Self prescribing myself a double dose of my medication was the best idea. I hate to say it, but meds work. I feel like I shouldn't support the idea of "synthetic happiness", but the times when I haven't taken my medication, I honestly feel sick. Its not an achy sick, like the flu or pneumonia, it feels like there is something wrong with me and that maybe if I just stay in bed I'll get better. Medications for depression work differently from one another, but the basic idea is that it works to balance certain chemicals produced in the brain. Depression is the unbalance of those chemicals, and I can feel it when the re-uptake is not blocked by my meds.
The thing about depression is that it doesn't get better. There are different treatments for it, but its so different for every person. To someone who doesn't know what it is, looks like, or feels like, depression might look like utter laziness. But to those of us who have felt it know that laziness is a simple feat compared to the constant battle of depression.
I don't know why I wrote this, I guess I just had to collect my thoughts and mention to the world that I do have my lazy times, but I am not a lazy person. I am clinically depressed, but with work, and medication I can function beautifully.

I wouldn't say it was oodles of fun, but I do love Cedar City

You know what, I did have fun. First week back in Cedar City was definitely busy and stressful, but I enjoyed it as well. First of all, it was getting here that nearly caused an aneurysm. I was pretty sore about it earlier, but after enjoying some Cedar City sunshine, my heart has been softened and I have forgiven. Plus, I honestly enjoy the bus. My wonderful roommate was eagerly waiting to greet me upon my arrival and after a quick tour of my new apartment, I felt at home (quick, for the apartment really isn't that big, but what we lack in space, we make up for in love)... (ooo, that was cheesy).
Starting bright and early Monday morning, it was back to the catering biz. After some groggy movements, and dragging my sluggish feet across the street to campus, I was greeted by old friends and old bow-ties. Monday's event meant rubbing elbows with the entire faculty and staff, so although it was rapid, it was also fun. I visited my cuz Scott at his job, then he came to the lunch and he visited me at mine. I love having him close and around, it brightens my days.
Oh! And Monday was my birthday. Not only do I not mind working on my birthday, I actually kind of like it. Working on my birthday isn't as pathetic as sitting alone at home, plus it gets me out and talking to people.
After work I ran, literally ran, back to my apartment where I met my wonderful uncle who brought down a van full of my crap. The only reason I hate moving so much, is that I realize how much stuff I have, its rather depressing. The few hours after work was really the only time I spent unpacking. Oh, and this was after putting a nail through my hand while moving a dresser (don't worry, its healing fabulously). Antibiotic was definitely purchased on the Wal-mart trip immediately following the move in.
In order to celebrate my birthday, an adorable young man took me out to dinner; Costa Vida, of course. After that lovely meal, I was reunited with this gorgeous lady I know. We partied, of course (I think we went to wal-mart, yes again). My wonderful roommate gifted me 3D sidewalk chalk pack, I may or may not have screamed when I saw it. To further the celebration, I made cupcakes for Mrs. Pamela, for it was her birthday the next day. They were good, if I do say so myself.
Tuesday came I went to one of my favorite places on the planet, the Service and Learning Center! I can't even explain the joy my heart absorbs when simply entering the premises. I do believe that the day entailed making service leader boxes, catching up with friends, eating and sharing the wonderful chocolate cupcakes with Pam. Oh, and Tuesday I did not have work, so obviously, I spent all day at the center. Tuesday night brought star gazing, but I was a bum so I went home early.
All day Wednesday was spent at the center, again, of course. Until three o'clock, when I went to work, again. I enjoy my job, quite thoroughly actually. Especially on this day, where we served a group of teachers, AT THE MOUNTAIN CENTER. The mountains here are gorgeous. After work, I dragged me and my sloshy black work shoes back to my apartment, where I basically went straight to bed, like an old person.
