My New Twin-Sized Bed

I almost feel bad for what I'm about to do. I've been recently looking for a journal to keep all my thoughts in so that my posterity may learn something about who I was and what I felt during this time in my life and in history. I went to the BYU Bookstore and looked for a journal once. I found them and picked one or two that I liked, but had no money, so I said "I'll wait til the next payday." Sorry, kids, you won't get any of my memories until the heat comes through. Then, when I went back after I got paid, they had moved everything around and the section in the Bookstore labeled "Journals" had turned into the "Gerald Lund" section. I thought of buying one of the Work and the Glory books and just writing "Journal" on it and calling it good, but decided to come back another time. I've been back a few times. Still just works and glories. So, I will have to get some of my emotions out into an electronic text box. It feels dirty, somehow, though.

I just wrote a really long detailed entry, but I suppose the main point I was getting at would be better represented in a line from my good friend Ben Gibbard:

I fall in love everyday

And I feel like a fool

That's the gist of this post. I'll save you all from experiencing the icky vicky details I had expounded upon in the words I erased. And I am far too embarrassed to say anything more.

Wouldn't Mama be Proud.

Megan,

So, the MTC tonight. Have you ever had anything go as like you daydreamed in your head? I have. Tonight. Ha! Let me even tell you.

So, I knew that there was going to be another volunteer tonight, so I figured it wouldn't be like last night where we had an hour and a half to talk just about Japanese. Right before I left and all the way until I got to the room that we were meeting in, I was really worried that I wasn't supposed to go tonight. Like I was concerned I was being pretentious, I mean, there was already someone coming tonight, why did I need to come? Was it for the couples or for myself? To get some sort of satisfaction out of teaching, some validation at something I felt went well the night before. So, I was nervous going in because I didn't want the couples and the cute tutor to think that I was there just to get my power trip fix. But, I went all the same. I dressed in church clothes because they'd invited me to the senior testimony meeting after the lesson. That was another point of concern. I didn't want them to think I was being pretentious in that I thought myself a teacher because yesterday went well.

So, I had all those thoughts going through my head as I arrived at the MTC. When I got to the TRC office/room and the person there told me what we were doing he said that I would be working with one of the Elders on his testimony and he gave me a sheet of vocab that we could go over. I was sad because I would only get to talk to one of them. Elder Rogers IS great, but I wanted to see them all! But when I got to the room they asked me to go to, I saw that everyone was there! I was real happy. And as I walked in Sister Rogers said "Well, now you're dressed like a man." So, my concerns about my clothes and the message they send were gone. We sang "I am a Child of God" in Japanese and I didn't have anything to look at, so I sang from memory, but I forgot some words. The first part of the night we just talked about in-field language learning plans. I still had some of those weird feelings inside running around, so I was pretty quiet. Then the second volunteer came about fifteen minutes after I got there. We finished the discussion and then started working on the testimonies. I was with the Rogers' and we went over a simple testimony. They did great seeing as how they just got to the MTC on Wednesday and had only had two days of Japanese. Sister Rogers was really working on her pronunciation and she did great. We took a little longer on that than we should have and ended a couple minutes late, around 7:05. The testimony meeting started at 7. The other volunteer left and said "Thanks" and I was saying goodbye to the Christenson's when I remembered that I had left the sheet of paper with the vocab to practice in the room. The man told me to give it back when I was done, so I went back into the room, but I couldn't find it. No one was specifically inviting me to the testimony meeting, so I was real close to just slipping away. I crossed the hall to go to the office and Sister Eckstrom, the tutor, saw me and asked "Scott, are you coming to the Testimony meeting?" "Can I?" I asked. "If you'd like to." She said. "It's easier to ask permission later!" So, completely forgetting about the vocab sheet, I followed them to the main building for the testimony meeting.

I felt really weird at the testimony meeting because I was the only one that wasn't a missionary or a MTC teacher. I was an anomaly. I again had those feelings of nervousness. A lot of missionaries got up and bore testimony in a lot of European languages. There was another Japanese missionary couple. They had an actual Japanese person as their tutor, unlike the Rogers' and Christenson's who had Sister Eckstrom, a Dutch speaker. I guessed it was the Norie they had talked about yesterday. Both of the Christenson's got up and bore their testimonies. They probably made a goal to do so because they're leaving Monday morning. Sister Rogers also bore her testimony. She did great. I was real proud of her. Then there was time and no one was getting up, so the guy asked for the tutors to get up. Most did. I wasn't a tutor, so I didn't. Then we had a closing prayer.

