Sunshine and a Broken Bank Account

So as my last update said, I spent my summer in Maine. Yes, I am a bit of an extremist when it comes to making decisions--spontaneous and random--but it usually turns out to be for the better. I had a fun/ difficult/ exhausting/ exciting summer and although I complained quite a number of times while experiencing it, I know it was exactly what I needed and it turned out to be a really good experience.

I met some of the most amazing people I could ever imagine and while most of our days off were spent cramming 10 people into one hotel room just to save a few dollars, I actually got to explore and witness some of the craziness that is unique only to the east coast.

I bonded with some truly amazing little children and learned some pretty important lessons that will probably come to my aid in my future as a parent; including keeping my cool when snotty, spoiled, little pre-teens try to lie to my face.

My ski skills sadly didn't really get a chance to improve a ton because we had a verly limited amount of time for free skiing, but I did witness some truly cool skill in the people I worked with and hopefully from tips they gave me I will ba able to improve next summer.

I can't really put all my experiences from this summer into words so I will just try to let these pictures explain most of it.

The Cabin in which I dwelt.

The Lake on which I skied.

The wave runner that I powered.

The girls with which I 'Souldierboy'd'.

...and cranked it.

The thug life that we lived.

The second session wangster girls that melted my heart.

The Avatars that we became.

The stage on which we sang..."I'm on a boat".

The boats that we were on...

And the weirdo I became.

After almost an entire morning of crying my eyes out saying goodbye to my summer friends, I departed from Boston and headed back to my homeland. I arrived at the airport back home at a very late hour but my Dad was awesome enough to be willing to drive two hours to pick me up from the airport only to have me leave his house just a few minutes after arriving. What can I say?... Bear Lake was calling my name.

It doesn't sound fair that I went from waterskiing in Maine to waterskiing at Bear Lake--many people have told me-- but I just want to remind people that I honestly did work more this summer than I ever have before in my life.

Time at Bear Lake was heavenly as can only be expected with the fact that it is my favorite place on earth; and it didn't hurt that I was surrounded by the people I love most and many of which I hadn't seen in over a year. Enjoying Bear Lake chicken, watermelon, marshmallows, and all the other lovely treats that make up my fondest memories of that paradise made my return home a smooth adjustment.

After a great family reunion at Bear Lake, a week working with my dad, and a little visit to all my old friends at home; Rennie, Scott, Nate, and I took off for a backpacking trip in the Windrivers. It was my last little 'hoorah' for the summer. We had a great trip full of dirty feet, cold water, black buggers, peeing in the woods, back massages, and all that the Windrivers entail. We were lucky enough to miss out on the snow storm that hit in many places higher than our campsite and we came out healthy, tired, dirty, and happy.

Next I departed with my old man to make the rather long expedition up to my new home here in Washington. As I was traveling with my Dad, it should come as no surprise that we spent a night in a Walmart parking lot in the van, had no heat in the car, and probably took twice as long to get up here. But it should also not come as a surprise that despite all my complaints it turned out to be a really fun trip. I did convince him to stay in a hotel for just one night so that I could have a chance to shower. He made it out to sound like he hated hotels but I think by morning he had accepted it as a good idea.

Coming out of the mountain pass and into the city reminded me of last year when I first came up here and it made me feel so happy to be back. Once in the city though, we hopped right onto a ferry and headed out to Sequim to spend some time with Jonah, Aja, and their kids. It was good to see them again and Jo was nice enough to take us out in his new boat so that we could see how he has been crabbing all summer. When we first arrived we were welcomed woth some fresh Dungeness crab and I do have to say it was better than any of the Lobster I ate while in Maine.

While our time out there was fun and I wished it could have continued for longer, the time for me to return to school came and so we headed back to the city. My dad got to come to my ward and meet my Bishop and all the other amazing people there and I think he finally began to understand a little bit why I love it up here.

Since then I have just been working on settling back into the flow of life up here. Classes have started and I have already helped with a number of welcome back events over at the institute as part of my calling this year. My clas and work schedule is going to be hard--in fact it already is-- and I can tell there are going to be a number of mental breakdowns on my part throughout this quarter but nevertheless I expect it will all be worth it.

