Got/Get/Getting my LEARNIN on

Some terms you finish up and realize after the post-final euphoria wains that you did not really learn anything during all those studious hours spent trying to keep your GPA from nose diving. I can't accept that student loans/grants paying my tuition could be so pointlessly wasted. Here are some things i know i have learned while up on campus that i can count some credit hours towards.

-Your best dating service are the seats behind, in-front and to your immediate sides. That is right, sit next to her or him. A few quick quips here and there, a direct stare with a quick goodbye, then you see them at some weekend social event and BAM the moment both of you have waited for during those 50min (1h 15 Tue/Thurs) during the week presents itself. Time to bridge the gap, "so what are doing Tuesday night" too forward??? OK, "you going to B-ball game?"

-I can sleep where ever i want too when ever i want too. In any position i want too additionally. Lecture halls with my legs over the row in-front of me. Tiny little desks with my chin resting on my collarbone. Some people sleep on all those couches and what not but honestly that grosses me out a bit. Couldn't explain why just does. But the point is Power naps are the best thing ever, you try to tell me that once i wipe the drool out the corner of my mouth that i am not 10x more productive than 15 min before.

-$$$ don't mean a thang. I pay over $200 in textbooks and i read maybe $25 willingly, it is not only until i botch the first quiz that i may take the plastic wrapping off. You think our liquified (and dried up) savings would give us more motivation.

-If i don't want to do it, it will suck. If i do want to do it, then i'll do it until i don't want to anymore. Then i'll review it and impress by how much i think it didn't suck. But i still don't want to do it anymore.

-The Professor will mess up, some will admit and be admired but be subject to forced compromises by desperate students. Others will not admit and lose much respect because, hey we are in college and we can spot a FAIL miles (or multiple youtube suggestions) away.

-The craziest times happened to me in the library...(open for interpretation)

WAKE-UP

Different ways to wake up and some ways i'd like to wake up:
-well rested
-alone
-way too early
-way too late
-late for a test/work
-from a power nap with work to do
-from a way too long nap and now you can't move
-in middle of the night, worrying
-right when the sun is coming up and the birds chirping
-when the neighbors/roommates are leaving the driveway/house
-on someone else's couch and they are giving you a dead arm
-when the dvd menu just keeps repeating itself
-after everyone else has left the room and you don't know where they went
-on the trampoline
-as your head falls off your hand in class
-on the pebbles in the garden
-driving on the wrong side of the road
-holding your baby niece
-blindly searching for your alarm clock
-with someone tapping on your car window
-being the big spoon, her hair all in your face
-on your knees
-with the same song on repeat
-hand against face now that side of your face is all sweaty
-book/laptop on your chest
-walking to the fridge to drink something cold to calm down
-after hearing a weird sound outside
-phone on your collarbone so you don't miss the alarm or call your expecting
-in the same clothes you wore last night
-christmas morning
-hungry
-not horny
-horny
-with the 6 hour old text reply he sent you after you fell asleep
-shivering with the no blanket
-someone using you and the bed as a landing pad, unexpectantly
-with an emergency phone call
-hours before she is bound to even think about getting up
-mom cooking breakfast jamming "More than a Feeling"
-sore with bruises
-3am and you're sick
-pulling into the driveway after a long trip
-as fast as you can to beat roommates to the shower
-on the opposite end of the bed
-freaking out because you do not know how you got here
-bad dreams
-hearing her curse the kids outside with that sexy whiny morning voice
-after a really big blow to your cranium
-with dad dying and mom is screaming downstairs
-waking up after every single time you go to sleep

128 square feet to Freedom

I have not lived a long time on this planet. So the feelings to have lost something that you once possessed are relatively new for me. I am not talking about losing my teeth, or even my fear of camping in dark forests.

As you grow up you learn lessons. You gain attributes and skills. You get stronger and more independent. You find your own direction and method to get things done. You are adding and adding and maturing.

So this new feeling of noticing that something you depended on has slipped away, is not one i like at all.

