Gmail has an e-mail address: gmail@chucknorris.com

Happy December 1 from the 1^st floor of the Harold B. Lee Library. How symbolic, I know. I assure you, it was intentional.

A few pretty exciting things have happened in the last month. First off, I finished the Lazy Man Ironman that has absolutely been kicking my butt the last month. Who knew that 79 laps of swimming, 112 miles of biking, and 23 miles of running would be so dang hard? I certainly thought “lazy” would have more to do with it. Annabelle and I got a free 3-day trial membership at 24-hour fitness. On the last day, I biked 21 miles and ran 2.25 to finish off the chart. Even though the shirt is a hideous green, I am probably more proud of it than I have been of any shirt I’ve ever gotten.

Iron Man Champs! 

Second, I ate some of the “Longest Cougar Tail.” Apparently, if you gave $1 to get a piece of the maple bar tail, you would donate 17 pounds of food. Sounded good to me, and so my Spanish class/London friend Mackenzie and I split one.

One of the tables holding the Cougar Tail. 

My friend Mackenzie and I. Who is the guy in the middle? I've got no idea. 

I made up a funny joke. Oh wait, no I didn’t.

I’ve been researching like crazy for a paper that I ended up totally disagreeing with my thesis about. Oops. Don’t you hate it when that happens? Trying to fit historical research into a thesis can be more difficult than it would seem.

I made fun of Whitney because she spelled tale “tail” and because she thought that Patrick Dempsey was the actor who played Voldemort.

I became friends with Dez Duron on Facebook. 

I went Black Friday shopping with Adam and Kristina at 10:00-12:00 on Thanksgiving Night. We ended up only buying some cheap burgers from McDonald's and wandering around a bunch of stores, but it was so fun and ridiculous all at the same time. We went with Heather the next day as well and actually got some real stuff. 

I bought Ed Sheeran's new album and decided to start calling him "Ed" like we are best friends. Because we basically are. 

I laughed when my English Professor used the word "cuckold" in our English discussion. 

I officially decided that I love Frank Sinatra. 

I went to a Ward Activity with my good friend J. Tonks. He is officially the coolest person that ever lived. 

I successfully passed another cleaning check. After cleaning out our oven that we never use. 

Now for the real news!

I got my mission call!

I have been privately considering a mission for quite some time, and with the newly announced age-reduction at General Conference, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. After a profusion of doctor’s appointments and a slightly uncomfortable examination (ha ha ha), I submitted my papers and began the treacherous, grueling, exhausting process of waiting.

About a week later, my mom got a call from the missionary department. Because I’m “special” (like, stop eating the paste special—identify the quote, 10 points) they called and asked all about my health complications. Although my mom said she completely missed her opportunity to ask them to tell me I had to stay home with her, instead she spoke very highly of my attitude and of my health. Kudos to my unselfish mother.

Finally the night before my mission call came. In my journal, I had guessed nearly everyday where I thought I was going to go. Guesses included Wyoming, Massachusetts, Texas, New York, and Idaho. Where was I going to go? I just didn’t know. Because of my diabetes, it was never a question of going inside or outside the country. A stateside mission was great with me. I was just excited to serve. 

I knew my call was coming on Wednesday, and Tuesday was absolutely awful. I was nervous. I was shaky. I wondered what I was doing. A portion of my journal entry read, “I am seriously so nervous. So excited, but I’m finally realizing that this is happening and that there isn’t any turning back.” Yup. That about summed everything up.

Obviously, nobody in my house got any sleep that night. I kept having dreams that either my call wouldn’t come or I would simply be told that I couldn’t go. I woke up and considered finding the time, but I knew it was close to 6 when they would be calling. Instead, when I looked at a clock, it was 12:30. Same thing at 3:30. Same thing at 5:10.

Finally, at 5:50, the telephone rang. I bounced out of bed and ran out my bedroom door wearing my UK boxers. My sister Whitney was standing right outside my room. She hadn’t slept either. My mom answered the phone, “IS THIS THE MISSION CALL?” only to hear a confused employee, “No, this is the United States Postal Office.” Ha. The call was there. Waiting for me to pick it up. Up my hair went, on went my Powder Puff Sweats, and down to the post office Whitney, Dad, Mom, and I went.

When we arrived home, we were all trying to get our mind off my call until my siblings arrived. Luckily, my brother Daniel who lives in California was home, and so the entire family got to be there. I decided to take a shower and then spend 30 minutes debating whether or not to straighten my hair. (I ended up straightening about half of it and then wandering my house some more.) Whitney sat outside and thought about where I was going to go. My mission call postage was 1.90, which her boyfriend Ben said meant I was going foreign. I decided I needed extra postage because I’m diabetic and needed extra info. My mom decided to make muffins and proceeded to add nuts, apples, and worry into the batter. I don’t know what my dad was doing. I’m guessing wandering around the house.

