Rewriting the whole thing with the corrections will help me understand the grammar better. Posting it on a public blog will help me face my constant feelings of idiocy. I need the practice. The account below is a true story in my head; I may have taken artistic liberty with some of the details. I will say the professor likes my writing style, and that may have kept my grade from plonger.

Before you skip the rest of this entry, let me report: Day 1, no cookies; I only picked a little bit on my left thumbnail, and I already totally oopsed on the profanity. No one heard. Well, except You Know. I’m working on that.

Un Noël Blanc

J’avais treize ans. Quelques jours avant Noël, je suis allée à la fête d’anniversaire de mon amie, car son anniversaire était la veille de Noël. Il faisait plus froid que d’habitude ce soir-là, mais j’avais assez chaud chez mon amie. La fête était amusante, et je ne voulais pas aller dehors. Quand je rentrais, mes parents et moi avons parlé en voiture du temps froid; les arbres étaient nus mais du givre couvrait les branches. C’était une beauté bizarre. Nous avons arrêté de parler. Les phares coupaient le noir mais le silence a persisté jusqu’à ce que nous soyons arrivés ches nous. Ensuite, nous sommes allés au lit.

C’étaient les vacances de Noël, pourtant mon petit frère et moi nous réveillions tôt tous les jours. Le matin, nous regardions des dessins animés, et puis nous mangions le petit déjeuner. Quelquefois, nous faisions nos devoirs. Parce qu’il faisait trop froid cet hiver pour jouer dehors, nous sommes restés dans la maison. Parfois, nous jouions à des jeux d’enfants. Plusieurs cadeaux étaient sous le sapin, et nous essayions de deviner ce que c’était. Ensuite, ma mère nous disait de nous habiller et de faire nos tâches ménagères. Sans nous plaindre, nous obéissions.

Après  deux jours de plus, c’était la veille de Noël. Cette année-là nous avons mangé un grand repas la veille de Noël. Mon père a fait deux tartes: une aux citrouilles et l’autre aux pommes. De plus, il a rôti une dinde et a fait de la purée de pommes de terre et du maïs. Tout était divin. Notre famille avait une tradition d’ouvrir un cadeau et de lire l’histoire Noël de la Bible. Quelquefois nous chantions des cantiques, mais nous n’étions pas très bons chanteurs. Cette année-là, nous avons aussi conduit dans des beaux voisinages pour regarder les lumières et les décorations. En les regardant, des flocons blancs ont commencé à tomber du ciel. Ils ont gentiment flotté à terre, où ils ont disparu. Alors, mon père a conduit lentement pour notre sécurité, mais surtout pour que nous regardions la neige.

Chez nous, mon frère et moi n’avons pas dormi pendant plusieurs heures. Au lieu, nous avons fixé les toutes petites étoiles qui descendaient. Le clair de lune faisait luire les nuages. Nous avons regardé comme si c’était le meilleur film que nous n’ayons jamais vu. Finalement, nous sommes endormis.

Le jour suivant était Noël! Nous nous somme réveillés et avons ouvert les cadeaux qui restaient. Je suis certaine qu’ils étaient génials, mais il y a des choses plus importantes, comme le temps. C’était la Floride! Le temps était plus significatif que le bavardage habituel. Une couche blanche couvrait la terre et des petites stalactites de glace étaient suspendues aux arbres. Notre jardin avait l’air pur. Il neigeait toujours; les flocons étaient plus grands. Mon frère et moi avons mis un tas de vêtements et nous sommes allés dehors. Sans gants, nous avons fait un petit bonhomme de neige. Nous avons joué jusqu’à ce que nous ayons froid, environ trente minutes.

J’appelle Jacksonville « la région froide de la Floride » parce qu’elle est au nord, mais il n’y neige pas tous les jours, alors nous sommes allés dehors après nous être réchauffés, après nous avoir bu du chocolat chaud. Les garçons qui habitaient à coté sont aussi venus dehors (mais ils n’étaient pas mes premiers amours, au fait), et ils se sont battus contre nous (mon frère et moi) avec des boules de neige. Nous avons joué comme ça toute la journée. Nos cils ont blanchi et nos bouches faisait des petits nuages quand nous parlions. C’était mon premier Noël blanc. C’était un jour magique.

