Why Animals Don't Like Me

Erik Christensen, Porkeri

Those who know me know that I'm not particularly fond of animals. I never want to own a cat or dog (especially ones that live in the house), I'm not a huge fan of hamsters or creepy things, and I don't plan to live on a farm. These declarations may be surprising to hear considering I grew up around animals. We had all sorts of animals when I was growing up—dogs, cats, sheep, goats, and pigs. We also had toads that lived under our patio. Our neighbor also had animals that my siblings and I would frequently go visit. One fond memory from childhood is going out to the coop to see the newborn lambs. While I still love seeing the little lambies frolicking in the fields in the spring—from a distance—I feel no other attachment to animals in general.

After pondering why this should be, I came to realize it isn't necessarily that I don't like them. In fact, it isn't my fault at all; it's that they don't like me. I've had many unpleasant experiences that have led me to this conclusion. I believe my ambivalence started when I was the tender age of two or three, and our dog Caramel (Karmel? Carmel? I'm not really sure how his name was spelled) decided to tackle me to the ground. It was one of those traumatic experiences that you always remember, and I've never cared for that dog since. Keesh, Caramel's successor, was a great dog, but I don't think I was ever as close to him as my other siblings were.

There are a number of other episodes that lead me to my theory of animals' general dislike of me: having cats come and go frequently as a child—either from running away, dying, or deciding to become feral; having mean dogs kill our sheep, including the little lamb Lucy; nearly having a heart attack every time I accidentally ran over a water snake (both alive and dead) while riding my bike in the summer; hearing a rabbit scream when Sammy and I attempted to catch one of David and Jill's that got away while they were gone; and watching my college roommate's hamster go into convulsions shortly before it died and then having the replacement hamster find it's way to my pillow without me seeing it one night.

As traumatic as all of those experiences were, I believe the animal race finally drove me from their affection one Sunday when I was home from college for the summer. I was working as a temp for a company in Salt Lake, and I couldn't get time off work to go to out of town for a few days with my family. I was left in charge of feeding the dog and chickens while everyone else was gone. Sunday morning I woke up and got ready for my 9 a.m. Church meetings. About 15 minutes before I needed to leave, I went out to feed the animals. As I approached the shed where all of the food was kept, I noticed the dog playing with something as he sat on the step to the shed. I realized when I got closer that it was a dead gopher. Don't worry—rather that drag it away when I approached, the dog left the gopher on the step and went back to his house. I gingerly stepped over the disgusting carcass and got the chicken feed from the shed.

As I attempted to pour the chicken feed in the chickens' trough, one of the chickens decided to flee the coop (or chicken tractor, as the case may be). Just imagine me running around the shed in a dress trying to catch the dumb chicken. I got so fed up that I decided to leave the chicken to its own devices—if it was dumb enough to escape, then it deserved whatever fate came to it. Besides, I was all ready for Church, and catching a chicken wasn't worth being late. Flustered and disgusted (remember the gopher), I went off to Church. That afternoon, I called my brother David, who lived close, to come and catch the dumb chicken, since it was still wandering around the yard when I got home from Church. Of course, he was able to catch it under a minute and put it back.

That evening, my family came home, but for some reason, I was still the one charged with feeding the animals that night. As I carefully held open the lid to the chickens' home—in order to keep any from escaping again—the bees who were building a hive under the lid unbeknownst to me decided to sting my hand and wrist multiple times. I trod back to the house and declared I was finished feeding the animals—for good. I don't think I was ever asked to feed them again.

So now the record is straight. The reason I can't stand to pick up a dead mouse in a trap or approach a giant city rat in the subway is because I know they're out to get me, and I've learned that if we keep our distance from each other, everyone's lives will be more peaceful than they would be otherwise. And peace is all I'm really looking for.

Reverently, Quietly

I was recently given a new responsibility in Church—I teach the 3-year-olds. In Mormon lingo, that is to say, I teach the Sunbeams—8 of them. In fact, that's only half of the 3-year-olds in our ward. I think this is either a good joke to the powers that be or they are oblivious to my inexperience with children. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love children. I especially love my nieces and nephews. However, playing with or talking to a child for a few minutes is very different than raising a child or being responsible for teaching them; it's a daunting task. I'd rather teach gospel doctrine in a classroom full of adults any day, mostly because I'm used to adults.

