Returning to Logan

I bet you thought this post had finished already, didn't you? I mean, I haven't posted anything for almost two weeks and summer is over.

Well it's not.

I've moved back "home," but I won't end this project without a decent ending to tie everything together anyway, and yes, the project ends here.

It's a little harder than I thought it would be.

I left Logan thinking I was going to be miserable and complain all summer (was half right, but I almost always complained for fun.) I moved into Midvale and made goals-- some of which I kept and most of which I let myself get distracted from. I was stalked by foreign powers, learned my wallet has a personality, saw a couple movies, and read a couple books.

I made a couple bucks, made a couple friends, made some people laugh, and made out with a couple girls (I'm probably going to regret writing that.)

I bought some things I didn't anticipate buying and went places I didn't expect to go. I learned about myself, how to treat people, and new songs on my new guitar.

My definition of what a friend is and does changed, as did my perspectives on food and clothing. I realized again how some jobs cannot be done perfectly by the people tasked with completing them.

From those paragraphs alone, I can't say this summer has been a waste at all. And from that, I guess I relearned that my goals are constantly changing, or at least the short-term ones are. My overall goal was for this summer not to suck.

Mission accomplished.

I didn't hate Midvale as much as I thought I would, but I won't admit how much I enjoyed it. 

Now I'm all moved into my apartment and back to the writing table for another year of work. I'm not sure how much I'll like my roommates, my classes, or my ward.


Huh.


Those are almost the exact same reservations I had three months ago when I moved to Midvale in the first place. I guess it's just normal to wonder about the near future and how I'll react to different situations.

I learned from this summer blog is that I'll probably react just like I always have. I'll probably always try to make people smile through my childish ways to have fun and complain about it. I'll probably always make others a little upset when I insist on behaving that way. I'll probably always seek the attention of a girl, and I'll probably always find new ways to mess things up with her. I'll probably always enjoy what I've enjoyed for as long as I can remember, and I'll probably always dislike the things I've disliked for as long as I can remember.

Things will change, yes, but not as much as it looks like they will.

One thing is certain; I will always have roots where the sagebrush died, and I will always love the spot where the sagebrush grows. 

Train hopping

Last weekend, I embarked on a journey that took me 500 miles and three states over five days. Normally this wouldn't be much of an accomplishment, but I did it all without my own car.

I am a successful hobo.

Friday: Since I lost Little Red in the early stages of my Norse Campaigns, I've been driving my mother's Protege, but it would have caused too many problems to take it to Logan in the middle of the week.

Not a big deal, right? Hopefully not. I sent out a Facebook request for a ride from Salt Lake to Logan on Friday night, and within a couple hours I had three generous friends willing to taxi me north.

I ended up driving with my Number Two at the newspaper, with his wife and newborn in the back seat (Now that's a good taxi service). It was a good time talking about the Olympics and other sports for a solid hour and a half.

He dumped me off at an AC-less friend's apartment for about an hour, and then I spent the night at another statesman friend's house.

Saturday: I woke up on the couch to the glorious fanfare coming from London, via the mah-HOO-sive flatscreen tv on the wall. It was beautiful. I nearly cried.

We watched volleyball and swimming until it was time for Aggie football practice, which the both of us went to watch. I'm looking forward to this season. The whole attitude of the team has changed, and the players look and feel like winners. It's amazing what a successful season will do.

After a while, I was hungry and ordered some Jimmy Johns to be delivered to the practice field, mostly just hoping the delivery driver was the cute girl I dated a couple times last year (It wasn't). Then I hung out with a mission friend and an English girl who is in Utah for the summer. This was also a good time, even though they dragged me to the mall for a game of "how does this outfit look?"

Back to TV girl's house for some gymnastics and more swimming, joined by another old statesman friend (the total is up to four statesman friends, by the way), before I was picked up by my Bacon roommate from last year, and taken to his house where I would fall asleep after several hours of xbox.

Sunday: Okay, for all those who haven't already seen my Twitter rampage from this morning, go look at it here and scroll down to August 5. It's the first 11 tweets of that day. Go now. Seriously. Like, now. I won't tell the story here because it's already been done, but just know I'm glad to have my own bedroom and bathroom this coming schoolyear.

