether I want Toastie-O's or Frosted Fiddlesticks. I even agonize over which sweatshirt I own goes best with which pair of jeans. It's a sweatshirt. It's not supposed to be fashionable. I'M not fashionable. And yet...

So no wonder I'm paralyzed with indecision when faced with actual choices about my future. Because somewhere, at some point, I'm going to have to take the step that puts me on a set direction and that closes off other possibilities by necessity. That's the part I hate. The fact that I could be missing out on something better, or at least something awesome or more enjoyable or more meaningful or that I would be better at etc. by choosing to pursue "X."

There are roughly three different paths I can see as possibilities at this point. I won't go into details. That would get complicated. But each is challenging and daunting in its own way. The frustrating and absolutely terrifying part is that none of them are guarantees. There's no guarantee of getting my foot in the door, there's not guarantee I'll like it if I do, and there's no guarantee I'll be remotely good at it. If ever there was a time for Divine Guidance I'd love a sign in the proverbial desert just about now. I'd be alright with the lilac bush at home bursting into flame and telling me to take off my sneakers and to brush up on my public speaking. But I think God is delighting in the fact that I'm having to make a decision. That's right, you get to make a choice. You can see the implications of each of them. Where do your priorities lie? It's up to you. Then I always imagine him chuckling evilly, which is probably blasphemous. But who knows. Maybe I will get a little more help. I'm trying hard to be patient, obedient and humble in this. I shouldn't worry, and I know it. Some days are better than others.

Part of it is life after college still seems so surreal. I hope some of my daring (for me) ideas become realities. And if so, I hope they turn out to be more exciting than they are in my head. Each life scenario I come up with seems more boring than the last. I do have one hope, but if I wrote about that I'd sound trite. This post is making less and less sense, so I think I'll just quit. I guess my point was that I AM trying to figure it out. I'm NOT just a lazy bum who hasn't made any plans for life after college. I DO have certain, or rather uncertain asperations. And even if I DON'T have a set direction yet I'm working on finding it. And that ought to be good enough. So stop giving me pitying looks. I WANT to work hard. I'm happiest when I'm being productive. I have an impulsive need to prove myself against all odds. I'm angsty and cliche. I need to go to bed.

Internship

So. Just to clarify on how the internship is going thus far, since people seem to be curious. It's nothing earth shattering, but then, I haven't exactly been expecting that. It's funny, because when I tell people I'm interning for the Spokane Symphony, even people who have absolutely no interest in classical music whatsoever, they get very excited. Far more excited than I am. Well, in defense of the ones who have no interest in classical music whatsoever, I think the assumption often is that "internship" with the symphony means I'm "playing" in the symphony. Even music majors don't seem to have a very solid grasp on the fact that the symphony isn't just a group of extreme music nerds but a non-profit arts organization, the biggest in Spokane if I remember correctly, and like any organization a large part of what actually happens goes on behind the scenes. The musicians don't just magically organize rehearsals with guest artists and appear on stage autonomously.

So, everyone gets really excited and then asks "so, what will you do?" *blink* It seems somewhat illogical to me to be really excited about somebody's unpaid occupation without knowing what it is, but I guess I understand. I mean, it sounds all prestigious and grand. The ridiculous part though is, I don't even know! And I've spent a good seven hours at their offices now. But I usually give some vague reply about marketing and operations and music libraries and hope that somewhere in the jargon they'll get confused and smile and nod and stop asking questions. Before I go any further, I want to make it clear, this internship is a great fit for me. Even if I end up learning absolutely nothing at all, it will look excellent on my resume, and it will be better than learning nothing at all somewhere else. And I think I will learn something, it's just not getting off to a grand start.

My supervisor seemed eager to meet me and get me started, which was encouraging. I had been a little surprised at how quickly she had given me the internship, but I attributed this to the fact that I had been so proactive about it, and I found out that I was right on that score. I went in on Monday and was disconcerted to find that she hadn't even looked at my resume. I mean, she didn't even know what my major was, obviously hadn't read my carefully prepared cover letter, and hadn't remembered her earlier promise that I would also be able to meet with the operations department. I was a little disappointed, but not particularly hurt. I mean, I'm a whiny college student and she has a job to do. I don't exactly expect to be spoonfed. And I figured that marketing would be more versatile than operations, although I don't know that I'm particularly suited for it. She then explained her big vision for my time with them. Social networking. Yes, three of my five major goals would consist of facebook, myspace, and twitter. I nodded politely, unwilling to put my oar in so early in our relationship but thinking all the time at the back of my mind that THAT is going to change. Basically she sees me as a pool of knowledge for this new world of the internet that she is not very versed in. I don't mind that, and am happy to help them. But I'm not going to learn anything sitting and updating their facebook page. Unfortunately that's about all I've done the three days I've been there.

I have a small cubicle in an area on the mezzanine level with particularly hideous red shag carpet. I've found our initial few meetings to be particularly unhelpful and concise. I've pretty much had to fend for myself. By exploring the computer drives and past emails I've been able to learn a bit about important little details like parking passes for interns, how to use the network and where past interns have left off. If they really were as unmotivated as it seems, I think my supervisor has another thing coming, because I WILL NOT be shoved into a back corner to mess about on instant messaging while pretending to learn about marketing by sending invitations to all my friends about the symphony facebook group. Seriously. I can't really figure out what else the interns have been doing, unless it's clipping news articles (the work study student they currently have, Justin, takes care of that right now) and making gift certificates for auctions (I did that on Monday). I think the danger is that she will treat me like a work study student, but I'm not getting any compensation for this, so it's not a matter of picking up odd jobs that nobody else can get around to. I'm here to learn about arts management dang it.

ANYHOW, Wednesday I met a few other people who work for the symphony, but not to the extent that I would remember any of their names. I wonder what they think of me. The weird blonde girl who's doing an internship for free and stays secluded in the corner while goofing off on facebook. Criminy. My supervisor made a point of telling everyone that I was Jane's niece, which was fine, but felt awkward. The best part of that day was the most wonderfully awkward moment when I left. There's a law office adjacent to the symphony's marketing offices. I was waiting by the elevator to go to the lobby when I heard someone call out "see ya!" I turned around, a bit surprised because I didn't recognize him, but I figured I had met a lot of people in a 30 second time span so it was probably a symphony employee. "Oh! See ya?" I timidly offered, only to realize just after the words had left my mouth that it was an employee of the law office saying goodbye to the receptionist on his way out. He smiled at me, realizing my mistake, and we silently waited for the elevator. "So, how are you?" he asked out of nowhere. I gave the usual response, trying not to smile. The elevator came. We both entered it. I was trying very hard not to laugh. Luckily a third person entered and we were allowed to be silent. It was deliciously awkward. I don't think I've ever had such a backwards conversation before.

