Konichiwa,
No. The title does not bespeak a post on the cultures of the Asian continent. And it's purely coincidence that I chose to greet you in japanese. The subject of this post is New Student Orientation, or in the the proper BYU acronym, NSO. It has differed from my expectations, and is just not as great as LSH, but has only augmented my excitement to be at BYU. My favorite NSO experiences have been the Convocation, the Tradition of Honor (such a fun performance by YA's and friends about the honor code), The "Education in Zion" exhibit and shirt, and of course all the free food that they have--my Dining plus balance is growing. I missed the devotional this morning because I slept in, but that has been the only real disappointment. Though the Y-serve fair and the information booths were a bit overwhelming when it came to free stuff. I came back to my dorm with more stuff than I wanted and NO COTTON CANDY!!! There was one booth that was giving away free cotton candy, but they ran out of paper sticks just as I reached the front of the line. Plenty of sugar to spin, but nothing to spin it on. By the time I got out a piece of useless paper and rolled it up, they had put the machine away.
Oh but I'm forgetting one thing. The real highlight of NSO has been the moments when I've broken from my Y-group and spent time with my LSH class. I completely proved myself wrong. I thought I wouldn't find my best friends at LSH and I definitely did.
Okay, I'm very tired and I need to be getting to sleep earlier, so I'll close.
Here's a video of a great guitarist I discovered thanks to one of my new friends. It makes me really emotional, especially the beginning:
Love,
Christian
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Windows of Eternity
Hey Readers,
This is my third journal entry for my environmental humanities class. I hope these aren't getting boring for you--I just don't have time at the moment to create new posts, but I want to keep you updated and I figure that publishing my work is a good way to do that. As a disclaimer, I'm aware that many of these sentences are far too long and that this whole piece is very self-indulgent.
Nature is full of profundity. Anyone even basically familiar with biology knows that the amazing intricacy and variety that we see in the plants and animals around us are just the decorative wrappings on a box full of wonder. Vital processes occur every second on scales much larger and much smaller than our mortal minds and especially our naked eyes could ever fully comprehend. Snatches of eternity are everywhere, though by seeking to snatch them, we often cause them to lose their meaning. Just as we can't force God to give us the very answer we want at the very instant we ask for it, we cannot coerce Nature into opening its windows to infinity. By luck, serendipity, or the grace of God (I'd put my faith in the last one), we are blessed every once in a while with an opportunity to gaze through those windows. Sometimes we are allowed to peer through for many minutes, but all too often we are only granted a fleeting glance.
It took me much longer than an introductory paragraph to identify just such an experience, but after sorting through my memories of panoramic mountain vistas, majestic and dizzying cliffs, and picturesque sylvan springs, I settled on a moment I enjoyed a couple of years ago while running. It was a bright twilight. The sun was setting or barely set, but the moon was well-risen. The sky hadn't a single cloud to catch the orange light of the setting sun and the full moon painted the sky a blue that was shockingly bright for that hour of the evening. The temperature could only be described as perfect and a brisk yet gentle breeze cooled my burning muscles. An almost electric energy coursed through the air and the trees and the road, giving spring to my stride and vigour to every breath. Perhaps my brain had released one too many endorphins, but as I ran under an opening in the canopy of roadside oaks, I looked up at the moon and was jolted by a flash of sudden clarity. Without any effort and without any warning, I was overcome with perspective. I saw the moon, not as a pretty painting that moves across the ceiling which I scientifically knew was really a cratered ball of sand and glass orbiting Earth thousands of miles away [side note--this sentence was really weird--I'm not going to change it right now--I tried to speak to the fact that while I know the moon is a real celestial body, it often looks visually two dimensional to me, and because that's how I see it and I'm such a visual person, that's how I conceptualize the moon emotionally--like a two dimensional painting], but as a heavenly orb--a three-dimensional body created by God with its own path and purpose. In gaining a sense of the distance and scale of the moon, I comprehended the size of the Earth beneath my feet and I could feel the joy of my soul and the light and power of Christ extending through and past the stars (though none were visible) and into the vast expanse of endless space. Immediately I understood my own nature and my own spacial insignificance. It was at once humbling and empowering to come to know myself as both an infinitesimal speck and a child of God with divine and infinite potential. I could see my path in front of me, and I don't mean that windy road in the upper hills of Flintridge. Though emotionally and spiritually staggered, I ran on, gazing to heaven-wards when I could and near tears.
Surprisingly, this moment has stayed vividly in my memory. I know I have had many other such experiences, but for a reason unknown to me, the details fade, leaving warm memories of deep emotion and a gap that I physically and spiritually needed to fill. It seems that once we are aware that the veil has thinned, it is too soon and too cruelly drawn back into place. I don' know why this one moment has remained with such tenacity, but I am grateful. It is present enough to save me from discouragement, but mysterious enough to lure me back to nature in hopes that the curtains will be drawn back and I'll find the windows open.
Here is a group I was thinking about today. They are called Amina and they are from Iceland (according to the Clives, who are fairly reliable with their music information) and I love their minimalism:
Love,
Christian
This is my third journal entry for my environmental humanities class. I hope these aren't getting boring for you--I just don't have time at the moment to create new posts, but I want to keep you updated and I figure that publishing my work is a good way to do that. As a disclaimer, I'm aware that many of these sentences are far too long and that this whole piece is very self-indulgent.
Nature is full of profundity. Anyone even basically familiar with biology knows that the amazing intricacy and variety that we see in the plants and animals around us are just the decorative wrappings on a box full of wonder. Vital processes occur every second on scales much larger and much smaller than our mortal minds and especially our naked eyes could ever fully comprehend. Snatches of eternity are everywhere, though by seeking to snatch them, we often cause them to lose their meaning. Just as we can't force God to give us the very answer we want at the very instant we ask for it, we cannot coerce Nature into opening its windows to infinity. By luck, serendipity, or the grace of God (I'd put my faith in the last one), we are blessed every once in a while with an opportunity to gaze through those windows. Sometimes we are allowed to peer through for many minutes, but all too often we are only granted a fleeting glance.
