Late Night Ramblings

Today I had an amazingly delicious BBQ Bacon Cheeseburger from Steak Out. It really was an amazing burger. Too pricey to have often, but every once in awhile it satisfies me to no end.

I also had a slurpee. A Gatorade Gridiron Ice slurpee. It's such a good flavor. There must be something addictive in it. Slurpees always lead to fun, at least that's how it's been this summer. Tonight, with a car full of fun-loving criminals, I was able to slurpify and get my rave on. We had a nice little mini-rave, not up the beloved Hobble Creek Canyon, but somewhere awesome close to home. Our chosen spot was actually really awesome, and fun was had by all.

With some fun exploits taking place earlier in the evening, some spy games and sneaking stuff out of people's apartments and all that, I had a really enjoyable evening. Now I need to continue having fun while increasing my "meet new people" quotient.

BYU football in 5 days. I will probably die of too much excitement before then. Go Cougars!

Saturday's a special day...

...It's the day we make history. Or rather, it's the day Michael Phelps makes history. My day was rather innocuous and tedious. It involved waking up early to finish packing my things and cleaning my apartment, watching the Redeem Team absolutely destroy Spain, eating some pedestrian glazed donuts and drinking Sunny D, passing my cleaning check, moving all of my stuff to the apartment two doors down, not unpacking or organizing anything, taking a shower, and driving to Salt Lake (Midvale, to be more exact) where I spent the rest of my evening.

My purpose in going to Midvale was not to escape the clutter and stress of unpacking everything I had just packed (the only time I think I have too many books and movies is when I have to move); a friend of mine, Stacey, had flown into town from Portland, Oregon and was organizing a game night with her cousins and their spouses. I wasn't the only non-family member invited, but I was the only one to show up. But in a way, I suppose I'm not that far removed from the family ranks, despite not having any blood ties. What bonds me to the Betts family is an amazing similarity and compatibility of personalities and time. Lots and lots of time.

I have had multiple best friends in my life, but there has almost always been one friend that stood apart from the others, and even when outside factors briefly separated us, we were always able to quickly resume our friendship. I first met Justin Betts when we were about four years old in Vernal, Utah; his family moved into a house just a block from my own, and it wasn't long before Justin came out to play with the neighborhood kids. He was then very similar to how he is now: a skinny kid with red hair. Since that beginning, we have been friends. Justin moved out of the neighborhood when we were nearly eight years old, but that didn't stop our friendship. Of course, it helped that he didn't move too far away, still close enough that we could easily ride our bikes or walk to one another's house.

This reminds me of a funny and completely irrelevant story: my first bike was this small red and black thing. After a few traumatic experiences (riding into the big evergreen tree in my front yard and getting scraped up; my shoelaces becoming untied and wrapping around the pedal causing me to panic and run into the dumpster and get a bloody nose in the church parking lot), I went everywhere on that bike. One morning I called Justin and he got permission to come over to my house. I decided to meet him at the halfway point between our houses so I took on my bike to the corner near the Vernal Junior High seminary building. The sidewalk on the south side of the building has a very high curb, maybe twice as high as your normal sidewalk curb. When I came to the end of the curb, I decided to jump off it onto the side of the road. When that little bike landed on the cement, the handlebars snapped completely off the bike. I wasn't injured at all, probably just a little disappointed that my bike was broken. Anyway, Justin showed up, and we walked back to my house where my misfortune was likely forgotten in no time.

I could (and probably someday will) chronicle our friendship at great length, but it suffices me to say at this point that Justin and I have enjoyed a remarkable friendship. Perhaps my experiences growing up were atypical, but it seemed to me that very few friendships can endure the long passage of time without losing some of their lustre and excitement; eventually people change, frequently in ways not to our liking, and our friendships don't disappear altogether, but they become irreparably different and fade into obscurity and forgetfulness. Life tends to pull friendships apart, not limb from limb, more like a piece of taffy, stretched until it's about to break.

