Books I Read

I must be getting my drive to write back, because in the several year history of this blog, there has very rarely been a time when I publish a post so soon after publishing another one. Perhaps the writer's fatigue I've suffered from my last semester of college is finally wearing off. Maybe it's the zeal of the new year and the desire to actually make good on my resolution that is pushing me to write a bit more. Maybe I'm bored at work. Or maybe it's that my darling cousin Natalie recently asked me, in a comment on this very blog, what I read and where I get my inspiration from and this is in response to that.

In a fiction writing workshop I took during my undergrad, from one of my all time favorite professors, Nicole Sheets, we read what felt like a lot, and wrote response to what we read. Nicole said the purpose of this exercise was simple: the better reader you are, the better writer you are. As you may or may not know, I have a debilitating condition in my retinas and though it's been stable for quite a few years, I have some irreversible damage to my right retina, which causes me to read quite slowly and also have some trouble reading sometimes if I'm tired or the light is bad. This condition causes me to not read nearly as much as I should or would like to.

So when I do pick up a book, I'm pretty picky. It doesn't help that I'm also hard to please when it comes to genre, writing style, and characters. For example, have I ever read a Harry Potter book? No. Will I ever read a Harry Potter book? No. Not because I'm 29 and they're for adolescents or I don't think J.K. Rowling isn't a brilliant writer and story teller. It's because fantasy will almost never find a home in my life (see list below for exceptions; Tolkien is always an exception). I've tried to read it, and I usually can't do it. I can't make myself believe that this could be real. I actually find this to be very limiting and a little irritating, but I know I won't write fantasy because that's not what I'm good at.

What I'm good at, and subsequently what I usually like to read, is non-fiction. I think this genre is slightly overlooked by a lot of people, mainly because it can be, or seem, quite mundane to some people. And let's face it, a book chronicling the resurgence of political power by the Libertarian party isn't going to interest a large percentage of the American public. But everyone has a story, and lots of the time it's a pretty interesting story, and if it's told right, it can be cool to read about. What I like about non-fiction is that it's real, it happened to someone and someone gained something from the experience. (That's not to say all non-fiction is true. James Frey anyone? But that's a different discussion for a different day. It's also not to say that fiction never comes from real life experiences, but that too, is a different discussion for a different day).

Anyway, this has turned into quite the diatribe when all I was meaning to do was list some of my favorite books. So without further ado, here it is, the list!

• The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien
• Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea - Chelsea Handler
• Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (this is for real! "I get lost in the language, words like 'thither', 'mischance'... 'fel-icity'.")
• Cool, Calm, and  Contentious - Merrill Markoe (currently reading, and it's awesome)
• Peter and Wendy - J.M. Barrie (also known as Peter Pan)
• Dewey: The Small Town Library Cat who Touched the World - Vicki Myron
• "The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes" - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
• The Blind Side - Michael Lewis
• "The Great American Essay" Series
• Me Talk Pretty One Day - David Sedaris

Some books I really want to read include:

• The Boys of My Youth - Jo Ann Beard (out of print! :[ )
• Steve Jobs - Walter Isaacson (which I got for Christmas and is 600 pages and 42 chapters long)
• One Day It'll All Make Sense - Common (yes, the rapper)

And so there you have it. If you're so inclined, please leave a comment and tell me some of your favorite books or authors, or anything you think I should read, or how narrow-minded I am for not liking fantasy. Go nuts! I would also like to state that I absolutely abhor the Twilight series for several reasons which I will now list: bad, bad, bad, bad writing, the absolute worst female lead ever, ridiculous premise, and an awful message to all the pre-teen girls who are devouring those books that life does not go on if your vampire boyfriend leaves you. The End

Remembering Tom & Andy

Every year around this time, a little black cloud settles over my world. It's not voluntary, it's almost mandatory, and there is little I can do about it. It generally goes away after January 6th and things can get back to normal.

This January 6th is the 13 year anniversary of the day my brothers died. 13 years feels like a long time, and I suppose that's because it is a long time. Much of the time, Tom & Andy don't come up in our everyday conversation. As time's worn on, our memories have progressed to a place that doesn't constantly focus on what's not here. But when I close my eyes, I can still see them perfectly- sitting in their room, listening to depression rock and laughing, Tom making cookies in the kitchen (he was the best with peanut butter and pumpkin chocolate chip), Andy painting on his fancy, beautiful easel with oil paints... such a steady hand, blending colors seamlessly in the backdrop on his work... my favorite is the sunflower- bright yellow petals against a fading, brilliant blue sky. Rich, green leaves seem to wave at you as the flower watches from it's canvas.

