2K8 In A Nutshell (Pistachio I Think)

Yes, I know that I have four days left in the year, but I'm turning in early... so unless I win the lottery, discover a new planet or inherit my own tropical island, you're probably not going to hear about until next year.

The year didn't start out with a bang (although I'm sure something exploded somewhere), but was exciting enough. I had already planned early on to take the summer off, so the course I took through the semester was a race for the finish so I could finally take a breather. At this point I was still enrolled as an Art History major at BYU, so I loaded up on the study of the dead and dying from around the art world, as well as completed that university's religion requirements once and for all. Towards the winter's end--just about when spring sprang--I wrapped up my portfolio for submission into the Visual Arts program.

What a relief that was, yet too soon swallowed up by the anxiety caused by my quick placement onto a near three month waiting list (jumping into the narrative future I can disclose to anxious readers that eventually I was accepted). Mixed in these crazy few months, I managed to finish one series of cartoon (eventually to be followed by another).

The summer months brought with them perhaps the most concentrated amount of activities, opportunities and emotions out of any previous chunk of my life thus far, including my mission (whose one year anniversary also fell during this time). There to greet me upon my return home was Dorothy, my faithful and sturdy (i.e. built like a decommissioned army tank) fire engine red 1994 Pontiac Grand Am. She was the perfect symbol of transport in the life metaphor that would become, in many ways, my personal Odyssey. The reference to the epic Greek poem is fitting mostly due to the likelihood that we--meaning my Father and I--traversed the same lands and seas as that story's famous hero (assuming he was more than a work of fiction of course). The trip to Italy and its surrounding countries was also in many ways a return home for the two of us, since we claim it as the land of our forebearers. The breathtaking vistas and rolling countryside were akin to a siren's song for that country's prodigal sons, and the ancient ruins with all their history were as a sorceress' spell bidding us to stay. But linger we could not (partly because that wasn't on the itinerary), for there was much else to do back in our real home. Like get a job.

So that's what I did. My ventures weren't as fruitful as I would have dreamed, but that's what fathers are for. And so it came to pass that for the duration of the summer I toiled away in his office cave entering data, filing who-knows-what and organizing numberless piles of paper and pamphlets. I actually quite enjoyed myself.

I also ought to mention that I was privileged to volunteer in our own Mesa temple for several weeks in the baptistry, where, as one might expect, I was privy to several wonderful experiences. The sacredness and importance of these first ordinances are sometimes lost to those of us who haven't been back since we were youth. It was very refreshing.

My educational hiatus was over far too soon, and I found myself back in the lifestyle of dirty sinks, shared living quarters, singles wards and shaving requirements. This Fall semester also became---and I say this without the slightest hesitation--the hardest and most pressing period of school in my life. I was trying to balance the physically demanding tasks of the first year art classes with the mentally exhausting science courses of chemistry and human physiology--polar opposites on the scale of learning. Every weekend was a workload, and I had little to no time for "fun." This being said, I am happy to say that I also feel as if I have accomplished more during this time than any other. The words of one of my old instructors come to mind, that "busy people are the ones who get things done." And I did a lot.

The amount of stress and pressure that I felt was equal the level of relaxation I felt upon coming home for the holidays; letting my brain, heart and body do and think little more than nothing. Christmas was as wonderful as always, if a little smaller in company than I remember. I also felt more strongly the beginnings of letting go of that special something we had in plenty as children. More and more it's become less and less about me. It's almost enough to just have it be us. Nothing beats family.

Well that's that everyone. Until next year. Here's hoping an odd numbered year can outdo this one. I'm skeptical of course...

[Quickly looking this latest entry over, I'm starting to think that a pistachio doesn't quite describe the size properly. I think I had the wrong nut. What would you have used?]