Imagine that you are sitting in a very nice air-conditioned room and there is a distinct feeling whenever you walk in the room. You don't feel the humidity that is outside of the window, but you know it's there without even touching it. You can hear familiar words and phrases, but yet there is a distance to them now. You can hear yourself speak, but are they really your own words falling out of your mouth and into the minds of others?
Well, everyone, I'm in Thailand now and today, November 3 of 2014, was my second day teaching in Thailand. And it was also my second day teaching overall. Yeah, not having teaching experience is a world in of itself. But yet, even if I had teaching experience, I'd have to approach things so differently where I wouldn't have to otherwise.
So, what about this question? The one in your title? You're probably thinking. Well, it's the same question I get from people before I left.
And it's the same question I received today from a student:
"Why you teach in Thailand?"
Well, imaginary audience, that's a tough nut to crack. Or in this case, it's a hard to have a clear answer. Maybe I'm here in Nakhon Pathom, Thailand because I love Thai food.
And believe me, I LOVE Thai food.
Or maybe it's the language.
It must be the language, says me from the past. The part of me who went to France for a year mainly because I wanted to do just that: learn the language.
But actually, no. Not quite.
It's more in depth than that. It's so deep, I don't even know why about 50% of the time.
So I told my student a simple answer: change. Something different.
I'm definitely living up to that expectation right now. It's so different here. Like that humidity. You see, in Utah, I'm used to the hot. But I'm not used to the 40% and above humidity like it is here. It was pouring rain today, but all you can feel is sticky and not really refreshed like you can after a long Utah rain.
So yes.... let's put "change" on the list of potential answers.
But here's the real answer:
"I want to figure out what I'm going to do with my life. I want to know what I want to do in grad school (yes, I want to go to grad school... I WANT TO GO TO GRAD SCHOOL)... I want to know what my options are. I want to experience EFL and see if that's what I might want to do in life. I love languages after-all, but maybe I want to teach English?
Maybe I just want to know how to teach.
*rings bell*
Oh, I'm right! Yes, I do want to know how to teach, but I also figured back in the day of childhood that I wouldn't want to be a teacher. As a little kid, you get asked what you want to be when you grow up. Well, for the past 15 years, I've done exactly what I want to be: a writer.
"Oh, but you can't get a decent job as a writer now. What EXACTLY are you going to do to get yourself a salary?"
Well people that ask us English majors that question every time you figure out what we are and did major in during college, the main thing is just to try new things. I have said since I young age that I didn't want to be a teacher. Kids can be a nightmare, kids can be a dream. I look at my Dad and he's a great influence because he is a teacher (at university level) and he is phenomenal at what he does. My brother did student teaching with his BA in Music and that went well for him. Super well actually. So... short answer to why I teach English?
TO TRY IT.
Simple. But it's still complicated because the little bug in my ear is saying "GRAD SCHOOL! GRAD SCHOOL!!!!" as I'm doing this. I know, I know, I've only been in Thailand for like... 1.5 weeks, but hey, I'm here to try this teaching thing out.
For a year.
Oh my goodness. What better way to learn if you like something or not... and you give yourself a YEAR to figure it out. Just based on today alone, I see how difficult it is not only to be a Teacher of EFL... but a student, too. Personally, I wish 2/3 of my schedule didn't go by a book that is beyond their level and they are only saying things and might not even know why they're saying it, or even what they're saying.
So I might finish this year and say "Yes, I want to continue EFL" or maybe I'll say "Okay, teaching... I've tried it. Not my thing."
Maybe I'll be okay being a teacher... just.. not for EFL. Another potential possibility.
English is hard enough.
Thai accents are hard to understand.
But this is me "finding myself" after college graduation.
...Does that understand your question, Real-Student-of-Mine?
Student: Yes, Teacher! Thank you, Teacher!
Me: All right. Class, we are done for the day.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Friday, August 22, 2014
Rant 1: People Being Not-So-Grateful
On this episode of "What Really Grinds My Gears" we will go into a certain topic that drives me absolutely crazy.
PEOPLE THAT AREN'T GRATEFUL!
Okay, so I love this bit from "Corpse Bride" and it reflects how I semi-introduced this rant/vent that I will be doing.
No, this isn't about the Dead walking among the Living. I'm pretty sure I'd be taking a selfie with Emily and Victor if that actually happened.
Anyways. To the rant!
----
So a few days ago, I was on Facebook like I usually am checking things before I go to bed. I had posted a Facebook status about how strange it is that I won't be going to school this year or semester. See, being graduated and everything is really a great accomplishment. But it's also the strangest thing in the entire world because it's the whole "now what?" question and sometimes, you have no idea. Well, on this Facebook status of mine, somebody I know commented asking that very question. This rant is about me hating how much people ask you "What do you do with an English major?" or "Are you going to graduate school now?" or anything. No. But this is why I like this friend of mine, Francoise. You see, if you don't remember, I was an exchange student to France five years ago... 3 days from today. She is a Rotarian and lives in a town pretty close to where I spent my year abroad and she was my friend's counselor. I have known Francoise and have kept in contact with her, along with my Rotary Club in France, ever since I came home 4 years ago.
So this is where the rant comes in, but first let's quote my Facebook status here with a small screenshot:
English Translation: That's good. We rarely have news from Rotex and it's too bad.So you might be asking yourself what "Rotex" is. Simple: after exchange students complete their year abroad and come home, they are known as Rotex. I am a Rotex myself. Usually, Rotex helps with the "Inbounds" (the students IN the country; you are an OUTbound by being out of the country of origin) and you help them transition in the Rotary district. So for me, I am now Rotex for Utah District 5420. I help with interviews, talk with our other members, talk to the would-be exchange students, and just basically have the first hand experience to tell the parents and their kids what they're signing up for by wanting to do an exchange. My experiences in France could fill up a novel, and to say the least, I had a few parents ask if they could hug me after telling them only a few of these experiences a couple of years ago. So in a nutshell, that's also what Rotex does: we tell people what to expect. It's not all rainbows, sunshine and puppies... but it can be. But you can see the importance that we, as Rotex, have to the Rotary District.
