Book of the Man of Little Consequence

Chapter 11
1. And the man of little consequence was hard pressed to yet make an account of his life of little consequence.
2. But he forebore it, and knew that it was folly to forebore anything, for such was not a word. And he knew not the past tense of the word 'forebear'.
3. And the word was sufficient for bearing only the suffix, 'bore' for naught else would describe his life accurately.
4. For the days and the nights passed on, and he yet looked to the heavens and beheld not the stars.

5. And he spake unto himself in the mirror saying, "The future eludes me, my life becometh a cliche. How soon will the man I almost am hide among the stuff?"
6. And the new year broke, and the man still gave no account of the happenings up to this point. And the audience was vexed by his silence.
7. But seeking to give a pleasure unto the people, he began another chapter of silly mock scripture, but his inspiration waxed dry and he spent the holidays in riotous living.
8. And after the holidays he traveled eastward and spent his days in more riotous living, even learning all the names of the My Little Pony's. And he chastened himself for admitting such publicly.
9. For this the time spent from the last thought of little consequence was for naught, and he documented it not.
10. It is not to say that his heart was depressed within him, for he, being restless, did strive daily to be more of a tool, yea, even a tool in the Lord's hands.

11. And the man of little consequence was a tool.
12. And he began to document his time of naught as if it would be of some interest to his sparse readership.
13. And the names of the ponies were thus: Twilight Sprinkle, Apple Jack, Rarity, and Princess Celestia. And he forfeit his man card, and would thus be known throughout the land as the slightly mannish thing of little consequence, for he yet lived by the saying that all things are made better when deep-fried or combined with bacon.
14. For what man among you would take any morsel, even ice cream, and not think to himself first off of how the morsel would be made better with batter and bacon? I say unto you such a man does not exist. For this purpose, the slightly mannish thing was still slightly mannish.

15. And he gave his account, and the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon their fruit bats, and their sloths, and their breakfast cereals, and their anchovies, and their... wait a minute, I think I've done this before...
16. The account was thus given, and the new year was broken.
17. His life was a cliche and the future eluded him. The man who he almost was yet hid in the stuff. And he wrote in a chiasmus form and his English joy was full.

18. And he looked once more to the heavens; behold, a single star shone amidst the cloud.

*Note: Let the true date of this publication be known as January 18, 2012. It was only begun on Dec. 11.

Wading in Thoughts up to your Hips Maybe

You know that quote that kids like to use... it goes something like, "Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond imagination!" Give or take...

I disagree.

I think that if I was powerful beyond imagination, I wouldn't have any fears at all. In fact, I wake up every morning and try to pick up my car or shoot lasers out of my eyes at the sun just in the hope that I am somehow powerful beyond imagination. Then I try to find jobs and stuff and I am afraid of being inadequate there.
So what's the point, guy who came up with this quote*? Are you trying to bag on everyone for not living up to their potential? One day I will live up to mine, and if it happens to be powerful beyond imagination, the world is in for a real treat, let me tell you.
And stuff...

 *Disclaimer: If this guy happens to be a General Authority, I will look deeper into this whole shpeel and find the meaning. Forgive my ignorance.

Years Mean Nothing?

I've written on this subject before, so consider this another witness to how consistent my philosophies are... or rather how unoriginal I am at the moment.
Sitting in a waiting room of a children's clinic and having forgotten to bring a Calvin and Hobbes along to keep me occupied, I shuffled around in my car to try and find some reading material to keep me entertained. Wouldn't you know I had my old journals in there from 2004 to 2008, documenting most of my time in Provo and on the mission. I read a few entries before I had to put the thing down in disgust.
How pointless! How juvenile! How vague and circumstantial! I felt like I should destroy the two or three notebooks of handwritten events in order to destroy any evidence that I was ever such a terrible writer and philosopher!
Again it reinforces the idea that living in the present is so much better than wishing for the past. Even as I went to go pick the kids up from the very same elementary school I attended as a youngling, I hardly felt nostalgic. The smell of that place never changes, and smell brings back memories like no other sense, but it only twinged my nostalgic heartstrings. I am glad I am here now, with all the added responsibilities, expectations, and disappointments of life.
Memories are nice, but only to be remembered and not relived and stuff.