I had my alarm set for eight thirty AM, for I was supposed to be at work at nine AM. Fortunately, my boss has my cell number and called me at eight-oh-one and said "hey! are you almost to work?!" and I said "um, yes...?" so I hurried to work. When I was reunited with my boss, in front of the posted schedule I said "dude! I was right, I'm not scheduled until nine!" He checked the schedule for himself and said "hmm, well your event goes out at eight thirty, so can you start early?!" ... I gave him "a look" and said "well yeah, obviously." He got some major crap for scheduling me AFTER my event was scheduled to go out. It was simple enough though, and after running to and from the centrum to the service room multiple times, the event got out just in time.
After the breakfast event, I had to set and serve the fajita orientation lunch. After that, lunch for myself. Aside from the bosses, I was the only one crazy enough to agree to a full double shift, so I got to eat some delicious fajitas in the company of all the big boss guys, which was fun. This week was extremely difficult, but it also brought me closer to my job and the people involved.
After lunch, I was sent across the street to hand out popsicles to those moving in, and participating with the move-ins. Then there was some water coolers that needed picking up, new students to be fed and in the end I worked twelve and a half hours. Which I haven't done in a couple of years, but I just keep thinking about the paycheck.
Friday called for an early morning again. Its a good thing that I love the service center, just kidding, I had fun. We all participated in the freshman assembly, then went to meet them at the bell tower. Upon my arrival to the bell tower, I realized that the lunch wasn't quite set up, so I ran down and asked my boss man what I could do. I ended up working for about an hour, just out of the goodness of my heart, because we were so understaffed that day. One of my fellow employees found out that I wasn't actually working and said "wait! you're not getting paid for this?!" and I said "um no, I'm not scheduled today, they just needed my help" then my boss came out of nowhere and said "oh, I'll put you in for an hour, duh." I like my job, I feel appreciated... and needed too.
But then it was back to service and learning, AND a wonderful catered lunch with Pastry Pub vegetarian sandwiches! We had a wonderful and productive afternoon at the service center, highlighted by all you can eat pizza at The Pizza Factory. But then it was back to work until ten PM! Needless to say, I was quite exhausted upon returning to my apartment.
I slept like a rock that night, and that was a good thing, for I had to be at the center at seven o'clock in the morning! Who wakes up that early?! Seriously. Don't worry, I woke up at the more reasonable time of six forty. Then it was time for SUPER SERVICE SATURDAY!! Which, yes, it did start, for me, at seven AM, but it is also an amazing program. Something like seventeen hundred people participated in it this year. I was a leader for group number one, with Esteven. We had a good group, hard working, diligent, and only one person puked. Plus, we really did make a difference at the Family Support Center.
It was weird being done with my day around one PM, I kind of didn't know what to do with myself. Annieface and Tarbear helped me figure it out. We went shopping where I purchased a few necessities that I had failed to buy earlier in the week, due to my lack of free time and lack of cash. After being locked out of their house, weeding for a big, getting a tour of their new place, and taking an accidental nap on their couch, I returned home to take a real nap. Then partying commenced, after napping and showering, of course. But I called it an early night.
I was really not looking forward to my first nine o'clock church in almost three years, but it turned out not being too bad. We'll see if I'm still saying that when I get further into the semester and social life, but its good for now. Nine o'clock church is the best for mid-Sunday naps, which I took advantage of, of course.
My nap was rudely interrupted by my alarm telling me that it was time for work, yet again. I worked on a Sunday for the first time in my life. I'm okay with working on a Sunday once a year, especially when I got to hang out with the President of my university at the same time.
So. Good week? Yes. Productive, tiring, exhausting, and I can't wait for that paycheck. I do realize that this post, aside from being narcissistic, was long and boring, but I think a weekly update of my life is a good thing (if not for you than for me when I am senile and this is the only way to remember who I am and how I got that way).

