Life goal #1

Just in time for New Year's Resolutions, here is a life goal I just created.

Life Goal #1:

Create a meal called Pottage Soup. Pass this recipe on to my children.

FIN

I'm back...

in black. More like back from the black. It's been awhile since I blogged, and while I don't really have any valid excuses for not writing, I think I may have determined something that has been preventing me from writing more.

Basically it's this: my approach to blogging got too cerebral. I spent too much time thinking about things, outlining, planning, etc., and not enough time actually writing. This over-thinking began to take place because I gave myself an unnatural standard to achieve with my writing. It was like I couldn't write unless what I did write was going to be so good it could be published without any substantial revision. I've realized that I was not only more productive as a writer, but what I did write was usually pretty good and enjoyable to read when I didn't take myself too seriously. I need to write because it brings me happiness and contentment, and that's all. I can't feel like I need to produce a masterpiece every time I sit down to blog. It's just got to flow freely and naturally.

I hope consciously acknowledging this hang up will let me overcome it and write as frequently as I once did. It seems like I'm not the only one who is less prolific these days. Is the general enthusiasm for blogging waning? I hope not. I won't delude myself into thinking that I am going to lead the blogging renaissance, but I will do my part.

Why count sheep when you can blog about music and robots and zombies??

Every once in awhile when I'm in a creative mood, or at least thinking about being creative, I'll stumble across a song that is perfect for whatever I have in mind. Earlier this year when I was brainstorming the still unfinished Bad Jeremy Trilogy, I heard the song "Robotboy" by Robyn and my brain was flooded with images for the perfect ending montage for the film. I love the feeling when this epiphany takes place. I realize my ideas aren't anything spectacular or groundbreaking, but there is still a certain satisfaction when this happens.

I'm writing this because I just had one of those moments. It was such a random occurrence too! I was writing down some ideas about a short film involving zombies and robots (very high-brow), and I was trying to decide on some music to listen to. I find that music can be a useful, though imperfect, resource in evoking certain moods or emotions when I'm writing. For some reason I decided on an obscure band I hadn't listened to in a very long time, The 1900's. It wasn't until the third song of their only full-length album that magic happened. The song "When I Say Go" immediately jumped out at me. I remembered listening to it sometime in the past, but this time the music and lyrics struck me like lightning. It fits perfectly with the premise and mood of the film I'm trying to conceptualize. How often are you going to find a song that fits perfectly with your ideas for a film about humans and robots teaming up to fight off the zombie horde? Look at these lyrics:

Watching all the quiet faces I don't understand

I believe we can be rescued by better things than man

And everyone would be so sorry I don't even know

I've been watching all my time go to waste

And you never thought you'd be so slow

First one to the steps when I say go

Any body but my own

Waiting on the lines that we define

Listen up! I never knew I'd ever be so sad

I've been touched in places by very scary hands

If anyone should ask me I'll tell them I don't know

I've been leaving all my clues like my footprints in the snow

And you never thought you'd be so slow

First one to the gate when I say go

And you need to hold your own

Waiting on the lines that we divide

All the world is cold

Ice to snow to sun

Look at what is left

It's just me

And I've been waiting all alone

Watching all the quiet faces I can understand

Why we need to be rescued by better things than man

And you never thought you'd be so slow

First one to the steps when I say go

Any body but my own

Waiting on the lines that we define

Waiting for the one I love

I've been forgetting you

It's late and I don't feel the need to point out all the parts of that song that turn on light bulbs in my head. I guess I just felt the need to blog something, and, since I couldn't sleep, this is what I came up with. I should really sleep now.

Late-night post that went longer than I planned.

I was perusing Facebook this afternoon and came across a status update from an acquaintance, not really much of a friend. The update upset me, and I hurriedly copied it to use later in this post. This acquaintance wrote:

"Dear Lord Obama, please increase teacher salary or cut my taxes so that I can take home the money I earn instead of paying for the following: 1. Medicare and Medicaid (I pay for my own insurance, thanks ;-), 2. Some skank-meth-addicts 5th drug baby 3. Food stamps of those who will never do anything to pay society back. Love, C. Montgomery Burns." (name obviously changed)

I normally don't scoff at all when this stuff all too frequently appears on Facebook, but for some reason, this upset me. I'm not going to write a lot about this, but I will say a few things in my own little letter.

"Dear C. Montgomery Burns, shouldn't the free market determine your wages? Don't like what you're earning, get a different job or complain to the free market. Your 'letter' displays an alarming lack of compassion, not that compassion is commonly associated with conservatism or anything, but I'd expect a little more from you. You and I both, after all, spent two years of our lives trying to help people live better and happier lives. Not that the government necessarily needs to be the body to extend compassion to people, but history has shown that treating one another with compassion has not been high on mankind's list of priorities. What did James say about religion pure and undefiled? I feel like your views are shortsighted, not to mention selfish. You probably don't have any kind of preexisting condition which would preclude you from receiving affordable health insurance. You have a job, however low-paying the salary may be. You are fortunate and should consider yourself lucky. Everyone isn't that fortunate, however. And yes, people can and should work to improve their lot in life, but you do not know people's circumstances and are really in no position to judge them or determine how worthy they are of aid. But maybe you're right. Maybe we can't possibly worry about helping other people until we first worry about ourselves and make sure that we have all we want. Thank you for your timely Facebook status update."

It's been a good week for concerts. I saw two bands I had wanted to see for a very long time. Sunny Day Real Estate played a reunion show with the original lineup, playing mostly songs from their first two albums, and it was amazing. They sounded just like I hoped they would. They played with a lot of energy and intensity. They played a fantastic set and were very tight. The lead guitarist had a huge grin on his face throughout the entire show, and it always made me happy when I saw it. Having been a fan since I first heard them as a teenager (many moons ago), I never thought I would have a chance to see them live. I'm grateful I did. Then later in the week I saw Autolux with my boys Andrew and Whitney, and it was one of the loudest shows I've ever been to. Autolux were incredible and put out an incredible wall of sound for a trio. We were bombarded with sound, standing only a few feet from the small stage. Each member of the band was off in their own little world, doing their own thing, but they were always right with each other. The drummer, Carla Azar, was incredible to watch. She is an amazing drummer. During the set, she rarely smiled or showed any emotion. She seemed very focused, very into what she was playing, almost oblivious to everything else going on around her. Then after the show, she was at the band's merch table. Andrew, Whitney, and I dropped by because we wanted shirts. (I bought a band shirt for the first time since I saw the Wrens in Seattle in December 2005). At the table, Carla was smiling and laughing, very friendly. I told her I really enjoyed the set and thought the new songs they played were fantastic. (Their second album will finally be released after New Year - it's been over five years since they released their perfect debut album). I was pleasantly surprised with the difference in her on-stage and off-stage demeanor. Let it be know, I love Autolux. They put on an amazing show, and I hope to see them again someday. Hopefully my ears will have recovered by then.

In other music news, I have been listening to The XX a lot this week. I first heard them months ago on NPR, and I was very impressed then. The band consists of four 20 year old Brits. Their songs are quite low-key and feature a lot of back and forth, boy-girl vocals. I'm astounded that 20 year-olds are making music this refined and mature. They're not overcompensating for songwriting deficiencies with volume or enthusiasm. They just write very, very solid songs. Their debut album is perfect for listening to at night with a set of quality headphones. I recommend the song "Crystalised" as a good introduction.

I will now attempt to sleep so I can wake up, finish cleaning my bedroom and bathroom for cleaning checks, and play an intramural football game. Adieu.

Go mighty Cougars!

I should have written this earlier, but it's been a crazy week. Last week saw the return of college football, and all was well in the (sports) world again. Ever since I heard that BYU was in talks to play Oklahoma in their season opener for 2009, I was worried. That worry grew when Florida defeated Oklahoma in the BCS championship game, and Sam Bradford and Co. announced that they would return for another season. Only winning a championship could motivate players guaranteed millions in the NFL to return for another season. With that kind of motivation, I figured the entire Oklahoma team would have a chip on its shoulder all season.

However much I feared Oklahoma, I never wrote off BYU's chances because in college football anything can happen. That fact became the basis of my hope that BYU could pull of an incredible upset. Whenever people asked me how I thought the game would turn out, I would answer that the logical part of me thought Oklahoma would win, but the rest of me was holding onto that one beautiful truth that anything could happen.

