Wittenberg

Guess who finally got to see where Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses? Yours truly!

As a tradeoff for showing my friend David around Leipzig, we drove to Wittenberg, which is only an hour and maybe fifteen minutes away. Some day when I have some time, I'd like to read all of the theses and see how many I agree with. We learned from overhearing a tour guide that Martin Luther wasn't really the first to translate the Bible into German, he did the best job and he was also good at getting people riled up. I'm glad he did what he did.

Here are the bronzified theses:




I paid one Euro to take pictures inside the church (I've still got that unorganized and unofficial collection of pictures of church organs). If any of you ever want to visit and go there with me, the man at the desk let me know that my receipt enabled me to take pictures for a whole year. Sweet.




As you all know, I get excited by libraries, especially old ones. Too bad it was closed. I did peek through the keyhole, though.




And, back in Leipzig that afternoon, here is the classic picture from the top of the Völkerschlachtdenkmal:




Get your very own, personalized version when you come visit!

Have you ever seen the movie "Luther" or read the book by the same name? The movie made me so glad to be born into a generation that enjoys many of the results of people like Martin Luther.

Fashion Funnies

So I was told that I my last post should be removed if I ever want to not scare away boys. Hmm, maybe I'll just post something new.

Thanks, Scott, for sharing this. I thought it was hilarious.




It kind of made me think of biggest little's interpretation of skinny jeans on her:

Zits

The content of the following post is very honest and possibly disgusting, especially for those of you who have never suffered with the same problem. My usual reaction to potentially embarrassing personal problems is to ignore them and thus not allow myself to be embarrassed, but I've decided to gather my thoughts on this subject. Thank you for your understanding.

****************************************************************

I remember a boy asking me why my nose was all shiny when I tried putting Neosporin on a zit to make it heal faster. Or all the times someone asked me if I had bumped my head. I can't forget the times I've been told my face was bleeding, and the times that I've sat in public with a strategically-placed hand that was supposedly supporting my chin really putting pressure on a bleeding zit and then later rubbing a moistened finger there in hopes that there wasn't blood smeared on my face since no mirror was nearby. What about all the times I mentally berated myself for not having any cover-up on me? Or the airport security asking if they can take samples of my benzoyl peroxide?

I have zits. A lot of them. Enough to make a humiliated adolescent kid hide from people. And it's a daily part of my life. One zit's getting ready to surface while another painful, underground, never-to-surface one on my chin is making smiling painful, while another is finally fading into a scar, and another is plaguing my lip, and yet another is going for round two, which is even bigger than round one if you can believe it--and on my crooked nose that already sticks out enough to bring attention to it. Zits. On my face. On my neck. On my shoulders. On my back. On my chest. (Yes, wearing swimsuits is a nightmare.) Nary a picture goes through my iPhoto without me wishing I could edit all the blemishes out.

I've had this problem since I was around 12. That's half of my life now. These zits aren't going away; they are something I have to live with.

I have used annoying creams that bleach everything they touch (great for pillow cases and pajamas and shirts and scarves and for that nice bronze look you were hoping for) and the gels that you have to refrigerate (let me tell you, putting that gel in your fridge where your roommates can see it is a really great feeling). I have tried the medicines that upset your stomach no matter what you do, the ones that you have to take on an empty stomach and two hours before eating, and those that can make your teeth turn yellow. I have tried toothpaste, aspirin, heat packs, ice packs, face scrub, Cetaphil, over-moisturizing, over-drying, no chocolate (though it wasn't for that reason), and everything else you can suggest.

Though the medicine I've been on for a while now has taken me from a hideaway teenager status to a cover-up user teenager status (and back to the hideaway if I quit for even a few days), the fact of the matter is, nothing really works. Some dermatologists don't believe you when you say you've used the cream regularly. Some refuse to say the words "zit" or "acne" and change all of your sentences to include the replacement word "complexion." One dermatologist (who must have known it was hopeless) suggested that I marry someone with good skin so that my kids could have hope. But doesn't that make you feel sorry for the dope who gets stuck with the girl with the bad skin? And how does said girl secure and not scare away fabulous-skinned guy?

