When words create meaning...

3 reasons why Castle is JUST SO GOOD!

2012-01-24T14:57:00.000-06:00

It all started one January morning in 2009 as I sat down to enjoy a short break while watching The Bachelor before I had to go back to the Column office. I had ran down during a commercial break and brought up Chinese from the Eagle's Nest, our little "grill" in the basement of our dorm building. I grabbed my chopsticks and started plucking away at the broccolli and beef, hardly paying attention to the TV.

Then my roommate glanced at the television and started freaking out. She had seen a favorite actor of hers on a commercial for a new dramedy. I had seen the commercial a couple times before, and although I admit it caught my eye, I didn't think much of it. It was this show starring some guy named Nathan Fillion. Kind of a quirky girl herself, she was engrossed in this show called FireFly, which he starred in. She kept raving about this actor. Our tastes often didn't match, so I was quite reluctant to think he might be the great actor she said he was.

The commercial was for a show called Castle, about novelist Rick Castle (Nathan Fillion) who starts following around the reluctant and annoyed Detective Kate Beckett (Stana Kanic). The night it premiered, I decided it was worth the watch - just because the writer in me was intrigued by what the show might hold. So that night, my roommate and I sat and watched the premier together. We laughing over the quips and annoyed glances Beckett and Castle shared, and trying to guess "Who done it." And, as the saying goes, the rest is history. I was hooked. She was right, Nathan Fillion is probably one of the funniest actors I've seen since FRIENDS...and it's hard for anything to beat FRIENDS, in my opinion.

To be honest, although I was hooked on the show, I wasn't sold on it. I just enjoyed watching a mystery every week, trying to figure out the mystery. It also helped immensely that it provided a great source of laughter every week. It was refreshing to have a mystery show that wasn't all about the drama, and provided many lighthearted moments amidst the tragedy that murder really is. And despite all of that, I wouldn't have said back then that Castle was the show to watch.

But just like how true love grows through time, getting bigger and stronger, so are my beliefs that Castle is truly a great show. And as time went on, we learned, piece by piece, a little more of the character's hearts. Castle's character is very perceptive, not only at figuring out the crime, but also seeing into someone's heart. His taking to Beckett was rather cute in the beginning, but it quickly grew into developing a heart for her and her story. Learning about Beckett's past was a huge draw to the show, and has since played a pivotal roll in the storyline - even 4 seasons down the road.

1. Major reason #1 why I love Castle? The writers.

Over the past four seasons, the writers have developed a plot and a story so thick that it's difficult to imagine where it's going. You have your standard week's episode - A murder has been discovered, and Castle and Beckett work together (with their team, of course) to solve the mystery. By the end of the show, the case is closed and Beckett and Castle grow a little closer in their relationship, while still offering humerous bits that make the audience either giggle in between the hum-drum serious moments or completely split with laughter that it makes them miss the next couple lines.

But the ongoing plot the writing team has created is so deep it's difficult to uncover and unravel. Part of the thrill of a mystery show is that you try to piece together what's happening, seeing if you can guess what happened before it's revealed. However, the mystery that is Kate's mother's murder seems to take so many twists and turns that you cannot predict. And that has affected Kate and Castle's relationship, and even Kate's emotional journey in dealing with her hurt and her drive.

One of the hardest things to do as a writer on a television show is create an evolving love story that can't really resolve. In a novel or a film, you have a beginning and an ending. And somewhere between the beginning and the ending, the two end up falling in love and having some sort of conclusion to their story, whether it tragic or a happily-ever-after. On a television show, you have a beginning. But until that final episode airs, you don't have an ending, and most don't even know until just months, maybe just weeks, before that time comes. So what we end up watching is the beginning and the middle. It's difficult for a show to resolve that love story tension without feeling like that story has ended.

Yet, the writers have somehow managed to develop these character's love story to a point where we are satisfied - to a certain extent. For the first several seasons, we shouted at the television while watching them be with other people when we know they are perfect for each other. And somehow, after the last year's cliff-hanger episode, their relationship transformed into something new - something a bit deeper. Yes, feelings are still left unspoken, but at least understood. No, that doesn't bring their relationship to the point many of us want to see, but at least to the point where we feel some sort of satisfaction - at least for the time being. The writers are brilliant to create the story line they have to create that sense of satisfaction and at the same time creating outside forces that make it nearly impossible for the two of them to finally get to that point. And until that mystery is solved, we will sit by, satisfied that there's a shared understanding, but that it will take time.

2. Major reason #2 why I love Castle? The acting.

Now, I'm just going to say it right now. I was not originally a big fan of Stana Kanic. I just thought she sometimes couldn't deliver lines up to the standard Nathan Fillion demands. I think it was simply just how she speaks. But I've realized that I think many actors are great, despite how their voices make me cringe a little inside...actors like Drew Barrymore, Mary Steenburg, and even sometimes Meryl Streep. So despite my slight annoyance with Stana Kanic's voice, she consistently delivered great episodes, pulling out a heart-wrenching scene that makes your heart feel with her, or even simply delivering the annoyed glances at Castle that make your heart flutter as you chuckle. (Just a note: Stana is not originally from the US, so it makes sense that she's not as quick on the quips, compared to, say Lauren Graham and Alexis Blidel's bantering on Gilmore Girls.)

Nathan Fillion, from the very first episode, has proved he is an actor worth paying attention to. His ease and comfort in his role as Castle is both extremely believable and fantastic. It probably helps immensely that it seems Fillion has brought his own personality to his character as Castle. Everyone in high school always loved the smart alec and class clown, and Fillion takes those titles and rolls it into an hour full of laughs. But Fillion knows when to dial down the inner-child and start acting his age in those serious moments.

But I think one of the greatest reasons the acting works in this show is that the cast has chemistry. The difference between real-life chemistry and the chemistry we're talking about is that actual chemistry can be explained with numbers and equations. But this chemistry can't be explained, because it just works.

The way Fillion and Kanic interact with each other translates from the script to the screen with a sense of honesty and an delivers to us that inexplicable bond. Their jesting and verbal sparring, their quiet shared moments of love, and their ability to communicate with each other through a single glance proves that whatever that bond is, however that chemistry works, the two work together like peanut butter and jelly.

Now, however, I will take the time to say that I'd be doing the show a great disservice if I didn't mention the chemistry of the cast in its entirety.
Aside from the Fillion-Kanic connection, the relationships of the cast all together are something akin to a loving, yet sometimes dysfunctional, family. Seamus Dever, who plays Detective Ryan, and Jonathan Huertas, who plays his partner Detective Espisito, act like brothers. The kind that battle over the dumbest things, but would follow the other into a gunfire. Their relationship plays out on screen exactly what you know most cops and their partners do. Because when you entrust your life to someone when the danger is high, their forms a bond that cannot be broken.
Tamala Jones plays Lanie, the M.E., and features as a great female companion to the lone Detective Kate Beckett.
The other key members of this family is Castle's mother Martha, played by the incredibly talented Susan Sullivan, as well as his daughter, Alexis, played by Molly Quinn.
Together, they prove that family isn't always who you are related to, but those who are an important part of your life.

With that said, I wanted to add one more reason that I love this show.

3. Major Reason #3 I love Castle? The fiction.
Technically, I suppose I could have inserted this under the "writing" category, but it's different enough to separate it.
One of the key factors in creating a good story is making it realistic. You wouldn't insert a cell-phone reference in the civil war. Or even in the 1950's. In that matter, you need to be careful in how you create your story, because if it's too unrealistic, the audience begins to realize that it isn't real.
But part of creating fiction is that it is just that: fiction.
Part of what I admire about the writers is how they tie in different themes to certain episodes. Just in this season, there's been a superhero themed show, a ghostbusters themed show, and coming up, there will be a 1940s themed show. The writers have done an admirable job thus far of writing fantastical, yet very believable story lines in these themes.
Typically, it'd be hard to see any other show on television doing themed shows like this. But somehow the cast and crew of Castle pull it off so very well that I am probably more excited about this show than a 24-year-old female should be.

So there. My top 3 reasons why I love Castle!

I am deficient! Praise the Lord!

2012-01-05T11:49:00.000-06:00

So while taking a small side-break from reading technical words in a product support log, I stumbled upon this video. (If you catch the "radio" portion: you'll find my friend Goose behind the microphone.)

First of all - I want to give props to Tenth Ave North for this amazing video of Lifelight! What a great band with a great perspective!

Second - there are several things that were said in this video that struck me.

I may not be in a band and sing or jam on the guitar or drums in front of thousands of people. But I do perform. As a dancer, especially during my years on the Northwestern College Dance Ministry Team, I struggled with finding that very same line that this band refers to between performance/entertainment and ministry. I'd struggle with wondering "Do I have an issue with pride?" "Is my dancing boastful?"

I sit here thinking to myself, I know there are times I was. I know there are times when I thought to myself that I am the best dancer on the team and I wanted to outshine everyone. I am ashamed and irritated at myself for those times.

But there are also times I realized that I was doing just what this band was doing. I was performing - not that I wanted others to notice just me, but the dance as a whole. I wanted them to feel something. I wanted God to use the dance to break down walls, to open up hearts, to show his love through this magical thing I do. I've seen how dance can become this incredibly powerful tool to change lives. What a gift it is that I have - that I may dance and entertain an audience only for them to realize a new facet about God. "The performance is there to make ministry happen," Mike Donehey says.

Then, something Donehey said makes complete and utter sense. He says "None of us are coming into this festival with pure motives. All our best motivations are tainted, all our best songs are still deficient. So that actually gives me great hope. Because at the end of the day I don't believe it's our putting on a perfect festival our putting on the perfect show our writing a perfect song it what's going to change people's lives. It's the belief that a perfect God is going to redeem it!"

What a life-changing thought for me. Nothing I make is perfect. No choreography, no leap or turn, no dance, is going to be perfect. Despite my desire to use dance to point people to God, I still go into a dance, or choreography session, with tainted motivations. They may not be all about me anymore, but to some extent, I bet that I'm thinking some of it is about me. But what a beautiful thing redemption is. What a beautiful thing to realize that no matter what I do, it will always come up deficient...because I am not God...but in the end, God redeems it! God redeems my work, my artistry, my talents!

May I always be deficient - in order to show God's proficiency!

Traditions

2011-12-25T02:41:00.004-06:00

There's something that warms your heart when you come upon the familiar, the traditions. For instance, the tradition (as of late), to stay up early in the morning working on things that will be all undone tomorrow. Hence, my state of consciousness at this late hour of 3:30 in the morning. Forgive me for any grammar errors. I've discovered I am a great deal poorer at editing at 3 in the morning than I am at 3 in the afternoon.

Today, I looked back upon years past and discovered that whether I recognized them or not, there are many traditions that I have without making them traditions. They are something that everyone has this time of year. For me, however, I've discovered that some of them have not necessarily been out of a forward-motion thought process...it's simply become.

Traveling to my grandparents has always been something I look forward to every Christmas. But there are little things that I've realized have become traditions, become those little things I look forward to that mean more to me than I sometimes want to admit.

For the many years we lived in Hawley, we would travel to the farm during the night after Dad finished preaching the Christmas Eve service. (Often, it was our Christmas eve program, filled with cute costumes and even cuter kids that forgot their lines - except for me. The kids would be showered with gifts and were given a brown sack filled with peanuts and chocolate goodies.) The White Oldsmobile was packed and as soon as dad locked the church doors, we would be on our way!
As I sat in the back seat, even before my sister was born, I would lay down in the back seat and lean my head against the door, gazing up into the sky. I remember vividly the tall trees that lined the road, dusted with a soft sprinkling of snow. I remember years with stars that filled the sky so brilliantly that I could gaze at them for hours. The "monster" - a face that appeared in the stars if you look closely, was a favorite of mine to spot. Every now and then I'd let out an "Are we there yet?" - until finally my eyes would fall so heavy and I'd fall fast asleep. I'd startle awake when my dad turned that sharp turn onto the gravel road, that for years has been known as "Grandpa's Road." It was then that I'd exclaim "Already? It just feels like 5 minutes!" to which my parents would reply "The drive always goes faster if you fall asleep." (I literally thought I could speed up time by falling asleep.) I would then unbuckle my seat belt with excitement and lean forward onto the middle portion of the front seat - the full length one seat with a divider in the middle. The rule was that once we got to Grandpa's Road, I was allowed to take off my seatbelt. Partially, I'm sure, it was because I was so excited and antsy at this point that a seatbelt could hardly constrain me.

Today, I found myself listening to my favorite Christmas album (since receiving it in the 6th grade), gazing out the window, peering at the snow-laden ground beneath me and the brilliant stars above me - that is, once we got close enough to McGregor for there to be snow on the ground This winter has been severely lacking in that form of precipitation. Mom and dad were sitting up front as usual, chatting away or just listening to a tape (yes, cassette tape) of Lorie Line. My sister took up the backseat, which has been her designated seat for several years now. (She, like me, likes the back left.) I sacrificed the back for the middle, yet made myself quite comfortable enough, now curled up under a blanket and fluffing a pillow beneath my head. As we pulled onto Grandpa's Road, I unbuckled my seat belt as I have in years past and watched out the front window in anticipation of seeing the lights of the house that we will soon greet. Dad drive around the curvy windy road, and soon we are rounding the last curve in the driveway. I get my first glance at the house this year. It's not as decorated as normal, but it still has lights. There's a small tree on the new porch, complete with its own dusting of snow.

I step out of the van, just I have done for countless previous years, as Grandma opens the front door to greet us. We gather our first handful, then step into the house, barely able to set our things down before hugs and kisses abound us.
The house smells its familiar smell - firewood. Added to that smell is the smell of Christmas goodies - mini-cupcakes, cookies, food in preparation for tomorrow.

Dad and I quickly unload the van - a "chore" that started once Naomi was born, that has simply just become "one of those traditions."

The old massive bulbs that once dawned Christmas Trees of past have since been replaced with new LED lights, but yet the tree still appears the same as it does every other year, as it's sparse of full branches, yet plump and is just tall enough to graze the ceiling.

Oh, there are other things that have changed. The Christmas tree is no longer squished in the corner of the living room with the windows looking out. The rocking chair and its matching ottoman have been reupholstered. The wood fireplace was replaced with a more energy-efficient corn-fueled fireplace, which has been out of order for the past several years. (It's just one of those things on "That List of Stuff that needs to get fixed but still hasn't yet.") Tiki and Patti, two trusty old dogs, have passed on, leaving their mark on the legacy of Davis Family dogs. But Girl, an addition to the family when Diane and the girls moved up 7 years ago, greeted me as I exited the van. My "bed" is no longer upstairs, as it is currently occupied. But I have been quite comfortable on the pull-out "bed" from the chair in the entry-way living room.

Tomorrow, after the church service, a tradition of other sorts will take place. Over the past 5 years or so, my cousin Tiffany and I have battled it out to see who can "wrap" the other's gift the best. It started with duct tape, a few "mixed up" boxes, and stress relief pills. Yes, I was the instigator, I will admit to that. Since then, we've discovered that packing tape is far more irritating and impossible to unravel, expanding styrofoam insulation should be done in layers and takes hours and hours and hours to dry, nor should you use water to attempt to get it off in the event it should land on your skin, ice melts quickly under water, both wood and plexiglass boxes can be broken by slamming it on cement really really hard, and sometimes an adventure that brings you on a trip down memory lane is fun - as long as you can remember your shared memories, since that's where your gifts will be located. We have done basically everything short of cement. (Just in case you're wondering about some of these things, the rule of the game is simple: One must not use any tool or cutting device or any kind, nor may anyone else assist you in the unwrapping and obtaining of one's present.)

One may ask, how does one come to do such terrible things to their cousins for Christmas? Simple. It runs in the family. Our parents used to do similar things to each other as well. Although, if I must admit this as well, we have taken things to much higher levels than they ever did. I guess if it runs in the family genes, it must escalate...I can only dream of what our children will do. (YIKES!)

It's as I look back on years past and make the connection that I sit here today doing the exact same thing that I realize just how blessed I truly am to have these traditions. There is snow on the ground, and with the severe lack of snow this year, my heart smiled the biggest smile as I caught my first glimpse of it on our drive up. Seeing all the Christmas lights up on houses, especially Grandma's as we pulled in, was heart-warming. Hugs and kisses to go around, health and happiness, joy.

But perhaps the biggest tradition of all is the one I've been familiar with all my life.
The birth of my savior. The one who has brought me through bad Christmases and terribly tough times. The one who has come to my rescue more often than I'd like to admit. The one who has forgiven me for the countless mistakes I've made and given me a stamp of approval for admittance into heaven. The one who, 2011 years ago, was born in a town named Bethlehem and grew up to become the one who saves the earth from itself.
Tomorrow (or rather, today), we celebrate because God sent HIS son to us, because he knew we needed him. And that tradition is by far the greatest and most worthy reason to celebrate!
So as I look around at my family tomorrow, laughing and making jokes, opening gifts and sharing hugs, I will sit back and think how grateful I really am for all God has done for me. He has blessed me.

May you be as blessed as I am. Not only to have such a great family surrounding you during the Holiday season, but also to realize what the biggest blessing truly is - the gifts of love, forgiveness, and joy that can only come from Jesus Christ and the Heavenly Father.

I miss this - a dance teamer's Saturday.

2011-12-09T14:57:00.003-06:00

Hours before the dawn breaks, I board a bus wearing warm-up sweats, my hair already pulled back ready to be set in a tight bun. I lug a large bag filled with the many items needed for the day and a garment bag keeping my precious costumes away from anything that could damage them. As the bus starts its trek, we grab our pillows and blankets and try to catch a few snoozes before arriving. Towards the end of our trip there, our routine music fills the air and we sit and think of the routine. Visualization is somehow extremely helpful.

Several hours later we arrive at our home for the next 10 or so hours. The smell of hairspray and makeup wafts through the school and an electricity ignites the air. Sensing the nerves and the excitement, we walk through the school to our designated room.

