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. 

Park City

A short time ago, I had no interest in fashion (see Jorts entry, July 18). This is still mostly true, so don't get your hopes up too high as you read the rest of this post.

My uncle came to hang out in Salt Lake the past couple days. He needed to buy some new clothes at our classier city stores, so naturally I came along. 

On day one, we went to City Creek (it was my first time) and the Gateway. I didn't buy anything. Mostly I just followed my uncle around to see what he was looking at. 

Hey, I'm only a novice fashionista. 

On day two, we went to the Tanger Outlets in Park City. I bought two shirts from Aeropostale for 17 bucks. 

Yes grandma, I finally used the birthday money to expand my wardrobe with "not a Utah State or soccer shirt." 

I was *that* close to buying a hoodie for another 20, but I talked myself out of it. I wish I hadn't. Hopefully Park City girl will come through big and bring me a present in Logan next week. 

Day three. We hit up South Towne and Fashion Place malls. I bought a shirt from Hollister for 12 bucks. 

By this time, I was looking at buying entire stores. I mean, I don't need shoes, but those Pumas were looking nice. Those basketball shorts were good quality, and for only 15 bucks I almost bought three or four. I don't really need more non-jorts, but a nice brand for 30 bucks? Deal.

My head was a pretty constant battlefield. The usually overpowerfully-dominant cheapskate side was always "hey now, you don't even have money to pay for school, you can't buy trendy clothes" and fighting with the deals from the advertisement posters that screamed "wear these clothes and that sorority girl will want to get you out of them." 

Both sides had their victories.

Singles ward: the last

For my final post about the craziness I call the singles ward, I was about to (and planning on doing so for some time) talk bad about the ol YSA singles ward, but I think I've done that enough (see posts under "The Ol' YSA Singles Ward").

There are some pretty great people there.

So instead of being THAT douchebag who drives off with the one-finger salute high in the air through the driver's-side window, I'll give a little thank you shout out.

Hopefully this doesn't sound too much like a suicide note or high school yearbook signing session.

• As weird as he often is, Awkward Guy has a good heart. He's a loyal friend. Even though he forgets his wallet whenever we go hang out (he probably just realizes how cool Heather is), he knows all the girls and introduces me. It's hard to be a bad friend when a trade like goes down.

• Baseball Guy is the only one at church today who told me he didn't want me to go back to Logan. The best part was he meant it, which is really nice to know that I actually did make a couple new friends. Sorry bro, there's no way I'm transferring from where the sagebrush grows to stay in Midvale, unless I was offered my dream job with the Salt Lake Tribune. 

• While this list is in no particular order, Climbing Girl would be very near the top of people I'd miss if it were. Even though she didn't miss a chance early on to expose me as the fool I am, we became good friends and confidants to each other. And of course, climbing in Logan with people who aren't her will be a different experience. 

• Climbing Guy provided many good times, both on the rock walls and off. He was pretty much the only one in Midvale worthy of real bro talk. Drink runs won't be the same in Logan without your unfiltered thoughts about women and guns. I'll miss you man, no homo. 

• Ginger was one of the first friends I had in Midvale. Even though she kinda drifted away about a month after I got here, the first month would have sucked without us playing "make-fun-of-the-girl-who-raises-her-hand-all-the-time-in-sunday-school" with her cool basketball-playing ginger friend. 

• It's a bummer I didn't hang out with BYU Idaho Girl nearly as much as I would have liked, but she is still cool and definitely one of the people I'll call up when I periodically come back to Salt Lake. 

• Big Talker is flighty, she was a blast to climb with. Overall a chill woman, and definitely a 2 on a scale of 1 to 2 (a compliment, I assure you).

There are others I have undoubtedly left off of this list for one bonehead reason or another, and to those great people I apologize, so try not to be offended if you know how awesome you are.

I wonder

I always expected to graduate at the end of the 2013-14 school year, but it turns out I won't even need to hurry to graduate this spring.

