Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone...

**I originally wrote this post back in August, but never posted it. In light of Tiger Woods' recent struggles with the media, I've decided it is again relevant*

What makes any sex/money/politics/family/religious scandle ten times worse? A failed cover-up... Everyone loves a good cover-up right? Just ask Bill Clinton how much a cover up really works? Or Richard Nixon if you need a second opinion. And if you're still not sure, ask the Catholic Church if any sort of cover-up worked out for them. A failed cover-up only adds fuel to the fire and headlines to the news.

How many times have you promised not to tell a soul, heard a story and then turned right around and told someone else? (I know what you're thinking..."But I made them promise not to tell anyone, so I'm ok.") Its a social disease and everyone has it, NO ONE CAN KEEP A SECRET. We've all done it and I'm just as guilty. You hear a juicy, tantalizing story about someone and you just have to tell someone. I don't write this post because someone betrayed my secret trust, quite the contrary. For some reason people feel drawn to tell me their secrets. Sometimes people don't tell me their secrets and then think I don't know, but really someone already told me the secret. Confused yet? Basically, I know your secret. I contemplated making a list of all the super awesome secrets I know about people. I'm sure to get a few more readers, but a lot less friends. So your secret is safe with me...for now.

Don't take pity on me...

Life can be rough. I've been sick for the last month with a cold and then the H1N1 flu. I wrecked my car. I can't find a job...blah blah blah. Sadly, I even went as far to say, "I feel like Job" as a Facebook status. How pathetic am I? So I kinda thew together this little poem...I can't even remember the last time I wrote a poem.

Don't take pity on me.

Empathize for the sick and the dying who's days are marked.

Give solace to the soldiers who risk their lives for freedom.

Have mercy for those who wilt away in prisons for crimes long ago.

Don't take pity on me.

Pray for the starving children who awake and sleep each day with pangs of hunger.

Feel compassion for the homeless who sleep on cold concrete and search for shelter.

Have charity for those downtrodden who have no one to love.

Don't take pity on me.

I have my health.

I have my freedom.

I have my future.

Don't take pity on me.

I have my subsistence.

I have my home.

I have my family.

Don't take pity on me.

Cheating...

As most of you know, for the last two years I’ve been a substitute teacher. I don’t do it a whole lot, but its always an adventure when I do. If I were smarter, I would’ve written down all my funny and memorable experiences…but I didn’t. But yesterday, I got a good one…

I was subbing a high school English class. The students were taking a vocabulary quiz using a scantron. I’m at my desk, minding my own business, when I see out of the corner of my eye, some girl slyly slide the test and scantron into her notebook. I’ve seen this move before. I call it the “switch-n-sneak.” Here’s how the rouse works: Students take the test home, complete it, then sneak it back into the classroom. Maybe they’ll put it in the basket or hide it among papers on the teacher’s desk. All in the hope that the teacher thinks they’ve simply overlooked it among all the other papers they have. It’s a solid move when executed correctly. But sadly, this girl doesn’t understand how to play the game. She was WAY TOO sneaky and I caught on. I saw her do it…but decided to see what her plan was. So I wait until ‘everyone’ is done and count up the exams. Of course, I’m one short. So I play the idiot and ask, “Who isn’t done yet?” No one responds… “Ok, so I’m an exam short. Did someone not take it?” Silence…but I decide to wait this one out and let the guilt eat her alive. After about 30 seconds of awkward silence she says, “Oh, I was gone last time so I didn’t take it.” Again, playing the part of the idiot I say, “Oh. That makes sense. So did I give you the exam and scantron?” She, thinking she’s in the clear, says, “Nope. I just didn’t take one.” It crossed my mind to cause a major scene and jump up on my desk, scream “YOU LIE!”, grab the notebook from her desk and parade it around…but I declined. I let her think she had gotten away with it for a few more minutes. When the class had moved on to other things, I sat down in the desk next to her, smiled and said, “Ya…so I saw you sneak the test into your notebook. Lets not cause a scene, so how about you just give it back to me and we move on?” She got a wide eyed look on her face and then accepted my pardon by handing over the exam. Hopefully she learned a valuable lesson on lying, but I doubt it. She’ll probably just refine her game for next time.

Some students walk into a class I’m substitute teaching in and automatically assume I’m an idiot. I know from experience that some subs are idiots…I just try not to think of myself as one. They probably think they can get away with their little tricks and games. Most of them don’t realize that I was in high school not so long ago and I learned those tricks and games and substitute teaching has only refined my skills. The “switch-n-sneak” was in play long before this girl attempted it and it’ll be here long after. I know of tricks she hasn’t even dreamed of. I’ve heard of all the tricks, seen some in action and even practiced a few. This are some of the tricks I’ve encountered in one way or another:

• “The Sneak-n-switch”: cousin of the “switch-n-sneak.” It works in almost the opposite way. You somehow get a hold of the test before hand and sneak in your answers. Say you have an in-class essay. You write the essay beforehand, in the comfort of your home, and then simply turn that one in.

• “The Informant” or “The Accomplice”: where you have a friend who has the class before you and can relay information to you. They take the test, then relay information to you that you use when you take the test. This works best if the principle of reciprocity works: you need to have class before them somewhere in your schedule so you can return the favor.

• “The Morse Code”: This one is elaborate. You and a friend in the same class devise a system of sharing answers using a series of signals or taps on the desk. You tap out the number in question and then have a system taps to indicate the answers; A=1 tap, B=2 taps, etc. This one is tricky and can’t be used often.

• “The Hall Pass”: In this case, you store valuable information in you locker. Get stuck on a question, use the hall pass, find said answer. Again, this is a one-time deal. Unless you have a 44 oz. Mountain Dew on your desk…then maybe you can get away with two trips.

• “The Technology”: This one involves the sophisticated use of technology. Most teachers will let students listen to an iPod while taking a test. Classical music is always good to get the brain firing, right? Well, what if that “Classical Music: Track 1” is actually a series of recorded notes? Don’t laugh, I’ve seen it in action.

• “The Old School”: This is where you writes on some portion of your body, ie. Your hand, arm, ankle, etc. Or writing notes on a pencil, the brim of your hat, tongue of your shoe, etc. Again, these techniques are old school to the core.

• “The Pre-emptive Strike”: This is where you miss the class the day before the exam. Hence, most likely granting yourself one more day of study time and probably allowing you to use the “Informant” technique.

