From Utah To China

I'm sure it doesn't surprise anyone that I haven't posted anything in months, but it is time to start anew. Much has happened since my last post. I recently traveled to Boston where I met this delightful young lady who I am now dating. Her name is Kate, but that is a story for another time because it deserves a post of its own. In the mean time I shall give you the second most thrilling bit of news. I received an internship offer in China! How freakin' awesome is that? I am super stoked. I get to go to Jiao Tong University in Shanghai and take courses in microbiology. Then once classes are over I get to take a couple of weeks to  travel to a handful of other cities to see the sites. I have a feeling that I will thoroughly enjoy this. You'd have to be crazy not to, I think.
Anyway, the downside to this whole deal is that I am broke so here comes the shameless plug. (If you're new to my blog do not fear. I don't normally ask for handouts. Usually I just talk about my most recent adventures.) I started a crowdfunding campaign on IndieGoGo.com. It's called Shanghai Soon and it's soul purpose is to help me get to China. If you or your rich uncle want to give a guy a hand you can click on the link on the side bar to your right. There's incentives! Check it out.
Now that my shameless plug is over check out my other posts. I hope you enjoy it!

The Night I Could Have Died (but Laughed Instead): Missouri

Hello dear friends, readers, and enemies. It has been far too long since I lasted posted, and much has happened. Basically, I have stories enough to fill a library, but who wants to read all of the daily exploits of a lone man? Suffice it to say that I've been to Seattle, Kansas City, Kennewick, Salt Lake City, Independence, and Wichita. After so many travels it should be apparent that I have much to tell. I don't like sitting in front of a computer for very long and I strongly encourage others to reduce their screen time so I've taken a poll asking people what kind of stories they would like to hear. The winner is indubitably the category of "Old Memories." What constitutes an 'old memory'? I'm only twenty-two, for goodness sake. I've decided that old is relative and the story I'm going to tell is from approximately two years ago.
It happened on a cold February night (and by cold I mean my tears froze to my face.) Anyway, I was about 17 months into my mission, and I thought I had seen just about everything. I hadn't. My companion and I got a call from some sister missionaries in our zone saying that they were at the hospital and were wondering if we could come sit with them in the waiting room. This is at 11 pm, mind you. So Josh (formerly known as Elder Terrasas) and I hopped in the car and took the 40 minute drive to the hospital to rescue the poor dears. (This was all done with permission of course.) When we finally arrived we were exhausted, frustrated (we got lost more than once in the downtown Kansas City streets), and a bit peeved that the sisters had gone to one of the most dangerous hospitals in our mission boundaries. The first thing that I noticed was that I was the only white man in the whole office that wasn't wearing scurbs or a stethoscope. Now race is not an issue to me. Usually. But when it comes down to it it's just not safe for a lone white man to be alone in downtown Kansas City at night. Well, I wasn't alone. I had Josh with me, but what chance does a 5'7 Mexican and a 5'9 Jew stand against a cold metal gun. No chance at all. Anyway, the Lord was on my side that night. The only thing I became a target for were complaints. Apparently the little white man is supposed to have power. Within minutes of arrival, after having found the sisters in the ER waiting room (where they had been for 7 hours now), a man came up to me and started complaining about how the orderlies "was kickin' sick people wy (while) they down,' and he wanted to know what I was 'goin' do 'bout it.' I, of course, had no solution to his dilemma. I got the full story later. Apparently, he had been sleeping on the floor of the ER which violated fire codes and such. A nurse had come up and tapped the man with his foot and asked him to sit in a chair. The man jumped off the floor and went on a five minute rant about how wrong it was to 'kick sick people wy they down.' I was supposed to make it better. I said sorry and walked away.
Many more incredible and exceedingly funny things happened that night. We were at the hospital until 6 in the A.M. The next day was brutal, but the stories we have are certainly fun to tell. Next time I'll tell you a story that is a bit more recent. I feel that my exploits in Seattle are worth mentioning as well as my trip to Kansas City. And in 20 days I shall have tales of sunshine and beaches to warm your winter weary hearts, because I'm going to Hawaii! Then in Dec. I will share the details of my trip to Boston which is sure to be a winner in more ways than one ; ) Stay strong. Do good, be good!

To Be Productive is to Be Happy: Utah

I feel like today was one of those days that I can just sit back and be so thankful that I was alive to experience it. Really it wasn't much different than most other days, but for some reason I was much more aware of everything that was good. I have a pretty good idea as to why this day was different. It's because I decidedly made it so. I began with a prayer. This is important to me. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and a devout follower of Christ. Therefore it is important to me have a strong relationship with Him and with my Heavenly Father.

