My Super-Power

I realized over the three day weekend that I am an X-Man! I really do have a super power! My super power is causing my own electronics to go haywire. I'm kinda the opposite of Magneto mixed with a little Havoc.
I had to replace the alternator on my car on Monday, which makes this the third time I've had to replace electronic instruments on my car. Take into account my last phone that used to have the digital interface flip upside down and backwards, and sometimes invert the colors or not show up altogether, and that becomes our second piece of evidence. The third--my computer. Too many problems there to even count. There's also my digital cameras that have stopped working for some reason, and my last Foreman grill. Actually, for the Foreman, I simply lost the electrical connection, but you get the idea.
Soooooo, if you have some pesky electronic appliance that you just want to short out or something, I am your man... or perhaps your X-man.

Small dream journal plug here too

Last night, I had a dream that I drank a whole can of beer and was having quite the party. I even broke up a fistfight between two of my former roommates, whom will remain anonymous. Did I use 'whom' right?
And then, my roommate gets his mission call yesterday, so all my dreams last night were those ones in which I'm out serving a mission again. I actually get those a lot! Usually I am quite conscious of my last mission, and I think things like, "Man, I am serving a second mission. Spiritual GIANT!!" or "I've gotten along with all my companions this mission. What was wrong with me last time?" or "I wonder if they'll ever release me this time?" or "I'm gonna teach 673 lessons this week."
Sometimes my dreams take me back even further. Two nights ago I had a dream that I was in high school football practice again and coach put me in as third string quarterback behind Javier Solis and Chris Sodek. I remember the first drill we ran in that practice as we were wearing our gameday jerseys and everything (again, an anomaly which should have alerted my subconscious) and the guy I was supposed to throw to was like a mile away. My attempt at a throw to him was embarrassing, but I got better after the third attempt and I started to believe in myself. Maybe I even thought something like, "When I get to college, I could be a pretty decent quarterback for an intramural team." Ok, I really didn't think that.
After both of these retro-dreams, I woke up feeling nostalgic and a bit relieved to be in my position. I think about those times often and how I miss certain aspects of my past life. Perhaps that's what these dreams are for, then, to help us live in the past again for but a moment, and then return us back to our reality with a greater appreciation of how we have progressed and learned up to this point. That way we don't waster our lives looking back on what was or could have been.
Or maybe I failed to learn something on my mission or in high school football that the universe is trying to teach me... maybe that's why I have all this bad karma with electronics.

How to Survive in a B-Rated Horror Film

One Friday night as all my friends were out partying and I was at home enjoying my Knorr pasta dinner special, I realized what a terrible predicament I was in when Man v. Food was not on, and AMC was showing something like Titanic. What on earth was I going to watch? Since summertime Sports Center is usually just a rerun of difficult but unspectacular defensive baseball plays, focusing mainly on teams I resent (Spankees and Red Jocks), I was forced with only one alternative...
My own personal Mystery Science Theater 3000!! Lately, Syfy has provided plenty of opportunities.
So here's what I got from my very educational weekend:
If you are ever on an island with a giant alligator or a genetically enhanced shark DO NOT:
1. Trip.
2. Look momentarily confused amidst a mob of running and screaming people.
3. Go out hunting or touristing alone.
4. Go out hunting or touristing with a group of less than four people.
5. Do alcohol or drugs of any type.
6. Be black (Samuel Jackson=death)
7. Be a scantily clad female (bikinis=death).
8. Come to an island as hired muscle with an arsenal of you'll-soon-find-out-worthless weapons and an overly-confident attitude.
9. Try to exploit any freak activity going on for money or fame.
10. Disbelieve any reports of huge monsters eating people.
11. (If you are a guy) Hit on chicks at the beginning of the movie. Don't worry, if you make it to the end, it'll happen quite naturally.

Above all, don't ever let Kevin Bacon out of your sight!

All of these spell oversized and overintelligent animal fodder, and you know they won't let you go out clean. Who are "they" anyway? I feel like I could write a B-rated horror movie about these people who write B-rated horror movies.

