A new group of friends that I've acquired has inspired me to acquire a new skill: storytelling. They all have such great stories to tell and do it with flare.
I have had an awesome life, and I feel like I have great stories to share. There was that summer that I was repeatedly asked out by a schizophrenic, once by a married man, and proposed to by a monolingual Mongolian. There was the time I was mistaken for a Slovenian prostitute or the time I accidentally stumbled upon a nude beach with no turning back. There was the time I committed a felony on the way to the temple and was kissed on the cheek by an apostle once I got there. There was the guy in his briefs trying to help get something out of my eye, or the time I choked on the sacrament water (not even the bread, the water), or the time I walked into a drug bust in Brazil or an illegal gun sale in Latvia, or the time I had a gun cocked and pointed at my face, or the time I was threatened with a knife and didn't notice, or the time I was briefly tortured on a carnival ride for the sick pleasure of those watching, or the time an Italian bribed me to do "the nasty" with him on his gondola, or the time I almost ran into a moose on a four wheeler, or that time I was sure the garbage men were going to kidnap me when I was lost at night in down town Sao Paulo, or the time I thought I was going to get arrested in Croatia, or the time I laughed at the movie Charly and was afraid of being attacked with torches and pitchforks, or the time I chased a fainting goat around with my umbrella, or the time I ate a guinea pig (in Provo), or the time I made snow angels on the roof in my wet swim suit in the middle of the night.
Holy cow, I love my life, such great memories. Now I just need to practice the flare. And the sound effects...
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
just for the record
Dear Provo-ites that crossed my path tonight,
I am sorry about tonight and feel the need to explain myself. I don't like you thinking ill of me, especially when that is based on a false assumption.
True, it is partially my fault. I should have known better. My body never reacts well to running out of doors, but I had so much energy and the stupid gym closes at 9:00 on Saturdays. True, I probably shouldn't have been pushing myself when I was already under the weather. True, I should have seen the signs; I could have prevented this whole thing. I was blind and foolish.
Two miles into it, I was rejoicing at how great I felt, especially at the lack of knee pain, even though I was running on concrete, which is never a good idea for me. I maybe shouldn't have gotten cocky, but it surely didn't last long.
So, as I stumbled the last mile home, zig-zagging slightly from the dizziness and clutching my head in pain, just barely peeking through the cracks between fingers and moaning slightly, it was from a migraine, not because I was drunk. Just for the record.
I am sorry about tonight and feel the need to explain myself. I don't like you thinking ill of me, especially when that is based on a false assumption.
True, it is partially my fault. I should have known better. My body never reacts well to running out of doors, but I had so much energy and the stupid gym closes at 9:00 on Saturdays. True, I probably shouldn't have been pushing myself when I was already under the weather. True, I should have seen the signs; I could have prevented this whole thing. I was blind and foolish.
Two miles into it, I was rejoicing at how great I felt, especially at the lack of knee pain, even though I was running on concrete, which is never a good idea for me. I maybe shouldn't have gotten cocky, but it surely didn't last long.
So, as I stumbled the last mile home, zig-zagging slightly from the dizziness and clutching my head in pain, just barely peeking through the cracks between fingers and moaning slightly, it was from a migraine, not because I was drunk. Just for the record.
best. job. ever.
Having slept in dirty hostels or on the floor for the past several months, I have adapted and now find it rather difficult to sleep in real beds. They're just too comfortable, and somehow I can't waste such luxury on unconsciousness so I toss and turn all night. Fortunately the couch in my new apartment gets me to sleep; in fact it might do too good of a job since it renders homework rather difficult. For several nights in a row, I haven't even tried the bed, which has become nothing more than a storage area.
But before I discovered this about my new couch, I had a rough couple of days of exhaustion. Add to that the postnasal drip inherited from my roommate, a couple of headaches from my heavy hair that I was too lazy to straighten, and a literature class worse than death, and I wasn't exactly excited about life.
Luckily for me, I have the best job in the world, a job that cures headaches better than Tylenol, cheers me up more than ice cream, and gets me more excited about life than really attractive young men. OK, maybe that last part was little bit of an exaggeration, but I sure do love my job. Invariably, I leave having completely forgotten all my woes.
I love my job so much that I petitioned to make it my calling as well. The gospel teaching chair readily gave me the calling of Sunday School teacher when I asked, saying I was an answer to prayer since he didn't know who to call and was on a deadline. But I was prepared to beg and bribe. And it would have been worth it. I can't wait to teach tomorrow!
But before I discovered this about my new couch, I had a rough couple of days of exhaustion. Add to that the postnasal drip inherited from my roommate, a couple of headaches from my heavy hair that I was too lazy to straighten, and a literature class worse than death, and I wasn't exactly excited about life.
Luckily for me, I have the best job in the world, a job that cures headaches better than Tylenol, cheers me up more than ice cream, and gets me more excited about life than really attractive young men. OK, maybe that last part was little bit of an exaggeration, but I sure do love my job. Invariably, I leave having completely forgotten all my woes.
I love my job so much that I petitioned to make it my calling as well. The gospel teaching chair readily gave me the calling of Sunday School teacher when I asked, saying I was an answer to prayer since he didn't know who to call and was on a deadline. But I was prepared to beg and bribe. And it would have been worth it. I can't wait to teach tomorrow!
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