It took me much longer than an introductory paragraph to identify just such an experience, but after sorting through my memories of panoramic mountain vistas, majestic and dizzying cliffs, and picturesque sylvan springs, I settled on a moment I enjoyed a couple of years ago while running. It was a bright twilight. The sun was setting or barely set, but the moon was well-risen. The sky hadn't a single cloud to catch the orange light of the setting sun and the full moon painted the sky a blue that was shockingly bright for that hour of the evening. The temperature could only be described as perfect and a brisk yet gentle breeze cooled my burning muscles. An almost electric energy coursed through the air and the trees and the road, giving spring to my stride and vigour to every breath. Perhaps my brain had released one too many endorphins, but as I ran under an opening in the canopy of roadside oaks, I looked up at the moon and was jolted by a flash of sudden clarity. Without any effort and without any warning, I was overcome with perspective. I saw the moon, not as a pretty painting that moves across the ceiling which I scientifically knew was really a cratered ball of sand and glass orbiting Earth thousands of miles away [side note--this sentence was really weird--I'm not going to change it right now--I tried to speak to the fact that while I know the moon is a real celestial body, it often looks visually two dimensional to me, and because that's how I see it and I'm such a visual person, that's how I conceptualize the moon emotionally--like a two dimensional painting], but as a heavenly orb--a three-dimensional body created by God with its own path and purpose. In gaining a sense of the distance and scale of the moon, I comprehended the size of the Earth beneath my feet and I could feel the joy of my soul and the light and power of Christ extending through and past the stars (though none were visible) and into the vast expanse of endless space. Immediately I understood my own nature and my own spacial insignificance. It was at once humbling and empowering to come to know myself as both an infinitesimal speck and a child of God with divine and infinite potential. I could see my path in front of me, and I don't mean that windy road in the upper hills of Flintridge. Though emotionally and spiritually staggered, I ran on, gazing to heaven-wards when I could and near tears.
Surprisingly, this moment has stayed vividly in my memory. I know I have had many other such experiences, but for a reason unknown to me, the details fade, leaving warm memories of deep emotion and a gap that I physically and spiritually needed to fill. It seems that once we are aware that the veil has thinned, it is too soon and too cruelly drawn back into place. I don' know why this one moment has remained with such tenacity, but I am grateful. It is present enough to save me from discouragement, but mysterious enough to lure me back to nature in hopes that the curtains will be drawn back and I'll find the windows open.
Here is a group I was thinking about today. They are called Amina and they are from Iceland (according to the Clives, who are fairly reliable with their music information) and I love their minimalism:
Love,
Christian
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Finding a Sense of Place
Here is my second college writing assignment. It's the second entry in my nature journal, to follow the previous essay I posted. It is written in response to a piece we read by Wallace Stegner--"The Sense of Place"--excerpted from his book Where the Bluebird Sings to the Lemonade Springs: Living and Writing in the West. It was a great bit of writing to read.
In a political and intellectual setting where the seemingly vast majority of environmentalist or environmentally-concerned writers focus dramatically on the cruel human impact on the environment and charge us to minimize or even eliminate our presence in it, it is interesting and rather refreshing to read the ideas of a writer who believes that the only way to really appreciate our respective corners of the world--in this case the environment--is to cause some sort of an impact upon it. A gentle and loving impact, yes, but an impact nonetheless. Stegner's essay not only provided much desired refreshment (the bitter taste from my study of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring still lingers even after a year and a half) but resonated strongly, as well. There is a part of me that is hopelessly and idyllically romantic and longs for the small rural towns of Frost and Wilder or the heather and heath of Burns and Yeats. These places' contented coexistence with the surrounding land--the mutual belonging whose praises these poets sing--is much to be desired. There, the types of growth that were (perhaps it's overly-optimistic to use the present tense) chiefly sought were growth of character and growth of garden (the word "crop" is so much less poetic than "garden"). Concerns of social mobility and economic (over)growth were of lesser importance. Selflessness triumphed over selfishness there, in those beautiful places.
Living my entire life in Southern California, a region whose culture fully embraces and embodies the concept of constant movement and motion, I understand what rootlessness can mean. Even as I lived there, I often felt that, with my busy schedule and my focus on abstracts (like the future) rather than concretes, I, too, was displaced. The process of packing and moving here to Provo proved otherwise, that in the little town of La Ca(imagine and n with a tilde here)ada, nestled in the foothills, I had found a place for myself. The unearthing of childhood treasures and the knowledge that every walk through the neighborhood or drive through town brought me closer to my last opened the floodgates on a reservoir of memories, good and bad, that I had saved away. Books, chairs, and street signs all symbolized the thoughts, feelings, and adventures of my seventeen and a half years of living.
Does this transition to college life hundreds of miles from my childhood home leave me without a place to call my own? No, it leaves me with a place under construction, if you will. I am a very lucky freshman. I am the eighth child in my family to attend BYU. I saw BYU for the first time just a couple months before my first birthday. Multiple visits a year followed that first trip every year without fail. It was so much a part of my early existence that I can't even remember when I first gained an awareness of it. Nearly every corner of campus conjures up images of long afternoons with my siblings in the Bean Museum while my mother ran errands, or exciting visits to the Eyring Science Center where I played wit hthe air cannon and tried and failed to comprehend the magnetic pendulum that swings in one direction independently of the rotation of the Earth (I still don't get it). More recent and fresh are my experiences at BYU camps where I lived on campus for five days periods and learned what the university meant and strove for. I have met my best friends at these camps (or rather these yearly sessions of the same camp--the Young Ambassador workshop). I have witnessed the first performances of songs written about BYU. I have listened to campus legends fact and fiction. My friends will fill in for my family and the dorms will substitute for my house, but there is nothing substituted or temporary about the fact that BYU is home to me. SO while I have much more of BYU to see and experience in the approaching years, BYU and I already share that mutual belonging--that sense of place.
That's all that I wrote back on Friday night. I may add more later to focus more fully on my place in nature. Lots of the choices may seem strange, but if you can read that piece by Stegner, it will make much more sense.
Today, my friends and I were talking about public comedy stunts, like the European train station that played stage to a mass-choreographed number from The Sound of Music. Here is another similar number that was performed at Disneyland earlier this summer. Yes it is authentic. My friend Alyssa is the curly brunette who enters the screen from the left at three minutes and forty-three seconds, wearing a dark read half-sweater and cutoff knee-length denim shorts. Isn't it cute???
Love,
--Christian
In a political and intellectual setting where the seemingly vast majority of environmentalist or environmentally-concerned writers focus dramatically on the cruel human impact on the environment and charge us to minimize or even eliminate our presence in it, it is interesting and rather refreshing to read the ideas of a writer who believes that the only way to really appreciate our respective corners of the world--in this case the environment--is to cause some sort of an impact upon it. A gentle and loving impact, yes, but an impact nonetheless. Stegner's essay not only provided much desired refreshment (the bitter taste from my study of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring still lingers even after a year and a half) but resonated strongly, as well. There is a part of me that is hopelessly and idyllically romantic and longs for the small rural towns of Frost and Wilder or the heather and heath of Burns and Yeats. These places' contented coexistence with the surrounding land--the mutual belonging whose praises these poets sing--is much to be desired. There, the types of growth that were (perhaps it's overly-optimistic to use the present tense) chiefly sought were growth of character and growth of garden (the word "crop" is so much less poetic than "garden"). Concerns of social mobility and economic (over)growth were of lesser importance. Selflessness triumphed over selfishness there, in those beautiful places.
