Mama Mia

If you ever got bored one day and watched the deleted scenes for The Grinch, you know that the scene in the beginning where the Grinch is wandering around in Whoville causing various mayhem is slightly different in the extended version of the scene. It starts off with all the storekeepers and the people in the streets going about their day slowly and calmly.

Then the Grinch mischeiviously taking a marble and rolling it down the street. As it goes it basically brings the Apocalypse to pass as it innocently causes annhilation in it's path and speeds up the commotion of the day, causing overall panic and chaos. As it gets to the other side, the Grinch goes to pick it up and then eyes the camera from behind his bunny mask. "Innocent child's playtoy," he asks, "or weapon of mass destruction? You be the judge."

So what's that got to do with anything? Well, that's the thing I thought of as I remembered how my first two days of work went. My first real job is an employee of the Fazoli's restaurant that's next to the University Mall in Orem. It's an Italian restaurant where Eric works. He recommended that I apply there, so just before we left for Martin's Cove I applied there with Richard. As you know from the previous post, it turns out that Pamela and Harry had also applied there. When we got back Richard and I went to Fazoli's to see how our application process was going. We both got hired—and apparently so did Pamela and Harry—and because Richard would be in Orlando the next week I would start first alone. I was scheduled to work Thursday and Friday of the following week.

My first day actually went really well, a lot better than I thought it would. I thought I would mess up, or everything would be confusing. And it was. But it was a lot of fun. I got to be the breadstick runner, which means that you take a basket of breadsticks around the dining room asking everyone if they'd like some free, piping hot breadsticks. And everyone does, of course (because those darn things are really addictive, which is why most folks go to Fazoli's for the free breadsticks anyway).

And my co-workers were all really nice. My main manager, or rather a guy that's been there for six weeks named Duane kinda took to me as his Padawan. Then there's a cute girl that's 17 named Necia who was the nicest. I'm thinking about asking her out on a date. Another girl named Kendra who's 18 and likes country is a lot of fun. I really love the people that I work with. I was afraid that I'd hate them all and they'd hate me, but it's like an Italian family in that place. I love it. (I just wonder what'll happen when Eric, Pamela, Harry, Richard and I work at the same time or something, which will eventually happen.)

The second day, Friday, was somewhat more stressful. Duane put me on the sandwiches, and you've got to do everything very quickly and it gets confusing because everyone's telling you, "All right I need [blank] with a [blank] on a [blank]" and you're just sitting there like, "I don't even know what [blank] is! Except that the cheddar is here, the turky is there, and the sandwich you're asking me to make ends in -ini!!!" I thought I was doing remotely okay until my manager walked in. Like I said, there's Duane, but he's not really a manager, just in a high spot. There are two real managers at Fazoli's: a guy named Ian who's funny, cool and nice (or so it seemed) and a young girl named Whitney who's also cool and nice. Whitney and I became good friends on Thursday when she spilled to me how her best friend committed suicide that Saturday, and I told her how a good friend of mine, a teacher at Orem High, also died Saturday.

Anyway, Ian was the guy who walked in. Apparently he was having a really stressful day because I go to take a nine-inch pizza out of the oven and he takes over the sandwich bar while I'm away. As I turn around he takes some utensil that I assumed was lying around or sitting in the bar or something and just hucks it at the wall. I freeze at the ticked look he's got on his face. But there's no time to think because we're in the middle of rush hour. I can't remember what I did next, I just remember that I was a lot more intimidated at that point. Then he leaves and I go back to the bar and he goes around cussing at the Hispanic woman Ana and I just keep my eyes on the Panini sandwich I'm trying to make, but then Duane wants me on the pasta bar to cover for him, and then someone needs me to stick some breadsticks in the oven and then grab a four-cheese out of the oven but Necia's wondering if I can do a breadstick run real quick and Ian asks me to stay at my post...

At some point in the sandwich panic hour I was positive I'd get fired. I even put the wrong sauce on the pasta and then I had to throw away a sandwich because it was the wrong kind of bread. I honestly had no idea the sandwiches were so popular. I wanted to scream "Stop ordering Panini's; the cook is getting aggravated out of his brains!" And Kendra was cashier and was wondering how she'd ever manage because she, in her own words, would go bloody bored out of her mind on cashier. So she was talking to me and Necia, and we were all talking and I was afraid every time Duane walked by that he was disappointed I was talking so much. I guess I was okay, because later he asked me to go help him grab the breadstick rack. While we were unloading it he asked me what I did with the wrapping of the rack. I realized I had thrown it away, and I was so embarressed especially after everything I'd done that day.

