The Life of a Regular Guy

What Dreams May Go

2012-02-27T11:07:00.001-08:00

The dreams of losing teeth continue to happen like some recurring nightmare. Every time it is the same... one or two of my teeth is loose and I will hypnotically mess with it either with my tongue or fingers until it comes out. The sudden vacancy then causes emotions of extreme depression slash anger at my dentists who didn't get it right AGAIN! What a relief it is to wake up in the morning with yet a full smile.
Then there are the mission dreams wherein I am usually quite conscious of having already served a mission in Sacramento. I always know that this is the second mission that I'm on, but only recently has the thought begun to creep into my subconscious: "Why am I getting called on another mission? Shouldn't I be focusing on a wife?!"

Those are the usuals. Interpret them as you may. However, just recently I remember having a pretty cool superpower that when I had just one contact in, I could look at people and see them as a much younger version of themselves... sorta like a lens that receives light from 10-15 years ago, a reverse Hubble telescope if you will. During the dream, as I was looking at a 22 year old version of my oldest brother wearing his coke-bottle glasses, I kept thinking of how I finally had something to blog about and stuff...

My Posts are Getting Real Short

2012-02-23T16:23:00.000-08:00

So I was having a birthday the other day and it was pouring rain in Houston. I had been lost for about an hour or so and the kids in the car were starting to complain. Finally, we arrived at the place and they wouldn't let me be "Snaggletooth Patchbeard the Angry," so "Patchbeard" had to suffice. And even though my laser didn't work in round one, I went to town in round 2 shooting all those complaining kids with lasers! Peeyuw Peeyuw, KABLOOOM!!! Best... Birthday... Ever!! (No children were harmed in the writing of this post)

Witty Retorts

2012-02-21T14:47:00.000-08:00

I don't know if anyone even uses this phrase anymore, but if anyone ever tells you,
"Why don't you say that to my face," you should say:

"Turn around and bend over and I will!"

Get it? Cuz they're a buttface?...

Late Night Sports Corner

2012-02-14T22:40:00.000-08:00

It's midnight on the day, technically after, that wretched singles awareness shpeel. Some people went on dates and stuff--good for them. I took a huge nap after visiting the temple this morning so I'm finding it a bit difficult to shut down for the night, so I thought I'd call on Mr. Sandman via another boring and horribly misinformed post about sports.
And what's going on in sports that's marginally interesting? Linsanity. That's about it.
So sure, I'll toss in my one cent about the whole shibang that has taken ESPN absolutely by storm, but only because he made a game-winning three tonight (last night?) that dropped a proverbial vat of jet fuel onto the proverbial fire that this kid has lit under the nation. I mean, six game winning streak with superstar-esque numbers, and some of us still think it's a flash-in-the-pan burst benefiting from the brief absence of established talent in Carmello and Amare? Are we all believers now, America?
I don't think Mr. Lin is going away anytime soon. Let me tell you why:
When I read the news about his game-winner tonight (last night), I felt like David... "Is this real life?" I mean, can the stars really align so magnificently for some nobody out of nowhere? The odds are way too off for this whole thing... It only confirms my deepest suspicions.

The NBA is rigged!*

These aren't basketball players... they're actors! This is no different from WWF or whatever they call professional smack talk nowadays. David Stern starts to panic from a lack of interest in a season that everybody feels wasn't supposed to happen. Combine the short and sudden schedule with the increasing taint of player selfishness and top-heavy star power in bigger markets (does Charlotte even still have a basketball team?) and Stern makes a call to all the owners, GM's, coaches, and relevant players: code Papale. Everybody make way for the spark that will ignite the fandom of the nation from their pre-NFL draft stupor!

I'm on to you, Mr. Stern. For all my readers who actually read when I put the word "Sports" in the title, just remember you heard it first here. And I heard it first from Dave McKean.

*Disclaimer: I don't truly believe the NBA is rigged... The Pistons and Spurs dominated too much of last decade to ever validate that conspiracy theory.

Just Thinking to Myself

2012-01-24T11:58:00.000-08:00

There are so many deep questions I want to ask the universe...

What are possums for?

Why is my cat snoring?

How am I going to get two more pages out of this thesis?

and most of all...

Why does a guy with pastey white arms and no muscles and orange hair growing off his shoulders wear a sleeveless shirt to a church activity?

