Free Write 1 - The Smell of Air In Winter

I grew up in Iowa, perhaps for more of my life than I would like to admit. Winter overtakes life in Iowa. Memories both bad and good come with every first snowfall: building tunnels and snowmen and forts, barefoot running to meet Michael in Iowa for the first time, frostbite after my first snowball fight when I was young.

In Iowa, the cold is dry, very different from where I call home now. The cold burns my nostrils and lungs when I first step outside. The air is crisp and clean and healthy, much different than the muggy mosquito summers in the same place.

The air in winter smells new. Then, quickly, I tire of summer and spend my time inside where the winter air smells like pine, hot cocoa, chili, and M&M cookies. As much as I hate winter, so many of my good childhood memories revolve around the snow. Even some of my great adult memories revolve around the snow. Maybe, as much as I have convinced myself to hate the cold, there really is a magic to that fresh winter air that allows beauty to endure in death and my five year old self to exclaim, "Look, Mommy, there's diamonds in the snow!"

Why I NEED a GPS for my birthday.

I get lost everywhere I go. If I have not driven there before by myself, I will, inevitably, get lost. For example, last week, I went over to my family members' house. On the way home, I took the interstate going the wrong direction. I thought, for some reason, that South was the way I was supposed to go but, I realized as the "Int'l Boarder" signs increased in frequency and lessened in milage posts, I was going the wrong direction. Tonight, coming home from the same family members' house, I knew not to take that highway, but I had forgotten to check the best way to get home. So, I headed in the direction I knew the freeway was and just thought I would go a bit further to find the Northbound freeway. I, instead, approached a "Do Not Enter" sign posted on the road that would take me any further. My options were to take a left turn into the scary residential area that I had no clue about or take the same Southbound freeway I took last time. I took the Southbound freeway deciding I would just turn around at the next exit. The next exit was another freeway, going in the wrong direction (at least I recognized it this time, though and did not take it). The following exit approached and I was going to take it when I saw another freeway, going in the right direction! I took that and ended up on my way home. This would not be such a big deal had I not spent an hour yesterday trying to find a street to get me out of a very traffic filled town, an extra 20 min a week ago taking what was apparently (my boyfriend informed me) "the loooooong way home," or a panic filled 15 min last Christmas season in a scary part of town trying to take my little cousins for ice cream and a merry-go-round ride. At least I still have Iowa license plates and people just see me as the annoying tourist and not the incompetent local.

Evening As A Waitress

Last night, a table asked me about my heritage. After telling them my main ingredients, one of the men said, "So, you are not Yugoslavian?"

"No," I replied, "Not that I am aware of."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Oh, because you look very Yugoslavian. We all were convinced that you were."

"Are you sure? Because I think I probably look very confused."

Also, another table later in the night asked me about where I came from and I told them my story of beginning in California (starting off not so great with the comment, "I was born here when I was younger.") and growing up in Iowa. One of the women was so excited that I was from Iowa, she told me, "That's awesome! I always heard that Iowa was one of those mythical states that you hear exists but you never actually meet anyone that has been to Iowa much less is from Iowa." I told her, "Yes, it exists, believe me. I have tried to wish it away many times, but alas, it lives on. Maybe the people that go to visit it just get lost in the corn fields and never come out."

I Graduated!