Now comes the rant:
Look back at that translation. Think about what I just wrote. Doesn't something seem off? If you can't figure out exactly what, here you go:
Some Rotex in my French district rarely send the Rotarians and the District emails (nouvelles = news) or any other contact after they are done with exchange.
RARELY?!
Okay, so I wasn't exactly the happiest camper in France. I had a lot of struggles and had to continuously prove myself to the French Rotary that showed them I wanted to be there and that I didn't want to go home and many other things. Yes, this was 5 years ago, and at age 16 and 17, it's difficult to be your independent self in a foreign country when you are living with three other families in 11 months and you don't know how people perceive you. Yes, it will always be difficult on exchange. But to these Rotex that don't even send a "thank you!" or anything, if ever, after they've come home??????!!
Another definition for you: Rotex can also mean the previous exchange students that were hosted through a district or club in the host country. So yes, I'm a Rotex for Utah, but I'm technically a Rotex for France as well.
Now, when I send an email (I send about 3-5 per year depending on my "nouvelles" and other personal life things... like graduating) I send it to about 10 or 12 people. This includes my counselor, each host family member, people who hosted me at their home, Rotarians in the District, and also a few friends of mine that have gotten rid of their Facebook. Fun fact: Francoise actually came to visit me while I was in school a couple of years ago and she was the first person I had seen since my exchange in real life. I love that. My emails are generally long and are about 4-5 paragraphs. Some are shorter than others, but they basically say what I've been up to since the previous email. In return, I get some French corrections and always the same "Thank you!" for emailing them and that if I were to ever visit, then don't hesitate to contact whoever.
And that is why this stumps me for these "Rare Rotex" types. If given the opportunity as a former exchange student and you want to go back to the country you stayed in, you probably would need a place to stay for a few days. Maybe even a week. By not keeping in contact, there might be some level of surprise when you show up. Maybe there are people that are kind of angry you didn't keep in contact, or others that are actually okay with it.
Honestly, I know a few people that would fall into each category here and then I'd get a guilt-trip for not keeping in contact and that they will be like "fine, you can stay here" when you are unable to find a hotel or something for cheap.
Now, to give some perspective here, I should mention that before I left for France, my family and I hosted a Belgian exchange student, Armandine. She lived with us for the winter months before switching back to her first host family. After she left, I didn't talk to her very much, but she actually just came to visit Logan a couple of weeks ago and the first thing she did was email my parents. We had a lovely dinner with her one night and that was fantastic. It reminded me yet again how much I want to go back to France even with all the stuff I dealt with while there. And that is because of one reason:
1. The people.
We all have our favorites and not-so-favorites when it comes to people. For example, I loved my second family. Correction. I LOVE my second family. And then I met some people that I just didn't want to talk to because of how they made me feel. But you know, you stick it out. I had to. I had to stick out for myself for 7 months, constantly checking everything I did, watching what I was saying, etc, just so I wasn't sent home early. That "threat" was scary, but some of the people made me realize time and time again it wasn't what I wanted. I always had bad days and then when I had good days, they were fantastic.
Let's go to the last part of the translation now, shall we?
Dommage = too bad
Too bad.
Personally, the thing I would hate the most is thinking how much I'd love to go back to France one day and then I think to myself: "It's too bad that I didn't contact as much as I should have."
It's a circle if it turns out that way. Yes, it's too bad that I don't talk to my friends as much as I would like to, but with us being so busy and a minimum of an 8 hour time difference, what can you do? I still write to them, but it's "too bad" that it isn't so simple to keep that contact. Whereas with Rotary, I constantly e-mail. I even email people there that I never get responses from because I don't want it to seem like I'm better than they are. No, I email them too because if they ever respond (and some have!) then it's a great joy to see their response when they have time to email back.
If there is any moral to this story, it should be something like this:
A "Thank you" can go a long way. I've already been told (because I email so much. . . haha) that if I ever go back to France, I have people I can visit and a place or two to stay at. I do want to go back to France. But it just isn't possible right now.
And seeing that it's 3 days from today when I first left for France, I will end with this note:
VIVE LA FRANCE
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Let's Muse About: Realism and... Spoilers!
Without realism, where would we be in the world? More specifically, what would our literary canon be like if realism wasn't around? Or anything for that matter... song lyrics, literature, films...
Well, hello world. It's been a week or so and I am currently watching Anna Karenina downstairs while taking a break from my TEFL course on Canvas. So, for starters, I should probably mention that I consider myself a realist writer. What's realism you may ask? Simple:
Realism: the quality or fact of representing a person, thing, or situation accurately or in a way that is true to life.
When I say I'm a realist writer, I basically write based on the "true to life" aspect. Obviously, there are times when my writing is questioned *cough cough* like my thesis *cough* for being realistic, but as long as I know it's true, a question that might be ask is why realism actually matters. Well, for starters, it's the opposite of Romanticism (aka, happy endings). Remember how I said I'm watching Anna Karenina? Yeah, the original story itself is written by Russian author Leo Tolstoy. The novel is set in Imperial Russia and is basically what you can expect as soon as you learn about the main character, female mind you, meeting another man and that she is also married to someone. What happens?
ADULTERY
Of course adultery happens. And I'm even typing this as the act happens. Anyways.
When it comes to realism, it isn't always comforting to see how real life happens with how things end. In simpler terms, realism isn't a cheerful thing to talk about mainly because realism thrives to tell people the unhappy-real-life stuff that actually happens. Anna is a work of fiction, but there are things about her story that Tolstoy uses to portray real life. But there are also ways that Tolstoy shows realism in different ways that may not actually be considered realism.