To be Free.
The idea of freedom for me, is something so different than the word really relates. When i am free it is because i made the right decision and i will not suffer any pain from a wrong decision. Without that pain to slow me down i am free to do what ever i want for who ever i want. (a humble man would replace the "want's" with "can")

I do not have the same fire and passion for that freedom anymore. I've let so many little things wash it away recently.

It is time to fix that.

Among other more personal parts of my plan, i have a empty wall next to my bed. 16x8 feet. In the bottom right corner, near where my head rests while i sleep there are seven cards. On each of these cards i have written something that my former freedom brought me, the things i miss the most. I plan on tacking up at least one card a day. I would like to cover the 128square feet with reasons to make my freedom, mine.

Now i must decide wither to go scotch tape or thumbtacks.

'91 is 19 backwards

I won't lie i was looking at pictures of a former high school flame. One of the few girls in my memory that actually got more attractive as opposed to more drunk, pregnant, addicted, boring or dead in the six years since we all parted. I am not getting all "just friends ryan reynolds" here wishing it would have played out differently; no need i survived high school and the six years afterwards i shouldn't ask for more. But i looked at some of her pics and was slightly enamored to the point of thinking, "hmmmm how could i swing seeing her again come christmas break?"

The First thoughts that came to me where quite the shockers...

Its been a while since you have ever gone/made/went -out with a girl your age. BOOM

How did i get to the point that i'd have to look into the dating historical annals to figure out the who was the last girl i dated that was within two years of my age? BOOM

Mitch to the best of your knowledge it was WELL OVER 2 YEARS AGO. BAM

Do you even remember what it was like to date someone who wouldn't get carded at a bar? BOOM

so i began to think...

Mitch did it really make that much of a difference when you did date someone who was born before grunge died? In those cases no Mitch they didn't.

Would it make much of a difference in any case? It has the potential to make all the difference, common interests, and some of them must of grown up a bit just like i have, right.

When i reached the conclusion that maybe more mature women may be necessary to my romantic interludes. I immediately posed myself the magic bullet question. Which magically blew my heart out the wrong side of my spine.

So Mitch, where are all the women closer to your age that you could be attracted too?

Oh yeah, all the older mature boys snatched them up when they were 19.

Vexat-, Tribulat-, Redempt-, -ion

I really like the films like, Cinderella Man, Invincible and The Sting. Cinderella Man and Invincible are at their most basic level inspirational sports movies and well Robert Redford ran a lot from mobsters and crooked cops in The Sting. But the sports have really nothing to do it, maybe a little but not too much.

What are the experts calling it now, "growth recession" or even the "BBQ Recovery"?

Low and slow just like the coal grill on the back patio. Stats might (with the right tweaking) be growing but not faster than that nasty inflation. You know that thing that makes the same product more expensive as it just sits there.

We patted ourselves on the back this September, we stayed at 9.1% unemployment. You know i lowered my expectations once to make things look better. She wasn't disgusting but the only thing she had going for her was that she qualified with my hetero-sexual ways, she was a girl.

GOP hopeful's remind me when the first kid got a trampoline on the street. How many kids could we fit on the biggest toy on the block, trying to steal the bounce from each other? Reversely Obams (cute huh?) feels like that QB who couldn't get that 3rd and long conversion all night, his punter must be getting tired.

I rant (Wall Street should choke and die) and I rant (banks are dens of thieves) and I will now get mooshy.

I like those movies because, they are people surrounded by their families whom are surrounded by really dismal economic situations. The world sucked at the start of the film and it sucked at the end. But the characters and their families experienced redemption. Albeit (finally got to use that word) after much cinematic tribulation.

I would wish that the director is getting close to that scene, for us (vague on purpose).

Talkin shop with Pops

I was waiting outside on my older sister’s driveway in Lehi. My cousin was late, we were taking her car back up to Logan for the Homecoming game which I had to work at that night with the rest of the Media Relation minions. I had said goodbye to my family earlier on, because they were still at this crazy mud race in the canyon. I was kind of down that I spent less than 12 hours with them, but I had work to do and that is a priority for me and parents alike. God granted me boon, when my family pulled into the driveway before my cousin.

