It's Legit

Hello all! So I just got back from Texas today and I found a big old envelope marked "DO NOT FOLD" on my bed. Do you know what was in it?

This:

So guess what? It's 100% legit now! I'm officially graduated, diploma and all.

Happy happy happy day!

Now that I've shared that little bit of happy news, I'm going to go back to indulging my nesting syndrome and soaking up the gloriousness of a bedroom and living space that is all my very own.

Cherry on Top

To anyone who saw me during graduation week, it was a well-known fact that I was having a terrible time. Well, more like, an extremely stressful time. So many things went wrong that I found myself frequently throwing my hands up in the air, glaring at the sky, and desperately asking, "WHY?? It's just graduation! It's not like I'm getting married or going on a mission. Why is it so hard?"

But you know what? I would do it all over again--every mishap, every problem--to relive today.

See, graduates can buy a Stole of Gratitude to give to someone who's made a lasting impact on their academic career. I chose to give mine to my editing professor, Brother Gardner, because he really is the reason I am where I am right now. I owe my career to him.

He wasn't able to be at graduation, so I called him to set up a time to drop by, mentioning that I had something to give him. So today, I took a brief break from work to run over to his office and visit for a little bit.

And look on his face when I gave him the Stole of Gratitude?

Yeah, I'd walk through fire for a smile like that. It made everything worth it.

Chaos Theory

So guess what? I'm graduated now!

Does this mean I'm officially in adulthood? Because I'm pretty sure I got an inordinate amount of pleasure out of tickle-torturing my cousins the other night and I'm also pretty sure adults should be more mature than that.

So much for entering adulthood.

Insert a gigantic sigh of relief right here.

I'm done! And if I mention it several times in the next few weeks, that's probably because it's still sinking in. I haven't really had enough time to really process the whole graduating thing because last week was absolutely insane. Newton came up with his Second Law of Thermodynamics from getting a peek at my week.

Having my family up here is bonkers. First of all, we're crazy. I think we had an entire meal where none of us let go of our glasses of BYU chocolate milk because someone else would swipe it if we did. Add in a dash of absolutely psychotic scheduling, and things were just, well, chaotic.

And the fun/not-so-fun part? I'm still running around like crazy. My family went home on Sunday. It's now Tuesday, and I still haven't had a day to just kick back and take a break. Needless to say, I'm exhausted, which is probably why I can't seem to finish my blog posts.

Guess this will have to do...

Not-so-Deep Thoughts

Ah! I have so many thoughts running around in my head right now. Thanks to my beloved old American History teacher from high school and his recent facebook message to me and a couple other old Mormon students of his. I love talking to him, because he challenges me to think in ways that I'm not used to. It's cool. Especially since he does listen to our perspective, even if he doesn't agree with us.

However, thanks to him, most of the ideas running around in my head are too complicated to spit out in a blog post.

So I'll just stick with some good news: I passed my last two classes!

Not that I was worried about it. I did extremely well in both of them, but I had that secret fear that, by some fluke, I'd missed something or bombed the final paper and failed one or both classes and, since summer term has already started, I wouldn't be able to get in to fulfill the requirements before my graduation. I know. It's silly. But I was mildly worried about it.

But I got two As. :D

So now, for absolute reals this time, I have 120.5 credits, a surprisingly good GPA (considering past scholastic struggles), all fees paid, and I will most definitely be graduating on August 12th. There isn't anything negotiable about it anymore, and that is so nice to know.

So for the next two months, I'm kicking back and working. No more tuition. No more exams. No more ridiculous research papers. I know I've said all of that before, but DO YOU KNOW HOW AWESOME IT FEELS????? It feels like surf and sand between my toes, wind in my hair, and 100% freedom.

And going to work for the Ensign in the fall? Yes, my friends, dreams do come true, and they are worth all of the crap we put up with trying to get to them.

I've never been so happy.

Take That, Mr. Know-it-All

So, I may have neglected to mention that I'm actually taking two classes this term. Obviously the only one that matters is my senior capstone, and fortunately for me, I love it. But see, I started college early, didn't have any AP credits (because I graduated from high school early and never took the tests), and never changed my major. Which means I have a unique and slightly amusing problem: I have 119.5 credits. I need 120 in order to graduate. So I cruised through the class offerings for Spring until I found a 1-credit course to take: Student Development 100 (Essential College Skills). Hahahahaha. Seriously. I really am taking it. The irony makes every class hilarious to me.

