Easter, Spring, and Good Things!

It’s been a little while since I’ve written, friends. Ostara, the first day of Spring, and Easter have all passed!

The weather is so much nicer, no more rain and gloom. I used to adore rain, but the past few years I’ve become a lot more attracted to the sunlight. I can’t wait until it’s warm enough to go kayaking and fishing with my friends.

My garden is growing really well. I’ve added a lot of new plant’s since I last wrote about it. In total I have 21 plants growing on my small apartment patio, which I think is kind of impressive. I’ve been eating a lot healthier, cooking a lot more at home as well.

Midterms are kind of kicking my butt right now, so I don’t have much to share. But I wanted to make sure to check in, and say hi.

Until next time,

B

 

University life – the grass is greener?

I’m happy to say not all of my college life has been community colleges only.  At one point, I did finally, happily and proudly transfer to a university – CSU, San Marcos in North County San Diego but, hey, a university nonetheless.

I was thrilled.  I figured I was finally on the road to finishing my bachelor’s after spending years moseying through community college taking whatever classes interested me along with completing my IGETC prereqs.  I can’t recall if declaring one’s major were a requirement when transferring in as an upper class undergrad, but I did transfer in as a psychology major.

Now, at the time (and really, since 1998-1999), I’ve worked regular business hours – during the day, Monday through Friday.  Hey, that’s great – no weekends.  I loved not having to work weekends; I had spent 11-12 years of my working life up until that point regularly working weekends.  Unfortunately, back in 2004 when I transferred to CSUSM, I found that working during the day didn’t really work in concert with being able to major in anything of any real interest to me, not in the Cal State system.  Go to a low-level state college and find that degree opportunities at night were limited.  Go to a low-level state college that is fairly new and find those opportunities as night programs EXTREMELY limited.  As I recall, at that time, there were only five degree programs available at night – none of which were computer science, which was the program into which I wanted to transfer (none of them were psychology, either).

I viewed my options with dismal hope.  At least, I thought, the community colleges provided many more opportunities at night for degree prereqs and certificate programs.  However, the best degree one could hope for was an AA.  What use was an AA?  I didn’t want to spend all this time in school only to get an AA which would really mean diddly squat in the working world.  I wanted that four-year degree, minimum, so I was determined I’d have to pick one of the five available bachelor’s degree night programs without having to change jobs (and, really, I don’t know of any office job that involved working evening or graveyard shifts AND didn’t take place on weekends).  I liked working during the day with my weekends free; I wasn’t about to change jobs.

I ended up majoring in history.  I’d always enjoyed studying anthropology, specifically cultural anthropology.  I’d wanted to get a bachelor’s in linguistics as I’d always been fascinated by languages and was hooked when I took the one linguistics class available at my JC.  However, linguistics was not an available degree program at CSUSM, and neither was cultural anthropology.  While a poor substitute for the degree program I really wanted, history was the best out of the lot available and does fall under the umbrella of anthropology.  I don’t remember all of the other four, but I do recall one was business and the other, incredibly, was women’s studies (I still don’t get it as there wasn’t a great interest in women’s studies in that area as far as I know).

So, decision made, I proceeded to register for my university classes.  Wow, ever look at a class catalog from a UC vs. a CSU?  You get what you paid for, that’s for sure!  There weren’t a lot of options available, even for classes.  I guess the blessing in disguise is I didn’t have to make a lot of choices; they were made for me.  Need to fulfill a political science history requirement?  Oh, look – only one class available.  Need to cover that women’s history/non-American or western European history requirement?  One class available in women’s history, one class available in Middle Eastern history.  And so on.

I was grateful, though.  There’s no way I would’ve been able to do what I was doing, which was attend a university while still working full time AND pay for my tuition entirely by myself along the way (thank you, Fannie Mae payment plans!).  Also, it so happens that my university was both less than a mile from my apartment AND was a pretty close drive to where I worked.  Had I had the impossible chance of getting into UCSD or SDSU, I would’ve had to move, would’ve had to get a car and would’ve had to work elsewhere.  As it were, I commuted via motorcycle so that made parking on campus a lot easier because I could park a lot closer than if I’d had a car (I could also ride between cars on my way to school, still humming along while everyone else around me was stopped due to the congested traffic).  So, you see, it wasn’t all bad.  Still, going to a UC would’ve been such a feather in my cap!

