-called mom to wish her a happy birthday

-found supreme delight in how much we compartmentalize things in our lives

-watched the first hour of Ran,  a Japanese version of King Lear

-did a load of laundry

-inner-tubed down the Provo River with Amanda

-shopped at the Roxy/Quicksilver outlet store with Amanda

-put gas in Amanda’s car with Amanda

-watched L’arnacoeur (The Heartbreaker), an adorable and funny French film on Netflix and ate Bajio’s with Amanda

-watched Super 8 at the dollar theater with Amanda

-had A LOT of fun with Amanda

It was great seeing Amanda. It had been a year since the last time.

Dangit, summer. Please stay.

Please.

Dear Freshman May,

It’s been a long time. I’ve been walking the BYU campus this past week, shopping for books, wandering the library, going to work. You’ve crossed my mind a lot.

It’s freshmen orientation time right now, and it has taken so much mental and physical effort not to burst into laughter every time I pass a group of wide-eyed 18-year-olds. Instead I suppress a mocking smile, and so I traverse campus looking smug. All those beautiful and nauseatingly eager freshmen, if they’re aware enough to notice me, might wonder who the short girl is with a seemingly permanent smirk on her face. That would be me.

What was it like, Freshman May? Did you ever act the way some of these kids do? Did you ask the same questions, play the same pranks, have the same goals?

You were smart enough to be admitted all those years ago. You should be proud of yourself.

You lived in Deseret Towers, U-Hall. Officially, Ballard Hall. Have you heard what they did to Deseret Towers? They demolished them a few years back and they’ve rebuilt – they’re rebuilding – them, except they’re not going to call them Deseret Towers. I wish I could tell you how and why I know that, but I can’t. But that’s the news.

You’re facebook friends with a lot of your freshmen friends, Freshman May. It’s so great that all of you are able to keep in touch.

I missed the freshmen deluge last year. I officially stepped onto the campus proper on the first day of class, and all the students milling around seemed perfectly normal.

Within the first few weeks of being Freshman May, you wrote an email to your high school friends. Remember Cougarnet, Freshman May? You told them that you had gotten engaged to a young man named Jordan Rivers. You said that you had made eye contact with him across the Marriott Center.

You never went ice blocking.

You hiked the Y at midnight. One time.

You took calculus in the Jesse Knight Humanities Building; you went to church in the law building. The planetarium section of the Eyring Science Center was under construction but you sneaked up there anyway with some new friends, and it was cool.

You passed the Smith Family Living Center all the time. You might not have been Freshman May when they began calling that building the SFLC, or “syphilis.”

The JKHB is now the JKB, and campus has a fancy, new humanities building, which I love and where I have most of my classes.

The ESC is also very sturdy and feels new, and it hardly resembles the place where you spent hours working on physics labs. Your FRESHMAN year. Physics 121 and 122, really? Freshman May, how did you even do that? What kind of energetic ridiculous idealist were you?

The SFLC. Does. Not. Exist. It’s as if whatever parts of your life that had anything to do with that building never happened.

So many more changes in curricula and technology and everything else, it seems.

Freshmen swarm this campus right now. Like some cheery scourge. They flood my computer labs and wander into alcoves I’d claimed for myself.

I’m excited for them though, just like I was excited for you. You had your whole life to figure out. You met people who’d be your friends for the rest of your life. You were righteous and eager, but you were also SO SO SO YOUNG, and you thought you knew everything, and I know you have stories about being taken down a few notches which is so important to growing up.

You’ve had quite the journey, Freshman May. I have nearly doubled your life, which seems so hard to believe. You’re there, I’m here. Can’t you feel the distance getting close?

Watching this year’s freshmen herds, moving about like worker ants, carrying books that seem to be twice their weight, getting lost and in my way and too scared to ask questions or too intent on their focused wandering, I’m just grateful you were a freshman only once.

That’s all anyone needs.

Class starts on Monday.

Thanks for … everything.

May

It used to be that we’d chat for a few minutes before class began, and that would earn me the privilege of staring at the back of his head for 50 minutes. Then after a week or two, our talking progressed to after class and walking to our next classes. It was cool. I was actually making a friend from a class, and sure, he’s a guy and I’m a girl, but we talked to each other about dates he’d been on or guys I despised, and he even said the perfectly right thing when I told him someone stood me up. Relative to each other, we seemed to be on pretty neutral ground.

Then for a couple weeks, it got a little weird. I’m a girl, and he’s a guy, after all. Maybe I clammed up, because I do that sometimes. And he started arriving to class just before the bell, then he’d run off before I had a chance to catch him. We’d normally talk about our weekends or interests or the kinds of friends we keep, usually after class. There’d be a little snarkiness but always some laughing. Then we’d split off to go to our respective classes, and I’d be feeling extremely dandy, thinking I was making a real connection with a human being I don’t live with or see at church.

Of course I stalked him. I found his phone number from the online student directory. Way too easy. I texted him once – just to make sure it was really his number – at least a month ago, and that probably was a little creepy, but he took it well. Also, if I really wanted to freak him out, I would have battered him with texts. Seeing him in class was enough for me. And, he’s only a friend.

He’s talked to me since the texting, but that doesn’t explain the avoidance, so maybe I was emitting some repulsive vibe, which, considering my disposition the last couple of weeks, is completely plausible. Seriously cranky. Seriously whiny. I definitely didn’t want to be near me, and I didn’t blame others if they felt the same way.