So today I was expecting a formal meeting with my supervisor as well as briefing on what I would be doing at the concert this weekend. I was again disappointed, because all she said was that they might need some ushers and Justin and I might have to fill in. Great. Just what I want. To stand around with a bunch of older women in an unflattering vest while handing out programs to Rockwood Manor residents. I hope nobody I know shows up. At least I finally got to meet the mysterious Justin, a fellow Whitworth student who transferred from California last semester. He's a comm major who for some reason got a work study job with the symphony even though he professes that he didn't know anything about classical music before he took the job. It was a little awkward though, because he was doing legitimate (if boring) work while I was wondering what else of merit I could do on facebook. At one point he came out and asked me what I was doing for the symphony's facebook page, and I gave a vague reply about events, knowing full well that it takes about half an hour at most to update events. Yeesh. Still, he was very nice and at least I had a human being to talk to instead of the odd unsupervision I've experienced the past couple days.

I will be meeting with Brent on Monday to draw up some specific goals, that I hope to have the guts to press for when I meet with my supervisor that afternoon. I've already forced myself to ask about possibly attending a meeting (small battles, baby steps), to which I was given the reply that there usually weren't meetings after 2:00. Well, I get that, but how the heck am I supposed to know WHEN I should be there if nobody tells me!? I might be going to a press conference on Tuesday, which could be mildly uninteresting if I'm lucky, but I want to be actively DOING or LEARNING something. I mean, I get that I won't be handed a lot of particularly skilled work and I also get that a lot of the work is mundane stuff like filing and answering phones. It's a symphony office, not the CIA. But I could at least shadow someone, or find out how they track their attendance, or target their marketing, or what specific departments do, or how they plan marketing campaigns, or... something. When I left today my supervisor said she'd like to help me so that I wasn't floundering around on my own. Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but strangely enough I resent it a little. Anyhow, I know it's all very outrageous and shocking and that I should have been receiving more help from the get go blah, blah, blah, blah, but I'd rather that you didn't worry about it. Like I said, it's a symphony office. It's not like anything particularly exciting is going on there. But, these are the people that make it possible for classical music to be performed live. It may be a boring job, but it's important to me nonetheless. I think I can stomach the tedium knowing that at least somebody is getting a good concert out of the deal. Because I'm that pathetic. Cheers.

Wow

Well it's been kind of difficult to post anything about break because we have no phone. But just an idea of what I've been up to.

1. Getting snowed in with friends (specifically Katrina. We watched six movies, researched WWI, and learned how to make eggs in a basket).
2. Getting snowed in at home and reading a lot. I read Persuasion in a day (which was very good Katrina, I can see why you like it so much although I think Mansfield Park is still my favorite Austen). Two days later I stayed up until about 4:00 in the morning and finished Jane Eyre in a day... Wow was I expecting it to be different! I was expecting delicate Austenish satire. I got a gothic Christian romance novel. Although I think Bronte's literary merits go above that description, so don't get the wrong idea.
3. Went sledding, a lot.
4. Walked out to the highway several times, for Christmas and baby showers and such.
5. Went to First Night Spokane with Karen. Had a lot of fun and ran into a lot of Whitworth kids.
6. Was plowed out by the National Guard on New Year's Day! It was pretty cool.
7. Played the piano, a lot. I will become a good sight-reader. I am determined.
8. Finally was able to check my grades and I got exactly what I wanted.
9. Will be heading back to Spokane shortly, the Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

Things I Will Miss About Whitworth 1

So in reading back over my blog I said that I wouldn't have much time to post senior year. I was right. It's been crazy and challenging and exciting and overwhelming in so many different ways. There have been so many times this semester that I thought I was on the verge of giving up, like there was no way I could ever finish all the assignments that were due or be ready for performances or even CARE about either anymore. Yet I've made it. Somehow. And I seem to have a pretty good chance at coming out okay. I'm happy that I'll be enjoying a much lighter load for Jan-term and spring. I definitely don't want to do this again. But I've learned a lot about myself, and that's been a good thing.

With that said, I've been thinking about how different life is going to be next year after I graduate. Whitworth was my first experience of independence and has played a big part in who I currently am. It will be weird not to be part of this community anymore. I was reflecting today that while there are things I will miss about Whitworth specifically, a lot of the things I will miss are related to the fact that an episode is closing in my life. It's not Whitworth, it's being a student, being in that transition period between teenager and adult (why are there so many transition phases? I'm sure it has to be a modern thing), being in such a strong network of friends. Things like that. So here's a list of both Whitworth things and life things that I will miss next year. This is just looking back on the fall, so there will probably be a spring list too. Thus the "1" in the title.

1. Awesome friends, lots of them - Absolutely the hardest thing about graduation, whether I end up moving away or not, will be the fact that so many of the close relationships I have developed will fade in some way. It will be interesting who I stay in touch with and who gradually moves out of my life, and it's hard to think about. My friends at Whitworth have become an extension of family and in some ways know more about me than my actual family does. After we graduate we're all going to be in different places, whether it's back home or at a new job or overseas or what have you. I'm excited for all of us, but I'm going to miss people terribly.

2. Hanging out in the dorms - this is something that really died last year since I'm off campus now, but some of my best memories will involve impromptu dorm happenings. It's just guaranteed that when you shove a bunch of "youngsters" in a small space together crazy fun things are going to happen. Luckily at Whitworth most of those things are also safe.

3. Music - student recitals, concerts, student-ticket prices (REALLY going to miss that), symphony group, lessons, ensembles (even jazz ensemble!), being able to explore and play music as much as I want to and be considered normal at the same time AND be surrounded with people who are as crazy about it as I am.

4. Academia - Well, I am getting a little tired of the college atmosphere in this respect, but it is still neat to walk down the halls of Dixon and pass by lectures on Kant, metaphysics, child psychology, and economics to name a few. Sometimes I think I want to just sit outside the doors and soak it all in. Then I remember that even for a place populated by thoughtful, intelligent students like Whitworth that would be weird.

5. Professors - How awesome is it to have so many personal mentors whose job is to focus on giving you the tools to succeed? How awesome is it to have amazing personal role models and banks of information who are just an email away? Whitworth has some outstanding professors and I've developed close relationships with more than a few. My theory is that they start out as parent figures when you're a lost little freshman, so there's a special bond I think. Granted, I will NOT miss being the focus of so many people's vocation or the topic of meeting room discussions. I never want to know how auditions are discussed. Ever.

6. Brick buildings and pine trees - Whitworth is like the college campus version of a comfy old sweater. It has the academic feel, but it's a casual one.

7. Chapel - especially services like tonight's Candlelight Nativity. I have a difficult time encountering all the anti-Christian thought out there. I'm pretty strong in my faith (currently) but I always feel that I have to apologize or admit that I'm an ignorant idiot for being a Christian. To have the encouragement of a strong community of fellow Christians whose intelligence I also respect has been a huge blessing. To be able to openly express my faith without fear is another. To have a haven from homework and stress and a place to refocus on what's important is a third.

8. Being nocturnal - after a certain hour, everything becomes funny. Alternatively, homework also becomes more evil.

That's enough for now I think. Expect more to come. :-) Sometimes I think I do better with life if I can treat it as what is happening is already in the past. That's probably why I often narrate to myself in past tense. Weird I know.

The Real World?