Tom & Andy were wonderful brothers. There were some rough years in there with Andy being addicted to heroin. That devil dictated his every move and he hurt many people because of it. There was a lot of anger and sadness in our family because of it, and when he came back and asked for forgiveness, it hurts me to admit that it took me much longer than it should have to let him back in. Regardless of those years and his transgressions, Andy was the coolest. It wasn't even anything he did, it was his demeanor and the way he treated people. He was charismatic and charming, and maybe it was my adolescent naivety but he always made me feel like I was the coolest too.

Tom was brilliant. Really, he was brilliant. He could do anything as long as it made sense to him, and things like science and engineering made sense to Tom. He could stay up for hours and days on end, work the night shift at Amoco while finishing his chemical engineering degree at the U. and stil be the wittiest person on earth. I loved going to visit Tom when he was working at the gas station because he'd let me get a soda from the fountain for only the cost of the cup, lid, and straw. That was roughly a dime, at least that's all he'd charge me. He was always trying to protect me from the harsh realities of the world... pretending the coffee smell in his car was something he was hauling to the station and not his preferred morning beverage... I guess he always wanted me to think the best of him, and I did; whether he was showing me his 20 page test that was 1 problem long, trying so hard to tutor me-the untutorable- in geometry, or even going night boarding at Brighton.

Now they're gone, as they have been since 1999. But last year a miracle happened. On January 6th, 2011, my nephew was born, a little boy named Thomas Andrew. I knew he'd be born on the 6th, he had to be. And Thomas is going to be as brilliant and charming as his namesakes. He already is. A kid that can capture the attention of a room just by entering it, and he can't even walk yet. He's brought sunshine and joy to a day my family has dreaded for 13 years, and though the deep meaning of the day still looms and beckons depression, Thomas crawls in, flaps his arms and kicks his legs, slips you that smile and chases the depression back into the recesses from whence it came. Thomas has literally saved the day.

Thomas was here visiting with his parents for Christmas this year. My other youngest nephew, Zach: son of Ben, was over on Christmas Eve, playing with Thomas as they opened their Christmas Eve presents. As I watched them play I couldn't help but see my brothers in those two beautiful boys.

2012: End of Days... I Don't Write

I've been thinking for a week or so about what I'd like to write in this space about Christmas. I never did  come up with a golden idea, because Christmas means so many things to different people, and even though this is my blog, I didn't know what I wanted to say. I will say this about Christmas though- whatever you believe, however you celebrate, whether you did or didn't get what you hoped for, the Christmas season- those 5 weeks between the fourth Thursday in November and the first day of January- is a time of love, and though it may not feel like it in these modern times of political correctness and war, a time of peace. I hope the spirit of love and peace blessed and touched everyone this season, and I hope you got what you wanted for Christmas.

Now, tis the season to make resolutions. I very often don't actually end up making resolutions, and as often as I do make them, I don't end up keeping any of them. I got to thinking about my resolutions for 2011, and when I realized I hadn't accomplished any of them I also realized I didn't make any last year. I was decidedly too busy being in Newport Beach "living the life", sharing a condo with my niece and nephews and going to the Rose Bowl to be bothered with resolutions. Apparently. At least I have somewhat of an excuse for not growing or progressing as a person. Right? Right?!?!

Anyway, this year I am actually going to make a resolution or two, and I'm writing them here so that I can actually A) remember what it is and B) have a constant reminder that I am either accomplishing it or am a complete slug for not doing anything.

Mu first resolution is to work on my book. That doesn't mean I need to work on it everyday. Baby steps, baby steps. It means that I need to do some serious work on it over the next year. Preferably to have it done by this time next year. That would be ideal. My last semester of college was an immense amount of writing and I was burned out, but I think that's wearing off and I might be ready to work on this project. I hope I am anyway, because I feel like a lazy, ungrateful teenage (2 of which I am NOT) for not working on it during all my loads of free time.

