Musings

The Downhill Side

2011-04-30T22:04:00.010-06:00

When I was a kid people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would answer that I didn't want to grow up. I loved being a kid and staying a kid was just fine by me, thank you very much. Well, time doesn't listen to a kid and it continues to march on. Teenage years come, then go. Twenties happen and youth is embraced. Too soon your twenties fade and you approach the first major milestone of adulthood: the big 3-0!

Turning thirty wasn't traumatic for me as it is for others. I think I took it in stride and lived like I was still young. However, something significant happens when you turn 31 and leave 30 to enter your "thirties". I was unprepared for the implications of such old age.

This thirty-something Peter Pan received a magazine in the mail shortly after turning thirty-one. It was entitled Living Well - A Health & Lifestlye Magazine for Thriving Adults. My first thought was, "I must have arrived, I am apparently a 'thriving adult'." I opened the magazine and the first thing I saw was an ad for dental implants. A cursory check of my mouth revealed that I, despite my advanced age, have retained all my original teeth. Whew!

When I turned the page and saw an ad for a walk-in tub my eyebrow lifted and my suspicion grew. What kind of magazine was this?! Giving it the benefit of the doubt, I kept reading. A few pages later an ad for the Salt Lake Senior Clinic occupied an entire page. Okay, now something was fishy - this wasn't a magazine for thriving thirty-somethings, this was a magazine for the geriatric! Was thirty-one really the new sixty? It seemed so.

With each new ad and article it became very clear that someone somewhere thought I was old. Very, very old. Ads for in-home personal care, health care, hearing aids, retirement communities, estate planning and others made my wife and I laugh but one put us over the top:

a funeral planner!

This Peter Pan may have grown up (and may, or may not, have lost some hair) but if I have anything to do with it, and I think I do, I won't be needing any of these services for a long time. At least until I hit thirty-two...

Lazy days...

2010-05-04T19:43:00.008-06:00

Our nation is built on the principle of work. Immigrants would flock to America and ply their trade, hoping for a better life than the one they left behind. Unfortunately, that ethic is bring lost on today's generation. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a lazy person by nature. I try and combat it by working hard, but when it comes right down to it - I'm lazy. For example, I should be doing homework right now instead of writing a nonsensical blog post about laziness yet I find myself tinkering around doing nothing. As of late, though, I haven't had the opportunity to be lazy, what with work, school and now being engaged, I just haven't had the time to be lazy. How sad is that?

I take comfort in knowing that I'm not alone in my laziness. Our country, it seems, is becoming more and more lazy. I'm sure there are some stats out there that support my assumption, but I'm just not feeling like looking it up right now.

Accompanying laziness is a sedentary lifestyle. This can lead to health problems for some people because food intake doesn't usually decrease when activity does. I'm not a doctor, but it would seem to me that the food has to go somewhere and if you're not burning it up, it probably stays with you. Additionally, lazy people don't usually take the time to prepare meals and as such eat very unhealthy.

Indeed, the problems of laziness and unhealthy eating appear, in some cases, to go hand-in-hand and are leading to the decline of our once-great nation. Fortunately, there are people and organizations that are fighting this epidemic. And no, I'm not talking about the President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports, the American Heart Association, or even the National Institute on Health.

Grocery stores, like Albertson's, and Smith's, are increasingly finding themselves on the front lines in the fight against laziness. How is this possible, you ask? People have been walking through markets for centuries selecting food and other commodities, how is today any different?

Have you seen, in most grocery stores, the self-checkout machines popping up? They're inspiring the re-birth of the American values of work and independence by sloughing their checkout responsibilities onto the lazy citizens of this country and allowing you to scan and bag your own Twinkies. Very innovative.

Now if I can just figure out how that's going to help me finish this post, I'll be set. Oh well... I'll get around to it later.

The Move

2010-01-04T00:06:00.010-07:00

I get asked all the time for relationship advice from my single friends, and it makes complete sense - a nearly 30 year old single LDS guy in Utah must have all the answers, right?

While many things with dating and courtship have remained the same over the years, science has shown, as a result of careful study and investigation, dating is changing. Judging by the number of dating books in your local Barnes & Noble, dating has been analyzed and poked and prodded until almost everything that can be known about it is known, and published. That is not to say, however, that women have been explained; even science has its limitations.

For generations, guys have been trying to woo the fairer sex, with varying levels of success. Because these attempts have been going on for so long, there are some standard practices that have been passed down from generation to generation among the menfolk. One of these practices is known affectionately as "The Move".

I believe most people are, at least cognitively, familiar with this technique, but for those who may not be, please allow me to explain. Scientifically speaking, The Move is a time-tested, battle-proven technique whereby a male, sitting adjacent to a female, pretends to stretch his arm behind the female and somehow, magically almost, it lands on the opposite side of the female, effectively positioned to induce a proximity narrowing position. Stated simply, it's an easy way for a guy to get his arm around a girl.

This move, while highly effective, is not without its failures. Most females are so familiar with The Move that they can see it coming a mile away. This isn't a problem; there are two possible outcomes when executing The Move: success and failure. Built into The Move is a failure prevention technique. If the guy senses that the girl is set to reject The Move, he can easily bring his arm back to its original resting place and shrug off the attempt as a legitimate stretch, thereby saving face and avoiding possible embarrassment.

The Move can be implemented in many situations, but is traditionally found in movie theaters where the dim lighting and the soothing THX surround sound system creates an environment ripe for wooing. Unfortunately, the scientific studies mentioned previously have not, to my knowledge, performed any scientific inquiry into the success rate of The Move in theaters. If they had they would have discovered that the attempt rate of The Move has dropped off drastically in movie theaters across the nation - something science had not considered.

What is the cause of this drop off? The answer is simple: the anti-Move arm rest. Most theaters now attempt to accommodate those brave lads who try to pull The Move by making their arm rests movable. They can go up, or go down. In the "up" position it allows the guy an easy attempt at The Move. Not only is access improved, but there is a little pad between the seats to further accommodate a successful Move by making the two seats become one large, comfortable seat.

However, these very same arm rests have prevented many a Move. Generally, upon entering the theater, the arm rests are found in the "up" position - the perfect setup. When things go awry is when your company for the evening moves the arm rest into the "down" position - effectively communicating "that is your space and this is mine and never the twain shall meet." The Move has met its match.

When you're in a theater and you see that bad boy come down, know that you don't have a play. It's time to just sit back and enjoy the show.

Duck, duck...GOOSE!

2009-12-20T14:26:00.011-07:00

In response to an invasion by American forces led by John Candy, our not-so-friendly neighbor to the north, Canada, has launched an air strike on the citizenry of the United States - namely this citizen.

I narrowly escaped becoming a casualty of this tense conflict yesterday, avoiding what would surely have been an international incident. What follows is a harrowing tale of timing, fortune and sheer dumb luck. The following is intended for mature audiences only - viewer discretion is advised.

I was returning to my apartment home in the waning twilight of the day when I heard a sound that chilled my soul and made my blood run cold. It was the ominous honking of the Canadian Goose. No sooner did I hear the honking than I saw a great formation of geese appear over the rise. The cloud of geese blocked out what little light was remaining.

I instantly felt the fear those feel who view their mortality in a split-second video played before their eyes. I quickly snapped out of it, however, and did what any man in my situation would do: I ran for cover.

I reached the protective covering of my porch and turned around to witness carnage never meant for human eyes. In the very spot I was standing previously I witnessed a precision guided smart-bomb explode with unparalleled viciousness and a resounding "SPLAT!". Mercifully, I was spared a fate worse than death.

Remember, when you hear the honk, don't be brave and don't be a hero, just get yourself under something real quick. Those Canucks are crazy, eh!

Christmas or Clausmas?

2009-12-01T23:32:00.024-07:00

Bear with me folks, this is a long one. It took me some time to put it together, so if you’re going to read it, I would appreciate it if you read it all the way through.

It’s difficult for me to accurately express my feelings about Christmas. There are some things about Christmas that I absolutely love and there are things about Christmas that I really don’t like much. It’s always an interesting time for me as I try to manage the sometimes conflicting feelings I have about the season. If you’ll indulge me for a while I’ll try to explore my thoughts and feelings about the season and maybe it’ll end up making some sort of sense.

I'd like to end on a positive note, so let’s start with the reasons why I don’t like Christmas.

I don’t like how Christmas has become a very commercial holiday; it seems the only reason Christmas exists is so the the corporate world can make a buck. I was in a Wal-Mart store before Halloween and there were Christmas trees, angels, colored balls, tinsel, lights, Santa Clauses (or is it Santa Clausi?), and decorations of every sort and size. Perhaps I’m just a naïve shopper, but I was really taken aback by this - it seems Christmas goes on sale earlier every year. In the not-too-distant future, we may be seeing Santa Claus in the mall on the 4th of July.

Kids make a list of the things they want for Christmas, listing such things as iPods, Nintendos, cell phones, DVD’s, toys, etc. They sit on Santa’s lap and recite the list to him hoping and expecting to receive the things they request. This attitude of "gimme, gimme!" is pervasive and dominates the Christmas season. Do I blame the children for this? Absolutely not. Do I blame the parents? I think they may share some responsibility for this, but honestly I don’t know who to blame, nor do I know that it’s important that someone receive blame for this. It’s just something I don’t like. On a day we commemorate the greatest gift we, as children of God, have received the only thing people think about are bicycles, Barbies, movies, and what “I’m going to get for Christmas”. It’s disheartening to see.

Santa Claus plays a big role in all of this. The jolly old elf who slides down chimneys, rides in a sleigh pulled by tiny reindeer, checks a list twice that he maintains of every child in the world before he goes on his worldwide whirlwind journey has become a symbol of everything I dislike about Christmas, which is unfortunate really, given the history of Santa Claus, or St. Nicholas. According to Wikipedia, St. Nick was the “primary inspiration for the Christian figure of Santa Claus.” Apparently, he was well known for giving gifts to the poor – definitely a noteworthy and laudable practice.

I don’t dislike Santa Claus for the history behind the legend, for his tradition of distributing gifts or even for the fabricated story of his existence. In fact, I don't actually have a problem with Santa Claus himself. The problem I have is that Santa Claus has become the central figure of Christmas.

Christmas is not the celebration of a fat man in a red suit. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the Savior of the world – the Lord Jesus Christ. Even with the benevolent background of St. Nicholas, there really is no comparison between the two. Santa Claus’ supplanting of Christ as the central figure of Christmas is really what is at the root of my distaste for what the holiday has become.

A poem, by an author unknown to me, encapsulates my thoughts on this:

At Christmas time there was a man
who looked so out of place
as people rushed about him
at a hurried sort of pace.

He stared at all the Christmas lights,
the tinsel everywhere,
the shopping center Santa Claus
with children gathered near.

The mall was packed with shoppers
who were going to and fro,
some with smiles, some with frowns,
and some too tired to go.

They rested on benches
or they hurried on their way
to fight the crowds for purchases
to carry home that day.

The music from the stereo
was playing loud and clear
of Santa Claus and snowmen
and funny nosed reindeer.

He heard the people talk about
the good times on the way,
of parties, fun and food galore,
and gift exchange that day.

"I'd like to know what's going on,"
the man was heard to say.
"There seems to be some sort
of celebration on the way.

And would you tell me who this is
all dressed in red and white
and why are children asking him
about a special night?"

The answer came in disbelief,
"I can't believe my ear.
I can't believe you do not know,
that Christmas time is here.

The time when Santa comes around
with gifts for girls and boys
when they are asleep on Christmas Eve,
he leaves them books and toys.

The man you see in red and white
is Santa Claus so sly.
The children love his joyful laugh,
and twinkle in his eye.

His gift packed sleigh is pulled along
by very small reindeer
as he flies quickly through the air,
while darting here and there.

The children learn of Santa Claus
while they are still quite small.
When Christmas comes he is the most
important one of all."

The stranger hung His head in shame,
He closed a nail pierced hand.
His body shook in disbelief.
He did not understand.

A shadow crossed His stricken face,
His voice was low but clear.
"After all these years they still don't know."
And Jesus shed a tear.

Christmas is the time we celebrate the birth of the Only Begotten of the Father, the One who came to save us from our sins. He condescended to become like us so we could become like Him. As has been said by His duly ordained Prophet and Apostles, “God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son.”

The greatest of all was born in a lowly stable and wrapped in swaddling clothes. Angels heralded His arrival, a new star announced His birth, wise men traveled from afar to present Him with gifts, shepherds left their flocks to worship Him. The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the great Jehovah was come.

Herein lays the true reason for the season. Above all the sparkling lights, the wrapping paper, the reindeer and elves, and all the hubbub that accompanies the holiday, we should celebrate Christ and His birth. Let us teach our children that Christ is the center of Christmas and all the other traditions or celebrations are secondary to Christ.

This time of year, please consider the things that truly matter and it’s not Santa Claus or presents under a tree, it's not stockings hung by the chimney with care or sugar plums dancing in your head. The things that matter are family, friends, goodwill, love and kindness. These are the things that mattered to Christ when He walked the earth and those are the very same things that matter to Him now and are the same things He would have matter to us as well. Please share that love with the people around you.

Remember what the Grinch said in Dr. Seuss' famous story, after the Grinch had stolen the presents, packages, food and all the trappings of Christmas:

"It came without ribbons, it came without tags,
It came without packages, boxes or bags.

And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before...

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more."

Merry Christmas and God bless you my friends – may you be happy and loved this season and throughout the year!

Adapted from my Christmas post last year.

Sock it to me!

2009-11-30T18:31:00.014-07:00

You may be wondering where I've been because I haven't posted any fresh material for a while...or you may be asking, "Who is this guy and why does he think we care about the drivel he puts out in cyberspace?" I have an answer for you: you're obviously still reading, so, small as it may be, this means something to you. Take that.

I've been involved in a very important project - scientific research. No, I was not abducted by extraterrestrials, nor was I selected for top secret government work at a remote Nevada airbase. Rather, I designed, conducted and analyzed this research myself. In my bedroom. With no government grants, either.

You're probably dying of curiosity right now, just itching to know what could be so important that it would consume a portion of my precious time and attention, and now a portion of yours. I'll tell you: socks. Yes, those socks - the very same as the kind you (hopefully) put on your feet.

Haven't you ever wondered why some of your socks come out of the wash inside out, or even balled up? I have. A lot. I've decided to get some definitive answers to this perplexing modern conundrum, so I did what any reasonable person does: I googled "inside-out socks" and hoped for an informative Wikipedia site. Unfortunately, apparently none exist. This is obviously new scientific territory.

With this in mind, I set out to get to the bottom of the sock mystery, even if it meant doing actual work. "Fascinating" does not even begin to describe the results of my exhaustive research efforts; no, there are many other words that more accurately describe my findings, words which we shall not mention in this post.

To begin, I had to design the experiment. I used a highly specialized process and employed techniques you probably wouldn't understand even if I explained them twice and used small words. That won't stop me from trying to relay to you my method, so I will explain it thusly: I sorted my laundry - and what a painstaking process it was. Not only did I have to divide my laundry according to color (in our modern day and age, how can one feel right about segregation in any form?!), but I had to make sure all my socks were right-side-out (so if any switched to inside-out I would know. I didn't want mixed inside-out and right-side-out because then there would be no way of controlling for potential switching - this is a scientific study, after all) and counted before they went into the machine.

I've never had to do this before (count socks, I mean; I sort my laundry - I'm no Neanderthal) and it was an enlightening experience. I learned from the outset that the reason that sometimes I have an odd number of socks coming out of the laundry is because sometimes I have an odd number going in. I have effectively, and unintentionally, debunked the myth of the dryer-sock-eating-monster. It was encouraging to me to see such progress at the very onset of my study.

I had 17 ankle socks and two calf-length socks go into the wash. That's 19 total socks, in case you needed help with the math. I ensured that all socks were right-side-out before going in the wash. After the wash cycle, I discovered that the washer sometimes eats socks as well. I had 17 ankle socks going in, but unfortunately we lost one in the mix somewhere; only 16 made it to the dryer. A moment of silence, please.

Thank you.

Turns out that the sock that went MIA after the wash cycle was never recovered. S/he joined the rest of the socks in sock purgatory where they await something, I'm just not sure what.

I recovered a total of 18 socks - both calf-length socks and the remainder were of the ankle variety. All 18 socks were right-side-out, leading me to believe that one of two things happened: either socks don't go inside-out on their own, or I have intelligent socks. I'm leaning towards the latter.

While this study is far from comprehensive, I believe it lays the foundation of important work and future study.