Paradoxically, the obvious and distracting redness that is all over doesn't stop people like me from playing with zits. They itch. They hurt. They ooze. They peel. They stick out.

So this has brought me to debates with myself. To pop or not to pop? I had one friend who claimed that she had never popped a zit in her life, and she had fabulously clear skin from what I could see. Another friend had horrible acne in high school and it was absolutely disgusting to see the biggest, ready-to-pop white heads you've ever seen that didn't get popped. I always wondered what happened to them--would they eventually pop themselves, or does the body very slowly re-absorb the goop (while everyone else is grimacing)? I've thought about these two friends' examples a lot. But I'm not either of those people.

I wish I could at least find the happy medium. The happy medium where I only pop the ones that are in danger of disgusting other people with their whiteness or blackness. (And supposedly those ones will get better faster if they're popped.) This happy medium would also involve completely leaving everything else alone to do whatever.

I have put signs on my mirror. I have tried to stop myself every time my fingers go to my face, shoulders, back, or chest. I have bribed myself with great awards and set daily goals. But half your life is a long time to have a habit. And when I compare this habit with addictions, I find that yes, picking zits is my unhealthy way of dealing with life. I pick more often when I'm stressed, and when I need to think, I pick without noticing.

I think I'm going to keep trying to quit. Maybe a public announcement of this goal will motivate me. So, people. Give me some advice. Spill the beans about zits.

Bike + Friends + Temple

As most of you know, my bike isn't just any bike. It's been described as "that's your bike?!?" "rusted out," "piece of junk," "a grandma bike," and as having "a certain amount of charm." Ha ha.

Here she is. Pick a bike, any bike. I'll give you a clue: it's the one that none of you would want if you had your choice. And I'm not sure why the seat is all skeewompus. But it was 30 Euros. And it gets me places.




Good thing I rode my bike for over an hour to do some visiting teaching on Thursday, because it conditioned me for today, when everything went wrong on the way out the door to catch the train to the temple. The result: I've never, ever ridden my bike so fast without a break. And good thing I had jeans on under my dress, because I was chaos flying down the road.

The train was to leave at 7:30. I am not kidding you, I locked up my bike as fast as I could at 7:31 and BOOKED it through the train station. As I approached the platform, I thought, "It's too late! The train's going to pull away as I run alongside it!" But as I turned the corner, I saw that all the doors seemed to be closed but one: Mike was standing in the door closest to the station, with one hand and one leg in, one hand and one leg out. He said he'd called me and heard me running and had asked the conductor when the train would be leaving so they knew he was waiting for someone. Yes, I stunk, and my hair was crazy from the helmet that was half-on, half-off, but the train didn't leave without me. Moni was waiting in the train, where we talked with a guy there about why the gospel makes us happy. Andy picked us up in Chemnitz. It is good to have good friends.

We got to join our YSA friends from Hamburg, which was a treat. I read through Doctrine and Covenants and got some good insights about what the Lord wants me to do in relation to my thesis. One of the temple workers reflected my excitement as he spoke of the fact that Joseph Smith had been in prison before the revelation about proxy work to free spirits was given, so he personally felt the excitement of freedom from prison. The people I was confirmed for were born in Holland around 1703.

There's nothing like two righteous guys, dressed up, at the temple.




Moni's first time going to the temple.




Visiting the temple again was so lovely, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Links to Love

Literary stuff:

How interesting is Klingon?

Mad About English trailer:




I like this poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

How to save lit mags.

Insulting words to learn. I remember how I told someone they were "fundamental" in 4th grade because "mental" sounded bad. I secretly laughed because I had looked it up in the dictionary and knew it meant "basic."

I also like this post with a poem by Carol Lynn Pearson.


Random stuff:

Is this your luggage?

Nimble brain tips from NPR.

NPR forgot to mention that being short is also good for slipping between people in basketball.

I know my brother Jeff can jump rope, but can he do this?



Awesome acoustic music suggested by Dave Eschenfelder. (His favorite artists are Andy Mckee, Andrew White, Don Ross, and Mathew Santos.)

So this is why people don't like my short (but honest) answers (I don't feel like I have to explain anything when I know I'm telling the truth) and bad eye contact skills. They think I'm lying!