(Side note: it occurred to me--after the add/drop deadline--that the religion department has some 1-credit classes like "Islam and Christianity" or "Judaism and Christianity" that would have been really interesting to take, but alas, it's too late to change that now.)

Anyway, it is slightly interesting to learn about basic study skills and put my college career through a litmus test to see how I did. The funny thing is, in class this last week, the professor was adamant that students can only study/do homework for about 20 minutes before their attention starts to wander. Therefore, if studying for a long amount of time, it's wise to change subjects every half hour or so. So he told us that when we create our weekly schedules, he doesn't want to see three hours of the same studying in a row. Ha.

Well, I have news for you, Mr. Smartypants. I spent eight hours last night doing the exact same homework. Without a break. You can argue with me if you want, but it doesn't make it less true.

Granted, I agree with the principle of the thing. If I'm plowing through biology homework or something, (which I haven't done in about two and a half years) my attention span isn't that great. Changing it up every half hour to 45 minutes would probably be nice. But I'm not in those classes anymore.

His rigid study policy doesn't allow for those especially creative/mentally stimulating kinds of homework. If my homework is related to editing, design, or reading something interesting (yes, even research--a lot of times it's more interesting than the original text) I can easily get lost in it for hours and hours.

Last night I was reading The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown for my capstone course. It's not due for another week or so, but my professor recommended we get started on reading it while we finished up with Inception. I'd intended to just "get started" but eight hours later, I put down the finished book (complete with sticky notes highlighting Jungian principles wherever I found them). It felt great. I love getting lost in a new story. And if my roommates were worried that I wasn't in a good mood, I apologize. It was just hard to extract myself from the world of words in front of me long enough to respond to their questions.

20-minute attention span? Pah. Not when it comes to doing the things I love. Although, I may only spend 20 minutes at a time on homework for his class. We shall see.

Finishing with a Bang

So I've been meaning to update for quite a few days now, but I keep getting distracted by my homework. I know. That sounds so weird. Normally people get distracted from their homework by other stuff, but you haven't heard what my homework is yet.



Yeah that's right. Inception. And The Dark Knight. And Dan Brown's novels. All part of my English capstone class. We're studying Carl G. Jung, the Swiss psychologist. One of his big theories is that the entire human race has a collective subconscious that expresses itself through mythical archetypes and sacred narratives. Our dreams are one of the simplest ways to tap into that collective subconscious. I'll admit, it's all a bit hard for me to grasp just yet: psychology has never been my strong suit, so I'm definitely not doing Jung's theories justice, but that's what I've gotten so far. :)

Anyway, we're focusing on how Jung's psychology fits with Christopher Nolan's movies and Dan Brown's novels. It's absolutely fascinating, and possibly the best class I have ever taken at BYU.

And truthfully? I'm so blessed! I've discovered recently that I don't like the standard academic approaches to literary theory. Most literature classes, unless they're extremely specialized to a specific author, just aren't my cup of tea. When I signed up for my capstone class, there was nothing in the description about studying Nolan and Brown. I had resigned myself to just struggling through writing about yet another pile of literature that didn't engage me, but then I saw the booklist. It might sound silly, but it feels like an answer to my prayers about having a successful final term at BYU. I really didn't want to finish my college career with a class that I didn't enjoy, but you can't dodge around the capstone class. Making it about such interesting books (just so you know, even though Nolan is a director, we have the shooting scripts for his movies, so those are our "textbooks") is a beautifully elegant solution to my problem.

I couldn't ask for a better way to finish off. I was walking across campus today on an errand for work and as I looked around at the blooming trees, the green grass, and the scattered people wandering around, I thought back to my first term here. It was exactly four years ago right now. I started at BYU in Spring of 2007. I was so filled with excitement and enthusiasm for everything, especially my studies. I've come through a lot since then, but having such an awesome final class has reignited some of that studious fervor. Senioritis has worn off at last. :)

My entire college career has a nice rounded-off feeling to it. I've come full circle. I have worked, struggled, succeeded, fallen in love, gotten my heart broken, made friends, lost friends, found myself, and so much more. Now, I'm in my last two months of school, and I feel just as fresh and new as I did then. My future is just as bright and promising as it was back then. Though I'm groomed for my ideal career now, I still have just as much opportunity to shape myself into the person I want to be. And the best part? Thanks to the last four years, I have a much better idea of who I want to be.