Currently I am just trying to balance all the commitments in my schedule but I am also working on finding a second job. I may have worked harder this summer than ever before, but that doesn't mean I got comparable compensation. In fact some of my co-workers and I broke it down and it turns out we were getting paid about $0.35 an hour. So now after paying for this quarter's tuition, my bus pass, and my books, my bank account is officially zeroed out. So, as of now I am officially broke, hence the need for my desperate search for a second job. So far the search has not gone incredibly well--I guess there aren't a lot of jobs available right now...who knew right?--but I am determined to not give up; and to not spend any of that virtual money that peeks out of my wallet in the form of an innocent piece of plastic.

....Such is Life.

Ya want some Lobsta?......

After a week living life in a state of near constant sweat due to the extreme amount of moisture (ew) in the air around me, I have decided I hate humidity. I love Maine and the east coast, but I hate humidity.
My freshman year of college is complete and due to my lack of time management skills, I failed to post a blog before I left school for the summer. Not a total shocker but whatever.
I am now currently living in the state of Maine and to be honest, despite the humidity, I am having the time of my life. I get to meet and hang out with some seriously cool people, play with and care for kids, and water ski every day... what more could I ask for?
I will not be able to update this very much (or maybe at all) over my time here so if you are interested in talking to me, please call, text or facebook me.
Until August y'all!
Lata

Magic?..... Magic. I believe you.

Due to the strange, quirky, love/dislike, happy go lucky, "we are enemies" relationship that I share with my slightly older sister Rennie, we often acts as one; meaning we share the same thought patterns...."It's like I have ESPN or something."
Being on the same wave length as we are, we often have the ability to complete sentences for each other, know what is going through each other's heads, and best of all....we are nearly professional at guessing random movie lines at any given time. Yes, this would seem to be a rather stupid and inefficient way to spend one's time, but it is just what we do.
Of course, being far away from each other has made our little game much more difficult to play--although not impossible due to modern technology and the ability to send little "thumb" typed messages through cellular devices from thousands of miles away (you've got to love that!...oh wait...)
We have a special knack for remembering these useless lines and bits of information from movies in such a way that almost everyone around us becomes confused by. It is our gift though. One which we cherish through long and often pointless phone conversations, real conversations, and occasionally ten minute laughing sprees.
If as an outsider of our little bond this comes as a shock...do not be alarmed for it is all in good humor, I give my word. The reason for which I have chosen to address this topic is merely based on an occurrence from earlier this evening.
I was sitting with my friends while studying when my phone rang. Of course if turned out to be Rennie and I believe the first words I heard from her were, "Name the movie!" Words which I am always pleased to hear but which send my mind into a momentary frenzy as my head tries to search the vast caverns of my mind for the perfect fit where the words, "Just listen to teacher" can match up with the title of the movie The Lion King.
Thinking of this somewhat indescribable relationship and bond with my closest sister caused me to experience for one of the first times since my arrival here, a moment of home sickness. So this little inconsequential rant is my statement to her and anyone else who cares to take a little ganter at this particular web address that: I love my family and I indeed do miss them. All the fun in the world can't change that fact so I am sorry I don't display my feelings of nostalgia for such presence as theirs often enough.
Such is life...

A Wrinkle in Time....or maybe just jetlag

WELCOME TO THE WORLD CANNON!!!!!

Ah the newest addition to the family! My Nephew is the sweetest little guy imaginable and I am so glad I got to go see him for my Spring Break!
But okay enough gushing...on to the stories of my adventures back east.

