6x6

My grandmother was a wonderful woman. I'll always remember how she drank tea in the morning, and I would always try it and never liked it. Now I do. For breakfast she'd have cinnamon raisin toast with butter on it, or waffles. I'd sit there and fill each and every little square of my waffle with syrup, then my little cousin Kara would want the same on hers (not very little anymore, now she's a senior in high school, time flies).

My grandma taught me to love Shirley Temple and Marlon Brando, Audrey Hepburn movies and Wheel of Fortune. We had tea parties and I'd help her water her plants. I loved days with Grandma Dot. She used to pick me up from Kindergarten and take me to get "pink ice cream" as I called it. We would see movies at PV Mall when there was a theatre there, and always check it they were rated 'G.'

Among many things, she taught me how to knit. I always used to watch her knit things, she had a special wicker basket she kept under a table in the living room. She'd knit while I watched Peter Pan or The Little Mermaid, I loved those movies.

When I got old enough she took me to Joann's and bought me my very own needles, and pink yarn. I was pretty bad at it, the rows were tight and uneven, but I was determined. Now I own about seven pairs of knitting needles, ranging from bamboo, to metal, to plastic.

I cried the first time I walked into Joann's after my grandma past away. I wanted to knit a beanie but I didn't know how to. The sales woman probably thought I was strange because after she showed me where the beanie knitting looms were, I started tearing up again.

Now as Christmas is coming closer than most of us are realizing, I remembered one tradition I did with my grandma. We'd knit 6' x 6' squares, and donate them to the Church of Joy in Glendale where a group of women would sew them together and make blankets for people living on the streets.

I'm making my first square of the season, and thinking about Grandma Dot. It almost doesn't seem right that Wheel of Fortune isn't on right now.

Fall, or don't.

Autumn is here, although you can barely tell in the good ol' AZ. It was in the late 80's today, at the end of October. I wish the temps would "Fall" a little more. One way you can tell it is Autumn: hiking season has opened up. A very eloquently spoken friend said, "It's like the state fair, except without all the fried stuff." It only comes around once a year, and it's a beautiful thing.

Lately my adventures have taken me to the bottom of the Havasupai: a trip that has been practically 20 years in the making. My mom is a lot of things, a great mom, a talented teacher, an avid outdoors-woman, and a backpacking guide for the Havasupai. Which pretty much equals: B.A. She has hiked it two to four times a year, since I was two.

The first time my brother went down the canyon, he was six. That was about the time I started hearing the question, "When's Briana going to go down the canyon?" So off I went.

I was fortunate to have my good friend and track buddy Jake along for the trip, along with about 8 other people in the group. We stayed at a "happening" motel in Williams, I do believe at one point in time, it was a happening joint. The asian couple that ran it were quite entertaining. They were nice enough to give refunds to the group members who found crickets under their pillows, so very generous.

Friday morning we drove to the trailhead, marked our bags, and headed out for the 10 mile hike down to the campground. I'm proud to say Jake and I hiked eight miles in two hours. We even passed a few groups, lets just say not everyone knows hiking etiquette. Like the middle aged man who started walking faster when he realized he was about to be passed by a blonde, ah well. I'm hoping he got over it.

We saw the most amazing waterfalls and camped at the sweetest campsite I've ever been to, and I've been to dozens (my garage looks like a mini-REI to say the least). The home-made Indian Tacos were well worth the $8, I could so go for one right this second.

After our 4-mile day hike on the second day, my blisters set in. The count quickly went from 2, to 4, to 7- between my two feet. I sat with my feet in the stream crying, not my most happy moment.

The next morning, a 4:30 wake-up call. We packed up our tents and gear, and hiked out at 6 am. By then, with every step I took it felt like little knives stabbing my heels. With a few stops and band-aid changes, Jake and I made the ten mile hike out in 5 hours, I was very proud of us considering the condition of my feet.

We proceeded to have the best burgers and fries any of us had ever tasted, on Route 66. We listened to oldies in the car ride home, it was like we went back in time to quieter days.

