Quite Possibly the Creepiest Mammal Ever

The Long-Beaked Echidna. Check this thing out! Ah!

Letters to Guernsey

Latest Book Review :)

I consider myself a relatively observant person. As such, I have noticed that historical fiction is not everyone’s favorite genre. Nevermind that as a history major and avid reader, I have a hard time understanding said people; I’ll cut them some slack and make allowances for differences in taste.

However, for those of you who were embittered against history by a boring class or uninspiring teacher, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows might go a long way to changing your outlook. Set directly after World War II in London and Guernsey Island, the novel is told through a series of charming, though sometimes tragic letters. As a result of a coincidence, the main character, Juliet Ashton, begins a correspondence with several Guernsey Islanders who make up the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (you’ll have to read the book to learn more about the society). The letters relate the story of the Island’s occupation during World War II and show the way in which the main characters’ lives are changed through close friendships and a shared sense of honor.

I’ll admit that I didn’t know anything about Guernsey Island prior to reading this book. A stretch of land about 25 square miles that has bounced back and forth over the centuries between England and France, the Island was primarily used in trade. From 1940-1945, Guernsey Island was occupied by Nazi forces hoping to use the Island’s close proximity to England as a military advantage. During the occupation, the Germans cut off all communication with the outside world. Radio, newspapers, and letters were outlawed. Although their treatment of the Islanders was initially lenient, starvation and cruelty occurred toward the end of the occupation.

Though at times sober and heartbreaking, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was on the whole, uproariously funny. I recommend this novel to everyone in need of a good book and an uplifting story. With the stresses of everyday life and knowledge of worldwide suffering, it’s sometimes nice to remember that sometimes, human beings can rise to the occasion and improve the lives of others.

Go ahead, read Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. You’ll like it.

Book Review For Monica

Here's my latest...

It may seem strange, but since my graduation from U of A last year, books have become an addiction of mine. I always enjoyed reading–you don’t become an English major unless you like the written word; however, through my high school and college years (2000-2008), I was required to read books related to course material, not my own interests. With the demands of school, this left me little time to expand my mind. Eight years of drought! Fortunately, as a result of my status as a full-time worker bee, that has recently changed. I am now at liberty to enjoy any book I choose. Needless to say, I am giddy with intellectual freedom.

For those of you who remember the books you were forced to read in high school, J.D. Salinger’s most famous work, The Catcher in the Rye may stand out as an atypically pleasurable read. Written in the mid-twentieth century, the novel became an adolescent call to arms and general favorite. Salinger’s other work is less known, at least for those my age, likely because they weren’t requirements for junior English.

I have recently had the good fortune to discover Salinger’s Franny (1955) and Zooey (1957) on the recommendation of a friend. Both short stories were originally published in The New Yorker, but later distributed as one volume. In Franny, Salinger explores the way in which an American college student portrays a false identity in order to be liked. Although obviously brilliant, Franny is a pretender. She is unhappy, but unsure of the cause, searches for meaning in literature and religion. The reader witnesses her emotional descent and struggle to find herself through Salinger’s skillful dialogue.

Zooey is Franny’s disillusioned actor brother. He has not dealt with the death of his eldest brother and is unhappy in the state of his career and interactions with others. Zooey longs for something about which he can be passionate. Zooey’s desire to demonstrate excellence in his chosen field causes him anxiety to the point of paradoxically lowering his standards.
Both siblings are lost in different stages of young adulthood, in ways in which I have sometimes felt lost myself.

Young people sometimes mistakenly believe that once they graduate from college with a degree, they will automatically know what they’ll want to do with their lives. Salinger’s work makes different claims. I identified with the dilemmas of both Franny and Zooey because I, and many of my friends, had moments of identical confusion during college, and this past year. Like Franny, I searched for meaning in literary texts. Similarly to Zooey, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but knew I wanted to be passionate about my career. These themes hold true for almost everyone moving into a post-collegiate existence.

Although Franny and Zooey were written in the 1950s, Salinger’s cultural references somehow remain relevant. Both short reads, they are the perfect complimentary introductions to the stress of growing up without a clue as to your direction. Salinger approaches the issues of young adulthood with humor and philosophical insight. I see myself in the characters he portrays because they are so universal. I would recommend this work to anyone at a crossroad, but especially college graduates.