It's gameday. Twenty-five people crowd into the living room of my apartment. The game is dead even. The atmosphere is electric. Everyone is cheering loudly. I jump to my feet and high five nearly everyone in the room after every great play. The little blue wind-up dancing robot leads us in our celebration dance. We run around the apartment complex and yell after each of BYU's two touchdowns and after the final whistle blows. Provo is full of celebration. We drive down the streets slowly. I honk my car's horn. We all yell and put our index fingers into the air triumphantly. Crowds of people are gathered on street corners, all of them cheering loudly and happily. A rally is quickly organized to meet the players when their plane lands in the early morning hours. The college football world is stunned, and Provo is content, ecstatic, and optimistic. College football is back, and the Cougars have burst onto the scene with one of their biggest victories of all-time.

It really was an intense and incredible game. I have never been in a better atmosphere for watching a road game on TV. Many props to everyone who watched the game in my apartment. I'll never forget the game or my experience watching it. I'd like to forget the monstrous bratwurst sandwich thing my roommate Jeremy concocted; it was delicious but later destroyed my innards. Earlier that day, before the game started, I was speaking with a friend who said she couldn't understand the appeal in watching sports on television. I tried to explain to her why I love watching sports, but I wasn't very successful. Had she watched the game with us, I think she might finally understand.

A few observations made during and after the game:

• DEFENSE! How great was the BYU defense? That goal line stand was epic. I am now very proud that my #1 jersey, which used to be Fui Vakapuna's number, is now being sported by Pendleton, the outside linebacker. He had a fantastic game and, along with Andrew Rich, the safety, was the most pleasant surprise of the evening. Let's hope the Cougar defense continues to play with such ferocity. Props to Coach Hill for calling a great game and constantly confusing Oklahoma's inexperienced offensive line and putting pressure on Bradford. Clawson is a beast.
• I feel like this game could be for Max Hall what the 2006 TCU game was for John Beck: a season and career-defining performance. Let's hope this victory will give Max the confidence and poise to take on other high-powered defenses (TCU, Utah). The nine minute fourth quarter drive was superb. It was later revealed that Hall called all of his own plays until reaching the red zone, and that impressed me a lot.
• Play of the game (other than the goal line stand): the fourth-down conversion during the epic fourth quarter drive. On 3rd and long, J.J. Di Luigi manages to pick up a couple yards on a draw play. Immediately the team lines up and snaps the ball, and Hall finds Pitta for what turns out to be a twenty yard gain. What impressed me most was the fact that the play was called in the huddle on third down. The team knew exactly what to do, and Oklahoma's defense was left reeling by BYU's perfect execution.
• This game was won by BYU. True, Bradford's injury changed things, but anyone who watched the game knows that BYU was outplaying Oklahoma even with Bradford in the game. Take away BYU's turnovers, and Oklahoma wouldn't have scored in the first half. Anyone wanting to play the injury card ought to remember that BYU was playing without Harvey Unga. While Kariya played spectacularly as Unga's replacement, Unga brings a whole new dimension to the BYU offense. Had he played, BYU would have won by a larger margin.
• It was just one game. True, but it was just one amazing game, one of the biggest in BYU's history. Go ahead and celebrate it. Too many wet-blanket pessimists have been coming out of the woodwork, trying to discount the victory and act as if we shouldn't enjoy it. It's not every day, or decade, that we beat a Top 5 opponent. As long as the players continue to prepare well and focus their attentions on the next game at hand, everything will be okay. There's no need to repress the celebrations. I, for one, think every second of the celebration was earned. I hope to celebrate many more victories this season. People need to enjoy life and not worry about protecting themselves from disappointment and pain. Every Cougar fan suffered through last season's losses, but this is a new season and a new team.
• I am a believer in this BYU team.

I have been way too excited for the next game against Tulane, and I am relieved that it is just over fifteen hours away. Go Cougars!

The Beatles: Rock Band

TWO THUMBS UP!

I picked up my copy of The Beatles: Rock Band today and finally got around to playing it around 9:30 p.m. Nearly four hours later, I can say that it is a great game. I always imagined that playing with six people at once (guitar, bass, drums, and three vocalists) would be great, but I didn't know just how great it would turn out to be. While we didn't hit many of the three-point harmonies perfectly, there were moments of sublime harmonization. It's going to be a lot of fun learning and mastering the different parts. I even played the bass and sang during the Apple Corps rooftop, made possible by a neighboring apartment's mic stand. It was difficult but still a lot of fun.

I am excited for the downloadable content, especially the Abbey Road Side B medley, and I'm sure my love for this game will only continue to grow.

Anyway, time for golden slumbers.

And in the end...

...the beard you take is equal to the beard you make.

I have been bearded since the end of the intramural basketball season in March, but the end is in sight for my current beard. I have grown quite attached to this beard, or perhaps saying it has grown quite attached to me is more apt. Anyway, intramural soccer starts next Wednesday, and I must shave. The sacrifice will be worth it because we have more talent on our roster than I've played with on any intramural soccer team. I am very excited to play.

The shaving of the beard will take place in a gradual process. I plan to initiate phase one tomorrow afternoon. If all goes according to plan, I will post a photo on this blog. That is all for now.

A few words

I am now involved in a social experiment of sorts. I'm not going to go into details right now, but this so-called experiment will lead to more writing. How much of that writing will end up on this blog is uncertain, but there will be more writing.

Just felt like posting something since it's late and I'm still awake.

Checking In

You'd think with the number of times I've resolved or declared my intent to write more that I would actually, you know, write more.  You'd be wrong.  I wish I could cast blame on someone other than myself - my roommates, friends, and whoever I end up hanging out with all the time - but you and I would know that is dishonest.  One of the good things with summer ending soon, besides the return of college football, is that I hope to have fewer distractions at hand, fewer opportunities to do things other than writing.  I really do wish I had more down time, more time to occupy with solitary activities like reading and writing.  I'll hold off on making any bold declarations of renewed intent to write.  For once, I'll try and let my actions do the talking (or writing).

In other news:  college football is weeks away from opening day.  Fall camps are in progress across the country, and I am incredibly excited.  I purchased my sports pass this week and cannot wait, though I must wait until September 19th, for BYU's first home game.  There is nothing like returning to Lavell Edwards Stadium for the first home game of the season.  The atmosphere is incredible.  I have some pretty high hopes for this football team.  I think they're gonna be pretty good.  The Oklahoma game is going to be tough, but I am not writing off the team's chances.  Anything can happen in college football.  Anything.

My pretentious reading quest is sputtering along.  I actually started reading a book that didn't win the Pulitzer, though it was a finalist - that's how I justify my actions.  I'm reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, who also wrote the film Away We Go and co-wrote the film adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are.  It's a piece of creative nonfiction about Eggers' experience losing both parents to cancer within five weeks when he was in his early twenties and becoming the legal guardian of his younger brother.  From the little bit that I have read, I think I am really going to love this book.  I'll get back to my pretentious quest soon enough.

The best film playing in theaters right now is 500 Days of Summer.  I have seen it twice now, and I've written about it in a couple posts at my other blog.  I recommend you see it if you have the chance.  For those of you in Provo, it's currently playing at the Towne Center and University Mall cinemas.  Support quality cinema.

Fall is nearly here.  That means new people will be moving into my apartment complex.  I'm always optimistic at the beginning of a new school year, though I'm no longer a student, that I will be lucky enough to meet someone who will reciprocate interest and that a healthy, long term relationship will result from it.  I don't know though.  I'm getting older and the girls going to BYU keep getting younger.  There will be girls here born in the 90's.  Is that not insane?  You never know how things are going to turn out so I'm going to continue to hope that things will turn out well.

We got a new bishopric today.  I'm going to miss Bishop Oyler and Brother Larsen.  It was a privilege to serve more closely with them the past few months, and I am grateful to have had them as examples in my life.  I know the new bishop, Bishop Lott, is going to do a great job.  I was impressed with his determination to hit the ground running, and I can tell he is going to be a great example of service.  I'm looking forward to serving with and getting to know the new bishopric of our ward.  The Church is pretty remarkable in how it never misses a beat amidst leadership changes, and that is one of the greatest proofs, in my mind, that it is not the work of men.  Not only are all positions filled by regular members of the Church, sacrificing their time and talents to the work, but the transfer of leadership is quick and painless as everything continues onward.

Thus concludes my little update.

A pretentious reading quest.

I really haven't done enough reading since I graduated over a year ago. It's quite sad actually. I believe there is no better way to improve writing than by reading great writing, and it's no wonder I haven't really progressed as a writer lately. I always seem to make grand declarations of noble intentions, but I really do mean to make more time for reading. I have already finished two books this month (Persuasion by Jane Austen and Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist), but I know I can do better.