Cabin Fever

The captain of the "Soul" looked out over the foggy sea and mused to himself as a dozen cliches passed through his mind... They had been out to sea now for nearly three months. The men were growing restless and the rations were receding along with the captain's hairline. The captain looked up but this biting fog shrouded even the stars in the heavy dark of the night sky.
At least we're not going in the wrong direction, the captain mused to himself.
"Wicked fog this evenin'."
The captain was startled by the sudden appearance of his first mate by his side. What a strange accent the man had...
"Minds me of the time we lost harf the crew off the coasts of Madagascur on account of leaky life boats..."
"Stow it!" snapped the captain, "I've heard that a dozen times before. You're like a broken record that knows exactly when to annoy me the most by interrupting my... musings."
The first mate was a bit taken aback. The captain surely did love to muse these days. In fact, did he do much else besides muse?
"I suppose you'll be breakin into a musical number next about having what they call, 'cabin fever'?" the captain said.
"No, I was more just comin up topside to invite you down below. The crew be gettin ready to play 'nother tournament of Stratego and we know it's not the same without ye."
The captain thought for a moment. He did love the games...
"No thanks. I've got some more reading and musing to do."
He pulled out the pocket watch with the cliche picture of his beloved above the timekeeping piece. It was a strange watch... it counted backwards as if time reverted itself every time the captain decided to pay attention to it. Ironically or perhaps not so ironically, the watch and the picture were both obscured by the condensation which settled on the glass surfaces almost immediately. It could have been from the captains breath in the frigid air, but it was more likely from the heavy moisture that smothered the atmosphere. Where would she be now after three months at sea? The captain couldn't even picture her face.
The first mate was already heading back under the deck when the captain asked aloud, "Does not the wind typically kick up after such a dense fog?"
The first mate stopped in his tracks, "Huh? You know I don't know a first thing about sailin' or wheather tellin' cap. Should I have the men run out some oars?"
The captain closed the watch and put it back in his pocket. Once again, he looked to the sky as if the last few moments could have dispelled the shroud that hid the heavens.
"Not until I can see the stars again."
The Soul was dead in the dead water. Not even the faint decklamps creaked in their rusty rungs for no wind had blown for two months. The captain began to move toward his quarters with the intention of losing himself in his books for another week or so.

And To Think I'm an Eagle Scout!

Contrary to my Facebook status, I can't say I woke up this morning looking like Quasimoto. That would insinuate that I actually slept... at all.
This whole poison oak deal turned out worse than my last post suggested. This stuff really just keeps on giving, so you never know just how bad you can get when the little red bumps first appear until they all start oozing! Hopefully you weren't eating when you read that last part.
I'll try to describe just how I look right now... think Harry Potter who got hit in the face with Hermione's stinging jinx. Think Hitch eating too much shellfish. Think Goonies.
Or rather, just check it out yourself:

Halloween comes early this year in the Martin's home. If this sticks around, I won't even have to dress up! Course, that whole Halloween dance thing is way out of the picture too.

And will somebody get these freakin' Nylons out of my head!!

and stuff

Poison Oak'd

We're in Exodus for institute, so I read about all the plagues that happened to Egypt and I was like, "I wanna have an in depth experience where I can relate to those Egyptians!" So I went and got myself covered in boils... itchy boils.
I've had poison oak two other times in my life. Luckily it's not as personal as chigger bites, but the effects are much more comprehensive with my arms and face. Now my nose is swollen and red. Can't wait for institute tomorrow!
You know, noses are funny things. Have you ever considered a nose independent of all other features on a face? It's really a funny little gadget. This is a great technique if you ever want to unattract yourself from a certain someone. Focus real hard on their nose!
Well, I gotta go try and sleep now. Ben-a-drill can really knock you out, so I'm banking on it to trump the feeling of a thousand mosquitoes feasting on my sunburnt skin.
And stuff.

Class Is In Session

If you had a pet pony, what would you name it?

A. Captain America
B. Sparkles
C. Equus Caballus
D. Ponies are for sissies... I bought a pet snake!

If you chose option A, you got sorted into the house of jocks, also known as Griffindor. Everybody wants to be a Griffindork, so congratulations!
If you chose option B, you got sorted into the house of leftovers (or maybe stoners...), also known as Hufflepuff. (Get it? Puff?) This is my house, of course*.
If you chose option C, you got sorted into the house of nerds, also known as Ravenclaw. I guess Hermione was just too cool for this house, hangin out with Mr. Popular and his plus one all the time.
If you chose option D, you got sorted into the house of goths, also known as Slitherin. I'm not sure I spelled that right... Slytherin? Anyways, congratulations, you're probably evil.

