as i was studying the law code of hammurabi for one of my classes, i found this beautiful pronouncement of how hammurabi wanted to portray himself in the epilogue of the code:
"i am hammurabi, noble king. i have not been careless or negligent toward humankind, granted to my care by the god enlil, and with whose shepherding the god marduk charged me. i have sought for them peaceful places, i removed serious difficulties, i spread light over them...i made the people of all settlements lie in safe pastures, i did not tolerate anyone intimidating them. the great gods having chosen me, i am indeed the shepherd who brings peace, whose scepter is just. my benevolent shade is spread over my city, i held the people of the lands of sumer and akkad safely on my lap. they prospered under my protective spirit, i maintained them in peace, with my skillful wisdom i sheltered them."
now, i am not one to say whether or not hammurabi was as noble a king as he portrays himself or not. all i know is that this imagery of kings shepherding their people was important to society--as many of them were shepherds or agriculturists themselves.
it brings new meaning and understanding to me as i think about the Savior as being the Good Shepherd--and how it was important to society at that time, how He used an image that they were very familiar with--kings being shepherds of their people. it brings new meaning and understanding as i study isaiah and i think about cyrus, as a type of the Savior, being portrayed as being a shepherd of the israelites.
although there are times of drugery (reading through 20 pages of law codes!), can i just say i love my major?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
elevators
i love elevators. i love the awkward silences that occur when several strangers are squished into an elevator together. i especially love it when someone is eating something particularly crunchy, and that is the only sound heard the whole ride.
crunch. crunch. crunch.
most of all, i love "funny elevator people." these are the people who do particularly awkward things on purpose on an elevator. i am not talking about those people who do those "things to do on an elevator" just to get a reaction. i am talking about people who do things that they consider normal but seem particularly awkward in a closed space.
for example.
one day last semester i was taking the south-east elevator in the jfsb. it was close to finals week, and i was feeling particularly stressed myself. as i approached the elevator i noticed an extremely agitated professor standing next to it, who was periodically sighing and pacing back and forth. when the elevator arrived, i calmly walked in and pushed what floor i needed, while the professor walked straight to a corner of the elevator and stood facing it.
no joke.
when i asked what floor he needed, he turned around, sighed, and said "one." the doors closed and down we went, with him muttering to himself the whole way.
and that was a professor.
yesterday, however, i met a real "funny elevator man." after i stepped onto the same elevator as was referenced in the previous story on the way to my class yesterday and the doors started to close, a girl rushed up so naturally i pulled the doors apart for her. she stepped on, apologizing, when funny elevator man said, in a natural british accent, "i guess we can spare 13 seconds of our time for you." when she said thanks, he said, "that was 13 seconds of our lives lost. we can never get those 13 seconds back again!" naturally, it was made even more funny because he had a british accent. (side note: i think people with british accents can say the same thing as someone else and sound 3x funnier. i don't know why it happens. but it does.)
everyone else in the elevator, who was not used to "funny elevator people," stood looking awkwardly at the floor.
naturally, i just laughed.
crunch. crunch. crunch.
most of all, i love "funny elevator people." these are the people who do particularly awkward things on purpose on an elevator. i am not talking about those people who do those "things to do on an elevator" just to get a reaction. i am talking about people who do things that they consider normal but seem particularly awkward in a closed space.
for example.
one day last semester i was taking the south-east elevator in the jfsb. it was close to finals week, and i was feeling particularly stressed myself. as i approached the elevator i noticed an extremely agitated professor standing next to it, who was periodically sighing and pacing back and forth. when the elevator arrived, i calmly walked in and pushed what floor i needed, while the professor walked straight to a corner of the elevator and stood facing it.
no joke.
when i asked what floor he needed, he turned around, sighed, and said "one." the doors closed and down we went, with him muttering to himself the whole way.
and that was a professor.
yesterday, however, i met a real "funny elevator man." after i stepped onto the same elevator as was referenced in the previous story on the way to my class yesterday and the doors started to close, a girl rushed up so naturally i pulled the doors apart for her. she stepped on, apologizing, when funny elevator man said, in a natural british accent, "i guess we can spare 13 seconds of our time for you." when she said thanks, he said, "that was 13 seconds of our lives lost. we can never get those 13 seconds back again!" naturally, it was made even more funny because he had a british accent. (side note: i think people with british accents can say the same thing as someone else and sound 3x funnier. i don't know why it happens. but it does.)
everyone else in the elevator, who was not used to "funny elevator people," stood looking awkwardly at the floor.
naturally, i just laughed.
this is just to say
i have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
i don't know why, but i fell in love with this poem by william carlos williams when we read it for my american lit class. it speaks so personally to needs, wants, and unfulfilled desires, and paints such a beautiful picture of genuine sorrow vs acute want in my head. i don't feel the need to say more. so enjoy.