He said, "Listen, don't worry! If you're making mistakes, then you're learning. You should take that from a old guy like me to a young guy like you."

In an effort to thank him indirectly for his kind words, I jested, "Oh, you're not so old." He chuckled. "How old do you think I am?"

"I dunno, late thirties?"

He smiled. "Nope. I'm sixty-one."

My jaw dropped. "Get out!?" He honestly doesn't look that old. My bad.

Crying Shame

Upon my return from Martin's Cove, Amaya had a going away/birthday party because she's leaving for the summer to her home country, Norway. It was an interesting, albeit strange, night party. When she was driving us home around 11:30 pm it occured to me that I wouldn't see her again until August. So I said to our friend Preston, "Let's make a memory." Because according to the Ataris, life is only as good as the memories we make after all.

Because he lives three houses away from me I suggested that we go honk in front of the mayor's house. We finally settle on something far less sinister and go hop the fence of an abandoned, empty house that people are about to move into the next week. It wasn't too exciting and I was somewhat disappointed. But we said our goodbyes and my sister and I ran all the way back to our house as Amaya and Preston sped away.

The following is an email I've now had to forward to several people, so I post it here because I'm too lazy to re-summarize the event:

So we're running to our house and we see our garage door closing so we
make a dead sprint inside. Our mom was pretty surprised.

Even now I don't believe that we were in the house for much longer than three minutes when there's a knock at the door and my little brother tells my dad that there's a funny looking man at the door... I figure that it's a business man that came by earlier to drop off something for my dad. So I go to answer it and outside my glass window I see that it's a man dressed in a yellow Orem Police jacket with a gun holsted to his waist.

It takes me all of about 10 seconds to realize what a police man is doing on my front porch. I panic.

As events progress, it seems that Nina thought she heard our old lady next-door neighbor call the police. That neighbor's house is right in front of the house we fence-jumped. To sum up, what basically happened is that lady saw two people hop over the fence and run into my garage and two others got away in a getaway car, and the other two were holding my family hostage and obviously preventing us from calling the police.

Oh, it gets better. Next morning at church, I tell Richard and he starts shaking his head. "I can't believe that was all you," he laughs. He drives into Arthur's Court late at night way past curfew and well aware that he's gonna get a sit-down from his mom if he doesn't have a good excuse. (He actually does have a good excuse--Patti and Monica and other girl problems, but it's not the right one and I don't know that I should talk about Monica...) However as he rolls in he sees three police cars parked in the Court and policemen searching the area with flashlights. So when he gets home, before his mom can get too many words in he quips, "I'm sorry I'm late mom--say, do you know why there are police cars outside?" His mom totally spaces and forgets to punish him.

Never quite saw that coming, getting the cops called on me. It only makes sense though, because you have to understand that my neighborhood is full of rich people.

As the weekend and the following week began to progress, I became somewhat entangled in that "Richard-Monica" thing that I had referred to. Basically (and anyone who knows who these people are must be sworn to absolute secrecy) Richard and Monica like each other, as everyone already knows, but Richard can't ask Monica out because Patti, his very good friend, would become extremely jealous. And he holds his friendship with Monica in very high regard, so he believes that it's worth the sacrifice. I say that the way Patti has been acting he gives her way too much credit, but then again I don't know Patti very well.

I applied at an Italian resteraunt in Orem that's next to the mall called Fazoli's with Richard. I got a tip from Eric (mentioned in the "Enter Harry" entry) because he works there. I talked with Eric as Richard was getting interviewed by the manager Ian, and Eric filled me in on things that had happened since EFY and Wyoming. Basically a girl named Pamela who lived in his church ward told him that she liked him. However she played like she acted Harry. Pamela has also applied at Fazoli's, apparently. She was in the same class as Richard and I when we got our food handeler's permit. And as it were, Harry also applied there. So if things went accordingly, Fazoli's was about to hire a love triangle, a hashed-out friendship, and two hopeless romantics.

Thing is with Pamela is that I have a bit of a history with her which I hinted to in my "Enter Harry" entry, when I mentioned that in elementary school a girl had told me that I would never ever have friends and I made the choice to believe her, and how that mentality has haunted me to this day. That girl was Pamela. I didn't really see her or associate her since that time in elementary school until at a dance last year. It was weird how she acted, and still acts, like we are good friends or something.