I've been thinking really hard about a second resolution and I can't really come up with one. I suppose I'd like to work on maybe not hating the general population so much, perhaps not letting people's idiocy irritate me so much, possiblly attempt to have a brighter outlook on life. I'm not sure these are things I can change though. I do wish that I liked people, that I could be a little more like my brother-in-law Andrew and get along with everyone, whether I like them or not. But I'm not going to be that way and I know it. I think that's why I want to be a writer, so I can sit in my house and be a recluse because that's what writers do. 

I always admire the people who have overcome adversity and have had generally really hard lives and still believe the best about people and the world. I do wish I could be like that, but I've become jaded, for no particular reason other than it's the easier thing to do, and believing the best in people seems cliched to me now. Perhaps if I can change my way of thinking, I can start believing the best in people. Rather than being a judgey-pants, I should make up stories about people in my head, decide that maybe the creeper on the bus isn't just a gangly oaf who stares at me, but a guy who trains seeing eye dogs on the weekends, and during the week, on the bus, pretends to be blind so he can understand the impact his work with seeing eye dogs has on people. Right? Right??!?!

So I guess that means my second resolution is to change my way of thinking. Easier said than done, but a resolution isn't a resolution unless it's challenging. If I actually do get my book written and am successful in starting to believe that people are inherently good and not irritating, 2012 might actually be the end of days. 

Somewhere, Beyond the Sea

This is for Nikki.

Somewhere high above the city, through the cumulonimbus and the thinning atmosphere, past the spot where stars twinkle and the moon smiles, beyond earth and beyond space, is a world without doors, sadness, or heartbreak. It's a place of light and love, where love really never dies and white is always in season. The gloriousness of this place can hardly be conveyed by a mere mortal. Having never been there, only symbolically I suppose, I can only imagine what it's truly like. But I do know that there is no disease, pain, or sorrow. Suffering is left behind and joy fills every crevice because the journey is over, and all were triumphant.

The worst part of this world is the ones left behind, the ones still suffering through grief and sorrow here on earth. It's hard to see sometimes that the ones you've lost are better because you feel so much worse. Slowly specs of time start to fill the emptiness inside, and confirmation will come through in the tiniest of ways to let you know everything will indeed be alright. An Everclear song on the radio, a sunflower on the side of the highway, two peas in a pod from the garden... It's the evolution of the soul in so many different contexts, all meaningful and all pertinent to the progression of the human spirit.

Loss is never easy. If it were, it wouldn't be called "loss", or the word wouldn't have such a negative connotation. The most sacred part of loss is knowing that eternity exists, the afterlife is there, and for the rest of your journey in this life can be propelled by knowing the ones you loved and lost will be there waiting for you when your sojourn is through. And that living without them, though never easy, does get more bearable, and even a little less lonely, even if it's the most minuscule amount humanly possible.

Somewhere, through the gray of the clouds and the inversion over this valley, past the light pollution from the skyscrapers downtown, above the space station and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn's rings, waits paradise for all of us.

All I Want for Christmas is...

World peace. No, I'm not a beauty pageant contestant, but world peace would make things a lot easier, and a lot less interesting. I know world peace is an impossible dream, and honestly I'm not one who dreams it very often. If there was world peace, and everyone got along, there was no more fighting or disease, what would Jon Stewart have to talk about? So for the sake of "The Daily Show", world peace isn't what I want for Christmas. What I really did ask for is as follows: The Biography of Steve Jobs, Cool, Calm, and  Contentious by Merrill Markoe, and a fluffy kitten. Other than that, I don't really need or want anything. Well, there are things that I need/want, but they are a little out of reach of the normal person.

In no particular order...

• Enough money to pay off student loans
• The heartbreak of missing my brothers at the holidays would disappear
• A kidney (naturally)
• No more Medicare premiums (especially the one due on Christmas Day)
• For my young friend Nikki and her husband Spencer to have strength, peace, and comfort during this difficult time in their lives.
• No more hungry people
• No more Rachel Ray or Twilight
• Peace for the brokenhearted
• Love for the lonely
• Robert  Downey Jr. 
• "Community" to be back on NBC this January

I feel like some of those things have a distinctive "Grown Up Christmas List" feel which was not my aim at all. But I really do want for there to be no more hungry people, especially kids, in the world. And if Robert Downey Jr. showed up at my house, I would not turn him away. Anyway, the point of this really, is that... oh I don't know. I guess I just hope that everyone will remember that love is the most important part of this season, even though it's fun to go to Christmas parties, find that perfect gift, convince your nephews you're getting them coal from the new "coal store" at the mall... I think John Lennon had it right. "All we need is love" this Christmas season, and all the year round. All we need is love, love, love, love, love.

