Friday, November 12, 2010

A Letter to Myself

Dear Jenna,

Remember how hungry you were around eleven o'clock this morning? I know you thought it was closer to breakfast time than it actually was, so your bowl of cereal five hours earlier was no longer nourishing you. Instead, your insides were being devoured by invisible hellhounds sent by Satan himself. Being this hungry, you had a hard time concentrating on your scholarly studies. If you have ever been in the Saw trap that rips your ribcage open, you would know how hard it is to do anything other than trying to get out of the trap. Would you stop trying to dig a key out from behind your eyeball in order to take notes on transcription of DNA while the timer was ticking? I mean, we all would like to think that we could put our hands in strong acids to reach keys to set ourselves free, but would we really?

Anyway, you were really hungry so you went to the Carl's Jr. on campus and ate a Spicy Guacamole Bacon Burger. As delicious as it was, you immediately felt sick and bloated and fat.

Now, pay attention to this next part, Jenna. I really want you to remember this part of the story. As you lumbered off toward your next class, you walked slower than you ever have before. You could hear your own heart pounding, you felt it in all your veins and arteries. You were breathing heavier. You were creating an earthquake with each step.

I want you to remember how miserable you felt as you rolled your blob up the stairs.

And I leave you with this: remember this day, Jenna. Do not ever forget this day.


Sunday, November 7, 2010


If you have ever been to Colorado, you know that the weather could (and usually does) change at any moment. It could snow anywhere from September to May, but it has been known to snow right around Independence Day as well (that's July 4th, kiddos), depending on what area of Colorado you are in (there's a change in elevation of about 10,000 ft or more). Thus, we don't really abide by traditional rules of "seasons" here. I think the only rule is to keep your winter coat in your car at all times.

One of the more confusing times of the year is traditional "fall." One morning you're going to need that winter coat, and that same afternoon you change into your shorts and T-shirts and hang out outside, that is until the sun starts to go down, at which point you scurry inside, turn up the heat and sit under your blankets. This time is so confusing because it hasn't snowed yet. You're not sure when you wake up if it's going to snow that day or if you should plan a trip to the local swimming pool. The only thing you know for sure is that you will be cold in the morning, and you will be cold at night.

Today, at 3:00pm Mountain Standard Time, the sky darkened over the city of Fort Collins, a vicious wind picked up and threw leaves around in horrifying yellow-orange tornado, and everyone drew their jackets and blankets around a little tighter. Thirty minutes later, it was over. The sky is blue once more, all leaves safely on the ground, the air slightly less cold. For that brief half hour, one thinks, "Will it finally snow? Is it going to be cold for the rest of the year now? Can I decide on an outfit and not have to change halfway through the day (one or more times)?" But no. Nature has been misleading us. All of Colorado's previous years of snowing before the end of October has been leading to this year of weather hi-jinks, of keeping us on our toes. Who knows? Maybe it won't even snow this year.