Attn World:

In the grand scheme of things my residence just north of down town Provo – a one bedroom apartment with a small living room (which at present is dreadfully cluttered) – might not seem important to you; And even smaller and less important would be me one of the two inhabitants of the aforementioned residence.

That said however, I’ll humor myself by offering a formal introduction though I’m sure that at some time in my twenty two year stint on this planet I must have done something to gain at least some recognition.

It’s important that you know that I did not begin my stay on earth here in Provo. I’m sitting on my couch right now which according to the layout of Provo’s infrastructure means I am facing west. If I were to turn a little more to my left and maintain that direction for about seven hundred miles I would wind up in what will always be my home town. Irvine, California. Southern California (only those from there refuse to use any of its various monikers).  My dad was the reason my family wound up there. Years before my birth, He studied at the University of California in Irvine. Following graduation my parents made the decision to stay because of the wealth of opportunities for my father – a Mechanical Engineer – to progress in his field.

Those from Irvine’s neighboring cities refer to Irvine as “the Bubble.” It is a planned city with thousands of cookie-cutter houses and perfectly kept yards. A city without any dollar stores, Wal-Marts, or homeless people simply because the residents wouldn’t stand for anything of lower class than themselves. A city voted “most fashionable” because of the Irvineite’s intrinsic need to shop at the nicest stores.

It was in Irvine that I met my Rebecca, my wife. Her family moved to my side of Irvine when we were fourteen. I met her on her first Sunday at church and we have been best friends ever since.

Ten days after my nineteenth birthday, I left the beautiful bubble to serve as a missionary in Winnipeg Canada I’ll admit it took some getting used to when the mission car I was driving was the only brand new car at an intersection or when I went to the mall and there was no valet. But with those changes came some more welcomed adjustments as well. The people weren’t plastic. Though I did miss seeing the occasional exotic car or sprawling ocean-front mansion, I did appreciate the added measure of sincerity given to those who by circumstance or choice realized that there was more to life than those things which eventually fall prey to the corrosive ocean spray.

Following my return from the great north, I began courting Rebecca. She had been one of my primary correspondents during my time in Canada so I decided to peruse a relationship. She was at the time living in Provo, Utah. After a few weeks of nightly phone calls, I decided to fully define the relationship.  I called her and asked her out on a date for the following night then hopped in my car and drove the seven hundred miles and as Rebecca and I now say, officlified things. I didn’t realize how terrible this officialification would be until I was heading south on I-15. After a semester at home – alone – I moved to Provo and Rebecca and I got engaged shortly thereafter and were married in October.

We now live just north of the small down town district in Provo in a small one bedroom apartment. We still haven’t invested in a desk so I sit on the couch to do my homework.