I was just thinking the other day... I'm grateful for the people who treat me bad in life. Otherwise I wouldn't have any faces to put on the Fernands, Kerrigors, Toraks, Ishamaels, Pyncheons, Iagos, and Voldemorts in my books. I'll give 1000 house points to whoever can match these antagonists to their respective series.

*Disclaimer: This is not in reference to the whole "stoner" bid, promise!

The Most Creative Game Ever Invented

So, I go on these long trips with my oldest brother's family to see my nephews play their junior league football games. On these long trips, we have a lot of fun playing whatever crazy games Uncle Todd can think up. So me and Peppermint Dragon played this awesome game that I'm pretty sure is the most creative game you could possibly play... well, at least it takes second after Calvinball.

I call it: THE SECOND MOST CREATIVE GAME EVER INVENTED!!!

Here's how you play: you think of a "What if..." question that's completely off the charts random. Then the other person has to respond with their own completely off the charts random "What if" question.
Example:

Todd: "What if I flexed my muscles and the world exploded?"

P. Dragon: "What if I had leprechauns in my pants?"

Todd: "What if our church building was made out of jell-o?"

P. Dragon: "What if I had teeth in my nose?"

And so forth.
Now, there are a few ways in which you can lose.
A. Actually responding to a "What if" question. Sometimes, it's really hard to resist this one when I ask something like, "What if every time someone sneezed, silver fire came out of my ears?" I mean, you'd want to answer that question, but as soon as you say something other than "What if" to start your turn, BUZZ!!! You lose!

B. Unoriginality. Wow, that word didn't get a red squiggly line under it! Anyways, when a player says something that is basically a regurgitation of your last "What if" then BUZZ, losify him (or her)! "What if cat meant dog?" "What if hot meant cold?" BUZZ, same concept, same structure= busted!

C. Unoriginality part deux. Sometimes, someone might try to sneak something in from a movie or something: "What if I cut down the largest tree in the forest with a herring!" BUZZZ!!! Who can name that movie! (Also, the "cat meant dog" one was from a movie, so I should've gotten buzzed by my opponent there, but he didn't catch on.)

D. Taking too long... if they can't think of a "What if" before you fall asleep from boredom, then BUZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz....

So these are the rules for the Second Most Creative Game Ever Invented. It's fun and stuff. I think you should try it on really long car trips with someone having less brains than you, cause it makes you feel really funny, smart, and BADDABING creative!!

Every Which Way

So I was sitting around thinking about what it would be like to be a bag of hot nickels, when it occurred to me... my computer froze up in Utah because it was so cold there. Then it froze on me here and that whole theory went debunkt... which is probably not a word. So I started writing my letter to Santa, asking for the usual bo-staff and Sham-wow. Then I wanted to blog about all those nay-sayers that thought my social life would go to the pits after I returned home... let me assure, I have made EXCELLENT friends... with my cats... and with NetFlix. Then I weighed myself and the scale pronounced me the heaviest I have ever been in my life: 151 lbs. Geck!! Maybe I should stop eating midnight snacks thrice a midnight. That might cure the increasingly odd dreams too... I'm just making this up as I go, really. "That's bad blog writing, Petey!!"

Post Title

So I was looking around for my car the other day somewhere in the desserts of Arizona just outside a Motel 6 when I found it atop a 30 foot cactus. Yup, my car was atop a 30 foot cactus. My immediate thought was, "This is going to be great to blog about!" Then I woke up... true story. Texas has gotten pretty routine for me, so I guess I had to wait until I was here in North Carolina to finally post again. North Carolina... try saying that without a wicked drawl... The trip was interesting because it's the first cross country trip I've ever done with a 22-foot Penske hauling a trailer with a Mustang on it. I let Jake do most of the driving. The reason I am here is not for any sort of permanence, only a week-long visit to my brother-in-law's family to help with the trip and the moving of stuff. Along the trip, I realized you can tell a lot about a state just by its billboards... like how South Carolina loves to stereotype Hispanics for the whole "South of the Border" miniature town/carnival, how North Carolina likes to label everything "All American," and how Louisiana loves their adult stores (as well as their "Boudins" and "Cracklins", which I think is some sort of Cajun cookin'). It all nearly made me appreciate the normality of Texas a little more, but then I started thinking about that... if Texas is the standard for normal...

Some Video Blurbs Not Starring Cats

My parents are in the other room watching some Christian movie starring Kevin Sorbo... I have to decide between writing on my blog and licking batteries to pass the time, so...
Mmmmmmm... double A!