**SPOILERS**
So, like any realistic story that is set back in the day, usually the main character has a downfall of some kind. For this story, the downfall happens to Anna (by admitting her affair and society basically hates her for it) and... well, suicide. Yeah, that's the realism part for you. But seeing the literary canon and realism, suicide is quite a common choice to make when life seems to be getting too hard for the character. But it also makes it easier when the story is written in third person. I'm now beginning to think of Stephen Crane's Maggie, A Girl of the Streets and the somewhat controversy of that ending. If you haven't read the story, it's not a bad one. But the Irish written-out accents and dialects get annoying after awhile, so luckily it isn't too long to get through. Basically, Maggie (the narrator's sister) is eventually a prostitute in the story and the ending is really ambiguous whether there is a suicide or a murder going on. I told you there were spoilers, but how can this be a spoiler if nobody actually knows what really happens to Maggie other than Crane? So many interpretations, so little time.
Realism really is an interesting thing to talk about whether it's reading it, interpreting it, or writing it.
Part of me was going to talk about the film Titanic here, but all of you should know how unrealistic that movie is with the exception of Titanic being a real historical event. The only realism stuff in that movie is the historical aspect. Sorry Jack, you still have to drown in the end. But hey, at least that part's realistic. But the whole sex in the ship cargo and the chance meeting of a 1st class rich girl and a dirt-poor 3rd class passenger meeting and falling in love?
Not gonna happen.
Well, hello world. It's been a week or so and I am currently watching Anna Karenina downstairs while taking a break from my TEFL course on Canvas. So, for starters, I should probably mention that I consider myself a realist writer. What's realism you may ask? Simple:
Realism: the quality or fact of representing a person, thing, or situation accurately or in a way that is true to life.
When I say I'm a realist writer, I basically write based on the "true to life" aspect. Obviously, there are times when my writing is questioned *cough cough* like my thesis *cough* for being realistic, but as long as I know it's true, a question that might be ask is why realism actually matters. Well, for starters, it's the opposite of Romanticism (aka, happy endings). Remember how I said I'm watching Anna Karenina? Yeah, the original story itself is written by Russian author Leo Tolstoy. The novel is set in Imperial Russia and is basically what you can expect as soon as you learn about the main character, female mind you, meeting another man and that she is also married to someone. What happens?
ADULTERY
Of course adultery happens. And I'm even typing this as the act happens. Anyways.
When it comes to realism, it isn't always comforting to see how real life happens with how things end. In simpler terms, realism isn't a cheerful thing to talk about mainly because realism thrives to tell people the unhappy-real-life stuff that actually happens. Anna is a work of fiction, but there are things about her story that Tolstoy uses to portray real life. But there are also ways that Tolstoy shows realism in different ways that may not actually be considered realism.
**SPOILERS**
So, like any realistic story that is set back in the day, usually the main character has a downfall of some kind. For this story, the downfall happens to Anna (by admitting her affair and society basically hates her for it) and... well, suicide. Yeah, that's the realism part for you. But seeing the literary canon and realism, suicide is quite a common choice to make when life seems to be getting too hard for the character. But it also makes it easier when the story is written in third person. I'm now beginning to think of Stephen Crane's Maggie, A Girl of the Streets and the somewhat controversy of that ending. If you haven't read the story, it's not a bad one. But the Irish written-out accents and dialects get annoying after awhile, so luckily it isn't too long to get through. Basically, Maggie (the narrator's sister) is eventually a prostitute in the story and the ending is really ambiguous whether there is a suicide or a murder going on. I told you there were spoilers, but how can this be a spoiler if nobody actually knows what really happens to Maggie other than Crane? So many interpretations, so little time.
Realism really is an interesting thing to talk about whether it's reading it, interpreting it, or writing it.
Part of me was going to talk about the film Titanic here, but all of you should know how unrealistic that movie is with the exception of Titanic being a real historical event. The only realism stuff in that movie is the historical aspect. Sorry Jack, you still have to drown in the end. But hey, at least that part's realistic. But the whole sex in the ship cargo and the chance meeting of a 1st class rich girl and a dirt-poor 3rd class passenger meeting and falling in love?
Not gonna happen.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Let's Muse About: A Night At The... Musical?
As I write this, I am currently sitting in an orchestra pit behind the orchestra, near a door, and in seeing range of my Dad with his trombone and the entire percussion set used. What show am I watching? Les Misérables. Here I am at a show of Les Mis, but I'm not actually watching it, thus why it's justified I'm on my computer. How can I watch a musical or an opera if I'm in the orchestra pit? Exactly. You can't. The actors are above my head and the orchestra is right in front of me.
And here comes Valjean singing "Bring Him Home." Oh, that note didn't quite make it... cut off a little short, but of course the audience still appears to be mesmerized by this amazing vibrato! Bonus points from the judges there, but there's the french horn ruining that note... way to go, brass! Minus one for the orchestra.
No, I'm not going to write a musical review in the sense of how baseball or the Olympics is on TV with announcers. But wouldn't it be entertaining?
So, on today's post, I actually had gotten to thinking about motifs lately. Mainly because here I am at Les Mis and this is the first "musical" that I have seen since "The Light in the Piazza" when I was at school earlier this year. And I put musical here in quotes because of one reason: there's no dialogue breaks in this production. (Oh, there's the applause. Way to go, singer!) By dialogue breaks, I mean that there is no dialogue, just singing. Just like how an opera is.
Personally, I love musicals and I love certain operas. Some of my favorite musicals are mainly contemporary: Wicked, RENT, Phantom of the Opera, Jekyll & Hyde, Kiss Me Kate, and some others. But I do have my favorites in operas. For me, my main one is "Don Giovanni" by W. A. Mozart. It's strange how I can relate more to some musicals over operas, and vice versa. But for this post, it's more or less just writing as... oh, spoiler alert... Gavroche is dying.