That Tuesday I had what I like to call a temporary lapse of insanity, and I called Harry for the first time in about a month and a half, and the first time all summer talking to him. I felt like nothing had occured as far as our friendship was concerned when I hung up. Possibly things got worse.

On Thursday there was a stake dance. At the dance things didn't go too well between me and a girl named Jessica Wilkinson. Apparently she's been mad at me because I rejected her sister who had a crush on me last summer. Now it was being dished out between Jessica and my own sister Nina. Nina made her feel so bad that she made her apologize to me at the dance. I was unaware that they were having a brawl even at the dance until Jessica came up to me with tears in her eyes.

I almost couldn't handle all of this. Jack Johnson's song began running through my head: "It's such a tired game, will it ever stop? How will this all play out...?" I got a case of extreme vertigo in the back of my head towards the last hour of the dance, so I went off to sit down until I was invited to go dance with a friend of mine named Alex. As we danced, Harry suddenly appeared out of nowhere and said hi to me. Out of surprise I could only nod to him. The vertigo got worse and I felt like I'd fall over, and I was so depressed. I calculated that since he got off of work at 10:00 and the dance was over at 11:00, he decided to show up for the last hour. The rest of the dance I kept my sanity in check and completely avoided him. I couldn't help it--it was almost by instinct. Part of me didn't want to but I did anyway.

The evening ended with me having a heavy emotional breakdown in front of Richard when he dropped me off at my house. He comforted me so much, and I was really grateful for him. He promised me that he'd always be there for me no matter what. Another friend seeing me depressed at the dance also made the promise to always help me and be there for me. Later, in an email Amaya would also promise this. The only thing with all these promises is that I had lost all my faith in them. For Harry had broken his own to me, and mine to him.

A couple of days later I was at Dan's house at about 8:00 pm. and I invited Eric over. He told me that he was going to Harry's house and they wouldn't be doing anything so once he got there, he'd tell Harry and they'd come over to Dan's. Dan and I hung out until 10:30 pm. I guessed that it was because Harry felt I had ignored him and now he probably thought it suitable to return in kind, because they never showed up.

Crying Shame-Jack Johnson

It's such a tired game, will it ever stop?
How will this all play out upside out of my mouth?

By now, we should know how to communicate instead of coming to blows
We're on a roll, and there ain't no stopping us now
We're burning under control
Isn't it strange how we're all burning under the same sun?
By now, we say it's a war for peace
It's the same old game, but do we really want to play?
We could close our eyes, it's still there
We could say it's us against them
We can try but nobody wins
Gravity has got a hold on us all
We try to put it out, but it's a growing flame,
Using fear as fuel burning down our name
And it won't take too long 'cause words all burn the same
And who we gonna blame now?

It's such a cryin', cyrin', cryin' shame...

By now it's beginning to show a number of people
Are numbers who ain't coming home
I can close my eyes, it's still there
Close my mind, be alone,
I could close my heart and not care
But gravity has got a hold on us all
It's a terrific price to pay, but
In the true sense of the word, are we using what we've learned?
In the true sense of the word, are we losing what we were?
It's such a tired game, will it ever stop?
It's not for me to say
And is it in our blood, or is it just our fate?
And how will this all play out upside out of my mouth?
Who we gonna blame?
On and on.

Martin's Cove

At the end of the week at EFY on Saturday I was hanging out with Evan and his sister and friend from Manteca, California. They complained about how once they got home their bishop would commence the torture of selecting someone to talk about their “EFY experience.” We played at the games center, ate at the Subway, and hung out at the dorms lobby. Evan talked a bit about how things were between him and Brooke. Before long my mom showed up and I had to say goodbye to Evan.

As we drove home, my sister reminded me that the second I got home I had to pack for Martin’s Cove.

“Say what?” I was so winded after EFY and I had totally forgotten about Martin’s Cove. The youth in my church’s area were going to make a trek to a historical church site in Wyoming where many early Mormon pioneers had lost their lives. The place was just west of Devil’s Gate and adjacent to Jones’ Cove.

Packing was a nightmare, because there were three different lists and none of them were complete, so it was very much up in the air what to take. I was scrambling all over my house and in the process I lost a key that’s very important to me, and my EFY contact list of everyone that was in Joy Is Full.

