day 3

With a cold phone held against my ear, I drop in a few quarters and wait for an answer. It’s dark, but a nearby street light illuminates my every breath. I hold it in and then release the warm moist air with a hollow blow. It reminds me of a dragon blowing smoke. I continue to wait as the phone rings on the other end. Still no answer. The previous days’ storm no longer masks the night sky. Instead, a moonless night reveals a pristine mosaic of stars in the sky. I know I’ve seen them before, but I don’t remember there being so many. I can see the big dipper. Follow it’s face to the north star. The little dipper. Orion with his belt and dogs. Some swan. Lines connecting the stars seem to appear out of nowhere bringing the constellations to life. A shooting star shoots across the sky from Leo the lion, through my own astrological Gemini, to Taurus the bull.

My parents don’t answer on the other end, so I hang up. I don’t blame them. How long has it been since we have talked? At least a few years. It’s not that we fought or possessed any hard feelings against each other. They just didn’t understand me. They couldn’t. I didn’t understand myself.

The phone rings. Do I dare answer it? They must have caller id or did a star-sixty-nine. Hello? Mom? Her voice warms me all over. God, I have missed it. Yeah, it’s me. I… I just wanted to tell you that I loved you. We talk for an hour and catch up on all that we have missed. I don’t tell her the news. She doesn’t need to know.

living - day 1

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about a year ago, i wrote a short story about a person who is forced to accept his mortality, and in doing so, quickly finds all life meaningless. this is the beginning of the attempt to tell the other story. please keep in mind that it is only a very early draft.
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I am still alive.

They say that when you face death, your life passes before your eyes. What they don’t tell you is that if you keep your eyes open, you’ll live even more. There have been a few occasions in my life when I have truly felt alive. Brief moments of time that seemed to transcend everything else.

Age four. I don’t remember much. I don’t even think I knew what was going on. A week earlier, my mother was pulling me out of the bath and noticed something wrong. A few days later they were drawing my blood. The doctor told me he was checking to see if it was green. It wasn’t. Green blood? I thought it was hilarious. They told me I had a hernia and that they were going to fix it. I had no idea what they were talking about. All I know is that I got to pick out the flavor of air I was going to get to breathe. I chose banana because they were my favorite fruit. I got to ride a red wagon to a room where they laid me down and had me inhale the scent of bananas. The doctors told me to close my eyes and count to ten. I only made it to six.

Age ten. He was my hero. During the summer break, we set out to build our underground fortress. The construction was simple, but brilliant. Dig a large hole. Plant a center beam for support. Lay old plywood, boards, and sheet metal overhead. Use an empty water-bed to cover the rest. Finally throw dirt, rocks, and sagebrush over everything for camouflage. It was the perfect place to play and hide. Perfect, until some neighborhood bullies threw a smoke-bomb in while we were inside. With the plywood trapdoor held shut, we couldn’t escape. Smoke filled the room choking me and forcing my eyes shut to avoid its sting. My brother, two years older, grabbed the flaming bomb and forced it through a small opening. His hand was burned and I never looked at him again the same.

Age twenty-five. I was already missing her. It had only been a day since I knew I would never see her again. My stomach weighed me down and my heart seemed to beat in slow motion. As I laid in the darkness, I closed my eyes and remembered. In sequential order, I witnessed every moment I had ever seen her smile. I saw her stopping me in the halls at school. I saw her laughing over curry soup on our first date. A wide grin with puppies at Christmas. A loving look glowing in the firelight. As I closed my eyes and remembered, I smiled.

Age twenty-seven. This afternoon. I hurt for him as he came to tell me. White sneakers. Light khakis. Sky blue dress shirt. Stethoscope. I looked at his hands. I looked at his chart. I looked everywhere but at him. I couldn’t bear to see his face. I imagined him happy. I imagined him giving me good news, because he obviously didn’t see it that way.

Once again, that sunken feeling in my stomach. That slow beating of my heart. I dragged them with me toward the bus stop as a spring drizzle softly taps across my head, shoulder, and back. As I board the bus, the driver gives me a friendly nod. It pierces me and settles into the back of my mind. At home, I lie on my bed and try to reflect on the day. It seems like an abstract dream. I am already forgetting the particulars and can only remember the overwhelming feeling encompassing me. That, and the friendly nod of the bus driver. As I stare at the empty ceiling above me, his smile gives me a sense of safety.

most eventful week ever

this week has been... well... an eventful one. on sunday morning i never thought i'd have seen and experienced what i have so far.

here's the short version:

sunday
-let's just call it sunday for now

monday
-profound religious experience (see previous post)
-i mean huge
-one of the best mornings in a long time

tuesday
-consider waiting until spring '08 to begin grad school, to allow me to better prepare for gre and pad my vita
-step 1 part 1 accomplished following monday's enlightenment

wednesday
-step 1 part 2 accomplished
-step 2 accomplished. i once thought i'd never see this day.
-uber excited

thursday
-drive to go snowboarding. forget gloves.
-instead i hang out with najib. another life changing experience.

