Late

"Wow. This is so unexpected. I didn't even have a speech prepared. But I will tell you this, tardiness is not something you can do all on your own. Many people contributed to my tardiness. First, I'd like to thank my parents for never giving me a ride to school; the LA city bus drivers for takin' a chance on an unknown kid; and last, but not least, the wonderful crew at McDonald's who spend hours making those tiny egg McMuffin's without which I might never be tardy." - Travis

Travis (Breckin Meyer) and Mr. Hall (Wallace Shawn) in Clueless

I'm late to everything.

Meant to Be

I once had a Relief Society president who was slightly high strung. She was the drum major in the BYU band, full-time student, and held a job. She was one of those people that are always laughing but have a hint of insecurity. We got to be pretty good friends and that insecurity came out. She was a couple years older than me and a little worried that she might be in the predicament of being alone forever. She'd talk to me about this a lot -- to the point where I really didn't think there was much else to say. One day, however, she managed to expand my perspective. She'd been talking with the bishop and one of them came up with the brilliant truth that if something has been promised you the promise will remain in force until fulfilled. She recalled blessings, her patriarchal in particular, that had promised a family of her own. I've reflected often on this notion -- that promises don't have expiration dates.

My friend Andrea, has need blessed by adoption once and they are waiting for another. I wonder if she sometimes wonders if there are any other babies in their future. Or maybe she's been promised another baby and wonders if it will really happen. If it's promised, it'll happen.

It's all about the worldly notion of "meant to be." I believe in meant to be. Not in some ethereal, mystical way, but in the way that I believe God has things under control. Max Ehrmann, the poet, said, "Whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding as it should." It's the essence of the song He's Got the Whole World in His Hands. I believe strongly that we are in His hands and things will work out as they should. And that we will be happy with the result.

That's the most important thing. We'll be happy with the result.

On my mission we worked with Nelli (in photo with Anni Kymalainen), who'd just had a rough time. She was from Kazakhstan and was allowed into Germany because she has German heritage (for more details on this law, call me). Her marriage was in shambles and she was trying to find a way to move out but had complication after complication. After one such complication I said, "I'm sure Heavenly Father has a really great apartment for you somewhere." At that moment I thought, "What a stupid thing to say! She wanted this apartment. She needs it. It doesn't make sense to wait for another." However, in reflection, I agree with myself. If things don't work out it's because something else will. And we'll be happy with that something else. Really happy.

The important thing is to have faith, which is essentially trust. If I say, "I have faith in you," I'm saying, "I trust you. I know you'll have integrity and follow through on whatever our agreement was." If we can trust the Lord, we'll know that our lives are working out in a meant-to-be fashion.

Last example, I went into social work because I really wanted to help people in poverty. I altered that a bit and decided I'd really like to do humanitarian aid. I felt very passionately about that. I felt strongly that it was unjust to have to so much suffering in the world, that it was part of my duty as a citizen of the world and someone who understands that my life has purpose, to help all those I could. And too help the most needy. Because I have been given much/ I too must give. And then in grad school it just didn't work out. I felt pushed toward mental health. I felt like I was giving up on the dream, letting unknown suffers down. And for what? Posher life with a steady income and a clinical setting. Therapy is luxury and I wanted to be giving necessities. Later, I was talking to a former professor, Dr. Jini Roby, about my feelings and she said, "Yes, but helping is helping. Macro or micro." That's helped me a lot. My job is meant to be. I'm where I should be. Maybe I'll still be able to build my African hut and work on a well, but for now my life is where it should be.

Meant to be is trusting things will work out and promises will be fulfilled.

July

So, July so far has brought my birthday and a concert with friends. Enjoy the photos!

I share a birthday with my niece, Gracie, so I spent my big day with her on her big day.

For my birthday, I had a black and white party. Everyone dressed in black and white. We ate food (including marble cake) and watched Breakfast at Tiffany's.

High School chums - Jen, me, Steph, and Haley

Kari, Christina, Tina, and Krista

Steve, Kate, me, and Braden

Jason

Rhiannon and Amy

Amy and Marta

Cake!

Krystel, Kailee, and Christina

We went to see Secondhand Serenade with a bunch of friends. Good times!