The next hour, we scramble to get our hair done and our makeup on. My hair is slicked back with ridiculous amounts of gel and hairspray - which is discovered to be an equal rival to cement. No, there is no way my hair is coming undone on the floor today. To add to that, my coaches paste a strip of rhinestones to the top of my head along my part with eyelash glue - that I know will take me at least an hour and three shampoos to get out.
Makeup is caked on - foundation, three or four layers of eyeshadow, fake eyelashes, eyeliner, bronzer, blush, and two layers of bright red lipstick.
My tights and first costume are already on, in addition to my warm-up sweatpants and jacket.
With a nervous flutter in my stomach and hairspray fumes filling my nostrils, I begin to stretch out to the soft music playing in the background.
Before I know it, we're rushed off to our floor-check time. The next 5 minutes none of us talk, except the coaches, who demand to move 4 inches to the left or stand on just outside that line. We're lucky if we even have time to run through the routine.
We walk quietly in a straight line back to the room. Remember 3rd grade? Exactly like that.

Back at the room we sit in a circle, close our eyes, and imagine our routine as the music is played.

In between, we grabbed bananas, apples, carrots, or celery to keep our stomachs from growling.

Then it's time for the Parade of Athletes. We line up for our entrance, our arms glued to our sides, smiling straight up to our parents and other spectators. We're proud to wear the name "Centahnas" - it means something. It's not just a dance team - it's family. A family of sisters who love to dance - so much so that we're willing to put our bodies through hours of scrutinizing work to create perfection to music.

Soon it's performance time. We line up in the shoot, completely silent, doing some last stretches and trying to perfect our technique on the things we forget and the things we don't do perfectly. My stomach flutters and my legs feel like jello. I get in "the zone"...that moment when I hear nothing else and think nothing else except a keen awareness of our impending routine. I hear nothing around me, just myself counting in my head "5-6-7-8", thinking of the routine.
Then before we're announced, we gather, peering into the gym. Our parents, flooding the middle section of the stands with red white and blue, cheer loudly for us. "CENTAHNAS! CENTAHNAS! CENTAHNAS!" They hold up letters spelling our team name.
And now, the "Century Centahnas with 'Paint it Black'. The choreographers are ...." and as we're announced, we run out onto the floor, quickly finding our spots and getting in our first pose. We wait as our heart pounds, preparing for that first beat. "What's my first move?" I think.

The music starts, my body starts moving, and for the next 3 minutes, my heart pounds, adrenaline shooting through my body as I smile, wink, and make cute facials way up into the crowd. Before I can feel it, the music ends and I land in my final pose. I wait to hear "5-6-7-8", and I get up with the rest of my team to quickly and quietly move off the floor.

Now it's time to get ready for the next routine - quick change costumes, change hair-pieces, change shoes! We do this 2 other times for more routines, and finally we sit to watch our competition. They're good. But so are we. They practice hard. But so do we. They practice for hours and hours. So do we. They love to dance. But so do we.

Once everyone finishes, all the teams gather on the floor in their respective circles and jam to the music played on the speakers while the judges scores are tallied. When it's finally time for them to be announced, we sit on the floor, crossed our arms and holding hands as we wait in suspense. We scream, jumping up and down, when our name is called. Sometimes we placed really well, 2nd and 3rd, sometimes we placed not as well, like 5th. But we're still proud of how we danced! Our parents flood the floor with their cameras, ready to snap several hundred photos of us with our trophies.

And finally, it's time to pack up and head home. It's around 6 pm. The three hour bus ride back is filled with everyone watching the routines on their home cameras, watching how they did and how everything looked. Constantly analyzing our every move, we make mental notes to remember that for the next practice.

And somewhere around 9 or 10, we finally arrive home, exhausted from the day, but proud of how it went.

This is where I belong. I belong in the land of dance competitions - spending a Saturday at a school filled with parents sporting their child's team's colors, dancers wearing their costumes and warmup sweats, a land filled with the aroma of sweat, hairspray, makeup, and the air filled with music and the cheers from the crowd.

This is familiarity. This is exhilarating. This is long and tired hours. This is so much hard work all coming down to one day of competition - about 9 mintues worth of dancing and hours worth of waiting and watching. This...this is home.

Tell me why celebrities get to decide how we should look?

2011-11-30T16:01:00.012-06:00

Why is it that when celebrities get plastic surgery, they all start to look alike?

Note to everyone: You are beautiful just the way you are - without fuller lips, cheek enhancements, botox, breast implants, and nose jobs. Let's not let Hollywood decide how we should look.

Winter Driving Tips: bits of wisdom passed down to me

2011-11-17T15:49:00.006-06:00

With our first winter storm approaching, I thought it would be a good idea to post winter driving tips. That, and a friend of mine who's unfamiliar with winter driving wanted some tips.

So here are some bits of wisdom passed down from so many others (mainly my dad) to me about winter driving. Most of these are "Duh" kind of tips, because in reality, we're all like "I could have told you that." But often times we forget and winter driving is no time to forget these things.
So here are tips for winter driving!

Items all winter drivers need:

Collapsible shovel you can keep in your car in the event you need to dig yourself out.
Blankets. Plural. Or a sleeping bag that has a low temperature resistance.
Warm clothing and accessories - warm winter boots, hats, mittens, scarves, coats, snowpants, etc.
Reflective/bright colored material.
Winter Emergency Kit: ("recipe" coming.)

Car Maintenance and Preparation:

FICTION: Four-Wheel/All-Wheel vehicles drive better in winter conditions. You can drive faster, break faster, turn faster, and do everything faster than everyone else in the winter. FACT: It's not the car that's the problem - it's your driving and the conditions. You should practice the same winter driving techniques in all cars.
Good Tires are key! If you don't live in a state where chains are allowed (and even if you do), a big part of keeping control of your vehicle in the winter is having good tires! Make sure the treads aren't too worn down and keep the correct air pressure. (Duh. Shouldn't that be standard for every-day driving, anyway?)
Good windshield wipers! Michelin brand has always worked best for me.
Windshield wiper fluid for sub-freezing temperatures! (Warning: don't use your wiper fluid to try to clear the windshield of frost if your shield is still freezing. It just doesn't work as nicely as you thought it would, at least, in my experience.)
Spraying vinegar on your windshield the night before a freeze will keep away the frost! There's definitely something to be said for not having to scrape your car!
However, the best thing for your car before you go anywhere is that you give it adequate time to warm up. (This is where having a remote car starter comes in really handy. Too bad I still don't have one!) If you give your car enough time to warm up and put your blowers on defrost and blast the heat, you probably won't have to do any scraping and you'll have a warm car to get into in the morning! (Or afternoon. Or whatever time it is.)
Try to keep at least a half of a tank of gas in the winter. I know, I know, it requires more stops at the gas station, but it helps make sure your gas lines don't freeze up.
On nights when it gets in the double-digit negatives, it's best to start your car in the night, let it run for 5-10 minutes, and then turn it off. It will help it start easier in the morning.
If you have a plug-in for your car from your engine, DO!
If your state likes to use salt to keep the roads clear, your car is going to get really salty really fast. And what does salt love to do to vehicles? Rust them. Wash your car on a regular basis. Weekly is usually best. And if you're smart, you can find gas stations that have a day of the week that they give discounted car washes. Tuesday is two-for-one day at the gas station I usually go to, so I'll buy two at a time, since they're good for something like a month.
After you wash your car, I like to take a towel (I keep a towel usually somewhere in my car) and dry off anything that will eventually need to "move", like key holes, door handles, my side rearview mirrors, around my trunk, etc., so that the water doesn't freeze them into place. This can also be helped by spraying WD-40 on them. (See next item)
Your keyholes and door handles are going to be a problem usually after it snows or ices. As in, you might not even be able to get your key in! Keep a can of WD-40 accessible (in your garage, house, apartment, etc.) so that when you get out to your car and all the sudden you find you can't turn your key to get into your car, you can just go grab the can, spray some in the keyhole, and open the door!

Before you travel:

Be Prepared! Thank you, Boy Scouts of the World, for this truth. Make sure to equip your car with a winter emergency kit (see "recipe" above.)
If the weather's bad, don't chance it. Better to be safe than dead, right?
Winter driving takes a lot more focus than your typical drive. Make sure you are rested enough, don't let unnecessary things distract you (phone, texts, music, etc.), and DO NOT drive under any influence!
Time: a commodity we all seem to need more of. But when it comes to winter driving, don't try to squeeze 20 minutes into 15. Although you may think you have only a 20 minute drive, it could easily turn into an hour. Make sure to plan extra time, and if you ARE running late, just accept the fact you will be late and *don't* hurry.
Check your route to see if there are any road closures. Usually every state's DOT has a website where you can check on these things. Also check the weather for your route! You never know when an ice storm or snow storm will blow through. (I've been victim to this on more than one occasion.)

WHILE YOU TRAVEL:

Anytime it snows or ices, the roads are (obviously) going to be slippery. Be cautious of the roads, testing them by slight braking when you have enough space between cars. Be particularly careful on bridges, as ice can form on them when other parts of the road are clear.
Seeing snow on the road is much easier, but it's the black ice that's much trickier, since it's so much more difficult to see. Keep an eye out for reflections or darker patches on the road. Black ice happens when the moisture from automobile exhaust condenses on the road surface or when the air temperature is above freezing, but the pavement's temperature is below freezing.
When you're braking, it's a good idea to shift the car into neutral. The reasoning? When your car is in drive, the transmission automatically torques the car forward, as in neutral, it won't. So when you're slowing down, it helps the car come to a stop better if you shift it into neutral. (This is more important on cars without Anti-lock breaks, since you're manually pumping the breaks to come to a stop.)
Get in the habit of driving with your headlights on all the time. If it's snowing at night, just like fog, it's better to keep your headlights on dim.
Don't use cruise control! I know it's so handy to have it for long trips, but your foot is just that much farther away from the break pedal should you need to use it - and in the winter, miliseconds count.
Don't power up hills. Applying extra gas on snow-covered roads just starts your wheels spinning. Try to get a little inertia going before you reach the hill and let that inertia carry you to the top. As you reach the crest of the hill, reduce your speed and proceed down hill as slowly as possible.
Don't stop going up a hill. There's nothing worse than trying to get moving up a hill on an icy road. Get some inertia going on a flat roadway before you take on the hill.
Don't stop if you can avoid it. There's a big difference in the amount of inertia it takes to start moving from a full stop versus how much it takes to get moving while still rolling. If you can slow down enough to keep rolling until a traffic light changes, do it.
Go slow, be alert, and keep a farther distance between you and the people around than what you normally would. Yes, folks, it is that simple. Truth is, is that so many of the accidents that happen are simply because people are going to fast, or are not alert enough, or both, and then when they try to hit the breaks, they can't break in time, and either go sliding into the person in front of them or sliding off the road. The rule of thumb of 3-4 seconds space between you and the person in front of you should now double to 8 seconds.
As a rule of thumb, do everything slower than you normally would: slower speeds, slower acceleration, slower steering, and slower braking. Don't make sudden moves. If you give yourself time and space, you should be able to slow down without breaking hard. Don't make quick lane changes, sharp turns, etc., because if you hit a patch of ice, you can bet that you're going to end up in the ditch, hitting another car, or worse.

WHAT IFS:

If you get stuck in the snow DO NOT hit the gas as hard as it can go. This will actually cause more heat from the friction of the snow and tires and will create ice and smoke, thus getting you "stuck" even further. Start by digging out a path around the tires. The put your car into its lower gear and slowly press the gas. The key here is traction, not friction. If you need to, you can try rocking the car back and forth by shifting between drive and reverse.
If you feel your car going out of control, don't make any sudden movements to try to regain control. It's best to take your foot off the gas and not apply the brakes, or if you do, apply slowly. Again, slower speeds, slower acceleration, slower steering, and slower braking will help you regain control.
If you end up driving in a blizzard, the saying "better safe than sorry" is most important here. If you are too nervous driving in those conditions, don't. Pull over and put your flashers on. Your adrenaline will actually hinder your ability to keep from sudden movements, rather than keep you alert, since safe driving in the winter requires lots of slow movements. You can always call the state patrol for assistance, if you aren't comfortable driving in those conditions.
a) If you're ok driving, but are still having a hard time seeing things, check if there is anyone around you. If there is, the best idea is to follow them at a safe distance. Watch for breaklights and headlights. If not, you can wait until there is, or if you don't think there will be, consider how long it is until the next exit/town where you can pull over and stay somewhere. It's best to get to a place where you can stay until the storm passes.
b) Have you ever heard of "Don't crowd the plow"? It's true. Give them space. But in a blizzard, following them is the best thing you can do! The theory goes like this: The snowplows are clearing the roads at the fastest pace as safety will allow for them, and they probably have far better equiped vehicles for winter driving than you do. So by passing them, you lose the roads that have already been cleared and are going far faster than what is reasonably safe for you.
If you go into the ditch with no one around, and you can't dig yourself out, WAIT IN YOUR CAR! Also, (Thanks Mythbusters for proving this), drinking alcoholic beverages is not good to help with warmth! (See winter survival kit info!) Tie something bright colored around a high point on your vehicle (Usually your antennae), and if you can, put reflective cones on the shoulder of the road.
If you see someone in the ditch, stop and ask if they need assistance! Cell phones don't have coverage everywhere, and some people *still* don't have them. Offer them the chance to sit in your warm car while they wait for help.

Oh, Death, where is thy sting? ...well, sometimes, it does.

2011-11-07T14:42:00.005-06:00

2 Years and just under a month ago. His death was ushered in by the cold winds of winter, flakes being tossed towards the ground in a freezing whoosh of air. That day of his memorial service, gloomy clouds loomed over us, seeming to note just how we felt. His death was a loss none of us was willing to bare, but bare we did, because we must. In that year and four months, my cousins grew from boys to men. My aunt. There are no words I can use that begins to describe her strength, her love, her devotion.

The morning of his funeral, I sat in the front, wishing I could cower in the back. I did not wish to witness this. I did not wish to endure it. It wasn't necessarily my own pain that I wished to escape, but the incredible desire to not see people so close to my heart in more pain than I. It was a beautiful funeral, in a beautiful Catholic church, with stained glass windows and hard tile that made my heels clank along the steps as we walked to our seats. The scents of the hundreds of flowers that filled the sanctuary and the incense is burned crisp into my memory, just like that crisp October morning. I don't remember much about what was said. I don't remember much about what we did. All I remember is sitting and standing, biting my lip trying to keep my thousands of tears from spilling over like water just released from a dam.

There are things you just don't forget. Moments in time that are burned into your memory like a brand on a calf. You don't forget the details. The tree was practically in its full autumnal color, rich with orange and golden leaves floating down to the ground, the sky blue after its gloom from the night before.

I still hear my aunts sobs as she said her final goodbye upon that green hill. My cousins aren't typically "huggers." But the hugs we gave each other that day said just as much as a thousand little hugs we've given through the years.

We've endured thanksgivings and Christmas's without him. We've endured what would have been his birthday. We've endured summers lacking his boat driving expertise as we are wakeboarding and waterskiing, fishing expertise, camping and hunting expertise, ice-cream eating expertise, and that "That's so uncle Karl" humor.
Yet each year his death's sting doesn't lessen. It still hurts that he isn't with us. Heaven called his name, but too many times have I sat and ached for his company during family gatherings. And every time I think to myself "If it's this painful for me, then how painful is it really for my cousins and aunt?"

In the past 7 days, my family said goodbye to one of our own, my best friend said goodbye to her grandfather, and a co-worker said goodbye to a close friend. It's been one of those weeks. You know. The kind that you start thinking about your own life in a way that typically doesn't come about. The kind that makes me start thinking of how I'm living my own life, how much my friends and family mean to me, and the urgency to spread the hope that those who believe in Jesus Christ and accept the oh-so-precious gift that is forgiveness will be reunited with each other in a land that will be so far beyond our best dreams and wildest imaginations.

If you don't know what it's like to hope beyond all doubts, to have a faith in someone that will always be with you and take care of you, even beyond death, then seek and understand who Jesus Christ REALLY is, what he did, and what that means for you if you accept what he has given you...life beyond death!
1 Corinthians 15:
55 “ O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?”
56 The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.
57 But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
58 Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.

*For my dear Uncle Karl,
we miss you. And we look forward to the day where we may see you again! Save me some steak & crab legs up there, ok? With so much love.

It's more than just dance. It's learning about life.

2011-11-04T15:35:00.012-05:00

TLC has recently come out with a new show called Dance Moms. I've watched a couple episodes here and there. And while I'm not here to discuss the ups and many downs of the show, I thought to myself just how much I do not want my "dance world" today to be like that show. I think both the coaches and the mom's have their good and bad moments. But the biggest issue with that show is a lack of respect. A lack of respect for the people, a lack of respect for dance, a lack of respect for the dancers themselves. It's not pretty. And as a coach, that's something I will not allow to happen.

(The Century Centahnas with our trophy at the West Fargo Packatahna Invitational, December 2004.)

When I was a Centahna, our biggest rivals were the Bismarck Demonettes. (For those of you saying "What's a Centahna and a Demonette?"...They are school dance team names/mascots. As a dancer on the Century High School Dance Team, I was a Centahna. Get it? Ok. Awesome.) Our coaches made sure that we acted beyond our years, even when the Demonettes did things that, well, are childish and stupid and mean against us...even when they placed better than we did...and even when we placed better than they did. We were taught the most important thing that good sportsmanship teaches: respect. It wasn't always easy. But as I'd find out...it was worth it.

(This is Desi and the JV Demonettes. I know I have a better photo, but it's somewhere in my Twitter archives and I can't dig that deep to find it right now.)

Today, I am friends with a former Demonette. I believe we even competed against each other. She's the assistant coach of the JV Demonette dance team. But as we soon found out, we are both really awesome people that don't hate each other. And there's that other thing too. The "dancer" bond. It's something that feels like an exclusive club. When I find somebody else who dances, it's like we're part of this special group of people that understands exactly what it means to be a dancer.

