Sunday, May 31, 2015

On the Periphery.

I don't think anything frustrates me more than insincerity. I bristle at any word that might be insincere. I take careful steps not to say anything on the internet that might sound insincere.

So it's hard for me to write about things that are touchy. Not because I don't have feelings about them, but because I worry that my feelings will come off as insincere or feigned or bland and broad and safe--all of which would make them unpalatable to me.

A lot of people on the periphery of my life have died recently. The manager of the Costa Vida at UVU. A distant acquaintance's brother. Elder Perry of the leadership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And Beau, the vice president's son, twice the attorney general of my home state.

When people on the periphery of your life die, it is always surprising how much it means to you. That you can feel so changed, knowing that Donny won't ever make your salad at Costa Vida again. It's tender and strange to describe, but it's a real feeling.

When you feel that way, you remember that life must mean something. Otherwise, dying wouldn't mean so much. I believe that Jesus is the Savior, and that's why things have meaning. Because of Jesus, neither life nor death can make life meaningless.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

You caught me in a candid moment.

There's this place I like to get breakfast on my way to work sometimes. There's like 4 people who work there, and they're there every morning. I like the guy behind the counter. He's pleasant. Sometimes he jokes with the person in front of me in line, but not me, and I feel insecure.

Today I went in and went to the big glass case to look at my pastry options. He was singing along to the radio.

After a few seconds, he saw me and said, from behind the case, "Oh! You caught me in a candid moment."

From my side of the case, I took a little glance at him, mumbled, and finally said, "Yeah... and I'm glad I did."

From his side of the case: "I'm really good at singing, you know."

From my side: Mumble, mumble, "I can see that."

Then, I ordered my food, and he asked me if I wanted my pastries heated up in the microwave. And he doesn't always ask that to everyone. I like to think he just does it for his favorites.

The truth is that there were at least 400 more interesting things to say than what I came up with. For instance,
Him: I'm really good at singing, you know.
Me: You don't have to tell me twice.

Same message, better delivery. Do you see what I'm saying?