Justin and I have enjoyed the opposite. The passage of time only allowed us to influence one another's interests and tastes, and that give and take process helped us develop our individual personalities while still incorporating the other's influence into our growth. We survived middle school and junior high together, won rec league basketball championships in dominating fashion, and rocked our sophomore year of high school in glorious fashion. When Justin moved to Grand Coulee, Washington at the beginning of our junior year, I was worried that not even our friendship could survive such distance. Losing my best friend to the Pacific Northwest was definitely one of the most difficult experiences of my adolescence. I'm not sure if Justin moving acted as a catalyst for the somewhat angry teenage phase that followed or if it was inevitable. Had we grown up at any other time in the history of the world, that may have marked the end of our friendship. Thankfully, technology allowed us to remain in contact, and when I saw Justin nearly one year after his move, I found that our friendship had done more than just survive; it had continued to grow and develop.

As it has to the present day, despite the various paths our lives have taken. Justin is now married and living in Cedar City, and I am still very single in Provo, but that doesn't matter. It's been months since I saw him last, and I don't see him with the regularity that I wish, but there's not much that can be done about that. I realize that real life (i.e. adult life) will likely take us even further apart - my grad school plans will likely make this happen in the next year or so - but I am not worried. I know that an occasional email, text message, or phone call will reassure me that our friendship is as strong as ever, and if any crisis were to occur in either of our lives, we will be there for one another, willing to do whatever we can.

Now that I've spent longer writing about the friendship Justin and I enjoy than I anticipated, I'll try and get back to the original intent of this post. While Justin has always been the Betts that I get along with best, I've always enjoyed good friendships with his siblings, especially his older brothers. (Interestingly enough, my older brother Michael and Justin's oldest brother Jason have had a friendship like Justin and me). Whenever I spend time with Justin and his family, there is a lot of laughter and enjoyment. Even though Justin wasn't at the little gathering last night, I didn't feel out of place. I was able to converse and joke and feel comfortable with his siblings and cousin Stacey.

We played games and watched the Olympics, stopping everything to watch Michael Phelps win his eighth gold medal of the Beijing Olympics, the most golds ever won in a single Olympics. I have watched almost all of Phelps's races, and I'm pretty sure that people will be talking about his performance for a long time. I don't think anyone will dominate like he has for some time. It will probably take thirty years or so for competitive sports to produce an athlete so superior to his/her competitors. I've had some great times watching Phelps, and now that his quest is complete, I'm not sure what else to get excited about in these Olympics. I will definitely watch the Redeem Team continue its quest to bring the basketball gold medal back to the States, but I don't think they will ever be challenged like Phelps was. However, could you imagine how insanely awesome it would be if (that's a big if) the Redeem Teem were down by 2 in the closing moments of the gold medal game and hit a three at the buzzer to win? That's pretty much the only way anything could be as exciting as Phelps incredible victories.

I don't really have much else to say about my day. I've since unpacked and organized most of my possessions and am in the process of adjusting to a new apartment and new roommates. This concludes my Sunday evening post.

The sky is falling.

Unrelated note: I just read a report in Variety about a new film that will co-star Steve Carell and Tina Fey as a married couple. Even though the comedy won't go into production until next year, I'm pretty excited about it. The Office and 30 Rock are two of my favorite television shows, and putting Steve and Tina together ought to produce much hilarity.

Now to the matter at hand. I have been an avid stargazer for some time. There is just something about lying beneath a sky full of tiny specks of light that encourages reflection and introspection. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to do it as frequently as I would like. Being a busy college student surely didn't help things. It was much easier to do in high school; it was much easier to get out of Vernal and find somewhere away from lights than it is for me in Provo.

Every August the Perseids meteor shower takes place. When I received a Facebook event invitation informing me of the dates of the shower, I immediately responded that I would be attending. Last year I watched the shower up above Sundance, and it was really cool. Years before I had watched it from a fabulous spot overlooking Vernal. I've always had really good experiences with the Perseids meteor shower; there have always been plenty of meteors streaking across the sky, often leaving behind brilliant but short-lived trails.

A group of us here decided to watch the meteor shower Tuesday night after watching The Burbs. When the movie ended and I stepped outside, I was immediately frustrated to see the sky covered in clouds. Not a single star was visible, and that didn't bode well for our stargazing enterprise. I knew the peak time wouldn't occur until after the moon set sometime around 2 a.m., but with the cloud cover, I didn't know if we'd ever get to see any meteors at all.

