The dare.

Late one night 3 of my friends and I dredged up some long lost teenage youthfulness and formed a pact. A dare to last 4 days. My lot was two-fold. First, to call 4 people I hadn't spoken to in at least a year. Second, to somehow work the phrase, "My lips itch bad" into our conversation...easy enough, right?

Did you know that most people you haven't spoken to in at least a year don't actually answer their phone when you call? As if they've moved on. As if they think you no longer have anything to talk about. As if.

Naturally I didn't want to call anyone who would find out later that it had all been a dare. That my friendly phone call was really just a joke on them. A pox on our friendship. Better to keep contact impersonal and scarce.

So I did it. Well...I tried. I finally got a hold of a girl from my home ward who's now living out here. We caught up, we talked about getting together, and I asked her, "My lips itch bad, do you think that means I have the swine flu?" Compassionately she told me, "You're probably going to die. There's a 100% chance you're going to die someday." We probably won't speak again for another year.

My second victim was a friend who got married awhile ago and obligatorily dropped off the face of the earth. When I told her my lips itched bad she glossed over it completely as if nothing strange was said...and maybe it's not strange...to her.

Next, a boy I tried...and failed...to date. I got it out of the way first thing. He asked me how I was. I gave him the pre-scripted line. He said, "That's kind of unique...I won't ask for any details regarding that." Then he came over and looked at my lawn. We're going to create flower beds for it this summer.

And that was it. It turns out that when you're in your late-twenties and it's not late at night and you're not with your friends...dares are not funny. None of us finished. I have three random people back in my life and none of us finished. Although I completed the most. Another friend had to invite a single male co-worker to lunch. Well, to pork, really. Every day, for 4 days. She was actually taken up on it once. Another was supposed to approach 4 random people on the street, look in their eyes, and say "Stranger Danger!" She did it once...to small children...on the other side of a fence...who just stared at her blankly. The final dare - the easiest dare - was merely to dance for 30 seconds in a public place. One of our friends does that all the time. In her normal life.

So, I'm pretty sure I should get something. Something for my ill-intentioned self-sacrifice. Something more than a reworked lawn.

Jiggity jig.

So I went home for a week recently. My sister was graduating from high school and someone needed to be there to heckle her because my parents certainly weren't going to. Most of the time I spent lounging in my pajamas and Kathryn was out with her friends but one morning we went out to take pictures. I often talk about how pretty my hometown is but I've never had any convincing evidence. Now you can judge for yourself. There's really no reason for you not to be convinced. As we can all see, my pictures do it justice.

Here are some of my sister's:

Ah, music.

For a girl who didn’t know that New Kids on the Block existed until they were old news I feel like I’ve really come into my own. During my angst-filled pre-teen years that lasted well into college I bought my first cd: “Let Your Dim Light Shine” by Soul Asylum (remember Runaway Train?). I felt like I could really connect with their song “Misery.”

Later, I discovered (and fell in love with) Fuel before they became big. I learned all the words to 2Pac’s “Changes” during my rap phase Senior year of High School…until I realized I shouldn’t be listening to music that swears and clean rap is not good rap. Soon after, I had a quarter-life crisis and started borrowing punk music from my younger brothers and sisters. I even created my own genre and a series of 9 cds filled with “Semi-Soft Alternative” hits from bands like Jimmy Eat World, Good Charlotte, and Dashboard Confessional. After slowing it down even more I am now into Indie music with the best of Utah.