Pictures Don't Always Say A Thousand Words

Jenni Larsen
English 1010
19 January 2010

"Hey Jenni, what's another word for nickers?"
"Jack, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Ya know, those little swoopy pants? Is there another word for them, something that is not so... cute?"
This was the main commentary of an average day in my high school honors creative writing class. The structure was lax, the population small, consisting of eight or nine sarcastic and mischievous, but also talented high school juniors and seniors. I don't recall how I ended up taking this class, before taking this class I was hardly interested in creating a thirty page short story in one semester, but then again, it wasn't until after the add/drop date had passed that we found out that we would be required to create the thirty pages for the class' final project.
As a young teenager I was encouraged to keep a journal, which always appealed to me, but I never really had much interest in. It was a pain to write down things that happened to me, and it felt tedious to basically transcribe meaningless events to an unknown audience. I was forced to keep a journal, or list of events, when I left the country for the first time. I was in eighth grade and a small school group was traveling to southern Mexico to study Spanish. I found myself dreading the allotted time set aside for studying and journal writing. I got out of turning in a journal, and instead put together a series of photographs I had made throughout the trip.
From the time I received my first little, pink, plastic Barbie camera for my sixth birthday, I have always had a camera. I moved in and out of passion for the hobby, from buying disposable cameras for the sole purpose of having photo shoots with my cats and siblings, to now attending professional photojournalism workshops. For a long time, I considered photography to be enough and writing completely lost its appeal.
Before my creative writing class, I had done some writing, but never to the extent that I completed in that class. My interest for writing was truly sparked when I took a class entitled "On The Road". We read and wrote travel essays and even took field trips, as well as a weekend trip, and wrote about them. It was a great way to expand my writing confidence. Writing about something as concrete and personal as an adventure came easily and joyfully to me. During this travel literature class we took a school trip to Moab and were required to turn in a personal narrative about something that we learned on our trip to Moab. For the first time in my life I was able to capture something with writing that I was not able to portray through my photography. Although I had my camera the whole time that the story took place, the emotion my writing was able to invoke was something that the photos from the trip could not.
After a trip to Turkey I took the travel literature class once again. I had just spent a month in Turkey, and yet my photography portfolio hadn't grown all that much. Throughout the trip I found myself trying to write things down, in order to remember the amazing experiences in the amazing culture. I found myself getting bored by even reading what I had written, and I became depressed about the trip. With most of the people in the travel literature class having gone on the trip, Turkey became an easy assignment base. We worked with sensory writing, trying to get the audience to feel, hear, taste, and smell what Turkey was like through our writing. Some of my favorite pieces that I have ever written came from those sensory exercises. I felt myself slipping back through time and across oceans and countries as I wrote about my experiences, using concrete emotions and details. I had the personal narrative area of writing down, but creative writing still made me nervous.
I have never been to Mars, but according to my most famous piece of writing, I have been. It started out as an apology note to my best friend, but then turned into a story I wrote and turned into my high school AP English class. The assignment was to write about someone who had influenced our lives, but in a creative way, whatever that meant. I had never been good at coming up with a story out of the blue, I had only taken events in my life and recreated them on paper. But this time, I exaggerated. No, my best friend and I didn't literally fly to the moon in a cardboard box, but my audience didn't need to know that. I took a simple summer evening and turned it into a piece of writing that I was proud of, and apparently it was even considered good enough to be published.
The camera is still my number one medium for sharing the stories of the world, but I have found that my own emotion can more effectively be portrayed through my writing. The stories I have experienced are more powerful and more confidently told by letting my thoughts and emotions tumble from my head onto the paper. I used to think that I had to choose a medium for storytelling, but I have come to a place in life where I know that I can have my camera in one hand and a pencil in the other.

Jump!!