It's my current intent to read all of the Pulitzer Prize winning novels. I realize this might sound pretentious, but I promise I'm doing this for a better reason than to be able to say, "I've read every novel that's ever won a Pulitzer." Though I must admit that wanting to be able to say that I had read War and Peace was one of the biggest reasons I started reading that gargantuan book, it was not, however, my reason for finishing the novel. I will someday share more about my experience reading War and Peace and how it profoundly affected me. My reason for wanting to read all the Pulitzer winners is this: I need to improve my writing, and I am confident these books can teach me a lot about writing.

I've taken the first step toward reading all the Pulitzer winners by buying a bunch of them. Borders has had some great deals the past month, and I have purchased a good number of the last fifteen Pulitzer-winning novels. I'm still unsure about how I want to go about selecting which novels to read first, whether I'll just go by the ones that interest me most or whether I'll read them in a reverse chronological order. I'm leaning towards reverse chronological order. In any way, I'm planning on reading the winners of the current decade before moving back any further. Fortunately, I have read three of this decade's winning novels. Here is a brief rundown of my future reading list.

• 2000: Interpreter of Maladies - Jhumpa Lahiri; a collection of fantastic short stories. I was turned onto this book by an English grad student who taught one of my lower-level English courses. A very good read.
• 2001: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay - Michael Chabon; I've heard good things about Chabon, but I've never read any of his works. I'm looking forward to reading this some day.
• 2002: Empire Falls - Richard Russo; I really don't know anything about this book nor the author.
• 2003: Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides; I actually bought this book before assuming my quest to read all the Pulitzer winners. The book's blurb sounded interesting so I got it.
• 2004: The Known World - Edward P. Jones; another book I know nothing about.
• 2005: Gilead - Marilynne Robinson; I read this book in my Advanced Writing course, and it was amazing. A good chunk of the book is written as a letter from a dying Midwestern pastor to his infant son. As you would assume from that briefest of introductions, the book deals a lot with mortality and spirituality. It's a very moving book, and reading it was definitely the highlight of that course.
• 2006: March - Geraldine Brooks; hey look, another book I don't know anything about.
• 2007: The Road - Cormac McCarthy; I picked up this book after reading McCarthy's No Country for Old Men, a very bleak book. The Road is even darker, a bleak vision of post-apocalyptic life. It tells the story of a father and a son struggling to survive as the earth slowly dies each day. While McCarthy paints perhaps the bleakest picture of society's demise, he creates one of the purest and most poignant father-son relationships in all of literature. I was unable to put this book down and read it within twenty-four hours. It is both devastating and inspiring.
• 2008: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - Juniot Diaz; I purchased this book six months ago, but I haven't picked it up yet.
• 2009: Olive Kitteridge - Elizabeth Strout; surprise surprise, another book I had never heard about until I decided to purchase it.

While writing this blog I have come to the decision that I will read at least this first decade of Pulitzer winners (the ones I haven't previously read) in reverse chronological order, meaning I will commence with Olive Kitteridge. I'll write at least a little something about each book as my quest progresses forward.

Here's to pretentious reading quests!

Introducing The Proverbial Phantom Wallaby opening for Moses and his Tabernacle Choir!

Tuesdays are usually slow days.  While not as bad as Mondays, they still seem to drag on endlessly.  Today, however, was a pretty good day.  I had a couple good conversations to keep things interesting at work, I played a decent round of disc golf and won by a stroke, I ate delicious Hawaiian haystacks for our dinner group, I played some Rock Band, and then I climbed a couple trees.

One of my interesting conversations was with Caitlan on Google Chat, a new friend made some 17 days ago.  We got on the subject of how using big words in everyday conversations can boost one's credibility, make you seem smarter and more important.  We started throwing around interesting big word combinations; my favorite was "proverbial phantom wallaby," courtesy of Caitlan.  I mentioned that The Proverbial Phantom Wallaby would make an awesome band name.  We tossed around a few other sweet band names here and there throughout the duration of the conversation.

All this reminded me of a life dream I once had.  I've always wanted to be in an awesome band, and during the summer of 2003, I decided I wanted, more than anything, to be in a sweet disco-funk band.  (I was listening to a lot of disco at this time.  It helped keep things bearable while I was working nights at the BK in Vernal).  I envisioned the band being huge: at least two guitarists, a bassist, a drummer, a horn section (trumpet, trombone, french horn), at least two violinists, two to three backup singers, and a miscellaneous percussionist to handle the cowbell, triangle, maracas, bongos, and other awesome percussion instruments.  I figured I would be one of the guitar players, and I would handle singing as well as putting together our song arrangements.  There'd be a female singer to share lead vocal duties.  We'd play a mixture of classic disco songs and our own compositions.  In my head, it all seemed possible.  I had even decided on a couple songs we'd cover:  Lipps, Inc.'s "Funkytown" and, my personal favorite, the LDS classic "Together Forever."  (I still think that someone could seriously record an incredible cover of that song).  Who wouldn't love this band?  Our music would make everything in the world alright.  It's impossible to listen to great disco-funk without smiling; unless, of course, you have no soul.

All the dream band lacked was a name, and it lacked one for a while.  This dream followed me to Brazil, and it was there, some six months into my mission, that a name came to me.  I was in the city of Aracatuba, in my second area in the city, and I was a young senior companion.  Things were tough in my area, and it was probably in trying to relieve my troubled spirit that the name came to me:  Moses and his Tabernacle Choir.  Of course, it would only seem clever to an LDS missionary whose daily reading consisted entirely of scripture and who could only listen to church music, stuff like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  Everything would depend on people remembering that Moses had a tabernacle, and then connecting that idea with MoTab.  (I could see the name playing well in Utah, Idaho, and Arizona; everywhere else, people would probably be confused).  

It's kind of funny, but the whole description of the band sounds a lot like the Polyphonic Spree, a band that once had something like twenty members who would all dress in robes and play very happy spirit-lifting music, verily, a band I love a lot.  I assure you, readers, I was not aware of the Polyphonic Spree at the time I dreamed of forming a sweet disco-funk band.  I did not copy nor rip-off anyone else's idea.  I still wish that I could be in a band like this.  If I were, I could die happy---after doing lots of other important things (getting hitched, continuing my family tree, writing books, attending a World Cup, etc.) and getting old and decrepit, of course.

Anyway, I just thought I'd share this personal dream with the world.  It felt like the right time.  I should have another, more substantial post coming this week.  I'm in the preparation stage, going over things in my head; I'll probably move on to the note writing/outline making stage tomorrow (later today, actually).  

Time to get the funk out (and into the world)!

Words and dreams and a million screams

With a present need for direction, I turn to the past.

Originally written 26 December 2006:

Life has an ironic sense of humor, and it loves to point out the ironies of my existence.  There are certain things that I yearn for, that I long to have in my life, and yet I'm constantly being reminded that I'm incapable of obtaining those things.  My true self is riddled with contradictions, paradoxes, and unanswerable questions.  Why am I this way?  Why can't I do this or that?  

I want nothing more than to feel accepted by others.  I want to truly be a valuable addition to others' lives, to know that I am appreciated and that others need my company.  In some way I suppose that I'm searching for meaning and justification in my life and my choices.  Yet all the while life hits me upside the head and screams into my ear that I have to make my way through life on my own...

No man is an island, or so they say, though I feel like I am some uncharted desert isle that no one knows about nor will ever discover, and this frightens me...  The future is some horribly bleak unknown that I'm involuntarily nearing with each passing day.

Let's get a little more irony up in here with something written 25 May 2002:

It seems nothing ever changes in my life.  Through the characters of the story seem to come and go, the plot remains the same.  Like a bad sit-com, my life seems destined for re-runs.  Everything that has happened to me will happen again, only in a less comical fashion.

While these words may strike you as a bit melodramatic or over-the-top, I find them quite helpful.  They've reminded me this evening of some important personal truths, and those reminders have helped me resolve to put an end to my mediocrity and complete lack of create productivity.  I hereby resolve to do what it takes, sacrifice what I must, and prioritize my life that thereby I might achieve the things I feel I am capable of achieving.  I'm too tired and frustrated with myself to continue on in blissful ignorance.  The bubble surrounding me since graduation one year ago, no matter how small and trivial it may have been, has burst, and the scales have fallen from my eyes.  It is, as I said to Janessa tonight, better to move closer to achieving success and personal fulfillment on one front than continue toiling in futility on another front.

