2023: Year In Review

 What-ho, readers!

It's been a while since I wrote a New Years post (or let's face it, any post), but 2023 was a year full of happenings and "firsts" for me, and I wish to preserve a record of it. There were highs and lows but mostly such a sense of awe at God's provision and his perfect plan, which is so much better than I can ask for or imagine.

So tally-ho and away we go!

January

My study buddy

The events of January were largely shaped by the previous December. On December 20, I got engaged! My sweetheart proposed on a very, very cold Tuesday by the small lake on our town's college campus. (It was a surprise but I knew it was coming—how many "complete surprise" engagements are there, really?) We celebrated our engagement and Christmas with family and friends, then jumped into wedding planning in January. As our engagement season coincided with the final semester of my master's degree (in history!), this month thus inaugurated a very busy but very exciting season. I'm honestly still not sure how it all got done, frankly!

Planning a wedding was bizarre. For so much of my life, I attended other people's weddings, and wondered, as girls do, what mine would be like and what the colors would be and what dress I would wear, etc. etc. And then even once it became clear that we would soon be getting engaged, getting married still seemed like a far off and even perhaps impossible event. Once we were engaged — and I was the person trying on dresses, and we were the people calling churches in search of availability for our chosen date, and every weekend seemed to hold some new wedding related activity — it was all rather surreal at times. (I mean, even now when I look back at wedding pictures and have visual proof that we were the bride and groom — not to mention the physical evidence in the form of my husband sitting next to me on the couch as I type this ;) — it feels not quite real.)

February

Wedding planning continued into February as schoolwork ramped up. I spent many hours in the library basement scanning through newspapers on microfilm as part of my research on the 1931 Citroën Trans-Asiatic Expedition. Though this topic kind of ended up in my lap (as in, I asked my advisor, "What should topic should I pick for my spring research paper?" and he told me), the deeper I went, the more interesting I found it. I certainly experienced "senioritus"; it was hard to feel that my university studies were all that consequential when graduation, marriage, and a break with academia were only a few months away. I particularly felt unmotivated to do my non-research classwork (i.e. to read two books per week and write miscellaneous papers). But for all that, I enjoyed my research.

Sometimes you find funny things in old newspapers.

March

March was a traveling month. It started off with a trip to my then–fiancé's hometown for an engagement party. That was a sweet trip — our first time getting to hang out with his immediate family since our engagement. They all joyfully put so much effort into making the party fun and special. It was a testament, if I needed it, to how amazing my in-laws are, and how blessed I am to officially be part of their family now. 

We rapidly returned home, and then I dashed off again to Detroit (pictured!) for my first serious academic conference. I say "serious" because I have attended a few other academic conferences, but they were more tailored to students rather than scholars, whereas this was most definitely aimed at specialists in French history. I had mixed feelings about this conference. I was glad to have the chance to go; I like French history and attending the conference gave me the confidence, for the first time in four years, to unapologetically identify myself as a French historian. I enjoyed presenting my work and getting to discuss it with others outside of my university circle. On the other hand, I also experienced a weariness with the topics that are "hot" in academia and with the carefully constructed language that humanists employ. That's a bit vague if you're not a scholar in the humanities; I guess I just felt that certain topics and even phrases are so in vogue in history that I could guess what people were going to say before they said it. The research angles that used to be clever and provocative are now rather canned. I felt that it is time to challenge postcolonial interpretations instead of claiming your research is new because you're copying and pasting the same old thing into a new place. And, eventually, that is what I realized my paper on Citroën's Trans-Asiatic Expedition was going to do (the former, not the latter).

April

An early spring morning (or maybe a twilight evening?) on campus

April was the month where everything was due. Presentations had to be given and final drafts had to be submitted. I was also spending hours making phone calls about silverware rental and messaging random people on Facebook Marketplace about tablecloths. Apparently I wrote a blog post, too.

I have only spotty memories of April. I know I sent those messages because we had tablecloths at our wedding and I know I wrote my paper because I graduated, but I do not remember doing so. I remember feeling surprised that there were already flowers on campus and then being surprised that the early spring flowers were already gone. I do remember many early mornings sitting in the sunny spot in the library before anyone else had gotten there, drinking coffee and reviewing my many wedding spreadsheets.

May

May inaugurated the season of parties, starting with... Graduation! What a strange feeling to be on campus the last day of finals, in a completely empty library.

Pictured: A spot you usually have to fight over

I did my master's immediately after my undergraduate, which meant that I spent six consecutive years at my university. It was exciting and also bizarre to realize I wouldn't be coming back the next semester — that I might never be in contact with some people in my department again, after years of running into them in hallways and seeing their names on emails. It was also amazingly freeing — six years is quite enough to spend at one institution, if you ask me. :P I was ready to move on.

Plus, I didn't have all that much time to indulge in graduation reflections, because the weekend after graduation, we traveled out of town to attend a wedding, and the following week 1) my mother-in-law to-be visited, 2) I turned 24, 3) my mom and sisters hosted a bridal shower for me, and 4) my fiancé traveled out of town (I made four trips to the airport within seven days).

The English tea theme gave me an excuse to wear my enormous garden party hat.

The shower was a beautiful, English-tea-themed celebration. As I once wanted to have a high tea as a wedding reception, it was kind of fulfilling in a way to have a tea-shower. And the care my mom and sisters lavished on the details (scones! fresh flowers! Jane Austen soundtracks in the background!) felt so special.

June

The last weeks before the wedding went rapidly. We traveled out of town again to attend another wedding, I packed up all my belongings to move from my childhood home, and the final preparations were made. The last week was rather emotional. I had spent six months longing for the wedding to arrive, counting down the days until I would be Mrs.— and at last start our days of marital bliss (:P). I had prayed, too, that God would help me to make the most of the engagement season — to recognize and appreciate the things that I had in that season that I wouldn't have once I was married. And yet, still, I had a feeling that I had failed to appreciate fully the time I had living at home, going downstairs to chat with my mother and have long dinners with my father. I had spent so much time with my fiancé, and yet had lamented more over not getting to see him more rather than lamenting the dwindling days left to live with my family. All of a sudden it seemed very short and my parents very precious and my marriage very exciting and yet unavoidably sad, too.