I really am so excited. I've been working towards this moment for my entire life. Ever since I was old enough to know what college was, I've been vowing that I would graduate from college and have a degree. That was ages before I even knew what I wanted to graduate in. The discovery of my love for English and eventually my absolute obsession with editing was all part of the journey. Now one class--9 short weeks--sits between me and that goal. And then the rest of my life becomes the canvas for me to paint on.

Halp!

You know that feeling when you try so, SO hard to think intelligently and instead you just feel your brain slowly being sucked into the oblivion? Yep. That accurately summarizes how I feel right now. In the last three days, I have gotten a cumulative 8 hours of sleep, a whopping 25 pages written, two portfolios compiled, 10 hours of research done, three loads of backed-up laundry washed, my room cleaned, and my bed tidily remade. One 7-page paper left to go and. I'm. DYING!

The only thing my brain is capable of producing is a continuous loop of ChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucerChaucer.

And, I might point out that it can't get past that part. Chaucer is important. He did something cool in that one tale, and I've read like a bajillion articles about it, but I can't for the life of me articulate anything on the subject right now.

So my brain has given up and is now repeating bedbedbedbedbedbedbed over and over again.

One paper. 7am tomorrow. I can do that.

Ha.

The funny thing is that I'm still on the computer typing when it would be a better (and more effective) break to go fold my laundry and take a shower (stupid finals week... I have not showered nearly enough for my tastes). But I think my body is on autopilot and, in its desperation to feel productive, just likes the typing thing.

Man, I hate writing about literature. Okay, well, maybe I don't hate it. Not nearly as much as other people do, but my recent revelation that I should have been a linguists/Elang major has manifested itself in an increasing abhorrence for literary analysis. Which is probably why I haven't applied myself all that much to my literature classes this semester.

On the other hand, I still have A LOT to show for the last four months. An internship with the Ensign. A fully-published, gorgeous issue of Stowaway Magazine that includes my byline, design work, editing work, and reader-submission pet project. Four beautiful design projects (flyer, newsletter, book, and photo album) all prettily printed and bound. A redesigned portfolio that I can now use without shame for any and all future job applications.

And no, I'm not bragging. Well, maybe a little. It's more like taking some time to remind myself that I have accomplished a lot this semester. Which will hopefully motivate me to finish accomplishing stuff this semester by finishing this dratted paper.

Nope. Not working.

Time to try the laundry-and-shower thing.

Narnia

Did you know I can identify an Andrews Sisters song by the third note? I didn't either, but I'm watching the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a reward for working stupendously hard this morning, and they play an Andrews Sisters song during the hide and seek segment. Three notes in, I was pretty sure it was them, and sure enough, IMDb tells me it is true. I'm not a 20s music buff or anything, but I went on an Abbott and Costello binge about four years ago, and the Andrews Sisters were a staple cameo in pretty much every episode. Apparently I heard them enough that their sound stuck.

Anyway, the point is that I'm watching Narnia. It's my present to myself, since I got up crazy early, wrote a paper, caught up on every ounce of homework that I hadn't done for one of my lit classes, and I'm too braindead at the moment to move on to my portfolio and my other paper.

I'm also celebrating a little bit because I just bought the Chronicles of Narnia Leatherbound Classic and I'm more than a little excited about the gilded cover and beautiful artwork and everything. Plus, I've been meaning to own the books for ages. So yeah, I'm celebrating. ^_^

Skillz (A Few Kinds)

And yes, I did just commit the heinous crime of spelling something with a Z instead of an S. May the grammar gods forgive me.

So, I've discovered Photoshop. And wow, it's fun! Part of my final portfolio for my InDesign class includes a photo album, and I've been applying some of the skills we've learned. Some of them are alright. I'm not inclined to go showing them off. Not when other people do this for a living. But I do like this one:

This was the original image. Our family had some professional photos taken during Christmas break. (yep, that's right, we're barefoot at Christmas. Love Texas.) I had a hard time finding a photo to fix up, since the photographer was really good, so I just looked at playing around with it a little.

