I wanted to title this post "Returning to Logan," but I feel like I should save that for my final blog entry at the end of August. Besides, I'm only in Cache Valley until this afternoon anyway.
A few thoughts:
My old roommate is getting married.
I could write a entire post on this alone, and a whole other blog about the adventures we had. He's got a good girl. It'll be cool for him to start a new part of his life, but at the same time I wonder how mine will turn when I go back to school this fall without Roy as my wingman.
Marriage is scary.
Who wants to grow up? Who wants bills, insurance, car payments, rent, graduation, a career workload, and all that grownup stuff? And kids?? Not me, or at least not yet. To me, getting married is the symbol of all of that. As long as I can put it off, I won't have to worry about all the other stuff. Right?
Logan reminds me of summer camp.
I walked into the house I crashed in last night and saw all signs of summer. Three huge TVs were hooked up to various video gaming systems, canoes and kayaking gear rented from the university were stashed off to the side of the living room, aloe vera and tanning lotion visible under the couch, a for rent sign displayed out the window, and the whole place had a summery feel to it.
Here comes the sun.
There's nothing better than munching on fresh fruit fro breakfast while watching a Cache Valley sunrise from the various hikes in Logan Canyon with a pretty girl. Okay, so I didn't do any of those this morning, but it's still true. At the very moment I wrote those words, the sun peaked up over the mountains through the window to me. Even though I'm sitting on Texas's couch and not in the wind caves, it's still nice.
The pool.
In my experience, college town pools are always full of the same people; sluttos and douchebags. The sluttos are all afraid to get wet and just lay out in the sun while the douchebags wear their white sunglasses and blast their awful music while horsing around in the water and being jerks to the sluttos. They spend all of their time here during the summer. It's a wonder why all the sluttos talk about how they can't get a good guy and the douchebags all talk about how their girl cheated on them.
Couches suck.
Okay, so I'm a Caucasian American male aged 18-34, but I've had some pretty crappy sleeping situations. As if two years of mission beds weren't enough, there was the port-o-pottie (again, don't ask), the unfinished bedroom, the spider-infested barn, and the gross Oakridge beds to name a few. Texas's couch wasn't all that uncomfortable, but for whatever reason it was probably the worst sleep I've ever had.
A few thoughts:
My old roommate is getting married.
I could write a entire post on this alone, and a whole other blog about the adventures we had. He's got a good girl. It'll be cool for him to start a new part of his life, but at the same time I wonder how mine will turn when I go back to school this fall without Roy as my wingman.
Marriage is scary.
Who wants to grow up? Who wants bills, insurance, car payments, rent, graduation, a career workload, and all that grownup stuff? And kids?? Not me, or at least not yet. To me, getting married is the symbol of all of that. As long as I can put it off, I won't have to worry about all the other stuff. Right?
Logan reminds me of summer camp.
I walked into the house I crashed in last night and saw all signs of summer. Three huge TVs were hooked up to various video gaming systems, canoes and kayaking gear rented from the university were stashed off to the side of the living room, aloe vera and tanning lotion visible under the couch, a for rent sign displayed out the window, and the whole place had a summery feel to it.
Here comes the sun.
There's nothing better than munching on fresh fruit fro breakfast while watching a Cache Valley sunrise from the various hikes in Logan Canyon with a pretty girl. Okay, so I didn't do any of those this morning, but it's still true. At the very moment I wrote those words, the sun peaked up over the mountains through the window to me. Even though I'm sitting on Texas's couch and not in the wind caves, it's still nice.
The pool.
In my experience, college town pools are always full of the same people; sluttos and douchebags. The sluttos are all afraid to get wet and just lay out in the sun while the douchebags wear their white sunglasses and blast their awful music while horsing around in the water and being jerks to the sluttos. They spend all of their time here during the summer. It's a wonder why all the sluttos talk about how they can't get a good guy and the douchebags all talk about how their girl cheated on them.
Couches suck.
Okay, so I'm a Caucasian American male aged 18-34, but I've had some pretty crappy sleeping situations. As if two years of mission beds weren't enough, there was the port-o-pottie (again, don't ask), the unfinished bedroom, the spider-infested barn, and the gross Oakridge beds to name a few. Texas's couch wasn't all that uncomfortable, but for whatever reason it was probably the worst sleep I've ever had.
To be fair, we own all of that equipment. Nice blog post though. I will read everyone I am mentioned in.
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