Where's my Nobel Prize?

I ain't scared!

2009-11-12T22:54:00.004-07:00

A phobia is a "persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it." These phobias come in many shapes and sizes. Some are more incapacitating than others.

Topping the list of the ten most phobias is arachnophobia (the fear of spiders), and ophidiophobia (the fear of snakes). Not too much further down the list is cynophobia - the fear of dogs. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a recovering cynophobic. As the saying goes, "time heals all wounds." I know that I'm not a completely recovered cynophobe but I'm working on it. However, there are bigger fish to fry right now.

I also have two lesser known, but equally debilitating, phobias. I don't know that they have names just yet as they are probably off the phobologists' collective radar. Don't laugh...these are things I deal with on a daily basis. I haven't yet developed a complex over them, but I'm convinced that's due solely to my vigilance in protecting myself against these phobias so they don't come to pass.

What are these irrational fears, you ask?

Firstly, I'm afraid that I'll be walking in public with my zipper down. Zipping up becomes such a part of the routine that there are times that you don't think about it at all. It's kind of like when you are driving somewhere familiar and all of a sudden *POOF* you're there and you have no idea how you got there, but yet there you are. When this kind of short-term amnesia is zipper-related, a moment of panic ensues - did I zip up or did I forget..I don't know...I can't remember! Alarm bells ring, my face flushes and I immediately seek a casual way of checking to make sure I'm secure down south. I'm usually able to accomplish this by a subtle belt buckle adjustment. So far I haven't had any issues, that I know of anyway.

My other phobia, coincidentally, involves bathrooms. However, this time it's a place I'm not familiar with that scares me - the women's bathroom. Sometimes when you're in a public place and in a hurry to answer nature's call you just rush into the nearest restroom. Like driving and zipping up, this can be an autopilot occurrence. Sometimes I don't check the signs well enough as I'm walking in. There is a split second of sheer horror as I realize that I may have just walked cavalier-like into the women's restroom. I wait for the inevitable screaming, but it doesn't come. There's a urinal. Ahhh...I picked the right door. I've been lucky so far, but one day, unavoidably, I fear I will pick the wrong door and have to deal with the consequences of it.

They say the best way to overcome a fear is to face it head on, so if you see me with my zipper down heading into the women's restroom, just pat me on the back, wish me well, praise me for my courage and know that I'm confronting my fear.

Shirts, Shoes, Socks and Slacks

2009-11-04T22:06:00.007-07:00

I've had a number of people recently say to me, "Jason, you're a svelte guy and a pretty swanky dresser. How do you do it?" As a result of being inundated with similar comments, I've decided to create this handy guide to help my fellow guys clothes shop like pros. Just because you may not be a guy doesn't mean you can't read and maybe even learn a thing or two. I present to you clothes shopping in seven easy steps:

Step One: Don't Be Scared
The store is not going to eat you. It may take your money, but your physical well-being is almost guaranteed. If you can't do this step, you will not be successful in your shopping endeavors.

Step Two: Locate the Mens' Department
There are some very alluring clothes in other departments; but if you stare too long, feel the fabric, or (heaven forbid) try an item on, people will think you are a creep and you may be kicked out of the store. Trust me on this one.

Step Three: Memorization
You must very casually and nonchalantly memorize every outfit and article of clothing featured in pictures or displayed on mannequins. These are your targets and the only items of clothing you need to pay attention to. If you happen upon an article of clothing you potentially like, you must first check with the pictures and mannequins to make sure it fits the style. If the item doesn't match the style, don't touch it! The only items of clothing you should be buying are on display.

Step Four: Fit
When you locate an approved item of clothing, you must make sure the item is the right size for you. This is accomplished by simply holding the item up to your body. A trip to the dressing room is not necessary if you hold it up to yourself properly. If you are an experienced shopper, you may try taking into account shrinkage resulting from washing and drying. Exercise caution, however, accounting for shrinkage is an advanced technique - do not even think about attempting if you are an amateur.

Step Five: Store Help
If any store personnel ask you if you need help, politely decline. You are your own man (or woman), help is for people who don't know how to clothes shop.

Step Six: Checking Out
Inevitably when you're checking out the cashier will ask you if you want to keep the hangers. The correct response is: "no". You don't want to seem like you're unprepared for your new clothes. You must give the impression you have plenty of hangers - remember, clothes shopping is a regular event for you. Besides, we both know the clothes are just going to end up on the floor anyway.

Step Seven: Time
You must complete all prior steps in ten minutes or less. Fifteen is acceptable in extreme cases.

There you have it folks, a sure guide to shopping. Good luck, have fun and remember: tags always go in back. Always.

What's it worth to you?

2009-10-20T19:14:00.007-06:00

When you dine at a restaurant, it is considered good form to leave a gratuity, or tip, for your server. When you get your hair cut, a massage or other personal services performed it is also appropriate to tip the person providing those services. I suppose this is our culture's way of thanking them for the service rendered.

I've never really been comfortable with the idea of placing a monetary value on another person's work so I tend to maybe be a bit more generous than I should be. However, I had an experience recently that totally changed that mindset.

I was returning home to Utah from a quick trip to California and had to pass through airport security. I emptied my pockets and walked through a metal detector. The alarm went off, so I had to go back and try again. It went off again. I walked back to try again - BUZZ. Try again. BUZZ. Try again. BUZZ. The friendly TSA agent asked if I had anything in my pockets. I assured him I did not. He had me move into a glass box and wait for a more intensive search.

A not-so-friendly TSA agent carrying a wand approached me and had me step to the side where he was going to perform a search of my person to ensure I had no dangerous items I was trying to carry onboard a plane. The Wand Man asked me to turn out all of my pockets, which I did and in the course of so doing discovered that I had forgotten to remove my wallet...with a magnetic money clip.

I tried to explain to Wand Man that my wallet was obviously the cause for the metal detector alerting when I walked through and that I should be allowed to proceed on to my gate. But Wand Man wasn't having any of it. He explained to me that he had to conduct his search and that he would pass the wand over me and if it beeped, he would have to pat me down in the area it beeped.

He passed the wand all over my body and it never beeped once. Somehow Wand Man still felt the need to thoroughly pat me down. After becoming more acquainted with me than I am comfortable with any man being and satisfied that I was not carrying any dangerous items, I was free to go.

This left me with just one question: what does one usually tip for such intimate, personal service? Ten percent? Fifteen? Twenty? I didn't know either, so I just walked away, red-faced, to my gate.

Hitching a ride

2009-10-08T21:54:00.008-06:00

Today I did something I have rarely done in the past, yet I felt completely comfortable doing today - I picked up a hitchhiker.

This wasn't your typical road warrior thumbing by the freeway, no siree. I didn't even have to stop to pick him up, he was sitting on my hood when I walked out of work. I tried to shoo him off the hood but he merely moved a little and looked up at me - this was a bee with an attitude. I thought for sure he would hop off when I started driving - no such luck, he just sat there.

I decided to see how fast I could get going before he'd fall off so I gunned it out of the parking lot. When I was on the road, he was still on the hood. I figured I'd lose him on the freeway, but that danged bee kept hanging on. I decided to test his endurance and got up to about 85 MPH (don't try that at home) but the bee was still there. This was one tenacious bee.

Despite my Andretti-like speeds and stuntman maneuvers, the bee wouldn't budge. The only time I saw him move was when he crouched down, presumably to be more aerodynamic. He hung on the entire time on my way back from work. As I was driving and watching the bee cling to my hood, I thought about life. I thought about how we should attack life with the same resolve this bee had; how we should never lose sight of our goals and pursue them with all the effort we had; how when life is battering us and we want to give how we should hang on for all we're worth. I thought about how much fun the bee must have been having and I also thought that maybe the bee had died and gotten stuck somehow.

This last thought proved to be false when I got out of my car and observed the bee crawl on the hood. If I'd had a hat on, I would have taken it off for this bee. I did have my shoes on, however.

I took off one of my shoes and as I raised it above my head I said with a snarl, "Adios, vaya con Dios" and let the shoe fall. Mission accomplished...or so I thought. It seems the bee has gotten the last laugh - he is still on my hood.

Don't know what you ot 'til it's one...

2009-09-23T21:37:00.008-06:00

You all probably already know this, but I'm in a Master's pro ram at BYU. To facilitate my learnin I had to purchase a laptop computer. I studied my options and compared prices (read: went to Office Max and said, "That one looks cool.") before purchasin the computer that would eventually carry me throu h rad school. I affectionately named my computer "Pam", an ana ram of the pro ram I was in (MPA).

However, it has not been all peaches and cream. The pro ram is difficult at times and my computer has, at times, been less than friendly. Immediately followin the first semester, the hard drive on my laptop decided it was done with school (wish I could say the same). Fortunately for me, Pam was warrantied and the nice folks at HP sent me a new hard drive lickity split so I could et back to my learnin . Pam’s name chan ed at that time to Pampire – a laptop risen from the dead.

There's a new problem, thou h. I noticed shortly after purchasin Pam that there was a key on the keyboard that liked to fall off. I was always able to put it back on and proceed on my way. But this time, thou h, the key has fallen off and I can't et it back on.

It's a ood thin my papers are done for the week. I'd have a heck of a time explainin to my professors why my paper has no letter " ".

Recession

2009-09-14T17:47:00.010-06:00

Life is cyclical - things come and go. A few years ago, a serious recession started that has continued to this day. I'm not talking about the financial distress our nation finds itself in today; I'm talking about something far more important: my hair.

When I was born I had a little hair, but by the time I was toddling around I had beautiful tresses of light blonde hair. Life was good.

As I've aged, my hair has darkened. It went from toe-headed blonde to blonde to dark blonde to light brown to brown. Now, unfortunately, it's gone from brown to gone. As a result, I made the life-altering decision to shave my head. It's been over a year now since I made that decision and I haven't regretted it once. Something like this can really shake a person to their core and make them feel like they are seriously lacking in their life and they attempt to make up for it in interesting ways.

People will try to compensate for perceived inadequacies. Some people buy fancy sports cars or humongous pickup trucks in order to compensate for shortcomings (tee hee). Other people grow beards when they can't produce thick locks of golden blonde (or brown) hair. Apparently they think that by growing hair lower on their face it will somehow make up for a lack of it up on top. Weird, huh?

In many ways, my personal recession is something of a migration. You see, the hair that is was once on my scalp is starting to take up residence on my ears. MY EARS!! I thought that kind of craziness was reserved for old men, in which group I most certainly do not classify myself (right? right?? RIGHT?!?!).

The United States will eventually pull out of its recession. Some of us, however, won't be so fortunate. I guess we'll just have to resort to growing beards...and shaving ear hair.

Toothpaste terrorism

2009-09-07T22:08:00.003-06:00

When traveling abroad in the United States, if you fly and carry your personal hygiene items in your carry-on bag, there are limitations to what you can carry. Apparently, liquids, gels, and pastes are forbidden substances, if they're not in a clear bag. Because the clear bag makes all the difference in the world when preventing a terrorist attack.

I had no idea that toothpaste was considered a dangerous substance, or a liquid. On a recent flight to Dallas, I had my hygiene items in my travel case, a Wal-Mart bag, and thought that was sufficient. I was wrong.

The top-notch, highly-trained and educated Homeland Security agency, the Transportation Security Administration, or TSA, screened my bag and then decided that it warranted further searching. One of their crack agents had noticed that I had an unsecured tube of toothpaste not in the clear plastic bags. My bag was searched and the offending tube was removed and the TSA agent eyed my warily, "This tube is larger than 3.4 ounces and you are not allowed to bring it on a flight."

Now, don't get me wrong, I appreciate that there are measures in effect to protect our nation and keep air travel safe, I really do - but toothpaste?! Maybe I should have done a science fair project where I blew something up using Crest Whitening Mint flavor paste instead of baking soda and vinegar. I probably would have gotten something more than just a "Participant" ribbon.

After further research, I found that toothpaste actually does contain an explosive ingredient - propylene glycol, which "becomes deadly when added to a mixture of concentrated nitric and sulfuric acids creating the liquid explosive called metriol trinitrate, which is similar to nitroglycerine."

For now, I use a mini-tube (3.4 ounces) of toothpaste, hoping to show the government that I am not in fact a terrorist, but rather a dentally concerned citizen. Maybe next time, TSA should be on the lookout for nitric and sulfuric acids instead of my toothpaste.

Fish on!

2009-07-11T21:07:00.006-06:00

You hear people talk sometimes about animal magnetism. Usually when people talk about this, they are referring to their own (or others') perceived ability to unwittingly attract people to them with some unidentifiable charismatic power.

In elementary school, I learned about magnets and how they have two poles. The poles are known as a North pole and a South pole. One pole of a magnet will attract the opposite pole of another magnet and repel it's counterpart on the other magnet. In 1989, this concept was effectively proved to be true when Paula Abdul released her hit Opposites Attract.

I am currently a ripe 29 years of age. And, I am not ashamed to admit I have a certain degree of animal magnetism. Historically, I haven't been a serious fisherman, but in the last couple of years I've gotten my fishing license and a modest fishing pole with a limited amount of tackle. I've gone fishing throughout Utah and in some places in Alaska. I've fished in Alaska at times when the salmon were running and fishermen were lined shoulder-to-shoulder in a river. I've seen fishermen on either side of me pull fish out of the river with ease while I look on with envy. Apparently my animal magnetism repels fish.

I haven't caught a fish in years, probably since I was about 14 or 15 years old; I'll leave it to you to determine just how long that is. I've spent countless hours trying to overcome this animal magnetism, to no avail. You just can't compete with physics.

This weekend my animal magnetism was again brought to light. In the Uinta Mountains, there are easily dozens of lakes, if not more. These lakes are stocked with an assortment of fish, especially trout. Using a highly specialized (and stinky) trout bait, I spent a couple hours trying to trick just one fish that the yellow sparkly gelatinous blob on my hook was, in fact, tasty and delicious. The closest I got was watching fish jump and trying to cast said gelatinous blob in the general vicinity of where I thought the fish was. My animal magnetism was in full force, yet again.

Good thing my animal magnetism doesn't work the same with women or I'd be a single 29-year old LDS man.

Oh.

Toys 'R Us, anyone?

2009-05-19T23:21:00.004-06:00

When you're a kid, people ask you: what do you want to be when you grow up? I've never had a really good answer for that. On more than one occasion I thought I had an answer for it. When I was younger, my answers were the normal kid answers. I wanted to be a pilot like my dad, I wanted to be a cop, a fireman, a soldier and a superhero.

When I grew up a little my answers changed a bit. I had more realistic, if not vague, goals. I started school studying Business Administration, but had no idea what I wanted to do with that degree, or even what I could do with it, but that didn't stop me from forging ahead one whole semester in pursuit of this goal.

When I came home from my LDS mission, I was talking with some friends and we had decided to move to Arizona and pursue our fortunes. Education was important to me, so I insisted we move someplace near a college or university. We learned that Arizona State University was a short drive from Phoenix and thus it was settled. We were moving to Arizona. Why Arizona? Why not?

After checking the tuition rates and realizing that I would be an non-resident student and would pay double for tuition, I shot that plan down. A short time later, I decided to change my major and my post-college plans to that of the field of Criminal Justice. This path lasted for all of a year and a half until I changed my major, yet again, to Psychology. At this time, I was "pot committed" (beware the link soft-hearted people). I finished my degree in Psychology, but couldn't settle down.

I planned to be a police officer in Phoenix, because I wanted to be a cop and I wanted to live in Arizona. Nevermind that my entire experience with Arizona consisted of a short stop in Tuscon (?) for a day (maybe two) when I was about 8 years old, planning a move with my friends years earlier, and hearing a song I now know is by Mark Lindsay, aptly titled "Arizona". The chorus of the song is all I really knew (and know) and it goes a little something like this: Ar-i-zohona (something, something), Ar-i-zohona (something else, something else). Profound lyrics.

After my brief foray into the police hiring process, I decided it wasn't for me. I felt lost. My life's plan of almost three years, the longest to that point, was gone. I didn't know what to do or where to turn.

It was this point that I started getting creative with my plans, and it hasn't really stopped yet. I wanted to buy a motorhome and a couple waverunners and move to Lake Tahoe and live in the motorhome and rent the waverunners to tourists seeking summer fun. When winter came, my plan was to buy some snowmobiles and do the same thing.

I wanted to own a dive shop and be a SCUBA instructor/tour guide in Hawaii taking people to old wrecks and WWII relics under water. Nevermind the fact that I'm not a SCUBA Dive Master, not SCUBA certified and have never actually been SCUBA diving, a dive shop in Hawaii was the plan.

