The List (Guys)

This seems to be my thing lately, stealing ideas for posts from my friends. This particular one is from my lovely friend Cat. She made a list of her favorite guys. I too will follow suite. The problem is I have a long list depending on the criteria. Actors, musicians, real life figures, men I'd go gay for, it's rediculous really.

So here is my criteria, Guys who have shaped who I am. There is no particular order, we'll just say they all are at the same level.

- Chris Carrabba


Chris, Chris is amazing. My 8th grade year and the following summer before High School introduced me to a musical genre that has since changed my life. I stumbled across a band known as Further Seems Forever and there fell in love with the lead singer. This was Chris. He stole my heart again soon after when he created Dashboard Confessional and put out perhaps the best album of music I will ever hear, Swiss Army Romance. Dashboard defined by highschool life, it got me through the worst of times and the best of times. Had I known then that a decade later I would shake his hand and meet him in person, I surely would have spent the next 10 years without sleep. The anticipation would have been the death of me. Shaking his hand was... can't even describe it. Oh Chris, Thank you. (If you haven't heard him live and acoustic, you are truly missing out. Also, he's freakin hot as hell.)


-Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce (Alan Alda), M*A*S*H


I can't remember when I first started watching MASH. I do remember though, that I was young enough to think I had stumbled upon something inappropriate and adult. I remember feeling ashamed the first time my mother caught me watching, only to feel overjoyed when she told me she liked it and was fine with me watching it. That's all the urging I needed. It used to run during the morning from 10-11 am. I'd watch it all summer and then during the school year when I was sick enough to stay home. Hawkeye became my idol. He was everything I wanted to be. He was smart, skilled, laidback, sensative, a ladies man, a drunk, sarcastic, witty, caring, and funny as hell. I really think the reason I turned out to be such a sarcastic smartass was because I wanted to be like Hawkeye. In one episode they call him a pistol because he always had a comeback. I too wanted to be a pistol. I've slowly collected most of the season and have seen every episode a million times. I love it. (The Movie sucks ballllls though. Seriously, Donald Sutherland, seriously!?) (When I first got called to Iowa, the first think I did was look up where Ottumawa was because that's where Radar is from.)

-John Stockton and Karl Malone

I can't really say much more than these two were my heroes during my childhood. I Loved them and was heartbroken when they retired without a ring. No two ball players were ever as good together as these. They were the ying and yang of basketball. I never knew how much I would miss them as I do now knowing I can't see them play anymore. There aren't players built like these two anywhere in the game. They played through everything, they didn't care about the money, they worked their ass off. Stockton to Malone, the perfect combination.

and for kicks and giggles

-Chad Michael Murray


Lucas Scott, One Tree Hill. The one guy I'd go gay for. He's dreamy, he's smart, he plays ball, he gets all the hot chicks (Sophia Bush baby). He's a stud. A Guilty pleasure. I mean look at those sultry brooding eyes. Hell yes. The only regret I have is that he got divorced from Mrs. Bush. Mock all you want.

Evoke

Mary got me contemplating what word I would like to describe myself as in her recent blog entry. She wants to be synonymous with the word electric. I must admit that I couldnt' think of anything as snazzy and exciting that would reflect the type of individual I am. However, a word did keep coming to mind and I think that I could handle being synonymous with it. This isn't an adjective but rather a verb.

Jason = Evoking.

I would hope that would a legacy that I could carry on. A simple search on dictionary.com shows

"e·voke   /ɪˈvoʊk/ Show Spelled[ih-vohk]
–verb (used with object), e·voked, e·vok·ing.
1. to call up or produce (memories, feelings, etc.): to evoke a memory.
2. to elicit or draw forth: His comment evoked protests from the shocked listeners.
3. to call up; cause to appear; summon: to evoke a spirit from the dead.
4. to produce or suggest through artistry and imagination a vivid impression of reality: a short passage that manages to evoke the smells, colors, sounds, and shapes of that metropolis."

I would like to be remembered as an individual who evoked a response. I want people to feel something when I am around. Whether it is positive or negative it doesn't matter. As long as it helps the discover something about themself or to remember something about themself. I would hope that I have already done this in my life time and that I have had an impact in peoples lives.

I Jason want to be evocative.

Airport Parkinglots

As far as I can remember I have always been a spiritual person. I couldn't tell you whether it was because of my upbringing or that it was coded into my DNA. I never had a reason to question God, never had a problem with firmly rooting myself in the soil of the gospel. I was raised LDS. (Keep your judgements to yourself.) I am still LDS. Something has changed though.

I couldn't tell you what, but its different now. I can picture my 10 year old self in Sunday School, blurting out all the answers. It all came so easy to me. I just knew the stories, knew the lessons, knew what was asked of me. Like any child who doesn't feel challenged, I slacked off. I goofed off in classes, goofed off in primary, it was all easy. Almost too easy.

Fast forward to age 15. It got complicated. My father, sick from his cancer treatments that had happened over 20 years previous, was ill. Very ill. I watched him struggle. I watched him go in and out of the hospital for months and years. So many doctor visits, blood clots, late night emergencies, coming home from highschool to an empty house. My family never lost faith. My father never complained. I never doubted my religion. I never sluffed a seminary class. Never missed church as long as it was in my power. It was difficult, complicated, but nothing had changed.

At 18 and graduated from highschool I began to watch my best friends prepare for missions. I had always known this was sort of expected of me but I don't know if I ever had that deep burning desire to do it. 2 years felt like a long time. I never told anyone that though. With the encouragement of my parents, a certain girl whom I thought I was in love with, and the urges of my friends I too decided to embark on this adventure. Dreams of epic stories, successful, dangerous, heroic, they filled my head.

Little did I know.

2 1/2 months later I found myself flying home from the far off land of Iowa. I felt like a failure and yet, it had been the longest 2 1/2 months of my life. I just wanted to see my mother. To see my family. To lay in my bed. I held myself together as I walked through the SLC terminal. I kept it all together when I saw my mom standing there waiting. I made it to the parking lot and then, I saw the Maroon car. I lost it. I collapsed to the ground and cried. Just cried. Somewhere in those moments it all changed.

From the parking lot to now, 4 years later. I find myself so far away from everything I thought I would be at this age. I feel every fiber of my personality has been stretched, broken, and tied back together. 4 years later I am still trying to find all my confidence, my faith, my hope, myself. I dunno if I'll ever find it again.....and that scares me.

I've watched those same friends return home from missions and get married. I've watched my best non LDS friend get baptized and wasn't able to be apart of it. I've watched that girl I was in love with struggle and find her way back again. I've watched my father strongly fight and even recover from an illness I would have given up over long ago. I've watched my little sister blossum into one of the brightest and most wonderful women I know I'll ever meet.

Where am I though? I am here, in my room, the room I grew up in, hiding. It's the only Iplace I really feel safe. Like I have control.

I can't say I don't believe in God, I do. I can't say I doubt my religion, I still believe. I can't find my way back. I'm not sure if I want to either. Would I cripple under eternal expectations again? Would my hope give out and I abandon my faith in the fear of failure? Would I survive it?

I'm 23 and I feel ancient. I feel worn. I feel tired. I feel like something so stupid shouldn't be such a massive roadblock. I feel like this is all bullshit. This isn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't, this shouldn't, this can't, but this is...

My name is Jason and my life was lost in an airport parking lot.