See John write

In a previous post, I mentioned Google Trends Lab. I thought I’d share just a little bit about this wonder of the Internet for those who may not have heard of it.

Google will let you see the volume of seaches on keywords that might interest you. For example, when I was wondering if you all were searching for information about redeeming bonus points, I could have looked at this trend graph.

If you wondered how often people search for the term “Mormons” you could look at this trend graph. (It will be interesting to watch this graph as the data from the week the PBS special ran becomes available.)

Or lets say Jesse’s boss wanted to know if there was any interest in a small band out of Logan called White Rose Resistance. He could pull up this page. (Sorry, looks like maybe you need a good promoter )

Or perhaps Dad wondered if people use Google to find an independent transmission shop. He could look up this trend graph.

Or if Tiff wondered how many people were searching for ways to help Save Britney, she could turn to this graph.

Go ahead and play around with it. It is fascinating and fun. And now you know something new and useful on the world wide web.

I didn’t speak another word to her after I demanded that she take me home. I felt betrayed and manipulated, but the last thing I wanted to do was to hash this whole thing out in the middle of the night. Standing on my porch, I could barely get my key in the lock because my hands were shaking so badly.

In the middle of my dark bedroom, I considered taking a hot shower to warm up. But exhaustion was rapidly overtaking my whole body. I changed into some dry sweats and a sweatshirt and climbed into bed.

When I have a lot on my mind, I usually have a hard time falling asleep. But it was as if I was in deep sleep the moment my head touched the pillow.

Then the dream began.

I found myself in a large building, like a warehouse. It was dimly lit. I could hear some distant muffled voices. Carefully, I made my way down a walkway in front of a row of offices that lined one side of the building. I studied my surroundings, looking for some clue about where I was.

As I turned my head back around, there she was. Standing right in front of me. She said something I couldn’t understand. Just like in previous dreams. Was it gibberish? A foreign language? Some kind of code? I couldn’t tell for sure.

But what she said next was perfectly clear.

“We know your secret.”

I spun my head around. Three men in leather jackets and dark glasses stood right behind me, their arms folded across their chests. I knew I was trapped.

One of the men extended one hand and pointed to a small room with the light on. Afraid to do anything else, I began walking toward the room. The distant muffled voices I had heard before were coming from the room. As I got closer, I could see a whole crowd of people milling about.

When I reached the doorway, I paused. I glanced over my shoulder. The three men were still right behind me, one of them nodded toward the room and I knew I had to go in.

Once inside the room, no one spoke to me. All the people slowly swirled around me. Every one of them was constantly talking, but whether they were talking to themselves or to me I couldn’t tell. At first, I could only catch a word or two. Then it became clearer. Each person was telling their secrets.

“I once planned to rob a bank.”

“I always knew where my brother hid his money.”

“I never passed a test without cheating.”

Their eyes were glassy and stared right through me. I stood motionless, but everyone else in the room was in constant, plodding motion. It was almost as if the movement was choreographed. No one touched anyone else, always passing each other within an inch or two.

And no one touched me. Even though I was not part of the “dance.” I stood perfectly still in the middle of them all.

But then a man threw his shoulder into the middle of my back. I stumbled forward, narrowly missing those passing in front of me. I spun around, fists clenched. When I saw who had slammed into me, I knew him at once.

It was Pervis.

I can see from my scientific tracking of Google Trend Labs that you’ve all been scouring the world wide web for information on what you can trade in your See-John-write bonus points for.

I must tell you that this is a very exclusive and prestigious club. There have been no shortcuts  taken in searching out the very best of the best for you, the faithful posters that make my blog what it is.

So for the coming month of June, if you are able to accumulate 15,000 points, you may redeem them for one of these beauties:

What is that stunning achievement of engineering? you ask. It is the world’s first hamster powered vehicle.

So, I wish you all luck in your pursuit of this lofty, but worthwhile goal.

I am awarding 50 bonus points to my mom and Leslie for responding to the discussion of Fog of Dreams below. Thank you both for your input.

I am awarding 10 bonus points to James for good intentions. (And, sorry Les, I have to deduct 5 of your points for comparing the main character to Scooby and Shaggy

As for the rest of you? I will say this. There are still bonus points to be had. So let’s get discussing.

Josh didn’t write this but shared with me personally that “[he doesn’t] think the girl should be fat because obviously they’re gonna get together.” I’ll just let the ladies go to town on that comment.