The Red Balloon

I just finished reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. Within the work, Kundera writes about such things as loss, flawed humanity, infidelity, sex, love, death, the Communist regime, and feces. Overall, the book was thought-provoking and imaginative. It made me think differently about what I had considered life's certainties. The philosophical melding of plot and theory was very interesting. However, the chapter that most resonated with me, that actually made me sob, was Kundera's description of a dog's cancerous death. The dog was faithful, intelligent, and loved the main characters in a way that cannot be duplicated through one-on-one human interactions. Tomas and Tereza were forced to end her sufferings themselves and held her in their arms as she died.

I think I was so moved because the love of a favorite animal is an unselfish love. They rely on you completely. In the end, they die before us. We are forced to witness our dogs' pain. To suffer their loss. I don't know why I identify more with the pain or death of domesticated animals more than with the human equivalent. Maybe I feel this way because I believe animals are not the creatures Decartes described.

The idea that animals don't have souls is preposterous.

So Creepy It's Spectacular

Dissection at the Yale School of Medicine around 1910.

I don't know why I felt the compulsion to post this--maybe because it depicts a time before gloves or because it's just so deliciously disgusting. Anyway, enjoy.

Tattoo, Tattoo, Tattoo

This is again looking more and more like something I should consider tattooing on myself.


Into My Own
by: Robert Frost

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him they knew--
Only more sure of all I thought was true.

Bonking

I'm sure this version will be edited, but I really enjoyed writing about this lady. "Bonk" was great. I loved reading it. 

Bonk: A Learning Experience

 

The author of Stiff, a history of the scientific life of cadavers, is at it again. The title of Mary Roach’s latest book is enough to catch anyone’s interest. It’s edgy, offbeat, and very fitting. Although Bonk is a slightly silly title, it is a very appropriate name for a New York Times bestseller that combines hard, researched fact with Roach’s oftentimes hilarious personal experiences on her quest to discover the modern scientific community’s take on the verb “to bonk.”

As a concept, Bonk is singularly interesting. Roach studies the history of scientific inquires into human sexuality and physiology over the last century.  She condenses the studies and gives a general explanation of the researched findings to readers unfamiliar with the intricacies of human sexuality. Moreover, the puns, witty footnotes, and oddities described are truly inspired. I laughed out loud on more than one occasion, and it wasn’t even due to my discomfort and uneasiness with some of the material.

Despite the subject’s obvious capability for raunchiness, Bonk is never vulgar. Roach approaches a historically taboo subject with pragmatic frankness and praises the efforts of the sexual research “pioneers.” Roach describes the difficulties involved for researchers who are unaffiliated with pharmaceutical sexual research with several examples. More often than not, they cannot be funded because they are viewed suspiciously by the public and grant reviewers alike as possible “perverts.”

With little known scientific facts and unapologetic and unembarrassed honesty, I would go so far as to suggest that this book be given to teenagers to debunk common misconceptions. Bonk may have made my journey through young adulthood a less confusing endeavor. In my opinion, there’s only so much an educational class or parents’ hedging can accomplish with jaded teens. More knowledge equals more self-confidence and better decisions. Plus, the upside is that the read is actually pretty funny.

Despite my praise of Mary Roach’s Bonk, I will ask you to take notice: Bonk is not for the faint of heart. 

One Giant "That's What He Said" Joke

I'd just like to state that I by no means did this on purpose. The following is a recent article I wrote about a very nice, old gentleman: 

The Inspiration of Wood

When asked how he created his sculptures, the Renaissance artist, Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni allegedly stated, “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” The ability to carve with artistry, whatever the material, demands that an individual possess steady hands, a vision and an imaginative eye. These traits are held in abundance by Tempe resident Altan Foster.

With 32 years of experience in woodworking, where he has made everything from rocking horses and toys for his grandchildren, to exquisite pens, bowls and furniture from American, South American and African materials, Foster now justly writes “Master Craftsman” on his business cards. He goes online to North Carolina and Utah companies to purchase materials and research the woods that best fit his artistic vision. Foster’s son, Gary Foster, thinks his father’s hobby is “amazing.” He has tried to use his father’s tools to attempt woodworking, but without success. “You’ve got to be exact and have an artistic touch to do it.”

