What's that Something?

I'm getting rather tired with the no-internet-at-home thing. I have such great photographs that would make this white screen more pleasing and yet they stay in the folders of Picasa.

picasa picasa picasa

So instead, I type and post from my desk space.

Lately, I'm a workaholic. This includes weekend working, which includes Sunday working, which includes breaking the Sabbath working, which includes sleep deprivation and a not-so-restful Day of Rest cuz I'm working working. Gross.

Somehow I still found loveliness in my weekend days, somehow excitement still found my face. Can I tell you about it?

I was about to type "There is something about..." but what is that something? I write that too often. But I'm going to write it anyway, because that's how I'm thinking. I expect my something definitions will unfold as I go on.

There is something about being awake at 3 am, head pounding from a late hour and stomach gurgling from a Beto's burrito, body on the carpet against the bookcase and head on a pillow between two best friend heads. These best friends don't live in my home, but they are alive alive ALIVE in my heart. One can go beaching on the country's opposite coast and one can go missionary welcoming five states to the right and three states up, BUT that doesn't keep us from handholding and journalwriting and dreamtelling and bedpiling right away. Our metronome never chokes, never skips, never jumps around. We are steady.

There is something about being present when your best friend gets proposed to.

Wait, WHAT???

Leland James, you are a sneaky one. But I love it. Oh goodness, I love it. Kaylie Sikahema is sweeter than any name I could think up. We have watched that video over and over and giggled and told the story and let everyone know that WE WERE THERE! Yep, us: best friends. We saw it happen. And Kaylie Jean, we may not have any experience besides ten year-old make-believe, but we are the most passionate wedding-planner-helpers you will ever meet. So don't be shy to come knockin at our front door...or come right in since you'll live there. Cool. It's a plan.

There is something about talking to someone who's been your friend all along, you just haven't talked in a while, because you were afraid to--because you didn't want to intrude or overstep or cause uncomfort or whatever...there's something about having that all be over and just talking because you can't not talk. Or pick grass. Or make up the life story of that man running by in the striped shirt...in all ways, this talking was and is very, very good.

There is something about getting a raise in pay--a seventy-five cent raise, thank you. The something continues when you look at your bank account on Payday and realize how gigantic your paychecks have become.

There is also something about returning to your bank account after paying Fall tuition. This something is not so brilliant, not so inspiring, not so motivating. And then you realize that your payments are going toward a university education that will (hopefully) make you just those things:
brilliant

inspiring

motivating.

There is something about sitting on your front porch (yes, I live in an apartment. this space outside my front door is a legitimate front porch. please don't tell me otherwise.) and writing for two hours solid. My breath is easier through times like these: soaking in my surroundings. I will be leaving these surroundings in three days, or at least leaving them as my definition of Home. I will miss TylerPetersen (one word, spelled with an -en) hanging out his window. I will miss the congregation of various sized chairs and swings between apartments 219 and 220. I will miss our bishopric and my calling as sacrament meeting chorister. I will miss going to church in a stake center. I will miss the southern side of campus with its longboarders and cottages, especially the yellow one with the woman who tends to her rose garden every day at noon. I will miss you and you and you HORRIBLY. But we'll see each other. And this fact keeps me going.

There is something about being within reaching distance of change's highest peak. There is exhilaration and intensity and heavy breathing and stomach cartwheels.
I love this. I thrive off this. I move forward with this. I live in this.

change.

Bring it on, my friend. Bring it on.