Book of the Man of Little Consequence

2011-12-11T19:56:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-28T20:36:00.001-08:00

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?

2011-11-16T14:47:00.001-08:00

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

2011-11-03T09:07:00.000-07:00

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!

2011-10-19T20:36:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-18T21:50:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-16T20:35:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-09T17:56:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-07T22:46:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-29T10:48:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-16T16:05:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-10T16:06:00.001-07:00

Get it?

Celebricats

2011-08-05T15:40:00.000-07:00

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

2011-08-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

"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

2011-08-01T08:58:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-28T09:03:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-23T18:38:00.001-07:00

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

2011-07-22T16:09:00.000-07:00

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?

2011-07-19T20:25:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-14T10:35:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-07T19:41:00.001-07:00

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

2011-07-06T17:33:00.000-07:00

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

2011-07-01T18:21:00.002-07:00

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

Guessed by the Akinator

2011-06-29T09:30:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah, the Answers to the Game Show

2011-06-23T09:43:00.000-07:00

Here's the answers:

1. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (from like the 90's)

2. Oscar (Tim Curry quote of course)

3. Ferngully (Batty, voiced by Robin Williams. I am still amazed by how much we used to quote this one back in the days of Nam)

4. Batman and Robin (Chris O'Donnel and George Clooney. I know, the Arnold Freeze quotes would have been so much better, but way too easy)

5. Cat's Don't Dance (Such an underrated movie)

6. Galaxy Quest ("Cerrus, what about my people!")

7. The Great Muppet Caper (not Treasure Island. Fooled all of you!)

8. Balto (surprisingly didn't fool any of you)

9. Blazing Saddles (one of my all time favorite western moments)

10. 101 Dalmations (It's Disney, but the older type stuff)

11. Ever After (I can quote chick flicks too. Impressed?)

12. Maverick (one of my all time favorite western movies)

13. Scooby-Doo (Shaggy fessing up to what we suspected all along)

14. Tarzan (I got this one from a co-worker the other day. He was quoting this part of the movie, which pretty much inspired this post and my future career as a game show host)

15. Casper (Eric Idle, pardon his french)

16. Space Jam (Why does everyone love this movie so much!? Is it because Shawn Bradley was named one of the best players in the world?)

17. Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (I don't think anyone has even thought of this movie since I was in second grade)

18. 8 Crazy Nights (I may be the only person in the world who has seen this, so this should have been a bonus question. Sorry)

19. Prince of Egypt (I used to quote this all the time on the mission when I rode my bike on the elevated sidewalk, and they were on the road. I don't think they got it either)

20. The Last Unicorn! (I don't think I've seen this in like a hundred years, but for some reason, I'll never forget how creepy this show is)

So far, Laurel submitted the most correct answers with like, seven. Everbody else got four or less... come on people! What's the point of me having this talent if I don't have any competition?

Beware the Ides of June!

2011-06-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

Some strange things have been happening lately. Ill omens haunt my every step.
Last week, I was at Helaman Halls waiting for some kids to get done with volleyball so my roommate and I could take the courts with a bunch of friends. All of the sudden, a huge fire springs up next to the pavilion. We were all asking ourselves, "Is there supposed to be a fire there?" I think our question was answered when a fire truck showed up five minutes later after the players had thrown enough sand on the inferno to douse it. That really happened! Wierd. We asked them what happened to cause the fire, and they said, "It just started." Spontaneous combustion.

A few days later I was on a plane headed to Chicago. As I grow old, I find plane rides increasingly uncomfortable... and scary. As we went through about two hours of turbulence (probably more like half an hour, but it felt like two) and stormy skies, I looked out the window and saw naught but darkness and lightning. All I could think of then was Lost, or Castaway, or Alanis Morissette...

A few plane rides later, I found myself still alive and back at BYU's library where I was typing away when I heard something like someone dropping a gang of books behind me. I turned around and the girl sitting at the computer directly behind mine was on the floor. She was unconscious and making these horrifying little groaning noises. I froze. Someone shouted "Call 9-1-1!" I had a coherent thought about this time, "You don't need 9-1-1, it's just a seizure." Well, maybe not too coherent. Anyways, she came to in a minute or so and security came to her aid, so I thought my work there was done and I left promising myself to stay extra hydrated this summer.

