Performance at the Center

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I liked walking on the grates in the sidewalks in New York, and once I realized this, I instantly began searching for ways to make this observation into a metaphor: walking with a world beneath me, walking on top of shaky foundation? Nothing really fit, so I gave up and let it be simple:

I liked walking on the grates in the sidewalks. I liked sliding my fingers along the stone of the building next to me. I liked looking up, but I liked looking down too. I grew to appreciate my humidity hair.

It’s hard to verbalize what it is about the city that spoke to me so much. Maybe it was the creaking of the train or the hum of an intersection. Maybe it was the smell of bagels and cronuts and giant sticks of lamb rotating in a street cart. Or perhaps it was the subtle joy of meeting and visiting your soul people.

Glue Sticks, Literature, and the Project at the Center.

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I’m not a “shoe-in” kind of person. Back in high school, getting a lead role in a play was always a pleasant and shocking surprise, and even though I “talked the talk” so to speak, I was always terrified I wouldn’t get elected into student body government. I didn’t think I was a shoe-in for BYU; I worked my butt off in high school to get there, and any talk of “I don’t want to go to BYU anyways,” was a preemptive defense mechanism preparing me for the eventuality of not getting in. Even the job at Timpview was an ambiguous uncertainty until I actually signed my employment contract and signed up for benefits. It’s strange, but “glass half empty” outlooks leave me room for the delightful surprise of success. It works for me.