In the few weeks I've been teaching these little darlings, there have been a lot of amusing comments. The hardest thing right now is that they are all very new to Primary, and some have a really hard time without their parents. There are a couple of kids who come very near—or have a full-blown—meltdown every week. Today was the first real meltdown for one little girl, and when that happens, it affects the other kids in class. Every week, I think of this video. If you watch from 6:15 to 7:25, you'll get an idea of what today was like:

However, the one thing that has struck me so far is how quick these little kids are to love and how eager they are to please. This was only my 3rd Sunday, and already many of them want to sit by me or tell me all about what they did during the past week. It melts my heart every time. I think I need to keep that in mind when the next meltdown happens.

Stay tuned for more stories, as they are sure to come in the upcoming weeks.

In Response to Another's Opinion

Recently, I have read a couple of articles from those who say they have been raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but have for one reason or another decided to no longer practice their faith. One of these articles was written by an acquaintance from my undergraduate days at BYU. I am certainly not in a place to judge anyone's experience or personal feelings. I don't know their experience, and I believe everyone is free to choose to lead their lives the way they feel is best. I also believe we should be compassionate towards all people. However, I don't believe compassion means accepting all behavior as correct. I believe the doctrines of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to be correct, and I lead my life accordingly.

That being said, I would like to describe my own experience with regard to two points this article addressed—education/intellectualism and the place of women in the Church. I write this not to discount the experiences or feelings of the author of the above article but to explain my own experience, which has been so different than the one described in the article.

Education and Intellectualism
I grew up in a family that encouraged curiosity and valued education. I always felt like the Church has encouraged its members to search and find answers to their questions. In the Doctrine and Covenants, a widely referenced scripture explains this process of finding answers:
"But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right." Indeed, as members of the Church, we believe the "glory of God is intelligence."

I believe the key is combining critical thinking with prayer. Prayer has helped me many times to reconcile what is perceived to be contradictions between knowledge of scholars and the truth of God. We have an unmitigated channel to truth as we combine spiritual and secular things because the Spirit testifies of all truth, including secular truth.

In my academic studies, I have felt the Holy Ghost guide me in many things—from communication theory and British literary history to the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Instead of my faith being opposed to education, I found that faith and education not only coincide but exist in complete harmony together. In fact, one of the Church's leaders described scholarship as a form of worship, as I described when I first went back to school. For as many " dissident Mormons" who find their academic studies contradict what is taught in the Church, there are just as many or more who say their academic studies coincide and strengthen their faith in God and Jesus Christ. Henry Eyring, a renowned scientist, believed inspiration and academic research go hand-in-hand.

As far as BYU goes, the search for truth has always been part of its mission. I have found that to be true in my six years of school there.

Women in the Church
The author of the article mentioned above stated her belief that the Church has an "anti-woman" doctrine. To say such a thing shows a complete lack of understanding relative to our Church's doctrine about men and women. I could list article after article from leaders of the Church who state women should be actively involved in their families and communities, especially as righteous influences to others. The message from these is clear: women are not to be voiceless, uneducated second-class citizens. Everything I have heard or read sends the clear message that men and women have equal importance in the eyes of God, and both have a vital role to play in this world.

That being said, the Church isn't, and shouldn't be, apologetic about emphasizing the important role of mothers. To say the most important role a woman can fulfill is motherhood is not to demean her; it is to show the importance of a family. Where else can a woman have such an influence for good than in her own home? I say that as a person who does not yet have a husband or children. I still see motherhood as the greatest role a woman can fulfill.