It was that perfect moment where everything around me was cold, but I found a patch of sunlight streaming in through the curtains and was encompassed by the sliver of sunshine and suddenly felt warm. I felt like a rock, exposed to the cold but being bathed in the warm sunshine. I admired the foliage outside the window as I removed one of my pink socks, then the other. I hid my face in the gray carpet and dozed off. I started my catnap curled in a ball, but as the warmth slowly flowed through out my whole body, I uncoiled and lay on my stomach.
* * * * *
My warm bare feet stung as the evening dew and the tight green grass caressed my toes. I could feel how small I was, compared to my surroundings. My two brothers aren’t much older than I am, but they seemed to tower over me. However, they too were dwarfed in comparison as a truck pulled into our driveway. It had a big white cab; it reminded me of the head of a dragon. The trailer seemed to stretch to the end of the block. The truck was tall, but it seemed a more normal size as the driver unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and joined us on the grass.
The man seemed familiar to me, but was strange enough to keep my feet cemented to the ground. As he came closer I felt a jolt of excitement somewhere in my stomach. He came straight for us, as if he had done so before. I felt an expectation, as if I were supposed to receive something from this man, a feeling, but not something tangible. I started to study my feet. I dug my tiny toes into the cold, wet dirt and tangled them in with the grass.
The man was now standing directly in front of us. He coughed, not because he was sick, but more to clear his throat, or maybe to announce himself. I raised my head and admired his height, towering above me. He caught my gaze and smiled. It was a half smile, almost cold. He silently gathered us and started to herd us into the house. His long legs carried him straight to the front door, making it there first. He stood in the doorway, as if to make sure that we knew that he had won. I dragged my feet against the hard concrete porch steps and I trailed along behind my brothers. He seemed agitated as I finally made my way through the door and into the house.
After dinner, I remember running my fingers along the cold, white wall as I walked down the hallway toward the bedroom I shared with my brothers. I stopped, mid step, for a moment and listened back to the kitchen. I listened to my mom making quiet, emotionless small-talk with my father. My father had just returned from driving the truck across the country, and would be parking the truck in front of our house until he found somewhere else to stay. I continued down the hall until I reached my room and went in. My brothers were already getting ready for bed. I quietly closed the door behind me, the man’s voice made me nervous. I stood by the foot of my bed, struggling with the zipper of my pajamas, when I heard a small, timid knock on the door. The door slowly inched open and the man slid his head in, but waited for assurance before fully entering the room. He crossed the room, getting dangerously close to me, but shifted and sat on my bed at the last moment.
We finished getting dressed, then paused, and waited for him to do something. It was his move. He didn’t say anything, but stood up from the bed and moved across the room. We orbited him and moved in the opposite direction, back toward the bed. He stood next to the tall brown dresser; then fiddled with the big black stereo that sat on top. He removed a cassette tape from his shirt pocket. He looked down at it for a moment, tucked in his fingers, before placing it in the tape player. His fingers hovered over the play button, as if still deciding his next move. We watched on, staring with sudden intensity. Then, click, play.
The strong beats of the music that came out practically jump started my heart. The song was completely unfamiliar to me, but my adrenaline started pumping out of control nonetheless. It sounded like the song that would be played at the end of a movie, right as the hero is taking in all of his glory. The lyrics started, making the passion ever more intense. With every beat of the music everyone’s muscles seemed to loosen, as if it were vibrating the stress right out of our bodies. We started swaying to the music, my father closed his eyes, tilting his head back, snapped his fingers, silently playing the guitar and mouthing the lyrics. I checked my brothers’ faces to understand what I should do next. They seemed to be letting the music take over their bodies as well, like slowly letting your feet get sucked into the sand on the beach. I tilted my head back and felt the music rush over me, letting it take me into a trance.
I get up! And nothing gets me down!
You’ve got to roll with the punches to get to what’s real
Might as well jump JUMP!
Might as well jump
Go ahead, jump JUMP
Go ahead, jump
Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!
Then it was over. I looked around me and took in the movements that had happened. The room was silent, aside from our panting and the static of blank tape player. We stood in thick, awkward silence for a few moments before the man reached across the room and pushed the rewind button. I fidgeted with my shirt while I waited for the whirling to subside. There was a click, then the strong beats of the song started all over again.
Within moments, I was flying. Being picked up by the song, flowing up and down with every beat. The music would fall, but my father’s arms would catch me. It was perfect chaos. I am encompassed by that sliver of happiness in such a cold situation. I grasped my face and felt the smile, I waited as it burst from my cheeks and exploded in laughter.
Might as well jump JUMP!
Might as well jump
Go ahead, jump JUMP
Go ahead, jump
Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!
With every Jump! we tested ourselves to see how high we could fly. I felt like I was in a movie, being put in slow motion; my feet softly hitting the bed and propelling me quickly back into the air. I sunk down into my knees and gazed around the room and admired the rest of the smiles. I threw my arms around myself and hugged, controlling my rapid breathing.
* * * * *
I watched as the lit crack in the doorway slowly diminished, leaving me in the dark. I brought my knees to my chest, cuddled into the blankets and dug my face into my pillow. I gazed out from where I had huddled my face and looked out, into the stars. I sighed, smiled, and closed my eyes.

Cedar Noah Beecroft

Cedar Noah Beecroft is probably my favorite eight year old on the entire planet. He is, honestly, one of the best friends I have ever had.

Look what I can do!!!! ... kinda

Bonnie the Great taught me how to do it.
With a bit of background from Tony the Tiger.

I have a physical itch to shoot more

What happened to Eureka?



Oh yeah. I got busy with summer and my partner in crime went traveling the world without me.

I just want to be in Cory Strange's 2D design class again, all the time. I should have failed it, for my own long term sanity.




Who's getting married? Engaged? I need some adorable, gross, couples to photograph. Or families, everyone has a family. Most photographers HATE shooting family portraits, say that its a necessary evil in order to shoot what they really want. But guess what, I kind of enjoy shooting portraits; there, I said it.



But mostly, I just need to leave this country. I have fifteen thousand sky miles that expire at the end of July. Someone help me figure out how to use them. By the time I leave the country in December, it will have been a year since I left the country last. This is painful. I hate money. I need to fix my camera and START SHOOTING.