Foster’s neighbor and friend, Janice Shafer, has admiringly stated, “[Altan] uses creativity and intellect to show that art can be made at any point in life. It is profound to witness someone who carries forward in such a way.”

By the way, Altan Foster was born on February 28, 1917. At 92-years-old, he continues to make beautiful objects.

Following his retirement from his profession as a businessman at age 64, Foster knew only that he “really loved wood.” He had attended arts and crafts shows and saw the work of skilled artisans and decided that he would take up woodworking as a hobby. He gathered the supplies and even did some logging himself. Foster’s age was never a deterrent from his “attraction to the smell and feel of wood.” “I am fortunate that my health has been good,” pronounced Foster, “my hands have remained steady so I can do what I love.”

Last year, Foster made over 100 pens, as well as many bowls, for gifts and profit. One of his popular innovations is that he does not discard wood with unsightly knots or flaws, but instead fills natural defects with turquoise or other attractive gems. This technique gives his bowls “interest” and beauty. He recently stated, “I am inspired by the shape and texture of the wood. I like to let the natural rim show and work with imperfections to make something unique.”

Foster regularly sells his products at fairs and shows where his bowls and furniture are very popular. According to his son Gary, local museums have even taken an interest in Foster’s work.

Foster’s “hobby” has more than paid for itself. Through the sale of his art, he has been able to purchase expensive woodworking equipment, as well as turn a profit. For those who have witnessed his talent and skill, Foster has provided much more than beautiful art and useful items. His endeavors at such an advanced age have inspired others to continue to seek fulfillment and challenge themselves throughout their lives. “I just hope that I’m doing as well as my father at 92,” said Gary Foster.

 I hope to God that no one under the age of 25 reads this article. 

I Hear Neil Patrick Harris

DOOGIE

Tulips, Tulips, Everywhere

I miss Tulips. I think Arizona should figure out a way to maintain 76 degree weather all year long.

Although...note the man in the first picture with a cowboy hat. Could this picture have been taken in Arizona? Naw. He's probably just tooling around in his motor home.

Crooked Teeth: Death Cab and Emily

When one follows the directions of professionals (whether they be dental or medical), to the letter, and their advice and techniques don't work, where is the justice? I know they're not omniscient, but they've had a good deal more knowledge instilled in them through heavily funded Universities than I have. Moreover, they are profiting from my pain.

My braces were removed in the 8th Grade. I remember the day with joy. You could liken my pre-existence to the monstrous hunch of a self-conscious shadow. My now constant worry that I have something in my teeth can be directly traced to this horrific time.

BRACES.

Thankfully, early adolescence is the time for most boys and girls to be hideous, so comparatively, it's not that terrible. I was determined to follow my orthodontist's instructions to the letter. I had had too many pieces of food stuck in my metal and cried too many salt tears over pain and pure ugliness to experience the process again. I was going to have straight, pearly white teeth FOREVER. I wore my retainer every night until they told me I could wear them once every two nights. That is what I did...until now.

I watched as my friends ignored the directions of their orthodontists and boasted to me that they "never wore their retainer." I would think to myself..."those poor saps. They don't realize that they're only hurting their future beauty." Unfortunately, my superior attitude was completely inappropriate. Their teeth remained straight. Mine slowly started to shift. The shift of creeping, insidious ruin.

I finally gave in...and went to an orthodontist.

Next week, I will be the possessor of a brand new, permanent retainer on my bottom teeth and a new upper retainer. I will spend upwards of $500 to choke off the ubiquitous surge of disloyal teeth.

I could have purchased a bike. Or an ipod. Or a bike and an ipod. Damn you, teeth.

New Beginnings

The recruitment fair for Public History and Scholarly Publishing at ASU last week was amazing. Let's face it, I had mainly decided to go to ASU as a result of location. However, in addition to that requirement, I found out that the program provides experience in my EXACT areas of interest. Turns out (lucky for me), that the Public History MA program is one of the premier programs in the country. Their graduates have a 96% success rate of finding jobs fresh from graduation. Moreover, I get a great vibe from the faculty and feel like my time at ASU would be well spent.