I also say that Les Mis can be like an opera in the sense of its very length. With one intermission at 20 minutes, this French Revoltution-era musical clocks in at about three hours. 3 hours is usually the range of a normal opera, but obviously there are some exceptions. A notable exception being going to "Gotterdamurung" by Richard Wagner while in Milan, Italy last summer and that monster was about 6 hours long with two or three intermissions. Basically, all musicals and operas vary.
All in all, whether I've seen one or not, I enjoy going to theatre in general. Plays are fun, but it's also fun to go to operas/musicals because of the variety that can happen in costume, scenery, props, and even language. Language.... well, that one can be tedious depending on who you talk to, but that's one thing I love about operas. Most operas are known to be in French, Italian, or German. But even as Tom Hulce says as Mozart in the film "Amadeus," an opera doesn't have to be in German (or any other language), but can be "in Turkish if you want!"
Oh, the beauty of opera.
On, the unpredictability of musicals.
I mentioned a musical earlier. I also mentioned other ones, but strangely enough, one can safely assume that musicals put on in America... well, they're going to be in English. Some operas are in English, sure, but not as common probably. I have limited knowledge. Anyways, "The Light In the Piazza" (if I spell it like "pizza" ONE MORE TIME...) was a new experience for me seeing that half of the musical actually included Italian and not just because of its setting and the secondary main character, Fabrizio.
In another life, I probably would have loved to be involved in theatre, but I guess being a writer is the second-best thing for that because without the writer, where would we be?
This post is definitely just a musing, but musings are fun to right, I think. :)
*SPOILER*
Oh, look, Javert is on a bridge saying that his life is over. And he'll be jumping off in.......
***
And just for the record, I do have an all-time favorite musical:
West Side Story.
And here comes Valjean singing "Bring Him Home." Oh, that note didn't quite make it... cut off a little short, but of course the audience still appears to be mesmerized by this amazing vibrato! Bonus points from the judges there, but there's the french horn ruining that note... way to go, brass! Minus one for the orchestra.
No, I'm not going to write a musical review in the sense of how baseball or the Olympics is on TV with announcers. But wouldn't it be entertaining?
So, on today's post, I actually had gotten to thinking about motifs lately. Mainly because here I am at Les Mis and this is the first "musical" that I have seen since "The Light in the Piazza" when I was at school earlier this year. And I put musical here in quotes because of one reason: there's no dialogue breaks in this production. (Oh, there's the applause. Way to go, singer!) By dialogue breaks, I mean that there is no dialogue, just singing. Just like how an opera is.
Personally, I love musicals and I love certain operas. Some of my favorite musicals are mainly contemporary: Wicked, RENT, Phantom of the Opera, Jekyll & Hyde, Kiss Me Kate, and some others. But I do have my favorites in operas. For me, my main one is "Don Giovanni" by W. A. Mozart. It's strange how I can relate more to some musicals over operas, and vice versa. But for this post, it's more or less just writing as... oh, spoiler alert... Gavroche is dying.
I also say that Les Mis can be like an opera in the sense of its very length. With one intermission at 20 minutes, this French Revoltution-era musical clocks in at about three hours. 3 hours is usually the range of a normal opera, but obviously there are some exceptions. A notable exception being going to "Gotterdamurung" by Richard Wagner while in Milan, Italy last summer and that monster was about 6 hours long with two or three intermissions. Basically, all musicals and operas vary.
All in all, whether I've seen one or not, I enjoy going to theatre in general. Plays are fun, but it's also fun to go to operas/musicals because of the variety that can happen in costume, scenery, props, and even language. Language.... well, that one can be tedious depending on who you talk to, but that's one thing I love about operas. Most operas are known to be in French, Italian, or German. But even as Tom Hulce says as Mozart in the film "Amadeus," an opera doesn't have to be in German (or any other language), but can be "in Turkish if you want!"
Oh, the beauty of opera.
On, the unpredictability of musicals.
I mentioned a musical earlier. I also mentioned other ones, but strangely enough, one can safely assume that musicals put on in America... well, they're going to be in English. Some operas are in English, sure, but not as common probably. I have limited knowledge. Anyways, "The Light In the Piazza" (if I spell it like "pizza" ONE MORE TIME...) was a new experience for me seeing that half of the musical actually included Italian and not just because of its setting and the secondary main character, Fabrizio.
In another life, I probably would have loved to be involved in theatre, but I guess being a writer is the second-best thing for that because without the writer, where would we be?
This post is definitely just a musing, but musings are fun to right, I think. :)
*SPOILER*
Oh, look, Javert is on a bridge saying that his life is over. And he'll be jumping off in.......
***
And just for the record, I do have an all-time favorite musical:
West Side Story.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Storytime: A Swollen Arm & A Poke
So today is, and about to be was, July 11. Also known as the date when I got home from France after a very long and stressful year 4 years ago. No, this isn't going to be about France and time again. Maybe in the near-future when other things are brought about in life, but not for this post. Instead, let's talk about what happened today instead. To say the least, it was... strange. But a normal type of strange.
July 11th, 2014. The 11th day of July in the year 2014. 7-11-14.
July 11th, 2014. The 11th day of July in the year 2014. 7-11-14.
Anyways...
Being 7-11, Jason and I went to... 7-11 (convienence store, if you are not familiar with US convienence stores) for the Free Slurpee day. Since I'm not really much of a "document your every life's moment with the click of a camera," there are no pictures. In fact, I don't take very many pictures on my phone to begin with unless it's something on the important side. Well, waiting in line, Jason decided it would be funny to poke me in the left arm. Only, when I say "funny" I don't intend to be ironic.