I guess it’s apparent that I go through music like…I was going to say clothes but I only get new clothes when my mom comes to visit--about once a year. I’m always on the lookout for new music, on the other hand. I will love, love, love a song or an artist for awhile until I discover something new and different and then I’ll love, love, love that for awhile. Rinse, wash, repeat. Usually this process only takes a few months or so and all the while I’ll collect music I enjoy but may not absolutely love. So, despite having what I consider selective music tastes, I currently own 5 1/2 days worth of songs. Which is good because, if possible, I will have music playing all the time--in the car, doing homework, watching tv…

Anyway, I started to wonder if there was any music that has withstood the test of time--songs that I’ve loved and will continue loving ‘til nearly forever. Of course there are artists that I grew up listening to that will retain a special place in my collection--Elton John, The Beatles, and Phil Collins to name a few--but are there songs that I go back to time and time again? Not really...but there are some, even if just for sentimentality. So I’ve collected a few for your listening pleasure. The last two are songs I'm loving right now (subject to change in the next few weeks or so).

[Embers and Envelopes, Shimmer, Boy With a Coin, Sweet Dream, Arc of Time, Life Uncommon, Soldier's Daughter, Two Points for Honesty, High and Dry, So Long So Long, Nothing Better]

Calling all dreamers.

Apparently you're all mystified as well (thank you, Chelsi, for indulging me). No matter, I have something else that will hopefully be easier for you to help me with.

Currently, I have nothing to do this summer, which is great for 19 year olds but less great for people striving for adulthood--you know, a life devoid of carefree irresponsibility. Since it is what it is, I thought I should at least attempt to take full advantage while it's here. So if you found yourself jobless, school-less, and hapless, what is the one thing you would want to do out of anything?

Rule #1: It can't be very costly. Remember, I'm jobless.
Rule #2: I will not make a large kitty head out of paper mache and ride around the neighborhood so don't even suggest it.
Rule #3: It can't have anything to do with actually taking care of yourself, e.g., job searching, spring cleaning...you know, boring things.

In fact, chances are I won't actually do any of them. So far I've spent my time watching inane tv shows, reading outside, and thinking about cleaning my house. I don't really see why that should change at all...BUT if you have a dream that interests me I will fulfill it and then write about it so you know just how awesome or not awesome your dream actually is. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Got it? Good. Now go at it.

School's out for the summer!

Now that finals are over and I have a whole summertime of relaxation ahead of me I thought it appropriate to start reading a book entitled “A Short History of Nearly Everything.” Well, sub-titled really. The actual title is a picture of Earth from space. In it the author, Bill Bryson, discusses the Big Bang—the supposed creation of the universe—and soon I shall begin to wax theologian, but first, he says:

“You will need to gather up everything there is-every last mote and particle of matter between here and the edge of creation-and squeeze it into a spot so infinitesimally compact that it has no dimensions at all. It is known as a singularity…

It is natural but wrong to visualize the singularity as a kind of pregnant dot hanging in a dark, boundless void. But there is no space, no darkness. The singularity has no “around” around it. There is no space for it to occupy, no place for it to be…

And so, from nothing, our universe begins.

In a single blinding pulse, a moment of glory much too swift and expansive for any form of words, the singularity assumes heavenly dimensions, space beyond conception…In less than a minute the universe is a million billion miles across and growing fast. In three minutes, 98 percent of all the matter there is or will ever be has been produced. We have a universe.”

Can someone please explain to me how people can believe such astounding theories and not only flatly deny but mock the existence of a divine and omnipotent being who is from eternity to all eternity? As if believing in God is any more ludicrous than the thought that our universe began from a space one billionth the size of a proton (500 billion of which could fit in the dot of this “i”) and that “at some indeterminate point in the very distant past, for reasons unknown, there came the moment known to science as t=0.” The moment when the universe so circumstantially and amazingly coincidenced. How is the idea that you exist because of “timely extraterrestrial bangs and other random flukes” at all satisfying—more satisfying than the idea that there is a being out there powerful enough to displace a whole mountain range on your head but loving enough to instead create a world for you? I’m not saying that the Big Bang is a big bust; I merely tend to think these things more readily confirm instead of disprove the existence of a divine orchestrator. Preaching to the choir, I know, I just remain completely mystified.

I feel like I’ve just written in to a help column. “Please advise.

--Utterly Befuddled in Utah.”