I think that really is all I want for Christmas.

A Response to the Ultimatum Letter from My Transplant Coordinator

** Mere seconds after I published this I realized that to you, the reader, this might seem a little unfair toward the University of Utah Transplant Program. It might seem that way, but it is not. If you knew all the ghosts on the inside of the situation, you would realize that I may be more than generous here.

Dear Heidi,

Thank you for your recent letter, which I received in the mail today (17/11/11). I did not appreciate your tone, nor did I appreciate your ultimatum. While it is true that I have not returned the 3 phone calls you've placed to me "in the last 2 months" as your letter states, did you or did you not speak with my mother on the phone just last week? The messages you left me did not appear to be urgent, as you said each time you were calling to "check in". I did not feel it necessary to call you back.  Here is why:

• I was in your program for one full year and received approximately 2 phone calls from the other coordinator. If I called, I was treated abhorrently; like a small, idiot child who failed to understand the intricacies of organ transplantation and the required waiting time when one is on the wait list. Well, I do understand and I've done this before. I just found it odd that a terminally ill patient (granted ALL transplant patients are terminal) was contacted only TWICE in one year, once to say there was an available kidney and NOPE, clerical error!, and second to say I needed to come to transplant clinic if I wanted to say on the list. That does not set a great precedence.
• Because of the seeming incompetence of your program, I've been in the process of switching to the transplant program at IMC, where they are shocked that I've been on the wait list at your program for a year and a half and STILL do not have a kidney. Yes, I'm switching from your program, not being double listed, leaving, abandoning ship, saying sionara. For the last 18 months, I've been on the UNOS list, which I know you don't control, but my sister and I have also been in 2 paired donor programs which have yielded no results, and most likely, no trying for results. As it turns out, your program has never done a paired exchange, while the IMC program does them frequently, with people who have higher PRAs than I do. A paired exchange is my best bet, therefore your program is not my best bet. 
• Your letter stated that you need to be able to get hold of people on the wait list within 1 hour of when a kidney becomes available. I believe you currently have my cell, home, work, mother's, and sister's numbers, all of which would be adequate to reach me on if a kidney was indeed available. It's probably wrong to assume, but I figured that you would go ahead and try me on one of the other 4 numbers you have listed for me if, in fact, a kidney was available and you could not reach me on my cell, which for the record is the only number you've called other than my mother's last week. Also, I'd like to think that if you did have a kidney available for me that you'd tell me on the message instead of saying you were "checking in" each and every time you called.

I recognize that the gross negligence on your program's part in the first 18 or so months that I've been with it does not mean that I should now turn the tables. I did actually think that my transfer to IMC was complete and that any day I should be taken off your list and out of your system as an active patient. It is my own fault for not recognizing that. But the threat in your letter? That you're going to place me as inactive if you don't hear from me by December 1st? The University Health Care Transplant Program has been contented to ignore and belittle me for a year and a half. Now you are taking my life, which no one has ever shown regard for, and threatening to put it on hold, once again and even more than it already is, because of an unreturned phone call? It seems a little petty and a lot ridiculous. 

So look forward to me calling you tomorrow. And I'm not going to hold back. I'm going to tell you exactly what I think of your program and exactly what I think of the letter you sent. Then I'm going to tell you all the reasons why I'm transferring to another program. Lastly i'm going to tell you good riddance and that my experience with the University Transplant Program has inspired me to make sure the next job I get has insurance that is accepted by IHC, or Select Health or whatever it's called  now, because I NEVER want to have to even consider being treated by anyone in your program again.

Until tomorrow,

Sarah 

Life Makes Love Look Hard

 I've been pondering something lately that I never thought I'd do, or ponder: online dating. Stop laughing. All I've been doing is pondering it. I haven't signed up for match.com, or taken whatever compatibility test eHarmony advertises, or even gone to any of those sites to "check them out". I've just been thinking about it because I currently have no viable avenues for meeting men. Unless you count the bus, which I don't.

