In Which I Am Alive

Hey, guess where I want to go? ....Everywhere.

I know a hobby is going to stick when I start finding metaphors for life in it. It's obviously woven itself firmly enough into the way I process existence that I can use it as a mental filter to help me understand other experiences. This past weekend was about as beautiful as a weekend could be, with the perfect balance of activity and lazing, new adventures and bursts of nostalgia, old bosom buddies and new friends. Also, there was plenty of cheesecake, and a new baby joined my extended family (can't wait to meet him!) Today was my little brother's birthday. This kid is amazing, you guys. He speaks Spanish like a native, plays basketball like a pro, and cuddles like the best teddy bear you've ever known. Now that he's old enough to date, I think the ladies will be flocking to him right and left. And how could they not, eh Gus? One of my best friends is getting married this weekend. And I really thought I was going to go when all of the sudden my plans drop...

Got to class practically on time. Played the organ for a couple of hours. Was all of the productive at work. Played a wicked game of ultimate Frisbee. Sat on the grass with my friends while talking about zoo animals. Ate frozen yogurt. Took a refreshing shower. This was indeed a wonderful day.

I don't know why people say rainy days are gray. Have they ever been outside on a rainy day? The grass looks like it's about to start leaking green all over and even the houses are brighter. If nothing else, rainy days are brighter-colored than pale sunshiney days. On my run today, I saw a boy just standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Maybe he was thinking or maybe he was waiting for someone, but I like to think that he was looking at how green Y mountain looked today, feeling the rain on his face, and listening to the birds. Anyway, once I was a little further away, I stood and looked too. When I have a house I want it to be small but beautiful, with a lot of flowers and trees. I also want  a porch with some latticework and a swing.

Things I would like to do this spring/summer, in no particular order: Tube the Provo River Climb Y Mountain Climb Mount Nebo Get a library card Visit the Springville Arts Museum Go to Llama Fest at the Krishna Temple (update: I'll be in California. Maybe next year). Visit the Living Planet Aquarium in SLC Go to a fair, where I will ride the most vomit-inducing ride I can find, eat a funnel cake, and get a henna tattoo.  Go to the Sheepdog Festival (It sounds silly, guys, but this is one of the cooler events I've been to in Utah) Rooftop Concert Series! (update: done! Thrice over!) Go to Boise for Jenni's wedding! Hooray! (update: couldn't get a ride. But a visit is in the works) Meet Gail Carson Levine (update: done! She's really short!) Go to the rope swing in Mona (update: done! And I went off the highest platform) Go to the natural waterslides in Alpine (update: done! Highly recommend) Actually make use of my Pass of all P...

When I was little, I was a picky eater. I wouldn't touch zucchini, peppers, onions, tomatoes, spicy food, or any kind of fruit. I would throw tantrums at the dinner table, pretend to throw up, hide food under the edge of my plate, anything I could do to get out of eating the foods I hated. Fast forward to now. I consider myself a fairly adventurous eater. I've eaten goat, octopus, squid, and eel (warning to everyone: dried squid is nasty). I love spicy foods of all varieties and have learned to love squash, peppers, onions, and mushrooms. If I forget to ask for no tomato on my burger, I leave it on, and enjoy the juiciness. But there is one area where my tastes have apparently not matured. I still hate fruit. Usually when I tell people this, they look at me in horror, as if I'd just said that I drown kittens for fun on the weekend or I think Saddam Hussein was a pretty cool dude. They tell me fruit is the nectar of the gods, that I'm missing out on something ama...

Today was my last day of one of my favorite jobs. For the past year and a half, I've worked as a writing tutor for BYU's Writing Fellows program. While it has been wonderful being able to combine my love for writing with my passion for teaching, and increase my skills in both areas, I think the best part of this job was in the bizarre and wonderful Writing Fellows culture. I mean, how many people can say that their job has a theme song (with an official band to boot)? Or a never-empty cookie jar in the office? Because of Writing Fellows, I've gotten paid to talk to new people, and to share my knowledge and experience. I've had many chances to improve my own writing and help others improve theirs. I've learned to treasure the moment when someone who has never considered herself a writer realizes how to express her thoughts in a clear, effective, and even beautiful way. There's just something kind of magical about seeing someone discover that beautiful writing i...