Being a night student, there really also wasn’t any hope of participating in student life.  It was still a rather small school 12 years ago so it was a commuter school with student programs happening during the day.  Given that I was in my 30s at that point, I had no interest in student life anyway so I was perfectly okay with that and missed out on nothing in that respect.

A favorite discovered bonus of being a student there was learning my tuition included being able to check out books around the world.  I loved that!  I did, at least once, check out a book that had to come from another country; I thought that was the coolest thing ever.  It cost me nothing since the interlibrary loans were already covered in my tuition.  I also figured out how to save on textbooks by checking them out through the library.  I was pretty broke and, at the time, online retailers like Amazon didn’t offer deals on textbooks and textbook rentals didn’t exist.  I figured out which textbooks I could obtain through either my school library or from borrowing from another library via my status as a CSUSM student then bought the rest, which was minimal.  That really saved my butt many times as I really couldn’t afford buying all the books I needed for my classes.

I found a strange “perk” of being a university student and one that one of my history professors encouraged (I guess to help college students develop as adults – the traditional ones, anyway, since I was already well into adulthood at this point).  We were provided free tickets to various rallies; I even was able to hop a rented Greyhound-type bus with many other students to attend a student protest here in Sacramento (my first trip to Sacramento).  I’ll admit that my interest wasn’t entirely the student protest (they were protesting the hike in tuition, and my feeling was then and still is that things like this have to happen in order to sustain the university – I don’t know where they thought the costs of keeping the university going were going to come from otherwise; everyone was feeling the pain of a downturned economy, not just students).  I was mostly in it for the trip to Sacramento – an adventure!

Anyway, it wasn’t the best of efforts (our bus broke down partway to Sacramento maybe a couple of hours out of town so we were stuck on the highway for multiple hours waiting for a replacement bus – couldn’t go back to our cars back at school, couldn’t arrange for other transportation at that late notice; our new bus had a broken restroom, no heat during that winter travel and got us to Sacramento too late for the main portion of the protest which was to meet with various politicos).  I also learned that ours was not the only protest that day or, even, that moment of the day so we didn’t even have the benefit of being a “spectacle.”  I believe there were two or three other protests taking place on the Capitol lawn at the same time as ours.  It felt like a scene out of some National Lampoon movie making fun of various college groups.

Despite that rather bizarre, overly dramatic protest (my college schoolmates even set up tombstones to signify the “death” of their educational goals; I cringed inside as I hadn’t known ahead of time), I’m glad I went.  It gave me college experiences I definitely wouldn’t have had at the JC level (at that time, I think the community college tuition was $19/unit – kinda hard to protest that!).  I have no quarrel these days with the idea of being a CSU student.  It’s a shame I won’t be a UC Davis student (as an employee, I would get a major discount on my tuition were I to be a UC Davis student; wanna save on tuition?  Become a UC employee and tuition cost is 30% — nine unit maximum per quarter but you can’t beat 30% for tuition costs!).  My goals aren’t in line with what UCD has to offer (I’m completing my degree online).

Would I say the grass is greener?  Not necessarily.  It’s a lot of money to spend on a degree if there’s no definite practical use for it.  I know that history degree would’ve been useless to me (at the time, I figured I’d then get my teaching credential as that was the only thing I could think of I could do with it down in SD, and I really don’t like teaching).  This time around, I know I’ll be getting a degree which I could use.

Next week – Part IX:  Cooking/baking – there are no Benjamins.

LNR

The Major Question

If the stressors for a college student weren’t already half-hazardous to our burgeoning minds, I’d say the even greater challenge of finding a major is the needle in the haystack. That needle is embedded deeply within the stack of prickly dried grass—which, by the way, has been set on fire with a stone barrier and a moat full of crocodiles around it. But good luck grabbing it.

Even when we come out of the haystack, we realize that what we thought was the needle, was actually a piece of the beige grass. It’s not what we wanted; nor is it what we expected it to be. So, we must jump back into the fray and start our journey again.

