Food bloggin'.

Guess what. I guest blogged. On a restaurant review blog. And it was awesome because I finally had an excuse to go out to eat. You can read it here and check out other reviews.

And I'm reposting it here too. Just because. Also, don't judge my reviewing skills. This was my first time review a restaurant. And I just usually like all foods. (The real pro at reviewing is our very own guest blogger Sam. How I wish Yelp could show all your wonderful reviews.)

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Readers of this blog. Hello. I am Eden Wen. I was asked to contribute and I thought to myself, “Yes. A perfect excuse to eat out this week.” And I knew the perfect place to go to.

However, on my way to review my favorite Mexican restaurant, Emmanuel’s (if Ian lets me do another review, I’ll do it on that piece of heaven on earth), I bumped into two friends who told me that I must go to Stan’s instead. And conveniently, it was across the street from Emmanuel’s on 9th East, so I obliged.

On the outside, it looks like any other burger joint. But, I have to say, I was very confused walking in. I was bombarded with several menus and the interior was not the most comfortable. And not only was Stan not there, unless one of the three East Indian women was Stan, he is apparently an Indian man with a love for greasy American foods.

Life is Art, You are the Artist

Oh hey there! I'm Sarah Swan, today's lucky guest blogger. Here's my deal. I'm from Seattle. I like puppies, cars, movies, music, and camping among other things. I usually make dumb faces when people take pictures of me. I always dance like nobody's watching, because they usually aren't.

And here's the deal with this post. I graduated from BYU in Film in December 2012, but walked early at the graduation ceremony in August. Then I was asked by the Film Department to speak at the graduation ceremony in April, which December graduates usually attend. So, I had two fake graduations. My first one was fake because I still had a semester to finish. My second graduation was fake because I'd already graduated and attended a ceremony. It was a big surprise and a huge honor to be chosen by the people I respect the most, my professors and advisers, to represent the department at the ceremony.

This is what I said at my second fake graduation.

Life is Art, You are the Artist 

Good afternoon everyone! My name is Sarah Swan. I’m from the Seattle area. And I’m honored to be speaking to you today as an official graduate of Media Arts Studies or, in other words, Film.

Like many of the graduates here today, I finished my course work in December. So, I’ve been out in the professional world making a living in film art direction. Art Direction or film design is the process of creating the sets where the story is filmed. Most of the people I work with have not gone to college. One of my co-workers has been pretty vocal that he feels it would be a waste of time to get a film degree. Perhaps some of the graduates have had similar discussions with some members of the audience. In my discussions at work, I kept quiet until I felt it would be appropriate for me to speak up. I think I surprised everyone when I said, “I wouldn’t trade my education for anything.”

It may be true that you don’t need a degree to furnish a film set. But it’s also true that my BYU education has been much more than just learning how to create and interpret films.

Professors and classes expanded my mind in ways I could not have done on my own. In history classes I was challenged with abstract films whose visuals read like poetry or international documentaries that made it clear there are usually more than two sides to every story. In theory classes I worked hard to wrap my mind around the metaphysical side to film interpretation and creation. The art that professors had us view, read, listen to, and discuss brought new insights that I’m glad to say have stretched and reorganized the way I see the world. I would be a very different person if I had skipped all of this and gone straight to working for a living.

Guest #5.

This is Sarah.

We're new friends, but I love her a lot. Before we kindled our friendship, I admired her from afar and thought she was the funniest when she conducted Sunday School. I don't remember what she said, but you can bet it was funny. We were, and still are, in the same Family Home Evening group. FHE has never been greater.

Sarah has one of those senses of humor that puts you at ease, making her super approachable. She graduated in Film, which is something that I also want to do in my life. At some point. She also drives a big truck, which is something that I also want to drive in my life. At some point. She makes killer enchiladas. Basically, she's super cool.

She hasn't witnessed my awkwardness yet. Maybe I'm getting less awkward. But I highly doubt that. In due time, though, Sarah. It'll come. And you'll laugh it off with me.

We rented a puppy named Miles once.

Sarah's great and I love her.

Welcome.

Update 5/30/13: Sarah's post

Neverland isn't as special.

Dear Friends,

Today I would like to just let my thoughts wander and chat a little about growing up. This month I am turning 25 (which just so happens to also be my golden birthday), an age that I have forever thought of as the turning point from young adult to adult’s adult. Like responsible adult. Get your own phone plan adult. Be independent adult. I no longer need to talk to my parents every week kind of adult. Well, I think you get the idea. And as I am getting closer to this age, day by day I realize that I am by no means ready to be an adult’s adult. And I think that it’s okay… to a point…to still be contingent on your own childlike tendency’s to depend on your parent’s love.