I mean, I still need to talk with advisors and make sure I don't see any knuckleballs, but I'm going to be a grownup with a fancy piece of paper a couple months after my next birthday.

I need a job.

It's a good thing I have all school year to apply for every major newspaper, university athletics office, and professional sports team in the country.

I wonder where I'll end up. I wonder what it will be like there. I wonder how the people are. I wonder if I'll meet a girl. I wonder if I'll enjoy the professional world as much as I've loved my time as sports editor for The Statesman.

I wonder if I'll even get a sportswriting job or if I'll have to sell out to get the bills paid.

I sure hope not.

Working hard

Working at Sorenson Caption Call to help the hard of hearing make phone calls has been a pretty good experience for me.

I mean, I hate it sometimes, but that's only because I'd rather be playing guitar or video games or rock climbing.

Or doing nothing.

But they pay me pretty well. Or at least, they pay a heck of a lot better than anything I could find if I had stayed in Logan, and especially for only 25 hours a week. Even more especially when they hired me knowing I'd only be there until through three weeks in August.

This week the Operations management announced that part time employees like me will be allowed to work up to 35 hours per week because of unusually high call volumes, but only through the 18th of August.

Coincidence that I'm moving back to Logan on the 18th? Probably not.

I think someone is watching out for me and knows exactly how much money I need to pay for rent and tuition this fall, how much I don't have, and how much I still need.

I'm really very lucky.

Jorts

I've never been one to spend money on things.

*cough* Cheapskate *cough*

Fortunately, I've lived my entire life with an uncle who was always willing to give me the clothes he'd grown out of (read: fell out of style) five years earlier.

This meant I was wearing Lucky Brand jeans and Abercrombie shirts when (I'm guessing) they weren't in style anymore. In elementary school, I wore old Little League baseball shirts from teams I'd never played on. I had drawers full of old socks, shirts, jeans, a few shoes, and baseball hats.

I never really paid attention to fashion trends in school. I mean, why spend time looking at what dudes wore when I can look at girls... um... clothes?

By the end of last semester, I was probably the only guy on campus to still wear denim shorts. I was out of the country when the whole "Tebow wears Jorts" event went down, okay?

The time has come. My collection of old (and *very* comfortable, might I add) jorts needed to be put to rest.

The same night I got back to Salt Lake after my conquest of the viking lands (read: the time when these blog posts sucked) I called up a friend more fashonable than I and went shopping.

The problem was, it was late enough that all the stores with stylish clothing were closed.

On to Mal*Wart, the source for cheap plastic crap! ...and apparently my new favorite clothing store. Or at least, the place where I purchased my two new pairs (and probably "only" for some time) of cargo shorts.

Goodbye, O ye old pairs of jorts. May you ever rest in peace at the bottom of the bottom drawer of my dresser in my parents' house. May you ever rest in pieces, as I hope one day you will find yourselves as part of a levi quilt; a form which I will undoubtedly enjoy your comfort again.

A form which will carry with it numberless "in your pants" and "that's what she said" jokes.

Honey badger don't give a...

We deal with a lot of different types of people at the ol TAVron.

There are lots of manual laborers who come in and buy a ton of gas, fill up their huge mugs from the fountain, and usually buy some sort of snack or lunch. There are the social workers from the care home down the street who come in and buy energy drinks and complain about how understaffed and outnumbered by the residents they are.

The group that most concerns me is the kids from the middle school across the street.

Most of them are great kids. A few of them are sneaky little bastards who will do anything to save their allowance and steal the candy bars they shove into their fat faces. I don't even let the thieves come into the store anymore.

Then Daddy came in the other night to scream at me.

Apparently I'm not being fair to his sons, because those angels would never do anything wrong, even if it meant embarrassing Daddy's status in the community.

Dude, I make 8 bucks an hour at a crappy job that has nothing to do with my field just so I can pay housing next semester. I promise I'm more Honey Badger than Princess Helpful.