For the most ill and final of omens (so far) I batted 0.000 at my first intramural softball game. I didn't even advance any runners! Et tu, softball? I hit it straight to the first baseman every time... So, if you added infinity more zero's to that 0.000, you'd still have my batting average spot on. So much swinging and so little success... why universe!? What is it you are trying to tell me?

There's only one thing to do to prepare for whatever calamity awaits... sniff some dishwasher soap and watch Avatar reruns.

If I Had A Game Show

2011-06-17T09:09:00.000-07:00

So, lately, I haven't had school, so I've done a lot of thinking about random things. Sometimes, those random things are obscure movies I am familiar and you have probably forgotten them. If I ever had a game show, it would be to take quotes from these movies and see how often a contestant could get the right answer. I always would. Like I've always said, I have a quotagraphic memory.

Let's see how you would do...

1."Pork rind?"
"Pork rind."

2."Watch it there, Connie. You've got a dangling participle."

3."They have big big bottoms with bad shorts. They walk around going, Hi Helen!"

4."I want a car. Chicks dig cars."
"This is why Superman works alone."

5."Shut up Max!"

6."Perhaps I'm not as stupid as I am ugly."

7."We're gonna catch those thieves red-handed."
"What color are their hands now?"

8."Boris, you ever think you're the reason the other geese fly south?"
"If only your feet were as fast as your mouth."

9."Look at that."
"Steady as a rock."
"Ya, but I shoot with this hand."

10."I'll pop 'em off and you do the skinnin"

11."It is your words that have me hypnotized."

12."KILL INJUN! Is it legal here?"
"White man been doing it for years."

13."Mary Jane, that's like my favorite name!"

14."And daddy, he took my boot!"

15."I'll have a little dog, and I'll name it Kerrigan. It'll be a b**** just like you!"

16."You heard of the dream team? Well we're the mean team!"

17."What is that?"
"I don't know. It's probably a squirrel having a really bad hair day."

18."Wow, just when you really started to like Davy, he goes and has a butt-hole relapse."

19."Admit it, you've always looked up to me!"
"Yes, but it's not much of a view."

20."What is the matter with your eyes? Why can I not see myself in your eyes?"

----Hint----

"I'm alive! I'm alive!"

How many can you get!?

The Sequel to the Book You are Reading Right Now!

2011-06-14T21:00:00.000-07:00

This is also not original... how I lament that fact.
Nope, it's from a little piece of gold I discovered from a friend's blog while I was supposed to be studying for my finals. They're called Dinosaur Comics!!!! The title alone should be cool enough to distract you from whatever life-and-death scenario you are currently living.

This book that I am about to write is a sequel to whatever book you are reading. Are you ready to go on a reading adventure!!?

"Yay!" go all the little children in the audience.

The Book that is a Sequel to Whatever Book You are Reading RIGHT NOW!

"Wow! It was all a dream!" said Antonio Tony as he sat bolt upright in his bed. "Everything that happened prior to this: TOTALLY IMAGINARY! So crazy." He looked around his bedroom. "I think I'll dream ANOTHER narrative tonight, whether fictional or non-fictional, who knows?" [These are the next books you read] Antonio looked around his bedroom again. He scratched his neck and tooted, since it was late and nobody was there. "Nobody must ever know," he said, tooting.

Therefore, from this point on, every book you ever read or have read is now part of this colossal collaborative story. In fact, all literature from every author ever is now just fan fiction about this character. HIS NAME IS ANTONIO TONY; HE FARTED THE BED!

Clever Gal

2011-06-11T22:43:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, I'm in the library at 11:45 on Saturday night. I look over at the window walls and imagine myself running at them full speed and jumping right through like in that movie Huddsucker, but without the fall. Then I have to snap back to reality in time to write the last few pages of a major research project due at 8 a.m. on Monday.
This is that moment where a raptor has just jumped on board the train. The music is getting deafening loud, and I'm writing on my blog instead when the music goes off. The raptor leaps!...
To be continued...

