To the Girl Who Didn't Get Asked to Prom

Perhaps this title isn't entirely fitting. I should have called it, "What makes you beautiful." But that sounds cliché. 

I wrote part of this from the strip in Las Vegas and another part in Newport Beach California and can I just say: I LOVE MORMON GIRLS! Ok I'm rambling done rambling now. 

Bad Kai. Stick to the script

To you lovely ladies who didn't get asked to Prom, I sincerely apologize. And to you who got asked by one of us simple minded creatures (aka: boys), I also apologize. I'm sure your mothers or your young women's leaders have told you that you are beautiful but perhaps it's about time you heard it from a boy. So for what it's worth. 

Here goes. 

Things that make a girl beautiful. 

True beauty comes from the inside out. The way she talks and laughs, or hangs back and watches. The way she throws parties or curls up in a quiet corner to read. Whoever she is, she is comfortable with herself (or as comfortable as one can reasonably be). 

She knows who she is and doesn't spend her time trying to be something else. She wears makeup but doesn't hide behind it. She applies herself to her art, whether it's a sport, dance, music or whatever it is that she enjoys. She works hard at it and loves it and so becomes good at it. 

She has high standards and keeps them for the right reasons. 

Many of these girls go largely unnoticed by the male population because we are too focused on the superficial. The outside, face value. The cover of the book. The cover is usually a good indication of the story inside but the cover is not the story. A good girl, a girl who's soul shines out of her eyes, a girl who's heart makes itself heard at the corners of her mouth, that is a beautiful girl. It is easy to spot a girl who just tries to be good. You can see it in her eyes. Perhaps her cover is worn and stained, the pages torn and faded. Some of the pages in her story may be burned a little at the edges from the fiery ending of a hard chapter but her story is no less beautiful. Her triumphs, failures and trials slowly bent and shaped her into a rose. A rose that can't be seen from the cover of the book. A rose who's petals are woven from flaws  and challenges that failed to cripple her.

 Beauty is not measured by the fairness of her skin but the depth of her soul. 

A pretty face will attract a crowd of boys but a rose will win her a knight. 

So when I study a girl, for that is what courting is, a chance for two people to study eachother, I let her eyes do the talking. I study what her eyes say. I study her heart.

In search of a rose. 

So to you girls who didn't get asked to Prom, please be patient with us boys as we learn to look for roses and read deeper than the cover of the book. I apologize for the fact that many of you mature sooner than we. 

Perhaps my interpretation of beauty is inaccurate. Perhaps this doesn't apply to all girls in general. Perhaps none of this actually makes any sense. 

Or perhaps I've been rambling about a certain rose I've found. 

Perhaps I'll rewrite this someday with her name on it. 

Perhaps. 

Who am I? Yeah I don't really know either

Who Am I?

The truth is, I'm not entirely sure. I guess I'll get back to you on that.
If you are expecting some deep, artistic, thought out piece of writing then you will be disappointed. You are about to get a face-full of ME, not some deep, artistic, thought out piece of writing.
So who is this me person anyway?

For now let me introduce myself as the person who I think I am, as accurately as I can with my limited knowledge of myself.

I don't really fit the Lone Peak demographic. I'm not from Utah and I'm not a huge fan of city life (yeah I consider this a city. Weird, I know). I miss the giant trees in my yard, the beautiful sunsets that I enjoyed from my second story bedroom window and even the birds who built a nest in the roof right about my room and would always wake me up at some absurd hour of the morning with their squabbling. 

Also, I didn't get my Disney fix as a child. I grew up mostly on weird Japanese films instead and watched them while eating rice crackers, the floor littered with my little Ultraman figurines. Only later did I realize that normal Americans don't do that. I feel like I've been robbed of my childhood.

Half of the time, I have no idea what anyone is talking about. 

I sometimes wish I belonged, like everyone else. I sometimes wish I had grown up watching the same TV shows, listening to the same music, complaining about the same junior high teachers, enjoying the same rides at Disneyland and whatever else it is that normal Utah kids do. I wish I could be popular and cool. Maybe I will someday. Probably not. I dunno. 

But I do enjoy being different. 

I'm too white to be Japanese, I'm too Japanese to be white.

I'm a farm boy from Idaho but I drive like a Utard.
I don't belong anywhere and I don't care.

I love the city but I hate living in one. 

I love people. Especially female people.

I wish I was brown. 

