Observations on my run

Today I got in a good three mile run. Finally. I actually exercise less now that I'm in the military. Is that possible?

Today, on my run:

I decide to go south. There are some gorgeous homes here I never knew about. I decided that when I grow-up (as if that will ever happen) I would like to live in a beautiful brick house. Yes. Brick is best.

I pass a couple on bicycles with a baby trailer on back. They look tough with biker bandanas tied around their skulls and shabby emo dress. I'm sure they are a happy mommy and daddy though.

I pass an empty pregnancy test wrapper on the side walk. It must have got away from the garbage truck. I wonder what the result of that test was for the woman who bought and threw the wrapper away. I wonder if she really wanted a YES or was praying that it would say NO.

I pass two ten year old boys throwing stones up on top a flat roof. They throw it up, trying to be as strong as a ten year old boy can, then run back, out into the street, to see how far it got.

I pass a brother and sister, about the same age of those boys. They're kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the front yard. The little girl apparently has discovered the world of fashion. She's wearing a pair of low heals. I bet her mom bought them for--after she begged for a long time--as church shoes, but she obviously loves them and wears them all the time, even when playing soccer.

I pass a couple of ladies talking in a parking lot. One thinks I look like someone she knows and waves.

I pass a mother pushing her baby in a swing. She's friendly, and, even though she knows she's never seen me in her life, she says "hi" as I run by. The toddler likes her mom's idea so she says hi too. I agree with the baby, and so say "hi" back.

Free fruit

Why do I bother to buy fruit at the supper market? I can get it for free. If someone's grape vine or apple tree or pear tree extends over to the side walk, then it's public property. Right? And most of the time that fruit just spoils anyways.

In Between

I haven't bothered to hang any of my posters yet. Nor unpack most of my boxes. I haven't even bothered to put anything but a fitted sheet and a quilt on my bed. I feel like I'm one of those people who live in a motel because they know they're not going to be there long.
I don't have a pot to cook with nor matching forks or spoons. I don't have a quiet place to sleep or a clear table to serve dinner off of. When I iron my clothes, I clear a couple feet to work with on my desk. I spend about eight hours a day here to sleep. No, this isn't my home, I wouldn't even consider it my apartment. It's just where I'm staying.
Less than two more months. I can handle two lonely months.

But, actually, I'm glad I'm here. I have been able to do things and have had things happen to me that would never have happened if I was in the MTC already. I am so thankful for these things. And I'll be homeless for the next year and a half, so what does a couple more months added on hurt? Just be happy, just be happy.

But when I get back, I'm finding a HOME--or at least a place to LIVE.

Environment

I like school, but sometimes I miss the dingy streets of Chicago with its Street Wise Newspaper sellers and too many Starbucks shops. Sometimes I want to go back to Purple Mountain where it was just me, two friends, and one other lonesome hiker on the trail. I'd like to hike back to that sheep trail down in Canyon De Chelly and smell the juniper and sage brush. Or, I'd like to go back to the streets of London, south of the Thames River, and wander alone in the early morning wondering if the men leaving the pubs had families and where those people in their well tailored suits were so eager to get to. I want to go back to visit that Navajo grandmother that just liked me to come and talk and always offered me milk because she remembered I don't drink coffee. Or I'd like to climb back into the bed of that pickup truck zooming down the highway in Yellowstone glad someone was nice enough to pick up hitchhikers. I'd like to ride to the middle of nowhere in Central Illinois and watch the fireflies rise from the corn at dusk. I want to fly Air India and watch Bollywood. I want to stop back at that lonesome bus stop in Rexburg, Idaho and get a free water bottles. I want to go back to the mountains in Logan at 1 am in the morning. I want to go somewhere I can eat real fry bread, blue corn mush, and mutton stew made from the sheep we just butchered. I want to go to a park an test launch a rocket with my brother. Or go to my yard and move cement slabs with my dad. I want to be somewhere with apple trees and a garden. I want to go back to the corn field and irrigate. I want to go to my cousins' house and clean. I want to...

But I am where I am, doing what I'm doing, and I'll miss that someday too.

Oblivious

Every morning I come home from my first class and notice my bed's made. "Money (that's my roomie's name), did you make that?" "No," she replies, "it just naturally ended up like that when you woke up." I believed her for a while, but now I'm starting to doubt.

Ok, here's another one

It feels good to write. That's why we keep blogs, right? I don't know why I bother to, but I'll continue typing away.

Right now I'm listening to mandolin music while thinking about the best technique to do a push-up. I know it's all strength, but I'd like to believe that I can really max on my PFA tomorrow and that it's all just mental.

The other day I was minding my own business reading about quantum physics on a grassy area on campus. There were two girls sitting behind me complaining about a roommate. Why don't they just tell that roommate why she's bothering them? And, really, does it matter too much that their roommate wears short skirts? Why do they care? Why do people care about stuff like this?--Or do I just care too little. Maybe that's it.

I like to wear my hair slicked back military style. I both like it and hate it. It's gross the next day, but it feels so good to have everything in place and accounted for. I don't know why. But if I didn't have to I would wear it in the regular messy style. It only feels good when I know it's like that because I'm representing the U.S. Air Force.

Sometimes I have a feeling that something big and exciting is going to happen, but then nothing happens and I realize that I'm just a big idealist. That brings me back down from that pedestal and I then become too much of a realist.

That was a good waste of time. Now time to shower, brush my teeth, read my scriptures, write in my journal, set my PT clothes out for tomorrow, get my uniform prepped, and then maybe sleep (if I have time).

On hold

Yeah, this thing is going to be put on hold for a while. Maybe for several years.