For your convenience, the link to the right contains the entire story as it stands today.

Seriously, just tell me what you think. I’m dying to know.
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Another 53 bonus points have been awarded to Tiff (the extra 3 for perseverance). And 100 points to Jesse for using a clandestine secret identity (which kind of fits with the story) for his comment on the “In which the action builds” post.

Oh yeah, and minus 5 points from Tiff for not knowing that “The Fog of Dreams” already has its very own page .

So Friday evening, I loaded up Josh, Nate, and Matt in the van. We threw in the tent and sleeping bags and headed up to Cache Valley for the Fathers and Sons outing. When we were in North Ogden, my cell phone rang. I answered it and my friend from the ward asked if we were heading up to Logan. I said that we were and he told me not to go through Sardine canyon. There had been a terrible accident and the canyon was closed.

On our way home the next day, Janet called and told us more about the accident. A terrible tragedy. A couple with their newborn baby in the back had hit a bicyclist, then lost control. The bicyclist, the mom, and the baby all died.

Then on Monday, I got an e-mail from my High School 20-Year Reunion Committee announcing the death of one of our classmates. Her name was Trudy Hansen. I didn’t know her well, but as I read her obituary it was clear that she was the mom who lost her life in Sardine canyon.

At 38, she had just had her first child. Twelve days earlier.

She had served a mission to Finland.

She had spent time in China and Russia teaching English.

Vibrant, happy, and full of life.

I wondered about those last moments.

Perhaps they were talking about the baby’s room. Perhaps they were lamenting the price of diapers and gasoline. Or they could have been talking about how the long wait for a child was so painful but so worth it. Maybe he had just asked her the Finnish word for baby.

And then it was over.

I guess because we shared a connection it seems to have stuck in my mind. Life is so fragile. We just don’t know how many chances we’ll have to say what we ought to say, to do what we ought to do, to love and serve and connect.

In January, I wrote here that my mantra for the year would be “To succeed at what is easy is a small victory.” To live without regret—that must be the greatest victory of all.

OK, so the time has come to discuss this creepy story. All those who’ve been reading, please provide your impressions and feedback. Here are a few questions to get things started.

What do you think of the main character? Is he smart? Gullible? Reluctantly heroic?

Where do you think this story is taking place?

Why is the main character helping this woman? What’s his motivation?

Too many twists and turns? Just right? Not enough?

I anxiously await your discussion.

I twisted around in the seat and tried to watch the small black car as long as I could. I never saw her door open or the car move. I wondered what she was thinking. Where had she been taking me anyway? She had been acting so strange.

As I turned back around in my seat, a wave of panic washed over me. The officer hadn’t turned the car around. Instead of heading back into town, we were continuing on the highway away from town. It made no sense at all. I felt the darkness of the night closing in on me. I squirmed in my seat.

A brilliant flash of lightning on the horizon lit up the inside of the car for a moment. I caught the profile of the officer’s emotionless face. He reached down and flicked on the windshield wipers as a light rain began to fall.

“Sir,” I said as forcefully as I dared, “if I am under arrest, then I want you take me to the police station now.”

He said nothing. The rain began falling harder. We were now beyond the edge of town. Open fields lined both sides of the road.

Without warning, the officer slammed on the brakes and swerved to the side of the road. He put the car into park and turned around in his seat.

“Are you really trying to help Pervis?” His eyes searched mine.

I felt frozen for a moment. My mind was clouded with murky thoughts. “I—I don’t know,” I finally said.

The officer sat up higher and reached his arm over the back of the seat. He grabbed the front of my shirt forcefully and drove the knuckles of his fist into my chest.

“They’ve got him trapped,” the officer said desperately.

“Who’s got him trapped?” I asked.

“You don’t know?” The officer let go of my shirt and ran his hand trough his hair. “I thought you knew.”

“I was only trying to help a friend. That’s all.”

“Pervis is a good friend,” the officer agreed.

“No. I really don’t know Pervis. It’s his sister—she’s sort of my friend,” I explained.

“Oh,” the officer said as his eyes grew wide, “oh, I see. … Turn around.”

I turned to look out the back window. There was nothing but empty road and pouring rain. Suddenly I felt the key turn in the handcuffs and the lock released. I turned back around and rubbed my wrists.

The officer reached down and unsnapped his revolver. In one motion, he pulled it out and turned the handle toward me. “Here,” he said as he held the gun out to me.