I Went To Mars Last Night

I Went To Mars Last Night
An excerpt, inspired by a true story, from The Adventures of Bing and Tron

I went to Mars last night. It wasn’t just a short trip there and back, we went all over, we spent more time on the journey than we did in the destination. We went to The Moon, Venus, Jupiter and even around the asteroid belt. Sadly, we didn’t make it all the way out to Pluto or Saturn. But still, I went to Mars last night.
“Tron, let’s walk home, pleeease.” Bing sometimes gets really passionate about things. This was one of those times, there was no arguing, and I had no excuses to argue. It was a warm, summer night, the grass was misty and dewy, and the crickets were louder than ever.
“Oh, Bing… Okay,” I gave in and submitted myself to her passions.
So we set off homeward bound. It didn’t take long for my slow, late evening pace to transform into a faster, happy, Bing-like jaunt. It was a beautiful night; the pavement was warm beneath our naked feet and soon the stars shone brightly. We came upon a large building, a church maybe. We walked over to a big pine tree and silently admired the grandeur. Ingrid’s eyes wandered away from the tree and over to the building. Without warning, a happy gasp sprang from Bing's mouth.
“Eeep! Oh my gosh.” With that she took off skipping through the empty parking lot toward the doors, which were letting out the luminescent orange light.
"Bing, what are you...?” I gave an exasperated sigh and walked toward the light. As I reached the edge of the light and as I searched it with my eyes, I could not find her. Just like that she skipped off into being lost.
“Tron! This is so cool.” Came her voice from nowhere.
“Bing?” Then I saw it. Right outside the door sat a huge cardboard box. I walked towards it and peered inside. I saw the ecstatic face of Bing looking up at me with big, happy, hopeful eyes.
“Tronnnn, can we keeeeep it!?” The happy eyes turned into pleading, begging eyes.
“Bing…” There was no way I was going to haul that huge box all the way home. “We can’t just take it. What if it belongs to someone?” Yeah right, the box was clearly being thrown away.
“Okay!” she shot from the box. “We’ll go ask if we can have it.” With that she reached for the door handle and opened the door.
The cool air from the cranked up air conditioning stung our sweaty bodies as we entered the building. I entered cautiously, but Bing strolled in, confident, and took off prancing down the large hallway. I followed. We came to a door with two important looking people inside. We continued passed the door to the water fountain to discuss our tactics. We re-hydrated ourselves and looked at each other for ideas on how to approach the important people. Our approach was plopped right into our laps. Right then the two people prepared to go their separate ways. They came to the doorway, and said their goodbyes. One of them left and the other turned his attention to us.
“Good evening girls, what can I do for you?” Important, and he seemed fairly nice; I could possibly deal with this.
I thought of what to say, when “Well, there’s this beautiful box outside, and it is out there all alone. We were wondering if we could take it in. We will give it a good home.” Bing knows how to reel in any fish, even the important ones.
With a chuckle from the man, and the pleading eyes from Bing, we got our box.
“You girls take the box, it’s been sitting there for days, take good care of it. And get home soon, it’s getting late.”
“Thank you, we will,” Bing said with a huge Ingrid smile plastered to her face and even more prance in her frolic.
“Thanks,” I said as I followed Bing down the hall and to the door.
We exited the building through the same door and found the box again. Bing stood by the box and started naming things we could use it for.
“We can bring it home, and put it in our backyard, and draw on it, and paint it a really cool color, and we’ll make it look really nice, and it can be our club house, yeah, a club house, I’ve always wanted a club house, I’ve always wanted to be in a club…”
“Bing, how are we going to get this home, it is huge.” It was huge. Think refrigerator box, now times that by like ten. I circled the box and analyzed the quandary I had on my hands.
“…And we can sleep in it, it’ll be kind of like a tree house, except without the wood, and without the heights, and without the tree. But a house, like a ground house, like a tree house, except on the ground…”
“Bing, we are no where near home, carrying this box will be almost impossible.” I didn’t like my cynicism, but someone has to think logically in this relationship.
“And… Oooo! Tron, we can drive the box, we can go where ever we want, Tron we can finally go to Mars!” She stopped talking, waiting for my response with enormous, eager eyes.