These are just two examples of some of the more 'creative' life plans I've had. You'd think that now that I'm a college graduate, in a solid career and a graduate student in a program attached to a fairly prestigious college in a well known university, I'd grow up and settle down a little. Guess what? I'm still thinking and scheming for my life plan.

In recent weeks, I've wanted to live on a houseboat on the Great Salt Lake, be a flower farmer in Hawaii and have a ranch in Texas. Give me a couple of weeks and I'm sure I'll have at least one more plan.

I'm a stage in my life where most people would consider themselves "grown up", but I'm far from being grown up. Is there a rule that one has to grow up? I sure hope not, because that's one thing that is definitely not in any of my plans.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop...

2009-05-09T12:06:00.001-06:00

On my way to work today, I saw a sight that probably everyone has seen at least once – a lone shoe sitting in the middle of the road. Despite the common nature of this, I was perplexed. Whenever I see a shoe sitting by itself, I always wonder, “Where is its mate? How in the world did it get there? Does someone know it’s missing?”

Folks, these are questions with no easy answers. I thought long and hard this morning to come up with some answers and I present them now to you. They are, respectively: don’t know, don’t know, most likely.

But, on a more serious note, let’s examine this phenomenon a little more and see if we can’t come to some conclusions regarding the shoes. The first thing I always think happened is that it fell off of, or out of, the back of a truck. But, then I start to wonder, “How does a shoe just fall off of, or out of, the back of a truck?” I’ve had plenty of shoes in the back of a truck and not one has ever fallen off, out or in any way become separated from the truck. This explanation is clearly not reasonable.

Another possibility that must be examined is that someone, out of sheer malice may have thrown it from a car. This hypothesis has some holes, however. When I was a kid and on road trips, my siblings and I would generally take off our shoes because it was more comfortable. Inevitably, I would get mad at a sibling (usually my brother) for such heinous offenses as putting his arm on my side of the seat, staring at me, pretending to touch me and calling me names under his breath. When an appeal to parental authority didn’t resolve the situation, I would take matters into my own hands – I would grab one of his shoes and threaten to hurl it out the window. I knew I would never actually throw my brother’s shoe out the window, but if it happened to somehow fall out of my hand…

Another possibility is that the owner of the shoe could have been wearing it when he was crossing the street and an inattentive motorist may have struck the individual, knocking him clean out of his shoe(s). He would probably not have the presence of mind, while being wheeled into an ambulance, to inquire about his missing left shoe. However, in the course of the investigation, I would hope some observant police officer might happen upon the shoe and return it to its rightful owner, thus removing it from the street before I have the opportunity to ponder it.

Lastly, a fourth, and decidedly more likely, possibility needs to be discussed. I realize this may be uncomfortable for some of you to consider. Out of my kindness to the sensitivities of my readers, if you are faint of heart or easily frightened, I ask you to stop reading now because what follows will surely be disturbing to my more delicate readers. What I will speak of next has to do with things some people aren’t comfortable discussing in an open forum.

We are being invaded by aliens; our vagrant population is being abducted. You see, the shoe I saw was not a child’s shoe, so the possibility that a kid would be mad at his brother for encroaching on his vehicular territory is not a plausible explanation. It was not a newer shoe; in fact, this very shoe (like many others seen on the road) had seen its fair share of use and was almost completely worn out, not a typical shoe that your average Joe-blow would wear. This was the shoe of a person whose home was the street.

Think about this people. If YOU were to be abducted by an alien spacecraft, people would know that you were missing, questions would be asked, investigations would be started, searches would happen, billboards and signs would be erected and after all that, when you couldn’t be located, people would start looking skyward for an explanation. The aliens are smart beings and they recognize this. They don’t want the attention, thus they target people that few would notice are missing: our homeless population.

So, my friends, the next time you see a lone shoe sitting on the road, do what I do: pause for a moment of silence, bow your head and remember those who have gone before. Then, adjust your tin foil hat and get the heck outta there!

Turn, turn, turn

2009-05-03T15:48:00.004-06:00

Possibly the most important thing Mufasa taught his son, Simba, in The Lion King was that life had a circle. Things have a beginning and things have an ending. The Byrds also teach this important lesson when they sing, "To everything (turn, turn turn) there is a season (turn, turn, turn) and a time for every purpose under heaven - a time to be born, a time to die..." I think they may have gotten that from somewhere else, though.

It seems that, for me, this has been a season of death more than birth. I already posted once about my alarm clock dieing (the first turn), but if that had been the only thing, I would have been fine. However, it's been a rough little while - you know what they say: bad things come in threes...turn, turn, turn.

If I'd been paying attention to that karmic adage I would have been on my toes, watching for the other two impending deaths. Unfortunately, I failed to heed the warning of karma and have suffered the consequences. Fortunately, I've completed the fatal trifecta and have lived to tell the tale.

As many of you know, I am in a graduate program working on a degree in Public Administration. Part of being in a graduate program entails the necessity of owning a laptop, which I affectionately call "Pam" (an anagram of MPA - the program I'm in). Well, unbeknownst to me, Pam recently started having health problems and on a sad Sunday a couple weeks ago, gave up the ghost...or the hard drive. The second turn. After talking to half of India (apparently where HP's customer service/tech support centers are located), I was able to get the much needed replacement hard drive and have since brought Pam back to life. However, it's a different Pam, a Pam who once was dead and now is alive, a veritable vampire of computers. A Pampire, if you will.

Shortly after Pam expired, I was laying on the floor in my living room, wearing a favorite pair of plaid pajama pants, watching television. I happened to glance down at my black plaid pants and saw a flash of white. Weird. Upon closer examination, I noticed that the white was coming from under the pants. I had split the seam and torn the area surrounding the seam without knowing it. The third turn. These weren't just any pajama pants, these were special. Growing up, our family had a Christmas tradition of getting pajamas on Christmas Eve and I had been given this pair circa Christmas Eve 2002 -- the last pair I'd been given in this tradition.

Using amazing powers of deduction, I determined that the splitting was caused by the pants' shrinking. Over the years, a sedentary lifestyle, unhealthy eating habits, and a slowing metabolism combined to shrink the PJ's approximately three sizes and created a curve-hugging pair of pajamas that had no equal. Shrinkage is no myth folks - it's a fact.

Julius Caesar was warned about the ides of March. Too bad nobody told me about the ides of April.

Eureka!

2009-04-11T23:47:00.010-06:00

I figured it out, all by my grown-up self no less. Some of you may know that I've been somewhat in the market for a new (to me) house or condo. I've been searching websites, listings, driving neighborhoods and working with a realtor trying to find just the right one. As a government employee, I make a lot of money, so that's not an issue (your sarcasm alarm should be pinging like crazy right now). Even with the market being somewhat recessed/depressed, prices are still higher than I can generally afford. This has brought me some frustration and disappointment.

Another source of frustration and disappointment has been my inability the last couple summers to get on a lake and do some serious skiing. I fancy myself an above-average slalom skier and in my (less mature and responsible) past have actually passed on jobs to allow myself more time on a lake. This summer, I intend to do whatever it takes to get some skiing in, even if it means standing on the dock with my ski bumming a ride. Incidentally, if you either have, or know someone who has, a boat and are willing to let a semi-cool guy who's probably a better skier than you on the boat, I'd sure be appreciative.

Being the creative-minded bachelor I am, and possessing a penchant for doing things my own way, I have discovered what is surely the ultimate bachelor pad - a houseboat! Paying less than $20,000 for the boat and about $200 for power and water as well as slip fees at the Great Salt Lake Marina, I'm coming out ahead of where I am with rent. And, I'd have the coolest bachelor pad ever. It's the best of both worlds - I get a house and I get a boat!

Who else do you know has a view of the sunset over the lake, while sitting on the lake? Who else do you know can pull up a chair on their back porch, and while watching said sunset can drop a line in the water and do some fishing? I don't actually know if there are any fish in the Great Salt Lake, I probably wouldn't catch one if there were...but that's never stopped me from trying before. Who else do you know can be rocked gently to sleep by soft waves? I don't know anybody like that, and chances are you don't either.

While the up-sides are apparent, there are also a couple downsides about living on a boat on the Great Salt Lake. Apparently there are brine flies, mosquitoes and orb weaver spiders in great abundance. There's also the fact that I'd have running water six months out of the year and the rest of the time I'd have to bucket it to my boat so I could fill my fresh-water reserve tanks (how long would it take to fill an 80 gallon tank using a 5 gallon transporter bucket?).

Maybe the houseboat idea isn't the best idea I've ever had. If the marina were closer to town and I lived in a warmer climate, I would battle the bugs and inconveniences and jump at the idea. For now I guess I'll just have to stick with the traditional, boring house or condo idea. How...normal.

Besides, when was the last time you saw someone skiing behind a houseboat on the Great Salt Lake?

What Dreams May Come

2009-03-30T20:13:00.004-06:00

Not a lot of new things have been happening in my life, except for the passing of my alarm clock. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal, but my life literally depends on this clock. It is the only thing that gets me moving (after an hour or more of the 'snooze' button) in the morning. So, imagine my surprise when I woke up at around 7:15am one morning and discovered that my alarm wasn't going off. After some quick and sleepy calculations based on what time I set the alarm and figuring out what time it would go off if I had been unconsciously hitting the snooze button, I realized that the alarm had not been going off at all.

I rushed through the shower and into some clothes and on my way. I also decided I needed a new alarm clock. After little deliberation, I decided to go to Wal-Mart to find my new clock. And find I did.

My last clock was a radio alarm clock, which was nice because I like to listen to the radio in the morning as I get ready for work, but is bad if I set the clock's alarm to music because I hear the music in my dreams. Instead of being an alarm clock, it provides a soundtrack for my dreams. It's not just music that finds its way into my dreams, either. If I fall asleep in class, the lecture appears in my dream (there's just no escape sometimes), if I fall asleep in a movie or during a TV show - guess what, they magically show up in my dreams too.

I wasn't able to find another radio-clock, but I did find one doozy of an alarm clock that even has soothing sleeping sounds to help lull you to sleep. And, it was only $10 - perfect. I couldn't wait to get home and turn on the ocean waves sound and drift off to sleep listening to waves crash on the shore. I was just imagining the peaceful sleep this $10 machine would give me.

I got home, plugged in the clock and got the time and alarms set. I was practically grinning as I laid under my covers thinking of how awesome it would be to sleep to the sound of the ocean. I turned on the blessed machine and laid back on my pillow to hear waves crashing - some big, some small but all peaceful.

Then the seagulls came. CAW! CAW! It sounded like a flock of seagulls was trapped in an echo chamber and some sadist threw some bread crumbs in for them all to fight over. After apparently getting their fill of bread, the gulls departed and I was once again treated to the lullabyic sounds of the ocean. I was almost asleep when the blasted seagulls returned for more bread. Darn those gulls!

Fortunately for me, there is more than one setting for soothing sleeping sounds. I decided a brook would be something nice to listen to and made the switch. I again laid back eager to greet sleep. A soft babbling brook sounded near my bed...until the frogs showed up. Who knew it was mating season along my quiet brook? Obviously the frogs knew and they were eager to find a companion for the evening (can't blame them too much, I guess). I guess they all found someone to spend some time with and soon they went away, leaving me to my brook. Then, like the gulls, the frogs came back. This was obviously a group of swinger frogs, because they were all looking for a new partner, croaking as if their life depended on it.

In frustration, I switched to the third setting and my last chance for a soothing sleep - windchimes. I really enjoy listening to the wind blow through trees as I'm sleeping, so this one had to be a winner, right? Wrong. How in the world can anyone sleep when it sounds like there are three or four doorbells constantly going off. At one time, I actually got up out of my bed and started walking to the door before I realized it was just my clock. Oh-for-three. I struck out with the soft sleeping sounds.

I turned off the machine with a level of disappointment and laid there in abject silence. There would be no soothing tonight, or any night for that matter.

However, I did have the last laugh. As I drifted off to sleep, I reminded myself that my dreams incorporate things I hear around me, and I didn't really need to listen to a babbling brook or ocean waves crashing all night.

Especially after that last glass of water.

Celebrity sightings

2009-03-04T18:04:00.005-07:00

I know, I know - Sundance is over and has been for a couple months now. I didn't go up to Park City (I've never gone for Sundance) and I don't stalk the stars like some people do. In fact, I don't think it's possible for me to care any less about what they're doing, where they're eating or who they're currently seeing/dating/marrying/divorcing/affairing/etc.

However, and many of you may not have noticed this, there has been a celebrity sighting on my blog. That's correct, right here on Musings, a celebrity was spotted. And, he even left his mark. You may be wondering who in the world I'm talking about.

The Normal Mormon Husband has been here. In fact, he even commented on my last post. Folks, welcome to the big time.

The Normal Mormon Husband gained his notoriety with such posts as "I Got Jumped by Santa in the Vernal, Utah Wal-Mart!", and "South Carolina, Hobos & Doggie Doo", not to mention countless other equally awesome posts.

You may not realize it yet, but the Normal Mormon Husband (NMH for short) is perhaps one of the most clever blog writers of our time. He's witty, pensive, engaging and clear in his writing style. You may laugh, you may cry (I don't because I'm tough), you may relate, but I guarantee you will enjoy his writing. I highly recommend his blog - I have a link to it on the bottom right of my page, but I don't know how many people venture down there, so I'll put it here too. And, unlike me, he has real sponsors - so that should tell you a little something about his blog.

I told you I was saving for a truck (I'm currently at $2.82 - rock on!) so after you click on a google ad, I encourage you to visit his site but just don't forget about me while you're over there...

I've got troubles, whoa-oh

2009-03-02T20:54:00.003-07:00

This world is full of it. Problems and troubles abound, seemingly surrounding us on every side (redundancy for $500, Alex). Take for instance this morning. I was on my way to work, minding my own business while driving down the freeway. I usually move as quickly as I can to the far left lane because the right lanes get clogged a couple miles after I get on the freeway because of the major downtown exit and everyone trying to get to work at the same time.

So, naturally, in an effort to maximize the use of my time on my way to work, I try to avoid traffic (read: I'm late and in a hurry). Well, this morning the traffic wasn't too bad as I made my way to the far left lane. I couldn't quite get there right off the bat though, so I was cruising along in the next-to-the-far-left-hand-lane when some bozo decides he wants my place in the lane. This guy came from the right, seemingly without looking and cut right in front of me.

This really torqued me off and as I was able to move left (finally!) and pass the yahoo, he turned and looked at me with a look of smug superiority on his face. Apparently he didn't know he'd just been passed by a Civic. Sucker. I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face with my right (or left) fist. As I passed him and steamed, I came to a realization.

If I had punched that guy in the face, my problem would have been solved. I think this could be extended to more than just the jerk who cut me off. If everyone who deserved it got punched in the face, think of how happy the world could be. Think about it -- school yard disputes used to be settled by a fist fight and then they were over and done with, hockey players fight and then the conflict is over, boxers...well, boxers take a little while, but the idea is the same.

I wonder how many of the world's problems could be solved by a simple punch to the face. One person can made a difference. Remember the guy who would go around hugging people at random? Imagine the impact he had on people's lives. I would bet this would be similar in scope.

I'm going to implement this practice in my life. You can all thank me later for doing my small part to help this world.

Think globally, act locally. Amen.

Shameless plug

2009-02-24T17:00:00.004-07:00

You may notice a new feature on my blog - ads. Wow. Sponsors? No, just ads. Clicking them will help me though. I want to buy a truck, so I'll need approximately five million clicks (give or take). Tell your friends, spread the word! Just don't set up a bot or automatic clicker doohickey.

Actually, I don't know how many clicks equal how many dollars, but I'm sure it's a lot of clicks for a dollar. Just thought I'd give it a shot to see if I can earn any revenue this way. So, do me a favor? Whenever you visit my blog, please take the time to click a link. Who knows, maybe you'll find something you like or could use.

One note of caution - the ads are run through Google's Adsense which draws information from your history and content on the page you are viewing (similar to many other ad services). So if you have distasteful ads, before you rant on me for them, check your history and know that I am not in control of the content (Google assures me they will be family friendly, however).

Incidentally, that makes me laugh too because a lot of people got up in arms for Facebook having such ads, but I've never seen one...care to guess why?

I delete my distasteful browsing history.

Lost and gone forever?

2009-02-23T21:33:00.005-07:00

I don't get it. I never have and I don't think I ever will.