Well, it turns out, I thought this was hilarious. Not him poking my arm, but this:
A couple of days ago, I had to go to a health department and get an up-to-date Tetanus shot. Woooo needles. They don't hurt, in my opinion. They're just annoying. Well, Needle-Woman (aka, the nurse giving me the shot) and my Mom remind me to keep my arm moving so my arm doesn't get sore and the medicine/shot-stuff (whatever it is) doesn't stay in one spot. Being me, I move my arm, but not as often. Mainly because I move it enough to keep the blood flowing, but not much beyond that.
Well, thanks to this shot, Jason realizes that were the shot was put into my arm... part of my arm is swollen. Wonderful. So, he pokes it. And for some odd reason, there is this really strange feeling that I am having of this poke into the swollen part of my arm. Not even a minute later, I'm crying from laughter. I don't know why. But I imagine this is what people are like after their wisdom teeth are taken out and we all watch those videos on Youtube about the parents recording their doped-up kids after surgery. Well, you see, this is a guess for me because when I got my wisdom teeth taken out, I was so tired, I just feel asleep. No giddy-laughy-weirdness. Just a lot of sleep and ice. And yet, here I was. Getting some kind of laughter fit for absolutely no reason, tears streaming down, because of a poke... to a swollen arm.
I'm still incredibly confused about this.
On the plus side, this laughing-crying fit didn't last too long. Maybe, in total, about three minutes or so. By the time I collected myself, Jason and I were at the machine (thank God there were still flavors available that weren't sugar-free) and we filled up our free Slurpee cups.
... and just for the record, this was my first ever free 7-11 Slurpee on 7-11.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Let's Muse About: Inspiration, but mainly an homage to Olan Rogers.
inspiration |ˌinspəˈrā sh ən|
noun
1 the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, esp. to do something creative
...It's an interesting word and an important concept.
Inspiration is something that, as a writer, is sometimes incredibly easy to come by, or incredibly difficult to come by. Mainly because inspiration for me is just random. I love it when it comes and I instantly want to write something just to write something on paper (like last night before bed), but I also dislike it when I have inspiration... and no ideas to go with it. One could say that I just watched something on YouTube not two minutes ago and felt "inspired" to write something. Well, truth be told, I wanted to write a blog post today, but I wasn't sure what about. Jason told me that maybe I should write something about my story developments (aka, whatever my "process" is) and I figured I would do that in a different episode of "Musings." Obviously, I didn't go with that, but here I am talking about inspiration. Kind of. Not yet. So, here's the question that you are asking me from your screen:
"So... what inspired you to write about this topic?"
Simple. One name:
Olan Rogers.
"Dial Up Tour" photo!
--January 31, 2012
--Taken by Nick B.
"Eat A Slice With Me" Tour
--August 2, 2013
--Me, Olan, Delaney, & Cheyenne
Now, some of you know me in real life, and maybe some of you don't. Most people that see this blog, I safely assume come from me posting the link onto Facebook, so hopefully you know me. If not, here's some background about me and this Youtuber known as Olan Rogers: (and if you already know this "story", skip to the next paragraph)
When I started college, my roommate Delaney had me watch some videos that her best friend (and now my friend) Justine showed her. The usual chain of things when it comes to having people watch videos from Youtube, whether they be cute cat videos, or just comedy sketches. Well, Delaney had me watch this one video called "The Last Scene" by Olan Rogers, a Youtuber that lives in Nashville and makes storytime vlogs and creative story videos. I first watched this video thinking "Hmmm... interesting." and wasn't sure what to think. It was interesting to watch though. Luckily for me, Delaney then shows me many other videos done by Olan, and even other videos that "The Last Scene" can be categorized with (e.g. "New Prime" and now "Pop Rocket"-- PR just had the release of the newest installment TODAY). As I began watching these videos, I started to enjoy them more and more. It's a different kind of humour, and after a while, you just begin to get it. And it's awesome. Well, still Freshman year of college, and Olan makes a video known as "Life Update" and announces he will be part of a tour that is known as "The Dial Up Tour." Basically, a selection of Youtubers go on tour through the States and there's a meet and greet after every show. Well, being college students and Olan-fans, Delaney and I instantly bought our tickets the moment Olan mentions "Salt Lake!" as a stop. We didn't even care we'd be missing class that day (date: January 31, 2012). So we met Olan and that was an amazing experience being able to talk to this creative and amazing human who we just happened to watch videos of without even knowing we could meet him someday. We went with other friends and had a blast. Going back to school the next day was like a dream. Obviously, Olan still makes videos to this day, but then last year, another tour was announced. This time, Olan would be hosting a giant pizza party-tour known as "Eat A Slice with Me." And you can guess what happens now: Delaney and I (yet again) buy our tickets to RVSP to go for August 2013 summer. I still can't believe this happened just last summer. So we meet and talk to Olan again, tell him how much we love his work, and all that jazz. Lots of details, but again, this is just back story here.
Meeting Olan in person twice, supporting him in his video adventures, coming to the tours, watching videos and crying and laughing so hard there are tears either way.... well, it's something that I love being a part of. I have Delaney and Justine to thank for this. Now onto the inspiration part:
In one of Olan's videos, he says something incredibly profound and truthful. Something that I agree with 1000% and more. This quote follows:
"There will be people that will say you can't make a living out of something you love to do. But are you really living by not doing it?"
I can't even begin to explain how much I love this quote, mainly because of one reason: I have that one Major that EVERYBODY asks, verbatim, EVERY SINGLE TIME. "So, what are you going to do with an English major?"
Thanks to Olan's quote, I feel so much better about being an English major. And not just being an English major... but with a Creative Writing emphasis. So yes, peoples of Earth, I have experience in fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and even screenwriting. I can't even begin to tell you all how much I loved my screenwriting class. I really enjoy fiction primarily, but writing a full length screenplay as a sophomore in college? I like to say that is my biggest accomplishment in college, because it is. It's longer than my thesis ever could be and I'm SUPER proud of my screenplay because it's a story I have always wanted to write. But to go back to the quote, I wouldn't even know what to do with myself if I couldn't write. If I'm without a computer or a pen/paper, I literally feel lost in the world. Since I started writing in 2nd grade (so age... what, 8?) and still going strong with new ideas every month and with novels planned... I can't see myself not writing. Like the quote says and with an answer, no. I'm not really living by not doing it (writing for me).