I have nothing new or original to add.

There were quite a few entries prior to this weekend, prior to finals where I mentioned Christmas. It’s been a while.

I didn’t even think about getting people Christmas gifts. Not on purpose.

Won’t my presence be enough. Won’t my company suffice.

I certainly wasn’t expecting anything.

It’s  nice taking classes at BYU; I’ve felt the Spirit more this semester through my professors and the texts than I have in a long time. Not even religion classes I took long ago offered the same experiences that I’ve had the past few months.

That’s because being 18-22 is so different than what I am now.

When my mom came home my first night back in Florida a few days ago, she said something snarky. Not to me, but to someone else, but it was about me. It hurt my feelings, so I snarked back. Hard.

I stayed angry for a little bit.

I’m so glad you’re  here.

Are you really, Mom?

I always feel like a stranger, because I don’t feel at home anywhere.

An appendage, an afterthought, a guest.

This is my fault, though, because I don’t feel like a daughter or much of a friend.

Poor me, right?

What kind of loser do you take me for?

I’m a great daughter and extraordinary friend.

Mom and I stayed up for the next couple of hours. She showed me some wedding photos and her wedding DVD; I showed  her some videos on YouTube, and we talked for a little bit.

She stood up to head off to bed. She hugged me.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Me, too, Mom.

So, what’s everyone else’s problem?

No problem, really; they’re off being awesome, too.

This is Christmas, right?

We know through Christ all things are possible. We know that all the Father has is ours, and we can enjoy it at this very moment.

Carpe diem is part of gaining eternity.

I’ll just sit here with my chocolate cake with peppermint frosting (for breakfast) and cheer you on.

I am happy for you.

I am happy.

No one bothered to tell me the original French version of  “O Holy Night” is so much better than the English.

I attended a Christmas in France presentation a couple weeks ago on campus, and a tenor from the Tabernacle Choir sang “Minuit, chrétiens.” The lyrics were projected onto a giant screen in the assembly hall of the Hinckley Center, and we read along as he sang.  Mindblowing. Awe-inspiring. I don’t know if this is technically a hymn, and I generally don’t applaud after hymns or sacred things, so I just sat there, because that’s all I could do, proving it is possible to be simultaneously stupefied and moved. The poetry is purely exquisite.


Enrico Caruso – O Holy Night (1916 in original …
, posted with vodpod

Minuit, chrétiens, c’est l’heure solennelle,
Où l’Homme-Dieu descendit jusqu’à nous
Pour effacer la tache originelle
Et de Son Père arrêter le courroux.
Le monde entier tressaille d’espérance
En cette nuit qui lui donne un Sauveur.
Peuple à genoux, attends ta délivrance.
Noël, Noël, voici le Rédempteur,
Noël, Noël, voici le Rédempteur !
De notre foi que la lumière ardente
Nous guide tous au berceau de l’Enfant,
Comme autrefois une étoile brillante
Y conduisit les chefs de l’Orient.
Le Roi des rois naît dans une humble crèche :
Puissants du jour, fiers de votre grandeur,
A votre orgueil, c’est de là que Dieu prêche.
Courbez vos fronts devant le Rédempteur.
Courbez vos fronts devant le Rédempteur.
Le Rédempteur a brisé toute entrave :
La terre est libre, et le ciel est ouvert.
Il voit un frère où n’était qu’un esclave,
L’amour unit ceux qu’enchaînait le fer.
Qui lui dira notre reconnaissance,
C’est pour nous tous qu’il naît, qu’il souffre et meurt.
Peuple debout ! Chante ta délivrance,
Noël, Noël, chantons le Rédempteur,
Noël, Noël, chantons le Rédempteur !