Consider yourself warned...

Some Words are Cooler in Spanish

Bastante!! That's probably my favorite Spanish word... Bastante! Sometimes, when I don't know what the answer is on my examen, I write, "Bastante!" If someone ever asked if I speak Spanish, I would answer, "Bastante!" Am I ready for the three day weekend? "Bastante!" Am I ready for Agosto? "NUNCA!"

Or am I?

So, being an English major, I definitely have my favorite English words too. Like, "Particularly" or "Unfathomable" or "Subliminabable"... snicker. I would have to say another one is "Rapport". And there's another one that I really enjoy, but I can't say it cause it's a biblical term coined as a swear. Hint: It involves a speechless beast of burden and is part of my favorite MLIA of all time.

And since I have favorite English words, I most certainly have least favorite ones, right? Wrong! I am an English major, so I love all words... (boooo!)

Ok, who am I kidding? I hate hate HATE the word "Yummy"! In fact, I hate hate HATE it so much, I will, from this point, censor it from my blog. Just know that if any adult ever uses that word in a room that has no current inhabitants under the age of ONE, that adult drops in maturity and age by a number equal to their current age minus one. If that went over anybody's head, I'll provide an example: if a 25 year old referred to a smoothie or cake as "y*****" (bleep!) and is not cooing to their own child who doesn't say words yet, then that 25 year old just became the one deserving to be spoonfed and spanked. People still spank one-year-olds, right?

Here's a much more tolerable alternative: "Omnom". Made popular by Parry Gripp.

Here's another terrible word: "Belly". Gross! Not the actual body part itself, which is weird enough as it is. Any food or brand involving the word "Belly" becomes ten times more undesirable. (For the record, Jelly Belly's are still somewhat desirable, Cornbelly's corn maze... not so much)

So, if you are feeling particularly annoying, feel free to use these words in my vicinity. I just might fire back with one of my favorites. TOMKINS MADE A SWEAR!!!

I had a churro today and it was amazing. Swamp People is my new favorite show.

Do you ever get a piece of chicken stuck back in your molars that just won't leave that peevish part of your consciousness? Then it comes loose after hours of will power (or minutes of flossing), and, oh, what a sensation! THAT is satisfaction and THAT is good for your heart.

What's Yours Like?

So I came to the library with the intention of writing some of this explicatively large paper for my Senior Course. Maybe by midnight or so, I'll have got around to it.
Instead, I'd like to just say something else. I have been growing a mustache again... gross. BUT, today in class I asked the profesor if I could get credito extra for it, and he said no and THAT is the reason the brostache was grown in the first place... kinda. What, then, is the reason for it now? Is it there to keep my upper lip warm? Is it there to act as a sort of X-Man power like the really bad toupee in repelling wind, water, and especially young ladies? Is it there to make me feel a little more like Ignacio when I take on the difficulties of life? Or is it simply a result of waning sanity? (Let's not jump to conclusions)
Either way, el bigote, para mi, es como el vaso alto de agua... o es como se llevando una chaqueta amarilla... o es como el color azúl...

I Tried to Save Some Birds This Past Weekend

Here was the last survivor. He died on July 10, 2011 A.D. after having lived for probably about 36 hours or so. He was a fighter.

Birds die a lot. Sadly, I'm not even talking about the really good-tasting ones. The ones that kind of make everything nicer outside... over 70% of those don't even make it to adulthood. Yet still, they manage to thrive and establish equilibrium with their environment.
So it is that in just about every childhood comes the opportunity try and rescue some of these little guys when the odds are stacked so heavily against them. My opportunity came a bit later in life as I was taking my laundry back in my apartment complex. I nearly stepped on two of the little guys. There they were, chirping loudly and asking me for a meal--at least, I'm pretty sure that's what they're doing when they look straight up with their disproportionate beaks being stretched open as wide as they can go. I hadn't the faintest clue of how to take care of birdlings... but I couldn't just leave them there! I saw the nest, but it was well out of reach (not in a tree, which I could climb, but up in an alcove of a building), so I got a shoebox out of my trunk knowing full well that as soon as I put them in their odds of survival would simply plummet.