I guess this is how weddings are. And the day did arrive, ready or not. It is hard to express just how sweet that day was. How blessed we felt. How overwhelmed with the love of so many friends and family who shared our joy and traveled from afar and helped set up and ironed tablecloths and brought food and coffee and prayed and cried and were in our wedding party and shared their talents and reflected the love of God in their actions. So since it is hard to put this into words, I will share some pictures instead, and maybe you will get a glimpse of how lovely a day it was. :)

July

After a few days in the mountains, my now-husband and I returned to our [new to me] home. We spent about two weeks there before it was time to pack up again... for Europe! We spent two months on the Franco-Swiss border for my husband's work. It was terrible to have to leave so soon after our wedding and head to a foreign country.

C'est une blague! (That's "it's a joke" to the non-francophones). My husband and I have both spent time in France for work/school before we knew each other, and ever since we started dating we dreamed of going back together. Though it was quite a squeeze to leave so soon after our wedding (in those two weeks I also caught up with multiple friends, prepared our house for short-term renters, and unexpectedly applied for a job), it was such a very special and memorable way to start off our marriage.

Before settling into the small French town where my husband had work, we got to honeymoon for about ten days in Switzerland and Austria. It was my first time in the Alps! That has been on my "next trip" list since my last time in France. We had a blast visiting many places, trying to understand Swiss German, taking long hikes, drinking much espresso, and experiencing so many new things together.

August

August started out with more travel. After spending a few weeks at our temporary French apartment, I took a quick trip on my own to Vienna to visit a friend I hadn't seen in several years. It was a sweet time and really delightful to get to catch up.

Apart from going to Vienna and a few weekend trips, August was fairly quiet. It was quite a change of pace from the busyness of the spring. I had a little work (remote/freelance translation and editing), but also had time to read, try French recipes, make near-daily trips to the bakery, and pray. Our evenings were generally open, which left us to take walks, hang out, and go to occasional swing dances. It was extremely hot (Europe doesn't do AC — they like to suffer), but I made lots of iced lattés during my long afternoons in the apartment, and that helped.

A weekend trip to Annecy, where the lake offered relief from the extreme August heat.

We also were able to get to know a Russian couple at the church we attended, which was nice. All in all, it felt like a restorative, restful time, and I felt so fortunate to be back in a country that will always be near to my heart, and to get to start our marriage there.

At the end of August, I got word that I'd been offered the job to which I'd applied before leaving the States. To my great surprise, my university had an opening for a lecturer to teach European history (my specialization) and had encouraged me to apply. I got the job! It really felt like such a gift from the Lord — the opportunity had come to me without me doing anything. I couldn't have predicted it. I didn't deserve it. But all of the sudden I had the chance to teach my favorite subject at my alma mater. So all that stuff about leaving my department forever? Guess not!

September

In September, we packed up again to return home to the US. On our way back, we made a quick stop to visit Paris, my host family, and the city in Western France where I'd lived in 2021. I really enjoyed those couple of days — I got to meet coworkers in Paris whom I've only ever messaged online when we work together, got to show my husband places I'd spent so much time in, and got to remind myself that spring 2021 really did happen and I did live in France, even if it now feels like a dream. It was sweet to reconnect to my host family, too, and all in all was a reminder of how French and France will always be part of me, even if I never go back (though I think I will).

Bonjour, Paris!

Then we had reunions with friends and family back home, and what felt like the "real" start to our marriage: building a life together here in Kansas. 

October

October was the month of settling in to being a housewife. Truth be told, this was a harder transition than I expected. I wasn't unhappy; it's just that going from having a full and busy schedule to virtually no structure was quite the switch, plus I was still in the transition-from-single-to-married stage. My freelance work was also slower than I'd expected, and I discovered that interacting with clients is not my favorite part of my job.

Two more "firsts" at the end of the month: I had an academic article accepted for publication, and I made my first loaf of sourdough!

The article was a two-year+ process, and till the last I had no certainty it would be accepted. One more example of how I cannot predict how God will work in my life! Publishing the article — based on research I did in France — feels like a nice culmination of my academic endeavors.

I have wanted to try sourdough for many years, but it always felt like a project for the next Christmas/summer break (that would then be pushed to the next one). I was nervous. It sounded worthwhile, but hard. Then I learned that half the women at my church make sourdough. Okay, that's a big exaggeration, especially as 2/3 of the women are college students and probably not in the sourdough club, but suffice it to say, enough women do it that I felt the confidence to try. I got a starter from one of them, fed it a few times, and baked a loaf! It wasn't so hard after all!

I've now made many successful loaves of bread, plus cinnamon rolls (my favorite), crackers, bagels (a husband favorite), rolls, brioche (needs improvement), brownies, cookies, naan... basically, if it looks like it could be made of dough — or even if it doesn't — I've put sourdough in it. My husband got quite tired of the word "sourdough." (maybe you are too, by now). But he liked the bagels.

November

November brought a mind-numbing proofreading project (800+ pages!), lots of prep for my European history class (writing lectures!), and our first holiday as a married couple. My family ended up celebrating Thanksgiving on Sunday, which meant my husband and I had three days to be at home together: taking walks, drinking coffee (I'm suddenly realizing this is a theme of the post), enjoying time with our cat, and resting. I know if/when we have kids these days together won't be so peaceful... but can we celebrate on Sunday every year??

Mirab moved from my parents' house to our home in October.