The group. We took this photo for our upcoming album. We call ourselves "Album Cover/ Band Photo," but you can call us what our fans do - AC/BP.

P-town

World locations have reputations. If, for example, you tell someone you're moving to Wichita it might not have the punch of, say, New York City. When I lived in Germany, being American was very ok and sometimes a talking point. But you'd not find the Germans proclaiming their Germaness (unless it was World Cup season). I don't really find anything wrong with Germans, but country-pride is not looked well on since WWII.

Some places are allowed more pride than others, which is unfortunate. LA is rad, Wichita is less so. though I am quite certain Wichita has it's charms.

It is of one of those spots I'd like to write. P-town, where I live, receives mentions usually in an apologetic way.

"I gotta get out of Provo."

"And I really didn't want to have to move here."

"Yep, still in Provo. Eek."

It's like P-town is not allowed to be liked. One cannot be proud of it. To like it means you have no taste or that you haven't gotten out much. But I like it. I really do. And I flatter myself that I am somewhat well-traveled and educated. To prove my love, and encourage it in others, I have a top ten list of the things I really enjoy about it. These aren't really in an order.

10. Farmer's Market. Sometimes it's more market than farmer but it's fun to be with a community and some of the food is really yummy.

9. Bridal Veil Falls. The grounds make a good walk.

8. The grounds at BYU. If you need a walk or just want to spread a blanket or you like to people watch, this is the place.

7. Gallery Stroll and F-Stop Cafe. The art is fun and the cafe has about one patron, making it friendly and actually the hot chocolate doesn't suck. I went in there one day and there was a puppy just hanging out.

6. Center Street. It's just a cool looking walk.

5. Cocoa Bean. It's slightly bitter and that makes it beyond delicious.

4. Library. I've decided this (and the one in Orem) is my happy place.

3. Riding bikes on Uni Ave and near Center.

2. International Cinema at BYU. And it's free.

1. Communal. Try the squash and the pot de creme.

Literally

I have a game I play with clients who don't seem to be interested in actual therapeutic endeavors called Table Topics. It's a box of questions from "What was your favorite childhood meal?" to "Do you believe in an afterlife?" I've played it often enough that I have my prescribed answers and the game holds little mystery for me. I want to be as honest and open as possible (modeling, a therapeutic term I use for my notes to somehow justify the session's activities). However, some questions baffle me. "What one thing would you ask a psychic?" and "What is your biggest pet peeve?"

I would like to announce that I have an answer for the second (the one about pet peeves). It is the misuse of the word literally.

Literally means in all actuality, the concrete meaning of a word -- no metaphor, no idiom. The antonym of literally is figuratively. Figuratively means metaphor, idiom, a figure of speech.

I have the following rules for the use of literally.

First, the thing must actionable and have actually, physically happened. For example, in telling the story of her son's (figurative) broken heart she said, "He was literally crushed." What! Oh my goodness! Is he okay? Another example, "Time was literally flying." This brings up visions of clocks with wings, stalking prey like Hitchcock's birds. In both of these examples, the events did not actually happen. The offenders intended to strengthen to power of their statements. What they should have said was something like "He was totally crushed" or "Time was definitely flying." One can be totally crushed, so to speak, and time can be metaphorically definitely flying.

Second, it must be the opposite of figuratively. Because literally is used to create emphasis, offenders often use it in a way that can only be literal, making the word unnecessary and out-of-place. For example, "I was literally speeding down the road." Of course you were. There is no metaphor or idiom about speeding down the road. No one is going to think you weren't actually in a car. They get it. Another example, "The duck literally took the bread from my hand." Really? Glad you clarified. Otherwise I might have thought the duck wasn't real. A better way to say it would be "I was speeding down the freeway... really I was" or "The duck came right up, man, and dang if that bread wasn't taken from my own hand."

The best time to use literally is when you actually did something that might be mistaken as figurative. For example, "I literally bought the farm" or "Maria was literally relieved when she got to the restroom."

Check out this misuse from Kristen Stewart and this youtube clip from Frasier.

In sum, I now have a great answer for Table Topics, and it's one (as you might surmise from the impetus to write a blog about it) I feel quite passionate about.

Empire State of Mind

Last week I went to NYC with my mom and sister, Fred. I owned that city.