Living my entire life in Southern California, a region whose culture fully embraces and embodies the concept of constant movement and motion, I understand what rootlessness can mean. Even as I lived there, I often felt that, with my busy schedule and my focus on abstracts (like the future) rather than concretes, I, too, was displaced. The process of packing and moving here to Provo proved otherwise, that in the little town of La Ca(imagine and n with a tilde here)ada, nestled in the foothills, I had found a place for myself. The unearthing of childhood treasures and the knowledge that every walk through the neighborhood or drive through town brought me closer to my last opened the floodgates on a reservoir of memories, good and bad, that I had saved away. Books, chairs, and street signs all symbolized the thoughts, feelings, and adventures of my seventeen and a half years of living.
Does this transition to college life hundreds of miles from my childhood home leave me without a place to call my own? No, it leaves me with a place under construction, if you will. I am a very lucky freshman. I am the eighth child in my family to attend BYU. I saw BYU for the first time just a couple months before my first birthday. Multiple visits a year followed that first trip every year without fail. It was so much a part of my early existence that I can't even remember when I first gained an awareness of it. Nearly every corner of campus conjures up images of long afternoons with my siblings in the Bean Museum while my mother ran errands, or exciting visits to the Eyring Science Center where I played wit hthe air cannon and tried and failed to comprehend the magnetic pendulum that swings in one direction independently of the rotation of the Earth (I still don't get it). More recent and fresh are my experiences at BYU camps where I lived on campus for five days periods and learned what the university meant and strove for. I have met my best friends at these camps (or rather these yearly sessions of the same camp--the Young Ambassador workshop). I have witnessed the first performances of songs written about BYU. I have listened to campus legends fact and fiction. My friends will fill in for my family and the dorms will substitute for my house, but there is nothing substituted or temporary about the fact that BYU is home to me. SO while I have much more of BYU to see and experience in the approaching years, BYU and I already share that mutual belonging--that sense of place.
That's all that I wrote back on Friday night. I may add more later to focus more fully on my place in nature. Lots of the choices may seem strange, but if you can read that piece by Stegner, it will make much more sense.
Today, my friends and I were talking about public comedy stunts, like the European train station that played stage to a mass-choreographed number from The Sound of Music. Here is another similar number that was performed at Disneyland earlier this summer. Yes it is authentic. My friend Alyssa is the curly brunette who enters the screen from the left at three minutes and forty-three seconds, wearing a dark read half-sweater and cutoff knee-length denim shorts. Isn't it cute???
Love,
--Christian
The One Where Christian Moves into his Dorm!
Again, this is just a quick update because it is one thirty in the ante-meridian (ought that to be hyphenated, or one word, or two?) and I still have more to do before I sleep. Today was just wonderful. One particularly great part of it was the moving in of the dorm room. At about three something of the post meridian (wow, almost twelve hours ago), Mama and Daddy and Eva and I made many sprint up and down to and from the third floor of May Hall, Helaman Halls, to transport boxes and bags and miscellany from the truck to my room. One thing I can say is that I'm grateful my roommate isn't here until Wednesday. My stuff is taking a long time to organize and began by occupying all of my side and most of his side as well. I've reduced that space by quite a bit, but there is still much more organizing to do and it is nice to be able to do that with the room to myself. Unless Kyle wants my help, I think I'll clear out while he sets up camp so that he can be free to use my side as temporary storage until he can find the proper place for everything. Speaking of having the room to myself, I actually have the whole wing to myself. Except for the RA, no one has yet moved into my wing. So it's almost like living alone in a big mansion with many spare rooms and closets to explore. Okay not really.
Moving into the dorm made college feel much more permanent. I'm really here, I'm really living somewhere other than home, I'm really a college student! Thanks to the much shopping and packing that Mama and others greatly facilitated and aided, my room, even in its disarray, looks great. The blue color scheme is bright but not loud and adjusts to any mood and lighting quite nicely. The closets are beautifully and perhapsa bit crowdedly stocked with my clothes. My desk is a work in progress.
I'm excited to find place for everything, and I'm excited for my camera, printer, and a few forgotten items from home to arrive in the next week. More than that, I'm excited for my college life to really start when all of my new friends arrive.
Here is a dance I learned this evening. The video is campy, but the choreography is awesome. It's just so much fun to do, and I'm a little guiltily in love with the song:
Love,
--Christian
Moving into the dorm made college feel much more permanent. I'm really here, I'm really living somewhere other than home, I'm really a college student! Thanks to the much shopping and packing that Mama and others greatly facilitated and aided, my room, even in its disarray, looks great. The blue color scheme is bright but not loud and adjusts to any mood and lighting quite nicely. The closets are beautifully and perhapsa bit crowdedly stocked with my clothes. My desk is a work in progress.
I'm excited to find place for everything, and I'm excited for my camera, printer, and a few forgotten items from home to arrive in the next week. More than that, I'm excited for my college life to really start when all of my new friends arrive.
Here is a dance I learned this evening. The video is campy, but the choreography is awesome. It's just so much fun to do, and I'm a little guiltily in love with the song:
Love,
--Christian
Friday, August 21, 2009
T-minus Two Minutes
As you can see from the title, I have very little time to post. Class today was much more fun because we examined everything through the glasses of the gospel (not the Urim and Thummim). I felt much more articulate today which was reassuring.
I want to quickly discuss punctuation. Lots can be revealed if you closely examine the punctuation of the scriptures. Here's one insight that came to me last night. There's the phrase in Genesis and elsewhere that man is commanded to "be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the Earth." I've always been confused by the use of replenish in that setting, because replenish means to refill or replace and the Earth was not full of people when Adam and Eve were placed there. The problem lay in the vocal inflection that most Latter Day Saints take when they read that passage, which totally ignores the comma between "mutiply" and "and" which would indicate that the verbs "multiply" and "replenish" were part of the same clause and therefore grammatically and spiritually linked in one commandment. But there's a comma! The commandment to multiply is completely separate from the commandment to replenish the Earth! Elsewhere in the creation narrative, it specifically states that God filled the ocean and the dry land with plant and animal life. The commandment to replenish the Earth means that when you harvest or take something from the Earth, you must replace it and refill the gap you left. Therefore when you cut down a tree, plant a new one. When you eat a hen, take care of its chicks. I was very excited when I figured that out.
Okay well it's been eight minutes and I am now late for my tour of the HBLL (from which I am writing), not that I really need the tour.
Anyway, I'm out.
--Christian
P.S. Here is the postly video. Some of you may have seen it. It's brilliant comedy:
I want to quickly discuss punctuation. Lots can be revealed if you closely examine the punctuation of the scriptures. Here's one insight that came to me last night. There's the phrase in Genesis and elsewhere that man is commanded to "be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the Earth." I've always been confused by the use of replenish in that setting, because replenish means to refill or replace and the Earth was not full of people when Adam and Eve were placed there. The problem lay in the vocal inflection that most Latter Day Saints take when they read that passage, which totally ignores the comma between "mutiply" and "and" which would indicate that the verbs "multiply" and "replenish" were part of the same clause and therefore grammatically and spiritually linked in one commandment. But there's a comma! The commandment to multiply is completely separate from the commandment to replenish the Earth! Elsewhere in the creation narrative, it specifically states that God filled the ocean and the dry land with plant and animal life. The commandment to replenish the Earth means that when you harvest or take something from the Earth, you must replace it and refill the gap you left. Therefore when you cut down a tree, plant a new one. When you eat a hen, take care of its chicks. I was very excited when I figured that out.
