In Which I Am Alive

Today when my yoga class was finished, I went to grab my backpack. I had set it along the wall next to my Chacos, and figured that a Study Abroad backpack covered in buttons with various inspirational sayings would be fairly easy to find. I was wrong. It took me a good 30 seconds to find my stuff because, I kid you not, every  backpack in that room was a Study Abroad backpack covered in inspirational buttons and every  one of those backpacks had a pair of Chacos next to them. Okay...I might be exaggerating the littlest bit. But...still. For a minute there, I felt this strange surge of pride. I'm finally one of those  people. One of those people who studies abroad and rock climbs and listens to weird indie music and hikes and takes yoga classes. One of those people I used to dream about becoming back when I was a wide-eyed freshman. And then I felt a little bit self-conscious. If my yoga class is any indication, pseudo-granolas are a dime a dozen here at BYU. Why on earth did

"But the humanist, revolutionary educator cannot wait for this possibility to materialize. From the outset, her efforts must coincide with those of the students to engage in critical thinking and the quest for mutual humanization. His efforts must be imbued with a profound trust in people and their creative power. To achieve this, they must be partners of the students in their relations with them." -Paulo Freire. Yes. Yes, yes, a thousand, a million times yes. I wish I could somehow drive home to each of you how much this resonates with me, how.. crucial  it is to the way I view education. This  is why I want to be a teacher. Because I want to be this kind of teacher. Because I think that's the way I can make a difference. Because it's important.

"Be who you are, nothing more, nothing less And let the beauty that you love be the very best. Sing praises to the Highest with your feet on the ground And reach your brother with the words that you sound. And don't let mistakes be so monumental And don't let your love be so confidential And don't let your mind be so darn judgmental And please let your heart be more influential." -Michael Franti

You know, sometimes I think to myself, "Self, you know what this world needs more of? Shakespearean fanfiction!" Actually, I don't think that's a thought I've ever had in my life. But if it was, this little beauty would probably be the product of it. I present to you: Hamlet the Awesome and Kinda Scary Robot by the venerable Riss Hamlet was walking along being angsty. And then all of a sudden he was a robot. A robot whose father was dead. Also, he could shoot lasers out of his eyes. He had a hot girlfriend named Ophelia. Ophelia was an alien. With 5 arms. They had sexy times. And then she killed herself And then everyone else died. THE END. Yeah...I wrote that. In a fit of madness a few days ago. And I couldn't be prouder.

Those days happen...those days where a cement boot is slowly but steadily...very, very steadily..pressing on your chest. Those days where you see yourself turning into your nastiest self, attacking those who aren't present to defend themselves, and just being all around snarky. The days where getting off of the couch sounds too hard...and doing your homework sounds too hard...and staying awake sounds too hard... And talking doesn't help. And sleeping barely helps. And ultimate frisbee only helps a little. So those are the days when you sit on the floor with a bottle of Miracle Bubbles and watch the fragile orbs float, burst, and vanish. And that helps.

Often when I go running, not much running actually gets done. It all started when I lived in Vienna. I discovered quickly that if I went on my run through the city, I ended up stopping every few minutes to look at a beautiful piece of molding on a facade, or a group of workers setting up a giant tent for a traveling theatre company, or sign saying that Mozart once spent the night in this or that building (between Mozart and Beethoven, I think just about every building in town has been historicized in that manner). So, I decided that if I ever wanted to get any actual running done, I would need to stick to the canal road by my apartment. No fancy buildings to look at, no distractions. Right? Wrong. Because, as it turns out, the Danube Canal is a hub for graffiti artists. Not just punks with spray paint cans, but actual artists . In fact, the canal wall is one of the only places in Vienna where graffiti is actually legal. So I got to run by stuff like this every day. Needless