Since I moved back with my parents (for medical reasons, y'all) I'm not going to church with any single people. They're all married with children, or just married, or retired with glaucoma. I don't meet anyone at work, even though I work at the University and there are literally thousands of men there. I work a desk job, and my office has very little traffic. Occasionally people come in to use my stapler (no innuendo intended) but that's about it. All my good friends are married or dating-committed and I am apparently not the friend anyone sets up with people they know.

I know I have some issues. The whole no-kidney-terminal-illness thing is sort of a big deal, and I know from past experience that it's a big deal to other people too, and not "I'm kind of a big deal" in a good way. It's scary, not knowing whether you're going to live forever with dialysis or always be sick. It's scary to others who don't understand, or even worse, who do understand the gravity of the situation. Because of my medical issues I may not be able to have my own kids and in the LDS culture that can be a deal breaker for a lot of guys, which means I am sort of a deal breaker myself, not by any fault of my own, but just because it's become my lot in life. I think that's why Mormon boys don't like me. I don't fit into the mold of perfect wife, perfect life. With me nothing is really ever perfect, it's always a little messy and I don't think anyone thinks "I can't wait to get married and have a messy life".

So maybe it's not in the cards for me. Maybe the tables will turn one day and I'll be my parents' caretaker, rather than the other way around- which is what it is right now. I can always be cool Aunt Sarah and buy my nieces' and nephews' love with gifts, since I won't have any kids or a husband of my own to spend my book money on. I'll finally get my fluffy gray kitten, but I'll draw the line at one. I will not become the local cat lady. I'll travel the world... well maybe just Europe and the Caribbean and other places that I won't get diseases by drinking the water. I'll buy a house on the beach in Carlsbad and the ocean can be my companion. At least I'd be reassured that it will always be around.

And that's why I've started thinking about online dating. Because planning my life of solitude does not seem like the life I really want to have for myself. Lord knows I can't cook for just one and I hate leftovers, so I really need to have someone to cook for. And I really need to have someone to write to. and I really need someone to love with. Love rich and love deep and love far. Just love.

For Every Season

I was thinking about Christmas today. I was looking at the "Catch of the Day" deals on Boden and started looking at girls' clothes for my nieces for Christmas and I realized, it's only mid-October, I don't need to be thinking about Christmas yet. But by that time it was too late and I was in the throes of twinkle lights and ringing bells and the smell of cinnamon almonds in malls. Ugly sweater parties and white elephant gifts and love and laughter and that little bit of heartbreak that comes with knowing someone is missing. And that feeling that takes over the earth, that one that can't really be described other than to say it feels like it's the holidays. I love that feeling, and even though it means another year has come and gone, and that I'm another year older with little to show for it, I'm actually excited for it to be the holiday season once again.

Now, as it is only mid-October, I'll enjoy the fall(ing) leaves and the weather that's finally making it feel like fall. Football and salted caramel hot chocolate from Starbucks and cranberries and pumpkin and that little holiday we call Thanksgiving. And I'll enjoy that since the surgery last week (and only now do I realize the most clever title for that blog post would have been "Surgery V: The Final CUT) and 6 days of recovery, things are looking up. My hand doesn't hurt all the time, in fact only some of my fingers are numb. I can get all the way through dialysis without need of pain killers or lessened time. I can type more than a sentence without needing to take a break because of forearm fatigue. Sure, I have a catheter in my leg but as it turns out, fem caths are a lot less bothersome to me than the ones they put in my chest.

I didn't really get to enjoy my summer, and I got a week of fall enjoyment in  Boston before the s*** hit the fan in September, now I can hopefully enjoy the rest of fall and the coming holiday season. It's weird to think it'll be here before we all know it. But days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and seasons change and memories fade and suddenly you're 29, wondering where your youth has gone. (so dramatic, I know) You blink your eye and suddenly your little cousin is old enough to drink, your dad is getting ready to retire, your little brother is a father and you find yourself saying phrases like "When I was a teenager we didn't all have cell phones". And worst of all,  you find yourself writing dribble like this on your blog. It's kinda tough getting older, but it's tough when you're young too. ;) 

Surgery V: The Final Chapter (Hopefully)

It's my birthday week, and it's gearing up to be not-that-bad of a week. Maybe. As of 8 a.m. this morning it was going to be a normal, calm week. Then I went to have my stitches removed and now I'm having surgery #5 on my arm on Thursday. The blood flow to my right hand has been greatly diminished because the graft is "stealing" the blood from it, and it's getting worse every day so Dr. Sarfati is going to tie off and/or remove the graft so I can regain the full use of my right hand. Being right handed, this will be very beneficial to me. But it's also very bittersweet. It means that all these surgeries, all this pain and tribulation, all these scars were all for naught. Hopefully this will be the end of my vascular journey/nightmare and I can just get a kidney and get on with my life.