What other religions have an organization specifically for women, who have organized to offer relief to those in needs since the day it was organized? At its first meeting, the Relief Society's president said the organization was going to do "something extraordinary." That extraordinary work has included donating much-needed grain to people in Europe after Word War II, working for women's suffrage alongside Susan B. Anthony, working on the national level as charter members of the National Council for Women, and working to help families on a local level in neighborhoods around the world. Women of the Church are teachers, nurturers, and leaders. In addition, men and women in the Church have always been encouraged to get an education. On more than one occasion, women specifically have been encouraged to gain an education.

In short, my experience in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has showed me that education and seeking truth is encouraged and expected, and women in the Church are encouraged to gain an education and use their talents for good throughout the world.

A Dream Deferred

Ever since spending a few weeks in New York a few years ago, I've thought seriously about living the city life, even if it were for just a few years. I love being at the center of the action and having concerts, museums, and restaurants a walk away. A couple of months ago, my sisters, mom, and I had lunch with Suzy and Jennifer. Afterward, we went to the sales office of some new high-rise condos in the heart of downtown—just to look. I fell in love with the floor-to-ceiling windows, spectacular views of the city, and beautiful living spaces. I could just picture myself there, relaxing after my walk home from work while partaking of the spectacular views.

Since I graduated, I have been looking for a job in and out of state. Most in-state job openings were in this same beautiful city. That's the dream—to live and work in the city, especially this city. As irony would have it, I came home that same day to a job offer in my inbox in a town about 50 miles from these gorgeous condos and this lively city. By the end of the day, I had a second offer in the same town 50 miles away, and that's the offer I accepted. I've been at this fabulous new job in a town I didn't expect to work in for almost two months now, and I've moved to a nearby town where I certainly never thought I would live. Here's the thing—it's all good. It's all really good. I love the job, and I love my new place. The town where I work is really great too; it's just not the high-rise condo type of a town. So for the time being, I'm setting aside that high-rise life for a great job in another good place.

While there have been plenty of times when things work out just the way I wanted them to, there have been other times when I have set a dream aside in my life. Often that deferred dream fades into oblivion because reality is better than whatever the original dream was. Sometimes the dream is ever-present, waiting in the shadows until the right time to venture into the light. Occasionally, I wonder why reality isn't closer to the dream I set aside or why the timing isn't right for this dream or that dream, but I still get those blessed moments occasionally where I know I am where I'm supposed to be.

In many ways, this experience is a little bit of all of those times, and so I have set that dream aside in the ever-present shadows for now. Who knows? Maybe it will be one that fades into oblivion, or maybe it will be one that finds a time to reappear at some future date. But for now I've decided to bask in the great, albeit unexpected, life before me.

Why the Silence

At this time, after a rather long absence, I feel the need to explain why I sometimes disappear from the blogosphere. In addition to starting a new job and moving to a new place, which has kept me busy the past few weeks, this is what usually leads me to go quiet:
1. I try to avoid unfiltered drivel. There are plenty of times I have thoughts that I think might be blog-worthy, but sometimes those thoughts are never written because they don't make it through the filter. One example is the list of status updates I never want to read on Facebook (but so often do). It would probably offend too many people, and I would come off looking quite negative and judgmental. So, don't ask for the list; you're not going to get it.
2. I try to present fully formed thoughts. I am an introvert, which means I don't work out ideas by talking/writing about them. I like to think things through before presenting things—in a blog as well as in a work meeting and other situations. Sometimes an idea just doesn't get fully developed before I decide it's not worth posting, and I don't think you want to read my half-formed ideas or mindless ramblings.
3. This is not a journal. Many people use their blogs as journals, but I don't share every emotion or every fact of my life in the public sphere. I have no problem with those who do, but it's not for me. (See comment above about being an introvert.) I could share exciting events or facts about my life, but by it's very nature, this blog contains musings. I try not to share pictures of a family vacation without some sort of thoughtful or amusing commentary or daily anecdotes without some pithy response. (At least that's my attempt.)
4. Too many words. I work with words professionally, and sometimes it's hard to deal with more words at the end of the day after coming home from a day's work. The video here is exactly how I feel sometimes—"Never ever do I want to hear another word. There isn't one I haven't heard." In saying so, let me be clear—I love being an editor, and I love working with words, but an occasional break is always nice.
5. Sincerity. Because I don't blog for a living, I don't blog when I'm not in the mood. I feel sincerity is the key to good writing, and if I'm not feeling it, I'm not going to write it.

