Eat Right and Don't Die

As I drive down highway 12, my eyes stare straight ahead on the long, flat, road lined by shacks and mountains. The visions are still there. I cannot control the visions. I see myself, a bullet through the back of my skull, blood and brains splattered across the window pane. I see myself, taking a small step off of the sidewalk into the path of a hasty city bus. I see myself, dead and rotting by the side of the road, maggots and beetles returning my body to the soil. The visions. I cannot control them, but I can control the reality and I know that I will not purposely cause any of my visions to come true. I would never do that and so I eat as healthy as I can and have started a new exercise plan. As I run down the same roads that create my visions, I tell myself that I must train my body and my mind to be in the best shape possible.

It has become clear to me that life is not infinite. I am not sure if I ever believed that it was, but time seems more precious now than ever before. The idea of death has fascinated me for as long as I can remember. One moment you are hear, among the living, laughing, back-stabbing, and the next moment you are dead. What does that mean - I do not know. I've never been dead before or at least I cannot recollect my previous death. Maybe I have been dead, before. Maybe I'm dead right now.

Well, on a sunnier note, Kevyn broke Krystal's scooter, yesterday. I was able to intercede her before she hit Kevyn. I told her to shove a rock in the hole from the missing bolt. The rock did the trick and she seemed satisfied and scootered away. Later on, Krystal tried to hug me with hands completely covered in sidewalk chalk. She came at me with fury until I finally gave in and offered her the bag of coconut covered marshmallows she had previously tried to steal. That's my life right now, I suppose...so what is the big deal about life and death, anyhow?

Rule of 3

They say that three people that you know usually die at a time. In my little experience, this seems to be pretty accurate. So what if you are on an isolated plateau and all you have and know and love are three other people on this isolated plateau? What if one of the other people dies? There are three of you left, but according to the rule of three, two more of you are soon to die. Statistically speaking, you have a better chance of being one of the two who dies rather than the one who lives, but you never know. Who would you rather be? Would you rather be dead or live alone on an isolated plateau? That was pleasant. Good day.

Easter Then and Now

Every Good Friday, when I was growing up, my cousins, brothers, and I would trek over to my Grandma and Grandpa's house to color eggs. This is the only time of the year when my Grandparents' bought white eggs from the store instead of using the brown, green, and pink eggs from their own chickens. We would use several egg coloring tablets and every coffee mug in the cupboard. My mom or Aunt Marianne would measure the correct amounts of white vinegar and water and my cousins and I would take turns plopping the colored tablets in the liquid and watch as it fizzled to life. The tablets looked like candy and I was always tempted to taste one, but I never did. I still remember the smell of vinegar and boiled eggs - the wax crayon with which we wrote on the eggs that magically revealed our secret messages upon coloring, the way my Grandma always marveled at the colors, and how my Grandpa got to eat most of our artistic delicacies.

On Easter, my brothers and I would wake-up and immediately begin the search for our Easter baskets. I would check the downstairs shower first, then the closet under the stairs, and thirdly on top of the refrigerator. At least one of these spots housed a basket every year. In the afternoon, my family would reunite at my Grandma and Grandpa's house for some food and the always exciting egg hunt. "Back the barn" is where most of the eggs filled with candy, money, and lotto tickets could be found. I don't remember too much ever being uttered about Jesus and how Easter is technically the celebration of his shining moment - the day he rose from the dead to save us sinners, but we sure had a good time.

Things are different now as I suppose all things eventually become. Grandma and Grandpa are both gone, which to be blunt - totally sucks. I don't even live in the same state, so I didn't celebrate Easter at all. I called my Mom, texted a friend, and went to Portland, OR with some team members to see a band called Horse Feathers play at the public library. All-in-all it wasn't a bad Easter, in fact it was pretty cool. I've never gone to Portland on Easter before, but still I would trade it all in. I would trade in all of my hikes through the moss-covered trees in the mysterious, magical mountains of Washington. I would trade in the trips to Portland, San Fransisco, Seattle, North Dakota, my medals, my money, my mini-van for one more chance to hear my Grandpa fart from an overdose of hard-boiled eggs and my Grandma marvel at the strange orange of a poorly mixed egg.
Happy Easter

It Stopped

It stopped - no more beeping, no more breathing - it all stopped over a week ago and I don't know what to do, now. I'll keep beeping and breathing, but I don't know what to do, now.