But this week is full of more than just surgery. Wednesday I finally meet with the transplant surgeon at IMC, an appointment that has been delayed twice because they've been doing transplants (a good sign!), AND it's the Season 6 premier of PSYCH, my favorite television show of all time. This is a big deal to me because I really do love "Psych" and it can get me laughing when nothing else can.
Shawn-"Gus, don't be both Ashlee Simpson albums."
Gus-"There were 3 Ashlee Simpson albums, Shawn."
S-"What? How is that possible?"
G-"There was 'Autobiography', 'I Am Me', and-"
S-"I can't do this with you right now."
hahaha oh Shawn and Gus, I wish  I lived in  your world. Friday I should be getting the new iPhone 4S for my birthday, assuming my dad can fight through the crowd and get to the AT&T store in the first 30 seconds they're open to get me one before they run out. It's my birthday present. I'm excited. Plus I already bought a kate spade iPhone 4 cover and I needs a phone to put it on. Saturday is my actual birthday and it will be filled with dialysis, Utah v. Pitt, napping, dinner, and probably more napping. Sunday is the family celebration for mine and Max's birthdays which will include two of my favorite things: Chocolate Rum Cake from Leslie's and cranberry salad.

Birthday weeks shouldn't include surgery, but what can you do? I'm looking forward to having a hand that doesn't feel like its wickedly asleep all the time. At least I'm praying that is the end result. Happy birthday to me.

You Are Punished

Read that title as if you're saying the word "punished" in the Shakespearean way. "Punish-ED" sounds so much more fierce and deplorable that just the American way. Let's think about that word for a second....

That's what I feel is happening to me. I feel like I'm being punished for some grievous offense but I don't know what I've done to warrant such a penalty. The last few weeks have been rough. It started with a clotted graft, then some surgery that turned into the worst possible worst case scenario, a couple of incisions and a whole bunch of stitches, almost critical blood loss, a fem cath in my right leg, and numbness in three of five fingers that becomes so unbearably painful during dialysis I wonder if cutting off my hand isn't a better option.

So I think to myself as I'm lying in bed, or massaging my fingers in hopes of the numbness dissipating, or when I get winded walking from my bedroom to the living room: What did I do? And this is, of course, the entirely wrong way of looking at it. I should be grateful that things aren't worse. I should be, but that's kind of hard to grasp because to me, things really can't get any worse. Now I should knock on wood before lightning strikes me.

But I'm out of options for vascular access now that we know I have a condition that causes my veins to occlude after they suffer any trauma. I have no more major veins to sustain a catheter, other than the one that is already housing one in my leg. If my graft fails, that permanent femoral catheter is my dialysis access. End of story. I need a kidney. That's the answer to all of this. I just need a kidney that works and that will stay.
***
The silence in my heart is killing me. I can't find it, no matter how hard I try. It slipped through my hands like glitter falling to the floor and the sparkle has faded away. What once could have been great is now all but a memory served in bittersweet palates. "Never mind I'll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best for you. Don't forget me, I beg, I remember you said- sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead" (ADELE). Maybe I'm writing this off too quickly, but silence is golden and incriminating, and I don't wait forever.
***
The two things that have gone right in the last two weeks were at least pretty spectacular. The UTES beat BYU in royal fashion 54-10, in Provo. That made up for the clotted graft and the 13 hour dialysis day on 9/17. Though I had tickets to the game and couldn't go due to the aforementioned problems. It was a great game. And the best part was Utah's team coming together and playing as one entity, all connected, all in sync, all with perfect, timely execution and kept the cougars and Jake Heaps' ego in check. One of my favorite moments was in the 4th quarter when Heaps got benched in favor of 2nd string QB Riley Nelson. He looked as if he might cry. And yet, his post game comments failed to reflect the awfulness of his, or his team's performance. It's alright though. "Ute fans remain classy. Smug, but classy." (Ted Miller, ESPN)