So, I hope to finish up some past drafts and post on the blog in the next little while. Thanks for coming back (those that still do) despite my irregular posting habits!

Domestic Fail

Image: Master isolated images / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

When I was 8 or 9 years old, I was in a little cooking 4H club. My mom and aunt were the leaders, and there were girls in the club from the neighborhood. My sister and cousin were also in the club. It was a great experience—I still remember the importance to leveling dry ingredients with a straight edge, how to boil eggs to avoid the green ring on the yoke, and why it's good to combine all dry ingredients before adding them to the rest of the mixture.

The culmination of our little club was entering a baked good into the county fair. I made lemon bars from the old Lion House cookbook, and I received a blue ribbon. I still remember being very proud of those lemon bars. I could conquer the world if I could make those. I've had a lot of baking and cooking successes and failures over the years, but overall, I consider myself fairly adept at cooking.

Fast forward to today: I'm in a book club that's meeting tonight. We're discussing Stargirl (which I've loved since the first time I read it). One of the most vivid memories from that book is the description of Stargirl's yellow dress when she goes to the school dance. I thought lemon bars would be the perfect treat to take. (Because they're yellow. Get it?)

I set out this afternoon to make said lemon bars from the updated version of the Lion House cookbook. After they cooled a little bit, I tried them to see how they were. Let me tell you, they were a classic failure. They didn't cook long enough and the lemon flavor was too strong (it wasn't sweet enough). In looking back, I'm sure it's my fault for two reasons:

1. Lemon rind vs. lemon peel
The recipe called for "lemon rind." I'm no professional cook, but isn't the rind the peel? After a quick Google search, it seems some are of the opinion that the rind is the peel and others think it is the white part just under the peel. If it's the white part under the peel, I don't know how you get to it without using the yellow part of the peel. Well, I included some yellow and white part to cover my bases, but maybe it was too much. I was supposed to do the rind of one lemon. Maybe my lemon was too large, or maybe I shouldn't have included any of the white part. (Any help from cooks more professional than I would be greatly appreciated.)

2. I don't understand large time ranges
I was supposed to cook the lemon bars for "18 to 25 minutes." Is it strange to anyone else that there's a seven-minute range? What does that mean? You can't exactly do a toothpick test on lemon bars because they're too gooey. How do you know when they're done? I left them in for almost the entire 25 minutes, but after cooling, I tried to cut them, and they were totally soupy. Clearly, whatever time I cooked them for wasn't enough.

I'm not sure what all of this says about my cooking skills. It could be that my nine-year-old self was a much better cook than my current self. Or maybe my nine-year-old self was a good cook under the close supervision of my mother (who will always be the epitome of domesticity to me).

I could probably make some obvious reference to a saying about what to do when life gives you lemons, but I won't. Instead, I have just one thing to say about this experience: this website makes me feel so much better about my life.

Bouquets of Sharpened Pencils

I love fall. I understand that by so saying, some people may label me a heretic, but while some people are soaking up every last ray of summer sun left at this time of year, I start yearning for the signs of fall.

While many also insist you must live and enjoy the present (which I try to do), I think there's something to be said for having something to look forward to. So on this 20th of August, I hereby present the reasons I am looking forward to fall this year (and every year):

Image: Arvind Balaraman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

School. This is the first year since 2009 I won't be starting classes for fall semester. While there were a few years before my graduate degree that I wasn't attending school, I will miss walking around campus and enjoying the novelty of a new textbook. (I realize few people love looking through a new textbook, but with an undergrad in English, it was exciting to see the novels for the semester.) Perhaps this year, I will need to read a new book to keep the feeling going.

Fall leaves. I know I should appreciate the summer foliage. After all, I never realize how green the world is until a winter of barrenness melts into the budding green of spring. However, I love the fall colors. Nothing brings a smile to my face like kicking my feet through a muss of fallen maple leaves.