I watched some of Men In Tights the other day, and by so doing, I realized that there are some parts of some movies that I could watch a THOUSAND times over, and they would still make me giggle like a college girl watching a homemade music video of herself and her friends dancing to Justin Beiber. That was a really long analogy...

Hey Abbott!!
I actually was laughing out loud at this one at the plasma clinic once, and this girl next to me was like, "I'm glad you're enjoying this..." My favorite part is right after, "In war we're tough and able!" The cat gets stepped on, consistent with the running gag of beating cats, but the sound made by this cat sounds more like an obnoxious crow getting a wedgie. You don't have to watch all of this one, just at about 2:00 when the little bald choir sings and one of them gets hit in the face... Big fat ugly bug faced baby-eating O'brien!!!

What'll I do if the kids make fun, cause I'm kinda dumb... what'll I do? Ok, they're done watching the Kevin Sorbo movie, so maybe I'll go play some tennis or find some C batteries...

Re: You're In Texas

I'm in Texas. I am reminded of that fact every time I step outside and my face threatens to melt right off. Record highs this summer.

I also am reminded of that fact because Nick Jr. has a tendency to play all day long. I also have a tendency to look behind me at every stoplight and ask, "Are those my friends?"

I am further reminded when I am eating my third bowl of ice cream... for lunch! I often step in mysterious liquids around this house... and I never ask.

I also run into some Astros fans sometimes. When I go to singles wards or branches, and they talk about going to Astros games, it still takes me a little by surprise. I guess they are making history this year...

I also feel like gravity is pulling harder here, especially in basketball. Then again, maybe that's just those extra bowls of ice cream.

Dream Journal

Since my return to my home state, my dreams have oft been filled with anxieties of eminent papers and deadlines for school, and I often wonder to myself within these dreams how I ended up back in my apartment in Provo with that same life after I could swear that I had finished that life long ago... as a man partaking in full reality, I knew those dreams would happen. Retro-visions, I call them. The ones of being in high school are pretty few and far between, but mission ones still happen quite often, and now BYU ones will surely inhabit my subconscious.

Does this mean that when I dream of being a dark wizard or a space pirate, that it is actually a re-glimpse of a previous life? Cool!

But now to last night... what a doozey! I usually don't recall three from one night, but last night...

The first involved me taking some sort of trip somewhere... a long trip. I was driving somewhere late at night and I couldn't recognize what state I was in because the shape of the state on the state highway signs was totally unfamiliar to me. Turns out it was Maryland... but some sort of bizarre Maryland located where Kentucky should be, being just above another state, Maryland Island. I found this out by looking at a bizarro world map, though it never occurred to me that I was in any sort of bizarro world. I began to contemplate either going back to Texas, which was about a six hour drive or going back to Provo, which was like 13. The math didn't really add up, but that didn't deter me from plotting a course for Texas, even though it was late at night. What was six hours more? So I drove South on this snaking highway which had large chunks of it missing, but I managed to manuever it just fine.

If this isn't some sort of symbolic foreshadow of my unclear future, I don't know what is...

The next moment I was in church in Lake Jackson. My mind was kind of fuzzy, so I somehow ended up going with the high priests for Priesthood meeting. I felt intense embarrassment (I never spell that word right) at the realization, so I decided to try and swim to the exit. Yup, swim. Priesthood meeting was being held in a giant room that was nothing but a swimming pool. There was just a bunch of old, shirtless, hairy men there talking the gospel, and me splashing around in the background. I managed to escape without notice, only to be further embarrassed by being discovered in my swim trunks by the primary kids, being led by an acquaintance of mine from BYU who will remain unnamed here.

And then I was riding around with my trainer from the mission, being actually on the mission... except here we were driving around in some deserted country like Arizona or something, and we were driving an astro-van. We were going to stop by some trashy family which my trainer told me were, quote, "Excited to see us, but last time I went there, they tried to poison me." We arrived to see a trashy family of a father and a few full grown sons. The father gave us a giant avocado, split down the middle and covered in some sort of green sauce, which occurred to me was redundant, being on an avocado and all. My trainer shrugged his shoulders and bit into the giant pit in the middle, but I hesitated long enough to see a huge bug pop out of the pit that split open like some alien cocoon. Gross! So I didn't eat it, and I refused the aspirin that one of the boys offered me, which might have saved us both as my trainer started feeling really strange after biting into that avocado. I managed to get us both back to the astro-van before I had to tell the trashy family off for trying to poison us and loot our van. It felt cool standing up for myself right then, but a gun fight ensued in which I'm pretty sure I got shot in the face, but I won. And then I tripped over some wiry cord which caused this helicopter to spin out of control and explode, and I'm pretty sure it was being piloted by Jamie Lee Curtis... How in the heck did (s)he get in my subconscious?