I also reflected on the responsibility of homeownership in November. I realized that pre-marriage I didn't expect homeownership to feel like a responsibility. I already did much cooking and cleaning at home, and I just expected it would be doing the same things, but in a different house. However, owning a home does feel different. There are lots of things that can "go wrong" in a house — leaks and rot and termites and fire risks and electrical outages and mildew and who knows what else. There are the fun updates — like painting — and then there are the updates that sound fun but also like so much work and so many $$$ — like redoing a bathroom — and then there are the updates that no one hopes will come their way — like having to deal with insect removal or replacing a roof or repairing water damage. 

Fortunately, we have not had to deal with any of these things yet (except the painting, and I volunteered for that one). But we have various uncertain signs that could indicate some of these scenarios, and I didn't realize how the stress of that would weigh upon me.

But I also didn't realize how I would have a partner to share in the burdens of home-keeping and life decisions and cat-feeding and dish-washing and all of it. That is, I didn't realize how much of a blessing it would be to share these things with my husband and how he would support me through them and carry the burdens with me. I am so thankful for him. 

Lastly, I didn't realize that homeownership — more specifically, the fun part of homeownership, i.e. home design — could cause ugly reactions in my sin nature. I have really enjoyed hanging pictures, organizing the kitchen, unpacking our books, and generally making our house into our home. But I have realized that for me specifically, it is a slippery slope in my heart to go from home design — motivated by a desire to make our home a beautiful and comfortable place for ourself and guests — to covetousness, impatience, and discontent. The actions may look the same! (Scanning FB Marketplace, checking sales on picture frames, looking at Pinterest ideas, etc.) But in my heart I know the difference when I switch from one place to the other, and I have had to take time away from home design when I realize that my attitude is changing towards it.

December

December is the Christmas season... I guess? It didn't feel very "Christmasy" this year (whatever that means). I did an Advent reading plan, which I enjoyed but didn't start till the middle of the month and didn't end up finishing. I don't like the description of life as "busy" (especially when I know I am so much less scattered than the previous spring), but my life is/was FULL, between freelancing, bread baking, housecleaning, and etc.

I struggled to explain this to other people — struggled to answer the question of what I'm "doing" now that I've graduated college. The thing is, I love it. I love the rhythm of making my husband's lunch and baking bread and doing editing work with a cup of tea in the afternoon and then making dinner so it's ready when he comes home. I feel so amazed and in awe that this is my life. Why am I so blessed? I do not deserve it. I don't deserve my husband. I don't deserve my church. I don't deserve any of these unexpected, sweet blessings, but I have them.

Despite all that, I struggle to tell people I'm a housewife doing part time freelance work, because... I think they'll think I'm lazy? Or patriarchalist? (I do have unashamedly complimentarian beliefs, but that's different) Or something? I'm not sure why. I'm working on that, because I think I am failing to give the honest and simple answer and withholding myself from people by doing so.

Christmas brought my first ski trip (!) and first Christmas without my family. I love my in-laws, but I had some sadness, nonetheless, and not a little stress over trying to make it down the bunny hill. However, skiing did get better, and the trip was so restful and a really nice time with my husband's parents.

As mentioned at the beginning of the post, there was also some grief in 2023. I experienced an ongoing separation from a really dear friend, and witnessed from afar as she walked away from the Lord. More heartbreaking revelations about her life and choices came in December, and I spent so many hours in tears.  Again, I am so thankful for my husband, who was present with me as I processed these griefs. More, I felt the presence of God and of his heart. When love for people causes us great grief, we experience his grief, and his love for us and desire for our good is so much greater than we can understand. Though I long for redemption in this friend's life, and for our friendship to be restored, I am comforted knowing that the Lord loves them no less and grieves for them more. He is sovereign, good, and trustworthy.

I don't know yet what 2024 will hold. This week, I will start teaching European history to undergrads, continue baking bread, and watch a football game with my church family. Beyond that — it is the Lord's purpose that prevails. And if 2023 taught me anything, it's that his purposes are better than mine anyway.

Bonne année 2024, readers.

A holy coincidence

I recently ran into a former English professor, whom I've been reluctant to tell about changing my major. It may be silly, but I felt awkward about it because he wrote a recommendation for my application to the education program. When I told two separate family members about it, they had different reactions. One said, "Well, just explain that education wasn't challenging and you wanted a challenge. He'd understand that." The other said, "You could say, 'I want to teach but I didn't like the system they were teaching us or the way they were teaching it.'"

What is interesting about these two reactions is that both said their comments matter-of-factly, as if they were just putting into words something I already knew. But the fact is, I wouldn't have used either of those two phrases to explain why I changed my major. Both reasons are true, but aren't comprehensive enough. I actually don't know what one or two sentences I could say, however, to simplify the massive (though fast) process that took me to a new major . When I tell people, I say something different every time.

I apologize ahead of time if this post (ok, let's be honest, it's going to take more than one) is just overly lengthy navel-gazing. It is often said to write what you know, but not often enough said that we really write to know. I suppose the main reason I want to write this out is so that I can figure out that phrase or sentence that the answer to "why I changed my major" really boils down to. (yes I just ended a sentence with a preposition.)

To start at the beginning...

My imaginary future self

I went into college certain that I would never change my major. There were multiple reasons for this. Because I love children and am passionate about education, it just seemed to make sense that I be a teacher. Sure, the public education system makes me crazy, but all the more reason to have good teachers in it, right? I knew I loved history, but I didn't see that as a career. Therefore, teaching seemed like the only job for me and thus elementary education the only major. I realize now that it was also based on pride; I wasn't going to be like "those people" who change their majors as often as they change their socks. I knew what I was doing and I was not going to take more than four years to do it.

Hahaha. Pride goeth before the fall. Only in this case, God was merciful enough that I fell off my high horse and into a green valley (mixing my metaphors here. I know.)

