Growing Up

So, what I've learned in 2010.... oh what's that? You thought you were going to be spared the New Year's retrospective because this thing wasn't titled "My 2010: A Year in Review"? Well too bad suckas! Here it is.

2010 was the best year of my life.

2010 was the worst year of my life.

Both of these statements are true.

This year brought a lot of new revelations for me. I had to work through things, figure stuff out, and face a whole slew of decisions I thought I had a much longer time to make. This was the year that forced me to accept reality, to deal with the future—with what I want and who I want to be. Those are some pretty big judgment calls, and to have to confront them all was daunting.

In short, too much of this year was spent in struggle. I struggled for four months with the roommate from Hell, learning what it was like to actually hate another person (which, by the way, proved that Star Wars is right—hate is the absolute worst emotion, and dealing with it is impossibly hard. It's difficult to feel happiness or hope when hate is trying to pervade every aspect of life). I struggled with my schooling, starting a downward slide this summer that culminated in the past four months, where my faith in education and love for learning has been shaken. I suffered the ever pervasive relationship issues, not just with romantic partners, but with building friendships and even interacting with my family. I struggled with facing my parent's mortality, manifest when my dad had a stroke not too long ago. I struggled with having to leave a job I had worked at for two years, a job where I was comfortable, safe and secure.

All this was heaped on top of the multiple identity crises I was having with more and more frequency throughout the year. In this sense, 2010 was the Year of Self-Doubt. But then, we continue to look at my title. I had to grow up this year. I had to accept that adulthood was fast approaching, and I must either deal with it or perish. So I sucked it up, came to terms with my fading youth, and moved forward.

It's odd to be so young, yet so old. Live in Provo and you'll know what I'm talking about. What a magical land Provo is, where a unmarried 22 year old with her Bachelor's degree is an anomaly.

But at this crucial time, I take solace in the mighty words of Oasis. "Don't Look Back in Anger." I won't, Noah and Liam. I promise.

Because you know what? 2010 was incredible. Last year I:

-Watched the X-Files.
-Finally embraced the phenomenons that are Jones soda and Cafe Rio.
-Caught a catfish, using shrimp and WD-40.
-Took some lovely walks in the rain.
-Had the best time at Lagoon ever.
-Found an awesome tree behind some office buildings in Provo.
-Longboarded down Provo Canyon.
-Bid a fond farewell to Lost. I may have cried, but only a little.
-Read The English Patient, and fell in love with beautiful writing.
-Passed my last general (Physical Science), and only went to class twice. Subsequently, I was able to enjoy my summer.
-Finally admitted that Ben Gibbard is a talented man.
-Went on a fantastic road trip to San Diego, where I attended Comic-Con. It was one of the best experiences of my life.
-Taught multicultural high school students a class on how to pass the ACT reading test.
-Ate hot dogs roasted over a fire.
-Watched nineties comfort movies projected on the back of a house.
-Sat in a hammock.
-Went camping by Utah Lake.
-Moved into an apartment with delightful roommates, all of whom are attractive.
-Bought the first season of Community.
-Read Chuck Klosterman. Gained a new hero.
-Played Werewolf.
-Debated the best Hostess treat.
-Saw some amazing movies. My favorites? Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, True Grit, the Social Network, Easy A, and Inception.
-Danced.
-And finally, saw SO MANY CONCERTS. It was the best year ever, concert wise. This was my favorite activity this year. I got a full range of musical styles, venues, and experiences. God bless music, because it saved my sanity. And God bless Sir Paul McCartney. Here's the list (as far as I can remember), with my very favorites bolded. All of these were good (with the exception of MGMT), but some just rocked my world.

