To Run, or ...?

Multiple times weekly, I make myself feel nauseated. That's right; I run. Why? Well, there are multiple health benefits that I could describe in detail, but they are not the ultimate motivator -- not when it comes to me, and running. No. It's something else.

About the time that it begins to be necessary for me to suppress my gag reflex -- usually during the third mile -- I experience something sublime. Rivulets of electricity begin to dance along my skin in waves of flight hormones, and I begin to find myself mid-air. I'm running faster now. Yes, although my sneakers continue to deliver the sidewalk a corporal punishment, the rest of me is transcending this world, all care and stress delivered to the sublime ecstasy of purposeful living. I feel the graceful, powerful expansion and expulsion of my lungs and air. My heart sings with intense rhythmic clarity. My arms pumping, my legs stretching and reaching, my feet whisking through the air like arms on my Mom's electric beater -- I feel, I do, I am.

I am living in, and of, that exact moment, trembling on the lip dividing its birth and death. I will still exist when the moment is gone, but I will only experience that moment once. And what do I do with that moment? If I refuse to look at it, and know it, and experience it, am I not already dead?

What is more important than understanding life? What is more important than running? Is it not worth the price of nausea?

Comedy Central.

I wrote down some of the ridiculous things that my family said while I was home visiting this summer. We're an outspoken tribe, as you're about to see.

Anika: "Heidi, do we have meat in us? Like animals?"

Makiah: "Someday, Heidi, we're going to get out of this house."

Me: "I already did... remember the part where I go to college?"

Makiah: "Oh yeah. I forgot."

Nephi: "I wish Makiah were a boy."

Anika: "Evil people have messy hair."

Nephi: "The string won't go back in; the hat's lost; and his battery pack won't go back into his butt."

Makiah: (to Janel): "You're going to live in the city, I just know it."

Makiah: "Do you have The Orthodox book with you?"

Me: "Uh... The Alchemist?"

Makiah: "That's what I said."

Kimber: "We have a gene in our family that makes us ruin our own lives."

Makiah: "...as long as he has nice lips. And good hair. And nice teeth!"

Makiah: "...Obviously you're not telepathic."

Stephanie: "What's worse than having a child attached to a blanket?"

Mom: "Having a child that's attached to two blankets." (That would be Penny).

Anika: "She's disgusting. I like her, a little. As a friend."

Connor: (age 6): "I can drive!"

Anika: (emphatically) "No, you can't! You don't even have a license plate! You'd go to juvenile!"

Nephi: "...and guys, being obnoxious is when you talk real loudly, just to let you know."

Makiah: (very seriously)"No, Nephi. Being obnoxious can mean many different things."

Makiah: "How much is tithing?"

Mom: "Ten percent."

Nephi: (indignantly) "I thought it was five!"

Murderers!

Every year, BYU hosts a murder mystery dinner theater. The events transpire and Springhaven lodge, and this year's dates are November 5th and 6th. Tickets will be available two weeks before the event -- and I'm going to be in it, folks!

Scarlett Johanessberg.

Guests are fed, entertained, and given the opportunity to figure out "whodunit." These are photos from the shoot we took for the poster. Someone else is putting the poster together; I just took the photos.

Angela Jolie.

The motives are many, and varied, and sordid. It will be quite the trial for the inspector to puzzle together. ...Maybe you could help?

Steven Snailburg.

Rad Pitt.

Julia Robertson.

GASP!

Robbie Pattison.

This is Travis. Except I call him Maverick (efy). Except, he's playing Edward Cullen. That's why there's glitter all over his face.

Also, I Forgot to Title This Before Publishing.

Sometimes I amaze even myself with my genuine absentmindedness.

Take the past two days, for example:

I am currently procrastinating a paper that I forgot about, which is due today, which is supposed to be about 5 pages. Brilliant, I know.

This morning, I remembered my work schedule as being in the farthest booth from the police station. I’m actually in the 2nd closest booth, but I didn’t remember that until I actually arrived at the farthest booth. Genius, I can hear you thinking it, I might as well say it.

Yesterday morning I had to leave work early for a guest lecturer, visiting from Calvin college, an author who we are studying in one of my classes. I have been excited for this lecture all week, but I totally forgot about it until my phone’s alarm went off 15 minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin. I was still in my uniform and everything! So I rushed back, and made it just in the nick of time.

After class yesterday, I stayed on campus in the computer lab to do some work. I stayed there for about an hour when hunger finally overcame me, so I headed home. When I got there, I realized with a jolt that cleaning checks were tonight, plus the temple trip was tonight, and there was only an hour before take off! So I scrambled to do my cleaning (luckily our apartment is actually super clean, and the work needed for cleaning checks is basically a sanitation process that may or may not be visibly noticeable), changed into temple appropriate attire, and met for the carpool on time.

I ate something, too, but apparently not enough, because I got a low blood sugar while in the temple, which is not exactly embarrassing or anything.

I’m too young for Alzheimer’s disease, right?

I Am a Rock Star.

Mark: How old are you?
Me: (Rolls eyes) I'm 23.
Mark: (Surprised) Oh!
Me: (a little irritated. because 23 shouldn't be surprising.) How old are YOU?
Mark: (taken aback) I'm 23.
Me: Well you know what they say about being 23.
Mark: Yeah, nobody likes you.
Me: (Realizing I just found my new best friend).

Waves

Waves

When all I long for

are deep, deep roots.

Passing me from shore

to Shore,

like a coin from

patron to vender,

again and again -

waves upon waves.

This sea is endless.

I'm sick of remembering

the precious things

of my past,

which now ride waves

of their own.

Do I LOOK Like a Doormat to You?

I never cease to be amazed and disheartened by the selfish people who populate this world.

Remember a few years back when Max Lucado wrote this amazingly sappy book about puppets who put stars and black spots on each other, and the book was called, "You Are Special?" I think he should write a sequel called, "You are NOT Special." Maybe if people read it, they'd realize that their colossal sense of entitlement is entirely mis-fostered, and people are NOT going to give them special treatment, because frankly, they have done nothing to deserve it!