Artsy stuff:

Paintings of the presidents' girlfriends (did they really all wear red lipstick? I don't think so).

I love these constellations from thread.

Coverage of the Vocalis Choir in Salt Lake.

Cutesy video of a couple of photographers:

Meet the Brockintons from ashley brockinton on Vimeo.

I love this house of two skateboarders.

Apartment Therapy contest winners--worth checking out. I think this one's pretty funky (minus the antlers, thank you very much).

Red balloon homage video:




Stunning wedding pictures of a couple where the groom made the bride's dress. (I wish I could see more of the dress. It looks stunning. And I love his stubble!)

Cameron Moll prints are lovely (thanks, Melissa).

This photo essay of a bride who died 5 days later of cancer is heartbreaking.

This business card is brilliant.

Lovely artwork by Ryan McGinness.

I'm hearting this art blog.


Funny stuff:

Pre-chat video of man blowing a bubble using emoticons.

Cuban gynecologist car salesman commercial. Oh man.

Remember the awe of watching your hamster run through mazes? I should have tried this with a wok:



Google specials:

Tasks in calendar!

Inbox preview for slow connections (like mine).

Importing other email addresses! (I am swooning now!)

Automatic message translation! (Faint!)


Mormon Stuff:

Word stats of General Conference.

Funny young women memories of lessons.

The history and implications of theethouing in prayer.


And on a more personal note:

Kamakazi mode is sometimes the only reason I get work done on my master's thesis. (Thanks, Francy!)

This is the doctor I've been referred to for sinus surgery (it's been 11 years, about time I'd say).

This is the allergy medicine I've been rubbing into my elbow three times a day!

Do you have any links for me to love?

Stressful Successes

Reasons why yesterday and today were stressful, but good:

The German Brötchen I had for breakfast were crispy and warm.

I got some interesting comments on my blog.

I measured our apartment and made a map. My room is officially 10.17% of the apartment, and I got to be entertained because Aaron wanted to map it in AutoCAD and we fought over the numbers on the telephone until he realized I had my paper turned a different way.

I did a whole bunch of math to figure out how much to pay for the gas bill, and the number came out even. Sweet.

I didn't have any time to make plans for my class, but the time went fast.

After class, one of my friends (Renny) stopped by to say hello.

I couldn't find my bike after class, but I finally found it against a wall near to where I had locked it. (There are at least 300 bikes around there at that time of day.)

I got a step closer to getting paid for the last three months of teaching (I hadn't had any time to give the school a receipt since I'm a freelancer).

The secretary let me use her copy card to copy the myriad of papers I had to turn in for yet another 2-hour student job. (More hours just to fill out the darn thing.)

The books I interlibrary loaned (yes I just used that as a verb) haven't gotten to the library yet--meaning less reading waiting for me.

It was decided that I get to sit in front on the way to the Pentacost YSA conference.

My tomato plants (try 2009) peeked out of the dirt.

I got up at 5:15 for two reasons: to call my sister on her birthday (no one answered, but happy birthday, Heidi!), and to mop the kitchen floor. Yes, a.m.

My roommates and I had a good conversation today. (More on that later.)

The battery on my computer just up and died, but Apple said I can go get it replaced at my local Apple dealer.

Mike came by and helped me finish some of the things on my to do list.

He set up an appointment with the podiatrist for me. Maybe she can cure my crazy toenail. Or at least give me some tips.

Mike also picked up my inhaler from the pharmacy--that's right, I realized that my wheezing after football two weeks ago must be sports-induced asthma. Sica, you'll have to tell me how to use that thing.

I got some thesis writing done. But only a very, very little.

I seem to be a broken down old lady: my feet hurt, my shoulders hurt, my wrist hurts, my neck hurts, my toe hurts, my knee hurts, my throat hurts, I'm too tired to ever DO anything, I'm getting . . . less thin. But I'm still alive and most of those things are ignorable. Or I can at least only really think about one at a time.

I was amused as I got the answer to my question about where to part hair during a hair cut--I guess I parted my hair a little differently today (without even knowing it), and now I have one strand that's ridiculously longer than the others. As long as it's tucked behind my ear, it doesn't matter. I just consider it an extreme A-line.



