Not Putting a Title Here Might Make Me Seem Edgy

Four score and seven years ago, I found myself faking originality. For instance, nobody likes burnt popcorn. I thought I did, but nobody does. Because nobody does, I thought I did. In truth, it tastes like a blossom of ash and smells like a carcinogen. There's no getting past that.

Sometimes deciphering originality from the mainstream can be nearly impossible because of originality's widespread popularity. A paradox, indeed. In fact, I still can't decide if I'm for Obama or Socialism. Oh, whoops, same thing.

Oh yeah, and what the heck am I supposed to be wearing these days? Skinny jeans? Psh... try NOT finding those in every store you walk into. Obnoxious looking geek glasses? A headband across the middle of my forehead? Footie pajamas and a cowboy hat? (wait... that was one of my unintentional fashion statements).

At least I can count on Disney Channel movies to keep me original. Especially High School Musical. I mean, nothing's more unheard of than a college student obsessing over High School Musical.

I suppose my originality comes from doing things nobody else wants to do. Like spraying cooking spray directly into my mouth or actually eating that mystery concoction.

I have also convinced myself that being dubbed "Designated Brownie Batter Spoon-Licker" each year of college isn't at all degrading. I am not too proud to look like a starving lard consuming the dregs of the brownie bowl.

So, friends, Romans, countrymen, give me your batter-dipped spoons, your over-hyped adolescent films, your blackened ashy cancer-causing popcorn...

and I will show you true originality.

(On an end note, I invented blogging.)

What's Good

I'm getting married so my brain won't function. Or perhaps I am getting married because my brain won't function. That's what all the non-mormons think, anyways. The contrast between a mormon response to a wedding announcement and a non-mormon response continually reminds me that mormons are, indeed, a peculiar people.

"I am getting married about five months from now in July."

Mormon Response: "Perfect. You're engagement time will about quadruple your dating time. Ever consider moving it up to May?"

Non-Mormon Response: "Wait. July of THIS year?!?"

"I am 22-years-old"

Mormon Response: "Man, you sure are lucky to have found a man older than you up at school. You barely dodged the relationship limbo they call the singles' ward."

Non-Mormon Response: 'Oh, how sweet. She genuinely thinks it will last!'

"He and I are both going to be English teachers."

Mormon Response: "I hope you don't mind being poor."

Non-Mormon Response: "Very, very, very poor."

"We've been officially dating since Thanksgiving."

Mormon Response: "Oh yeah? Well my cousin dated for ten days before she got engaged and my grandpa proposed after three dates and my mother's aunt just ran into this guy and she knew she'd marry him so they went and got married and..."

Non-Mormon Response: (Grin, blank stare, exhale, exit room)

To mormons and non-mormons alike, marriage might mean the death of independence, a plea for poverty, or an onslaught of annoyances; but, to me marriage will mean one simple thing: incredible blog material.

Student Teaching Update

You know all those times when you've fallen asleep in a room of people and they start talking around you whispering, "She's asleep," and then you have to concentrate really hard on keeping your eyes closed because you think you've fooled them but the joke is really on you because now you are forced to lay there with your eyes closed for an honorable amount of time just so they think you were, indeed, asleep when they were talking about you? That's sort of what student teaching feels like.

Is There an Echo in Here? I Wish. That Would Make Conversation a Whole Lot Easier.

You know what I love? Repeating myself. Not only does it double the duration of hearing myself talk, but it also doubles my chances of being heard. It's a good thing I am going into secondary education.

Coming home from school offers bounteous opportunities for repeating myself. You know what I love? Repeating myself. A common conversation at my house goes as follows:

Me: "Mom!!! Phone's for you!"

Dad: "What?"

Mom: "Okay, I'll get it!"

Dad: "What? Are you calling me?"

Me: "No."

Dad: "Anna! Is the phone for me?"

Me: "No, Dad."

I also enjoy telling stories that only get interesting toward the end. That way, people are bound to say, "wait, who did this?" or, "hold on, what happened?" right when I start wrapping things up. Seeing as my stories change with every telling, this gives optimum opportunity to add a little flavor to my tales. It's like getting to roll the bowling ball three times on the last frame. At least, it seems like it would feel like that. I guess I wouldn't know.

My stories often feature the same characters that always make up my life, yet they remain faceless strangers to my parents each time I begin a story.

Mom: "So, who all was there?"

Me: "The usual. Martin..."

Dad: "Martin Milius?"

Me: "No, Dad. The other Martin we know. Plus Kelsey, Brittney, Tom*..."

Dad: "Tom who? Tom Selleck?"

Me: "No, Dad. The one you always say, 'Tom who?' about."

Mom: "Now, who was there?"

Dad: "Tom Johnson? Oh, that Tom boy in our stake?"

Me: "Oh, you know what? Actually nobody was there."

Dad: "What?"

Unfortunately, this conversational trend seems to be genetic. My mom asked me, "Anna, jfwa io fjlkds take down Christmas decorations today?" I can't possibly understand what she was asking of me. It sounded sort of like, "Anna, jklw vni empty jlki the dishwasher," or, "Anna, afie you're fjiofaeio; too old lkanv watch cartoons."

