letter to my professor:

I woke up in Siberia this morning.  I don't really know how I got there but it has been a frequent trip back and forth lately. Anyways, mornings in Siberia usually start something like this:

Alarm clock dreams to alarm clock reality,
morning Quiet Time with the good Lord
and learning how to dress underneath the covers.

Breakfast in Siberia is a jumble of protein powder, toast and jam, and day-old macarons.  Throw in some burnt coffee and there you have it,folks, the mornings of a forever sleepy college student.  After bundling up in no less than like, ten layers, I walked out into the 19 degree reality and attempted to get into the car.  Siberia hates me, though, and the door was frozen shut.  I yanked at it until I was sure the handle was going to fall off, and then it yielded and I was inside fumbling for the scraper. I got the windows insufficiently clean and made my five minute drive to the bus stop.  Siberia's cold was unforgiving and my fingers were on fire, but I managed to stay alive for my five extra minutes of braving the elements. The bus drove through the twilight zone and back into Salt Lake reality, and we got onto campus with every one intact.  Walking to class was half the battle, though, because University of Utah mountain is made of ice and I'm no ice dancer.  I slipped and slid my way up the hill into the warmth of LNCO, and I am not convinced I want to make the trek to the rest of my classes after all.



And a second letter:

Sorry, Greg, but my love of pastries and staying warm is tempting me to stay away from your class.  Please forgive me for not growing as buff as you want me to.


(Note: I never actually skip crossfit even when I make poor eating choices right before class. I just can't bring myself to do it. Working out on a stomach full of coffee and pastries is pretty miserable in hindsight though. But, as always, the trainer smiles and pretends I am not sweaty and gross, and I stay happy)