I was able to hug and kiss my little sisters goodbye and give mom one more hug. But Dad just went and grabbed some gross power bars and sat with me. We talked college football, the best sporting league in the world. I was super anxious to leave so I wouldn’t be late so I doubt I was super conversational. Dad offered to drive me up if I needed to leave right now. My cousin showed up I hugged Dad and jumped in the car. Up in the press box we texted throughout the game. Scores and big plays were passed son to father. This afternoon we talked about the game I told him all that I saw and we talked about how next week’s game needed to play out.

This isn’t a “Disney movie” plug for how great this sport is. My Dad and I will always talk on or off season. But it is great to talk shop with my Father.

Dream like its 2013

So I was talking to my mom today while her and father and the remaining siblings traveled home after a fam-reunion. She was talking about certain ideas that were thrown around by the various family members for the next fam-reunion that should take place in 2013. She talked about urban scavenger hunt that takes place city wide in west coast towns like San Diego or San Francisco. Our family loves little cutsie things like that, I don’t really care either way. I attend these things to play with all the little ones, avoid questions about my future and eat allllll the free well prepared food.
But then I said, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it.
“You know mom, my wife and I will be working at least two low-level, low pay jobs each. Plane tickets from Philedephia, Boston or Austin might be out of our price range.”
Mom was quick and played along.
“Yeah but by that time your father will have a job, and not just any job. He will be District Manager of some burgeoning medical sales company. 100k a year probably. We will fly you out, or help pay the rental car/gas costs so you can make that cross country trip you have always wanted to make.”
So it was settled my parents would finance the trip my beautiful wife and I will make out to the next reunion. Never mind, that I have eight more months till graduation and no real job leads. My car is less mobile than a terminal cancer patient. Completely small detail that I do not have a wife or any relationship and that the last one still makes me want to use up my yearly “f-bomb” quota in one fell swoop.
We can over look the negligible facts that it has been five years since my Dad has had a job that paid more than what he was making his first year out of college. That this isn’t the first time my family has been food stamp eligible. Little things like that.
I am not whining, Lord in heaven please do not think I am getting down with this. I just really appreciated the little scenario we created together my Mom and I. I have no idea why I loved it so much either. But in a “rough” time like this, can you blame us for enjoying it so much?

Then the past called

So there was this girl last night. Her hair was long down past her shoulders. She had faint freckles around her shoulders. If i hiked over a mountain I could rest my weary arms on her wide hips, like a shelf. Her derriere makes me wish I could palm NBA sized basketballs. I would gladly break my face on concrete if it would spare any harm to come on the most perfect set of legs ever. She has a triangle bottom lip.

I was in a hot dark room with this girl. The windows were open and the night breeze would gust in from time to time. There was abundant use of every flat surface. I could taste the salt in her glisten around her collar bone. Its rare to get opportunities hotter than this. This was as hot and heavy as I am allowed to experience.

Then the past called.

My phone was visible so i took a really fast glance at the name of this ill-timed caller. It was her, it was my past. I couldn't take the call (manners ya know), so I let it go to message. But from that moment on while I have an absolute vision breathing heavy in my ears, I could NOT stop thinking, "why was she calling me tonight?".

The past came ringing in for a 2nd time.

Now I am driving myself absolutely up the walls trying to think, "how am I going to get out of this and listen to her message, WHY IS SHE CALLING TWICE?"

I know exactly why this happened like it did. I know why I wanted to hear a voicemail more than sweat with a goddess. No analysis required.

PINKERTON = i am a mess

Hello my name is Mitch and i am a mess. I am a mess that inadvertently has been living his summer life up to this point in a fashion akin to PINKERTON. Yep that WEEZER album that no one really liked but the losers and now its recognized as one of their best ever. But let me explain track by track the realization i came today while rocking the entire album out.

1. Tired of Sex: i don't have sex, i am a good Mormon boy. With that said due to several failed and still smoldering attempts at making serious relationships work; i decided to take a break from seriousness and MAC my way through May, June, July and August. Its been fun but I catch myself often wishing that i could perceive some substance in any of these girls. When Rivers says "i know i am a sinner, but i can't say no", i know i once shunned the shallow types for exactly what i am doing now, but i can't say no. Because there is no better option at the moment.

