Skating Student Quote of the Day: Hello, young lovers, whoever you are, I hope your troubles are few

From a 6th grade guy, talking to one of his friends at the rink: "Relationship troubles, huh?"

A Burnt Orange Quest

I was back in my hometown this past week, and I stopped at Presence, one of my favorite stores to hunt down some burnt orange clothing. Shopping there is often hit-or-miss (probably because I'm not nearly as fashion forward as most of their styles), but whenever I like something there, I love it, so I keep going through everything they have in the store..

Unfortunately, this trip was a miss one. The only piece of burnt orange clothing I came away with was a camisole:


It's more orange in reality--the picture makes it look a bit more red. I plan on wearing it with my favorite shirt of all time, also purchased at Presence:


I also took home a dark red camisole and a pink scarf. I've decided I need to expand my scarf collection, and will be on the lookout for more scarves. Having purchased the pink one, my next order of business will be a gray one.

I'm not too happy with how these pictures look. It might be time to actually figure out how to do more on my camera. Currently I'm capable of taking pictures, looking at the pictures I've taken, and turning off the flash. I'm just a regular photography genius.

The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman, by Louise Plummer, OR Alternate Universe Me

This book was published in 1995. I was somewhat relieved to discover that, because it means that Louise Plummer is not somewhere out there reading my mind. After all, in 1995 I didn't know a thing about linguistics, I didn't yet have my strange fascination with the Twin Cities in MN, I had seen skating occasionally on TV but hadn't been introduced to ice dance at all, and I didn't have any opinions on the process of writing or the distinction between fiction and autobiography or the conventions of certain literary genres.

Kate Bjorkman is a linguistics nerd living in Minnesota when she has a wonderfully romantic Christmas. She decides to turn her story of that Christmas into a romance novel, with help from The Romance Writer's Phrase Book, which can turn an everyday action into someone "flounder[ing] in an agonizing maelstrom" (8). As she writes her romance novel (which makes up the bulk of the novel we read), she stops every few chapters to note revisions she may or may not want to take, and she often has to decide whether or not what really happened has a place in a romance novel. Her family wants her to change the way she presents them, and her best friend thinks that since it's a romance novel, not an autobiography, Kate should have no qualms about changing things around to make her best friend a more important character. And since this is, after all, a romance novel, we get to follow her reintroduction to Richard, a boy who grew up with her, and all the romance that follows.

I picked this book up because there was a girl in figure skates on the front cover. You may think that I'm exaggerating, but I cannot put down a book that looks as though it may have something to do with figure skating. Sometimes this means I end up reading some really awful books with just one mention of skating. In this case, however, the characters went skating twice, and the second time they made reference to both killian and waltz positions, so it was totally worth it.

To add to the skating situations, there were lots of linguistics tidbits throughout. In the sixth line we already hear about a name ending in "an unvoiced velar plosive" (1). I always was taught that they were called stops, not plosives, but I can handle that. Kate also likes to identify people's hometowns by their accent and get into debates about the Whorfian hypothesis. I enjoyed this immensely.

AND, as if the figure skating and the linguistics weren't enough, we get lots of explorations of literary theory. Kate opens every chapter with an explanation of what this chapter should be doing in order to conform with the genre of literary theories, and by page 28 she's discussing feminist literary criticism. The distinctions between fiction and autobiography topped everything off, and I was a very happy English major while reading this book.

I wonder if Louise Plummer could both see into the future and read minds...that might explain the confluence of everything I love into one book.

Testing Week: Pass or Retry?

Tomorrow is the last day of testing week at the ice rink.

Testing week is a trauma-filled week. When I was learning how to skate, I agonized. The first time I failed, I cried the entire evening. My coach for that session very kindly called that evening to give me some comfort and motivation. I'm afraid I don't remember anything he said, mostly because I was just sniffling and saying "Mhmmm" at appropriate moments. I like to think that he imparted some very key wisdom upon me, because I don't remember being that upset about a test again until I failed an ice dance test about five or six years later. It's a shame I don't remember it, because I'd love to impart similarly sage advice upon my skaters so that they'd stop being upset with failing.

I mistakenly assumed that agonizing over tests would end when I became a coach. Oh, how wrong I was. The other side of testing is probably even more wrought with emotional distress, because on the other side you have power. And it is terrifying. I don't want to make children cry! I don't want them to quit skating because of a setback! And I definitely don't want their parents unhappy with me because they don't pass. But I've also taught the students who probably shouldn't have been moved up a level, and the next level is even harder for them since they don't have the skills to build upon. It's also harder for the coach, because we then have to work on developing skills that the skaters should've already learned. You cannot win (unless the skater is clearly ready to pass--then you both win).

My only comfort is the fact that I'm merely a skating instructor, not an official USFSA judge. USFSA testing takes place in front of a panel (usually of three judges) and this is even more trauma-inducing that Learn to Skate testing. For that, you have to pay just to take a test, and after you fail, you're required to wait at least another month before you test again. I don't think I could take the pressure. Of course, I don't think it's standard practice for parents to challenge those judges and insist that the judges are mistaken, so that's a definite benefit.

