unless you're a ballerina

Tonight I decided to do a hard thing that I'd been avoiding and it reminded me of something else.

A couple of weeks back I drew a couple of pictures for a letter that I sent my cousin in the MTC to try and help make my point clear about decisions we make in life. I was trying to say that sometimes we think of big decisions being HUGE but we forget all that leads up to those decisions. So I used 1st Nephi 8 as my example:

The iron rod is continuous. We can make decisions one after another, even if they're our own decisions and not blatant THUS-SHALL-IT-BE ones from the Spirit. The mucky river is much farther away than we sometimes feel. On top of that, if we make a choice that isn't the best, the iron rod is closer to us than is the stupid misery river. 

I've realized in my life that sometimes I think of these "big" decisions and see abysses at the edge of some faith cliff. I mean, what if I don't jump far enough? My long jumping skills aren't legendary at all.

I forget all of the the seemingly inconsequential choices that I've made that have led me to the spot I'm in and how I was able to make those decisions. I forget how when I made a less-than-stellar choice, I was able to correct course. I forget how Heavenly Father has never seen me make a sketchier choice without offering me a hint on how to get back to a better path.
I'm like AHHHHH!!!! CHASMS!!!!!!

But, no, life isn't really like that, even if it feels that way--and sometimes it feels that way a lot. Sometimes I think that the "walking into the darkness" kind of faith is actually just believing that there isn't actually a chasm beneath me. Oh! this totally reminds me of that scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.


Anyway, I don't think we have to leap chasms, per se. But I think if you're a ballerina, you could probably do it just fine:

Hallucidreaming

I'm pretty sure I was having sleeping hallucinations rather than dreams last night. At one point I woke up enough and put my phone on its airplane mode so I wouldn't do anything crazy.
I wish I could remember some of the story lines and the whatever else was going on. It really must be the closest thing to a drug trip I've ever felt.

I think it involved hovering, rapid color shifts, crazy dramatic movements, dangerous shifts in space, loss of gravity, irrational anger, giddiness. All of these ramped way up beyond dream level.

the hardest part about teaching

I love teaching, love it dearly. It takes me about 20 minutes into the semester to realize that my students are the best students. I'm always right, too.

There is one part about teaching that has never been easy for me. This morning I got an email from a student saying that her grandma had passed away yesterday. She actually apologized for missing class. A couple of weeks into the semester her grandpa passed away, too. After that happened she told me that it was bringing back lots of feelings and memories of a few years ago when her dad died of cancer. I almost cried with her.

This morning in a different class I saw one of my students with kind of red eyes. Allergies are hitting and she'd had a cold recently, no biggie. Until she came up to the front after class with tears in her eyes, trying to talk. I told her to follow me into the room across the hall. She told me that her best friend had been having terrible headaches and she finally went to the emergency room last night and the doctors found a bad infection that had spread to her brain. They were going to try to perform surgery, but there was no way to save her. She died this morning and my student's mom called right before class to tell her.

I don't know how she made it thru class. She had a test right after our class, so she decided to stay. All I could do was hug her and we talked for a while longer.

This is the hardest part of teaching: seeing my students suffer thru really hard things and feel that they need to apologize for missing class. I told my student this morning that I loved her, but didn't really want to see her for the rest of the week.

I love teaching Portuguese. I love seeing students think that the language is great, because I remember feeling that way when I first started learning in 101. But what I love to see more than anything is the growth in students, that they've learned that I know that they can do whatever they want to do, that their potential is higher than they ever imagined.

But sometimes the most important thing that I want them to know is that I love them.

Brain Ants

When I was like five or six I wanted to know how my brain worked, like how different scenes and memories would go through my mind. I couldn’t figure out the mechanism of it all. So I concocted this theory that involved something akin to ants. Brain ants.

A couple of them would scurry across my brain, holding up a a screen, kinda like a movie screen. These ants were quadrupedal instead of hexapedal, like normal ants. Reason being that they had to hold up the screen with their front two legs--well, arms.This obviously happened tons during even just one minute. I have a lot of brain ants.

But looking back, I think I had meta brain ants. When I came up with this idea, I pictured the ants working, doing their thing. Woah.