I had lovely French music playing from my laptop, though I couldn't find where it was coming from (too many links open, I guess).

Now share your own stressful successes so I can smile.

Haircut, Finally!

Yesterday, this cute missionary (who went to Olympus, by the way) cut my overwhelmingly long and split-ended hair. (Sorry, Mom, I couldn't hold out.)

We borrowed all sorts of scissors but never got any that were really good. I originally asked for a layer a bit shorter than the longest hair and without feathering, but that didn't work out because the other sister thought she was fixing it by rounding the ends, so Sister Ryser had to cut to match the trial layer.


Here we are during the process of trying to figure out how to cut a non-feathered layer:





We were so confused about why some parts always looked longer and if we should part it on the side to cut or not. Here we are after we cut off the failed layer and I had vacuumed up (too bad just a haircut can't make one suddenly become as cute as Sister Ryser):





In the evening:




It feels so lovely and healthy! What do you think?

Michelle's 2009 Fashion List

(This picture is enormous and trite. But I love it. And I love Germany. But you knew that.)


Another list I worked on while I was on vacation was figuring out what's in style so I can at least try to adapt what I have to work (buying new clothes isn't really an option at this point in time). But here's what I came up with:

1. leggings/colored tights
2. pleated or wrinkly cotton skirts
3. skinny jeans
4. sweet (ballet) flats
5. dangly earrings
6. collared jackets--few hoods (this is bad news for my wardrobe)
7. plain-colored tops with gathered hems, necklines, or sleeves
8. big shoulder bags, also with gathered material
9. layers
10. scarves (this is most likely mostly European)
11. knitted, knotty sweaters
12. turned up, non-jean knee shorts with buttons on the side

So, next time you see me or a picture of me, you can just imagine how stylish I would look if I had an endless amount of money. :) And you're right, I should finally get my hair cut. And, I should start carrying a bag and stop putting bulky things in my pants pockets.

Thesis Distraction #3

What do you do when you have a free day and no internet access, you've already cleaned your room and baked two loaves of bread, you have a thesis to write, and your carpal tunnel is acting up after a measly three pages of 90?

Of course! You organize your iTunes library for many, many hours (the number is unadmittable). I've wanted to do that for so long, but really, did I have to start now? Naming songs, organizing playlists, and creating genres for more than 6500 songs takes a long, long time.























(Juli, a lovely German band.)

I'm still tweaking, but here are my genres:

Acoustic
Alternative Rock
Bluegrass
Children's Music
Christian Rock
Classic Rock
Classical (I should probably be more specific here since there are so many)
Comedy
Country (no worries, there are less then twenty songs in this list)
Devotional
Folk
Garage Band
German Book on Tape (I'm debating if I should unseparate the German stuff, but its just somehow different)
German Children's Music
German Girl Rock
German Jazz
German Rock
German Soul/Rap
Girl Emo (for some reason I like male musicians more, so I have less girly music)
Girl Pop
Girl Rock
Holiday
Indie (slight differences between the Indies, but when you have enough you have to differentiate)
Indie Alternative Rock
Indie Emo
Indie Rock
Interview (one, of me)
Jazz/Blues
Latin
Lecture
Metal
Mormon Cheese
National (only the German national song so far)
Oldies (very different from classic rock)
Orchestral Rock (if you haven't heard the orchestral versions of Coldplay and Metallica, you are missing out)
Podcast
Pop
Pop Rock
Punk Rock
R&B
Reggae
Religious
Religious Children's Music
Rock
Ska Punk Rock
Soft Rock (I had to laugh because every time I categorized something as "Soft Rock" that was pretty much condemning it to the list I justified not deleting because I "might want to hear one of those songs some day.")
Sound Effects (only the sound of an alarm clock--why do I even have that? And why can't I delete it?)
Soundtrack (I don't believe "soundtrack" is really a genre and plan to split up all the songs, because the album names already identify them as soundtracks)
TV/Movie
World

Listening to hundreds of songs, even if only for a few seconds each was wonderful. It just confirmed to me how much I love music and how many good songs I have.

How is your music organized? Do you have playlists by moods you're in? (I do, maybe for another post.)

Before I go, happy birthday to Jenny! Thanks for being there for me! So, now back to writing, listening to background music organized by genre . . .

