It's here...

I haven't posted in a while, but I'm back to let you know that you don't have to be bored this holiday season. Many of you will be traveling or lazing around the house which will provide you with ample time to read ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING BOOKS OF ALL TIME except for the Bible. Entangled was once only in e-book form, but now for only $12.99+S&H you can have it in paper back! WOW!!! What a deal!!! (I always thought I would be good on infomercials...) If you order with in the next 10 minutes you will receive free snow from heaven! No shipping necessary on the snow! The best place to order your copy is through the following link: Createspace Publisher (Paperback)
Or if you know me, you can order it through me and I can bring it to you, which will make shipping and handling absolutely FREE!
I know this may sound a bit like a sales pitch, but Barbara Ellen Brink, my mother, deserves to be a famous author. She writes like one. 
This Christmas isn't just about a book though. And it isn't about finding Entangled in your stocking or under your tree. The Christmas season is not about crazy people in the mall or the people that were trampled making their way into Walmart on Black Friday. It's also not about the many feet of snow that we have been "blessed" with or the random snow shoes my father purchased... This Christmas season is about Christ being born. Christmas tv episodes are getting on my nerves lately. Their eyes light up and the snow starts to gently fall. Looking up into the sky they see Santa Clause flying in high sleigh. At that moment they realize that they know the meaning of Christmas. It's family...or it's friends...or it's anything you want it to be (no really that was one of the answers). They miss the point of Christmas, which is the birth of Christ. Jesus Christ was born so that he could one day die in our place. He saved us from hell and we treat his birth like it's all about us. This Christmas let's put away our selfish desires and celebrate Jesus. Because Jesus brought hope. Without trusting in Jesus there is no hope. 
I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas! And Feliz Navidad for any Spanish readers. 

Fender Non-bender

On Monday I decided to help out my roommate. She said she was going to take the bus with one of her friends to Walmart. A bus ride, on a day like that? I told her I could take her and her friend. The bus is a terrible ride not to mention waiting in all this cold snow. So like a good roommate, I met them down stairs and walked them to my car. Pitifully enough, I had forgotten my snow boots the last time I was home so I had to dig my car out with snow getting in my shoes. It wasn’t all that cold; I just couldn’t feel the ends of my toes. The driving didn’t seem too horrible for the first snowstorm. I’ve driven through much worse. At Walmart we found what we needed and headed back. On the way back, I was driving just as slow as everybody else and I started to slow down way early for the light up ahead where a truck was stopped. I was almost stopped about 50 feet away but the car decided to slide all the way to the truck in front of us. When we realized what was happening all three of us screamed until the car slowly nudged to a stop under the pickup. After the initial shock of realization that the sound of crushing metal would not be ingrained on my memory today, I put the stopped car in park and stepped out only to fall on my butt. Ice is not a friend of mine. Thankfully, there was no damage and not even a bruise that I could feel. I was only happy that I didn’t hurt that guy’s truck. The two Korean girls in my car were amazed that anyone would even consider driving in this weather. They asked me if I had chains for my tires when it is icy, but why would I need that when Minnesota still uses salt on the roads? So this Thanksgiving I can be thankful for more than just the usual blessing I have such as Jesus, family, friends, and food. I can be thankful for tall trucks, snow, and road salt.
To express my love of snow, here is a video my mother took to show the giant snow flakes that have descended on our home recently.

Death of Fan

Call it. 10:33AM, Monday, November 8, 2010. Massey fan is dead. I did all I could to try to save it. Smacking it, throwing it on the floor, wiggling the cord. “Don’t leave me!” I cried, but it was too late. It’s motor was too worn out. It reminds me of a quote from The Importance of Being Earnest, “The doctors found out that he could not live, therefore Bunbury died.” It’s quite the same with Massey fan. That is if I was a fan doctor.
Hasselhoff didn't even have to mess with my fan. By the way, these two videos have different endings. They are not the same. 

"Be the last black man to make it to the end!"

Ever been too scared to watch another zombie movie because you don't like zombies? Stop being so racist and watch this episode of community. It's epic!