I'm not talking about the finer sex (although my above statement holds true for them too). I'm talking about my t-shirts. What gives? It's perfectly acceptable for socks to disappear in the dryer, but t-shirts? They're supposed to stick around, through short and fat and tall, through thick and thin and rain and snow and ice.

Unfortunately, life is not a cheesy Mormon play/movie soundtrack. I have shirts that I think have eloped with socks. I only know this because the sock's mates are mad. They want the socks back and I want the shirts back. I think we're close to a deal.

Where do these shirts go? Heaven only knows because I can't find them. A song came to mind (surprise, surprise) while I was scouring my closet for a shirt the other day, but I've had to change the lyrics a bit. Nirvana did it originally and I first heard it my freshman year of high school. It's not a song I hear a lot, but somehow it draws me in. It goes a little something like this:

Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
They go to a lake of fire and fry
Don't see them again 'til the fourth of July

Kinda sad/depressing/dark lyrics, so I changed them a bit. The new lyrics go to the same tune (in case you don't know the tune, click here for some help - you'll have to wait until about the 0:34 mark for the tune).

Where do my shirts go when they hide?
They don't go in the closet to hang in line
They go to a place, deep dark and dim
And make me spend hours looking for them.

I thought I had a good relationship with my shirts. Couple a favorite shirt with a pair of favorite blue jeans and you are set for a good day. I can't think of a good reason why my shirts would leave me. I shower daily and wear deodorant - what else could they want?

I'm begging you, shirts - come back. Please don't make me clean my room.

Stuck in my head

2009-02-15T19:14:00.008-07:00

I love music. I can’t play it worth a spit, but I really enjoy listening to it. I like to listen to it almost constantly – at home, at work, in the car, exercising, etc. I like to compare songs to life and find deeper meanings or connections between the songs I listen to and my life. I’ve done that in a couple posts and this one will be the same. Almost. Instead of comparing a song to my life, this post will be about songs I like and what I remember, or think about, when I hear them. Some songs make me think about certain people and some songs make me remember events or things I had or did at a certain point in my life.

You may (or may not) find yourself in a song below. Happy reading.

- Trace Adkins: I Wanna Feel Something

There was a girl a while ago that I was trying to date and things were moving along smoothly, or so I thought. One of the last things she said to me when she told me she didn’t want to date me anymore was that she wasn’t feeling anything – happiness, sadness, excitement…nothing. This song reminds me of her every time I hear it. I’d be shocked and awed if she reads this. If she does, I’m sure she knows who she is. Hi.

“But I wanna feel somethin’
Somethin’ that’s a real somethin’
That moves me, that proves to me I’m still alive
I wanna heart that beats and bleeds
A heart that’s bustin’ at the seams
I wanna care, I wanna cry, I wanna scream
I just wanna feel somethin’ ”

- The Darkness: I Believe in a Thing Called love

During my college days I had a roommate (Brian) who, when he heard this song, said something about the uniqueness of the song and the rock ‘n roll nature of it. I wish I remember exactly what he said. I’m sure it was profound.

“I believe in a thing called love
Just listen to the rhythm of my heart
There's a chance we could make it now
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down
I believe in a thing called love
Ooh!”

- Red Hot Chili Peppers: Other Side

On my mission is where I first heard this song. I know what you’re thinking, “on your mission?!” I had some relaxed rules for the first bit of my mission and I may have taken a liberty with this song I shouldn’t have. Whatever the reason, every time I hear this song, I remember an apartment on Flatbush Ave above a Jamaican bakery on P-Day. It’s a good song and it was a great time.

“I heard your voice through a photograph
I thought it up and brought up the past
Once you've know you can never go back
I've got to take it on the other side”

- The Get Up Kids: Mass Pike

Speaking of missions, I served a few months with Richard and we ended up being roommates at BYU. He turned me on to this song, which I still listen to today. Richard likes to argue; he and I would argue about stupid things just to argue and one of the things we’d argue about was a line from the song: “Last night on the Mass Pike, I fell in love with you…” I’d say it was: “Last night on the hash pipe…” while Richard maintained it was “Mass Pike”. He was obviously correct, but sometimes when I hear this song I insert “hash pipe” just for old times.

“Last night on the Mass Pike,
Thought I was losing you.
Last night on the Mass Pike,
I fell in love with you.”

- Billy Joel: We Didn’t Start the Fire and Boston: More Than a Feeling

Oh boy. Good times here. When I was in high school in Vancouver, we had early morning seminary. Early, early morning. I don’t remember what time it started, but I think class started at 6:30am. During my junior year, I was the designated driver for myself, my brother and two friends (with whom I have unfortunately lost contact) – Jared and Alexis. I’d pick them up in the morning and we’d drive in my (dad’s) 1991 Geo Metro to the school. In the morning, we’d listen to We Didn’t Start the Fire and More Than a Feeling while driving in the dark and sometimes fog. That is the scene I see in my mind when I hear these songs. As a result of daily listening, I have We Didn’t Start the Fire memorized. I rarely make an error when singing that song. Yeah, I’m a nerd.

“I looked out this morning,
and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
Then lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes, and I slipped away”

- Boston: Amanda

Picture 1985(ish). Got it? I do. Okay, I don’t know the year exactly, but it was around there. My dad had a cool silver stereo and it was big. He’d put this song on and we’d listen to it. Every time I hear this song, I can picture the stereo and I have a memory of listening to this song on that stereo with my dad. I enjoy the memory and the song.

“Babe, tomorrow's so far away
There's something I just have to say
I don't think I can hide what I'm feelin' inside
Another day, knowin' I love you”

- Notorious BIG: Big Poppa

I don’t remember where I first heard this song. It may have been the movie Hard Ball, a story about inner-city kids and their baseball team. One of the players, the pitcher, would listen to this song on his earphones and wave his hands in the air before he pitched the ball. Somehow that ended up being the thing to do while waterskiing. I don’t know how it made the jump, but it did and is now a tradition.

“I love it when you call me big pop-pa
Throw your hands in the air, if you’s a true player
I love it when you call me big pop-pa”

- Rascall Flats: What Hurts the Most

Fast forward a few years to my college days. I had a crush on this one girl, but never did anything about it because I was her home teacher. I didn’t want to make things awkward (lame excuse, but there it was) between us, so I didn’t do anything about it. We became, I thought, pretty good friends. We would hang out a good amount and seemed to always have fun. She ended going on a mission about the same time I graduated. I went to her farewell and wished her well. I never told her that all this time I had a big crush on her. I ended up sending her a letter while she was on her mission, but didn’t reveal any of my feelings to her.

“What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do”

- Guns ‘N Roses: Paradise City

If you’ve read my previous post, this song will make sense to you. This is an ultimate white-trash hair band song. I would rock out to this song while driving my 1971 Chevelle Malibu. This song still gets my heart pumping and my foot somehow gets a little heavier on the gas when it comes on.

“Take me down to the paradise city,
Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty
Take me home”

There you have it folks – a small peak in on my inner musical workings. There’s more, oh man is there ever more. This will suffice for now. Be nice.

The Evil Within

2009-01-26T21:31:00.005-07:00

Every superhero has a dark side. Superman had a dark Superman – essentially the same individual, possessing the same powers, same knowledge but with a different perspective. The dark Superman's intent was destruction and terror, while the real Superman's intent was to help and serve people.

Spiderman's evil self was called Venom and was the embodiment of Spiderman's evil. Like Superman, Spiderman gets into an epic battle with his embodied evil. These dark personas were created from the evil inside of the superheroes. Like the superheroes of comic book (oops, graphic novels) fame, each of us has an evil inside of us. The duality exhibited by the superheroes is really just a reflection of the conflict we all have within ourselves. What we do with it is what makes all the difference for each of us and I think, in a large measure, defines who we are.

I've recently had a great struggle with my own evil within and have conceded to its power on more than one occasion. I ask you, as my reader, to be considerate and sensitive in regards to what follows.

I blame a great portion of this darkness inside me on my upbringing. Part of what contributed to the growth is undoubtedly the time I grew up in. I am a child of the 1980's and as a result was exposed to many formative experiences of that time.

The 1980's ushered in an entirely new era – one that would change the world. I'm speaking of the era of the Hair Bands. This era brought us travesties such as Tina Turner, Paula Abdul, Belinda Carlisle, Prince (aka "The Artist Formerly Known As"), Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Genesis. But, it also brought us the glory of Whitesnake, Poison, Warrant, Cinderella, White Lion, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Europe, Guns 'N Roses, Iron Maiden, Quiet Riot, Skid Row, Twisted Sister and KISS; the herald angels of rock and roll - a clear battle between the evil and the good.

You see, my friends, not so deep inside me is a metal hair band rocker wannabe. I have been successful in the past in beating back the dark shadow of myself that wants to grow his hair out, wear leather pants, and rock on an amplified electric guitar, but this wannabe has come back with renewed force and vigor.

This rocker-wannabe that lies just beneath the surface makes his appearance every now and again. Fortunately, I have taken measures to prevent an ultimate showdown between the good Jason and the evil Jason (I don't have a name for him yet, any suggestions?). I have sold all my leather pants, destroyed my Monster Ballads CD's (yes, I had more than one) and shaved my head. Unfortunately, leather pants are in plentiful supply, and thus are easily obtainable and my iPod holds more songs than I could have imagined, so many more songs than those CD's used to, expanding my library of Hair Rock considerably.

Never fear, though – I have a secret weapon, a kryptonite if you will, one sure-fire way to ensure that the evil rocker Jason does not rear his ugly head. I have shaved my head. A hair band rocker needs hair, and lots of it. I have apparently passed my prime in which my scalp boasted a head full of thick, wavy hair. Sure, as the real rockers age, on occasion the band will reunite for a concert tour of sorts and inevitably one of the guitarists will have suffered the same fate I have – male pattern baldness. It's not the same watching a 50 year old bald man trying to headbang. It's sad really. I think the rocker within knows this and for this reason alone will not make an ill-timed appearance. It may be the very thing that saves not only me, but the entire planet. You're welcome.

However, there are moments when nobody is watching and a Whitesnake song (Here I Go Again) comes on my iPod (how in the world did it even get on there in the first place?) and the rocker comes to the surface. I allow him his freedom in these moments. A little headbang here, some air guitar there, screeching lyrics all over the place and if he's been good, I'll let him repeat the song…three or four times. Fortunately for me, he doesn't just have a penchant for Whitesnake, he will also play Poison by Alice Cooper (One look could kill, my pain, your thrill!). Every now and then he'll have a hankering for something softer, maybe some Heaven by Warrant (Heaven isn't too far away, closer to it every day-ay-ay) or perhaps the soulful Love Hurts by Nazareth (Love hurts, love scars, love wounds and marks…).

If you're around and the wannabe shows up, don't be scared. I'm pretty sure he knows his place and is content with only an appearance from time to time. Hopefully, if/when he does show up, he'll do his thing and quickly sink beneath the surface not to be seen again for a while.

If he decides to stick around, we could have problems – leather pants don't exactly scream, "I'm a man!" anymore, now it seems they scream, "I want a man!"

Rules weren’t necessarily made to be broken

2009-01-23T21:32:00.001-07:00

Long ago I created a rule for myself; a rule to protect myself from awkwardness, uncomfortable situations and, in retrospect and perhaps unknowingly, pain. For years I've held staunchly to this rule, withstanding peer pressure and parental pleading. Then, slowly I began breaking the rule and each time I would break it, I would remember why I established it to begin with. I tried to slow down the rule breaking, but once it starts it's very difficult to stop. Precedent has been set and must be followed. I'm talking about my rule of blind dating: I don't do it. Or, more accurately, I didn't do it.

You, my reader, may have been one of the unfortunate victims of a blind date with me, or perhaps you were the instigator of said blind date. Please know that regardless of which camp you fall into, this post is not a reflection of you as a date or a friend.

As a single LDS male in a predominantly LDS community, dating is something I'm expected to do; I'm supposed to get married. Since I'm not married and I'm getting older (according to whose standard?) it is apparently incumbent upon people around me to rectify the situation. And rectify they've tried. My status as a single man seems to be more concerning to other people than it is to me. (Un)fortunately, I'm still single. C'mon people, I survived BYU single, I have resilience.

In these attempts at rectification, I've been on a number of blind dates as of late. Once word got out that I went on a blind date, it seemed that everyone had someone to line me up with. It might seem like an ideal situation for a bachelor such as me; everyone being described was the prettiest girl in the world, had the best sense of humor, was very down to earth and was super cool. Sounds like a good deal, right? Wrong.

We've now come to the very reason I banned blind dates for myself in the first place: friends lie. Maybe "lie" is too strong of a word, but how do you go back to a friend and tell him/her that your date didn't measure up to what you were led to believe? Or that you don't like their friend? Or that you thought their friend was boring? It's not a fun conversation. That's why I hate blind dates. I've met some very cool people through blind dating, but not once has anything truly "worked out". That's fine, but I detest going back to the instigator and saying, "I didn't like your friend" or "Your friend didn't like me." (The latter conversation means the date is having the former conversation.) Hate it.

However, I've come to realize that perhaps having a rule banning blind dates isn't the most practical thing for me to do. With that in mind, I've come up with a set of blind date rules, guidelines or things to consider before setting up a blind date. Following these rules/guidelines will let me allow blind dates to happen and hopefully make the process less painful.

Just because I'm single and she's single doesn't mean we make a good match. If this is the only reason you want to set us up, please don't do it.
Ensure that we have some commonalities (being LDS isn't enough).
1. Sometimes, even without common interests a blind date can be arranged. An acceptable example would be, "She isn't really interested in sports, but she enjoys being active."
2. I appreciate it when I date a girl who is in a similar situation as I am. That doesn't mean she has to be a graduate student, college graduate, full-time career woman, etc. but having something to build on is nice – being a grad student with significant career experience, an 18 year-old high school graduate is probably not the best match up for me.
Don't lie about the other person. Brutal honesty is preferred. Not everyone is the smartest, coolest, most beautiful person in the world. I'm not such a person, I don't expect a date to be such. I like real people.
Talk with both daters before giving a phone number out. I've called a date before and she was unaware that I would be calling; in fact, she didn't even know I existed. That was awkward, the date wasn't much better.
If possible, provide a picture. Sounds shallow. Guess what? It is; I don't care.
Understand that the date may not work out and that's okay. Don't be offended if one, or both, parties come back to you and say as much.
If things are progressing, don't play junior high school games. You know, the kind where one party asks a mutual friend, "Does (s)he like me? Can you find out?" Once initial contact has been made, leave the daters alone to make their own way.
Cold calling is uncomfortable for both parties. It can be difficult to start a conversation with a complete stranger with the end goal of asking her out, even if you both know it is coming. Try and arrange for the daters to meet at a party or other social gathering so they can meet and get to know each other and then decide if they want to go on a date.
1. This set-up is my preferred way. If the girl knows that I'm the guy you want to set her up with, but is unaware that I know that as well, she doesn't feel rejected if I don't ask her out.
Understand and respect me if I say I don't want to be set up. Blind dates take a lot of energy for me; even if your friend is the smartest, coolest, prettiest girl in the world, I may not be up for it. Don't push the issue. A begrudged blind date is not apt to be successful.
If at first you don't succeed, "try, try again" isn't necessarily the rule. Multiple blind dates from the same source are acceptable, what is not acceptable is a personal mission to get me married. That's my job; I'll do it at some point.

There you have it folks. I'm considering making these into an application that will need to be filled out in triplicate to ensure that the setter-upper has given the date due consideration and is not just trying to play match-maker.

You know what, forget it - maybe I'll just try E-Harmony.

Costco for one, please.

2009-01-21T22:35:00.001-07:00

The other day a lady came to my place of work. That, in and of itself, is not unusual. Ladies come to my work all the time, but this time was different. This lady brought cookies and muffins. It's not every day someone comes in with cookies and muffins. I had to figure out what she wanted.

Turns out, she was selling Costco memberships to us. Previously I had been impervious to the wiles of the Costco lady, snacking on her cookies and muffins and laughing gleefully as I walked away with the extra cookie I stashed in my pocket. But, this time was different. The Costco lady came prepared.

I don't have many weaknesses, but somehow she found mine and ruthlessly exploited it. She brought free pizza coupons. NOOO!! My kryptonite is pizza. Free pizza is even more dangerous. I pretended I was paying attention to her schpeel as I munched on a cookie (macadamia nut), and acted like I was scrutinizing the coupon pack she was trying to bribe me with. Every now and then I would wipe a crumb from my face, pretending to be slightly incompetent so maybe she would stop trying to peddle her wares. No dice.

