The Transition From Student to Writer: #2: Three Journal Entries
April 1, 2004
Today is All Fools Day and is also the Day of Noah, and for some reason it presents a certain irony. Noah was probably in some way a fool; you could say that out of all the world, he was the biggest fool to put himself in a boat with a sample of all the animals. They were probably fewer than we imagine because the original animals were probably the beginnings of what evolved after they got off of the ark. More animals were created after the ark landed because of evolutions and natural genetic improvements. And yet, if he was the biggest fool, why was he the one chosen to save the innocent life on the world from God’s destruction of all the other lesser fools?
“Now who’s the fool?” Noah yelled, standing on top of his ark while the water rose and covered the towns, the forests, the mountains…
It rained today, and I almost missed it had I not taken the trash out when I did. I kept looking out the window at the sidewalks to see them suddenly turn a darker color to indicate the rain had begun; when I walked outside, I saw they were being sprinkled on gradually. I’m not used to these dreary, drizzly days where the clouds linger and hang about and decide to spit and tease us with the ever-present hope of maybe it will rain and maybe we will get moisture.
No, I’m used to rain that rumbles in like the lights that are dimmed right before the curtain opens. I’m used to the faucet being turned on all at once, soaking the earth like a sprinkler for a few glorious minutes, if it be 5 or 30–the longer the better–then fading away quickly, leaving a bright blue sky and a slight breeze and the smell of a dampened surface that sings to the sky.
I’m used to the gutters overflowing with water and the dirt and dust of the desert being swept away. We walk in the gutters, ankle, shin deep, walking with the soft current to find the deepest place possible to see how good this rain really is. I’m used to standing outside in sweaters and gloves and umbrellas when the rain is frigid and simply rejoicing in the smell, the sound, the sight of rain. I was born and raised in a desert where, if we did not get one snow of two or three inches that winter, we are guaranteed that the forests around us will all be closed because they can all be whiffed up in one small accident.
I laugh bitterly when you people say you are in a drought. You who have water flowing through your gutters during the summer and gutters filled with snow in the winter. I have seen snow do things I’ve never seen snow do before, and I’ve also seen more snow than I’ve ever seen in my life. Snow, in New Mexico, in not only a rarity, but if it snows at night or in the morning, it is all melted by five o’clock that same day.
“Save water! We’re in a drought!” Ha.
I was wandering around the world after the rain, relishing in the lovely silence of the world after a rain, and I chose the series of streets around my dorms. There is a street that I love, and if I could find an apartment with friends on that street, it would be perfect. I’d make sure it had reliable heating and a garbage disposal. If we’re lucky, I’d be glad for a dishwasher as well, but I’m an accommodating college student who really can’t ask for much “in this crazy, mixed up universe of ours”.
I would have a lovely tree or two in front of my house whose limbs are not halfway cut off by ignorant men who cannot see beauty. It would be near campus, and I’d have enough room inside to keep my books and my clothes. I’d have appreciative roommates, like Jasmine or Anne or even Andrea, whom I can talk to when I want and be silent with when I want. That’s it. Having a place where I could have a cat would be even nicer, but that’s saying too much.
Ah, well… One can dream…
December 5, 2004
I am glad I am not a computer. Computers get old and worn down very quickly. They are constantly replaced, updated, and always sworn at when their bones creak or their muscles ache. That first impression: “Wow. This thing is a beauty. Sleek, oiled, works perfectly, runs perfectly. The perfect tool.” It wears off quickly when it starts to feel inferior to the huge world it has to communicate. It’s never praised again, but always cursed for not being at it’s tip-top condition. Surely computers have their bad days too, their days when they fall short, they have no energy, they have trouble waking up, they don’t feel like doing what they’re asked to do. Surely computers get tired of being used as a tool.
I’ve been questioning lately, on and off, passionately, inquiringly, and fleetingly, what love is, and I’ve come to a couple of conclusions. One: There is no easy, simple answer, because if there were, then most of the songs in the world would have some other topic other than love. Two: There are lots of different kinds of love; I love cream of broccoli soup, I love Coldplay, I love my roommates, I love my family as I should, and I love a certain guy. The subject I’ve been thinking most on is that last one, and it’s because romantic love is the one I have had the least personal experience about.
On those same lines, I know I’m in love with this guy when I’m in the middle of a reading assignment and a thought from the middle of nowhere comes: “If he were to walk into this room and see me reading here, what would he think?” From that comes a pondering, wondering thought process of beauty at all times, and then a conclusion. Only a few certain individuals can look beautiful constantly. The rest of us can achieve it if we work hard or when we’re not expecting it.
May 5, 2005
This is a character-showing ordeal, it really is. The way each of us handles it is characteristic of who we are. Check-outs. Penny and I are kind of casually packing, doing a little, stopping and chilling for awhile. She in the living room with Nate and anyone else who’s sitting out there, watching TV in the sunlight, and I up in M’Linda’s peaceful atmosphere, writing. Eventually we get back to it, pack a huge chunk, and take a break.
Britt just got her cleaning checks done, and Sheena has had hers done for awhile now but is just hanging around, moving back and forth among the Brick House, the dorm and friends, and urging Sandy to focus so she can get on the road. Sandy is running around like a chicken with her head chopped off, being task-oriented but not finishing any one thing, snapping and demanding of everyone, still with a big pile of her junk piled in the hall and a window pane sitting on her bed. Kolleen has barely even started packing because she works so much, so everything is piled up in her space, a tornado disaster area put on hold.
This is also an example of keeping a mindset in the present, but still being mindful of the past and the future. It’s like a concept Dad told me about once. He said one of the reasons Joseph Smith was (and still is) an amazing individual was because he had a mindset in things of the present and of the future. He established churches for the congregations that existed now and looked forward to temples in the future. He raised a family in the present and fled from persecution that has stemmed from things in the past and yet still was mindful of priesthood developments that needed to happen. Like Joseph, I pack and yet I look forward to time with Just’In. I make all the necessary arrangements I need to for an event in the beginning of August, and yet I still take the time to enjoy my roommates and the closing of the school year.