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
i don't know why, but i fell in love with this poem by william carlos williams when we read it for my american lit class. it speaks so personally to needs, wants, and unfulfilled desires, and paints such a beautiful picture of genuine sorrow vs acute want in my head. i don't feel the need to say more. so enjoy.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
why my social excitement revolves around my office
i have always joked about how my social excitement revolves around my office...even though i usually work in there alone. but i always leave the door open, and when people walk by they look in, and if they know me they stop to chat for a minute. usually people who don't know me don't stop.
until yesterday.
i was calmly clocking out at 9:54, getting ready to go to my 10:00 class, when all of a sudden a 50-something man jumped into my office and said, in about 300 miles an hour talking speed, "can i ask you a question?" i said yes, and he quickly asked if i knew an undergrad who is studying arabic and who applied for the casa program. it just so happened that i did (we had a class together last semester), and when i told him, he said, "great!canijustinterviewyouquicklyabouthimiamfromthegovernment(and here he flashed his card for me)andhehasappliedforoneofourprogramsandiamjustrunningaquickbackgroundcheck
doyouhavethreeorfourminutesthaticanaskyousomequestions?"
he said it that fast.
unfortunately, i told him that i was about to go to class and did not have even four minutes to be interviewed.
"greatnoproblemiwilljustfollowyoutoyourclassandicaninterviewyouontheway!"
he then proceeded to follow me to my american literature class, quizzing me about this student all the way.
"doeshehaveanypsychologicalproblemsthatyouknowof?(it was one class!)howdoesheperforminarabic?whatishispersonalitylike?"
it was quite possibly the strangest thing that has ever occurred to me.
then, as we were parting ways when i got to my class, he asked what class i was going to. when i responded that it was an american literature class and that i am an english major, he looked at me accusingly and said, "whatwereyouuptherefor?" (in the arabic/hebrew department)
after telling him i know hebrew (and arabic, but he already knew that) he said as he was departing, "thatwastheshortestinterviewihavehadyet!"
i didn't feel too bad about it.
until yesterday.
i was calmly clocking out at 9:54, getting ready to go to my 10:00 class, when all of a sudden a 50-something man jumped into my office and said, in about 300 miles an hour talking speed, "can i ask you a question?" i said yes, and he quickly asked if i knew an undergrad who is studying arabic and who applied for the casa program. it just so happened that i did (we had a class together last semester), and when i told him, he said, "great!canijustinterviewyouquicklyabouthimiamfromthegovernment(and here he flashed his card for me)andhehasappliedforoneofourprogramsandiamjustrunningaquickbackgroundcheck
doyouhavethreeorfourminutesthaticanaskyousomequestions?"
he said it that fast.
unfortunately, i told him that i was about to go to class and did not have even four minutes to be interviewed.
"greatnoproblemiwilljustfollowyoutoyourclassandicaninterviewyouontheway!"
he then proceeded to follow me to my american literature class, quizzing me about this student all the way.
"doeshehaveanypsychologicalproblemsthatyouknowof?(it was one class!)howdoesheperforminarabic?whatishispersonalitylike?"
it was quite possibly the strangest thing that has ever occurred to me.
then, as we were parting ways when i got to my class, he asked what class i was going to. when i responded that it was an american literature class and that i am an english major, he looked at me accusingly and said, "whatwereyouuptherefor?" (in the arabic/hebrew department)
after telling him i know hebrew (and arabic, but he already knew that) he said as he was departing, "thatwastheshortestinterviewihavehadyet!"
i didn't feel too bad about it.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
a parade. in the library.
the other day i was talking to my former home teacher at the library security desk. we were talking about his upcoming marriage and my upcoming study abroad and mission, when all of a sudden we heard music. and it wasn't the music they play at midnight, either.
it was a parade.
there were 4 people playing instruments, including a banjo, a drum, and a recorder or something like that, as i recall. i think there were shakers too. of course, they could have been any instrument, seeing as how i was so shocked at seeing a parade in the library that i paid little attention to the instruments. gathered around them were a bunch of what looked to be high school students, and they were slowly walking out of the library.
i immediately thought, "the pied piper returns...and this time he brought his friends!"
i turned to my library security friend and asked, "is that allowed?" he said definitely not and decided that a rule needed to be made:
"no parades in the library!"