Last month my Grandpa was admitted to the hospital for a handful of different reasons. Now let me tell you a bit about my Grandpa. He is just so special to me. His birthday is just 3 days before mine and out of the 24 (going on 25) years I have lived on this Earth, we have celebrated our birthdays together 23 times. It is a tradition that I hold dear to my heart as we age together, though separate.

This year he turns 81. And as of right now it looks like he is going to make it to yet another birthday. But while he was in the hospital our family experienced an emotional awakening, something that we have not experienced before. The possible loss of a person we all love so sincerely. Now I am sure that most of you have experiences death in your own families, and yes I have too, but this was a little different, this was the first familiarity of death in regards to someone who has truly changed my life. Through many prayers from myself and others and through the expertise of the doctors who worked with him, he is home resting. But none the less, this was close, and it was a very real emotional drain on my heart.

A little while after he was released to go home, I went to go visit my dad at his house about 40 minutes from where I live. As we were sitting on the couch silently watching some t.v. he says to me, “I know that he is only getting older, and that we have been expecting this for a while, but it still is a strange feeling to know that the man who raised me is going to be leaving soon.”

Guest #4.

This next guest and I met freshman year and we've been friends since. And yes, he posted before his proper introduction, but I really liked what he said on his own blog that I had him repost it here before I could send out an intro.

This is Wes.

I love him so much. He is a great reader and writer and probably will compose the Great American Novel one day. Last semester, we spent practically every day together as we took the same English and Doctrine and Covenants classes. It was the best when we made pretentious grammar jokes or doodled in our religion notebooks.

Although Wes and I don't see each other as often as last semester, I can easily call him up at any time of the day and we will take quick trips to Wendy's and grab chicken nuggets or sit in the Wilk and go over his changed life plans. His laugh is very, very infectious and you really can't help yourself but laugh with him.

Wes has witnessed my awkwardness on many occasions but has always met it with his own awkwardness, jokes and words of wisdom.

We skyped each other while watching The Legend of Korra once.

Wes' a delight and I love him.

Welcome.

Update 3/31/13: Wes' post.

Easter

They say Christ died for us in that garden and suffered for our sins and that the weight of it all squeezed the blood out of him like an olive press does to an olive. And I believe them, even though I wonder how much weight it takes to crush Jesus Christ. They say too that while he was in the garden he felt all the sadness we felt, and that because of that he can judge us perfectly. And I believe them there too. But even if you don't, I think you can still wonder about all the sadness that crushed Jesus Christ, who conquered even death. All the heartaches, the disappointments the siblings he watched die of cancer, how many tons of grain and rice and cotton he harvested until his thumbs bled, how much frostbite and all the hunger the goodbyes the miles walked away from home the cuts scrapes scars the abandonment left crying alone in your closet crawling from Tennessee to Oklahoma on your bare knees smelling the odor of your loved one's ashes of gunshots and shipping off to foreign shores and the smoke on the thirtieth floor stinging your eyes or down in that mine choking your breath and loss loss loss. It's all loss and that weight you feel in your heart that you can hardly bear. Our hearts are fragile. That weight doesn't have to be much. I don't care how you divide it, seven billion times anything is a lot, and that doesn't include all the people way back when. What would the world's sorrow weigh? I wonder sometimes if with all the sorrows trials and tribulations, if he felt all the joys too. And if he did, whether he divided it up so that he had all the trials and then could look forward to all the joys, or else if they were all mixed together like how we have it. And then I wonder if he felt the joys that came from bad things, like getting away with stealing, and if it was on the tribulation side or the joy side. And if the joys were so much that they hurt him too. The earth weighs 59,721,900,000 kg (131,664,251,759.7 lbs). It's such a big number it doesn't even matter that we are on it, the mass is still the same. They estimate 107,602,707,791 people have lived on the earth so far. And let's assume that during their whole life everyone accumulates just one pound of sorrow, then sorrow alone would be almost the weight of the world. And that's not counting all the babies waiting to be born and that's not counting all of the sins, and all the people who carry a lot more sorrow in their hearts. All the sins are just ways of keeping sorrow in your heart anyway. I'm not trying to evangelize here, I'm just saying that's a whole lot of sorrow, and a whole lot of world. But let me tell you, all the sorrow and all the pain and trial and tribulation would be a lot less heavy if we started helping each other out and lifting each other's loads. And if we stopped forgetting what each other was. Choosing sides is important, we all need to do what we think is right. But not if it makes us forget that He suffered just as much for them as he did for us. Even if you don't believe in Him don't forget that. Don't forget that everyone has a mother somewhere. Don't forget that judging someone doesn't make you any better than them, but more importantly that telling someone to stop judging you doesn't make you any better than them. Because we're all heavy, and all our hearts are creeping down our rib cage and they're going to keep creeping until we stop the dichotomies. It just makes the world heavier. It just makes us forget that it is a heavy world around us, that we got to stick together else the world's sure to cave in on itself.