• “The Excuse”: “My computer wouldn't print off. I sent you the e-mail did you not get it? My boyfriend's uncle died. I don't know how to work Blackboard. I did the assignment but it deleted itself while I was trying to print it off. I'm just having some real serious personal issues right now that are too hard to talk about...” You get the idea…

Now, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I cheated my way through school, I didn’t. Although, I’ll be the first to admit that I have cheated on occasion but I think everyone has at one time or another. We’ve all, in a moment of weakness, looked over at our neighbor’s paper or asked a friend what was on the exam. Some people are better at it than others. Thats the sad thing. If that girl had an ounce of "game" she would've gotten away with it. She was a rookie...

I before E except after who the hell cares.

There a few things in this world I'm good at... like knowing all my state capitals, jumping off high things into extremely shallow water, and rolling my Rs... These things come naturally. I can almost do them with my eyes closed, and in the case of jumping into shallow water-I have to. One thing that I am awful at is spelling. My friend Spelling & I do not get along; he is my nemesis. Ever since I learned to talk, I could not spell. (You may find this strange since my last name is a such an awesome word to have to learn how to spell as a child. This is the exception.) I still have little tricks and mnemonic devices to remember how to spell words. B-E-A-utiful, Tom-mor-ow, etc. You know the drill. These little tricks are my crutch...

I once heard it said that a synonym is a word that you use when you don't know how to spell the word you were going to use. This must've been said about me because I am constantly replacing words with easier to spell ones.

You're probably wondering why this post isn't littered with misspelled words...Well, one day my spelling woes were changed forever...I discovered Spellchecker. Many historians say the printing press was the greatest invention in the history of the world...Without a doubt, Spellchecker is a close second. I could not survive without it. There are too many rules and exceptions to those rules that I can't keep them straight. Its always "i before e, except after c, unless..." and you lost me. I can't keep them straight...

I bring this all up because I typed a paper for school a few weeks ago. I had done a good job of having a decent thesis, transitions, conclusion, etc. I got my paper back and my professor docked me a full letter grade because I spelled his name wrong. His name is "Stephen" and I spelled it "Steven." (He still pronounces it with a "V" sound, bytheway.) I now make it a point to always call him SteFFFFFen. I should have been more careful but I still think its a stupid thing to get all worked up on. I've spent my entire life having my last name slaughtered and it doesn't bother me. Some people need to put their big-boy underwear on and do work...thats all.

Epiphany: A Divine Manifestation

Back in May I decided my life needed a little more spice to it. I began looking into buying a motorcycle. My dad called it "the stupidest idea he'd ever heard". Thats when I knew I had to do it. I bought myself a nice little gem of a starter bike to learn the ropes on, in the hopes of buying a sweet Harley sometime soon. For several months she went unnamed. I tried to force the name by looking up ideaa on the internet. Wisely, I consulted my motorcycle guru, Miss Jordan Rasband & took her advice. "Don't force it. It will come, just give it time." This is that story...

There are certain moments in history that you never forget where you were when you heard the news. I remember being at South Hill Middle School, roaming around the halls when I heard the news about 9/11. I remember reffing Jr. Jazz when the Space Shuttle Columbia crashed over Texas. I remember sitting in a hotel room in Mexico when the US invaded Iraq. I remember being in my basement when John Stockton hit "the shot" against Houston in '96. Recently, I remember being in Target when I heard the news that the late-great-King of Pop, Michael Jackson had died. I've been a fan of Michael Jackson ever since I first heard him. It was Smooth Criminal in my friend, Ted Ethington's basement in elementary school. Although I was a fan, it was casual at best. I had several of his CD's and a playlist on my iPod, but nothing too major. My King of Pop 'fanhood', if you will, was taken up a notch one special night after watching his live DANGEROUS concert in Bucharest (pure awesomeness & the work of a true genius). After leaving the company of Chelsee, I was riding around my nameless bike singing Michael Jackson tunes at the top of my lungs. (The sign of a true fan) Luckily I was wearing my helmet so no one was forced to run me off the road to save the world from my tone-deaf vocals. It was in the midst of singing one of my all-time favorites, that it hit me...

My motorcycle was Diana. Just as in the song, "Dirty Diana", I had told myself she wouldn't seduce me, but she did. It was as if she had spoken to me and whispered "I have the stuff that you want, I am the thing that you need." She was my "night lovin' thing" that "thing I could taunt." So I named my motorcycle Dirty Diana. It suits her well. We both know it wont last forever. She fulfills my needs and I rev her engine. She is my Dirty Diana. It may just be a summer fling until I move on to something better, but you never forget your first.

For your viewing pleasure...and this is required.

OMG ROLFLMAO LOL makes me (sad face)

The origins of texting are somewhat obscure. NASA claims they sent the first text message in 1989, using a simple pager and upside down numbers that could be read as words. Remember that from elementary? Spelling "Boobs" or "hello"? Same kind of thing...

However, Nokia asserts they sent the first text message from a cell phone in 1993. In 1995, the average customer sent .4 texts per month. Today kids send that many per second, literally.

In my blog research, (Yes, I do research) I stumbled across this little nugget of a story. You can read it if you want, but I'll summarize: In one month a girl sent 14,528 text messages. The text message portion of her bill was 440 pages long. This equates to 484 text messages a day or one text every two minutes of every waking hour. Luckily she had unlimited texting, if not, her bill would've been in the neighborhood of $3,000.

I got my first cell phone when I was in 7th grade. Not very many students had cell phones back then and I probably had like 10 minutes a month. Texting wasn't big in my middle school. We had the option but it cost $.25 or something every text you sent or received. The only reasonable text you could send would be "Mom, the house burned down. Everything is gone. I'm sending this with my one remaining digit as I'm being rushed to the hospital." Anything other than that was unheard of and a waste of money. I don't even remember it being very big my sophomore year...but by my senior year it was multiplying like a bunch of rabbits. Today the average person sends about 200 texts per month. Obviously this is somewhat skewed by that girl texting her fingers raw...but then again my dad sends a grand total of 0 texts per month. In the interest of full disclosure, I average about 2,500 texts per month.

I bring all this up because of a text I received the other day. As embarrassed as I am to admit I actually associate with people like this, this is what it said: "Hw l8 u gna b up 2nit? We gta tlk." If I had anything in my stomach at the time, I'm sure I would've lost it. There is no place in the world for things like that. I was sickened... People that are fortunate enough to frequently text me know that I don't partake of the texting slang and abbreviations. I use appropriate capital letters, punctuation and grammar. Sure it may take me a little bit longer, but at least I don't look stupid. Honestly, I didn't know what ROFL meant until I finally looked it up the other day. Show some class out there folks.

Also, another small text messaging rant. There is never a reason for someone with a Y chromosome to use LOL...never...ever...ever. I instantly lose respect for guys that use it. And I doubt you're literally laughing out loud. Just stop doing it.