Okay well it's been eight minutes and I am now late for my tour of the HBLL (from which I am writing), not that I really need the tour.
Anyway, I'm out.
--Christian
P.S. Here is the postly video. Some of you may have seen it. It's brilliant comedy:
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Day One: Pessimism Sets In
Don't let the title fool you. I'm still so excited for college, but my excitement for Late Summer Honors has waned quite a bit. WARNING: this post may contain a high amount of negativity. Proceed with caution.
I really don't belong at Late Summer Honors. At least that's how I feel at the moment. I shouldn't even be thinking of trying to graduate with honors. University honors is for students who dominated their high school. I didn't. University honors is for students who never struggled academically. I did. University honors is for students who are driven and career-oriented and really really really smart. I'm not.
I haven't really found any great friends yet, or even the potential for great friends. I'm not alone, because I talk to everyone I see but I am very lonely. I just don't fit in with this group.
I try to participate in the discussion but I can't articulate my thoughts. Even my thoughts are unintelligent. I have nothing to contribute. I feel like I'm in Mr. Mohney's class again, with ideas flowing in circles but ultimately going nowhere. The difference is that in Mr. Mohney's class I had some decent ammunition. Here I have nothing.
After sleeping (for three hours) on it, I'm now mortified by that piece I wrote. It's pretentious and shallow and stupid, it doesn't say anything conclusive, and it's generally repetitive. I would delete it, but that's dishonest blogging. I really miss YASE right about now.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll get over it and end up having a great time. I'm doing what I can to listen and learn and I know in the end I'll get what I make of it. And I'll make it great. I'm just off to a rough start. Please pray. I'm praying and I need your prayers, too. Much appreciated.
I've been singing songs from Legally Blonde: The Musical to cheer myself up.
The beginning of the song just about sums up how I feel right now, but hopefully by the end of the week I'll feel more like this:
The beginning of the song is chopped off, but you get the idea.
Guys, I just want to let you know that I'm being melodramatic. It's fun. I definitely felt and feel those feelings, but I know they'll go away and it will be great. I've already made the choice to have fun and on top of that I've decided to forget about the pressure of making good comments or coming up with truly original and intelligent ideas. That does NOT mean I won't do my work, don't worry. It just means I'm going to focus on the positive from here on out. But not quite like this:
I love you lots and I'll come back soon with much more optimistic updates!
--Christian
I really don't belong at Late Summer Honors. At least that's how I feel at the moment. I shouldn't even be thinking of trying to graduate with honors. University honors is for students who dominated their high school. I didn't. University honors is for students who never struggled academically. I did. University honors is for students who are driven and career-oriented and really really really smart. I'm not.
I haven't really found any great friends yet, or even the potential for great friends. I'm not alone, because I talk to everyone I see but I am very lonely. I just don't fit in with this group.
I try to participate in the discussion but I can't articulate my thoughts. Even my thoughts are unintelligent. I have nothing to contribute. I feel like I'm in Mr. Mohney's class again, with ideas flowing in circles but ultimately going nowhere. The difference is that in Mr. Mohney's class I had some decent ammunition. Here I have nothing.
After sleeping (for three hours) on it, I'm now mortified by that piece I wrote. It's pretentious and shallow and stupid, it doesn't say anything conclusive, and it's generally repetitive. I would delete it, but that's dishonest blogging. I really miss YASE right about now.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll get over it and end up having a great time. I'm doing what I can to listen and learn and I know in the end I'll get what I make of it. And I'll make it great. I'm just off to a rough start. Please pray. I'm praying and I need your prayers, too. Much appreciated.
I've been singing songs from Legally Blonde: The Musical to cheer myself up.
The beginning of the song just about sums up how I feel right now, but hopefully by the end of the week I'll feel more like this:
The beginning of the song is chopped off, but you get the idea.
Guys, I just want to let you know that I'm being melodramatic. It's fun. I definitely felt and feel those feelings, but I know they'll go away and it will be great. I've already made the choice to have fun and on top of that I've decided to forget about the pressure of making good comments or coming up with truly original and intelligent ideas. That does NOT mean I won't do my work, don't worry. It just means I'm going to focus on the positive from here on out. But not quite like this:
I love you lots and I'll come back soon with much more optimistic updates!
--Christian
Nature: A Definition
Hey Readers,
This is my very first college writing assignment. My Late Summer Honors professor asked each of us to write a paragraph or two (in my case about seven) about what nature means to us and to the community/world more generally. I had fun writing it, took some risks, and am fairly proud of it. It's a first draft and I started it after midnight, so it might be terrible in reality. In any case, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and I hope I enjoy future writing assignments as much as I did this one.
Here goes:
Etymologically speaking, the word "nature" means "the conditions of birth." Whether in reference to the quality of human character or the physical world we inhabit, "nature" speaks to things as they really are, or originally were, without alteration or modification. Considering that Earth transformed into a completely different world (at least on the surface) during the billions of years between its cosmic creation and the creation of the word "nature," and has continued to change in the hundreds of years between that word's inception and Thursday the twentieth of August, 2009, it's necessary to expand that definition.
Here I must confess to a bit of duplicity. I have two definitions of the word. The practical me defines "nature" as the people around me define it, which definition is complex and manifold in itself. The philosophical me--the opinionated me who lies to get up on a soapbox and preach--has a very different definition. The trick is that my two definitions interact and overlap in my usage of and thoughts on the words. I'll try to minimize the potential confusion.
The first definition fits into the typical conception of the word. Nature is where civilization is not. Nature is good by definition. Nature is simple. Nature is beautiful. Nature is where we can grow closer to ourselves, to each other, or to God (or to any combination of the three) without the distractions of real life (but I thought that nature was supposed to be reality in its purest--can you see the reasons for my split definition?).
The application of this definition is flexible. Nature could be the pristine back woods and alpine peaks of upper Canada. It could be the well-used, drive-in campsite an hour out of the city with several well-marked trails trails nicely paved with other hikers' litter leading out of it to final destinations featuring picnic tables and pit toilets. Or it could be the fenced off zoo enclosures inhabited by "wild" animals and plants indigenous to the animals' original homelands. My heart breaks for those whose only definition of "nature" is illustrated by that last example. The fact is, there is no real application for a definition that means a place where civilization is not. Even the slowly shrinking places where human shoe has never trod are still affected by civilization, however minutely. Insert here one of many examples of animals who have died of toxins released from factories hundreds or even thousands of miles away.