We had dinner with my girl, E Masi, and I even crashed on her couch (when our hotel messed up our "order"). She is always a delight to be around and I miss her tons since she moved to NYC.

We saw Memphis. Good show. It was about a white, 8th-grade educated loser from, you guessed it, Memphis who rises when he plays "race music" on the radio and subsequently falls for a black singer. It's got the same basic idea as Hairspray but is much more serious.

We visited the island.

And the Statue of Liberty.

Fred and I with Manhattan in the back ground.

Although we couldn't reckon that any of our ancestors came through Ellis Island, some folks with our name did.

The World Trade Center site. It was kind of sad to look at think of how horrible 9/11 was. As we walked the street around the site I kept thinking about the people who ran from the site 9 years ago and the people who were never found.

I got to meet up with Heidikins, who just happened to be in town.

Scouted for wizards but in the end, Waverly Place was just another street. But a really cool street.

The Brooklyn Bridge -- "Brooklyn, I spent a month there one night."

SofL is smaller from Brooklyn.

Imagine no possessions/

I wonder if you can/

And no need for greed or hunger/

A brotherhood of man/

Imagine all the people/

Sharing all the world

Breakfast at Tiffany's

In the Heights -- which I really enjoyed -- staring Corbin Bleu (Jordin Sparks will join him soon). It's the story of Usnavi, a first-generation immigrant living in NYC's Washington Heights. His neighborhood is going to pot and they have to pull together and decide what's really important. It's got great music, good script, and memorable characters. Totally recommend it!

Everyone has a good time in NYC.

May

My nephew graduated. He'll be heading up to USU for a year and then head off on the painful and purposeful adventure we call a mission. I first found out about my nephew after my mom and I raced to the hospital because my sister was in labor. We met his dad in the elevator. He said, "It's a boy; 8lbs 6 oz." He was very calm which I found anticlimactic. And now my nephew's all growed up.

This is my niece. She'll graduate much later. As you can tell, she's not very mature.

This is our friend RDS. He introduced us to Dr. Who. And we love it, love it. It's British, clean, and fun. It about a "time lord" who travels around in his Tardis (a blue police box that's small on the outside and huge on the inside) solving mysteries through out the ages -- it's always the aliens "who done it."

A really scary episode includes angel statues which start out beautiful and get scary. The statues come alive and come after you... but only if you aren't looking at them. So you have can't turn away, leave, run, or even blink. It's a super thrilling episode... that I haven't yet seen, oddly enough. I saw another episode with the angels, but not the episode. I hope to soon. Anyway, we got sidewalked-chalked by RDS and JG and were delighted to wake up to this.

The stairs read "Don't even blink."

And here's a hot photo of my girls and me from the farmer's market, which happened to be less farmers and more market.

And now a poem from Chalie Boy to describe the photo.

On my mamma/ On my hood

I look fly/ I look good

Touch my swag/ wish you could

I look fly/ I look good

Bookmarks

Along the top of my internet page run my bookmarks. There are the usual ones -- gmail, youtube. (I don't have one for Facebook. The reason being that I don't want to go there too often. I find I go there less if I have to type out the address instead of just click a link. it also helps me forget it exists.) The necessary ones because they are useful and I go there often -- this blog and lds.org. The boring ones -- credit card accounts, investment sites. Then there are ones just for me.

Pandora. If you don't know what it is, crawl out from under the rock and prepare to have your life changed. My favorite stations are my broadway and my John Mayer.

Links to my favorite libraries and my paperback swap, where you can trade books for free.

Playlist. This connects to my blog. I use it to make playlists for parties as well. I like it because I can listen to a song until I'm sick of it without paying for it.

Goodreads. Many of my friends are on it. We write about what we are reading and compile lists of the things we read. I also have a link to it on the right side of this page. I enjoy seeing what my fellows are reading; I like writing out my opinions and admiring the list of my readings. And I like reading that other people loved/hated whatever book I loved/hated. For example I loved A Separate Peace as did many others; and I hated Anthem, as did most others. Very validating.

What've you got bookmarked?

Bike

Queen said, "I like to ride my bicycle/ I like to ride my bike." I can relate to this song.

Today I went for a bike ride. I enjoy leisurely bike rides -- I have to, my bike has no gears. But even still I am not an endurance bike-rider. I sit on a beach cruiser.