Image: Adam Hickmott / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Crisp air. I love not having to wear any sort of outerwear in the summer, but by the time September comes, I'm excited to feel that first crispness in the air that makes your cheeks flush (but not freeze like January). I love the first time I can see my breath on a crisp morning.

Image: foto76 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

New beginnings. Perhaps it's because the new school year starts in the fall, but the idea of new beginnings in September are permanently etched in my mind. I always see the fall as a time to start something new or to reflect on how my life has changed or improved since the last fall. Maybe it's just the general sentiment of change—the weather, nature, and my wardrobe.

Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Holidays. Fall denotes the beginning of the big holidays to me: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Those holidays have always been the big ones in my family, and I love gathering with family. There are so many great things to celebrate, and as the dun of winter approaches, I love having these happy times to look forward to.

So now, of course, I feel like sending everyone I know a bouquet of sharpened pencils.

The power of positive thinking

So, I'm sitting here doing a little bit of work and sucking on cough drops to avoid having an uncontrollable coughing attack in the middle of the library. You know the attacks I'm talking about—they come on only when it's most inconvenient: in the middle of Sacrament meeting (preferably during a prayer), in a library, in an interview, or any other place you hope beyond hope that your throat won't betray you at exactly the wrong time.

But I digress. As I took out a cough drop, I noticed the wrapper has many motivational statements printed on it, which include:
- Seize the day.
- Buckle down and push forth!
- Nothing you can't handle.
- Take charge and mean it.
- Be unstoppable.
- Power through!
This has me wondering what the purpose of these messages is. At first, I thought, is Halls trying to be like Dove? But then I thought, they must be tapping into the power of positive thinking! The dear, thoughtful Halls manufacturers are trying to help the weary and cough-ridden by telling them to "power through" that cough! You can do it! "Take charge [of that cough] and mean it!"

I have yet to see the benefits of these statements, but hey, maybe I'll try "power[ing] through" next time I'm doubled over, with tears running down my cheeks, from the incurable tickle in my throat.

Beautiful things: Angela Liguori

I have a lot of things I need to be doing (and should be doing), but instead, I'm taking a break to look at beautiful things. Ever since working for Creating Keepsakes, I have been in love with different stationery, paper, and fabric. One of my favorite parts of being an editor there was seeking out unique materials to feature in the magazine. For a year, I wrote a column that featured four different products that could be used in paper crafting. We often had different companies send us different products to consider for the magazine. I remember Angela Liguori sending some beautiful ribbon to be considered, and I loved it.

When I talked on the phone with Angela, she was so sweet to talk to and gave me so much great information on her Italian ribbon, and I could tell she had a passion for book binding.

 

 I recently ran across her website again, and I fell in love with her cards. I love the vintage stamps on these:

Aren't they lovely? And, of course, I love anything letterpress:

Hooray for beautiful things (and time to discover them)! You can find more of Angela's products at her shop website, which is where all of these images came from.

Know your limits

How did I miss this before getting more education? Now it's too late—all I can do is hang my head in shame and avoid dinner parties.

New blog

So, I just started a new blog. It's true. Maybe it's that I miss discussing different aspects of media with my grad school friends, but I've learned a lot about media over the past couple years, and I feel the need to let my opinion be known. Now every time I hear someone at Church or elsewhere say, "You just can't trust the media" or some iteration of that phrase, where "media" is always bad and is always one large entity, I am slightly annoyed. Another reason for starting the blog is to help people understand that "the media" is not always bad.

I didn't start out graduate school with the intent to study Mormons and the media, but the fates led me to that topic, so my research has a Mormon spin to it. Because of that, the blog is from a "Mormon's" perspective. Don't worry—it's not the I-know-everything type of blog or the preachy-call-to-repentance type of blog. It's just a collection of my thoughts and musings regarding media.

If you're interested, here it is. If you're not, feel free to pretend you never read this blog post, and we'll all go on our merry way. And for you grad school friends—feel free to share your insights, or write a guest post! I'd love it.