When we are in our early years of adolescence, and asked of what we want to be when grow up—the question seemed quite easily answered. But it was also ever-changing. First, I was determined to be a teacher. Then (thanks to all the aunts and family whispering into my ear), I wanted to be a doctor. After a while I decided I would be a teacher that taught people how to become doctors. I threw all of that out of the window when I wanted to be a combination of a spy and a superhero. When college started, I was determined to be some sort of engineer. Yeah, I still laugh and shake my head at that one even now.

The point is, no matter what I decided, I never actually thought of what I was good at, or what would make me happy. I was influenced by society of what I should become, but they were just words I echoed, and easily spoke aloud. But what I wanted to do all along, was something I found challenging to admit.

Why?

Because when you want to follow your dreams, or feel so passionately about something inside of you, it becomes an extension of who you are. And sometimes, it’s a bit terrifying exposing yourself to the world.

I finally realized after a long battle with myself, that I wasn’t going to waste this life or the potential I feel empowering me every time I write. My words may not always make sense, my thoughts can sometimes appear convoluted, and becoming a writer who stands out amongst seven billion people in the world, seems downright mad.

But sometimes, such insanity is what fuels me to believe that I can do it.

And as long as I believe in myself, I care for nothing else that tries to undermine my determination to succeed.

The major question isn’t what you should do that other people are; it’s what you should do to follow your heart.

Because in this day and age, with seven billion people in the world, becoming someone is no longer about trying to be like everyone else. It’s about following the passion that sets you apart.

I realized at the end of the day, that everything I wanted to be—a doctor, a superhero, a teacher—was because I wanted to help people. And now, through my writing, I truly hope I can.

-Kiran Bains Sahota ( sunsetdahlia.wordpress.com )

Brenner in Disneyland

Hello, hello! Sorry for not having anything to share with all of you last Friday. This is because I knew a moment in my life was finally approaching that would be worth sharing and decided to wait so that I may have something fun to share! Earlier this week I went to Disneyland with some of my family. I had a lot of fun and only regret not wearing more comfortable shoes.

Above I have added pictures of a parade held in Disneyland as part of the 60 year anniversary celebration, a simple snapshot of a street as I was walking around California Adventures, an smoothie cup with my name misspelled, and, lastly, a picture of one of our local high school bands (Elk Grove High) who also had their own small parade down Main Street of Disneyland.

To be honest, I believe the trip would have been more magical if I was still a little kid. Regardless, I was very happy to have had a mini vacation away from home!

How did the rest of you spend your spring break!?

Enjoy Life,

Brianna Renner

Something New

Another week another day, and once again it’s another Sunday. For college students spring break is either this coming week or the week already. Good times are here and more to come. The summer will come sooner than later. Either way, life has been fairly busy lately, but as life is sometimes.

So since this year is already almost a third of the way done. That being said, try something new or something that you’ve wanted to do for so long and haven’t. For example, watch the show you’ve been meaning to watch, or play a game you wanted to play. Then again, if you’re lazy you can always just try a new food or try eating healthier. Life’s too short to live it day in and day out the same, so you might as well do something enjoyable instead.

Anyways, it’s been a long week and I’ve had some great things happen. And kind of felt like sharing a different aspect that could change your life in some way. So go out there and do something new, or don’t. Either way, just go and have a good time. Life’s short so go have fun.

 

-Matthew Church

Too Caught Up In Weight.

In all honesty, I dislike my body. I thought it’d easier to be skinny because then I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious. I want to do sporty activities without being afraid to jump, climb, run because i feel heavy or I might jiggle. My body drags me down. It is odd because no one else has ever phased me by their size. I only see myself and my imperfections.I never wish to look like someone else, but all I want is to be skinny.

I am beginning to realize it is not ones size that makes ‘fitting in” easier, but rather the confidence shown, and not just for others too see. I dressed like chancho (Nacho Libre) but I begun to believe I was fat because people told me I was. Even my senior year of high school, kids still made remarks about my size and stretchmarks. So with all of their recognition, I recognized my flaws, too.