Thanks, Amazon

Yesterday, Amazon told me that they had recommendations for me. Hoping they had found some more sources for my thesis, I clicked on the link. What came up?

The Truly Disadvantaged.

I wonder if I could at least order an electric toothbrush from Amazon? Mine died. :(

And, in case you were wondering, I have completed the first draft of THREE pages of my thesis! That means I will be done at approximately the start of September (Sundays don't count). With the first rough draft. Ack!

And I still don't have any internet access at home. Sometimes that's good without a distraction, but sometimes that's bad when I need to look up some info!

Signs of (Behind the) Times

While we were on our trip, I started making a list of things that show, to me, that a country is not quite a first-world country. Here it is, in no particular order:

1. double parking
2. crazy traffic/disregard for traffic laws
3. (maybe as a result of #2) honking
4. street animals
5. smoking everywhere, and hardcore cigarettes
6. stinky people
7. dirty cities
8. unlabeled bus stops and times, lack of city maps
9. unremoved moles (yes, we're talking big, hairy moles on your face)
10. scary teeth

And three that I wasn't sure of, seeing as how I'm only taking experience from Costa Rica, Italy, Turkey, Bulgaria, Romania:
11. few bikes (but aren't Chinese cities overloaded with bikes? Does China fit this list?)
12. something positive--there are a plethora of good bakeries (but Costa Rica didn't have many, did it?)
13. difficulty trusting people dealing with tourists (maybe this happens in every land)

Judeo-Christian Gestures

Happy 50th birthday to my mom yesterday, and happy Mother's Day today.

Petula and I saw a lot of Byzantine art while we on our trip, like this:















And we started wondering about this:











We saw some other hand signs too. Any ideas what they mean or where I can find out more?

Video Summary of Our Turkey, Bulgaria, Romania Trip

Turkey, Bulgaria, and Romania Trip 2009

Turkey, Bulgaria, Romania Pictures and Story

In order to save time, I'm just going to give you all the pictures and videos from Turkey, Bulgaria, and Sofia (with captions, of course) and let them tell the story. Please take the time, you'll enjoy it, I promise! Click here and don't forget to leave your mouse over the pictures so that you can see the details of the captions I wrote for you.

Here are some of my favorite pictures:


Aya Sofia in Istanbul













Ephesus, where Paul walked













Break from the city on the mountain in Sofia, Bulgaria











Buses: They have bus stewards and stewardesses who give out cake and water, and juice, if you can figure out how to say it. That's how I ended up learning Turkish. I quickly learned from a steward how to say "I like cake." There were also horrible soap operas played. Petula and I entertained ourselves by "translating" into German. Those soaps! Can you believe it, they fought about cake and chocolate and cooking the whole time! In Bulgaria and Romania, the bus driver and his cronies smoked, and since they were tour buses, there was no way to open a window. Misery, misery, misery, as if my hayfever wasn't bad enough.

Wild dogs: I have debated ever since it happened if I should tell this story. I guess you'll just have to trust me that it was one of those things where you laugh and laugh and laugh because of disbelief. If you really want to hear it, email me or call me. I turned to Petula who was choking and said, "Is there anything we HAVEN'T seen on this trip?"

Turkish: I can finally tell you why Turkish is so cool. Atatürk, the father of the country and practically the religion too, decided that the country needed to modernize or they'd be left in the dust. (I guess the mud is better than the dust.) Anyway, he changed the Arabic letters to the modern Turkish letters, so since the language was spelled out in new letters using sounds, every letter is said exactly the same every time. So easy, once one learns the letters. Here are the ones you need to know: Ç makes a "ch" sound. The normal C makes a J sound. Ğ is some kind of "zh" sound. There are two kinds of Is. The one without the dot makes an uh sound. This one, "İ" makes an ee sound. "İstanbul" is spelled with one of those. Ö makes the same sound as in German, kind of like the "ou" in "would." Ü also makes the same sound as in German, like a barfy kind of oo at the front of the mouth. Their Z is like the English z. So cool! I picked up some phrases and had people responding to me in Turkish, which of course didn't get us far. And the word order is crazy. I found my faked German accent becoming more and more Turkish-sounding.