it was, quite possibly, one of the strangest things i have ever seen in the hbll.
it was a parade.
there were 4 people playing instruments, including a banjo, a drum, and a recorder or something like that, as i recall. i think there were shakers too. of course, they could have been any instrument, seeing as how i was so shocked at seeing a parade in the library that i paid little attention to the instruments. gathered around them were a bunch of what looked to be high school students, and they were slowly walking out of the library.
i immediately thought, "the pied piper returns...and this time he brought his friends!"
i turned to my library security friend and asked, "is that allowed?" he said definitely not and decided that a rule needed to be made:
"no parades in the library!"
it was, quite possibly, one of the strangest things i have ever seen in the hbll.
Monday, March 10, 2008
the law of decreasing returns
the other day i was handed back a paper in my english class. i got 9.5 out of 10 on it...a pretty good score. it was a write-up on a video we had to watch, and thus far i have gotten 9's on my papers. i would not have complained about the higher score, except i worked so much less on this paper than the others. i hated the movie, had no inspiration concerning its fulfillment of its purpose, and made that manifest in the paper.
and then i got a 9.5.
the problem is, the paper i turned in just before this was a much better paper. it drew out elements from the plot line and background that contributed to the literature we are studying. i felt passionate about the movie and even watched parts of it again as i was writing the paper. i created beautiful alliteration and illusions in my paper, and i felt like i fulfilled all of the requirements specified.
and yet i got a 9.
this "academic system" has really drawn me to be tempted to do poor work, or at least not as excellent of work as i am capable, because it takes so much more time and i often get better grades for what i have done on the fly. this was my attitude until i came back from jerusalem. i was so busy that i simply didn't have time for a hundred revisions, and i often finished my assignments 10 minutes before they were due. this system served me well, i was very efficient, and i got good grades.
and then i went to jerusalem.
and i tried to remember the classes that i had had, about jerusalem and the ancient near east, and i realized i knew nothing. i would vaguely remember that i took a whole class about the tabernacle, and yet i couldn't remember much beyond the basic functionality of it. after my class on mesopotamian archaeology, i could hardly identify the findings in museums. my knowledge, it seemed, had been dumped out at the testing center, never to return.
i realized this had to change.
when i returned from jerusalem, i threw myself whole-heartedly into my classes. i have never worked so hard in my life as i have in the past year. and yet i still find myself getting comparable or better grades on assignments i spend less time on. however, now i have realized that it isn't for the grade. while it makes me upset that teachers don't seem to recognize true effort, i have realized that my education is now for me. what i will remember later from my thousands of weeks and thousands of dollars spent on my education is entirely dependent on how i go about learning now.
it's a scary thought.
but today, i went into my arabic writing appointment. we have these every week and i have never been able to get higher than a 24 out of 25 from my teacher. however, this week i worked with some pretty complicated grammatical structures and used the new vocabulary. plus, my story was interesting and funny. and it took me a long time to write. in short, i was very proud of it.
and then i got a 25.
i guess some people are able to recognize and award true effort and work. but i guess i have realized that it doesn't matter to me anymore. even if i only get 9's instead of 10's on my response papers that i work so hard on, my entire way of thinking is changing. i amd starting to know how to think in the way that my classes teach me. i am laying the foundation for a lifetime of being able to study, whether it be english literature or arabic or hebrew or even music theory, and to study well. and to know my stuff. and to have my mind enlightened and expanded. and to understand what it takes to prepare your mind for pure intelligence to flow.
but i still think a's are nice...
and then i got a 9.5.
the problem is, the paper i turned in just before this was a much better paper. it drew out elements from the plot line and background that contributed to the literature we are studying. i felt passionate about the movie and even watched parts of it again as i was writing the paper. i created beautiful alliteration and illusions in my paper, and i felt like i fulfilled all of the requirements specified.
and yet i got a 9.
this "academic system" has really drawn me to be tempted to do poor work, or at least not as excellent of work as i am capable, because it takes so much more time and i often get better grades for what i have done on the fly. this was my attitude until i came back from jerusalem. i was so busy that i simply didn't have time for a hundred revisions, and i often finished my assignments 10 minutes before they were due. this system served me well, i was very efficient, and i got good grades.
and then i went to jerusalem.
and i tried to remember the classes that i had had, about jerusalem and the ancient near east, and i realized i knew nothing. i would vaguely remember that i took a whole class about the tabernacle, and yet i couldn't remember much beyond the basic functionality of it. after my class on mesopotamian archaeology, i could hardly identify the findings in museums. my knowledge, it seemed, had been dumped out at the testing center, never to return.
