The Whistler

That whistle.

Is it the wind trying to get underneath the crack of the locked door? Or is it a man sitting beside the window? It could quite possibly be the the sound of a child, somewhere far off, screaming from inside a room; underneath the stairwell; into the pillows on the bed.

Either way, when quiet, the Whistle, it's still audible. And that tune, still familiar. As familiar as it always has been.

The churning of the second hand on the clock. the steady humm of the refrigerator, the buzz in ears from the constant chaotic noise of the world. It just seems to get louder and louder, trying to make itself heard over the others before it.

But that Whistle, that whistle stays the same volume. Always constant. Always seems half out of tune and slightly off pitch, but maybe it's not the Whistle. Maybe it's the Ear Drums. The ones that are stretched out, strung so tight trying to encompass the music of the world when in reality, it's the tune of the Whistle that the delicate, stretched skin needs to absorb.

The drum that takes a beating, day in and day out, hour after hour from constant Noise. The beating that leaves it vibrating for years until we are given new skins for our drums by the Whistler, stretched by hand.

I've been going crazy, listening to the humming of this world. Driven to the point of tears. Daily. But tonight, for the first time, I'm letting the humming die out and the Whistle grow louder. I've been searching for so long for the tune of that Whistle, but can't find it anywhere except from His lips. I've been waiting for the Whistler to speak, but all I hear is the Whistle, on and over again. I want to get close to that Whistle, and I want this humming to stop. I want it to make sense, but I'm just a note in His tune.

Alone, I'm useless. But I am the one note that helps make that tune, that symphony complete. Maybe that's why it sounds so out of tune, because so much of his instruments are playing different notes, none in accord. The hand thinks the eye is useless who thinks the shoulder is a waste of space who thinks the foot is annoying.

Interestingly enough, these scatter-brained thoughts all boil down to the fact that I don't know where I'm going, what I am doing here, why I am here, or why I haven't seen God move the way I know He wants to...

So, again, I quiet myself to try and decipher the Tune.

And what a beautiful, windy Tune it is.

The Christina Affect

The world lost a valuable asset yesterday. And I'm not to sure how to fully respond.

The only logical thing seems to be to search for solace in the only outlet I know how: writing. The guilt that weighs on my heart is beyond words and I'm still not quite sure the name of it. I've lost someone every single year since the year I started college, and this trend better not be one to stick.

Christina Li passed away yesterday after complications with what I'm told was supposed to be a simple surgery. Li was a fellow writer and editor, in respective semesters, at the State Hornet when I was there, and was amazing at what she did, the best at what she did. Upon graduation in May of 2010, Li received a job at a small newspaper in Visalia, Calif. and, her last semester at school, Li picked up her camera and became quite the photographer. Her articles were meticulous and her talent for feature writing was unprecedented. Anything she laid a determined finger to, she turned to gold.

To say the least, she was talented. And to say the least, I feel guilty beyond words.. But here goes..

Christina -

I feel like I just barely knew you, and for that I'm kicking myself. I was so looking forward to watching you grow into an incredible journalist, an incredible artist. Your work ethic was unreal and your talent at concentration and selective hearing at any given moment was amazing. I know if I told you this now, you'd just react with, "WHaaaaaaatttt??" in that tone you used whenever something surprised you. Like when you found out about the Jamba Juice in the Union that had been there for six months. But you didn't realize it was there until someone mentioned it when we were walking to Round Table.. right next door. But it really was something I admired about you.

You were all business, but really knew how to have a good time and I feel like you just started your creative engine before you really got to take off and win the races set before you. And I wish I could have celebrated with you in your victories, I wish I would have told you more often just how much I really did admire you. Because the nature of our relationship, we were mostly business and I wish that wasn't so..

I don't want to be overly dramatic, but I honestly feel the burden of that heavier now more than ever. Moments are fleeting, and the moments that I neglected with you I regret. There is a heaviness and a weighted feeling of remorse for not getting to know you better.

Lesson learned.

All the future moments to be had, whether with friends or enemies, will be influenced because of what I learned with you, Christina. The affect of what was and was not shared, taken, had with you will surely weigh on future actions.

