Exam, an update

I don't know what grade I got, but I feel like I did well on the test! There were a few questions that were, in my opinion, poorly worded and so I am unsure about whether I got them right or not (but if I did get them wrong I will argue my case with my professor!), so we shall see how I do when the grades are released later this week. Of course, I definitely got the extra credit right, so perhaps it won't matter?

Because the rest of my day was full of going to class, going to work, and then eating deliciously horrible Chinese food with Ally, (and thus not really as blog-worthy) here are two absolutely adorable pictures of Emma I took at work today. She's getting so big. (She will be 2 years, 3 months in a week or so!)

Miss Emma on a big girl swing! Emma loves to swing on all four of the swings facing in both directions on each of them. We can spend an hour at the park only swinging some days...

Emma wanted me to hold her hand while she ate. I don't question these things, because she's (figuratively and literally) got me wrapped around her little finger.

I have an exam tomorrow, so... book reviews!

So, because I have an exam in my Children's lit class tomorrow, I'm spending my evening doing everything but study for it. Oh, of course I WILL study for it... but I got a 94 on the last exam with one hand tied behind my back (metaphorically, of course!)

I am absolutely loving the novels we're reading in this class: for this unit alone I've had to read Harry Potter (and the Sorcerer's Stone), Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, The Giver, Cirque du Freak, and Chasing Vermeer. Care for some book reviews while I procrastinate!

(Edit: I have realized that it's not really procrastinating because I'm remembering plots and remembering important stuff while I write. Procrastination fail?)

Out of those five books, I've read three of them before, some more recently than others! And of those five books, Chasing Vermeer was my least favorite. I think I would have liked it a lot more had I been a lot younger when I'd read it. It's a mystery novel about a stolen Vermeer painting, but most of the evidence we're presented with as readers is purely circumstantial (the number 12 was a common theme... "Oh my god! There are 12 letters in both of our names! We were MEANT to solve this case!" "Wow, we are turning 12 on December 12th this year!" "Wow, between us, we have 12 family members!" "Wow, there are twelve ants marching in a line! And look! Twelve beams in the ceiling!") (Okay, that last one I made up, but the first three were actually noted in the book as evidence... or something.) I think it's one of the only children's books I've read as an adult that I have not liked, and certainly one of the only books I've read recently that I really didn't care to finish. But, because it was for a class, I did. That said, I think kids would really enjoy it.

One of the brilliant things about being a fast reader is that tackling these books is a matter of finding a good two to three hours to sit down and not move. Cirque du Freak took me all of two hours to read. It was good, but I've heard the rest of the series gets better. This book was way too much prep work for the rest of the series, in my opinion, almost more like a prequel than an actual first book. A kid visited a freak show coming through town and stole a spider from a vampire in the show, but when the super venomous spider bit his friend (who'da thunk THAT would happen?!), the kid was forced to become a vampire as well to be a sort of companion and servant in order to get the antidote from the vampire to save his friend. (Meh.)

The Lightning Thief was recommended to me by my stepsister Katie about a year or so ago, and so it is the book I've read most recently out of the lot. It deals with mythology; sons and daughters of the ancient Greek gods. Quests, creatures, and a modern flare to ancient stories (such as Hades being located in LA, the '600th floor' of the Empire State Building being the location of Mt. Olympus, the main character being named Percy instead of Perseus, etc.). I reread this one in three or so hours the other night while I was babysitting.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Enough said.

Well, actually not enough. One thing that I've noticed rereading this book for the first time since I left high school (I am ashamed! I dare profess myself a nerd?!) is that I've forgotten what Harry was like an an eleven-year-old boy... the jokes he, Ron and Hermione share are very different than the ones that appear later in the books, the logic is much younger, the things they care about are younger and a little more trivial... With all of the recent press centering around the seventeen-year-old Harry (what with the Deathly Hallows movies and all) I have forgotten about Harry's roots. Sometime soon I'll make my way through the rest of the series.