I'm afraid of the cool kids just a little bit. 

I love old fiddles, guitars and things with strings. 

I can and will eat anything that holds still long enough. 

I've never kissed anyone. 

My name is originally Polynesian but it means a variety of things in different languages such as ocean, clams, food and puke. 

I am a photographer, not much of a writer and sometimes I play music. 

I believe that you only truly live when you don't let life happen to you. You happen to it. 

Oh goodness look it's midnight. I just hiked 7 miles, washed the dog, sat down to write this and now I'm boring you and rambling about life instead of introducing myself.

So if you must know, this is me. Sortof.

This is Facebook me. If you like Facebook me better, friend me on Facebook or Instagram.
My IG handle is life_of_ka1

This is Real Me. If you like Real Me better, add my blog to your reading list :)

(The other asian is my sister)

Oh yeah, and my name is Kai Johnson. Almost forgot.

Letters from Home

My Old House: So I hear rumblings that my family is moving into your walls this coming Thursday?

My New House: You must be the nice, old farmhouse in Idaho! As a matter of fact they are. They say it's going to be a temporary arrangement. 

My Old House: Ah, I see. I do hope you take good care of them. They grew up here you know. They spent much of their time out in the yard chasing insects and climbing my trees. 

New House: Well you see, I don't have much of a yard to offer. It's more of a dirt patch with a fence really. This part of Utah is rather crowded. 

Old House: That's too bad. They raised goats, chickens, pigs and sheep here. Do you know if they plan to keep the dog?

New House: I hope not. The last tenant's dogs chewed the trim around all of the corners inside me. And I won't even mention what they did in the yard. 

Old House: Tough life eh, sonny? You live in a different world. You see out here, we don't have fancy things like sidewalks, cul de sacs or grocery stores nearby. You gotta travel for those kinds of things. And if you think dogs can make a mess of the garden then you should see what pigs can do. I'm afraid my family will have some adjusting to do in your area. 

New House: Wait you don't have sidewalks? I don't understand. Where did your family's kids ride their tricycles when they were growing up?

Old House: They didn't ride tricycles much. The only things to ride out here are bikes and four wheelers. I hear there are a lot of churches down where you are?

New House: Oh yes they're everywhere!

Old House: Good. There are a few here so that will help with the adjustment. 

New House: The new family just arrived! They don't seem terribly impressed.

Old House: It's hard to leave a home for a house.

New House: Yeah. Do you think they will ever change their minds?

Old House: Hard to say

Leaving home for a house. 

We all leave home at some point and exchange it for a place to live. 

But you never forget the place where you played out your childhood.

Home

How to High School

I didn't write this for you. I wrote this for me. I wrote this because I just spent a very large portion of my day trying to please the gods of GPA instead of actually living life or spending time with people I love or going outside to see the sun. I wrote this because I'm mad and I need to remind myself why I still bow to the gods of tests, grades and GPA.

After all this time in the public education system, I have learned only a few things.
1: The zipper side of the pants is the front
2: I absolutely detest science
3: It is possible to perform an optical illusion on yourself to make your teacher's head disappear
4: Extreme boredom leads me to do stupid things, like make my teacher's head disappear

As far as I know, there are no career possibilities in the academic fields of science hating, pants wearing and professional extreme boredom so I begin to wonder what exactly I was supposed to learn in all this time I've spent wandering the halls of America's public education facilities.

So here's my uneducated little opinion on the matter of high school.
First of all, good grades don't mean you are a smart person. They mean you are just really good at being told what to do. I have met with a lot of really successful guys and I have yet to hear one of them say that passing chemistry is what got them where they are. In fact, quite a few of them never finished college. Because in the real world, knowing the difference between the anode and cathode end of an electrochemical equation is not nearly as important as knowing how to file a tax return or how to invest.
Good grades don't make you smart, they make you good at taking orders. That's not necessarily a bad thing for some folks but I don't plan to take orders for the rest of my life.
Good grades do look good on college applications though and are likely to bring you money in scholarships. That's where good grades are important. So you can tell colleges that you will be a good student.
There are very few classes in high school that pay dividends in actual useful knowledge or experience, this creative writing class definitely being one of them (Yeah Nelson, you rock).
One of the most important assets that can be gained in high school is a social network. A group of friends. A support group. A group that you love, and they love you. These are the people you can hang out with, support and draw support from. Life is so much easier when you can get help from friends. Most of the summer jobs I have gotten came from a friend or associate. It's a lot harder to land a job by just dropping a resume.
High school is awesome.
High school is easy compared to real life.
High school is still hard sometimes.
High school is NOT REAL LIFE.
I love high school
But I won't miss it

Things I'm scared of

Things I'm Scared of.