Onwards and Upwards...

Moses, Tiger and I...

What do Moses, Bill Walton, Herschel Walker, James Earl Jones, Bruce Willis, Mike Rowe, Adrian Peterson, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Winston Churchill, Jack Welch, Tiger Woods and I have in common?

We all stutter.

Stuttering is a speech disorder in which the flow of speech is disrupted by involuntary repetitions and prolongations of sounds, syllables, words or phrases, and involuntary silent pauses or blocks in which the stutterer is unable to produce sounds. Stuttering, in my case, is an involuntary repetition and prolongation of sounds or syllables, or block in which I cannot produce sounds. I have had this condition as long as I can remember. I went through speech therapy with a speech pathologist since before kindergarten and into high school. It has gotten better throughout the years but has never completely gone away. I'm told that people don't notice, but I don't believe these people. I know I stutter and I know that others know I stutter. I'm on the path of learning to accept it and living with it. I'm not at that destination yet.

Most people wouldn't make fun of a quadriplegic, a deaf or blind person, or a mentally handicapped individual; but for some reason people don't seem to have an issue with pointing out or making jokes at someone that stutters. Honestly, I believe its more out of ignorance than shallow character. I don't think people are intentionally attempting to make fun of my speech disorder, although I could be wrong. Usually people will repeat my stutter, as if I was unaware. Believe me, I'm more than aware. More often than not, the first time I meet someone they will point out my stutter. Several of my closest friends have made fun of my stutter as well as countless strangers. I don't bring this up because I'm bitter or spiteful. I've learned to be able to laugh off these situations, at least publicly. I try not to bother me, but it is frustrating and thinking about it only makes it worse. It makes job interviews or phone calls difficult, but I've learned to keep it at a minimum. A funny "stuttering" story happened a few years ago when I went to a missionary farewell of a friend of a friend. We were all in the kitchen telling stories and making jokes. I don't remember what story I was telling, but I stuttered badly on the word "commitment." A woman I'd never met jumped in and began to psychoanalyze me based on my stuttering on "commitment." She claimed I was afraid of commitment and a long-term relationship. I listened to her theory for a few minutes and then said, "Actually, I just have a speech impediment." In her defense, the woman apologized profusely and my friends and I still joke around at the story.

I stutter but so do a lot of famous and successful people. Because of my stuttering, I've had bad job interviews, horrible church talks, and awful school presentations but I don't think it'll stop me from living a full and happy life. The next time you hear someone stutter and you think how hard it is to understand them, remember that you have to deal with it for a few minutes while they have to live with it constantly. They're much more aware and self-conscious of it than you are. At the end of the day, there are a lot worse disorders or disabilities that I could have so I'm not complaining...

Love it? Hate it? Let me know...

Literally...

Every good Mormon knows that a decent Sacrament Meeting talk begins with the very original line of "Webster's Dictionary defines _____ as... In that spirit I submit the following...
Webster's Dictionary defines literally as: in a literal sense, actual, without interpretation or embellishment. Literally maybe be the most overused word in the English language, or at least a close second to like or just. How did literally come to mean the complete opposite of what it actually means? How did literally come to mean figuratively?
There are numerous ways to misuse and abuse literally. I simply point out the worst two.

First, people often use literally when it is unnecessary.

• "I am so tired I could literally fall asleep." Is there another way to fall asleep? I thought thhe literal way was the only way.
• "I am literally upset." Thank you for making it clear that you weren't figuratively upset. I was confused with what exactly you were going for there.
  

Second, the most frequent abuse of literally is when you actually mean figuratively.

• "I am literally going to kill him." Wow, I'm glad to know that you evaluated every rational response to this scenario and came up with premeditated murder. Are you sure you wouldn't want to figuratively kill him?
• "I am literally losing my mind." Thank you, I will alert the proper authorities.
• "I am going to literally die of boredom." First off, that has never happened. If you did, you would be a medical phenomenon, and that is rather exciting.
• And my personal favorite, "I am literally starving to death." Ask the children in Africa what it feels like to literally starve to death. I bet it's a lot worse than you think.

I know I'm not the first, nor will I be the last, to write a ranting and unoriginal blog post about literally. I beg us all to use literally less and figuratively more. If you don't, I may figuratively explode.

Gratitude...

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot on the subject of gratitude and being thankful for what we have. I like to think that most of us “think” we are grateful. Not to discount what we all feel, but I think we are all wildly inadequate. If we could truly stop and think about EVERYTHING that we have and how it compares to the majority of the world, our heads would explode. It is difficult to comprehend. We say we’re thankful for our clothes, our food, or friends, our family…but are we really?

Actually, I take that all back. I cannot speak for all of you, so I’ll speak in terms of me. I like to think I’m an overall grateful person. I try not to waste the things I have; but I am so incredible short on the gratitude scale. I open the fridge and lament that there is “nothing good to eat”…all the while there are children going to bed hungry. I complain that I can’t find anything to wear…all the while there are people shivering in the streets. I complain that I have nothing to do on the Friday night…all the while there are people fighting for their lives. At times I wallow in self pity, but I’m almost positive that 99% of the world wishes they could live the life I do. Overall, I need to be infinitely more grateful.

I don’t mean to be a downer and call everyone to change their ways and become better people. All I’m saying is that I need to be a better person, and I think it starts with gratitude. I had originally typed this post along with another few paragraphs on the beloved Mother Teresa; but I feel that she deserves her own space. (Thats coming soon...) So instead, I close with a simple quote for Saint Teresa: “The trouble is that rich people, well-to-do people, very often don't really know who the poor are; and that is why we can forgive them, for knowledge can only lead to love, and love to service. And so, if they are not touched by them, it's because they do not know them.” Also, “There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things that we could use.”

I’m going to try to “know” the poor, in order that I can be touched by them.

Gratitude…jump on board.

LOST

Have you every watched LOST? Its crazy good if you haven't. Granted, it has gotten a little weird, but it's still captivating. Why is is that we're fascinated with things that are lost. When we lose things, its hard to function until we find them. We overturn every piece of furniture and look in places we know very well it's impossible its there. I've found myseflf looking in the back of the toilet for things...I have no idea why. And another thing, why is it that whenever you lose something, someone always has the nerve to ask, "Where's the last place you had them?" As if we hadn't thought of that. Thank you very much Captain Obvious...."Oh, ya know what, I had searched every other place besides where I had them last. Thank you for that inspriational guidance you wizard..."