(This is during one of our many Saturday practices. We're working to perfect our kick routine here! Our competition season is only 3 months long, but we had required technique workshops, required summer training including running and pilates 6 days/week, and required dance camp. Then our "season" practices went from August all the way through March. Even after that, the seniors still got together to practice for our senior routine.)
The life of a dancer is full of so many struggles. We often practice longer than any other sports team practices. I remember some of my practices during high school went sometimes 6 hours. That wasn't including the early morning practices before school, and the two and three-a-day practices we had every Saturday pre-State meet. We spend hours perfecting the tiniest of details. (Are palms facing in or out? Are we looking towards the crowd or to the corner?) We spend hours training or bodies for strength, stamina, balance, flexibility. And we better be good at all of it, because without one you fail to train yourself properly.

(We always began our practice by running the caterpillar run for around 10-15 minutes before practice. If it wasn't that, it was stair runs, followed by ab and muscle work for another 15-30 minutes. Then stretching for another 15-20. Yay for hour long warmups.)

(But all of that hard work pays off when you can do this. And a lot of other cool looking stuff, too.)

(Here I am before walking onto the floor. This is usually about when my legs started to feel like jello.)
And it's not just the training that makes it, either. It's the nerves that make you feel like jello before the music begins. It's the adrenaline rush you feel when you're out on the floor performing. It's the elation when you hit the perfect routine, or the frustration that comes after miskicks or a less-than-perfect turn sequence. It's the costumes, the sparkle, the makeup, the music, the smell of hairspray and the sound of the crowd cheering.

(Here's the end of the kick routine at the WF Packatahna Invitational. The feeling you get when the crowd erupts after the routine is done is like none other.)

This makes all of us dancers connected. Since high school, I've been blessed in meeting people and when realizing we have that connection. It's fun to talk dance, what routines we've done, what it was like.

(Our pizza party last night!)
This is what I told my girls last night as we ate some pizza getting ready for the competition tomorrow. I told them that, even though Champion may be stuck up snobs who act horrible to everyone else, we will cheer them on anyway. Because a few years down the road after they graduate high school and experience college life, they will probably meet and become friends with some of these girls.

And in the end, it doesn't matter who wins. But what does matter is respect. What does matter is how hard you worked. What matters is your attitude and how you act. Because in the end, being a dancer is to be part of a family. You may have your fights and your arguments, and you may get extremely irritated at them...but they are family.

(I know I certainly consider these girls family. Most of us still keep in contact.)

I hope and pray that my dancers learn that respect is far more important than winning. It's important for them to respect themselves and respect others as dancers.
And all together, dance isn't just about dancing. What they learn in these next few years of their lives will dictate what kind of people they will become. And I hope and pray that as their dance coach, I will teach them not just how to dance, not just different routines, but teach and show them life lessons.

In other news:
I packed what I believe is to be the best "dance emergency kit" ever. if there's something that I need that's not in this bag, I must have made a serious misstep, because I could swear I have everything they could possibly need! And you really don't want to know just how much I spent on all of this. Let's just say the Vikings could have had another cheerleader in the stands if it wasn't for this. ;-)

So here's to tonight, the life lessons I hope they learn, and the coach I aspire to be!

"Faster, daddy, faster!" - the ranting of a speed junkie

2011-10-10T09:22:00.005-05:00

When I was a toddler, my father would take me out for walks in the stroller. At the time, we were living in campus housing at what is now Crown College - specifically in Faith Village. On the stroll over to campus, my father would wheel the stroller at, I'm sure for at least my mother, what seemed like a horrific speed down the hill. But it was my favorite thing - going fast. I would squeal in excitement and yell "again, dad!" And then there was that one fateful day. The one where he accidentally let go of the stroller, and it hit the speed bump, and the stroller flipped upside down. Luckily for both him and me, I was strapped in pretty darn tight and did not suffer any (known) brain damage, broken bones, or traumatic shocks that required years of therapy.

I've always loved to go fast. I loved playing upbeat songs on the piano, and when my piano instructors gave me a "dreadfully slow" song, I would, without a doubt, speed up the tempo as my fingers flew faster and faster over the keys. I loved the jazz or kick routines we did far more than ballet. Oh, I loved ballet. It was beautiful and pretty. But I didn't feel near the adrenaline rush as I did from performing a good jazz or kick routine. When I was probably around 10, my best friend Trudy and I tagged along with her father at the speedway races. I remember putting in the required ear-plugs Keith gave us, and then watching in amazement as a car would speed across the stretch of road so fast I had barely even seen it.

I could recount other stories of my love of going fast - like the time I was 8 and we took a ride on the alpine carts down a steep hill. At first, I was so scared of going down that I chose the slow track. But 10 feet down the track and I felt the adrenaline rush of the wind whipping through my hair and everything whizzing by me, and I was pushing the pedal to let me go as fast as I could. I got to the bottom and so desperately wanted to go again, pleading to my parents to let me go on the fast track this time. (They said "no.") Or growing up on my grandparent's farm, I would take the 4-wheeler out for a ride - and I would go down the hill as fast as I could, then hit the bump and fly through the air - or speeding down the driveway as fast as I could push it before I had to turn, making sure, of course, that when I drove near the house or barn, to slow down so Grandpa wouldn't catch me going so fast.

So now imagine - I'm 16, have a brand new driver's license, and couldn't think of doing anything but hopping in the car lovingly named our "toaster-oven-on-wheels" and driving. Fast. Anywhere. Ever since then, I have often caught myself speeding down the road, sometimes well over the speed limit. (Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not.) I speed. I try not to, because I realize that me speeding is considered a sin, and well, I try not to sin when I can help it. Also, because the idea of paying $150 for going 10 over the speedlimit is just a tad bit more than I want to pay - or for that matter, can even afford to pay. But, simply put, I like going fast.

The people here in Watertown, well, I suppose you could say they really like to "just enjoy the scenery along their drive." I bet if I asked some of them, they'd say "Why hurry?" But the thing is - they are typically going 5 to 10 miles/hr UNDER the speed limit. I don't understand it. The speed limit along two of the major routes is 35 through town. Yet none of them seem to think their cars of capable of going that speed, because they ALL (and by all, I REALLY mean all) go 30 through town. And then there's the road I take into work: 25 mph. Now, if you ask me, I think it should at least be 30. But here, everyone thinks the actual speed limit hovers somewhere around 15-20 mph. And I about die in frustration - every single morning, afternoon, and evening. It's all I can do to not shout and scream at the person in front of me. Especially when I'm in a hurry to get either of my jobs.

Then I think to myself, what kind of a horrible person am I to be complaining about people going UNDER the speed limit? I'd rather people go slower and be safe than speed, drive irratically and cause accidents that cause injuries and deaths. But SERIOUSLY? SERIOUSLY! I get so irritated.

So although I hate to be complaining about such a stupid thing as slow traffic in a small town, I am. I just want to go the speed limit. Is that so much that I'm asking for?

learning to see love

2011-08-02T02:52:00.003-05:00

Self-esteem. It's a tricky thing.
One day we're accomplished, successful, loved, and beautiful. But one thing snaps and all the sudden you feel like the world's biggest failure. It may be small. It may be big. But that one thing has the power to control your mind and make you believe that somehow you aren't deserving of love, of hope, of things good for your future.

It's so easy to feel like a failure. If it's not in every aspect of our lives, it's still easy to focus and dwell on the things we loathe about ourselves. Whether they're internal matters or physical matters, it's difficult to keep those distractions at bay and feel in our hearts like we're worth something.

No, I'm not suggesting we focus solely on our positive aspects, putting on the rose-colored glasses and ignoring the faults we need to work on to change. But I believe our society is looking for approval and acceptance in all the wrong places, and when we realize the greatest love that's already upon us, it can change our perception of life.

As a recent college graduate, I find myself wandering through these post-grad months with a foggy sense of direction of where my life is going. And because of that lack of direction, I also have a lack of self-esteem. Who am I really? Is who I've become who I'm supposed to be? What do I really want to do with my life?

I thought I had it all figured out. But truth be told, I've realized that perhaps my plan for my life isn't what God had planned for me at all. And the lack of work, the lack of purpose, has got me all flustered.

There have been many moments where I've felt like a failure. I wonder what in the world am I doing. And as I've sauntered down the road without a clue where it's headed, I begin, piece by piece, to lose my self-esteem. Not getting jobs, interviews, or even an email of recognition that someone has received my resume - it's worn me down into this person that I look in the mirror and all I see is failure.

So as I sat on the couch this afternoon, watching yet another episode of FRIENDS to cheer me up, I began to wonder ... what really can boost my spirits? Because although FRIENDS has always proved to be a great source of laughter for me, it only lasts for 22 minutes.

I began to realize that I needed to really look at myself the way God does. He loves me. And he doesn't just love me when I'm successful. He doesn't just love me when I rocked an exam, or served him at VBS.

He loves the complete, whole, every single bit of me. He loves my loud laugh, he loves my blue eyes and my tiny feet. He loves the way I twirl around the house, because I'm a dancer through-and-through, and simply cannot go a day without twirling, leaping, and throwing in an arabesque wherever I can. He loves me.

And so I took some time today to write a list of the things I think God loves about me. I found writing that list was incredibly freeing, incredibly uplifting, and incredibly full of love itself. I found that the more things I wrote down, the more I thought about how much God loves me. Which made me realize just how much I love him. He loves the parts of me that I loathe, like my unruly hair and the zits that pop up on my face. He loves my crazy irrational fear of spiders and getting bit by a shark.
What I realized most was that simply, yet so unimaginably, he just loves me. He loves all of me. He loves me because he created me.
And writing that list down of those things.... it helped. It helped me see the bigger picture. It helped me widen my view from just focusing on my flaws and failures to the things greater than those - his decision to love me anyway. His decision to love me and help me overcome those things.

That encouragement from that list was life-altering, and I encourage you to do the same.

Write down the things you love about yourself. Then write down the things you think God loves about you. See what you find. You may just find a God who's loved you since forever, who just wants you to see that love reflected in your eyes, too.

Try to see what God sees. It'll open your eyes to a love unlike any other. A love that's willing to accept and welcome you for all you are and all you aren't, give you grace for your flaws and failures, and challenge you to take those flaws and failures to spin them into something beautiful.

How to meet good Christian Men: a comedic "how to meet the guy"

2011-07-14T00:31:00.006-05:00

For some women, their dreams of a fairytale romance begins with an accidental bump on the street. Or perhaps it begins with a mix-up at the deli. Or witty banter over a drink while bar-hopping with your girls.
But for us Christian women with slightly different standards, there aren’t many places where we can go to meet good Christian men. A bar isn’t the first choice for me to go and meet a potential husband/father. Accidentally bumping on the street isn’t an impossible situation, but odds lean towards the less-than-likely side. And although getting a number as a “thank you” for helping out said customer while at work in Express is flattering, it’s not quite the same for those of us who have, well, just different standards than most.
While pondering my current lack of places to meet a potential husband, I came up with a brilliant idea.
Church hopping.
That’s right. Church hopping. The Christian version of bar hopping.
My suggestion:
Google potential churches that have different service times. You can hit your traditional services in the early morning, rush over to the church with the late morning service, take part in another church’s small group that goes out to lunch afterwards. You then have approximately a few hours to go home, nap, and prepare for the evening to late night worship services.
In order to do this effectively, one must do research on which churches and services have a coffee/lunch/potluck hour. If you do your research well, you might be meeting the man you will spend the rest of your life with.
Start your morning off with coffee before the traditional service at the first pre-selected church. Perhaps the man with the coffee next to you might offer to pour you a cup. (Make sure to "conveniently" keep your hands full with your bible and purse.) Keep watch of his hands to see if they are shaking while pouring your cup - that could be a hint that he's into you. It also could mean he's had large quantities of caffeine already that morning. Next, you move onto the potluck at the next church’s late service. They always say food is the way to a man’s heart, so make sure to make up your own hotdish (yes, hotdish) and stand behind it and serve it. When the other ladies of the church ask you if you’re new, point to a guy and say “I’m his guest.” Those ladies will then swarm said man and ask tons of questions, which will of course peak his curiosity and ask you on a date…and of course try your amazing tater-tot hotdish. End the late morning/early afternoon portion with a full lunch at small group for the third church of the day. (Keep in mind not to eat any of your own hotdish from before. It'd be a shame to be too full to attend lunch.) Lunch is always a great way to get to know people. So go to the local Perkin’s, Applebee’s, or IHOP afterwards with that small group in your age bracket... and make sure to sit next to both the guy that catches your eye and the girl who looks like your next best friend. Having a girl confidant to subtly ask questions about said man next to you is a good way to get to know that man. Who needs 1-on-1 conversation when you can get the inside scoop from your soon-to-be bestie?
Make sure to take a break in the afternoon. You’ll need to figure out a good concoction for the extra-socialization hangover. Be careful not to socialize too much without taking the proper precautions. Most importantly, always have a friend to call to drive you to said events in case of too much socialization.
Come evening, drink tea at the first evening services’ pre-service fellowship. The tea-thing can come in handy, because if you typically don’t drink tea, you will need a proper tea expert (such as the man again standing next to you) to ask about which tea to try, how strong to make it, and which tea would be the most proper to have on a date. Finally go for a late night jaunt to Caribou with the people from the late night vesper’s service, because they will certainly need some caffeine for the late night study session for their next exam. Of course, this only works at Bethel and if you are a college student. But hey, you might just snag a Bethel Sem student in the process.
And as most shampoo bottles say:
“lather, rinse and repeat as necessary.”
Ok, so take out the lather and rinse, but you must still repeat as necessary with different churches until you find that soul mate.

*note: none of these theories have been tested or proven to be even the least bit effective. But if someone wants to try them, I’d be willing to accompany them.*

The Adventure Itch

2011-01-02T06:02:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I feel as if I'm bipolar or schizophrenic.

There's a side of me that belongs home, longing for roots and stability. My family, my home, my friends. The little things, like the smells, the sounds, the creeks of the floorboard, etc. I love having that sense of sturdiness, that sense of roots. Contentment.

Yet there are times when I get what's known in our family as the Davis Family Travel Bug. Or better worded, the adventure bug. I long for excitement. I long for experiencing the new, the unknown, the unstable. Experiencing new smells, new sights. Jumping off cliffs and diving into the sea. Sightseeing and experiencing all that God has set in place. Taking off without reason, spur-of-the-moment deciding to head off somewhere unknown.

Tonight I made what I now know is a mistake by watching Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. They each travel to their respective areas, most of them not far from home. But at the end, they all just up and buy a ticket to Greece. I long for that. If money wasn't a factor (or the fact I don't have a current passport), it would take all the forces of the world to stop me from driving to Minneapolis and hopping on the next flight to anywhere exotic. Bora Bora? Of course. Turkey? Why not. Greece, Italy, Spain, Rome, Portugal, Venezuela, Australia, London, Paris, Vienna - "covered". (A camp reference, for those who would understand.) I would go anywhere.

It's as if words cannot account for this extreme urge to get out of this place. It's not that I don't love it with all my heart. But it's really that I love the thought of adventure more. I want to experience all life has to offer and the thought of being cooped up here with the same ol' same ol' is disheartening, at best.

Part of this past summer was exactly that for me...the adventure. My first two weeks were rough, as I was homesick for all that I missed. But after that it seemed as if I delved right into California life, embracing everything and anything it had to offer. (I will soon have the opportunity to experience it again! My heart longs for that familiar as well.)

Yet I still can't shake this craving that I need more. It's a little frightening, to be honest. There are days I wonder if it has a drug-like quality. Every bit of adventure gives me a dose and it quenches the thirst for the time being. The problem is, the thirst comes back with a vengeance, wanting more and more.

I want to chase storms through the midwest, feeling the power of the wind surround me. I want to fly east, Lobstering in Maine and traveling down the coast, stopping for the thrill of the theater or history of New York City, going through South Carolina on beaches, or visiting the very tip of Florida. I want to travel to Paris, buy a ridiculously overpriced pair of Jimmi Choos and take the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I want to Greek Dance in Greece. (I already know how, thanks to Jenny Codi... "hooopah!") I want to eat true Italian food in Italy. I long to dive along the Great Barrier Reef, taking in the coral and tropical fish, all while not being eaten by a shark. (knock on wood, right?) I want to swim with dolphins off of the Bahamas, and maybe even sail a Pirate Ship with Captain Jack Sparrow through the Caribbean. (Ok, so that last one, not quite, I suppose.) But you get the idea.

I've seen so little. I've experienced far less. I need to embrace this world.

.....the only problem: How do I get the money? Oh, and, who would travel with me?

Shhhh....

2010-12-23T21:57:00.002-06:00

I can't tell how many times I've written about snow. I can count at least three (including this one) on this blog. But for years and years, I've written about in diaries and journals. But it seems no matter how much I write about it, I can never really express the true magic and wonder that fills the air whenever it snows.

It snowed again today. I went into the library to go check out some Christmas books, and when I stepped outside, it was falling. And after a quick trip to Walmart for some much needed Christmas wrapping supplies (including both duct tape and packing tape), I came home and announced I would be going for a walk.

So indeed, I went. I grabbed my iPod, threw on my warm boots and bomber hat and stepped outside into the glittering white snowglobe. And really, oh the beauty. There's something inexplicably thrilling yet calming as you walk through the white winter wonderland.

I passed by homes and businesses all lit up, people bustling inside with love and laughter. I walked through the streets covered in a soft white blanket, not yet pounded by feet and tires. I wandered around town, looking up at the streetlights and wreaths attached to them, seeing the snow fly down towards the ground. I passed by churches, candles lit from the inside.

And while there's a thrill of excitement, I often times find myself wanting to say "shhhh..." I'm really not even sure why. Perhaps it's a suggestion for others, to stop hustling and bustling with the deadline of Christmas morning looming and simply enjoy the blessings of the season. Perhaps it's God telling me to "Be quiet and listen." But whatever the reason, it's quite calming.