I have concluded that hearing is a gift not to be wasted or overused.

*Name changed to protect the innocent

Annimezing

Welp, it happened. I was invited to see an anime movie. I am not sure what the protocol is on responding to this type of invitation, so I had to think fast. Lucky for me, I am an expert at speaking before thinking.

One time while observing a larger man mount a mechanical bull I remarked, "He shouldn't be riding the bull, the bull should be riding him!" to none other than my larger colleague who merely glanced awkwardly in my direction. "umm... cuz he's so good," I said to clear up the miscommunication. I don't know what he thought I meant by it, I mean the guy was quite the bull rider.

Another time when my mom tried on a shirt in the store dressing room I said, "It's kind of cute but a little worn," to which she remarked, "This is the shirt I came in."

After careful consideration, I have chosen to keep the third example under wraps. See, I am learning from past mistakes!

I knew when my friends started calling having a big mouth "pulling an Anna" that it was time for a change.

In conclusion, watching anime means you are a weirdo and I want nothing to do with it. No amount of thinking is going to change that statement.

Don't Bother Me. I'm Breathing.

The last two times I've tried to write in my blog, I have fallen asleep. I bore myself. That is saying something because I could be entertained in a square, white room with my hands strapped to my back.

I don't see why everyone has to bother me to actually do things. "Anna, let's go to your best friend's birthday party," or "Anna, you can't leave a three-year-old by himself," or "Anna, you should probably get that checked out." "Excuse me," I say, "You are interrupting my breathing."

That's why I try to surround myself with easily entertained people.

Pros?

1. They are a rewarding audience, laughing at simple gibberish words or toot jokes

2. They understand my efficient energy saving techniques some refer to as laziness

3. They tell the best toot jokes.

Cons?

Hmm... negatives of being childlike and carefree... think, think, think.

Looking back, I have always been easily entertained. As kids, Doree and I invented a brilliant game in which we would roll a foosball ball on the carpet towards a goal. When we made

a goal, we could eat a chip.

Another time we layed in my hallway upstairs gargling melodies for about an hour. We even used to memorize all the answers from the first edition of Nintendo Jeopardy. The only competition was who could buzz in the fastest. (FYI: if the question includes the word "snake", the answer's an asp.)

And I'll never forget when Doree pushed me all the way from her house to my house in a bright blue wheelbarrow, a feat rivaling Everest.

Simple entertainment has existed forever. Look at marbles, jacks, paddleball, and calculus for example. Easily entertained people, may as well be dubbed the creative geniuses of our time.

Needless to say, creative genius flourishes in Rexburg, Idaho.

My Post is Longer and Perhaps More Intelligent Than Your Post

My name is Anna Liggett and I am an over achiever. What's so wrong with that? I showed up to class for a book presentation yesterday with a giant tiger's head I had mounted on cardboard, an elaborate display complete with carefully picked book quotes, and even animal crackers to complete the theme. Okay, and I sort of coordinated my outfit to match the display. It was, well, cute.

I may have also spent an hour and a half writing a resume as a fictitious character or looked up the spelling of 'fictitious' just to make sure it was spelled right. You can roll your eyes all you want, but nobody hates over achievers as much as over achievers hate over achievers.

If you want to see a whole package of over achievers wrapped with a tight, gold ribbon, just check out the English majors. As everyone knows, no one better than English majors themselves, English majors are intellectual elitists. In a classroom of these bright builders of America, a common discussion goes as follows:

Teacher: "Good Literature," must write dramatically on board. ...e-r-a-t-u-r-e circle, circle, underline, a couple dots for good measure, "What is good literature?"

Students: Intellectual elitism look on their face.

Over Achiever 1: "Good literature should cause change in the world."

Over Achiever 2: "I am gonna play devil's advocate here," because I am so open minded and intellectually advanced enough to see both sides of any issue and not feel emotionally attached to either side so I can make anyone look like he is wrong, "But, what about all the good books that don't cause change in the world?"

Over Achiever 3: Oh, he set me up so well. I just need to name an author and a title and everyone will think I actually read in my free time. "Yeah, like... uh... like. Oh, it just left me. Harpo Lee To Kill a Mockingbird. Boo Radley."

Over Achiever 4: Deno, no... connotation? No it's 'D' for definition. "I guess we all need to agree on the denotation of 'good' when referring to literature"

English Major Who Fell Through the Over Achiever Cracks: "One word. Twilight!!!!!"

Over Achiever 5: "I think we need to be the change we want to see in the world."

English majors, including myself, often think they are smarter than they really are, which means they think they are smarter than everyone ever. They pretend to idolize prominent figures, when in fact, these figures become little more than their nemeses. As such, they seek to subtly backhand these figures where possible.

"Ahem. I admire the literary merit of Edgar Allan Poe. Although his maniacal plot lines leave us questioning his sanity, his legacy lives on." Or else, "Mark Twain was a master of satire, but he hated Mormons. Boo." Or, "Wordsworth uses simple words to express his simple appreciation of the complex serenity we call 'nature'."

Man, this post just reaffirms my proper place as an English major. My voicemail even says, "So you've come to the master for guidance. Is that what you're saying, grasshoppa?" Dang, that is so Eng. Maj.