The Myth & The Majesty

or "Why my birthday actually scares me" Okay, so the alternate title doesn't really apply. My birthday doesn't scare me. As of now, I don't really fear aging and this year in particular it doesn't seem to mean much. (I was supposed to be going to space camp. Sigh. The full disappointment hasn't hit yet.) However, the sudden realization that my birthday is only a couple weeks away scares me, and it does this every year. Allow me to explain. I made you a chart. See, it has everything to do with the eventfulness of it all... Mind you, this only includes immediate family members -- no aunts or cousins -- and I only threw in the holidays where family gathering would normally occur (so Mother's Day is in there but I didn't count Halloween). The real catch? Those April and May events happen almost entirely in a 21-day period. In that single three week chunk, there are four birthdays, an anniversary, and a holiday. Then, just for fun, we

It was April and my sophomore year was wrapping up. I was in a relationship that was on the rocks, although he wasn’t yet aware of that little fact. I had applied – and been rejected – for an undergraduate research position. I had no idea where I was going to land for the summer; all I knew for sure was that I needed a job and I was not interested in staying in Sioux Falls. Remembering a conversation I’d had with an acquaintance earlier that year, I found myself searching for an email address. “Mr. Jensen: Hi, I’m a friend of Nate…” It would be the first of approximately four times I was that formal. Scott admitted to having a couple more spaces open for summer staff and agreed to meet me – after he got back from an Easter trip. A couple weeks passed before we met for a burger at Hardee’s; I brought my resume like I’d been taught. He didn’t so much as glance at it while we talked but gave me an application to fill out. Two days later, he was back in town to collect my appl

I don't know about you guys, but I'm learning a lot about myself these days. For instance, I'm perfectly happy to be alone ... for about nine hours after I wake up in the morning. Right about then I start getting twitchy, which makes for a lovely mood come supper time. I'm not sure what would cure this. Sleeping till noon? Nah, that causes too many other issues. Maybe an afternoon nap? Landscape aside from my first trip to Moab in 2013. I've learned that if I'm a millennial, I haven't completely committed. Case in point: twice this week I've tired of texting and just called the person I was chatting with. It was easier. I've learned that in the current climate, true crime podcasts are actually a better distraction than they are depressing. I've also learned that it's still nice to break things up with something completely different. (Need something short and sweet? Check out The Anthropocene Reviewed .) I've learned that I

You know, I've had a lot of jobs. Boxer, mascot, astronaut, imitation Krusty, baby proofer, trucker, hippie, plow driver, food critic, conceptual artist, grease salesman, carnie, mayor, grifter, bodyguard for the mayor, garbage commissioner... If someone asks, how do you describe your first job? Not shockingly (if you’ve known me at all in the last three or four years decade ) I’ve been thinking rather hard about the road to my current point, as far as the professional (or at least employed) realm goes. And I don’t know how to describe my first job. Well, okay. I suppose what I don’t know is what to consider my first job. There’s the first non-chore thing I did to earn money, which involved putting together bridge reports for the family company. They’d give me an envelope of photos and a photo log from the day’s inspections and I’d sit on the floor in my mom’s office, gluing photos onto sheets of paper and carefully writing out the descriptions. My penmanship

Check it out. Report findings back here. (It's been out for a few days, but... whoa.) Go here.

So, um... Here we are? I guess? ... ... ... I think we can all agree that this was not what anyone expected out of 2020. At no point in time were we expecting weeks of schools closing, businesses shutting down, stay-at-home-orders, and a shortage of toilet paper. Planes grounded. Borders closed. Social distancing, but on purpose. That being said, I highly doubt there's a single thing of value that I could add to the coronavirus conversation. I'm not sure where that leaves me. This poor thing has been languishing here for the last year, unwritten, unread, and irrelevant. Skipping out on the only real topic of the day doesn't exactly help with any of that. But then again, neither does adding one more voice saying, "Stay home, and for the love of Pete, wash your hands!" Instead, now that I'm finding myself home with an excess of time, perhaps I can finally buckle down and write all of those other things I've been thinking about. Nothing lik