The next Tuesday I found myself up at 3:30 am to board the bus. Everyone met at my church and before long we were on our way. I sat in the back and it was living heck trying to get to sleep because there were these girls that refused to shut up! One of them being Richard’s sister.

When we got to the site we had to start pushing the handcarts all the way to our campground, which was three miles (I think). It really wasn’t bad at all, until later in the afternoon when the wind starting pulling an Indy 500 on everyone. It was hard to cook and pitch tents. Some tents even ripped. I say that the wind wasn’t so bad, but maybe that’s because I’ve been in a stronger winds while sitting in a sandblasting canyon at Lake Powell.

That evening half my group was missing so the remainder of our group, mostly girls and the two adult leaders and I, decided to eat dinner in the women’s “faucilitation room” about twenty feet away from camp. So, I guess it’ll be an interesting thing to tell my kids that I once at a spaghetti dinner in the girls’s bathroom in the middle of nowhere of Wyoming.

The next day we trekked to Martin’s Cove. Most of this next day will be talked about in my “Confessions” blog, so you can refer there for most details. My young men’s leader held a contest for the best dressed pioneer, and I won because I went out of my way to collect pioneer clothing from a neighbor of mine. (And shopping at Saver’s.) No one else really cared anyway about winning. I got an MP3 player, which makes me really happy since I don’t really have any other way of listening to music.

At night Richard and I stayed up late talking about…well, literally everything. He told me how he looked up to me, which I didn’t see coming, and I really wished that he didn’t. He told me a ton of stuff and I think that we were closer friends after that night. Also, something that I kinda wish now that I didn’t know, he told me something concerning Harry’s girl problems. I really strayed from that corner of the world but now it seems that it’s coming back to haunt me.

The following day we headed home. That Sunday my bishop selected me to talk about my “Martin’s Cove” experience. I thought about how I laughed at Evan a week ago. Now two sets of pioneer clothing, one handcart, and a plate of sandy spaghetti later here I was at a pulpit.

As the “Irony” song goes: “It figgurs.”

Return To EFY

This past week I’ve been gone to EFY. If you keep up with my spiritual blog “The Rainmaker Confessions”, then you know what EFY is. When I got home, my mom told me how the whole world started calling for me. I’m sorry; I know that some of my friends thought that I got raptured or something for a week.

I absolutely loved EFY (Especially For Youth). The theme for 2005 is “A More Excellent Way”, and I learned a lot about that more excellent way, which is referring to a Mormon scripture (Ether 12:7, in case you’re interested).

The only way to describe the difference between EFY 2002: “We Believe” and EFY 2005: “A More Excellent Way” is the word upgrade. Everything was different except for the building. I had a different session director, and the classes seemed better put together. The food wasn’t as good. I had a roommate. The rules were a lot harsher and stricter. The dorm was different. It was my counselor’s first week. The games were a bigger deal. The dances were on different days. There was an art, poetry and dance contest.

On Monday, I walked in late to my group’s first meeting. At EFY, you live in the dorms of the university campus you’re staying at, which was Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah for me. The hallway of the dorm your room is in is usually your group, which is usually made up of five rooms—ten guys, and then also a counselor.

So I walked into that late, and we each introduced ourselves. There was Aaron Taylor, and Brenton Keele, and Chris Pinchak, who seemed to be kinda quiet in the beginning. Other than that, there was Robert Warby, who was the son of a bishop and just plain cool; Jimmy Sweeney, who was awesome; Andrew Quensenberry, who was nicknamed ‘Q’ because of his last name and he did debate, drama, and was a recent convert to the church; Mike Larson, who was about to leave for a mission in Ogden, Utah; Brett Lodholm, who was kinda short and had a lot of spirit and walked in the last (he checked his watch and was like, “Oh, shoot—I forgot about time zones!”); and my roommate Evan Herrera, who played football and was on the wrestling team. My counselor’s name was Brandon, and this was his first week ever teaching EFY.

All of Monday was pretty much a get-to-know-each-other day. We met the other dorm of guys. There were these two friends named Cameron and Tyler—we called Tyler ‘Shep’—and these guys were hilarious.