I experienced a slight slap in the face this afternoon. It happened in the library, where I witnessed possibly the first instance of "bullying" I've ever seen on campus. I was in the reading room, happily skimming the paper when a loud group of three entered.

I heard a "Hey man, what's up," and only then noticed the other student that had been in the room with me. He was kind of short, pasty, a little overweight, and wearing glasses. The two guys in the group, who were addressing him, were tall, muscular, tan, with backwards baseball caps and pants that didn't cover their underwear. There was a girl with them. Thin, tan, stylish. It was almost out of a badly written Hollywood movie.

The new group proceeded to form a sort of circle around the kid, the sarcasm apparent in their voices as they asked how he was doing, one of them actually ruffled his hair. I wondered if it was some sort of social norm experiment by the sociology department. I nearly fell out of my chair when one of the guys asked "how's the females?" in a not so subtle jibe at the other guy's lack of physical attractiveness. Not surprisingly, he didn't know how to respond. The aggressive dialogue continued for a bit before the recipient got up and said he was leaving because he had to study for a test and didn't want to be bothered. At this point I'd been glaring at the group of them, in spite of myself, without even trying to hide my disdain. I thought I'd left this behind in high school! Did they honestly think this was appropriate behavior? How old were these kids?

They managed to calm him down a bit and he stayed and chatted with them. I kept expecting them to openly laugh at some of his comments, which were unfortunately a little dorky. But at this point hopefully they realized they were acting like jerks because they managed to show some restraint. I was interested to see what sort of conversation would follow after he left, but either because I was there or because another friend of theirs showed up they didn't pursue the topic. I personally found their lack of acceptance sickening. It's one thing to not understand somebody else because they are different. It's another to victimize them because of it.

Anyhow, this relatively minor occurence is the type of thing I'm fairly sensitive too, because I always identify with the recipient. And it got me thinking that maybe I'm overestimating the ability of people to mature. Maybe behavior that I find to be clearly adolescent really continues far beyond what I think of as an excusable age. Maybe they were just dumb freshmen. I don't know.

I've been really sheltered here at Whitworth, which boasts of a relatively supportive and accepting community. I've been able to surround myself with "people like me." A complete change from what my life before college was like. But I've heard that this adds to the difficulty of life after Whitworth, because I will no longer be sheltered in a dominantly Christian community or spending most of my day with people who understand why I would rather go to a symphony concert than a performance given by Green Day or something like that. And while it's been great to have that freedom to be myself, and to not be ashamed of who I am, I have to realize that it's not going to last.

In fact, one of my frustrations with academia in general is that it's all so artificial. This is especially true in the music department, as with other arts I'm sure. My music profs and fellow students have built their own little musical world, where it becomes almost unthinkable that anyone would think classical music is "boring." But the truth is that most of the things I love are ignored or looked down upon by most people. It's something I've had to struggle with growing up, because I'm one of those people who always craves acceptance and will do almost anything to gain it. Even compromise my personal beliefs. But I don't want to be that way. And I don't want to have to isolate myself in my own special little bubble of like-minded people. I want to be strong enough to engage with others who aren't necessarily like me. But the challenge is that other people generally aren't that accepting of people different from themselves, as evidenced today. On one level this makes sense. If I don't share basic values with someone, I'm going to have a difficult time respecting them. On the other hand, I don't want to parade myself as some sort of intellectually and spiritually elite snob. Especially because I am neither of the two. I don't go much in for elitism anyways.

Anyhow, in many ways I'm eager to get out into the real world, even if I'm apprehensive. I don't really feel strong enough for it. But, and I never thought I'd say this, college life is becoming somewhat bland. I go to class, jump through the hoop of the day, watch my professors lead me on a string to the next idea, etc. I appreciate the things I AM learning, but most of my classes no longer seem that engaging or interesting. Part of it I think is that I realize it's coming to an end, and I'm anxious to establish myself wherever I'm going to be next. The uncertainty of it is what's driving me forward.

I had some other thing to rant about here that I've forgotten. Probably it had to do with how I don't feel ready for "the rest of my life." Or maybe my anxiety about the economy and how my grand dreams of living in another country for a year are likely not going to work out. In any case, I'm not really depressed per se. Just a little uneasy and struggling with how to be "in the world but not of the world." I suppose the bottom line is whatever I succeed or fail to experience or accomplish in the coming years, the most important factor will lie in my love for God and my desire to serve him. I don't know quite where I "fit" yet, but I don't have to fit anywhere to love others as myself, as high of a mandate as that is. Anyhow, this is all very random and confused, which likely reflects my state of mind, so now I'm going to go do something, hopefully productive.

Awesome Day

Tuesday was pretty amazing. But first I'll back up a bit.

The CA job (which I plan to post more about at the end of the summer) has been an extremely intense experience. Something of a combination of a challenging learning experience, a fun alternative to farm work, and an enormous amount of stress.

Things had been going relatively well in early July, although I was pretty tired and ready for a break. So on the 15th I was very happy to have made it to my week of vacation. I went home and relaxed, read some books etc. It was great. I returned that Sunday refreshed and eager to finish out the summer strong. It was like a blind man walking into a tornado.

Things had NOT been going well the week I was gone. My supervisor, who was already very stressed, had been taking out said stress on the team of CAs. Apparently angry emails were sent, the team was disgruntled, etc. But then the topper came that a group of boys basketball campers had accidentally been locked out of the HUB during their dinner time. Stories vary, but something along the lines of "nobody had been scheduled to run info. desk that day" and "there was a mistake in the Lock/Unlock schedule" seems to have happened. Now, being stupid high school boys, they did not do the common-sensical thing and call one of the phone numbers that we have plastered all over campus. No. They ordered pizza. So while Sodexo was waiting for these 14 players to come and get their dinner, they called a place and payed extra money for a dinner that they had essentially already payed for. Their coach didn't even hear about it until the next day when he asked them how their dinner was, so of course we knew nothing about it. And then our supervisor found out and her already thin-worn patience (actually I'm not sure if there was any left) snapped.

Enter Heidi. I just happened to arrive on the morning after she had found out about this blunder. I was a little mystified when she walked in and didn't even acknowledge my existence. Usually she asks how the weekend was etc. and here I had been gone for a whole week and not even a "good morning." We all sat down in the meeting room and all hell broke loose. Suffice it to say that it was the worst chewing out I've ever received in my entire life and that includes the times when I've been in serious trouble with my parents. I would say that it crossed the line more than a little bit, especially considering many of us had had time off directly preceding that day and could have in no way been involved. I won't go on about what I thought/think of her decision to call a meeting when she was so angry or her lack of self-monitoring when speaking (read: screaming hysterically) at us. She told us that if we didn't think we could handle the job, we should just quit right then, as we all stared on in disbelief. But absolutely nobody was happy and suffice it to say I was kind of wishing I had stayed at home. I was especially sorry for the people who had been working, because they had been working extra hard to "avoid getting yelled at." Not good. Not good at all.