As I have often told numerous people in my circle of friends as well as most of my family members, I believe that I was born in the wrong century. That is not to say that I don't understand that I am meant to be in the here and now for a purpose unbeknown to me, but merely that my personality and my strange and ever dreaming mind would have enjoyed life better in say the 18th or 19th century. I'd even say I would have fared better in at least the 40's and 50's for at least they had the music, style, and dancing, that is more to my taste....but nevertheless here I am so I guess we can over look the foolish desires of my head lost in the clouds. The reason for my mention of such notions here is to help the few people that actually read this to better understand why I now feel an immense connection and love for the eastern part of this lovely country of which we are citizens. It's all in the history.
So I went back East to visit my new born nephew, Cannon, who is beyond adorable and possibly one of the sweetest little babies I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. See him and spending time with my sister, brother-in-law, and other little nephew was alone worth the trip; however, I do believe that my visits to Boston and Palmyra have forever changed the way I view the east.
Boston. What can I say other than how beautiful a place it is? For it is indeed beautiful and unique. Add to that that the place is absolutely full to the cap with history and artful architecture and it may just come out to be one of my new favorite place on earth.

My experience of Boston was unfortunately only able to last for a day but it was definitely a day worth having. We walked the Freedom trail, watched some break dancers do a show, and played in the "central park" called the Commons which not surprisingly was actually established before the central park in New York City. All in all I think that just that one day has made me decide to return to Boston one day and maybe even live near there at some point.

The aforementioned break dancers were really quite amazing and it seems that Clark took a liking to them because he began trying to copy what they were doing. I wasn't able to capture his best moments on camera but this video of him rolling on the ground should give you a little taste.

(I had a better video of them doing their thing but it won't upload so I'll work on that)

The day following my adventures in Boston brought new excitement by the fact that I got to go visit Eva and Adam for the first time! I think the last time I had seen them was quite possibly my cousin Noah's wedding which was several years ago so seeing them again was truly awesome. They have a beautiful old house in one of the cutest colonial towns I have ever seen; and it doesn't hurt that the beach is just a short two minutes away from their cute house. We spent the day just catching up, taking pictures at her house and on the beach, and digging a hole in my foot. The day was wonderful with the exception of the latter part but I will explain that in due time.

Nilly and Paul were having Eva take their family pictures because they wanted some new ones what with the new baby addition and all. Part of the photo shoot was then to take place on the beach and it was a good thing that they had decided that because it was one of the most perfect days at the beach a person could imagine. It was March, in Massachusetts and somehow--likely beyond the human brain capacity to understand--it was 70 degrees and gorgeous. I could actually walk in the water without fearing hypothermia! It was such a great day. But as I said it ended on a slightly more negative note due to the fact that as I was returning to the car, the boardwalk had the nerve to suddenly lash out at me by abruptly puncturing my foot with a jab from a rather nasty two inch sliver of wood that had likely been cousin trouble. Okay so not really..... It was more like I was an idiot that put my foot sideways on one of the planks and got giant piece of wood shoved mercilessly into my unsuspecting foot. Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, my cousin Eva was good enough to spend about and hour with me trying to dig the remainder of the nasty thing out of my foot after my my brother-in-law Paul had been good enough to pull the biggest part out. It hurt and I had a gaping hole in my foot for a couple of days but it has since then been recovering nicely. I am just thankful Eva was so willing to help, and that she had an amazing pair of "tick tweezers."

The day after our beach adventures was by luck and providence a Sunday. A day to relax a bit. We went to Church with Mike and Elisha (my cousins with which we were staying during our time in Boston) and made a wonderful day of it by having a family dinner. Their house is beautiful and open so it seemed no problem to fit their whole little family, plus Nilly, Paul, and me, plus the lovely little family of Saydi and Jeff. It was so good to see so many of the cousins I have missed for so long; and of course sharing a delicious dinner provided by Elisha was like the cherry on top of an already great Sunday.

On that same wonderful Sunday I had the opportunity to see a couple of places that I have longed to see basically since I learned of their existence. Namely, the famous Walden Pond and the Wellesley College Campus. Both were by no means disappointing. While I like to think that Walden Pond is really more of a small lake, I have to give props to all those people who found such a place inspiring. It truly is beautiful.

We got to see a replica building of Thoreau's cabin there and I even got to hang out with Thoreau himself! No not actually of course, it was just a statue of him, but nevertheless I feel that if we had ever met....we would have got along famously well.