I used tissue paper to move them. They looked extremely fragile and I didn't want avian flu, so I avoided contact more out of fear for my own health than theirs. Having no idea how to take care of them, I researched it online, and the results were never hopeful.

So here are some things to know about caring for baby birds.
#1. Don't! If you don't have to, don't try. 90-95% die when humans intervene. If you have to though, like in my case, here's your best choices:
#2. Put them back in their nest! It's a myth that the parents will abandon its young once a human has touched them. Birds can't smell! Some of them eat skunks, for heaven sakes!
#3. In case if the parent is roadkill somewhere (or you simply can't reach the nest and don't want to leave the critters out to the mercy of the elements especially with a few forecasted thunderstorms coming up, which was my case) and the nest option is, in fact, NOT an option, then the next best course of action involves professional wildlife rehab centers. Since the one in Riverton only takes "raptors" (no, not the dinosaurs... owls, falcons, and the like-birds of prey), let's move on to option 4 where we begin to make them pets.
#4. Holding wildlife without a proper license is against federal law. Note: I am not holding the birds anymore, and I only did, technically, for several hours when I brought them in at night. If any federal wildlife agents are reading this blog, please don't arrest me!
#5. Now that you have your license, in theory, line the shoe box (because obviously there's a shoe box involved) with paper towel, insert a shallow dish of water, and feed the birds with soggy bread crums every 14 to 20 minutes. Feeding can be difficult since you have to directly touch the bird and hold its head facing up as they don't always cooperate themselves. Be careful, because an ounce of too much pressure could be fatal! The feeding process takes an average of 14-20 minutes, so as soon as you're done, repeat the process until your birds are sufficiently grown to hunt on their own, which they won't learn to do without their avian parents, so...
#6. Since #5 is pretty much humanly impossible, watch as your birds begin to convulse and slowly die... it's sad, but I guess that's nature. One misstep from the poor helpless thing and they tumble out of their nest onto the sidewalk about 15 feet below, and now they're screwed for their very short lives.

I don't mean to make this whole business of caring for creatures in need a mockery or any sort of pessimistic rant. Just understand that this understanding is the reason why I'm not incredibly heartbroken right now, four days postmortem of the last little struggler. There were three total that I found on the sidewalk Saturday evening, and by Sunday morning there was only one left. I fed them a lot, but I had an activity to go to and then I had to sleep and then I had to go to church... so when the last one gave out just before ward prayer, I was only a little devastated. Now they're buried right outside my apartment, and I am left to wonder, "What could I have done more for my vineyard?"
With all this tugging on your heartstrings, let me assure that if I should ever come across a few birdies in need again, after this experience... I already have a shoebox ready.

Dream Journal and Doy! Moment

I once walked in late to Spanish class in high school. When Mr. Langner asked me why I was late, I promptly (and truthfully) responded, "It was the bees!" The whole class burst into laughter. Little did they know that a truck that was harvesting bees from the grass farm next to our house had actually backed up into our ditch and lost the little buggers into the surrounding atmosphere. Millions of bees were now zealously protecting their queen(s) amidst this sudden crisis from everything that moved, including hapless residents trying to simply get to the car in time for school.

Wouldn't you know those darn bees did it again? This time, however, it was only in the Freudian sub conscience of my unbroken R.E.M. It was me against the bees again, for they had made three temporary nests IN MY APARTMENT! You'd think that by now my sub conscience would recognize these absurdities and categorize the reality as not, in fact, reality... yet without a thought of how odd things were, I took a double-barreled shotgun and took one blast at the nest in my room. Of course, the bees were furious! So I shut the door to my room, gave it about a half minute, then returned to find the nest destroyed by my unorthodox method of pest control. On to the next few nests, but a few shotgun malfunctions prevented me from completing my quest before I lifted my head from the pillow and realized that my Spanish class had begun... thirty minutes ago.
I don't often miss my class, but when I do, I drink DosEquis. Not really... but I am still thirsty, my friends. Booyah! Quote mixed with shock value, wake up audience!!