You know what, I guess this is what comes from a night of homemade lasagna. Perhaps a bit of undigested beef can cause the mind to cheat. Yes, there's more of gravy than of grave about you!

More than anything... where is Joseph and his dreamcoat when you need him?

The Other Night, Act IV

The clown meets Mandolin outside her apartment late that night.

Clo: I am here, my lady of the morning.[1]

Mand: Good eventide, shall we go for a walk?

Silence for a long awkward moment…

Clo: For eventide, why not abide?[2]

Mand: Good man, we must have words so let us walk.

Clo: Truly? I fear this walk more than I fear

A sorcerous swine[3], which oft haunts my dreams.

But this walk could take ALL my dreams away,

And leave me without fear or hope to burn

Or animate my soul in some degree,

To bring to mind the fact that I yet live

As living should be done by all beings.[4]

Mand: Are you quite done? The time has come to walk.

Clo: Then let us walk, and speak your peace for peace

Upon us both, but make it swift, indeed,

O make it swift and painful.

Mand: You leap so quickly to your doom, perhaps

This moment is not dark for you, perhaps

What truth I speak will free us both.

Clo: Be that the case, yet still I’m unprepared.

But, yes, let us be walking in the night.

They begin walking for about five minutes before either speaks.

Mand: Let me be frank, o giver of mixed signals. I know not what this game is you play of which we jested upon so long ago, the other night[5], but now I would be quit of it. Answer me thus: what is it that you truly want in this world.

Clo: A question most profound you pose to me,

And one I fear I can’t justly answer

I am a fool, of rioutous living

And wayward ways, having but one purpose:

To be a catalyst for others’ joy.

But as for what I want to have myself,

No clown has ever thus pondered on it.

Mand: Then be no longer a clown, a fool, a jester, or whatever nameless occupation you choose to be entitled with. I know there is more to you, for you are not an ordinary fool.

Clo: Perhaps that is my one desire then,

To be more than the fool of no regard.

But really what I want is ne’er concerned

Compared to what the lady wants, and so,

Fair Mandolin, what do you want?

Mand: I want for these riddles and iambs to end. As charming as it be, there is more in store for you. Can you not straightforwardly tell me your heart? Upon each setting of the scholarly week, you beckon me to enjoy company like I’ve never known before, and with the dawn of the first day[6] I hear not or see not of the clown for another six days. This is madness to a woman. Can you not tell what I want?

Clo: What you want is simple prose to me,

Gawain once asked a quite loathly lady,[7]

And she answered simply: Sovereignty.

To govern all your thoughts and acts without

Interference from any man,

Is not this what you want?

For this you have freedom to act your will

For all the greater part of every week,

And only impose I on rare occasions.

(Aside) Oh no, I fear I sound too much like Snow!

Mand: I will forget that I was likened unto anything loathly. Your intentions are sweet, but too much sweetness is bad for any tooth, as well as for any man or woman. Do not spoil me with your offerings of “sovereignty.”

Clo: Then you would desire more imposition?

Mand: Imposition, no. Perhaps just more time, that very limited currency more valuable to our generation than any other sort of trade. Be it impossible or unnatural to you in any fashion, then let us end this walk and part our ways.

Clo: But to part our ways would be utter misery! Oh, how could you have known my repinings at the very thought! It was enough to fill almost an entire act should all this drama be ever put to form in Shakespearean verse![8]

Mand: Fear not your repinings, o man of wont.

For they are yet the most honest display

By how they are confessed under the moon

When no one else is here to view the game.

Clo: Oh take my repinings then, take whatever confession you must! I will sacrifice myself to be that which you desire!

Mand: If any woman ever desires that of you, make haste and get elsewhere. I will not change who you are, imperfect as you may be. Your change is only brought about yourself, when you sense that balance beginning to falter in any sense.

Clo: Perhaps I was not as solidly founded[9] as I had imagined. Perhaps to complete myself and my balance, there must needs be this hole filled by one who would be ever more vigilant of those wretched hours when I forfeit humanity for madness.

The clown gets on one knee

Clo: Would you be my next and last roommate?

Mandolin rolls her eyes

Mand: O clown, you change too fast for all my tastes.

She grabs his hand and their fingers intertwine

Mand: Why not start here, o man of consequence?[10]

Clo: Yes, let us start.

