I Am a Peasant

My Dear Reader,

Has anyone ever asked you what you would do with a million dollars? Or if you won the lottery? Mormons don't gamble, so I'm never playing those numbers, but I've wondered what I'd do if I, by chance, came upon more money than I could count. My brother Youngest once told me that if he had a million dollars, he'd buy me a roller coaster.

I think I'd give most of my million away.

You see, I grew up somewhat poor. Padre was working something like a ten-dollar-an-hour job while we had five kids in the house under the age of eight. Later, there were six of us under the age of thirteen. I remember the first time I ever got new clothes (i.e. not HermanaMayor's hand-me-downs): I was in junior high. I know what it's like to ask your parents for something small and getting a "no" because it will break the bank. After a while, you just stop asking, and you realize you really will survive without it. I learned a lot during those years.

My brothers, on the other hand, had an entirely different experience. By the time it was their turn to be teens, my parents were in a much better situation. And as my sisters and I left for college, the family burden got even lighter.* Youngest probably doesn't remember a time before we got cable, but I was a sophomore in high school at the time. I spent fifteen years with bunny ears made of wire hangers and aluminum just for the local channels. I even remember the first time we got a remote. My brothers are used to getting iPods and DVRs. They get clothes off of the rack. They put the big gifts on their Christmas lists. I got all of that stuff after I was already used to living with less.

I just never got into that lifestyle. Don't get me wrong; I don't think there's anything wrong with spending the money that you have, I just am not into the extravagant. I like to buy media, like CDs, DVDs, and the stuff with which to play them, but that's pretty much it. I don't care much about clothes, cars, or make-up. I like things that are simple. I don't like cluttering my life with things that are high on cost but low on purpose. In other words, I'm a peasant at heart. I'm not better than anybody else, I just have a different style than you see in the movies. The less stuff you have, the more room you have to be creative.

My brothers ended up getting that peasant lifestyle after Padre got let go two years back. My parents are still really good at saving money, and they decided to sell the house, move into an apartment, and stretch Padre's severance package as far as they could until he found another job. My brothers were a lot different after that. Now, TwinOne's favorite store is Goodwill. Madre always says that happiness comes from lowering your expectations, and they definitely started expecting less after that. I wonder what it's going to be like as TwinOne and ZweiteZweitung enter the life of a starving college student. You know, when they're so poor that even pickles are a luxury. I'm sure they'll do fine; they've got their peasant training down.

As for me, I hope to be in a situation where I never have to worry about affording anything. I wish everyone could have that, in fact. I just don't see myself buying fancy cars or mansions, even if my book gets sold and becomes an incredibly successful international phenomenon/movie franchise. Yeah, I'd stay a peasant. It's a good way to live.

But I think I'm going to hold Youngest to the roller coaster.

Regards, best wishes, and provident living,

-Cecily Jane

*Padre is not the type to just pay his kids' way through college. In our family, you earn your way. I knew kids whose parents gave them everything, and even though they had a lot more time to study, I think they missed out on some character-building life experiences. I didn't meet many spoiled brats, though. Most people I know with money are really good people.

This Is Mostly a Joke

My Dear Reader,

The other day, I was having a conversation with my friends that went something like this:

Cecily: You know, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to get shot.

Friends 1 & 2: WHAT?

Cecily: You know, with a bullet-proof vest on.

Friend 1: You mean bullet-resistant vest.

Cecily: Okay, sure.

Friend 2: Why on Earth would you ever want to be shot? With a gun? You hate guns!

Cecily: Well, I'm thinking of having one of my characters get shot in something I'm writing, and I want to be able to fully describe the experience.

Friend 1: Oh, so you're insane.

Cecily: No, just incredibly curious.

Friend 2: I knew a guy who got shot. He was a police officer. He said it was like someone hitting you with a baseball bat as hard as they can.

Cecily: Well, I'd like to see for myself. I just need to find someone with a bullet-proof vest and someone else who's willing to shoot me.

Friend 1: Bullet-resistant.

Cecily: Whatever.