Poor weather aside, there was other cause for concern. The choice of location is essential to the quality of the experience. Getting away from any light is a must, but you (assuming everyone thinks like me) also don't want to be somewhere where lots of other people also are. I was informed that the group was planning to go up Provo Canyon somewhere, eventually choosing Vivian Park and then South Fork. I figured that quite a few people would head up Provo Canyon, making our chances of finding a good location less likely. I was prepared to go the extra mile to make this occasion worthwhile, even if that meant burning my gasoline to do so. Well, people chose their vehicles and drivers, and I ended up driving ("I drive a Dodge Stratus!") because, to be quite honest, I wasn't feeling all that enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. I knew I'd need some help bringing back the good vibes because I was in need of a satisfying experience. As I told my former and future (but not present) roommate Joel on Facebook chat earlier that day, I would not tolerate failure.

So with my passengers, Dave and Trisha, I set off on the adventure, but we didn't head up Provo Canyon, at least not at first. I needed a slurpee so I went and got one. 7-11 currently has a gatorade flavor, and it is fantastic. Give it a try. Once we had slurpees we finally embarked up Provo Canyon. Right as we arrived at South Fork to join the others, a Utah County Sheriff told us the park was closed. Lousy 11 p.m. curfews. He said we could try the Squaw Peak overlook, but doubted we'd find any spots up there. This was pretty much the type of setback I was expecting in Provo Canyon. Call it pessimism or a premonition, but it seemed my qualms about going up Provo Canyon were well-founded. We tried to come to a consensus among the group, but nothing was happening. None of us in my car wanted to try Squaw Peak so we decided to go to Hobble Creek Canyon, my initial preference.

No one else wanted to join us so we began our drive to Hobble Creek Canyon, back through Provo, getting stopped at too many red lights for that time of night. We made our way to the canyon and stopped at our usual stopping place, not to stargaze, but to boogie. I cranked the music and a mini-rave was held. It had been nearly a month since I'd been there, and I couldn't drive past the spot without dancing. Once we were done grooving, we continued up the canyon. I didn't have a specific spot in mind, but I knew from a prior drive that we wouldn't have difficulty finding someplace open to look up at the stars - if the clouds ever dispersed.

We soon left the concrete and began trekking up the dirt road, winding our way gradually up the canyon, higher and higher. I've only seen the area at night, but I imagine it must be quite beautiful during the day. (Note to self: make the drive during the day sometime). As we were driving I told Dave and Trisha that the perfect spot would manifest itself, and eventually it did. We found a path where we could pull off the road some forty feet into a little clearing. I parked the car, and we spread a blanket on the ground and began looking up at...the clouds. We could see a few stars, the bright ones whose light could penetrate the thinner clouds. We still had some time until the moon set and its light ceased to light up the clouds and make our goal of seeing meteors more difficult.

We lay for awhile, watching as the clouds passed overhead and the sky gradually opened up before our eyes. There were times when we thought we saw very faint shooting stars, but nothing that we were sure about. Then suddenly we all saw a streak of light, unmistakably a meteor. I jumped to my feet and raised my triumphant fists into the air. Despite the difficulties we experienced, the hassle and the clouds and all that, our sacrifice had paid off. We had seen a meteor, and that filled us with joy. The whole time we were driving and worrying about the cloud cover, we kept stating, "As long as we can see one meteor, it will be worth it." And during the aftermath of that first meteor, it was truly worth it. We were vindicated and excited to see more.

The moon set and the clouds dispersed from overhead. Things were falling perfectly into place, and the meteors continued to flash through the sky. It was really cool because as I looked to what I thought was the north, back toward Provo, I could still see clouds in the distance. I wanted to believe that we were lucky enough to have come to the right place, one of the few places then without clouds, and were graced with an open sky and an unobstructed view of the celestial show.

