Hello Jell-O.

Despite the fact that I am completely unable to draw myself, I still must have a sub-/un... conscious (I NEVER KNOW WHICH ONE TO USE!) idea of what I look like.
Why?  Because my jaw is swollen, and I can tell.  Which really, honestly, isn't that bad.

This hardly hurts when compared to ear surgeries.  In fact, I've gone all of today with the LACK of medication, and besides some discomfort, I'm fine.  So, getting your wisdom teeth pulled, even all four, isn't that bad.

Where does the problem lie?

SMILING!

Mark that as Cebre's #2 recognition of "What I Take For Granted" this calendar year.

Today I asked some boys (whom I don't know) if they thought my cheeks looked big.  After first looking at me weird for asking the question in the first place, they then scrutinized my face, and then told me that, "No, you look just fine."

Which was great news until my sister said, "You're not that... oh... ha."
It's just the smile.  I can't smile.  It hurts to smile.
But then again, smiling isn't that big of a deal, right?

Oh dear friends, you're wrong.  Smiling is huge.

You can smile when you're happy, when you're annoyed, when you're surprised, when you're thinking of something funny, when you're listening to a good song, when you finished all of your flashcards for your test, when you are trying to prove to someone that you don't care, when you're waving, when you're trying to make a baby smile, when you're on the phone, when you're telling someone that you're "doing just great," ... or basically you can always smile.

Be grateful for the beautiful smiles that you have!  They make this whole world brighter.

The Center of a Tootsie Pop

I think I counted once, and it was something like 463 licks.  Just licks.  The kind that make your tongue numb, and not the kind where you roll it around for extra flavor.  463.  And no biting.

So, in response to the FAQ- Future Asked Questions...
Are you just bored all the time in college?
No, I am not.  In fact, I am extremely delighted in most everything that comes my way.
Then are you insane?
No.  I'm not that, either.

So today, as I was writing a reflection paper for one of my classes, I realized I had a whole bunch of tabs open on my Mozilla Firefox browser.  And yes, I've used Safari and Google Chrome, but neither made emboldening very easy.  And I like my emphasis.

SO I began to open up a whole bunch of tabs.  I thought maybe the limit was 17.
Sadly, it wasn't.
I had to stop, and finish my reflection paper.

Don't fear!  I don't give up that easily.  I began clicking. + + + + + + + + + ++++++++++ + + + + + +++++....
+++ + + ++ + ++ +
 + + + + + + ++
 + + ++ +++++++ + + + ++ ++

forever.
100.  200.  300. 400.
Okay, I thought. This must just be lying.  I couldn't actually have 400 tabs open...
So I started deleting tabs to see if I could also delete 400.  20, 26, click click click click.  And then I got frustrated.  Why would I want to count to 400 again?  I mean, I didn't even want to count all of them the first time!  So I exited out of the browser.


"You are about to close 368 tabs.  Are you sure you want to do continue?"

NO WAY!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++....++++++++++++++++++++
+++++
++
+
+
I am currently posting on my 767th tab.  I ensured that "emboldening" was a real word on my 359th tab.

I like that number, 767.  I like 7's.  And the prime factors of 767 are 13 and 59.

So, as far as my patience would go, there are 767 possible tabs in Mozilla Firefox.  This may be updated in the future.

And, today was a fantastic day.

Update:  Today I went on a clicking spree again, and after being stuck in the 1800's for a while, I stopped, and clicked to close my window:

That's right.  Accidentally happened upon our year.

"The sky's starting to spit."

Ohhhh Texas.  What a sweet treat.

Random thoughts of the day: Isn't it interesting that we somehow count 0 as plural?  The number 1 is the only number that we count as singular... Let's see if I can say this correctly:
We'll have -1 apples (meaning, we owe someone an apple).
It's possible to own three cars.
I only have one assignment due tomorrow.
I have read zero pages (PAGES!) for my quiz tomorrow.

Also, every time I write out an ordered pair on my math homework, I think I'm drawing owls.
(0,0) and (0,1).  So cute!

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Let's be honest.  Weddings are beautiful.  In the past two months, I have been a bridesmaid in two, and absolutely LOVED it!  The first wedding I participated in was Bekah Vanderhorst's.  Bekah and Grant were married in the Denver Colorado Temple exactly two months ago.  It was such a beautiful wedding, and so lovely to see the love in their families as they watched Bekah and Grant start their own.  I got to know Bekah from my major-- we're pretty similar and quickly bonded over our love for life, math, and the gospel.   She's always been an inspiring friend and such a good example!  What a better example to set than a temple marriage?


The second wedding was last Saturday, in sweet ole' Texas.  Haley, one of my roommates from this summer's study abroad, married her London sweetheart Daniel Jankowski.  Likewise, Haley and I have always seemed to have many things in common (we both sing in Women's Chorus still) and I've always been able to be really open with her, as she was with me.  She was there every step of the way as I explored and discovered the wonders that London could hold for me, and together we had a very fantastic experience.  AND THEN I GOT TO SEE HER GET MARRIED!  I'm so grateful that I got to be there for at least one more huge event in her life =).   Let's just say that I've come to love Texas and all the people that I've met there.  It was a blast.