Anyway, I have also been reading Stephanie Nielson's autobiography Heaven is Here. It was this huge wake up call to me. I have a very capable and healthy body, and I don't treat it at all the way I should. I am definitely more sedentary than I should be. So after finishing this truly inspirational story I got to work. After being gone on vacation for a week (details to come) I had a lot of catching up to do. This is good for me psychologically. It puts me in overdrive, and I work far more efficiently. Usually I listen to music while I work. In my opinion, the music I listen to is pretty darn awesome; Radical Face, Fleetfoxes, Regina Spektor, Noah and the Whale, etc,. Today, however, I started off with some Grieg and Holst, both classical composers, while simultaneously listening to a wonderful talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland from the last General Conference. It was nice to switch things up. Even better was heading to Institute right after work. Our stake president's wife has been teaching a series on self-reliance spiritually and physically. It has been amazing, and I learned so much. Sister Mullen brought up an excellent point that me me think. She asked if we had ever been hungry or thirsty for knowledge or if maybe we had been in school so long that we had been blessed not to experience that feeling. I realized that there have been very few times that when I have literally hungered for knowledge regarding a certain subject, and each time I had diligently searched for it it had opened doors that would never have opened had I only been a passive participant in my education. I immediately resolved to always be learning.

Directly after institute I made the impromptu decision to hike the "Y". It's not a long hike and I started soon enough that I made it to the top before it was dark. I sat at the top of the right fork of the "Y" and looked out at Utah Valley. I had forgotten how beautiful it was. The lights blinked and twinkled like a blanket of copper pennies. I looked northward and saw the mountains standing tall, but they weren't imposing or sinister. They stood as sentinels looking down on the valley. I looked westward. Of course there was a range of mountains there, too, and at the foot of these was Utah Lake. By now it was dark enough that the lake, mountains, and sky all met in, what seemed to me, a seamless veil of deep purples, blues, and grays. The lights coming from the houses on the far side of the lake were like the lighting bugs I used to catch in Kansas. At this point it was getting really dark and I needed to start my descent. (I make it sound like a big deal when really it's only 1.2 miles.) I was about to get up when a couple of teenagers appeared on the path and with them started the rapid rattling of the baby rattle snake that was no more than 8 feet away from my left hand, but had failed to see because it was so dark. I had walked right past it. We all waited for it to slither off down the face of the "Y", but it changed it's mind and started back up the mountain instead. I was certainly more observant on my way down than I had been on the way up. In fact, I was quite paranoid.
Well, I made it down without any fatal snake bites or cougar attacks, and here I sit, having showered and eaten, watching Nacho Libre and telling myself that I really should be in bed. So I will sign off and reckon that I should make every ordinary day like this one into something to be grateful for.



Books: Utah

Seeing as how I sit in the same office from 9 am to 5 pm for 5 days of the week I figured I could describe it to my dear readers. Now I know that it has been some time since I last posted, and I have had several wonderful adventures since my last post so I will endeavor to play 'catch-up' in a later post. In the mean time, let's take a walk to work, shall we?
I take the stairs up to the 6th floor of the Harold B. Lee Library each morning around 9 in the a.m. I drop my lunch off in my locker, and then I meander through the maze of cubicles and bookshelves to my cubicle on the south side of the building. I sit in my comfy blue office chair and flip on the computer. It has two monitors since a lot of the work I do requires multiple programs to be open at one time. Now I look around. To my right and left are about a thousand government documents in French and English. They are reports, lists, and questionnaires given by the League of Nations ranging in date from 1927-1945ish. I touch history when I work on that project. Behind me is a bookshelf. Usually it holds a small collection of books that are rather problematic to work with. More importantly, it holds the LP's that I am responsible for cataloging. Farther to my right is a book truck stuffed with Spanish books covering various topics. There is also a small table and another book truck both piled high with books that I have finished working on and are now waiting to be reviewed by my boss. Hidden in this jumble of books and documents and LP's are a coat-rack, a chair for any guests I may have (usually my boss), and a phone that I don't use. Oh, and I have a microfilm reader, but we haven't dealt with that antiquated stuff in months.
My office is basically filled with a random mix of books and music and documents. And I love it. My job is so great. Sometimes a huge stack of new novels will come through. Sometimes a big box of books headed for the LDS Business College will land on my desk. My favorites are the genealogical books because I know that each time one of those reaches the shelf new names can be found by eager genealogists seeking to offer the blessings of the gospel to deceased ancestors. I reckon I have one of the greatest on-campus jobs there is.
Now I just need to cover the peachy gray color of my cubicle walls with a rainbow of pigment. My office needs colors and pictures and paintings. It's boring at the moment. No one could tell it was my space just by looking at it. It needs a touch of Jens. 