The Man Card

2011-06-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

Here are some recent reasons why I am cutting corners off my man card:
1. I watched some food network the other day. Gina and someone Neely show... and I liked it.
2. I am reading Emma right now. Not for school... for fun.
3. A few weeks ago, I was playing basketball and I was guarding this girl, and she made me look like Tulsa trying to guard Rebekkah Brunson.
4. I just used a WNBA reference...
5. I can no longer do 10 reps of 135 on bench press. I probably can't even do 5.
6. I opted for institute tonight instead of game 4 of the finals.
Note: In my defense, this is a spiritual trumping which can be considered quite manly, though not by the world's standards. However, I did forego watching it at Iggy's with my roommate for a sort of bachelor party, so that's another point against me. Then again, I went to institute at the encouragement of a girl who didn't even show. I was promptly forgatten. Yup. ForgAtten. I don't know where I'm going with this...
7. While playing "What's Yours Like?" the other day, to describe my "Beauty Secret," I said "Inner."
8. I like to call my teacher (who doubles as one of my good friend's wife) Mrs. Yancey cause it reminds me of grade school days.
9. My favorite EFY song is not sung by Brett Raymond (you may know him as the LDS Sting... Remember the Promise, Do Likewise My Friend). Instead, it's by a girl and it's about girls. Hey, she's Irish. I think.
Note: This girl was actually in my Freshman ward here at BYU, back in the days of DT.
Also Note: Bono is Irish.
10. I giggle at gossip, but only the gossip I write in my own journal to myself. Wow.
11. I'm afraid of bees.

So there's some just to name a few. You may be wondering how my man card manages to have more than four corners... just remember that when you cut a corner off, two more appear. It's just that at this point, I've done it so often it's pretty much a circle.

And if anyone is really lost with this post, the Man Card is metaphorical.

Put Space Pirates on your Testimony Bingo

2011-06-07T08:40:00.000-07:00

I was sitting next to one of my former roommates at testimony meeting the other day. He started listing off the cliches of testimony meeting that have inspired such silly and disrespectful games like "Testimony Bingo." You know, phrases like, "I didn't think I was gonna come up here, but I did."

So I says to him, "Well, how often do you hear space pirates being mentioned?" And then I promptly went up and mentioned space pirates in my testimony... twice.

Don't think I made a mockery of the meeting. It was in context and a very heartfelt testimony still. Sometimes in class, I think about how cool it would be to be a space pirate, like the ones on Treasure Planet, you know? Then I think about how happy church makes me, and then I realize that thinking about church makes me happier than thinking about being a space pirate.

BOOM, testified!

Flashbacks

2011-06-04T19:55:00.001-07:00

Today I was thinking how sad I am that I didn't start writing in my journal until my freshman year at BYU (and I've written in it every day since except for a lost stint from late 2008 to 2010). I lament how time has faded some of my fondest memories from my childhood through the days of my youth. Some times, however, stick out to me in such a way that I will never forget them.

Oddly enough, they can be quite random. I remember like it was yesterday when we were helping the Hortons move out of their new home, I must have been in sixth grade or so (making it about 14 years ago) when a truck drove by with a picture of two businesslike fellows on the trailer. I remember pointing to one of them and telling my dad (or maybe it was my brother), "That's what I'm gonna look like when I grow up."

So now that I've kinda grown up, I remember the picture well, and I wasn't that far off... as far as the face and hair go. The business suit--not so much.

And then just a few days ago, I saw this commercial for like the infinitieth time, and I thought to myself, "That's what I'm gonna look like when I grow up."

I can only hope my teeth will be that nice.

English is a Crazy Language, but not as crazy as me...

2011-06-03T21:02:00.001-07:00

The following is not originally mine, and you may have heard tidbits of it before. BUT! As I am an English major-hunk, I thought this particularly relative to my situation and your enjoyment. BUT! Particularly is my favorite word.

"English is a Crazy Language"

Let’s face it — English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant
nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English
muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France.
Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that
quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is
neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce
and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural
of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese… One
blouse, 2 blice?

Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that
you comb through annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a
bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call
it?

If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats
vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps
you bote your tongue?

Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an
asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play
and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses
that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways?

How can a ―slim chance‖ and a ―fat chance‖ be the same, while a ―wise
man‖ and ―wise guy‖ are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be
opposites, while ―quite a lot‖ and ―quite a few‖ are alike? How can the
weather be ―hot as hell‖ one day and ―cold as hell‖ another?

Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are
absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a

sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone
who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all
those people who are spring chickens or who would actually hurt a fly?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your
house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it
out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the
creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is
why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out,
they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when
I wind up this essay, I end it?