First, a story... When I was younger, my older brother Joel, a friend, and myself walked over to a friend's house to play basketball. Our parents had gone out with some friends and we had neglected to tell anyone where we were going. We were playing basketball and as kids do we lost track of time. It was dark and we went inside to get a drink before we headed home. We realized that it was about 11:30 at night... In our infinite childlike wisdom, we decided that our parents were already asleep and we shouldn't call and wake them up to tell them we were on our way home. Awesome idea huh? So we started walking home. The walk was about a mile and about half way home we were picked up by some fine law enforcement officials. Apparently, we were "lost"... our house was surrounded by about ten flashing police vehicles and the "news" was on their way. The good thing about getting lost when you're young is that your parents really can't yell at you because they are so glad that you're safe.
Second, another story... When I was in about 7th grade, I went with my best friends Bo and Blake to Lake Tahoe on a little vacation. We went with their mom and their mom's friend. They had decided to go into town and do some shopping and left us at the condo to swim. We decided to go to see the new Star Wars movie. We went to the front desk and asked them where the nearest theaters were. They told us there were two, one was just down the street and the other was about 10 miles away. I don't remember why, but the front desk lady got the impression we were going to the one 10 miles away. We left a note that we were walking to the theatre...(ok, maybe we said we were going to the one 10 miles away, I don't remember) Well, we ended up going to the movie just down the street... After the movie, we walked back to the condo and again we were picked up by some fine uniformed officials. Again, we were "lost". (I should note, that Elizabeth Smart was kidnapped about a week before...) Again, its hard to yell at kids when you've been worried sick for the past few hours and you promised God everything just to see them again.
There are numerous other stories of me getting lost...camping, Lagoon, Disneyland, rodeos, etc...As you can see, I have a history of losing things...most often it is myself, although I commonly lose all kinds of things. My 6th birthday was ruined when I lost a little "helicopter pilot" figurine in my front yard. Humanity wasn't restored until about two years ago when I finally found him. I probably spent the greater part of my childhood on "resuce missions" for the poor guy. He now resides on my desk, I kid you not...
Also, I currently cannot find my black Prada sunglasses. I would really like to get them back...if you find them, help me out...

St. Jorge...

If you read my last post, you know how much I love to play games. I wrote that post not knowing what was in store for me right around the corner. Me and a few of my friends jetted down to St. Jorge for a weekend getaway. We mostly lounged around by the pool, witnessed "Hick & Stick" getting it on in the hot tub, heard an old man yelp at the top of his lungs while bearing his testimony in church. (Apparently it was his pacemaker...), and played glow stick hide-n-seek. This was the highlight of my trip...or it pulls a close second to the old man yelling in church. We hiked up to a cave in Snow Canyon State Park and climbed, crawled and stumbled deep inside the earth until we reached the 'playing field'. We then took our $22 worth of glowsticks and "activated" them. Once they were sufficiently glowing we cut off the tips and proceeded to cover the cave walls and ourselves with the glow stick juice. It looked awesome. We then played an intense game of hide-n-seek. The concept is brilliant...you are able to hide in the open, but no one can see you. You blend in perfectly with the rocks and walls. Believe me, we tried many times to take a picture but it would never turn out...so take my word for it. Even though it got in most of our eyes and burned like all fury, Rachel developed some sort of hives, and we all got cut and bruised, it was the most fun I've had in a while. Thank you Rachel...

The game to end all games...

When I was younger I was obsessed with hiding. I was constantly hiding and popping out to try to scare people, most commonly my mother or siblings. I would hide in closets, under beds, behind doors, under couches, around corners...anywhere that my childhood frame could fit. Sometimes I would wait for minutes while my prey unsuspecting worked their way into my lair. I loved the excitement and the thrill of the victory when someone would jump and scream. *(I still do this. It is my flaw. Why? Perhaps I have some deep psychological issue that must be dissected by a qualified professional.)*
Hiding was was my first game love, but not my last. I used to play Cops & Robbers with my brother almost everyday during the summer. I think it was our excuse to beat up on each other...because everyone knows that cops beat up on robbers. If you went too fast on your bike then you deserved to be knocked off, drug through the road, handcuffed and left to think about what you'd done. Simple as that, no way around it. The laws of the land could not be ignored. Do the crime, do the time.
As a child, nothing was more fun than playing games; hide and seek, kick the can, flashlight tag, or capture the flag. Capture the Flag (or as I affectionetly call it, CTF) was ALWAYS my choice. To this day I am still in love with the concept. Two teams, two flags, one goal.
A few years ago my best friend Preston and I decided to add our teenage ingenuity (and free time) to this classic game. We spent the greater part of a day and about $60 at Home Depot creating competition quality flags complete with hemmed fabric, reinforced PVC, and sharp screw/spear ends for easy and efficient placement. They were our Sistine Chapel...our Titanic...our War and Peace.
Upon completition of our masterpieces, we began the daunting task of selecting a host site. More research than you can appreciate went into the process. We weighed the pros and cons, asked for opinions, performed field analysis, and followed our intuition. We finally decided on a new park being built in the Jordan River bottoms between Draper and Riverton. The troops were assembled and the teams decided. *Side note: It is more difficult than you imagine to explain the rules, objectives, and strategy of CTF to somone who has never played...and English is their second language. Thank you Fernando.*
In our minds, we expected an epic battle of good and evil. Scenes from Troy, Braveheart, Gladiator and Saving Private Ryan ran through our minds like an eager river of anticipation. Sadly, the game never reached its full potential. Even our military quality flags could not save it. People lacked courage and vision. People were weak and spineless. The love of the game was not instilled in their young hearts. They wanted ease instead of excellence. People gave up, gave in, and gave nothing. The game asked for their best and they weren't willing to part with it. Granted, there were a few stalwart players who tried their best to do it justice but ultimately the dedication of a few could not overcome the apathy of many.
For now the flags rest quietly in a darkened unworthy corner of Preston's garage...undisturbed and unloved. One day they may rise from their hypothetical ashes like a phoenix and regain their destined glory...but only in the hands of people who love them as much as they deserve.