i realized this had to change.
when i returned from jerusalem, i threw myself whole-heartedly into my classes. i have never worked so hard in my life as i have in the past year. and yet i still find myself getting comparable or better grades on assignments i spend less time on. however, now i have realized that it isn't for the grade. while it makes me upset that teachers don't seem to recognize true effort, i have realized that my education is now for me. what i will remember later from my thousands of weeks and thousands of dollars spent on my education is entirely dependent on how i go about learning now.
it's a scary thought.
but today, i went into my arabic writing appointment. we have these every week and i have never been able to get higher than a 24 out of 25 from my teacher. however, this week i worked with some pretty complicated grammatical structures and used the new vocabulary. plus, my story was interesting and funny. and it took me a long time to write. in short, i was very proud of it.
and then i got a 25.
i guess some people are able to recognize and award true effort and work. but i guess i have realized that it doesn't matter to me anymore. even if i only get 9's instead of 10's on my response papers that i work so hard on, my entire way of thinking is changing. i amd starting to know how to think in the way that my classes teach me. i am laying the foundation for a lifetime of being able to study, whether it be english literature or arabic or hebrew or even music theory, and to study well. and to know my stuff. and to have my mind enlightened and expanded. and to understand what it takes to prepare your mind for pure intelligence to flow.
but i still think a's are nice...
Sunday, March 2, 2008
the impulses to wordless prayer
charles dickens wrote a poem called "things that never die," and we sang a rendition of it in women's chorus 3 years ago. i have reproduced a copy of it for you here:
things that never die
the pure, the bright, the beautiful
that stirred our hearts in youth,
the impulses to wordless prayer,
the streams of love and truth,
the longing after something lost,
the spirit's longing cry,
the striving after better hopes—
these things can never die.
the timid hand stretched forth to aid
a brother in his need;
a kindly word in grief's dark hour
that proves a friend indeed;
the plea for mercy softly breathed,
when justice threatens high,
the sorrow of a contrite heart—
these things shall never die.
let nothing pass, for every hand
must find some work to do,
lose not a chance to waken love—
be firm and just and true.
so shall a light that cannot fade
beam on thee from on high,
and angel voices say to thee—
"these things shall never die."
my favorite line in the poem is "the impulses to wordless prayer." in fact, if it wasn't so long, i would probably create a new blog with that name. i love the idea of earthly, mortal things that produce a reflex reaction of wordless prayer, of worship of our Heavenly Father.
these are my impulses to wordless prayer:
watching the sun rise as i walk to school
mountains changing color with the seasons
the hymns of Zion
a newborn baby
children laughing
a testimony of the Savior born with sweet conviction
sweet memories of jerusalem
missionaries, especially sister missionaries
the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ
the restoration of the gospel
chance meetings of dear friends
songs about the Savior in women's chorus
singing for general conference
the book of mormon
reading isaiah
playing the piano
observing simple kindnesses
sharing the gospel
watching peoples' hearts change
the bible, doctrine and covenants, and pearl of great price
a living prophet and living revelation
glimpses of eternity
temples and temple work
the first flowers of spring
lighthouses
promptings from the Holy Ghost
sudden flashes of inspiration
"He is" by hilary weeks
attending conference in the conference center
pondering the sacrament and sacrament hymns
the sea of galilee
long drives in the car
translating hebrew and arabic passages with ease
eternal marriage
the jerusalem center
answered prayers
byu campus after the first snowfall
autumn
the many opportunities i am offered at byu
personalized blessings
understanding my purpose on the earth
driving into provo on university pkwy at night and seeing the temple
watching the sun set over jerusalem
seeing the religious devotion of others
the light of Christ in the faces of my friends
things that never die
the pure, the bright, the beautiful
that stirred our hearts in youth,
the impulses to wordless prayer,
the streams of love and truth,
the longing after something lost,
the spirit's longing cry,
the striving after better hopes—
these things can never die.
the timid hand stretched forth to aid
a brother in his need;
a kindly word in grief's dark hour
that proves a friend indeed;
the plea for mercy softly breathed,
when justice threatens high,
the sorrow of a contrite heart—
these things shall never die.
let nothing pass, for every hand
must find some work to do,
lose not a chance to waken love—
be firm and just and true.
so shall a light that cannot fade
beam on thee from on high,
and angel voices say to thee—
"these things shall never die."