I straightened the horizon line, cropped it in to focus more on us, beefed up the exposure a little bit to make it glow, and changed the color to sepia. And WOW! I really like it. :) My teacher looked at it and said it would be a good canvas-painting-ish picture. One of those big hang-over-the-mantelpiece family pictures. That's a nice compliment coming from her.

Also, she commented that she wouldn't ever be able to get her family to hold hands like that. Maybe we're just weird, but our family has always been fairly comfortable with physical contact. I'm slowly discovering that a lot of people aren't like that. Brian and I alone baffled a lot of our friends, who couldn't quite believe we were that close to each other.

But it's always been this way. As far back as I can remember, it's been tradition for me to have the seat next to Dad during movie nights, curled up under the blanket he has over his lap with my head on his shoulder. I used to nap with him on Sundays, too. My mom has long-standing fame as the bed-monster and child-mauler at bedtimes (even my friends know! Just ask Qait...). Her hugs are famously rib-cracking. Jess and I used to stay up late at night brushing hair, giving backscratches, and sometimes (though somewhat rarely) lying in the same bed together just talking.

And I have this really tender memory of Brian taking care of me when I was sick. I'm the kind of person who finds physical contact comforting when I'm sick. I know some people are anti-touch when they don't feel well, but I've never been that way. Anyway, I had my head on my mom's lap one evening while she stroked my hair to distract me from whatever raging illness I had. She had to get up and do something, and so I of course moaned a little when she started to leave. Just as she got up, though, Brian slipped into her spot and put my head on his lap, continuing right where Mom had left off.

I guess I've been spoiled. My family is very close. I always took it for granted, growing up with them, but I'm starting to realize how lucky I am that I have the relationships with them that I do. They're my best friends. I've moved around a lot, and friends fade into and out of my life so often (with a couple of notable exceptions). As a result, I've come to rely on the one constant I have in life: my family. I'm so glad I have them. :)

Averaging It Out

This week has been... insanely busy, to say the very least. I keep battling with the notion that I'm a terrible student because I can't seem to find any motivation to work on my two papers that are due for finals. What can I say? They're just... not... fun... I made the discovery recently that I really should have been an English Language major instead of an English major. More linguistics, less literary analysis. Apparently that's my thing. Who knew? But since graduation is less than a semester away, it really isn't an option. I don't even think BYU would let me switch. So, I'm slogging through my last two literature classes and really hoping I make it out alive. I need to pass them to graduate. 

Anyway, while I'm struggling to write papers for my lit classes, I find myself willingly spending hours and hours on my InDesign and magazine publishing classes. Like, hours. I woke up this morning at 9:30 and worked on various pieces of my InDesign portfolio until 5pm. Without stopping. Crazy, right? I had no idea I could do that. 

But I still feel like I'm not doing enough. Probably because my brain is conditioned to think that homework isn't the fun stuff. So when I do enjoy my homework, I still feel like a slacker for not doing the homework I don't enjoy. Blegh. 

On the other hand, I keep discovering how much I love layout and design. Not graphic design. That stuff is a little bit beyond me, though I'm okay at simple tinkering in Photoshop. But I do love layout. I just printed my book project, which Savannah is going to bind for me. Yay! Granted, trying to print the stupid thing was a pain. 

Anyway, I suppose I'll just average it out: if I'm a really excellent student in two classes and a fairly lousy student in the other two classes, it balances out to a pretty good student overall. Right? Think my professors will take that into consideration when they grade me?

Yeah, I wish that, too.

Papering

So, I have this funny way of writing research papers. Since scholars are so smart, and I feel like they always say what I think I should know how to say, I go through all of my sources, paste them into my paper in different colors (coded by source, of course (heh, rhyme.)) and then start filling out my own ideas in normal black. It serves a dual purpose. First, it's a pretty dang easy way to cobble together an outline and see how my paper is probably going to go. Second, you know those stupid rules about two sentences of your own stuff for every sentence of a quote you use? Yeah, colors make it really easy to see how you're doing on that ratio.

But I'm sure you all are just fascinated by knowing how I write papers. Heck, that subject is mildly boring, even to me. The real point of this entry?

PDFs can take a while to download. Since I need the sources I'm downloading to, you know, write the paper, I don't have anything else to do. I'm bored.