I think the thing that most resounds through the holiday season is the presence and importance of family. Whether it's yours or a stranger's, it's not only important but inspiring when you just sit, watch, and listen. Be still and take a moment to soak in what's around you. Families hustling around the kitchen, making a Christmas meal. Co-workers laughing together at a business. A father toting home his daughter in a sled through the snow. It's amazing what you can discover and encounter just by watching. So as a reminder to you all, just... "shhh..." Stop and listen, watch, just to experience the joys, sights and sounds of the holiday season.

The best tree

2010-12-21T22:12:00.004-06:00

I've always been a traditionalist at heart. I like to sit in the same chair at the dinner table. I like to eat my cereal out of the same bowls I have since I was a young girl. I even had a hard enough time when my mother decided to buy new furniture for our upstairs living room. I had an even harder time getting used to the new dish set she bought some five years ago. I like things the same. Through the years, changes have had to be made. Some of them small, like the dishes. Some of them big, like moving, and moving again, and yet again. And because of moving, things changed. And knowing there was nothing I could do, I just had to let it be.

But there was one thing that hasn't changed through the years: our family decorating the Christmas tree together. We put on Christmas music, and start decorating away.

Earlier this holiday season, my roommates and I set up our own tree. I had brought the old plastic one from home that we never use anymore (as we've elected to get the real-deal for the past many years.) It took us a while to get the whole thing completely decorated, between schedules and time-constraints. We set up the tree one afternoon. Then we strung popcorn and cranberries several days later. And the next week, Mia finally put some of her ornaments up. And just a few days ago, I finally bought Christmas bulbs and candy canes, that night hanging them on the tree. I even painted a few of them with glitter, spelling out our names on them. But as I hung the shiny Christmas ornaments, I felt a sense of...complacency. Just, blah. I didn't feel the excitement, the thrill, and the joy that comes with the memories formed with each ornament. Oh, it's a pretty tree. And in our its own way, it represents a new beginning. New traditions. New beginnings. But sometimes new is hard.

I was supposed to go home one weekend to help set up the family Christmas tree. I was nearly packed and ready to go! But luck and true Minnesota weather had it that it would snow. And not just snow, but really snow and snow and snow. It snowed so much that malls closed on the second busiest day of the year. As a matter of a fact, everything closed. It snowed so much it was the fifth largest blizzard in the metro area on record.

In the meantime, I had called my parents, letting them know I could not make it home, and now this meant I most likely wasn't going home until two days before Christmas. I told my dad, "You guys need to get in the holiday spirit. Go ahead and decorate without me, and I'll just have to deal with it." I was trying to be ok with it, but really, I wasn't.

This past weekend, I had from Saturday night to Monday afternoon off. So I called up dad and I said, "I'm coming home!" The way this time of year goes, it had whisked away without a chance for them to decorate the tree. So I came home and was ready to bring the holiday cheer with me. And finally, the Minnesota weather gave me a break. I headed home Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon, we were setting up the tree.

First came the lights. Dad loathes Christmas lights. I think he just gets tangled and can't make them stay the way he wants. But for years, it's always been my mother and I putting up the Christmas lights, and in recent years, the sister has helped. And as every year happens, there weren't enough to go around. So of course I was sent out to go pick up some more Christmas lights. (It really is a big tree.) We finished stringing the lights, and then came my favorite time.

We plugged in the Christmas music and dug out the ornaments. We are an ornament family. Through the years, we've collected so many, that I think each year our tree has to grow nearly exponentially for them all to fit. As Johnny Mathis and Bing Crosby crooned their Christmas tunes, we sifted through our favorite ornaments, each representing some memory. I had my "shoe" ornaments - (one is an actual miniature white lace heel, the other says, "If the shoe fits, buy it in every color.") I have my ugly homemade ornament I made in the first grade, or the glitter star with a picture in it from second grade. There's the ornament given to me from my Sunday school teacher and "other mom" Mary Anders. The clear glass ornament is stuffed with a picture of me in my favorite yellow frilly dress from the 3rd grade. And then there's the ornament given to me from my preschool teacher, a "July" precious moments angel, and even a Barbie Collectors Christmas ornament. Oh, and a Vikings ornament, which is technically dad's, but I might claim for myself here soon.
As I go through each of the ornaments, whether they're mine or my sisters, or sift through my parents' ornaments from when they first got married, I am reminded of memories that are attached to them.

Part of it isn't even the ornaments, it's just being with my family, shuffling back and forth from the ornament boxes (yes, there are more than one) to the tree as we sing along to whatever song is playing. (My sister now even sings along to the Hallelujah Chorus.)

My mother, after it was finished, made a comment that said, "It's the memories and the love that make it so beautiful." And how true that rings. It doesn't have a pretty theme, and it might filled with too many ornaments, both beautiful and ugly alike, but it's the love and the memories that fill the tree that make it special.

After the ornaments came the tinsel, and after the tinsel came the gold bows. And the star, of course, which came actually before the ornaments - we've learned that the bigger the tree, the harder it is to put it on after the ornaments.

I'm not really sure what to make of this, if there's a lesson to be learned or a thought to be processed. But I know that our tree, this year named McKinley (because of it's massive size and a family member in Washington), is one of the most beloved. Oh, what it is to come from such a loving family.

But whatever happens for Christmases future, I know that these memories will never be taken from me. And although it frightens me to let my family go and begin my own, whenever that may be, I'll be excited to start new memories on a new tree.

Quandary...what defines appreciation?

2010-11-28T23:05:00.005-06:00

As some of you know, and many of you don't, my roommates and I have been on a large Gilmore Girls kick. And when I say "Gilmore Girls kick," I really mean "We've gone through the entire series in about a month and a half." Yes, ridiculous. Pathetic, even. But when you're about as boring as the three of us are, it tends to go that way.

And so it would just make sense that watching the series, it would rub off on me and create questions in my mind, as does a good television show does.

One of the questions recently popped into my brain while just having it on in the background as I cooked supper. As fellow Gilmore Girls fans would know, Rory is arguably one of the smartest and most precocious characters ever written. Part of that brilliance is the knowledge of unusual and quite large words.
In addition to her unusual knowledge of words in the English language (and French and Latin as we later find out), is the series' use of references. Anything from the Barefoot Contessa, to journalism names like Bob Woodward and Christian Amanpour, to obscure band and television/film references. Some of them I know. Most of them I don't. But it peaks my curiousity, and often times I find myself googling certain references just to understand the meaning. But the brilliance of the writing in the show is that you don't have to know all the references to understand what they're saying.

But like I said, watching this show has peaked several questions I still have yet to answer, although I have a sense some of them will never be answered. For today, I will just leave you with the question most prevelant in my mind at the moment.

Does it take an artist to truly appreciate the art? or really, simply put, "Does it really take one to know one?" as the saying goes.
I shall further detail my quandary with bits of examples.
As aforementioned, Rory is the journalist and English "freak." Her knowledge of words and books is astounding. So it just makes sense that as the series goes on, episode after episode there are references to famous journalists, both past and present, to journalism terms, and of course the use of exemplary words. As a fellow journalist, my classes have taught me such words and references in the journalism world, and so I feel as if I connect and can appreciate the words and the references.
Now, to the average person, the knowledge and use of such words and references might go unnoticed. Or even if they are acknowledged, they are at most interpreted in a horizontal manner, not being able to understand its full depth.

The same goes for me as a dancer. I watch other routines, ranging anywhere from a contemporary piece by Travis Wall or Mia Michaels to a classical ballet piece choreographed centuries ago when Tchaikovsky still gave the breath and life of music to ballet. When I watch other routines, I think I am able to appreciate it more and understand it on a deeper level than others, since I know the difficulty of work and the time and effort strained into it. As an artist, a choreographer, I watch other pieces with what I think of as a greater appreciation, taking into account all the things good choreographers do. While the average viewer might just say "I think that was amazing," I could probably take that statement and divulge why.

Not to say I am a head above the rest. In the matters of science or mathematics, if someone were to create a hypothesis or theorum, then create the data and evidence to back it up, I wouldn't understand in the least. All I would do is look at the numbers and cringe. (As my journalism professor would say, "When we see numbers, our eyes have a tendency to gloss over.") I would stand there dumbfounded. Probably amazed at what I was looking at, but still completely clueless as to its actual extend and importance.

Now, this doesn't go without its own controversy.
After I posted this question on twitter, a friend of mine replied:
"No. Otherwise there would be very few would would appreciate greatness."
So is that true, as well? If we only appreciate what we know and understand, there really wouldn't be much appreciation in this world, would there?

So what do you think?
Is appreciation only for the knowledgable? Does it really take one to know one?
Or can appreciation for art, or science/mathematics, for that matter, be held by those with less or no knowledge at all?

OR, can we all appreciate work, but we appreciate it at different levels?

So seriously, what do you think?
Quandary.

White fluffy stuff fluttering from the sky.

2010-11-13T02:33:00.004-06:00

Once upon a time, I wrote a similar blog about snow. But tonight's a new night.

Tonight was the first snow of the season. Mia and I were winding down for the evening, fiddling with our ipods, as do all twenty-something year olds.. All the sudden, she says "facebook says it's snowing!" and we turn around out the window to see the snow starting.

I said, "Let's go outside!" and she was right with me. We immediately turned off the TV, threw on shoes, and rushed out the door.

As we stepped outside, the snow was lightly falling. But it didn't matter. We ran outside and started to squeal (or rather, *I* started to squeal) "IT'S SNOWING!" with a dumb grin on my face, like the world had handed me a lifetime of chocolate. I stood there in the parking lot with Mia, just staring at the sky with white puffs flying into my face. I smiled like I wouldn't be able to smile again ever in my life.

It was that childlike excitement that falls upon me every year. Every year I step outside, screaming, hugging, jumping, yelling, "IT'S SNOWING!" or simply just the word "Snow!"

After playing around for several minutes, then realizing just how cold it was, Mia and I decided to bundle up and take a walk around the neighborhood.

After coats were found and scarves were wrapped and boots thrown on, we ran outside to begin what turned out to be over an hour and a half of walking around the area. It was beautiful. There really is no other way to describe it. What God gives us every year is simply undeniably beautiful.

We wandered around, listening to the sounds of the wind whistling...although more to the sounds of our squeals of excitement and our laughter. We nearly froze our extremities off, but an hour and half didn't seem nearly enough time.

Snow. The word is so beautiful in itself. The white begins in flakes, and before you know it (and before we knew it tonight), the ground was covered in white, and as we gazed down the street, it was a peaceful calm as the snow fell down.

Now we're back, cozied up on the couch with warm fuzzy blankets, sweats, and hot cocoa.

Nothing could seem more perfect.

It's here. Snow. Christmas.....it's here. :-)

The rise of the classics.

2010-10-02T21:17:00.011-05:00

Recently, there's been an uprising of film, and the analogue age. It's like I'm almost re-experiencing photography all over again. And I'm not the only one!
Analogue cameras have now been recreated and produced, giving artists and photographers a newfound appreciation for the old age.
Companies like LOMOGRAPHY are producing analogue cameras to produce different effects, like a fisheye camera, or the "helga" camera...each of them creating more creative and artistic shots than a classic point and shoot camera.

And more so, new technology is taking photography to another level. One of the iPhone's most popular app's is a photography application called "Hipstamatic", which takes a picture through the camera in the iPhone, but allows you to choose and swap out "digital" lens', films, and lighting gels. The outcomes of which are both trendy and classic photos. And if you're like me, it's always more enjoyable to say I took this photo with the "John S" or "Helga" lens, and use infrared film...all in a digital way!

So all this to say, the film age is back...in a new light. Whether you pick up your old toy camera, poloroid, or through the Hipstamatic iphone app, you're going to be seeing more and more and more every-day photos in a new creative artistic light.

Check out some of the hipstamatic and lomography photographs:

http://www.flickr.com/groups/hipstamatic/pool/

http://www.lomography.com/photos

Once as I sat upon the shore

2010-05-16T21:28:00.015-05:00

There's a peaceful serenity that calms my soul when I sit by a lake.

Today is a calm day, although just several days ago the wind whipped the waves higher than some of the docks, shaking them with a force that almost rivaled a hurricane. Today, however, The waves lap ever-so-gently along the sand and I feel the warmth of the sun, which has now peered out from a string of clouds. It glows a warm yellow in the evening hour, shimmering off the lake's smooth surface.

I squish my feet in the sand, and it molds beneath my feet and squishes in between my toes, giving me its version of a foot massage. A row of smooth rocks line the shore, having been pounded by the waves of time.

Shrieks and squeals of laughter resound from the playground behind me while another little girl plucks stones from the shoreline, attempting to skip them. Too young to have the knack for skipping stones down, I burst out chuckles here and there as I watch her try.

The gentle yet ever-present breeze wafts a clean early-summer scent. The smell of burning charcoal on the grill makes my stomach growl for a good meal. Not that I am starved, by any means, but I couldn't deny that a good grilled hamburger would quench my appetite.

The beach-side, now all but deserted by the Sunday afternoon crowd, is filled with small valleys by the feet that had pounded across its' molding shore. The power and energy that thrived upon these waters has now calmed into a solitude with only a few scattered pontoon and a pair of ducks, now gliding farther into the distance.

A dark and massive cloud has now passed over the lake, but has yet to eclipse the sun from its warm rays reaching down to earth. I can tell that after the sun grows weary & falls into the night, the dark and gloomy cloud will let loose its rage.

Over the past several minutes I have been joined by families who are just as eager for summer to start as I am. The young girl has now been joined by the rest of her family, now all scouring the shoreline for the perfect flat stone. It seems as if she got her lack of stone-skipping talent from the rest of them. Several other families filter in and out, all catching a small glimpse of the breathtaking view - although none of them stay long enough for me to believe they truly breathed in the scene.

I am ready for a summer next to the ocean; Yet I am apprehensive about leaving. I will surely miss my loving family and the church that has welcomed us. I will miss the companionship they offer and our often trips to the lake.

But these words I have come to cherish: "Be still and know that I am God." Here at the lake, all my fears and apprehensions about leaving are washed away and calmed, just like the calm of the lake itself. It's here that I am still and God shows himself almighty and faithful.

The dramatic girl in the end lounge - this is for you

2010-04-19T03:20:00.003-05:00

This will probably be a slightly snarky post - so if you don't want to read it, then don't.

Sometimes girls just don't know how to cut the drama.
Tonight, I decided to go out for a walk. Before this, my friend had come in from outside to drop by my room. This was around 12:30. As she entered, she mentioned there was a guy and a girl on the 3rd floor stairwell - something that's a "grey area" in boundaries for opposite sexes to meet. Didn't think much of it.
Later that night, I needed to clear my head - so I went out for a walk. About 1 am. they were still there. 2 am. I get back from my walk. They were still there. He had a Bible and was talking about something spiritual. Like I said, didn't think much of it.

Sleep! :-) Wake up at 2:45 am. I hear a girl talking loudly in the end lounge. I just wanted to see if she and this guy were there. So I did. I grabbed some garbage from my room and stepped outside to throw it away in the end lounge trash bin. It was that same girl - without the guy.

But I couldn't stop listening to her convo. (Yes, I realize this was eavesdropping... but I'll use the "samwise" copout - 'I wasn't droppin' no eaves, sir, promise....nothing important...I mean, something about a dark lord and the end of the world)

I discovered she and her boyfriend named Andy were arguing over the fact that she hadn't talked to him in 3 days. (I figure something bad had happened.) I later found out that their relationship is long distance.

3 am. She decides to call her boyfriend. Can I just say that when you're upset, or when your boyfriend's upset...3 am isn't the best time to be having this conversation. Everyone (INCLUDING THE WHOLE WORLD) knows that things seem worse in the middle of the night. So at 3 am, don't call your boyfriend upset. Wait another 12 hours to have this conversation, and the light of day might bring different results. (Although, technically, the Bible says not to wait til the sun goes down on your anger. But I'm thinking that's a little bit metaphorical.)

Some of my favorite lines by her through the evening were, "I'm apologizing to you! Didn't you hear that? I just apologized to you. You're supposed to forgive me! The Bible says it!"
Ok, well, you're right. The Bible says we are to forgive - and you did just apologize to him. But you really think the best way to get him to forgive you is by calling him at 3 am to say your sorry, then tell him he HAS to forgive you? Really? I'm thinking not. My next thought is that at 3 am, telling him to forgive you is just going to get on his nerves more than anything. When you do something wrong, and you ask for forgiveness, they need to forgive you. But don't expect it to happen in a heartbeat. Sometimes it takes a little while to say "I forgive you."

She also said, "No, andy, listen to me, just listen to me...listen to me!............. I talk to YOU.....more than I talk to GOD!" Ok. Let's talk about this. Also a good point. We should talk to God daily. Not saying we shouldn't. But that is by far the worst cop-out line ever. Ya think about it, and most relationships we talk to each other verbally more than we talk to God. But we talk to God in more than one way. So, really, he wins in this one, too.

She also said later, which he later confirmed it, "What do you want me to do - forget and ignore all my friends here?" (I'm assuming most of these 'friends' are guy friends.) "You're not acting like my boyfriend right now! Cuz if you were, you'd understand that it's different! They're my friends." Now, I'm no relationship expert. But usually when you have a boyfriend (even harder when it's long distance), you need to be EXTRA cautious about who your male friends are and when and how you hang out with them, and how you act around them.
Let's dissect this further. You just spent the past 2 1/2 hours from the hours of 12-2:30 talking to a BOY in depth SPIRITUALLY about YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. I'm thinking that wasn't the smartest of moves. Yes, you may have understand that "you sinned" by "not taking the time to be intentional about talking to your boyfriend." But I'm thinking that spending a good portion of your very late night alone with a boy in a stairwell - who wasn't your boyfriend.

"I talk to you more than once a day! I talk to you by texting. I text you all day long!" My thought: Does texting really count as talking to? Not really, for me, because you are not using your vocal chords. Nor can you sense intonation. And lets be honest. Any relationship based on texting throughout the day isn't much of a relationship.

In the end, let me just say the following:

UNLESS you WANT half of our hall to wake up and listen in on this conversation...and UNLESS you WANT your boyfriend to break up with you...
I'd start by NOT having 3 hour in depth Spiritual conversations alone with a boy in the middle of the night, and then NOT calling your boyfriend at 3 am in an end lounge, crying and yelling. Just saying.