Viva Mexico

Since I left for Mazatlan, Mexico a day after I got back from Chicago, I contemplated following up my last blog with a list of "Things I Learned in Mexico"...I'll be brief.
-They drive with their horns
-Its nearly impossible to spend an hour on the streets without someone trying to sell you timeshare
-You get really good at your 12 time tables (the exchange rate)
-They are all Laker fans...the Jazz get no love.
-You always sleep better when you can hear the ocean
-You burn quickly on antibiotics (ask my mother)

Now for the good stuff...err, mostly good, but always exciting. I left Salt Lake City and everything was great. I had a row all to myself, couldn't be better. We land in Mazatlan and not so quickly go through Immigration and Customs (if you've seen my Passport you would understand, it totally looks fake...only because its been through hell, literally, I have a stamp from Hell) only to discover that unlike us, our bags did not make the trip. I tried not to sweat it which is difficult to do in 100 deg weather...they told us they'd be on another flight and they'd deliver them to our hotel. No worries... I wanted to hit the beach, but had no suit so I hit up the nearest Mazatlan Beach Wear store where I proceeded to buy some clothes without once effectively communicating with the store employees...my total came to $1,290.(Confession: It was in Mexican pesos...something like $92 US.)
I had gone with my mom and my grandma. Normally, you wouldn't think they'd be the most exciting company in Mexico; but we did exciting things. We went zip lining through the jungles of Mazatlan. (Jungles=dry, arid desert.) It was actually a blast. We drove in a wicked cool "Swiss Army Vehicle" (Random thought: If the Swiss are neutral, why are they so darn good at making 'army' equipment?)
After our awesome adventure through the Mazatlan desert, we took a walking tour of a working Tequila factory. Exciting right? Wrong. First, I knew we were doomed when our tour guide couldn't speak a lick of English...and non of the tour takers could speak Spanish. Not a good combo. Secondly, the tequila factory smelled like my uncles dairy farm. Thirdly, it was in the middle of nowhere. I kid you not. (Interesting fact: The tequila cactus plant takes 7 years to mature.)Next on my list of fun adventures was parasailing. Frequent blog readers and fans will remember I've been skydiving twice, but I had yet to parasail. I crossed that off my bucket list. I have a cool video of me doing it (thank you Grandma) but it's 13 minutes long and I'm sure you don't want to see it. Therefore, I will post a pic and you'll have to believe me that it was in fact me and not some random person.

The next day or so I decided to live on the edge and some sweet tattoos. (Confession: They are henna, temporary...I'm so not cool)

This tattoo means "Strength"

This tattoo is LIVESTRONG.

Normally that would be enough adventure for most people. I didn't know what I was in for. I leave Mexico to come home and we had a layover in Phoenix, AZ. Soon after landing we were told that our flight to Salt Lake had been cancelled. What the F? Through of series of jogs through the airport and several rebooked flights we ended up spending the night in Phoenix. Unfortunetly, our bags did not spend the night...once again I was bagless. We flew home the next day...finally.
Here are some Mexico pics for your viewing pleasure.

In Chicago...

CHICAGO

I spent the last week in Chicago having a blast. I was hanging out with this cool kid Anthony and I learned a few things...

--In Chicago there are literally hundreds of different ways to get from point A to point B; and the fastest route is often the longest.
--In Chicago the roads don't have pot holes, the pot holes have roads...--In Chicago the roads are very narrow...and people usually park on both sides.
--In Chicago you can only turn right on a red light between 7AM-7PM.--In Chicago you don't put ketchup on your hotdog...ever.
--In Chicago Roosevelt, Washington, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Lincoln, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Polk are roads not Presidents.
--In Chicago people pay a toll to drive on roads...imagine dropping a few coins to take Bangerter home.
--In Chicago red, green, blue, brown, orange, yellow, purple, and pink are trains, not colors.
All in all, I had a lot of fun hanging out and going to the nicest gym I've ever been in...fancy stuff.

The wink...

;)
Typing this little guy in a web conversation means "wink"...and sometimes, as me and Rachel discovered in Gmail chat, it actually creates a little face that winks at you. Believe it or not, it kept us entertained for longer than it should have.

Winks are interesting expressions. A wink is like watching America's Funniest Home Videos. In moderation it's great, but you can't watch it everyday. As my great grandfather use to say, "It's easy to overwink and impossible to underwink." (Ok, he really never said that, but I wish he did.) You have to know when to use the wink. It must be strategically placed with perfect timing and delivery. You can't just throw winks out left and right...you'll become the tragic "over-winker." We all know an over-winker. (If you don't know an over-winker, you ARE the over-winker. I'm sorry I'm the one to have to tell you. Just stop doing it...) The over-winker is almost as bad as the exaggerated winker. You know, the one that uses their whole face as if to say, "Look, I'm winking!" These two faults are cousins to the "creepy-winker." You have to be careful, it's a very delicate science... Everyone appreciates a good winker.

The wink can have many meanings. It can mean, "Go along with whatever I just said" or "I think you're smoking hot but I'm too afraid to say anything so I'm winking at you" or "You know what I REALLY mean" or "I'm kidding" or "Riiiigggghhhhttt."Although most of the times the intent of the wink is clear, sometimes it is not. One of the great Seinfeld episodes in season 7 is titled, "The Wink." In the episode, Jerry squirts grapefruit into George's eye at breakfast, and for the rest of the day George is misinterpreted because everyone thinks he is winking at them. As only Seinfeld can do, we laugh at sometime simple: the wink. For your viewing pleasure, I have included the classic Seinfeld scene.


The next time you go to wink....if you have to think about it, don't do it.

...

...

I have been experiencing a moderate to severe case of "blog block." I haven't written a post in a long time and my fans are clamoring for new material (if only Bryce...if only). This blog won't be my best ever, but probably one of my favorites. Anyone that reads anything that I write knows that I use a lot of ...s in my writing. I found out not long ago from my friend and English extraordinaire Rachel Clark that these little nuggets of perfectness are called ellipses. My other good friend Wikipedia tells me "An ellipsis can also be used to indicate a pause in speech, an unfinished thought or, at the end of a sentence, a trailing off into silence..." I mostly use them to indicate a pause in my speech or a trailing off into silence. No joke, 99.99% of all my texts contain an ellipse and about 90% of all my text messages end in a ... . For example: "Just sitting around...doing nothing..." or "That sounds like fun...lets do it..." or my favorite "Oh...". They are my calling card, my M.O., my way. I'm sure I overuse them, but they are perfect for how my mind thinks. I'll continue to use them because I like them...and it annoys some people...which makes me like them more...

...

The Amazing Human Body

A few months ago I went with my friends to see the Body Worlds Exhibit in downtown Salt Lake City. I like to think that if I was more dedicated that I would've become a doctor. Some of my favorite shows on the Discovery Channel involve cutting bodies open and other gorey stuff. It was awesome to see real human bodies preserved for my viewing pleasure. After actually seeing a smoke and cancer filled lung, I wonder how anyone could smoke cigarettes-its disgusting.
The human body is amazing, luckily I have one of my own. My body and I are very close, we've been really good friends since birth. I never leave home without him, and he follows me around everywhere I go. We sleep in the same bed and shower together.
We're bfffe. (best friends for freaking ever...thank you Rachel)
The human body can do amazing things. For example:

• Everyday, humans lose and replace 200 billion red blood cells. Our bodies manufacture 2 million replacement cells in a split second. Since you began reading this blog, your body has manufactured about 30,000,000 blood cells. A single red blood cell will travel over 100 miles through a network of over 60,000 miles of capillaries and arteries.
  