Yes, I am aware that this sounds crazy.

Have you ever watched a movie and said to yourself, "I wonder what it's like to fall off a skyscraper," or something? I think that all the time. I've also wondered what it felt like to pass out or bleed excessively. I wonder what it's like to feel a hot piece of metal hit you with excessive force, and what the bruises feel like after. I know it sounds certifiable, but trust me, I'm really, really not into hurting myself. I'm a depressive, but even I have my limits. I knew people in high school who were, and I had a really hard time wrapping my head around that one.* Pain and I are not fans of each other, and I abhor violence. And just so you don't call that hotline, I also wonder what it would be like to do positive things, like flying, walking on the Moon, or winning the Nobel Peace Prize. I envision winning lots of prizes, actually. I'm an imaginative person, and I hope to have a long life full of rich experiences. I would prefer the Academy-Award-Winning-Biopic-type, but I'll take whatever comes my way and try to savor it as it comes.

I don't think it's unusual to have a desire to go through something crazy so you can tell a story about it later. Some people want them so bad that they make them up. Of course, it's stupid to want bad things to happen to you, and there are probably a lot of people out there who look back on their lives and wish that their life had been a little more provincial. Ooh, maybe I should write a story about that. I can write about boring.

By the way, I'm probably never going to be shot, on purpose or otherwise. Especially since Madre reads this, and she's probably planning to lock me in my room right now. And I keep myself out of dangerous situations. And no one in their right mind would ever help me take that risk. And I would never be brave enough to actually go through with it. And I still really, really hate guns.

Sometimes being a coward/having a brain can work towards your advantage.

Regards, best wishes, and I promise I'm not actually going to do it,

-Cecily Jane

*I knew a lot of really messed up kids in high school. Don't worry; they all got help, as people who wish themselves harm should. Somehow, all of us managed to survive into adulthood.

Song: The One Who's Mine

My Dear Reader,

[Note: I know I promised something today, and even though what I planned isn't done yet, I figured I'd still deliver what I could. I've got the words now, and I'll try to get you the music either tomorrow or Monday.]

I got the idea for this while I was listening to the Beatles' "I Will." Since I'm not very good at writing music, sometimes I try to write lyrics to the melody of a song, and then change the melody. It's weird, but it's the only way I can do it sometimes. Because I'm weird. It's funny because I follow some real songwriters on Twitter, and they all say that music is the easy part, but not for a word worm* like me.

My band is called Cecily and The Think System. It's a reference from The Music Man that means I don't actually have a band, it's just me and some synthesized instruments. I'm so clever.

I'd like to dedicate this to all the single people out there, especially the ones who feel old and have people continually trying to "cure" them of their singleness. We know who we are.

[This is where the song will be once I'm done with it.]

“The One Who's Mine”

She stands there in the airport

Wears a hat, a suit, and tie

And she doesn't know his name yet

Still, she's holding up a sign

She stands there at arrivals

Those that pass must wonder why

'Cause she doesn't know his face, so

Her sign reads, “The One Who's Mine."

[Chorus]

I wish that I could help her

She been there so long

And the sign looks heavy, and

Who knows what she's in for

But she stays there strong

Holds that sign all along

Determined she will find

“The One Who's Mine"

She stands there in the evening

And she dreams of him, but then

She wakes up to find that she is

Standing while she lies in bed

She fills her life with meaning

Saw her friends all find their men

Still, the thought of what he'll be like

Is there dancing in her head

[Chorus]

We wish that we could help her

She been there so long

And the sign looks heavy, and

Who knows what she's in for

But she stays there strong

Holds that sign all along

Determined she will find

“The One Who's Mine”

Some days she must be lonely

Though her life is ice and lime

And most times she seems so happy

But her heart is still in line

And soon her love will find her

He's been waiting all this time

And she'll see he's holding something

A sign that reads “The One Who's Mine.”