 WHY do people still make unnecessary comments whether they are compliments or insults?! Now that definitely proves that there was a HUGE change from my younger self to now. It is extremely hard to get that out of your mind when you’ve grown up hearing that frequently. I still feel like I take up space and squish others I’m standing next to. That ‘fat feeling’ I get is not reality. It is simply a time in my life where people made me feel that way, therefore, I have ingrained that life into my being.

Benefits from Mustard Seeds

Hello, everyone!

Today I have been collecting allergies for I have mowed a quarter of 2 acres. I could have mowed more but it was getting late and I was running out of fuel.

Hours upon hours today as I was mowing I thought about the beauty in life and how it is so abundant but we either take it for granted or we may pay little attention to the little things. It’s amazing how a little thing can bring you so much joy. I love flowers and I was very happy to see wildflowers growing in the yard because I think it’s so neat how in a patch of dirt or wild tall weeds a flower can bloom from the earth at any time and any place it wishes to grow.

We have a lot of Mustard Seed Flowers (like the picture I found from the website listed in the link bellow) and we also have light purple flowers that I will have to find out what their name is.

Here’s a fun fact! Did you know that you can harvest Mustard Seed Flowers? Unless I’ve been living under a rock, I didn’t know until a week ago when my mom mentioned that my uncle would pick them and make things out of them.

But that’s not it! They are also used for vitamins, medicine, and they are also harvested in vineyards to destroy the nematode population which are worms that happily live within the soil. That is why vineyards especially young vineyards will plant golden mustard seeds so they can eliminate threats such as the nematodes. For More Info On How Golden Mustard Seeds Contribute To Vineyards, Check Out This Link.

Mustard Seeds are not only yellow, there are other types of mustard seeds. They can be used in spices and herbs, on your salad or for nutrients. For More Info On The Benefits of Mustard Seeds, Click here.

You can also use it in your bath, to grow your hair, and to protect your body from cancerous cells. Here Is A Link For More Information On How Mustard Seeds Protects Us

Check local stores like Trader Joe’s for jars of Mustard Seeds! And try to find use from them too as long as you are following directions and you read up on how to incorporate them into your life, daily.

Thanks for tuning in! See you next Friday! And remember, “Beauty is only hidden to those who don’t see it.” ~Me

Ashley

Wild Mustard Seed Flowers harvested on a vineyard.

Above is a picture I took earlier today while mowing.

Above is a picture of a nematode’s (worm’s) anatomy.

 

 

 

 

 

The Killing Moon

I always really liked this song, it’s been stuck in my head. Sometimes I drive around aimlessly listening to Echo and the Bunnymen, so I felt as if this was a good share.

Not much is going on in my little world, so until next week.

-B

Crooning and tuning – well, I tried.

One of my earliest memories is when I was around two years old (had to be before I was three because my younger sister was not yet around).  I woke up in the middle of the night from sleeping next to my mom on one of those 70s-style living room/den set-ups (like they have in the “Brady Bunch” — what look like two twin beds perpendicular to each other with a table at the corner).  To my amazement, I saw on the other couch/bed a bunch of guitars neatly arranged and, mesmerized, reached out to touch them.  As I tried to touch each one, it faded into nothing.  My toddler-self finally realized I must have been imagining things and went back to sleep.

Since that day over four decades(!) ago, I’ve always been fascinated with instruments (I still dream of having a piano in the house I share with my husband but unless we’re blessed with a wad of cash to either buy a bigger house elsewhere or add onto our existing house, a piano is not happening — not for a lack of one since my childhood piano still resides in my mother’s house in LA but due to the way-too-common combination of too much stuff vs. not enough house).  Over the years, I’ve also wanted to learn to play regular drums, taiko drum, the banjo, hammered dulcimer, banjo, recorder and accordion, among others (piano not included since that was the one instrument for which I had formal lessons as a child).  Still, the guitar had always remained my first love.

It was a pleasant discovery to find my first college has a music department.  Hallelujah! I thought, I could sign up for beginning guitar!  One problem – I didn’t own a guitar.  No matter – off to Big Valley Music I headed in search of my very own guitar.