Fast forward a week later. Things calmed down although a general atmosphere of discontent still prevailed. I had the sneaking suspicion that our boss still not-so-secretly resented us. The usual Tuesday meeting was being held, Tuesday being the day when the entire staff is supposed to work. We again looked on in disbelief as our supervisor explained that she had been thinking and decided that today would be a CA Guys' fun day. She procured a $20 bill, told them that they would go downtown for the day, they could do anything (legal) that they wanted and buy whatever they wanted with the money. The only conditions were that they take a memorable picture and that there would be a contest between the guys and girls memorable pictures when the girls had their fun day next week. I was confused. She later confessed that she wanted to let the girls go first, but really wanted to get rid of the guys. Fair enough. They are a little loud at times. That is, they like to play their music in the office at somewhat unprofessional levels and it is a little annoying at times.

So the guys left, the girls stayed for a quiet day and all was well.

And that is what set up my awesome Tuesday. Because the next Tuesday was also the last day that every CA would be working on the same day, due to vacations and things. So it happened to be the day of our "end of year" celebration. It also happened to be the day of our Sodexo luncheon.

Schedule of Events
8:30 a.m. - depart for Greenbluff
9:15 to 11:30ish - Amazing fun times at Greenbluff taking pictures, which can be seen on Facebook.
11:30 - 12:15 - return to campus.
12:15 to 1:3o - visit the guy's houses and take stalkerish pictures in front of them/in their rooms/with their housemates/with their host mom... Look for B-Rob to see if we can get a picture with him and find out he is out of town. Go down to the Little Spokane River and take pictures while nervously eyeing the two men in a truck who were probably smoking marijuana.
1:30 - lunch with Sodexo staff Jim, Jess, and Dan at Twiggs. Their treat. I had the Salmon Briee sandwich. It was most excellent. Dan finished everyone's unfinished food.
3:00ish - head to Northtown to try on pretty dresses, or in my case feel extremely uncomfortable and watch other people try on pretty dresses. Shopping = not my favorite.
4:00 - FedEx Kinko's stop where we print our pictures after finally persuading the lady working their to refill the machines with paper for us. Not the best customer service I've ever seen.
5:00 - Back to Duvall to work on amazing collage that will blow the boys' picture slideshow out of the water.
6:45 - Dress up.
7:15 - Depart for the Melting Pot
8:00 - Try to find the Melting Pot. Pass Morihiko Nakahara on the street. Walk in circles like idiots.
8:15 - Arrive at the Melting Pot. Eat amazing chocolate fondue. Presentation of awards. I received a miniature stick horse for my supposed work ethic and the fact that I am a farm girl. I have named him "My Little Pony Suck-It-Up" so that the next time a conferee asks us to turn on the air-conditioning in Warren we can respond "there is no AC in Warren," and smack them with said pony while saying "suck it up."

All in all it was a pretty awesome day.

Weather or Not

Freakish. That is the one word I have to describe Spokane's current weather pattern. This morning I awoke to "partly cloudy, 50 degrees." This quickly changed to "overcast, 60 degrees." Then, after dinner or so the skies cleared and the sun shone brightly. My friend Amy and I took a leisurely walk up to my future house. It was beautiful! We found Katie there (long story short, we found another roommate for the summer) and she was delighted to see us. So we chatted for a bit and then we noticed thunder. We decided it was time to go and the weather really turned sour. After strong gusts of wind, there was a torrential downpour. Katie decided she would drive us back. It was crazy! We ran as fast as we could into Duvall and were still soaked. Now it has stopped. It snowed on the South Hill yesterday. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

*Note: As we drove through campus in the pouring rain, we noticed that, true to form, the sprinklers were on.

Funny story, I accidentally worked until 6:00 today. I was checking room inventories in Ballard and had no clock. Apparently I was being much more thorough than everybody else because they had finished dinner by the time I got back. I felt pretty dumb, but it's pretty funny regardless. The worst of it is, I'm paid on a stipend, so I don't get any extra money for working late. :-( Oh well. That's life.

I played for my high school's graduation last Saturday. I was really nervous because I didn't manage to get the sheet music until the night before. I did it though. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't suck either. My sight reading is improving! It was strange to be back there and think about the fact that my high school graduation was 3 years ago. The kids graduating were freshmen when I was a senior. I was seeing some of them for the first time in 3 years! It was so weird! And yet, it wasn't as weird as I was expecting. I wasn't really that attached to my high school. I never felt like I really fit there. It wasn't anything like Whitworth. I was generally trying to be somewhere else. If anything the weird part about going back was that it had no terror for me anymore. I didn't have stay there, I didn't have to talk with anyone I didn't want to, I didn't have to do busy work, I wasn't trapped inside those walls for another 5 hours. It was a good feeling.

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Now playing: Oscar Peterson - Lulu's Back in Town

First Day of Training

It's been a very full day. On the one hand, I can't say that the first day of CA training has actually been that demanding. We met several people and were run through some basic responsibilities. But it started at 8:30 this morning and I just got back from April's (my boss) house at 7:30. The actual training was fine, but I am really anxious about the group of people I'll be working with. I'm anxious for people to like me in the first place, and I just hate conflict in general. I avoid it. I'm a conflict avoider. Passive aggressive. Whatever you want to call it. But add to that the fact that we will be living and working together almost every day this summer and I am desperate to fit in and for everyone to get along. I understand that there will be rough patches. But I hope we all work well together. And really on one hand there's no real cause for anxiety there because everyone I'm working with seems to be a genuinely cool person. And yet, it has me doubting the wisdom of my applying for the job in the first place. Part of me thinks the hiring carousel just took pity on my poor soul and decided to take a risk by making me part of the team. I mean, I'm a introvert by nature. Too much of the day spent with too many unfamiliar people is a sure way to stress me out. Maybe because I'm trying to please each and every one of them. It's times like that when God reminds me that I don't need to look for their approval. But it's a hard habit to break.

So I've been analyzing my motives in applying for this job. It looked like a really good opportunity to get some good experience I suppose. In a way, I've been trying to train myself to be less of an introvert, or at least to be able to handle the requirements of a professional workplace. I am constantly anxious about my future career opportunities. Growing up on a farm has taught me a lot about economics, I've been anxious about costing my parents too much money since I was about 4 and financial independence is something I've craved for just about as long. It's honestly not a desire to have lots of money for myself. It's a desire to not be a burden on my parents and the closer I get to graduation the more pressing it becomes. I owe them so much and they expect a lot of me. The hurdle of college debt hanging over me for a degree that likely will not do me any good has made me feel guilty ever since freshman year. But I couldn't NOT study music, I just couldn't, even if it meant taking a crappier job later in life. And really, I don't care so much about how much I like my job. I just want to be able to support my own weight. And really, I've always thought it would be nice to be well off enough someday to help my parents out. To let my mom do all those remodeling projects and travel a bit and to allow my dad to retire comfortably. It's something I worry about, because my parents never really had a retirement plan while my dad was farming and it was always kind of catch as catch can through junior high and high school. Anyhow, the point being is that I took this job knowing that it would be a challenge for me and knowing that I probably wasn't going to be a natural at it, but also knowing that the sooner I can learn this stuff the better off I'll be. It's difficult to balance your own dreams with others' expectations and economic realities. When people ask me what I'm going to do after college I give them the whole "arts administration" line, working for non-profits, actually using my music degree etc. But I don't really believe it. I just want a job. And I know people say it's not worth it to be miserable, but you'll understand that it's not a desire to be wealthy that's driving me, it's just an understanding of how hard it is out there.

