It's time to storm the castle...and toss the bodies in the moat.

As some of you know, I’ve gone back to school. I’ve gone back to school in order to jumpstart my stalled attempts at becoming rich and famous. When I realized that “Woodsman” and not “Archaeologist” was included on the drop-down list of occupations, I knew it was time for a change. So I hitched up my tights, quit my job at the church, and sold my soul to the devil. I am now an official student of the University of Utah.

I was admittedly nervous to start taking classes, tough classes; subjects like…calculus and…chemistry. In the following weeks, however, as quizzes and homework assignments continually broke across the bulwark of my formidable aptitude I began to secretly imagine stunning everyone by my success over all things academic. You see, despite my expanded experiences and matured outlook I find that, for me, grades are still self-defining. So when scores from my mechanical engineering class began to come back as somewhat less than stunning I was somewhat less than happy.

I think this is as good a place as any to describe the ridiculousness of what is required of me by this class—this “gotta prove I’m not just any other 1000 level class.” First, there are Excel assignments due every week. These take on average a minimum of 5 hours. We also have to, in groups of 4, design 4 robots that will execute separate robotic mandates—one has to launch itself off a ramp, one has to drive along the edge of a 2x4 (35 mm) and complete a flip, one has to do a 180 degree rotation in a 3 m square box (all while holding a raw egg), and the last has to launch that egg over two parallel bars and catch it on the other side. Homework assignments related to this design project are due weekly. Then there’s a weekly 3-hour lab with, you guessed it, weekly assignments. Finally, there are in-class pop quizzes on reading we’re supposed to, somewhere in our “free” time, complete on our own.

All of that I can handle. I’ve been busy before. I’ve been so stressed out that I’ve started breaking out before. The difference in my experiences does not lie in the supposed intellectual superiority of the hard sciences over the social sciences. It even has less to do with the fact that I also have to work and keep up with a failing social life. No, I’m being deducted for missing answers that are less than explicit in the directions. For example—from a problem with directions to prepare a table—the phrase “estimate the point where x first crosses the t-axis (i.e., estimate the value of t corresponding to x=0) supposedly means “insert a graph or we’ll dock you 4 points.” Another example involves vague instructions on how to write a technical memo and team working agreement and then 20% off for not meeting their blurred expectations.

My vanity is being robbed. Illegitimately.

As a song.

Warmed by the breath of one soloist a song of faltering notes and humble eyes filled the space below the vaulted ceiling. Its nervous tempo struggled to keep up with a methodically strong piano as it descended amid a half-aware congregation. Brief moments of quiet artistry were swept away by missteps on a threaded melody and so it threatened to fade into the background of pressing thoughtlessness. The masses did not nod their heads in unanimous appreciation; the crowd did not ignorantly offer a standing ovation. Still, I listened. I listened to a song that was not a magnificent aria. I listened to a song that was a personal echo of a life of fumbling steps and looks of uncertainty, of imperfect efforts and missed opportunities. I listened to a song that was a reminder of the inevitable shortcomings of routine living. I listened to a song that did not deserve pity but an acknowledgment of the beauty in the effort and the honesty. My soul cried out with the strains of a song unabashedly human in its presentation, "Be still...the Lord is on thy side; with patience bear thy cross of grief or pain...Be still...thy God doth undertake to guide the future as he has the past...Be still, my soul."

Kristin VanVoorhis

Kristin "Penelope" VanVoorhis passed away Saturday, August 16th around 3:00 P.M. surrounded by family and friends. Kristin was born June 13, 1983 in Canton, Ohio to Marky and Joany VanVoorhis. Endowed with massive amounts of hair and a healthy interest in boys, Kristin was a pleasure to all who knew her. She attended Brigham Young University and graduated with a degree in Recreational Therapy, after which she took a job in Pleasant Grove at a care center. The work out video she created for her residents is still there. Kristin had a bright and lively personality. She enjoyed delighting those around her with her many accents and renditions of songs. She could also shake it like nobody's business. Kristin leaves behind her parents, her eldest sister, Vanessa, close friends, and any hope for a moderate climate. She will be deeply deeply missed...

I present to you Mrs. Anderson:

The many faces of Gustave Courbet.

There's nothing like trying to reproduce art.

Santorini

My good friend and repeated traveling companion, Stef, wrote a more than adequate description of our first day in Santorini. So for those wonderful and all too brief 24 hours I will pass the torch to her...except to post a picture of our sunset lit rooftop dinner.The second day was, unfortunately, not as grand. We were conned into a boat tour of the rest of the islands around the caldera and, leaving later than we should have, we got off to a rough start. We were forced to run down the near 600 stairs made slick by constant wear and donkey droppings to the old port, most of us in flip flops. Some of our group made it down quickly and hopped on the boat to stall it for the rest of us...only to find out that our boat wasn't there yet. A little irked, we waited for our heart rate to slow down and ultimately were off for Nea Kameni--an island formed in the 16th century by volcanic eruptions. We failed to listen to any sort of explanation on the way there so we arrived ignorant of both purpose and direction. As a result, we did what anyone should do in that situation--mindlessly followed everyone around us. What we discovered was a small pit that turned out to be the active crater of the volcano and if you looked closely and used all of your imaginative muscles you could see it emit gases. The best part was sticking our hand in a hole to feel the ground, the temperature of which was hot enough to cook an egg...or maybe just smell like an egg.

Next stop: Palea Kameni, the site of the volcano's hot springs. This turned out to be an inlet off the ocean where we jumped off the boat and swam into water that turned gradually warmer and more and more coppery in color. There was also a sign that said, "Call me to my cell phone to save you." We seriously considered it.

Instead, we sailed for Thirassia, the only town unharmed during the last volcanic eruption. Determined to ride donkeys somewhere on our trip we forfeited our lives to a Greek man who sounded like a woman and went to discover what Greek life looked like 50 years ago. We were completely unprepared for what ended up being a crazy, jostling ride where legs met donkey in discomforting places, we ran down helpless tourists on their way down the stairs, and we were in constant jeopardy of being tossed over the wall ourselves. Good thing it was worth seeing a completely desolate town with no good views and one overpriced restaurant where McCall ate octopus for the first time. Opa!

Our final destination was Oia located on the northern tip of Santorini. Exhausted by disappointment and heat stroke we casually shopped and walked around. There was only one thoroughfare so there was no chance of losing each other. Eventually we made our way to the old castle which was purportedly the best place to watch the famous Oia sunset...so famous it was difficult to find a place to sit among the hordes and hordes of people. We alternated between watching the actual sunset and watching the angry Asian couple in front of us take picture after picture of each other. When it was over and the Asian couple was gone we took our time getting to the bus stop...where all the buses were done for the night...and people fought tooth and nail for taxis. After getting ousted a couple times by tourists with no sense of a queue--Europeans--and waiting for the pay phone behind a girl talking with her 20 member family we took matters into our own hands...and razed the place to the ground (which meant we called a taxi company on someone else's cell phone and made sure everyone knew we were next.) Thus ended the day after the best day of our trip.