Wellesley was pretty much what I expected: A beautiful campus, beautiful old buildings, an awesome lake, and of course the place was packed with the famous (at least to Rick) lamp posts. It is indeed a beautiful campus and it would have been way cool to go there, but then again I think where I am is much better suited to my needs and personality so I don't regret not being able to go there.

Once we returned to New York, Nilly and the kids and I took a little journey to Palmyra to see the Temple and the Sacred Grove.

The temple was so majestic and peaceful looking almost all the surrounding trees. It truly is a beautiful structure and I was beyond excited to finally see the clear window and the view of the sacred grow from said window. If you don't know the story behind the clear window and it's view (with the visibly missing patch of trees) then don't hesitate to ask. It is a powerful and somewhat humorous story worth being told.

We had the opportunity to walk around the Smith farm and go into the houses on the property. Entering through the doors into the replica log cabin of where Joseph Smith spent his youth was exhilarating and peaceful. It was like stepping into the past. Again it made me feel as though I belong in a time where life required such simple and humble lifestyles; but it also made me immensely grateful for the fact that I rarely had to share a room growing up.

Lastly we walked through the Sacred Grove itself. The feeling there is one I cannot even begin to describe. Peace, Spirit, Love, Awesomeness; all words which can't even begin to cover it. Even though I walked through the trees on a dreary, rainy day, it was still one of the most beautiful places I have ever encountered.
Nilly stumbled over a little patch of spring poping up through the nearly frozen ground and mentioned how cool she thought it was that green is starting to show so near Easter. It was beautiful and small, yet somehow it seemed majestic. Yes I do have to say that I love the place and hope to be able to return in the somewhat near future.

Even if the day was cold, I think we all enjoyed it. Especially Clark. He was happy as long as we were out of the car. That kid really is so adorable and fun to play with. It's a pity he has to live on the other side of the country. I miss him already.

The trip was overall a sucess and a spring break well spent I think. Now I have returned to my home in Seattle and am busy enjoying a few days alone (thankfully my roomates aren't back yet) before next quarter and a whole new world of stresses begins. Maybe I am crazy but I think it will be nice to be back in classes and working. I guess stress keeps me sane to some extent, but...such is life.

A little window into a large chunk of time

A couple of weeks ago I was assigned a profile piece as my article for the week (for all those who didn't know, I write for my university's paper). When I took the assignment I had no idea just exactly how amazing this guy's life really was. I interviewed with him and then through lots of time and stress I wrote the article below. The paper editor changed and shortened the version that was actually published because of space reasons and liability complications, but below I have pasted my entire original article for you all to see. It really is an amazing story and it doesn't even really begin to cover all that he has been through. I hope you enjoy it!



JOURNALISTS AND DEATH IN SRI LANKA

by ME

Journalism is not typically viewed as a field of work where people have need to fear for their lives. Journalists go out and find stories, report on them, and sometimes get sued for hearsay or defamation of character, but generally report the news and move on. In Sri Lanka, journalists are not so lucky.

As one Sri Lankan journalist, Lasantha Wickrematunge put it, “No other profession calls on its practitioners to lay down their lives for their art save the armed forces and, in Sri Lanka, journalism.”

Ruan Pethiyagoda, a sophomore journalism major at Seattle University and former journalist for Sri Lanka’s most widely circulated independent weekly newspaper, The Sunday Leader has seen and experienced the dangers of being a journalist first hand, and though he has seen corruption and death through his line of work, his passion for the subject seems never to waiver.

Pethiyagoda first took an interest in politics by observing his uncle, Gamini Dissanayake, who held the position of senior cabinet minister in every government administration from 1977 until his death. But while Ruan clearly had a strong spark of interest in politics and writing, he focused instead on science and mathematics because he felt tests throughout his high school career indicated that he was better suited for such subjects.

When he left Sri Lanka in 2005 to study in the UK, he had determined to study physics and computer science.

“In England [my studies] went very badly,” Pethiyagoda mused. “When I came back [to Sri Lanka] I realized I couldn’t be one of the best in those fields (science and math). With writing I felt I was making my mark and setting myself apart.”