All these things have been cycling through my mind all day as I've gotten to know my fellow CAs. It's a neat group of people. Hanna I knew from CYT and have had classes with. She's my podmate and so far we've been getting along well. I'm excited to get to know her better. Jaquette I don't know well but I like her sense of humor, she seems very friendly and open. Connie also seems like a lot of fun. Sarah is more quiet and I haven't gotten a chance to talk to her as much yet, but she seems pretty laid back and easy going, which is good. Of the guys there's Colin and Billy, who I've sort of known from classes but never really hung out with. Elorm is from Ghana and is very cool and has a really interesting life story. Austin seems to be a really strong Christian from what I've seen. Corey I don't know much about yet, but he seems to be a bit of a class clown. Between him and Jaquette we should be laughing all summer. So it's a cool group of kids and after spending such a long day almost exclusively with them I have so much respect for all of them. The day ended with a casual dinner at April's house. It wasn't part of the workday, it was just kind of a get to know everybody and hang out kind of deal. Unfortunately it's difficult for me to be casual at these kind of things because I know how important it is that we all get along (and hopefully become good friends) through the summer. So I'm self-monitoring like crazy, which is part of the reason that I'm writing so much now. Anyhow, we ended with a getting to know each other activity, and it was really eye-opening to learn so much about these kids, many of whom were close to complete strangers at the beginning of the day. And now I am tired and hoping somehow that I'll measure up to this incredible team. In a way, I'm still not sure why I was hired. I'm still not sure if this job is right for me or if I'm right for it. Yet I suppose if I can survive a whole summer with nobody but 40-year-old men as company, I hopefully should be able to hang out with an awesome group of kids my own age. It's just been a really long day.

Return to Whitworth

Well I'm back. After spending a relaxing week at home I have returned to school and start training tomorrow. I'm not sure what to expect, so I'm trying not to be nervous about it. I keep telling myself that this will be an excellent way for me to prepare for a real job and the real world. Representing the university and being held accountable for will be a frightening but worthwhile experience. And I figure they wouldn't have hired me if they didn't think I could do it.

It's strange to be in the dorms without a roommate. After arriving at roughly 4:00 this afternoon I spent the rest of the day rearranging furniture and catching up with my old friend and new podmate Hanna. At first I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get in. Driving onto campus was somewhat like driving into a deserted graveyard. The campus was picturesque, the grounds perfectly trimmed and cared for, but it was all so unsettlingly quiet. Brief tangent--> you expect quiet when you're out in the country. It's natural there. All you can see is fields and all you can hear is the wind. That's normal and relaxing. It's different to be surrounded by dark buildings and have there be no sign of current human habitation. That's unsettling.

I parked by the HUB, hoping against hope that it as open. It was. But there was nobody inside. All the lights were off and all of the screens were pulled across the doorways. Very weird. And I as confronted with the problem of how I was going to get into my dorm. My student access key no longer works. We're supposed to pick up special CA access keys at Student Life, but I hadn't been on campus while they were open. Luckily Hanna was in her room and able to let me in. I dropped by the other girls' pod and felt awkward. If I'm going to do this job, I'm going to have to stop feeling so awkward all the time! This job will be a learning experience. It doesn't make it any easier that one of the girls I'm working with has a twin, who was also in the pod. So I wasn't quite sure who I should look at when I'm talking. Oh well. One of the guys also came by and chatted with Hanna. I definitely feel like the odd one out, but at least I know Hanna and I'm sure I will get to know everybody else soon.

Everyone else has pretty much moved into the first floor by now, and it's weird to see the rooms inhabited by different people. Two of the rooms in my pod are vacant, and I keep expecting to see Elizabeth bursting out of one, or Kate and Henry sitting and talking in the lounge, or Anna and Sally laughing about something. It's a little melancholy, I'll admit. And it's weird to turn around and simply have several posters and my new full length mirror staring back at me instead of Katrina sitting at her desk. Wow this is getting depressing. I should probably stop listening to Miles Davis.

Still, as much anxiety as I'm feeling at the moment (while telling myself that I'm NOT feeling it), this is ten times better than if I hadn't gotten this job. I can't imagine spending a whole summer with just me and my parents, or even in the house that I'll be living in next year. So I'm sure this is for the best, even if it does have me feeling a little be like a meek little freshman all over again.

The Scariest Christmas Pageant Ever

Christmas pageants aren't exactly a tradition at my church. Basically while I was growing up nobody had the desire to wrestle a group of kids into angel costumes and then attempt to teach them 5 Christmas carols while keeping them from killing each other. But recently, one such brave soul as emerged from the congregation. Lisa and her husband Jason were my youth group leaders for a couple of years while I was in high school and I've always respected them as people. But even moreso now that Lisa has become the director of the annual children's Christmas pageant.

The first year she went all out. She found a creative script, worked hard on casting, and came out with a moderately entertaining display of cuteness with minimal mishaps. I'm not a huge fan of Christmas pageants myself. I'm sure I'd feel differently if I had a child that was in one, but for the rest of us, well... Let's just say that we don't find little Tommy's portrayal of Joseph quite as riveting. Still the kids are cute for a while, and the second year, while not as high-maintenance as the first, was tolerable. And then there was this year.

It began much as last year's. Lisa's penchant for perfectionism meant she was actually directing the kids with a conducting pattern. Unfortunately this meant that some of the younger ones, instead of making the appropriate hand motions, simply mimicked the conducting pattern as they sang. It was cute. Okay, so I'm sure Lisa was mortified by the technical/sound glitches that kept occurring. Nobody else really cared of course. The kids can't really carry a tune so what does it matter if the music is playing? And they were relatively minor. We were laughing at the awkwardness that naturally accompanies little children on stage. And then Jason ran past the audience with a stethoscope around his neck.

My sister told me that she was wondering if he was supposed to be part of the pageant. A doctor for baby Jesus? That's kind of weird. And why didn't they have one of the kids playing that part? These musings were cut short when three members of the Emergency Medical Service followed Jason back past the audience through the door to the adjacent stairwell. A quick look out the window revealed an ambulance. Okaaaayyyy, now I was freaking out. My initial thought was that one of the older members of the congregation was suffering a heart attack. My sister said she even began to wonder if Mom or Dad were the cause of the ambulance. A quick glance around the room revealed them sitting in the back, but we were still in the dark as to what was going on behind that door. Meanwhile the kids were manfully continuing with their program. The EMTs rushed past again. By this point nobody was really paying attention to the kids. Then Lisa stopped the music and announced that we were going to let them "do their job" and then continue with the next song.