Oblivion in Text

I have the talent (and yes, I consider it a talent) of being able to block out my surroundings when I need to focus on something or work on something without interruption. I've been known in the past to not respond to others around me until they say my name repeatedly because I'm concentrating on something else. This comes in handy as an editor and writer—I can forget whatever is going on around me and focus on the words (prospective employers, please take note). This helps me have complete concentration on something for a long period of time. 

As the saying goes, every virtue has its vice, and this uncanny ability to concentrate results in humorous situations sometimes. One of those happened today. I was in Provo at the HBLL doing some research for a professor when I received this text from my brother, who is also a student at BYU:
- Hey, how's Provo?

My confused response to him was this:

- Fine. Why? How do you know I'm here? Where are you?

His reply:

- Sitting right next to you.

I looked up, and sitting at the table right next to me was my brother, laughing at me. As we talked, we had both apparently been sitting next to each other for over 30 minutes before he noticed. I had even gotten up to borrow a book from the reference desk while he was sitting there. 

Well, at least I got a lot done, right?

The Best Valentine Ever

From my 8-year-old nephew. I guess he's in that "love is gross" phase.

Uncertainty Reduction

In recent weeks, I have devoted my time to studying for my master's degree's comprehensive exams. It's a pass-and-you-graduate or fail-and-you-don't graduate situation. It's also a show-everything-you've-learned-over-1.5-years-in-4-hours situation. No pressure, right? I can't even count the number of hours I've spent reading and rereading, and quizzing and being quizzed on inordinate amounts of material. (I still remember that the theory of planned behavior was introduced by Fishbein and Ajzen, despite it not being one of my main theories, and I blame Katie and Lincoln for that completely.)

In that time, I became reacquainted with uncertainty reduction theory. While it also wasn't on my list of main theories to focus on for comps, I've been thinking a lot about it lately. The basis of the theory is that people communicate in order to reduce the uncertainty between them. For example, a person may wish to know someone's political affiliation before beginning a tirade about an elected official, so they ask questions and look for reactions about political views before deciding how to approach the subject at hand. In fact, many communication scholars believe the whole purpose of communication is to negotiate difference—if we all thought and acted exactly the same, there would be no need to communicate.

I feel like my life is one big practice in uncertainty reduction. I'm a planner and I don't like uncertainty, and so my way of reducing the uncertainty in my life is to make a plan for how things will go. There have been many uncertain times in my life, and some have resolved exactly as I planned while others couldn't have turned out differently. While I strongly believe everything always works out for the best, I still struggle with uncertainty.

And yet, here I am again, faced with uncertainty—this time in the form of where I'm going to end up working, and the corollary to that: where I'm going to end up living. I hope both will be places I'll be for a good long time because I'm tired of moving or otherwise changing my life situation every few years. Stability is a good thing, and little by little, I'm working to reduce the little uncertainties in my life to achieve that.

Portrait of a College Library Patron

In the past 1.5 years, I've spent more hours in the good ol' Harold B. Lee Library than I'd like to admit. Over these months, I have observed many different library types or personalities. Because random ideas like this come to me when I should be working on other things, I'll share with you my findings. As I said, these findings come from hours of qualitative, ethnographic observation, so they cannot be generalized to a larger population:

The Dramatic Typist 
This is the person who, even though she is using a laptop with quiet keyboard, pounds the life out of the keys while typing what seems to be a very important paper. Many people go quietly on their way, and type quietly on their way, but this person prefers all in their general vicinity to know they are working under a deadline by making more noise than the guy snoring at the next table. And that brings me to my next type—

The Sleeper 
In my undergraduate days, I was all about the quick nap in the library. After all, 5 hours of sleep every night is hardly sustainable. I don't sleep in the library anymore, but many people do. My favorite version of this species is what I call the "Sleeper-non-Studier." These are the people who plop down at a table, and without so much as unzipping their backpack, fall asleep at the table. I have seen the phenomenon more times than I can count. Then, if you're having a good day, you'll see this same person, wake up with a jolt (usually with a string of spit from the table to their mouth) and leave the library in a rush. Keep in mind the backpack has still not been unzipped. Those poor, underutilized books in that poor, zipped-up backpack. These people seem to be oblivious to the main purpose of a college library. Speaking of oblivious . . .