Sore and bruised from the rock climbing I did today, I'm so happy it's Fall. I'm so happy I didn't fall off the rock today, Im happy I didn't fall on the trail down the canyon. I may fall when it comes to keeping my desk clean, or being motivated with schoolwork at times, but hey...I'm just glad it is Fall.

The Truman Show

The grass is always greener on the other side, and I really think I need to sit back and appreciate what I have and all the amazing things that are happening for me.

I feel suffocated sometimes with the predictability of my days- Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I work. Tuesdays and Thursdays I go to school. I see the same people on the bus and light rail on the way to school, and when I drive to work I see the same people leaving their garages. It feels like the Truman Show type of world, where people talk about the things they’re involved in like it's a commercial. Where everything is the same.

I sit in the same row in my first class everyday. The same girl trips over my longboard every time she walks by (you'd think she'd look out for it by now), the same Industrial Design major-guy wishes me a good morning. Every Thursday in my accounting class I help the same girl with her homework before the teacher gets there, the same guy is late walking in, the same girl is sitting behind me click click clicking away text messages all stinking class. It's the same. Yet when everything was a variable, I was miserable. I never knew my work schedule until the Sunday before. I was involved in so many things that required so many different efforts and qualities, and I was exhausted. Now I'm exhausted (I'm still working my butt off), but it's a different kind of exhausted. I can't quite put my finger on it.

God is interesting like that, He gives us new challenges to overcome. We wish things were one way, and get mad when our prayers aren't answered. Then suddenly, without really realizing it, our prayers are answered and voila: you got your wish. You have stability, you know what your pay check is going to be, which night is date night, which night is family night, and which night is girl night, and so on. My life is so planned right now, that I have completely booked days...in December.

I'm just praying for humility, because I have a lot of amazing things going on for me, and I feel like I'm taking them for granted. I should feel blessed that there is a free shuttle from Tempe to West, and not gripe that it takes an hour to get there. I should feel blessed that I am attending college, instead of complaining about the workload. I should feel blessed that I have a steady schedule, instead of debasing the robot-like feeling of it all.

I should feel blessed. I know that I am blessed, I'm just praying that God will continue to remind me of that daily.

ASU: First Day, JR. Year

I woke up on Tuesday with the scene from Finding Nemo stuck in my head, where Nemo is waking up his dad with, "First day of school! First day of school! First day of school!" Then, I said a little prayer about this semester, that God would give me wisdom and guidance, and motivate me to push forward even in the toughest times, and to help me have a good day of classes today.

As I arrived on campus, I located my 9 am, 450 person lecture, and Fall semester officially began. After my two classes at the Tempe campus, I have two at the West campus (lovely). I make the 20 minute walk from the MU to the light rail station, where I planned to pick up my bike, light-rail it home, grab some lunch & head to West.

Stolen. My bike got stolen. Shoot! It's name should've been Old Faithful, since it was my mountain bike that cost $70 in 6th freaking grade (I was just about as tall then as I am now, another fun experience in my life). It had green paint, and the breaks only worked on one side. I hope whatever sucker stole my bike learned about the break malfunction the hard way: I hope he ran into a pole.

Panicking and not sure what to do, I call Liz who precedes to look up the bus I'm supposed to take to West, low and behold it is in fact right next to the MU, which is 20 minutes away, and it leaves in 20 minutes. Oh joy.

I literally got there right when the bus pulled up, & yes there was running involved. I sat in the second row, & I look out the window. "Hmm...that looks like Kara." I think to myself. She turns her head, "Hmm, that IS Kara." Kara happens to be the girl in high school who slept with my ex while I was dating him- wonderful. She is now boarding the same bus as I am.

I pull out my phone, fiddling, fiddling, trying not to make eye contact. Guess who decides to sit right freaking in front of me....Kara. I still kept to myself as she stared directly at me, probably half wondering if she should move seats, and half wondering what the odds were at we'd be on the same bus, in the same two rows. Funny, I was thinking the same thing.

For the next HOUR I avoided eye contact & endured the awkward glances that were coming my way. I was very ready for this day to end. I get to West, went to Bio, and met up with Lizzy and Daniella for some much needed Chipotle and Starbucks.