As Pethiyagoda began working for The Sunday Leader, writing became his life.

“It was obsessive and expensive, because the work I was doing often cost more than my salary, but I loved it. It was like an addiction,” Pethiyagoda said.

Dissanayake, along with Lasantha Wickrematunge (Ruan’s editor) started The Sunday Leader together, but when Dissanayake was assassinated by a suicide bomber from the LTTE terrorist group in 1994, his family sold the newspaper completely and handed it over to Wickrematunge who continued to print the many views which were seen as so controversial and dangerous by the government.

“He wasn’t one to back down,” Pethiyagoda said of Wickrematunge. “They couldn’t scare him because he knew what he was saying was right and he would fight them on it.”

Wickrematunge’s ideas supported hope and movement towards transforming Sri Lanka into a transparent, secular, liberal democracy according to Pethiyagoda and an editorial written by Wickrematunge.

Fighting for what he believed in was something Wickrematunge did until his dying breath; a breath which according to Pethiyagoda, his research, and even Wickrematunge himself, was stolen from him by the order of a sibling of the Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksa, Wickrematunge’s longtime friend.

In an editorial that Wickrematunge wrote to be published in event of his death he stated to his friend, the president, “We both know who will be behind my death, but dare not call his name. Not just my life, but yours too, depends on it.”

As Pethiyagoda explained it, Wickrematunge’s death took place conveniently just a few days before a court trial where Wickrematunge was expected to prove the truth behind a series of articles which exposed details implicating the Defense Secretary, Gotabhaya Rajapaksa, who is also the president’s brother, of involvement in a money laundering operation involving millions of dollars, Hong Kong bank accounts, London-based dummy corporations and second-hand Soviet military aircrafts.

“I did some research after [Wickrematunge’s] death and the most interesting thing I found was that on his medical examiner’s report, it showed he had been killed by having a nail-embellished iron pole rammed into his head, yet the final statement said he had died of natural causes,” Pethiyagoda explained. “Had I known any forensic science stuff at the time, I would have done something to help uncover the crime scene.”

This experience Pethiyagoda said is one of the reasons he is so grateful and eager for the opportunity to study at Seattle University. Learning a little bit of everything is a quality he sees as necessary in a field like journalism, and one that his editor exemplified.

“I haven’t taken a single course here that hasn’t helped my understanding of things in some way,” Pethiyagoda highlighted. “It is all essential to help develop new ways of thinking.”

For Pethiyagoda, Wickrematunge was more than a boss; he was a role model, a leader, and a friend.

“Working for him and for [The Sunday Leader] was like someone here getting to go work for The New York Times,” Pethiyagoda stated. “I fell for journalism because of him.”

Much like his boss, Pethiyagoda, in his time working for The Sunday Leader wrote many articles exposing corruption and foul play in successive governments, and while most of the evidence for such issues has been covered up, none of the issues which the newspaper exposed has successfully been proven false by the government; despite their many attempts.

“[Pethiyagoda] directly understood the purpose and danger behind working for us,” said Sonali Wickrematunge, the wife and co-editor of the late Lasantha Wickrematunge. “But things have gotten much worse since we left.”

As Sonali explained it, her husband had been the backbone of independent journalism in Sri Lanka and with him gone, journalists are finding it harder to speak out.

“More journalists are at risk now. The whole fabric of the resistance put out by journalists has begun to fall apart,” Sonali stated. “There is no need for more journalists to die.”

Even without Wickrematunge or his wife there to run things, The Sunday Leader continues to cover issues and expose the truth in controversial issues and Pethiyagoda plans to return to Sri Lanka as soon as he graduates and take part in the struggle for government change.

“I want to go back and write there again. I would think about writing a book about the connection of all these people,” Pethiyagoda said of the connections between his uncle, his boss, the president, and the president’s brother.

Pethiyagoda seems grateful for the path that he has been led down by people he admires but he made it clear—in a joking manner—that in the future he no longer plans to designate anyone as his role model again.

“I think I am going to keep my boss and my uncle as my last role models,” Pethiyagoda quipped. “My role models seem to have really bad luck.”