Curtains fall

---

[1] Perhaps a reference to “La dama del alba” signifying just how nervous the clown is on this occasion (the lady of the morning in the said play is actually death incarnate)

[2] Hymn no. 165

[3] As in, a swine infected or practicing sorcery, a phantasm which indeed did haunt my dreams as a youth

[4] In other words, any animated being should live with dreams and emotions

[5] Hey, that’s the name of the play!

[6] Sunday. Mandolin is frustrated with the lack of contact throughout the week outside of the weekendly dates

[7] The reference here is obvious

[8] The clown has broken from his iambs, relieving himself of the role for just the right moment…

[9] Referring to his belief that he was always balanced because balanced objects tend to not tip over

[10] Indicating the hand hold.

Defective

And the man of little consequence took his talents to Southeast Texas.

Suppose that was the end... What more have I got to write? Ever? Now that I have BYU growing smaller in the rearview mirror of my life, whatever interesting thing could I possible write about? Perhaps about the 18 hour marathon I drove yesterday? Nah, apart from hitting a few birds and a bat and a questionable run-in with the Border Patrol (how was I supposed to know EVERY car had to stop? I thought only delapidated pick-ups were worth their time... surely not a Nissan Altima), it was pretty monotonous. How about my plans for the future? Well, we all know how I feel about plans... eck.

I did spend some time with my sister Becky this past weekend. We watched Kung Fu Panda 2. It was the second time I've seen that movie, and my contacts must have really been bothering me because there's no WAY I am gonna ball like that for a movie that I'm seeing for the second time...

Ultimately, know that this was not a rash decision like I've been known to make this past semester. The stache, the Cowboys and Aliens, the hot dogs wrapped in bacon, the sliding on hardened earth... maybe not my best calls. Yet, the one to leave Utah was done with much deliberation. All that time I feared August, I didn't much entertain the idea of being back to my roots, but here I am going country again. It's real good to see the family, and it's real good to be taking the advice of Rafiki, or Smashmouth, or Marley and Marley (played by Statler and Waldorf)... I will give 5 MILLION house points to whomever can get that connection!

We Three

Get it?

Celebricats

If you ever want to be famous, it's best to have a cat to make you famous first. Some cats are soooo famous that they regularly land thousands of hits on YouTube... a day! So, if you want to be big on YouTube, find a cat that does human-ish things (Nora) or one that has OCD (Maru) or one that'll tolerate being turned into a puppet (Keyboard Cat). If not, e-Harmony videos can land you a gig super easy!

Peer Pressure

"Do it!"
"No way!"
"Do it!"
"It's like ten times as ugly as a normal one..."
"Do it!"
"Never in a million years!!"
"Do it!"
...
"Ok!"

So I went to the library with my mustache... half shaved off. This wasn't even on my bucket list.

Cowboys and Aliens Do Not Get Along

Cowboys and aliens do not get along. They're like Ninjas and Pirates... or Robots and Monkeys... or Fish heads and banana phones...

Then again, who do cowboys get along with? Mexican Ladies? Certainly not even each other, as I witnessed this weekend. Harrison Ford sounded like he was gargling rocks, and Daniel Craig, as always, was a man of very few words (unless you're torturing him with a knotted rope and chair with no bottom).
I speed dated this weekend. Interesting experience, I must say... and certainly not a bad experience. I was a bit apprehensive when the bishop calls me cause I'm old on Tuesday: "We have an activity for those who are 25 years or older..." I was in the middle of eating my hotdog dinner when I got a call from the stake president to be there in just a few or else... I'm using a lot of ellipsis in this post...
So what was the result of this speed dating activity? Well, I'll let you know when I find out myself.
On Saturday, I had a pretty grood diving catch that tore my knee open for a third time in the past six weeks, but we still lost the game. Now all I have left is frisbee... and this mustache...
Also on Saturday, I went rock climbing with some old friends who are leaving soon. As I was climbing, I was like, "Brother, I am committed!" Turns out, I'm not very good at valleting... balleting... whatever that word is where you hold the rope and the other person climbs. I'm an English major.
On Sunday, I wore a turtle neck and a blazer to ward prayer. What a tool.
So, I figured another riptide week is happening right now, filled with 15 pages of who-knows-what as well as a comprehensive Spanish explosion test (I'll be writing "Bastante!" a lot) and a scramble for a new residence. All in all, it's one of those "I can't wait for Friday" weeks cause it'll all be over. Then I can go back to being a space pirate cowboy ninja, which is about as renegade as you get.

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