– Richard Lederer

The Other Night, Act II

2011-05-30T15:32:00.001-07:00

ACT II: At the Gym

Buzzer sounds and players move to the sidelines. Wilson and Rivers are exhausted, Klein is messing with his hair, Snow is apathetic, and the clown is only a bit tired and still altogether silly. A girl, Mandolin, is keeping score for the team.

Wil: A 24 point deficit is not unconquerable, yet listen close, for the strategy of our victory is revelation to me…

Riv: As it always seems to be…

Wil: Let me speak. Snow, from this point hence, avoid the ball and all activity on the floor. Thou art an abyss of sinking ambition and ignorant folly.

Clo: Let him alone, for heaven’s sake, today

We play a game, a recreation such

As it not worth such words of foul contempt.

My friends, have fun, and seek not else in games.

Wil: Take your glittering fantasies and stow them where the women prance, simple and foolish player! Desirest thou ‘fun’? Then win, I say, win! Losing sucketh, and gave no delight to any man e’er heard of. I am a man, and as such declare my allegiance to making a stand for my battles of life, and care not for the apathetic folly of those who would be trod upon rather than trodding forth!

Clo: Alas, I am so often trod upon,

Of this, you do not err in your judgment.

Though air I’d give you more in your jump-ment.

(Too far, I reach! That pun was most tasteless!)

Anon, returning to my first challenge.

I venture there are those who yet rejoice

When loss is had in games of temp’ral sport.

The winning team, who doth inconvenience

The losers with a mark of second best,

For in the games of me an’ you

One must win, and one must rue.

Wil: Thou wouldst vie for the opponent! Traitor! They are naught but miscreants! Clodpoles! Fatherless curs who spat upon our ancestors’ graves when they set foot in the same arena as us, the honorable defenders of integrity! And more, they had the gall of robbing me of possession of the ball and yet thou wouldst side with these? Oh look how wickedly they smile and joke, festering jackals of the underworld!

Sno: They did rob[1] you, multiple times. I counted for lack of having better endeavors at the time.

Wil: Undeserving pustule! I work more for the salvation of this team save the Lord himself who giveth you breath to waste![2] Had any of you efforts equal to mine, we surely would not have to climb from such a steep hell to compete with these lesser devils!

Riv: Gentlemen and fool, speak not such hot debate betwixt compatriots! We are the same team, and our time for strategy grows thin with your bickerings!

Clo: In more than one context, Rivers speaks truth

In saying that we wrongfully accuse

Each other of villainous acts, as such

I bear apologies and peace, agree?

Wil: I agree I am deserving of apologies, and likewise accept and forgive. Your skills are needed, simple player, for they seem void in the majority of the team.

Clo: Poor Snow, below your belt he strikes again!

Riv: And likely my own belt as well has been struck beneath.

Buzzer sounds

Wil: Come, let us anew[3]. The glory brought alone by victory awaits! Wait… where is Klein?

Sno: What is his merit that he achieves a sidelined position? He speaketh with our scorekeeper, Mandolin, who came by his invitation. Pray, may I join him?

Riv: Surely not to speak to a woman?!

Wil: Take your place! I will handle him. Klein! Come forth, the games begin!

Kle: Alas, my ankle, so tenderly formed, doth complain in a most bitter manner. If you value my services, let me sit this one out, for your games may cost me the use of this most valued appendage. (To Mandolin) Yet your games shall ne’er cause me injury. Shall we play on?

Mand: Oh vain flatterer, your games are wasted.

Yet still, she smiles[4]

Clo: Away, let him be, for such is his joy.

A game he plays in which he scores much less

Than the average scorer on this court.

Wil: No matter. So long as four of us set foot on this floor we may compete, though one less would cause us forfeit and myself serious personal injuries.

The game begins. The clown promptly gets the ball and promptly passes it to Snow who promptly travels.

Ref: He traveleth! Let the relevant team be awarded the ball!

Wil: Why dost thou so often pass him the ball? He cares not for it!

Clo: Only for thy reaction do I such.

The game continues. Wilson strikes a shooter.

Ref: Foul, I say! For this the shooter shall be awarded with two unmolested attempts.

Wil: What ridicule is this!? Such minimal contact surely cannot swing a game so much!