And I come to the last book, which, in my opinion, has 'changed' the most since I last read it: The Giver. I remember reading this book when I was about fourteen, in middle school. Of course, all I remember of the discussions we had in class talk were about ethics of euthanasia and utopic/dystopic communities, etc. I didn't remember much about this book before I'd read it, other than the main character being chosen to be the new Receiver of Memories, and that there was a Giver who was really old.

The second time through, seven odd years later and with my trusty English major at my side, I now see much more than I did then. The thing that disturbed me the most when I was reading wasn't the "releasing" from the community (where the old and the weak are euthanized, because their community is perfect), and it wasn't the strict and stringent rules of order within the community (such as that all children turn an age older at the end of December instead of having their own birthdays. The Ones become the Twos, the Threes become the Fours, etc.) and it wasn't the apparent untopic (and thus clearly dystopic) themes.

No, it wasn't any of that, though of course it had to do with all of these things. Jonas describes a dream to his parents one morning, where he was standing in a bathing house with one of his classmates, a beautiful girl, and he really wants her to get naked and get in the bath so he could bathe her - he wakes up feeling really good and quite unusual. His parents take him aside and tell him that it is normal to feel these "stirrings" and that everyone has them. They tell him that everyone takes a pill to repress the "stirrings" and that he could start taking them.

It really upset me when I read that, I think because more than anything else in the book, it is the most natural thing being repressed, something which brings joy to everyone. I don't like the idea of having to deny something like sex or attraction (perhaps because I spend these, my seemingly neverending single days looking for an attraction). How awful would it be to be to never fall in love? It seems like a half-life, or perhaps it is only a half-life because of the other rules of the community, too.

Anyway, on the odd chance that you haven't read it, read The Giver. Do it, do it now. It's a quick read (180 pages, only took me 2 hours) and it'll give you a lot to think about.

Anyway, those are just a few thoughts on the subject. I'm off to go study for my exam... See yall on the other side.

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As an aside, IM softball has begun in APO and after practicing on Sunday and the game tonight (which we technically lost because we had to forfeit because we didn't have enough girls show... but we played a scrimmage with the other team anyway and beat the snot out of them!) I have a few new bruises and many aches and pains (my forearm muscles are sore) but a renewed love of softball. Hooray! And I got to play my favorite base - second. :D

Bossy McBossypants

Excerpts from real conversations I had with Emma today.

E. Eat! Eat! Steffi! Feed Emma!

S. Goodness, you're very bossy, Emma.

E. Busy! No, Steffi. You're busy! Feed Emma!

S. Bossy, Emma.

E. Busy, Steffi!

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E. New shoes, Steffi! Emma has new shoes!

S. I love them, Emma! They're very sweet.

E. These MY shoes! These EMMA'S shoes, Steffi! No touch!

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E. Jump with Emma, Steffi!

S. Okay.

E. No! Up HERE, Steffi! Jump with Emma!

(jumping ensues)

E. Jump again, Steffi!

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S. Emma, do you want to go take a bath?

E. No, Steffi. Emma is coloring. This time for coloring.

S. Are you sure? You have to have a bath today.

E. Bath later! Emma's coloring!

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E. Steffi! Put Daisy outside!

(I do so)

E. Put Daisy outside!

S. Daisy is outside, Emma.

E. Leave the door open, Steffi!

(five minutes later, Emma demanded I shut the door)

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(Emma's mother walks in the door)

E. Bye, Steffi! Bye!!

The Break that happens in Spring...

Last week was Spring Break. Because I was sick, my spring break began a little earlier than everyone else's... as in, the Wednesday before. (I am feeling much better now. Those antibiotics really are somethin' else!)

