The End Is Near

Volleyball. Swimming. Biking. Road trips. Camping. Hiking.

Excitement has filled this Summer, to the point where I cannot sit idle for more than a few minutes.

Where can we go? and What can we do? are always the questions.

Suddenly, air seems to be pulled from my lungs and my stomach turns. A realization is made.

Summer is almost over.

We Slept On A Plateau!

Thursday afternoon, we decided to spend the weekend in Zion National Park. Only a few hours later, we were on our way.

The drive was pleasant, as time passed quickly.

We arrived at our destination at 5:00am and spent our first hour searching for somewhere to sleep. Luckily for us, all of the campsites were full and everything with vacancy was expensive.

Being the college students we are, we left the expensive accommodations with upturned noses and continued forward, searching for something a bit more affordable, if not free.

Patience began to wear and tempers began to rise as the search for a place to lay down for two hours continued.

Suddenly, we saw, as if in a vision, a plateau appear before us. Upon further inspection, the decision was unanimous. We had found a place to sleep.

Tarps and blankets were laid out and the sleeping commenced.

And thus began the Great Pioneer Day Weekend of 2009. During the remainder of the trip, mountains were climbed with chains, apple cores were thrown from precipices, and water was drunk by the gallon.

Thank you for an incredible weekend, everyone.

Note to Self: Don't forget a spatula next time.

He's No Amateur

The line was long, as it always is at Wendy's during lunch. I had driven my parents along with my niece and nephew, Hannah and Peyton, down to Provo for the annual BYU Bookstore visit.

Just as all small children do, Hannah and Peyton had developed a sudden fascination with the order line bars and had allowed their monkey instincts to take over.

Just as all adults do, my parents and I asked them to stop swinging and stand patiently in line. Surprisingly, Hannah obeyed. Peyton, however, continued his monkey behavior.

After a short few moments of waiting, a young couple entered stage left with their two year-old, blond-haired, blue-eyed, daughter in tow, and took their position in line. The adorable little girl quickly assumed her position, swinging from the bars.

Expertly, she edged her way towards Peyton. Within a few moments, she had managed to swing her way to Peyton's bar. They were now face to face, their faces a mere five inches apart.

"I like your face," the little girl said in her toddler voice with a smile.

Peyton giggled, as he usually does. Then came the fateful words.

"I like your face too, but I like mine more."

Yeah, he gets his smooth moves from his uncle.

First Blood

Yesterday, the Red Cross volunteers came to Brigham Young University. They were looking for fresh blood.

Voluntarily, I took my seat among the other victims, waiting for my turn to arrive. After a few short moments, I was summoned and the interrogation began. Question after question was thrown at me.

Have you ever spent this much time in this country? Have you ever spent a shorter amount of time in this other country?

Have you ever had sex with this type of person? What about this other type? Or maybe this one?

Have you ever stood on your head for over an hour? Two hours?

When the bombardment had come to an end, my finger was pricked to check for anemia. After squeezing my finger repeatedly for several seconds, a drop finally seeped out of the thin cut. (This is a literary technique called foreshadowing.) Turns out I'm not anemic and so I was ushered to the final wait.

As much as I enjoyed watching other donor's blood moving through tubes and into bags, I was relieved when my turn to be "stuck" arrived. After examining my arms, the nurse posed a question.

"Have you drunk much water today?" (See, this is more foreshadowing.)

"Not really," I replied shortly.

"Have you eaten?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely." I started squeezing the foam ball with more vigor.

Then out came the iodine, followed by the needle.

The nurse uttered some memorized phrase about iodine stinging, followed by, "Go to your happy place." The beach was too far away, so I turned my head to watch.

In went the needle. My blood decided not to cooperate and so the nurse did some wiggling. Wiggle, wiggle. The blood still refused to leave.

"Are you alright?"

"Yep."

Wiggle, wiggle.

"Are you alright?"

"Yep."

This pattern continued for about a minute and a half until I was kindly informed that I would not be able to give blood that day.

She did, however, inform me I could try again tomorrow. At least she had a sense of humor.