Animoto - my new best friend

2010-03-11T01:31:00.003-06:00

I've recently discovered my love for a wonderful website called animoto.com
The genius' behind this website thought that America needed an easy and quick way to make videos of their photos set to music. What they created was, in fact, just that. This website is so easy to use my grandmother could maneuver her way through. And as quick as quick can be, a video with your photographs of a vacation, friends photo shoot, senior portraits, or day-to-day candids are thrust together in a great conglomeration.
There are a few down-sides, however. Along with the quickness and easiness of it all, your photos are set to the tempo of the music. So if you pick a fast song, expect them to go faster than your eye can keep up. You can change the tempo of the photo-turning, but it's either 2x or 1/2x, which sometimes seems awkward. This also means you can't change one photos' length of time, either.
The other downside is that if you want the free version, you only get 30 seconds to play with. The good news: a year's subscription to "all access" is only $30, which includes unlimited video time.
Videos can also upload actual video clips, also, but are limited to 5 seconds for the free version and 10 for the all access. (The all-access does not include copyrights, especially to their songs. If you own a company, there is another alternative for you.)
For the average person who just wants a new way to portray their photos of their every-day-lives, this is a brilliant website.
Here's my latest example:

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

Go to animoto.com to begin your newest video scrapbook.

From worse to worst - Oscars 2010 fashion gone wrong.

2010-03-08T00:02:00.020-06:00

The 82nd annual Academy Awards filled the screens tonight. And while millions of viewers tuned in to see if Kathryn Bigelow would beat out ex-husband James Cameron for Best Director, or if Sandra Bullock could finally break through her RomCom facade and win Best Actress, the other portion of the world tuned in to see only one thing: The Fashion!

The Oscars are known as the time where the biggest designers and actors' sense of fashion either flourishes or fails. And like other favorite shows we watch (*cough* American Idol), most of our enjoyment of the evening comes from making fun of the flubs...and by flubs, I mean the biggest fashion mishaps in the year. Hence, the worst dressed lists were born.

So, my dear friends, without further ado, I give you my top ten worst dressed of the Oscars 2010.

10) Jennifer Lopez, wearing a silk organza Armani Prive.

Trying to play with textures and structure, J-lo thought these extra curves would enhance her own. The top suites her well, but all of those structural curves near her hip enhanced all the wrong places.

9)Miley Cyrus, wearing Jenny Packman.

Dear Miley - a corset-looking top does not bode your breasts well. Although I will give you grace since I liked the chiffon skirt.

8)Zoe Saldana, wearing a Givenchy Haute Couture gown by Riccardo Tisci.

The top on this dress was actually quite stunning. But once you get past the waist, it looks as if a Viking cheerleader attacked it with purple pompoms. Textures are a big trend this year, but don't expect to see this one anytime soon (although maybe by the time 'Avatar' comes true.)

7)Mariska Hargitay in Vera Wang

Although her slender bodice fits beautifully in this piece, I'm afraid Wang forgot to finish sewing the bottom of it. It looks like she took the bottom of a bedskirt, wrapped it around the bottom of the dress and just forgot to sew it across.

6)Carey Mulligan, nominated for actress in a leading role for "An Education," wore Prada.

This black sweetheart dress doesn't seem sweet after taking a second glance at the long train on such a short dress. It seems as if she couldn't make up her mind if she just wanted it short or long. One or the other, dear.

5) Matt Damon looked more handsome and chiseled than usual, but his wife Luciana's dress didn't demand as much attention.

As a matter of a fact, it seems as if the attention she gave this dress was about 5 minutes...the amount of time it takes to make a towel look that good, which is what it seems to look like. The only difference I see is that I don't see any terry-cloth nor wet hair.

4)Charlize Theron - wearing ??? (nobody wants to admit it.)

This dress could have been simple and stunning between the two shades of purple and the form-fitting foundation. What nobody seems to understand are the two circles of lavender that seem to be attacking her breasts. It demanded attention in a place that's neither lady-like nor flattering. Her hair pulled back gave us a view of her gorgeous face, but nobody could pay attention any farther up than her neck.

3) Diane Kruger is a subtle beauty, but this dress makes it even more subtle. Trying to play with the textures, this dress chops up her slender figure. As a whole, the piece isn't cohesive from top to bottom; the ruffles in that middle section are what makes this dress fly right over the edge.

2)Mariah Carey. Now, I'm usually not the biggest fan of Carey's fashion to begin with, but this one just didn't do her justice at all.

Dear Mariah,
Try a little more on the bottom and a little more on the top, next time, and you might hit it right. Learn how to cover yourself up and you might actually land yourself on the "best dressed" lists for once.

....and the WORST dressed of the 2010 Oscars goes to:
1) Nicole Richie.

Taking the opposite approach as Carey, Richie thought that dressing from head to toe (almost literally) would make her hit the best dressed lists of 2010. Looking more like a better designed piece of sheet metal or chain mail, this dress would have been better served being in the best costume category for "Joan of Arc."

So there you have my top 10 worst dressed - Do you agree/disagree? Who did you like the most? Were there any in my worst dressed that you liked? Anybody you thought I missed?

.....stay tuned for the BEST of Oscars 2010!

Snow!

2009-12-03T01:07:00.004-06:00

It's peaceful. It's magical. It's beautiful.
Ladies and gentlemen of the world...it's snow!

Tonight, it started snowing. Sometimes it was gently floating, and others it was fluttering along with the wind.

Snow! Charming, graceful, falling white puffs. Every year, when the first snow comes, I grab my music player (from cassette tapes, to CD's, to an Ipod now), and I take a walk. I listen to my favorite Christmas album ("A Christmas Story" by Point of Grace) as I watch the snow glisten and glitter on its way down to earth. I look up and see a sky plastered with white fluff-balls coming at me. Then I look down and see the street glittering and the cracks in the sidewalk filled with the glistening snow.

Giggling and skipping down the path, I bounced along the sidewalk, walking through a sea of swimming white fluff. When they landed on my jacket, I would stop to study them.

Have you ever looked at snow? Not just watched it fall down, but actually take a close-up look?
Snow is beautiful! It's exactly like we used to draw snowflakes in kindergarten, or cut them out of coffee filters.

To some, snow is a nuisance that just adds to the stress of rush-hour traffic driving and makes them mutter as they bundle up, not wanting to deal with the cold.

Not me! I embrace the cold! I'm not saying I don't have times where I loath going out in frigid temperatures. But really, I love the cold! It's the chance to bring out classic fashions, like the scarf, mittens, and earmuffs.

Even without the fashion of winter, there's a romance and magic about the snow. Grinning from ear-to-ear, you can't help but just stop and stare at the beauty that surrounds you.

Snow!
It holds an piece my heart that nothing else does. I get filled with so much excitement I tend to squeal, giggle, laugh, and sing.

The only thing I could think of tonight while on my walk was just simply "Snow!"
My God is so great, and gives us this gift every year, whether in bucket-loads of it, or, like tonight, just graceful and simple quantities. No matter the amount, His beauty is always there, and all you have to do is look and enjoy it.

Emotions Autumnal

2009-10-27T01:53:00.000-05:00

Autumn brings out a subdued, nostalgic, and subtle side of me. It's a rarity, for sure, being as that I tend to reside on the crazy, loud, and quirky side. But come the time where leaves turn pretty colors and the temperature grows closer towards freezing, I become quieter. I become less overly-enthused, and more towards appreciative and relaxed.
I wonder why this is, much of the time. It's not that I enjoy life less, or that I don't like the autumn. It's just a different phase of the year. I feel a little more sadness, but still mixed in with a smiling heart, somehow.

I love the vibrant reds and oranges that surround me, with the still-green evergreens that are interspersed between. I enjoy walking through the crisp, cool air, reminding that winter is just around the corner. I still like the feel of crunched leaves under my feet, although lately they've been soppy and wet.

But there's something in my heart that feels like it's missing the warmth and energy of summer.

It's always around this time that I start yearning to go back to so many places...the places I've called "home", whether temporarily or permanently, in my heart.

McGregor is one of them. Specifically my grandparents. With their many acres of pasture, ponds, dirt and gravel paths all enclosed within a beautiful forest, it's hard to stay away...especially during the autumn. And although my heart yearns to be up there, I know it's not the same as when I was 15, and stayed there...just me and the grandparents. So quiet, peaceful, and serene.

Bismarck is another. I think it comes from the memories of my senior year, which I have concurred was one of the best anyone could ever hope for. I long to drive up and down River Road, even though most of it's closed currently for construction. I wish desperately to just feel like I am home again, cuddled in my own home out in the country. I miss being in high school, going to "the bowl" for football and soccer games, and just plain being at Century High with all of my friends.

It's a mystery to me, but this time of year I always feel this way. Maybe it's God's way of quieting my heart, I don't know. And in feeling this way, I couldn't help but write about it, just wondering if maybe other people feel this way, too?.....

O let the sun beat down upon thy face

2009-09-22T23:54:00.012-05:00

Life is full of good quotes.
It was JFK that said, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." FDR uttered the famous words, "a date which will live in infamy." Obama overused the saying "Yes, we can!" (Bob the builder anyone?)

But how many times do you stop to admire the great quotes that come out of the media that surrounds us. Song lyrics and film quotes are continually overlooked in favor of Presidential speeches, campaign slogans, and inspirational quotes.

So I have compiled a list of some of my favorite lines from films and songs, sharing the joy and perplexity they bring. (In no particular order, of course. It would be far too difficult to rate them.)

1) The song by Bruises by Chairlift is an upbeat, foot-tapping song, which is cute and sweet...pun intended.
"I grabbed some frozen strawberries so I could ice your bruising knees
But frozen things they all unfreeze and now I taste like....
All those frozen strawberries I used to chill your bruising knees,
Hot July ain't good to me
I'm pink and black and blue for you."

2) Those who have watched any of the Ocean's movies know that their thief-jargon is perhaps the greatest mystery of all-time in films. It's a quirk that makes those movies original and funny...and always keeps you wondering, "what does it really mean?" Although I could share far greater than a dozen of those lines, I will only include a few, since just having one wouldn't suffice.
In Ocean's 12, Tess, played by the lovely Julia Roberts, hints in code to her husband Danny (George Clooney)that her ex-lover and Danny's former victim has come for revenge.
The Line: "Oh no...Danny....There's water in the basement and the pilot light is out."

3) Ocean's eleven was a mastermind that still keeps me wondering how they pulled off all of their tricks. In the beginning, while trying to assemble a team, Rusty (Brad Pitt) lists off jargon names of people he thinks they'll need.
"You'll need a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethro's, a Leon Spinx, not to mention the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever."

4) My all-time favorite conversation exchange takes place in the Ocean's 12. Matt Damon (the 'rookie' rolling for leadership), Brad Pitt (the #2-man) and George Clooney (the boss), meet a character named Matsui at a local bar to bargain a deal for a heist. The following three lines will boggle your mind until you can't think straight.
Rusty (Brad Pitt) says: "A doctor, who specializes in skin diseases, will dream he has fallen asleep in front of the television. Later, he will wake up in front of the television, but not remember his dream."
Danny Ocean (Clooney) follows by saying, "If all the animals along the equator were capable of flattery, then Thanksgiving and Halloween would fall on the same day."
Matsui then says, "When I was four years old, I watched my mother kill a spider... with a teacozy. Years later, I realized it was not a spider - it was my Uncle Harold."

The brilliance of those three lines was that it's meant as a coded conversation...a way for the thieves to talk business in a public setting. If you haven't seen the movies yet, watch them ASAP. Worth every moment of your time.

5)If Tina Fey could bottle and sell her comedy, it would come out in the best "stupid lines" in a conversation, greatly portrayed in the film, "Mean Girls," which her screenplay bore. "Mean Girls" has become the new and improved "Napolean Dynamite," as teenagers and adults alike quote the movie more than they quote themselves. With lines like "If you're from Africa, why are you white?", "I wanna lose three pounds," and "I have a fifth sense," teenagers across America have snatched up the hilarious comedy and plugged it into their own dialect.

6) Adam Young, creator and mastermind of his one-man-band entitled "Owl City" has inspired a new age of electric pop lyrics. His sweet-nothing type lyrics take us on a fantasy ride through many-a-different universe's. In his song entitled "On the wing," lyrics sing and tweet a quirky message.
"Breathe and I'll carry you away, into the velvet sky. And we'll stir the stars around, and watch them fall away into the Hudson Bay and plummet out of sight and sound."

7) A new favorite duo of mine is a couple, who entitled themselves "Luke and Drew." The name is lacking in luster, but their music is something like you've never heard before, and the back-story to this singing duo is quite cute. Both Luke and Drew have considered themselves "artists," and like to find different avenues of art (both physical and non) to express themselves. The story goes that after a fight the two had, Luke needed to express how much he loved Drew. He sat down with a guitar that night and whipped out the tune "Song About You." After he sang it to Drew, she fell in love with it, and more so-with Luke, as well, they started writing songs together. Not too long after, Luke proposed to Drew, and the two began their recording and touring debut as "Luke and Drew." (who are now officially "Luke and Drew Goddard". Congratulations!)
Their songs and lyrics more-so reflect the joy and love one finds in their soul-mate. Some of my favorite lyrics are from their song "Our Own Little World."
"I can't wait to wake up beside you and take you by the hand. And walk you into our cozy little bathroom and brush our teeth together. Or how about when we make our first grocery list. We'll hop in the car and ride to the market and buy what's on our list. It'll be our own little world, it'll be our own little world, it'll be our own little world...I can't wait. I can't wait!"
Those lyrics seem like they were ripped straight out of a love-letter, and embrace what true love really is. True love isn't always high-romance, a hundred thousand rose-pedals, champaigne and wine, type of love we often think it is. Most often, it's just being with the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life, and the lyrics of that song bring to life what I believe true love is supposed to be.

By the way, if you'd like to see their proposal video that Luke recorded, it's right below. It's more than worth your time to watch it. :-)

8)One of my favorite memories of high school was singing in our choir. Our songs ranged everything between pop and musicals to classical and new age pieces. But one of my all-time favorite songs we performed was by a fabulous composer named Eric Whitacre. (Follow him at @ericwhitacre, or his blog www.soaringleap.com) The song we sang was one of his first pieces, entitled "Sleep." The song is about just that...sleep. The lyrics that he wove were magical and brought me into a world where I felt calm. Here are some of my favorites from that song.
"The evening hangs beneath the moon. A silver thread on darkened doon. With closing eyes and resting, head I know that sleep is coming soon. Upon my pillow safe in bed, a thousand pictures fill my head. I cannot sleep, my mind's aflight, and yet my limbs seem made of lead."
And my all time favorite line: "Then I surrender unto sleep, where clouds of dream give second sight. What dreams may come both dark and dep, of flying wings and soaring leap. As I surrender unto sleep."

9) Emily Dickinson kept it short and sweet, but yet profound and beautiful in her poem "I Have No Life But This."
"I have no life but this,
To lead it here;
Nor any death, but lest
Dispelled from there;
Nor tie to earths to come,
Nor action new,
Except through this extent,
The Realm of You!"

10) Perhaps the greatest writers of all time weren't of this age. In a land now known as Israel, in a time far far away, a Psalmist named David wrote what is possibly the most widely known Psalm in the history of the world. The serene imagery and the peacefulness of this verse is arguably the best any human has ever written.

Psalm 23
"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever."

So there is my ode to great lyrics and lines. I hope you enjoyed it. :)

Ima Fan Now!

2009-09-16T17:37:00.010-05:00

It was fifth grade. I had just gotten my first ever CD player, and was really into Leann Rhimes and Deanna Carter. And that's the last I ever considered myself a country fan.

Those of my friends who love country know that I don't, and usually make it a point to play other music while I'm chillin' in their car.
But lately, there's one artist that has recently made me cross over again. And that's the ever-so-popular Taylor Swift.

Taylor Swift was an artist I hated for two reasons.
1) She was a country singer. (Yes, I dislike country that much.)
2) She was everyone's favorite. And I hate copying people.

But somehow, this girl, whose second album which went quadruple platinum, has captured my listening attention as well as my heart.

Taylor's music is good country, meaning she's not too country, and just enough pop in it to make it cute and listening worthy. Not only that, her lyrics speak volumes about what it's like to be a teenager. "Fifteen" for example speaks about her and her best friend Abigail when they were 15, and the mistakes they hope others will avoid. "You belong with me," is a top favorite, which conveys a story about the not-so-popular girl and the boy who's dating the mean and preppy cheerleader.

Back in the day, there was a song by country-star Leann Rhimes that went "don't ever lose that light in your eyes." That light in Taylor's eyes is clearly evident every time she gets up to sing her music. Every time this beautiful girl performs, whether it's a small acoustic set or a crazy subway ride, she radiates from the stage and into her audience all across the nation.
Despite being rattled by Kanye Wests' recent display of rudeness, Taylor put on her "performance" face and had the best subway ride of her life. With hundreds of fans surrounding and singing along her, she rode the subway and sang her hit song "You Belong With Me," then exited to find herself in front of Radio City Music Hall on top of a taxi, again, surrounded by more fans. It was by far the craziest and most fun performance I've seen in a long time, because in those moments, you realized that singing that music gave her such joy. And sharing that joy with hundreds of her fans in the middle of New York City is something she will cherish for a long time.
Two days after the VMA awards, Taylor Swift performed again on The View. Those performances of "Fifteen" and "You Belong With Me" were just as impressive as the subway ride. When she sang "You Belong With Me," she beamed with joy, like singing that song was what she was made to do, and she was reminding herself of just how blessed she is. And she just loves to have fun with her music, just like the rest of us do when it comes on the radio: we blast it and sing (or screech) along with it.