And then the best part of Monday (of course…) was meeting the girls. There were so many cute girls in my group! Last year few of them were cute and the ones that were acted really snobby about it. This year the girls were all very incredible personalities and good-natured. Like Tamra, and Jessica (Robert hit it off with Jessica really fast, let me tell ya), and Jocelyn, Tara and Kaytlin, Soojin and Becky (Soojin was a girl in my calculus class), Leah, Sydney, Erica…just lots of fun.

Everyone came from all over. We actually found out on Wednesday that Brett came from Guam. You’d never guess that if you saw a picture of him, though.

You could tell just by looking around that our group was gonna be so awesome. At EFY, they give your groups names like your “company” or your “league” or “county”…this year mine was a company. And then they give the companies names, so ours was Joy Is Full. (In 2002, the names were simpler, like words of virtues. Mine was Service.)

Anyway, by Wednesday everyone was having a total blast. Q and I led the company in our official group cheer, which was neat. The guys in my dorm ordered pizza on Wednesday night. And in the evening there was this cool sunset on Mount Timpanogos. It was incredible.

All of us guys in the dorm all grew very close within just the first two days—which was unusual. In 2002, we didn’t become united the way I did with the guys in my dorm until Friday. And here we all were like a mini fraternity, a brotherhood. Like I think it was Tuesday that Robert’s hair gel went missing and he was totally nuts over it. He was like, “Where’s my gel? Hah, hah, so funny. Who took my gel…” And Q was in the musical program with Aaron, and Q taught me so much about different things. And Brett ballroom danced at the Tuesday night dance. He could do everything: swing, waltz, twists...it was awesome.

My roommate Evan from Manteca, California, would talk to me at night about all kinds of stuff, like how he had a crush on Brooke. He’d never felt for any girl ever the way he felt about her. Brooke left all his girlfriends behind. He was so proud of her school accomplishments. Plus she was a cheerleader, so they connected fast since he was a jock. Plus, he taught me a cool workout I could do every night.

Looking back on it now, if I could have picked a roommate, it would have been Evan, Brett, or Q.

I entered into the poetry contest on Thursday, and it turns out that I actually won first place in the poetry contest, but I didn’t contribute a poem. Instead I contributed a song I wrote called “Innocent”. The song is a tribute to Joseph Smith, Jr. There’s so much more that happened on Thursday night, but you can refer to my “Confessions” for that.

Come Friday night, everyone was so sad and crying because now everyone was close and didn’t want to leave. Everyone was saying, “Just a few more days, or one more week…” That's what one girl said to me. I danced with only three sixteen/seventeen year-old girls the entire week; the rest of them were fourteen and fifteen. It was weird.

After the dance that night I walked into my room to find Evan on the bed. At first I was startled ‘cause I didn’t see him there, but I thought he was praying. It turns out that he was crying, and it was about Brooke. First time he ever fell in love, and first time he ever got his heart broken. I tried to talk to him—I only hope that I helped him. The next day he and Brooke got to talking and he told me that everything would be all right. I sure hope so. Evan kinda grew on me. (Not that I wanna pick out curtains or anything. You know what I mean.)

Saturday morning was just so…I can’t describe it. That helpless feeling you get when you say goodbye to someone you might never see again. Sure, we might email each other and all that jazz, but…it just won’t be the same. Everyone was hugging each other so hard, because we all missed each other already. Robert said that he had graduation goodbyes, and now EFY goodbyes, and soon he’d have mission goodbyes. “It’s too many goodbyes for my liking,” he said.

If you’re one of the guys from Joy Is Full, please know that I miss you all so much, and even though we met for a week it felt so great to know every single one of you guys. I’ll keep in touch just like I said, and hope you do the same. Comment on this!! You’re allowed to!!! Thanks for all the memories I’ve got now of EFY 2005.

For more on my return to EFY, go to “The Rainmaker Confessions” (in the list of links to your right) for a deeper spiritual account, and about what happened on Thursday night.

Go to “A Poet In Wicker Park” to read “Innocent” and details surrounding that. I know that after the huge awards fiasco some of you wanted to read it, like Jimmy, so go there. Also, soon I’ll post a song that I started writing while at EFY that’s about Evan and Robert’s dramas, and saying goodbye.

In addition, soon there’ll be a link on this post to pictures from EFY taken by my friend Q. A big thanks to Q for all the pictures he took, and also thanks to Tara for taking the picture of me and Brother Larson!

Mmmmkay!! (Thanks for the phrase and the dance move Shep, you were awesome!)