• Every minutes 30,000-40,000 dead skin cells fall off your body.
• Your heart beats 6,000 times an hour, 144,000 times a days, and 30,000,000 times a year.
• There are over 10,000 taste buds all over your tongue, except in the center. Babies have taste buds all over the inside of their mouths, not just on their tongues. On a somewhat related note, have you ever tasted baby formula?...not recommended...unless its part of an extreme dieting technique...
• Humans literally see the world in a new way every morning. The first time we open our eyes, the top layer of our vision sense receptions is simply scorched away.
• Human bone is as strong as granite in supporting weight. A block of bone the size of a matchbox can support nine tons--four times as much as concrete.
• A man's testicles manufacture 10 million new sperm cells each day-enough that he could repopulate the entire planet in only 6 months! Although, just because you can, doesn't mean you have to...
• The focusing muscles of the eyes move around 100,000 times a day. To give your leg muscles the same workout you would need to walk 50 miles every day. As Dwight Schrute says, "The eyes are the groin of the head." I believe it.

When I was in high school, I discovered a powerful tool. Life, as it usually is, was stressful. On this particular day I was in 3rd year Honors French, or should I say, J'étais dans les troisième Honneurs d'année Français. I didn't really enjoy the class or the teacher, and it was hard. On one particular stressful day, my left eyelid began to twitch. At first I pushed it aside and didn't think anything of it. Over the course of a few days, I realized eye twitch=stress. I was looking for a solid reason to drop the class and this little eye twitch was my gift wrapped package of excuses. I dropped it like it was hot. (way too corny Bryce, show some class...) The eye twitch subsided and the universe was restored.
I've noticed that my eye twitch will return, usually before a big test, or when I'm playing my bro on the Xbox. My body is telling me something isn't right, my environment needs adjustment. My eye hasn't twitched in quite some time, most likely due to the fact that I've graduated from school and that I don't have a job, or any other real responsibilities. Unless beating Assassins Creed on the PS3 or shooting the moon in Hearts can be considering responsibilities. I think they are...
Honestly, I miss the eye twitch. The eye twitch keeps me on my feet. It keeps me moving forward, progressing of sorts. Stress isn't always a bad thing, there is such a thing as good stress; more commonly known as Eustress. Eustress helps us to meet life's challenges, to take that step into the unknown, to fall (and stay) in love. I could use some eustress in my life...

The Field: 2,3,4,9,10,11,12

When I was 18 I got a great opportunity. I went on a cruise with my two best friends, Bo and Blake, and their dad, Mark. As you can imagine, we hit the "cruise scene" fairly hard. We'd usually stay out until 3 or 4 in the morning, before retiring to our pitch black stateroom. Seriously, this room was a dream: best sleep I've ever got. Our 'party-hardy' ways soon caught up to us when we slept through the port of Nassau, Bahamas. I hear its great, but I really wouldn't know.
Those of you that know me know that I'm not into the 'party scene', I'd never be mistaken for the 'life of the party.' So what kept us out until the wee hours of the night? It was a combination of 1/4 part looking for Blake and whoever he was currently 'dating', and 3/4 part gambling. See, on a cruise ship, you only have to be 18 to gamble...international waters or something like that. This was my first real experience in gambling. What was my first game of choice? My ugly friend Blackjack, aka 21. Like any 'sinner', I started out dipping my toe in the water and testing it out. Dropping a few bills here and there, winning some and losing some. Before we knew it, we were dropping down Jacksons like they were Washingtons. Before I knew it I was down some serious coin. Meanwhile, Bo was doing considerable better. I decided to hedge my bets and turn it over to Bo. I 'invested' in Bo's game and gave him a mission to win back my losses. Thankfully, over the next few days, Bo won my money back. I ended the trip up about $20. The moral of this little story? Don't gamble? Hardly... The moral of the story is: don't play Blackjack, play craps.Craps is a dice game, played over a large, expansive table with many players. There are literally hundres of different bets on a craps table: one can bet the pass line, the come out line, hard eights, or the field, etc.
Around this same time, Mark brought my attention to a strategy of playing craps that maximizes wins and minimizes losses. I won't get into the nitty gritty details of it, but it has its advantages. Granted, it doesn't guarantee success; but anything rarely does. (Except those late night exercise infomercials... Of course I want abs like that! Who doesn't? Only 3 easy payments of $29.99? BUT WAIT! If I order now I can get it for only 2 easy payments of $29.99?! BUT WAIT!! If I order now you'll also double my order?!?!)I digress... Over the years, I've experimented with this strategy, throwing random dice around and keeping score in my head. A few months ago, I took it up a notch. I created an Excel program that randomly 'rolls' dice and records their results and figures this into 'the strategy' and gives me some outcomes. After thousands and thousands of rolls, 'the strategy' holds true. I'm taking the next step. I'm withdrawing $1024 and booking a flight to Vegas. I'm gonna go toss some spotted cubes and see how they land. Will I go to hell for it? I've been told so...but that's between me and someone else...

My 25 Things....

1. I have a stutter. I went through ten years of speech therapy and I still I have it. I’ll probably always have it. I’m told that it’s hard to notice, I don’t believe these people.

2. I have an iPhone, and I don’t know how I lived almost 21 years of my life without one. I’m addicted to it. My five most used aps: Email, ESPN, Facebook, Stocks, and Mancala.

3. I like to work-out, and I try and do it every day. I’m a bit of a health nut, there are a lot of foods I won’t eat and I really like V8 juice.

4. I love to play the card game Hearts and I think I’m pretty good at it. My high score is 0, and I’ve got it three times. Unless you play, it’s impossible to appreciate the feat...but you should still appreciate my greatness.

5. I’m a reality TV junkie: Survivor, Amazing Race, Girls Next Door, Big and Rob, The Real World, Dr. G, anything really. If its reality TV, I’ve probably seen it. Every week we have a little "Survivor Party" and everybody thats anybody attends. We usually have it at Michal's house and you're not invited, cuz you aren't a big enough fan. It's very exclusive...

6. My favorite movies are Legends of the Fall and The Count of Monte Cristo.

7. I have this weird thing where I start a book and never finish it; but my favorite book is It’s Not About the Bike by Lance Armstrong, and I like any Grisham books...who doesn't?