Pastor Mark directed us as we widened the aisle and then the EMTs walked by again pushing a gurney. I looked down at my program and discovered that the next song, which was supposed to be performed with the congregation, was "Good Christian Men Rejoice." Wonderful. Somebody was dying and we were about to break out into a rousing chorus of "Good Christian men rejoiiiice, with heart and soul and voiiiice..." People began to whisper to each other. Some laughed nervously. "This will be a Christmas pageant to remember," my sister commented. "Yeah... but, it's not something that you really want..." I trailed off, wondering who was back there on the stairwell and just how bad it was. I kept waiting for Pastor Mark to make an announcement and let us know what was going on. Maybe he could lead us in a time of prayer. You know "Dear Lord, we would just like to offer up so-and-so to you during this time. We ask for your hand of healing." Etc. etc. But nothing. So there we were, sitting with various morbid thoughts and on tenterhooks to know who it was. Suddenly the stage curtains were drawn. Supposedly to protect the little kids from the gruesome sight that was about to greet the rest of us. We watched as their scare little faces disappeared behind the scarlet folds and I wondered... If this wasn't appropriate for children what the heck were we still doing in the room. Couldn't we go upstairs? Maybe I should shut my eyes... And then...

The great unveiling! Every eye locked on the door as it opened and slowly the EMTs wheeled out... Well, it wouldn't make any difference to you if I said her name or not but I figure she's already been through embarrassing enough an ordeal without having her name mentioned here. It was not an old lady. In fact we were all quite surprised. Except for the choir who, apparently, knew what was going on the whole time... Now, it still wasn't funny. Her arm was in a cast and she obviously wasn't doing too well. And it was awful as we all stared and stared, heads turning, gasps escaping from our lips and audible cries of "oh! it's her!" I was so thoroughly ashamed of myself and yet I couldn't stop watching the absurd procession. What an awful thing for anyone to go through, being wheeled past a large crowd of people.

Only after this shameful exhibition did Pastor Mark explain that the unfortunate victim had fallen down the stairs and collided with the cement wall that was unfortunately at the bottom. She'd broken her arm in several places and hit her head. Gee, that would have been nice to know BEFORE we all gaped at her like codfish or spent 10 minutes of agony over who was supposedly dying. The curtain opened. The music resumed. We all cleared our throats and began to sing...

"Good Christian men rejoiiiice! With heart and soul and voiiice!" I allowed myself to improvise some new lyrics. "Somebody has broke an arm! News! News! She's going to the hospital!" To say the least, it was a pretty absurd Christmas program.

When You Should Be Doing Homework

I've actually gotten pretty good at this practicing every day thing. Now it's the homework that I put off.

With that said, Thanksgiving break was amazing, albeit way too short. I managed to practice a lot, and read a ton of Greek mythology. I was planning on reading Norse mythology, but the book I got had a lot of different things so I read the entire Greek section, some of the Roman, and have started on Irish and Celtic. :-) I was never so happy being a dork. Except when I play music. I don't think there's such a thing as a jazz dork though. Well, maybe.

Thanksgiving proper was lovely. We actually had a bit of snow on the hills/mountains behind my house. A few of us went on a short hike through said hills. My cousin's family brought along their new dog/puppy, who has enough energy I'm sure he could become the alternative fuel source to petroleum everyone's looking for, if we just knew how to harness him. I got to see my "uncle" Larry for the first time in over a year or so. And we actually managed to be polite to each other, almost. ;-) So it was a good time with lots of good food and family, as it should be.

But now I'm back, obviously, and I only have one more week in which to get everything done before finals. Yikes. I think I can I think I can.

So I would just like to say that my jazz prof, the Amazing Brent Edstrom, is amazing! I went to the premiere of his concerto for jazz piano and orchestra at the Coeur d'Alene Symphony on Saturday and what can be said but that the man is a genius? It was really fantastic. Brent has such amazing piano technique and he really knows his stuff so his writing is always really solid. I've heard a couple of his pieces before, but this work was really extensive (6 movements!) with a lot of technical demands. It was great to hear him play and even better that I got to sit with about 8 other Whitworth students who were similarly in awe. Afterwards we brought him our programs to sign, and he was surprised that we wanted him to sign them! Does he think most people just sit down and write 6-movement concertos every day? It was almost kind of a weird role reversal because I was congratulating him and telling him he did a good job and you generally don't get the chance to tell your teacher something like that. So it was a great opportunity not only to hear some good music and support a member of Whitworth's great faculty, but to express my appreciation for all the time and effort he puts into teaching.

And THEN today I got to my first Spokane Symphony concert in the Fox! SO COOL! Number one, acoustics. Soooo much better than the Opera House. The music is right there, in your face, all around you. It's like you're listening to it on headphones, only it's live. And the view from the balcony is perfect, I could see all the musicians which was great because I not only got to listen but I was able to follow what the orchestra was doing by actually seeing the different sections work together. The concert itself was brilliant. The overture to Mozart's Magic Flute (meh, it's fun), a Chopin piano concerto played by Cecile Licad (a gorgeous piece played stunningly), and Stravinsky's Rite of Spring (My favorite! Stravinsky ROCKS!) I was afraid I'd have to experience this wonderfullness by myself, but luckily I ran into someone at lunch who said Laura (piano performance major/friend of mine) was dying to go to the symphony concert but didn't have a ride. So I ran and got her straight away and after buying student rush tickets we did homework in the lobby of the Davenport, which made us feel distinguished.

So now that I have once again proved that I am a music nerd, my weekend is over and I have to hope that I will make it through the next week. Even if I don't though, I'm not sure that I care.

Work

Well, after an extended absence not altogether due to busyness, I return to tell you a little bit about life in a small town and the good folks at St. John Hardware.

It's funny, I've lived in a small town all my life, but I've never really appreciated the community until this summer. This year, after failing to get a position at college I was still determined to find a job with an indoor toilet. I sent out quite a few applications but generally the post had already been filled or I didn't meet the qualifications (no, I've never worked in a green house before...) I was really hoping for that greenhouse job. That would've been sweet. The local hardware store had been advertising for summer help and I put in an application out of desperation. I was called for the interview which I nailed after falling flat on my face at Whitworth. Lo and behold I was hired.

Machinery is definitely not my thing. Still, this was one of the few full time jobs that I was qualified for and the pay and hours weren't too bad. I'm still not exactly sure why they hired me. Jerry, my boss, told me they'd hired girls before and there shouldn't be a problem, but when they said there would be heavy lifting they weren't kidding. I felt useless half the time because I couldn't do everything they needed me to do. But then, they did only have five applicants. I was one of two they hired and that allows us to work a schedule of four ten hour shifts. Having Sunday through Tuesday off suits me perfectly, and the fact that the other guy has pretty much pissed off everyone in the store by showing up late or not at all makes me look good by comparison. But the four days I did work were not my cup of tea.

The crew comprised of Jerry, the good-natured somewhat goofy supervisor, Greg, his fellow parts guy, Ray, who runs inventory, and T.J., my cohort. I see quite a bit of Regina, who sells appliances, and Lori who does the office work too. Scott and Jo, the owners, pretty much live upstairs. The mechanics work out back.