This may appear vague and cryptic to some of you (most of you, I'd presume), but let it suffice me to say that it is time for me to write.  And not in a write-more-often-in-my-blog kind of way.  I am talking about serious creative writing, the writing I wish to do for the rest of my life, the writing I hope will help me make a living and maybe, just maybe, bring some good into this world.  I have been coasting for too long, enjoying an unproductive life of (typically) superficial interaction, as if I didn't know any better.  I may have buried my head in the sand, but the rain and wind have finally eroded away enough of that sand that I am now seeing clearly (though perhaps still upside-down).  It's time to see things clearly and do what I am meant to do.

More on my personal ideas and feelings concerning writing and art will be coming soon.

Cougar karma

Yesterday, 04 June 2009, was a huge day for the BYU football program, a cosmic "boo yah" in recruiting news.

In a press conference held Thursday afternoon in Salt Lake City, the top-rated high school quarterback of the class of 2010, Jake Heaps, announced his intention to sign with BYU.  Along with him, two other highly touted recruits, a wide receiver that actually decommitted from Texas and the #5 ranked middle linebacker, announced their intentions to come to Provo as well.

After the dark times following the disappointing end to last football season, as well as losing Manti Teo to Notre Dame, it's been tough for Cougar fans.  This definitely makes things a little better.  Okay, more than a little.

I just felt like sharing my happiness, that's all.

Stay tuned...

I promise that I will write on the following subjects very soon:

• my exhausting, expensive, and excellent Memorial Day weekend at the Sasquatch music festival in Washington; a multi-part series
• my thoughts on Up, Pixar's latest wondrous piece of art
• a basic outline of my personal thoughts and philosophy on writing (and art in general)

Sounds exciting, I know.

Shake that groovy postscript.

So this whole post will serve as a big P.S. to my previous post.

I thought of another problem regarding myself and infatuation:  I just seem to like girls that don't like me.  It goes hand-in-hand with what I wrote about liking girls that must be out of my league.  Also, when I said I hoped that the lyrics to The National's "Slow Show" would some day be true in my life, I meant that I hoped to some day tell someone that I dreamed about them and missed them for however many years until I saw them, not specifically twenty-nine years.  I really don't want it to take that long.

Okay, so after I published my previous blog, some things went down to ease my melancholy.  Jared and I went to Sammy's where their delicious pie shakes were half off, so I got a strawberry cheesecake shake and a Mountain Dew for $2.14.  Pretty sweet deal.  Then we came back to Sparks, got Dave and Jeremy to join us in playing Rock Band (we totally rocked out to the recently released Franz Ferdinand songs), and, as always, drumming was therapeutic for me.  After that we went to the Cinco de Mayo party going down in the clubhouse.  I was able to chill, eat some snacks, and talk to people.  The original party plan was to watch The Three Amigos, but a group of us had too much energy to sit down and watch a movie.  Thus, we decided to make a Slurpee run, and, if the mood was right, head up Hobble Creek Canyon for a dance party.  Those of you who followed my blog one year ago should remember me blogging about the dance parties we had last year.  They were definitely a highlight of the summer, and I have been looking forward to bringing them back this year.  Well, we got our Slurpees, and five of us (myself, Jared, Elyse, Kelli, and Megan) felt the urge to make magic happen.  After we dropped off three new guys who weren't too keen on the idea, we all piled into one car and started the adventure.

The canyon was open - it had been closed pretty recently - and after awhile we found the old spot where our other dance parties had taken place.  We parked Elyse's car, turned up the music, and got the party started.  Let me tell you, it was a blast, and it was exactly what I needed.  Just letting loose and dancing really helped decimate my melancholy.  It's hard to not shake off the stress to groovy music.  Everyone was getting into it, and we all had a great time.  A lot of pictures were taken, and I may have to include some of the best ones in a future post once I get access to them on Facebook.  It's incredible how quickly circumstances can change, or at least attitudes.  I had a great night, I'm not so bothered by my social status, and I feel more optimistic for the future.

Now I need to make some awesome Hobble Creek Canyon dance party mixes for the near future.  I shall enjoy compiling those mixes mucho.  Anyway, it's late, and I need sleep.

"I want to start over. I want to be winning."

"Looking for somewhere to stand and stay, I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away."  

- The National

I am pretty exhausted right now.  Let's just say that I feel sorry for the future spouses of some of the roommates I've had over the years; they make loud, weird, and sometimes scary noises in their sleep, and if I were lying next to them, I think I'd be tempted to use the pillow to end their misery.

Besides being exhausted, I'm kind of feeling melancholic at the moment.  Work was good today, other than the struggle to remain alert.  We had a Cinco de Mayo party, and it was fun and we ate good food.  I played a round of disc golf, and while my score wasn't as good as my previous two games, I still scored under sixty.  Also, I nearly lost a disc in the treacherous mess of shrubs and trees, but Jared was able to spot it and save me from dishing out $15 to replace the disc.  

No, my melancholy is of a different sort.  Basically, I'm tired, as I've been for some time, of purely platonic relationships.  I'm tired of unrequited interest and fruitless infatuation, of being "a footnote at best."  My problem, as I've concluded, is that, when it comes to infatuation, I:

• do not do enough to translate infatuation into action, or do what it takes to make my infatuation more apparent.
• remain infatuated for too long, especially when nothing is coming of it.
• become infatuated with girls that are, most likely, out of my league; I think part of my problem is that I like girls that are really quite amazing (smart, beautiful, talented, etc.), and I can't just say, "Oh, she's stupid cuz she doesn't like me," and then forget about her.

Nonetheless, I have to keep hoping that eventually I will meet someone that interests me and that interest will be reciprocated.  The National song "Slow Show" ends with an extremely beautiful combination of lyrics and melody that I hope will someday be true in my case.  The words are:  "You know I dreamed about you for twenty nine years before I saw you.  You know I dreamed about you.  I missed you for twenty nine years."

I firmly believe that it's better to be alone than to be with the wrong person, so at least I have that on my side.  I didn't get to be twenty-five and single by being impatient or desperate.  I do feel a little better just writing this.  I'll keep telling myself that everything will fall into place in the right time.  

It has to.

No need for a title

I don't know what it is, if it's the rain and the gloomy weather, but I am feeling in a funk right now.

I know I keep saying that I have a substantial blog post coming soon, and yet it never seems to arrive or make its way from my mind to the internet.  I feel more and more, however, that it is near.  The subject of the blog has been on my mind for a very long time; in fact, I first thought of writing about the subject one year ago.  My initial thoughts have multiplied since then; every day seems to bring me something new to think about, some new idea to mull over.  I feel like those ideas won't be held back much longer.  They have been gathering in my mind like water in a reservoir, and the water is about to spill over the dam.

5 Things to Do

5 Things To Do (in no real particular order):

1.  Trim beard

2.  Watch Lost

3.  Begin unpacking my stuff

4.  Write a real blog post

5.  Start reading something

My New Hobby

My blogging output has declined considerably over the last two months.  In January and February I was posting nearly every other day for a total of 27 posts.  Then in March I blogged just six times, and this current post will be the third for April.  That's pretty sad.  I'm going to do better.

I've recently taken up a new hobby:  disc golf.  For those unfamiliar with the sport, it involves throwing discs (similar to but slightly different from your typical frisbee) from the tee to a basket usually more than 300 feet away.  Trees and other natural obstacles make each hole a unique challenge.  Here in Provo we're lucky to have Bicentennial Park, an official disc golf course, not too far away.  

My first time disc golfing took place about a month ago.  I borrowed a couple discs from friends and did my best, which wasn't very good.  However, I had a very enjoyable time, and other than having my keys fall through a hole in my pocket and being forced to re-walk the entire course to find them, it was a very positive experience.  I was pretty much hooked from the beginning.  Unfortunately, the weather most Saturdays after my initial disc golf experience was poor, preventing me from trying my hand once again.  Last week, after the snow and cold early on, the weather turned quite pleasant.  I was able to go again on Saturday, that time using my own discs that I purchased the day before.  I did better than my first time, but there was definitely a lot of room for improvement.

With the beautiful weather we've been enjoying up to the current day (it's going to get rainy again), my friend Jared and I couldn't help but take advantage of the sunshine.  We decided spontaneously to go throw the course, and with just the two of us it didn't take long at all.  We went Monday and Wednesday, not going Tuesday only because we went to Salt Lake to attend the glorious Franz Ferdinand concert.  Each time I've gone I have improved noticeably, and I think I'm finally getting a feel for my distance driver.  Yesterday my score for the sixteen holes was 60, but it very well could have been 57 were it not for a couple of unfortunate bounces out of the basket.