Ref: Lower thy voice and thy temperature before I acquaint you with the outside of this gym.

Wil: You have scorned my petitions to sense thus far, for what reason wouldst thou accept wisdom now?[5]

Ref: I doubly warn thee again, oh merciful soul that I am.

Wil: Merciful! What mockery thou believest…

Clo: Let us resume, I beg of you! And yet

A word with, good ref give me your ear.

(To the Ref) My roommate here who holds this game so dear

Has not much life, of which you may have guessed

Though life in this manner is relative

By the standards of this judgmental world

We are all lacking for this treasured ‘life’

Then wouldst thou so divinely excuse him

And punish me instead for all our sakes.

Ref: I cannot acquiesce to your request[6], and furthermore why wouldst thou take a metaphorical shot for one so unlivable?

Clo: You think it’s for this man that I do this?

In me thou trust, it’s not for him I care,

But to be alone with the lady there.[7]

Ref: Well… give me reason for show of the players that they may not take such advantage of the officials oft. Thy words do carry some semblance of poetic power, I’d say.

Clo: (Still talking just to Referee) Remember this, to you I mean it not.

(Out loud) Thou blind and offensive rapscallion!

When shall you do justice for this people!

We seek fairness and tolerate your whims,

But now it’s had too much, we must complain!

Ref: This was your attack? How whimpish. Nonetheless, thou are deserving of the dreaded technical. Take a seat and return not for the whole of two minutes!

Wil: Stupid clown! Even stupider ref! What is the meaning of this!

Clo: Silence, Wilson! I do deserve this fate.

Only spite him by all your exertions,

And play so that he forgets not this day,

And leave the jeer and jest to him who deemed

To take upon himself this lowly call.

(To Klein) And now, my friend, you’re forced to take the floor

And fix this game, as fix you were born for.

Kle: Oh sad reason! What might I care if we forfeit?

Mand: Klein, do not scorn your team! You are needed most fervently on the floor!

Clo: Indeed, dost thou fear the wrath of Wilson?

Kle: Never. He threatens me not in the least.

Clo: Then fear his appetite for such a crime

As thou are contemplating would excuse

His theft of all your victuals and food.

Kle: He does not dare! And as well, he cares not for the salads I most often consume for my sustenance.

Clo: Then for the lady, may I yet implore,

Desires such a show of athletics.

Else why would she concede to come scorekeep

When most other females reject the call

Accounting for their ignorance or e’en

Their nonchalance to what goes on down here?

This game of sweaty, brutish, manish play

Appeals so little to their diviner[8] nature.

Kle: Thou hast enough point.

How long must this happen?

Clo: For two minutes[9].

Kle: Very well. Farewell, my lady. My heroism is called for!

Klein fake limps onto the floor, and the clown takes his place at Mandolin’s side. Some time passes…

A little more time passes.

Finally, enough time passes that the Clown addresses the lady.

Clo: Dost thou enjoy the game enough to stay?

Mand: It has not been a game for quite a while.

Clo: So then the game you are acquainted with?

Mand: And many other games I assure you.

Including that with which Klein plays with me.

Clo: Oh foul, insuff’rable game, I never played

It well enough to win but only watch.

A sad and lonely spectator of those

Who win the everlasting victory.

Mand: Poor soul, art thou fishing for my good tastes,

As Klein has done for so many weekends?

Clo: I must confess, sink me[10], that I am guessed.

But hopefully this bate is worth a bite,

At least, for once, to make this sad clown happy?

Mand: I pity you as much as your iambs.

And for this pity sake, perhaps consent…

Is not too distant in the horizon

Where naught but clouds are seen by us,

Who are but simple players of this game.

Clo: Then may you be the light that shines through mist[11],

One thing, at least, to soon look forward to.

Mand: Such silly poetry, I must admit,

Can draw a woman’s grace like mice to cheese.

I pray this cheese sits not upon a trap?[12]

Clo: If cheesiness be your primary taste,

Then I shall never cease to provide such[13].

Mand: I think you ever will, but more by chance

Than choice[14], most semi-amorous player.

But tell me this, for what purpose took thou the fall for thy teammate? I know what you have done here this night for him despite his ill will toward thyself and all humanity who challenge his ego?[15]

Clo: Ha! Would you believe I did it for this place,

Next to wonderous Mandolin the fare?