On September 25, in the middle of the fifth week of school, I felt myself to be a mass of tensions barely contained within a human frame. Since starting college two years ago, I have never had much school spirit. I've never felt like I belonged or really enjoyed college. Yes, there have been some professors I liked and a couple of good classes, but in all, it was a difficult time. I struggled to keep myself grounded in the present and not pine away missing high school or longing to be a stay-at-home mom. I prayed that God would use me in the place he put me, that he would enable me to love my classmates who made me feel like a two-headed alien, and that I would not just pick up a degree but actually grow as a result of these four short years. And yet, in July I told my dad that "School drains the life out of me," and really believed it. I went into this year feeling discouraged, that despite my prayers I had complained my way through the past two years, squandering them.

So it's not like school had been a picnic so far, but on this day the tensions began to come to a head. I felt both a strong desire to be a good student, to pursue my assignments and readings not "because I have to" but to actually learn from them. I didn't just want to speak enough in class to get a good participation grade, but to listen to my professors because I respect them. And yet it felt like half of what we were doing was just pointless busywork. I also vacillated between wanting to please my professors and not make waves, and wanting to completely rebel against the ideologies and structures that they pound into the heads of education students as gospel truth (while simultaneously saying there is no truth...). Should I do my best in classes whether they're meaningful or not, or scorn the entire program? And to what extent is it good and healthy to examine the situation and release tension by talking about my feelings, before it becomes complaining?

Into that mix add the tension resulting from my own background colliding with the established education system, which would no doubt be taught in any university. Even schools that explore alternative education models to some degree are still highly systematized. You are told, again and again, that for children to learn, you must have a lesson plan. Any good lesson plan must have an objective. And any objective must have a way of measuring it (e.g. a test or other form of assessment). If you just do fun activities that are disconnected from assessments and objectives, your children will not learn. While in class, I could start to nod and think, That makes sense. Then I would leave class and it was like a veil was lifted from over my eyes: I would remember my own schooling and that of the children I grew up with. In my entire educational experience up until college, I am certain my mother never wrote out lesson plans and objectives, let alone conducted regular assessments. We did do fun activities like visiting an organ company when studying Bach, "just because." And yet somehow I managed to learn or at least retain just as much as my public-schooled classmates. So how could I accept the mantra that students will only learn when they have objectives and assessments?

On this particular afternoon, after viewing "a few clips" (15 minutes of video) my professor had sent out for the next morning's class, which overlapped and just repeated information from our previous discussions, I texted two of my dearest friends, "WHAT IS THE POINT. WHY AM I HERE. Switching to engineering looks pretty good". At this point, however, I didn't seriously think of another major as an option; "switching to engineering" had been a running joke in my household since I started down the education path and found it lacking. After venting about all my various conflicting feelings to the same friends, I wrote, "I don't know that I would choose education if I was a freshman today but I'm too far in to change majors."

Underscoring these tensions was the contrast between my classes. Since I started college I was a history minor. My one history class last fall was the best 150 minutes of the week. This created yet another tension, with my love for my history classes contrasting with my general resentment towards my university in general. Three weeks into school I was already mourning the end of this class. I had one class left for my minor and I decided that I would do whatever it took to make sure I was taking a class from the same professor the next semester. Because of student teaching, education students can't take any non-education classes their senior year, which meant I had to finish my last history class in the spring semester.

The morning after my day of tensions, the spring schedule came out. I was reading my Bible, a little after 6:00, when I remembered this. Like the good, focused Christian that I am, I couldn't contain my curiosity and set my Bible aside for a minute to pull up the class schedule. I quickly put my professor's name in the search bar. Only to discover that he wasn't teaching any classes. Well, folks, this is a good reason not to let distractions come into your devotional times. The rest of my quiet time I had a hard time focusing because I was just crushed. My history minor, the only thing that had ever meant anything to me at KU, was coming to an end. Not only that, but my last class would have to be something just squeezed into my schedule, not a joyful and wonderful experience.

So, feeling rather dejected, I went to my 8 am class. I had started to actually make some connections in my education classes. I don't remember if I told my acquaintances that day about being sad about having only one history class left, but I did spend most of the next four hours with them chatting. During these two classes, we had a lot of space for "working" or for discussion, which meant that most of the class time was not spent learning class materials and a lot of time could be spent doing whatever one wanted. Thus, I had a fun morning in laughing with my classmates, though I felt a niggling sense of guilt for not being a "good" student.

That afternoon, I met with a student who was interested in joining a campus organization in which I'm a leader. She was a pre-law student and told me about how she likes reading about cases and studies legal documents in her free time. And it struck me that I don't download articles about ESL methods to read for fun. When I'm researching for a history paper, however, I get distracted by non-relevant but interesting articles and download them to read in my spare time. And if it made so much sense for her to be studying the thing that got her blood pumping, might it be possible that I should study history?

I went back to campus for my last class, at 5:00. Some of my same classmates were in this class, but for whatever reason the people I had laughed and chatted with in the morning were no longer interested in talking. By the time we got out, I felt sad, tired, and lonely. At almost 7:00 pm, I stepped on a bus to go home. And then I saw Amy.

She was the TA in my wonderful history class and we'd ridden the bus together before and chatted a little. I didn't know her that well (this was only the fifth week of class, remember), but when she asked how I was and I said "Okay" and she said, "Really?" I let it all out. I told her that I was in education and it was frustrating and I was maybe kind of sort of considering changing my major to history, except that I was concerned that if I did history I would just be doing it to enjoy college and would regret it later because I wouldn't end up with a job. We rode the bus to the same stop and then stood outside her apartment (she lives across the street from me) talking for another twenty minutes. She listened and reassured me and gave me great advice and encouraged me to talk to my history professor for his perspective (which I had wanted to do but I didn't want to bother him). And when I left the conversation, I thought clearly, "This was a God-moment, a holy coincidence. Whether I change my major or not, that was the hand of God." At the end of a weird day, filled with all kinds of emotions, it was exactly the ending I needed.

A different kind of winter break

Tomorrow, I'll be back in school. It's rather a weird feeling; I always have so much I intend to get done, but usually I do get it done, and also read two or three novels and play the piano and see friends and drink buckets of tea. Winter break has always seemed too short to travel, yet can't really be said to go fast, because all the things I'm doing are of my own volition and thus aren't rushed.

