Clear Street

Street lights were dim
Warm summer night’s air
I pull you in
Lightly through your hair
Wind lists and sighs

Who knew who could tell
Perchance to meet
That was before I kissed you
Kissed you on Clear Street

We sat together
Yet were so far apart
Smelled of new lavender
Felt a stirring in my heart
As you looked at me

The world has stopped spinning
And I can’t seem to breathe
Haven’t taken a breath
Since I kissed you at Clear Street

Now I hold you close
You whisper in my ear
We touch nose to nose
As I listen and hear
The summers night around us

Remember when
I called you my sweet
We held and we talked
Remember Clear Street?

Living in the west

It's just like Philmont out here, in those mountains. Cool nights, bright mornings, and rainy afternoons. After it rains, it smells like the ocean. Clean and salty. It gets just hot enough to warm the bones after a long winter, and yet, the mountain tops bring a cool breeze to the valley. I don't feel like there is a grey area here like there was in the Ruby Mountains. Here it's defined exactly who you are. For or against your values, not matter what they are. The further you get from the mountains, it seems that they're a painted facade, but perhaps that's the dust in the air. The closer you get, the more you can see, the more real they become. You can see their imperfect perfection in stunning detail. And no matter where you stand, sage, lilac, lavender, rose, juniper, or any other vine or flower that gives a scent, permeates everything, to where there is always a new scent, a new discovery. This place isn't a desert. It's a valley. A paradisacal mountain valley. That's why they settled here.

The Best of Us

You know how people tell you you're the best? I was told that today, and I said, "Y'know, I'm always the best. It's just some days I don't always realize it." My friend then said, "Perhaps that's the problem we all have."

How we are

I was pondering about this recently, and I wonder. Why is it do we keep struggling to live? Why do we keep going, against all odds? It seems to me that it is against our nature as a race to give up. We stay the course because we honestly lose our humanity if we give up. What happens when we do? We become one of two things, a vegetable, motionless and non responsive. As we idly sit the world passes us by. Or we become an animal, and lose our humanity. We stop caring about other lives, our own life, and become dangerous and confused. I guess thats why they call a man a couch potato. So we keep striving and straining, so as to not lose who we are. Would the world be a better place if we all didn't give up? On ourselves or each other?

I may just be a little odd

I visited the ghetto Wal Mart on 9th recently (DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS I KNOW WHAT GHETTOMARTS LOOK LIKE) looking for materials for another batch of yet again culinary amazingness, and I grabbed a cart. Instantly my mind thought two things. This gum is stale and why am I not wearing a helmet? What was my subconcious telling me? Get a running start and jump into the buggy? (As my floridian friend would call it) After spitting out the gum my mind pondered on one thing. Am I the only one that thinks this?

The Letter

Dear Balrog,
You shall not pass.
Love,
Gandalf
xoxoxoxo



Dear Gandalf,
WAAARARRRGGHHHHBOOORUUURRRGHHHROOOOOAAARRRR
Love,
Balrog
xoxoxoxo

ROPI mark II

Let's face it, old folk Utah suburbia is NUTS. It rained last night, and has been through the day, and what's going on? NOTHING. Work is empty because the minute there's a little moisture in the air, people freak out!
"I'm not goin out there, uh uh. Too dangerous."
Shut down their lives because of fear. Who lives like that? Does the population of Utah quiver in fear in their homes, waiting for the storm to blow over? WHAT STORM? Who let's bad weather intefere with their daily lives?!

IT'S A LITTLE RAIN!!!!!!!!!

Further more, a copious amount of rain and thunder a TORNADO DOES NOT MAKE. Just because you had one tornado 2 years ago, and was the first in the last 80 YEARS, does not mean that every major thunderstorm will AUTOMATICALLY BECOME A TORNADO. I know I lived in ILLINOIS. TORNADO ALLEY. WE HAD ONE IN EVERY 15 YEARS, GET OVER YOURSELVES UTAH.

I have said my piece.

Grandma

I require a moment of your time

There will be a new addative to this drug that is your favorite blog. I call it, ROPI. Before you judge me hear me out, the acronym is Ranting withOut Political Inhibitors. Here is the first installment.