I said goodbye to the Christenson's and talked a little about Japan with them. I was stalling so that I could talk to Sister Eckstrom. I wanted to ask her how to become a Tutor. But, again the nervousness. I hoped that someone else would bring it up. Sister Rogers did just that. "Scott," she said, "I guess you won't be with us anymore. Thanks for all your help. You're a wonderful teacher. Why don't you become a teacher? You should work here!" and I was all like "nah, I'm not that good. Thanks. No, really. Oh you're too kind." but Sister Eckstrom was all like "Scott, would you like to work here?" but just then Sister Christenson tapped me on the shoulder to say goodbye one more time. After that, everyone left, but I caught Sister Eckstrom as she was picking up her bag to leave. "So, Sister Eckstrom," I said, "I have a question. How..." I started and she said "Do you become a tutor?" finishing my sentence. "Yeah," I smiled, "I have had the most amazing time here these last two nights and I'd like to do this if I could." "Yeah, well, I think you'd be great. I was going to tell my supervisor about you. You've been great. Let's talk to this one guy." So we talked to this one guy and he said I just needed to fill out the app online and then go in for the demo lesson and they'd call for a language proficiency check and then an interview. But I was concerned because I'll probably be in Japan in the summer, so should I apply now or wait until I get back from Japan? And he said that they could use me these next two months before school gets out. So I said I'd go home and fill out the app. Then Sister Eckstrom and the guy said great, we'll tell our boss about you, the Training Supervisor. I guess she's in charge of hiring.

So, I went home and told David all of this and he said, "Are you serious?!" because we had basically fantasized about this situation last night when I got home. "Dude, that's how you get hired at the MTC." He also said. He said he'd help me prepare my demo lesson. I think I'll go in on Tuesday and do it because I have class and then I'm doing my taxes at the Tanner on Monday, but Tuesday I have free. I'm really excited. If I really prepare and work hard to make it a good lesson, I think I have a shot at working at the MTC! Momma will be so proud.

And that's my story about how my daydreams became a reality tonight. Then I came home and watched Seven Years in Tibet with David, Jordan, and David's China girl. That wasn't really part of the fantasizing, but it's acceptable. Hope you slept well, it's 3:32 am, so I'm going to sleep now. Bye!

Scott

Some good Old fashioned Fanfic

The tap-tap-tap of a typewriter. The cool summer breeze dancing along the linen drapes. The sour smell of the correction fluid. Kate looks up from the paper and surveys her small homey office. A small room filled with too many books and too few personal affects. Her children hated it here. The many hours they had to sit and wait for mommy to finish bathing a student's dissertation in red. That's probably the reason they never visited anymore. They were all gone now. Off to school or careers, married or drafted. Kate takes a bite of her scone. She's an avid baker. And jam maker. A jack-of-all-trades, but the students just call her: Turabian.

She stands, presently, pulling back the drapes and looking out onto the quad from her third story window. He's late, she thinks, But that's no surprise. She stays standing, looking outside at the trees on the lawn, swaying gently in the breeze and she remembers past summers. Summers that she would never return to. Summers she doesn't want to return to. Just like this city, she thinks, looking past the campus to the high-rises downtown. This city is what it is, not what it was. Like me. The past is known, but the present is a vast, polymorphic branching road of possibilities. I am not defined by the past, but by the decisions I make in the present. Those show who I really am.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Turabian?" comes a voice from the door, breaking her reverie. Turning, Kate sees a young man, dressed in his school browns and holding a book bag in on hand and the stitch in his side with the other.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Marshall, is it?" She asks, though there can be no doubt. She's seen him pass by many times and sometimes from the corner of her eye she sees him standing outside the partially closed door as if to knock and enter, but never bringing himself to stretch out his hand and accept the terrible eventuality that awaits him in this office.

