Ooh, writer’s block. My mind has been empty this entire week.  I know the solution is always “start writing”, but I feel I have nothing to say.  A house full of sick kids and adults has left me worn out.  Myself?  I’m ok.  But usually, I’m a night owl.  Lately I can’t stay up much past 9:00.

We saw Star Trek last Friday.  If it weren’t for that brief diversion, I’d be much grumpier right now.  I love a night at the cinema.  It helped tremendously that the movie was good, too.  I’d never been disappointed by the previous Trek movies, but I’d rarely been particularly impressed, either.  A few of them wowed me, First Contact being the one that pops into my mind first.

It doesn’t matter.  I’m enamored with the idealistic future of Star Trek.  Not the technology, though that’s all well and good.  Who wouldn’t love the idea of forgoing the 13 hour drive to Utah for a little transporter action?  That’s a story for a different day, I think.

No, the future I speak of is how those from Earth ended up as a human race.  An entire people brought together not entirely because of the threat of annihilation, but because of the cause of discovery and exploration.  Contact outside of the inky blackness of space caused us to wake from our apathetic and self-absorbed nature.  It’s cliche, but those in the Trek future found out that they were not alone, and that was the reason to reach for something better.

The wife was shocked, and still a little unbelieving, to hear my confession that Star Trek, not Star Wars, is my favorite set of Sci-Fi flicks.  I tried to explain why; Star Wars is fun and vast, but it holds no ties to mother Earth.  It’s very separate and  it allows for a great diversion, but it doesn’t make me think (and hope) like Trek does.

I don’t learn heavily toward the majority of my religious culture. Being Mormon, we are taught to hope toward the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, which I truly believe in and look forward to.  I have a feeling, however; that some of my faith look to every current event as a sign of doom and destruction, and I’ve never found that a deeply satisfying outlook on life.

Some may argue that it is a sign of weak faith on my part, or a misplaced love of this world that makes me believe that the human race shouldn’t be on a one-way collision course with doom.  Call me crazy for wanting to believe that we should pull ourselves out of any tailspin that we find ourselves in.  Call me naive because I believe that a common cause, such as discovering the space beyond our own, could firmly and finally bring us together.  You can call me those things, only because I’m pulled both ways and have been taught that this cannot not be our final ordination.

Thought about a different way, I know that the final cleansing of Earth does not mark the end of human existence.  I know that, as immortal beings, we will continue to learn and grow and have the vast treasures of the universe unlocked and unfolded before our very eyes.  This brings me great joy to think about, more-so than the vain hope that alone we humans may finally figure out how to be civil to one another.

I do look up at the night sky every now and again, and I do see God working.  I know this is his creation, and I believe in the scientific nature and order of it.  I wish I had a telescope that could show me the heavens as they are now; it baffles my mind that the light I see in the sky predates my own existence my millions of years.

I have no idea how a story about a night out to the movies turned into a religious and philosophical meditative drama, but there we have it.  That’s why I like Star Trek more than Star Wars.  It makes me think.  I don’t like taking things for granted.

And look at that. I started writing, and the words finally came.  They may not have made sense to you, but I had a great time putting them on the screen.

I don’t believe that I’m a particularly accident-prone guy.  But I have to finally cede the fact that I have been to the hospital a fair share more times than the average 30 year old.  I found my way back to the ER this past Tuesday, when it felt like I snapped my foot off at the ankle during a night of basketball.  An unfortunate drive to the hoop and an awkward landing on someone’s foot was all I needed to ruin my evening (and more).

Thank goodness it was only a sprain.  Everyone who witnessed it was certain of a break, and I had little reason to dispute their observations.  I have never felt such intense pain in my life.  It was almost enough to make me give up the game.  Almost.  Not quite enough, though.  

The good news is that it’s only been a week since the injury and I’m walking again.  Very little limping going on, except in the morning.  The wife says I look like the Tin Man, with my unsightly shuffle-step.

I felt bad that I injured myself only a day before we left for Utah.  We tried to make the most of it, keeping our plans intact for the majority of the time.  I could do very little to help out; injuring the right foot meant that I couldn’t even drive.  The best I could do was hold SaraJane when I was being carted around in a wheelchair.  

We saw plenty of family and a few friends.  There never seems to be enough time to see everyone.  I’m sure that if we ran around enough, we could have.  But then we’d have needed the “vacation from the vacation” that you hear about so often.

A minor note about the drive home; it seems that a bit more faith in Google Maps might be in order.  About 100 miles or so  before we reached the normal turnoff to the 20, we decided to try driving through Las Vegas.  I had never done it before, but had heard good things about it.  Every so often, I would double-check my route on the trusty iPhone, wanting to be sure that I had everything in order.

Each time, Google Maps tried to get me to get myself back to highway 89.  Even when I had passed Cedar City, it again tried to get me to rethink my strategy and pull back for the normal route.  My wife and I thought the program had gone bananas, and thusly ignored its suggestions.

I should have taken the hint when I finally passed through Las Vegas, and the iPhone informed me that I should hug the Arizona-California border and head home that way.  Seemed like an awful waste of time to me.  Oh, how wrong we were.  Never again will I pass that route.  Driving to Mesa from the 93/60 is the worst route imaginable.   

Finally, a happy birthday to my newest nephew, Parker Bowden.  Parker was born today, weighing in at 6 lb. 13 oz.  Welcome to the world, little buddy.  You’ve got yourself quite the family to enjoy the journey with.