Taylor is just a down-to-earth girl who acts just like all the rest of us "teenagers at heart." What attracted me at first to her music wasn't her music at all, actually; I had found a video blog she had posted on Youtube. The fact she video blogs, and shows just how much crazy-fun she has, makes her so much more relatable. It was those videoblogs that made me listen to her music...and I gradually came to love a singer who considers herself a country singer. If you haven't looked for any of her video blogs on youtube, you should immediately watch it below.

Lastly, Taylor is a humble, modest, and poised young lady who deserves appreciation. The whole "Kanye West" show during the VMA's would be enough to make me start bawling, or at least slap him silly. But she just stood there, and although rattled, didn't fight back and let Kanye be his rude and self-centered self. Later, on an interview on "The View," speaking about winning the VMA and Kanye, she quoted her process of thinking as "wow, I can't believe I won! This is awesome! Don't trip and fall. I'm gonna get to thank the fans this is so cool. Oh, Kanye West is here! Cool haircut. What are ya doing...ouch...I guess I'm not going to get to thank the fans."
Taylor loves her fans. On the first time ever a country music singer wins a VMA, it wasn't about how awesome she is or even how much she loves her family...it's "Thanks to the fans." Later on, Beyonce herself showed poise and self-sacrifice when she gave up her award speech time to Taylor Swift, so she could then, not dis Kanye West, but to say "I'd like to thank all the fans on twitter and myspace, and everyone who came out to my shows this summer." Showing complete grace and poise in the situation, she never once bashed Kanye West for his display of rudeness. Instead, she said, "I can't say I wasn't rattled, but if he wants to say hi, then sure." Obviously not wanting to say anything negative about West, she held her own and handled the whole ordeal with the upmost grace and poise - something most 19-year-olds don't know how to do....and even some celebrities.

So, after about 6 months, my thought process about Taylor Swift goes like this.
"I hate country music, including Taylor Swift. I will put up with Taylor Swift's music. She has the sweetest video blogs. Hey, her music's actually pretty good. Wow, she is talented. Nice hair. Hey, she's actually a stand-up-girl too! Guess I get to thank her for being an inspiration."

to love or not to love, that is the question

2009-09-01T23:38:00.005-05:00

Tennyson wrote, "It is better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all." What a powerful statement; yet so difficult to embrace.
I love to love. I truly believe I am a loving and caring person, and that's something God has blessed me with. However, it's the times when we've lost that we feel Tennyson really wasn't so wise.

My dog is in his old age. I have had him for over a decade now. I got him when he was just a wee little pup. I (along with the help of my gracious and patient parents) potty trained him and taught him how to sit, stay, and shake. For years, he has been my comfort. When he was younger, he would jump up on my bed and lay by my side through the entire night, curled up along the inside of my legs or right by my face. Then in the mornings, he'd wake me with a kiss, whether I liked it or not. For years, I've curled up beside him and hugged him when I needed a quiet companion. He's laid on my lap during family trips, and went for walks with me when I needed protection...although he was never much of a protector, since he's one of the friendliest dogs I've ever known.
There was one time I can remember like it was yesterday. Our family had just moved out of the home I had known for the past 8 years. That was the house I grew up in. There were markings on the wall of my height. I knew the creeks and cricks of the stairway so I could slither down them in the middle of the night without waking anybody up. And when I entered, it was home. Then, towards the beginning of my ninth grade year, we had to move out, as it was the church parsonage, and the new pastor would be moving in shortly. It was winter, I think near November. The ground was white with sparkling snow, and I needed to go for a walk. I brought my dog with, since after dark my mother liked knowing there was something "protecting" me while I was out. In that walk, I meandered towards the parsonage, since it wasn't that far of a walk. Once I got there, I remember staring through the window. My heart sank as I began to understand that it wasn't my home anymore, and it would never be again. I peered inside the window, glancing around my old kitchen...where the table used to be, where the refrigerator sat. And my heart broke into pieces. Tears streamed down my face as my body sunk down onto the cold cement steps. And Sonny came crawling up to me, put his paws in my lap, and gave my cheeks some of his slobbery-wet kisses. I hugged him like he was the only thing left in my life, and we just sat there, in front of my old house together. Just like I used to do with him, when I first brought him home as a puppy. I would lay down with him in the middle of the night as he whimpered, scared of his new surroundings. This time, it was me that needed the comforting, and he was there. It's as if he sensed it, or knew it. He knew that I needed him there sitting with me at that moment.

Lately, in the past year or so, he's gotten too old to really run around like he used to. It's more difficult for him to climb the stairs, go for a run, or even a long walk. And more recently, he's been not up to par. My dad took him into the vet, and what she said is that he has a genetic disease, found in Cocker-spaniel's like my own, which eats away all the red blood cells. He's also has a heart murmur, which is common in older dogs.

He's currently medicated, and is "feeling better." The vet doesn't know how long he really has. She said if things go well, he still has a number of years left. But if not, if my Sonny baby runs too hard or gets stressed, the heart can go into a cardiac arrest.

I've known this has been coming. And I haven't taken his presence for granted. But sometimes, I just have to wonder....is it really worth it to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all - especially when considering pets?
My heart hurts. My sonny baby has been my companion. He greets me with great joy when I come home, and sits in great sorrow when I leave. He has been a part of my life since I was twelve. He has been there through every move my family has made, and has laid on my lap as I've cried tears into his fluffy, white fur. He's been there to make me laugh with his silly quirks, and makes me smile from ear to ear when I mention "Do you wanna go for a ride?" in which he goes nuts, almost yelping out "yes, of course! oh take me with you! take me with you! Can I go?! Please mama?"

Saying goodbye to your dog is like having to say goodbye to a close member of your family. Your heart aches the same; You grieve the same; You miss their presence the same.

And although I do believe Tennyson was right, there are times when your heart will tell you it's not.

versatility in color

2009-08-17T00:03:00.003-05:00

I love the color blue. I apparently love it so much I am writing about it. But the reason why I love it so much has more to do with it's versatility and beauty than just the fact that "it's my favorite color."

This has probably been one of the oddest topics I've ever written about, but for some reason it kept coming to me. So here I am, writing to you about how one color has made such an impact. Yes, odd it is, indeed.

Blue. It's the color of the ocean, the sky, and so much more...including my bedroom, currently. I recently painted my room blue and beige. I'm told they are the two most relaxing colors, and since relaxing is what you're really supposed to do in your bedroom, I decided to give them a go. I figured I'd put my creative mind to the test when I decided to mix those two colors to create an "on the beach" type of feel.

Growing up in Minnesota, I find myself drawn to the water. Two of my summers have been spent by a lake at a Bible camp, while countless other weekends have been spent at various lake cabins, lake-side campgrounds, and even paddling down the river. But it wasn't until just over two years ago when my family traveled to California where I discovered my love for the ocean. Even while we were there, I found myself constantly drawn to the beach-side for the calm and serene, yet powerful view. The waves crashing, the feel of the sand on your feet; It was then that I fell in love with the ocean.

So back to my room. They say your room should be a safe-haven, a quite resting place you can escape to when you need your alone time. It should be a place you feel comfortable and at peace. For me, it was the ocean.

Both interior designers and fashion designers alike have said that blue is one of the most versatile colors. It's easy to match, and in one shade, you get a color that has different emotions all blended as one.

My room is that versatile. I have only had my room like this for just a few short days, but already there's an understanding of just how one color can make you feel so differently. My shade of blue is bright and bouncy, yet deep and rich. It's happy and giddy, but also melancholy and thoughtful. It's exciting and adventurous, yet still so serene, peaceful, and comfortable. My mind still can't wrap around it. How can one color make you feel so differently? I can't even venture a good guess. All I can say is that this room makes me feel excited, yet calm at the same time. I love imagining the waves washing up onto shore as I drift off to a peaceful slumber, then wake to the same thing the next morning. Then during the day as I enter my room, it's a joy that abounds, almost making me feel like I need to go grab my swimsuit and learn how to surf. Yes, my shade of blue is a beautiful shade of blue. And with that, I will say no more.

She caused him to stumble

2009-06-29T00:19:00.004-05:00

Gov. Sanford has been the scrutiny of just about every news source lately. His affair with an Argentine woman was publicly uncovered recently, although others (including his wife) have known about his affair since late last year.

While at first my heart broke to see another Republican politician get thrown in the mud, my heart also reached out to him, wanting to give him a second chance. To be completely honest, that's usually how I respond to circumstances such as these. I still haven't gotten over the Clewinsky thing yet, but I'm coming to an understanding. Although our former president messed up greatly, his wife and he sought reconciliation before hatred. I respect that.

Most recently, the famous family, Jon & Kate Gosselin (plus their eight), have been in the midst of turmoil, including supposed infidelity on both accounts. But what I disrespected most about them is that they didn't seem willing to work it out. Kate had at first suggested she would to fight for their marriage, but either she lost the fight, or never intended to fight it out. What irks me the most was that the show has continued, and although it's on hiatus for an indefinite time (August 5th is the rumored return date), the producers are actually continuing with the show, just as Kate and Jon separate. What upsets me most is that the show will still continue, and it has appeared that Jon and Kate aren't willing to give up the show and all the perks that come along with it to seek guidance, counseling, or therapy in order to save what is most important - their marriage.

So back to the whole Sanford thing. Like I said, I wanted not only for me to give him that second chance, but for others to give him that second chance as well. Although he and his wife are living separately for the time, there has been every indication that a reconciliation has been in progress. There is a time for healing. I can only imagine the pain not only his wife is in, but also his sons. How terrible for children to learn that their father did not remain faithful to their mother. But as Sanford said just Saturday evening while at a beach house with his family, "If there wasn't healing going on I wouldn't be here." That's a good step in the right direction, Gov. Sanford.

As a journalist, my curiosity sometimes gets the better of me. I tracked down online copies of the emails Sanford had sent back and forth between his mistress, Maria. From what I've gathered, the two have been friends before this started, and just like Sanford said in his first press conference, "It began very innocently, as I suspect many of these things do." In the last year it had developed into something much more. According to the emails, well, I must give credit to where it's due. Gov. Sanford, in one of the messages, said that their relationship was crossing a line he never thought he'd cross, and how he needed to right this wrong. Although there were some provocative details about their love affair, he explicitly implied he wanted out, and he would rather stop the affair, knowing the pain it would cause to his wife and family, but also to her as well. He states in one of his emails, "My heart wants me to get on a plane tonight and to be in your loving arms — my head is saying how do we put the Genie back in the bottle because I sure don’t want to be encumbering you, or your options or your life."
Let me put it this way. I certainly cannot and will not condone the relationship they had. It caused an overwhelming amount of unnecessary pain for not only the family, but the entire state of South Carolina and the rest of America. It was wrong.
But when you read the letters, you begin to understand the turmoil he was going through. His heart truly did not want to hurt his wife, but the woman was the epitome of Eve in the garden. She could not see how wrong the relationship was. She condoned what they were doing in her own way - I'm still not quite sure how that works. She condoned their emotional relationship just as much as their physical one, further tempting him into the terrible decisions he now faces the consequences of. "I don’t know how we figure all this out and I am not interested in knowing," she tells Gov. Sanford in one of her emails.
They say, "It takes two to tango." While that is most certainly true, I must say that it seems like he was walking out the door as she was pulling him back in, and unfortunately, she won the battle.

Politically, I'm not sure what the circumstances are, so I cannot say with authority whether he should step down or not. But what I can say is that I do not want him to step down just because he had a black spot on a white jacket. South Carolinans seem split, but most say that he's been a good governor in the past. I do not wish to see this change just because of one sin, nor do I want America to judge based upon this one (very big) blemish. Politically speaking, In these uncertain economic times, it would be difficult for both South Carolina and the rest of America to go through the transition of power. Personally speaking, I would much rather see his marriage work out as he steps down rather than his marriage implode if he stays. A marriage comes first. That is my ultimate stance. If saving his marriage means leaving office, then I am in full support of his decision. But if it's possible to stay in office and reconcile this marriage, that is what I'd rather see.

Ultimately, I am proud of First Lady Sanford for willing to reconcile. I hope their Christian roots can bring a process of forgiveness and reconciliation that I know is receivable nowhere else.

The (true!) Biblical stories of Hosea and David set examples for situations such as these. From a Biblical basis, and from what I see here, the Sanfords are setting a precedent for marriage infidelities.

A tragedy and a relief.

2009-06-26T17:06:00.004-05:00

Michael Jackson. The past 24 hours have been flooded with messages, facebook status', tweets, blogs, and headlines about the King of Pop's death. However, if I'm being completely honest, I was never a huge fan of Michael Jackson. Yes, I definitely enjoyed the old-school Michael Jackson, back when he was that adorable little boy who sang "ABC, 123". Some of his other music has stuck with me just because of its use in movies, such as "Thriller," which has been in countless movies, or "The Way You Make Me Feel," which I knew from "Center Stage." "The Man in the Mirror" was probably the one song I truly appreciated solely from the MJ. The rest were just songs I could enjoy when I was in the mood, which wasn't often.

Like others, I found his progression after his childhood disturbing. The more he changed, the less I liked him. His latest face still sends shivers down my spine. It's truly ironic how "The Man in the Mirror" was his song, and it was his face that changed the most out of any man I've ever known. The more he changed, the more he seemed less like a human and more like an alien, which perhaps is why I couldn't connect with his music; It felt like the music came from a robot rather than a human. My mind would continually think of all the problems in his life, rather than listening and enjoying the beautiful ballads. It was the reality of his life that was the biggest hindrance in loving his music. Perhaps that's the true tragedy - not his death, but his mutation into a lonely, depressed, and self-mutilating human. It was then that many mourned the loss of the Michael they knew. It was then that his family cried out for help for Michael, knowing the fate he would one day endure. That's the real tragedy.

So, unlike the millions of others posting on their blogs how they are in tragic pain over the world's loss, I mourn not because of his death, but because now he will never overcome the problems he faced his latter part of his life.

Step Up 2 Sinks Down

2009-06-17T14:45:00.002-05:00

Being a dancer, I'm drawn to dancing movies. "Step Up" came to theatres almost three years ago now, and although it didn't bring the finesse that my favorite dance movie "CenterStage" had, it held a character of its own. Although I know Step Up 2 has been out for some time now, I finally decided to give it a go. That was my first mistake. The second? Leaving it on after the first ten minutes. The only thing that I enjoyed in this film was the special appearance by Channing Tatum, and that's only because his chiseled features and gorgeous eyes entrance me every time.

Where to begin? Let's start with the terrible acting. Briana Evigan plays the part of Andie, a rebellious teenager, who's mother died at age 16 and is on her last chance living with her late mother's best friend (seem familiar?). Her last chance to stay in Maryland, as from the previous Step Up, is attending the Maryland School of the Arts. Robert Hoffman plays Chase, the preppy boy-band, blonde-haired dancer. Supposed sparks are supposed to fly between Chase and Andie, but obviously I missed the cue, because I couldn't even see a sliver of heat between them on-screen. A romantic scene between the two during an evening party had the words cheesy and cliche written all over it, which left me cringing. After Andie is kicked out of her own crew, her and Chase randomly decide to start one. Soon, a group of wanna-be dancers meet to work on a routine for the big competition "The Streets." After they realize they suck, they start re-working their routine. In the meantime, Andie's ex-crew gets word of the new crew, and trash MSA's studio, which gets Andie expelled. It was a good decision by me, although it was far from the right reason. The crew falls apart, and the usual "I'm sad and miss you" montage of Andie, Chase, and the rest of the crew ensues. The next thing you know, the crew's back together at Andie's door the same night as The Streets competition. After arriving at the infamous underground competition, they're told they don't belong there, it's a competition for locals only, and that they should go home. And, as predicted, Andie gets up and starts in on the "It doesn't matter where you're from" speech (you know, the one we hear every movie like this.) Pretending to act ghetto, she plees to the crowd to let her crew dance. And, as predicted, they suddenly change their minds and cheer her on as they all rush outside in the rain to watch the final crew dance. The final dance had some interesting choreography, and the rain added a cool twist, but again, I was left lacking excitement. It was clear that some of their moves were stolen from past seasons of the hit Fox reality show, "So You Think You Can Dance," which I'm sure was input given by producer Adamm Shankman.

Step Up 2 lacks creativity, a good plot-line, original choreography, talented actors, and just about everything in between. To quote my favorite show, FRIENDS, "Well, the lighting was all right." If only that were enough to make a movie worth seeing.

If producers are going to continue with this "sequel" fad, they better be darn sure it's going to blow the original out of the water. Then maybe it'll stand a chance for it to actually be just as good as the first. Hopefully producer Adamm Shankman will keep that in mind while they're working on the newest sequel, "Step Up: 3-D." I sure don't want to torture myself watching another disastrous dancing movie again.

Memories, like the corners of my mind.

2009-05-30T02:11:00.004-05:00

You know how you are just going about your normal daily routine, then something, just some little thing, sparks something in your memory?
It happened to me today.
I saw frilly socks. You know, the cute little socks your mom used to dress you in when you were little? The ones with the ribbon or the bows or the lace on the top, and it folded down?
The second I saw those socks my memory was flooded with images of my childhood. The purple and white dress, with all the lace. The really poofy yellow dress. The other purple dress that had sparkly fruit on it. The pocahantas dress, or the floral/lace one mom sewed herself. Or the shoes. Remember the black shiny shoes that almost reminsced tap shoes? Oh, goodness. Then there was the hair; it was the really poofy hair, side ponytails, and poofy bangs, usually secured with a bow clip.

I remember waking up every Sunday morning, looking inside the hall-way closet for a dress to wear. I always wanted the ribbons and bows tied in front, not the back. I was certain it was supposed to go that way. Mom told me every Sunday morning it needed to go into the back, and I argued with her because I wanted it in the front. In the end, she usually won...that is until she was out of my sight.

Then there was Sunday School, then sitting through church, unless there was Children's Church (thank goodness). Then after church all of the kids would run around outside, usually playing some silly game or another. Jared, Briann, me, Jordy, Catherine...we'd all run and scream about until our parents dragged us home. We would also get yelled at for climbing on top of the church's marquee....for the thousandth time. Then we'd all depart.