The Christina Affect will hang over every movement and word as I promise I will never take any conversation or hang out for granted again.

This is messy, but so is life.

No amount of cheesy lyrics or token grief motto could describe the unease and uncomfortable rage felt towards what happened. I'm not even going to try.

I'm sorry I never really got to know you. I was so looking forward to seeing you grow to be so successful, nothing could hold you. And apparently I was right...

You hadn't even left the dock yet..

I'm so sorry...



in Affect,
A

The Unease Grows.

Contemporary Christian music.

Ya, my sentiments exactly. Everything that those words stand for make me sick to my stomach.

I've been trying to be a good little Christian and listen to the radio stations and cd's, but I can't do it anymore. There is something that gets under my skin when I think about the genre.

"But what about all those worship songs you sing in church, aren't those all from those albums?"

You're right. They are. But even worship songs piss me off. There is a fire in the pit of my belly that cannot be quenched by anything but pure, unedited worship. I don't care if it's someone singing in a corner, out of tune and without electric guitar. Give me that over a $15,000 set up any day.

There is something so heart breaking about watching a soul go after the heart of God. Pure and true. The most intense moments I've had before the Throne of God have been sitting on a log on the beach, singing, "I love you, Lord" over and over till I'm sobbing like a toddler in Poppa's arms.

So why do we have all this set up and get up? Why the lights and the guitars? Ya, it sounds great, but really? Don't throw the excuse of "new believers" around either.

If a soul is ripe and ready, if the seed planted is bursting at the seams, it will find the Water to quench it's thirst. It will hear the Call and it will know it's Creator.

It is not our job to dictate whether or not a soul is ready, but it is our duty as believers to be the hands and feet, the eyes the elbows the ears that sit, wait, listen and obey when He says, "Go."

Yesterday, I was listening to the Kim Walker Pandora radio station at work and stumbled upon a website that held images representing the last century. I broke down and started crying at my desk. There was a sickness that started in the bottom of my stomach. Immediately, the feeling of disgust and rage took over and I couldn't believe how people pay to go to conferences and to workshops and colleges and universities where they can learn about this that and the other when others are simply trying to live.

"Blessed are the weak, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven," has never rung more true than at these moments in time.

Last time I checked, Paul was transformed not through a school of thought, but on the side of a road with a vision. Last time I checked, Christ said, be weary of religion and scorned against the pharisees, skipping class to have dinner with the prostitutes and gang bangers of the day. So, why are we trying to save the rich young rulers when they turned away Jesus' proposition? I curse the day that I was born in this country. I wish I was born in a hole on the Australian outback. That way, I would have nothing to do but expect God to fork over the Manna every morning at my doorstep.

To truly show His love, I believe we must be broken. How can a vase be made of hard, stubborn dried up clay? We have to be soaked and broken in order to be molded again.

I've got to go back to the beginning, to unteach myself from the screwed up ways I am all to comfortable with.

Parting is such sweet sorrow - R&J

Wow, it has been a while.

So much has happened since the last time I posted but I am glad to say that I am getting back on the blog bandwagon. Promise I'll do at least bi-monthly posts.

There has been a lot that has been going on, hence the lack of posting, so I'll pick this past weekend to speak about and the rest will come later.

This past weekend, I took my last trip to Indianapolis for my last National Student-Athlete Advisory Committee (SAAC) meeting in which I was one of 31 representatives, representing the student-athletes of the Big Sky Conference in which Sacramento State competes in.

The weekend was, to say the least, interesting. It was so extremely bittersweet to meet all these wonderful new representatives from different conferences and say my goodbyes to everyone. Of course, I sobbed like a little baby, but this committee has weened me off milk and gave me a big juicy steak to satisfy my professional career's appetite.

It has helped propel me to walk out of the tunnel of graduations ambiguity and onto the open road of the worlds endless career options. All the liaisons to the committee and members of SAAC have been with me through nine bumpy, pot-holed forks in the road, nine meetings filled with heated debates, plenty of piggy backing and plenty of embarrassing moments when we, or maybe just me, got it wrong.