Lips: After realizing that my chapstick supply was dangerously low and after having a conversation with Petula about how people say it takes two weeks of chapped lips before they heal themselves, I decided now would be a good time. It was so hard! Every day I found myself biting my lips, licking them, hoping they wouldn't heal smaller than they had been because the inside seemed so crispy and stiff. Although they're still a little funny (at least 14 years of a habit can't be dropped in two weeks), I think I made it! But I'm still wondering what that means for wearing lip gloss on special occasions. And I still love and miss the feel of putting on Natural Ice.

Saw some interesting things. Glad to be back home.

Leipzig YSA Easter Convention 2009

I'm not sure I've ever had so much catching up to do on this blog, ever. And, like Amy Lawson, I guess my blog posts will have to blossom when I should really be writing a master's thesis.

On the first night of the Leipzig YSA Easter Convention 2009, we had lip syncs. I even starred in one, complete with crimped hair. (Thanks for the idea, Ronda!)













Enjoy the four recorded on my camera (the fourth is the best!):


"Bootylicious" lip sync:




Kind of repulsive Spice Girls lip sync:




Something German lip sync:




And, last but not least, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" lip sync (starring me):




On the second day, we had group activities in the park. Luckily the weather was good. I was asked at the last minute to be in charge of an activity, namely bubble-blowing. Since it was too windy, it didn't work out too well, but I believe it was still fun. And I continually and sarcastically repeated the following the whole time I sat in my bubble field: "I've got a good idea. Let's leave Michelle in the middle of a field for five hours, where she can be surrounded by every imaginable thing she's allergic to." In short, I suffered the whole time. At least Kenneth brought me some more tissues. And at least I had sunscreen with me. Here are some pictures (I smiled despite the misery).


























That night, we gave a tour of the city. I was excited to show off Leipzig and tell a bit about the history.













The following day, we went bowling. I won twice, though we weren't allowed to finish the second game. My score for the finished game was 109, I believe. Not Sica-worthy, and not my best game ever, but better than the others. :)

Then we had our ball, where I played two musical numbers. The guy announcing for us said I was going to recite a poem, so I had to laugh and tell the audience that the song was called "Poem" by Fibich. The other song was John Field's "Nocturne." Aaron played the most heart-wrenching "Serenade" from Schubert on his violin, and another boy from Stuttgart played a little something on the piano.

Why does the ball part of these YSA conventions always make me feel lonely? I ended up sitting at a table with couples, so that really added to the feeling. Once the dancing started, I had more fun, though there were a few I was disappointed about never dancing with. My allergies got a bit out of hand, though, and I was told I look like I'd been broken up with.













I was proud of my hair. I tried a new way to curl it I learned from Sister Ryser, where you never close the curling iron but hold the hair against the barrel and start at the top of the hair.















We even took a group photo. Can you find me?











Antje showed up on Easter Sunday. Yay! Everyone went for a walk, meaning I got dragged along as I repeatedly blew my nose, wiped my eyes, sprayed nasal spray, and put in eye drops. Everyone gathered chocolate bunnies while I eagerly waited to be inside a building again.













I accompanied the choir as they sang "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring," a lovely song. I kind of wanted more personal time after church to think about the Atonement, so I went home and ended up taking a nap. I was glad my mom called as I was walking back to the church for the 11 PM fireside.

Monday, we danced at breakfast, had a testimony meeting (wherein I accidentally said that I had no friends when I meant "boyfriend," don't ask me how that made it into my testimony), and cleaned up the wardhouse.

Then I went home to get as much done as possible before my trip to Turkey.

Worn Out

Hello. I am worn out. In more ways than one, despite wonderful things I've done recently.

The second hand on my watch from Tanya stopped at the exact moment that I looked at it a few weeks ago. Luckily, the watch stuck to the right time anyway. In Istanbul, though, it completely bit the dust. I could have bought a cheap watch there, but I knew I had another watch at home. But, what do you know, I pulled it from my jewelry box and it was also dead. So now I am timeless. (Who knew it was so easy to become immortal?)

Do you think it's bad that I just put a white load in the wash with detergent for colors? In any case, I'm glad to have clothes that no longer smell like creepy hostels and smoky buses.