On Wednesday I went to the Taylor Swift concert with my mom. She is just amazing. Her show was spectacular, to say the least. It was what I needed, even if I couldn't stand up. Say what you will about Taylor Swift and the strength of her voice, her lyrics make up for any range or belt-ability that she might lack. I was very pleased that she sang all my favorite songs from her "Speak Now" album. This is the third time I've seen her show, and it gets better and better every time. She seems to love performing in Salt Lake, probably because we have more little girls per capita that can produce a severe cheer in an arena, so I'm hoping the next time she comes here my nieces will be big enough to take. They would love it. That show solidified Taylor was one of my all time favorite artists. She writes songs from the heart, that transcend generations and ethnicities and differences. If I can someday write something half as beautiful as "Last Kiss", I will be successful as a writer.

For now, I'm alive. I guess I've got that going for me.

Can't Blame a Girl for Trying

Some things that I write in this public space are purposefully ambiguous. Sometimes I don't want readers to know exactly what I'm thinking so I use the power of words to get it across in a less-than-obvious way. This isn't one of those times, and if the person this concerns reads it, maybe it'll cause him to rethink his strategy.

There's a guy I've been friends with for a few years. He's one of the best people I've known in any capacity and I think the world of him. I've resisted any sort of romantic inclinations towards him for several reasons- mainly he lived out of town and I personally think it's rather impossible to start a relationship when you live in different states. For the past year our relationship has developed and I found myself suppressing feeling I wasn't sure he was reciprocating. He'd make a point of visiting me every time he came to town and we started having frequent lengthy phone conversations, longer phone conversations than I've ever had with any of my best friends. Things he said to me were starting to make me believe maybe he wasn't being completely honest about his feeling for me- and really, who ever is? Especially in a situation like this where the two of you have been friends for a long time and no one wants to ruin a great friendship lest the other person doesn't feel the same way- but I was still trying to remain uninterested in anything more than a friendship. Then June happened.

He was coming to town for a relative's wedding and invited me to go. So I did. He introduced me to his family, we danced, sampled brownies, generally had a good time. And as I left I knew I couldn't fight it anymore- I was legitimately interested in this man. So I froze, naturally, because I didn't know how to react to my own feelings or what to do next, especially considering he didn't live in close proximity to me. Then he decided to move back. So now I just had to bide my time for 2 months until he came back to Salt Lake. In the meantime we continued on our "best friends forever" path, I think we both were mostly covering up what we really wanted from each other, both just waiting until August and we could see each other face to face.

He moved back to Utah. I saw him the day after he got in town, and both nights the next weekend, and again before I left for Boston. But suddenly everything changed. Without warning or notice, he's unreachable, and it's been weeks since we've talked- and for our relationship that's a big deal- and despite my best efforts I can't get him to talk to me. And it's even more frustrating because I haven't the faintest idea why. The most perplexing part is that I thought we were better friends than this, it always seemed to me we were beyond being petty and repugnant. It seems I was wrong.

Now it's almost 5 a.m., I've been awake since 3, and anyone who knows me well knows it takes a lot for me to lose sleep over something. And I'm filled with regret. Regret that I haven't ever told him that I think he's wonderful and he makes me happy, and I'd be pretty lucky if he felt the same way. And that we've had a fantastic friendship but we could be so much better together. All I want is a chance to tell him, so he will know and I can feel like I've done everything I can do to make this into something more. And if he doesn't want it then I'll know, and I can move on. You can't blame a girl for trying.

I Left My Heart in Boston

My blog has been a real downer the last little while, and for that I don't apologize. Life isn't always sunshine and optimism, and if you believe that you're kidding yourself. That also doesn't mean that negativity needs to rule your psyche, it just means that sometimes things are hard, and it's fine if you want to vent about it on your blog.

Despite all the dialysis drama that's been happening lately, I got myself out of town last week and went to Boston to visit my brother and sister-in-law and nephew, also known as Tim, Corinne, and Thomas. I was pretty psyched because I'd never been to Boston before and I love the East Coast (I believe I'm meant to live on a coast, either West or East, none of this enclosed mountain valley crap for me) plus I could use a break from everything that had been going on. My parents and I flew to Boston on the 2nd, and Tim met us at the airport. We immediately picked up our rental car and proceeded to Tim and Corinne's house in Waltham.