Job updates: part 2

Some of you might be wondering where all the blog posts have been lately. I know, my bad.

Just before I moved from Logan a couple months ago, I was talking to the bigwigs of a weekly newspaper chain in the Salt Lake Valley. I was pretty stoked cuz they seemed excited to let me take on some stories, but then they didn't call me.

Until now.

On Tuesday, I got an inquiry of interest phone call. On Wednesday, I got an email asking me to write four stories of 4-500 words in the next seven days at a rate of 25 dollars per story. On Thursday, I interviewed ten sources for said stories. On Friday, I received photographs and finished up interviews. On Saturday, I wrote rough drafts of the stories. On Sunday, I finished up and submitted them.

Not bad to get two stories in a day before deadline and two more in three days before deadline, all while juggling two other jobs, softball games, and Da Ladies.

Or at least that's the plan right now. I mean, it's only Friday morning as I'm writing this, so who knows what will actually happen.

Job updates: part 1

(Photo courtesy of Rock Climber)

So I quit my job at Chevron.

Some of you may be asking, "but wait, didn't you just barely start?" Yes. Yes, I did.

You see, I told both the owner and manager who interviewed me that I will need a couple weeks off in July to go to a family reunion in Minnesota, aka the trip up North. Apparently there was some misunderstanding and I won't be receiving that time off.

Not with the title of "head gas station grunt" when I come back from my conquest of Canada Jr. anyway.

Was it a smart move to cut myself off from money? Probably not. Have I been to a game in a major league park? Nope. Do I have my whole life to work? Definitely.

But it's not all bad.

The management at my other job, the deaf call center, has been very understanding.

It looked like a similar thing to Chevron (aka TAVron) was happening when my time off requests were denied, so I told the manager I would have to quit so I could go.

He basically told me to try and get other people to cover it, but if it didn't happen and I was "sick" or whatever, it would be okay. He was like, "when you come back, we might sit you down for the formality of telling you how important attendance is, but then we'll just talk about how your invasion of the Lake Country went."

Okay so I added that last phrase, but he's still cool with me going.

Helping the deaf hear since 2007

I've been at my new job at Sorenson CaptionCall for a couple weeks now.

Well, I first worked there a little bit in high school and then went to Scotland and Logan. Now that I'm back, I actually got a full dollar raise and I make more than three dollars better than I do at the ol' TAVron.

It's a pretty good gig too.

You know those annoying closed captioning subtitles on movies? I create a phone call version of that for the customers. Of course all call information is completely confidential, but we can get some very entertaining ones. Let's just say we caption every type of call and it doesn't matter if the number dialed is to grandma and grandpa or a 900 number.

Since I've done the job before, I flew through the 3-week training and graduated in four days. That's gotta make you feel cool, right?

The bad side is my schedule. Sunday through Friday at 6 a.m. to 11a.m., excluding Tuesdays. This not only means I have to get up at just after 5, but since I'm so dang tired after closing the ol' TAVron the night before, I have to take a good-sized nap most days, which means I either sacrifice rock climbing or go to work exhausted.

The good part is that it's pretty chill that early in the morning. There's a lot of down time, so I tweet away, train the voice recognition software to understand my voice better by reading USU football articles out loud, and catch up in the ol' Book of Mormon, but I never doze off because that's against company policy.

Hopefully I earn enough to pay for housing in Logan come August.

Rattling my piggy bank

Since it basically the end of May, I figured I'd better see how much progress I've made in the financial world.

It wasn't much.

Wait a second, I don't pay rent, or buy food, rarely need to put gas in my car, got my apartment deposit back, and I'm working part time. How do I only have a hundred dollars? What did I even buy?

According to my online bank statement, I spend two to four dollars on snacks every day at work, which comes out to be about 40 bucks. Then there're various outings with the ol' YSA singles ward which cost a total of about 20 bucks. Then there's the climbing gear I just bought at an insanely great price for just under 60 bucks (thanks to Rock Climber). And just because I haven't been blogging about my REAL adventures with da Ladies, doesn't mean they haven't been going down (and I bet you would like to know what I spend on that, you nosy numpties).

