Final Blog Post :(

These blog postings have been fun. They have given me a chance to open up my thoughts freely on various subjects. However, I am looking forward to being done. I am looking forward to next semester and what it holds.


Next semester I am taking all Equine Science classes. I am so excited. I am looking forward to studying things that pertain to my future career goals. I am currently registered to take a horse nutrition class, Equine Anatomy and Physiology, Horse Selection and Judging, Intro to Equine Science, and an art class. Next semester I will be able to learn what I love. I am looking forward to a semester of LOVING to go to class. Haha.


This was my first semester enrolled at RCTC. It was my first semester of college classes. I feel as though I have learned a lot and know that I will only improve next semester.

A Modest Proposal

To be completely honest, I did not complete Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal”. As soon as he started discussing the possibility of cannibalism I was repulsed. When he further discussed eating children, selling their carcasses and describing how they might be cooked, I quit reading. I know that he probably meant some kind of a metaphor by this disgusting proposal but I chose not to hear the end of it. I have always been of the firm belief that it is our own responsibility to watch what we spend our time indulging our thought on.  When my life is over do I really want to say that I spent time reading about the slaughter and eating of innocent children? Nope. Whatever I read always stays in my mind forever. I have always thought carefully about what I read and how it will affect me.  I may not get points for this blog posting because I didn’t read the whole content of the material but I would rather not get credit than have to live with the memory of that deranged and disgusting picture in my mind.

Thanksgiving

Almost everybody says that they are most thankful for their family, and I agree, they are the most important thing in my life. However I feel like they became especially important to me this Thanksgiving. I have never realized the comfort and joy they add to my Thanksgiving every year.


This year was the first Thanksgiving I have ever spent away from home. I flew down to Georgia for a week over break to spend the holiday with my boyfriend and his family. I bought my plane ticket, packed, and flew down there oblivious as to how I would feel Thanksgiving Day.


My boyfriend’s family did not celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday, but Friday. However, my family back home got together and ate turkey as planned on Thursday. On facebook that evening, I looked through their smiling pictures over and over again. As I flipped through the album time after time the feeling in the pit of my stomach grew more and more intense. I missed them badly. It was hard to believe that they had had such a perfectly normal and traditional family Thanksgiving without me.


The next day, Friday, was not as I had expected. The meal was wonderful, the people were all nice, but it didn’t feel like Thanksgiving as I thought it would. I thought that Thanksgiving was Thanksgiving no matter who you spent it with.


It was then that I realized that Thanksgiving isn’t about the good food and talking around the table. It’s about being with those you love and who love you. It’s about valuing your family, what you are most thankful for.

College?

Linda Lee’s essay “The Case Against College” describes her experience with her son going to college. She found that the experience of college did nothing to help her son find a productive direction for his life. So, she pulled him out of college and he got a job. Through working various jobs, she saw her son grow up, mature, and find ambition in his life where he hadn’t before.


She claims that college isn’t for everybody. I agree. Americans stress a college education and while it may be good for some, it will not benefit others. Everybody is different. Some find success in getting a college degree and using that to obtain a stable career. Others have no need of a degree. As she mentioned, Bill Gates dropped out of college, and he is one of the most successful men in America.


I have known many other people in my own personal experience that even dropped out of high school and still managed to work towards success. However, I believe that this approach is not for everybody. It seems that going to college and getting a degree is taking the safe road. Those who choose to go out on a limb and not go to college risk failure. But if we all take the well worn, beaten path, then nobody would ever rise above the crowd to risk greatness now would they?

Fallacies

I often use fallacies when in an argument. Often we don’t even notice we are. However, fallacies often sway our audience to believe what we are saying, whether it be a sound argument or not. When put in a situation where we feel like we are backed up into a corner, such as an argument, we often resort to illogical conclusions to get ourselves out of a certain situation. On the other hand, even when we don’t feel threatened, but simply want to convince, we still use fallacies.

I believe that my most commonly used fallacy is basing my argument off of something somebody might have said, assuming it is true. How often do we all do that?

So many times, since I was young, I have argued using the word of my siblings as a tool to prove my point. “Well Susanna said that Mom said that I could have the candy!” often clears one’s slate. Susanna could have been lying, but that doesn’t seem to matter when the attention is shifted solely on you. The person who is listening doesn’t think about whether you were lied to, they are thinking only that you were granted permission. Using this fallacy has often won me arguments, especially as a child and I think that many other’s can say the same.