I might have looked at her like she was crazy, except for the fact that I’d known her for such a long time. I don’t know how long we’d officially been best friends, but it was a long time. I did not look at her like she was crazy; she was actually being fairly sane, comparatively speaking. I just smiled, chuckled and walked over and put my arm around her shoulder.
“Alright Bing, let’s go on a journey, show me how to drive a cardboard box.” We walked toward the box and prepared ourselves for the long journey.
I never knew you could drive a box, and I bet you didn’t know how to, or that it was even possible, either. First you have to find a friend, without a friend you can’t find a box. Second you have to find a box, because without a box, well, you don’t have a box. Then you have to tell yourself that you can drive a box, and after those three easy steps you are ready to drive your box.
We went all over. First we visited our planet, but had a lifetime to visit the Earth. So we set off into deeper and wider journeys. We left our atmosphere. Don’t ask me how we breathe out there; cause I don’t know, Ingrid forgot to mention that to me. Our first stop was the moon. We didn’t spend too much time there because a moon monkey chased us off his lawn. We made a few stops at Mercury, Jupiter, and in the asteroid belt. We spent quite sometime on Venus, where we found it was totally habitable for women, but all the men in life had kept the perfection a secret from the women. We thought of heading over to Saturn, Neptune and out to Pluto, but the path was long and dark and we didn’t know what kind of creepy space crawlers would be lurking. Se we went to Mars. Here we hung out for quite a while and even got out of the box, I mean space ship, to hang around.
That’s when mission control called. We had a problem with our box.
“But Mom, I really want to keep it, look how pretty it is.”
“Bingrid, you cannot keep this box on our lawn. And why do you have a box anyway? Bingrid, get in here, it is past midnight.” Our call with mission control was cut short with a slam.
“Tron, it’s late.” Bing looked defeated as she started to climb out of the box.
“Bing, we’re on mars, be careful, don’t let the alien life form suck your brains out!” I smiled as I pointed to the neighbor on the next lawn as he and his dog retreated to their home.
She turned and looked at me, now it was her turn to look at me like I was crazy.
“Bing, let me drive you home, in our box, we can stop at the moon on our way back.” She looked down at me, turned toward the front door of her home, and returned her gaze to me. The smile reappeared on her face as she sat back down in the box.
“Okay, but we gotta put it on warp speed, I’m late.”
“Brrkkk, T-mama to Bing-pop, clearance for lift off.”
“Brrkkk, Bing-pop to T-mana, all systems a go.”
We finished out flight home and said our see-ya-laters. I peered out of the box as I watched her skip back to her home, turn around right before entering, wave her hand high above her head and shout, “where are we going tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, where ever you want.” She bounced inside and let the door swing close. I sat back down in the box and tilted my head back until I was gazing at the stars.
I thought about Bing and how she is always getting me to do things like carry a box around my neighborhood, get chased by a dog and fly around my solar system in a box. I thought about our relationship and how we’d ever become friends in the first place. We are complete opposites. She is young, and I am old. She is jolly, and I think that jolly is a stupid word. She is willing to pull me away from reality by putting me in a box and I am willing to pull her back again by giving her a ride home in that box. She gets lost; I let myself get lost with her. She cries over stolen bobby pins, I whine about her over productive tear ducts. I thought about how much she needs me to keep her from getting left in the Antigua or Dallas airport. How she needs me to offer guiding support while we work on late Spanish homework, the work I finished weeks before. How she needs to call me late at night after I’ve already gone to bed and we don’t hang up for hours.
I also thought about how much I need her. How I need her to tell me to stop whining about everything. How much I need her to call me late at night, and wake me up, to tell me she’s bored and just thought to call me. I thought how I need her to get lost so as to cause excitement in my life. How I need her to pull me from my depressed attitude, tell me we are going to walk home, then make me spend the rest of the evening sitting in a box. But most of all I thought of how much I need her to need me. That’s why we make such good friends. Not because we are exactly the same and like all the same things, because that is surely not true. We are friends because she needs me and I need her. We need each other to pull the other up to Mars. We need each other to pull us back home to Earth. And mostly we just need each other to have someone to need.