During my time on the committee, I walked through the end of my collegiate rowing career, the start of a new job at the conference in which I was commissioned to represent, the engagement to the love of my life, the move from everything that was familiar in California to the foreign land of Utah, and three deaths in my family that affected me beyond measure.

The amount of growth that was experienced both during those nine meetings and just during the two years time serving the committee will be a time marked with nostalgia and filed away under the "Golden Years" in my memory. It's a time of my life I will be telling my grand kids about around the campfire and common ground I will share with the members of the committee.

The weightiness and importance of this committee will be the common ground in which I will meet it's members, my friends, upon time and time again. The "Remember when..." 's will ring true for years to come.

From NCAA office in Indianapolis, all those room keys from the Westin to Denver, to Atlanta to Washington DC the day before the first black US President's swearing in.. All the NCAA rules and regulations we learned of and all of the acronyms we had to learn. All the interesting people who came to us for our opinions, the first time I realized the NCAA really truly stood up to it's word to serve student athletes, and the two times we lost to DIII in kickball in July (which I'm expecting the new members to win next year..)

Every memory has been put in it's place. Every friendship cherished. Every late night text message. Every meeting's new challenges. Every game of hot seat, every joke and every piece of hot topic legislation discussed. All of it summed up into one great experience. All of it something I will remember years from now.

"Memories are the treasures that we keep locked deep within the storehouse of our souls, to keep our hearts warm when we are lonely," - Becky Aligada

Chapter Three

There is a part of me deep down inside that doesn't want to stay in one place.

There is, however, some truth to being rooted in a place, but I'm not to keen on getting to used to one place or another.

Moving scares me to death and I get very anxious at the thought of living in an unfamiliar place, but at the same time, I am sickened of the thought of life without adventure.

The past few weeks have been challenging. The feeling of "settling down" and getting comfortable has been starting to creep up on me. And although a part of me really wants to embrace that, another part of me never wants to let go of the adventure of life.

In the past few weeks, I have become fully aware that life can throw curve balls at any time it would like, and that trying to live a "normal" life definitely has its hiccups.

Normal is in quotations because I am extremely bothered by the fact of a normal life, but at the same time in some other compartment of my heart and mind, there is a very big fear of the unknown.

When looking back at the path I've walked down thus far in my short 22 years here, I find that recent years have been a lot of uprooting and leaving behind familiar forests where I've earned a few rings around my trunk. But I've learned that in every uprooting, there is always the divine hand of Christ behind the pick and axe that have torn me up and graciously replanted me.

Lately, I've been trying to explain to Aaron what God has typed out in my heart but I've got nothing more than, "It's where I've been led." Very similar, if I might add, as to the reasons why he joined the army. Its sort of funny how human emotions can get so messy and spill over, covering up every other type of logic including the illogical requests of a righteous God.

The other night while journaling, I found something I'd scribbled down a week or two earlier. It read:

"There are two kinds of people in the world:
The ones who rise from the ashes and the ones who suffocate in them.
There is no question whether or not the fire will burn."

Moments like this are moments when I know God is with me because over the next few days, events unfolded that were slightly out of my control. And I had a choice to either suffocate or rise above.

A couple of days earlier I had suspicions that someone was tampering with the lock (a weak one at that) on my sliding glass door that faces the street and sidewalk. It's about 10 feet from a fairly busy sidewalk where lots of people often walk their dogs or go for jogs. I've found countless smoked cigarettes on my lawn and figured it was just people throwing them onto my lawn from the sidewalk. Gross still, but there really isn't anything I can do.

Earlier that night when I had read that in my journal, I had bought two plastic lounge chairs to laze around in during the summer months and get outside where I like to be.

The next day when I came home for lunch, there was a coke can sitting in front of one of the lawn chairs with smoked cigarettes filling up half the can and cigarette burns and ash on the chair as well as the ground and, of course, more cigarettes on the lawn.

Nothing was tampered with in my house but it had confirmed my suspicions of someone hanging out on my porch. I honestly don't mind that someone has taken my porch as a lounge area for them but cigarettes are my worst enemy and I HATE them.. In addition, it's unnerving to know that my porch is a hang out spot when I live by myself.

I contemplated leaving a sign just asking the person to clean up after themselves and not get burns on the chair, but instead I freaked and had the police come out and take an extra patrol on my street. Not very Christ-like.

It got me thinking of how much I wish that Aaron lived with me. I feel so much safer when he is around. I don't get cat-called on the street (not saying I'm uber attractive, I just feel uncomfortable walking down the street in a dress because I've had some shady characters say/do some pretty vulgar things which wouldn't happen if Aaron was by my side)

The first thought into my mind was to embrace what was happening and show them Christ's character, but my frightened flesh got the better of me.
Fear:1
Love:0


The second semi-epic event was my car breaking down on the Friday before last on my way to the gym.

One thing about Ogden that everyone has got to understand are the hills. Ogden sits at the bottom of, you guessed it, Mount Ogden. I live across the street from the mountain. Literally. So in order to get to and from my house, hills are a requirement. Anyone who's taken a ride in the good ol' S.S. Nessy knows that the little four-banger tank doesn't have a whole lot of power.

So in coming up a hill near my house, the engine cut, and thank the Lord, I was able to cruise onto a side street off of a main boulevard in a stretch where side streets are sparce.

Long story short, and two mechanics later, I got the car back just in the nick of time to pick up Aaron from the airport this last Friday, the 28th. He's been here since and it's been, well, weird.

It's weird have a "nine to five" and having him here. I've only known him when I've been in college so it's odd to me to not be in college and hang out with him. It's been nice living by myself and having him here though. It feels like we're married. When I was at work yesterday, he cleaned the whole house. And I don't mean just a little wipe here and there, but pretty much reorganized the whole darn thing.

I should be able to work from home for the next week or two till he leaves on June 13, but until then, I'm going to soak up every moment.

What's on our agenda? Glad you asked.

- Hike to the top of Mt. Ogden, off the trail
- Buy hiking shoes for said hike
- Play copius ridiculous amounts of soccer and tennis
- Go to REI, maybe get camping gear
- Hang my photos I finally put in frames
- Attend Real Salt Lake soccer game June 9
- Attend mewithoutYou show June 5
- Stay on top of blogging
- Eat in and buy veggies from the local marketplace down on Washington Blvd.


Bold indicates what we haven't done yet.


Till next time,
the Adventerous A's.


"I'd rather be a failure at what I love than a success at something I hate."
-George Burns

The Traveling Circus and the Yearnings

I've clocked in about two months of work here at the conference office so far. And so far, there have been four championships that have taken place: women's and men's basketball, golf and tennis. As the sports info intern, I have been able to traveled to all of them:

Men's basketball was hosted by Weber State, so it was in Ogden, where the conference office is.

Women's basketball was hosted by Eastern Washington, so we traveled to Cheney, Wash. just outside of Spokane.

Women's Golf tournament was hosted by Northern Arizona, so we traveled to Chandler, Ariz. (it was hosted at an off site golf course).

Men's and women's tennis was hosted by Sacramento State , so we traveled to Sacramento, Calif.

Unfortunately, that means working through the weekend but I don't mind so much. I've been back for about week now from the last two championships, golf and tennis, but been catching up on things. I apologize for not posting a blog in two weeks, I've been kicking myself for it.

Traveling has been tough. Once I go through a round of all the championships, it will get easier because I can know what to expect, but the first time traveling to anything is always rough. Traveling back to Sacramento was the worst.

Words to describe how odd of a feeling it was to be staying in hotel in a town where you lived less then 2 months earlier, a place where your life was altered so drastically. It was hard being there and it was hard going back to Utah.

One really doesn't know how familiar a place can be until you're not in it anymore. I miss simple things like the way a California license plate looks like on the back of the car you're following down the street, or the little reflectors on the lane markers. The lanes here in Utah don't have them because the snow plows would break them off.

Since moving here, I've been wanting to get involved in some sort of community service type thing. I'm hoping it will take my mind off of home and I really enjoy serving others. I've been really yearning to get involved in the community. Get some good solid work down, get rooted, get my hands dirty or help clean up someone elses.

It makes my skin crawl when I just go about my own business, not involved in anything. I miss the culture of Sacramento. There were so many things going on in Sacramento that I miss doing or going too. I miss going to the open mic nights at Luna Cafe and hearing about peoples inner thoughts via spoken word. I miss second-Saturdays when everybody and their mother didn't know about it. I miss Boudin's sourdough bread bowls and the sushi Aaron and I would get at Bento Box. I miss Jack's Urban Eats and I miss the river. I miss rowing and the way the trees turn all sorts of bright reds oranges and yellows and shed their leaves so I can shuffle through the thick piles at school. I miss the sunshine and when it doesn't snow in May. I just miss everyone being different. I especially miss the nights going to the river and sitting on the foothills, worshiping God during sunset. I even miss my ornery young youth pastor who would yell at me for doing things with my friends in youth group as a non-church function - ha.

Most of the Christians here have a heart for mormons, but I've always had a heart for those who have pushed organized religion to the side. I want to show them the Jesus that I know. The one that rebuked religion and churches, overturned the merchants tables in the temple, and actually practiced what he preached. California has always been like a camping site for the refugees that live on the fringe of civilization, the one's Jesus hung out with, and I miss ministering to those people through the way I attempted to live.

One of my favorite past times was going to the open mics and reading off some of the stuff I wrote about my Jesus, hoping they would see what I see. Always hoping I could transpire the picture I saw in my heart of Christ onto theirs. I would read poems out of the Outlaw Bible of American Poetry that talked about Jesus. The poets I would call "Christians without even knowing it" and I would always give testament to Christ.

In Sacramento I was pegged the "good little church girl" one to many times. It made me really uncomfortable to be smashed into that box and I was CONSTANTLY trying to fight against it.. But here, you're either mormon or you're a part of "the others".

At any rate, I'll end here with one of my favorite quotes. Hopefully my useless ramblings have provoked some spark.

"We're writing suicide notes with transparencies and posting them to the glass boundaries that surround the seas of change." - Sage Francis.

The Ogden Adventures

It happened. I graduated and got a job. I picked up everything and moved from the familiarity of California to the obscurity of Ogden, Utah.

Forty minutes north of Salt Lake City, Ogden's this quaint little town with a whole different kind of personality. It has it's pluses and minuses.

It's 15 minutes from three ski resorts. Plus

Living at the bottom of a mountain, walking distance from trailhead. Plus

Dog food plant on the end of town. Minus

Not having experience driving in the snow. BIG minus...

But at any rate, moving here from California has been a definite adventure. Learning the ropes of a new job at Big Sky Athletic Conference has been great. The people here that I work with and in the town are extremely nice and accommodating which in turn minimizes rope burn from this new town.


So far, I've been blessed with renting an amazing two bedroom condo across the street from tennis courts and a soccer field with the backdrop of Mount Ogden in the background. And I pay a steal for rent: $625.

Speaking of a steal, I just found a roommate which is a total God incident. Now, I realize it's going to be hard to understand how this may be hard for some people to understand, but trust me, if you knew me before I knew God, I was a hot mess. I believe that God, or Godhead through the Holy Spirit, speaks to everyone, its just a matter of quieting oneself to hear His voice.

At any rate, God confirmed this lady roommate with me, and when September rolls around, she'll start her job and move in.


Aside from the blessing of a housing situation, I've gotten a bit of rope burn. The first, and mildest burn, was when I was trying to find the three mile loop on the Mt. Ogden trails (the trailhead near my house I mentioned earlier).

After work one day, I drove up to the trailhead to go for a run, mistake No. 1. After getting to the end of what I believed to be the three mile loop, I followed the arrows that pointed to what I believed to be the trail, always taking to the right of whatever fork I met figuring I'd get back SOME HOW.

Turns out, took a wrong turn and I ended up running right in front of my house. With my keys in the glove box of my car. Which was parked at the trail head in the opposite direction.

From that day forward, I've never parked my car at the trailhead.

My second burn came from a spring storm the night of the NCAA basketball championships.

I went over to a friend's house to watch the Butler v. Duke game. It was raining when I came over around 7 p.m. By the time the game was over around nine, it had started snowing and within the hour, there was at least a foot of snow on the ground.

Now, before I explain my emotional breakdown of my first experience driving in snow, I'd like to explain that my car, the S.S. Nessy as my fiance has named it, is a 1991 Volvo 740 station wagon with rear wheel drive. And I guess I should also explain that it is IMPOSSIBLE to get anywhere in Ogden without hitting some sort of steep hill. And I've been told rear wheel drive is THE WORST kind of car to have in the snow. Let alone the massive boat that is the Volvo.

So I'm sure reading that, the equation for disaster is already adding up in your minds.

I couldn't even turn around in the street without getting stuck and losing control/getting snowed in. So when I got to the end of the street and stopped, I realized I made a big mistake while my tires started spinning and my car started fish tailing FROM THE FRONT.

In hind sight, this was a total blessing in disguise as in order to get to my house, I'd have have climbed a very large hill and would have failed, miserably.

So, I waved down a passing truck and these two gentlemen helped steer me back to my friends house where I stayed the night and proceeded to attempt to keep composure throughout the rest of the night.

That was by far the COLDEST burn I've ever felt. I'm such a baby.

Needless to say, the snow storm made me officially cross off "Living in the snow" from my Bucket List. And yes, I do have an actual Bucket List.

In other Ogden adventures, went snowboarding here. First time in Utah and about my 10th time snowboarding. At all. I'm hoping as time goes on I'll be able to get better at it because this time was a total disaster.

Utah resorts are so different than the ones I grew up on in California. Instead of a main lodge with tons of lifts based close by, they've got a main lodge with a gigantic gondola that takes you all the way to the top of the mountain and you can decide what route you want to take down as the trails vein out across the mountain. It takes about 45 minutes to get down the mountain instead of the quick, short runs in California.



This region is slowly turning me from my sunny California girl ways into a rough and tough flannel wearing mountain girl. And not the flannel that all the hipsters wear in California. No, no the thick red lumberjack flannel. Yup.

Essentially, I probably could stay to my sunny California girl ways and just marry my mountain man (Aaron was born in Colorado. 'Nough said). But he's off in Louisiana and Papa God's gonna take care of me till Aaron comes back.



And might I add on a separate note that I am absolutely deathly afraid of buying a scale for fear of finding out just how much weight I have gained since I stopped rowing last May.

I've been eating pretty healthy with momentary lapses of Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch. And I've been exercising about five times a week on average. But I have definitely lost some of the definition I used to have as a rower in college.

Oh well, life changes and we move on. Hopefully I'll lose some weight as I eventually train up for a marathon (another Bucket List item, the one right before backpacking Zion National Park in southern Utah).


In other news, Aaron is geographically closer to me this week as he is doing pre-deployment training in southern Wyoming but since his phone doesn't work there and he's very busy, I get to talk to him once every couple of days for a couple minutes. No fun, but I guess it's conditioning for his deployment =/

Good news is he come to visit May 28-June 13. As a late birthday present (his birthday was April 11), I'm surprising him and him to a Real Salt Lake game in Salt Lake City against the LA Galaxy. I plan on dragging him through Ikea with me and taking him to a couple coffee shops I scouted out in SLC, then off to the game.


In the mean time, I'll be traveling to Phoenix for the Big Sky Golf Championships and will drive down to see my grandpa in southern Arizona before the championships begin.

I leave Saturday and come back Wednesday and then leave again on Friday for Sacramento for the Big Sky tennis championships. I requested an early flight so I can get to see some of my friends and family in Sacramento before the tournament begins.

Good things are coming ahead, God is good.

I'll keep you guys posted as time rolls on.

I know it's long, but I imagine them getting shorter as time goes on since I just summed up an entire month in one blog post.

Till next time.