Aura: yellow, but sometimes purple

I generally have really awesome students. On Tuesday one of my students stayed after to get help with adjectives and adverbs. After we were done talking he started to walk out of the classroom, but paused, turned to me and said, "I can see faint auras in people. Usually you are yellow. Today you're purple, though." So I asked him what yellow meant. He said that it means that I'm a good teacher. Purple apparently means that I'm seeking for truth and knowledge. He then said that purple and indigo settle into blue when someone has found the truths they were looking for.

I don't believe in auras or anything, but I love that he sees those things in me. It made my day.

Causative

A week ago I was driving to school and I was suddenly hit with a flashback. It wasn't the type of flashback where your brain goes back and you don't know where you really are. It was just a physical sensation, pain and "stuff," that hit me. I didn't know what to do. I had to give a test in 20 minutes. Then I had a class, then more teaching. THEN I had give a presentation in Spanish. My day couldn't be over until after 6pm.

I had no choice but to continue on. The yucky feeling, the more-or-less physical takeover of my body continued into Friday. I did it all. I taught. I paid attention in class. I helped students. I gave a presentation in Spanish. Well, in Portuñolglish.

The feeling of a kind of helplessness continued thru Monday, not the flashback feelings, but the idea that I'd never be truly free from the effects of all the abuse.

So finally at my wits' end, during my office hours on Monday, I started writing everything out: the way I felt, my anger, my helplessness. The I put my head down on my desk and thought. I needed to somehow regain my power, b/c I hadn't been able to figure it out for days.

I thought back on an ancient Hebrew verb conjugation, b/c of course I did. I've already mentioned this particular verb conjugation, but like 5 years ago. Holy cow, my blog is old. 

Anyway, I thought of the causative conjugation and I am, like from the Bible, the Great I AM. What was really said in the Hebrew is I exist, so everything else exists. God's existence causes any other existence to be possible.

So I asked myself what my causative I am would be, because in that moment I realized that we all have a causative conjugation of our I am, maybe we just don't realize it. It's not blasphemous, it's just the way things are. This is what I learned when I lifted my head and began to write:

I am. Not the banal English version, but the Hebrew causative one. I am. Because I exist--because of WHO I am--I continue on. I am and so I continue to be. I am and so I go thru another day--even if it's a living Hell. I am and so I turn toward the eventuality of my greatness. I am and so I fight. I am and so I read and learn. I am and so I love. I am and so I will always be.

Music Dream

Well, it wasn't really a musical dream, I guess. But I had this dream a couple of nights ago where someone was talking about music. I had to leave once they finished their story. As I was walking out the door I turned to them and said, "I'll be Bach."

I really did that in my dream.
A friend said that my dream self is funnier that my waking-hours self.

a gum wrapper and a match (in portuguese)

One day I was walking up a street during my mission and there was a couple with their two sons walking toward us. Perfect street contact. I walked up to them and introduced myself. I asked them their names and the dad said his name was João Batista, his wife was Maria, their sons was José and their other son was Macguyver.

Remembering a realization

Tonight while we were at my grandma's watching TED.com videos, I was reminded of a realization that I had one day near the end of 7.5 month stint in my first mission area.

I was walking up a hill that I had walked up I can't tell you how many times previously when something crossed my mind. I thought back on this man that we'd taught months earlier, Rivaildo, who'd ditched us on discussion #5 and how much we'd hurt because of it. And then I thought of the girls that had just crossed to the other side of the street when they saw me coming. (I was quite the known quantity after 7 months.)
I realized that we'd get totally bummed after losing someone that we'd been teaching for a while, but we'd chuckle over the ones who'd cross the street (what else you gonna do?). Heavenly Father, however, would be sad over the ones who'd crossed the street because they'd lost out on an opportunity.
I also realized in that moment that since obviously not everyone was going to get baptized, it was my job to make sure that every time I talked with someone, they would feel hope for their future and heavenly love.

Anyway, that just popped into my mind tonight, so I thought I'd share the story.

My Birthday Card

Part 1:
I have a tendency to leave errrrr... goofy pictures of Tom Jones and The Hoff in a coworker's office and office drawers, just for funsies, you know. I even had her convinced that the Germans celebrated something called Hoffmas, which occurs during the fortnight 90 to 75 days before Easter.

Part 2:
Sting just released a great album called Symphonicities. I told my boss about the album, and I also happened to mention that I thought Sting was rather sexy.