This break has been unlike any other. I spent six days out of state at an international student ministry conference. I have been writing applications for scholarships for a summer study abroad program (!!). As with other breaks, I have done some mending and cooking, but honestly cooking isn't bringing me as much joy as it used, so I've been procrastinating on that.

I've also been doing various things that are unlike any other break because... I am no longer an education major. I am a blissfully happy and incredibly blessed history major. This has led to time spent scheduling a museum internship and brushing up on my French in preparation for studying it this semester.

What I have not been doing: sleeping in, exercising regularly, drinking tea, or reading novels. Until I got sick a few days ago, that is, in which time I slept 10 hours, took a nap, finished two books (A Million Miles in a Thousand Years and Hi Hitler!) and drank several cups of tea to compensate for my relatively tea-less break. I also became so brain dead that I culled probably a hundred pins from my Pinterest and even considered watching Downton Abbey (reserved for the very sickest days when my brain is functioning at such a low level that a doctor would probably pronounce me dead). The couple days leading up to school have been less productive than I planned, but such is life. It is good to be reminded that the world can indeed go on functioning if I do none of the things on my planner.

And yet, it has been such a good break too, even if different or less productive than previous years. I am so incredibly blessed by the friends I have seen (each and every one of you, if you're reading this post), the time at the conference, and, even if I haven't been less busy, a change of pace from the school year.

I am also excited to go back to school, which is a completely new thing for me. This is directly related to the above, namely, the major change and Vision Conference. I intended to write a post about the process of changing my major months ago (it was official the second week of October) but the draft is currently about three million words long, and that's way too much to bother with if only I care two figs about it. So if you're reading this, let me know if you are curious about the long, multifaceted story that led to me changing my major (something I swore I'd never do yet accomplished only 10 days after I first considered it) and I will persevere and share it with you.

If not, the short story is that history is and always has been my passion but I didn't think that I could or should get a job if I majored in history. Then I learned that I could, so I did. Now I am going into a semester enrolled in Elementary French II and three history courses (one being an independent study with my favorite professor), as well as doing an internship at a tiny local museum. Does it get any better than that??

And now I need to finish mending some socks. Because whether I like a productive winter break or not, it needs to be done.

Projects and end of an era

Well, on Tuesday I went back to school. College is not my favorite, but I've had a long, lovely break. In the past five glorious weeks I've been...

Researching. Since watching Vaxxed in 2016, I have been researching vaccine safety and efficacy. Someday I will be able to sit down and write a post about this issue. At the moment, I have so many thoughts and pieces of research wanting to burst out of me that I'm not even sure where to begin. All I can do is to implore you to research this topic, whether you're old, young, liberal, conservative, a parent or a monk. Googling "vaccine safety" is insufficient. There are excellent studies out there, but unfortunately you can't trust other people to find them for you. I suggest starting with The HPV Vaccine on Trial, a thoroughly well researched book which puts the information in your own hands.

Enjoying. Unusual amounts of snow, plant sojourners in my room, and Jane Austen's letters. (I pretend she is writing just to me.)

Reading. As I mentioned two years ago, Christmas puts me in the mood for old-fashioned British mysteries. This year, it was Georgette Heyer's A Christmas Party (appropriate) and No Wind of Blame. I also worked on (and continue to work on!) Les Miserables in audiobook form and Hard Times, my first Dickens book to read in print. In the nonfiction department, I loved Beyond Colorblind by Sarah Shin and The Fine Art of Small Talk by Debra Fine.

Hanging. Since writing this post, I've had to expand to a larger bookshelf (it happens to the best of us. You can never have too many books). And since that changed the look of that wall, I eventually (18 months later) decided, with advice from my home design consultant (AKA my mother), to rearrange/update my paintings. Gertrude, the disapproving white peacock, will now preside over the bed. To make room for her, The Tempest will be sold. Two silhouettes (Anonymous Gentleman and my dear Miss Austen) will now keep watch over the bookshelf wall.

Exercising. Somehow this exercise-hating girl turned into an exercise junkie. Almost. In mid-2018 I started using Fitness Blender and over the summer discovered strength training. Being able to follow Kelly via video really helps me to stay motivated through a 30- or 40-minute workout; plus the calendar feature satisfies my list-loving, box-checking nature. I have started adding in HIIT workouts once a week (or per month, if I'm really honest). I still feel like something the cat dragged in afterwards, but I hate it slightly less than regular cardio. (Strength training, though... don't get me started. I love it, man.)

Listening. My most important musical discovery in the last month was Michael Bublé's Christmas album. Some of my favorites + a person whose voice is like butter... but why try to tell you about it? Have a listen yourself. 

As always, I really enjoyed playing and listening to traditional Christmas carols, especially featuring the violin. (Interestingly, in the 2016 post I mentioned this same genre and linked to a beeaautttiful I Saw Three Ships version.) I've also rediscovered my love for folk songs, most recently 'Land o' the Leal' and 'Buffalo Gals.'

Knitting. In the past month, I've made two baby hats and started one blanket. No, no one in my life is expecting. I just find baby things easier to complete and more fun. Tomorrow I'm going to drop off this adorable panda hat and mitten set. The mittens were done within 40 minutes (not counting the duplicate stitch to add the paw detail). I enjoyed this project especially because it was simple and quick, but forced me to learn three new skills: casting on in the middle of a project, picking up stitches, and duplicate stitching. The hat pattern can be found here, but I applied the paw idea onto some thumbless baby mitts for a newborn.

Mending. Working 30 hours a week in the summer + a busy fall semester worked together to create a large mending pile. From socks to jeans to a lunch bag, I was finally able to finish some sorely needed mending.