2. Why Bother?: "Its just sexual attraction, nothing real so i better keep whacking." This one is a great testament to my attempts to totally mangle and maim my social life and previous social standards. I am only physically attracted to these girls, i know its not real, i've felt real and this isn't it. But then he screams, "i've known alot of girls, whats the harm in knowing one more." Because even if its not real, whats the harm, why bother? Its called a fling for a reason.

3. Across the Sea: Despite my attempts to be reckless, i do have some really cool and legit crushes on some cool and legit girls. Ones i would consider real. I consider them as such because we pen pal and i enjoy our conversations. That is real enough for me.

4. El Scorcho: This one is a hope more than a reality, its about meeting a girl that you click with on multiple levels as suggested by the verses about 1/2 japanese girls, and her not knowing about Green day (back in '96 it was quite a feat). Then his declaration of love, "i think i'd be good for you and you'd be good for me." Its simple and honest which i usually try to be when i am not trying to be reckless.

5. The good life: My life is not a terrible, I have jobs that pay me money and take up my ample time. I have an awesome pad and a car that works and plays PINKERTON really loud. I am cocky/arrogant/egotistical/good-looking/self-aware and for some reason girls of all kinds like this. So to be able to decide hey i am going to make a mess with all this and enjoy it, (and not get struck down by God), means that i cant be having it too hard. If anything i make harder than it needs to be by choice. "But who do i have to blame? nobody but me".

I am Mitch and i am making a mess while its hot and sticky, contact me if you feel so inclined to participate in any way.

Inside Marla

(went on a long drive with Lupe Fiasco this is what came out, my first rhyme)(my truck's name is marla)

Please will you grow up and act like you are young and reckless.
Young and in love so please get some mental correctness

I can’t love if you don’t survive
Act your age girl and be young and alive.


C’mon learn the lessons and leave the baggage
Yeah you been hurt,
Like my whole social network
Know the pain know the game
Just like how they know to jerk

I set that up to bring a smile
You was colder than morning floor tile
Its cool but I wont be chill
My heart is looking for a thrill
Flying on a buzz that ya know only how to kill

Wanna String me up on your front lawn tree?
Invite the whole neighborhood cause it’s warm tonight
Sundresses, front porch and ice tea
I’ll be filled with sweets from anotha
But You want my heart for a party piñata

I do not want to write this

A forced moment of self-degradation
I do not want to write this at all. But I do not have a choice in the matter. What I don’t want to write about is how I drive myself to the brink and over when I get bored. I do not have a choice because I have absolutely nothing else I can do to stave the boredom. I killed every Scrubs episode till the sucky season (I’ll let you decided which one that is). I have watched every Tremors movie in the series and which I think was genius until thirty two minutes into the second installment. There are 4 movies in that series. I make multiple trips to Wal Mart to get only one or two items that I may need the next morning for breakfast. Then I go back to what? You guessed it more Netflix. Blah blah blah blah how I suffer and how I am my own worst enemy.
I told you I do not want to write this. I don’t. I am sitting here thinking how I can make the little tidbits about how I spend my time funny to a reader. How can I depreciate myself in a pathetic situation like David Sedaris? My heart is not in it, this is a forced catharsis. So it is not really cathartic at all just an explanation. Explaining to whom? No reads my blog anyways. So lets force this catharsis even further.
So I am bored and I hate it. I hate it because I think too much. My mind goes 1,000 mph towards self-doubt-Ville. Bo-hoo me right? Yeah I think of what I’ve done wrong to other people. What other people have done wrong to me and why I might have deserved it or not. What am I doing here, should I be somewhere else? Am I doing the right things in my major, am I in the right major? This isn’t motivated by self destruction, the opposite actually. I want to always to fix things. Find problem and fix it. That’s what I do. Combine that with a good memory and enough free time to solve world hunger and bam we got a problem. We got my last two weeks. This is a problem that I must fix. But how do I fix the problem of me looking for problems to fix. That is a nasty nasty nasty catch-22 right there. I laughed at how pointless it seemed till it went all clairvoyant on me. I don’t fix it. I leave it the akslfkjnadwkjfa alone. To fix the problem of constantly looking for problems I stop trying to fix the problem. I fix the problem by not fixing the problem. Holy mother of cows and other tasty animals!!! This catharsis worked. I seriously wasn’t planning on that. I was just making myself take a break from Netflix, catharsis achieved.