Reading

Reading has always been a favorite hobby of mine. I love snuggling up in my pajamas, sipping hot tea and letting the text manipulate my imagination, taking me to places I’ve never been, seeing things I’ve never seen. I love the art contained in literature. I love the words that fit together perfectly to create such vivid color, such thriving emotion in the reader.


I love reading books by authors who create intense descriptions in their writings. I love when an author takes a whole page to describe a meal, making me hungry just reading about it, or an author who describes a river so intricately that I feel like I’m standing right there, my legs wet and cold from the rushing water, my feet aching from the jagged rocks underfoot. I love to feel as though I’m right there in the action, lost in the plot, feeling, seeing, and hearing everything that is being written.


I tend to stay away from romance novels and mysteries. I never buy into the fairy-tale romance and mysteries are way too suspenseful for my taste. I love books that make you think deeply about life. I love books that take me to places I have never even thought about experiencing. I love books that when I am finished reading the last page, I feel changed.

The Origins of Anorexia

In Joan Jacobs Brumberg’s essay, “The Origins of Anorexia Nervosa”, the reader is educated concerning how anorexia was first discovered and the reasons it appeared. Young girls first refused to eat simply because of the marital pressures placed on them at an early age or simply to gain attention. Anorexia was a polite way to be defiant to ones parents. Food was so associated with love and caring in the Victorian era that a refusal to eat was seen as a refusal to accept love. Love was then poured on the young woman to somehow reverse how she obviously felt.


In our modern era, I think that the association between love and food has diminished to almost no connection at all. We see the showing of love with the giving of food in older generations but the younger generations show no trace of such affection associated with food. We see food as an indulgence, not as something that brings us together and shows our affection for one another.


Young girls now associate food with being overweight, not with affection. The reasons for Anorexia have shifted. Young girls refuse to eat now because food is seen as a bad thing that will make you fat. It is seen as a bad thing, not a good thing. However, the same rings true through the history of Anorexia. Young women manipulate their food intake to get what they want. In the Victorian era, young women wanted to be lavished with attention and they refused to eat to obtain that. Now, young women want to be known as having a “perfect” body, to be as slim as possible. They achieve this by refusing to eat.

Antiques

My mother used to collect antiques. Our house used to be filled with them. Everything from portraits of the President Washington and his wife, Martha, to old mirrors added a sense of history to our home. I loved it. Eventually she came to the conclusion that there is hardly any importance to material things, that something that was here a hundred years ago was no more important than something ten years old. She has slowly gotten rid of several cherished pieces of furniture.


However, I have hoarded several things that now make up the furniture in my bedroom. I love the history contained in antiques. I love that the mirror that hangs on my wall not only reflects my face today, but also reflected the faces of people long gone. That same mirror hung on the wall of someone else’s home, reflected the history of their family. I love to think of the secrets each thing holds. My dresser not only holds my clothes, but also held other’s clothes dating back heavens know how many years into the past.


I feel as though everything that I use, from my nightstand to my bed has a history, and has a past. By my using it I am only adding to that memoir, only adding years to its life. People may think I am ridiculous. Maybe I just love history too much, but I love the feeling that my life is somehow tied to the lives of those who lived so long before my birth was even thought of.

Functional Families

What really makes a family “functional” or “dysfunctional”? I believe that there is a fine line between the art of “functioning” and NOT “functioning” as a family. I believe that every family has aspects of both a functional living situation and a dysfunctional living situation.

Each family is completely unique. We all have separate values and aspirations, different motives and priorities. Every family has a different type of glue that holds them together. However, I believe that every family shares a common bond of love.

It is how we nurture our love for our family members that determines how “functional” a family is. Let’s face it. Although we love our family, we do make mistakes. We forget how important they really are to us. We lose sight of the importance of keeping their best interests in mind. I believe that if we cherish the love we have for our family, that we will be able to function as a family unit. However, when that love becomes second place to our own selfish wants and needs, we lose the ability to smoothly operate as a family.

Casual Homework Evening.... With ACDC

 I sit here, in my spandex leggings, horse camp staff T shirt, bare feet and messy hairdo, all wrapped up in blankets and bobbin my head to ACDC.  This is the way I do my homework. I have papers strewn on my bed, my Prentice Hall textbook sitting placidly next to my laptop, waiting for me to pick it up, to be productive and get something done. My laptop feels hot even through the blankets covering my lap. My ears are starting to ache from my ipod headphones.

