Pocket Equality

     I once saw a post that said something along the lines of: "I'm sick and tired of guys being able to fit phones, wallets, pens, pencils, and [censored] television remotes in their pockets. When I go out to buy pants, I can barely fit my phone. That isn't attractive. POCKET EQUALITY!"
     When I was in sixth grade, I had to wear a pair of old pants that belonged to my father in my role in the play I was participating in. One day, during a break in dress rehearsal, I put my hands in my pockets. In my not-so-ripe age of twelve, I did not take much notice as to how considerably deeper they were in comparison to my own jeans. Of course, at that time, I was more concerned about projecting my voice to the back of the auditorium than I was about the depths of my pockets.
     Although I do have reason to believe that this experience etched some sort of unconscious thought process in me in which I never seemed to pick out pants that had the little pockets that showed off half of my cell phone. The exception to this statement would be when I bought a pair of white capris that had faux pockets.
     Which allows me to segue into my next topic.
     Faux pockets.
     What genius came up with that idea?
     What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall during that meeting.
     "Okay, folks, our line of jeans is losing its popularity among teenage girls. What should we do to fix this?"
     "Let's make a line of jeans that looks like they have pockets but when the girls try to put their things in, there's really nothing there."
     "Brilliant, Jim!"
     This rage in myself personally was not brought out until yesterday while I was walking to church. You should know that on Friday, I got a nice leather jacket from ANGL for about half off the original price. It's nice and spiffy and when I went to class today wearing it along with my boots, I'm confident that my professors automatically assumed I am going to end up being the delinquent of their classes.
     But, pulling back on track here, I'm walking to church yesterday morning and I think to myself, "Hey, I don't want to carry my phone any more, I should put it in my pocket." So I moved to slip it in, but it just slid right over. It took me about three more attempts to realize that my jacket had fake pockets.
     I see what you're doing here, clothing companies. Not stop collaborating with handbag companies and start giving me some real pockets.

Calm

     As mentioned in the blog post entitled "About the Author," I used to be known as the "Waterproof Machine" and I feel sorry for not elaborating on it further. Because it was fairly entertaining, the way it came about. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the term was coined by the illustrious Hannah Chase, my best friend and partner in crime, and it sorta carried on to other people. Long story short, I was the rock. I played water polo, and, to be blunt about it: I was downright scary. I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to have friends with the level of intensity I functioned at.
      And then it stopped. I think it was after I helped a close friend through a particularly rough patch in her life. I was forced to set everything else aside and put her first. After that, it just stopped. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was still regarded as "intimidating" by the general population, but at least I had learned how to control myself to a certain extent.
     And so, I learned how to cry.
     Emotion is something that has never come easy for me. I have the physical pain tolerance of a rock (i.e. I generally don't feel pain). So if I cried, then something was seriously wrong. And the same thing can be said about me today.
     But I'm not here to talk about my feelings. Today I'm here to talk about calm, specifically, the calm that comes after a storm.
     People are always talking about the calm that comes before a storm. Usually it is accompanied by a heightened awareness of everything around oneself, dilated pupils, and increased heart rate. Believe me, I know. I've been in enough fights during water polo games to last me the rest of my life. But because the calm before the storm is so much more... common, it's easier to explain. Everyone experiences the same thing. So, that is why the calm after the storm is brushed over. Sure, in the case of actual storms, coverage is given for days, weeks, and sometimes even months after the event, but what do people have to say on it?
     That's where things get complicated. Everyone explains the calm after the storm differently. Most say it is a peaceful feeling, but for some it is still a tumultuous experience. There seems to be many conflicting feelings that comes after a physically/spiritually/emotionally demanding experience.
     Take my own experience for instance. On Friday night I said goodbye to my sister before she leaves for her mission for 18 months. And I'm going to break it down.

     The calm before the Storm: Standing there and talking to her before the moment actually came.
     The Storm: The actual saying of the word "Goodbye".
     The calm after the Storm: In this specific situation, finally going to sleep after packing my things to head up to college.

     If you've ever seen the footage of a city in the aftermath of a hurricane, you know about the destruction it leaves behind. But think about it, there's a certain raw beauty that comes with it, isn't there. And that's why I appreciate the calm after a storm so much. I woke up on Saturday morning at 4:30 AM after crying myself to sleep to drive down to Los Angeles to fly back to Rexburg for spring semester. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes were red and puffy and gross, but my green eyes stood out more than I've ever seen. Raw beauty.
   Longer story shorter: Beauty is a pretty flippin' awesome thing.