This leads me to my second definition. Nature is not some remote place to which we run or hike or RV when we need to escape from ourselves. Nature is everywhere. Nature is not an inherent good to counter civilization's inherent evil. "Nature" is a neutral word. It is exactly what we make of it. Nature is this big round place that Heavenly Father gave us to use and to keep. It has the potential to be, and usually is, breathtakingly wonderful. And by wonderful I mean words-cannot-express, please-help-me-pick-my-jaw-up-from-off-the-floor, this-is-so-beautiful-I-could-just-kiss-you wonderful. It also has the potential to be unspeakably and disgustingly filthy. But the fact is, nature is everywhere, including the urban heart of "civilization." After all, aren't termite mounds and beehives and birds' nests considered natural, too?
As much as environmentalists of the political extreme would have us believe that humanity is evil and that civilization is causing the death of the environment and of the planet as we know it and that all the animals and trees (which are people, too) would be better off if we exterminated ourselves, we are a part of this world. We belong to it and it belongs to us. Human extinction would cause just as profound, if not more detrimental an impact on the world's ecosystems as the extinction of any of the other endangered species protected by international law. The sad truth is that if any of those species went extinct, the consequences would likely be minimal. It is the most pervasive--and not the rarest--organisms that are the most influential and important. Whether they like it or not, we're here and we're going to stick around.
The application of this definition, and the conclusion of this essay, is a choice. If nature is everything around us, including ourselves, and is neither good nor bad per se, but exactly what we make it, then we must decide what we will make it. Every individual animal has at least a small effect on the world. And we are more than just animals. Each one of us should recognize the impact we individually and collectively have. If we as a race decide to make this Earth breathtakingly wonderful and fully accept responsibility for that decision, then we will each do our part to keep the world clean and free to grow and develop. If this were the case, we wouldn't have to worry about global warming or melting ice caps or holes in the ozone layer. If they happen, they happen and we can't do anything about it but enjoy the warmer weather and work on our tans. We often fail to give the planet the credit it deserves. After all, it is a living, breathing, changing organism with incredible survival mechanisms. As long as we are taking care of Earth, Earth will take care of itself and of us. All I can hope is that we will make that choice to fulfill Nature's potential for good. I hope we choose to hold onto our empty trail mix bags for a few more miles until we can properly throw them away. I hope we choose to pick up someone else's trash and throw it away with out own. I hope we choose to walk and run and ride when we can, so that when we can't, the inevitable exhaust isn't as detrimental as before. If we choose the opposite, I'll be terribly disappointed, but in the end we will only hurt ourselves from the physical effects of inhaling gaseous refuse with every breath we take and the spiritual effects of mistreating our Heavenly Father's creation. It's the meaning we create that matters.
Well there it is! I hope you liked it. By the way, the Sirius Sattelite Radio Broadway station played perfect going away songs for me today, including "So Long, Dearie!" Here's one song that Mama and I especially liked:
All right, it is now after three o' clock Ante-Meridian, and I need some sleep so I can be ready and roarin' for Late Summer Honors tomorrow.
Love Love Love,
Christian!
This is my very first college writing assignment. My Late Summer Honors professor asked each of us to write a paragraph or two (in my case about seven) about what nature means to us and to the community/world more generally. I had fun writing it, took some risks, and am fairly proud of it. It's a first draft and I started it after midnight, so it might be terrible in reality. In any case, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and I hope I enjoy future writing assignments as much as I did this one.
Here goes:
Etymologically speaking, the word "nature" means "the conditions of birth." Whether in reference to the quality of human character or the physical world we inhabit, "nature" speaks to things as they really are, or originally were, without alteration or modification. Considering that Earth transformed into a completely different world (at least on the surface) during the billions of years between its cosmic creation and the creation of the word "nature," and has continued to change in the hundreds of years between that word's inception and Thursday the twentieth of August, 2009, it's necessary to expand that definition.
Here I must confess to a bit of duplicity. I have two definitions of the word. The practical me defines "nature" as the people around me define it, which definition is complex and manifold in itself. The philosophical me--the opinionated me who lies to get up on a soapbox and preach--has a very different definition. The trick is that my two definitions interact and overlap in my usage of and thoughts on the words. I'll try to minimize the potential confusion.
The first definition fits into the typical conception of the word. Nature is where civilization is not. Nature is good by definition. Nature is simple. Nature is beautiful. Nature is where we can grow closer to ourselves, to each other, or to God (or to any combination of the three) without the distractions of real life (but I thought that nature was supposed to be reality in its purest--can you see the reasons for my split definition?).
The application of this definition is flexible. Nature could be the pristine back woods and alpine peaks of upper Canada. It could be the well-used, drive-in campsite an hour out of the city with several well-marked trails trails nicely paved with other hikers' litter leading out of it to final destinations featuring picnic tables and pit toilets. Or it could be the fenced off zoo enclosures inhabited by "wild" animals and plants indigenous to the animals' original homelands. My heart breaks for those whose only definition of "nature" is illustrated by that last example. The fact is, there is no real application for a definition that means a place where civilization is not. Even the slowly shrinking places where human shoe has never trod are still affected by civilization, however minutely. Insert here one of many examples of animals who have died of toxins released from factories hundreds or even thousands of miles away.
This leads me to my second definition. Nature is not some remote place to which we run or hike or RV when we need to escape from ourselves. Nature is everywhere. Nature is not an inherent good to counter civilization's inherent evil. "Nature" is a neutral word. It is exactly what we make of it. Nature is this big round place that Heavenly Father gave us to use and to keep. It has the potential to be, and usually is, breathtakingly wonderful. And by wonderful I mean words-cannot-express, please-help-me-pick-my-jaw-up-from-off-the-floor, this-is-so-beautiful-I-could-just-kiss-you wonderful. It also has the potential to be unspeakably and disgustingly filthy. But the fact is, nature is everywhere, including the urban heart of "civilization." After all, aren't termite mounds and beehives and birds' nests considered natural, too?
As much as environmentalists of the political extreme would have us believe that humanity is evil and that civilization is causing the death of the environment and of the planet as we know it and that all the animals and trees (which are people, too) would be better off if we exterminated ourselves, we are a part of this world. We belong to it and it belongs to us. Human extinction would cause just as profound, if not more detrimental an impact on the world's ecosystems as the extinction of any of the other endangered species protected by international law. The sad truth is that if any of those species went extinct, the consequences would likely be minimal. It is the most pervasive--and not the rarest--organisms that are the most influential and important. Whether they like it or not, we're here and we're going to stick around.