Ha. You're stuck with my paper-writing process.

Also, Calvin lied. Last-minute panic did not work as a motivator. In this case, I credit sheer, mule-headed stubbornness.

To Summarize

Yep. This is just about how I feel about the two rough drafts due this week. And you know what? Last-minute panic isn't even working. I'm at a complete and total roadblock. Apparently the right mood just hasn't kicked in.

Hm. 

Maybe by finals? 

And Guilder to Frame for It

So basically, in the next 72 hours, I have to:

Interview two people and do a follow-up interview with an already-completed interview
Edit an article
Edit my own article
Rewrite my own article
Figure out how to save my plans for the photography of my flyer after Savannah was apparently kidnapped by aliens
Plan and teach my Sunday School lesson
Visit teach two girls (one of whom is not mine -- I'm helping a friend out)
Meet with my professor about my resume
Begin work on my writing samples for my portfolio
Apply for the Church Magazine internship
Go on a date to the girls choice dance
Throw Stephanie a birthday party
Go to the temple
And sacrifice a goat. While being electrocuted. (Zivko and Steph, that's for you)

I'm swamped!

Oh, and presumably, I also have to feed myself somewhere in there too. Bathing would also be nice. As would sleep. Free time? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

So my coping strategy? Sit on the couch, rocking back and forth, stuffing my face with ice cream while writing in my blog. Mm hm. Excellent strategy, Lynnae.

Seriously though, life is pretty good. Yes, it's super busy, but most of the things on that list are things that I love doing. Minus the goat one. I made that up. Goat-sacrificing really isn't my thing.

Yeah.

But those other things! I love most of those. I'd just love them more if I didn't have to do them all at once. But such is life. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

Official

So it's official. I just finished my graduation application today.

And I got accepted.

...

WHOA

...

That's just now sinking in.

I'm graduating.

Mixed Emotions

Oh the joys of planning my future. Just when I think I have an idea of how it might all play out, something comes along to remind me that Someone has a better idea of it than I do. For example, I have this ambition to work for Church Magazines someday. They have an internship. Which is cool. Well, more than cool. Like, really cool. Yeah, you get the point.

So.

I hadn't thought that I could do said cool internship because my schedule was too crammed tight to allow for the necessary internship hours. And I would graduate before my schedule showed any signs of loosening up. Scratch the internship.

Au contraire.

My professor gets up in class on Thursday to inform us that there is another informational meeting about said cool internship. I zone out partially, knowing that I am, in fact excluded. Until! He says the magic words: "If you apply while you're a student -- which all of you are -- you can still do the internship the semester immediately following your graduation."

Well, I don't know about you, but my schedule is glaringly open for the months of September to December, seeing as I will no longer be a student (I was this close to spelling it "stoodent" just for kicks...) and I don't have any job offers (at the moment) that present a better option. Plus, I can't think of a job offer I'd rather have than this internship.

Also, this internship is paid. And 40 hours/week. For four months. At a higher wage than I'm making right now, by a lot. So all in all, things start to look really exciting.

And then it hit. This crushing weight of self-doubt and insecurity. "You're not good enough to get this internship," whispered a nasty, cruel little voice in my head, "look around you. You see all these people? They're editing students too. And your professor just spent the last ten minutes praising that girl for being so proactive and involved. What have you done? Not much so far."

Wow. Intense much?

Honestly though, I cannot begin to describe how crushing those fears were. They were utterly irrational, which tipped me off as to their source. It took me about a minute to realize that I was not being told that this was something I should just not worry about. It was, in fact, something I desperately needed to attempt. But the backlash of opposition was just staggering. Because not only is this internship something I want more than anything in the world, this internship represents a gateway to my future. A gateway into becoming the person I've only caught glimpses of up to this point.

And I was scared.

Ridiculous, you say? Well, I agree. And I knew it right off the bat. Which is why, in quick succession, I received inspiration to say a prayer, go to a friend for a blessing, read my patriarchal blessing, and, most important of all, call my dad. Those four actions shored up my defenses and restored my unquestioning faith that my life is in Hands more capable than my own.

And I know one thing more.