I was about to write down a neat little budget, but then I found a note written by my wallet in the front pocket of my jeans.

Tavin,

I'm getting pretty skinny, but it's more like "bulimic" skinny than "marathon" skinny. Not good. We've gotta work something out here. I've included a few suggestions to help keep both of us happy.

1. Eat a ton of cereal before going to work at the ol' gas station, and make a sandwich to take with for when those custard filled doughnut wedges are staring at you.

2. Make sure the awkward friend doesn't "forget" his wallet when you let him mooch a ride to various YSA shindigs and whynots. I've talked with Awkward's wallet, and dude, it's told me some weird stories. I don't trust it. 

3. Don't buy ANY more climbing gear. You've got enough to look cool while you get started, but remember climbing outdoors is free minus the negligible cost of gas, and I can work with you on that. 

4. Keep dating costs to a minimum. Well, don't look like a cheapskate, so maybe a "classy" minimum. Obviously there's going to be that trip down south you've been planning, and I won't stop you from splurging on that hottie, but keep it reasonable. 

Oh, and I'm totally cool with you giving a little kickback to that church of yours every couple of weeks. They always give nice little receipts and make it easy for me to keep track of the money you spend. Plus, I'm sure supporting a charity makes you not feel like the dirty scumbag you sometimes pretend you used to be, or whatever your story is.

Anyway, just remember about those things you told me you want to buy. Y'know, rent and tuition next year? Those are biggies. Oh, and that expensive camera lens. I don't know why you need to spend a thousand bucks on that, but it's your call. I just hold your money for you.

Keep it real, man

Sincerely,

Leather "Heather" Wallet

Filling up on Sundays

Blah, blah, blah, don't work on Sundays, blah, blah, blah.

It was dead today. Apparently there's always less business on Sundays, and with everyone being out of town for Memorial Day, it was even more dead. Needless to say, I got all my work done in the first hour of my shift.

At least, everything I could do until right before closing time, at midnight.

Distraction from Boredom #1: The Rock Climber

My friend came in for somewhere between a half hour to an hour and we talked while I restocked the beer cave. We chatted about girls, the ol' YSA ward, stuff and people that bugged us, more girls, and made plans for rock climbing tomorrow.

Distraction from Boredom #2: The Missionaries

No, I didn't get cornered in the shop by those pesky Mormon boys. Rather, I wrote letters to two good friends who are serving in Peru and Korea. I'm sure Peruvian's girlfriend will be happy upon reading this news.

Distraction from Boredom #3: Gum Girl

Okay, so there's no one in the shop until a cute girl pulls up in a powder blue VW Beetle. We chat for all of 15 seconds while she buys her two packs of gum and explains she comes in all the time only to buy gum, and asks if I'm new.

Not significant.

A woman about 45-years-old enters as Gum Girl exits, and asks if Gum Girl is my girlfriend. Nope, definitely not. I mean, she's cute and all, but definitely has a parking permit for my old high school, placing her at least five years younger than me and WELL below the legal age. Can you say jailbait?

Not sure if I should have written that...

Distraction from Boredom #4

There was one hotdog left. I didn't want to mark it down on the inventory list and needed to clean the hotdog rack anyway, so I just bought it. Not actually that cool.

Distraction from Boredom #5

So I'm pulling off the fountain heads for the Dr. Pepper, when these two women arrive separately and begin laughing when they see each other.

"Are you two in the same ward or something?"

Yup, called it. They both also had the same thought to get a Sabbath Day Diet Coke.

Distraction from Boredom #The Last

So I call one of my coworkers an hour before closing to ask a question (hey, it's my first night closing by myself) and she asked if I was about ready to clock out.

"Wait, we close an hour early on Sundays?" I ask her. Yup, totally. "Oh. That's good/bad. I guess I better start/finish all those closing time jobs real fast."