I find that I never miss the mountains when on vacation. As a general rule I try to vacation in places that don't have tall mountain peaks. Driving down the Mass Pike I discovered this was still true. I love a good skyline, and even though it may seem unnatural, I love a skyline that's all buildings way more than nature.

Whilst in Boston we did all the usual things: Freedom Trail (sort of. Naturally it was raining on the day we were going to walk it so we became pretty picky about our stops), Old North Church, Mike's Pastry in the North End for pretty amazing cannoli, Legal Sea Food's, Fenway for a Sox game (witnessed a grand slam, the one thing that can make baseball interesting for a minute or two), Harvard, Boston Common and the Public Gardens.

I love America. And I love history, so it was pretty neat (That is neat!) to see the Old State House where the Declaration of Independence was first read to the people of Boston, and sort of see where the Boston Massacre took place. It happened right outside the Old State House, and it turned out to be a giant misunderstanding over a wig bill. We couldn't really see the spot because it was under construction. I didn't think there would really be blood on the cobblestone anyway. We ate lunch at Quincy Market and gazed at Fanueil Hall, sat in the enclosed (and still used) pews of the Old North Church, went to Harvard Square where I saw with mine own eyes the ivy covered walls of excellence, pomp, and academia.

We had the best seafood. Really, I don't know if it can be beat. Fresh, huge lobster at Woodman's of Essex, and of course fried clams, since that is where fried clams came into being. The most amazing calamari you've ever had at Legal Sea Food's, as well as amazing everything else at Legal. English pub food at John Brewer's, and who knew that Boston was such a pizza city? There were a lot of options if you wanted pizza. I did not, however, have a Fenway Frank at Fenway Park. Instead Tim and I had Fenway Fried Dough and Cokes, just what one needs to make baseball great.

Went shopping on Newbury Street- where it cost more to park for 2 hours than I spent at H&M- and in the Prudential Center and Copley Place. Visited Gloucester and Salem and Cape Ann on Labor Day and bought a lobster sucker at the Woodman's gift shop, where one can purchase a "Woodman's of Essex" shirt for your dog.

I spent a lot of time hanging out with Tim, Corinne, and Thomas, staying up to watch TCU get beat by Baylor with Tim, talking sports and inadvertently showing Thomas his first football game, a right that was supposed to be reserved for a BYU game. The game I watched with him was not a BYU game. We celebrated Tim's birthday and the big news they shared with us. Took Thomas to the beach for the first time. He was not crazy about the temperature of the Atlantic. Also took Thomas for his first T-ride. He was less than thrilled.

When the week was over and it was time to go, I worked real hard to not cry, or let anyone see that I was ruining my makeup with tears. Saying "so long" to Tim on Newbury Street was sad. I'd forgotten how much fun we have together, and how well we get along and bond over sports. Biding farewell to Corinne and Thomas an hour later in Waltham was just as hard. It was nice to be able to connect with Corinne on a level we've previously failed to achieve, and Thomas- that darling, sweet boy was the light of my life for the week I spend in Boston and it broke my heart to have to say goodbye to him. Even now, writing about it, I'm blinking back tears.

When we boarded the plane and waited for takeoff, I put in my ears and listened to "Leaving on a Jet Plane". I texted Tim and quoted lyrics from the song: "I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again. Oh [guys] I hate to go." Those lyrics epitomized what I was feeling. I wasn't ready to come back to Salt Lake. I didn't want to. I wanted to go downtown and find a tiny apartment and fly by the seat of my pants in the city. I felt like I belonged in Boston, like it was where I was meant to be, and leaving it to go back to a place I seem to barely tolerate left me feeling empty and "so lonesome I could die". But I know I'm not meant to stay here, and I really think I'll make it to Boston when the time is right.

In sum, it was an amazing trip. Sincerest thanks to my parents for taking me and paying for pretty much everything and for buying me that Red Sox sweatshirt I really wanted. And to Tim and Corinne and Thomas for letting me stay with them and for showing me the glories of Massachusetts and pumpkin donuts at Dunkin'. It was a nice reprieve from my current state of being. Boston, I'll be back.