When Adam and Kristina arrived, Kristina told me that she too had had crazy dreams about my call. In her dream, I was in a room with Annabelle watching a TV show and just didn’t want to open my call even though everybody was waiting. Pretty funny, especially because Kristina has never even met Annabelle. She’s just heard me talking about her.

Finally everybody arrived. The moment had come. We went into the Living Room, where all special announcements take place, and sat down. I spent about a year trying to knife open the letter, and finally pulled it out. I read the ever-anticipated, “Dear Sister Ricks, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” At this point, I wanted to know where I was serving before everybody else. I looked down and saw my call. My eyes bugged out and my heart leapt. I could absolutely not think of anything cooler. I continued reading, “You are called to serve in the Scotland/Ireland Mission. You are to report to the Provo MTC on March 27. Prepare to serve the gospel in the English language.”

Woah. What? I was never supposed to go foreign! We’d colored a stateside map and made bets on it. What was happening? I believe my exact words were, “Holy crap! That’s the coolest mission ever!” I went to Scotland during Spring but only got to stay for one day. I was super bummed I didn’t get to go to Ireland. This was absolutely the perfect mission call. I would have been equally as excited if it would have been stateside, but because it was such a surprise, my excitement was completely over the top. 

Much has happened since then regarding the call, but that was the main experience. As long as that was, I wanted to remember the details that I knew I’d eventually forget. I was so grateful for the gospel, and I continue to be grateful. Happiness is incredibly important to me, and the gospel brings me that happiness that I seek. I was grateful to have gotten my call. I was so grateful to have my entire family there. I was so grateful for parents who have brought me up with the gospel, and who encouraged me to pursue the path that I believe is meant for me. I was grateful for a mother who didn’t move or speak for 5 minutes after she learned I was leaving the country. I was grateful for a father who had made me feel completely at peace about where I was going, and who pulled out his “History of Scotland” book right after my call. I was grateful for brothers who encouraged me and sisters who cried about my leaving. I have the best family that ever lived. And that is the truth. 

That's just hilarious.

Halloween

Halloween is quite the interesting holiday. I love the dressing up. I think it's so fun to be crazy and see people's personalities through their costumes. I don't exactly love when people are scary and that kids go around begging for teeth-ruiners, but that's quite all right. Since we don't have that at college, it's a prime day.

I went to Adam and Kristina's Halloween party as a Freudian Slip. I wore a slip and then had a shirt that said, "It's when you say one thing, but mean your mother." Ha. Ha. Ha. Thank you to Whitney for being hilarious. She dressed up as my pump, Patfish. Now that is just hilarious.

I dressed up for the ward party with my roommates. We wore our "Team Amanda" walk for Diabetes shirts. I also wore some Scottish tights and soccer shorts. And did my hair crazy with a rather large bow. What was my costume, really? Just a combination of things that I actually wear. How embarrassing.

I wasn't planning on dressing up for the actual holiday, because I had doctors' appointments and thought it would be embarrassing. On our way to the gym, Annabelle and I talked about dressing up and I decided it would be cool. Thus, I whipped out the ol' Peyton Manning jersey and was a Colts fan, complete with a side ponytail and the black paint under the eyes. :)

 It was definitely a lot of fun. I loved my costume and loved my shirt that was Annabelle's costume. :)

Later in the night, since I am such a party animal, I decided to go to the library to party. And by party, I mean work on my paper for English 295. In the library, since we were there pretty late, things got a little crazy. Like this picture of Annabelle.

While we were studying, I looked down the bookshelf and noticed that there was a peculiar picture. Here was my view. 

I zoomed in a little from my seat and took this picture. 

Finally, I just got out of my seat and took a picture. Of this insanely creepy picture. Now, if that's not a scary Halloween experience, I don't know what is! 

Happy Halloween! 

Roommates

My roommates are really great. Today, we went to dinner at our Bishopric Member's house. When he heard that we'd lived together last year, he said, "Wow! That's lucky that you liked each other enough to live together again." Last year, I was especially grateful for my roommates. This year, I haven't remembered how lucky I am. Hence, a picture blog post of some of our good times together.

Annabelle is wearing a pedometer right now for our one her health classes. Kind of like she's wearing an insulin pump! 

We have All-Sports Passes together. At the first game of the season, I wanted a picture with Brandon Davies. He's in the background. With my large face in the foreground. Thank you, Marcel, for taking the picture. I love it. :) 

Last year, we all decided to wear our full running suits to the gym. You can just call me Sue Sylvester. 

Everyone looks terrible in this picture. I love it! 

True Blue last year. 

Definitely found this picture on my computer. Didn't even know it was there. Bethany, Annabelle, and Shelby. 

Walking at the Diabetes Walk! 

Penrose 88. Our CD is coming out...April 2015.

My roommates are just fantastic! Here's a little blurb about each of my current roommates.

Mama Ang: Angie is from Orem and is almost graduated. She is probably the nicest person I have ever met. She makes friends fast, mostly because she is genuinely interested about people. She always remembers things that I'm doing and always asks me about them. Sometimes after we talk about me for a long time, she'll tell me something that she's done that is way cooler and more important than anything I have. She is so unselfish and will always take time to listen to anyone. She is beautiful and the best friend anyone could wish for.

 Marcel: When I first met Marcel, I thought that she was on the BYU Soccer Team. I'm not really sure why. She is from Sandy and she is a fantastic swimmer. She likes to run. In fact, she was telling me about her first half-marathon the other day and she didn't even train. That's just crazy. We get into deep conversations sometimes and I always learn a lot. I love to complain to Marcel, because the same things that annoy me generally annoy her. Even though we will do this, I know that Marcel is a really positive person. She is so awesome, has some really great music, and is awesome to talk to! We've had some crazy memories together. Last year, we would always try to cook together. Except that neither of us had any idea what we were doing. I'm pretty sure we both called our Moms when we were trying to cook trying to figure out what we were doing. Somehow, everything we made always turned out okay. One time, we ate some food that was probably rotten, but then we drank a whole bunch of water and neither of us got sick. :) Marcel is so much fun to hang out with.

 Annabelle: Annabelle is my immediate roommate. We do weird things together. At night, we watch scary TV shows that make us scream. We love to sing and dance to our music in the mornings. Every Friday, we wear each other's clothes. When we leave each other to go to class, she always says, "Make good choices!" and I respond with, "Return with Honor!" If I leave or I don't see her for awhile, she'll always write me a note saying that she missed me. We love the same music, which is just pretty convenient. We love to go work out together in the mornings. Annabelle shows her love for others by serving them. She pretty much always does the dishes and takes out the trash. She always lets other people use her stuff. She is willing to do anything to serve others, and she has one of the strongest testimonies of missionary work of anyone I've ever met. We laugh together, we cry together (probably more than is normal), we hang out together, and we play jokes on each other. She is one of the best friends that I've ever had.


So, thank you, Penrose 88 and now Cinnamon Bears 64. I'm so grateful that I have gotten to know some truly incredible girls.

Happy Birthday...to me!

This week was my 20th Birthday! I can't believe I'm getting so old. Here are some pics of the celebrations!

We went to the Carrie Underwood/Hunter Hayes concert. After trying to get many pictures, this was the best of the whole group at the actual concert. From left to right, Lauren, Kayley, me, Angie, Annabelle, and Shelby. 

On break between Hunter and Carrie. 

I believe this was a post-Hunter moment of awesomeness. 

Turns out everybody and their dog goes to Olive Garden before concerts in the Maverick Center. Also turns out they give you nothing free for your birthday. Pish posh. 

Hunter. I love this picture. 

On the Friday before my birthday, we had the Opening Ceremonies of my birthday and we made BIRTHDAY CAKE PANCAKES! Delicious. 

In the car about to leave to the concert. I love everything about this picture. 

My adorable London friends who came to the concert with me. Lauren texted me happy birthday even the day before and was the most enthusiastic birthday planner ever, and Kayley called me on my birthday morning screaming happy birthday, even though she knew I'd see her a few hours later. I love these girls. 

Our attempt at a jumping photo. I LOVE this picture. And we have...8 more just like it. And 0 pictures where we're all jumping. :) 

My London girls--Lauren, Tiffany, Jader, Kayley, and Katherine all came to Zupa's on the Friday after my Birthday to celebrate. This is our side of the table! 

After Zupa's, we went to The Chocolate. My new favorite place. 

On Saturday, Lauren and I did the Love Your Body 10K through the Thanksgiving Point Gardens. It was absolutely beautiful and we both ran it in 1 hour, coming in about 20 seconds of each other. It was such a gorgeous race and we had a really good time. 

20 is turning out to be a pretty great age! 

Grammar Guru

I pass this sign everyday on the way home from school. Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against this restaurant. In fact, I love their Crispy Taco Tuesdays where, from 3 pm to closing, you can get a delicious taco for $1.25. But this sign? Horrendous. Despicable. Totally and utterly unacceptable.

The first few lines seem to be just fine, albeit a disgusting combination--fish and tacos. The fourth line is where it becomes ghastly. 

2 4 $5 FIFTY. Huh? 

I about died when I first saw the awful grammar of this sign. I've been meaning to take a picture of it for about a week, and this morning I finally remembered my camera. As I was taking the picture from across the street, a bike rider from my ward slowed down and said, "What are you taking a picture of?" I said, "The awful grammar of this sign!" Somehow, he didn't seem as exasperated as I was. He didn't even seem to care! 

At least I've got a friend in Lynne Truss, author of Eats, Shoots & Leaves: "Part of one's despair, of course, is that the world cares nothing for the little shocks endured by the sensitive stickler. While we look in horror at a badly punctuated sign, the world carries on around us, blind to our plight. We are like the little boy in The Sixth Sense who can see dead people, except that we can see dead punctuation. Whisper it in petrified little-boy tones: dead punctuation is invisible to everyone else -- yet we see it all the time. No one understands us seventh-sense people. They regard us as freaks. When we point out illiterate mistakes we are often aggressively instructed to "get a life" by people who, interstingly, display no evidence of having lives themselves."

What is this world coming to? 

Funny Sign in the Library

I saw this picture on the first floor of the library. It was on the table where I was studying.



Next time I want to bring a perfectly square hamburger and eat it on the first floor, I will know that is absolutely prohibited. Muy bien.

The Beginning

Taking inspiration from my American Literature course, I have hitherto begun the daunting task of writing my own blog. As Thoreau writes, “I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I know as well.” Whitman adds, “I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious”. I’ve always been told to write about what I know. Well, like Thoreau, the thing I know most about is, you guessed it, myself. It seems to me that if everybody really did write about what they know, there would be far more blogs out there than are currently hovering the universe. But that is an argument for another time, a deeper argument than a first blog post should delve into.

What to write on a blog? There are plenty of fashion blogs, of which I admittedly have a limited knowledge; sports blogs, of which I would most likely write Odes to Peyton Manning but would painfully omit the rest of both the NFL and other sporting events; comical blogs, of which I love to laugh at but simply don’t have the creativity to duplicate; and food blogs, which I simply adore because food is a great friend, but which I don’t have the talent to cook things for, let alone write using the right lingo. (Speaking of cooking lingo, who knew that 4 tablespoons equals ¼ cup? Thank you to my NDFS 100 class.) Clearly my qualifications are lacking.

Why then, you ask, would you decide to start your own blog? Well, dear reader, I’m simply delighted that you asked. I, Amanda Ricks, delight in the art of language. I love agonizing over whether a dash would really add punch or whether a mere comma is enough. I love finding the meaning of new words and adding them to my vocabulary. I love the rules, the rule-breakers, the craft and beauty of the English language. Yes, I do not know all of the rules. Yes, I could absolutely read up on grammar and refresh myself. Thus, this writing project begins my official Phase I of learning to be a better writer.

The beauty of blogging is that your thoughts, however jumbled, can still appear on your computer screen without any professor’s red ink or criticisms by anybody. My words are my own. My thoughts are my own. No one can take them from me. My thoughts are what I will share on this blog. My thoughts, my thoughts about other's thoughts, my thoughts about food, some healthy recipes that I thought were good, a funny experience I thought I would share. It's a good thing I think a lot, or else this would be a boring blog.

So, here is Thought #1: sleeping on campus. I have never been able to do it very well. Sleeping in class is something that I have mastered, but falling asleep on a bench, outside, or in the library just isn’t my forte. (Fun fact about the word forte: it originated in the mid 17th century, first from Latin fortis and then French forte (feminine) meaning strong. In the previous sentence, I used it meaning it’s not a strength or something I excelled at. But in dynamics, forte is stronger and louder. Oh, the beauty of words!)

I have noticed that many people are excellent at sleeping on campus. About 20 minutes ago, I passed a student on my way to my locker on the 1st floor of the library. There he was, in between stacks, his arm cocked above his head, with his computer open and charging in front of him. I stepped over his black chord and thought, “That boy in the red shirt has got it made. What a great nap spot.” Is it comfortable? Doubtful. Should he be doing homework instead? Probably. Is his nap worth it? Absolutely.

Who knows? Perhaps students are so good at falling asleep on campus because nobody sleeps enough. Maybe the intellectual work of full-time university work is so draining that the body shuts off automatically. Whatever the reason, sleeping on campus is a gift. One that I would love to have.