Part 3:
I get to work today and, after a while, I open up my drawer and see this, which had me belly laughing, in tears for about 3 minutes before I regained my composure:

Sting as Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen in Dune

If you don't know what this picture comes from, you are very lucky. Dune is a terrible, terrible movie. Here are some clips to show you just how wonderful it is.

Part 4:
The best part of Dune? Captain Picard with a bald mullet.

WWII Vet

At the BYU game tonight there was a man on the row right below me and my grandma at the end of it wearing a WWII Vet hat. I sidled over to him after the game and asked him where he'd served. He told me that he was in the army in Europe and then after V-E Day he was transferred to the Pacific Theatre. In New Guinea he said that almost every man in his squad was killed when they landed, but he survived and went to the Philippines and into Japan where he served as military police.
I shook his hand and thanked him for his service and he smiled. I told him I was sorry about his squad and he smiled again and said that he'd see them again.
I really think they are the greatest generation.

Self Discipline > Office Health Gimmicks

Subtitle: But it's not like office health gimmicks are a bad thing

UVU is doing this thing called Spring into Shape. (Notice that the webpage is titled Sping into Shape, the letter R being optional, I guess.) It was the topic of discussion on and off today at the office. People were talking about how it was a great motivator, working in groups and stuff to accomplish goals, how the success rate will be higher. (And don't get me started on the UVU goal of drinking eight 8oz. glasses of water. Yeesh.)

My point was that working in groups, in the end, has nothing to do with success, that it's only self discipline. A coworker made the good point that when she was in this group and had to present something once a week, she made sure she did it. It wasn't like it was graded for a class, she just made sure she did it because they met together.

I countered that with, "Exactly, you weren't graded. In the end of things you accomplished what you did because of your self discipline. What if you missed a week of doing your stuff? You didn't. You controlled your time to accomplish what you wanted. It was all self discipline in the end, which is a good thing."

Scottie tonight made the point that it's very empowering to understand this. What we accomplish in life is all based on our ability to work toward something and persevere through difficulties (with Divine Help for eternal good measure).

It's all about self discipline.
And I have great faith in our ability to accomplish our goals. This concept gives me great hope.


Signed,
Vanessa "Aiming to take the theory of it all and turn it into a daily practice" Swenson

Dystopia and Young Adult Novels

So I tried the Hunger Games series a while back. I persevered thru the first book because I'd heard/read so many people talking about how they were completely drawn into the series. But I've gotta be honest, I really didn't want to finish that first audiobook, I was so angered (disgusted?) by the situation the kids were in.

When I tried the 2nd book about a month after the first, it was seriously dragging me down. I'm all about pushing thru and finishing a book series once you've started it. I mean, I finished The Work and The Glory series, even though I couldn't handle the cheesy writing style (everyone spoke with a "husky" voice and looked up thru their eyebrows in an anatomical feat of contortionist excellence when emotional). And it's not like I'm trying to avoid pain completely, I am a Mets fan. But there was something about the Hunger Games series that I just couldn't deal with.

Wonderful Wendy said that I didn't have to finish. She answered the few questions that I had and I moved on with my life. Rarely do I not finish a book series. But, wow, Hunger Games haunted me.

Control

I was just thinking about how the first cassette tape I ever owned was Control by Janet Jackson. I loved that tape (and still own it). My parents bought it for me after they saw me singing along with the music at the Grammys or something. I think I was eight.

Do you remember what yours was? Just curious.

Usted-es-hermana...

Subtitled: The Distressing Problem of Not Knowing Where One Word Stops and Another Begins 

Double Subtitled: Oh, Vanessa...Dear?...Just Keep Your Mouth Closed When You're Not Sure What The Nice Lady Just Said

So Anna-Lisa and I went to Santiago, Chile one weekend while we were on study abroad in Brazil. While we were there we thought it would be great to go to the Santiago Temple. As we were waiting to do sealings, one of the cute temple workers came over to talk to us, I was nearer to her and she approached me first.

At this point, I need to make an aside: I don't always get in Spanish where one word ends and another begins. Usually I'm just fine, no worries. But Chilean Spanish? Talk about a doozy. Oh, and the esses at the ends of words that they sometimes don't say? Lo gato instead of los gatos...

OK, back to the story.
The sister walks up to us and says usted-es-hermana... then pauses. Now I'm stuck in a quandary, do I respond to what may be a question or is she just gathering her thought? What do I do? What to say?