Originally posted 4/23/11 on Grinnellplans.com

Well, today's the day. I should be getting a goodnight sleep before I face family in the morning. I should be dreaming peacefully and all that good stuff before I walk across the stage all sleepy-eyed instead of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (like the great Grinnell Squirrels that will undoubtedly join an outdoor commencement ceremony). But, here I am, not sleeping. Wide awake. I still have a few things in my room to clear out, but that will get done after the ceremony. I don't think the concept of graduation has really hit me. I will drive out of Grinnell tomorrow the proud owner of a brand new bachelor's degree. What does that mean? To me it's kind of like getting my high school diploma. I always knew I'd get it eventually and it's really just a means to an end. I want to go to law school. I know what I am doing next year, and none of it requires having an English degree. I'm not sure I feel the accomplishment involved in getting this. Maybe that means I didn't work hard enough. Maybe it was too hard and my mind can't comprehend relief. I chose English because I liked it and I like the professors. I love to read and write. I love paper and pens and books and bookstores. I have literally gone into Barnes and Noble for stationary (which is right by the entrance) and walked out three hours later. In fact, I spent the last hour trying to figure out how best to spend my newly acquired Barnes and Noble gift card. I haven't done anything yet because I am not sure of my choices. It's an important decision. So many people have told me they could never complete an English major. I don't see how that's possible. It would have been hard for me to not complete and English major. I wanted to be a psych major, but had to work so I didn't have time for the labs. I had already taken 4 English classes by the end of my first year. I had stacks and stacks of books everywhere in my dorm and at home. I have a thousand journals, all half filled. It was the logical choice and I enjoyed it. I even loved most of the classes I took. I had some crazy visiting profs, but learned from each of them things that weren't exactly English major relevant, (such as the importance of Vitamin B, or the disaster that is someone who has no idea what women's studies entails and applying it to every short story) but interesting none the less. So, I'm not sure why this English major matters, or why this Bachelor's degree seems like another piece of paper to stick in a drawer, but I know it was the right process for me to go through. Sometimes I think, what if I had been a psych major or taken a bio class? I loved science in high school. The thing is though, I really believe studying those things more would have taken away from how much I enjoyed them in high school and perhaps my wonder about the world that I enjoy. Studying English only helped me to deepen my appreciation for the subject and wonder at the possibilities. No, I didn't push myself as hard as I should have, but I had a good time. I had a job, I had a life, and I had school. And now, I guess, I have a Bachelor's degree in English. Whatever that means.

Something I Love

While I do find waterfalls and bridges interesting and entertaining, what I really love is photography. I love being able to capture a moment as I see it, overcome the difficulties of technology making something NOT as I see it, and producing something that is again, what I saw. I like that photography preserves memories but also helps to recall other's memories. For example, you may not have ever been to this waterfall that I took a photo of in Oregon, but that does not mean that it doesn't draw up any memory or feeling for you. I think photography is a pure art. There is a lot you can do now with digital photography and what not, but if you stick to the basics, it's all about what you see in the places around you and how you portray those places to other people. What angle struck you? How is this different from the angles that strike others? Photography is also so relaxing and makes you look at the details of life rather than just the big picture because it's the details that make the big picture so amazing.

Something I Hate

The least initial deviation from the truth is multiplied later a thousandfold. ~Aristotle

I hate liars! This picture is applicable because it is my poor car after it was hit by a couple of girls in a rental car who, six months later, still can't tell the same story twice. I don't know how long it will be until I get my car paid for, but I swear I will get it paid for. I was not at fault in any way. The damage shows that. The fact that they have lied a thousand times shows they have something to hide. Why can't the just be good people and own up to what they did wrong? I feel like this is something that is applicable to SO many situations but SO few people follow through with it. Lying is just frustrating, wrong, and hurtful. In the end, when people find out the truth, it is going to be much worse for the liars because first there was something to lie about and second, obviously, they lied. I can't even express how frustrated I get when people lie. Just tell the frickin truth and everything will be better in the long run. For real. Just don't do it. It just pisses people off.

A Picture of My Favorite Book

This book isn't anything that represents me being an intellectual in any way. It isn't one that I can get pompous about when talking about favorite books in English classes. Nonetheless, it is my favorite book. I read it every year before or right after classes start. It reminds me about having imagination and looking at the details and the finer things, things I tend to forget throughout the school year. It's a children's book, one that makes an impression and reminds me not to look at the sidewalk while I'm walking because there are so many amazing things to focus on. I think everyone should read this book whether they are an adult or child. I do not expect everyone to like it, as I do, but it would be nice if people gave it a shot.