I went back and looked through some pictures tonight. I wanted to remember the dresses and the socks and the shoes.
In the photo albums I found photos of things I had long forgotten. My stuffed Beethoven dog. At least, that's what he looked like. I can't remember if I called him Beethoven or something else, like "rufus". Then There was baby doll....baby doll had the longest eyelashes, and blonde curly hair. She wore pink cotten pajamas. And you can't forget the train set. It was filled with baby Sesame Street characters, and the train was set on a cloverleaf patterned track. In each of the four circles were different "amusement rides" they would ride. A merry go-round, a Ferris Wheel...one was something like an Alligator pond.
Or there was my Minney-mouse slippers. Pink, as Minney and I would both have it.

I learned that my cousin Kyle didn't like to smile in a lot of pictures. I did. This hasn't changed one bit. I learned that ages ago, Uncle Karl had these crazy side-burns that reminds me of John Travolta in Grease, and Kristy (my mom's cousin) was still gorgeous with her krimped frizzy hair early 90's hair. I learned that my mom, Aunt Sherry, Aunt Peggy, and Gramma all had crazy massive round glasses. I learned that once upon a time, Como Park/Zoo was a frequented place for my parents and uncle Karl/Sherry to visit.

There's a great deal that I remembered or learned tonight. I can't remember the last time I looked through those photos.

I can't help but wonder what it would be like to go back to those times...when life's biggest worry was when you got a cut or a scrape, getting yelled at by your mom for getting grass stains on your dress, or trying to convince your mom the bow belongs in the front. I know, I know..."It's all part of growing up."

But maybe, just for once, I want to be Wendy and stay in the land of Neverland, where you don't have to grow up.

"being true to yourself never goes out of style"

2009-05-07T02:01:00.005-05:00

"Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow." - Langston Hughes

I had the blessing and the phenomenal opportunity to see a fantastic musical in St. Paul tonight. My best friend and I had made today as our "get away from (most) school" day. This morning we had a photo shoot together, something we've done for the past few years just for the fun of it. After I was finished with my last class for the semester (woohoo!), and finishing up the eastiest and best Biology Lab assignment ever, I ran back to my room to get ready for our evening.

After a great dinner at one of my favorite places, the Old Spaghetti Factory, we drove across the river and into downtown St. Paul to experience what I had been waiting for, for almost 11 months... LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL.

The musical, the singing and dancing version of MGM's hit Legally Blonde, has been in town for about a week and a half, and tonight I was finally able to experience it. It was a fantastic show, and although it took a better part of me not to sing along, I couldn't have been more happy. Besides the fact that I sat in my seat the entire show like a kid in a candy store, with eyes wide open and a huge grin pasted on my face, there are some great lessons I took away from the show.

In the show, the main character Elle packs up and moves to Harvard Law School in pursuit of her ex-boyfriend, the incredible Warner Hunnington III. During her time at Harvard, she learns things about herself that even she didn't know, such as that she has the brains to become a successful lawyer, or that being judged by her hair color shouldn't stand in the way of accomplishing her dreams.

I also had the pleasure of speaking with the some of the cast after the show tonight, including Becky Gulsvig, who hails from Moorhead, MN, just minutes away from my old hometown. (oh the days of the good ol' Hawley Nuggets!)Rhiannon Hansen (finalist on the MTV show's search for the next Elle Woods) was also there, and of course a few of the other cast members. (I also got to do the bend and snap with Becky and Rhiannon, which was thoroughly enjoyable...now if only I can plug that in when I need it to work on a guy.) In their discussion with the audience, one of the last questions asked was about how the actors got to where they are, and what advice they'd give to aspiring actors. Amidst other good advice was the classic phrase "Never give up, and believe in yourself."

I couldn't help but walk away from the Ordway tonight feeling like I believed in myself. The problem is, I only believe in myself until something tells me I'm not good enough.
I am a trained dancer, which is by far my forte. I can sing, but the last formal training I've had was high school. I can act, although, like singing, the last training I've had was in high school. But in a world with talent such as Susan Boyle boiling to the top now, I know I have enough competition to keep my hopes low enough that I don't want to try.
Then Becky Gulsvig mentioned something tonight that's stuck in my brain. She said "be yourself." I know, I know. "Be Yourself" is such a general term, and we've heard it all a hundred thousand times. But what she said somehow plugged it different in my brain. She mentioned that in show biz, you can get turned down for parts not because you weren't a good enough singer. In fact, you may have been a better singer, but you were taller than the male lead. You literally have to be yourself to get a part...that fits you. They will choose YOU based upon who YOU are. She mentioned that you can admire someone else, but if you try to be like everyone else, you'll never get a part. It's being who you are that makes the part.

So what does this mean? I don't know. I know that I can't be anybody else but myself. And I know I still have dreams I aspire to accomplish. And I know that I can't tell myself "I'm not worthy," without even giving it a shot. So I am going to take that first step in a long staircase, and we'll see where it leads.
Regardless of whether or not I find a place in the theatre community, we all must seek out our dreams, because when we lose them, we lose a sense of self, a piece of our soul, and possibly our future. So whatever your dreams may be, tell yourself every day to be yourself, and that someday that perfect part will come along that fits you to a "T." And remember, as Vivian put it, "Being true to yourself never goes out of style."

Now I have to face reality, however, and get some sleep, because the next 5 days are going to be the equivalent of "study hell" in preparation for my finals.

Hannah from Montana

2009-05-03T20:28:00.003-05:00

Quick trivia fact: I used to live in Montana. My name's Hannah. I get called "Hannah Montana" quite often.

What people don't know about me, however, is that I secretly love Hannah Montana. Actually, I didn't for quite a while. My younger sister is in that "tween" stage, and of course is in love with Hannah Montana, so needless to say that when I'm home and she's in control of the remote, it usually goes to that show. I found it slightly irritating and annoying.

Then over this past Easter weekend, my sister pleaded for me to take her to go see Hannah Montana: the movie. Actually, it wasn't "pleading" as much as it was "You're taking me to go see it." After some moaning of my own, I decided that my friend and I would take my little sister and her friend to go see it. I was expecting to see the normal. You know, Hannah Montana is cool, her friends and her play pranks on her brother and laugh, then her friend and her get in a small fight then make up and everybody's happy. I expected wrong.

The beginning was as I predicted. Somewhat childish, Hannah Montana IS cool, and some laughs. But then the actual plot started suck me in. As the movie progresses, Miley's dad tricks his daughter into flying back to Tennessee...her roots. Well, actually, their roots.

I may be a city girl in many ways. I love having shopping malls nearby with just about every store imaginable. I love that a grocery store is literally a 2 minute drive away for me, and I can go see a movie on a whim because it's only another 3 minutes away from the grocery store.
But there's a side of me that boils up to the surface every once in a while. My father grew up on a farm. My father's father grew up on a farm. My grandmother grew up on a farm. My Grandmother's father grew up on a farm. Farming is in our family. My grandparents currently own their own farm, although they've sold most of their cattle. Their house sits on a thousand acre plot, which consists of green grass, ponds and streams, and the woods. My aunt lives 5 miles down the road from them, and among their own stretch of land roams their horses. Although I've lived in the city for all but three years of my life (and even then, it was just a development area), I have grown up as a country girl. Maybe not quite a farm girl, because I never learned how to farm. But I've helped my grandpa drive the tractor. I've helped milk the cows. I've helped peel the corn and pluck the chickens. I also take the four-wheeler out for some adventure out back on a consistent basis while I'm there. Much of the time it includes getting very muddy.

Hannah Montana: The Movie really hit home for me. While she's at "home", although quite relucant at first, she re-learns and re-affirms her life and roots in the country, full with ho-downs, horseback riding, and good ol' fashioned country singing. At the very end of the movie, she starts singing one of her "Hannah Montana" songs, pretending that she isn't Miley. But after all she's been through, she can't do it. It was on that very stage years ago that she started singing and country fairs and other events. It was with both her family and that same community that she grew up with. They knew who she was, but most importantly, she finally knew who she was. She stopped her "Hannah" song dead in it's tracks, pulled off the blonde wig, stripped off her "Montana" self, and became Miley again. It was in that moment that we all must realize our roots. We all must realize that we came from somewhere. Our past may not dictate who we are, but it is a part of us. And we can't throw it away for something we think is better, because denying that part of us is like denying a piece of our history, whether good or bad.

In Miley's case, it was good. It brought her home.

This weekend I drove up to my grandparent's again. And as I entered, I was greeted with hugs and kisses. The warmth that I felt while up there among the trees, streams, and green grass was more than I've felt in a cold city in a long time.

There's something refreshing and renewing about going home. It's a time to reflect, a time of perspective.

For all of you Hannah Montana haters out there, I urge you to reconsider. Miley Cyrus' performance is definitely not restricted to children, and the movie will have your hearts at home by the end. Feel the love and warmth this budding actress brings in her new movie.

Imperfect and Loved

2009-03-03T01:21:00.002-06:00

Ladies and Gentlemen of the world. There is a revelation I need to share. I am not perfect. Nor are you. Crazy idea isn't it?

Before I continue, please just know that I am being honest, which is something I am trying to do more of. Give me some credit for sharing this with you; It's not an easy thing to do.

I have grown up shopping bargains and clearance racks. I don't have extra money to spend on shopping a lot. I can't afford a COACH handbag, or Prada sunglasses. Most of my clothes are usually worn until either they don't fit or until they start getting holes in them. I eat a lot of macaroni & cheese, spaghetti and cereal because I am too "cheap" to spend my money on expensive (but delicious and healthy) foods. I pay for my own cell phone, my own travel money, and basically anything I want.
My body is also not perfect. My leg hairs grow too fast. My hair is too curly on the bottom, and isn't curly enough on top. My stomach isn't flat. I don't have the most beautiful cheekbones.
Sometimes I don't have the perfect manners I should have. I don't know what silverware to start eating with (although I do know to work from the outside in.) I sometimes say things that then three seconds later make me stick my foot in my mouth. I think I talk too much.
I am not perfect.

My grandfather and his wife aren't these people. They go on cruises an average of twice a year. Although they are in the process of retiring, they can still afford a number of things I can't. Somehow in my mind, I've built them up to be these perfect, prim and proper, fancy people. I am going to spend some time with them in a few short days. I am also meeting my step-grandmother's friends from the country club at a fancy dinner.
I became so nervous about this "meeting" that I literally began to feel sick, tired, and just heavy. It was constantly in my thoughts, and the more I thought about it, the more distraught and overwhelmed I became.

After having a mental breakdown at Target, my good friend Christine told me that I needed to spend time in the Bible. So I did. I can't tell you what a relief it was when God showed me that, yes, I am not perfect, but that's okay! Having designer purses and clothing doesn't make me a good person. Having the perfect body doesn't make me a good person. Even having the most proper of all manners doesn't make me a good person. I am a good person because God created me the way that I am.

What I am. God loves me the way that I am. So what am I?
I am caring. I love people in a way that most people cannot understand. I will fight to the greatest depths for any of my friends, and I truly believe that I am easy to get along with. I am not judgmental, and I love getting to know people and understand them.
I am beautiful. Yes, I am. Body fat, big and sometimes clogged pores, short legs, and big hips...I am still beautiful!! I have beautiful blue eyes, and a beautiful smile I inherited from my father. I have pretty hair when I do it right. I have small feet, and although sometimes I don't like that, I secretly do love them.
I do have manners, despite not having the most proper ones all the time!
I am creative. I create meaning through words, through photography, through dance, that I believe many can't do.
I am a talented dancer. I have this ability to portray the pure joy and elation I get from dancing. It's because of this that I have been able to teach students about dancing, and through teaching them dance, I have been able to be there and mentor them as they grow and learn about things in life.

Most importantly, I am these things because God created me, and Christ died for me. (Do you know any of your friends who have died to save your life?)
He has shown me what it feels like to be loved. And it's not even just an "I love you because of these things." It's an "I love you so so much because I made you, and it doesn't matter what you do and what you say, I will always love you."
It's because of this that I can show love to others.

So ladies and gentlemen, I propose this: We are not a perfect people. But we must learn to love what we are. Flaws, both physical and otherwise. We must love ourselves because we are loved! God loves you. You think that your past can somehow keep his love from you? Not true. He loves you beyond every single one of your flaws!

This pressure we put on ourselves becomes ridiculous...and we look at that as what we have to measure up to. Yet we can never attain it. And that's okay!

An article I once wrote...

2009-02-13T15:26:00.003-06:00

This is an article I once wrote last fall about the upcoming election, specifically the MN senate race between Franken and Coleman. Since they are still battling out the ballots, I figured I'd post this.

After seeing countless attack ads and smear tactics from Al Franken and current Sen. Norm Coleman, you would think the better option would be to pick the independent candidate for Senate, Dean Barkley. However, that’s not nearly the case. This year’s election could potentially bring a time that is more disastrous than Gov. Jesse Ventura’s reign. Even though Minnesota hasn’t produced the best candidates this year, Senator Coleman is the best choice in this race for Minnesota Senator.
Remember Gov. Ventura? It’s almost like remembering the Alamo, but much worse. The newest clone of the pro-wrestler turned terrible governor is Al Franken, the comedian and entertainment representative – the only difference is the position Franken might hold. Al Franken could be Minnesota’s worst mistake since Gov. Ventura.
Not only does Franken have no political experience other than his radio talk show (oh wait, that’s not political experience, either), it seems he can’t even keep his own finances in order. In his time in New York, his company “Al Franken Inc.” failed to carry worker’s compensation insurance from the years of 2002-2005, and was ordered to pay $25,000 in fines. Many are failing to understand how this could just slip his mind three years in a row. How is he supposed to help Minnesota in this economic crisis if he can’t even run his own company right?
While Franken might be able to write a good comedic sketch for Saturday Night Live, it’s hard to believe he can write a good bill, or anything that might help this state and country. Comedy is appropriate in television, not on the Senate floor – especially when it’s our tax dollars at the risk of a terrible joke. To top that all off, Franken wrote an article in 2000 for “Playboy” entitled “Porn-O-Rama,” which six prominent women in the GOP claimed was “demeaning and degrading.” This implies just how much of an appalling role model and leader he is for the people of Minnesota. Seems to me Franken in this race seems to be the joke more than that “Playboy” article.
Independent Party representative Dean Barkley seems like the next best choice, but not by much more than the size of a slice of deli-cut turkey. One major problem is his service and alliance with Gov. Ventura. However, contrary to Franken, Barkley has had actual political experience. In January of 1999, Ventura appointed Barkley as the director of the Office of Strategic and Long Range Planning (also known as Minnesota Planning.) Barkley served in that role until Oct. 25, 2002, after Paul Wellstone’s death. Ventura appointed Barkley to take Wellstone’s senate spot until the election of current Senator Coleman in 2002. Those few months gave Barkley a small chunk of senate experience, as he passed a bill for a memorial for Wellstone and provided a pivotal vote in the last fragment in passing the Homeland Security Act. Barkley served a total of 62 days in the Minnesota Senate.
After a failed attempt to get a job at a prestigious law firm, Barkley then worked for a time as a contract lobbyist in St. Paul, where he represented casino interests, a tobacco firm and a group trying to privatize prisons. Barkley is currently a bus driver for Transit Team, which transports elderly and disabled clients. While Barkley is certainly a better choice than Franken, he does not have the ability to lead Minnesota through these turbulent years.
Senator Coleman is the best choice for Senate, although he doesn’t have flaming recommendations, either. Although Coleman may not be in the race for “Senator hall-of-fame,” he has shown himself to be firmly grounded. Coleman, who has held the position since January of 2003 when he took office, has had years of Senatorial experience. In his first two years as mayor of St. Paul, Coleman was a member of the DFL. In 1996, Coleman switched parties, claiming that while parties may change, his stances on abortion and gay-rights will not, so he stuck with his positions on pro-life and anti-gay rights. Since then, Coleman has remained a member of the Republican Party, and has worked on several different committees helping provide health care aid.
While Coleman has shown himself to be the most respectable of the candidates, he isn’t blameless on his ads on Franken. However, Coleman deserves our respect for sticking to his choices, even if that means changing parties. It’s reassuring to have someone in office that sticks to his guns and cannot be swayed by the sinking sands of politics.

What has the world come to?

2009-02-12T08:30:00.003-06:00

Last night, a friend of mine shared with a group of us girls a story. The story was about her brother, and his love for the game of hockey. The story was also about the sickening, gruesome things that happened to him in the locker room.
Because I want to protect my friend and her family, I will not share everything here; it is also too graphic to post on a blog.
Because he would not participate in these graphic and sickening acts, he was then forced to "reep the consequences" by his fellow teammates. What they did was not okay. If this had happened in a classroom, just a short walk from the locker room, the teacher and students would suffer severe consequences. Yet because this all took place in the locker room and it's passed off as "boys will be boys", they receive no such punishment. Why is this?

There are two things that stick out to me.
First, I can't understand how this "hazing" can't be punished. The administration has known about this. It is required by Minnesota state law to both report and punish these actions. Yet people stand by and act like it isn't a big deal, when in all reality, this harassment has caused my friend's brother and their entire family severe emotional damage, so much so that professional counseling is sought. Why is nobody doing anything?

Second. I laugh at my friends when they make a suggestive joke. It's passed off as sarcasm. To the outside world, this isn't something to feel guilty about. It's just another joke. We see them all the time in television shows. The Simpsons, King of the Hill, even FRIENDS reruns. Yet now I see that even these can hurt people. Maybe not directly, but if I were in the presence of my friend and her brother, it would be a different story. I would not laugh. I would not even smile. Instead, I would look to her and her brother with eyes that wish to comfort.

My friend loves her brother. It's tearing her apart to see him being put in these situations, harassed by his teammates and no one to listen to his cries to make it stop. As an older sibling, myself, I understand the need to protect, and the feeling that when a younger sibling is hurting, you hurt yourself. She feels this, and it is ripping her heart in pieces to see her brother battling harassment with no one to reprimand and punish those who are doing it.