Let Summer Begin: Utah

This is where summer starts. A good playlist. A grand adventure. Family, friends, and BBQ's. But even the most scintillating smells of summer must be preceded by something far more sinister. It is devoid of sunshine. It crowds out laughter. It even makes grown men cry. Some people call it 'hell.' I call it finals.
It is a sad truth, dear people, that the week of finals, no matter how sunny or bright it may appear, is actually just a raging storm of despair. Students from freshman to super seniors are crammed into every nook and cranny of campus studying until steam trails begin to drift from their ears. It all happens so quickly. One week everyone is outside enjoying the lacy pink and white blooms of various trees and shrubs, playing Frisbee, and finding love, and the next week it's all forgotten; lost in the mire of study guides and flashcards. It's over almost as soon as it began. Perhaps, dear people, you wonder how the author faired in such grotto of melancholy madness? I am pleased to inform the masses that I passed every class, even if it wasn't with flying colors. OK, in all reality I took a nose dive and managed to escape with just a few scrapes and bruises.  Joyously, however, it is over. The blossoms are still around and love can still be found, dear reader. I am here to tell say that the Lord definitely watches over His people. Without His help I would probably be on academic probation or something, but my brain was blessed, for certain.
Oh but let us not dwell on such unhappy things as finals. Let me detail just how beautiful life is now. I work at the library on campus. It's a wonderful place to work, but what makes it even better is the walk I take to get there. As I walk I pass flowering trees with branches weighed down with the most aromatic delicate pink blossoms. Some trees are drenched in white petals that rain down when the wind blows. They spin and swirl in the breeze. There is a little quad of trees with deep brown spindly limbs that are papered in rich pink flowers. They look very much like coral. I stroll past ducks and robins and families with little kids laughing. All in all this daily experience makes me sound rather sappy, but I wouldn't trade it. I love it and I reckon that I might just get used to this school after all.

Silly Captive Words: California

Do you have moments when you are content to be in a supine position? Your back is on the floor, Norah Jones sets the ambiance, and you could simply exist in limbo for hours. I think it's a blessing to catch these moments. They contain a therapeutic element; a means of catharsis. Dive in deeper with me. Your back isn't just on the floor, it's on the sand. Norah Jones may be playing, but if she is it's only a small tune in the back of your mind. The real music comes from the gulls and the waves and the people. The gulls cry out in a weary melody. The waves are the beat. The people offer up the lyrics not so much in words as in the ever present rumble of humanity. It's a good noise.
Maybe you have your favorite novel in hand. But remember, for every word on the page there are a thousand pictures all around you and every picture is worth a thousand words. These words aren't held captive, either. No amount of cleverness could ever capture them. Not even the most skilled author could chain these words to a page, because these words are wild. They were never meant to be tamed. They are embodied in the jellyfish on the beach, the shell in the little girls hand, the sand castle the boy and his dad made from wet sand, driftwood, and seaweed. Who are you to read silly captive words in this singular moment full of the wild words?
 The waves are full of stories better than anything you brought along. Listen to them. One has a tale of sadness. The fisherman down the way lost his boat. He couldn't make the payments. But the next wave is playful. She and the breeze have become friends. The breeze picks up a sun hat lying on an empty chair. He tosses it into the waiting hands of the wave who pushes it about until the elegant lady it belongs to rescues it. She has to get wet and though she huffs about it she really enjoyed the moment of childlike innocence as the wave washed around her, the hat in tow. The wave never intended to keep it anyway. She just wanted to play.
The sun falls from the sky much faster than any of the kids would like, but he is tired. He had so many hearts to warm and souls to rescue from the darkness. All he has strength for is one last hour of pink and orange draped across white clouds and then he sinks into the sea for a much needed nap.
Each moment has a thousand pictures and each picture is worth a thousand words. Don't miss the wild words because your mind is too engrossed in the silly captive ones. There will be time for those when the sun is sleeping, I reckon.

Perfect Timing: Utah

I think it's high time for a post on gratitude. It might be wise to limit it to things that I am grateful for this week, though, because a more extensive list may have me writing 'til the wee hours of the morning.

I have never agreed with the mentality of saving the best for last. I don't really like waiting for surprises. Either I am going to be surprised now or I am going to be surprised later so why draw it out, yeah? Anyway, enough of my opinions. 

I am very grateful that my Heavenly Father knows exactly what I need. I say that with a grain of salt because I feel that trials keep stacking up. Someone keeps putting rocks in my backpack. Fortunately, our wonderful Father in Heaven sends me little shots of light that I can tuck away for later. Today's little boost was found in Alma 17 and when I say it was found there I mean it was encompassed in the entire chapter. I love it. The Lord  had me in mind when He said and did those things. I am sure of it and I say it without irony. He had just completed the Atonement and I would like to think that everything He suffered was not so soon forgotten. I am sure the pain was still very real in His mind, easily recalled but easily relieved because He had also completed the single greatest act in human history. He had created a way for our pain to find relief, our burdens to be laid aside, and our sins to be swept away in a flood of compassion. That is what I am thankful for. 

Also, I am grateful for friends who are exceedingly patient with my nonsense. It's like hanging around a moody little weasel. You never know when it'll snap, and if you're not careful you have a furry demon up in your grill. Ok, it's not that bad, but nevertheless I still have great friends who put up with a lot of junk from me. 

Lastly, I am eternally grateful for my family. They are so great. 'Nuff said. Words don't really describe my family. You really just have to be fortunate enough to know them to know what I mean. 

So in all reality this is not the most epic post or even the least bit entertaining. The good news is that it's all true. Remember to cultivate and attitude of gratitude because I reckon that, just as Elder Richard Scott said, we can find peace and comfort in our trials and pain.