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Personal Update

(Belated) Christmas Card 2024

Ahoy!

The past few years, I’ve been in the habit of writing a Christmas card here. I missed last year’s, and it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything at all on this blog. Fortunately, the main reason for that is not that I’m taking a break from writing, but that I’ve been making good progress on two book-length manuscripts that I’m excited to show you (more on that later). I’m returning to school from Christmas break this week, so I thought now would be a good opportunity to give an update, even if it’s a bit late to do a proper Christmas card.

2024 was a big year. In April, I graduated with my bachelor’s degree (B.A. Linguistics). I had to leave my job as an English as a Second Language teacher on campus due to new rules about the religious orientation of school employees, so over the summer I moved to a local adult education school and taught college prep English. Then in August, I moved to Flagstaff and started my master’s degree at Northern Arizona University. Moving to a new state by myself has involved all kinds of changes. I’ve lived in thirteen different apartments in six years, so I’m looking forward to finally staying in one place until I finish my degree.

This year I accomplished my longtime goal of teaching a college course! I had a section of freshman composition (writing) that was a blast to teach, and challenging in different ways from the ESL students I’m used to teaching. College freshmen tend to have a much higher English proficiency to understand what I’m saying but a much lower inclination to listen to it. My big soapbox is that literature is cool, rhetoric is important, and long-form writing isn’t old-fashioned, and sometimes it feels like a losing battle to get eighteen-year-olds to agree with me on that, but I was one of those eighteen-year-olds not so long ago, and you never know when someone’s world will get lit up by a killer poem or a new perspective on language rules and prescriptions.

The other highlight of this year was the writing. It’s a glamorless job, but I’m glad to be improving at it. In December of last year, I started a novel, tentatively titled Sparrow Song, and finished a first draft (60K words) in June. It’s a coming-of-age drama set in the eleventh century about a rural girl who falls in love with one of the most powerful men in the classical Japanese court. Then, over the second half of the year, I buckled down and wrote a draft (100K words) of a memoir I’ve been struggling with for a few years now, which has the working title The Prophet, the Queen, and the Whole Dang Book of Revelation: A Teenage American Missionary in Denmark. Both manuscripts still demand a significant amount of editing before they’re fit for human consumption with no danger of making anyone’s eyes bleed; I started revision work in earnest this December, and I expect to spend plenty of time over the next few months getting those manuscripts shaped up for my initial readers. I anticipate a print release for both titles, but for now I’m taking things one step at a time, and it will most likely be summer before I’m at the stage to hire an editor for either project.

Other highlights and shout-outs: At BYU’s Japanese immersion housing, Valerie continued to encourage my Fire Emblem fixation, Emily furnished much needed technical support and scribbled masterpieces on abandoned notepads, and George provided impeccable voice acting for the title character in I Love You, Colonel Sanders! at our Valentine’s Day party. Brandon was a real swæs gesiþ. Kelsi wrote a compelling argument on the virtues of knowing Green Day lyrics and passing out drunk. Merlin was an admirable opponent at Netrunner (despite never beating the Cheeky Weyland Deck™) and a generous sounding board for all ideas political, religious, and literary. Spin deserves my greatest thanks for adding me to the gamer girls Discord (and all our acclamation for her newfound fame and authority within the Genshin Impact fandom). Camryn was Camryn and I appreciate her for that.

Bleachers was my top band this year—no surprises there; I saw them in concert back in May, a show that was stopped four songs before the end due to a sudden salt storm but was otherwise excellent. My #1 song was their new release “Tiny Moves,” with Rosa Walton/Let’s Eat Grandma’s “I Really Want to Stay at Your House” from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners taking up #2. I also listened to the new-ish Killers album Pressure Machine a frankly ridiculous number of times, and it has joined The Airborne Toxic Event’s Hollywood Park as a favorite album I’ll listen to straight through without skipping a song.

My reading game was not up to scratch with my Spotify game, though a couple standouts were the first volume in Obama’s presidential memoirs and a big helping of classical Japanese literature—I’m still working my way through the hefty Tale of Genji and Tale of the Heike. I’ve decided to avoid making resolutions until the spring, since January and February usually turn out to be months for surviving not thriving—but if I have any resolution, it’s to read more. I’d like to hit some of the classics I’ve always wanted to read but have put off, like The Brothers Karamazov and Moby Dick.

Anyway, that’s my 2024 in a nutshell. I can’t wait for another trip around the Sun, and I hope you’ll join me on it—whatever it looks like!

Eric

Categories
Essay Personal Update Random

The Most Expensive Bottle of Dr. Pepper I Will Ever Buy

I’m not sure whether I’ll enter into the kingdom of heaven, but my JBL TUNE 760NC headphones certainly will.

Here’s what happened. Two days ago I was walking home from my new office on NAU campus. The office itself is worthy of another story sometime; it’s the kind of office that elicits the response “You’re in Peterson? That’s a rite of passage” from the older faculty members, located in a building that was reportedly supposed to have been torn down back in 2016.

What’s important to this story is that it’s a mile from where I live, which is short enough that walking is the best way to get there but long enough that it’s pretty miserable if the weather is bad. The rain started just after I left my office. Now, in Utah where I’m from, it’s not worth owning an umbrella, because it rains maybe twice a month, and when it does it’s over in twenty minutes. I thought I would be fine to push through the rain like the grown taxpaying adult that I am.