This internship, this application, it's important. So very important. You know that feeling you get when you just know that something is the right thing to do? For me, it's a swooping rush of warmth that rushes through my body. My heart starts pounding with strong, powerful beats (quite different from the light, tremulous, rapid-fire beats that come from fear) and I don't feel like I can get started on my task quick enough. That's how I felt.

Even if I don't get the internship, that's okay. Yes, I want it more than I've ever wanted anything. Yes, it feels like my future hangs on this one moment. But no, it will not be the end of the world if I am passed over for a different applicant. Because what matters most is that the Lord says "go for it!" and I go. It cannot be a failure if I make this attempt, because I will have obeyed. I will have tried.

And if I get this...

Let's just say that words would not begin to express my happiness.

So wish me luck. This internship means the world to me, and fighting for it is both exhilarating and terrifying. But whichever way the results go, I will have succeeded because I will have given it my all.

Scheduling Conflicts: Story of My Life

Okay, what is with everything suddenly springing up at me during the last two weeks of school? And I don't mean school stuff. Ironically, school is being surprisingly kind by lightening up during my finals, which is a huge relief. No, I'm talking about my social calendar. Suddenly people are exploding out of the woodwork with things they want me to be a part of and I'm sort of frustrated by it. I mean, hello, where were you guys all semester? I mean, I like the dates, parties, and reunions, but seriously, do they all have to be at the same time??

Which brings me to the topic of tonight. It's not that I have date every night or something like that, but I am juggling two engagements tonight (it would have been three, but I had to drop one). Remember that date I chose to bail on last week? Yeah, so he did in fact take advantage of the rain check I offered... asking me to do the same thing this week. Although, he did show up at my apartment this time and ask me in person. Which won him back some brownie points.

Unfortunately, some old friends from Iowa really want to see me and my brother tonight, and since one of them is the girl that my brother is still secretly crazy about, I am definitely going to do whatever I have to to make the reunion happen. But that leaves me in a tight spot, because I can't bail on a rain check. There are so many things wrong with that that it's not even an option. Which means that I have to try to keep things short and still hope to get us up to Bountiful in time to see the girl.

Enter Kristopher, my ever-constant knight-in-shining-armor. Figuring out rides and transportation was extremely stressful and after trying five or six different options and getting so frustrated that I wanted to throw something, I grumbled that it would be really convenient to still be dating a man with a vehicle, because presumably, a boyfriend would not mind going and meeting old friends of mine for one night, while very few other people would enjoy it. Especially since, to be dating me, he'd probably be more interested in spending time with me, right? That aside, in the absence of a vehicularly endowed boyfriend, I settled on calling my best friend to see if he might be willing to help. He's a champ. I only wish I could do the same for him.

The Index Intruder

Have you heard of the Bed Intruder? It's kind of become a cult classic. Gets quoted everywhere. Well, as of today, Antoine has officially intruded into my editing class. And let's just say, it let out a lot of tension. See, it's the second-to-last day of class (whoa. Reality check. That's freaky.) and we're just now starting on how to edit an index (which basically means you have to know how to write one) and the problem is that indexing is extremely tricky. You'd think it would be straight-up alphabetical, right? Well, technically yes.

But that's where the problem starts.

What about numbers? Roman numerals (you treat them differently, by way)? Commas? Titles? If something is two words, do you put it under the first word or create the entry with the second word first?

Cue Prince Henry's monologue from Ever After:

 Is that the lady you're supposed to be with or was it the first? And if so, when the two of them were walking side by side were they both the one for you and you just happened to meet the first one first or, was the second one supposed to be first?

Yup. Pretty much my thoughts exactly. Except... not about romance. It's about indexing entries.

Behold, the inner workings of my mind. Such a nerd at heart.

Anyway, we were so fed up with all the rules and nitpicky details that made no sense that we were about to start a mutiny, when some guy up in the front started saying, "These rules are really dumb. Fo' real...." in a perfectly passable imitation of Antoine Dodson. I had to laugh. Less at how funny or not-funny the quote was, and more at the fact that the Bed Intruder has successfully invaded the one realm where vernacular cliches and slang phrases are usually least tolerated.

I say least-tolerated meaning that there are a shocking number of editors who are exactly how most people think of them: grammar-nazi correctness freaks who love red pens and making papers bleed. We're not all like that, I promise. But some people are. They make me wince, but they're out there.

