Sweet like candy

Our friend Tyler loves to sing, but never knows the correct words to songs, and he repeats one line over and over again. When we lived with Ryan one of Tyler's favorite lines came from Dave Matthews' "Crash". Tyler would belt out "Sweet like candy toooooo me!" And that was it. Again and again. Over and over. I don't remember if it was Ryan or me that told him he was singing the wrong words, but all of us had a great laugh about it when we told him what the right words are. Ryan would mimic Tyler often and laugh until he couldn't breathe.

It was a Sunday, when the four of us were swapping places at the sink to brush our teeth or in front of the mirror to examine the finished product, that we had that first laugh at Tyler's expense. On Sundays, Ryan, Tyler, Jason and I would all don sweaters, most of which were from my extensive winter collection (one of which we unknowingly stole from our grumpy roommate Frank) as we prettied ourselves up for the Sabbath services. We didn't have church until 1:45, so we had plenty of time to lay our blankets on the lawn, try/pretend to read scriptures, eat popsicles, and try to talk to the few girls that would pass in front of our house.

We'd always sit on the front row at church. That took some getting used to for me, but Ryan and Jason insisted. The too-cool-for-school kids would laugh at us behind our backs like we didn't know we were being weirdies in our matching clothes as the only four people on the front pew. We'd laugh at them for taking themselves way too seriously.

Ryan and I shared a room. We'd stay up talking about life and girls; he about his Love and I about the Girl in the Window. The two of us were playing Nertz when I decided to tell that Girl I loved her, the first time I had uttered those words romantically, and he encouraged me. (She did not respond in kind, btw.)

He was there when I was in my car accident and faced some serious family struggles. He laughed at me, but helped me when I had my anxiety attack at Lake Powell because I couldn't get the stupid wake board off my feet. He was there at the water fight, and he lied to some overly aggressive girls to try to steer them away from Jason and me... it backfired, but at least he tried.

The night those same girls came over, Ryan was at the table when Jason literally came out of the closet. He'd been hiding in there for several minutes. My Good Friend was at the light rail station when Buttercup (the psycho) freaked out at me for buying a ticket for her on the train. He was driving when the three of us drove back to Utah and I messed with the radio and Buttercup's patience.

I came home one afternoon and found him talking into a voice recorder, recounting the love story he shared with his One and Only. He told me he was planning to propose, and I wanted to help. I took the recorder and we started from the beginning. I asked him some oddly ridiculous questions and mixed in a few real ones. He hesitated sharing his deepest emotions, but he did not hide them. He loved Her. I felt guilty for making light of his biggest request, but She loved it. She cried the whole way through when she first listened to it on the way up the canyon, even the silly parts. That night we threw rose petals at their feet and served them chicken alfredo.

I saw him at Jason's wedding for the last time. I told him his cheeks were getting fatter and that he was starting to look more like me. That offended him, but only slightly. He later lost 30 pounds.

It will be a good day when I can hug My Friend again. Until then, I will hold his memory dear. We miss you, buddy.

Speak up

I'll be attending the funeral of a young father and good friend next week. His was a preventable death. No one saw it coming. One day he was here, the next day he chose not to be.

I feel that I've been rather selfish. I'm caught up in the job hunt and searching for the next big thing. I'm struggling to choose between a number of options, all of which are interesting and wonderful. I feel selfish because there was someone in my life that was struggling just to figure out how to simply live one more day, and I didn't do anything. Just one more day.

How many others around me need help and won't ask for it? How many others around me are asking for help and I haven't listened or responded because I'm too lost on me?

I love my family and friends, but I don't tell them enough. I don't call old friends when I think about them as often as I should. I will do better.

To my family, friends, acquaintances, enemies, and all others: I love you and am trying to love you more. Forgive my selfishness. If you need me, or anyone, please tell me. Please. If not me, please tell someone, anyone.

There is help out there. I want to be that help.

Speak up. You will be heard, and you will be loved.

Dave's first blog

So, this is my first blog. I'm not sure that anyone will read it, except for maybe one Shaylee Hatch Deelstra because she's the one who convinced me to do this. Holla at your boy, Shay... and by "boy" I mean your husband's best red-headed friend.

I'd like to use this as a medium for release. You know, to vent frustrations or record sweet ideas, but I recognize that one needs to be careful blogging. I'm in the process of trying to find gainful full-time employment, and I've heard that potential employers try to find potential employees' blogs and social networking pages (e.g. Facebook). It would be no bueno if those potential providers read something unacceptable, not that I am involved in unacceptable behavior. I'm just saying you have to be careful.

I must admit that I am unseasoned in the ways of blogs. I have read a few blogs, but am not as of yet a blog junkie. Who knows, this could be the start of a whole new time of my life, one marked by consumption of user-provided media.

But after reading what I've already written, I wonder why in the world anyone would want to read it. I'm going to have to start saying cooler stuff if I want people to read this. I'll do my best to say more interesting stuff in the future.