It's all about the Sauce

Chicken Fingers. They are the most filling yet least expensive thing to eat in the CMU downstairs café. Get some barbeque sauce on those suckers and they are mighty tasty, but today I decided to also try a different kind of sauce. I love buffalo wings so when I saw buffalo sauce it seemed like a great idea. I should have known there was something different about this buffalo sauce when I first squirted it through the dispenser into my little plastic sauce cup. It was very pungent. So I ate it on a couple chicken fingers and it tasted ok. Not too bad. Right after that I headed to class where I realized that my breath was wretched! That buffalo sauce had contaminated my mouth with its pungent odor. I didn’t have time to go back to the dorm and brush my teeth before I met with my advisor so I quick chewed some gum on my way to his office. During my 25-minute wait for my advisor I talked to another girl waiting to see him. I felt very self-conscious about my breath, hoping not to convulse her, even though with this breath in this close proximity it was inevitable; but she showed no signs of convulsion. I didn’t even notice her turning up her nose. Yet I tried to keep my mouth closed when I wasn’t speaking. I re learned a valuable lesson today: Physical education classes are the best filler courses because they’re only one credit and there’s never homework. Ballroom dance class is going to be amazing.

Survivor Woman

This is Survivor Man>

It’s been three days in this room. I haven’t left since Thursday morning. Thursday I stayed in because I was mopey, Friday I just didn’t want to get dressed, and today I had to write a paper that I didn’t get to.

Then tonight everything changed. I went for a two hour walk with a native North Dakotan. It felt wonderful to have fresh air and stretch my legs.

Suddenly we entered the Concordian’s territory. My native guide said, “Don’t look them straight in the eye or they’ll go crazed.” We averted our eyes as we passed one of the Concordians. Our mere non-preppy attitude could cause them to have a fright.

As I came back to my dorm I had to knock on the door because I had lost my keys earlier in the bathroom. There was a large group of people going buy so someone opened the door for me.

The elevator was crowded with girls all gussied up for the Home Coming Dance. Once again there was the MSUM native’s cries of “Oh that’s so cute on you! I’m so excited!” and random singing.

Back in my dorm, safe and sound, I realized something. Dorm life is brutal. We need adventures once in a while.

Dorm Life Changes People

Week 8 of school is the week that I start noticing changes in the clothing styles on campus. The changes are mostly seen in freshman. For example, yesterday morning I was walking to the elevator to leave and a freshman was walking down the hall. By her clothes I assumed she just woke up and was heading for the bathroom, but she came to the elevator, on her way to class. Now is the time I should stop assuming that baggy sweat pants with flip-flops and ratty rags on ones head are only lounge wear. I have seen so many girls around campus wearing baggy sweatpants, and these pants are all the same. I remember them from high school. For some reason almost every girl in school had a pair of these sweat pants and now I’m thinking they are national, including Canada, and maybe even universal; although, my Korean room mate doesn’t have these sweatpants.

I think it’s the dorm lifestyle that changes these people. In the dorms you don’t need much. We got high speed Internet, cable TV, and all our belongings stuffed into tiny rooms. If we’re lucky we have a fridge and microwave too. The RAs make contests to try to get people to keep their doors open. They want a “fun” community. Along with the communal bathrooms, all privacy is lost. I’m pretty sure they haven’t changed anything in those bathrooms for 30 years. Although, they do repaint the ceilings of the showers when they get too moldy. The dorms are quite convenient. I find myself eating cereal in front of the TV very often because there’s nowhere to go. We got it all right here.

The Brinks-Grandparent Edition

October 8-11^th

Fall Breather (aka Columbus Day renamed) made for a long weekend for me. This was a chance to drive home to Rosemount to collect my winter clothes and see my friends and family. This weekend I was also able to see my grand parents (the Brink side). They came all the way from South Dakota to see us. Since this was their 4^th time of driving up to our home in Minnesota it would have been nice to take them somewhere fun to sight see, but they’re too old for that now. My grandmother is 70 something, drags her feet when she walks and in conversations she says things like “oh really?” and “what?” My grandfather is 85ish, he’s practically deaf and can hardly walk. If you have a conversation with him, he will never stop talking until you fall asleep in your chair and even then, since he can't see very well and can’t tell that you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll keep talking.

After my 4 hour drive from college and a lovely stop-over lunch at the ‘old people’s’ Baker Square with my friend in Bloomington, I arrived home. I felt awkward hugging my grandma. It’s probably because I haven’t seen them for five years. Grandpa couldn’t get up fast enough for my hug. My father informed me I was sleeping in the basement because it would be easier for grandpa to stay in my room. I went to the basement with my suitcase. I had to collect myself to be a nice granddaughter and try to have some good conversations. I tried. I really did. I went upstairs and I told them all about what was going on in my life, but every time I started talking about something my father would butt in about this or that. When the conversations turned toward news and then toward starving children in the US, it became…well let’s just say that two old men who both know everything will not listen to a 22 year old ‘girl’. I had to leave the room and get some fresh air outside. You gotta love family, even the boring ones.