What if i dated my old GF's?

I was reading about one of my favorite bands on Wikipedia (a favorite pastime of mine) and at the end of the article it talked about the possibility of a reunion tour. Can you imagine my delight!!! I would put on my most torn up jeans and my meanest black punkrock tee, lace up my chucks real tight and turn 16 again for one night. Delighted until I read that one of guitarists wasn’t too keen on the idea. He was quoted saying, “you want me to get back up there and play some 10 year old songs, that is like me asking you to go get back with your first girlfriend.” Which got me thinking, what if I went back and dated my first girl-friends? I thought it would be really cool to facebook stalk them and get a good bead on who they were (totally possible thanks FB) now, and see how we would match up today. That idea sadly died fast because I could not remember what their names were accurately enough to chase them down. Give me a break; two of them were German exchange students, of which I am still proud of to this today. So I’ll stick with my original plan.

One of the first girls was a German exchange student by the name of Andrea. She was an Aryan dream. 5’10” blonde that sounded just like the Austrian gal from The Last Crusade, which would make me Indiana Jones, great logic. How did I get her to like me, I lied straight to her face. While walking back from an autumn football game , I told her that I was constantly depressed because I had no real close friends, to talk too (sniff sniff). She took it hook line and sinker. “Troubled boy, who has deep underlying feelings, I want him”, she undoubtedly thought. We made out on top of spyglass hill, in my truck cab (didn’t care that I was 15 didn’t have my license yet) and any park benches on the golf course. She played amazing defense though, i couldn’t score with any trick plays. One night she tried a DTR I caved against every fiber of my being and we became official. The next morning at 6:00AM she texted me this line “good morning sweet heart I dreamt of you last night”. ARRRRRGGGHHHHH! I avoided her for two weeks and then gave her the lets just be friends talk and that was the last time we ever talked. If she could deal with my cockiness instead of depression, this might work now. She was a bit needy though and who doesn’t think that’s annoying now.

I can’t even remember this girls name so her name will be Kelly for ease of printing. She I am ashamed to admit was my first and only Myspace hook-up. She lived up in Washington and I think she started talking to me because I liked the then unknown band called “taking back Sunday”. We held a ridiculously cheesy teen-internet-romance for like 4 months until she moved down to my area. We met in the skate shop in the mall, she was Hella Curvy to my 17 year old delight. She was my first ash-tray; I never ever ever want to kiss a smoker again. But I was that horny at 17. I broke up with her when she drunk dialed me asking me to drive 45min out to get her and her dumb friends one night. I told her to find her own ride or die on the return trip. Never underestimate how much I didn’t care back then. I hate anything long distance and I still hate party-girls. I think I also appreciate girls that have different musical tastes than me, makes for better conversation.

Karma will always be a Beezy. I had a friend who I helped get his first GF. Like he would copy-paste what she said onto my AOL IM chat and I would tell him what to say. Cute huh? She had the most beautiful shock green eyes in the whole school. So when she denied him the rights all high school boys think they earned after a month of commitment he dropped her so quick no analogy can accurately describe its speed. So we were talking and I being the imminent sweet talker told her through AIM chat, “no matter what Cameron says I will still think your super cool and my really cute friend.” We hooked up before we even had finished our Slurpee’s in the mall parking lot. Man, were her green eyes something to look at on the pull-back. I left for college and we moved on after the mandatory Christmas break re-hook-up. My friend Cameron and I stayed pretty tight, until I left on my mission. Karma dictates that I would suffer my mission GF to be knocked up by my friend. Needless to say I haven’t really kept in touch with either the girl or my friend. Thank you Karma. This girl was by FAR the most normal and down to the blessed earth. Never any drama, just hang out, make out, chill out, drop off. Super simple. Now if I could only remember her name…