I must’ve been quite the sight carting around that guitar.  At the time (when I was 22 years old), I didn’t have a car so I got around via moped (well, really a 49cc scooter, but I’ve always called it my moped as it looked just like one, minus the rotating pedals).  Barely thicker in frame than a bicycle, I rode that little two-wheeler EVERYWHERE…well, everywhere I could get away with topping out at 30-35 mph.  I’m sure I terrified many a driver during my commute to/from school when I had guitar class that day.  Why?  Picture this person on, essentially, a motorized bicycle, cruising along with this huge instrument bag across her back.  I rode near the curb to not block the flow of faster drivers but, still, I must’ve looked like the miniature version of those tiny pick-ups that have frames soldered into their beds pointing several feet towards the sky and teetering back and forth with the mass of random objects crammed in.

Anyway, I thought it was finally time I was fulfilling my dream of playing the guitar.  I didn’t take one thing into consideration though – playing string instruments that don’t use a bow is kinda hard on your hands.  Hmmm…any way out of this?  Nope.  I had to either accept that my fingertips were going to hurt AND develop callouses or learning to play the guitar was going to not really be happening.

I guess I wasn’t really into it – more into the dream of playing the guitar vs. putting any real effort into it because I still don’t know how to play the guitar (which I do still have although I’m not sure how playable it is 20+ years later).

I did learn one thing, though.  I learned that I, for the life of me, cannot tune an instrument.  After trying a few times, first, by my instructor playing a note on his guitar (didn’t work) then by using a tuning device (can’t remember what it’s called and still didn’t work), I ended up buying an electronic device that would tell me when each string was properly tuned.  That saved me (and it was rather embarrassing to need my teacher to help me tune my guitar in front of the whole class and, also, have it be extremely out of tune – that’s how bad my ear is).

I also found out that there are much worse things than coming to class unprepared, and that’s coming to class unprepared and having to perform in front of the class!  Yes, as part of one of our tests, we had to pair up with another student and play a song together while our instructor graded us and the rest of the class observed and listened.  I was so bad and so obviously not ready that after a painful couple of minutes (I don’t know for whom it was more painful – me or my instructor and the class), my partner asked if we should just skip to the end and, with a wince, my instructor croaked out, “Oh, God, yes.”  My, that was incredibly embarrassing!  I think I dropped the class shortly thereafter.

After this debacle, did I stop with the music classes?  Nope.  A few years later, I decided to try taking a voice class AND a 2^nd-semester beginning piano class.  The piano class wasn’t so bad but, again, I found that to get better, you really have to practice (practice practice practice, as the joke goes).  It was also a bit intimidating to be taking this class that was taught simultaneously with all of the other levels so while I was struggling with some simple, first-year piano student ditty, another student is playing for us the Rachmaninoff piece she’s been working on for months (or some other equally as difficult music).  That kind of dedication I definitely didn’t have.  I ended up dropping that class, too.

Ah, but, voice!  Voice was where I was going to do something that I’d done in school previously, having sung for school groups in elementary school then junior high.  This shouldn’t be so bad.  Well, we sang with our sweet, little, not-yet-changed voices when 11-, 12-, 13-years old.  The voice class I was in, unbeknownst to me, focused on singing more like an opera star.  I stuck this one out.  It wasn’t a fun class, and my instructor really didn’t do much to teach us (plus I was trying my best to not engage the stalker I had also managed to acquire in that class).  Even now, I can hear my reedy, off-key voice attempting to hit the high notes for “Somewhere” from West Side Story.  It got worse when, for my final piece, I drew the song that was in Italian (there were three different songs that we were randomly assigned by drawing from a bowl, and mine was a song from an opera, I believe).  I did put effort into this one, but there’s not much you can do when the voice isn’t there.  And my voice certainly isn’t there.  And, again, we each had to sing in front of the entire class.  No, not nerve-racking at all…not!  The blessing was that most of us sounded pretty bad, especially those of us attempting the Italian song, so we just watched and listened feeling empathetic agony for each other.