Anyway, I went to church with Bacon and his cute girlfriend, where I learned that my favorite Scottish athlete, Andy Murray, won a gold medal in his home country (almost).

After more video games, and a severe beatdown on those guys in NCAA Football 10 (anyone who attends Utah State and still chooses to play as Boise State deserves a 63-point loss from a crappy Colorado Buffs team), I went to my former wingman's apartment and spent the rest of the day with he and his wife. They were nice and even made bacon cheeseburgers. Like, mixing the bacon and cheese into the hamburger meat. It was glorious.

Monday: Wake, shower, and up to campus. I signed a scholarship thankyou letter and waited for my river rafting trip to begin.

Wait, you mean I'm the only person from the Statesman who is going? Wait, you mean I'm only going to know four people on the trip? And of those four, I've had more than one conversation with only the guy I knew from highschool who was two years younger than I? Great...

Well, guess I better make friends quickly.

Actually, this year was much better than last in that respect. I mean, most of the female cheerleaders kept to themselves, but for the most part, everyone who went was much more social and branched out from their normal cliques. That was good for me, since I've been a social butterfly since junior high...

It was also good to meet a couple people in person who I only knew from the Twitter world (#geek).

Tuesday: Rafting. It was pretty awesome. I don't think I need to say any more.

I also managed to hitch a ride back to Salt Lake that night so I could show up on time (mostly) to work the next day, which is definitely not where I'm publishing this post from, because that's against the rules.

Again, 500 miles in five days. I could have a future in the hobo industry.

Logan

This is about the time during the summer that I am going back and forth between Logan and Salt Lake fairly often, between various retreats, media events and wedding receptions.

It feels like I'm living out of a suitcase, both on the Logan couches and at my parents house.

As I passed the houses south of Logan for the first time about a week ago, a family was putting up a sign to "Welcome home, Elder Anderson." When I went passed again a couple days later, they had added paint to show passersby that their missionary had eight days left. Yesterday, he only had six.

Like I'm sure Elder Anderson is getting antsy to go home to Cache Valley, I have been getting more and more excited for August 20th (which now that I just counted is only 16 days away.)

I'm excited for the schedule I've picked up, even it'll be the toughest workload I've signed up for at Utah State. Officially I'm taking 17 credits, but if I was getting academic credit for various other school-related activities, it would be about 27.

It'll be an adventure.

Vegas, baby

I went down to cover (what was left of) the WAC Football media day in Las Vegas, Nev.

It was a sorry sight.

The year before, it was an exciting time and everyone there was eager to get back to football season. Players and coaches were robust in the diplomatic smack talk, almost promising to knock off Hawaii, Nevada and Fresno State before they left the league.

Reporters were crawling over each other to ask questions, and I sat alongside those writers whose work I had amired for some time (yes, I had stars in my eyes).

This year, there were only a handful of reporters, and the overwhelming majority were there for Utah State.

Idaho and New Mexico State coaches depressingly answered questions about the future of their program with the inevitibility of at least a year playing football independent from a conference. Texas-San Antonio and Texas State coaches were a little more exuberant, but nobody in the room besides themselves expects either of those teams to win any conference games. Utah State and Louisiana Tech talked more about the non-conference schedule than anything else.

In a phrase, the WAC is dead. At least in football, maybe all sports. I mean, there are rumors out there, but it's extremely unlikely that six FCS teams all want to make the jump to the WAC by next season.

The conference ended fairly early, leaving Photogirl and I to eight hours in Vegas on the newspaper's bill.

To anyone else, this would be a heavensent, but what are two mormons going to do in the Devil's city?

Strip clubs? Gambling? Nope. No interest here in getting wasted, throwing my money away for booze, drugs, slots, cards, sex, or perving.

So we ate some overpriced food, bowled a couple games, killed three hours by watching Spiderman, and took the long way back to the airport.

Lame? Yes.

To quote the man in the airport, "The best thing they did in this city was build a freeway around it."