best chocolate cake ever, according to caleb

Perfect Chocolate Cake, as long as you don't over flow it and burn it

• 2 cups sugar
• 1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup cocoa
• 1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 eggs
• 1 cup milk
• 1/2 cup room temp. butter
  
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1 cup boiling water

Mix it all up, in the order it says above. Put it in some greased and floured pans (9 inch rounds, preferably). Then bake at 350 for like half an hour, maybe (set a timer, or else you'll forget it). Remove from over, when its done. Cool it. Remove from the pans and cool further, if you have the patience. Frost it with plenty of delicious frosting.


Oh wait, here's a delicious frosting recipe!

1/2 cup beyond room temp. butter
2/3 cup cocoa or more
3 cups powdered sugar or more
1/3 cup milk
a bit of lime juice (I don't know how much, just follow your heart)

The most important ingredient is love. Serve it with plenty of lovely people to eat it and it will always taste better.

a tribute to bningrid marizzle, my best friend

Ingrid Marie Asplund is my best friend on this entire planet.

One time I left the country for one week without her when I was in tenth grade. That was the worse decision, ever. I ended up getting attacked by a Portuguese man'o'war (better known as the man whore). I remember running up to her, at our reuniting, in sheer excitement where we embraced like long lost lovers. I don't know how it happened, but I totally broke down into tsunami tears, which she gladly absorbed into her shoulder. She muttered, "Me and Jenni are like peas and carrots again." Then added, "oh and never leave me again."


I first met Ingrid when I was eleven. The first time I saw her she was merely a shy little girl, timidly peering into our Sunday school classroom, searching for her older sister. She stayed Eva's little sister for quite some time. At one point, at Eva's birthday party (mere months after meeting them) I sat on the couch, watching the party happen, and Ingrid sat next to me. We sat watching A Walk To Remember and I had the best epiphany of my life. Although, I was a guest at Eva's birthday party, for some reason, the fact that I would someday be Ingrid's best friend would not leave my mind. Turns out that I was correct.


I like to tell people that the biggest fight that I have ever been in with my best friend was over chap stick. I like to say this to make it seem miniscule and inconsequential... when in reality we still don't discuss it. We have definitely forgiven the other for whatever outburst and understand that from that person's perspective, said outburst was most likely warranted, but we simply giggle and change the subject whenever it is brought up.

Once upon a time Ingrid and I went to Mars. I have just decided that I am going to post that narrative on this very blog... after a bit of freshening up, of course.


Occasionally, Ingrid compares herself to others. In elementary school she described herself as being socially retarded. Had I known her in elementary school, I'm sure that would not have stopped me from realizing her awesomeness. During my final year of elementary school, I was sort of wrapped up with being in sixth grade. I had my group of friends and we were going to go to junior high next year. I don't know if you remember, but when you're in sixth grade, you don't mess around with your very unstable social status. Ingrid, Eva and I walked to school every morning together. Eva and I were friends, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Ingrid and I were kindred spirits. But then junior high came around. Fortunately, the universe was looking out for us and brought us back together with the wonderful gift of Walden.

(I took this picture of a photograph that I have of Ingrid when we just started to be the best of friends. I do believe that it was at that very moment that I realized how much I truly love her)

Whenever, where ever, we travel I have always kept a protective eye on her (which doesn't mean that she always needs it). Her mother says that, although, she was a kind and quiet child, she was actually difficult to raise because she was always getting lost. But then, during my senior year of high school, she went to Germany FOR A YEAR... okay, it was actually ten months. It was a pretty difficult time for me, learning how to basically function without her; turns out we have a symbiotic relationship. Germany was the best thing for Ingrid. She came back knowing herself, more confident in her education and more confident in herself. We wrote letters back and forth, and her letters were my favorite parts of my entire senior year of high school. One such letter came in the mail at the most perfect time and warmed my heart. Just looking at the envelope comforted me, and even brought tears to my eyes. The tears were quickly replaced with fits of laughter when I opened the envelope, and as I pulled out the letter, was covered in puffs of purple glitter.




















One of my favorite things about Ingrid is that she offers boundless, unyielding support for me. Whatever I want to do in life, she is always there to help make it happen. Whether it is being someone who is there to bounce ideas off of, or someone to talk to for hours on the phone, or to sit with me in a Mexican city square for five hours while I get dreads tied into my hair.


Ingrid is such an amazing free spirit, one of the many reasons that I look up to her. Sometimes her refusal to conform might drive me nuts, but in the end, when I return to my level headed
state, I realize that she was right all along.






Sometimes she wears wings, or tiger ears, or tries to shave her head, but dyes it blond instead.

As painful as it will be for me, I know she is going to be the best mawrtered owl, ever. She has, and will forever be a great part to my family.

In short, put out your left arm... that's how much I love Ingird Marie Asplund.

a tribute to the coolest duncan I know

Senior Caleb William Duncan is one of the best guys you could ever wish to meet. He really is. If he were a food, he would be ice cream, definitely. He is just so smooth, and delightful and cute, and just makes everyone's day a million times better. I would have to say that his only problem is his lack of white blood cells, he only has a few of them, but don't worry, he's not going to die.
Lemme explain our history...
One day Caleb Duncan came into Zupas, although I did not know who he was at the time. He interviewed and promptly got the job, of course. He seemed pretty alright, but I figured he'd be one of those adorable BYU boys that works at Zupas for a couple of months then goes about his life, whatever. I wasn't too intimidated by a future of a friendship so the entirety of our initial interactions consisted of me confronting him with an odd object in my hand saying "Caleb, do you think I could kill you with this?"
Now, I'm not sure what his initial reaction to these situations were, but he seemed to handle them quite wonderfully. I assume the normal reaction of freaking out, and maybe talking to the company about their mentally unstable employees, never crossed his mind, but instead very confidently shot me down with logical reasons as to why I would not have the ability end his life using a twisty tie or a drinking straw.