Mand: Should I believe such?

Clo: Alas, this time it isn’t quite the case.[16]

Consider rather all my teammates here,

Who have chosen so few passions in life,

That if they were to lose but one, even

For only a night of no consequence

As this night is, then surely they are left

Here empty as a hollow shell of skin.

I pity them who in turn pity me--

I am a man of much smaller passions,

But with enough to ne’er have wont of meaning.[17]

Mand: Do you consider yourself so wise a fool,

To mock them directly to their witless

Countenances?

Clo: Yet seldom do I give offense.[18]

My time is up, I must return and bid

You victim to the mushiness of Klein

Again, forgive me lady for no choice I have.

Mand: Go on, sweet fool, they ever need your help.

The Clown returns to the game, and Klein returns to the sideline with Mandolin. Wilson continues to get angry, Snow loses interest and leaves the gym, and Klein is forced to return to the game. The deficit continues, and the short and short-handed Clown, Klein, Wilson, and Rivers eventually expand their loss by another 26 points, thus losing by 50.[19]

Wil: Cutting loss and eternal embarrassment! I must drown my sorrows in unprecedented calories![20]

Exeunt Wilson

Riv: ‘Tis naught but a silly game, and one I lament to have wasted time upon. I return to my studies.

Exeunt Rivers.

Kle: That leaves but you and I, fare Mandolin. Shall we return to our abode? Ludovicio will surely be most happy and pleasant company after such a sordid affair.

Mand: Alas, the good man here has offered first

His transport to accompany me thus.

Clo: I have?

Mand: Indeed you have.

Clo: Indeed I have.

Kle: The clown? But hither did you ride in my company! ‘Tis only the unwritten rules of mutual acquaintance that you would return with the same cavalier who most graciously escorted you!

Mand: The unwritten rules that you mention here are like unto the rules of government, church policy[21], and all other codes that encompass multitudes of peoples with multitudes of situations. For these, there are always exceptions, and my choice here is above such rules for it is the preference of a lady.

Clo: And ladies are themselves more government

Than any man yet ever discovered.[22]

Kle: Preference? What strengths possesses he that I lack?

Mand: Perhaps you may say it’s his poetry.

Come now, good man of somewhat consequence.[23]

She grabs the Clown by the arm. Exeunt Mandolin and Clown.

Kle: I alone am left to lament alone. O Ludovicio, had I given so much time in devotion to thee as I had the foulest tool of punishment ever devised by the devil in the days of man[24], then you would not have left me so yet again!

Singing

“Ain’t nothing but a heartache…

Tell my whyee!...”[25]

Exeunt Klein

[1] Wilson had a lot of turnovers, suggesting he controlled the ball for most of the game

[2] Doctrine and Covenants 135:3

[3] Hymn no. 217

[4] Perhaps a bit inconsistent with the character of Mandolin, but the audience must know that she came by Klein’s invitation

[5] Wilson’s last few lines are the classic lines of an unsportsmanlike participant, albeit in somewhat more poetic fashion

[6] A phrase based upon one taken from Pirates of the Carribean, Curse of the Black Pearl, noted for its prolixity

[7] Is this truly the reason for the clown’s intervention?!

[8] A play on some very common church beliefs

[9] The clown actually uses Klein’s previous line to complete this iamb

[10] A cliché from the Scarlet Pimpernel. The clown is not on his game at the moment

[11] Mandolin would go home and write this line in her journal, though she would never tell the clown

[12] She is hoping this vain flattery is not only for a NCMO (non-committal make-out session)

[13] Some girls do like cheese

[14] Mandolin is actually subtly making fun of the clown, saying he is cheesy by nature and not by deliberation

[15] Mandolin quits the iambs suggesting a significant change in tone—from witty word games to serious inquiry, and perhaps even interest

[16] Or is it?

[17] The clown, like most Shakespearean clowns, has these moments of profound lucidity that suggest a deep and philosophical understanding of human nature, or at least some humans’ nature

[18] The clown attempts to use Mandolin’s last line to complete his iamb, but overshoots by two syllables; this girl really has him flustered

[19] If the characters are indeed based off of me, this sort of result for intramural basketball was not much of an exaggeration for my team

[20] Wilson is unfortunately phased out here; I couldn’t find room for him in the rest of the story

[21] Disclaimer: Only the Spirit provides exceptions to church policy

[22] Perhaps the most profound statement ever taught by the clown

[23] Another reference to the Book of the Man of Little Consequence… although, in her eyes, his consequence is already gaining

[24] A quote directly from Ulysses McGill in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”

[25] A Backstreet Boys song; turns out Klein is indeed a fan

Yoink!