Ok folks those graphic t-shirts with the written jokes on them have an expiration date. Let's start at fifty years old. After that, DON'T WEAR THEM. If that's not clear enough, then if you are using a walker, you have no business having some pathetic attempt at sarcastic, sardonic, or witty humor written across the front of your shirt.

Special note: NO ONE has any business having an entire paragraph written across their shirt, because I'm not going to stop some schmoe in the middle of the grocery store and read their Khols shirt what reads the entire written works of Shakespear.

Special special note: Girls that means you too. When you've got War and Peace written across your bust, what are we staring at??? We get marked as perves while we get caught staring at some random girl, while trying to decipher the monologue across a $5 shirt from WALMART

Special special SPECIAL note: Point being, OLD WOMEN SHOULD NOT WEAR SAID SHIRTS

Have you any room

Is there room for a hopless romantic?
A white knight for a damsel in distress?
What does it take to be the one and only?
To have and to hold, care and caress?

I want to be your hopless romantic.
Save you from your worries and fears.
Find a place, for me in your heart,
to be your knight through endless years.

Have you any spots for a shameless poet?
Whose rhymes and limericks fall on deaf minds?
Who will listen to the heart's deepest quandrys?
and find they're the one for whom the heart yearns?

Where can I place an overthought thinker?
Who plays out every moment oft in his head?
Why is it wrong for a knight to think long
and hard about life and what lies ahead?

A gift or a curse these things may be,
a gift, for such qualities may be rare.
But oft I am sure these things are a curse,
because none of them, bring you to me.

SERIOUSLY

This weekend

All I have to say about this weekend is CURSE THIS WRETCHED HOLIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Memories of the Mummies

As I sit the intoxicating scent of cheap McDonalds wafts from my boss' office, and I'm reminded of those wonderful summers when I spent at the Field Museum with the mummies, both living and dead. One particular memory sits above the rest as I recall the many times when my good friend and old boss Bob would stress out at somebody and need a coffee afterwards. Usually punctuated with an "Oh hell, lets get some coffee, and you can get a McFuzzy" our conversations would lead from how the day went to what the egyptians were thinking. Yeah, good old times.

IHATETAXSEASON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm girlfriend trunky

Hoorah for good dreams

I take this as a sign that things are going to look better, but last night I had a great dream. Elder Gardner and I were called by my mission President, Christensen, to come back and fix one of my old areas back. It was a wonderful thing to return and see some old friends from the mission and go back to serving the Lord. That kind of feeling is what I miss. I sure hope to get the chance to do something like that again in the future.

Forwarded emails

I will step aside from the cliche of the world and declare that forwarded emails do have meaning to them!! This is what I learned from one today! Listen well.

Repeat after me:

I.....
will......
never.....
complain..
about.....
my job....


EVER

Glorious New Years adventure

Yeah this is after the fact, but I figured it was a story worth telling. So there I was, as my Captain would aptly put it, riding the bus down to Provo so I could meet up with my Captain and hit the movies. We were fixing to see Sherlock Holms, but had to do so later that evening because of Ferrol having to work. So in my regular garb of khakis and white shirt, tie and vest, performance down jacket and old fedora, I endeavor south with my canvas green Deluth backpack filled with a few movies and my cheesy plastic rockband guitar. Needless to say, I looked moreso a dork/poser than I ever had in my life. I timed the bus and train wrong, so I appeared at Ferrols front door a half hour before he'd get there. Looking around and having a powerful need to find the facilities, I saw the golden arches down the road. I proceed down University, past the malt shoppe, when I see a Panda express. My need for facilities becoming more expedient, and my desire to quit looking like a fool with my plastic guitar growing, I enter the establishment. Making a quick job of it, I soon hear water rushing behind me, as I'm facing the sink. Turning around, I see the urinal overflowing. Bad day. I lift the handle, thinking it would work like it does at home, but it made matters worse. Calmly and collectively, with the pending flood pooling now in the center of the room, I collect my bag, tell the cashier that Noah is reenatcing his ark in the mens room, and walk out, replacing my hat, and smelling like cheap dispenser soap. I will never wear that hat in that store again. Lesson learned, never wish for something outlandish like a prosthetic leg because watch yourself have to strap one on every morning after a horrible accident. Man at Arms out.

Oddity of mind