[Bridge]

And just then he ran

Down the escalator

Said, “Excuse me ma'am

But that's who I am

I know I seem late, but it took long to get here"

And he looked in her eyes

And she said with surprise

“Yes, it's true, here you are
The One Who's Mine”

And we never had to help her

She was there so long

And the sign got heavy, but

She got what she asked for

And she holds his hand

Together they stand

So happy they could find

“The One Who's Mine”

Regards, best wishes, and I've got more where this came from,

-Cecily Jane

*Yes, I did just put myself in a Cranium category. I kill at that game.

Welcome to Sunday School; Cecily Will Be Your Teacher for the Day

My Dear Reader,

Teaching isn't something I've ever really had to do in a formal setting before. I mean, unless you count class presentations, which, for me, can have a tendency to go horribly wrong. Or if you count being a big sister as teaching experience, and with four younger siblings, I can say I've done plenty of that. But the first time I actually had to prepare a lesson and actually teach a class was when I was called to be a Sunday school teacher for the gospel principles class in my branch. It has been quite an experience.

I thought at first, that it would be cake. As the daughter of an "actress" (she was never professional, just community stuff), I've been on stage ever since I've been in diapers (community stuff as well). I sometimes feel more at home in front of an audience than I do talking with just one person. So that was definitely in my favor. Besides, I've been going to Sunday school for over twenty years, and I know the material cold. So, no worries, right? I was looking forward to a really fun experience.

The first couple of times I taught were awesome. I was well-prepared and everything went smoothly. After that, it was harder, and I think it was because I let the first two times go to my head. I tend to do that. For me, if it's not a challenge, I completely lose interest, and then I don't work hard enough to keep up. And that pretty much explains every poor grade on my college transcript. I literally did better on harder classes than the easy ones. It's one of those really, really lame character flaws I'm still trying to work on.

Another thing that made it harder was the nature of the class itself. It's gospel essentials, so it's designed to teach basic principles to new churchgoers. A starter class, if you will. That means that my students generally were more shy and reluctant to speak up than the students in normal classes. It also means that there are fewer students, and that the number changes from week to week. Sometimes there twenty, and sometimes are only three of us. It's hard to be able to plan for that. Also, the material itself is very basic, and there's not a lot of it per lesson. It's easy to get trough everything and have time to spare of you don't elaborate and try to dig deeper, and if your students don't want to raise their hands, it's hard to do that.

The result of all of this is that I feel like I'm teaching a really boring class. I actually had some one fall asleep a couple weeks ago, though I think there were extenuating circumstances on that one. I feel like I stand up there, and just go through material that could be interesting, but to my students, it's boring as a blank piece of paper. I just don't know how to inspire them, I guess.

So, I'm not sure where to go from this point. I try so hard to bring the Spirit into our discussions, but it's nearly impossible to do that when your students seem uninterested in whatever you say. I could bring baked goods or something like that, but wouldn't that take away from what I'm trying to teach? I wish I knew exactly what I was doing wrong so I could fix it. It's just so frustrating, mostly because I was supposed to be so good at this! I'm going to do some praying this week, and a little more self-analyzing than usual. If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them in the comments.

I suppose what I've learned through this experience so far is to respect my teachers for what they do. I hope I'm the kind of student they need me to be. Hopefully, this will all work out some way or the other.

Regards, best wishes, and stay tuned this Friday for something special,

-Cecily Jane

How to Fix America

[Note: Cecily probably has no idea what she is talking about, but she does have a college degree. In English.]

My Dear Reader,

You may be aware that Congress is now debating bill that will "reform" healthcare, or in other words, change every aspect of our healthcare system forever. Every aspect forever.

Of course, you may have a different opinion on universal healthcare than I do. You may think that government-run healthcare is a great idea. But you can't possibly disagree with me about this particular bill that it now in congress, because you don't know what's in it. No one knows what's in it.

No one.

No one has read this bill. No one, not even Barack Obama, the guy who is behind the bill in the first place. He publicly admitted it. That's because it's longer than an unabridged copy of Les Misérables. We are using a piece of legislation to fundamentally change the structure of this country, and we don't even know what that legislation is.

Does that seem right to you?