Anyways, later on in the day, I don't think I fully had my wits about me yet. I came home from work to one of my roommates watching a home run derby. I sat and watched for a little while and was thrilled to see Lance Berkman wearing an Astros hat. I was like, "Hey man, I guess there's still loyalties there, huh?" And then I was even more thrilled to see Josh Hamilton repeat history with 28 homers, and I wondered why the commentators were not making reference back to that historic outing he had back in 2008. Perhaps I hadn't remembered it right? I questioned my memory instead of my common sense. Anyways, Berkman was definitely an Astro, so I began to be excited about the idea of him being back with the team. Then Morneau beat Hamilton in the final round, and I was thinking Yogi Berra, "It's like deja vu all over again."

It wasn't until I walked to the library and looked on Yahoo!sports and was baffled by how there was no breaking news about this incredible derby when it finally dawned on me... I was watching ESPN classic.
There's your doy! moment for the day.

Flashbacks

Does anyone remember what "power skips" are? It's a sort of warm-up you do in lines for football practice. It's like skipping, except you put a little more umph into your jump. Needless to say, in 7th grade football practice, I COULDN'T do power skips!! So the coach pulled me and Daniel Edge out in front of the whole team so they could laugh at our terrible attempts at power skips.
I was reminded of this instance after I watched this video:

The Other Night, Act III

In the apartment, about six or seven weeks later from the other night. The clown sits alone and muses to himself.

Clo: Six weeks, six weeks we have been at this game.

Fair Mandolin, you play with me so much

That I forget the very existence

Of other girls beyond your fashioned world,

And their faces all morph to seem your own,

Their voices are but background noise to yours

Which resonates sublimely in my ears

And quickens all my faculties and life.

For life you gavest me less only than

My mother and my God whom I hold dear,

And in regard greater than you only

By lengths too small for eye or heart to find

Though forged by years of selfless parentage

Or for the latter zealous devotion.[1]

Oh why have I succumbed to be this man?

A man who spurns logic for flighty whims

And lives by codes, sneered upon up until

This day when I so voluntarily

Forfeit my God-given autonomy.

Six weeks and I, prepared to give my all,

Receive so little from the hand which holds

This leash about my neck, oh glorious leash!

Of hands, of lips, of invites of her own

She gives me nothing save weekly ascent

To be together for a night or two.

Give me a sign, give me encouragement[2]

In slight or major form it matters not,

Only save me from this sad foolery

And make me feel not as a greater clown

Than ever yet I knew to be in life.

Enter Klein and Rivers

Kle: I hear from most credible sources that your sojourns with the lady are moving splendidly and with more continuance than every yet such a jester enjoyed.[3] For what reason are we ever kept in the dark concerning thy personal affairs?

Clo: For personal they are and mine alone.

When I have reason to inform the world,

Let it be known the world shall be informed.

I ought not for ought’s sake say aught but aught[4]

Is relevant to permanence[5] alone.

Kle: I understand not the reason, and whatever you so superfluously say, it cannot be greater than the privilege of a friend[6] residing in your same apartment.

Riv: Klein, you harbor no ill will towards this man? Was it not so long past you sought the lady implied here for your own?

Kle: Klein cares not for such a thing of the past.[7] She chose her jester and dismissed that which she knew not the value of, and for this I bid you, jester, peace and luck, for the latter you will need greater portions of. Anon, you must betray the details, however, of how your courtship fares.

Klein pulls out his guitar, Ludovicio, and begins to absently strum while listening.

Riv: Put it away, the instrument will drown out the details for which you so hunger.

Kle: Perhaps so, but it mattereth not if he will not impart for any purpose.

Clo: Truly, you want to know how my life fares?

For one as I, supporting cast I am,[8]

It never fares so fair that I am thrust

Into the light; the forefront of the stage

Whereon we play this game that worlds may view.

Riv: It does not fare well, then, with Mandolin?

Clo: If thou meanest “farewell” by this fare well,

It does, for I prepare to bid her such.