“What? No, I don’t need a gun,” I said as I squirmed away from the gun.

“You don’t even know who to trust. Take the gun.”

“I don’t want a gun!” I reached over and grabbed the door handle. “Look, you’re a cop. Why don’t you save Pervis, huh? Why me?”

“I’m telling you right now, take the gun.” He extended the revolver toward me emphatically.

I pulled up on the door handle and tumbled out of the car. Gathering myself, I slammed the door and backed away from the car. I heard the officer shout something at me, then he threw the cruiser into gear and sped away.

I stood in the pouring rain and watched his tail lights fade into the darkness.

I turned and started the long walk back into town. The rain was icy cold and I wasn’t even wearing a jacket. I considered trying to jog to stay warmer, but it was simply too far. I had to be 10 or 15 miles outside of town.

When I saw the headlights approaching in the distance, I froze for a moment. The cop’s words rang in my ears, “You don’t know who to trust.” I thought about running into the field and trying to get out of sight.

I shook my head at myself. I’ve got to get a grip, I thought. Shoving both hands in my pockets, I pressed on through the rain.

The headlights continued to approach. When they were a hundred yards away, suddenly they began to slow down. As the car eased onto the shoulder, I was caught directly in the headlights. I held my hand up to try to see through the blinding light.

The driver’s door flew open and I saw her strawberry blonde curls. She ran in short choppy steps toward me. She threw her arms out and slammed into me, catching me in an awkward embrace.

“Oh, you did it,” she said excitedly.

“Did what?” I asked as I lifted both my hands up, trying to step out of her embrace.

“You passed the first test.”

What is it about her? Why do I feel … compelled? I wrestled with my thoughts. But she remained motionless, waiting for me.

“Fine,” I heard myself say, “but only if I drive.”

She took a half step backward and twisted a chubby finger in a lock of hair as she turned her eyes to the ground.

“Well?” I said impatiently.

She glanced at the car. “OK,” she answered hesitantly, “but we have to leave now.”

I stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me. By the time I had locked the deadbolt, she was already standing at the passenger door of the car. I walked to the driver’s door and glanced in the back seat. The car was filthy and reeked of cigarette smoke. My eyes burned and my skin began to crawl.

“We need to get out to Dayton before ten o’clock,” she said softly as she climbed in.

“Dayton? Is that where your brother is?” I asked as I backed out and headed for the main highway.

“I—I’m not sure. … Maybe,” she said unconvincingly.

I merged the car into the highway traffic and accelerated. There were few cars on the road. I checked the rear view mirror frequently for anyone who might be following us. We drove in silence as the highway wound its way to the outskirts of town.

I broke the silence and asked, “So, is your brother part of The Society?”

“What do you know about The Society?” She responded in her monotone voice.

“No,” I said firmly, “for just a minute, I’m going to ask questions and you’re going to answer.”

She turned her head and glared at me. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Is your brother part of The Society?” I asked again, louder than the first time.

“The Society is …” she paused and turned away from me. “… good.”

“Aaand?” I prodded.

“And, yes, my brother belongs to The Society.”

Before I could respond, I noticed flashing lights in my mirror. I checked my speedometer. I was driving the speed limit. I pulled the car to the side of the road and the flashing lights followed me.

“Crap!” I exclaimed.

I rolled down the window as the officer approached. His hand was firmly on the grip of his handgun. “Sir, put both hands on the wheel where I can see them!” he ordered sternly.

I carefully raised both my hands and placed them on the steering wheel. The officer cautiously approached my door and put his hand on the handle.

“What’s the problem, officer?” I asked.

“I need you to step out of the vehicle,” the officer ordered as he opened the door for me.

“Of course,” I said keeping my hands in plain sight. “Is there a problem?”

“I need you to turn and face the vehicle,” he ordered.

I turned and placed my hands on the roof of the car. “Sir,” I began again.

The officer began to pat me down without saying a word. Then I heard him take his handcuffs from his belt. My head was spinning. What is going on!

“Officer, can you please tell me what I did?” I asked desperately.

“This vehicle was reported stolen a couple of hours ago.” The officer cooly grabbed my left wrist and twisted it behind my back. I felt the cold steel clamp around my wrist. Then my right hand.

“Sir,” I pled, “that woman—she told me she had borrowed it.”