I beg everyone, first, to look in their own lives. Are there things being said to people who find it hurtful?
I then make a plea, to everyone, that when you see or hear of harassment, don't just stand around, waiting for someone else to make the call first. Be the one that yells at wrongdoers. Be the one who puts an end to the harassment. It's wrong. No if's, and's, or but's. It is wrong. Period.
In today's society, we have a tendency to look at things from a relative perspective, and with an "open mind." But there comes a time when an open mind just won't cut it anymore. An open mind does not change the fact that any type of harassment is wrong, and an open mind does not change the actions that cause severe emotional trauma.
It is not okay. Stop it now.

To tell a story

2009-02-09T21:44:00.002-06:00

Mornings. Even just the word “morning” makes me sad. It sounds just like “mourning.” I have never been a morning person, and have truly enjoyed sleeping in past noon when I can. However, the life of a college student is much more demanding, and often before the sun rises I am forced out of bed. But even among my groans and stretches, I get excited every morning when I turn on the TV to the Today Show. I had watched the Today show here and there in years past, but I had never really cared about it. Then about two years ago, I found that seeing Meredith Viera and Matt Lauer tell news stories in the morning made me smile, and I was hooked.

The Today show has so much to offer for everyone. I enjoy learning new tricks to make delicious meals for cheap. I love learning new ideas for cost-friendly fashion. I enjoy listening to the news of the outside world, beyond the Northwestern Bubble. They have had every-day families on their show, with stories anywhere from overcoming tragedies to a family with 18 children. And although those stories catch my heart in a certain way, I truly enjoy when the anchors go around the world and show America what it is to live in places like Antarctica, Africa, and China. But most of all, I love the stories they tell. Every story is real, and mostly importantly, that each story is important.

The Today Show is my morning coffee. Every morning I feel like I’m a part of a family, who share everything from personal experiences, to tips on saving money, to beauty and health tips. I’ve tried watching other morning shows, like ABC’s Good Morning America or CBS’ The Morning Show, but there’s a connection to The Today Show that even words can’t describe. Maybe it’s because I have journalism blood running through my veins, or maybe it’s just because I enjoy the chemistry between the anchors. Either way, whatever chemistry The Today show truly has, it works for me.

The most important thing that I come out of after watching The Today Show is the sense of how to tell a story. I love people, and every person has their own story. I aspire to tell stories the way I've seen The Today Show has. I aspire to tell every person's story like it's the most important one in the world. I take that back. I WILL tell every story I write like it's the most important story in the world.

When We Care

2009-02-02T19:44:00.002-06:00

Today our hall is getting ready for something the Northwestern Community knows as
"Knuha Day". This event promotes eight different organizations that help to better this world.
Each hall chooses an organization that they want to represent, then decorates their hall and creates a dance or human video that is later presented to an audience. The hall that puts on the best total presentation gets money to donate to that specific charity/organization of their choice.

Our hall chose "To write love on her arms" as our hall charity/organization. For time reasons, i won't go into crazy details about this organization, but to give you an overall view, it's focus is helping teenagers and young adults battle depression, cutting, and suicide.

Every one of us has had rough points in our lives. Some more dramatic than others. But much of the time, it doesn't matter the "degree" of the situation. When something difficult in life comes up, it's often hard to see that there's a light at the end of the tunnel, where you feel like you are in a dark cave, and can't feel your way to the exit.

Often, when we're hurting, we feel that in order to be the best employees, the best friends, and the best family members, we have to be positive, upbeat, and happy. We walk around with a smile on our face and a chunk missing in our hearts.

"To write love on her arms" helps battle this. It gives the opportunity for everyone battling with depression and pain to feel love, knowing others know their pain and are there to help them find the exit.

In a little over two weeks, I, along with about 20 other women, will be performing a dance/human video that promotes what "to write love on her arms" is doing.
It's difficult to describe my "excitement" (if you can call it that) to use dance to show others the love and hope we can help give to those who need it.

That day will be a powerful one, and I can only hope that the love we pour into this project will empower us and others to show the love and hope others can have.

somtimes communication can sting

2009-02-02T17:56:00.002-06:00

For the past school year, I've been in classes that have taught me about communication. How we communicate, how problems arise when communication goes awry, and how we can solve problems through communication.
When therapists, phychologists, and even the every day person say, "Communication is key," it's because it's true. But that doesn't mean it stings any less when it takes place.

For instance, I am currently on a dance team at our college. I have taken on the role of choreographing, teaching, and perfecting a kick routine in a matter of about a month. We have exactly three practices left.
Last practice, because of the Superbowl, practice was moved to an earlier time. Unfortunately, the time change took place less than 24 hours prior to practice. My understanding was that we would only have the early practice if everyone could make it. What I understood later, however, was that practice was moved earlier, no matter how many people could make it.

This created a conflict, as I entered practice expecting to see all 18 girls. I only saw 13. That means give of them would have to make practice time up. 5 of them needed to attempt the routine with the music. Multiple times. Knowing that they most likely wouldn't practice on their own, I was increasingly irked.

Later, after practice, the captains and I talked. It was good to get our feelings out on the table. It was beneficial to hear each other's point of views. But we all left after our meeting feeling as if we each were right. I still thought, and was still irked, that everyone was not there. They were irked that I was stepping across a line, expecting every member to attend.

I feel a little better about it now. I do. But the problem still is there; I still wish that people would commit fully to the team, instead of it's a "half and half" deal, when during tryouts people were asked if they were ready to fully commit to the team.

Communication is good, neh, it's great, and truly "key." However, when communicating hurts and wrongs, know that it won't immediately fix the pain and frustration. It takes time, love, and alot of patience to make it through battles still friends.

Of Racism on our Campus, and in the country.

2009-01-20T13:11:00.006-06:00

I never thought I'd write about racism. I've never had too much of an interest, and mostly just thought it was a well worn-out topic on our campus. Yet I am writing about it...here and now, the same day our first African American president was sworn into office.
Today over lunch, I had an interesting conversation and debate with a friend about racism on our campus and in the country
Because of some privacy issues, I will not disclose names, nor the entire background of the story. Here, however, is a quick summary of the background. The night President Obama was elected President, there were several students from our campus, a few other people who were not a part of our campus, and a former staff member, all came onto campus late that night and painted "the rock". Painting the rock is a common occurance and is perfectly accepted. The words they painted on the rock, however, were not accepted, even tolerated by the school. After painting "Obama Rocks" on the rock, which was perfectly acceptable, that group continued to paint "Friends of NWC are racist." While painting the rock, students across the road were woken up to the sounds of racial slurs being shouted by these students. (I should mention this group of students were of different races...white, African American, Asian..)

For sake of time and space, I will allow that to be the brunt of the story I will share.
My discussion and debate today sparked and intrigued me.

The way I see racism is basically non-existant. My thoughts are the reasons why I might not interact with those in different races from me is not because they are of a different race, but because I either a) do not have any classes with them, b) do not live around or in the same room with them, or c) they are not in the same activities as I am.

This statement is partly true for me. I do not know alot, or am friends with alot, of people of a different race as I am. However, I am close friends with several people who are. But then it does not become about "I know and am friends with people of different races." It becomes, "I am friends with Priscilla, and Lolly, and Brian." Because I do not see them as a different race, I see them as my friends...people who I know because I share an interest of dancing, or an interest of working at camp. I do not go and randomly introduce myself to someone of a different race normally because I would not normally do that with someone of the same race. It is not meant as "I don't have an interest to talk to you because you are black." It's "I don't have an interest to talk to you because I don't know you."

This is how I view things. However, while talking with a friend of mine, I found that is not the way many others view it. The way he described it, they see things AS being racist.
For example: that same night, because they were causing disturbances late into the night, another small group (3 or 4 white students) came out to confront the group, who meant to just go ask if they'd quiet down. One woman from the rock-painting group started coming at the samll group, saying they're coming because they're racist. Immediately, one guy said, "This has nothing to do with race!" Later, when Campus Security pulled up, the rock-painting group automatically assumed they were being racist.

All this to say, in discussing this with my friend, he helped me see that the way I view racism is
a non-problem. The way those of different races see it as an actual problem, immediately thinking that those of different races are racist against them.

Now that my eyes are opened to this, I wonder how then to fix this problem.

If this is the way America truly sees it, I wonder how the African American community in America will view caucasions, or Asians, or Native Americans. How will Native Americans view Asians, and caucasions? How will Asians, view African Americans or Native Americans?

How will the election and swearing in of our first African American president affect our livelihoods as Americans?

Most importantly, how do we all come to a conclusion and make an effort to understand each other? How do caucasions look at Asians, or African Americans? How do African Americans or Asians or Native Americans perceive caucasions? What can we do to start seeing each other in the same light?

Of plane crashes and the economy

2009-01-15T19:36:00.004-06:00

Today, as I walked in the door coming back from class, I turned on the TV to see what was on. To my surprise, I immediately saw what looked like an airplane slowly sinking in the water. I quickly turned up the volume and sat down, only to watch and listen about the commercial airline that "safe crash landed" in the Hudson River. I was frightened as I listened about the details of what had happened, although I was very thankful there were no deaths being reported.

The airplane that had to crash took off from Laguardia. Later on, as I listened to details, I learned that Laguardia was confident that the take-off of that aircraft was successful, and that the supposed culprit to the problems were...was I hearing this correctly...BIRDS?

I had several thoughts that came in the following moments.
First, I was immediately thrown into this sense of fear. Fear for myself, fear for my family, fear for friends. I have never been afraid of flying, even after 9/11. My family even flew ON Sept. 11th, just last year, to California for a wedding. This, however, shocked and rattled me, as I am planning to fly into and out of Laguardia come this April. If one or two birds can cause that much damage and harm to an airplane, then what COULD happen?

Second, I thought "How in the world does a bird get sucked up into an engine and actually cause problems, and in this case, severe problems in the first place? " There are literally thousands of aircrafts over the world that take off every day. How has this problem not happened before? Don't the air traffic controllers realize that birds fly across the world every single day?

Third, it made me think of how safe flying is now, in today's economy. I hear every day of Delta and Northwest having to make hundreds, even thousands, of layoffs. Who, exactly, is being laid off, and how is this affecting the maintenance and care of the runways and the airplanes? I have yet to look into this, and I suspect it will not be an easy task. Yet I feel the need for people all over the world to know just how safe flying is at this crucial point in our economy.

These were the things that have flooded my mind ever since I sat down about five hours ago and first discovered this event. Hopefully we'll receive some answers soon on exactly how the air traffic controllers, pilots, and flight companies around the world will change their standards to keep us safe.

One last note: Major "props" to the pilots, flight attendants, and people on board that flight for following exact procedures, resulting in a very positive outcome in a very negative situation!

Enrich your Life

2009-01-06T22:47:00.003-06:00

When we're young, we were always told "reach for the stars," and "anything's possible." We grow up hearing inspiring stories about how people "made it." But as we grow older, our dreams become less exciting and more practical.

When I was young, I wanted to be so many things. A detective or CSI, a ballerina, a concert pianist, or a dolphin trainer. I grew up, and eventually figured out that it would be difficult to be a ballerina (I love chocolate way too much.) I learned that CSI's actually have to deal with blood (which I faint at the thought of.) I found out that you have to be great with a varieties of sciences and mathematics to train a dolphin (which I'm not.) And a concert pianist needs both extreme talent and lots of training. (Well, I had the training, and some talent, but it certainly wasn't enough.)

There are two things that have, however, stuck in my dreams. The dream of becoming a journalist, having a successful career, then going part-time so I can enjoy being a mother. This is my "dream B," or my "backup dream." I love to write, and I love to design pages. I love photography, and I love making videos. (I was a broadcasting major before changing to journalism, and now I've taken up broadcasting as a minor, since I'm only 5 credits away from it.) This dream, I know, is attainable.

But that leaves no room for the miracle of my first love...dancing.
This other dream has been in my heart since before I started taking dance lessons. This dream...becoming a dancer, is something my heart won't let go, no matter what I tell myself. I don't care whether it's on broadway or with a company somewhere. Yet something holds me back. I love to dance and to be on stage in front of an audience. I would give anything to make a career out of it. But I'm not. I am too afraid of my dreams becoming disappointments. I've been to scared of failing, and then having nowhere else to turn to.
The logical side of me said, "you need to go to school and get an education so that you can pursue this dream later." The heart of me said, "You need to pursue dancing right now." In the end, the logical won. I don't regret going to school. I have been incredibly blessed to have learned what I have. I believe, in the end, that journalism is well within a good grasp of me right now. But I constantly wonder what would happen if I were to just go and audition for dancing roles across the world.
I know I'm not the first, nor the last, to have these thoughts. What does one do when life takes us in out to sea, while our dreams are lying on the shore?

As Langston Hughes wrote,
"Hold fast to dreams
For if dreamd die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow."
These dreams are something one must hold dear, if even for the sake of having them for the time.
But how do we deal with the dreams put on hold?
I was recently talking with a friend about my dancing "career". She said that no matter what happens, that I should never give up dancing. She was right. It's in my blood, my veins, my life, and giving that up would mean a grief and sense of loss I know I couldn't bear.
Many people have dreams of doing this or doing that, yet only a handful of them ever do what they had dreampt about as life was just beginning. But letting go of a dream doesn't mean you have to quit all-together. There are plenty of opportunities around you that provide a means for that release. For me, it was teaching dance lessons at a local dance studio. I taught lessons to kids anywhere from ages 5-18, and I can't help but admit it was such an incredible blessing. To pass on information that I've learned through the years, knowing I am enriching another person's life, helped me see past my own ambitions and give back to the community. Who knows..maybe one of them might turn out to be the next Margot Fonteyn.

Take your dreams and your passions, and do something with them. Teach a class, do it as a fun hobby, join a club, or take some classes yourself! Whether it's painting, basketball, or acting, enrich your life, and enrich other's.

Ten things to keep your holidays stress-free!

2008-12-20T03:58:00.004-06:00

"It's the most, wonderful time of the year!" keeps blaring over and over again on our radio during the holiday season. You enjoy the song, because for that moment in time you feel just as happy as Andy Williams did when he sang it. Yet most of us feel like we're running around stores, trying to catch our breath, while at the same time watching our bank accounts drop and our credit card bills skyrocket, none of which are reasons to smile and make us believe it actually is the most wonderful time of the year. You stand in line for hours on end just to buy the one thing that, after 5 more years, will become obsolete. You have to deal with crazier and crabbier drivers on the road, and park in the back row of the parking lot. You have to attend Christmas parties that are most of the time just as dull as a steak knife after trying to cut through a rock. Not only that, but after that Wii set you got for your nephew last year, you're just not sure how to top it. At this point, you're better off giving him the money, and letting him spend it on a new plasma TV.
This is what we go through during the holidays. But we try to brush aside the negative and focus on the positive, because, after all, this is Christmas.

So what can you do to make sure Christmas doesn't become about all the hassle we go through just for one morning of glory? From the funny to the serious, here are some ideas to help you glide through the holidays like Nancy Kerrigan skating on ice.
1) In your family gift exchange, make it a requirement that everyone must create something as a present. It doesn't have to look pretty, or even make sense, but think of the laughter you'll get from them. I remember a story my dad told about the jokes he'd play on his sister for Christmas. She had wanted a curling iron one year, and so he decided to wrap up a stick and a rubber band, then had written instructions on how to use it. "a) stick in fire b) pull out of fire c) wrap around hair." It may not have been the curling iron she wanted, but they still laugh about it every year. (P.S. She did get that curling iron that Christmas.) From family talent-shows to a simple "I love you, Merry Christmas," note, you're sure to realize what they say is true: It's the smallest things that come from the heart that matter the most.
2) Every night, curl up on the couch and read a bit of a Christmas story. Whether it's an Advent book and a Bible, or simple books, like "The Christmas Shoes," reading will help you relax.
3) Enjoy a holiday show! There are plenty of them to choose from, whether they're just little displays Macy's puts up in their store to catching The Nutcracker ballet. Taking a night out of your busy schedule to enjoy a show with friends can help put a smile on your face.
4) Silly Putty! You have no idea how incredibly fun and relaxing such a childish toy can be! Not only can you mold it into a ball and bounce it, but it's something to kneed into your palms as you review that last financial statement at work.
5) Count your blessings. Just like Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sang in the classic film "White Christmas," make sure to count your blessings (instead of sheep.) Not only does it help you focus on the positive, but it helps you fall asleep.
6) Go to a Christmas Eve service at your local church. There's something almost romantic about church. Even if you're unfamiliar with the traditions, it helps you expand your knowledge about their faith. We should all try to learn about each other, and learn from each other. This is the perfect place and time to start.
7) Sing! Even if you have a terrible voice, sometimes just singing in the shower, or in the comfort of your own car, can bring laughter to your world. Buddy the Elf did say, "The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!"
8) Give to someone in need. There's certainly nothing wrong with choosing a card from the gift-giving tree at the mall, then buying gifts for a girl in Africa. But many times, you can give by actually helping and volunteering with your local Salvation Army, or even just going into an after-school program for children and helping them color. By seeing their faces light up, knowing that you are there for them, makes a big difference.
9) Attend a yoga or pilates class! Flexibility, whether physical or mental, is always important to have during the holidays! Being a dancer, I've done plenty of pilates. Not only does it help your flexibility and balance, but it really does let you just relax and forget about all of your troubles! (I've come to appreciate this during the stressful weeks in school!)
10) Elf Yourself! This is bound to make you laugh! www.elfyourself.com, sponsored by Office Max, allows you to upload photos of you and some of your friends or family. After cutting out the heads from your photos, you can select different dances! It's quite entertaining to watch, and is bound to get you chuckling like Santa. It's available for free, but for only 5$ more, you can download the videos and burn them onto a DVD. (Christmas gift idea?)

These are only ideas, but tried and tested by me, I've found them all to work. As much as I love opening presents to see if I got what I wanted, I love savoring the small moments more, like watching a good Christmas movie, or decorating the tree with my family. Sometimes we forget that the holidays aren't really about the gifts. I hope you take to heart a few of these ideas; they may make you uncomfortable at first, but after you've tried some of them, you'll be making them tradition.