Cat's Concert Countdown, 2010
-The Vibrant Sound (2) -Can't Stop Won't Stop
-Vampire Weekend
-Muse
-Mudbison
-Isaac Russell (2)
-MGMT
-The Black Keys
-Imogen Heap
-Portugal. the Man.
-Modest Mouse
-Everson
-SIR PAUL McCARTNEY
-Rooney
-Big Boi
-Chromeo
-Matisyahu
-The Indecision (2)
-Temper Trap
-Ben Folds
-Ghost in a Jar (3?)
-The Utah Symphony presents the music of Led Zeppelin
-Colin Hay
-She & Him
-Mates of State
-Jenny and Johnny
-Seve vs Evan
-Imagine Dragons
-Fictionist (2)
-Joshua James (2)
-Sufjan Stevens
-Low

So there you have it. Cat's year in a nutshell. It was awesome and terrible, which is really all you can say about life in general. It's all about having a positive outlook that will balance those two traits. Incidentally, that's my goal this year. I want to look at life with optimism and hope, to find things to love about it. I've cherished a cynical persona, but I'm an idealist at heart and it's alright for me to let that show. Contrary to popular opinion, intellect does not equal cynicism. In fact, when it comes to people I truly admire, they are usually the ones who have risen above the world with unfailing love. I want to emulate that.

I think Conan O'Brien said it best: "All I ask of you is one thing: please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard, and you’re kind, amazing things will happen."

Let's allow this New Year to be full of love. Life is good. This world is beautiful. And this year will be amazing.

Face Off

Alright, kicking off what I hope will be an inordinate amount of posts in the next two days (you know, so I can fool myself into feeling like a good blogger in 2010), Imma starting with something simple. A little opinion piece, if you will. Except the opinions I'm searching for are YOURS.

Like every Christmas break, I've been watching a ridiculous amount of TV. Yes, I'll admit it. I have no shame. Most of this has been spent catching up on the last two seasons of Psych, which led me to ponder on bromance.

Bromance, usually defined as an intense bond betwixt two straight males, is a typical trope seen on the televisions. Is it real, or only a ploy used for women to relate emotionally to male characters? The world may never know.

But regardless, on TV, it exists. So I'm asking you*, who has the best bromance?

• Abed and Troy, Community. A friendship that others "just don't understand."
  
• Phil and Lem, Better Off Ted. Two scientists who rely on each other to get the job done. Whatever that implies.
  
• JD and Turk, Scrubs. Living together, working together, spending every moment together. Pure guy love.
  
• Shawn and Gus, Psych. Their give-and-take relationship is always a pleasure, and is hilarity to watch.
  
• Bret and Jemaine, Flight of the Conchords. These Kiwis and their bromance make sweet, sweet music.
  
• Other, but you must specify what and why in the comments.

Good luck choosing. I know I sure can't.

*Poll in the sidebar, to the right.

Ugh

Have worst night of sleep ever? Check.

Go to take a final at seven in the morning, walking through snow in the dark? Check.

Put absolutely no effort into final essay? Check.

Get back final paper from class, only to discover I completely failed? Check-a roonie.

Walk back home, getting splashed with slush from several passing cars, until utterly drenched and soggy? Check.

Go home and cry tears of pity and self-loathing in the shower, ala Tobias Funke? Check.

Attempt to make self feel better by listening to all the nine versions of the song "Hallelujah" I own, including the completely ridiculous Leonard Cohen original? Double check.

Feel surprised that such a tactic worked? Check.

Mm Mm GOOD

This weekend I found home in a sandwich.

For those of you who might be doubting or mocking, cease and desist. It is perfectly possible for a home to be a sandwich, and I am telling you. I experienced that this weekend.

This Saturday I ended up in Davis County, a little tired from a baby shower for my sister-in-law and a little worried from a hospital visit. And I was also STARVING. Before heading back to Provo, I decided to drop by an old favorite, a place of food and comfort I haven't been to in a while.


Can I quickly laud my great decision making? Because sometimes, it's so amazing I surprise myself. Stopping at Spanky's might have made my week. Seriously, everything seems so hopeful, so achievable, and I think it is because I kicked it off with a glorious sandwich.

Why is a Spanky's turkey sandwich, on white, with provolone cheese, lettuce, tomato, pickle, salt and pepper oil and vinegar one of my homes? Well, we go way back, me and this sammich. In fact, I think it might of been the first sandwich I ever had, and by far the most delicious. It's tradition. It's soft bread and warm smell and white chocolate macadamia cookies. It's ritual-- the ritual of putting potato chips on top and sticking the toothpick in the lid of my Fresca-filled cup. It's a sign of love and a job well done. It's something I can only get at home, and only with family. The sandwich IS family.