I have to say, my heart will always bleed red and blue (go Wildcats!), but ASU seems to be the perfect fit. I'm excited to formally accept their offer and will hopefully receive financial aid.

In other, more exciting news, Chris is coming home this upcoming week!! The long distance monster will be vanquished and we can finally lead relatively normal lives with a relatively normal relationship :). I cannot wait to see him on a regular basis. I don't think I could ever take his presence for granted after this ordeal.

I feel like everything is falling into place. Both Chris and I are so lucky. We are watching our aspirations and passions come to fruition!

Chris is a Stud

So, big news (for those of you who don't already know)!! Chris got into Med School at the University of Arizona on Monday. Needless to say, we are extremely excited. I'm just glad that the U of A isn't as retarded as I supposed them. :)

In other news, I was accepted to the Public History Program at Arizona State University. The program includes a Scholarly Publishing focus, which would be great for a career as an editor or in the publishing field. I feel like I finally have a direction and can make plans for the future.

Chris is so deserving of this...I'm extremely proud and happy for him. He will be moving back to Arizona in the next few weeks and getting out of frigid Chicago. WHOO HOO!! Same state!

I hope this is just the beginning of our wishes coming true.

Rock n Roll of New Technology

Chris sent me this link today (so he deserves the credit)...I was simply blown away. If you don't think this concept is cool, there is something intrinsically wrong with you. The future of technology is looking bright.

http://www.siftables.com/

PBS Wisdom

I was watching the news last night, and PBS presented a story about 112-year-old Walter Breuning, the oldest man living in the United States. The man was sharp as a tack. Born in 1896, the first president Walter voted for was Woodrow Wilson. He has seen the changes wrought by the automobile, the telegraph, the telephone, the radio, the Great Depression, war, the atom bomb, television, the computer, Internet, and a Black President. He eloquently answered questions about and our current economic times and his secret to living so long. When asked why he was still living, Walter explained that no one knows when they're going to go. It could be today. You live your life to help other people and don't worry about when you're going to die.

I don't know if I'd want to live to be that old...your friends, family, loved ones--all dead before your time. The only saving grace of living over a century would be an undiminished intellectual curiosity and the ability to share your experience with others. Let's face it though, most people are vegetables by the time they're 90.

Even so, watching Walter last night, I realized he was completely right. The only thing that matters in this life is helping others. That is one of the few things that makes a life worthwhile.

I Don't Care if You Hate Me. You Don't Appreciate True Art

For all those who know me, you'll understand why I posted this.

Rank of Austen Awesomeness:

1. Pride and Prejudice

2. Persuasion

3. Sense and Sensibility

4. Mansfield Park

5. Emma

6. Northanger Abbey

I just thought you should be aware.

I alternatively curse and thank my mother for making me love all things Austen and PBS. Hey, if I didn't have this extremely nerdy background, how could I get my Masters in early 19th century British history?

Lox, Grandparents, & Bunny Time

Florida was amazing. I am so glad we could all get together to celebrate my Grandpa's 80th birthday! Shimmy is as hale as a mountain goat and does tell a great story. I am so glad I've listened to the family tales he has related over the years. As Sherman J. was a former History teacher, I apparently come by my interest in history honestly.

Chris held up against the family screaming, eating, drinking, and picture-taking admirably. Our hotel room across from the Boca beach was wonderful and quirky and I got to spend 3 days with my H.B. The only other thing I could ask for would be more time. Hopefully, that's coming up soon.

We chased birds, ate way too much, and enjoyed our time together. The beach was beautiful. I can't wait until we can go back to visit.

In other Emily-esc news, ASU has instituted HUGE cuts to their academic programs. Although, at this point, I don't think History is among those on the chopping block, this is not a good time to be going to school in Arizona. I think I may have to end up in Chicago anyway. If they cut my program, I definitely will. This may seem like an ignorant question, but why don't they cut some of the unnecessary scholarships on the football team while they're at it? It's not like the revenue is equal to the expense of the team. From my experience tutoring college football players (I am about to make a sweeping generalization that does not include ALL...only MOST), they are not really there to do well academically. Isn't college about an education? Not just a degree in Physical Education. I know I worked my ass off. Maybe I'm just an idealist.