I can narrow down my activities over spring break to five easy categories:

1) House sitting

2) Write

3) Netflix

4) Get a sunburn

(And the most exciting one)

5) Attend a wedding

I house sat for one of the teachers at my old high school and my stepsister Meg. It was fun, it was very gas-guzzling, it was relaxing. I liked walking Meg's dog in the morning... and certainly makes me want to get a smaller dog, one that needs walking. Hanging out around Meg's house gave me the opportunity to do the next thing: write. I'm suffering through trying to wrap up this story I've been trying to write for more than a year now... and I got three whole chapters written for that during the break. This puts me closer (within four or so chapters) of the end!

Netflix goes without saying. I didn't do as much homework as I wanted to do (though I did read two books for my Children's Lit class) so instead of being productive, I watched movies and tv shows on my computer. It was awesome.

I got a sunburn (spare me the lecture, please). It was painful (they always are) and now it's peeling. Gross. I'm pretty sure I'm actually shedding my entire outer layer of skin, rather like a snake. (If you find a Stefanie-shaped thing in my room that doesn't respond and looks curiously devoid of intelligent thought and internal organs, it's probably not me.)(Gross.)

And the last, the most exciting, the most awesome part of my spring break was getting to watch my old nanny, one of my best friends, and someone who I really do consider as an older sister get married.

Kerry-Lynn married Chad on last Friday, and their wedding was small but beautiful. It was held at a friend's house out in Spicewood and it couldn't have been a more perfect morning for a wedding.

My official job was to zip up her dress (a small, but critical role!)

Her mom flew out from South Africa!

(They're so cute together.)

She threw the bouquet, but I didn't catch it. (Taelor, the girl in the middle did). (Mom probably breathed a sigh of relief.)

Congrats, Kerry-Lynn. I'm so happy for you, and we all wish you the best.

(Also, you don't have to go to any more school! And you'll get a green card soon! Hooray! As much as we joked about it, I'm glad we didn't have to order you a husband.)

An Epic Tale

This tale is not so much epic in its imposing or impressive qualities and it doesn't have to do with anything to do with the literary tradition, but is, instead, rather epic in its length...

You see, it all started about three weeks ago after MBU. You all will remember that I stayed up for a ridiculous amount of time, working tirelessly, dedicating myself in a zombielike fashion to the education of sixty or so boy scouts. Well, I think because I was subsisting entirely on caffeine and adrenaline (and poor choices, of course!) my immune system must have welcomed in something it shouldn't have, because by Tuesday, I was coughing up a storm.

Mom guessed that it was probably RSV (a virus that attacks the respiratory system and is apparently highly contagious... and after checking symptoms, I agreed with her.) Well, although I was coughing and had mostly lost my voice by that point, I felt wretched on Saturday and spent the day in bubble baths and blowing my nose. Sunday, however, I was feeling much better. But because I had been feeling so ill (and because I supposedly had this highly contagious disease) I called in sick to work at the Church, because I didn't want to give the young 'uns anything. I called Jenny and told her, as well, and she gave me a day off, too.

The following week, was mostly clear of incident. I awarded myself the Nanny of the Week award for being so calm and composed with Emma on that Thursday when she came down with something which caused her temperature to spike to 103.5. Poor baby was so miserable.

Well, we must have swapped diseases or something, because by Sunday, I woke up not feeling very well at all. So I turned right over and went back to sleep. I felt a little feverish, and I didn't really want to go to the Church, but because I hadn't had a chance to call in sick, I didn't want to leave them without childcare. So I went, and when I showed up, I lasted about fifteen minutes when one of them popped their head in, said "You look awful!" and sent me back to my bed (where I gladly went... after meeting with some friends in one of my classes to finish a project.)

Monday was fine. Tuesday was a struggle after about 5pm. But Wednesday sucked. I couldn't stop coughing, I was wheezy, I had a fever (ranging between 99-101.7), I was achey, I was misable. The day was made slightly better by my own knight in shining armor, my brother, coming to pick me up so I could go pick up some medicine from the store, because I didn't trust myself to operate heavy machinery. The day was also made better by the 6 hour Monty Python documentary I found on Netflix.