Gluing. Hot glue has been a constant in my life since mid November, when my mom, middle sister and I created a Harry Potter themed tree for a fundraiser. I had great fun making wands by creating hot glue shapes on wooden skewers, then painting and mod-podging. My greatest triumph (which, alas, I do not have a good photo of) was The Monster Book of Monsters. First, I made a small box out of cardboard (thank you once again hot glue), covered it with a piece of fake fur, and painted the sides to look like book pages. A set of fake teeth, cut to fit, were added, as were fake eyes. A title sticker (only one of many pieces that my printer father did for us) and a braided leather strap completed the creation.

After the tree was donated, I decided I wanted to finally finish another project which has languished in my closet: a gourd fairy house. Being an avid Tolkienite, I felt that it ought to resemble a hobbit house. Which, naturally, entailed painting the front door emerald green and installing a gold doorknob.

A view through the front door.

It is a very small and simple house, consisting of a front room/study/kitchen, a tiny dining room/parlor, and a loft. The furnishings are for the most part natural — a mushroom serves as a built-in stool, the dishes are made from acorns, and a leaf comprises the pillow.

Through the right window to the parlor, set for tea.

Looking in the left window to see the sink. 

Other details you might notice are the lace curtains, the sink made of a shell, the letter box with party RSVPS, and There and Back Again lying on the desk. (Not pictured: a cuckoo clock by the door and a painting from a bottle in the dining room.) Though spending time on a fairy house with no practical purpose felt a little childish, I enjoyed the quiet detail work and look forward to displaying it in my children's nursery (which will be literary-themed, of course).

Cutting. My hair! I was eight years old the last time I cut my hair. I went home and cried in my parent's bathroom, and regretted it so much that for eleven and a half years I only got trims. Until January 2, 2019, when I cut sixteen inches off.  There was definitely some mourning the day before, but I am pleased to announce there were no tears after the fact this time.

Baking. Dozens of muffins, luscious peppermint brownies, delectable gingerbread biscotti, spicy pfeffernusse, and scones of various varieties, all accompanied, of course, by copious amounts of tea.

Watching. Besides the old Christmas favorites, over break we watched three movies which were new to me: The Man Who Invented Christmas, Castaway, and Saving Mr. Banks. All three movies were very different and very delightful. (Not quite as well-liked was The Remains of the Day. I did not feel the ending had resolution. The addition of one line would have reformed it for me.) Emma Thompson is just an amazing actress, and it was fun to see Tom Hanks in some different roles as well.



After such a wonderful break, it's hard to go back to the constant busyness of school. It is so easy to step into a mindset of complaint when I think about college. There have been some very real frustrations, and I do legitimately feel that I learned more when I was homeschooled (I certainly enjoyed it more). I enjoy being around people, but it is exhausting to be so often gone from my home or too busy to see my family.

But I also have much to be thankful for. When I received a scholarship to this college in spring 2017, I praised the Lord over and over for His provision. I have a great job cleaning an office — in addition to working a few hours a week at a preschool, with 50 people under the age of six who constitute my best friends on campus — which allows me to graduate debt free.

In addition, I feel closer to the Lord than I ever have before. My first year of college was hard. I don't mean academically. I mean being in a secular environment five days a week which constantly whispered, implicitly if not explicitly, There is no God who cares for you. I quickly realized that without the Body of Christ, living in a God-cursing world is very, very difficult. Even once I was able to get into a Bible study at my church, I struggled with feeling alone or unheard by God. I am so thankful the semester ended when it did. I wasn't thinking suicidally or considering leaving the church; but I was in need of a detox from the foolish rhetoric preached day in and day out at school. Over the summer, I had the necessary time to examine my heart, pour over the Bible, and remember the One who cares for me, who is nearer than a brother, who has a husband's heart for me.

The fall semester had difficult moments as some of my classes examined issues of homosexuality and I had to be in very dark places. But it was different than my first year. In all the hard times I knew that the Lord is unchanging, that He gives us laws only to bring freedom, and that He is present and loving.

When I constantly complain about this season of life — which in reality, is really very short anyway — I dishonor the One who regulates time, who provided this scholarship, and who made my life. Besides the fact that it doesn't bring me much joy, either. It may be a stretch to say I'll ever love my university or that, at this point, I want to love my university. But I am tired of living in a state of dissatisfaction that dishonors God, when I could live by gratitude. I have made this resolution before — to be thankful and stop complaining about college. Now, I nervously post this to the Internet, because even if only two people read this, saying it "aloud" gives me a measure of accountability.

It's good to be writing again, dear readers. I would love to hear how you spent your holidays.

A very exciting news article

(No, I'm not engaged. Sadly.)

My posts per year have decreased from an average of 35 to 17 to 6. When I do post, it's an isolated tag or random, unasked-for movie review. When I address my "readers" I wonder if they're actually in the plural. More and more this internet spot reminds me of the many blogs whose authors regularly post over 4-5 years, slowly slacken off, promise to be more consistent, and then never post again.

I recently saw another blogger post "I'm going on hiatus for the summer." This rather made me laugh. Not at the lady, you understand, but because I'm either always on hiatus or never on hiatus. The sentimental side of me finds it sad that I don't really keep up this blog anymore, but the cynical side of me just thinks it's silly to think of "updating my readers" since my audience is basically non-existent.


But I refrain from deleting it for two reasons: 1) It is a time capsule. I'm no longer the same young girl who created this blog, but, well, I was then, and I may want to visit and remember those days.

2) I sometimes have news, ideas, or creative endeavors that I must share, and since I don't participate in social media, this is my outlet. I like putting my thoughts into words and recording milestones in my life, so I'm not going to "officially stop" blogging. Nor am I going to apologize for doing so infrequently, because that's just how life is. Although I'm didn't take summer classes, I worked about 30 hours a week at a preschool (if I haven't mentioned it, I dote upon kidlets, though while I'm in certain classrooms I never think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence). Now I'm back to being a full-time student, so when I'm not at work, in class, or doing homework, I'm taking much needed breaks with friends, family, or the Lord.