Another aside: She could have been saying ¿Usted es Hermana...? i.e. asking me, "You are Sister...?" asking me my last name for the sealings. Or she could have been saying "Ustedes hermana..." meaning "You sisters..." leaving off that all important final -s on hermanas.

BLERG!! What do I do? Do I respond with my last name? Do I wait for a bit? Oh no, oh no, she's still standing there, I think she wants my last name. Is she just gathering her thoughts? No, she wants my last name!

SUENSõ!!!!

I blurted out my last name with a wonderfully smack-on Brazilian accent.
No, she was just saying "Ustedes hermanas..." (You sisters...)
How on earth is a Chilean temple worker going to understand that I'd just said my Anglicized Swedish last name with a Brazilian accent when that's not what she wanted at all?

She looked gobsmacked. ("Maybe this American has mental issues? Perhaps the one who looks more stable will understand me? [calling down blessings of the gift of tongues] Please let the other one understand, please, please... Oh! Phew! She's normal and understands me...")

Alright, I'm not sure that's what when on in her mind. But I'd lay a bet on it.

The sweet hermana walks away after saying her piece, Anna-Lisa practically falls over from laughing.
Periodically now my friends will just explode with a

SUENSõ!!!!



sigh...why, oh why, Chileans don't you say those final esses?

Mutilated Spanish (BWAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!)

Subheading: A Google translation doth not sense make.

My mom surprised me with a tool set for Christmas. I was very excited. We got to break out the tool set last night to fix a tuning peg on a guitar. w00t

But the best part might be the horrific Spanish translations. Here we go!

"A CASA INSTRUMENTO DE PROYECTO SE PUSO" Or very literally, "At home instrument of project itself put" **Note, the literal translation is exactly what a Spanish speaker would understand, too. (se puso from the verb ponerse)

 "CHOFER DE TRINQUETE" or, Chauffeur of ratchets. Them are some special ratchets.

 "(6) ABRAZADERAS DE PRIMAVERA" or Clamps of Springtime
And my personal favorite "(8) LLAVES DE MALEFICIO METRICAS" or, literally, Metric Wrenches of Hexing. MWAHAHAHAHAH.

Don't mess with my tool set.

A personal best

Now, I know I'm odd and remember weird things. I also know that my brain keeps track of bizarre things.
I just wanted to post that I topped my personal best of three sneezes in one second by four in one.

Chock this up for TMI, but I was quite proud of myself for having survived.

Also, I was going to post a video or two of slow-motion sneezes, but I thought the better of it.
Instead I'm posting this video just because I am.

500! This deserves a nerd admission

Hello, 500th Entry, let's do something exciting for you. And what can be more exciting that telling the blogosphere that I got to meet my favorite historian?! Yes, I am a nerd; I have a favorite historian. But, when you got it, flaunt it. Thus I'm going to share the story quick.

Doris Kearns Goodwin is a presidential historian who loves baseball. She was in Baseball by Ken Burns, which is where I first heard of her back when I was 15. I thought she was awesome. Come to find out she writes great history, too.

She gave a lecture yesterday at UVU and I went an hour early so that I could get a good seat. Then she signed books:

Like the uber nerd that I am, I told her that she was my favorite historian, that I first heard of her in the Baseball doc. We talked for like 10 seconds about the Red Sox winning the World Series and about the 10th Inning premiering this month.

I was on cloud 9.

Vietnam Memorial Moving Wall

There's this really wonderful thing called The Moving Wall. It's a really amazing thing, especially considering the fact that not everyone gets to go to D.C. to see the original wall.
It was in Spanish Fork over the weekend and I went on on Sunday night.
I wish that I'd had a better camera to take pictures of what happened while I was there. A vet was standing by the wall next to a group of names from his company that all died on the same day. He held a picture of his company in his hands and told stories. At first it was just his family, children and grandkids. Then people started gathering. By the end, I'd wager there were 50 more of us around, listening to his stories and looking at the wall.

It was wonderful to listen to him. And hard to know that he went thru what he went thru. And I was really glad that he was willing to tell his story.

The edge of the group of people

The end of the list

Fail Door

Construction at our office in DE just finished up. This time was much better than last time. But they've struggled with their doors. One was put in backwards, so they had to knock it out and do a switcharoo. One wall wasn't long enough to touch the door frame of another door. etc. etc.

But the ABSOLUTE BEST door blunder is shown in the following video my coworker and I took: