Saturday, November 18, 2006

Southern Virginia University


Southern Virginia University
Like mentioned below, I recently flew to D.C. and then down to Buena Vista, VA to check into SVU. It's a church-run school, but not church-owned. It's small, with only 750 students. And that's what was appealing to me. I loved the area. It was absoultely gorgeous with the Fall season being in full bloom. The people were nice. The campus was historic. The town was quaint. But alas, like I also mentioned, I'm here to stay at BYU. The trip was fun, however. I got to visit and stay with friends who go to a small liberal arts Catholic school in northern Virginia. I got to experience a new part of the country. And I solidified the fact that I was staying in Provo. I was so close to leaving, but this is a good place to be. It's where I need to be.

Update

I've finally done it. I have chosen a major and minor. And let's just say, it feels GREAT. I can say with a good degree of confidence that I am a history major and a sociology minor. And I'm leaning towards an anthropology minor, as well. After a year and a half of uncertainty, after flying across the country to look into Southern Virginia University, after changing my mind a million and one times, I have settled on something and am going to take it and run. I'm here to stay at BYU for the next two and a half years, and I know what I'm doing (at least when academics are concerned! I can't speak for the rest of my life.) It's nice.

"Honey, I'll see you at the fishin' hole."

The girl who lives in the apartment above us graduates this semester. In response to the fact that she's graduating unmarried, she wrote this little blurb on her Facebook. I love it. It's so her. Here's what she had to say:

So, when random people find out that I graduate in a few weeks, and that I'm single, they drop me that stupid line, "Huh huh, I guess you get your tuition back."Alls I'm sayin' is, in six weeks I go home to my one and only true love - The Shenandoah Valley. At the top of my parents' driveway, just outside the front door, is my bright yellow kayak waiting faithfully for my return. And sitting right beside it is my flaming red life vest, waiting to kiss the rapids that await us. I love the East, I love Virginia, I'll love making loads of money, and I can't wait to chill with my fam. The point is, BYU can keep my tuition money, because I didn't come here to get hooked up. You see, my sister always says you should do what you love so that you meet people who love the same thing. I'm almost certain that I'll meet my man fly fishing in the Shenandoah River. I'll probably get in his way with my big yellow kayak. We will buy a house on the water, a jeep, dogs, and live happily ever after raising our children in the lush and lively lands of the East Coast. Honey, I'll see you at the fishin' hole.

Why can't more people here at BYU be like Rachel?

Saturday, September 23, 2006

What I love about my roommates

To my beloved roommates:

1) I love how we are all sugar addicts, and failing to have any real dessert/candy in the apartment, and being too cheap to buy any, turn to the next best thing: Chocolate chips and peanut butter. Scrounging through our cupboards, we found the bag of chips meant for making cookies, and poured them into spoons of peanutbutter. As we ate them, we realized how pathetic we were, and then began brainstorming what we could dip in the brown sugar that was next to the chocolate chips.

2) I love how our garbage piles up in the kitchen corner and overflows onto the counter, making its way towards the microwave. May I suggest that when it actually reaches the microwave, we don't cook it.

3) I love how at this very moment, after doing all our laundry, our living room and kitchen are decorated quite nicely in denim jeans. Who needs Martha?

4) I love how I don't owe you both ice-cream anymore. Now I just get to sit back and let you guys buy me my favorite kinds. Let's see...cocunut joy and german chocolate crunch please. Thanks.

5) I love how we constantly sing songs from Wicked and when one person bursts out with a line, everyone else, no matter where they are, joins in.

6) I love the accumalation of hair that our floor throughout the entire apartment has acquired.

7) I love how we waste an entire evening watching tv shows we don't really want to watch.

8) I love how when I accidently put my clothes from the washer into another washer instead of the dryer and go to get them only to realize they were re-washed and NOT dryed, you laugh hysterically at my misfortune (and that's all it was...bad luck.)

9) I love how our apartment smells like beans.

10) I love how there are bras hanging on the bedroom doors right now.

11) I love how we abuse one another. And I mean physically abuse one another.

12) I love how Kendal tries to grow strawberries on the lenolium. I don't know about in Tucson, but that's not how we do it in...PROVO.

13) I love how we love our FHE group.

14) I love how we laugh to the point of tears when Munjeong says, "panties."

15) I love how none of us ever know what's going on.......in, uh........uh.........hisTORy.

16) I love Jamie's red hair. And she does too. And so everyone should, as well.

17) I love Kendal's butt. And, as we all know, so does she.

18) Speaking of butts, I love how one night, we all pinched each other's and rated them on a squishiness scale from 1-10. Ah. Good times. (For results, email Kendal. She won.)

19) I love how someone would react if they were sitting in on some of our conversations.

20) I love how we still haven't turned in that blasted paper that was supposed to be turned in three weeks ago.

21) I love that we know how to say "hello" and "goodbye" in Korean, but don't know what the heck that stuff is in the fridge.

22) I love how we all waste time. Like me. Now.

23) I love how Jamie marries herself to people without their consent (or knowledge, for that matter.)

24) I love how I love my roommates.

25) I love how Kendal hates to end things on odd numbers.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Play the game. Pick a major. Win a prize.

?
Let's have a contest. Whoever can tell Jessica what to major in, wins. It's simple really. All you have to do is pick an area of study out of a list of hundreds (well, hundreds in theory, at least) and tell Jessica what she should become. Keep in mind she doesn't like math or science or getting down and dirty with literature. She does not plan on being the next "Beautiful Mind," being responsible for discovering the cure for AIDS, or spending countless hours researching and lecturing on William Blake's poetry (nor Austen, for that matter -- no matter how much she enjoyed Pride and Prejudice). She feels lost. She feels paralyzed with choice. Are there too many options? Or too few? Will it even matter in the future? Unless she becomes an accountant, will her major define her career? She was once set on being an English major. She had her four year plan mapped out. She would major in English, minor in editing, study abroad her junior year in London, and get her masters in education with which she would then teach high school. Now however, she finds herself more confused than ever. And because of this, it is almost certain that she will be forced to go to college for more than four years in order to receive just her B.A. or B.S. So the quicker she finds the winner, the faster she'll get through this cloud of indecisiveness. Here are some recent thoughts concerning a major. You might take these into consideration when picking a major for Jessica. Or you might not. But these are what Jessica has been thinking about lately:

1) Sociology is interesting. It studies how groups of people interact with each other and within their cultures/societies. She is taking the SOC 111, thinking that it could be a potential major. But then she thinks about it. What could she do with a sociology degree? And what is this about it being so heavily revolved around statistics? This scares her...sort of. Does she want a career based in research and analysis and statistical information?

2) English---she was good at in high school. She received the COSA award for excellence in English at the end of her senior year. But why? How? She was good because she could write her way through the open-ended questions, not because she was an original thinker on topics such as "Duty vs. Freedom" in James Joyce's literature. She's never curled up in a corner on a rainy day salivating over Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. That doesn't mean she doesn't like to read or can't appreciate good literature. She loves to read. She greatly admires the classics. She just isn't in love with them. She recently read the Devil Wears Prada and loved it, but doesn't think that it constitutes as classic literature. So why did she think she was going to major in English? Refer back to the first sentence of this paragraph -- she was good at it. And doing what you're good at is safe. It's frightening to stick yourself out of your comfort zone and learn something new an area in which you feel must less confident. She was signed up to take two English classes this semester. Upon spending two and a half hours in a night class analyzing William Blake poetry, she found herself surrounded by those who should truly be English majors. They ate it up. They had all of these IDEAS, ideas she was without. They knew more than she did -- or so it seemed. Could she do this for the next four years? Would she jump in, thinking her swim lessons had prepared her for the English Channel, only to drown in her own ignorance? Or would she pull through and gain a love she had previously failed to grasp? Whatever the case, she dropped her English classes, a move that has left her as she is at this moment.

3) Journalism was what she used to know. She discovered it in the seventh grade when she became one of the youngest staff members to ever be allowed onto the Jo Lane newspaper. She loved writing and getting published. She loved the special privileges it allowed her to have, the inside access to the world around her. She became editor-in-chief of her middle school newspaper and then continued on to the staff in high school, where she was granted the opportunity to be editor-in-chief over the Orange R. She spent the majority of her senior year devoted the paper. Prior to her senior year, she was sent by her advisor to an "Editors in Residence" seminar at Oregon State, where she essentially learned how to be an editor at a newspaper. It last three days. And it intimidated the heck out of her. But she came out unscathed and ready to take on the incoming school year. Besides running the school paper, she found herself contributing to a youth column in the local community paper, as well. She loved it, despite the fact that she was forced to answer, what she thought to be, ridiculous and poorly thought out questions. Nevertheless, she liked having to research and formulate answers that to her, just seemed like common sense. Why didn't she decide to major in journalism? For one, you have to be accepted to the program at BYU, and Jessica lacks the confidence she needs to go for it. She's easily intimidated by others and she knows it holds her back in so many areas of her life. And two, she began thinking about the kind of lifestyle she wants to live in the future, and the fastpaced, deadline-driven journalism career didn't exactly fit the ideal. But should that be a consideration in choosing the major right now? She doesn't know. Like previously mentioned, her life is plagued by indecision and the need to get out of it.

And you, my friend, must help her. Play the game. Pick a major. Win a prize.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

All I want for my birthday is...
WORLD PEACE
and
GILMORE GIRLS

Friday, September 08, 2006

Dearest Mother

Dearest Mother who is so beautiful that when she does her ads for Maybelline they don't the feel the need to tag the signature phrase with the normal ending. Dearest Mother who in just one hug can bring peace to the world, who in one squirt of windex can wipe away poverty and homelessness, and who in one batch of chocolate chip cookies can cure world hunger forever. Dearest Mother who is the green in my eyes, the freckle on my hand, and the skip in my step. Dearest Mother who means more to me than cereal itself,
Don't make me get a job!!!!!!!!!!!! Please! I beg of you. I'm down on my hand and knees worshiping you (which probably goes against something in the honor code at BYU) and kissing your soon to be spa-pedicured feet (which I, I might add, bought for you). Here are the reasons why I can't get a job:
1) I have no block of time that I can work except if I were to walk down the streets of Provo like a starving, orphaned 6 year old chimney sweeper at 4:30 a.m. headed to what will only lead to another day on his short and painful journey to death. (I know I read William Blake for a reason).
2) I don't want to wear a hat to work.
3) I think -- but I'm not sure! -- that I have to study while I'm in college.
4) I'm stressed and it's only the fourth day of classes. Imagine adding a job to this chaos otherwise known as my life...
5) Steve isn't getting a job, and he's from BOSTON.
6) Seriously...have you seen how Taco Bell squirts their sour creme from a giant tube? I couldn't handle being a part of such an atrocity.
7) You love me too much to lose your only daughter.
8) I could meet someone on the job from Australia, marry Dundee, move away, and never come home again.
9) You're so loving and merciful, which is defintely a Christlike quality according to my religous instruction thus far at BYU.
10) I can see the future, and a job just isn't in it.

Ok, so now that you have been introduced to my logical and factual reasons, I'll cut a deal with you. Here's my barganing points--and ooh, they're good.

1) I will work next semester, making sure I schedule classes that provide a block of time to work and will not change my classes fifty million times.
2) I will stay and go to school Spring Term, and work while I do that.
3) I will work at the blueberry farm after Spring Term.
4) I have money that will be going into my account if dad ever gets on the ball with the paper he needed to sign, as well as the check for working should my previous employer decide to actually ever pay me. Thus, I will have some money to buy groceries.
5) I will buy generic brand foods. Yes, I realize this will be a tremendous sacrfice, but for this cause, I will take one for the team.
6) I'll study really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really hard 24/7 and never ever do anything fun or remotely social in order to show you that I indeed need the extra time to study. In fact, right now I am selling my football ticket for this Saturday to a bearded, homeless man who just showed up at our door wearing nothing but a tie and crazy glimmer in his eye. Don't worry. BYU is safe.
7) I will go to bed early EVERY night and wake up early EVERY morning (disregard the time of this post...something's definitely still wrong with my internet.)
8) You will be my favorite mom.
9) I will love you like my own.
10) And when I'm making the millions, I will send you a thank you note on exceptionally nice stationary.

I feel, Dearest Mother, that the above argument is well versed, and should, therefor, be highly considered and then acted on in the right way. You're the best mom a girl could ask for.

Love Always,
Jessica

Friday, August 25, 2006

HOT and NOT

In a Teen magazine fashion, I introduce the "HOT" and "NOT" of the list, based on actual recent events in my not so glamorous life.

HOT: Chilling out to Ben Harper.
NOT: Getting a filling at the dentist while listening to the CD.

HOT: Eating an entire bowl of chicken fettucini soup, corn bread, and yogurt at Yogurt Country.
NOT: Waddling to JC Penny

HOT: Seeing two movies at the theaters in two nights
NOT: Spending $7.25 to see Will Farrell's messed up bottom teeth.

HOT: Reading the second book by "The Devil Wears Prada" author.
NOT: Knowing I'll soon be reading textbooks.

HOT: Having my first class this semester start at 1:00 p.m.
NOT: Using the morning to work.

HOT: A new flat screen 20" TV.
NOT: No room in the car to put it.

HOT: Indian food Saturday night!
NOT: Indian food night getting canceled.

HOT: The weather.
NOT: Utah weather in two months.

HOT: A new South Korean roommate.
NOT: I don't know Korean. She doesn't know English.

HOT: Jeans that fit.
NOT: I don't have any.

HOT: A new laundry basket.
NOT: Having to do my own laundry again.

HOT: The new waterfall outside my bedroom window.
NOT: The constant need to pee at night.

HOT: This list is done.
NOT: This list exists.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Jeans: The Impossible Dream

Jeans. A signiture icon in American fashion. Whether you're a spar-wearing cowboy in Texas or a high-heel wearing fashionista in New York, you wear jeans. Jeans, Jeans, Jeans. Find them in every store. See them on every person. With this in mind -- the fact that almost everyone wears jeans -- why, then, is it so maddening to shop for the perfect pair?! Is perfection unnatainable in the search for the best denim? I think not. Does it feel like it? Absolutely. I went to Eugene on Saturday in search of a pair of jeans that would fit me perfectly. I first hit American Eagle, where I have had success in the past. Keeping in mind my freshman 15 (a new developement since the last time I shopped for pants), I opted for a size bigger than I normally wear. I picked up three or four different styles and then headed to the dressing rooms, where "Megan" opened a door for me, an American Eagle smile plastered across her tan face. "Let me know if you need other sizes or any other help!" she said a little too enthusiastically. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks "Megan," but I wasn't in the mood for the peppiness. Closing the door, I began to go through the heap, one pair at a time. And one pair at a time, I wanted to scream. My butt crack is showing. I must have eaten too much dessert the other night. I need stilts. Is there a flood? With each button that I frusteratingly fastened, I grew more and more discouraged in my search. Would I ever find my match? Exiting the dressing room in a huff, I headed for the door, ignoring the "What didn't you like about them?" from "Megan." Well, "MEGAN!" ----everything! As I left American Eagle, a wave of envy washed over me. I'm sure the other girls shopping would find their jeans. And they would be just the right length and just the right color and just the right size and---I was going crazy. It was only the first store and I was already vowing to never eat again--EVER! Store after store after store I went. Pair after pair after pair I tried on. And time after time again, I was rejected by the very people in China who made them. I have an abnormal body, I decided. I am not normal. Now, this is not a new revelation -- the being normal part, anyway. But the fact that my body could not fit into any of the styles and brands of jeans was something I had not expected to run into on what was supposed to be an enjoyable school shopping trip. After spending hours whording over shelves and racks, I walked out to the car with four pairs of jeans. Two were too loose at the small of my back, one's waistline was too low, one was too long, and all four looked (as I found out once I got home) bad with flat shoes. I had fought the long fight. I had run the hard race. And I came away from it all with bruised self-esteem and four pairs of unperfect jeans. Failure. Miserable failure. Right now as I type, the pants sit in their respective bags in my room, the reciepts tucked in next to them, awaiting the return to their homes where a perfect girl can find her perfect jeans. As for me, I'm done with the "Megans" of the world. I'm done with American Eagle and Gap and Target and Macy's and whatever other place kicked me while I was down. It's a new day! A new me! A --- new me without jeans. Sigh. I wonder if Gap Online carries better sizes...

A Michael Jordon Moment

Can I just start off by quoting myself in what must be one of the sappiest blog entries in the entire cyber universe: "I'm afraid my blog is going to become nothing more than collection of memories, a window to the past, a shrine to my final years in high school, a symbol of expression. The time has come for me to move on. In some ways, I feel like I'm leaving behind my baby. In other ways, I feel as though I'm merely sending off a daughter to college. But either way, I am finished. I am done...." BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. Drugs do wierd things to a person. Anyway, I'll cut to the chase. No flowery language. No long introductions. (Ignore everything above...). My feet stink and I'm just not in the mood. I'm back. The blog is back. Somuchofnothing has returned to see me through another year at good old BYU. It's okay if no one reads it. Although feedback is always nice. But it'll keep me writing and keep my family connected, at least. Plus, I can't forget my biggest fan base: My grandma's office crew at the Oregon City School District Office. They will need to be kept informed. This is the number one priority, of course, and the sole reason for which I write.

I'm not going to attempt to catch everyone up on my life. My last post was in January 2006. It's now August. No thanks. Like I said, my feet stink. But from now on, I'll do my best to write frequently -- not neccesarily every day -- but frequently. Whatever that means. Wow, I'm in somewhat of a funky mood. Must be the feet. Thompson. Out.

Sunday, January 01, 2006


If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.
-Jane Austen-
Mansfield Park
This blog is my memory in so many words. It has really been my journal, containing my feelings, my thoughts, my passions, my worries, my joys. I can look back at it and see where I used to be and compare that to where I am now. A memory is such a powerful thing, and my blog, over the the last couple of years, has helped me to hold on and relive a lot of the emotions that I experienced. I can go through the archive and laugh, cry or just smile. But I must bring up one thing about a memory - it's in the past. Looking through my blog, I am seeing my past through new eyes. And, for the most part, I like what I see. I have no real regrets, only dull pain where real hurt once was. I feel that I have grown so much since I first began "So Much of Nothing." And I'm thankful for the opportunity I've had to voice myself. But things are changing. I'm finding myself busier than ever. I'm discovering the new things that life has to offer me. I'm seeing so many things in such a different light. And ironically, in the one moment in life when I should be writing on this blog the most, I find myself doing it less and less. It is so much harder to sit down at my computer and let myself go. I can't explain it. I mean, I have so much more to say. But nevertheless, it is as it is. I'm afraid my blog is going to become nothing more than collection of memories, a window to the past, a shrine to my final years in high school, a symbol of expression. The time has come for me to move on. In some ways, I feel like I'm leaving behind my baby. In other ways, I feel as though I'm merely sending off a daughter to college. But either way, I am finished. I am done. My hands are dry. Thanks for reading. It's been a ride.