Going off the topic again...Does anyone else see how narcissistic Twitter is? I mean, Facebook is as well, but at least it's tempered with other ways of expressing yourself--not a constant barage of "Emily is doing so and so" every 4 minutes. I don't know if anyone else really cares what I'm doing on a bi-minute basis. I think this blog is probably already a stretch.

Making an Upbeat Newspaper Subtly More Cynical

Although lamenting my lack of writing freedom lately, I recently realized something...A very important something...I'm still an asshole, just in more subtle ways. As "Little Women" and a 19th century proverb says, "necessity is the mother of invention." I am inventing new and interesting ways of being pessimistic and making it sound upbeat. Fan-freakin'-tastic. For instance, here is the opening paragraph of an article I recently wrote about an 8th grade math competition:

Math Does, Indeed, Count
I have always been unreasonably biased against math. Some would say my sub par ability to complete basic mathematical problems was to blame for my illogical dislike—I like to argue that my parents are responsible for my self-proclaimed and seemingly genetic ineptitude. It has taken many years, but I now believe that my love and talent for the liberal arts was based on simple encouragement. Had I possessed instructors such as Marilyn Rutter and Joanna Wilson of Aprende Middle School, as math teachers and coaches, my stubborn hatred of all things math related might have been dispatched early in life.

Ok, this entry might not seem very cynical...However, you can't know what was actually going through my head. Best not to write it down. Moreover, my editor loved the piece. What??! I can talk about myself for half the article and it actually gets published. In addition, I get money for it. Are these people crazy? Can't they see that I'm bringing their publication down as slowly and surely as a celebrity will surely name their yet unborn children insane names (Apple and Moses, I mean you).

Moving slightly off topic, I wish it was more possible to do more work (we're not talking free lancing, we're talking the full-time job). I spend roughly half my time wishing I was more challenged and listening to Pandora. Well, not in that order. I spend half my time completing chores, checking email, eating, talking, texting, listening to pandora, and wishing I was more challenged.

I CANNOT WAIT to be back in school or doing something I actually like.

The First, and Most Likely Last, Post

Hello, Everyone,


I've decided that I could probably get into blogging. Although I'm sure no one else (besides maybe Chris) is interested, I will most likely WOW you with my awesomeness :)

A quick update...

I am working at a law firm writing demands and editing outgoing office paperwork. I know, sounds fascinating. The middle school-like drama and cattiness is truly inspiring. Although it usually leaves me incredulous and thankful that I have so little drama in my own life, it's entertaining in its way. I could definitely write a sitcom pilot using this material. Did I mention that I work for a Personal Injury Attorney? If I were ever to become a lawyer (as someone who hates confrontation, this is extremely unlikely), I don't think I would choose P.I. You might have to shoot me first.

I have also been writing free lance articles for a local newspaper. The newspaper publishes mostly upbeat and "inspirational" stories...This conflicts with my cynical style, but it's pretty good experience. I don't want to be a reporter. It seems this year is all about figuring out what I DON'T want to do. It's a start.

Graduate School Acceptances/Rejections are coming up. I should know whether or not I got in to History Programs in Arizona or Chicago by mid-March. The economic crisis has reached such an alarming state that even I am worried by it. School is probably the best place I could be right now. Let's hope that I can get my ass in.

Still waiting for Chris to find out about schools as well. AS SOON AS HE FINDS OUT...we'll be moving in with each other (Chicago or Tempe). I am SO VERY ready to end the long-distance. I should be allowed to see my best friend every day, right?

In completely unrelated news, I love Austen audio books. I look forward to coming to work (a feat) just so that I can listen to Persuasion in my car. Ah, technology. Everything I need and want.

It's strange being in the "real world", but knowing almost definitely that (by choice) you will be back in school soon and eating rice and craving Anthropologie clothes. Making money has, of course, been interesting. I still find myself amazed that I have money to spend on clothes I don't need. I've discovered that the more one makes money though, the more one realizes that MORE is needed. I can easily understand the power of money over a career you love, though I hope I wouldn't make that choice. This year has been eye-opening. Money sometimes IS happiness. It would certainly make my life with Chris more comfortable for the first few years.