After dinner I thought I should have a chat with my grandfather since I’ve never really had a long conversation with him before. So he just started talking…and talking. For the next hour, I didn’t get much in except head nodding and opening my mouth but not getting the words out before he kept on going with his talking. I heard many, many, many miraculous salvation stories and unfortunate missionary persecutions and finally his very dramatic, terrifying, life altering, salvation story. I think it’s been embellished a tad in the past 50 or so years. Then after a bit I was able to ask a question, which I thought would be the first of several. “How did you and grandma meet?” The next hour was a multitude of stories beginning with him and my grandmother meeting and getting married, then one child after the other accepting Christ as their savior, finding their future husband/wife, all about their husband/wife’s family, and their getting married. Of course he left out my own parents so there were only 5 people to go through: Mark, Bart, Kurt, Kari, and Beth. Although, not in that order. Finally there was a break so I was free for the night. I didn’t know exactly what to think of that “conversation.” I still don’t know what to think of that “conversation.” I’m still slightly terrified of my grandpa’s salvation story. He said I could use it to tell to people, but… I don’t think so. Although, for all my grandfather’s craziness, he’s a nice guy.

            Saturday, my brother came over for dinner and we all went out to Chilis and then we all came back from chilis and then we all sat around and thought we should have more to say to each other. I on the other hand, grabbed my computer and started working on my Mother’s book cover. I thought I should at least get something done while everyone sits around and stares at each other and my grandfather falls asleep in his chair. The book cover turned out AMAZING!

            On Sunday, they left before I was up, which didn’t really matter because the night before grandpa had said his little “May God go with you, and “ blah blah blah… because he assumed I wouldn’t be up in time to say goodbye anyway. I had slept in till 11am on Saturday.

            Monday was a lovely day with my mother. I love hanging out like that. :) And then I took my 2 duffle bags, large suit case, computer bag, purse stuffed full, craft tote, 2 large plastic bags full, 2 winter coats, comforter for the bed, and guitar back to my dorm. The drive did not seem as hideously long as the way there. It may have had something to do with the iced coffee and strawberry smoothie.

Entangled

Today I finished the book cover for Barbara Ellen Brink's book "Entangled." I'm not going to give you the entire cover view-you'll just have to wait till it comes out in print, but I will give you the front cover view. I changed it from how it was originally done when the book was published online, but those pictures will soon be changed to this new one.

 The book is a great read. Here's a little about it:

When Minneapolis divorce attorney, Billie Fredrickson, inherits her uncle’s small California winery, she has no intention of actually moving to the west coast and starting a new life. Her only thought is to get it off her hands as quickly as possible. But her return to the winery after an absence of twenty years opens up more than the reading of her uncle’s will. Childhood memories, long-buried, begin to surface, prompting questions that no one is able or willing to answer.

A late night prowler, a break-in at the winery, and an unearthed box of shocking photographs is someone’s way of pulling the welcome mat out from under Billie’s feet, but it only makes her dig her heels in deeper.

Secrets lie buried beneath Fredrickson Winery’s innocent facade and Billie intends to get to the root. But disturbing the past lays bare the skeletons of others, including her mother’s. Can she live with the consequences of full disclosure or will she run home where everyone is Minnesota nice?

To find a download of this novel go to Smash Words or there are other links on my sidebar to the left ->
To find out more about the author of Entangled, Barbara Ellen Brink, go to Barbara's Thin Line Blog or Barbara's Website.

Sometimes I stare at people in elevators to make them uncomfortable…

Who eats a muffin with a spoon? About 6 inches away from the professor’s head, I was sure that girl’s coffee would be all over her if the professor leaned back during the demo drawing. The professor didn’t even notice the spoon using, muffin eating, and the coffee slurping directly behind her. The texture of a muffin just isn’t right with a plastic spoon. Also muffins are airier than cake and not sticky enough to be easy to eat with a utensil. Muffins are finger food-that isn’t even an arguable issue. Can you tell I find this spoon usage stranger than seeing monks in Fargo?