Inspiration mainly comes to me in various forms, but just watching Olan's videos (whether serious or silly) make me feel incredibly human in the world. When I'm watching something of his, I actually feel like the world has stopped for a little while, letting the chaos stop, a moment to breathe. I can watch his videos and have those minutes (however many) to just full-screen my computer and not worry about what's going on around me. Olan has made me burst into tears from laughing so hard at times, and also crying due to the true human emotion that he has at other times in other videos.
Inspiration comes in a variety of forms. To me, watching Olan's videos just have that effect on me that make me feel like I can be successful as a writer, even if I don't get famous. Like Olan, I do what I do because it's what I love and nothing can stop me from doing what I love.
Big hugs to you, Olan. And I hope to see talk/see you again, soon. :)
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Let's Muse About: No, I did not use a dictionary to write this.
Ce n'est pas simple. La vie. C'est pas comme les films où vous avez le bonheur tout le temps. En fait, la vie est très difficile quand vous n'avez pas une raison pour la vie que vous avez. Je sais pas moi-même, mais c'est une fait de la vie. Alors, je fais une poste dans ce blog en français. Qu'est qu'il se passe? Une question que je n'ai pas la réponse. J’écris en français aujourd’hui car mon amie, Kathleen, m'a dit que je devrais donc ... pourquoi pas !
Pour cette poste, j'écrirai de mon "voyage" avec la langue qu'on appelle "français." C'est une bonne idée et c'est une excuse pour écrire mes pensées en français quand ça fait longtemps que j'ai fais quelque chose avec mon deuxième langue. Bien sur, j'ai écrit en français quand j’étais en France (la poésie, les histoires, les BAC blancs... il y a plein des exemples). Mais depuis 2010 quand je suis revenue a Utah, je ne fait pas beaucoup de français, sauf que mon cours de français au lycee et puis les messages avec mes amis français sur Facebook...
Alors...
Je me souviens quand j’étais petite... bref, j’étais au collège (7ieme "grade") et c’était mon classe de français et d'espagnol. Je me souviens pas le date exacte, mais il y a une question pour nous dans le classe:
Le français, ou l'espagnol ?
Pour six semaines, nous avons appris les deux langues et il faut qu'on choisi quelque langue on a voulu a apprendre au lycée. Pour moi, sans doute, j'ai dis "le français!" pour deux raisons. 1) je n'aime pas beaucoup le langue d'espagnol et 2) mon pere m'a dit (avec mon frère) qu'au temps, c’était possible que nous pouvons voyager en France quelque jours dans le futur. Alors, j'ai choisi d'apprendre la français.
Et je suis très heureuse que j'ai fait le choix que j'ai fait.
...Fast forward...
Au collège et au lycée, j'ai aimée beaucoup d'apprendre la langue française. Et, en fait, en 2006, j'ai visitée la France avec ma famille pour une semaine. Je me souviens quand j'ai parlée aux bistros et aux restaurants et je peux dire "je voudrais une sandwich au jambon, s'il vous plaît ! Avec un Coke Light." et les autres phrases. Nous avons reste a Paris et c’était génial pour la semaine, avant le commencement de mon dernière année au collège.
Au lycée, je me suis senti que j'ai appris beaucoup de français, mais ... beaucoup de répétition dans les cours. Par exemple: toujours le mémé vocabulaire pour la norriture, les mois, les jours (lundi, mardi, etc.), les vocabulaire typique. J'ai voulu plus de la langue. Alors, un jour, j'ai parlée avec mes parents pour trouver une programme pour une échange. Cette programme : Rotary International. Je me suis appliqué, avec tous les papiers et les entrevues avec les membres de Rotary a Salt Lake City pour District 5420...
Quelque mois plus tard, j'ai reçu un émail et je l'ai lu avec mes parents:
ACCEPTÉE.
Je ne pourrais pas le croire, mais c’était la... je serais une étudiante d’échange. Mon pays pour un an? La France. La France... ma vie... pour un an pendant mon 3ieme année au lycée. WOUPPPIII~!!!
...Et bien sur que mon échange était très très très difficile. Oui, je dois ajouter 3 "très" ici parce que c'est la vérité de mon situation a Gérardmer, France. J'ai beaucoup des histoires de mon échange, mais pour cette poste... pas aujourd’hui. ^^
Pour cette poste, j'écrirai de mon "voyage" avec la langue qu'on appelle "français." C'est une bonne idée et c'est une excuse pour écrire mes pensées en français quand ça fait longtemps que j'ai fais quelque chose avec mon deuxième langue. Bien sur, j'ai écrit en français quand j’étais en France (la poésie, les histoires, les BAC blancs... il y a plein des exemples). Mais depuis 2010 quand je suis revenue a Utah, je ne fait pas beaucoup de français, sauf que mon cours de français au lycee et puis les messages avec mes amis français sur Facebook...
Alors...
Je me souviens quand j’étais petite... bref, j’étais au collège (7ieme "grade") et c’était mon classe de français et d'espagnol. Je me souviens pas le date exacte, mais il y a une question pour nous dans le classe:
Le français, ou l'espagnol ?
Pour six semaines, nous avons appris les deux langues et il faut qu'on choisi quelque langue on a voulu a apprendre au lycée. Pour moi, sans doute, j'ai dis "le français!" pour deux raisons. 1) je n'aime pas beaucoup le langue d'espagnol et 2) mon pere m'a dit (avec mon frère) qu'au temps, c’était possible que nous pouvons voyager en France quelque jours dans le futur. Alors, j'ai choisi d'apprendre la français.