The application of this definition, and the conclusion of this essay, is a choice. If nature is everything around us, including ourselves, and is neither good nor bad per se, but exactly what we make it, then we must decide what we will make it. Every individual animal has at least a small effect on the world. And we are more than just animals. Each one of us should recognize the impact we individually and collectively have. If we as a race decide to make this Earth breathtakingly wonderful and fully accept responsibility for that decision, then we will each do our part to keep the world clean and free to grow and develop. If this were the case, we wouldn't have to worry about global warming or melting ice caps or holes in the ozone layer. If they happen, they happen and we can't do anything about it but enjoy the warmer weather and work on our tans. We often fail to give the planet the credit it deserves. After all, it is a living, breathing, changing organism with incredible survival mechanisms. As long as we are taking care of Earth, Earth will take care of itself and of us. All I can hope is that we will make that choice to fulfill Nature's potential for good. I hope we choose to hold onto our empty trail mix bags for a few more miles until we can properly throw them away. I hope we choose to pick up someone else's trash and throw it away with out own. I hope we choose to walk and run and ride when we can, so that when we can't, the inevitable exhaust isn't as detrimental as before. If we choose the opposite, I'll be terribly disappointed, but in the end we will only hurt ourselves from the physical effects of inhaling gaseous refuse with every breath we take and the spiritual effects of mistreating our Heavenly Father's creation. It's the meaning we create that matters.
Well there it is! I hope you liked it. By the way, the Sirius Sattelite Radio Broadway station played perfect going away songs for me today, including "So Long, Dearie!" Here's one song that Mama and I especially liked:
All right, it is now after three o' clock Ante-Meridian, and I need some sleep so I can be ready and roarin' for Late Summer Honors tomorrow.
Love Love Love,
Christian!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
So Long, Dearie!
Here I am on the eve of my departure from my hometown. I thought it would be fit to write a song. I even had Barbra Streisand film it for me. Here it is:
Okay so I didn't really write it, and it doesn't quite sum up my feelings for "the bubble," but it does represent my feelings for certain aspects of this town, and it's Barbra, so it's great. By the way I'm trying to avoid mentioning this town I live in by its actual name, because I can't stand to type it without the tilde and the last time I copied and pasted a tilde into the text of a post, Blogger freaked out and wouldn't allow me to publish the post.
So, you ask, how do I feel on this my last night at home before home becomes a place to visit, not a place to live? Well right now I'm pretty excited. I just spent the day at Six Flags, Magic Mountain, so it's difficult to be anything but. A quick note about Six Flags--Tatsu is an incredible ride. You really feel like you're flying. Deja Vu (there ought to be an accent, but I'm not going to risk losing everything I've written so far) has an awesome vertical drop. Goliath somehow manages to make me afraid for my life every time and still remains one of my favorite rides. And Superman (after years of making an annual, sometime semiannual, and occasionally biannual trip to Six Flags, I had never gone on the Superman ride) lived up to my expectations. Superman's pedestal as my favorite superhero is still his after that ride.
Back to the point. I'm tremendously happy to finally be leaving for college tomorrow! There is the little part of me that is afraid of forgetting something, or having brought too much, or that somehow something will go wrong, but I know it will be great. Even if I did forget something vital, I'll get it up there or make do without. I'll be just fine.
Anway, it's likely that with Late Summer Honors happening for the next week I'll be unable to blog much, but I'll be back online soon.
Wish me luck!
--Christian
Okay so I didn't really write it, and it doesn't quite sum up my feelings for "the bubble," but it does represent my feelings for certain aspects of this town, and it's Barbra, so it's great. By the way I'm trying to avoid mentioning this town I live in by its actual name, because I can't stand to type it without the tilde and the last time I copied and pasted a tilde into the text of a post, Blogger freaked out and wouldn't allow me to publish the post.
So, you ask, how do I feel on this my last night at home before home becomes a place to visit, not a place to live? Well right now I'm pretty excited. I just spent the day at Six Flags, Magic Mountain, so it's difficult to be anything but. A quick note about Six Flags--Tatsu is an incredible ride. You really feel like you're flying. Deja Vu (there ought to be an accent, but I'm not going to risk losing everything I've written so far) has an awesome vertical drop. Goliath somehow manages to make me afraid for my life every time and still remains one of my favorite rides. And Superman (after years of making an annual, sometime semiannual, and occasionally biannual trip to Six Flags, I had never gone on the Superman ride) lived up to my expectations. Superman's pedestal as my favorite superhero is still his after that ride.
Back to the point. I'm tremendously happy to finally be leaving for college tomorrow! There is the little part of me that is afraid of forgetting something, or having brought too much, or that somehow something will go wrong, but I know it will be great. Even if I did forget something vital, I'll get it up there or make do without. I'll be just fine.
Anway, it's likely that with Late Summer Honors happening for the next week I'll be unable to blog much, but I'll be back online soon.
Wish me luck!
--Christian
Paint your wagon and come along...
Ten points to anyone who can identify the movie from which the title comes. Hopefully I'll be giving out lots of points. Here are two hints: the movie title is in the post title and the post title is a lyric.
Well, I'm not leaving to stake out a new claim for gold-mining and all three cars are still sporting their original colors, but I do feel like my adventure is really starting! Today Mama (happy birthday!) and I did the majority of our shopping (the plans for a big shopping excursion on saturday coalesced into the small--but still productive--shopping excursion) and I spent much of this evening finding a place for each purchase in the plastic storage bins that soon will grace the space under the bed. Each time I crossed an item off the list I felt as if I was one rung closer to the giant bunk bed of college. Okay weird metaphor. The point is, it was rather exciting, and rather exhausting. Highlights of the trip include two periods of extended separation in IKEA and Target when Mama and I were off looking for different items. Mama's cell phone was out of batteries and I did not do a good job on either occasion of specifying when we would meet up again. So both of us ended up wandering around both stores (and those can be some tricky stores) laden with dorm furnishings, searching for each other. Also, the process of finding the proper bedding was quite the chase. We still haven't found the proper sheets, but we did manage to corner a quilt and sham set of the proper dimension and acceptable color. BYU dorms have extra long twin beds (39" x 80" as opposed to 39" x 75") and bedding of that size is difficult to come by. Mama and I were both so excited when we finally found a proper-sized quilt that we failed to remember that boys don't sleep in beds dripping with rainbow-patterned fabric for a couple minutes. Mama's described it as "too Joseph-and-the-Amazing-Technicolor-Dreamcoat" for my dorm room, but something tells me that not even Joseph would sleep under that quilt. It was very pretty, though, so maybe Eva can buy something similar when she goes up. After searching through a few more colors and patterns, we finally found a nice light blue and green bedspread that goes nicely with some of the other blue furnishings. Go Cougars! Now to find sheets...
Despite the bedding difficulties, the trip was very successful. Target was just a wonderful place today and I LOVE all my college stuff. Plenty of supplies to "set me up for success" as Mama says and lots of great furnishings and clothes as well. I've only a few more items yet to check off the list, and those will be easily taken care of over the next few days, whether we find them here or in Utah. "Excited," as an adjective, is fails to describe how I'm feeling right about now.
And there is one particular person who must be thanked for this feeling. That would be Mama. She has been so wonderful throughout this whole packing and shopping process, helping me and advising me when needing it, allowing me to get carried away just a little bit and then reeling me back down, and giving so much energy and time to help get me ready. And on her birthday of all days!