I can't express it. Home is many things, and for me, for this moment, it's a sandwich. This weekend, I was home. And oh boy, did it taste good.

Step Onto My Soapbox

Today, I was walking to school, dragging my feet as usual, when I suddenly looked up. The wind had started, and red orange leaves were rustling across the street in waves, spiraling, their colors glistening like scales. Time, cars, people, everything stopped as the road became covered in fall foliage. I stopped, my view obstructed by my own wind-whipped hair and the orange symphony around me, and I felt joyful. I felt completely, inexplicably happy, and I couldn't stop a giant and genuine grin from covering my face.

And this was miraculous. Because lately, I haven't felt anything. This semester has been challenging, not just because classes are hard, work is constant, and it feels impossible to be caught up, but more because I couldn't muster even an ounce of motivation for anything. I just didn't care. And the sad part is, I still don't. But at least it isn't affecting every part of my life. Before, there was no light and no end of the tunnel. There was no goal I was working toward, and life was just a long slog of endless work and apathy until I died, most likely at a young age from fluorescent light poisoning, or something equally mundane.

Luckily, this first started to change when I went to see Waiting for Superman. Aside: everyone, SEE THIS FILM NOW. Carrying on. While seeing this, I finally felt some stirring of emotion. I remembered what I was working for. I wasn't working because I had no other options, and it wasn't just because there's nothing else you can do with an English major. I'm becoming a teacher because I care about the youth of America. I care about the education system. I'm becoming a teacher because I honestly want to help students realize that they have potential, that knowledge is important, and that they are worth something. I want my students to see that laziness is not an option, and that all they need to succeed is an ounce of imagination in this creatively bankrupt world. I want them to trust themselves, to learn self-reliance, and most importantly, to have confidence. I want them to be better. I want them to do things my generation can only dream of, and to do them with grace and assurance. I am becoming a teacher because I want them to know that someone cares about their future. I won't be nice. I won't be an easy grade. But I will push my class to notice the world around them, and to want to change it.

Sorry. That got off track and rather preachy. But this is important to me. Right now I am incredibly disillusioned with the education system, not just the public school system (even though that is a main one), but also with any and all institutions. Ray Bradbury said "I don't believe in colleges and universities. I believe in libraries." Right now, I agree with him wholeheartedly.

At this point, I have one more real semester of school left. In looking back over my college career, I have had good experiences, classes I am thankful for, but I also sometimes want to cry. I feel like I was a more intelligent person when I graduated high school. Sure, my knowledge is much more specialized and in-depth on certain topics, but overall I feel like I've lost something. And even in those specialized fields, I don't care anymore. I don't know if this is my three and a half years of non-stop schooling talking, but I am tired of school. It holds no excitement, no passion, and absolutely no interest for me. If I had a choice at this point, I would drop out for a while, but with one semester left, that seems like a poor decision. But classes? Hour long increments where I feel my life force being sucked out. That's right, in this scenario, school= DEMENTORS.


I honestly feel like I would be a happier, more beneficial, and more educated person if I added up those hours and hours I am spending writing worthless papers and listening to the opinions of worthless classmates and just spent them in a library, devouring books and journals as I saw fit. Maybe after a few months of that, I would feel ready to join the ranks of academia again. After months of that, I could return to writing papers, because this time they would be fueled by passion and interest rather than deadlines and lifeless, forced theses.

For now, there's nothing left to do but stick it out for five more months. After that, I'll be fine. I'll spend four months recharging, and I'll face a classroom with vigor and enthusiasm. And I WILL endure these next few months. You know why? Because I am a good teacher. I need to be out there, practicing my craft. I need to have a purpose in life, something that the endless monotony of college has stolen from me. And I will hang on, because I can't stall. I'm going to move forward. I am going to embrace my life, and the meaning it has.