Today, thank goodness, I feel much better, although my abs are so sore! Certainly, I don't feel great (my cough and my nose are just as runny as yesterday, but instead of running a fever, I've consistently been below 98.6 degrees today. I've been confident in my ability to operate heavy machinery, as well. I've watched three movies today: Monty Python's Life of Brian, Beauty and the Briefcase (an ABC family movie), and Then She Found Me. That's a spectrum if I've ever heard of one.

So, after visiting the doctor today and being armed with antibiotics, I am going to fight whatever the hell has nested itself in my body and in my lungs, because I am sick of being short of breath (being winded by little hills is embarrassing and I don't want it to happen again) and I am sick of being feverish and having to blow my nose all the time. Winter is over, it is Spring Break (or will be in a matter of hours) and I want to feel well enough to sun myself in my new bikini without having to worry about carrying a tissue box with me.

(But on the plus side, I've lost like 5 pounds this week. It turns outs being sick and having no appetite is a great way to lose weight. Hah.)

What should I watch on Netflix over Spring Break? Suggestions?

Thoughts of Shakespeare and Love

We all have movies that we can watch over and over again and never tire of. (Or, at least, everyone I know does.) I have a short list of films that include The Reduced Shakespeare Company's The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Abridged, Disney's Hercules, (and of course) all three of The Lord of the Rings. All of these movies are ones that I can nap to, do homework to, watch while cooking, or really watch for pleasure. I know the songs, I know the script... Recently, my list has expanded to include Shakespeare in Love. (I know - I'm SUCH an English major.)

I've heard many Shakespeare lovers complain that the whole story of the movie definitely never happened, but I can't complain about historical inaccuracies. I love the story, I love the actors, I love the poetry of the whole spectacle. I love those historical inaccuracies, because I would so much rather visualize Joseph Fiennes as Shakespeare than the stuffy, balding, ruffled version we see everywhere else.

(Although, I will admit am overly fond of those ruffles.)

I've taken on an internship with a friend of my mother's, who will eventually have me doing more interesting things (that are a little more directly applicable to my career path), but for now it is a good deal of grunt work - copying html from her website, making sure all of her blog posts are backed up as PDFs, that kind of thing - and so because the DVD happened to be sitting on my desk I popped it into my computer while I was copying and pasting endless (endless) blog posts.

And because of the endless (endless, I tell you) blog posts, I spent two hours with about a third of my brain on the work I was completing, a third of my brain on the movie itself, and a third of my brain thinking of the first time I watched the movie. I think that's why I like it so much.

I remember very vividly the summer I spent in England with my dad in 2005. It was a whirlwind of a summer, with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows squashed into fewer than eight weeks. I visited France, Germany, Spain, and Wales with my dad and brother (although Duncan didn't go to Spain), I drank so much tea I could have filled a swimming pool, (Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration!), I did things like read books all day and all night, and finish them as the sun was rising again. I drank wine, helped Dad cook dinners, and read more books. I watched movies, I watched movies, I watched movies. The summer was so beautiful, despite its tragedies. I have so many fond memories of it, and most of them I cannot begin to even describe.

I can still remember sitting on my bed in that creaky old house (we guessed it was built in the early-mid-18th century, if I remember correctly), with the window open (with no fear of mosquitos or bees flying in to disturb you!), curled up watching Shakespeare in Love. I was entranced by it - since I was in England, and especially having visited the globe a few months before. I clutched my cup of tea (and probably snacked on a few McVittie's digestive biscuits, too!) and truly fell in love with Shakespeare - the era, the couture, the love, the sex, the language... I dreamed (I still dream) of falling so passionately in love with someone like that, where poetry just seems to seep into your soul and then leap right back out of it. I know it's unlikely that any beau of mine will write me a sonnet, but my fifteen-year-old heart will always, always wish for one. He wouldn't even have to compare me to a summer's day.

So when I watch Shakespeare in Love, I think of my other home, and all the dreams I first dreamed there. And that's why I can watch it over and over again.