8. I love the Utah Jazz and my mood fluctuates with their record. Obviously, this year has been rough. I cried when they lost in the Finals, but I was ten so it was ok. Last night when they beat the Celtics I felt great, immense joy. John Stockton is me hero, and D-Will aint half bad himself.

9. I can complete a Rubix cube in under two minutes.

10. I finished my Bachelors degree when I was 20, and I plan to have my Masters when I’m 22.

11. I enjoy board games; Settlers of Catan in particular.

12. My favorite tv shows are The Office and Desperate Housewives.

13. I’m looking for a job right now, but I routinely substitute teach. Oh the stories I could tell about the future of America...

14. I still drive the car my dad bought me in high school. It gets me around and doesn't chug the fuel.

15. I’ve been to almost all the 50 states.

16. I have a crush on Jennifer Aniston. Jen, if you read this, call me. I love you.

17.

18. I’ve never broken a bone and had never had a cavity until about two days ago.

19. I believe wholeheartedly in the Law of Attraction.

20. I have hundreds of basketball cards and thousands of dollars of basketball memorabilia. It’s my “guilty pleasure.”

21. I use to own a window cleaning company so I can appreciate a nice clean piece of glass.

22. I want to live in Chicago or San Diego.

23. My favorite car is a Porsche Cayenne.

24. I eat paper, all the time. Is it weird? You betcha…

25. I plan on being a millionaire one day. Why not a billionaire, you ask? Well, I think anything over a couple mil is just gravy. I don’t want to work my whole life. I want to enjoy my money.

I want to punch society in the face...

So lately I've noticed that I have an urge to collectively punch "society" in the face. I'm not usually a violent person, but I've reached my breaking point.
A few recent reasons...
1: I went to a concert last week: Benton Paul and John Allred. It was an awesome show and thankfully we had got in line early enough to stake claim to a spot close to the stage. Our night was nearly ruined by a group of about four girls that we directly next to us. They must've be socially retarded, or at least stupid, because they talked through the entire show. Now when I say "talked", I don't mean they commented on the show or at least talked about the performers. They talked about school, dating, tv shows...everything but the concert. Ok, so I lied, they didn't talk through the whole show, the YELLED through the entire show. When I didn't think it could get worse one of the girls answered her phone and proceeded to attempt to carry on the call. I quote: "You're gonna need to talk louder, I can't hear you. The music is too loud." We did the socially respondible thing of giving glares, telling them to "shhh", and even asking nicely for them to keep it down....to no avail. When people talk during a concert I want to punch them in the face.
2: I was driving down to Utah County the other day. I had left in a reasonable amount of time so I wouldn't have to speed and I could take my time. Once I hit about Lehi the freeway came to a near standstill. My windshield was flooded with red tail lights. I didn't get frustrated, I thought it was a little blurp in traffic that would soon clear up. After a few minutes of 20 mph driving, I checked my nifty iPhone MAP application...it was solid red (red=bad traffic) for a long stretch of road. Fastforward about 30 minutes through my life, still occupied with bumper to bumper traffic. I glance over to the opposite side of the freeway where a wreck had occured...and low and beyond, not ten feet past the accident, the traffic cleared up and normal speeds resumed. Why is it that people feel the need to slow to frustrating speeds when they see flashing lights on the other side of the road? Does the hope of seeing human flesh across asphalt really require the need to slam on your brakes and take your time? Granted, I understand that people ought to slow down a little bit, heck, knock the speedomoter down to a calm 50 mph; I'm cool with that. There can be a pregnant lady with her hood open on the side of the road and people will sail past without even thinking; but the moment they see flashing lights and broken glass they'll slam on their brakes and turn their heads. I want to punch these people in the face.
3: As a newly graduated college student, I've spent my fair share of income on fast food. I understand the types of people that work in fast food...I can sympathize, they don't want to work there. Rarely do I get more frustrated than when I pay for my meal in cash, reach out to collect my change, only to have them place bills in my hand followed by change. Without fail the change will slide right off the bills and either on the ground or in my lap. Is it too much to ask to reverse this order? Change THEN bills!!! Now thats "Change I can believe In." Unlike a dollar bill, the human palm is built perfectly to collect and store change. I repeat, CHANGE THEN BILLS!!! I want to punch these people in the face.
4: I went to a movie last night, Friday the 13th, with my friends Andre & Steve. The MPAA gave the show a "R" rating for "strong bloody violence, some graphic sexual content, language and drug material." As we purchased our tickets and handed them to the ticket taker guy, he asked us for our ID's. Granted, I'm often told that I look like a high school kid, so I've learned to deal with it. We enter the theater, take our seats, and watch the show. Let me tell ya it was well deserving of it's "R" rating. It was the typical "slasher" film. Even though the movie was disgusting at times, I was far more disgusted when I exited the theatre at the same time as a man with three kids, all no older than 12. Are you kidding me?! We try to see the movie and we're ID'ed, but a guy can bring his young kids and they get in scotch free. People like this shouldn't be allowed to have children. Again, I wanted to punch him in the face.
Thats all I've got right now. Do you have any?

Skydiving?