my favorite line in the poem is "the impulses to wordless prayer." in fact, if it wasn't so long, i would probably create a new blog with that name. i love the idea of earthly, mortal things that produce a reflex reaction of wordless prayer, of worship of our Heavenly Father.
these are my impulses to wordless prayer:
watching the sun rise as i walk to school
mountains changing color with the seasons
the hymns of Zion
a newborn baby
children laughing
a testimony of the Savior born with sweet conviction
sweet memories of jerusalem
missionaries, especially sister missionaries
the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ
the restoration of the gospel
chance meetings of dear friends
songs about the Savior in women's chorus
singing for general conference
the book of mormon
reading isaiah
playing the piano
observing simple kindnesses
sharing the gospel
watching peoples' hearts change
the bible, doctrine and covenants, and pearl of great price
a living prophet and living revelation
glimpses of eternity
temples and temple work
the first flowers of spring
lighthouses
promptings from the Holy Ghost
sudden flashes of inspiration
"He is" by hilary weeks
attending conference in the conference center
pondering the sacrament and sacrament hymns
the sea of galilee
long drives in the car
translating hebrew and arabic passages with ease
eternal marriage
the jerusalem center
answered prayers
byu campus after the first snowfall
autumn
the many opportunities i am offered at byu
personalized blessings
understanding my purpose on the earth
driving into provo on university pkwy at night and seeing the temple
watching the sun set over jerusalem
seeing the religious devotion of others
the light of Christ in the faces of my friends
Saturday, March 1, 2008
thoughts on the testing center
so, the testing center has always been one of the "darker" buildings on campus, although lame jokes are made about the most prayers being offered in it. i hate the testing center less for the tests i have had to take in there and more for the fact that i have to be in a building with 700 people, all stressed out of their minds.
picture a big room with high windows with bars on them. the room is grey and silent, although there are several hundred people inside. i am describing neither a prison nor a funeral, but the byu testing center.
what i hate the most about the testing center is all of those people breathing heavily. the minute i walk into the room after being handed my test i have the feeling of being smothered. no windows. little light. no happiness. only heavy breathing, a whole room full of the echos of hundreds of people breathing. heavily. and sweating, even in the winter. and sometimes i sit in front of people who are "desk kickers." i don't need to mention that i want to kick them when, right in the middle of answering the question "what is the significance of the mereneptah stela" i begin, "it is the first" kick. "and only mention" kick. i begin writing faster, to somehow extend the time between the sentences i write and the kicks coming from the thoughtless person behind me, who is probably taking some organic chemistry exam and can't even tell you what the mereneptah stela is, let alone its significance!
so yes. i have discovered the music room and i use it as frequently as possible, and i always sit by a window. a window that is eye level. and i watch the people enter and exit the testing center instead of taking my test. and sometimes i bring my dinner, and i eat it while i am taking a test. and the room doesn't echo, and there are only about 40 people in there instead of 700.
however, if i could have my way, i would take a test in my own room, next to a window, and there would be no one breathing heavily, and no one to kick my chair, and i could get up and stretch.
or, we could just take tests in class, and the teachers could only make them as long as the class period. but of course this is a much too logical solution to the problem of the byu testing center.
picture a big room with high windows with bars on them. the room is grey and silent, although there are several hundred people inside. i am describing neither a prison nor a funeral, but the byu testing center.
what i hate the most about the testing center is all of those people breathing heavily. the minute i walk into the room after being handed my test i have the feeling of being smothered. no windows. little light. no happiness. only heavy breathing, a whole room full of the echos of hundreds of people breathing. heavily. and sweating, even in the winter. and sometimes i sit in front of people who are "desk kickers." i don't need to mention that i want to kick them when, right in the middle of answering the question "what is the significance of the mereneptah stela" i begin, "it is the first" kick. "and only mention" kick. i begin writing faster, to somehow extend the time between the sentences i write and the kicks coming from the thoughtless person behind me, who is probably taking some organic chemistry exam and can't even tell you what the mereneptah stela is, let alone its significance!
so yes. i have discovered the music room and i use it as frequently as possible, and i always sit by a window. a window that is eye level. and i watch the people enter and exit the testing center instead of taking my test. and sometimes i bring my dinner, and i eat it while i am taking a test. and the room doesn't echo, and there are only about 40 people in there instead of 700.
however, if i could have my way, i would take a test in my own room, next to a window, and there would be no one breathing heavily, and no one to kick my chair, and i could get up and stretch.
or, we could just take tests in class, and the teachers could only make them as long as the class period. but of course this is a much too logical solution to the problem of the byu testing center.
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