Reposted from anonymousampersand.blogspot.com

25 Facts you Might Have Already Known about Michelle

Dear Friends,

This is my first experience being a “guest blogger” for someone and I am so stoked for the opportunity. So I thought I would take this time to introduce myself to all of you.

My full name is Michelle Erin Sutterfield. But my family calls me Michy (pronounced Mishy) or Mich Fish. I actually prefer being called Michy because it is what I am called by those who truly love me. I am 24 years old, 25 next month, but I feel like a teenager still with the imagination of a 5 year old. I paint, and draw, and take photos on occasion. And if I am feeling a tad more creative than usual, I make Haikus. I have spent a lot of my adult years trying to figure out where I belong, which is one of the main reasons I am 24 years old and still trying to get a college education. I love to laugh, and I also love to cry. I sometimes wonder if I just feel emotions more than normal people do… like… 100 x more. It can be hard sometimes, and even purely unbelievable, but I wouldn’t trade who I am for anything in the world.

I am the daughter of Juliana and David, though not married anymore, they are great parents. We have had our ups and downs as any family would, but ultimately, they are my everything.

Every once in a while a friend of mine would ask me how I took my parent’s divorce. And to be completely honest, I could not remember most of it. I was so young when it happened (about 4 I think) and do not even remember them being together. But I do remember using my parent’s divorce to get one parent to do something the other would not. I was a very vindictive child. Luckily I grew out of this (I hope) and have moved on to doing better things with my time… like writing Haikus. But I will say that over these 20 something years of having two separate, but equal families, I have learned a few things that I would like to remember when starting one of my own.

Maybe at some point I will share those few bits of insight with you, but to stay on topic… and by topic I mean the topic of ME let me share with you 25 things you might not have known about me:

Guest #3.

This is Michelle.

I love her so much. Michelle was the first person I met this new school year. Her flaming red hair, her deep blue dress and her infectious laugh was what lured me to her and I knew that I wanted to be her friend. Being around her is always the best. She makes you feel funny and clever and just good about yourself.

Michelle has the wonderful gift of making friends. Her personality is one that meshes well with everyone and when you see her, you are drawn to her, you want to know her. She is always up to doing fun things and I see her at every event that I go to. You know it's going to be awesome if Michelle is there.

When I get awkward or say something odd (i.e. knickers) and I start feeling flushed, Michelle's laugh always puts me at ease and I feel better about what just happened.

We went crazy in a photo booth once.

Michelle's wonderful and I love her.

Welcome.

Update 3/22/13: Michelle's post.
Update 4/9/13: Michelle's second post.

Up and over the mountain

I don't know most of you that will be reading this. Well at least I hope you read it. But I do know Eden and I love her and who she is. She brings joy into whatever room she is currently in. I like that in a person. I am happy she invited me to write on anything I desired. I have thought and thought about different experiences that I have lived through and one seems to pop out from my memory that I wish to share...

First some background of me, well there is only one thing you need to know. I hate hiking. I could rant about it for hours. I don't have that much time so I will just say it is horrible and you are constantly scared that you will die from exhaustion. Then you get miles up the trail and you are scared that you won't die. Either way, scoutmasters get you up on the mountains and you are just kicking yourself thinking that you agreed to go.

This death march occurred in the high Uinta Mountains. (Here is a link if you are unfamiliar: High Mountains )
The whole time driving to this location the road we traveled by was flat. This got my hopes up, surely the road was a good indicator. But no, like a bat out of hell, the biggest mountains my young 17-year-old eyes could see popped out of nothing. Jagged jaws of cliff reaching outward 13,528 feet made my little heart drop into my ankles instantly making them swollen with fear. Yes, that description is accurate.

So there I was, walking on a dirt path that blended and crawled up a mountain. I was with friends, my father was there, my pack wasn't that heavy, and yet I was mad. Mad that there was a man that decided to climb these battered punch marks spread across the world and call it fun. So fun that millions caught on and developed large backpacks to carry canteens and powdered food packets up and down these exhausting trails. I was bitter as you can tell. 

The path continued, we were so high that the trees themselves didn't dare to climb with us. I am not sure you readers have been above treeline before but it is high enough that trees cannot tolerate inappropriate environmental conditions (usually cold temperatures or lack of moisture). Why any human would want to be up where plants can't grow is beyond me, but there we climbed. 

It was day 4 of this march and I was sick from food packets and filtered water. I had just woken up to what seemed like 33 minutes of sleeping and 7 hours of trying to sleep when I hear "pack up and lets get moving!" What more do you people want to see! There is nothing up there that would be different from down here. What good is this trip, everyone just wants to go home. I wanted to scream at my leaders but only did so in my head. Sometimes that is the safest place to yell. 