I didn't think too much of the situation as it stood. I had my cookie and wasn't interested in purchasing a Costco membership. Then, a co-worker showed up and asked the lady about renewing a membership. This was it, my opportunity to slip away, cookie in hand. I was preparing to make my exit when the Costco lady made her dastardly move. She said to my co-worker, "If you refer him (pointing to me), he'll get a free pizza and you will too."

DOOMED!

Now, my co-worker had incentive to get me to sign up and I could feel my knees starting to weaken. It was only a matter of time before I succumbed to the temptation of pizza. It wasn't fair. Suddenly, the coupon pack had much more interest to me than it did previously. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the pizza coupon sitting there on the table, inviting, enticing, and drawing me closer. I tried to resist, telling Costco lady, "I don't have my checkbook and I'm not carrying cash." I knew she didn't have a card reader with her; hopefully this ruse would buy me time and allow me to escape.

"Not to worry," she said, "you can take the application and I'll come back in two days and you can give me the check then." Curses, foiled again. I had no more defenses; I was done for. I took the application and slowly walked back to my office.

Two days later, Costco Lady showed up with my card and pizza coupon. A sudden surge of empowerment and excitement came over me. I could now buy cheap gas, bulk food, not to mention the free pizza! Could it get any better? Yes, yes it could. My co-worker decided she didn't want her free pizza, so an additional coupon came my way. Merry Christmas in January! Two pizzas for free?! It almost made up for my forgetting to snag an extra cookie a couple days before.

That very night, I decided to try out my new membership and I headed to Costco for gas. Imagine my surprise when I saw that gas wasn't any cheaper than the 7-11 down the street. And, there are no Slurpees at Costco. Rip-off. I figured it was an anomaly and that I would get some killer deals on the food. So, I went grocery shopping a couple days later. I've decided that Costco isn't the place for a single guy like myself. I now have my year's supply of oatmeal, body-wash, protein powder (more like a life supply of that stuff – blech!), instant breakfast and possibly ground beef. I needed some seasonings and a new toothbrush and toothpaste, but decided that I didn't need a metric ton of Italian Seasoning and I didn't really have anywhere to store 17 toothbrushes and 14 tubes of toothpaste. I also decided that if I had a thumb drive it would be helpful to store my school work on, so if something tragic happened to my computer (replaceable at Costco), I would at least have my work safe. Unfortunately, I couldn't buy just one thumb drive. Instead, I would have to buy anywhere from two to four thumb drives, the collective memory of which would seriously dwarf my laptop's memory.

Even though I came to the conclusion that I will probably not do my weekly grocery shopping at Costco (how in the world am I supposed to eat 16 muffins in a week?!), I still have one more pizza coupon left and it needs to be used by the end of the month. Between that and the food I already bought there, I shouldn't have to do any grocery shopping for the next little while anyway. Besides, the grocery store is typically where I like to find dates and there are just not many single girls in Costco. After all, what would they do with a gallon of mustard?

Resolutions

2008-12-28T21:07:00.010-07:00

People innately want to be better; there seems to be something within everyone that urges them to strive for bigger and better things, an upward drive. Some people kill this drive by laziness; some people squelch it because they don’t think they can achieve certain things or be a certain type of person. These people are scared of their potential and the possibility that they might achieve it. Some people are afraid to try because they are afraid of failing. I fall in the second group – for some reason, my potential is frightening to me. Maybe it means I will have to do more, be more should I realize my potential. I think I’ve grown complacent with my life. I’ve stopped striving for bigger and better. That needs to stop. Now.

Marianne Williamson, a noted author and lecturer, wrote in her book Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles, a very profound thought:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?” Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Every year at the end of December, people make resolutions. By the end of January, I’d be surprised if most people can remember them. That being the case, those people didn’t ever have any resolutions; they had wishes or maybe some hopes. A resolution, by very definition, is more serious than idle wishing. It involves determination and consistent effort. Resolution and resolve aren’t just words that look similar; inherent in a resolution is resolve, or determination. If you are truly resolved to accomplish certain things, there is no power on earth or in heaven that can stop you from achieving what you set out to accomplish.

That being said, I’ve made some resolutions for this coming year. I’ve kept them realistic and in line with what I know I can and will do. I’ve made resolutions for a few different areas of my life. Some of the resolutions I will share on here, others are very personal and I’m going to keep them to myself. When I accomplish those, it will be a personal and private victory. When I accomplish the others that I’m advertising, I’ll celebrate publicly. I’m excited for this coming year. There are a number of things that I feel I need to change about myself and my life. I’m excited to see myself after some of these things happen.

These are some of the things I will do in 2009:

Physical
Eat healthy
- Less take-out/drive thru
- More fruits and vegetables
- Learn how to cook a few meals well
Regular exercise
- Complete P90X at least twice

Mental
Complete a non-school related book once a month
Continue schooling

Spiritual
Read the Book of Mormon at least twice
Monthly temple attendance
Regular Sunday attendance

There are others, but like I mentioned previously, some are intensely personal to me and I don’t feel comfortable sharing those in a semi-public setting such as this.

If you look at your own resolutions and think, “I have to do all these things for a year (or however long)”, you’ll never get it done. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it all. However, if you look at your list and say, “I can do these things today” and just worry about it today, you’ll find that a year has passed and you’ve been doing all these things the whole time and have accomplished your goals. That’s my plan. I’m not worried about doing them all for an entire year. I’m worried about doing them today, tomorrow can take care of itself, but today these are the things I’m going to do. Seems to me there’s a scripture that says almost that exact thing.

Good luck on your own resolutions.

Wowza!

2008-12-26T23:59:00.003-07:00

Alrighty folks - in the spirit of long posts, this one's a doozy. But, before you click away know this: you won't have to do much reading. What? Not having to read a blog? But it's supposed to be a long one, what gives? I've decided to share with you some of my favorite YouTube videos.

So to get right to the meat of it all, I present to you, YouTube!

Kid gets a soccer ball to the face.

Capoeira is a graceful Brazilian martial art. Not so graceful this time, though.

We're going to be over there a while by the looks of this.

Third time's the charm?

Maybe he should get some sleep next time?

C'mon...who hasn't done this?

This is the one that started it all...but don't try it now. You'll see why below.

Told ya.

More people getting scared. Some of them are really funny. Some of them are dumb.

A compilation of classic clips.

Dude gets lucky - you can see the ricochet coming.

That'll do for now. Enjoy!

Merry Christmas to all!

2008-12-22T22:43:00.003-07:00

Bear with me folks – this is a long one. It took me some time to put it together, so if you’re going to read it I’d be appreciative if you read it all the way through.

It’s difficult for me to accurately express my feelings about Christmas. There are some things about Christmas that I absolutely love and there are things about Christmas that I really don’t like much. It’s always an interesting time for me as I try to manage the sometimes conflicting feelings I have about the season. If you’ll indulge me for a while I’ll try to explore my thoughts and feelings about the season and maybe it’ll end up making some sort of sense.

Let’s start with the reasons why I don’t like Christmas, so we can end on a positive note.

I don’t like how Christmas has become a very commercial holiday, it seems the only reason Christmas exists to the corporate world is to make a buck. I was in a Wal-Mart store the day after Halloween and there were Christmas trees, angels, colored balls, tinsel, lights, Santa Clauses (or is it Santa Clausi?), and decorations of every sort and size. I expressed my surprise to the person I was with. I have never seen Christmas marketed so early before. Ever. Perhaps I’m just a naïve shopper, but I was really taken aback by this.

Kids make a list of the things they want for Christmas, listing such things as iPods, Nintendos, cell phones, DVD’s, toys, etc. They sit on Santa’s lap and recite the list to him hoping and expecting to receive the things they request. Do I blame the children for this? Absolutely not. I don’t know who to blame, nor do I think it’s important that someone receive blame for this. It’s just something I don’t like. On a day we commemorate the greatest gift we, as children of God, have received the only thing people think about are bicycles, Barbies, movies, and what “I’m going to get for Christmas”. It’s disheartening to see.

Santa Claus plays a big role in all of this. The jolly old elf who slides down chimneys, rides in a sleigh pulled by tiny reindeer, maintains a list of every child in the world and checks it twice before he goes on his worldwide whirlwind journey has become a symbol of everything I dislike about Christmas, which is unfortunate really, given the history of Santa Claus, or St. Nicholas. According to Wikipedia, St. Nick was the “primary inspiration for the Christian figure of Santa Claus.” Apparently, he was well known for giving gifts to the poor – definitely a noteworthy and laudable practice. You can read more of the Wikipedia article on the history of Santa Claus by clicking on the link above.

I don’t dislike Santa Claus for the history behind the legend, for his tradition of distributing gifts or even for the fabricated story of his existence. The problem I have with Santa Claus is that he has become the figure of Christmas. If you were to poll people who celebrate Christmas on who they associate with Christmas I would imagine you would overwhelmingly hear people mention Santa Claus, children especially.

Despite some people’s belief that Christmas evolved with Pagan influence, Christmas is not the celebration of a fat man in a red suit. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the Savior of the world – the Lord Jesus Christ. Even with the benevolent background of St. Nicholas, there really is no comparison between the two. Santa Claus’ supplanting of Christ as the central figure of Christmas is really what is at the root of my distaste for what the holiday has become.

A poem, by an author unknown to me, brings tears to my eyes each time I read it.

At Christmas time there was a man
who looked so out of place
as people rushed about him
at a hurried sort of pace.

He stared at all the Christmas lights,
the tinsel everywhere,
the shopping center Santa Claus
with children gathered near.

The mall was packed with shoppers
who were going to and fro,
some with smiles, some with frowns,
and some too tired to go.

They rested on benches
or they hurried on their way
to fight the crowds for purchases
to carry home that day.

The music from the stereo
was playing loud and clear
of Santa Claus and snowmen
and funny nosed reindeer.

He heard the people talk about
the good times on the way,
of parties, fun and food galore,
and gift exchange that day.

"I'd like to know what's going on,"
the man was heard to say.
"There seems to be some sort
of celebration on the way.

And would you tell me who this is
all dressed in red and white
and why are children asking him
about a special night."

The answer came in disbelief,
"I can't believe my ear.
I can't believe you do not know,
that Christmas time is here.

The time when Santa comes around
with gifts for girls and boys
when they are asleep on Christmas Eve,
he leaves them books and toys.

The man you see in red and white
is Santa Claus so sly.
The children love his joyful laugh,
and twinkle in his eye.

His gift packed sleigh is pulled along
by very small reindeer
as he flies quickly through the air,
while darting here and there.

The children learn of Santa Claus
while they are still quite small.
When Christmas comes he is the most
important one of all."

The stranger hung His head in shame,
He closed a nail pierced hand.
His body shook in disbelief.
He did not understand.

A shadow crossed His stricken face,
His voice was low but clear.
"After all these years they still don't know."
And Jesus shed a tear.

Friends – this is why I love Christmas. It is the time we celebrate the birth of the Only Begotten of the Father, the One who came to save us from our sins. He became like us so we could become like Him. As has been said by His duly ordained Prophet and Apostles, “God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son.”

Herein lays the true reason for the season. Amid all the sparkling lights and hubbub that accompanies the holiday let us celebrate Christ and His birth. Let us teach our children that Christ is the center of Christmas and all the other traditions or celebrations are secondary to Christ.

I love how people become more compassionate and caring at Christmas time. I don’t have any statistical backup for this, just anecdotal evidence based on hearing about service being rendered at homeless shelters and other community type organizations. The love people feel for their fellow beings at this season is admirable. I only wish it would continue all year, but the outpouring at this time of year is impressive. It’s difficult to feel less concerned for others during Christmas time.

During the year I’m very appreciative of the sacrifices of the soldiers protecting us while away from their families, but that feeling grows exponentially at this time of year.

I received the following poem in an email recently and it expresses pretty poignantly the feelings I have regarding our service men and women. It’s written by a gentlemen named Michael Marks.

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight;
The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem.
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eye when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood; his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

“What are you doing?” I asked without fear
“Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,
To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said, “It’s really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night”

“It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died at ‘Pearl on a day in December,”
Then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘Nam
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.

I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red white and blue… an American flag.

“I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home,
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat,

I can carry the weight of killing another
Or lay down my life with my sisters and brothers
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To insure for all time that this flag will not fall.”

“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
“Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,
For being away from your wife and your son.”

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
“Just tell us you love us, and never forget
To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone;
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust.
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.”

God bless and keep our soldiers and their families.

There is good in people – despite my job and experiences I have had, the one thing I have not lost is my faith in people. That goodness seems to be demonstrated to a large degree around Christmas time. When asked, people explain simply, “I got the Christmas spirit.” What is the “Christmas Spirit” and why does it inspire people to do good to their fellow man? I think the Christmas Spirit is nothing less than the love of Christ. It’s a wonderful thing to see it spread around.

This time of year, please consider the things that truly matter and it’s not Santa Claus or presents under a tree. The things that matter are family, friends, goodwill, love and kindness. These are the things that mattered to Christ when He walked the earth and I’d be willing to bet those are the very same things that matter to Him now and are the same things He would have matter to us as well. Please share that love with the people around you.

Remember what Dr. Seuss said, in his famous story about the Grinch who stole Christmas, after the Grinch had stolen the presents, packages, food and all the trappings of Christmas,

"It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes or bags!
And he puzzled three hours, `till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store."
Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"

Merry Christmas and God bless you my friends – may you be happy and loved this season and throughout the year.

Lazy Days

2008-12-13T14:52:00.001-07:00

I love Saturdays. A lot. It's usually a day when I can be my normal, likeable, lazy self. Today was no exception. It's sometime after noon today and I've been up for about five hours. Sleeping in with no alarm to wake me up is one of my absolute favorite things to do. And, I get to do it again tomorrow.

I haven't just been laying around doing nothing today, though. No siree. I've been productive. Somewhat. I've done the following:

- Watched a Division II football National Championship game between two teams I've never heard of before and couldn't care less if I didn't hear of them again.

- Watched an episode of Gangland recorded previously on my DVR.

- Checked my email probably 10 times.

- Checked my Facebook probably five times.

- Picked my nose twice.

- Ate half a pizza left over from last night.

- Drank approximately half a gallon of Kool-Aid.

- Took a shower.

- Brushed my teeth.

- Two loads of laundry.

- Watched the snow fall.

- Read Calvin and Hobbes for a while.

- Watched part of the Utah v Oklahoma basketball game. Also, two teams I couldn't care less about but will likely hear about in the future.

- Checked out my friends' blogs.

- Checked out cougarboard way too many times.

All this on the last Saturday before I take finals. I could have been studying, actually doing a take-home final, or other productive things. I'm not worried about it though. I've been very busy the last couple of weeks - probably the busiest I've been in my life, so I think I deserve a day to just be lazy. I can be (and will be) busy again this coming week.

I'm taking my CCW class tonight. I'm excited to get it done, but not excited for a four-hour class discussing who knows what. I can only hope that it's interesting. Sixty days after today I should have my permit in one hot little hand and my 9 in the other. Hooray for the 2nd Amendment!

Me likey...

2008-12-05T18:53:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in church last week and there was a musical number to be performed during the meeting. Usually I look forward to musical numbers because I get really bored when I listen to the speakers sometimes - on a related note, I think we need to integrate more congregation participation during our meetings. Some more AMEN's or HALLELUJAH's when you agree with what the speaker said, or maybe if you are falling asleep, or even if you just want to feel righteous.

Anyhow, as the musical number started, I realized it was going to be a special one. I listened with rapt attention as the singer performed. It was easily the worst musical number I have ever heard and believe me, I've heard a lot - I've been Mormon for a very long time. It reminded me of American Idol tryouts when the people just plain suck but think they're the next big thing. I could not stop paying attention. I was engrossed by the sheer awfulness of it all.

I'm not the world's best singer by anyone's definition. I'm not the worst either, but I think I'm much closer to the worst than I am to the best. I have no business singing in Sacrament meeting (or any other meeting for that matter), but it actually happened once. As a missionary, I once lost a bet and had to sing a solo in a Sacrament meeting. Fortunately for me, and the branch, it was a Deaf congregation and 95% of the people there could not hear me at all. There were a handful of hearing people there though and I hope by now they've been able to recover from what surely was a traumatic experience.

Maybe the guy singing on Sunday lost a bet, but I doubt it. The point of this blog isn't singing in church, however. The singing last week got me thinking, though, of how much I appreciated that experience. It got me thinking of other things I appreciate and why I appreciate them. Here's a brief run-down of some of those things.