Depending on what you believe about fate or serendipity, one might think that our relationship would have ended there. Luckily, I didn't...don't have a driver's license. Caleb, being the gentleman he is, offered me a ride after we were done with work every night, believing a longboard to not be a reliable form of transportation. Those drives home were quite enjoyable; he's just delightful to be around, ya know? They were eventful as well. We did stuff like read whole articles from a New Yorker magazine, left at the restaurant, and make pit stops at grocery stores and gas stations, or just talk about work or life or people.


The Caleb/Zupas carpool soon grew to entertain quite the crowd, on some nights. A regular crew consisted of Melissa, Aimee, Caleb and me; whom we called the fantastic four (ok, so I don't know if anyone ever actually called us that, but there were four of us, and we are fantastic).
The events then grew from trips to the grocery store to be as big and awesome as bonfires up the canyon. The first ever Tri-Quarterly Zupas Funfest (named by Caleb, himself) was in April of 2009. We initially tried to have a bonfire up at Aspen Grove, but couldn't actually get through the multiple feet of snow. We rethought our plan and found the perfect spot way down by the mouth of the canyon. That has been our spot ever sense, but we're also open to new possibilities.


Did you know that each semester (depending on contracts and such) some BYU students are homeless for three days, more or less? I gladly offered my couch to Caleb in these situations, although he did... initially... want to "rough" it and live in his car.
I would definitely say that Caleb's presence was an extremely important ingredient to my amazing summer last year. Listen, of course I was super stoked to the idea of him going on a mission, but there was always a glimpse of sadness at the thought of losing him for two years. Oddly enough, I was the first one to leave. College was great. Although Caleb wasn't physically there, he was still a great addition to my year. Don't worry, we visited plenty. No matter how much I saw him I was always overjoyed when we were reunited. On one such occasion, I learned my lesson about being too excited when seeing him. I had just received a lecture from him about priorities and how hanging out with him was way more important than sleeping. I sat, tired and grumpy, on the parking lot curb, but the second I saw him neurons started firing. I jumped up. Muscles contracted causing my feet to flail and I, with help from the winter ice, fell smack on my butt. Lifting my head to see his mocking face, through the windshield, was painful and yet still exciting. He then lectured me on controlling my emotions, because, as we saw that night, I could be hurt if I don't.
I would have to say that Caleb is quite a wise man. But some of my favorite situations have to do with Caleb acting like a complete child. Apparently, he knows how to wrestle and tackle people using football moves, who knew? We also like to help out in the community, by having fun of course. The Reams parking lot was always scattered with shopping carts after work, which we took care of on a couple of occasions. I feel like the night that ended in a wardrobe change for him was important for some reason, but I do not recall why. How someone gets a seven inch long hole in his pants from simply riding some shopping carts around a parking lot, I have no idea, but he did it. We ended that night with a fashion show where Caleb tried on my brother's old clothes. We came to the conclusion that my brother has an awesome, and yet weird, fashion sense and that Caleb is quite talented at ripping his pants.


Caleb can be quite childish, in the best and most fun way, but he also has his powerful, insightful moments. Sometimes he does something, like grow a beard for you, just because it would sincerely mean a lot to you. (He also lost the bet we made about whether or not he would have a girlfriend before his mission. I was right, of course.)


He has always been there to offer me well needed, logical, advice. And he is one of the most diligent and hardworking people I have ever met.
Caleb appreciates that there are perfect bites of things, like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He also doesn't share ice cream cones. Sometimes Caleb buys me dinner and I buy him an ice cream cone. He is handsome and, genuinely, has a great heart. Occasionally, I drive him absolutely nuts, but he still appreciates my hard work. He has been my boss twice, and I think I'm doing better this round, except when I profess my love for him while we're working.
I am so proud of Caleb and his devotion to serve the lord, not just for two years, but in everyday. Those Spanish speakers in McAllen, Texas won't know what hit them, but everyone involved will come out of the situation more blessed than ever before.