Et je suis très heureuse que j'ai fait le choix que j'ai fait.
...Fast forward...
Au collège et au lycée, j'ai aimée beaucoup d'apprendre la langue française. Et, en fait, en 2006, j'ai visitée la France avec ma famille pour une semaine. Je me souviens quand j'ai parlée aux bistros et aux restaurants et je peux dire "je voudrais une sandwich au jambon, s'il vous plaît ! Avec un Coke Light." et les autres phrases. Nous avons reste a Paris et c’était génial pour la semaine, avant le commencement de mon dernière année au collège.
Au lycée, je me suis senti que j'ai appris beaucoup de français, mais ... beaucoup de répétition dans les cours. Par exemple: toujours le mémé vocabulaire pour la norriture, les mois, les jours (lundi, mardi, etc.), les vocabulaire typique. J'ai voulu plus de la langue. Alors, un jour, j'ai parlée avec mes parents pour trouver une programme pour une échange. Cette programme : Rotary International. Je me suis appliqué, avec tous les papiers et les entrevues avec les membres de Rotary a Salt Lake City pour District 5420...
Quelque mois plus tard, j'ai reçu un émail et je l'ai lu avec mes parents:
ACCEPTÉE.
Je ne pourrais pas le croire, mais c’était la... je serais une étudiante d’échange. Mon pays pour un an? La France. La France... ma vie... pour un an pendant mon 3ieme année au lycée. WOUPPPIII~!!!
...Et bien sur que mon échange était très très très difficile. Oui, je dois ajouter 3 "très" ici parce que c'est la vérité de mon situation a Gérardmer, France. J'ai beaucoup des histoires de mon échange, mais pour cette poste... pas aujourd’hui. ^^
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Let's Muse About: Language
Vocabulary is probably one of the strangest things that happens as we all grow up as human beings that just happen to speak a language. Whether this language is ASL, English, German, Japanese, or... gibberish. I could have a lot to say about language and vocabulary, but it got me thinking the other day when I was talking to my boyfriend, Jason, about vocabulary itself. In a nutshell, I came to a very basic conclusion:
This sounds rather sad to me on a number of levels mainly because it's true. As an English major in college, there were a lot of words I had NO idea what they meant. I could blame this on the lack of reading that I do outside of school. I remember reading books for fun all the time when I was younger, but like some people on this planet Earth, I get bored of reading the moment it becomes required. Granted, there have been a few good/great books I've read that were required like "To Kill a Mockingbird," anything history-textbook related (I love history...), and even random books that I had to read while abroad.
I remember once in 5th grade that my teacher would give us extra credit if we read the dictionary. I think I got about three pages in and gave up. Looking back, it was probably a really smart idea. But for a 10 year old, reading a dictionary could be really daunting and scary with how many words there are in that thing and we don't even know half of them in our own English language.
Vocabulary is also interesting in the sense of this: I'm bilingual. Yes, I can prove it, but I'm not going to here, but I did pass a French fluency exam called the DELF. Pretty hardcore to take as foreigners and taking the BAC at my French high school was incredibly ****ed up to begin with for a number of reasons. Anyways.
English is my native language and there are several words that I don't even know what they mean. Or I go to an English 110 class and I'm flabberghasted by how incredibly dumb I feel. Dumb in the sense of there are these other people in my class and they know all these fancy words (misogyny, for example, is a fun example) that I hadn't heard of before. Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. But then I can relate to a second language better? In this case, I know a lot of words in French but have no idea what they mean in English. This is mainly because I stopped translating everything before my first real month of being abroad was over. This is a good point though, because think about this:
We all use words we've probably heard over years and years through our friends, family, the internet... but how many of these words do we actually know the definitions to?
Consider the word "the" and how do we define it? We all know the word as English speakers, but... how is one to define this? Just a small perspective here, but hopefully you get the point.
No matter how we may or may not look at things, language is a part of every day life. Whether it's verbal or body language, it's everywhere and how do we come to understand it? Just part of life is my guess. We all grow up and get the exposure and go from there. But how many of us really think about language? We all get misunderstood at times, sometimes for better or for worse, and yet we can all have a big understanding of language just because of how we live as humans.
There really isn't a point to this post, yet there is a point. Not that I'm a terrible English major because my vocabulary almost seems so limited in English, yet I know so much in French more than the average bear. I mainly am thinking about this because, again, it marks the whole 5 years before I left for France and... well, I did apply for a teaching English program abroad for this upcoming school year. I'm not going to mention details to those on the internet until I know them for a fact myself. But to say the least, the country I applied for.... not a lot of English. It's a cultural norm to learn English in school, but this country (or rather, this continent) is one I have never been to *nerves commence here*.
This blog post could take a lot longer because I could say a lot more. For now, though, I won't go too far into things. Par contre, je ne sais pas qui, en fait, a lu ce blog. Je veux que les personnes lisent ce blog, mais si c'est juste moi, bref. C'est pas grave. ^^
I am/was an English major and I still have no idea what over half of the words mean in the texts I read or in the words people speak.
This sounds rather sad to me on a number of levels mainly because it's true. As an English major in college, there were a lot of words I had NO idea what they meant. I could blame this on the lack of reading that I do outside of school. I remember reading books for fun all the time when I was younger, but like some people on this planet Earth, I get bored of reading the moment it becomes required. Granted, there have been a few good/great books I've read that were required like "To Kill a Mockingbird," anything history-textbook related (I love history...), and even random books that I had to read while abroad.
I remember once in 5th grade that my teacher would give us extra credit if we read the dictionary. I think I got about three pages in and gave up. Looking back, it was probably a really smart idea. But for a 10 year old, reading a dictionary could be really daunting and scary with how many words there are in that thing and we don't even know half of them in our own English language.