There's just something soothing about tossing a disc around.  My mind always goes back to the summer of 2002.  I had just graduated high school and would be starting at BYU in the fall.  All of my best friends were in still in Vernal, and we would often go to the city park.  We'd toss my bright orange Life is Good brand frisbee back and forth, running barefoot through the perfect green grass, working on our trick catches (through the legs, behind the back, etc).  Throwing the frisbee became our thing.  Whenever we'd get bored of sitting around our older friend Britt's apartment, with nothing good on TV or just whenever a certain restlessness would kick in, we'd drive over to the park and spend an hour or two tossing the disc back and forth.  Man, that was a great summer.  I spent a fantastic week in Boston with my family, got to hang out with my best friends virtually every day, had some interesting and overwrought relationship drama, spent a lot of time listening to music and conversing with my closest friends, did some crazy (but not too crazy) stuff, and just lived it up.  It was really a singular summer.  Never again would I live in the same town with my best friends after that summer.  We all went our separate ways; I went to BYU that next year and then to Brazil for two years on my LDS mission.  Thinking about the summer of 2002 makes me nostalgic and, honestly, kind of sad.  A lot of things have changed since then; people, relationships, just life in general has changed.  We keep growing older, more and more becoming responsible adults, and our paths seem to keep diverging.  The simple joy of living, the thrill of freedom, the excitement of being on the brink of adulthood, never were those feelings more abundant than that summer.  And throwing a frisbee with my best friends seemed to encapsulate everything about those amazing months.  (This paragraph got a bit more serious and introspective than I anticipated).

Friends located in or near Provo, I invite you to give disc golf a chance.  You're more than welcome to join me anytime I may happen to go.  I have a feeling that there will be many opportunities in the near future.

In other outdoors/sports news, I really need to get out and run more, whether that means playing soccer, basketball, ultimate, or even just plain running (boring, I know).  I need to get into better physical shape.

SOFA 2009!

Last summer I mentioned my desire to organize a movie-watching group with a cool name - PIMPS (Pseudo-Intellectual Movie People Society) was the best I came up with.  Unfortunately, PIMPS was not meant to be.  It never even got off the ground really.  I did, however, form The Book Club, which, depending on who you ask, was a minor success.  My desire to organize a society of people to watch good films recently returned, with a decent name to boot.

I hereby announce my intention to organize and administrate, on a trial basis, the Summer of Film Appreciation, or SOFA.  People interested in joining this group must have one thing only:  an appreciation of good film or at least a desire to learn more and expand your knowledge of film.  SOFA, as I envision it, will not devote itself to watching trivial popcorn blockbusters; instead SOFA will seek out the films that have significance, either historical, social, or cinematic.  SOFA will aim to recognize films of high artistic value, wherever they may be found.

Having taken two film history college courses, my eyes were opened to the vast expanse of films made throughout the hundred plus years of motion picture history, both American and foreign.  It seemed that I would leave every class period of every film class with at least five more films or names of actors and directors to check out.  This lead to my Netflix queue steadily growing until it hit the 500 film limit a few months ago.  I hope that SOFA will be able to create a similar learning environment for others, where their film knowledge will be expanded.  This is not merely an attempt to give others the chance to say, "I watched a silent black and white film, or an obscure French film - look at how cultured and smart I am."  While SOFA members would likely be able to brag in such a manner, I envision different results.  SOFA will seek much more substantial film-viewing experiences by watching films to expand our sympathy and understanding of other people, to create lasting and unforgettable emotional experiences, and to generate insightful and meaningful discussion.

Anyone interested is welcome to participate, and I mean absolutely anyone.  Were SOFA to be successful this summer, I'd be willing to expand its lifespan, renaming it the Society of Film Appreciation.  Let me know if you are interested and willing to reserve at least two hours a week to watch films worth appreciating.

I have what I think to be a pretty cool idea for selecting the films we will watch, but I'll write more about that once the level of interest in SOFA can be ascertained. 

Everything is okay.

Sometimes all that's needed to make everything alright in the world is a strawberry cheesecake pie shake from Sammy's.

For the time being...

A strange memory of times past.

I still owe all you readers a worthwhile post, but it has yet to arrive.  The thoughts are in my head.  I just need to assemble them into something that makes sense.  

Anyway, I had a funny/quaint experience tonight.  I was speaking some Portuguese to myself, something I ought to do more often, and for some reason my train of thought led me to say, "...jeito de palhaco," which means "the manner of a clown" more or less.  I'm not sure now why I said it, but I'm sure it was a well-deserved self-deprecation.  Saying it took me back to a night in early summer of 2005.  I was nearing the end of my two-year mission in Brazil.  At the time I was in the city of Jose Bonifacio.  At the end of another long day, I decided that I would order a pizza for my companion and me to eat.  I went to one of the public phones, put in my phone card, and dialed one of the city's pizzerias that delivered.  I made my order, and everything was going smoothly until I told the person on the other end of the phone our address.  

"There is no such address," he told me.

"Yes, there is," I replied.  "I live there."

"No, there isn't.  I know."

"I'd think that I would know.  I live there."  We were both getting upset.  I could hear it in his voice as he ended our conversation.  

"That's not an address, you clown."

He hung up on me, and I could only look at my companion incredulously.  I could not believe what had just happened, and I was kind of upset.  I really wanted that pizza.  We laughed about it amongst ourselves as we walked to our apartment.  I think we ended up getting burgers from a little burger place on the corner of our street.  

I laughed when I remembered this experience.  I hadn't thought about it for a very long time, and it was a nice little moment during my rather pedestrian evening.

Status

I am alive.  I know I haven't posted for awhile and maybe some of you were afraid that I had ceased to be, but I just want everyone to be assured that I am, indeed, alive and well.  

5 Things That Have Taken Time Away From Blogging:

• I have been working on another short film, the first of a planned trilogy, and most of my "free" time has gone toward that in some way.
• I've been playing Goldeneye on the old-school Nintendo 64 with some friends.  This game was a big part of my adolescence, and reliving the 4-player madness has been amazing.
• My new found love for Sammy's, a hole-in-the-wall burger joint in downtown Provo.  I knew it was true love after my second visit.
• March Madness.  Need I say more?
• A slight increase in socialization.

I promise that I will try harder in the near future to keep this blog moving forward.  Though I'm not the only trapped in this famine of new blog posts.  Pretty much everyone on my Google Reader list, with a very few exceptions, hasn't been posting lately.  I hope that changes soon.

I Can't Believe It's Not--- Aaahhhhh!

I was chatting it up on Facebook tonight, talking with a friend about genetically engineered beasts and romance novels, you know, the usual stuff, and I wrote something that I found pretty funny.

"Birds don't respect Fabio."

It's an obvious allusion to his famous get-smacked-by-a-bird-on-a-roller coaster incident, but the line itself made me think of a song that's yet to be written or perhaps an album title.  Anyway, I felt like it was worth immortalizing on the internet.

Another brick for the Bricks.

As I was shaving my two-week old beard to comply with the BYU Honor Code, I decided to leave my mustache.  I thought that rocking a 'stache might help my lowly basketball team win another game.  

Turns out I was wrong.  

We played our final regular season game last night, and it ended similar to every game besides our first, which we actually won.  I didn't play horribly last night, but I only ended up with 3 points.  Though I didn't score, I did other things and should have had a better stat line, but most everyone else on the team was also a bit off.  I'd be more upset, I suppose, but we are clearly not a middle division team.  We ought to face better competition, better as in more suited to our skill level, in the tournament.

One thing is for sure:  I must destroy the 'stache.

Manly Men Only - a tribute to Presidents' Day

I like holidays. With the exception of Valentine's Day, I think any holiday is a good holiday --- especially one that gets me out of work. With that in mind, it's easy to see why I would love Presidents' Day. And I loved this last Presidents' Day. I got a Monday, easily the worst work day of the week, off with pay, and I was free to have fun with friends.

Back in September, a group of us decided to do something extra awesome for Labor Day. We ended up seeing who could buy the best outfit for $10 at Savers (a thrift store that happened to be having a 1/2 off sale that day). Later we all dressed up in our awesome clothes and decided to throw a Labor Day parade. Suffice it to say that it was supremely awesome and will long be remembered. I'll blog about it sometime soon, I promise. A sort of retroactive look at some of my favorite moments in 2008.

Anyway, Savers was having a similar 1/2 off sale on Presidents' Day. I ended up going shopping with my boys Jared and Joel. Jared and I were hoping to find awesome briefcases (just because), but he found the only one. I took care of my predicament by finding an awesome brown faux alligator skin briefcase on Ebay --- it's sweet. Anyway, we bought a bunch of stuff: some awesome clothes, pictures to decorate our apartments, and other miscellaneous stuff like a lunch pail. We stopped at a 7-11 to get slurpees because it just felt like the right thing to do to celebrate the beautiful weather we were enjoying.