Never in my life had I experienced rain so thick that it felt like that scene in Lord of the Rings where the Fellowship are walking over Caradhras through the blizzard with their arms over their faces and Saruman says “If the mountain defeats you, will you risk a more dangerous road?” I couldn’t have been more drenched if the whole population of Flagstaff had taken turns emptying five-gallon buckets over my head. And every car that shot by flung dirty water onto the sidewalk, so that by the time I reached home, I was covered in water and mud and looked like I’d just cosplayed a car in a car wash.

(Incidentally, the shoes I was wearing that day—this was the third time I’d worn them—are still wet.)

So that was baptism by water for my headphones—which miraculously survived the whole ordeal well enough to repeatedly play the new Bleachers live recording while I furnished my office yesterday. They made it home dry and intact after work and I put them on the counter just in time for them to receive their second baptism in as many days: baptism by Dr. Pepper.

I was trying to be responsible, honest. After work I wandered around for a little while, trying to decide whether I wanted fast food, before realizing that what I really craved was a vanilla ice cream float with Dr. Pepper, and it would be cheaper to buy the ingredients for that than buying dessert at Dairy Queen. So I walked the fifteen minutes to Target and brought home a tub of ice cream and a two-liter Dr. Pepper. As soon as I got home, I set my headphones on the table, got out a cup for my long-awaited dessert, dished out the ice cream, and opened the Dr. Pepper…

…and a geyser comprising an entire liter of Dr. Pepper, fully half of the bottle, pumped through my hands with immeasurable newtons of force. It couldn’t have gone any higher if I’d dumped a whole bag of Mentos into that bottle. I yelled a couple of curse words and knocked over the ice cream cup—the ill-fated ice cream float got assembled, at least, on the kitchen counter—and, clothing soaked for the second night in a row, I rushed for a towel to absorb the lake of Dr. Pepper off the counter and the floor and the dishwasher and the walls and the ceiling (where brown Dr. Pepper droplets hung like stalactites).

For the next half hour, my roommates (who had been playing Super Smash Bros in the living room when all hell broke loose; Dr. Pepper made its way all the way onto their couches, fortunately upholstered in leather) and I conducted damage control on the brand new kitchen. I should mention that we’re the first ones to live here. Less than a month into our contract and the living room walls are permanently streaked with the evidence of my cola-flavored folly. It came off the baseboards and the doors just fine, and the floors are mostly sticky-free after a couple moppings, but I doubt the constellations of Dr. Pepper on the ceiling will go away without another painting.

I really tried my best to keep this apartment nice, but in the end—no matter how hard you may wish it otherwise—no treasure on earth, even a new apartment, is safe from the moth and rust and Dr. Pepper that doth corrupt, in the words of St. Matthew.

I’ve been reading the fourteenth-century samurai epic Heike Monogatari, which is all about the transience of glory and beauty: “Pleasure and riches are vanity…youth cannot save me, for many die young, and breathing out never assures that the breath will pass in again. Summer heat shimmer, a flash of lightning; life vanishes still more swiftly.” That hauntingly beautiful awareness of doom is moving to read about in classic literature, but I could have used without the reminder of the transience of my wordly possessions via the twin vehicles of H2O and Dr. Pepper.

Granted, my poor headphones made it through their ordeal well enough to deliver me the new Airborne Toxic Event single, so I’ll take what I can get. (It’s very Smiths-wave, for the record.) ∎

Categories
Personal Update

2023 Music Picks

For the last couple years, I’ve posted my favorite songs of the year, plus an Artist of the Year and and Album of the Year. I dropped the ball last year, and I’ve had a busy few months since last December. But I did make the list, I just didn’t post the list. So here it is, several months belated.

With the top 20 songs, the rules are the same as always. One song per artist; the songs need not be new that year; the more genre diversity the merrier. Enjoy!

  1. Something Better – Softengine
  2. Secondhand Church – Lantern by Sea
  3. Sweetness – Jimmy Eat World
  4. T2: Kalavar’s Revenge – Joey and the Knives
  5. All the Children – The Airborne Toxic Event
  6. Wait for Me – Reeve Carney, Hadestown Ensemble
  7. People Live Here – Rise Against
  8. When You Were Young – The Killers
  9. you’d never know – BLÜ EYES
  10. Nevermind – Deaf Havana
  11. カワキヲアメク [Kawaki wo Ameku] – 美波 [Minami]
  12. Am I Dreaming – Metro Boomin, A$AP ROCKY, Roisee
  13. 10 Jahre – EMMA6
  14. Between Us There Is Music – Glen Hansard
  15. The ’59 Sound – The Gaslight Anthem
  16. Take the Dive (Stripped Acoustic Version) – Andreas Moe
  17. Say Don’t Go (TV) (FTV) – Taylor Swift
  18. See The Light – Steven Sanchez
  19. Daylight – Matt and Kim
  20. Comeback – Carly Rae Jepsen, Bleachers

Here’s my actual Top Songs 2023 playlist on Spotify, which has most of these songs and a bunch of others: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1FamlgDVRse9cC?si=3QXaJe4VSbaoLXcuaGg8iA&pi=u-Upg7roP0Qhmf

Artist of the year was Jimmy Eat World—this was the year I discovered they have albums other than Bleed American, lol.

Album of the year was “Rim of the World” by Lantern By Sea. I got the chance to see them live in Provo a couple times, and it’s always a pleasure to rock out with a group that’s local enough you can chat with them after the show and whose music speaks to the anxieties and delights of your own home. ∎