Thursday, December 23, 2010

Missed you

My
rock climbing partner
confidante
racquetball buddy
skiing mentor
other half
roommate
monk-watching companion
fellow adventurer
personal back massager
best friend

I've missed you

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Memories of you

Recently the cool thing to do has been to post something on your blog about each of your followers. Since I'm graduating this week and leaving Logan, I've decided to post a memory for each of you - either my first memory of you, or one of my favorite memories of you.
  • Remember how we made a bet that if I wasn't married by the time I was 21 you owed me 99 red balloons? I do . . . . you still owe me . . .
  • One time a few years ago my roommates and I were sitting in our kitchen having a deep and intimate discussion of which boys we liked and recounting our romantic pasts and suddenly you were standing in our living room and we realized that you'd been sitting in there the whole time, playing the piano. And we all just stared open mouthed at you, and I don't think I've ever blushed so hard in my life. We laughed pretty hard as soon as you left. But I think you were oblivious to the whole thing, ha ha.
  • Remember how I was going through a difficult time, but pretending to everyone that I totally wasn't, and you saw right through me and somehow got me to open up and spill everything to you? That actually helped me more than you will ever know. You have a real gift and I hope that you know that.
  • Remember how last year we would have heart-to-hearts at the kitchen table every day, and you would tell me all about your latest boy drama? I loved it. I loved hearing every little detail and I feel like that was when our friendship really cemented. I'm glad we've been able to bond over our boy dramas.
  • I remember the first time I met you. You'd just been through a breakup and the whole night I kept watching you to see if you would show it somehow, but you never did. I was really impressed by your ability to hide your thoughts from everyone so easily. I think that you're a really deep and thoughtful person, but a lot of people don't realize it because you're so good at hiding it. I was impressed.
  • I don't have one favorite memory of you - I have lots of little ones, mostly of us being nonsocial together, ha ha. I'm really glad that we could be antisocial together - it was because of that that I think I opened up to you more than I did with anyone else. What I love most about you is that you're unafraid to be completely yourself and that you don't give in to anyone else.
  • Remember that time we ran a mile every hour for 24 hours? Oh man, that was utterly miserable, let's never do it again, no matter what anyone says. However, I have to admit that that experience permanently changed my perception of you. I was thoroughly impressed by your determination, I didn't realize you were so hard core. I think our friendship grew a ton from that bonding experience, and from that day (that exceedingly LONG day) on I have considered you one of my closest friends. You genuinely are an amazing friend and I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you.
  • Remember how we spent a glorious two weeks watching our favorite tv show together every day? Ah, those were the days. We bonded together over gory surgical scenes and other people's dramas. I seriously looked forward to our GA time together more than anything else, I loved having this little activity that was just ours.
  • I remember the first time I met you - I honestly thought you were one of THE coolest people I'd ever met. You were so straightforward and genuinely unique and I really wanted to get to know you. I'm sorry I didn't get more of a chance to, but I am glad that I got to know you at least a little. You honestly make me smile every time I see you.
  • Remember that time we put a cute little rat in the boys' apartment? We lovingly cared for little Harry for days, letting him run around the floor, trying to get him to like us so we could hold him, cleaning out his nastier-than-all-get-out cage every freakin day cuz he smelled so badly. Ah, that was so fun - I was thoroughly impressed by your nonphobia of rats and I'm so glad that you were cool enough to carry out such an epic prank with me. PS I still miss that cute little guy.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Broken

"You're lucky," said the doctor. "It was a good, clean break."

"Sometimes part of the bone tries to hold on and then you get fracturing or splintering instead. When this happens it's a lot messier because the bone has to heal back around the part of the bone that won't let go, and because of that the bone doesn't always grow back straight.

Yours was a good, clean break through, so the bone split neatly into two separate pieces. This is good because it means that I can reset the bone from scratch and it has a greater likelihood of being able to grow back straight. Given the nature of the break, I'd guess it'll take about 6 weeks to heal. Take it easy during this time, but after that we'll take the cast off and you should be totally healed. No one will ever even be able to tell. It was a good, clean break, you're lucky."


Yes. I thought. I am lucky. It could have been a lot worse. But it's still broken. And it doesn't know how to heal itself, it's never been broken before. What if it doesn't grow back straight? What if it grows back crooked and the rest of my life I have to bear this visible scar of the break?

I know that broken bones are not uncommon, and that bones are really resilient. People break them all the time and most of the time they grow back straight again without any problems. It takes time, but eventually you can't even tell that it was ever broken.

I know all this. I know I should be fine. But this was no ordinary bone. And the prescribed healing time is over, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take the cast off . . .

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Journeying through Fog


Today I made an epic journey from Logan to Salt Lake and back through some pretty intense fog. As I was driving through the swirling vortexes of mist, I often couldn't see more than 10 feet ahead of me, and on both sides of the road was just a blank white expanse. There could literally have been an elephant standing five feet from the road and I would never have known. I realized how easy it would have been to become lost in the fog, since I had no way of knowing where I was at and I simply had to trust that as long as I followed the road I would safely make it to my destination. Since I couldn't see ahead of me into the gloom and had to rely only on the little white lines guiding my path, I was often surprised when the road would suddenly curve and twist in a different direction than I was expecting. I had no clue which way the road would curve next, or when the next bend would come, but I had faith that if I just kept following those cute little dashed lines then eventually I would make it to my destination.