Think about it this way:

*

When I was in elementary school, and when I was taught about the structure of the government, I had this crazy idea that we (the people) elected representatives and sent them to Washington. Representatives, as in people who represent our interests and try to get things done the way we want them to get done. How naive! The more I pay attention to politics, the more I realize that politicians aren't really representatives as much as they are your less-than-average English major.

You see, if Les Misérables is assigned reading in a college English class, a majority of the class will read it, while the rest will just use Wikipedia and Sparknotes to get by. It is possible to get a degree in English without reading a single book, if you do it right. (And don't care about grades.) I mean, some people can manage to write a ten-page research paper on books they've never even glanced at. This is exactly what President Obama did when he had a press conference on a bill he hadn't read. He did the English major equivalent of being an annoying, unabashed slacker. Like that slacker, he thinks he can fool you into thinking he knows what he's talking about.

Of course, most of our legislative representatives aren't any better.

Do you know what English teachers do to get their students to actually read Les Misérables? They went through the system; they know that people are trying to pull fast ones on them. Do you know what they do to stop Obama-style slackers? They use a tactic that is the bane of slackers and the mild annoyance of good students: the reading check quiz. They give you a quiz on Les Misérables that covers what websites don't. The more aggressive the teacher is about reading check quizzes, the higher the percentage of students who do the reading. These are the teachers that the slackers avoid, and these are the teachers that we (the people) need to be like.

Imagine a United States where the constitution has a 28th amendment. This amendment, put into law by an outcry of those who were sick and tired of Obama-style slackers, states that before a House representative or senator can vote on a bill, that politician has to first pass a detailed reading check quiz on that bill. Then, the politician has to sign a legally binding document saying he/she had read the bill in its entirety and understands completely what the bill is. If we find out that the politician actually hasn't read the bill, we then have the opportunity to replace them with someone who will.

Or maybe that 28th amendment says that there are two kinds of congressional sessions. The first session is when congress presents and debates the bill, and the second is devoted only to voting on bills. Between these two sessions, there is a mandatory recess, where each representative is required to return to his/her district and have a series of town hall meetings where he/she is then must explain what the heck is going on in Washington. You go debate, then you explain to the people, and then you vote. It may just be crazy enough to get our representatives to actually represent us!

Our political representatives should be the best students out there, not the slacker who sits in the back and makes you pull all the weight on group assignments. I think that no matter what side of the aisle we're on, we can all agree that you're not really acting effectively unless you really understand what exactly you're doing, just like you don't know what happens in Les Misérables unless you read it.

Just think about the other bills like this that have been rushed through without anyone taking a second glance. You know, like the Patriot Act? Or TARP? Do we really want to add to the list?

We have the unique opportunity to give our representatives a reading check quiz on this healthcare bill, because it looks like there actually will be a recess before they go back to vote on it. So we can go to these town hall meetings and makes sure they know what the heck is going on. We have the unique opportunity to go to our politicians and give them a college-style, no-nonsense reading check quiz on this bill. I highly encourage you to do just that.

You know, it's either that or create a musical version.

Regards, best wishes, and representation,

-Cecily Jane

P.S. You know, despite what you say about Sarah Palin, I betcha she could pass those reading check quizzes every time. And yes, she reads. If you don't believe me, click here and fast forward to 3:26.

*Yeah, I know Glenn Beck has a reputation for being less than sane. But if you don't look at him as an average political commentator, and instead look at him as a Mormon (which he is, by the way), then you start to recognize his MO: object lessons**. Watching his show is like a big-budgeted, politically-charged version of my entire Young Women's experience. On acid.

**Object lessons are a way of teaching where you have a specific object which you use as a metaphor for the concept you are trying to teach. You know, like when they're talking about time management, and they bring in a jar with sand and big rocks, and the sand represents unimportant tasks, and the big rocks represent big ones? If you put the sand in the jar first, you can't fit in the rocks, but if you put the rocks in first, everything fits. This paragraph can also be used as a coupon to get out of time management classes. And yes, I did just explain my explanation. So there.