Vocabulary is also interesting in the sense of this: I'm bilingual. Yes, I can prove it, but I'm not going to here, but I did pass a French fluency exam called the DELF. Pretty hardcore to take as foreigners and taking the BAC at my French high school was incredibly ****ed up to begin with for a number of reasons. Anyways.
English is my native language and there are several words that I don't even know what they mean. Or I go to an English 110 class and I'm flabberghasted by how incredibly dumb I feel. Dumb in the sense of there are these other people in my class and they know all these fancy words (misogyny, for example, is a fun example) that I hadn't heard of before. Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. But then I can relate to a second language better? In this case, I know a lot of words in French but have no idea what they mean in English. This is mainly because I stopped translating everything before my first real month of being abroad was over. This is a good point though, because think about this:
We all use words we've probably heard over years and years through our friends, family, the internet... but how many of these words do we actually know the definitions to?
Consider the word "the" and how do we define it? We all know the word as English speakers, but... how is one to define this? Just a small perspective here, but hopefully you get the point.
No matter how we may or may not look at things, language is a part of every day life. Whether it's verbal or body language, it's everywhere and how do we come to understand it? Just part of life is my guess. We all grow up and get the exposure and go from there. But how many of us really think about language? We all get misunderstood at times, sometimes for better or for worse, and yet we can all have a big understanding of language just because of how we live as humans.
There really isn't a point to this post, yet there is a point. Not that I'm a terrible English major because my vocabulary almost seems so limited in English, yet I know so much in French more than the average bear. I mainly am thinking about this because, again, it marks the whole 5 years before I left for France and... well, I did apply for a teaching English program abroad for this upcoming school year. I'm not going to mention details to those on the internet until I know them for a fact myself. But to say the least, the country I applied for.... not a lot of English. It's a cultural norm to learn English in school, but this country (or rather, this continent) is one I have never been to *nerves commence here*.
This blog post could take a lot longer because I could say a lot more. For now, though, I won't go too far into things. Par contre, je ne sais pas qui, en fait, a lu ce blog. Je veux que les personnes lisent ce blog, mais si c'est juste moi, bref. C'est pas grave. ^^
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Let's Muse About: Time
Strasbourg Airport:
August 26, 2009
Also known as:
My first real day as an exchange student in France.
~*~*~*~
Time is such an interesting thing. It happens all the time around us and sometimes, it goes by really fast or really slow. For example, when we listen to music, do you count the seconds it takes until the first verse starts? Or maybe do you go past a certain mark until you skip the rest of that song? Or maybe you're listening to a song that you really like, but you automatically skip ahead to your favorite part? Or... well, you just listen to the whole thing because those 3 minutes and 43 seconds are that awesome. Either way, it's all about time. And this first "musing" blog is going to be as such.
So, first things first. I have an important milestone coming up. Yes, I'm posting this early, but did you even look at the picture above? You might notice that there are 4 older guys, a girl, and, well, luggage. That's because this was me arriving in Strasbourg's airport (Alsace region in France near Germany) five years ago. A long time ago to be sure considering now it's July 1, 2014 and here I am in my living room. Five years ago, I would've just gotten back from San Francisco with my visa, my passport, and a whole lot of nerves. It was still surreal back then that I was about to embark on a journey that would take me to France for the third time, but instead of vacation, I would be going to there to live and study. Yep, I was an exchange student when I was 16 and would then have a really long and stressful 11 months in France and having my birthday in the beginning of the third part of my stay. It's crazy to think I'm here 5 years later and I just got done with work and I'm currently waiting for it to cool outside before I head out on my daily run that consists of about 2.2 miles. Okay, I'm getting off subject. But hey, I'm waiting... and this post is about time.
Well, aside from the anniversary of me leaving France for a year this August, it's weird to think of what has happened after five years has passed. Let's make a list.
- I came home from France and graduated from high school. Woohoo class of 2011.
- I applied and was accepted to go to Westminster College in Salt Lake.
- Three years after starting college with an English major in the Creative Writing emphasis, I am now a graduate with said B.A. (Bachelor of Arts, in case someone is unfamiliar with the American college/university system)
- I am now waiting for certain things to come about so I know what I'll be doing next year
A lot of other things have also changed during the course of five years and not to mention just life as it happens. But it's weird to think about dates when certain things happened. Another example to go back to exchange is... well.. what was going on today four years ago.
Four years ago to the day (it would technically be July 2nd over there with the 8 hour time difference), I was actually dreading everything. I had only 9 days left and I had one friend of mine, Katerina, spend time with me in the town I was in, Gérardmer from the previous week. But today four years ago was the last time I saw my French friend Coralie.
Coralie is the best friend from my exchange. I didn't have many friends, but it's a comfort to know that even four years later we still email and use snail-mail to talk to each other. Even if my French is slipping slowly. Anyways, on this day, it would be the last time I would get to see her face-to-face. We were walking down from my school campus (after BAC testing, YUCK) and we were about to part ways. I can't remember what I told her, but it wasn't too different from the "I am really going to miss you" line. We burst into tears and hugged each other, did the bisous, one last time. Now, one has to understand that Coralie was somebody that was like me on exchange: there, but also kind of invisible. I was obviously known as "The American" at school and so many people wanted to know me. But some people weren't very nice, so I had maybe 4-5 really good friends. Coralie was one of them. It was random that we just started talking one day, quiet and shy, and from then on (maybe January or February) we would always talk between classes and I even had somebody I could sit next to during class. But when that day came to say goodbye, I didn't want to say anything because I was so choked up. Makes it even worse when you can't even comprehend what's going on in the English side of my brain. Like I said earlier in this paragraph, we have kept in contact over the past few hours and I am incredibly thankful for that.
All in all, like this post is centered on, time in general is just a really bizarre thing. Whether it's minutes, seconds, or years. But hey, looking back, who knew I could accomplish this much in my life in five years?
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