All these thoughts came at once, while I watched the leaves, then continued towards class. But now it was with renewed vigor. I focused on how awesome the Scott Pilgrim soundtrack is, especially through headphones set at full volume. I remembered that my jacket always makes me feel a little like Bob Dylan, and adds a sixties-rebellious swagger to my step. I felt the wind toss my hair, and was alive. If I can keep these things in mind, I will be OK. I can make it.

For those of you who suffered through that long, slightly ridiculous blog post, here's a treat for you, in the form of a quote.

"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe."
- Albert Einstein

Werewolf Bar Mitzvah! Spooky, Scary!

OCTOBER!

It's time for me to join the hipper masses and proclaim my love of Halloween. I just wish that school would sit down, take a break, and revel in the glory that is the autumn spirit (PUN!). Instead, they overload life so that I feel this month has flown by. Ah, well. Such is life.

I love Halloween--the spooky, the scary, the macabre. It all delights my naturally wuss-ish soul. I love dressing up and watching somewhat scary movies. But at my core, I am an English nerd, and so the best way for me to connect with the true mood of Halloween is to read. Surprise, surprise, right?

For the past five years or so, I've dedicated myself to reading spine-chilling works of fiction to get me in the mindset for All Hallows Eve. Last year it was World War Z, a truly addicting write-up of the zombie apocalypse. The year before that it was the works of Edgar Allen Poe, then Jekyll and Hyde, Dracula, etc.

This year, I was tempted to cheat and just re-read the first installment in The Walking Dead series (an awesome, never-ending graphic novel series that is premiering in TV format on AMC this Sunday), but in the end I decided to have integrity. And even though I won't be finished by my goal of Halloween, I am still dedicated to my choice.

I chose Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury as my autumn novel. Now please excuse me while I have a short geekfest about him.

Ray Bradbury is a genius! I always appreciated his talents in jr. high and high school, when I read The Martian Chronicles and the inevitable Fahrenheit 451. But it took a recent reading of his short story "August 2026: There Will Come Soft Rains" (found here) for me to become obsessed with his writing. The story was so well-written, so painfully beautiful it left me with chills at the end. I don't know how he was able to make me emotionally invested in a few short pages, pages that lacked an immediate human element, but he did. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why he deserves all the awards heaped upon him.

Also, I think his stance on technology has been one of my most-quoted bit o' news in the past couple of months. Long live Bradbury. And bless you, dear man.

Anyway, have an enjoyable weekend my dear friends. Find some way to celebrate that resonates. Commune with the dead, revel in childhood, and have fun. Because let's face it. We deserve it.

Jimmy Page is a Golden God

But seriously. He is. And I just thought everyone should know that.

Every time I watch this clip from It Might Get Loud, I get chills.



What a genius! Sigh.

In other music news, I finally buckled down and bought the new Miniature Tigers album, Fortress. I've loved Mini Tigers since I first saw them opening for (and completely upstaging) Bishop Allen. I found Charlie Brand and his teddy bear sweater incredibly endearing, and their album Tell it to the Volcano quickly became one of my all time favorites. ALL. TIME.



Strange music video, but I can't help but love it. And what a song! Infectious beats! Sick guitar! They are so simple but soooo good.

So far the new album is pretty ok. It's definitely different, and I'll see how I feel about that. Tell it to the Volcano had a strong central theme of getting over unrequited love, and a super Pinkerton feel that I dug. It sounds like Fortress steps away from the total stripped down Weezer-ish chords and goes for a more trippy, Sgt. Pepper feel with heavier synths and effects (not surprising, seeing how Brand cites Weezer and the Beatles as two of his influences).

Sorry for that last paragraph. It was boring, but necessary. For the .5 of you who might be interested.

The addictive sound is still there though. And as long as Brand keeps writing (and loving Lost... I already miss that show so much), I'll keep coming back.

In related Miniature Tigers news, the movie Easy A uses their song "The Wolf" in one scene. I may or may not have had a minor freak out, done a victory dance, and desperately whispered to my movie-going companions how cool it was that a band I loved had a song in the show. They did not care. In unrelated news, Easy A was a great movie. Same with The Social Network... hoo boy, was that a good flick. Well, now I'm completely off topic. If I even had one to begin with. And...

fin