The Blissful and Clueless
These are the people who merrily skip into the BYU stereotype of the student in love. Yes, these are those boyfriends and girlfriends who, beyond the annoying PDA, share a chair (despite there being an abundance of chairs available), whisper loudly to each other while their neglected books remain uncracked (those poor forgotten textbooks), share headphones while catching up on their Hulu shows together, and exchange googly-eyed looks with each other. Let's just remember this all goes on with 35–70 other people in their near vicinity who are all trying to ignore the annoying couple in the middle of the room.

The Socializer
These people come to the library to hang out with friends or roommates, or to find a date. The girls show up in their 4-inch Jimmy Choos (how anyone can wear 4-inch heals around campus baffles me), freshly applied lip gloss—and that on-the-hunt look in their eyes as they espy the table with the best-looking guy(s).
These are also the folks who sit eight to a table meant for four simply because they can't leave anyone out—except their poor textbooks, which still never get opened. This can also include guys who ask for help on simple Microsoft Word functions merely to get a date. (I may or may not have personal experience with this one.)


The Fidgeter
The fidgeter is among the most interesting library species. They hum to the music they're listening to, sway back and forth for no apparent reason, tap their pencil on the table, jiggle their legs to cause the entire table to shake, and mutter nonsense to themselves. They generally seem to be oblivious to the socially acceptable practice of library patronage—namely, to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible so others can concentrate on their studies. 

The Food Rebel 
It is a truth universally acknowledged that food is not allowed in the library. Recently, the HBLL has opened a snack zone where *gasp* food is allowed. For centuries, people have been sneaking in full pizzas in pizza boxes*, bowls of spaghetti*, tuna sandwiches*, and burned popcorn* to get them through their long study sessions. And for some reason, these furtive foodies must eat these items somewhere besides the approved snack area. Perhaps it's the thrill of the unapproved act that leads them do such acts, but I will probably never know for sure.
*I have seen or smelled each of these personally in my library experience.

While there are other library species, these are among the most prevalent and interesting in my recent experience.

Christmas Gift Guide

I love a good gift guide this time of year. There's nothing to get you in the holiday spirit like a list of completely useless items. So, here you have 2010's gift guide, with something for everyone on your list:

For the dyslexic on your list (to realize they're not the only ones who misspell words): The Great Typo Hunt.

For the vegetarian on your list (to keep an open mind): My First Bacon.

For any man in my family (I don't think any explanation is necessary if you were aware of the recent mustache-growing contest): the Mustache glass

For the opera lover (to feel a part of the next performance): the Viking hat

For the Mr. Rumsfeld (to keep an eye on any Klopeks in the neighborhood): Night vision goggles

For the person who pretends they like to read (to avoid the insincere "thanks" when receiving a real book): the book dummy

This, of course, is only a few of the many wonderfully useless gifts you could give this year, so feel free to share links to you own useless-gift finds.

10 things I've learned from graduate school (so far)

1. Professors need to be careful with teaching students theories of persuasion—the students may (read: "will") find a relevant application in class sooner rather than later.
2. You can safely blame the media for all of society's problems.
3. You can safely credit the media for all that's going right in the world.
4. There is no such thing as time, space, or reality.
5. Professors are our friends, and they want to help.
6. It's amazing how much you can get done around the house when procrastinating writing a paper.
7. Parasocial interaction has nothing to do with paranormal activity (sadly).
8. It's not okay to flirt with your professor—ever, ever, ever, ever, ever. (This seems like common sense, but you'd be surprised about some people.)
9. When a professor says, "You look like a grad student," it doesn't mean you look smart; it means you look tired and/or stressed.
10. After telling a professor you're not planning to pursue a Ph.D. and he/she says, "What a waste of a brain," he/she means that as a compliment.