As we were driving back to Sparks, I blurted out, "I want to make a movie." That was that. We got back to our apartments, put on some sweet threads, and got to work making a movie. We started with a very, very loose plot based around Jared's briefcase. With that seed of an idea planted in our brains, we started filming with my digital camera, the only camera we could find spontaneously. The quality isn't great, and it's pretty obvious that we were winging it, but after a week's worth of editing, I managed to put together a decent little film.

We premiered it just over a week ago to a group of friends and associates from around the way, and the film was successful. People laughed quite a bit, and that was enough for me. We didn't make any high art. It's pretty basic stuff, but what else would one expect from a spontaneous gesture on Presidents' Day?

I've since uploaded the video to Youtube, but I haven't done anything with it yet. I decided tonight to make it available to my faithful blog readers before I whore it out on Facebook. I hope you enjoy it, and if you really enjoy it enough to post a comment full of praise, feel free to do so. I suppose you could comment and tell me how stupid it is, but I've probably already thought whatever negative criticism you might bring up. So unless you've got something really original, you should probably just keep it to yourself. Anyway, enjoy. Here it is:

True Blue

This will not be the so-called substantial blog that I have long promised.  No, that post is still stewing in my brain.  It will likely require some more stewing before I can make sense of it and share it with you all.  Also, I haven't had time for serious writing.  I've been somewhat busy.

Friday afternoon my former roommate Jeff spoke with me about the possibility of camping out for the BYU-Utah basketball game.  People had first started camping out as early as Tuesday this past week, and getting decent seats for the game Saturday was a concern for both of us.  I had planned on just arriving early Saturday morning, possibly creating a rotating shift system with Jeff, Whitney, and Paige, as well as whoever else would want to watch the game with us, but it became apparent to us that just showing up on Saturday might make getting good seats difficult.  Jeff told me that he was going to head over Friday afternoon and set up a tent, and he invited me to join him.  Since I really didn't have anything else to do, I accepted Jeff's invitation.

Jeff ended up pitching his tent near the southwest corner of the Marriot Center.  Tents stretched from the northwest doors, which would be the first opened Saturday afternoon, all the way across the bridge and around to where we found ourselves.  By the end of the night, tents would nearly extend to the southeast doors.  It was astounding and awesome.

I arrived at 8:30 with my gear and some foodstuffs to tide us over; I would have arrived earlier (I did bring Jeff some Arbys for his troubles earlier that evening), but I was forced to do my job for cleaning checks so I wouldn't have to wake up early and go home to clean Saturday morning.  It was definitely a cold night, colder than most that week, but I was just fine with a couple layers of clothing.  Jeff and I sat around and talked for awhile; we were joined by his wife Amy and later by our friend Whitney.  Jeff, Whitney, and I ended up watching the hilariously terrible film Troll 2, and, all in all, it was an enjoyable evening.  

After the movie, around 1 a.m., Jeff and I both felt it was time to try and get some sleep.  I climbed into my sleeping bag, pulled a couple blankets on top of me, and did my best to fall asleep amidst our noisy neighbors.  There was something like a dance party going on not too far from us; then in one tent next to us someone was playing NCAA football on an XBox with the volume up too loud, and then in the tent on the opposite side of us they were watchingArrested Development, one of my favorite episodes even.  People were being loud all around.  I'm not sure exactly when, but I fell asleep at some point.  Then I was awoken by someone who didn't care how loudly he was speaking.  I guess I got a couple hours of sleep, but I can't say how many.  I was warm and stayed in my sleeping bag for a little while, but eventually Jeff and I both got up.

Then all we had to do was wait.  We snacked on the food I had brought, packed up our stuff, and took down the tent.  Whitney rejoined us, and I was able to head to my apartment where I took a shower and tried to recruit others to watch the game with us.  I failed.  I grabbed two pizzas from Little Caesars and rejoined my compadres in line.  All the while more and more people were arriving and getting in the line which had nearly circled the entire Marriot Center.  Something about camping out for the game had increased my excitement for the game.  Not only that, but it was the first BYU-Utah basketball game I could remember in a long time that had such implications regarding the conference championship and postseason play.  

They opened the doors at 1:30, and the Cougar faithful filed into the Marriot Center.  It didn't take long for the student section to fill up.  We ended up with seats about two-thirds up the lower bowl, right at mid court.  We had a perfect view of the court, and I was pleased with our seats.  All that was left was for BYU to overcome the Utes; then all would be well.

For those who don't follow BYU basketball, it was a close, hard fought game.  BYU shot poorly in the first half, but was only down by two points at half.  The second half, however, was a different beast.  Our defense completely shut down the Utes' offense.  Luke "Beaker" Neville finished with just 9 points and got completely outplayed.  Lee Cummard's block of Neville just might be the play of the year; it was insane.  Jimmer Fredette continued his domination and finished with 25 points.  In the end, BYU beat Utah 63-50.  At the end of the game, I felt like I do after an intense football game.  My throat was hoarse from too much yelling, but I was elated with the victory and ready to camp out all over again.  For a BYU sports lover like myself, it was all I could ask for.  I've read numerous news articles about the game, and every time the raucous crowd is mentioned, I am proud to have been played a part.  I credit the crowd with causing at least one Ute turnover, when Neville held on to the ball too long and got hit with a shot-clock violation because he couldn't hear anything and had no idea how much time he had.  I couldn't even hear the ref's whistle; people just stopped playing and I had to catch the ref signaling the violation to know what was going on.  It was very, very loud in there all game long.

Oh yeah, Jeff flashing the Ute hand sign thing to a couple Ute fans as we drove away was priceless.

Jeff standing in front of the tent.

The line of tents behind us.

Just some of the tents ahead of us.

Someday I will write something substantial, but for now...

I promise that there is an actual blog worth writing in my head.  I've been mulling over some ideas for awhile, and as soon as the time is right, I will transfer those ideas from my brain to the internet.  In the meanwhile, I figured I would just write something even if it is inconsequential.  It just feels good to write every once in a while.

The Andrew Bird concert last night was very good.  Mr. Bird is a fantastic performer, and I was continually in awe as he shuffled around the stage and played his various instruments (guitar, violin, xylophone, handclaps), manipulated his loops, and sang or whistled.  The opener, Loney Dear, of Sweden, was also very good.  I was very impressed with their set, and I intend to listen to them more in the future.

I would like to say I've had a lot on my mind lately, and while what I have had on my mind has pretty much dominated my entire thought process, I can't really say I've been up to much.  I haven't watched as many films or read as many books as I'd like, and it's not because my social life is all-consuming.  In fact, I'd be delighted if it were.  No, I suppose I lack motivation to do things right now.  I've got lots of plans in my head, lots of things to write and/or create, but I'm usually thinking of accomplishing those things later.  Lately I've been languishing in uncertainty, mainly on one issue, but that uncertainty has done a good job of keeping my emotions somewhat disjointed.  Anyway, the future substantial blog that I'll someday write will clarify some of this vague rambling.

I need sleep.

I Require Assistance

Okay readers, I have a situation that requires intervention.  I have an extra ticket to the Andrew Bird concert on Wednesday night in Salt Lake City.  I am open to gifting it to someone who wants to go to the show.  It will be a good show.  I virtually guarantee it --- as much as I possibly can, barring crazy circumstances outside of my control.

Anyway, if you or someone you know is interested in obtaining this ticket, simply let me know.

That is all.  

Oscar Thoughts

I posted a lengthy blog about my thoughts on tonight's Oscars and who I think should win.  Head on over to my other blog, I Take It With Jello, if you're interested.

A new blog! Aaaahhh!

I'm pleased to announce the creation of a new collaborative blog, I Take It With Jello.  This blog will be written by myself and my homeboy Justin Betts, and it will act as a sort of informal discussion between the two of us on the subject of art, mostly movies and music but not limited to those topics.  We both miss the frequent communication we used to have in our younger years, and because of the physical distance and business of our more adult lives, a new blog seemed like a natural method to communicate more frequently about the movies and music we experience in our daily lives.

Though the blog is in its infancy, we welcome any and all who wish to read it.  Loyal readers of this blog need not worry: I will continue posting and updating this blog as often as I can.  So who knows what that means.

Thank you, goodnight.

Save me!

Today has been a vicious day at work, as slow as it could possibly be.  I need some distraction, even if it is just to post something insignificant (like always) on my blog.