Well, the Starbucks after a full bowl at Chipotle was not a good idea. I preceded to go to my next class, Accounting at 6 pm.

6: 15 rolls around, and no one is in the class. Hmm. I check MyASU, and guess which class is only on Thursdays. I trudged back to the bus for the hour long ride home. I called my boyfriend, asking for him to pick me up, knowing I couldn't handle the whole walking/light-rail situation after today.

While waiting, my feet began to sting. I look down, how wonderful. Red ants and covering them, and proceeded to bite. That was the icing on the cake, of my first day of Junior year. I hope the rest of the semester goes better than Tuesday...

ASU: On Wheels

There is a distinct kind of student at ASU main campus: casual, usually pretty trendy. But then again, right now not being trendy, is trendy. People usually carry their books in backpack, girls either carry their books/binders or have a large purse holding the contents of their life.

(In fact, I've even seen girls with the backpack/purse combo. I feel like that's a lot of luggage to tote around."

At West campus: Rolly-backpacks. I've never seen so many rolly -backpacks in my entire life! I mean I remember when that was popular in like 4th grade because that's when our backpacks got "heavy," but I never expected to see them in college. Some people even have little crates with lids, on a miniature dolly system, wrapped together with bungee cords. Now personally, that'd be the way I'd take care of business, if I ever wanted to invest in a rolling device to carry my stuff. 

Next up: Tamagachi's and Bouncy balls will become the next biggest thing that college students love. Since those were the next coolest items in 4th grade.

When Pigs Fly

As Americans, it is part of our wiring to think of the best-case scenario, and that the worst-case could never happen. Optimism. We strive for the 'American Dream'- maybe it's to own a successful company, to have a happy family, or to just feel safe within the walls of our home. We are optimistic.

So optimistic in fact that there's no way another country would attack us. Yeah, when pigs fly. 9-11 shook our core. So optimistic that we'll swoop into Iraq and take out the bad guys in a week. Yeah, when pigs fly. Eight years later I'm watching one of my 18 year old Young Life guys in camo walk away, off to Iraq. He's the bravest of the brave, and even he says the scariest thing over there is when you shoot the bad guys, and they keep coming at you.

We're so optimistic that another economic downfall like the great depression could never happen, no not to the U.S. Yeah, when pigs fly. Last fall I watched President Bush give a televised speech to the nation letting us know where we were headed. I also watched the next day as the stock market fell hundreds of points.  

So optimistic, and unstoppable, that a disease such as Swine Flu could never sweep the nation, much less the world killing many, no not in the 21st century. We took care of that disease when it swept the nation in 1976, 1988, & 1998 (It seems that every ten years we fall susceptible). Yeah, when pigs fly. 

Have you ever really thought about the name Swine Flu? The term "when pigs fly" is used to describe something that could never happen. Read the diseases' name this way: Swine Flew. Enough said.

While no one could have ever guessed or predicted that any of these horrible events would happen, our optimism was turned to irony. So do we stop being optimistic? I would answer with a firm and resounding no.

We may not have expected the worse, but it is the tough things that make us stronger. "Consider it pure joy when you are faced with trials and tribulations of many kinds, for the testing of your faith will provide endurance. So let that endurance grow, so that it may perfect your faith." -James 1:2

Like a vaccine makes us stronger against the disease, these events will only make us stronger for the future.

“Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength.” 

-Anonymous

Shirts & Skins

At about 9 pm tonight, as I walked from my parking garage to my apartment with a last minute detergent purchase, I couldn't help but notice the basketball game that was going on next to me. 

Again, 9 pm on the Sunday before finals, there had to be at least 30 guys both on and off the court, yelling out plays and grunting with each pass. You would have thought this was the NBA Finals on ESPN - oh but it was. 

Between growing up with sports fanatics for an older brother and dad, and having a highly competitive boyfriend addicted to Sports Center, I have come to realize that any game that is played- is important. Every play will be recounted for the next 3 days, every shot will be praised, and the game will be glorified as if it were in fact that NBA Final, Super Bowl, World Cup, and so on.