I love the feeling of bike riding. Especially through a city. It's idyllic for me. Walking you can observe the minutiae of the street, in a car it's much too fast. Bike riding is the goldilocks of transport. I feel a connection to my surrounding. I can hear the street, see the pavement, observe nature, greet strangers, but not soooo slowly.

Bike riding gets two thumbs up.

One Year

It's been one year since my dad died. At first, when everything was fresh, it was hard. But knowing that my dad is ok and that I'll see him again has made a difference. And I've been ok this year. I've gone on with life. But the last few days, leading up to this anniversary, have been reflective and more painful that I'd expected.

I went to his grave today, just to have a moment. I was talking to him and going over some memories when I thought, I don't know if I've recorded these memories. I want to write down a few more.

My dad's back was arched over. A long time ago he was 6'2" but he'd slumped over and was shorter than me. When you'd hug him you could feel his spine, which is kind of odd but somehow sentimental to me. I can remember exactly his hands, callused and long fingers. And when he was sitting and excited he'd bounced his knees and slap his hands over them and say, "Oh! I'm just so..." whatever.

I keep kleenex in my car because my dad did. I'd recommend it.

I reflected on the fact that I have never once doubted that my parents love me. My parents have always, without exception, treated me with love. And I'm a really lucky kid because not everyone has that. My dad was stoked about any decision I made and it was easy to be me around him, and to make my own decisions, and to live my life my way, making my own mistakes, because I knew he'd be stoked whatever. And even if he thought a decision was weird (On going to grad school "Getting married's a good thing too") he still supported me.

He helped pay for my mission. Last night I was going through some things we got from his house and among them were the emails from my mission. My mission means everything to me. It is the most important experience of my life. And I got to go because of my supportive family, and because of my dad.

School too. My dad paid for a lot of my costs associated with school. Yeah, I could've done it without him, but it was so much nicer to do it with him. And he let me use his car until I got my own, which was a big relief to me as I was returning from my mission.

When Fred and Dad and I went to Disneyland -- just weeks before he really got sick -- when I was still in high school, he made us ride the Matterhorn, like, three times in a row. I didn't get a big thrill out of it, but Dad did. Fred and Dad had mint juleps as we rode the ferry around Tom Sawyer island -- I probably had a coke.

Balm Bar. Never heard of it? Dad had some in his house and his car. Apparently it moisturizes very well. When I'd borrow his car we'd have to get his things out: the Balm Bar, medications, his disabled sign, his glasses.

When I was little Dad went to Italy. I know because he bought me back a small bottle of sand that read Venice. I wondered, because Italy was so far away, that he really hadn't told me about it until he was back. It wasn't until much later in life that I learned of a nice beach in California called Venice.

In January 2009, when dad busted his femur, I visited his every week in the rehab. Loved the wheelchair that sat by the side of the bed. I attempted to teach dad to text. But, uhh, Dad had other talents.

When Dad test drove my yellow PT cruiser (which I love almost as much as life itself) he rode the brake. I about died. I kept thinking, don't ruin my car, don't ruin my car. He recommended I think about the car for three days and see if I still wanted it. He went home and I bought the car on the spot. Love is love. And Dad was stoked for me.

Dad and I went shopping before back-to-school night for the sixth grade. We went to the Gap and I got gray stretch pants with a long-sleeved short/mini dress with twirl power (it's a legit power). I felt like a million dollars going to back-to-school night.

A couple years ago Dad and I were driving along way together, probably to the family reunion held in upper Mongolia (or Eastern Utah, I forget which). Dad told me how he broke into a radio station when he was in high school. They played some prank on the DJ.

Dad loved cars. He always wanted a Cadillac. He could name the makes, models, and years of old cars. He would tell me about the cars he'd had and I'd have no clue what he was talking about.

I asked Dad why he didn't wear Wrangler's like most of his family. He said he wanted to have kids.

Dad loved the Golden Girls and Dallas. Probably loved Dallas a little too much.

When I was five, Mom was at work and Dad was tending me. It snowed outside and I asked go out and play. He said no so I told him it was opposite day and asked again. He said yes. So I went out and played for five minutes before I was too cold and came back inside.

Miss you, Dad.