"Yes, John Marshall, ma'am. I'm here about my dissertation."

"Of course. Sit down, Mr. Marshall. I happen to just have finished my revision." John sits. Gulps. Holds his hands in his lap. Kate moves to her desk and picks up the paper she had been working on. Glances it over. Hands it to Mr. Marshall. Hands shaking, John takes it from Mrs. Turabian. He begins to read the red. "It's a good paper, Mr. Marshall, there's no doubt about that, but your conventions are plain atrocious."

"Yes, ma'am." Quietly. Very quietly.

"You seem not to have received even the most basic lessons in punctuation and grammar. Your research and conclusions are revolutionary, I'm sure, but until you master the basics of writing, you will never be taken seriously."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now, Mr. Marshall, I have been working on a small pamphlet for people who need help with writing dissertations. It's called A Manual for Writers and I'd like you to have the first one."

"Yes, ma'am." Barely a whisper.

Good Heavens, he's scared out of his wits.

"I'm confident that if you revise your paper according to my notes and this pamphlet that this dissertation will live up to all those grand ideas that you have in your head."

"Yes, ma'am." A little stronger.

"Thank you, Mr. Marshall, you may go now."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." And with that, John stands up and hurries from the room, clutching his dissertation and A Manual for Writers.

That boy needs more help than I can give him, Kate thinks, turning back to her desk and picking up the top pamphlet in the stack of A Manual for Writers's first printing. But hopefully this can make up the difference. She turns again to the window just in time to see the small figure of Mr. Marshall round the bend around the library opposite and disappear. Clutching the pamphlet, she thinks, The present is a myriad of possibilities. Where will my choices take me? Where will this city take me? She loses herself in thought.

Later, She enjoys pizza Chicago Style!

Three Paragraph Essay

Oh my, the words. So many eking out of this place. I'm writing on my laptop that broke the krades. At the end of last school year, my parents came for conference (see below about chinese food). that entry was the last thing I every did on my old computer. It was the last time I ever saw my old back-pack, too. I went to conference the next day with the rents, and when I got back, those objects had been stolen away from me. Someone had walked into my house and stolen my laptop from my desktop. I was quite put off. So I got a netbook for the future use of interwebs and media consumption and possible NaNoWriMo obtainment. (Which are now coming to pass). Also, I went to Wal-Mart at the beginning of the school year for to find an new backpack. Wen I went I found ten dollar packs. I thought it a grand sign of good-will from the universe and left it at that. The face of it was a scene from mario kart. I played that a number of times this last summer and thus thought that I would flaunt the fact that I always got first in our races by having a backpack as a billboard. Recently, the face had been ripping a little and I thought it was cute. The top had almost completely torn from left to right and there was a little tare around the middle going down (But no wheat). Well, given that description, it will make the future telling of what happened more understandable. It snowed recently. I was happy because I finally got to wear all the cold clothing I love to do. When I did, at four thirty in the morning and I ran across the street to get to the other side because a really slow semi-truck was crossing University and I was scared of getting run over by it, even though it was like that one scene in Austin Powers. I don't really feel like Austin is a good British name. My bag ripped when I ran across the street in my large boots. Right down the middle. It was like all those alterpieces I learned about in Humanities 202. My backpack, that is. It now had two doors. Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and all my stuff falls on the asphalt. Thanks a lot, Catholicism. So, my stuff all fell on the road and the semi-truck was barreling toward me at a good 10 miles per hour. I was panicked. I ran and picked everything up and had to go back for seconds because of the sheer amount of things that I had spread like tares upon the ground. I threw my backpack away in the nearest garbage can and just bear-hugged my books all the way to work and then bought a thirty dollar backpack at the BYU bookstore. It's mostly black, but there's some red mixed in. I opened my netbook, though and found that the screen was going crazy with cracks. So, as I write, there are a lot of places on the screen I can't see and have to hope that I spelled everything right. (<-- intro paragraph)