It's not exactly a place where you make bosom friends. Sure, they're good-natured in their way. Greg and Ray enjoyed harassing me as though I was a freshman being hazed. I didn't mind so much since there was no malice in it. I simply tried to ignore the random squirt gun attacks, verbal jibes, and practical jokes. I felt like I had "Fresh Meat" written on my forehead and knowing them I might have. However, judging from the stories they told me, the could have made it a lot worse.

What I did isn't exactly interesting. Hauling around combine parts, cleaning, checking inventory, and the occasional day trip to Walla Walla were all part of the fun. Yesterday was my last day. I have survived the abuse and company politics. But one thing I have gotten from it was an appreciation of the tightly-knit community here. Everyday I saw the same people at the grocery store (er, both of them), the bank, the post office, the library... I know most of them by name. They all know me.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. As much as I enjoy this community, it's almost suffocating at times. I'm often at odds with myself. Who is going to take care of the house when my parents are too old? Would I like it better in a big city? I dream of moving away, and yet I can't imagine living anywhere else. I'm anxious to go back to school, but I know how stifling it can be at times. You can't have it both ways I guess, but sometimes I feel like Samwise Gamgee. I shall always be torn in two.

In Other News

In case you're wondering what's really going on in these parts, my brother and sister-in-law have officially moved in to Great Uncle Ed's old place. They had a house-warming party today and they've really done wonders to the interior.

I remember visiting the place about twice a year in my childhood. Once on Halloween, when I would receive buckets of candy from all my relatives in the country because they had no one else to give it to, and at Christmas when we would borrow the axe from Ed before going to chop down our Christmas tree. By that time Ed was getting up in years, so the only impression I ever had of him was of an older man who stooped and hobbled along on rather long, bandy Olson legs. I loved Uncle Ed.

It was always a somewhat surreal experience. Uncle Ed was a bachelor his whole life and not exactly an expert on interior decor. The back room was always full of stacks of beer bottles, of which Ed would always offer my dad one. This was the only time I ever saw my dad drink beer, and it was a little shocking (gasp!) but I knew it was okay because it was with Ed. Then we would move to the dining room where Uncle Ed would reminisce in a barely audible voice while you would try to shout back answers when he asked you anything because he was so hard of hearing from all those years on farm machinery. I loved Uncle Ed.

I always thought the dining room was the ugliest room I had ever seen. It's white walls and gold-spattered white floor were almost blinding and reminded me of the school cafeteria. The furniture looked like it belonged in a poorly funded futuristic sci-fi movie. The chairs in particular were so hideous that even at the tender age of seven it felt weird just to sit on one.

Uncle Ed had a different way of doing things. He was probably the most practical man you'd ever meet. He used to have, I'm told, a beautiful solid oak table that adorned the dining room. But he threw it over a cliff because "it wobbled." My relatives have never completely forgiven that. So you can imagine what kind of a state the house was in when my brother and Jenny decided to buy it from Uncle Jon (or however we're related, I'm not sure), who had inherited it.

Since I'm basically a generation in and of myself, I've sort of watched the older generation pass on. It's kind of sad. Uncle Ed was the last of "the brothers" of my grandfather's generation. With them has gone, it seems, the whole concept of the family farm and my family's livelihood for the past four generations. But we're Swedish, so we shrug it off. These things happen. It's the farmer's mantra.

At the same time, I personally don't think farming in any form is the life for me. I know what it is and it's not fun. You have to have that special connection to it, or you won't last long. And it was fulfilling to see the old house passed on to Eric and Jenny, ready for a whole new generation of Olsons. There's enough of the family up there, I think they should try to be an independent state. I don't know if they will keep the house, it's in pretty bad shape. But what they have done with it so far, while they save their money for perhaps something better, is amazing. The relatives and the community seem to approve. And Uncle Jon was happy he didn't have to sell it to "some Jerkwater" who would put up a lot of fences and make it difficult to move machinery.

My Dad the Storyteller

So... this seemed appropriate since Father's Day is coming up.

This morning I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of delicious waffles while perusing the newspaper and chatting with my parents. The dog and the cat made general nuisances of themselves and we watched the house sparrows that live in our roof flying around the backyard. It was nice to be able to relax after the work week. As I got up to get some coffee, I noticed a newish looking watch sitting by the microwave.

"Is that a new watch or just the old one with a new band?" I asked. I didn't recognize it.

My dad looked up from the "Cars" section, sighed, and said "Well..."

This is a signal that a long and involved story is about to be told. It happens all the time. I think it's just the way my dad communicates. It doesn't matter how commonplace the subject matter is. I could ask him about the weather and he could probably come up with some trip down memory lane or obscure fact. Believe it or not, he actually managed to take 15 minutes or so just to explain that he had bought the watch around Christmas.

Whenever this happens, I always have this vision of my dad sitting around a campfire in ancient times a la Homer. He just knows how to tell a story. It's actually kind of impressive. He probably could have made a living out of it if he'd felt inclined. I've always attributed my love of books and reading to my dad's influence. I have vivid memories of him reading to me before bedtime, which I'm sure is true of a lot of people. But if you could hear my dad read from Tolkien or the short stories of Arthur Gordon you'd understand. There's no way a kid who grew up with that could NOT get it.

My dad taught me to have a deep appreciation for writing used as a means of expression and the power of the written word. I'm really grateful for this. There's not much to do out here in the country and I've spent many weekends simply polishing off another book or browsing at our little library. Reading can be one of the most enriching and fulfilling experiences in life if you know how to approach it and how to dig meaning out of the author's works. I'm not a great literary analyst by any means, and often times I read simply for pleasure and don't work that hard at finding a deeper significance. But when language is used well, it accomplishes something that neither music nor art can, because language is specific. That's an oversimplification of a complicated topic but I'm not here to write a dissertation.

So that is my written tribute to my father for Father's Day. I've always felt blessed for having a father who shows integrity, honesty, intelligence, is devoted to his family, and follows Christ. Unfortunately, that's a rare thing and something I tend to take for granted.

Home Again

It's always awkward transitioning from college to home. Something about your parents being present really changes personality dynamics. Classical juries went really well by the way, best yet in fact. Now I just have to find a job.

With that said, my mom is amazing. She and dad came to help me move out of the dorm and let me tell you, I have never seen someone more enthusiastic about cleaning. I could not take the vacuum away... My mom's used to being responsible for pretty much everything, so I don't think she fully realizes that her youngest is almost 20 and capable of helping out with a bit more than just emptying the dishwasher. It's a control thing.

The problem is convincing her of this. The other day, however, after she had been out working all day and I had been home sitting around, I was determined to contribute in some fashion. I told my mom I would be making dinner. My parents looked at me like I might have a high fever.

"What brought this on?" my dad asked skeptically.

"I want to learn how to cook! That's all!" Well, that and as I've basically been raised on guilt, I was feeling guilty for the fact that mom had been out working all day. It took some doing to shoo her out of the kitchen, but I finally convinced her to hand me a recipe and leave me alone.