Kle: What reason have you when any lady will put herself thus forward for such a froward[9]?

Riv: Didst thou just invent a word, Klein? Leave the puns to him whose title suggests mastery in such.

Clo: I know she is agreeable[10], at least,

Always agreeing to my inquiries,

Yet every date feels like the first and yet

Potentially the last which frightens me,

I am afraid to spend these chips in vain

These chips of interest, like poker chips[11]

They may return so much, or leave this man

A broken and a desperate carcass.

Riv: Surely this is adverse to your health. Cut off this cur before the damage becomes too great. Women are naught but distractions, and I have dabbled for the sake of obedience[12] at times, but never so indulged myself as this. Yet see how I make merry with my plans and goals ever becoming closer with each passing moment spent so constructively on that which does not fly away on sudden whimsy.

Kle: Nay, good man. Woman is perfection, and perfection was meant to be enjoyed by man. Reel her in! Do not hesitate at the sign of struggle! Even the bible states forthright that we are fishers of women.[13] Then, with confidence, take your fish and if she suits you not, toss her back into the ocean where she may seek the bate of another.

Clo: You speak of confidence and rightly so,

For here it lies the greatest feat for me

To confidently seek a new frontier

Of which I never yet experienced.[14]

(Aside) And yet to be like Klein seems wrong to me,

So wrong to bar me from such forwardness.

Enter Snow from the other room

Sno: I overheard this heinous advice and could not rest until it was refuted. Women are not fish to be caught and discarded as Klein has done his whole life. A woman who at least desires compatibility is an idol to be sought after. The fact that they would so condescend to even consider the lesser man makes it a privilege for us to even be in their company. They are goddesses to our acolytes. Dost thou pay me heed on this?

Clo: Again? Forgive me, I only was thinking of

The painting called, “We Four” which may’nt exist.[15]

Sno: So wasted are these words of compassion and wisdom on a joker, no less!

Kle: Wasted for their foolery. He was right not to pay thee heed, for what knowest thou concerning women who hide away in your cave night and day and associate so little with flesh ungenerated by pixel and imagination.

Sno: I associate often with the opposite gender, and have been virtually married thrice now.[16]

Kle: You ridicule yourself ere more by this sordid confession! Virtual marriages!? On virtual dates did you take them!? Forsooth, this is laughable to the extreme!

Sno: And yet I, in my pseudo-world, have practiced chivalry more than you could ever be familiar with. I treat these women with the great respect of which they deserve. To see them in truth would only taint the perfect bond which I share with them.

Clo: Good Snow, are you quite sure they are women?

Avatars in game can be misleading,

Especially when gender’s considered.

At least in my sparse knowledge of these games.

Rivers and Klein laugh.

Sno: I hear their actual voices when they speak, and I assure you they are most feminine! [17]

Riv: It seems to me that there are two ends of this spectrum: Confidence and respect. Klein and Snow represent the extremes of both, and while Klein will have success, it will be short-lived and without the true joy of a relationship. Snow, on the other hand, will treat women with so much reverence he will seem himself without confidence in their presence, and to be without such puts one in a most friendly, but never a progressing situation.

Clo: Again, the middle ground seems most ideal.

Again, this everpresent theme: balance.

Kle: What would this man know of women? He cares not but for his books and… his book. Are women books to be read and studied, oh scholar?[18]

Riv: Again, I once merely dabbled in such affairs, but not even I can discern this great mystery. I fathom thou hast also failed in this endeavor, Klein, for there is no interaction thou hast with women that brings you not to lamentations, much to all of our chagrins.

Kle: (Singing and playing his guitar) “Such silly roommates live with me,

That deal with girls so silly-ly

Who never lips to lips they touch

As I have done so very much!”

Sno: Shallow strumpet of a man!

Riv: Vain and senseless charlatan!

Clo: Attention-starved fustilarian!

Snow, Rivers, and the clown high five each other. [19]

Kle: Fools! Mock but you shall mourn for Ludovicio and I have never been in wont of womanly warmth, and yet you strive for the hand of even your imaginary girlfriends!