Last night when I was coming home from work I stepped into an elevator with a guy I don’t know. I didn’t even recognize him. We spoke a couple words, just irrelevant elevator talk. Today I have noticed him around campus three times. What’s up with that? Why can’t I notice my friends around campus instead of odd people I talk to in elevators? Not that I talk to people in elevators much. Usually it’s strange conversation like a big black gay guy telling me he wishes he had hips like mine, or a group of people that add me into the conversation just because I’m there and I don’t even understand what they’re talking about so I just laugh politely at the appropriate intervals.

Tonight I’m procrastinating from researching Biomass energy so I’ll go take an elevator ride and tell you what happens.

3 Minutes later: Nothing really happened in the elevator. Going down I rode with two guys. One of them mentioned to the other that, “this thing is crazy.” He was referring to the elevator because it makes a shakey sound. I’m used to it. I got out first so I thought I’ll go out this other way so they won’t see me going back to the elevator. Of course, I’m not a jedi so they didn’t do what I wanted them to. They had to go out the same door and toward the same parking lot. That was stupid of me to leave the building because I didn’t even bring a sweatshirt. The ride back up here was with a girl that went to the 10^th floor. People usually just ignore each other in the elevator. Sometimes I stare at people in elevators to make them uncomfortable…

Laughing Time

This is a very funny show of Parks and Recreation. Don't miss the very end-it's hilarious!

Roller Derby + Random = Fun Stuff

October 2^nd

I woke up knowing that today wasn’t just any day. This was the day I was going to see my first roller derby game. I went through the day waiting for it to be time to go. I did some errands, had an encounter with a squirrel, washed clothes, worked on a project, and right before it was time leave I tried on about 10 different outfits, then changed once again after I saw what my friend was wearing. Our plan to eat at Aladin’s before the derby failed when we found out it closes at 4pm on Saturdays so Wendy’s filled our bellies instead.

The Urban Plains Center looked as if the parking lot was completely full, but to our surprise there were plenty of open spaces. On entering the parking lot there were attendants that were taking parking fee money. They wanted $3 for doing absolutely nothing but taking money. They weren’t even directing traffic to the area with open spaces. We took too long looking for the last dollar so they told us to just go ahead. That seemed a little fishy to me, only $2 even though it’s supposed to be $3? I don’t trust parking lot attendants that don’t do anything.

There was a pretty big crowd to see the roller derby girls. The first teams to play were Fargo Moorhead Intraleague Derby Girls: Fighting Suzies vs. Battlescar Galactica. That was interesting, but the main event was an intense game. The Murder City Maidens from Canada played against our Fargo Moorhead derby girls. Our team won cause they’re amazing.

Since I didn’t get a video of the Derby Girls, here’s a video of part of my squirrel encounter along with fireworks in 30 seconds, plus pictures of strange guy in a wolverine costume from the street corner, and cute puppies:

It was a strange morning and then there were monks!

October 1^st

9:30am: I arrived at the place. I knew what I would have to do. It was almost shameful as I waited in the waiting area. The woman at the desk took the paper I had given her and my id. She entered the data as I waited. There was another girl in the waiting area. She kept staring at me. It was disconcerting. I didn’t know that I was so entertaining to watch. The woman behind the desk said I could come back. I followed her back and she gave me a cup. “You just fill it to the top of that line. The rules are no running the faucet or flushing the toilet.” You’ve just entered the land of drug testing for the Fargo/Moorhead area. It’s always a great start to any new job. As I was leaving after the test I thought for a moment what to say. Usually when I leave some place where they do some type of service I say, thank you, but why should I thank them for making me pee in a cup? They should have thanked me. As I walked out the door, I chose to say, “Have a nice day.” It was much less awkward to say that than to leave in silence as that girl in the waiting room stared at me again.

10am: Monks. You know what I’m talking about. The guys in the brown robes with the hoods, sandals, rope belts and bald spot; I saw two of them today. I don’t think I have ever seen actual monks until today. They were just walking down the street, heading toward down town Fargo. I don’t know why. Maybe there’s a monk convention this weekend. I would suspect that they were staying at the y. That’s where all the professional monks stay during conventions. Seeing a monk in everyday life is like when my friend from North Dakota saw spinning rims on an SUV for the first time in real life. It’s like when my roommate got to watch me fill up my gas tank by hand because in her country they have gas station attendants. These are all unexpected almost unrealistic situations that we find ourselves in. Watch below as Troy sees something he never expected.

I was in the library and then SHAZAM!