Off the subject of college adventures beginning and back to the title, I just watched that particular movie last night. It was very fun. Not very elegant in structure and form, but the songs are great, it's funny, and it's visually pleasing. And it doesn't paint prostitution in a very appealing light, so I guess that's a plus.
Here's a video from the film:
I love you bunches!
--Christian
Well, I'm not leaving to stake out a new claim for gold-mining and all three cars are still sporting their original colors, but I do feel like my adventure is really starting! Today Mama (happy birthday!) and I did the majority of our shopping (the plans for a big shopping excursion on saturday coalesced into the small--but still productive--shopping excursion) and I spent much of this evening finding a place for each purchase in the plastic storage bins that soon will grace the space under the bed. Each time I crossed an item off the list I felt as if I was one rung closer to the giant bunk bed of college. Okay weird metaphor. The point is, it was rather exciting, and rather exhausting. Highlights of the trip include two periods of extended separation in IKEA and Target when Mama and I were off looking for different items. Mama's cell phone was out of batteries and I did not do a good job on either occasion of specifying when we would meet up again. So both of us ended up wandering around both stores (and those can be some tricky stores) laden with dorm furnishings, searching for each other. Also, the process of finding the proper bedding was quite the chase. We still haven't found the proper sheets, but we did manage to corner a quilt and sham set of the proper dimension and acceptable color. BYU dorms have extra long twin beds (39" x 80" as opposed to 39" x 75") and bedding of that size is difficult to come by. Mama and I were both so excited when we finally found a proper-sized quilt that we failed to remember that boys don't sleep in beds dripping with rainbow-patterned fabric for a couple minutes. Mama's described it as "too Joseph-and-the-Amazing-Technicolor-Dreamcoat" for my dorm room, but something tells me that not even Joseph would sleep under that quilt. It was very pretty, though, so maybe Eva can buy something similar when she goes up. After searching through a few more colors and patterns, we finally found a nice light blue and green bedspread that goes nicely with some of the other blue furnishings. Go Cougars! Now to find sheets...
Despite the bedding difficulties, the trip was very successful. Target was just a wonderful place today and I LOVE all my college stuff. Plenty of supplies to "set me up for success" as Mama says and lots of great furnishings and clothes as well. I've only a few more items yet to check off the list, and those will be easily taken care of over the next few days, whether we find them here or in Utah. "Excited," as an adjective, is fails to describe how I'm feeling right about now.
And there is one particular person who must be thanked for this feeling. That would be Mama. She has been so wonderful throughout this whole packing and shopping process, helping me and advising me when needing it, allowing me to get carried away just a little bit and then reeling me back down, and giving so much energy and time to help get me ready. And on her birthday of all days!
Off the subject of college adventures beginning and back to the title, I just watched that particular movie last night. It was very fun. Not very elegant in structure and form, but the songs are great, it's funny, and it's visually pleasing. And it doesn't paint prostitution in a very appealing light, so I guess that's a plus.
Here's a video from the film:
I love you bunches!
--Christian
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Blank
Something big must have happened around here lately. Like, I don't know, two straight weeks of little kids. Or preparing to move a few hundred miles away. Or something like that. It had to have happened because I am drained. I should also mention that it's nearly two o' clock. Ante-meridian.
The point is I don't have anything interesting to write, but I'm writing for the sake of continuity.
I do have a good story about a camping trip and a night-hike, but that's for another--more energetic--time.
Shopping has been successful so far, but I'm still feeling a bit of a time crunch. It's coming up so fast!
My biggest worry is balance--bringing too much or too little. Thank heaven or prayer and external advice. And DI for providing a charitable place to dump my superfluity.
Wow. I'm tired. I love you guys!
--Christian
P.S. Here's a video--I LOVE this song so much and I've been listening to it multiple times daily for the last little while.
The point is I don't have anything interesting to write, but I'm writing for the sake of continuity.
I do have a good story about a camping trip and a night-hike, but that's for another--more energetic--time.
Shopping has been successful so far, but I'm still feeling a bit of a time crunch. It's coming up so fast!
My biggest worry is balance--bringing too much or too little. Thank heaven or prayer and external advice. And DI for providing a charitable place to dump my superfluity.
Wow. I'm tired. I love you guys!
--Christian
P.S. Here's a video--I LOVE this song so much and I've been listening to it multiple times daily for the last little while.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Packing
Today marked the beginning of the end of my life in LC. I started packing for College. I'm leaving exactly one week from today, and as much as me this morning would have said, "oh I can pack on Monday," the me this morning also remembered all the instances when I felt rushed packing for something important. And I've never packed for anything as important as college before, so the me this morning thought today would be a good day to start.
Well, I've already filled two trashbags full of clothes that I'm taking up to provo and another trashbag with donations for Deseret Industries. And all that's not even the end of the clothes (though it's most of them). Tomorrow I'm starting the process of college shopping. The me tonight doesn't think I need to buy very much. The me from tonight is hoping that the me tomorrow agrees.
I'm realizing three things:
One, even the basics of a comfortable life take up a lot of space. I've only worked on clothes so far, and I've already got quite a volume of cargo to haul up. We'll see how many more trashbags the rest of it all requires.
Two, I'm very grateful for our truck. Not that I didn't appreciate it before--it's so much fun to drive and you can't exactly strap kayaks on the roof of a Hyundai--but I'd hate to try to cram my stuff into the trunk and backseat of the white car. It would be possible but perhaps a bit claustrophobic.
Three, I'm ACTUALLY leaving for college. I've been waiting and excited for so long, but summer just flew by and it doesn't quite feel real that I'm LEAVING LC. There's lots that I'll miss and lots that I won't, but the fact is, I'm beginning a completely new chapter of my life, and that's a major transition.
Well, it's now twenty after eleven, and I'm trying to condition myself to a normal sleeping schedule so I must be off to bed. Wish me luck with the rest of the preparations!
--Christian
Here is a song from [title of show] that has a line about packing up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Os71u7VB2jc
And here's the Natalie Weiss version--I don't know which I like better:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3F_GDPhZ7b4
Blogger freaked out with the whole embedding thing this time around--I don't know what happened, but sorry for the clutter.
Well, I've already filled two trashbags full of clothes that I'm taking up to provo and another trashbag with donations for Deseret Industries. And all that's not even the end of the clothes (though it's most of them). Tomorrow I'm starting the process of college shopping. The me tonight doesn't think I need to buy very much. The me from tonight is hoping that the me tomorrow agrees.
I'm realizing three things:
One, even the basics of a comfortable life take up a lot of space. I've only worked on clothes so far, and I've already got quite a volume of cargo to haul up. We'll see how many more trashbags the rest of it all requires.