Clo: Why yes, I knew this girl, Emma Ginary[20]

But time, that slow devil, parted our ways.

I now make my acquaintance with one, May,

Who is by far the most improved of both.

May Dup[21], that is, and not a fault she has.

Snow, Rivers, and the clown high five each other again.

Something buzzes in the clowns pocket.

Clo: Is there a thing more anxious than a ring?[22]

Alas, this miracle beckons my time,

And sets me on a road for joy or pain

I know not til I look and see the name.

Tis she! Tis she! Oh how unset I am!

How confidence flies out yonder window.[23]

Excuse me sirs, I take my wares elsewhere.

Clown moves into the other room, but is still visible to the audience…

Sno: Strange that he may act so after six weekends of dating.

Kle: Six? You knew of this business?

Sno: From the start. I alone he trusts with his secrets, for I associate not with flesh ungenerated by pixel or imagination.

Kle: May he take my heed and cowboyest up… cowboy uppest… oh, poison on my tongue to speak so!

Sno: May he take my heed and reverence her as demi-goddess. A Level 70 Axerothian[24] Demi-Goddess.

Riv: May he take my heed and do neither extreme, but be himself.

Clo: (In the other room still) May I take all their heeds and live them such

To change as I must change and yet

Remain as I myself, altered for her

And repentance alone.[25]

Answers the phone

Yes, Mandolin?

Exeunt All.[26]

---

[1] If I have erroneously described twitterpation, forgive me… it is not a very familiar feeling for me

[2] Here is good advice for all women: If you are interested, SHOW INTEREST!

[3] The fools and clowns in Shakespeare’s plays typically do not progress in their relationships with anyone

[4] Mull it over in your mind for a while and maybe it’ll make sense

[5] I.e. Perhaps if the clown has reached a stage wherein he is committed to something eternal (proposal), then he would share more info on his personal life

[6] Klein is a friendly guy, albeit he can be arrogant and thoughtless at times

[7] Klein also slips into third person at times, kind of like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson

[8] The clown is unaware that he is actually the focus of an amateur imitatio written by a silly college student

[9] Actually, it is a real word, used in Middle English, no less; Shakespeare would approve

[10] Being a pun on the common use of the word ‘agreeable’ for likeable persons (particularly with Jane Austen novels) as well as the fact that she agrees to go out with him every weekend

[11] The phrase, “chips of interest” or “emotional chips” was originally coined by Hamful, in Martin’s Hamful Act III (see regularguylife.blogspot.com, January 2009)

[12] Following the prophet’s counsel to seek a family life

[13] Being a misquotation of Matt. 4:19 and corresponding gospel scriptures; “Fishers of men”

[14] He is a clown, after all

[15] A reference to Twelfth Night’s clown, Feste: When the clown approached two other gentleman, he asked them if they were familiar with the painting, “We Three” which refers to a painting depicting two ‘asses’ looking at the viewer, suggesting the viewer is the third ‘ass’. In this case, the clown sees three others

[16] I saw a virtual marriage happen once on “The Guild,” which is a small web series probably not really worth your time

[17] Female gamers do exist, and many of these MMORPG’s have hardcore players that do all communication via headsets; in reality, I have never touched an MMORPG

[18] By Berowne’s reasoning, yes! (Love’s Labour’s Lost)

[19] The harmonious rhythm definitely warranted a high-fvie

[20] Being a reference to a joke I made up in high school; if you don’t get it, try saying the name faster

[21] Another joke that goes hand-in-hand with the Emma Ginary pun

[22] Does he refer to a phone’s ring, or an engagement ring? Probably a phone’s ring…

[23] Another quote from Hamful

[24] A made up term, remarkably similar to the Warcraft realm name of Azeroth; you know, copyright stuff

[25] One of life’s greatest paradoxes: How do we remain true to ourselves, but still remain open minded enough for change in the way of repentence?

[26] I didn’t know just how much my family was reading this until I got some reactions from this little cliff-hanger. People wanted to know who my ‘Mandolin’ was in life, so I had to assure them that this is fiction and not at all based on a true story