Yesterday I had chinese food for lunch, and I got a good fortune cookie.  My fortune read, "Your dreams will become reality."  I'm hoping by dreams it meant the things I want to happen in my life and not literally my dreams, like the one earlier this week with this freaky serial killer attacking me and some girl, and I end up stabbing him with a butcher knife in self-defense.

Yeah, let's hope it's the first type of dreams.

Anti-Valentine's Day

In 2001 two friends and I observed the first Anti-Valentine's Day celebration. That meant getting pizza for lunch and not being sad about not having girlfriends. Obviously, as high school juniors, there wasn't much thought going into our celebration; it was just cool.

Then in February 2002, one year older and wiser too, I drafted a document that put forth the philosophical foundation of Anti-Valentine's Day. If you, dear reader, happen to love Valentine's Day, don't stop reading because I am talking about Anti-Valentine's Day. I may not like the holiday, but that does not mean that I am anti-love. In fact, it is the opposite that is true. Anyway, I wrote an essay for my Advanced Senior English class, and it was very well-received. I've shared it multiple times since then, but I figured, why not share it one more time? I apologize if you've already read this and do not want to re-read it. You may be dismissed. Otherwise, please continue onward. 

All You Need is Love and Some of Those Little Candy Hearts

I often feel nauseous. For years now I have observed that I seem to be stricken with a much more serious and dangerous nausea in early February. It may be tied to the fact that I've eaten a thousand candy hearts, hearts that come in shades of pink, yellow, or green, sporting such romantic phrases as "be mine" and "I love you", but I really think that what makes me most nauseous is the fact that the most deceptive, evil holiday known to man is celebrated on the fourteenth day of February---and there is nothing I can do about it.

 
For years I was absolutely powerless to stop this mindless tirade of fake affection; there seemed to be nothing I could do about Valentine's Day, and I thought that there would never be anything for me to do about it. Thoughts like that are hard to destroy, yet my train of thought was annihilated a couple years ago. No, I was not converted to the true meaning of Valentine's Day. No, my soul was not overcome by a love so powerful that I had to prove its veracity by doling out lavish gifts. Two compatriots and I stumbled upon a solution, a revelation that we could not deny. Amidst flowers, chocolates, and those vile candy hearts, we celebrated our own holiday: Anti-Valentine's Day.

Picture it: three teenage boys, coming together in high school to celebrate a holiday they call Anti-Valentine's Day. Is there any doubt in your mind that they are just jealous adolescents who can't get dates and have no one to spend Valentine's Day with? Obviously they created their little holiday as a way to make themselves feel better about being such losers. Now that we've gotten a vivid picture in your mind, I'd like to ask you to promptly destroy that image as quickly as possible. Had we wanted to observe the traditional Valentine's Day we could have. We may have been losers, but we were losers by choice not fate. Though for one day of the year, we were actually the only logical ones of the lot. We were the cool kids who knew what was up. We saw things that most people will never see in their lifetime. We saw that Valentine's Day is a farce of a holiday. Millions of people have it set in their minds that February 14th is the best day of the year. Why? Because they receive gifts and candy and affection they don't receive any other time of the year; it is the Christmas for hopeless romantics. Much like the actual Christmas that comes once a year, the meaning of Valentine's Day has been lost. In its conception, Valentine's Day is a great idea; in its celebration, Valentine's Day is an atrocity.

How awful could a holiday be that supposedly promotes love? I'm not sure, but I do know that the Teletubbies also promote love. Question answered. To put it bluntly, Valentine's Day is not about love. Corporate big-wigs want you to think it is. If you really love someone, is it necessary to heap gift upon gift at their feet on a special designated day other than birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Mother's Day, Father's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Columbus Day, and Labor Day? A real showing of love does not involve gifts or delicious victuals. Valentine's Day was created to dupe people into thinking that by purchasing expensive gifts they can show how much love they feel for someone. In all truthfulness, they are inadvertently doing the opposite. Do you have to be told when to tell someone that you love them? Does some C.E.O. of the mega-corporation that creates those little candy hearts have the right to tell you to that February 14th is the day to show your love and spend your money? I think not. Make that capitalist pig eat his shorts by not procuring anything related in any way to Valentine's Day---does anyone really like those little candy hearts anyways?

Aside from being a holiday created to steal your hard earned money, Valentine's Day does much more harm than good to those who celebrate it. Although it stimulates our economy, which by February is still stuck in the post-Christmas rut, the psychological effects of the holiday are astounding and far reaching. From the elementary schools to the care centers, Valentine's Day is upon us all. Young children base their personal worth on how many valentines they get dumped into their homemade box; both low and high self-esteems are created this way. What kind of message are we sending that child who receives very few to no valentines? Because this holiday is made out to be something important, that child will suffer for a long time because he didn't get as many valentines as some of the other kids.  

Depression, self-loathing, anger, bitterness, those are all feelings that can and do accompany this holiday of love, and those feelings are probably even more prevalent amongst adults. Spending the holiday of love alone can cause severe depression in the lives of those unfortunate enough to believe that you have to have someone to share Valentine's Day with. The quantity and quality of gifts received on Valentine's Day lead human beings to create status levels, a class system of sorts, but the way I see it, our society is divided enough. What we truly need is unity, and Valentine's Day is circumventing any attempt at a long-lasting united society.

John Lennon sang, "All you need is love," and he was right. But those powers that be want you to think that all you need is love and some of those little candy hearts, a dozen roses, a box of chocolates, and some cute little stuffed teddy bear holding a cute little stuffed heart. Through all of time and across the many different cultures that inhabit our beautiful world, the ability to love has always been one of mankind's greatest characteristics. Love should be shown often; if you feel it, show it. Why should there be only one day a year designated to show someone that you love them? Wouldn't a gift given at random be more meaningful than a gift given on a day you're supposed to? Love, when it is truly felt, is a constant thing and should be expressed constantly. Anti-Valentine's Day is not about being anti-love; it promotes love in its pure form. Love is meant to be shared often, and once a year is not often enough. Instead of Valentine's Day, why not have Valentine's Year or Valentine's Decade? Or maybe we ought to just live our entire lives with love; if we did that, there'd be no need for this meaningless holiday. When I hear John Lennon and the Beatles sing, "All you need is love," I cannot help but echo their sentiments and whisper a quiet "amen". Until the world realizes its errors, accepts the truth, and begins to treat each and every person living on this earth with love, this is how I will stand: Pro-Love, Anti-Valentine's Day.

I can hardly believe that this essay is seven years old.  Crazy.  Sometimes I think I should rewrite it, add some new thoughts and whatnot derived from my observations and experiences of these past seven years, but I still feel like the essay is more than adequate.  

Interestingly enough, someone wrote something very similar to my essay.  My sister Janessa found an article on CNN.com, and it almost made me wonder if I'd been plagiarized.  Okay, not really.  But, if I felt safe in calling myself or this other writer a great mind, I'd say that great minds think alike.  However, as Janessa stated and I wholeheartedly agree with her, my title is better.  Check out this article and tell me it's not eerily similar to my essay.  Do it! Do it now! 

Coming tomorrow:  a special Anti-Valentine's Day mix.  Stay tuned.

Ramblin'

Friends and family, those of you who are involved in the blogosphere, you have let me down. You have not given me much in the way of reading material lately. Where else am I to turn for entertainment, enlightenment, and social interaction? Actual conversation?

I learned of the disintegration of a former-roommate's long-term relationship, and I am most disheartened. This was a couple that seemed extremely compatible, like the cliched "match made in heaven." I'm still hoping to have my own Saturday's Warrior moment sometime. Like I said a couple posts ago, I sometimes don't get people. I never imagined that this particular relationship would go down like this. It seems really sudden to me, though I can't claim to have been in the loop or anything. I feel like I need to listen to a Modest Mouse with lyrics like, "This plane is definitely crashing," and "This boat is obviously sinking," and "This building's totally burning down." Fits pretty nicely.

I'm hearing about too much heartache, especially this close to Valentine's Day. I'm definitely not a huge proponent of the materialistic farce of a holiday, but even I would be somewhat respectful of the day's place in our culture. I'll write more tomorrow about why I think Valentine's Day is a sham, but still, it's not a good time to be breaking up, y'all.

If only it were a good time for getting together, and I'm referring specifically to myself. But that likely shan't be happening, to my eternal chagrin.