Now that the scene is set, time to tell my story. Today's story = Swan-san. She thinks she's all that. Swan-san is this girl in my Japanese 311R (Conversation class). She was the only girl in the class for a couple weeks because the other lady had some operation and is married. She's from somewhere in WA, so I was automatically attracted to her. She seemed kinda plain to me and her jeans and shoes would agree, but I like her haircut. Then I found out that at eight o'clock she hangs out in the film check-out room in the HFAC, which is where I work and am from 5:00 to 8:30 a.m. in the mornings. So, I started saying hi to her and sometimes asking her questions and I thought that I was making some leeway. I made her laugh a couple times when we talked and she would laugh at some of the things I said in class, so I figured she wanted me hard. A logical thing to assume, but this time these assumptions lived up to their name. Dillon was all over me once about how I need to date more and better and I was all like, fine! Maybe I will! So, I asked Swan-san to go with me to the chemistry magic show. She turned me down. She said she had to go find some boxes for some film she was working on. And she was all like "Well, maybe some other time." and I was all like "Nah, I don't like to go on dates with girls that love cardboard more than magic." Burn. Then I stormed out of the room, leaving her to think about what she just turned down. Who does she even think she is? Words untold. (<--- Body Paragraph)

I'm not a large fan of Las Vegas, I decided. So, when I'm 25, unmarried to Swan-san and wondering what to do with my life and where, I will not list Las Vegas as one of the places to do what I want. If there was a ballot that I could cast to never live in Las Vegas and the world would recognize my decision and say, "Pretty smart guy we got here." then I would, because I love recognition, so validating. Plus, it makes me miss my sunday school class I'ma supposed to teach. Although I did get a jewess to fill in for my discussion of Isaiah, I still really would've liked to be there. With the jewess. Talking about everything that Las Vegas hates, like we're kids in the middle school library trying to tick off all the other babies. Because middle-schoolers hate babies, and carrots. I only ate bagels in MIddle school and capri-suns. I wonder if they could sue me for using their trademark on my published site. I wonder a lot of things. I wish I could still eat through my belly-button. Man, those were the days. (<-- Conclusion paragraph)

Rococo

There are babies in the library. I'm also there. I haven't been in teh library for a long time, but I came because I wanted somewhere that had cushy chairs to sit in while I read Animorphs. Thank you, Dillon Fallon. You always teach me the greatest entertainment media. Unlike Upton Sinclair. I doubt Upton and I will ever see eye to eye.

I'm in the sampler section reading Animorphs on my computer, which I am now using to write this. Reading and writing: it's all I ever do anymore. Kind of. I don't really write all that much which is why I am now writing. Ellen Switzer said she read my blog, I guess to catch up on my life this past year or so, and I remembered about this and decided to write some words. I don't really have anything to say. I just saw Martin Wall for the second time in a month. The other time was just last friday night. Now you know how much we hang out. I wonder if my tick-tacking away at my keyboard is annoying the rest of the people in the sampler section. When I sat down here, there was a space of three empty chairs in a row, so I sat in the middle one to put a chair's length between me and the people on either side. Then, a couple minutes later, a girl from my Intro to Islam class last winter semester came and sat down next to me. She didn't pull anything out or start reading a book for about five minutes. I wondered what she was doing. I was going to talk to her, but then I didn't say anything in the first minute, so it'd've been weird to say something that long after she'd sat down and I'd realized who she was.

Do all seeing eye dog trainers wear tie-dye?

Finally, she pulled something out and started to read. She seemed pretty casual in her reading. Not too focused. I couldn't blame her. I was spending most of my energy on watching her subtly instead of finding out what was happening with Tobias, Rachel, and the gang. After about ten minutes of reading, she just stood up and walked away, never looking back, I know, I watched her until she went out of sight. She was Katherine. Maybe. I think that was her name. She has/had a neckless with her name written in arabic on it. Like a good luck charm. Maybe they called her Katie for short. I don't remember too much from last year. Only some things. Like the cranberry juice I bought for Jenni Boyle when I missed Dillon's golden birthday. I know exactly where it is on the shelf. If you want the same stuff I'll get it for you too.

Then I got really tired and tried to sleep for a couple of minutes. Maybe just one. Or a couple of seconds, but I decided to write on my blog first. There are a lot of books in this sampler section I wanted to read. I doubt I will, though. I doubt I'll write any, too. I wonder if my mood is affected by the music I listen to, or if I gravitate toward music that fits my mood. I wish I could step foot on the moon.