 My power hours are from 4:00pm to about 10:30pm. This is when I like to write. In the back of my mind I can hear myself worrying about assignments due, tests to study for. I look around at my room, clothes scattered across my floor, and I start to get anxious. My sister Susanna is trying on outfits in her room. She and I are going away for the weekend. I have to clean, do laundry, and get all my homework done before tomorrow morning at 8:00am. She comes in my room every five to ten minutes to ask if this or that looks okay. I am distracted in my response.

My ipod changes to Alabama. A slow song.  My mood instantly changes. It is strange how music can affect your mood so quickly. One minute, ACDC is screaming “TNT” in my ears and my stress level escalades. Then next Alabama sings “How do you Fall in Love?” and my breathing eases, my typing on the computer becomes less jarred and more fluid. I was doing math homework at school and overheard some nursing students discussing how music can affect patients. Music releases endorphins and those endorphins ease pain. It makes sense. Certain music can make your body relax, can make you concentrate, and can make you feel different emotions.

As I complete assignment after assignment, as the music eases the worry in the back of my mind, I start to look forward to the weekend ahead. It gives me that extra push to get everything done, and do it well. I just don’t think I will turn my playlist back to ACDC.

Would you let YOU'R Mom see your Facebook?

Online social networking can sometimes be tricky. It is so easy to misrepresent yourself online because you are never held accountable for the person you portray on the internet. However, I try to be as genuine on my Facebook account as I am in person. The question asked is whether or not we would allow our parents to be “friends” with us on Facebook. Personally, I feel that the person I am on my Facebook is the same person that I am to my mother. I would have no problem with her viewing my profile. Actually, I show her pictures on Facebook of my friends or members of our family. She is familiar with what I post online simply because I am always saying “Oh, hey Mom! Come and see this!”

My mother refuses to sign up for Facebook. She says that most of it is a waste of time. I can see her point. Some people get carried away with how much they post to their pages. She laughs and cracks jokes at people who document their whole day through their status. However, she is not above sitting next to me on the couch and scanning through my newsfeed with me. My mother is from the age of handwritten letters and phone calls, not facebook. I think she refuses to get her own account simply because it would be hard for her to adjust to. I try to explain to her that it is a nice way to keep up with people, she argues that you can just call somebody and ask how they’ve been.

I think that the younger generation loves facebook simply because it is basically social multitasking. We have become a generation of multitaskers. We hardly ever do just one single thing at a time. The idea of being able to catch up with our all of our friends at once, in a fast paced manner seems practical and convenient to us. We like to be able to log in to our accounts, scroll down our newsfeed see what “everybody” is doing within a few minutes. We like to be able to carry on different conversations all at once.

As nice as Facebook is, I think that we can all agree that there is nothing like a personal phone call, a handwritten letter, or a face to face chat with a friend. Facebook can sometimes seem impersonal whereas old fashioned methods of communication have a nostalgic comfort and closeness attached.  I try to take the best of both worlds and use the old and the new in my social networking.

Nelson Women in the Living Room

I sat there in the living room trying to decide what to blog about. The chatter from the women in my family all visiting around me did not distract me. I am used to noise. Feeling a mind block coming on I asked them what I should write about. All at once suggestions came pouring at me like flood waters.

My mother suggested I write about Mexican food. Typical. My mother and my grandmother are known for their excellent Mexican cooking. They love to try out new recipes, make up new ones, and keep making the really good ones. Food is a staple value in my family, especially Mexican.



My Grandma and My sisters



My grandmother suggested I write about the little terrier named Banjo my mother was holding in her arms. She laughed. It’s a family joke. Grandma is always cracking some kind of joke.

 My mother got the dog from an elderly man who could no longer keep him and was going to put him down if he didn’t find a home for him. Naturally my mother decided to take the dog sight unseen. When we got him home he automatically became “Mom’s dog”. He follows her everywhere. He sleeps on her bed when she isn’t home. I always say it’s because he just doesn’t know where else to go when he doesn’t have her to follow. We always tease mom about her little dog. She used to make fun of people who talked baby talk to their pets. However, she will make her way to the kitchen in the morning, but not before stopping by Banjo’s bed, tucking his blanket around him snugly, kissing the top of his head and asking him how he is this morning. She has morphed into “one of them”. She denies it. We laugh.