The library is a place of mystery. It holds secrets of great authors like John Something-or-other and Charles What’s-his-name. But that is not why I go to the library. In the past I have only gone to the library when it was completely and utterly necessary that I find sources for research papers. This, I did not need today. I was suffering through withdrawal from television after a Saturday of Turner Classic Movies. In light of that, I decided to move on with my detoxification by studying away from moving pictures. The library. The source that has brought wonder and amazement to many children such as Matilda and Barbara Ellen Brink (who is now the writer of the best selling e-book “Entangled.” Death, Wine, Mystery, Love. Hidden secrets lurk around every corner. The suspense will keep you turning the pages…the link to Barbara’s blog is over on the side). The last two days I have studied at the library. I have designated my own study carrel, hoping no one will take it over when I visit again. I would carve my name into it but I’m trying to be a studious student. That just doesn’t seem very studious to me.

After reading my Ethics book for over an hour I started losing my concentration. It was definitely time for lunch. I left by way of the elevator. Climbing four stories with a 30 maybe 40 pound back pack is not my cup of tea. My cup if tea is Peace Tea! Peace Tea was definitely created by hippies because there are pictures of them on the can. Once I purchased a can of Peace Tea with my burrito and I didn’t look at the receipt until I had left. They had charged me $2.89 for my Peace Tea! I wanted to take it back and show them the price labeled on the can. 99c. How could they dare charge me more because, “Shazam! It’s on the can!” Now every time I purchase my Peace Tea, I check the receipt. Fortunately, they have not screwed up again. I can sit down and drink my gigantic can of peace tea that hippies mixed up just for me.

Fire! Fire!

September 28th, 12am: The fire alarm went off. Me and my room mate put on our shoes and sweatshirts and headed out. The girls in the room next to us were just standing in their door way. They had no clue that it was a fire alarm. I guess the alarms blaring with flashing lights didn't ring a bell for them. Getting out of the building is almost as hard as getting back in the building. The girls are all screaming and yelling. Not in a terrified way but, in a loud obnoxious way. Although there are the girls who act like it's the end of the world and everything they have will be burned up in the fire. In reality this building was built to with stand fires. The walls, and floors are cement. The only things that could burn would be the resident's belongings including what usually burns: popcorn. The fire truck had to come because whoever set off the alarm didn't fess up to it, so everyone had to stand out in the cold for a half hour, and firemen were pulled away from more important situations because some stupid freshman was too scared to take responsibility. Everyone was sure someone on the 2nd floor burned popcorn because the the pungent aroma was wafting through the stair well near the that floor. Hypothetically, if there had been an actual fire in someone's room and it was rampant, in the time it took for the firetruck to arrive, that hypothetical floor would have been completely destroyed by that hypothetical fire. Maybe there needs to be a new kind of fire drill. What the video below for fire drills by Dwight

Drawing, Burrito, and Target Mobile

9am: I had to hurry to class this morning. The snooze button had beckoned my hand the first couple times Relient K came on to serenade the morning so my primping time was cut down. I got to class just in time to start the timer on our drawing. There was a new model today, and we were told to create a drawing that included the feet and up to the hip. As people were getting settled into their spots, I inconspicuously stripped off my top layer. The drawing studio had its heater turned up for the model. Inside it’s tank top weather, or rather nude weather but I’m not the model.

12pm: After class I trotted over to the lower level cafeteria. I chose the burrito line and was pleased to see “the blonde burrito guy.” I don’t know his name and it doesn’t really matter because I only care about the burrito. They are like tiny little babies for me to eat. The “deaf old lady” made a burrito for me once. She couldn’t tell what I was saying even though I had to yell everything to her. That burrito was only a burrito and not a tiny baby sized burrito. “Blonde burrito guy” does it right.

4:45pm: I walked into Target five minutes early for a job interview and found Brian (manager of the new Target Mobile), sitting in the Starbucks just like he had said on the phone. We went through the regular rigmarole of what Target Mobile is, and who I am, and what skills or knowledge that would make me good for the job. I told him how I’d sell his phone, gave the magical words of “features and benefits,” which help in any selling situation, and it turned out to be a lovely interview. I was left with the knowledge that he wanted to hire me, but it was up to the district manager. I walked out of that Target with the anticipation of a phone call to let me know if the DM would want to talk to me. I felt like I had the cat in the bag, but who’s cat was it and why was it in a bag?

8:24pm: Brian called. Brian is excited to have me on the team, and the DM, Jim, is going to call me tomorrow. The cat is definitely in the bag. I am going to sell cell phones. What a step up from selling maternity clothes.

Setting the Mood