Summer Works

Hokay.

That last post was really self-absorbed and, actually, really mean. I got better. Mostly. I got friends with new people and summer wasn't too bad. I didn't do anything exciting besides go to Dillon's wedding, but I made up for it by getting new friends. I will definitely remember this summer for the people I met, not the things I did. Also, maybe Vampire Weekend. Also, MESA girl #1 (see far below).

I looked for work at the beginning of the summer. That was, after all, the reason I came home. I came home to work and save money for teh futures and stuff. Because home is really easier than rent. Also, secret purposes and motivations. Which are mostly I had a big crush on MESA girl #1 and wanted to see if anything would happen when she came home from her mish. I really didn't expect a dang thing. The contingency plan I never really believed would work.

So I was viewing around the town looking for work. And by that I mean I would get up and look at Cragslist every day hoping something good would catch my eye and give me money. It happened once. I asked for an interview at a new Jimmy John's Sandwhiches place in Portland and John said it was okay. So, I went to the Safeway Grocers I thought we were having the interview at and parked and called John. He said he couldn't see me and I said similar. Finally he communicated to me that I was at the wrong Safeway and should really try and find the real one before he was done for the day and left. I finally did in the pouring rain. Lucky for me, the store had some covered parking, so I parked there and stayed dry the whole time. Lucky for me.

I walked in half and hour late and sat and waited for him to be done with the guy he was talking to concurrently. I knew it was him because he had a Jimmy John's Sandwhiches hat and shirt on. I walked over and introduced myself. He gave me paper work and said some words about doing work. I said it sounded nice. He gave me a list of the sandwhiches and told me to memorize them and that we would have a test and training the next week.

I spent all weekend/the hour before preparing for the test. I made charts and graphs that finally made it clear. I shown up and he gave us all the test, so I sat down and wrote all the things exactly as I studied. I forgot one thing, though, on one sandwhich, but, certainly, that wouldn't hurt my chances of getting the job, right? Me neither. The lady I was sharing a table with was not prepared. She kept sneaking glances at the cheat sheet she had in her handbag. I felt that was professional dishonesty, but thought I'd let Karma teach her some lessons before I interventioned. I was the first done, like most tests, and gave it to John. He congratulated me on my hiring as a minimum wage (8.20/hr) sandwich technician. I told him thanks. He told me to come to training next week at noon on some day. I said okay. It think the next training was a Wednesday for you Chrono Trigger buffs out there.

While this was all going on my mom was saying words at me. Like, But it's farr away and we don't have carrs for all the three kids, even though only two drive, also its minimum wage and they khan't guarantee full-time hours, and such things. So I had kept looking for more work. Again, through the wonders of teh internets, I got a guy to call me for a phone interview about a gaming tech support call center job. I thought that'd be fun. I'm smart enough, after all, to talk about networks and legitimate things. He called and we talked, but when he found out that I was only home and in the area for the next couple months, he went all Nixon on me and pulled out the troops. I hung up the phone with the taste of Colored-Only Drinking Fountain water in my mouth, to use the parlance of our times. So my mom was really pressuring me not to get this job. So, I decided not to do it. I went early to my next training and was all like, thanks for life, John, but I already got a better paying and closer to home job than this one. But good luck with the store, hokay? He actually looked surprised and sad. I think he's too young to be cold enough to take it all in stride. Also, after the last training I talked to this one girl that went to sunset because I had worn my Southridge track shirt. She was a year older than me, but she seemed nice. Then I never saw her again. Also, I boldfacedly lied to John about the better job.

But then, I didn't. The very next day I was pounding the pavement building some employment opportunities when I got a call from a temp agency telling me they had a position if I wanted it. I said I did and they said they had two I could choose from. I told them I wanted the boy's toy with my happy meal. She ignored that and said I could be a data entryist or a claims operationer. The second one paid more, so I said sign me up, but she asked me if I felt I was a detail-oriented, honest person with good judgement. I, using some professional honesty, said yes, I feel exactly how you described this job must be perfect for me. So I had to go in and fill out some paperwork and she turned out to be Mormon, so that was funny, but she was moving away, so we would never see each other again. Summers are full of never agains. The place I was going to work at was called Epiq and I would be made to do things, so I said okay.

