silver

Well, do I look any different?




(I think the descriptor you're looking for is "wiser")

go forth to serve

Part of my job (most of my job) entails administering surveys to people associated with Brigham Young University--students, alumni, faculty, surrounding community members, blah blah blah. Before we send out one such survey, for obvious reasons, we test it out ourselves, to make sure the questions make sense and the links on the interweb work and that we didn't accidentally write "extreamly satsifide." That is not how either of those words should be spelled, though it does look kind of cutely old-timey. So in preparation for our upcoming Freshman Pre-Arrival Survey, today I had the opportunity to reflect on my state of mind before arriving in Provo that fall of 2001, and remember what I would have said were I given the survey at that time.

I don't really want to talk very much about that, except to use it as a point of introduction to what I actually do want to talk about. Today I reveled, gloried, in the reminiscing of one of the greatest and most important breakthroughs that I ever made in my college career. An epiphany that struck me with the full force of a thousand thunderbolts about two months into my first semester. It's laughable, now, to think that it took me that long--it was staring me right in the face! How could I have lasted so unaware for so long?! The signs were all around me! Nevertheless, despite being a little slow in finally picking up on this vital piece of knowledge, it came. Eventually, it came. I learned possibly the singular most significant reality that would come to have an impact on the rest of of my college career; nay, on the rest of my life.

Holy crap, I didn't have to go to class.

It happened one morning around 9:30, on a day after I had been up probably until about 3am flirting with a boy studying for a test. Psychology started in half an hour, I hadn't showered, my eyes would barely open, I had time to brush my teeth and pull some jeans on and get to the SFLC. I did these things, and proceeded to gather up my materials for class. I looked in my notebook to make sure I had my assignment in there, ready to turn in, when the syllabus coyly hinted at me that I had nothing due. There wasn't a quiz, either. In fact, the chapter we'd be going over that day was only a continuation of the previous class, because many people have difficulty with that particular section (synapses--who knew?), but I felt rather comfortable with the material. Suddenly, the room brightened. All became clear. I could get right back into bed! Nothing would change--not my grade, not my academic standing, not the amount of tuition BYU wanted from me, not one thing. The only consequence would be that I could get an extra hour and a half of sleep, and be that much more alert for American Heritage later in the day. My oh my. Universe, I accept.

Things were never the same after that. Sure, I went to class most of the time. But I realized that sometimes things needed to be prioritized, sometimes the prescribed course of action was not the best course of action, and sometimes, sometimes, I knew what was better for me than my professors or administrators did. And that may just mean taking a break from class at times when going to class would break me. Thank you, heart and mind, for enlightening me, and making my academic experience all that it could possibly be.





Note: Mom, this post is a complete joke, I totally went to every single class I was ever registered for, always.

Second Note: Erica, you better go to all your classes this fall. If you don't go even once you will probably fail college.

zoom zoom

Things my car can teach you about me:


I live (and kill bugs) in Utah.

I work at BYU. Uhh apparently my parking pass is expired? Maybe I'll check on that.

I am disabled, at least for another month.

I think diet soda tastes better.


I prefer my music the old-fashioned way, recorded on tangible objects.

I love happy hour at Sonic. Hello Route 44 cranberry limeade.

I have a parent in the military.

I'm a Democrat. Also, it rained recently.


And because I told her I'd bombard her with wishes in every possible medium: happy birthday Kristen! You're my favorite of all the Kristens I know, or even the Kristins.


Aaand because I love So You Think You Can Dance so much, enjoy this song from last week's episode. I've been listening to it pretty much nonstop since then, and my choreographed routine to go along with it is nearly complete. Move over Mia Michaels.

we at the FBI do not have a sense of humor we're aware of

Black car + near 100 degree heat + metallic stereo buttons = daily dilemma: Which do I value more, listening to a good song on the way home from work, or intact fingerprints? I mean the non-melted variety.