And this is one of those cases where I simply must share some news. GUYS I'M GOING TO THE AGM NEXT WEEK AND I CAN'T CONTAIN MYSELF.

Sorry, didn't mean to shout. I shall begin again. The Jane Austen Society of North America (hereafter referred to as "JASNA"), of which I am a member, is having its annual conference (known as the Annual General Meeting, or AGM) in a city close to mine. And I'm GOING. In twelve days, I shall be mingling with kindred spirits, learning about the economic background in Persuasion, examining Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove's relationship, and dancing the night away at the closing banquet. Plus wearing Regency attire for 48 hours.

At the moment, I'm in the middle of writing a semi-fictional paper on cultural change in the Rashidun period. But I had to take a quick break to share the the countdown to two days spent with Janeites. So now back to the Arabs.

Time and Tide

Reminiscence on the passing of time and thoughts on the future

Well, yesterday I had the last class of my freshman year. A few finals next week, and I'm officially 1/4 of the way through college. (For some reason people laugh when I say, "Only six semesters left!" Is that funny to you, readers?)

I'm really looking forward to the summer. I'm mildly stressed about my physical geography exam and finishing the essays for my Medieval Russian History final. My mind is all scrambled up with different styles of footnoting and types of sand dunes. However, I've enjoyed parts of college and, I think, learned some stuff. I'll miss some of my professors (classmates? hahahaha) Since I've posted exactly three times during my first two semesters, it seems like I ought to do some kind of wrap-up here about the things I've learned, experienced, and thought.

Looking Behind: Random thoughts about college

Actual spot on my campus

I've learned that you never look forward to holidays and breaks so much until the in-between isn't your favorite thing.

Some professors care and some professors think they care. Students don't pretend to care.

I've also learned a thousand times over how great homeschooling is. Really, guys, American public education isn't worth the price of running the school buses (no offense if you went to public school... I'm just shocked that they don't teach handwriting, physical science, cursive, math, grammar or geography. And they obviously aren't teaching character or manners, so I'm at a loss to say how thirteen years of six hour days were spent.).

Yes, I know it's ironic that I'm getting a teaching degree. (But if I'm honest, which I usually am, I have the greatest hope that I shall never use the degree, as I'll have my hands full with my own little ones within two years of graduation).

I've learned that I can write an essay, and enjoy it... but that I stress about it anyway.

Riding the bus is fun and the best bus drivers can make your day. I miss the people I see on the bus (but don't talk to) more than the people I sit next to in class.

It matters which side of the street you board the bus.

I've also learned that I'm a really arrogant and judgmental person. I don't want to write this, but I will be honest with you, reader. It's impossible for me to love the students who are basically my age but grew up in a cultural atmosphere so different than mine and have such different standards, lifestyles, etc. It's much easier for me to build up those barriers than bridge them. With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible. This is reality, even if I don't always tap into it.

I learned I like getting up early. Just kidding. I already knew that.

Looking Ahead: The joys of summer break

This month, three of my cousins are graduating. How life changes!

I am more excited for summer than I've been in the last ten years. I'm excited for:

I don't actually take cream or sugar in my tea, but I always put them out because I have an adorable pair of claw-shaped sugar tongs and a very pretty pitcher.

Summer tea parties. You're never too old for a tea party.

The Jane Austen Society of North America's AGM, which is taking place in a city nearish to me. (Technically September, but being who I am, I'm already planning for and getting excited about it.) There will be kindred spirits and dancing. That's all I need to know.

Going to an annual outdoor Shakespeare performance.

Picnics!

Lying under a tree, reading a book.

The garden I planted. (I already see some little shoots coming up. It is only six days after I planted. They look very similar, green and healthy. Yes, I'm pretty sure I'm benefiting some baby weeds.)

Spending time enjoying the aforementioned tides.

Writing.

The feeling of enchantment that always comes with summer. (Midsummer Night's Dream and flower fairies and whatnot.) I once hosted a fairy-themed ball in the middle of June. You're also never too old for fairies.

Okay, yeah, I should probably be studying for my geography exam right now. Fare-thee-well.

A Literary Outline of My Days

Well, readers, as of the end of May, I have reached the age that Fanny Price is through the majority of Mansfield Park (and have just finished a reread of that delicious novel). I stand at the brink of prospects such as Anne Shirley faces at the end of Anne of Green Gables, though she chose to give them up.

Laura Ingalls became a teacher at 16; I can't imagine doing that, but now I can say that at 18 I was a recess teacher. For three days I led fifty homeschooled 3-13 -year-olds (not all at once!) in obstacle courses and relay races. Crazy, but also a good experience. I went into it thinking, I know preschoolers! I can handle these! (I teach Sunday school for 3-5-year-olds at my church). Um... There is a big difference between ten of those kiddos and twenty. Plus no walls to contain them in, haha. I still love kids (ahem, I'm getting a degree in Elementary Education so I'd better) but I now know that I know nothing. It was also a very strange feeling to realize I was completely in charge and that I was the "adult" who legally had to be there. Odd, very odd.

I just finished reading Little Dorrit. Oscar Wilde says that "If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, then there is no use in reading it at all." This is certainly true of LD. It is my new favorite Charles Dickens book. I now very much want to watch the BBC version of it, and I think that I shall have little trouble in getting my middle sister to watch it with me because this fellow is in it:

THE Mr. Darcy in her eyes.

Sophie Hatter would be aghast at the state of my house, as I have not been pursuing her sham career at'all this last month. I hope we are a little cleaner than the castle, but studying for tests and preparing for parties is not at all conducive towards neat habits.

I have been practicing Sherlock Holmes' instrument, and to my great delight my teacher has at last given me a book on reading music for the violin.

And most exciting, I have at last taken up the [figurative] blue notebook of Jane Penderwick. No snippets yet as I'm still trying to keep the motivation for the final chapter.