Good thing I work quickly when I need to. I think I even remembered to clock out.

Bad boys, bad boys

Things at the gas station have been pretty mellow since I started working there a week or two ago.

I mean, people buy stuff and not much else changes. Every once in a while I have to clean up a mess or refill the coffee maker or whatever, but that's about the extent of excitement.

Yesterday a guy pulled into the parking lot only to be followed by a white Escalade with flashing undercover police lights and a funky ski rack-looking thing. The guy gets out and starts to come in before the police sergeant calls him over in the authoritative way cops do.

They talked for what seemed an unusually long time to be pulled over, the conversation broken up every few minutes for Guy to search the glove box while his kid also had to stand outside the car.

After a while, another undercover officer enters the parking lot, so that he and Sergeant can take turns standing extremely close to Guy.

The girl working the till and I both thought Guy was going to get arrested just because of how long the ordeal was taking and how close the cops stood to him.

After a while, Sergeant makes Guy and Kid take all their stuff out of the car before the cops confiscate the Honda and both cops head off.

Guy comes into the store and tells Till Girl and I the story. Apparently he was on his way home when his wife called and asked him to buy her a drink. So instead of going the normal way, Guy pulled by our gas station only to get pulled over.

Guy said said Sergeant's Escalade (Which was supposedly impounded and never paid for instead of bought by our tax dollars) has one of those new "smart" systems with scanners on the ski rack that can read 60 license plates per second.

Guy said his plate numbers were flagged with a revoked registration. Apparently he just re-registered, Wife just switched insurances, and Guy has this other court thing that probably held his license. Or something. Anyway, Guy and Kid had to walk a thousand address numbers home with all their stuff in grocery bags and Wife's Dew while their car was taken to the impound lot.

All because he let a white Escalade follow him.

Bringing home the bacon

Alarm goes off again. Shower. Cereal. Hair. Teeth. Dress.

I put one of my many Aggie gameday shirts on underneath the black button down shirt I put on and head to my first of two job interviews today.

I get there and am called back for a typing test, on which I score miles above what I need to. I move on to a diction test. My raw score comes out good enough to qualify for a better job and pay scale than I expected. The tester double checks the computer and bumps my actual score seven points higher.

"This is the highest score I've ever seen," she says as I feign humility. She takes me into one of the management type's office.

He looks at the scores and we both relax. We talk about nothing during the entire interview, cramming a few logistical details out at the very end as more of an afterthought than the original purpose of our conversation. He lets me pick my schedule and gives me further instructions.

Nailed it.

I leave and go to my second interview of the day. I notice the word "yes" scribbled onto my application and the interview here is just as relaxed as the first, again with formality questions and legal forms as an "Oh yeah, fill these out before you go."

Nailed it again. All thanks to my gameday shirt.

Take that, temp agency...

Is this real life?

You know it's bad when the temp agency you registered with calls and informs you that you're not a good fit for them. I thought "temp" stood for "temporary." I'm only going to be here a few months, doesn't that definition match?

Temp. Teeeeemp. Temmmmmmp. Temp. Temptemptemptemptemptemptemp.

Wait, was it an agency just for Tempe? I definitely don't live in Arizona. I have a friend or two who do though. Maybe the temp agency was worried I will add to the population of immigration worker problems.

Temptation? There is a cupcake shop back home by that name. Maybe the temp agency only hires people who are awesome bakers. I could totally build a cupcake if they gave me a chance.

Tempo is the speed of music, and I only pretend to play guitar and sing. There aren't any jobs in music anyway.

Temperature. Hmm... Maybe the air conditioner broke and they don't want to talk to me in the heat? That doesn't make sense because it's still only May, and July will be much hotter.  

Maybe template? That would make sense because I'm a student looking for work and not a big-shot early graduate with a doctorate degree. Someone like that would be the perfect template of a worker for an employer to hire.

Temp. Tempe. Tempo. Template. Temptation. Temperature.

TempEoLateTionTure.

Too much...