This place.

And everyone in it. 

It's past.

It's future.

And how infinitely small I am compared to anything that could happen in this place.

Things I'm Not Gonna do Because I'm Scared

Panic.

Pretend I'm the only important thing that lives here.

Forget the past.

Let the future direct itself.

Let myself die without seeing this place, this beautiful place where I live. 

Abandon myself to obscurity. 

I may be small but I'm still me. I am still here. And I am still enough to make a difference in this big, big world.

Here's to Friday

Cruising down a dirt road in my grandpa's old Chevy, or flying down some forgotten country lane with the windows down.

 Swimming holes, fishing poles and fruit roles.

 Late nights, trampolines and a sky full of stars.

 Red rocks, summer sun and sand in my sleeping bag.

 Blue skies, french fries and a pair of pretty blue eyes.

 T-shirts, jeans and smiles all around.

 Her hair tickling the summer breeze.

 Grass stains, granola bars and gatorade.

 Swimming pools, sports, campfires and marshmallows.

 Open windows, open hearts.

 Campfire tales, hot dogs and laughter.

 Fighting over sleeping spots in the tent, melty ice cream, chasing squirrels out of the trail mix.

Scout camp songs, country songs and made up songs mingle with the bird songs as they rise through the trees.

 Hikes and strolls, beautiful sunsets and someone to share them with.

Snow cone shacks, dance dates, full moons, doorsteps.

That's Friday to me.

Here's to getting lost and not caring so long as she's in the car

Here's to open roads and sunny trails

Here's to our last few months of living at home

Here's to pillow fights with siblings

Here's to Mom's special dinners

Here's to Parents putting up with missed curfews and dirty laundry

Here's to being a kid

Here's to Senior Prom

Here's to the best part of our lives so far

So here's to Fridays past and Fridays to come. 

Yeah Here's to Friday

So quite doing homework for a while and enjoy your last few Fridays as a kid

The Sun Will Come. It Always Has. It Always Will.

The sun will come. It always has. It always will.

This one is for the new kid.
For lonely lunch times.
For the kid wearing the same shoes every day for a year because his family can't afford another pair.
For solitary walks to and from school. Every day. Rain or shine.
For the kid who's dreams never seem to come true.
For the kid who could never get the girl.
or the next girl.
or the next.
or the next.
or the next.
or the next.
Six times he asked to Prom.
Six times he was turned down.
This is for Johnny.
This is also for the girl who never got asked.
The one who tried so hard to be noticed but was never seen.
This is for the kid whom everyone thought was on top of the world.
But he still hurt.
This is for Terik.
This is for the kid who tried and tried but could never understand math.
This is for BYU applications, regent scholarships, AP classes and other high expectations.
This is for late-night study sessions.
This is for missing breakfast and lunch and the bus on the same day.
This is for winners.
This is for losers.
This is for taking 2nd place.
Over and over again.
For years.
This is for second rate dreamers who wish they could just once be more than, "almost good enough."
This is for practicing in the garage at 11pm because no other time or place in this world was available.
This is for the losers who have convinced everyone but themselves they are winning.
This is the kid who is still trying to like himself.
This is for me.
This is for you.
This is for us.


Even though life is often dark, and harsh and painful. Even though everyone is walking around with a Terik or Johnny or whatever shaped hole in their heart. Even though the darkness is cold and silent and unforgiving, there is no other place from which we can see the stars.
Just look up.

The sun will come. It always has. It always will.

So I'll keep walking, my eyes on the horizon, waiting for the first golden ray to break the silence and help me feel alive again.

Because I've learned to hope in the dark.
I've learned to look at the stars.

Every now and then, I'll see a sunrise.
And it's kind of like an oreo ice cream/first kiss/jump out of an airplane/road trip/birthday party/bungee jump/swim with sharks/Betos burrito/front row seat in a concert/warm hug/hot cocoa/long shower/new guitar/bowl of jelly beans/summer Saturday sorta feeling you know?

We've all been there once.
We can all be there once more.
So I hope you keep walking till your sun rises.

Because the sun will come. It always has. It always will.