Tuesday, May 10, 2011

THE PROLOGUE TO "LIVING IN L.A."

Any time something ends, another thing begins.

On April 21st, the blinds descended on my Winter semester at BYU. At the time I had been in school for 16 straight months (sans the breaks and holidays) since I returned to college post mission. I am taking Spring and Summer terms off to live in Los Angeles and take part in an internship at BermanBraun, a media company based in Santa Monica.

With the end of a semester comes a vile tradition: cleaning checks. The night of April 22nd and the morning of April 23rd were wild hours. My three roommates and I were up; none of us got more than a couple hours of sleep as we packed and/or performed our cleaning assignments. Depriving ourselves of sleep proved to be a natural form of highness (or perhaps there were fumes about). We sang improv songs, shouted whatnots, and teetered around our apartment like unthreatening zombies. Somehow I got checked out (an action that immediately brings bliss and liberation) that Saturday morning, having passed my cleaning check. Thanks be to my roommate Nathan who helped with some of my tasks after he had finished his. Thanks also be to my father who came that morning and aided me in the moving of my abundant chattels while I tackled the bathroom (my cleaning assignment).

After my release, I drove my Accord (full of said belongings), with Nancy aboard, to West Jordan where the Kearl Kastle stands. We stopped at the hospital near their house where Tara and Bryson were, my sister having just given birth earlier that week.

Photo by Tara Kearl

On April 21st, my first nephew was born. His arrival was welcome in a time when the men-women ratio in my family was largely in favor to the latter (and not just because Tara was pregnant). We had been  outnumbered for about two years. I held the infant for a bit, during which occasion the artful Nancy Zhou took this picture:

Photo by Nancy Zhou

It was a particularly tender experience when Nancy held Jameson, for she had never before held a baby so young.

On Sunday, April 24th, I headed South in my crammed car with Nancy and my father. We stopped in Provo where I walked Nancy to her apartment and we said our "later"s. I was to leave for California (after spending five nights at Home Base in Southern Utah), she was to stay in Provo (attending Spring and Summer semesters at BYU). We have been dating over a year, during most of which time we were practically neighbors. It was an emotional parting, a farewell until we meet again.

Then it was off to Ivins (just outside St. George), where the red cliffs are our majesties. It was a beautiful drive down I-15. Utah was arguably at its most green, having just emerged through a particularly wet winter. I fell in love with a field of trees around mile marker 127 and made a mental note to shoot a fantasy film there someday. We passed through the lands that were badly burned in recent years. Trees grayed and blacked, never to sprout leaves again. Images right out of Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" (a novel I am currently and sloth-ly poring). My father and I took advantage of the hours to have a "father-son talk." That acted as the majority of the audio during the ride. When our vocal chords enervated we listened to Stephen Tobolowsky, yet another treasure I have discovered in the form of a podcast.

Sunday night through Friday morning were spent at Home Base (Kayenta / Ivins, Utah / Southern Utah). Sleeping back in my own bed was a comfortable comfort. There were several items of business to get done: prepare for my internship, unpack and repack, among other tasks. I relished in some hours of playing "Red Dead Redemption" on Xbox Live where I could act out my Wild West reveries. I formed posses with other players and we galloped through the open world, stopping bandits and grabbing lands. Xbox has/had a slogan: "It's good to play together." I concur. You just have to find time to disconnect.

My father and I watched a few films together ("127 Hours," "The Buried Secret of M. Night Shyamalan," and "The Village"), had some fine meals together (steak, eggs, and somehow always potatoes) and even played some 1-on-1 basketball together in the late afternoon on two of the days. I love spending time with my dad.

Soonest, the day came: Friday, April 29th. And it was back to the highway. That morning I changed my Facebook status (as well as Tweeted), "California, here I come."