I was wonder bread

97.9, 103.5, 95.3, 96.1 Do you know what these numbers mean. They are not equations from my stats homework; they are not measurements of appendages in millimeters and they aren’t numbers representing my weight though some people would assume so. These numbers represent some semi-saviors of mine. Back nearly a decade ago there was an extremely fresh faced Mitch who just started working his first legit summer job, 8-5 Monday through Friday. I was on an interior-painting crew that cleaned up section-8 $h*t holes and repainted them just to be trashed again by the new drug dealing-prostituting-meth using-porn addicted tenants.
The guys I worked with ranged from a summer working college student, recently paroled felons, high school dropouts, and illegal immigrants. I was the only high school student on the crews and one of two Mormons. Compared to guys who spent the night before work telling girls they were having a relationship with at that moment that they had AIDs just for the reaction, it didn’t matter how much of a punker I thought I was. I was a loaf of wonder bread to them. The first place I helped clean out and paint was a deserted brothel, I was put on sex toy watch. I was to locate any sex toy and store it in a separate bag for later unplanned pranks on the other paint crews. My innocence stood less of a chance than a remnant piece of cocaine on Hunter S. Thompson’s kitchen table. But what did the numbers mean!?!
These numbers are call signs, radio frequencies for all the rock stations in the Willamette Valley. We drove all over that valley for three months in crappy non-AC’d trucks filled with off white paint and old mattresses that some diabetic died a lonely death on two weeks before we cleaned it out of the apartment. But if there was one belief we had in common was that Journey was God. Rage against the Machine made you win any red light stare down no prob. You had insane echoes in an empty apartment with for guys singing more than a feeling. Metallica was a great morning wake-up call and the college radio gave all the Gin n’Juice we would ever need. These were fantastic eye-opening times, because every hourly wage worker in each city would be bumping the same jams. Walk into this paint shop you could finish your new wave anthem “Just what I needed”. The landscaping guys are busting some crazy latina-polka we just heard in the Taco Bell or Gn’R. The talk for all of august was how the college radio was doing every 15minutes up-dates on the top-less car wash going on in front of the West 11th 7/11. It really brought everyone together just like Duck football games did during the fall.
I was stripped of a lot of my innocence that summer, but I gained a chunk of confidence because I didn’t drown in (for the lack for a better word) the shiz of my co-workers but I learnt how to even do a very cocky, jack-assed butterfly stroke.

-Y girl

(older deal that i wrote a while back but never posted)

There are a few questions about my likes, dislikes and tastes that I cannot answer. I have learnt to dodge answers that get me out of answering them without explaining why I do not like to answer these questions. i.e. what kind of music do you listen too? If I tried to answer that I would end up saying “rock” at some point and feel like should A) try to assemble a 1,000 piece puzzle in the middle of a four lane highway. B) Spend the night with any girl that gets excited when either of the “you’re a jerk” or “soulja boy” songs come on at a house party. Both are hazardous to my health and self-respect. But both are more comfy than trying to answer that question. One of the worst question I can think of at the moment is, “what is your type?”

This type means what is the type of woman that I will be attracted too. I could and you too, could spend hours naming off adjectives. None start with –A- (attractive but that can't end in a -y unless its an adverb) so , bumpy, cozy, dressy, EE-y, freaky, geeky, hotty, irresistibly, jazzy, kinky, lovely, mega-sassy, nippy, obedient, pretty, Quirky, riskay, slutty, touchy-feely, not ugly, very __, wispy, x-rotic, yappy and zesty.

Adjectives can’t explain what anyone can feel when a connection is made. Adjectives rarely can describe what a person is when this person makes you want to stalk them on facebook multiple times before you see them again. Adjectives don’t knock your socks off, they can’t keep you up at nights (even when you didn’t take a nap).

–Y doesn’t. He/She does.