- American Idol/So You Think You Can Dance/America's Got Talent/Etc.
I love these kind of shows. I don't usually watch when the real competition starts, but I love tuning in at the beginning, for the reason mentioned previously. I love watching people make complete fools of themselves on national TV. Do some of these people actually think they have talent? Hasn't someone, sometime told them that they aren't that good? What kind of friend allows their friend to make him or herself look like an idiot in front of the nation? Maybe they didn't want to hurt their friend's feelings but believe me, the producers of these talent shows are very good at making you look stupid. And the rest of us enjoy it when they do.

-MXC/Wipeout
These are probably the best shows, ever. People doing fool things, getting beat up by machinery or obstacles. There's something about watching someone bounce around like a pinball that gets me rolling everytime. If you have to sign an injury waiver before you can be on the show, it might be a good idea to watch safely, from home...like me.

- DVR
Wow! I've recently been turned on to this little piece of equipment and it's simply amazing. I can record shows that I miss for whatever reason and waste even more time doing nothing productive. There's nothing on TV? That's okay, I'll just check my list of recorded shows and numb my brain for an hour or so. Perfect. Thank you, thank you, thank you DVR!

- Idiot Drivers
I love you guys. Especially when you get behind me. I love few things more than slowing down for tailgaters. The closer you get, the slower I go. Sometimes I'll drive the same speed as a car in the next lane so you can't get over. Then a little tappy-tap on the brakes to test your reaction time. My car is paid for and I would love nothing more than someone to wreck it so I can buy a truck. If there was a list of places I could think of where somebody might give me that chance, Utah would be near the top of the list. C'mon idiots, don't fail me now!

- Free Wireless Internet
I'm not talking about at internet cafes or Starbucks or anything, rather I'm talking about my neighbors who don't know how to secure their wireless networks. For two weeks, before I could get internet set up at my new place, I stole their bandwidth. Thank you for not taking the time to figure out how to encrypt your connection and for providing me with the access I needed for a short time. In their defense, I had to call two separate tech support places to get mine all secured. It was a pain.

- Cell Phones
I love this little leash. I can be contacted anywhere, anytime by anyone. I can send and receive text messages, it's a handy tool to keep me in touch with people. The jury's also out on whether or not it can cause cancer. Wonderful. When the phone is not next to my ear, it's in my pocket next to my...aw crap.

There's a lot of things I have a healthy appreciation for and this list is just a small representation of those things. Oh! I forgot Cheddarwursts. That'll have to wait though. There's so much about Cheddarwursts that I appreciate that it'll have to have it's own post. Another day.

Moving on

2008-12-03T21:35:00.000-07:00

It's about time I get back on the blog-wagon. I've been very busy lately with moving and school work. I probably should be doing school work right now, but honestly I need a bit of a break.

I moved recently from Bountiful to Salt Lake City in a move that I hope is a good thing (a little too late to change it now, though). Even though I'm very used to moving, it's starting to get real old. If I didn't hear nearly every step my upstairs neighbors make, I would probably think about staying where I am for a very long time...as it is I'll fulfill my lease and then probably seek greener pastures.

This move was an interesting one for me. I employed a new technique that I call the "commute move". I work in Farmington, which is north of Bountiful and so on my way home to SLC (south of Bountiful), I would stop in and move a little each day as I commuted home. I had about three weeks between when I was able to get into my new place and when I had to be out of my old one.

You'd think that if I did a little each day it would make things pretty easy, right? Wrong. If you thought that, you don't know me very well. True, I'd stop by the old place everyday but most of the time I'd walk in and look around and think, "yeah I can do this later." And then walk out. This led to a pretty busy couple of days at the end of the month.

While I was packing and cleaning my room, I found a variety of things. Lucky you, I'm going to tell you some of the things I found.

- Approximately $5.57 in loose change.
How do all those coins get all over the place? It's especially weird seeing as I rarely use cash (I've been through two debit cards in the last 6-8 months...they just wear out). Stranger still is that there were a lot of quarters, easily the most valuable of commonly used coins. I'm not complaining about finding this loot, I just think it's strange that there was that much of it.

- Mission letters
Not just letters I sent while on my mission, but also letters and cards I received. I initially threw them all away (I was just trying to get rid of stuff that I was tired of carrying around). But, after getting them all into the garbage bag I felt bad, so I pulled them all out and decided to keep them. I'm glad I did. I read some of them and felt uplifted by some of the things I read from my family. It was a much needed pick-me-up. I hope to put them all together in some kind of scrapbook. Maybe I can get the Relief Society to do an Enrichment activity and invite me. That would accomplish more than one purpose.

- A letter I wrote as a secret admirer
I used to have the biggest crush on a girl who lived a couple doors down from me. Apparently I used to be a Casanova in my younger days. I wrote this girl a letter, complete with a poem using phrases like "makes my heart flutter" and other equally cheesey lines. Obviously the letter never got delivered. I guess I was a chicken Casanova.

- Pictures
Lots and lots of pictures. Some of me, some of family and some of things that I have no idea what they are or why they were significant to photgraph. I kept the ones that had people in it and tossed the ones that I had no idea what they were of. I figured I didn't know what they were (or even that they existed) and why I had them, so I got rid of them.

- Dryer sheets
Seriously, where do these things come from?! I thought I was pretty good about throwing them away after doing laundry, but I guess I wasn't as good as I thought I was. I threw them away for good. Maybe next time I move I can find another 30-40 of them.

- Pinewood Derby Cars
I found every Pinewood Derby Car my dad and I made - there were three of them (we used one twice) and they were all the same design but with different paint jobs. When you've got a good thing going, you stick with it. I had some success with these cars when I was a Cub Scout. My first year, I (read: my dad) placed third in a tri-city Pinewood Derby meet. Not too bad. This was also about the same time I won the school spelling bee for my grade. Good times. I think I peaked around this time as well.

- Missing socks
You know when you do laundry and end up with incomplete pairs of socks. It happens to everyone. When you move, you'll find them. All of them. But you won't be able to do anything with them because you've already thrown the mates away. Perfect. I don't like mixing old socks with new socks. The new socks are softer and I have to have the same softness on each foot or I get moody. You don't want to see me moody.

Just a bit longer...

2008-12-02T23:50:00.001-07:00

Thanks to all you who continue to check my blog even though I've not written anything for a while. The counter thing on this page isn't counting very fast, but it's counting which tells me there are some people checking in.

I have some stuff coming (not that it's super important) but I'm all written out right now from school. I was going to get a blurb in earlier as a release for me, but I got burned out before I could start.

Just a little bit longer. Sorry folks.

I haven't forgotten...

2008-11-23T23:22:00.000-07:00

I haven't forgotten about my blog, honest. I've just been real busy with school and moving that I haven't found the time to put together a thoughtful blog post. There's one coming, I assure you.

Please be patient with me.

It's over...it's all over

2008-11-04T22:54:00.000-07:00

The election is finally over. All the mudslinging and negative campaigning can finally come to an end. Thank goodness! I think voting is the responsibility of every American adult. Now that the voting is over, we all have a new responsibility.

We need to support our President. I don't know that I agree with the President-elect on every issue. I think he has some ideas that may be detrimental to our country and way of life, but guess what...there's nothing that can be done about it now. Except whine.

I expect that there will be a fair amount of blowhards (Hannity, Rush, et al) who will have their panties in a wad and won't be shy about telling people. I don't know that any of the talking heads have ever accomplished anything beneficial. It seems to me that they just serve to work people into a frenzy and don't offer any viable solutions to perceived "problems".

For the record, I didn't vote for Obama (I didn't vote for McCain either...bet you can't guess who I did vote for). I'm not necessarily a fan of some of the things he presented during his campaign. But, I've had my say about what I thought and my thoughts were overruled. That's the way it works. Now, it's up to me to decide if I want to be bitter and resentful, looking for flaws or shortcomings in our government. Or, I can decide to give it an honest try and do my best to make things work.

I think there are some things that are inherently flawed in some positions that have been advocated, but there's nothing I can do about that. I am choosing to look at the good that I hope our President-elect will bring about for our country. I look forward to change and hope it's for the better.

And if we're wrong, we'll have a chance to vote him out of office in a few years. A lot of the changes that some people are afraid of will take a good deal of time to bring about. I'm not saying that they won't come about, but all these things that people are afraid of won't be happening overnight.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the sky is not falling, the world is not ending, the sun will rise tomorrow, life is still good, and I'm still proud to be an American.

Hopefully this will be my last/only political post.

Shtuff. Part One.

2008-10-28T19:45:00.000-06:00

I'm not quite sure what to title this entry or what I really want to say either. Maybe I shouldn't be posting anything if I don't know where I want to go with it. Or, maybe I should and we'll all just take a ride and see where we end up.

I've been thinking lately about this blog and how my entries may make it seem like I'm down in the dumps (I'm not) or maybe that's just what it seems like to me. In any case, I wanted to post about things in my life that I've enjoyed and am currently missing (this may not help out the anti-melancholy thing). I don't want to focus so much on what I miss but on things in my past that I've enjoyed.

So here, without further ado...in pictures, are things from my past that I've enjoyed.

My family and I at my graduation. That stupid tassel kept getting in the way, so I switched hats to my preferred cap. I tucked this hat into the back of my pants under my gown as I walked. I was tempted to trade it out before crossing the stage, but decided propriety was more important than my personal fashion sense. This hat is still my favorite and it hangs on my wall as a memorial to the relationship between a man and his hat.

This is the mortarboard hat that I had to modify a little so my family could pick me out of the sea of black gowns and black hats. I thought it only appropriate that it had a 'Y' on it. Go Cougs!

My first post-mission car, a 1993 Nissan Maxima GXE. I got a killer deal on it when I got home from my mission. I drove it for years until it had to be retired when I moved to Arizona. When I got there, I picked up a pick-up (more on this below).

My 1998 Jeep Wrangler Sahara Edition. VERY fun to drive in the summer without doors or top. I loved to hop in and out and to hang a leg while on the road. Possibly one of the more fun (even if less-than-comfortable) cars I've owned.

My current car - 2000 Honda Civic XE. Not super cool, but it gets me from Point A to Point B economically and reliably. When the heck did I start caring about that crap?! I must be getting old. Dangit. I need a truck.

Dodge Charger R/T. Gets me hot and bothered without fail. Every time. In a big way. Add some lights and a push bar and I'm over the edge. This is one car that makes my already persistent yearning to be a cop almost unbearable. One of the hottest cars ever. Ever.

My dream truck. 1999 Toyota Tacoma SR5 TRD. I actually owned this very truck in the picture. Yes, that hot truck was once mine. I sold it during a pretty harsh down time in my life. If I could go back in time, I would tell myself to not sell this truck. It was literally my dream truck. At least I had it for a while. Looking at the pictures of it makes me want one. In fact, after seeing the picture before I posted this blog, I went to the classifieds just to look for another Tacoma. I had no intention of buying one, but I was definitely looking. I call it Tacoma torture.

There are few things I'm passionate about in life, but BYU football is one of them. I haven't always been a Cougar fan; it all started when I started attending BYU for my undergrad degree in 2003. Since that time, I've only missed one home football game and been to several away games.

Mullet hunting isn't a recognized sport, but I'll participate sometimes. I'm not the best hunter but I've seen a few good ones. This one is from a demolition derby (possibly the best place to find them...they're everywhere) in Ogden. The best part...it's a she-mullet.

This is a recognized sport, however. It may seem uncivilized at times, but can be one of the more, dare I say, graceful sports. This is from a Colorado Avalanche vs Vancouver Canucks game from January 2006. My brother bought me two tickets to this game for Christmas, so I decided to take him with me. It was my first (and so far only) NHL game. It was a great experience.

This is from I worked at a children's shelter in Salt Lake. You can see my Jeep in the background. See how dark my head was? That's because I drove my Jeep without a top (the way it's supposed to be) all summer without sunscreen. I eventually bought a hat. The respirator was employed when I had to clean up an ungodly mess consisting of various bodily fluids produced by a kid in the shelter. Thank goodness I had my respirator (overkill? maybe) or I might have added to the problem.

I just noticed that a lot of the pictures are of cars I've had. I wonder why that is. That's interesting to me. I didn't include a couple pictures of an older car that I had in high school because the picture album is MIA right now. When I find it I'll post some more pictures from my past, for now you'll just have to wait in eager anticipation.

Walking on

2008-10-23T23:42:00.000-06:00

This is a longer post, but I hope it will be worth your while.

People change all the time. It’s the only thing I can think of that is constant in life. It’s certainly not something that’s new in my life. My life has been a constant stream of changes. I’ve moved more times than I care to count, changed jobs more in my short post-college career than some people do in their whole life, and flip-flopped between potential future plans like a fish out of water.

I’m getting ready to make yet another change in my life. I’m moving down to Salt Lake City in a few weeks. Going to the big city, the S-L-C. I’m actually very excited about this move. It presents new opportunities for social interaction, a new environment and area to explore and just new experiences in general. That’s always exciting for me.

I seem to thrive on change, even though I don’t want to. Sometimes I feel like I have something inside me that is compelling me to move on to a new place. I heard a song by Modest Mouse that really resonates with me. Sometimes I think that if my life were ever made into a movie, this is a song that could be a theme song for the movie. I wanted to just include the lyrics that I felt were particularly applicable but after reviewing the song, I’m just going to post the whole thing and I’ll just bold the parts I feel describe me.

"Ice-age heat wave, can't complain.
If the world's at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.
I move on to another day,
to a whole new town with a whole new way.
Went to the porch to have a thought.
Got to the door and again, I couldn't stop.
You don't know where and you don't know when.
But you still got your words and you got your friends.
Walk along to another day.
Work a little harder, work another way.

Well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan.
We'll float on maybe would you understand?
Gonna float on maybe would you understand?
Well float on maybe would you understand?

The days get shorter and the nights get cold.
I like the autumn but this place is getting old.
I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast.
It might not be a lot but I feel like I'm making the most.
The days get longer and the nights smell green.
I guess it's not surprising but it's spring and I should leave.

I like songs about drifters - books about the same.
They both seem to make me feel a little less insane.
Walked on off to another spot.
I still haven't gotten anywhere that I want.
Did I want love? Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?

The moths beat themselves to death against the lights.
Adding their breeze to the summer nights.
Outside, water like air was great.
I didn't know what I had that day.
Walk a little farther to another plan.
You said that you did, but you didn't understand.

I know that starting over is not what life's about.
But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
My thoughts were so loud..."

I really like that song – it speaks to me. I always feel like I’m chasing something, but I’m never quite sure what it is. That makes it hard to ever catch it. If I did catch it, would I know what it was?

What set me off on this line of thinking? My move to Salt Lake did. Greener pastures…or so I think. I always see greener grass somewhere else and I head off in the direction of the green. Is it ever really greener? I don’t know. But I don’t see any reason to not check it out…you know, just to make sure.

I have thoughts of this type of thing (greener pastures) more than I admit to most people. I don't know how many times I've been watching Cops or World's Wildest Police Videos and thought, "yeah I want to do that, in fact that's what I'm going to do when I grow up."

I've finally found a job I enjoy and have been at it for over a year now. That is a personal record for me and the surprising thing is that I don't see myself wanting to leave anytime soon. After I finish my Master's degree then I will reevaluate my position and potential. But until that time, for the first time in my life, I am content with my job. I don't foresee any changes in this area for a while and amazingly enough, I'm perfectly okay with that.

And that makes me happy.

One final thought before I wrap up this blog. For as much change as I’ve gone through, I think I’m basically the same person I’ve always been. Moving to a new place, starting a new job, selling my car and getting a new (to me) car, making new friends…all these things are extraneous changes. They’ve had little effect on me, on who I am. If I'm staying the same, I wonder why I am constantly looking for change. What is it that makes me want something different? Am I unhappy or dissatisfied with an aspect of my life? Am I unhappy with myself? I don’t think that’s the case because if it is, I’m going about it the wrong way.

True change doesn’t originate on the outside, it starts on the inside. None of these changes I’ve been describing have come from inside. If I really wanted something to be different about myself I would have to make the change on the inside and that can happen anywhere, in any job, regardless of the kind of car I drive or who I have for friends.

Years ago, Harry Chapin sang a song called W*O*L*D about a disc jockey who left his wife, drifted around for years and finally tried to return to his wife and family. In the song he describes the jockey getting older and noticing the world changing around him. The jockey makes this profound observation on life:

“Sometimes I get this crazy dream
That I just take off in my car
But you can travel on ten thousand miles and still stay where you are…”

I’ve been around a bit and traveled on a good deal, but in some ways I feel as if I’ve never left.