But, let's be even more honest.  Weddings make you think about marriage.

I know, that sounds crazy.  Weddings? Marriage?  NO correlation...

Luckily, I don't have to stress too much, as I'm incredibly and wonderfully single.  HA!

A little too much alliteration?

Apparently, I love it.  "Twenty and Teething," "Mathematics and Me," "Humility and Hope," "Peter Pan and Debbie Day," "London's like a Lost home :)... literally," and "Summary in a Song..."

I do admit, I had a bit of fun with this title, too.  Just a tad.

So, I have decided to add "breathing through my nose" to my "Thankful for" list.  Some things should just not be taken for granted.

When I was younger, my sister and I would write in our journals most Sundays, or around once every couple of months.  It wavered.  And without fail, literally every time, since we had to catch up so much, we would end up listing all the things we were grateful for, and all of our friends.  Actually, on second thought, I can't speak for Terra.  I have some memories of her doing the same... but who knows how valid those are at this point.

My brain synapses work differently than most.  My mom understands, because hers do the same, and some precious friends have been able to interpret my thought process over time.  Usually, it takes little train switches and just turns off everywhere.  Right now?  Oh, the train's not even GOING.  There are hardly any connections.  It's quite funny how when one sees a road sign like this: 

they can expect a slowing or perhaps even stopping of traffic due to, well, everything being congested!  The same thing happens in my head.  Except thoughts should have nothing to do with the clarity of my nasal breathing.  But, they do.  Oh... they do.

And now, inspired by last night's Women's Chorus Retreat... a haiku:

Watch for Congestion

It comes with the cold, cold air

And never quite leaves.

Mathematics and Me

Today, a friend texted me, suggesting that I was in the wrong major. (Update: He suggested it in a joking matter, in case anyone thought otherwise.)

My response?  "No WAY! You know I think my major is perfect."  Which, most days, I do.

And, as a result of this conversation, and a class assignment (for school has started today), I have provided a small history of, yes, mathematics, and me.

My first name, Cebre, is pronounced "SAY-BRUH." 

The story that I know goes as follows (Mom, don't correct me... at least on here. haha!): Somebody had a card, perhaps given because of my birth, which when extended fully would spell out the word "celebrate."  Note that the first letter, and the last letter create the (here) prefix, "ce-."  Looking at that, my father decided he would like to name his child (me) a name with "ce" ("SAY") involved.  My mother remembered once knowing a Sabra in college, who was obnoxious and rude.  My father, an artist, decided that it was more aesthetically pleasing to conclude my name with an "e," protecting me from both immature and inappropriate jokes in middle school.

I was always a curious child.  I spoke my first poem when I was four years old, commenting on the ocean that I could see from my house:

"The waves are blue

The ocean is white

That is not good

What a sight!"

I loved discovering, learning, and yes, teaching.  I would do the first two, and then explain my newfound knowledge to all with open ears, giving the credit to "the schoolhouse in my heart."  I believed in both fairies and unicorns, and would sometimes chatter to the blossoms in the trees (fairyland) or search for small white pebbles in the driveway (unicorn eggs).  I also believed that music was the universal language between all living things, and would sing outside to the trees, birds, and deer.  In my mind, they could completely understand me.

School was a delight.  My earliest memories of learning were from my Grandma Southwick.  I remember her teaching me that the lower-case "e" did not look like a backwards "g," and I remember learning how to borrow when adding.  I loved school.  I loved doing my homework, I loved answering questions, and I loved lovedloved talking with my friends.  I would sit in the front of class, where I would finish my work, and then start chattering once more, either talking for the pure reason of, well, talking, or explaining to my friends how to understand the problem(s) at hand. ...This often got me in trouble.

Teaching was a delight!  I would go to the front of the class every chance I could get, with or without the permission of the teacher.  Like my preschool years, I thought everyone would want to know my ideas and understanding.  As I grew older, I would grade my friends' homework before the teachers would receive it, a sort of peer review. I would help my friends understand where the mistakes were and how to fix them.  I loved being able to discover how a friend thought, and then figuring out the exact or most efficient way to help them understand whatever concept was at hand.

Around this time, I first heard the term "mathematician."

"You'll be a mathematician someday, Cebre," my teachers would tell me.

As I grew more, understood more, and definitely worked more, I began to doubt their prophecy.  I was better at English, Physics, Art, perhaps even P.E.!  Math was a struggle, even if I loved it.  While it came naturally, it didn't come intuitively at all times.  I still taught many friends in class, but there were also many others who knew and understood more than me.

Then I was accepted to BYU.  I decided to take a math class, for I always loved math.  My professors were inspiring and fun.  I loved the students in my class, and I began to deliberate on my major.  At the time, I was on track to graduate in English with Honors, and yet somehow I turned towards mathematics education.  I've never been happier.

I still sit in the front of class, although I don't get in as much trouble for talking anymore.  I soak in the material given, and I will willingly teach my class content to any who will listen.  Some of my friends have made an unofficial pact to NOT ask me about school that day. 

Mathematics is as magical and beautiful to me as those fairies were, and I hope to be able to share that perspective through my teaching someday.

As for now, though, I also hope to remember this perspective as school wears on... and wears me out.