Once again, I really don't have much to write about, but I just wanted to do some writing. Maybe if I get some of the thoughts out of my head and into the blogosphere, they won't be able to bounce around in my cranium and keep me awake longer than I'd like. I don't know what it is, but my brain has been unable to shut down as promptly as it used to not all that long ago. Perhaps the fact that my bedroom is some ten degrees warmer than the rest of my apartment has something to do with it.

Well, dear readers, you lucky, lucky individuals, I hope all is well and the rest of your week goes smoothly. I'm looking forward to the three-day weekend, that's for sure. I only need to think of something awesome to do. Oh great, something more to think about. Initiate shutdown sequence now.

Patria amada, Brasil.

I know it hasn't been long since I blogged, but I just got hit hard by an intense longing and yearning for Brazil. This happens every once in awhile, and it never gets any easier to deal with.

I was copying all my documents from my external hard drive to my MacBook, and I saw a folder called "Letter" that caught my eye. I opened it and it contained a letter that was written to my parents by a family from the last area I served in while a missionary in Brazil. The author of the letter, Patricia, was the wife and mother of the only family that I was able to teach and baptize in Jose Bonifacio, a small city of about 35,000 people. I came to love Patricia, her husband Odair, and their three beautiful daughters under the age of five with all my heart. When my two years of missionary service ended, I was excited to return to the States but heartbroken to leave my dear friends behind. I was lucky to be able to return to Brazil in November 2005 to visit this family along with some others in a different city. Leaving the second time was even harder. As I drove my parents and our rental car back toward Sao Paulo, I was nearly overcome with a yearning to stay, but I knew that my place was back in the U.S. of A.

Anyway, I saw this letter that Patricia had written to my parents, which I had then translated for them, and I quickly reread the letter. That was probably not the best idea if I had wanted to retain some of my emotional tranquility for the evening. Even before I finished, I was hit with saudade, a Portuguese term for longing. Instead of the action of missing someone or something, saudade is a noun; it's like the longing or yearning is an actual object within you. I really like the distinction, the difference between the ways different languages express a similar reality. Anyway, this saudade hit me very hard tonight. I haven't communicated with Odair and Patricia for awhile, and that causes me great sadness. I constantly miss my Brazilian friends, and I am ashamed that I have not done more to keep in contact with them. It is one of the great regrets I have, that and not keeping up with my Portuguese the way I should. I'm just amazed every time this saudade hits me. I mean, it's not like I don't think about those people frequently. Just last night Jared and I were at Carl's Jr and our conversation eventually ended up on this same subject.

I'm constantly reminded of Brazil and my friends. I see Brazil in so many things. I can hear it, smell it, touch it, and feel it all the time. It really assumed a place in my soul; that's the only explanation I can give for its continued and unmistakable presence in my life, despite the tremendous physical distance between my favorite South American nation and me. I think this saudade is just something I'm going to have to deal with, as difficult as it may be, because the only way to get rid of it would be to completely forget all the people I came to love so much, and I would rather suffer with my saudade than enjoy the numbness of oblivion and forgetfulness.

Scattered Thoughts

I consider myself a student of humanity, and the more I observe and try to understand people around me, the more perplexed I become. I'm grateful for whatever occasional insight I'm able to gleam from all my observations, but sometimes the only insight I can come up with is that people are complex, their motives are often unknown, but their complexity and confusing nature makes them all the more fascinating and worth striving to understand.

I guess it's a good thing I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on who I am and often evaluate the things I do and why I do them. I don't know where I'd be if I found myself confusing.

On a totally unrelated note: I am loving my MacBook. I still have a lot of files to transfer over from my external HD, but that hasn't stopped me from enjoying my most recent major purchase. I have started working on a video about the Labor Day exploits some friends and I enjoyed this past September. I'll definitely upload it once it's finished. I worked on it for a couple hours yesterday and ended up with a solid seventeen seconds of edited clips. I must say it's a pretty sweet opening sequence though. It feels good to be (somewhat) creative again.

I need to bowl more often. I bowled two subpar games Saturday night, and I realized that my bowling skills are not what they once were. Kudos to Gus for throwing the high score.

Lemon out.

25 Things About Me

Okay, this whole 25 random things about me has been dominating Facebook for some time.  Jessie tagged me about a week ago, and I think it is about time that I posted my own list.

25 Things About Me:

1. As a kid I was a rabid baseball fan, and my favorite team was the Atlanta Braves. I had a near-encyclopedic knowledge of baseball statistics, acquired primarily by reading and memorizing the stats listed on the backs of my many baseball cards. My family would quiz me on the different stats of random players, and I would rock their socks off. Now, I can’t even stand watching an entire baseball game on TV.

2. I became obsessed with Russian literature my first semester at BYU. I read War and Peace in two weeks for fun, and then I read Anna Karenina in one week. The next semester I took an awesome Russian literature course and read a bunch of other great books. My love of Russian lit made me want to serve a mission in Russia so I could learn Russian and read those novels in the original language, but instead I was sent to Brazil. It was all good.

3. I won my school’s Geography Bee when I was in the fifth grade. I got to go compete in the Utah State Geography Bee where I didn’t win anything.

4. Growing up I was frequently the subject of various psychological tests. I should mention that my father is a school psychologist and would use me as a test subject to familiarize himself with the different tests he would use. I always scored very well on those tests.

5. If I could be anything in the world, I would be a musician (i.e. guitarist). I would love to tour the country in a van, play small clubs for little more than gas money, and sleep on people’s floors. Unfortunately, Rock Band will probably be the closest I get to that dream. Though I did play two shows in front of people with my unsuccessful band in high school.

6. I went to the Malt Shoppe in Provo once a week for an entire year, taking advantage of their 2-for-1 shake offer. Then they started ripping their customers off, and we had a falling away.

7. I cannot walk into a bookstore and not buy a book. I justify each purchase by telling myself that I am going to have an awesome library when I have my own house sometime in the future.

8, One of my all-time favorite things in the world is to go to live rock concerts. I love to rock out and lose myself in the music. I’ve gone to a couple 3-day festivals in different parts of the country, road tripped to the Pacific Northwest a couple times for concerts, and plan on doing more traveling to see concerts in the future.

9. I nearly died twice in one day on my mission in Brazil. The first time a drunk driver came within inches of where I was standing on the side of the road, and the second time a large chunk of the ceiling crashed down on top of the desk where I normally sat at night and ate a bowl of cereal, but I happened to be elsewhere that night.

10. My best friends and I in high school would take fast food trays and slide down steep dirt hills on them; we called it ghetto boarding, and it was awesome.

11. I love to drive for driving’s sake. I love to drive down unfamiliar roads, not knowing where I will end up. If gas continues to be reasonably priced, I plan on doing a lot of aimless driving around in the mountains this spring and summer.

12. I absolutely hate to inconvenience or bother anyone. If someone is inconveniencing or bothering me, I will tend toward longsuffering rather than confronting the person about whatever is bothering me.

13. I am tentatively planning on attending the 2014 World Cup to be held in Brazil.

14. I do not mind going to the movies alone. I have done it many times and will continue to as long as I have to.

15. I feel like I need to pursue a future as a writer, but I am not sure if I have the skills or luck to succeed. All I know is I feel I need to try.

16. War and Peace is my favorite novel. I have only read it once, but it was a life-altering experience.

17. I love sports, and I think I tend to surprise people with how athletic I really am. I guess I don’t look too sporty or something. One of the greatest compliments I have received came from various Brazilians when we’d play soccer together, and they would compliment me on my play. Not many Americans knew how to play, let alone keep up with the Brazilian people, so when an American could, the Brazilians were genuinely surprised and pleased.

18. I double majored in film and English and have a job that utilizes very little of that education, but it doesn’t bother me too much right now.

19. I want to make enough money as a writer to be able to live in a bungalow on some beautiful Brazilian beach part of the year, just basking in the sun, doing some writing, swimming frequently in the warm ocean water, and living a quiet, peaceful life.

20. I am an idealist beneath my outer core of sarcasm. I believe that people are inherently decent and ought to be treated as such. Every day I am trying to better reconcile my actions with my beliefs.

21. I have never been what you would call popular, but I keep a small circle of close friends towards whom I am staunchly loyal.

22. Listening to music, reading books, watching movies, and talking about each of those things constitutes the majority of what I most like to do.

23. I have a very random and spontaneous side, what some might call spastic, and I need to find more opportunities for that part of me to come out. I miss the Slurpee-fueled adventures of the summer and cannot wait for the return of warmer weather.

24. I love classic films, especially the silent comedies of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton and defend their worth whenever someone incapable of sustained attention disparages them.

25. I tend to write too much and ought to seek for greater precision with words, this list being proof enough of that.