Just as I was driving through the thickest fog in the middle of the canyon, it suddenly vanished completely and I could see for miles in all directions. I looked back into the wet mist from which I'd come and saw only clouds of white obscuring everything from view. As I once again looked ahead to the road that I could now see so clearly, I realized with amazement that the sun was shining and the sky was a beautiful blue. It had been impossible to tell this while everything was shrouded in fog, and I'd assumed that the sky was gray and that it might start snowing at any minute. But now all the world was clear and bright again, I could tell exactly where I was at on my journey, and I was confident of my destination once again.

And then I had an epic realization and I decided that life is like one giant journey. At times our way seems confusing and unclear, and it takes sudden turns that we're not expecting. But then there are the moments of clarity, when everything once again becomes lucid and the destination is practically in sight. The sun starts shining again and warms you to your very core. Of course, the sun was always there, shining brightly, but you just couldn't see it because the fog was obscuring it from view. These brief moments of clarity when you can see your path before you give you strength so that when you have to dip down through the next fog-filled valley you have the confidence to continue faithfully following the road until you reach the next peak and emerge again into the sunshine.

Right now I'm traveling through a foggy part of my journey. My life keeps taking unexpected turns and literally anything could be ahead, just barely out of sight in the fog. I have no idea what's in store or where my life will go next, but I am confident that eventually I will reach my destination so I will happily move forward into the fog until I can reach my next sun-filled peak.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Didju know?

While we were eating Thanksgiving dinner my family and I got into a fascinating conversation, swapping random facts back and forth. I know, I know, we're nerds, but I love playing "Didju Know" - In fact, I've decided to drop Geology as my major and just go into Random-Fact-Maker-Upping instead. I think I'd be really talented at it.


Did you know . . .

In Brazil, there's a species of cockroach that eats eyelashes, usually those of young children while they are asleep.



Thursday, November 18, 2010

What should I do with my life?

Dear Blog Readers,

Lately I've been pondering deeply what I should do with my life, and I'm pleased to announce that I decided yesterday: I've decided that I am tired of trying to make a decision so I'm going to let you all decide for me! Ha ha. I've created a poll (pictured at right) and I will leave it up to you to vote for what you think I should be when I grow up. You have six days left to make your voice heard . . .

My idol

I have found a new idol in life. And no, he's not an incredible actor, or a brilliant scientist, or an inspired leader. He probably can't sing worth a darn, he's not particularly attractive, and I highly doubt he ever even went to college. He has never published a life-changing book, he never invented anything that revolutionized the world, and he was born, raised, and probably died in the blooming town of Anthon, Iowa (population 649) so few people have probably ever even heard of him. So why on earth is he my idol, you may ask?


I will tell you. His name was Charles Osborne and he had the hiccups for 68 years. They began one fine day as he was picking up a 350 lb hog to weigh it for butchering, and they just never stopped. These weren't occasional hiccups either - he hiccuped on average 40 times a minute, though they gradually slowed to only 20 times a minute near the end. It is estimated that he hiccuped over 430 million times throughout his life. Then another fine day when he was 96 years old, the hiccups just miraculously stopped, and he died a year later.


So why is he my idol? Because he was without a doubt the most patient, long-suffering person on the planet. If I had the hiccups for 68 years I would shoot myself in the foot, probably after the first week. Yet Charles Osborne somehow tolerated them for nearly 70 years, and even managed to live an almost normal life, marrying twice and having eight kids. Hmmmm . . . so maybe I should change my idol to his wife who apparently put up with his constant hiccuping for 68 years . . .

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Let's be friends . . .

Recently I've made some new friends. I really like these friends and I look forward to the time we spend together every day. They have brightened my life ever since that first awkward moment when I reached out to them and tried to jump into the middle of their lives. I understand them a lot better now, though I still don't approve of all the decisions they make.



My group of new friends sure seem to make a lot of decisions which complicate their lives. For instance, in the last week alone: one of them rashly got married after his father died and then cheated on his wife with his best friend (oops a daisy), one of them became severely depressed and almost drowned but luckily was rescued and made a miraculous recovery, one of them got engaged and is now going through with a wedding she's secretly dreading, and one of them is slowly falling madly in love with a woman who has had a bad accident and now doesn't even remember her own name. And this is only the beginning - the relationships between all of these people are so complicated and intertwined that it's anyone's guess what will happen next, or who will fall in love with whom next.




Unfortunately, I may never find out either. Alas, my roommates and I have now finished Season 3 of Grey's Anatomy and have been unable to find someone we could borrow Season 4 from, so we may never find out how everyone's lives resolve. Farewell, my dear friends! It was a pleasure to get to know you, even for such a short time. I have laughed with you, cried with you (mostly when you made foolish decisions), rejoiced in your achievements, and been disappointed with you when the women (and men) you love have rejected you and the people you love the most have died. You made me appreciate my own uncomplicated life so much more. I will never forget the life lessons you have taught me, or the tender moments we have shared together during the past two weeks. I miss you already.