My sister Susanna suggested I write about my horse. Also, typical. She lives and breathes horses. Any time you ask for an essay prompt it’s “Write about Kieran.” I told her I couldn’t write about my horse anymore. I just wrote a descriptive essay on him for class. She shrugged her shoulders and offered no more advice.

All the different prompts offered each reflected a piece of personality unique to each individual that I couldn’t help but share. My family entertains me, makes me laugh, and makes me feel like I have a place. They know the real me, and I know the real them. I had to laugh inside at their responses, even if nobody else would.

Oh Susanna

Her name is Susanna Rose. Platinum blonde hair, sky blue, twinkling eyes, and a smile that you can’t help but smile back at, all make for her perfect charisma. She is shy, and will blush when too much attention is placed on her in public. She loves Dr. Pepper, black olives, and spaghetti. When she laughs, you laugh along, even if the joke wasn’t funny.

My fifteen year old sister makes my day, in some way, either large or small, every day. She is always up for anything, she loves a good adventure. I remember tramping through the woods when we were little, looking for anything with the promise of excitement.

I remember playing childhood games in the barn, Susanna always playing the inferior role, “because she was younger”. She was always the happiest little girl, she never complained. We have always held some kind of comradeship, both subjects under our older sister Rebecca. We both know the roll of “little sister”. Maybe this is what cements our bond.

She is hot tempered and fiery at times. Her stubborn side makes her stick to her guns in any argument. She has an inner strength about her that makes her the person you “don’t want to mess with.” However, she is usually not easily provoked. I suppose being in the exact middle of five children forces your assertive side.

We have always enjoyed the same things. We have always been fascinated with horses, and anything to do with them. We have always shared the same chores, collaborated as to how to solve problems in our herd of 14 horses, and we always ride together. I hardly ever ride without her.

When we were little, we would go to water the horses, and get distracted. The water tank would turn into a swimming pool; the worn dirt area around the water tank would form a formidable mud hole. Contests would arise determining how long one could stay in the cold well water in the tank. She always won. Mud pies were always in order. Hours would pass as the sun beat down on our bare, blonde heads and tanned our skin.

I have so many good memories with Susanna. She will always claim a special place in my heart. We have often talked of sisters that grow up, and thus grow apart. She swears to me that will never happen. I sure hope it never does.

“The love of a family is life's greatest blessing”

I think that every human being can identify with this quote. All of us can feel something personal associated with the love of a family. My family is such an important aspect of my life. They make me who I am, they define me. My best friends are my siblings.

My mother is my strongest role model. I truly feel blessed when I come home every day to my six year old sister’s smiling face. I live for the kiss she plants on my cheek at bedtime. Some of my greatest memories have been made building forts in the woods with my little brother. I love when he comes up behind me, punches me playfully on the arm, and casually says “Love ya Jules” as he walks by. My younger sister Susanna and I spend hours and hours riding horse together. I love the long talks we have as we ride bareback beside the creek in our valley. My older sister is my closest mentor. She counsels me through the thick and thin of life. Whatever my day throws at me, I can count on a hug when I see her.

One thing that I have learned in life is that with great love also comes great pain. I have experienced both aspects in my family life. My father passed away the summer of 1999. I see the pain of a lost love every day in my mother’s eyes. My sister just recently moved to Fargo, North Dakota. Although she is always a phone call away, I feel so lost without her in the room next to mine at any given time. Another one of my favorite quotes is “It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.”

To Get An Education

Education has always been important to my family. My mother has always put forth extra effort so that I could have the best education possible. I remember being five years old, fidgeting in my chair, eyeing the window, looking outside where freedom screamed my name, struggling to concentrate as Mom sounded out the words of the book “Pickles the Fire Cat” in an effort to teach me to read. I remember eventually being able to skim the pages of the book myself, reading aloud to her the pages she must have memorized at that point.

I remember my mother pulling me out of public school and placing me in a private school so I would have a more advanced education. I remember the first day of school, wearing the itchy plaid uniform, shy to make new friends. I remember growing to love the challenge of harder classes, the competition among my peers to get the “highest A” on our ancient history exams. I remember my mother going back to work as a Registered Nurse to pay for tuition.

I am thankful for what my mother has done to help better my opportunities. Now that I am in college, it is my place to show her that her hard work in the past will have paid off. I just hope that I can live up to those standards.