I almost died today.

It's true. Drowned/frozen to death. Those two things combined.

Here's how it happened.

Me and Pappy decided to go kayaking at ten o'clock this morning. We loaded the boats up; fine. No boats fell on my head or anything. I was okay.
We drove down towards the lake put pulled off at the river about a half mile upstream from where the river empties into Utah Lake. Still fine.
We got in the kayaks and started kayaking up the river. It was a) really high, b) really fast, c) absolutely freezing (I didn't know this yet, but I assumed).
As we paddled up the river, we noticed how strong the current was.. I didn't really care, it was just a little more difficult to paddle. So as I'm paddling up the river, I move up in front of a fallen tree trunk sticking sideways from the shore and I rest my hand against it. SO my boat is horizontal with the tree trunk and I am holding onto it to get catch a quick breather. I tried to scan a picture I drew of my position so you could see exactly what the situation looked like, but my stupid scanner on my computer would only take half the printer. Technology sucks.

Anyway, no danger there, right?

Basically the current was too fast for me to just to sit and take a rest, (I later realized the river was probably just telling me, "Resting on MY current?! We'll see about that, you lazy prick! Heh!") and so, because my boat was horizontal with the river, it began getting slowly swept underneath the branch as my body pressed up against it in the same place. I think you get the idea. I turned sideways and bailed into the forty-something degree water.

Nope. It didn't feel that cold when I hit the water. But when I surfaced in the fast current and swam towards Matthew, I realized my limbs were almost completely useless. I was flopping around in the water and I couldn't really pull myself together. I held onto my boat and tried only to say three words to my father: "It's really cold." I couldn't. I, in all honesty, have never felt more handicapped in my entire life. I was just shouting jibberish, I couldn't finish that worthless sentence and I wasn't even close to being able to get a decent breath. My chest felt like it had caved in. After my dad realized that I couldn't really function, he said, really intensely, "You need to swim. You need to swim to shore NOW." I think we both realized if I didn't get to the shore fast, I would get hypothermia really quickly and probably die. It was a wee bit frightening.

So I used all of my strength, pulled myself together and swam towards the shore, even though I was still being swept downstream because of the ridiculous speed of the current. Finally, I reached the shore and I hauled my exhausted body onto the paved pathway that snakes along the riverbank, but not before I sliced my elbow open on a chunk of concrete in the water by the shore. But it's okay because I didn't feel a thing. My entire body was basically numb.
And then after that, I just laid down on that path and breathed for probably 5 straight minutes. And after 5 minutes I laughed and realized how stupid I was for turning sideways in a river like that.

Now realize, all of this happened in less than a minute. Of course it felt a lot longer, especially thinking about it now.

I have four things to be grateful for, for keeping me alive:
1. Swimming lessons when I was young. At least I knew how to do a breaststroke or whatever that simple swimming move is called.
2. A lifejacket. I would be dead if I didn't have one. Slain.
3. God. I mean, come on.
4. Adrenaline. It's the greatest thing I have in my body.

So someone bring me brownies and love tomorrow because I almost died today. Oh and I'm leaving tomorrow for the ranch to do hard labor.

Of course, I changed my mind

But I don't wanna write. I just want to share.

First, check out Chris Bennion's blog. It's praiseworthy.

Second, go to a Prime Time Real Estate show, if you can find one anytime soon. Parker Kelly is a wonder.

Third, lyrics, naturally:

You said you wished that you'd become an actress,
but pretty pictures in the magazines are sick.
They make you feel like shit.
The bodies that they fit
are half a serving hips.

The night dissolved and then the morning sun rose.
Open your eyes and let the color turn you black
for half a heart attack.
Let it fit you in
for cancer of the skin.
Because singing's just like death,
prolonging on your breath.
And all we are is bone;
it's friction we control.

Joshua James (excerpt from Pitchfork from "Build Me This")

Final thing... and I guess this is a thought. And I guess I just undermined the point of my last post......... Damn that last post!

Do you ever feel like song lyrics express your feelings better than you ever could with words? Or that they simply put what you're thinking into words and make it so much easier to understand?
For me, ah yes.
Now those lyrics from Joshua James aren't really what I'm talking about. I'm talking about pieces like this:

And I would say I love you
But saying it out loud is hard
So I won't say it at all
And I won't stay very long

Futile Devices, Sufjan Stevens

Last one for a while...

I go through phases. I'm not really feeling up to writing/blogging. Probably not for awhile.

Two things to leave you with for a while.

1. There are some people I wish I knew better. Exhibit A) Soren Jensen.
I know it sounds kind of lame, but I think he and I have some things in common and I really respect and admire him. I pretty much always have. I won't lie, when he first moved here from New York, I was really jealous of him. His style, his smile, the "new-kid" aura around him, his handsome features, the fact that girls flocked to him.
I realize that was kind of dumb. Oh well. I hung out with him a grand total of probably two times and I wish it would have been more. He's one of the nicest people I've met.

2. I was listening to The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan the other day while cleaning the house and the song A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall came on. I love that song. It has brilliant lyrics to begin with. But my father walked in and I said,
"Dad, don't you love this song?"
"Of course. It reminds me of Kai."
"Really!?" (Kai hates Bob Dylan)
"Yeah... well... you know, 'Where have you been, my blue eyed son? And where have you been, my darling young one?'"
"... ...... ............. That kind of really makes me want to cry."

Man, I got choked up typing this.



Kai is my older brother. He's 20, he drinks and smokes and used to be a drug addict, probably still would be if he didn't get tested once a month. I don't really care what he does, and I really don't judge him for his health choices.
But I know the way my dad feels about him. Since the beginning, when Kai became immersed in narcotics, my dad was practically torn apart.. I felt sad about it too, when I got to be in the same mindset as my father. I can't imagine having a wayward, or prodigal son. And I don't feel like Kai is bad or stupid or anything, I just feel like some of the choices he made were not as smart as they could have been. He's still smart and even loving sometimes.

And I know I talk negatively about Kai all the time because I feel like he treats my family with complete contempt and disgust, but I know I can be better toward him. I love him. I know I don't say it a lot, and it's hard for me to even acknowledge that, but it's true.

I really love you, Kai. I don't care what kind of a person you are.

I just want to be friends again.

"I love you somehow and it's better."

Oceana // A Fonder Reel // Take II from The Undesigned on Vimeo.

Heavy music, believe it or not, still holds a really special place in my heart. Especially Oceana. Oh Oceana. Oceana is one of those bands that no matter how thrashy and chaotic they may sound, they produce some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. Especially their newest material (previewed in the video above).

I feel like Oceana has moved along with me in my life, in my music.

I feel stupid.

To whoever stole my bike...

and caused me the greatest anger and frustration I've felt in the past 5 years: You suck.

But good thing I found the frame chucked in the bushes. Or else I would kill you.
So I'm creating a sign to put on my bike that says, "If you touch my bike, I will kill you." Vicious, right?

When I hate stuff: (today)

Rachmaninov is my muse.
My mustache is not. But I'll grow one anyway.