Alas, I could find no literary reference to tell of perhaps the most momentous event, viz. my high school graduation. It is a strange feeling to be viewing high school as a past thing. I've still been doing 'school work' but it's not stuff that's necessary for high school (i.e., CLEP tests and history books that I enjoy). For those still in high school or below, graduation seems eons away, but all of the sudden it comes way faster than you expected.

Theoretically summer brings more time for reading. Of course one is always busier than one expects, but I hope you all have time to fit in at least a little something now and then. Happy reading!

Jane Austen, Christmas, and Sniffles

"You will find me a very awkward narrator, Miss Dashwood."

For it is always a trick to begin a thing in thing in the... well, in the beginning. I have been absent from this bit of cyberspace for more than a month. This is for many reasons (not the least that I had nothing particular to say and was too tired to say it anyhow), which I will now disclose. I have been:

Reading: Over Thanksgiving I reread Sense and Sensibility in preparation for —well, you'll see that below. Then a few weeks later I wasn't feeling well one Saturday, so I spent most of the day lying down and rereading Cheaper By the Dozen. That book is HILARIOUS. I read it in less than 24 hours, which is rare for me. Yesterday I reread Peter Pan. Also a delightful book which I finished with surprising speed. It's so witty. One of the amusing ways that he writes is by being rather vague about things that most authors would illuminate, or being specific about the most random details.

But you simply must fit, and Peter measures you for your tree as carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference being that the clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the tree. Usually it is done quite easily, as by your wearing too many garments or too few, but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only available tree is an odd shape, Peter does some things to you, and after that you fit.

Arthur Rackham, Peter Pan illustrator

After I finished Peter Pan and A Christmas Carol, which I had been rereading over the last few weeks, I started on an Agatha Christie mystery, which I so far like more than some of her others. There are certain books that I associate with Christmas, and oddly enough, A.C. murder mysteries are on that list (along with Howl's Moving Castle.)

In all honesty I must humbly admit that I have not followed through on the November and December Classics Challenge. Sorry. BUT I have (after a very embarrassingly long time) finished The Lord of the Rings and I am also almost finished with Bleak House, which listening to A Tale of Two Cities started me on. I don't know anyone who has read Bleak House but I'm dying to talk to someone about it, so if you have, PLEASE please comment and tell me so!

Searching: I am attempting to find some flat soled boots that are both simple and yet not extremely cheap and worthless.

I like these, but of course they're out of stock. Anybody seen something like these?

Eating: Many loaves slices of gingerbread.

Dancing: "And in winter his private balls were numerous enough for any young lady who was not suffering under the insatiable appetite of fifteen." I think to be perfectly accurate, the "insatiable appetite of fifteen" should say "insatiable appetite of fourteen through seventeen," because even now, at the ripe old age of seventeen (wait, am I seventeen? I have been considering myself sixteen for quite some time, and only just now writing it does it seem actually true. How odd.) I suffer under extreme pangs —"such tremblings and flutterings all over me!"— for a dance. It had been over a year since I had one. I was very blessed to get to hold such a dance at my house last Friday night, in conjunction with my twin. We had only seven people, but it really worked out alright. And it made me feel that having a dance is neither so difficult nor so inconvenient as I had hitherto thought. My twin popped over for a quick afternoon of some planning, then arrived an hour and a half early to help set up. The main prep was moving the furniture the night before, but this took less than twenty minutes; and so did the clean up afterward. So I now have hope that I can have another, with less time between the two!
I'm also very excited because my twin's older sister is having a dance, at which we are helping. It's nice to help, but not be quite in charge. Plus, there will be at least five times as many people. : P

Planning: I love the phone case I have right now (this painting), but if I had an iphone 5 or above, this is what I would get:

Singing: I Saw Three Ships on Christmas Day, in a loud soprano as I take a walk.

Laughing: I don't really "believe in" introverts and extroverts and MBTI types. Technically I'm an ISTJ, but of course it doesn't completely fit me. I find it very amusing to read those "How MBTI types react to stress" or "MBTI types on vacation" pages that pop up on Pinterest and laugh at how inaccurate they are (or occasionally at how accurate, as the case may be.)

Watching: It's A Wonderful Life. I love this movie.

Isn't Jimmy Stewart an amazing actor?

Sniffling: I have had a cold for a few days and am taking advantage of Christmas break to lie upon the sofa like a limp rag and do imitations of a foghorn. The latter may be annoying to some, but as I can't really hear it doesn't bother me!

Acting: I played an Irish cop and the head waitress in The Cop and The Anthem, mid November. Aaand directed The Eskimos Have Landed (which has nothing to do with Eskimos), which came off with nary a hitch.

Finding: I have found the wedding dress that I love. It is almost cheap enough that I would just buy it to prevent its being snatched up. But I'm not quite that silly.

It's from a site that sells vintage wedding dresses, and the rosettes are removable and it's lace and has cloth-covered buttons and a pretty train and the neckline is perfect and I love it.

Writing: I have a chapter and a half left in my King Arthur first draft — but I got hung up on a battle scene, which I'm terrible at writing. And right now I have an excuse. For I am writing a script. I am adapting Sense and Sensibility for our drama group, to be performed next semester. I am super excited about this. I have hesitated to tell many people of it, in case I ran out of time and we ended up buying a different script. I have one scene left in Act II, though, so I think I will have time to finish. I love this book so much. I would love to be any character. I'd even be a guy if I could play Mr. Palmer. 

Admiring: I have realized that a violin is a beautiful instrument and it has taken the place of bagpipes as my second favorite instrument. (I'm biased and the piano is my favorite simply because I know it.) Did anybody else know that Bulgaria has their own type of bagpipes? I think I'd like America more if we had our own bagpipes.

Drinking: Excessive amounts of tea as always, and coconut eggnog. Also I need some ceramic travel mugs because stainless steel gives the tea a very metallic flavour. So yes you can buy these for me.

So! Drink lots of tea, read Charles Dickens, listen to the violin, and have a merry Christmas!