Outside of church, I spent most of Sunday writing a paper which happened to be for the class this guy is in. And it wasn’t like I was thinking only of him, because I was pretty focused on the paper, but it was probably the association that made me grab my phone and text him. I was tired of feeling like my relationships were crumbling, and this was a last ditch effort to salvage what I could. The worst that could happen would be awkwardness for the rest of the semester, which, if you’re me, is mostly how normalcy feels. The text said something like, “Hey, this is May from class. I’m a little sad we don’t talk as much anymore. I feel like I’ve been a poor friend. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, and I hope you’re having a good Sunday.”

No reply. And that was fine, because I was too busy pulling my hair out about the paper. I went to bed without giving the text a second thought. Out of my hands, anyway.

The next morning, he was late, just like a third of the class who were probably printing their papers to submit. I was relieved when he showed up; I wasn’t even nervous. And he seemed rather chipper. He commented more than usual, and I took brilliant notes of the class discussion.

Then the dismissal bell rang. I gathered my things, and he slung on his backpack. I’m not sure how it started, but we left the classroom and walked down the halls talking to each other about our weekends. He let me talk more, like he always does, and he laughed at my wise cracks. [Ignore this tangential and inappropriate question: Is it fitting that wise-asses have wise cracks? Is it bad manners to tell someone her wise crack is showing?] I tried sharing my umbrella with him, because Provo apparently needed a pre-winter washing. Then before he shot off to his class, we said goodbye to each other.

That’s a start.

For the rest of you, I have a whole lot of undoing to do. Please be patient.

Remember when I used to treat this blog like a journal? Remember how particular I used to be about calling it an online journal and NOT a blog? Remember how nearly effortless it was for friends to keep up with my life just by visiting this site? Remember how I sometimes practiced writing on here, or at least thinking by laying out a few ideas?

Times change, and in some ways, so do I. I would like to return to practicing writing, because goodness knows this semester suffers from something wrong with it.

So lately I haven’t shared a lot of details about what’s going on here at the BYU. Part of that is deliberate, part of it is my packed schedule, and all I have time for sometimes is a cute, French video or a photo or general whining. Part of it is letting my inner hermit win, and at times for me, that’s okay.

In case I haven’t told you:

I have a job. I really like it, and the folks there like me, too. It’s taken me two months to figure out how to balance my schedule and moderate my stress level whenever midterms come around and papers are due. I still don’t have it down pat.

French class is kicking my trash. I’m getting used to the format and all the time it demands, from homework to writing labs to speaking labs, to cultural activities to going every single day. But, all that is why I understand and appreciate that BYU probably has the best foreign language program in the Milky Way. And probably even the Andromeda.

Speaking of, has anyone seen the inadvertent meteor shower that Halley’s Comet caused?

Today was a fine day for me commenting in one of my classes. The professor asked for other thoughts about a short story we were discussing. I had been sitting on an idea for a few minutes already, and I was feeling bold, because instinct told me this insight was worthwhile, and so I raised my hand.  I made an initial statement, after which the professor said it was very smart and wanted me to expound upon it. When I did, he followed along when I cited a passage from the text, and then he said, “That’s very smart. I have nothing to add to that.” I smiled, but I wanted to laugh, which is an occasional reaction to compliments. But still, I felt … smart.

And yet, I still have to decide on a favorite class. I like all my classes for different reasons.

The leaves are turning quite nicely. Autumn in Utah has delighted me so far.

There’s family stuff. But there’s always family stuff.

Was it this time last year I was dealing with a Craigslist scam paralyzing my bank account for two weeks?

All things considered, I’m in a much better place.

This is the first 9/11 since 2003 I haven’t been in New York City.

Maybe from my apartment, I’d be hearing jackhammers and horns honking.

I’d flip on the television to listen to the memorial service, to hear names read.

While I do chores. And while tourists teem. And the city carries on being the city.

It’s definitely different.

Our football team is away and will be playing Air Force today.

It’s Saturday.

I’m doing homework.

Really, life does go on.

But, I’ll probably flip on the tv anyway.

I went on a little hike this evening with friends. It was a beautiful evening and a lot of fun. I don’t feel like writing much tonight – besides, I have another French midterm to study for – so I’ll just post a few more pictures. Don’t forget to hover over them for a little commentary.

(more…)

Yes, the photo is noisy, but that’s okay. Click the photo for a few more around Provo.

I’m exhausted, people. The semester’s over, and I’m glad. I’m also a little sad. I’ve had incredible instructors and some really great opportunities. But maybe I just need some time away from writing. At least at a computer. Typing and typing and typing and hoping I make sense, when all I really want to do is write for fun. Not that what I’ve turned in this semester wasn’t rewarding, because it was. And I love putting ideas together and having them make sense. And the feedback? Nothing like it.

Well, except for the papers I didn’t like writing. But I don’t care about those papers as much.

So, maybe I’m wrung a little dry.

It’s time for some recuperation.

I spent four hours outdoors after church yesterday. It was a phenomenal day. I felt a couple poems stirring in my head. Even an essay about this semester. The Moleskine hid, neglected in my backpack. But not really, as I’d written in it earlier, during church.

The maelstrom of emotions in my mind maddens into a muck, a mire from which to become unstuck.

The whole evening was fun, from getting ice cream to almost getting steamrolled in the parking lot from getting pizza to violent lagamorph card games to popcorn and an awesomely ridiculous movie. These girls are great. They also got to look through my Ward Directory! to see … people. Just people. What a great group of girls: really laid back, really smart, very different personalities. Instafriends, nonetheless. I’m glad they like me. I guess the friend who introduced us figured they would.

Thanks for coming over. Let’s do this again sometime, yeah?

But maybe a bonfire before then …

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