From an email I wrote: The women on “The Bachelor: London Calling” make me want to hurl and then pick it up off the floor and throw it at the television then pretend the women are eating it when their talking heads are interviewing while the hurl is dripping down the screen.

Ugh, I got an A- on my midterm. I logged on to check my grades to see if BYU received my midterm so that I could request my final, and I saw the grade staring me in the face. It was laughing an evil laugh, head thrown back, skipping in a circle around me, the biggest gesture of “BOO-YAH!” if I ever saw one. I had heard people had a hard time with the midterm – like, they freak out – and I thought I did relatively well, which I guess an A- ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, and I guess I can take solace in the fact my overall grade so far is on the A side of the bell curve. It’s done. I should let it go. I’m totally going to kick the final’s behind.

Writing about work is a bad idea here. So, I’m not going to do it. But let’s just say a … rabbit is hopping around in a place where there are … network printers, and one of these printers is in … sleep mode. (And let’s just say I’m not going to use the singular form of possessive male/female pronouns in this … very untrue fable.) And the rabbit is passing by a chinchilla standing by this printer, the display all dark, … because it’s in sleep mode. The printer appears to have a protective aura, because the chinchilla hesitates to touch it. The chinchilla asks the rabbit if they know how to turn on the printer, because the chinchilla sent a document to be printed. The rabbit looks at the printer, sees … THE BIG GREEN GO BUTTON, and … presses it. The display lights up, the chinchilla’s eyes light up, the printer’s gears get going, and the rabbit hops away, laughing, making their nose wiggle especially fast. Moral: Don’t be scared of the machinery, and when the machines are sleeping, wake them by pressing the big, green button. And, aren’t rodents in buildings a blatant health code violation?

Kids, would you please come to seminary? Okay? Thanks. I can only play the top hand of so many familiar hymns for so long while waiting to see if anyone shows up before I take off for work. I understand it’s early. I understand senioritis. I had pretty bad case of it myself. Come on, now. We have only one term left in the year. I know you can do it. 

One more thing: My roommate wanted me to point out the camera used to take those 175 photos of me has a “rapid fire” feature. She held down the trigger while I posed. And it happened to take 181 photos. I deleted six of them, for reasons of propriety. She wanted to make sure everyone knew she wouldn’t deliberately take that many shots of one subject at one time. You need to believe her. She’s really not psycho. See?

The Heart of the City

Sometimes when I’m in my apartment and I hear rumbling and feel the floor vibrate under my feet, I do not know if it is thunder or the busy streets below. Then I look out of my window to see if it’s cloudy and rainy or if traffic is buzzing. All those yellow cabs milling about remind me of a colony of bees. Yes, the city has a pulse, and it’s strong. Sometimes it’s anxious and tachycardic; other times it’s a mere murmur slowing to a chugging glug. Like now. Midnight. It’s like the refrigerator when you’re trying to sleep: all you hear is that low-frequency hum. You know it’s on, and you know it’s working. And sometimes, when the traffic isn’t heavy and only a few cars sweep the streets, you can close your eyes, and it almost sounds like the ocean. The City with its dizzying buildings as sound buttresses is just one big conch shell.

This will take you to Flickr. I’ve started shooting the City. As if I don’t have a whole lot of time left here. I’m acting like the tourist I never was and always hated. 

I’ll be adding to this set periodically, so check it out every once in a while if you want.