As a girl this is a funny concept. I'm not saying females are uncompetitive & view sports as unimportant, for 6 years I laced up my track spikes with the intention to win, and did just that. But as far as a friendly game on the court goes, I would not take it to heart. 

I believe this says a lot about men, and their yearning to succeed and earn respect. I bet if girls actually sat and watched every emotion going on during that basketball game, they'd understand a lot more about the male gender. 

The guys making the plays are powerful guys. The ones that the guy sitting on the sideline wish they could beat just one time, to earn respect.

 If you walk into an office, it is exactly the same thing. The CEO on the 5th floor in the corner office with his own bathroom is the powerful guy. The guy on the 2nd floor making copies (for some other guy) just wishes he could show his ideas straight to the CEO and pass up all the others, and earn respect.

In fact, I bet if girls did know this about men, relationships would go a lot differently. If girls let their guys know right away that he's her All Star, that she's his #1 fan, I imagine he'd be overjoyed.  From then on I also imagine he'd do every mushy thing in the book for his girl to make sure she knew just how much he loved her, as long as he knew she respected him. There'd be so much love and respect in those relationships, the couples wouldn't know what to do with it.

Obviously this needs to happen with sincere intentions, any girl who just told her boyfriend that she respected him only to get him to watch chick-flicks with her, or do any other girly activity, has issues. 

And this is what I thought about as a watched 30 college guys at 9 pm on a Sunday night, playing an intense game of basketball. Right before I texted my boyfriend, I mean All Star.

I wish to be a sponge.

My neck is sore. Back aching. Hands shaking. Legs numb.

After that description of my body's current state, you would have thought I just carried a large camel across the Arizona desert. 

Hardly. I just spent nine hours making note cards for finals. Although the physical challenges do not match up, the mental ones do. For the past nine hours, my best friend has been a 005 Micron pen- you've got to minimize the pen point to maximize the facts you can cram on those 3x5's. 

I may be bitter that my roommates are off with their boyfriends, checking out the local art scene at First Friday and such, and I am stuck in our over-priced, poorly lit, humble abode with my nose in books. However, at the same time I feel accomplished. One more semester down. 

As I walk the pathways of ASU I either see disgruntled or peaceful faces. I imagine the distain is only with themselves, seeing that nights filled with keggers and bad pickup lines do not raise your GPA. I imagine the etherial smiles are from hard nights of studying, similar to the day I just had. 

If only the mass population of this institution of higher education could see the happiness that can be brought after passing a test. There would no longer be the 5th or 6th year senior, or the line, "Well I'm supposed to be a junior, but I'm still at the 100 level." Of course everyone goes that their own pace, but why not pick up that pace? 

I wonder what happened to the days of ambition. Walk into a Harvard classroom and the environment is 180 degrees different. People want to not only know what the teacher knows, but what you know, what your dad knows, what the person next to you knows, and so on. They are intellectual sponges fighting to get ahead. I wish to be a sponge.

(My actual 3x5 with four astronomy chapters crammed onto it)

The Big Bad BAC

Walking up to this six story brick building called the BAC, I wondered what I'd learn here. There is a Starbucks on the first floor, so far the best thing about it. Whatever I would learn here, I'd learn it with an excelled heart rate.

The building's at Arizona State all seem like they were taken from different places and periods of time. Lattie Coor and the Biodesign Institute could have come from a 22nd Century bustling city, the Interdisciplinary Science and Technology Building looks as if it came out of a Black & Decker commercial, the Hayden library above-ground stories came from a 70's acid trip and the below ground came from...something boring, I'm not sure what. 

The BAC, came from a suburban neighborhood where people love brick...and squareness. An unimpressive building, no doubt, but teaming with endless possibilities. 

I now finish my fourth overall college semester, and first semester at W.P. Carey.  While the BAC from the outside seems dull with it's lack luster appearance, once you find your way into one of the confusing entrances to the building, you will find bright minds. Wearing everything from suits & ties to high heels & blackberry's, they will run the world. Ok maybe not the world, but at least the companies that will run you. They are dressing for the job they want, doing anything and everything to get there. 

I may be a face among the crowd at W.P. Carey, but that's one crowd I am honored to be in.