Linguistic note of the day: I love all the euphemisms skating will find to say you failed. In Basic Skills you don't fail, you just need improvement, and with USFSA tests, you simply will have to retry. My coaches would frequently tell us stories about how in their day, you didn't retry, you simply failed and there was nothing you could do about it. No sugarcoating things for them. They all made it through okay, so maybe I don't have to worry nearly as much about traumatizing the next generation of skaters.

Things You Either Hate or Love, by Brigid Lowry OR The Power of Mono

This book demonstrates the power of a good case of glandular fever (which my research tells me is mono) and the loss of 4 kilos (which I believe to be about 8.8 pounds…my phone informs me that it is 8.818490 pounds).

Once upon a time there was a charming, entertaining girl named Georgia who liked to make lists and who longed to go to her favorite music group’s concert. She went out on a hunt to get jobs, hated babysitting, didn’t get invited to interview at a video shop, got fired from a bakery after attacking a coworker with a baguette (BEST scene in the book, as I’ve always been a firm believer that baguettes would make excellent weapons), and then worked at a supermarket where there was a holdup. She was also overweight, though her mother and best friend (who was on a one-woman mission to save the world) assured her that she was simply curvy. Georgia’s dad died when Georgia was about four, and her mom still hadn’t started dating again. Georgia’s aunt and uncle were also on the verge of divorce. AND said best friend went on a vacation, leaving Georgia alone for the holidays (which is when Georgia starts working the supermarket job). Georgia develops a crush on a boy who works with her, but for 9/10ths of the book this boy is taken by various others as far as Georgia knows. Another boy likes and tries to kiss Georgia, but she’s not interested. Oh, and Georgia’s favorite music group breaks up because two of the members are heroin addicts. Then Georgia gets mono.

Ahhh, mono, you are thinking to yourself, this is truly terrible, poor, poor Georgia. But you see, it is with the help of mono that Georgia manages to lose the oh-so important 8.818490 pounds, as she feels too sick to eat. Miraculously, Georgia starts dating the boy she likes, her mother talks to her about her father and also starts dating, her aunt and uncle move back in together, she gets a job she likes, her old best friend finds a new best friend who will change the world with her, and Georgia finds a new friend at said like-able job.

ALL BECAUSE OF 8.818490 POUNDS.*

That’s it. I shall now lose that much weight (in a very unhealthy way wherein I will simply stop eating) and keep you all updated as to my life situation. I currently anticipate that I shall get a cute and intelligent guy who works with me to date me, I will get into all post-grad programs I applied to, I will be offered a job at my home ice rink, all my friendships will become picture perfect, and I will have a wonderfully normal relationship with my family, both immediate and extended.

If you know my extended family, then you know we will never, ever, be normal. It’s part of our charm.

As I promised, updates on how this life change goes will be forthcoming.

*Another reading is that she gets the boyfriend and that solves everything else. In that case, when I get a boyfriend I will also keep you updated as to how everything else in my life suddenly starts going well.

What on earth is a burnt orange life?

Recently I was chatting with some friends, and one said, "I recently had a conversation about you and burnt orange."
"And what was the conclusion?"
"That you can wear it."
I wear a lot of burnt orange, and I frequently lament the lack of burnt orange clothing out in the world (the above friend says this is because no one else can wear it). So when the time came for me to start a blog, I decided to combine my love of anything French with my love of burnt orange in creating a title.

Since I am English major and a writing tutor, I know that introductions should tell the reader what one is going to discuss. So, reader, here are some things that are going to be in this burnt orange life:

1) A lot of Young Adult Lit discussions (or any literature discussions, really). I love YA Lit. I love giving my opinion about books, especially since I'm no longer taking any literature classes. I love literary criticism. I really really really love writing pieces of literary criticism about YA Lit.
2) My thoughts on the figure skating world. I'm a bit of a figure skating nerd. Just a bit of one.
3) Quotes from those learning how to figure skate. I collect them and will someday publish a book of all the best ones, but for now you can read them without having to purchase the book!
4) Stories that might have anything to do with French or Francophone culture. Said stories will possibly be presented mockingly, but I mock the French only because I love them. Also because they mock me right back.
5) Linguistics ponderings. I go back and forth deciding whether or not I want to get a PhD in Linguistics, but until I decide to go for it, all the topics I would be doing research on will instead be analyzed here.
6) Any successful obtentions* of burnt orange clothing.

So that's the plan. However, as I know from writing several hundred papers over the course of my life, I do not always stick to the plan from the introduction. Anything could happen!

*The word obtention is in the OED (more on the OED later), so as far as I'm concerned, it's a word. I was a bit disappointed, since I thought I'd made the word up, but at least I can cite the OED if someone tries to tell me that it isn't a word.