In over my head

2008-10-13T21:31:00.001-06:00

I feel like I'm drowning. I have so much stuff on my plate right now and I don't know exactly how to manage it. I know what's wrong too. I got into school and I wasn't ready for it. Dangit. I haven't made school a priority and have procrastinated doing my reading and studying and as a result, am behind. Great. Typical.

I feel like I have so much stuff to do and not enough time or energy to do it all. I need to get my life organized. I have a vision of myself and my life the way I want it to be...the problem is, I'm not there. I think I have an idea of what I need to do to get there though, and that's good...but now I need to get it done.

Do I have the capability to get what I want? Yes, I believe I do. If I didn't there would not be any good reason to be talking about it until I had the capability to accomplish it. Do I know what it'll take to get there? Yes, I believe I do. Do I want it bad enough to do what it takes to get it? Oooh, now there's the right question.

I've identified a problem/obstacle to accomplishing what I want. I'm lazy. Big time lazy. Is there a cure for laziness? Sure, it's called hard work. There's no other cure that I know of.

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they spend their leisure time. You can tell what kind of person they are; are they ambitious, goal-oriented, driven? Or are they merely content to float through life and "catch as catch can"? I like to think of myself as belonging to the former category, but my actions show I really belong in the latter.

I need to make some changes. I need to do it now. I don't need to worry about maintaining these changes for the duration of my life. I just need to worry about sustaining them today. Tomorrow will take care of itself, but today I need to sustain these changes. I've mentioned my mirror sticker in a former post, but it says, "Who will you be today?"

That's my question for myself...who will I be today?

Oh deer...

2008-10-01T17:54:00.000-06:00

As a disclaimer to my readers, I have recently learned something that may challenge the most fundamental of your beliefs. Read on at your own caution.

You couldn’t stop could you? You had to keep reading to see what exactly it was going to be. I would do the same thing.

It all started out very ordinary; I was taking some garbage out to the garbage can in my driveway when I saw it. A deer was standing in my side yard munching on what little grass we have growing. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared it at with its satellite-like ears perked all the way up. I knew almost instantly that I was looking at a baby deer, but couldn’t locate the mother deer. This was concerning to me, so I backed away slowly and retreated to my house. I grabbed my camera and ran to my upstairs porch, hoping to get a better look at the deer from a position of safety.

I found the mother deer grazing a few feet away from the baby. I decided to take some pictures of what I saw, but they didn’t turn out very well, mostly just their eyes show up. My cousin and sister joined me on the porch with a flashlight. We tried to move our outdoor lights to shine directly on them, but were hindered by their lack of mobility.

So, with my cousin and sister armed with a flashlight and me armed with a camera, I set out to stalk my prey like a tiger. I crashed through the front deer and cautiously approached the deer. They probably had an ESP-like sense that told them I was coming and they started to back away towards the hill. I snuck up as quietly as possible to try and get a picture. It was about this time that a viral video I viewed (nice alliteration) that showed a man getting absolutely pummeled by a deer ran through my mind. If I recall correctly, and I think I do, that man had doused himself in deer urine in an attempt to attract deer to him. I tried to remember if I had doused myself or had any other contact with deer urine. I couldn’t remember any, so with that knowledge and the confidence that accompanied it, I proceeded towards the deer.

Here’s when I learned what has forever shaken my previous beliefs. A bright flashlight shone directly in the eyes of a deer does NOT freeze that deer in place. So much for the “deer in the headlights” myth. We had that light trained spot on the eyes and it’s not a dim flashlight. This is an LED Mag light with 3 D-cell batteries. Yeah, it’s bright. The deer looked at the light for a few seconds, probably wondering what the heck we were doing shining a light in its eyes then sauntered off down the hill.

I approached the crest of the hill without much trepidation and watched as mama and baby headed down the hill towards our stream. The baby deer started jump running. That’s what I call it when they run and jump at the same time. The mama deer just stood behind a bush and waited for me to follow it down the hill. Feeling included in my new deer family, I carefully tumbled down the hill. I think my clumsiness may have been a source of concern on the deer’s part of my ability to keep up with the family and they proceeded to leave me high and dry at the bottom of the hill. I listened as they crossed the stream and disappeared from view.

It was at approximately this time that I remembered something else I had seen while on the porch. I had seen another set of eyes reflect in the darkness. This other set did not belong to either deer. At the bottom of the hill and at the mercy of whatever predator was lurking in the shadows, I cautiously looked around. I could not see any other eyes looking at me. I decided this was as good a time as any to head back to my house. I did not want to go hunting through the brush for an unknown (and probably carnivorous) animal. We have had a porcupine lurking around in our yards recently and I did not think highly of a chance encounter with this creature.

Fortunately, I made it back inside safely. However, my belief of a deer frozen in headlights has been destroyed forever.

Growing up hurts sometimes.

Give me a head with hair...or not

2008-09-24T19:43:00.000-06:00

It's no big secret, I've shaved my head. In an act of defiance I decided I would be held hostage no more. No more "bed head" or "hat hair", no thank you. I was going to be my own man dangit. And so I am.

I took a pair of clippers to my hair over a month ago and really liked it. I couldn't get it short enough. I eventually got out a razor and eliminated all the hair from my head. I've since let it grow out a little, but it's not getting past a number 1 on the clippers, in fact when I trim it I don't use a guard on the clippers. I like it. I'm going to keep it.

I've also learned something new from this experience. I've long believed that I've possessed a mythical power called "mojo" but have been hard pressed to prove it. I've finally discovered where the mojo lays. It's in my head. All this time it's been trying to get out. That's why my hair was thinning, the mojo can't get through the hair, so it starts to thin the hair to allow itself to get out. By shaving my head, I was helping the mojo get out.

Now that my mojo has full access to the outside world, I've noticed some things have been happening. I've been approached by attractive females much more often than I was in the past (who am I kidding? I was rarely approached before.); it seems there is something that draws them to me now and the only thing I can think of is that my mojo has been allowed to flow out unrestrained.

Fortunately for me (and innocent bystanders), it doesn't come gushing out. I'd hate to see what would happen if it did...it would probably closely resemble an Axe Bodywash commercial. There'd be craziness all over the place, someone might get hurt and I wouldn't want that.

I've long thought my mojo was just broken, but all along I've been keeping it caged up and it's been practically begging to come out and play. I'm going to let it flow - proud and free...except when it gets cold, then I'm going to wear a hat. The mojo can stay inside until it warms up a bit.

Ode to tan lines

2008-09-12T14:56:00.000-06:00

I've been meaning to post something new for a while now, but I've struggled to find the time. I was laying on my bed the other day talking to my cousin and I looked down at my feet and saw...tan lines! Seriously? Tan lines?

At the end of July, I went to Chicago to visit my family out there and I spent a couple hours one afternoon sitting on a folding camp chair watching some lacrosse games. I didn't think I needed sunscreen because I would only be out a couple hours and I wanted my legs to get a little sun. They've been neglected this summer and last also because I haven't been out on the lake (I think I did a little blurb about this in a former post).

Anyway, I decided that it would be a good thing to get a little color on my legs. I was wearing shorts, ankle socks (also believe I've posted about these) and shoes. I didn't think I'd get as much sun as I did. Later that evening, I was really feeling it and my legs were a nice bright shade of pink. So, aloe became a good friend of mine for the next few days.

I had a nice ankle sock tan line on each foot. Very distinct. On the north side of the line, it was pink...very pink. On the south side, it was white...very, very white. No big deal, right? I mean, the burn would turn to a tan and then eventually fade away and my legs would again be a consistent shade of pasty. Well, it's now coming on two months later and there is still a very distinct line on each foot. And my legs aren't tan. What the heck is wrong with me?!

I've had sunburns before and I've had tans before. I've been dark enough to be a victim of racial discrimination. But they always go away. Except this time. For some reason there is a tan line on each foot. When I take my socks off and I parade in sandals, it looks like I'm still wearing socks. This is a problem. I don't want people to think I'm some kind of sock 'n sandal wearing dweeb. If people are going to think I'm a dweeb, I'd rather it be for one of the other multitudinous reasons I so readily provide.

On the other hand, tan lines are pretty cool. They tell people, "I'm cool enough that I have fun things to do outside where I'll be exposed to the sun and will experience a melanin level change in my skin." Maybe they don't say that much, but when was the last time you've seen a couch potato with a killer tan? Fluorescent lights just don't have the same punch as the sun. I'm not even talking about a tanning booth either, but I will be now.

Tanning booths are lame. If you can't get enough cancer causing UV rays being outside, why would you think it's a good idea to go lay down on a bed of lights? It doesn't make you look tan, it makes you look orange. And fake. And eventually leathery. People use tanning beds to avoid tan lines. Why? People, tan lines are cool. They're like a before-and-after on your skin. You have proof that you did something cool and fun.

Tan people look more toned, more defined, more healthy. Before you read too much into it, there is a limit for that too...too much tan is not a good thing. A good dark tan takes time. Time that can't be spent all in one shot. A really good tan is the result of multiple days in quick succession of spending a healthy amount of time in the sun (not on a bed). To achieve a good tan, you must add to it little by little. You can't rush the process, it takes patience.

Don't forget that every tan, real or artificial, will eventually fade and your true color will shine through once again. However, if you are lucky like me, you will still have the tan lines even when the tan is long gone.

Say what you mean

2008-08-25T14:12:00.001-06:00

There’s a lot of things I really want to get out, so this post may be longer than most. It could probably be made into multiple posts spread out over multiple days, but I really want to get it out so I’m going to do it in one fell swoop.

I’ve had some fairly interesting experiences the last couple days and they’ve really made me think about some things. I’m not quite sure where to start.

I had a BBQ with some friends over the weekend at Sugarhouse Park. I really like that park and I especially like the area we BBQ in. When I got there, under a tree not too far from where we were setting up was a man sleeping. I hoped that he would remain there after we started cooking because I thought that maybe he would like a plate of food. When I looked back at the tree a short time later, he was gone.

We had our BBQ, cooked some good food, played some frisbee, sat around and talked. It was a good time. It started to get dark and my sister needed to use the facilities, so I told her I would walk with her over there. I am a trusting individual, but I’m not dumb. I don’t want my sister walking by herself through a dark park. While I was waiting outside for her, a man approached me and it was obvious that he was going to ask me for some money. He proceeded to give me his story and then asked if I could spare some money. I lied to him and told him that I didn’t have any. I told him that we were cooking and had a lot of food and that he was welcome to it. I half expected him to decline, but he accepted. At just this time, my sister came out so we all walked together over to where we were hanging out. He walked a lot slower than I did and I thought he was doing it so he could just disappear, but he kept on coming. When we got back, we made him a plate of food and he and I talked for a short time. He thanked me for filling his belly and made his way across the park. He was Native American and taught me how to say "thank you" in his native tongue. I thought that was pretty cool.

Then, just yesterday as I was out walking I saw an elderly lady trying to get up some stairs at a house. I thought about helping her but didn’t want to put her in a situation where she might be embarrassed by my asking to help her. I also wasn’t sure how she would react to me with my buzzed hair and beard. I think I look pretty tough (even though my friends say I’m still a softie). I called out and asked if she needed any help She accepted my offer for help and I jogged across the street. I offered her my arm and helped her up the stairs and waited while she knocked on the door. Nobody answered so I helped her down the stairs, down the driveway and across the street to her car. She thanked me and we parted ways.

These two events got me thinking. I could easily have told the man in the park that I had no money and left it at that. I could easily have continued walking past the old lady and not offered any help. Would I have been better off for it? I doubt it, although I don't know that I am better off for helping but that's not the point. Certainly they wouldn’t be. All it took was opening my mouth. That’s it. I’ve decided I’m going to open my mouth more often and try to find ways to help people that may need it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"To everything there is a season"

I’ve been thinking about seasons a lot lately. Particularly about what season of life I’m in and what the next season will bring. I’ve also been thinking of things I enjoy that I have been able to do and some things that I haven’t been able to. A couple of things that I enjoy doing that I haven’t been able to are waterskiing and hockey. I’ve missed out on waterskiing for two summers and am not sure if a third one is waiting in the wings or not. I can’t remember the last time I’ve played hockey...I think it’s been a year. I also don’t know when the next time I’ll be able to strap on the pads and hit the ice will be.

I’m getting ready to start a new season of life...that of being a grad student. I’m worried that it will consume my time and crowd out the things I enjoy doing. It will definitely take up my entire night on Thursdays. Combine that with my Tuesday night tracking night and I’m down two nights right off the bat. How much time will this program take? Will it eat up my other nights? I don’t know.

I think my hockey and waterskiing seasons are over.

There was a time when I would drop everything to hit the lake for a day. I’ve turned down jobs before because it would infringe on my skiing time. The season for that is definitely over. The changing of spring to summer, summer to fall, fall to winter and back to spring is something I enjoy. I like the feeling and anticipation of the coming season. There is always a lingering sadness for what is passed, but the anticipation of the future always overcomes the sadness. This is a little different. I’m really sad about it and I’m not looking forward with my usual eager anticipation.

I don’t dread my return to school, I am excited to get through it and have a Master’s degree. I am not excited about the sacrifices it will entail. I don’t know what this season will bring me and I am not sure I’m ready to let go of this last season just yet.

I don’t have much of a choice.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lastly, and this is probably the hardest for me to put into words...but I’ll try. I feel like I’ve been on a journey the last couple of years trying to find myself, to define who I am. It’s been an adventure in existentialism. I don’t know if I’m done yet or if one ever is truly "done". All I know is that I’ve done it alone. That’s not to say I haven’t had friends or other associates along the way because I surely have. What I’m trying to say is I’ve done it single, unmarried. I can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Part of me wants to think it’s a good thing because there’s less pressure to conform to someone else’s ideals and I am thus able to be me for the sake of being me. The other part of me recognizes (hopes) that this will not always be the case and that at some point "I" will not be defined solely by me, but by a spouse, a "we" and that is who I will ultimately become. The part that recognizes this also thinks that the longer "I" go on defining me the less "we" will be able to do and that may cause problems in that I may be more resistant to change. Although, on second thought...maybe the fact that I recognize this will allow me to make the changes I need to. I don't know, I guess only time will tell. (If you haven't figured out, this blog isn't about answers so much as it is about questions, thoughts, impressions, etc.)

At the same time, I’m getting really tired of "the game". I stopped playing it long ago. You know, the whole "I have to wait two or three days before I call her or she’ll know that I like her and I can’t have that" BS. The playing "hard to get" not returning calls, etc. I don’t play it. I hate it when people play it with me. If a girl wants me to be not interested, all she needs to do is play a little and I walk away. It’s not worth it to me. Maybe that’s a bad attitude, but seriously people - we’re adults, not junior high kids writing notes back and forth and telling your friend to tell your crush that you like them because you’re too shy/insecure to do it yourself. If you want a mature, adult relationship then be a mature adult. It’s not difficult to figure out.

I can count the number of times on one hand (two fingers in fact) how many times a girl has been "real" with me. Two.

When I return from a date and am talking with my friends about it and they ask me if we’re going out again my standard response is "I don’t know." Do I know if I want to take the girl out again? Most of the time. Do I know if she wants to go out again? Rarely. Why don’t I know? Because I invariably get the same response, "sure - sounds fun". That’s when the game begins. I will call the next time and usually get the voice mail. When I don’t I am often surprised and taken aback. If I get the voice mail I will leave a message and then the waiting begins. If she calls back, then I know she was being honest and is at least interested in seeing what another date will bring. If she doesn’t call back, do I give her the benefit of the doubt and call again or assume that she would have called if she was interested? I will generally give the girl the benefit of the doubt and call her again in a couple days. That’s when I get the voice mail and know that I’ve been had. I’ll leave a short message letting her know that I’d like to take her out again and will await her response. I don’t think I’ve ever heard back from someone at this point.

The two times I’ve had a girl give me the "you’re a nice guy, but..." routine I’ve been grateful. That’s right, grateful. Why was I grateful I got shut down? Because at least I knew where I stood and there was no guessing game, no runaround. I’ve thanked them for their honesty and bade farewell. Did it sting? Oh sure, I’m not going to pretend it didn’t. Did it hurt? Oh yeah, again I'm not going to pretend it didn't. It definitely stung less than the long drawn out runaround though. Face it, there’s going to be a sting regardless of when you do it. There always is and always will be. The question is whether or not the sting is quick like a good band-aid pull or slow and painful like a sadistic nurse slowly tugging off a bandage. I for one prefer the quick yank. Just pull it off and be done.