THE PILE

There this pile right in the middle of my room. In side this pile are all me clean clothes all my dirty socks, all my opened school text books, my tax information, my deodorant, my cell phone charger, my laptop power cord, my journal, my other journal (intimidated that i have two?), my wallet and keys are somewhere in there in some pair of jeans, i own two belts and they too are buried in this pile that in more or less everything that i use on a weekly basis. When i get out of my towel that by divine providence of heaven does not get thrown into the pile, i start pulling my outfit out of the the pile. All my clean clothes are in the pile because i washed them earlier that day or when ever and then instead of folding them and putting them into the entirely too small drawer, i just leave them on my bed. So when i am ready to hit the hay i look at my bed and see it is going to be tough to dream on top of all my jeans. So i just move the new clothes to the bench press next to my bed. They will fall off as i try to fine a shirt that actually go with my shoes (its so tough ladies) and start to make the pile. My homework and books will get thrown in there because i am so sick and tired of them when i am finished that i set them on top of the pile and walk out. When i get undressed to climb under my electric blanket at nights i just toss everything on the pile. It takes less effort than you'd think for me to remember which shirts i have worn earlier in the week so i don't pull those out of the pile the next morning. At the end of the week i say i need to clean my room but really it only means to stick the whole pile except my books and tax stuff on most occasions into the dirty clothes sack. Take the sack containing the pile and washing everything in two loads. I will undoubtedly put all those clean clothes on my by there-in-by repeating the entire process again the next week.

I hope by making this known i will stop this ridiculous man-boy tradition.

He Didn't Even Make It Through A Full Gallon of Milk

This title was the line from an old friend. I watched her as we grew up in our crazy town. As i went down the proverbial hill i watched her slide down the same slippery slopes. I never had much of a attraction to her which always baffled me because she is a pretty gal but more so just a observational interest akin to a JD (from scrubs) closing monologue.

But where were we? Oh yes i watched her as we both did our straying. Once i got my act together and pulled myself out of the pits i was falling into i saw she was super far away in some pits i managed not to find myself in the bottom of; lucky me right? I left and when i got back this girl had married a real idiot, someone we both knew that saw these same pits that we were dealing with as little muddy puddles that one jumps in and gets everyone around all wet and gross. Gets all your friends and family all dirty too.

This kid got sent to jail, which left my friend with a ring on her finger and an empty space in her bed. Two more years with good behavior she told me at a Christmas party as we ate from the brownie tray. In the time he was busy getting prison tat's, my friend got herself a diploma and a job doing what i knew she probably always wanted to do. It just fit her so well. I watched as she pulled herself out of those pits, it was great to see out of all of us that strayed someone else besides me come back. It made church back home during winter break a lot more interesting. Who was there because they wanted to be and who was there because they had a huge fight with their parents the night before and were sitting in those ol'benches but were more uncomfortable because of the awkward family tension.

Anyways where was i? Oh yeah, this idiot got out of jail last week. She had a pizza party for him and even my parents were there to wish them luck. She arranged for him to have a parole officer in the state where she was living. They arrived home and spent the next day getting him some new clothes and by the next morning he was gone. Took the car and left it somewhere in a nearby city and is on the run. Her line, "he didn't even make it through a full gallon of milk", means so much. I love it.

I've watched this girl for most of our lives, and i know that others would consider those three years she waited for her husband a total waste but i know she will see it maybe not right away but she will see it as such a great blessing to have that time to come back to love. Real love. Like love of her family her real friends and her real heavenly father. Divorce is a ugly, terrible word. But every now and again, it brings a big smile to my face for an old friend.

I could have lied

It’s a valley

Keeping in cows, clouds and cause

Not my plan, plans or plans

What I learnt I sought

What hurt I fought

What I stole was caught

My head and heart

Open empty were ready to start

I d hate to see

The real tuition I had to pay

For this education during my stay

My eyes go one thousand yards

Burning in this 60watt life

I feel this way

So many hours left to learn

I am not sad babe

I just yearn

Pop a cap in sancho...

I have written but never posted many a blog that have to do with others. I look at my posts and they are either like a microscope put on 100x to some part of Mitch, or they are about completely random people or groups that couldn't be connected to me by less than six degrees. To me at least there is this huge black hole in secondary representation in my prose. Respect for the eternal documentation power a blog has on anyones actions and how public it can be is the main reason why this glaring hole exists. But wow do i want to write and post things about you all. Honestly because you have such a huge effect on where my brain waves go.