friday
-find out i'm flying to claremont for a religious studies conference in two weeks
-also discover that the application dates for claremont have changed. now i will have to wait for spring.
- also, end up in a $1.5 million dollar mansion in salt lake, listening to the tale of a lady who's father was an assassinated former kgb agent. somehow she ended up in utah in an unhappy marriage. she was kidnapped by a meth nut and had her 6 month fetus cut out of her with a small saw, her husband messed up the investigation into the event which later freed the guy. while trying to enact her revenge, she was picked up by the police to act as an undercover agent against the meth guy. later she is used by the fbi to infiltrate a biker gang. the biker gang discovered her realy identity and had a hitman sent on her to try to kill her. her fbi contact disappeared and failed to pay. later she found out that the hitman was really in love with her and just wanted to talk to her, which was a good thing because he saved her from 3 rival neo-nazi gangs in salt lake.
-decided that i'm possibly willing to believe the story up until her encounter with the meth guy. everything after that is probably best explained with drugs and maybe post-traumatic stress syndrome.

saturday
-it hasn't happened yet. however, i'm attending an iraq war protest at 2pm. i'm on a role. it's bound to be good.

from taliban oppression to a war-torn country to taco bell

this afternoon i was bitter because i had already driven 2/3 up the canyon to go snowboarding before i realized i forgot my gloves at home.

my life is so easy.



"what is your favorite thing about america?"

"my ballroom dance class."

tonight i introduced my friend najib to taco bell, american malls, and american music. he loved the music (especially you jeff), the mall taught him what america was all about, and i'm not sure if his stomach was ready for the steak grilled stuffed burrito.


while eating my own chicken baja chalupa, i listened as najib told me of life under taliban oppression - witnessing neighbors shot point blank by taliban officials responding to uninvestigated accusations. men dragged through the rocky streets until they were dead. blood dripping from hands recently severed from an alleged thief. to top it off, as najib put it, "life was boring. there was no music."

after the u.s. overthrew the taliban government, the land broke out into tribal warfare. he never traveled without armed friends for protection. while assisting a u.s. journalist, najib found himself in a bloody cross fire between 475 fighting tribesman. he hid beneath a swarm of bullets and watched men just feet away from him blown to pieces by an rpg. when the firing ceased, only 75 of those fighters survived.

because he assisted this journalist, najib soon found himself as the target of an angry warlord who wished him dead. with the help of this journalist and some uvsc professors, najib was able to secure himself a visa and come here for an education.

to top all of that off, najib is the funniest afghani i have ever met (ok, he's the only afghani i have ever met).

to learn more about his fascinating life, you can meet and listen to najib tell his story tomorrow (friday) night at the ken sanders bookstore in salt lake city at 7pm.

you can also read this great article about him in the recent salt lake city weekly, as well as this ksl story (where you can see my desk in the background), and this deseret news article.

i like my bishop

for those of you who don't know me, that'll sound pretty stupid and insignificant.

for those of you that do, well... you already know.

god spoke to me through a child.

little children do have words given unto them many times, which confound the wise and the learned. -alma 32:23

god spoke to me through the mouth of a five your old child yesterday morning, and i do not doubt it.

the last couple weeks i have been struggling with a decision that i have had to make in my life. though i was pretty sure what i needed to do, i also knew that it would be accompanied with a lot of hurt and sorrow.

these last few months i have made several big steps and changes in my life. i have begun praying again and seeking to find that spiritual aspect of my life that i thought i had long lost. while i have been making steps, i have also been harboring doubts and skepticism that have held me back and continued to make things difficult.

...that is until god spoke to me yesterday through my five year old nephew. in fairly clear and precise terms, he answered in my prayers in a way that presupposed information about my life that my little nephew could not have known. i found myself in awe as much of my sorrow and fear turned to joy and excitement.

it's not only what my nephew told me, but that he told me. in a brief moment, my doubts and questions of god's existence and love for me seemed to vanish. i felt god's love. i knew god's love. suddenly, so many aspects of my life that i have feared or questioned became clear to me. i knew what i needed to do with much of my life. i knew that it would be accompanied by moments or periods of pain, but that i must endure it. my world suddenly changed and everything felt right.

"where did that come from?"

"nowhere."

"did you hear someone tell you that?"

"no. i was just thinking it."

"do you know that god sometimes speaks to us through little boys?"

"no."

"well he just did. thank you very much."

"you're welcome."

then he smiled and went back to playing.


god spoke to me yesterday. i do not doubt it. if i will just remember this, my world will never be the same.