Jester

Show and Tell: Brooke

STRANGERS MEET PICNIC!

Yesterday, I handed out this flier to 10 random strangers. I made sure I got an affirmative response out of each of them before I let them have the flier. Today, I frantically bought things to make a salad, ordered two large pizzas, made name cards, collected a table cloth and candles and set it all up on a picnic table behind one of the buildings in Wyview.

I was convinced at least half of them would forget all about it or blow it off….

But I am happy to report the Strangers Meet Picnic was a SMASHING success. All but one of the invitees showed up, making the total number of picnic-ers an even 10: Jami, Kelsey, Josh, Bryan, Kristine, Tofer, Samantha, Satoshi, Justin, and I!

2 of the attendants, Satoshi and Tofer were not even from Wyview! They lived in apartment complexes nearby, but I just happened to catch them when they were out and about. Also, Satoshi is originally from Japan! He’s in his first semester at BYU, and is studying English at the foreign student center.

A guy named Felipe was also supposed to come. He’s from Santiago, Chile… which made me really excited, because I ran into him randomly while buying milk. Unfortunately he is the only “failure” in the entire operation. Perhaps his absence is due to a faulty sense of time…? Chileans generally think that events start about 1 1/2 – 2 hours after the written “start” time. Well, if he shows up now, he will be sorely disappointed.

Anyway: mission accomplished! I wouldn’t say I now have 10 new close friends. But I definitely now have 10 new awesome people to say hi to around campus. We all had a good time chatting and eating and we all learned that 10 random strangers will always have these crazy connections to talk about and relate to each other with.

Scott: Waiting

Researchers in Germany recently did a study of how long the average person spends waiting in a life time. You know…waiting for your Bare Naked Ladies music video to download, for the peanut butter on your Eggo to melt, for the commercials to end during TGIF, for the commercials to start during the Super Bowl, for your laundry, your girlfriend, your poky little brother. It all adds up to approximately three years, they say.

What does Germany know anyway?

Will had been waiting for a good solid three months now.

-

“Trust me, it’s gonna be epic! Did I mention Elliot Smith killed himself there?”

“Okay, cool people stab themselves in the heart there, I get it. Why does that mean it’s gonna be epic? You planning on going down with ‘em?”

“It’s not like my school killed him. He was gonna do it anyway and he figured why not go out in style at the most epic college around.”

“Whatever…he was on the edge and your school pushed him over.”

Will and Allen continued picking up Tootsie Rolls from amongst the strips of mangled piñata flesh. They knew they wouldn’t be eaten when they put them in. The plan was to use them as poker chips after Allen’s little brother’s birthday party but they now found themselves throwing them in the trash without thinking.

On the plane ride to Los Angeles Will found a plastic bag Allen must have slipped into his backpack. Inside was a Batman T-shirt and same plastic vampire teeth. Batman had been their favorite show growing up and the plastic teeth was just Allen being Allen. For several seconds Will forgot how to breathe. It must have been the change in elevation.

…

Passing system?

Okay, so maybe this is a cop out. But I have a suggestion!

Tonight, I fail. I was and am very occupied. So, in light of the fact that this is only going to get more difficult in the weeks to come (as finals approach) I suggest a “pass” system. It is not designed to be lenient. I still like the punishment system.  But I think there should be a certain number alloted(say…6? One every other month) that we can post a “PASS” and not be punished. I don’t know…that would take care of any emergencies or unexpected busyness.

Brooke: Show Don’t Tell

Guess what character traits each of these little excerpts portrays. Then tell me how brilliant I am because I SHOWED and did not TELL.

1. Owen watched as Mama Morse set down the large chocolate cake on the table. It had 4 layers and was smothered in fudge sauce, with white chocolate shavings and delicate little red roses made from icing. Written in an elegant cursive down the middle were the words “Happy Birthday Addie!”
Owen’s eyes flitted from the rich gooey pastry to the face of his little sister, the birthday girl. She was beaming—mouth caught open in a shameless grin, fingers twitching in anxious anticipation. Owen frowned. That was his cake. The same one he asked Mama Morse to make for his birthday last month. He even picked out the recipe! Only his cake only had 2 layers, and no pretty little red icing roses.
“Well are you just going to sit there and smile at it?” Owen asked finally, cutting through the admiring silence. Addie shot him a look.
“No No!” Mama Morse hushed as she pulled 6 tiny candles from her apron pocket and sunk them into the cake and lit them. “Now let’s all sing to the birthday girl!”
Following Mama Morse’s loud cue, the whole rowdy throng of birthday-goers exploded into song. Except for Owen. He just sunk his chin into his hands and stared at that cake—counting the layers, gazing sullenly at the pretty cursive lettering and the perfect red icing roses. (Character Trait: _______)

2. It was 8:04. Nora stared at the classroom door, bracing for it to open. It did. In slipped Patrick Meany, just as expected. He lumbered to his 2nd row seat, yanked out his headphones and slid down his hood.
8:05, Mrs. Lambert tapped her fingers on her desk, called out “All right! All right! Let’s get started.” She would say this at least 3 times before the class finally settled down.
8:07 Paul Short came in; cheeks flushed and backpack bouncing heavily. He did his best not to disrupt…still, he hardly ever escaped an angry Mrs. Lambert making some snide comment like, “late again, Paul?” Nora didn’t think this was fair. He was only 3 minutes later than Patrick and even then it was only because he had to drop off both of his younger sisters before he came to class. Patrick, on the other hand, was late because he liked to hang around the B-building bathrooms and smoke.
Nora had the school day down to a rhythm. It was an elaborately staged dance—and it was nearly always the same. She knew everyone’s names, their destinations, their motivations, cues, entrances, exits. Everything. And she—the silent wallflower. She liked to sit in every class, back left corner, and watch it all unfold. (Character Trait: _________)

Scott: “Rotund” Regis

“Rotund” Regis fit his name.  There was a superstition in the Ravioli family that the fat gene clung to the eighth son.  Regis’ father, “Corpulent” Carl, was the eigth son of an eighth son.  For that very reason Carl and Alfonsino tried to stop having children at six but, as Granny Ambrosia so elegantly put it, “sometimes you just can’t deny that glimmer in the eye.” 

This particular glimmer eventually took the form of twins.  The nurse who gave the sonogram said it looked like an orange and a cinnamon stick.  I won’t go into detail about what the nurses said the day of the birth, but “Cinnamon” Savio came out a good fourteen and a half hours before his brother Regis.            

Brooke: Aftermath

Minutes later Beulah sat breathlessly at the kitchen table. Hands shaking, mind whirring.
“What do we do?” she asked.
Her mother was no longer distractedly scanning her test papers. Now she looked directly at Beulah, brow creased in genuine alarm, her red ballpoint spilling ink in large blots onto one of her papers. “Get the phone book. Look up the number for the coroners office.” She said, and then paused as if something just occurred to her, “She doesn’t have any children?”
“No,” Beulah shook her head. “I mean, none we could call…” Her voice trailed and she shot to her feet ready to root around the kitchen drawers, the den, beneath the coffee table, for a phonebook. Her mother grabbed her arm. “Beulah?”
“Huh?”
“Are you sure?”
“About the children?”
“No, that she’s not just sleeping. Or running errands. I mean, you didn’t say you actually saw the—”
“Look, I could just tell,” Beulah said. She jerked her arm free and began searching the kitchen.