Guest #2.

The following guest is a new friend of mine. Our friendship is budding. In fact, I think there's even a petal peaking out of the bud.

This is Sam.

I love him so much. (Too soon?) Practically every week, Nicolle, Camille and I partake in SWiS: Sundays with Sam. At these gatherings, we talk about everything, from our childhoods, to funerals, from Justin Bieber and his new heroin addiction to our recent happinesses or sadnesses in life.

Sam does not do things half-heartedly. Even if he would rather be somewhere else, he puts his all in whatever activity we are engaging in. He graced us with a reading of the Declaration of Independence on Presidents' Day and I eagerly await the day I play murder-in-the-dark with him.

He has yet to really see the awkward side of me, but I feel he is one to meet my awkwardness with understanding and kindness.

We played running charades once.

Sam's the greatest and I love him.

Welcome.

Update 3/13/13: Sam's post.

love, nicolle

Dear Followers of Eden,

This is a love letter. This is odd because I do not know you nor will I likely ever meet you in real life. How bold! I am going for it and I have committed. So look out, you rascals, one of us is gonna end up a little attached.....

Here it goes:

Only Eden knows what it means to me to be beyond category.  Duke Ellington once explained that the greatest compliment paid him was when he was described as beyond category.  I think that's lovely.  As we know from the documentaries on netflix and the evening discussions with my dad, Frank, Duke Ellington was named the Duke due to his eloquence and classy dress from a young age.  Contrary to the common Depression-era racial stereotype, Duke Ellington defied category and christened himself nobility. He played for audiences of all status and color and played music that only he could write. No one could ever replicate him.

It was my junior year of high school. I remember waking up one morning and looking in the mirror. I remember being so confused because I couldn't tell if I was beautiful or ugly.  My nose lost all meaning for me. The relative-ness of beauty had been festering inside me for a while but it all just hit me that morning.  I remember putting on clothes and staring at every part of me. I no longer knew where I fit.  Even my clothes were indifferent to the expectations of the world around me. I was no longer "hot" or "unfortunate looking."  I became Nicolle.  My face was very "Nicolle" and the way I talked immediately became very "Nicolle."  I stopped being a category created by my strange friends and acquaintances.  I became me.

I think too often we allow ourselves to categorize ourselves and each other.  We like to simplify the world in order to understand it better.  Sadly, I think it just cheapens the human experience.  Duke Ellington paid no mind to category and revolutionized the way the world thought about talent and skin color.  I am no revolutionary...if I were, though, I would revolutionize the way we looked at each other. I would have us all look at each other with our names in mind instead of the type of shirt we are wearing. I would have us look at ourselves as the beautiful and unique faces we are instead of the comparable trends we are matching.

Followers of Eden! You are all so free and complicated (to the point of undefinable). You do not fit small categories like "hipster" or "poser." You are too large in soul and personality to be shrunk to that standard.  I know that if I knew you, if I really knew you, I would be infatuated by your mind and unique ideas.  You are beyond category.

Duke Ellington (and his orchestra): 

love,

nicolle

nicokoren.blogspot.com

Guest #1.

I think people are defined the most by those they surround themselves with. I have spent practically every day with great friends since school started in August and I think it appropriate that they share a bit of this blog with me. How can I blog about my life without having you meet the people that are a constant presence in it? So, pretty soon, you're going to see something new here.

That's right, I'm going to have guest bloggers. Or rather, guest blogger. Only one person has accepted my request thus far. (Mckeelicalmont, find the email and accept my request to guest blog. But no pressure.) And maybe they'll only write once. Maybe they'll be a frequent guest. It's up to them.

Anyway, before my first guest posts, I'd like to write a short blip as her introduction. And I'll do the same with future guest bloggers as well.

Here we go.

This is Nicolle.

I love her so much. She is one of my best friends and a great music enthusiast. The greatest gift you can give her is just a really great CD mix. Her blog is the soundtrack to her life. Each post has a song that is dedicated to a moment of her life and you really get a sliver of a glimpse into her soul.

Nicolle is passionate, and she's not pretentious about those passions. Granted, some of them don't merit pretentiousness, i.e. charades, The Terminator, chocolate twizzlers (which aren't too bad after the eighth time trying them). But other passions--the Gospel, music, making people feel loved--it's incredible what she sacrifices for these in her life.

She is rather tolerant of me when I get awkward or intensely quiet and when I grab her arm or hand for comfort in moments when I don't know what to with myself.

We took a bubble bath together once. (Don't worry, mom. With swimsuits.)

Nicolle's beyond category and I love her.

Welcome.

Update 3/8/13: Nicolle's post.