Voice class had its good moments, though.  We were required to attend an opera for this class.  CSUN, the nearest four-year college, has (or had at that time) opera productions so I had no choice but to expand my horizons (and found that I really enjoyed opera – still do to this day).  I also had a partner in crime in that class who was also avoiding unwanted attention.  Hers was worse than mine as her unwanted attention came from our instructor’s teaching assistant (which makes it sound like he was in his late teens or 20s but, actually, he looked to be somewhere in his 50s and should’ve known better than to hit on students).  My classmate was in her 40s while most of us were traditional college-age (or close to it) so I guess the TA thought he had a shot with her and, one day when they were alone at the piano, she confided in me, asked her if she had a boyfriend.  “More than that,” she replied in shock, “I have a husband!”  The TA then attempted to play it off, “Oh, really?  Well, you know I was kidding, right?”  This was in the early 90s (try to imagine how well such a scene would go in today’s environment – that TA was playing with fire!).  I then shared with her our wacko stalker classmate who wouldn’t stop pursuing me (I think only the semester ending was how he finally went away; hers was easier as she told me he avoided ever being alone with her after that).  Upon sharing with each other our insane experiences, she and I giggled loudly like mean, little schoolgirls while sitting in the front row of the classroom (so in full view of our tormentors who were close by), but you really had to find humor in our terrible plights.  Who expects to go to class and have to, figuratively, spend time running from unwanted, unsolicited attention?

I’ve never taken another music class since then.  I think about it, but I really don’t think I’m up for the commitment.  Besides, with the availability of YouTube and all sorts of goodies on the Internet (plus having no interest in knowing how to play instruments beyond my own entertainment), why enroll in another graded music class?

In two weeks (after Spring Break) – Part VIII:  University life – the grass is greener?

LNR

Mid-Term Mania

It’s the middle of March, and for most college students, it’s that dreaded time before break: mid-terms. I suppose it’s reasonable to say that students work hard in order to be rewarded with the joys of the warm sun and cool air of spring break, but it’s the path to getting there that becomes the struggle. So, just how are we expected to triumph through the epic ordeal of assessments and long study hours? It just takes a little time and reading through this article!

The basis of any study method is to obviously prepare and ensure that you have the correct material for the test. Every individual has a unique way of perceiving information, so study methods can vary by individual. I’ll go through my own personal routine, and for my readers, I simply suggest to replace some of my practices with what you are comfortable with.

I start off by organizing all of the material for each of my classes and which subject is most important to review first; prioritizing by relevance or by which class you really need the higher grade in is where I start. Next, I make sure the environment I am going to work in will be of my own liking—here is where you may implement something different. Some people like to work at the nearest Starbucks, form a study group with friends, or sit intrenched with work at the library. For me, I require the comfort of my room or a desk, surrounded by nothing except for the sound of rain pitter-pattering from my laptop. After I’ve established myself, and have ensured that my phone’s only use will consist of timing me for how long I study certain criteria, I begin my intense study time.

I usually go through my notes, and hope that I’ve received some sort of assistance from a study guide, Googling whatever I can until I’ve completely captured what I was meant to learn. When I’m reading, I sticky note any relevant information and stick it on the page, ensuring that I still jot down the page number in the corner so I can enable an easier comprehension when faced with questions on the material. With notes, I try to retain acronyms, color codes, or doodles to assist me in understanding what I was supposed to grasp through lecture.

For motivation, I try to look at my monthly calendars to remind me of the break that must be well-deserved (I like making my time worth something), and I remind myself of personal things, like how I am not a failure and that I must endure and try my best for all that I am set to accomplish. Sometimes, for smaller incentives, I’ll try to reward myself with different treats when achieving certain tasks. For instance, if I need to read thirty pages in a book but don’t feel like it, I’ll promise myself an episode of my favorite sitcom or gift myself with desert as motivators for me to do it.

Ultimately, studying is certainly not easy, and in college, it takes a great deal of self-discipline in order to attain satisfactory results. Exams aren’t simple, memories sometimes falter, and time is a commodity—but the life of a college student wasn’t supposed to be easy, we just have to make it doable.

-Kiran Bains Sahota ( sunsetdahlia.wordpress.com )