Anyway. Welcome, Antoine Dodson, to the editing circle. Just know that we language-geeks appreciate you, too.

High Price, High Reward

So is finishing a ginormous Shakespeare paper two weeks before it's due. Three weeks of research, four days of motivating myself (sometimes unsuccessfully) to get the writing done, and one 9 page paper later, I have conquered. I feel awesome right now. ^_^

Semi-Productive

Progress on homework: about a sentence of the reading done.

Status of bedroom: absolutely pristine

Nothing like homework to get my room clean.

Chick Flicks and Dialects :)

Okay, so I hardly ever post my homework on my blog, because that usually just seems silly to me. But I have to admit, I kind of had fun writing this. First, because I'm a little more snarky than I probably should be in a homework assignment, and second, because I'm writing about dialects, and that's just fun. Not promising that this will be a masterpiece of linguistic insight and argument. It's more just stream-of-consciousness rattling off of thoughts as I watched the movie, but that's exactly what the homework assignment required, so...

Enjoy!

Letters to Juliet is your standard, formulaic chick flick, as prone to fitting characters into stereotypes (both dialectal and appearance-based) as Disney movies are. This movie is a story of a female, American protagonist, Sophie, who goes with her fiancé Victor to visit Verona, Italy. While in Verona, she becomes involved in the 50-year-old love story of a well-to-do British woman who is searching (with her grandson, Charlie) for her long-lost first love. Despite his stuffy and often downright snobbish attitude, the British Charlie provides an obvious foil to the food-obsessed, rapid-fire-Italian-English-talking Victor who apparently doesn’t have much time for his fiancée. The three-way contrast of the Standard American English spoken by Sophie, the Standard British English spoken by Charlie, and the Italian American English spoken by Victor helps to illustrate the characters’ personalities according to the stereotypes associated with each variety.

                Sophie, a typical American, middle-class woman with a white collar job, speaks in Standard American English. Because the movie is marketed primarily toward American audiences, Sophie’s accent makes her instantly relatable, because she talks just like the rest of us. Her brisk, clipped American accent reflects her profession as a businesswoman and a journalist. At the same time, she uses many familiar slang expressions and exclamations (“That is awesome!” “Yeah,” “Are you for real?” etc.) that tie her back into the language associated with the younger generation. This makes her fit the standard “insert-yourself-here” formula for heroines in romantic comedies that allows young women to relate to her.

                 Tight-laced Brit, Charlie, waltzes onto the screen, dripping with disdain and apparently lacking any romantic inclinations in his entire body. Due to many American conceptions about British English speakers being stiff, methodical, unemotional, very intelligent, and occasionally elitist, his accent reinforces the way they want him to come across in the beginning. “He always insisted that love was nothing but hormones, but underneath, he has such a warm, passionate heart,” Charlie’s grandmother says of him at one point during the movie. The flip side of the associations with British English is that it is foreign, and carries with it some romanticism, especially as associated with Shakespeare and English poetry. Regency-era movies, frequently considered the crown jewels of romantic chick flicks, are almost exclusively cast in British English varieties. Letters to Juliet draws on this heritage of British English as a romantic variety as Charlie begins to fall for Sophie and takes his place as the true male lead in the movie.

                Victor, as a sharp contrast to the reserved but witty Charlie, is enthusiastic, emotive, and speaks rapidly in Italian English, often employing the Italian trend for repetition and hyperbole. Appropriately, he is a pasta chef looking to open his own restaurant in New York, and has come to Italy with Sophie to meet with potential suppliers. Caught up as he is by his driving passion for food (another trait commonly associated with Italy and Italians), he is often distracted from paying attention to Sophie, which makes him a less appropriate match for her than Charlie is. Although Italian is widely considered to be the language of love, this movie exploits the less romantic aspects of Italian English to portray Victor’s unsuitability as Sophie’s love interest. The more charming, lyrical Italian accents are relegated to the women Sophie meets, and to the Italian man Charlie’s grandmother had come searching for.

                Though the movie is not intentionally offering commentary on the various dialects it presents – such a subtext is a little deeper and more complex than most chick flicks choose to delve into – the use of the different varieties of English does speed up the audience’s ability to associate each character with their intended personality traits. For the purposes of a chick flick, this use of dialect as characterization is both effective and expected, much as it is with Disney movies.