I was (and still am) grateful for my stubbornness and refusal to accept failure that night. I had to see the meteor shower and was committed to doing whatever was necessary for that to happen. Maybe it was only luck that the clouds dispersed, but I like to think that it was more than that. We did our part, we sacrificed our time and sleep, we went the extra mile, and I want to believe that we were rewarded for that effort. Either way, we got to see a meteor shower, and it was well worth the effort required - even getting home at 4 a.m. and going to work a few hours later.

I look forward to seeing the Perseids meteor shower next year, although who knows where I will be next August. I'm sure it will be another adventure.

Goals, resolutions, or whatever you want to call them

So I am currently at work, and I wouldn't normally even think of blogging while at work, but our server is terribly slow with our current project and a lot of time is being spent waiting for things to load and save and close and all that. So I thought I'd use some of that time to finally blog again.

On this last Sunday afternoon I visited my married friends Whitney and Paige Jones at their home. They'd invited me over for a cheese fondue, but as that is not really one of my favorite things, I went merely for the good pleasure of a social visit. That is something I don't do enough, I've determined. I conversed with them and another married couple they'd invited for awhile, and then Whitney asked if I had time to watch a documentary film he'd spoken to me about. I did, and we watched the film Truth and Conviction, a documentary about three LDS teenage boys in Nazi Germany who started an underground resistance movement. It is a fascinating and powerful story that is criminally unknown in our culture. I highly recommend it.

During the film, Whitney and Paige's hometeachers showed up. We paused the film so they could fulfill their responsibilities. The lesson was about death and making the necessary changes in our lives now rather than later because we never know when death might befall us. They asked Whitney and Paige what they would do differently with their lives if they knew that death would be upon them shortly. I, too, pondered the question, and I wondered what I would do if I knew I had only one month left to live. Sure, I'd probably want to do fun and crazy things like skydiving and whatnot, but two things really impressed themselves on my mind. If I were to die soon, I would spend as much time with my family and friends as possible, and I would strive to write as much as humanly possible during that final month.

I believe I would feel a serious and urgent necessity to write all that I could, put all of my thoughts, feelings, ideas, and hopes on paper, basically leave as much of myself behind as possible. Maybe that's egotistical of me; if it is, I am not too apologetic about it. It's hard to describe why I want to be a writer. It's kind of like when I made the decision to attend BYU. I'd always wanted to attend there because my parents both did, but it wasn't until I visited the campus for a few days that I felt that I needed to go to BYU. There wasn't a specific reason for that feeling, but it was very real and I acted on it. When it came time to think of how I wanted to spend the rest of my life professionally, I went through a lot of possibilities in my mind. I'd make a pretty good lawyer, sure, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life doing something just for the money, even if I would be very successful at it.

All throughout my teenage years I had written poetry, most of it laughably terrible and (now) often embarrassing. It was a form of self-expression, when I had something to express, but it was also a manifestation of my teenage dream of being a rock star. I thought I would write song after song, but that never really panned out, probably because the other guys in my band never really got good at their instruments. Towards the end of my high school experience, writing became an important outlet for me. Expressing myself became essential to my happiness, even if I was only writing in a journal for my own sake. Then other forms of writing came into play (personal essays, my unfinished novel, short stories, etc), and writing became more than just an occasional emotional outlet, it has become a sort of necessity, like the act of writing is just as important to my self-fulfillment as the product of the writing.

This post was not meant to be this long or in-depth; I'm often long-winded with these things. The purpose in sharing all of this background info is to set the stage for a few pronouncements, new resolutions and goals that I wish to publicly announce. I feel like I am not writing enough, not doing enough to seek my personal fulfillment and further my personal development as a writer.

Quite simply, I am not writing enough and something must be done. Here is what I propose and commit to doing, my personal writing goals:

• Writing daily, in whatever form, for at least fifteen minutes
• At least 3 blog posts per week
• 1 story for my personal history project per week
• 1 personal essay draft every two weeks
• 1 personal essay revision per month
• More submissions of my work to literary journals
• Resume work on A Certain Kind of Weird, my unfinished novel
  

There we have it. Feel free to call me out on these goals and my progress. I actually thrive as a writer when people create and hold me to certain expectations. I feel that my goals are both challenging and possible and will help me become the type of writer, and human being, that I need to be.