I couldn’t find a version on YouTube that featured all three verses, but if Enrico Caruso only sang two back (the first and last verses) in 1916, that’s okay. Maybe there wasn’t room on the record. Plus, the full version is about nine-minutes.  I’ll include it here as well, in case you have the time. A choral group performs this one. I very much prefer a solo tenor with orchestra.

It’s December, and I’m trying to get a grasp on the papers due and the finals to take. The next twelve days are going to be crazy, and right now I value my sanity more than good grades. I can accept that I didn’t work as hard this semester, and I know my grades are going to reflect that.

Perspective is in order, because it’s not really finals time: it’s December. Snow frosts the mountains, an appropriate chill clings to the air. It gets dark early, but I still thrive on the same amount of light that I do during the rest of the year. The adjustment becomes more difficult as I get older. It’s not fun.

December makes me miss my friends. I miss how we used to just … be.  Being out here supposedly was a choice for ultimate happiness but between the high points, pure misery stood on my throat. That’s just life, though. We find ways to deal. For now, it’s cranking out papers and cramming history and literature and French into the leftover and obscure folds of my brain. But after finals, it’ll be five days in New York City and a week in Florida. It’s called May’s Semester Incentive Program.

If you’re part of the BYU community that receives the Alumni online newsletter (current students receive it, as well as alumni), you’ve probably seen this video. If you want to skip the quoting of scriptures and commentary, slide over to about 1:55, where you can enjoy the music and photography.

Happy December.

Consider your Christmas shopping when watching the (fake) commercial below. (Thanks, Brian, via Alyssa Milano via Brainpicker.)

Or maybe just order one of these for yourself or a literate loved one:

Jane Austen
Edgar Allan Poe
Charles Dickens
Oscar Wilde
William Shakespeare

 

I’m supposed to be working on a talk for Sunday. I’m also supposed to be writing a toast for a friend’s wedding reception. But I just keep thinking about the past couple of days I spent with friends and family. Then I consider the past ten weeks I’ve been able to spend with these loved ones. I play a scene over and over in my head that hasn’t even happened yet, but will happen early Monday morning. It involves my mom and brother and the airport and, inevitably, tears. Gentle sobs catch in my throat now as I think of it.

Change is constant. Christ is constant, because he has endured all change, for all mankind. His birth and life and resurrection carved an example, forged a path for us to follow. A steady, strong, strenthening path. A clear, comforting, consistent path. It instills hope and fosters peace; it carries love. This love is unfailing; it inspires and uplifts and extends beyond mortal might. I’ve felt it especially here in Florida and from miles away. We are children of God. Stretched out still, Christ’s arm reaches down from the firmament and relieves my soul, teaching me all that I must do, so that I can grow from the change that awaits me, so I can continue to be grateful for friends and family who so ably and amply … love.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

not enough sleep
too much food
lots of laughter
not sufficient time

teasing
talking
television
treats

presents
presence
pie
prayer

mother
brother
other
celebration

if these are the cause
the aspirin can wait

It’s likely the animal shelter would be open tomorrow, but I wanted to be able to give Chicken and Pig as much of a chance for a loving home as possible by giving them as much time to be adored at the shelter by loving families. I held on to them as long as I could without compromising that window.

It would be cool for some kids to come out to their living room to find two very sweet bunnies waiting for them Christmas morning. That’s what I’m praying for.

I dropped them off today.

Pictures, video from the past couple of days. Nearly six years of memories tucked away in my mind. My heart. I’ll try to share.

I’ll stop for now. I’ve cried enough today.

I took this at a gift shop in St. Augustine this evening. My highly-esteemed librarian friend was also my personal tour guide through the historic district. It was pretty awesome.

Would you consider a bath with the devil rubber duckies?

more about “I’m Yours(ukulele)“, posted with vodpod
I’m adding to the craze. Well, the boy is quite cute. Unless you know the song you’d have no idea what he’s singing. Or, maybe he’s actually making up his own words, which is cool, too.  It’s so fabulous and awesome his hoodie says Commercialism, and that he’s singing unassumingly and in no way exploitatively on YouTube.
Brilliant.

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