Dream a Little Dream

So, last night I had a dream that the family and I went to a U2 concert. It was pretty amazing because we had incredible seats that were about 20 feet away from Bono. So in between songs, we would all just casually shoot the breeze with him and other members of the band. The greatest part of this dream was the location of the concert—in the thriving metropolis of Emery, Utah. I'm pretty sure it's a sign that on the U.S. leg of their 360 tour they will add in a show in Emery and we'll host them at the Emery house for their stay. After all, it's got a shower now!

Mass Hysteria

There are generally two schools of thought in language studies: grammarians who believe language should be governed by a set of rules instituted by a group of experts and disseminated to the masses. And then there are linguists who believe language usage should be governed the common man who speaks the language. For all those linguists in this world who believe our language needs no expert governing, I offer just one counter argument: parents naming their children.

I believe the state of baby-naming in our country is in utter chaos. Why is it parents think they need to be "creative" when naming their child? Even if a child has a normal name, like "Amy," it's spelled something like "Aymiee." No, really. After looking through a list of ridiculous names with my roommate, a junior-high teacher, I've decided parents are deliberately trying to make their children's lives difficult. Don't get me wrong: if a name is unusual because it comes from a different culture or is popular in a different language, I see no problem with that. I also see no problem with names that are a little unusual but are spelled phonetically, such as my own name (really, how hard can it be to pronounce "Maurianne"?). I just don't agree with strange new names or old names with ridiculous spellings.

Are these the people we want making decisions about how normal words are spelled, pronounced, or linked together to form sentences? I shutter to think. If those who name their children with reckless abandon (such as "Aliviyah") had control of any communication to the masses, I'm afraid we would have a true crisis on our hands. In fact, maybe we need a list of approved spellings for names. That way people who know nothing about phonetics or history of names can't mess up their children's lives by giving them names that are impossible to pronounce at first glance. Where's Samuel Johnson when you need him?

The New Grub Street

So, there's been talk for the past few years about journalists needing a license in order to practice journalism. There are debates on both sides of the issue, but the latest, from a senator in Michigan has me dumbfounded. What I find interesting is that his reasoning for journalists to have a license is to ensure journalists are credible and, as the article quotes him, to ensure they have "good moral character." I'm not sure what a license will do for morals. As we've seen the past few years, a CPA exam doesn't mean accountants will always act with moral conviction, and we all know the reputation of many lawyers, despite passing the Bar exam. Let's not even talk about the lack of licenses for politicians, such as the one proposing this bill, and the power they wield in governing this country. In fact, it's an affront to the profession of journalism. How many organizations have an official code of ethics, like the Society for Professional Journalists? How many college programs of study include a course in ethics? Nearly all journalism programs do. In my mind, that argument just doesn't fly.

Another reason this politician gives is that media apparently is in a state of utter chaos. Apparently no one can differentiate between legitimate news sources and those that spout mindless drivel and lies. I think he should have a little more faith in the judgment of the population in general. In fact, many people are concerned about "citizen journalists" who take it upon themselves to report the news when they have no credibility as a journalist. The proliferation of bloggers, online start-up news organizations, etc. reminds me of what was known as Grub Street in 18th-century London. After freedom of the press was established in London, a proliferation of new writers began writing and publishing because it was easier to do. Much of what was published was of low quality and many lies were also published. Because of it, Grub Street came to have a bad reputation as housing writers whose writing can't be taken seriously. Eventually, as often happens, the market righted itself, and the best writing and writers rose to the top.

I have a theory that we are now experiencing a new "Grub Street." Since the Internet has made publishing even easier than before, many people have decided to publish their views and "news" online. However, the cream always rises to the top. The intelligent, respected, and thoughtful bloggers and citizen journalists rise by gaining a following and reputation. Serious news sources become popular by their quality of news coverage and commentary. In my opinion, all of this worry about citizen journalists and lack of credibility is unnecessary. As the Internet matures, the new Grub Street will right itself, and the best, most credible journalists will rise to the top no matter where they come from or where they publish.

So, take a deep breath, Senator Patterson. Credible journalism isn't dying, so there's no need to create a government-controlled press. We still believe in the First Amendment; we're not China, and from the beginning, a free press has been necessary as the proverbial watchdog of government.