Example (oddly not a far out one either): I was recently made a SANCHO over a 2 weeks period. A sancho is the man that a wife cheats on her husband with, get it? I unknowingly presented myself to this girl during a rough patch in their relationship. I resisted as best i could and i succeeded no doubt about it. But it was a enlightening moment when i found out the existence of the boyfriend. This girl rightly perceived me as one that is "rough around the edges" and wrongly assumed that i was up for quick action and defined myself by man-whore choices. Leaving me thinking that she couldn't be the only one to think that i was the male equivalent of the girl with the tramp stamp on the small of her back.

Normally i would just skip that whole debacle to tell you that i am making plans to not be seen as a slut. I would skip the whole sancho era and just explain why i would be thinking twice before dating a born and raised Utah chica because they (very generally speaking) think that since i wasn't like their prom date mommy and daddy can't know about me.

But i was reading from one of my favorite books and noticed in all of his short stories he didn't hesitate to explain his affect on others their affects on him. I enjoyed that and at the risk of sounding like Kelly Clarkson or Taylor Swift i will start easing you all into my stories. It will be good practice and look at the title of this blog and you'll see why thats a good thing.

SIMPLE BOY

She is a girl and i am a boy. She is five foot something and everything from that inch mark to the floor is making my heart, the most central organ in my body in charge of regulating every output in my body, punch instead of beat.

I met her and my mind, heart, soul, chemical signals or whatever told me to chase this girl. She is a girl and i am a boy so she says yes when i ask her out. I hold about 40-60% of myself back and I get a second date. Because she is a girl and i am a boy, i make supposedly random physical contact with her. Sometimes i look her in the eye when i do, sometimes i do not. It is all for the same effect, preparation.

She is a girl and i am a boy. When she talks i listen, i question and listen again. I subtly keep me to a minimum. I am a boy, she will get what i give of me. But i get what i work for in our conversation, such is the double edge of chivalry. What else would she want from me? I am a boy genuinely interested in a girl, therefore i am a simple boy. She is a girl, this is why she enjoys all the attention she is receiving and why there is a third or fourth date.

She is a girl and i am a boy. Everything about her mattered to me until this exact moment. Now it is, "will she let me kiss her?" Everything about me mattered to her until this exact moment. Now all it is, "is he going to kiss me right now?"

I do not have her in an embrace that we have held for hours even minutes before. It may or may not be in a semi-public area with the possibility of a 3rd party encounter at any moment. We are not on any piece of furniture or in my car.

Everything but this potential kiss will stop mattering when i take that last step to her, place one hand on the small of her back and the fingers of the other weaving through her hair. I will be the last to close my eyes.

She is a girl and i am a boy.

When it hasn't been your day, month or even your year...

I am jennifer aniston, I am rachel karen green, i am She. Let me tell you how.

I walked into my lil sisters apartment prepared for a great sunday feast that those girls always seem to turn out. But they were all in sweats eating mac n'cheese and with a fresh new friends DVD gearing up to go. I pulled out my yoga mats and blanket and sat down for a nap/friends marathon.

After what i could only guess to be the 14th or 15th episode in a row, i was so strongly identifying with Rachel that it felt weird to still be so attracted to her.

She is a chaser. I am a chaser. Upon meeting an attractive potential the air we breath, the food we eat the simple actions to sustain life take on the purpose of making sure we can maintain the chase of this attractive potential.

We know they would fall in such deep, meaningful, sitcom-based love with us, if only they could let us show who we really are. A resilient confidence based on our own perceived attractiveness.

Our daily high points and dive-bombs are usually relative to how well interactions with the potential went.

In potential romantic situations exclusively, there isn't enough sleeve to wear our emotions on. We don't even sit on the handle anymore because we fly so often off of it. Confrontation yay!

Now Rachel is just a character and a sitcom character at that. Meaning she is inherently shallow compared to my marinas trench of personality traits. But wow i enjoyed the comparison even if i had to force it a bit. a lot.