He didn’t respond. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the back of the cruiser. I watched as he walked back to the black car. He leaned down and spoke with her for several minutes. His hand was never on his handgun again. He didn’t seem agitated or upset. He almost seemed friendly.

Maybe she’s explaining it all, I thought.

Finally, the officer started back for the cruiser. I tried to get a read from his face, but it was too dark. He got in the car without a word and put the car into gear. As we passed the black car, I caught a glimpse of her, both hands covering her face. It looked like she was sobbing.

Most of you already know. So it’s kind of lame to write about how I did on the GMAT. But it is my blog afterall .

First, I want to thank everyone who wished me luck, prayed, and hoped for the best. It was really a strange situation for me. I have always done well on tests—always. I’ve truly never felt stupid in my whole life. Well, until I started taking these GMAT practice tests. I worked so hard to get the answers right, but it seemed that the harder I tried the worse I performed.

So it was with a great deal of anxiety that I left the house on Friday morning. I was so anxious that I left quite early and arrived a good 10 minutes before I was supposed to arrive. But fortunately, the testing place was already open. They allowed me to take care of the preliminary paper work and get all checked in.

This polite little Indian lady lead me to my testing station. She pulled up a screen and whispered, “Is this the correct test?” I nodded and with that she walked away. I was left looking at this computer screen, knowing that a whole chain of events was about to cascade into my future. I was knocking down the first domino.

I shared with mom afterward that in the back of my mind I did entertain the thought that “Hey, if I blow it, I can always say that I tried to get into grad school, but it just didn’t work out.” Perhaps that was a great mindset. As the first questions came, I stayed calm and began answering. When I entered the math section, I knew I got the first question right (which is huge). My confidence grew as I was able to at least feel like I was making an educated guess on most questions.

It didn’t go perfectly. There were a few ridiculously hard questions. But I was able to manage my time well. Before I knew it, I was closing in on my last question. I had plenty of time to spare. And I was feeling great. I had no idea if I had scored well, but I felt that I had given my best effort.

At the end of the test, you are presented with a strange question. It asks if you’d like to cancel your scores—meaning that no one in the whole world will ever be able to know how you did. Oh, and by the way, they still get to keep your $250. I don’t know who could put themselves through the ordeal of that test and then decide, “I’d rather not know how I did.”

So I hit the “View Score” button and held my breath. What happened then is hard to explain. Have you ever won a drawing? There’s that strange feeling when it’s your name that’s read. You pause for a second and think, “Did I really just hear my name?” A moment of disbelief, a moment to read it again to be sure, and then pure elation.

I walked out, picked up the print out that confirmed what I had just seen on the screen, and went to my locker to retrieve my personal items. I wanted to call Janet. I looked all around in the locker but couldn’t see my cell phone. My mind was racing so fast, I’m sure I looked quite odd. I was about to explain to the lady that my cell phone was missing, when I remembered that I’d left the phone in my truck. I smiled and hurried out the door.

Thanks again to everyone who supported me in this. Now I guess the real work begins. Hopefully, in two  years or so I’ll be looking back at how quickly this has all passed.

So, you know the GMAT is coming up on Friday. I’ve been studying my Kaplan prep book like my life depended on it. I’ve made little flash cards that I carry everywhere and study in spare moments whenever I can. And I’ve taken two Kaplan CD-ROM full practice tests. And I’ve done horribly.

I was getting pretty discouraged.

But last Saturday after I had thoroughly beat myself up over the low score I got on the practice test, I remembered that when I had signed up for the GMAT, I was able to download actual, official practice tests.

So last night I loaded up the official review. And, shazam! I breezed through it. I didn’t miss a single sentence correction question. Encouraged by that result, I pulled up the math review. Again, I felt like I was cruising through 7th grade math class. I only missed two out of 15. And those two were dumb mistakes on my part—easily correctible.

Tonight, I will take the full, timed practice test. Hopefully, I will discover that the Kaplan method is to make you study and work really hard with the hardest of the hard problems. That way when you come to the actual test, you feel like someone accidently gave you the junior version.

I could barely fall asleep last night because I was so happy. Perhaps tonight I’ll discover that the official review questions were the cream puff warm up questions. But hopefully, that’s not the case and I’ll gain a little confidence going into Friday’s test.

Thanks to everyone out there who’s rooting for me.

In elementary school, I found myself in the library one day. I had picked up a copy of My Side of the Mountain by Jean George. I flipped through the