Do you have any idea how many people died skydiving in 2008? 58... How many since 2004? 322... yet people still decide to do it, myself included. Why don't we call it what it is, "sky-plummeting"? Isn't skydiving just a suicide-like activity in which a person jumps out of a plane and releases a parachute in hopes that it will reduce his rate of descent below a bone-crushing threshold before he makes contact with the earth? Almost three years ago, I went skydiving for the first time, for my friend Steve's 18th birthday. There were six of us: Preston, Steve, Bo, Blake, Morgan, and myself.
Was I excited? Oh ya... Was I terrified? Partially... My nerves were actually doing pretty good until I started to fill our the application. The very last section before the signature had these instructions: Rewrite this sentence word for word. "I UNDERSTAND THAT THERE ARE INHERENT RISKS INVOLVED WITH SKYDIVING, INCLUDING DEATH, AND I RELEASE SKYDIVE UTAH FROM ANY AND ALL RESPONSIBILITIES AND LIABILITIES." I was working at a law office at the time, and I remember thinking, "I wonder if this would hold up in court...". After signing away my life and dropping some coin and before any of us chickened out, they had us in our "jump-suits"... I was just hoping it wouldn't become my "he died in this suit"... After getting dressed for perhaps the last time, they had us scrawled out on the ground, on some weird contraption practicing our back arch. We were told that if we failed to perform this menuever correctly that our back could snap and we'd fold up like a taco shell. (At least I wouldn't have to worry about the landing right?). Death is a very good motivator. Most of the time when somebody says, "Do this or die" I do it...and I do it as well as I possibly can.
Soon thereafter we boarded the plane... Our plane had a sliding fiberglass door. Weird? I thought so. Before I knew it, we were circling over Ogden. Obviously my heart was starting to beat a little faster, my breathing a little more frequent. I don't remember, but I'm sure I had to pee. After we ascended to our jumping altitude of 13,000 feet, a little red light went on inside the cabin and we were told it was D-Day, time to jump. Oh, I forgot to mention one glaring detail. This whole flight I had a dude strapped to my back, pelvis to pelvis... Every movement had to be perfectly choreographed...
As we neared the open door, he asked me if I wanted to do a flip when we jumped out. At the time, I had never even done a flip off a diving board at the swimming pool. I consented...
With a 1-2-3, we barreled out the plane, flipping end over end. A common misconception about skydiving is that it feels like "The Rocket" at Lagoon, that stomach in your throat kind of a feeling. Wrong... It feels more like flying, more like "Soarin' Over California." It may be the single most awesome feeling/experience I've had in my life. We free fell for about a minute before he pulled the parachute. I've never been so happy to see neon fabric in my life. After a few more minutes of semi-peaceful/painful wedgy free floating, we came in for our landing. My instructions were to stick my legs straight out. We landed without incident. (Only later would I discover how lucky I was...) The experience was a blast...and low and behold, almost exactly a year later, we did it again. Only this time we exchanged Bo for Rachel Clark.
I'm giving props right now to Rachel Clark. She's amazing. I know she hates it when people say she's like "one of the guys" (rightfully so), so I won't say that; but I will say that she has more "balls" than Bo... Bo was afraid of "death" or something...whatever right? (I'm gonna take some heat for this. Bo, I'm kidding...you had already proved yourself...and in retrospect, I should've followed your lead.) This time went pretty much like the first...all the way up until the landing. As you know, my first attempt at defying the laws of gravity and resulting death was without incident. This was not the case when I tried again. As before, when we approached landing, his instructions were to lift my legs parellel to the ground. I though, "Ya ya, I'm not a rookie." We hit the ground perfectly, not bad at all. I started to turn around (as best I could strapped to another human being) and congratulate him on the landing. Little did I know I was just seconds away from being thrown the ground by a gust of wind. Apparently it is someones job to grab the semi-inflated parachute once the tandem team lands; this is basic Skydiving Assistance 101. Maybe the guy that had that responsiblity had decided he'd done enough for the day and he was gonna humiliate me. Mission accomplished. As I said, me and my instructor were hurled to the ground, face first. Although, I must admit, my instructor had me to break his fall. We (I), the proceeded to be drug through a dirt field, with my face and mouth taking the brunt of it. Once we were finally able to stop our skid and stand up (with the parachute safely in tow) I proceeded to spit up and cough out mouthfuls of dirt. Of course everyone was laughing at me, and I admit it was funny. I just never thought that my biggest injury while skydiving that day would've come after skydiving. And bytheway, 32% of all skydiving deaths occur while landing...it doesnt' surprise me.

The mountain was angry that day my friend...

Several months ago I did one of the best/funniest/stupidest things I've ever done. It ranks right up there with the time I decided to flip off a guy on the freeway. I went hiking/on a death march with Rachel Clark and one of her friends, Jordan Rasband.We were going to hike Timpanogus, not to the caves, to the actual mountain peak. I expected it to be about a five hour hike, nothing too bad. I'm in good shape right? I've heard stories of people doing it in the night, so I figured it wasn't going to be that bad…If I only knew. We began our journey through hell at seven in the morning. After about two hours, I get up the nerve to ask how much farther. The response would b

urn in my ears, "We're about an 8th of the way." I almost crapped my pants, but alas, I kept hiking. By about 10:30 we reached "Emerald Lake", which is actually only a glorified pond.

I assumed we were almost to the top…wrong. We then proceeded to hike through what we dubbed the "Valley of Rocks.” Imagine walking for about an hour through a solid field of rocks: MASSIVE rocks, and little tiny ones. As if we weren’t having enough of an adventure already, I kid you not, we came across mountain goats! Are you kidding me?! We had to stop for a little bit to let them cross the trail so we wouldn't die by pronging. The goats then walked across the cliffs above us, causing rocks to fall below...near the trail...near my head (which I use more often than you'd think). After we survived several close encounters, we made it to the "saddle". It is basically where two mountains come together and it looks like a saddle. It was awesome! We could see all of Utah County on one side and the Heber Valley on the other. The moment was soon seriously weakened by strong and cold winds. I was not prepared for this. I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I soon began to freeze. (This is a story for another time, but when I get cold, my muscles be gin to shake and quiver. It's quite a sight) Here I am 12,000 feet up and the wind is blowing like a mad woman... Was our adventure over? Nay, I say, it had only just began. We then had to hike along cliffs in order to reach the true summit. We finally reach the true summit. We write our name in the little shack, spit some sunflower seeds and res. Then we get this crazy/awesome/stupid idea to slide down the glacier. We've asked around and no one dares to do it, apparently they knew much more than us. We finally reach the glacier. The task was daunting, but we’re invisible teenagers right? I decided to wear my plastic garbage bag like a diaper, poking two leg holes. I then decide to see what happens...bad idea...I begin sliding down this ice slide of a glacier and I can't stop. I'm seriously flying, I would estimate I was going about 25-30 miles an hour. There are huge rocks that I'm trying to avoid (I discovered I am a poor ‘avoider’) I'm catching some sick air. I'm trying desperately to stop, but to no avail. I'm digging my feet in, trying to grab anything with my hands...not a chance.

I've heard people mention that their lives flashed before their eyes, now I believe it happens. After a very terrifying minute of terror, I finally got myself stopped. Disaster avoided right? Oh no… I was only roughly half way down this sucker. (It is a REALLY big glacier...imagine the steepest, longest sledding hill...filled with rocks...big ones.) I'm lying on my back wondering if I'm dead. I finally came to my senses and sat up. Rachel and Jordan were screaming down at him, I managed to give the “I’m alive” signal. After that little episode, we decided that the whole garbage bag idea was a poor one. We then basically crawled down the mountain on our hands and knees, in shorts, without gloves. We literally could not feel out hands, and for several days afterwards it felt like needles every time we touched anything. We finally made it off the glacier and then the reality hit us. We still had to hike for another 4 hours to get down. We reached the cars at about 6:00, we hiked for roughly 11 hours.

All in all, even though we almost died (and several times wished I had) the hike was a blast and worth it. Although, I’m not sure I’ll be doing it again anytime soon. I still have the scars to remind me, until they fade, I think I’ll just watch Man vs. Wild instead of living it.