Monday, March 28, 2011

food thief

This is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

-William Carlos Willaims
(can you fit any more "william's" into that name??)

This succinct little poem from today's American lit. readings brought me a bit of humorous personal reflection because of its seamless application to past dissident behavior on my part (specifically: an occasional food kleptomaniac habit). As a precursory measure, let it be known that I have followed the steps of repentance and feel a clear conscience concerning the early years of my BYU experience. That being said, let it also be known that I have not always been the picture of roommate perfection. During the winter semester of freshman year, one of my roommates, surely acting in justified fear of juice thievery (budding from previous violations), would mark the liquid line on her bottle of apple juice after pouring herself a glass. This was done in order to show herself (as well as the other five sharing the square footage of the refrigerator) how she was progressing in the personal consummation of her juice and also to be sure that no one else was partaking. Upon seeing this action (her marking of the bottle), a little fire of unwarranted indignation sparked within me. How dare she passively call me out for my previous infringements with those Sharpied lines! Indeed I was guilty and deserved a more severe lashing than that of restrictive black marking, but the rebellious imp within won over still: One day, finding the apartment empty, I took a glassful of her juice and drank deeply. I then filled the bottle to her previously marked line with tap water.

Forgive me
Your juice and my
unjustified indignation
were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

(p.s. NPR did their own spoof on this poem in the last 7 mintues of this episode, though the last few are a little dark; here is another form)

Friday, March 25, 2011

crossing the pond

did I tell anyone that I am going to
Lille, France
this spring for an internship?
huzzah! or, as ze french say, "c'est bien!"
I am thrilled for this opportunity
to finally go to the country who engendered the language
I adore.

I'll be interning with the administration of the school of business at
L'Université Catholique de Lille
in the north of France.

please, spring, come soon.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

welcome to my dating life

these are my weekend plans:

william carlos williams
(good looks and poetic charm)

jean racine
(oh, I'm a sucker for ze French accent and ze curly 16th century wig!
plus, that a lacy neckerchief gives him such austere style)

joachim du bellay
(he's brooding and pouty, but his wooing French
sonnets win him one of my weekend time slots)

frederick jackson turner
(who can resist a man with a classic mustache
and compositional talents)

snazzy fellows, right?

now, the question:
how am I going to date four men in one weekend?

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


We were in the New Zealand dance group for the BYU Lu'au this year. The outfits and makeup (I am referring to our "beards") originate from Mahori culture. And, yes, these little ensembles were sanctioned by the university.

It was thrilling to participate in and do something I've never done before (and I'm not just talking about wearing a skirt of hay around my chest).

Saturday, March 19, 2011

burning out on high modernist poetry

"Any pink shows that and very likely it is reasonable. Very likely there should not be a finer fancy present. Some increase means a calamity and this is the best preparation for three and more being together. A little calm is so ordinary and in any case there is sweetness and some of that. A seal and matches and a swan and ivy and a suit."

call me prude and staunch in my poetic preferences, but, Gertrude Stein, you are off your rocker! yes, perhaps that is your point and yes, trying to imitate cubism in your forms is linguistically admirable, but there is something pretentious in trying to construct poetry meant to be obtuse and devoid of approachability. I can swallow Hemingway, T.S. Eliot, Amy Lowell, and even Ezra Pound, but you, Gertie, do not go down easy - especially late at night.

the wall is red.
chocolate cookie in my sock.



I went to the BYU Hunger Banquet tonight, which is an annual gathering that promotes awareness of global needs and awakens a responsibility to help. This event resonated with some recent personal stirrings to become and give more by, simply, loving/serving others more. I have picked up some selfish, self-centered ways over the past few months and I desire to "me les débarrasser" by devoting my time and talents to altruistic service; I'm feeling a change of heart. I may not be in Africa among the poor but I can help the poor in spirit who are around me. I may not be in among marginalized minorities in impoverished countries, but I can promote healthy personal respect through my words of kindness to the people who surround me.

Attaining peace is done, as the title of the banquet states, in pieces - one person at a time, whether that person be rich, poor, in a far-off land or in my own apartment. And, really, that's what it's all about: bringing peace to the individual wherever we may be, and in whatever capacity we can. The key is just reaching a little further and allowing and praying for love to be our greatest motivation.

free food and haikus

five times. free food was offered to me five times today:
1. Before the 11am colloquium of "L'Aventure Ambigue."
2. In the ARCLITE Lab; Doctor Bush feels compelled to bring treats to those who slave away on Friday afternoon.
3. In the HFAC. Breanne and I were inspired to walk through the music/arts building and noticed a table covered in goodies. So, we did the obligatory art gallery walk-through (in the gallery whose artist was offering the decadent victuals). The artist's exhibition was on scrabble. Riveting really. I think I appreciated the mint brownie more.
4. The stars aligned again steps away on the second floor of the HFAC; there was yet ANOTHER table set out for passer-byers who had deemed to glance upon the works of art displayed in the main hall. We had, so we partook.
5. Haiku party in the Chinese house (interesting given that haiku is a Japanese poetry form). There was another set of free fare with the added delight of creating and sharing poetry. Here are the half-witted ones I penned:

It's Friday, Friday
Moral dilemma pressing
Front seat or back seat?
(please refer to to understand)

Thomas, Tommy, Toms
Pace the roads where'er I go
Overrated shoes.

Crunchy, golden lumps
And berries on silver spoon
Me and Cap'n Crunch.

One, two, three, four, five.
Kindergarten rap.

I usually like you but
I'm umbrella-less.