It was some sort of fish. After covering the filets with bread crumbs the recipe wanted me to "brown" them in a skillet. I wasn't quite sure what that meant. I mean, obviously I was supposed to put the fish in a skillet, but how long did it take for said fish to be "browned?" I wasn't sure. So I had to ask mom. A couple of minutes apparently. Well that was easy enough.

Except that I turned on the wrong burner and didn't realize that I wasn't heating up the frying pan at all until I smelled smoke. Luckily, I was in time to save things. I just wouldn't mention that. So after the fish had been in the skillet for a couple of minutes I went to flip them over. Easier said than done. They fell apart. So instead of three fish filets, I had several bits and pieces of fish rolling around in a skillet. I was still not asking for help.

I managed to reconstruct the filets. The recipe called for cheese, and I only hoped, as I stuck everything in the oven, that the melted cheese would hold everything together.

I didn't burn anything and dinner actually turned out to be completely edible, if a bit late. So, all in all, it could have been worse.

Spring Break

So if I were a "normal" maladjusted college student I'd have gone down to California, or Florida, or Mexico, or simply to my local pub and get smashed. At least I think that's the right expression. But I am most definitely not normal. So what did I do?

Well, I read a 700 page novel from the 1860's. Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell. It took me 2 and a half days. And when I'd finished that one I picked up "The Undomestic Goddess," a book a la Bridget Jones' Diary, and polished that off in my remaining free afternoon. Take THAT Harry Potter nerds! *Heidi, they're like 12, you're trying to compete with 12-year-olds by comparing how much you can read in a week...* Hmmm. Well never mind. I haven't started on Inkspell yet, or the biography on Johann Sebastian Bach, and I'm only a third of the way through "The World is Flat." This is FUN for me. Something's wrong here.

Of course this after I went to a Lord of the Rings party at Karen's house... *Heidi, you do realize people can access this blog from your Facebook account. You do have a link up. What if someone who THINKS you're normal suddenly realizes... Realizes... How much of a dork you really are!* Oh shut up. The voices are louder today than usual. It's a good thing I'll be going back to college soon and then I'll be busy enough to look as normal as a music major can. I'm NOT going into how bad of a music major I am. Nothing more needs to be said on THAT topic.

I read that my generation is extremely narcissistic (oh goodness that's hard to spell) compared to others. *GASP!* I don't know WHY! I mean, our parents flock around us and dote attention on us and make us the center of the universe. And then everyone starts scratching their heads saying "why do these kids think they're the center of the universe?" Okay, so maybe not all kids are so... lucky... Some are neglected, shuffled from foster home to foster home or coming home to an empty house while dad's at work, trying to meet the status quo. Bottom line is the article had a point. We have blogs and MySpace pages and Facebook accounts and all of these glorious "social networking" tools generally promote Me! I like my blog. I like reading over past entries and seeing where I was in my life. I'm too lazy to keep a journal. But I hope I don't become so self-centrered as to forget the value of others. God comes first, others second. This is what I was taught growing up and it still seems like an admirable philosophy still. So I'm hoping to be less self-centered on this blog and use it as a tool for communication. Not just about me, but about life and others and God too. We'll see how it works.

So, my friend Laura got married

It's rather sad, I haven't seen her since the wedding. But it was a very nice wedding. I was one of her bridesmaids. Everyone made a big deal out of it because *gasp* I'd have to wear a dress. When will people realize I'm not a 12-year-old tomboy anymore and wearing dresses and make-up, while something I find to be altogether too much trouble, doesn't bother me. Too much.

Okay, so the dress was pink and floofy. Yes, floofy. And strapless. I was so scared it was going to fall off, but I was willing to wear it for my friend. And really, I wasn't even there when they picked them out, or bought the one I was going to wear. I didn't even know my dress size but I gave Laura a guesstimate over the phone. I hate buying clothing, so I preferred not to be there, but I was concerned they were going to get it too small. When it came it really fit pretty well, for the most part. It was kind of tight in a certain area. So we had this whole fiasco about how to fix it, but my Mom, who is really a pretty good seamstress no matter what she says, did just fine. I did feel like a dork in that dress though. I felt like a naked cupcake. Plus I had just about the worst acne I've ever had in my life at the time and the poor make-up people must've put 2 pounds of cover-up on my face. It's graphic, but it's true.

Laura looked absolutely gorgeous. She could've been a model for a bridal magazine. There was no one there to touch her as the saying goes.

The wedding was outside, in their back yard. This was initially done to keep expenses down, but Laura's mom later confided to me that she didn't think it had been any cheaper since they'd been working so hard to make everything look nice. But it did look nice, and it was very surreal for me to watch a close friend get married only a few feet from where we'd played as 12-year-olds not so long ago. I didn't cry. I don't generally cry at weddings, or funerals, or at anything worth crying at. I told Laura about my strange ability to cry over the stupidest things and yet my inability to cry when it's appropriate. She said that certain events are above simple tears, which made me feel like a better person. Although I've never really seen the point of crying at a wedding. It's an exciting, happy occasion. I understand that it's very emotional, but it doesn't seem to be that kind of emotion. I don't think I'll ever understand.

Laura's brother, James, was my escort or whatever you'd call it. His appearance is a little on the bohemian side. He has tattoos, a beard that Laura begged him to shave, and huge ear plugs. But he's a nice guy for the most part. Poor guy's already going bald and he's only in his early twenties. There were quite a few people there since practically everyone from the local church came. Some people had to stand in the back. And then there was the kitten.

This adorable little kitten showed up during the ceremony. It attempted to climb up the maid of honor, thoroughly distracted the flower girl and ring-bearer, and said hello to everyone else while crawling across their laps. They got it in some of the wedding pictures.

The reception was amazing. Laura hired my jazz piano prof, Brent, to play with his trio. I nearly went crazy because I thought we weren't going to get to dance to it. But we did. A guy from CYT who swing dances really well was there although he danced with the maid of honor most of the time, since she's a)gorgeous and b)a dancer. Still I got a couple in. I danced the rest with my Dad. It really was cute. I taught my parents the basic step and they did pretty well.

We were sitting and listening through one song and my Dad decided to request on of the songs he'd heard me play. Brent had asked me to sit in with the group but I didn't feel at all ready since I'd been on a combine and unable to practice. I had mentioned off-hand to my Dad that the only person who I would play for would be Laura. Well, Brent asked my Dad if I would like to play and the little rat told him that the only way I would play was if Laura asked me. So Brent immediately ran over to Laura who then ran over to me and so I was forced to play with the trio. I played 'Autumn Leaves' and it went fairly well. The trio members really liked it, which surprised me, it wasn't that great. But I am glad I did it. It was fun.

Other than that it was your typical idyllic wedding. The weather was perfect, everything went smoothly and now one of my friends is married. I think the reason it's not really weird is that I've already watched my brother get married off.

I could say a lot more really, and I'm probably leaving out things and not saying enough about other things but I need to go practice so that the next time I sit in with a jazz group I'll feel more prepared. And I should call Laura. It's awful how busy things get.