Inquiring minds want to know: Has an ocean sprung up in the middle of Logan Utah? And the answer is no. As far as I can tell, there is no beach here. And trust me, I've looked high and low for one. I went to the beach when I was home in San Diego for a week an a half, whilst being homeless. My on campus housing kicked me out on the 1st of May, and I couldn't move in to my new apartment until the 10th or 11th or something, so I escaped to Cali. It only seemed right, because in all the songs they talk about running away to the west coast, so I figured I'd follow suit.
Point 2: Leven Thumps is actually pretty good. Haven't moved on to the second book yet, but I liked it. The ending, I thought, was especially good, and the characters (especially the minor ones) were pretty impressively created. I won't say anymore. All I'm saying is, I can't wait to see what happens next to Geth.
I just finished house sitting for my friend. It was really fun. Mostly I was there to take care of her dog, a pretty good sized boxer. My only complaint is that he is used to sleeping in her bed with her. And I was in a little twin sized bed in the guest room (which I chose, so I
guess it's my own darn fault), and he was kind of pushing me off of it. The whole time. I've never really understood the draw to having your dog sleep in bed with you. I mean, it's nice to cuddle on the couch with your dog, and pet them and play with them and such. But really, sleeping in your bed? I mean, I loved having our dog, Moki. I especially love taking dogs on walks. It kind of gives me an excuse to go on walks at night, which I really enjoy. But I don't like smelling like a dog. And no matter how clean you keep your dog, they still have a doggy smell, and that inevitably rubs off on you. Especially if your dog sleeps in bed with you. So the end of this rant is: when I get a dog, little Tucker will be sleeping in his/her doggy bed. And I will probably get a basset hound flop dog, because they don't feel the need to follow you absolutely everywhere you go in the house. The End. (P.S. I know they howl. I'll talk him/her out of it.)
So I had a sad and strange sort of event happen a couple of months ago. It's still sort of surreal, so I haven't written about it. But I felt like writing it tonight, for some reason. So, amongst all my whinings about boxers and praise for Leven Thumps, I'm going to mention my little story of my best friend from elementary school. Lisa and I met in kindergarten. We were in the same class, and we ended up joining Girl Scouts together as well, starting out in the little known "Daisies," which comes just before the Brownie level. Lisa was vibrant. That's really the best word I can come up with to describe her. She had this something in her soul that shined out of her. I know she always wanted to be famous. She had this sparkle in her eyes all the time too, and her smile was infectious. She loved American Tail. She could copy Fivels voice exactly, and (I never told her this) but she kind of looked like the little mouse too. I used to sleep over at her house sometimes, and watch her perform songs. We'd play board games, get pizza, and watch movies. I didn't necessarily want to be like her, but I admired the spark in her that drove her to be so outgoing. I couldn't figure out where that spark came from. Lisa wasn't perfect--she always liked to get her way. And I, being terribly shy, was the perfect friend for her. She could talk me in to almost anything. She even talked me into joining the cheerleading squad that she and her mom started. Can you imagine me as a cheerleader?! I felt ridiculous, but Lisa was so excited about it. She just loved being the center of attention. I had this fascination when I was with Lisa--it was like I was in a play, acting a part that I'd never known I could play before.
As different as we were, I think it was inevitable that we would break apart. Seven years as friends doesn't seem long now, but to a twelve year old--it was my whole life. There was a new girl in class that at first we both became friends with; but then I realized I had become the outsider. It was painful. Lisa was becoming someone different than I'd known before. We entered the cruel teen years, and our friendship was damaged beyond repair. I'd always sort of admired her from afar, but then it changed. I couldn't admire her anymore, and I had to look for new friends. It was strange, going through junior high and part of high school, being in some of the same classes with her and us not even speaking. Ignoring each other, as if all those years of playing together had meant nothing.
After I left high school behind me, I thought every once in a while of looking her up. Her family had moved, I didn't know where. While I was on my mission--when you're day-in, day-out examining your life and everything that had led you to be where you were--I couldn't help but think of Lisa. I would find her when I got home.
I probably had a million chances after I'd gotten home. But this last January I discovered I would've been too late anyhow. I joined Facebook last September, to keep in touch with friends from back home while I was in another state studying. One of the first random people searches I did was to try and find Lisa. But she wasn't there. In January, it occurred to me to look for her younger sisters. They might have Facebook accounts, and not her. I searched, and found her youngest sister first. I "added" her, and asked for info on where Lisa was. She wrote back and told me. Lisa had passed away in a car accident six years before. She'd been driving intoxicated. She had died while I was out on my mission. I grieved the friendship that I'd lost so many years before. I'd been hoping that, since we were older and wiser and less like stupid teenagers now, that we could be friends again. And I think, somehow, we are. I hope she understands me a little better now. I think I understand her more now too. The thing that hurt the most was that I was gone on my mission, preaching the gospel to people I didn't even know, when someone I really did love was suffering so much inside. How much could the gospel have helped her? I think she'll get her chance. Maybe when she does, she'll remember me. And remember that I loved her, and that I could see the spark that radiated out from her, when she was happiest.
And on that serious note, to all my Dear Family & Friends: I love you. Please don't doubt it, ever. They say life is too short. It is. Just know that the gospel is true, and that Heavenly Father notices everything in your life. He has a perfect plan for you, just like He does for my dear friend, Lisa.