Two, I'm very grateful for our truck. Not that I didn't appreciate it before--it's so much fun to drive and you can't exactly strap kayaks on the roof of a Hyundai--but I'd hate to try to cram my stuff into the trunk and backseat of the white car. It would be possible but perhaps a bit claustrophobic.
Three, I'm ACTUALLY leaving for college. I've been waiting and excited for so long, but summer just flew by and it doesn't quite feel real that I'm LEAVING LC. There's lots that I'll miss and lots that I won't, but the fact is, I'm beginning a completely new chapter of my life, and that's a major transition.
Well, it's now twenty after eleven, and I'm trying to condition myself to a normal sleeping schedule so I must be off to bed. Wish me luck with the rest of the preparations!
--Christian
Here is a song from [title of show] that has a line about packing up:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Os71u7VB2jc
And here's the Natalie Weiss version--I don't know which I like better:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3F_GDPhZ7b4
Blogger freaked out with the whole embedding thing this time around--I don't know what happened, but sorry for the clutter.
Writing
There were a few years in my childhood when I had completely and unquestionably decided that I was going to be a very successful writer. And by writer I may have meant novelist. I can't quite remember. Everyone said I was a gifted writer and that I could be very successful in that field. I think they were incorrect. Vocabulary I had. Lots of it. But writing chops? I don't think so.
As you can tell, my etched-in-stone plans to take the literary world by storm have changed. While I love to communicate and to express and to talk and to explore words, the process of writing is not one that brings me great joy. Especially creative writing. Definitely not my strongest talent. Sure this blogging is enjoyable enough, but I mean writing-writing. Maybe this blogging is writing-writing (any thoughts from my English-major siblings?) but it doesn't seem that way to me.
Well, I've been side-tracked. Back to the point.
While writing-writing might not be my favorite hobby, there's a lot in store for me in college. I really want to do well. I want to succeed. I want to learn. I want to analyze. I want to effectively communicate my synthesis and analysis of the fruits of my learning. And that's going to take some good, polished, and confident writing. So my question is (yes this is an audience parti--I mean reader participation post), how does one become a good writer. The most common answer I've heard is just "write." Well I spent four years in high school doing a whole lot of that, and obviously it didn't work, else I'd be a good writer by now. The last time I really grew and improved as a writer was the two year period from eighth grade to ninth grade. I was blessed with two great teachers in a row--Ms. Baldwin and Mrs. Willshire--who really believed in me and encouraged me and taught me. I learned so much. But in the three academic years since, I believe I've only regressed.
Perhaps it has to do with poor teaching. Miss Horne was a fine teacher, but didn't focus much on writing. Mr. Mohney did not help me at all. Mrs. Willshire (roudn two) was a barrage of book after book after book after page after page after page after project after project after project with no time to really focus on becoming a good writer, though write write write we did did did.
Perhaps it comes as a result of my waning practice of pleasure reading.
Perhaps it's an almost inevitable result of the stealthy but pervasive emergence of the language of texting and instant messaging which threatens the health of proper english with every message sent.
Probably it's a combination of all three. But the specifics of my journey to the city of poor writing doesn't matter so much as how I can make the trek back the land of good writing.
So. Answer my question. How can I become a better writer. And not just a good writer, a great writer.
Thanks!
--Christian
P.S. On a completely different subject, I was shocked to find out that my sister Gabrielle, who grew up in the eighties, was unfamiliar with the classic song "Don't Stop Believin'." Maybe it's just the generational gap, but if you ask anyone my age for the quintessential song from the eighties, they'll choose "Don't Stop Believin'" without any hesitation. So here's a few videos of the song, first the original, and then two more recent rendition. Enjoy :-)
As you can tell, my etched-in-stone plans to take the literary world by storm have changed. While I love to communicate and to express and to talk and to explore words, the process of writing is not one that brings me great joy. Especially creative writing. Definitely not my strongest talent. Sure this blogging is enjoyable enough, but I mean writing-writing. Maybe this blogging is writing-writing (any thoughts from my English-major siblings?) but it doesn't seem that way to me.
Well, I've been side-tracked. Back to the point.
While writing-writing might not be my favorite hobby, there's a lot in store for me in college. I really want to do well. I want to succeed. I want to learn. I want to analyze. I want to effectively communicate my synthesis and analysis of the fruits of my learning. And that's going to take some good, polished, and confident writing. So my question is (yes this is an audience parti--I mean reader participation post), how does one become a good writer. The most common answer I've heard is just "write." Well I spent four years in high school doing a whole lot of that, and obviously it didn't work, else I'd be a good writer by now. The last time I really grew and improved as a writer was the two year period from eighth grade to ninth grade. I was blessed with two great teachers in a row--Ms. Baldwin and Mrs. Willshire--who really believed in me and encouraged me and taught me. I learned so much. But in the three academic years since, I believe I've only regressed.
Perhaps it has to do with poor teaching. Miss Horne was a fine teacher, but didn't focus much on writing. Mr. Mohney did not help me at all. Mrs. Willshire (roudn two) was a barrage of book after book after book after page after page after page after project after project after project with no time to really focus on becoming a good writer, though write write write we did did did.
Perhaps it comes as a result of my waning practice of pleasure reading.
Perhaps it's an almost inevitable result of the stealthy but pervasive emergence of the language of texting and instant messaging which threatens the health of proper english with every message sent.
Probably it's a combination of all three. But the specifics of my journey to the city of poor writing doesn't matter so much as how I can make the trek back the land of good writing.
So. Answer my question. How can I become a better writer. And not just a good writer, a great writer.
Thanks!
--Christian
P.S. On a completely different subject, I was shocked to find out that my sister Gabrielle, who grew up in the eighties, was unfamiliar with the classic song "Don't Stop Believin'." Maybe it's just the generational gap, but if you ask anyone my age for the quintessential song from the eighties, they'll choose "Don't Stop Believin'" without any hesitation. So here's a few videos of the song, first the original, and then two more recent rendition. Enjoy :-)
Monday, August 10, 2009
Coming Up For Air
Dear Readers,
I'm just coming up from a long plunge in the depths of blogger oblivion, and let me tell you, resurfacing feels good. I'm sorry for the absence, but I'm back, and I plan to stay. This is just a quick update, but I want to make a quick recommendation. In honor of blogging, and just to enjoy a good movie, go out and see Julie and Julia because it's really just wonderful. I saw it on Saturday night and it totally exceeded my expectations, which were favorable to begin with.
Thanks,
Christian
P.S. Here's the trailer:
Bon Apetit!
I'm just coming up from a long plunge in the depths of blogger oblivion, and let me tell you, resurfacing feels good. I'm sorry for the absence, but I'm back, and I plan to stay. This is just a quick update, but I want to make a quick recommendation. In honor of blogging, and just to enjoy a good movie, go out and see Julie and Julia because it's really just wonderful. I saw it on Saturday night and it totally exceeded my expectations, which were favorable to begin with.
Thanks,
Christian
P.S. Here's the trailer:
Bon Apetit!
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