Summer Resolutions

Alright. I understand that no one reads this. I have accepted it. In fact, I have accepted it so well that this is the first time I have written an entry in about six months. If only to entertain myself for a moment on this summer afternoon, here is the most recent entry.

What have I been up to? As usual, with the end of winter semester, goal setting has attracted the spotlight. I have never really understood the whole New Year's resolution thing, but Spring Time resolutions are another matter. I can dig Spring Time resolutions. Many of the resolutions are repeat offenders, but some are first offenses. Here goes nothing.

Write a short story.

Make a dent on my reading list.

Redesign this blog.

Work out three times a week.

Visit the temple weekly.

There they are. Soak them in.

And here's a sneak peak into what I have accomplished thus far. Designed and programmed. Check it.

El Cangrejo

Where chall I begin? I suppose I should begin where all great stories begin. At the beginning.

The sun had just retreated to its sanctuary behind the mountainous Puerto Rican horizon and darkness had begun to take hold. On the front porch of the rented out apartment sat a young man. By appearance, he had about fifteen years, but by fact, he was twenty. Most people knew him as an over-active attention seeker, whose lips were always smiling and whose voice was always on the edge of laughter. But tonight, tonight he was different. Tonight his lips were drawn out and thin. His laughter was lost in the darkness surrounding him. Hour after hour of sitting and twiddling his thumbs had dulled his senses. Empty thoughts filled his mind with nothingness. He was a spector in the darkness. Until... Something moved in the shadowy street. Dun dun dun!

The small form of the creature moved with easy, making its way to the large pile of weekend party remains found in front of the boy's apartment. Upon reaching the pile, it vanished amongst the black garbage bags and green Heineken beer bottles.

Suddently the boy became alive and sprang to his feet, his eyes with with excitment. Leaving his sullen disposition behind him, he rushed to the garbage pile to search out the shadowy form of the unknown. But no! It was too dark! The sun had forsaken him, making his efforts fruitless.

What could be done? And then an idea struck the boy: flashlight! Rushing inside, he searched frantically. Where could a flashlight be? There one is! He reached out, grabbed it, and dashed back out into the night air, raising the flashlight up as a torch, victorious! Then the search continued.

Within seconds, the creature was located. Its small shelled body was found beneath a large black bag with pincer raised high in defense. Quickly, the boy reached for a nearby bucket and with one scoop, the crab was captured.

And thus, the crab became known as "El Cangrejo" meaning "Bringer of Light."

(This post was written over two years ago and was inspired by true events.)

Conspiracy Theory.

Election day arrives and a shocking headline hits news stands across America: "Barack Obama's Grandmother Dies."

America reads the headline and mourns for Obama. Five minutes later, suspicions begin to arise.

The election was going well for the Barack Obama campaign. Obama lead polls across America. But was it enough? Perhaps Obama didn't think so. So in an effort to influence a simpathy vote, he killed his grandmother. Not!

Come on, folks. Barack Obama did not kill his grandmother. We're talking about the woman who loved, raised, and cared for Obama during his childhood. His only remaining close relative. His grandma who was diagnosed with cancer just a month ago. Terminal cancer. Besides, Obama has an alibi. He has been traveling across America in a final effort to turn Americans to his cause. Barack Obama did not kill his grandmother.

But where has Michelle Obama been?

Michelle has declared her unconditional love for her husband in press conferences across America. She wants nothing more than to see her husband become President and would do anything to ensure his success. Reports from several American citizens have claimed witnessing Michelle board a Boeing 767 on Sunday morning. Destination? Hawaii.

Refering to his grandmother, Barack is cited as saying, "She was the person who encouraged and allowed us to take chances."

We can only speculate as to what words were exchanged between Michelle and Grandma Obama just before she died. Perhaps it went something like this:

Grandma: "Michelle, take a chance. I have lived a good life and I am willing to end it for the campaign, for my Barack."

Michelle: "I could never!"

Grandma: "Michelle, the race is close. This could sway the vote. I have terminal cancer. I'm dying. Just do it before I change my mind."

Congressman Neil Abercrombie, a friend of the family, stated, "[Grandma Obama] passed away confident that he would succeed."

Why so confident? You be the judge.

(This article is strictly fictional.)