I'm tired of playing.

Cat Stevens did a song years ago called "Can’t Keep It In" and I’ve come to absolutely love this song. I’ll play it over and over again on my iPod. It goes a little something like this (the emphasis being mine):

Oh I can't keep it in
I can't keep it in, I've gotta let it out.
I've got to show the world, world's got to see
See all the love, love that's in me.

I said, why walk alone?
Why worry when it's warm over here?
You've got so much to say, say what you mean
Mean what you think and think anything.

Oh why, why must you waste youre life away?
You've got to live for today, then let it go, oh
Lover, I want to spend this time with you
There's nothing I wouldn't do, if you let me know.

And I can't keep it in
I can't hide it and I can't lock it away.
I'm up for your love, love heats my blood
Blood spins my head, and my head falls in love, oh.

No, I can't keep it in
I can't keep it in, I've gotta let it out.
I've gotta show the world, world's got to know
Know of the love, love that lies low

So why can't you say?
If you know, then why can't you say?
You've got too much deceit, deceit kills the light
Light needs to shine, I said shine light, shine light, shine.

Love, that's no way to live your life
You allow too much to go by, and that won't do. No.
Lover I want to have you here by my side
Now don't you run, don't you hide
While I'm with you.

An' I can't keep it in
I can't keep it in, I've gotta let it out.
I've got to show the world, world's got to see
See all the love, love that's in me.

I said, why walk alone?
Why worry when its warm over here?
You've got so much to say, say what you mean
Mean what you're thinking, and think anything.

Why not?
Now why why why not?

Get in my belly!

2008-08-20T08:49:00.000-06:00

I think I have a tapeworm.

What? That's not enough information for you? You really want to know more? Alright, you asked for it.

It all started yesterday morning. I'm not usually a breakfast eater. I have a fairly sensitive stomach, always have, and it doesn't like to get into gear soon after waking up. I usually will wait at least a couple hours after I'm up and moving before I will think about eating. Usually I just skip breakfast entirely and go straight to lunch. Although, since I've been working out this habit has been changing and I've been eating more often in the morning.

Well, I went to bed on Monday night shortly after eating a Beto's burrito. If you don't know what those are...they are monstrous burritos and will usually leave a person feeling pretty full. I've actually eaten two of them in a sitting. I wanted to die afterward though. That is entirely too much burrito for one person to consume on a given night. Anyhow, I ate one Monday night before I went to bed.

I woke up Tuesday morning absolutely starving. Eating preoccupied my mind. I could scarcely think of anything else. I was running late so I decided to wait until I got to work because I knew we had leftover food from a training the previous day. When I got to work I was right, there was food. I grabbed a couple donuts and hightailed it to my office to satisfy my hunger. I felt pretty good after eating them and thought I was on the right track. Well, it wasn't long before I was hungry again. I would have to wait until lunch this time though. When lunch finally rolled around I went to Burger King and got a big value meal.

I ate that and literally within two hours was famished again. I grabbed another donut. About thirty minutes later, after a meeting I was again feeling hungry. This isn't the normal hunger that I'm talking about. I was in serious pain and felt like I hadn't eaten in days. I don't get this hungry when I fast. I grabbed a pastry and scarfed it down.

Last night was my tracking night and I knew I was going to need to eat during it or I would never make it all the way through. So, my partner and I stopped at a grocery store and picked up some food. I was able to make it.

When I got home, I ate and ate and ate. Then later last night, I went to Beto's again with some friends. I thought that maybe it was just a yesterday thing. Nope. This morning I was at it again. I've had a couple Oatmeal Creme Pies and a humongous muffin this morning. I'm feeling good right now, but that's because I finished the muffin about 15 minutes ago. I have a box of rapidly depleting Oatmeal Creme Pies stashed in my desk and I'm concerned they may not survive the day.

Where is this food going and why do I need to eat so dang much? It'd be one thing if I would get a little hungry, but I get crazy hungry. Insanely hungry.

I did a quick Google search on tapeworms and have decided that it is extremely unlikely that I have a tapeworm. So, what are my other options? Am I pregnant? Also highly unlikely. Maybe I was abducted by an alien and have a little alien feeding inside me like that one movie. I have fallen deeply asleep after work a couple times recently...I think this is the most feasible option.

All I know is that it sure feels like I'm eating for two right now. What's for lunch?

Pink? Really?

2008-08-17T21:27:00.000-06:00

I've noticed a disturbing trend growing in our society. Something that strikes at the root of all that is good and holy. I've decided I will no longer sit idly by and allow this pernicious practice to be propagated in our populous.

What I'm talking about is the practice of wearing pink by guys that you would other assume are masculine. What is that all about? Pink is not a color that guys should wear. Period. Throw out all the crap about being secure enough in your sexuality to be able to wear pink. That's crap...pure and simple. Crap. Why does one have to advertise their sexual security? Could it be that they are actually masking an insecurity by acting secure? Hmm...may be on to something here.

Is it an archaic belief and out-dated tradition that males don't wear pink? That's an easy question. No, it's not. Guys don't wear pink. Or salmon, mauve, magenta, lavender, rose, fuchsia, or any variation of any of the above.

There's no good reason for a guy to wear pink. It's not progressive thinking, new age liberality, or being open-minded. I don't care if you think you are one of the few who "look good in pink" or if so many girls have told you that. It's just plain wrong. Remember metrosexuality? I do. I haven't seen too many of them around anymore. Maybe it's just because I haven't spent a lot of time in Provo recently, but maybe that fad has gone the way of mullets. You'll spot someone sporting the look every now and again, but for the most part they've gone by the wayside. One can only hope.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit one thing. I have had a pedicure. Once. I was trying to impress a girl at the time and she went with me. I believe that's excusable. A one time effort to impress a female certainly doesn't call into question my status as a guy. However, wearing a pink shirt to church...yeah it's ringing, answer the call.

Brad Paisley sings a song about this very thing. He says, "These days there's dudes gettin' facials, manicured, waxed and botoxed, With deep spray-on tans and creamy lotiony hands, You can't grip a tackle box, Yeah with all of these men lining up to be neutered, It's hip now to be feminized, But I don't highlight my hair, I've still got a pair, Yeah honey, I'm still a guy."

Sums it up nicely.

Narcissism vs. Confidence

2008-08-03T17:22:00.000-06:00

In Greek mythology, Naricissus was a vain young man, who went hunting one day and became thirsty, so he stopped at a stream for a drink. While bending down to drink, he saw his reflection in the water and fell in love with it. He didn't dare drink the water for fear that he would break the reflection. He ended up dying of thirst where he sat staring at his reflection in the water.

From this story, the term narcissistic came to be. It means one who is exceptionally vain, or according to dictionary.com, has an "inordinate fascination with one's self".

Confidence on the other hand is a belief in yourself, or self-assurance.

It can be argued that too much confidence can lead to narcissism, but I don't want to make that argument. Being self-assured and aware of your self, both strength and weaknesses, does not lead to one being preoccupied with one's self or being fascinated with yourself.

In today's society it seems that when one has a high opinion of himself, that person is "cocky" or "arrogant" or another equally derogatory term. Having a high opinion of one's self seems to be distasteful to society. When complimented, it's socially acceptable to downplay or entirely dismiss the compliment. When told, "You look nice" it's not acceptable to say, "I know." Why not? If you know, then why can't you say?

Why is this? Why is it so wrong to have an accurate assessment of your assets? Everyone has good qualities, strengths, things they like about themselves. What is so wrong about stating unequivocally the things that are good about one's self? Why do we feel uncomfortable saying, "I like this about myself" or "I'm good at this"? Why do people feel uncomfortable talking good about themselves, but have no problem pointing out their flaws, weaknesses or shortcomings?

Many of you know about the doozie of a week I had last week. I had plenty of opportunities to think poorly of myself and pay particular attention to negative things about myself and my life - things that I didn't have, things that I wasn't, things I wished were different, things that made me feel bad and so on. I took advantage of those opportunities and made an already difficult week worse for myself.

I woke up this morning and had had enough. On my mirror, I have a vinyl sticker that says simply, "Who will you be today?" I looked at it this morning and thought about it. Who would I be today? I decided I would be happy today. I started thinking of the things that I like about myself. I came up with a couple right off the bat, but as I continued thinking about it, I realized I needed to make a list. I got a little pad of paper and a pen and starting writing. I was a little uncomfortable doing it at first, it's not something that I generally do. But, I decided I would press through the awkwardness and finish my list.

I kept the pad with me throughout church services today and as I would think of something, I would add it to the list. As I was doing this, I thought of the song "Count Your Many Blessings" and realized that I was doing just what the song suggested. I was naming blessings one by one.

I have a high opinion of myself and I believe I have good reason to have such. I believe you do too and I would encourage you to make your own list. Whether or not you share it is up to you, but I found it to be rather therapeutic today. Being honest about my strengths and things I like about myself was an eye-opening experience.

I'm not narcissistic, I have a healthy and positive view of myself.

And there's not a thing wrong with that.

On my mind

2008-07-31T15:43:00.000-06:00

I've had a lot of stuff on my mind lately...a whole lot of stuff. Where to start?

Not the least of the things on my mind was my heart. I had an echocardiogram today and it showed that my heart was very strong and healthy. Good news. I started having some chest pains while in Chicago on a vacation and when I returned, they did too. I saw a doctor on Monday and did an EKG and an x-ray, with mixed results. The EKG was ordered just to put the doc's mind at ease. After the EKG, he saw "several abnormalities" and it was sent to a cardiologist for review, while I saw anxiously in the doctor's office knowing something was up and not knowing what. The pat on my knee from the doctor and the promise to take care of me didn't set me at ease at all. If anything, it made me more nervous, what was wrong with me? Well, the cardiologist came back and said that everything was fine, but the doctor wanted an ECG to make sure. So, I did that today. I'm all good. Except, I still hurt sometimes. Dang heart.

To add to that, I found out that I'll be paying $400 to know that my heart is good. Wonderful. I also had to get my car safety/emissions tested and had to buy a new tire ($100) as a result. Then it cost me $150 to renew the registration. Yikes. When it rains, it pours. That's $650 out the door, just like that. Fortunately I can make payments on the ECG deal, although they did try to get me to pay it all today. I'm really glad I've learned over the last few years how to assert myself. A headlock and noogie are effective communication techniques to get medical collectors off your back. Just so you know...for future reference.

(Sigh) - it's just been one of those weeks. I'm reminded of one of my absolute favorite songs of all time, "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel. The reason this is one of my favorite songs is because of one line.

"In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminders of every blow that laid him down or cut him til he cried out in his anger and his shame, 'I am leaving, I am leaving'...but the fighter still remains."

Sometimes I feel, like that boxer, ready to say "I am leaving, I am leaving" and walk away.

I'm still here.

Changes and ankle socks

2008-07-13T21:06:00.000-06:00

I was cleaning my room yesterday and I came across a piece of paper I hadn't seen in a long time. It was an Injury Report form dated 07/23/2007 detailing an injury I incurred while working at a children's shelter in Salt Lake City. I had been playing soccer with one of the children when a (well placed) kick sent the ball flying directly at a sensitive area lower than my stomach.

This type of injury doesn't normally require a form to be filled out. The pain will usually subside within a few agonizing minutes. This time, it didn't. I had my supervisor fill out the form to ensure I could receive workman's compensation should I require medical attention for my injury. Fortunately, by the next day the pain was gone and the only thing I had to remind me of the injury was this form.

What got me thinking was the date on the form. July 23, 2007. Nearly a year ago. Pretty darn close. I started thinking about where I was, what I was doing and who I was a year ago and then comparing it to where I am today, what I am doing and who I am now.

Life's a little different when you start growing up. In elementary school you are measured by what grade you are in. One year you're in the 5th grade and the next you're in the 6th grade. That is a quantifiable difference. You can measure progress and development fairly simply that way.

In grade school, students have the goal of finishing school. That goal is easily tracked by grades. When you are in 6th grade, you have six years of schooling completed and need to make it to 12 to finish high school. You know exactly how far you've come and how much further you have to go. Progress is tracked and is measured.

As an adult, things are different. It's not as easy to measure progress towards goals.

Does development and growth slow down when you get older? Does learning slow down? What have I done in the last year to grow and develop as a person?

I haven't done a lot of changing since last year. I'm essentially the same person this year as I was last. I like the same things, wear the same clothes, listen to the same music, eat the same foods, have the same habits, play the same games, enjoy the same sports...I'm no different now than I was at this time last year. That's a problem.

Don't get me wrong, I like myself...a lot. I think I'm a great guy and I think most people that know me think the same. Maybe it's my inflated ego that leads me to think this, but so be it. Having said that, there are still some things about myself that I would like to change. There is growth and development I would like to experience. But the question is, what have I done to experience that growth and development?

I guess not all things are the same. Within the last two weeks I've discovered the joy that are ankle socks. In the past, I've looked down on ankle socks and thought they weren't "cool". After a fair amount of persuasion and the realization that I can't wear calf socks with non-athletic shorts without looking pretty stupid, I decided to give the ankle socks a try. I bought a six pack of socks, figuring that'd be enough to give me the full ankle sock experience.

Wow. Just wow. I am a convert. Ankle socks have all the comfort and then some of the calf length socks I'm accustomed to. I've worn them just about every day since I bought them. I no longer have only one pack, I now have several packs of them. They're easier to wash, fold and store because they have less material than the longer socks. They're fashionable for summer time wear, but you can wear them in cooler weather also. They work well for playing sports and exercising. In short, they are the ultimate sock and I wish I'd found them sooner.

I may not have made huge changes this last year, but I have discovered ankle socks, and that's a start.

Peace of Mind

2008-07-12T14:56:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking. I have been blogging my P90X experience and have kind of enjoyed it. I decided that there's more I'd like to say, but it doesn't really fit in with my P90X stuff and I don't want to just throw it all in together. So, I decided to start a new blog. I'll call it Musings. It may or may not be updated as often as the P90X one, but it will contain things of a more personal nature. Don't think that it will be a voyeuristic experience for you...I am not going to reveal anything that I wouldn't normally, this is just a unique way to reach more people and more effective than calling someone to say, "hey guess what I was thinking". I'm kinda excited for this. It will be a new experience for me.

So, with that explanation...here it comes.

I like music. No, I love music. I wish I could play it; I'm trying to learn how. I love songs that tell stories or have morals. I don't like this new-fangled corporate rock. It all seems so canned, so lifeless. It didn't use to be this way. Singers used to be songwriters and they would write about things that mattered to them. They would write about the things in their heart. Sometimes the messages were political and sometimes they were tributes to people or experiences. Sometimes they were stories...I like those ones.

Some of these people are Harry Chapin, Cat Stevens, Neil Young, Eric Clapton...just to name a few.

I'm not saying there is no good music today, it's just very different than the music of yesteryear. One of my all time favorite songs is "Peace of Mind" by Boston. That song speaks to me, something that is lost on much of today's music.

"Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you've been paying
Future's coming much too slow
And you wanna run but somehow you just keep on stayin'
Can't decide on which way to go

I understand about indecision
But I don't care if I get behind
People livin' in competition
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Now you're climbin' to the top of the company ladder
Hope it doesn't take too long
Can't you see there'll come a day when it won't matter
Come a day when you'll be gone"

I was driving today and I saw a big truck in front of me waiting to turn right at a red light. All of a sudden, he punched the gas, squeeled his tires and took off in front of oncoming traffic. This is something I've sure we've all seen (and maybe even done). It's one of my biggest pet peeves with driving. When I saw this cat pull out, the first thing I thought of was this song. I wondered why he was in such a hurry and why it seems everyone is in a hurry. Is where he's going so important that he can't wait 30 seconds to show some consideration to the people around him? Is everywhere everyone is going so important that we can't show some regard for the people around us?

Why does it seem that everyone is in competition with each other? Hurrying around, can't let the other guy in because it would delay us. Are we so narcissistic to think that we're so much more important than everyone else? What ever happened to common courtesy? If this was the biggest problem, it wouldn't be a big deal, but I think it's indicative of a much larger social problem. When we start thinking that we're better than others or more important and can inconvenience someone because it suits us or because it serves our interest, we are on dangerous ground. Where will it stop?

Just something I thought about when I saw a white truck pull out in front of traffic.

If you think this is all about driving, you've missed the point.