The first day was supposed to be Tuesday, but they called and said one of the training ladies was sick and that we would start on Wednesday. I went in my best suit to give a good impression, but it turned out that their dress code was really casual: jeans okay. I felt a little overdressed even though it was raining outside. They said the job would last 6-8 weeks if we were good at it. I thought that was perfect because that would end right before Dillon's wedding, so I just needed to make sure I was good enough to make it two months, though I never thought I'd actually be kept on that long. Seeing as how they let go half the people in the first week. The work was easy enough, though I had a lot of questions because I wanted to know exactly what to do. It was just looking at claim forms and deciding whether they were complete or not and if not complete, how so. I asked my supervisor a lot of questions and I thought I was being really annoying, but I did it anyways. Better to build a skyscraper than blow up the grand canyon. About a month into the job, most of the people were gone. It was down to six of us from the original group. Then they got a new group that they let go after a week or two. Then it was the six of us again. Then five. Then four. Then I went on vacation to Dillon's wedding and I asked if they wanted me to come back or whether they would just let me go. They said they'd call me if I was let go. They didn't. I went back to work for three weeks after Dillon's wedding. As things worked out, I was actually the one that terminated my employment. They all said I should come back during the holidays for a week or two. I said thanks. I don't really plan on it. I guess I was good at it, but I want to do a job that I don't turn my mind off for. Stupor. Also, my right eye started to twitch. And my wrists hurt. Hopefully this job didn't ruin computers for me. Although, I did type this all out on a computer. I guess I'm fine, then.

There were funny people at work. The girl that read a new fantasy/star trek book everyday in the break room. The lady in her 50s that muttered to herself as she put-putted away on the computer. The short asian guy that always wore a dress shirt and suit vest. The huge upright bass player who was majoring in graphic design. The U of O graduate. The HR lady that looked and dressed exactly like Catherine Zeta Jones. The large 22-year-old Indian girl that owned the warehouse. Yes, sir. It truly was Epiq. Now I'm done with work for a couple weeks until I start custodianing at the HVAC. I'm a little more excited for that job than this one. I'll at least get to stand up and move.

This summer was good. A fun break from school. I won't remember anything I did, I'm sure, but I'll remember the people I met. Because we're either new facebook friends, or because I put them in the paragraph above. That's pretty much it.

This Dream Is Exclusive

Though out of no fault nor vanity on my part. Yesterday at church, Shellie Baird, the girl down the street asked if I missed Provo. To that I responded "No." Then about twenty minutes into sacrament meeting, I realized I was a filthy liar, unashamed and untouched by social desirability. Because as I sat there in the chapel sitting amidst these people, I decided that they were sucking the hope out of me. I started seeing visions of myself in five years in that same building getting up to bear my testimony and thanking everyone in the ward for being such a support. I almost threw up. I actually had to excuse myself to the bathroom before the dry-heaving stopped. When, I felt myself again I went back into the chapel and sat down again.

Every time someone opened their mouth, I was given another reason to feel like I wouldn't fit in. In Provo, its really easy to find people that you can relate to and share a sense of humor with. The Beaverton/Cedar-Mills singles ward is not a place of that same persuasion. I really couldn't see myself hanging out with anyone in the group. Even at the break the fast, where I actually got to meet some people and get past the first impression, I found out that sometimes the first impressions are true.

Also, during Sunday school, I accidentally said something funny loud. I was really trying to keep myself behind my glasses (@even stock) but it was hard with whatever comment I wanted to make. So, I said something like I normally do in classes or church and everyone just looked at me like "Yeah?" I felt really lame. It should've at least gotten a few chuckles.

Plus, everyone is about 26, so that does not increase Pearson's R-squared at all. Substantive significance is doubtful.

Oh, the title. Yeah. Since I've been home, its been like a dream. A really uninteresting one because my mind is just taking me back to the places that I know the most. A dream where you're sleeping is really boring. This summer might just be a dream. Also, I'll try to meet people/make friends, but, really, what's the use? Then I recall the Singles ward. I better get married before Graduation, dillon, if not, I'm jacked.