Monday, November 8, 2010

Great Halloween Costumes . . . Past and Present

Today as I was attempting to do my math homework, the screensaver on my computer kicked in and started playing a slideshow of my pictures. And since my math homework wasn't particularly enthralling, I let myself get quite distracted laughing at the funny pictures I've collected over the years. In particular, there were several pictures that came up of past halloweens that made me giggle and so I decided to commemorate this blog post to halloween costumes past and present.


This year my roommates and I decided to be creepy clowns for Halloween. All except our roommate Carli, who decided to be . . . our ringmaster??


You know how most girls use Halloween as an excuse to go around in public wearing outfits that should really only be seen on your wedding night? Yeah, not me and my roommates - we prefer to dress up as diseases. Please meet Leprocy, Spanish Influenza, Black Plague, and Jaundice.


And then, of course, there was the year that my roommate and I dressed up as trains. We had to go to a stake halloween dance and we had the brilliant idea that if we dressed as trains with giant BOXES around us we wouldn't have to dance with anyone. No such luck, though - some boy asked me to dance anyway. He learned his lesson when he tried to spin me and got whacked with the back end of my train engine, however.


This one is one of my favorites. Any guesses on what my little sister and I are being? Yeah, that's right - we're Little Red Riding Hoods. My mother is so clever.


Let's not forget the year I was a crayon . . .


And, of course, the year I was a mouse and my brother William was a leopard. That scary creature lurking in the background is my father. Classic.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

I've been pondering . . . Magpies


The other day as I was happily walking home from campus I saw a magpie hopping around on the grass in front of me and it prompted a life-changing chain of thought for me. I believed (incorrectly as it turns out) that magpies were part of that devious group of parasitic birds that sneak their eggs into other birds' nests so that they get out of doing all the work of raising their chicks themselves. Initially, I thought this was incredibly tricky and insidious of magpies, but the more I thought about it the more I came to the conclusion that magpies were really quite clever. See, magpies must realize that they would not be able to take care of the eggs themselves, so they give their eggs to other birds to raise. Also, I began pondering how dense other birds must be that they don't even realize the deception that took place. Think about it - what other mother could leave her children for a few minutes and come back to find that an extra child had mysteriously appeared and not even question it? Other birds must really not be too bright. Yep, I have definitely decided - if I were a bird, I would be a magpie.

After I had this whole illuminating train of thought which led to my self-discovery, I did some research about magpies and other birds and I found some interesting facts which I would like to share with you so that you, too, can be enlightened.

  • First of all, I owe an apology to magpies. They do not, in fact, belong to the group of parasitic birds that lay their eggs in other birds' nests. In reality, they are shining pillars of parenthood in the bird community. After the baby birds are strong enough to begin moving about on their own, the parents even close up all the holes in the nest (thus imprisoning the babies) and feed them through little holes in the nest until the chicks are able to fly. This might seem cruel, but actually it's a precautionary measure for the babies' own good, as it keeps them from trying to fly off prematurely and falling to their doom.
  • While magpies are not parasitic, there are a lot of other birds that are. Cuckoos, for one. These devious little birds will lay one egg in another bird's nest and then actually steal one of the mother's own eggs so that the mother doesn't notice a change in egg count. The whole substitution process takes less than 15 seconds. Not only that, but cuckoos are able to mimic the color and pattern of the eggs of whatever bird they choose to victimize so that the eggs all look the same. Scientists are still mystified by how the cuckoos are able to manage this.
  • Another interesting parasite is the Honeyguide. When these chicks hatch they have a lethal advantage over the indigenous baby birds - they are born with a deadly hook-tipped beak, which they use to murder all the other babies. The beak even falls off a few days later after its purpose has been achieved, and the poor, dim-witted parent birds then devote all their time and energy to raising the Honeyguide chick that murdered their children.
  • Another interesting bird is the black eagle. These birds always lay exactly two eggs, and the second egg is always doomed. One egg always hatches a few days before the other and so the first bird to hatch systematically pecks the second bird and steals all of its food until it finally succumbs to death. Interestingly enough, as I was writing this blog my family started to eat dinner and when I turned to the table after finishing the thought I'd been working on, I realized that my brother William, having finished his pork chop, had decided to devour mine as well. I have decided (and William even agreed) that if he were a bird he would be a black eagle. It's a wonder I ever survived my childhood.
  • I would like to conclude with an uplifting bird to contrast the disturbing birds detailed above. Surprisingly, parrots are incredibly fair when it comes to feeding. Although the eggs all hatch over a period of about five days, the parrot babies are scrupulously fair and ensure that even the smallest baby bird gets it's fair share. The older, bigger babies will even share their ration with the younger birds to make sure that they all grow up strong. The result of this is that after about three weeks all the birds have roughly the same size and strength and its impossible to even tell which of the birds were the runts of the littler.
Well, this concludes my diatribe about birds. I hope you all found it as enlightening as I did and now view the bird world in a new light.