Special Collections

I had to go do research for my folklore class in the "Special Collections" part of the library. I had no idea it was so intense! They make you sign a bunch of papers, and put all your stuff in a locker--you can't even take pens in there--and then they bring you these old documents and stuff. Mine weren't inherently cool--they were just some dumb collections from past BYU students, too new to be noteworthy. But I thought it was fun anyway. I liked reading about the findings of Kristin Mann and Ronda Clark, because their papers were just let-me-get-this-done based, like the generations of students before and after them. Everything was type-writer written on this thin, crinkly paper, and I kept wondering, whatever happened to Ronda, who was born in 1951 and came to this very school and took this very class 32 years ago? She wanted to be a teacher--did that happen? Did she get married? Are her kids here now? Does she remember writing this? Who will read my collection, when it's finished? Will they wonder about me?

Goblin Dance

Today I wore my old Green Tree Children's Ballet Company sweatshirt, the "Wizard of Oz" one from 1998. I was trying to describe its significance to Lina at work, who said I looked like a stats sheet. But the point of this story is that the Goblin Dance music has been stuck in my head all day, and I have no way of finding that song! I don't know who wrote it, it has no words...the best I can describe it here is "doot, doodle doodle doodle doot doo, doot doodle doodle doo doo doot doo..." So if anyone recognizes that tune, please let me know.

Font Testing

I'm trying to change all of my posts to have the same font, but blogspot won't let me, so now I'm testing what it will do with a new post. Also, Amanda did a blog fixing dance. This should work.

The Things They Carried

For my junior English class in high school, I read The Things They Carried, and now I'm reading it again for a junior English class in college. Mom mailed me my old book, so I keep getting sidetracked by my margin comments from four years ago. I'll have something underlined like "but it was not battle, it was just the endless march," and then next to it it'll say, no battle, only march. Insightful, Rachel. All of the ink is red. Now I'm going through with a blue pen, which is patriotic. The Ink of Innocence and the Ink of Experience, side by side. According to my notes, that's one of the book's themes.

still blogging?

I dropped the creative writing class that required me to have this blog, so I'm tempted to erase it. But having a blog, blogging away, blogging like a real life blogger, makes me feel so important! Should I keep it?

First memory

I heard once that every time you think of a memory, you forget part of it. One solution to this problem would be to never remember memories again, leaving them, theoretically, intact. But that seems kind of pointless, so I guess I'll have to resort to the other (more difficult) solution which is writing stuff down.
My first memory is jumping around on this couch that we had. What a couch! It was hideous, brown and orange and yellow striped, but it was great because you could take the cushions off and jump on the springs underneath, and if you got bored of that, you could make a fort with the cushions.
Anyway, in this particular memory, my mom was ironing, and I was jumping. I also happened to be hunting those pesky wolves that hid behind doors. Thank goodness I was around to save innocent ironers from them.