Adventures in World Traveling 1.2

The passport has arrived! I was getting a little nervous that it would never come and I was thinking that maybe I should have just paid to expedite the process. But never fear, the government came through and I did not have to pay extra. Sometimes things do go right.

This trip is quickly approaching . . . it's so crazy to me. When I bought my ticket it seemed so far off in the distance. But we're leaving in about three weeks. Whoa!

Just Having A Good Bang Day, Must Share

Ah, BYU, Why Must You Play With My Heart?

Seriously BYU? Seriously? The one thing I believe in--BYU Men's Volleyball--and you can't even do that? As a reprisal to my previous blog post about my adventures of trying, and failing, to get to the NCAA Men's National Volleyball Championships, I am pleased to report that my buddy Erik and I made it there. We both even wore blue. If you look, we're wearing the exact same color which I find kinda funny. It's not exactly a common color of blue. We sat down to watch the game and Erik asked, "Where's BYU?" Yeah . . . not there. Picture me, crushed. However, it was pretty fun anyway. We only went to the semifinals so I can't tell you who won, I'll admit that my excitement dissipated when I discovered BYU hadn't even made it to the semifinals. But volleyball's volleyball. I'll admit, I do enjoy it.

Our gum matched our shirts.

I hate to sound vain, but I kinda look good in this picture. Why was Erik making a stupid face when it could have been the world's cutest picture? I would have framed it and shown it to everyone I know. I guess the difference between girls and boys. And see what I mean? We're both wearing teal. Like-minded.

Yeah, if you won't take a good picture I'm going to stalk you with my camera.

You've Gotta Laugh At This

When a guy thinks a woman has a sense of humor, it doesn't mean you make the funny jokes. It means you laugh at his.

Yeah, I'm Not Okay With This

My roommates and I were driving downtown and saw one of these . . . I don't know what you call them, cement wall art? When Salt Lake City hosted the Olympics these got put up all over town and I've seen many of them, but not this particular one. Talk about creepy!

Look At Your Fish

Last week I traveled to the Tabernacle at Temple Square to attend a lecture given by David McCullough. My roommate teaches high school history and government and David McCullough was giving a lecture specifically for the teaching community; luckily Carrie invited me to go with her. I am officially her plus one. Ha ha. As some of you know, I love him. I read both 1776 and John Adams this past year, both are fabulous books . . . especially John Adams. If you're looking to be inspired, the life of John Adams will surely not disappoint.

I didn't realize this was a lecture targeted towards teachers, so I was expecting a speech on history or one of the many subjects he's written about. But as the daughter of teachers, the lessons of his speech did not disappoint.

He spoke of a teacher by the name of Louis Agassiz who was a renowned, but unorthodox, teacher in the mid-nineteenth century. Typically when he took on a new student his first lesson would be to place a dead fish in a jar in front of the student and proclaim, "Look at your fish." And then he would leave the perplexed student alone with their fish and not return for hours. Always, when Agassiz would return to the student, he would say, "Look at your fish." Often it resulted in confusion . . . look at fish? For what? And then slowly, after hours of observation, as the student looked at their fish they would begin to "see."

If you're interested in reading more, read the full story here.

It was a profound thought, and one that is not solely restricted to teachers. I am so easily persuaded by snap judgments that I wish I were slower to make decisions hopefully with more resolve and perspective. Since hearing McCullough's speech I've often thought about that, "Look at your fish."

What do you see?

Doh!

One of my greatest memories from college is BYU Men's Volleyball--hello, Scott Bunker anyone? Sigh. When I heard a couple of month's ago that the National Men's Volleyball Championships were going to be held at BYU this year I was pretty excited . . . the tickets were affordable and I didn't care who would be playing. Of course, I was certainly hoping to see some sweet BYU action. Like I said . . . good times. Lest I jinx anyone, it seems to be the one thing that BYU can do right . . . but I didn't say that out loud, okay?

I invited a friend to go with me to the championships, we even both wore blue. Before we went to the game we stopped at The Brick Oven (talk about a trip down memory lane!) for dinner, except it was full of women. I'm not kidding. There were ladies everywhere! Old, young, skinny, plump. No babies, though. No significant others. Just chicks. You don't normally see that except during General Conference weekend during the Priesthood session. Needless to say, I was a little puzzled. But we pressed forward and got dinner, although it was not at The Brick Oven since the wait was ridiculously long.

As we headed toward the Smith Fieldhouse . . . ah, this is cracking me up just talking about it, it's only been a million years since I graduated! . . . I had this feeling. Something wasn't right--you can see where this is headed. I checked my tickets and yeah, the championships are for NEXT WEEK. My guess is we were in the middle of Women's Conference, thus the plethora of estrogen in the city. OMG, are you kidding me?

I was mad embarrassed. It's like, I'm so thoughtless sometimes! Why is this? I sheepishly told my date I'd brought him on the wrong night and he just laughed amidst my bright red cheeks. I laughed too, though. What else can you do? So next week is the official National Championships. After all of this work, you know I'll be there.