2011-05-25T21:52:00.000-07:00

Wow, you know, my hats off again to whoever writes these trailers... the movie looks kinda so-so, but watching the trailer was a lot like needing supplies from a small Asian man.

Dream Journal

2011-05-23T23:11:00.000-07:00

I have a dream... but not like Abba's.

The other night, I had this strange one, where I was at some random chapel after some sort of reception or conference and I was playing basketball. Only, there was no hoop, and there were about twelve people playing and the teams were all of them against me. And I was doing surprisingly well, at least with ball handling, because there was no goal in this game of kinda-basketball. Usually, I can't do anything right in basketball... in my dreams. So, after that quick game, I packed some of my things up in this strange apartment that I had never seen before and went outside where my mom was waiting, only the world was perfectly vertical. I watched her walk to the car and wondered how she kept her traction when she should be falling into who knows what, so I took a few steps on this vertical world. I felt the pull of gravity at first, but eventually, I got used to it myself, like Spiderman but only with sticky feet. When I made it to the car, we began driving off, and some time during this period the world righted itself. My older brother and his wife and their recent son were in the car with us, and that nephew of mine (who just had his first birthday) knew my name even though he had seen so little of me. It was at that point that I realized I was dreaming, cause this was too good to be true. Me, good at basketball? Me, going home to Texas? Me, being addressed by my nephew who can barely talk?

Then I got to wondering as I often have. What if I am still in the back seat of that van, only dreaming that I am writing on this blog, only dreaming that I am going to BYU, only dreaming that I am Todd? I have spent so little time with both feet in reality (or what appears to be reality) as it is that sometimes I doubt my existence, and I had these ideas (or premonitions) long before I ever saw Inception... or the Matrix.
What if this life is a dream? Who will know the difference? It is as Joseph Conrad said, "We live as we dream--alone."
Maybe I just want to wake up and be like, "This is a dream," and have some hot elven maiden say, "Then it is a good dream," and then we make out. She wouldn't look like Liv Tyler though, I'd say more like Jennifer Connely from her Rocketeer days.

What is Fat Albert Like?

2011-05-19T13:51:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when there's a break in the teacher's lecture, I quickly snap out of the comatose condition the droning voice has hypnotized me into and I hope that he doesn't notice the great red splotch on my cheek from where my head has rested for the last couple of minutes... the last couple of minutes that turns out to be about 45 minutes. Hooray! Only five more minutes until class is done and I can get home and start the oven for another baked potato paradise! Have I ever mentioned that I like food more than most people?

Does this mean:
A. That I like food more than most people like food
B. That I like food more than I like most people
C. That I like food so much I use ridiculous superlatives.

If you guessed C, guess again. If you guessed A for your second guess, well you just don't know me all that well, do you?

School continues on during the summertime, and more than ever I am dreading the march of ages. Time keeps slipping through my hands like a greased rope attached to an accelerating Dodge Caravan. I feel like that if I sleep too long at night, I'll wake up on the eve of another heavy research project, and my sanity will be only so-so. I thought it would be easier with only two classes and a great lack of stress born from hours of taking flak from ignorant basketball fans and players. My Thursday night shows are better than ever, and the basketball playoffs are more entertaining than I can ever remember them to be sans Rockets.

Does that last sentence mean:
A. The playoffs are better without the Rockets involved.
B. The playoffs are better despite the Rockets being involved.
C. The playoffs were best when the Rockets were involved, but they are still pretty good as it is.
D. I don't know what "sans" means.

C is the correct one here, with D being a close second.

As such, time continues to fly most unceremoniously towards that dreadful August, which I thought for a time was less dreadful, but is in reality still quite dreadful. Not to mention there lies Spanish 205 and English 495 inbetween here and there, which are a couple of stress bombs I am keeping on my shelf for later use.
Remember that time when I compared life at the end of the semester to riding an accelerating train that is being attacked by increasing numbers of velociraptors? I'm not at that point yet, but I can here the calls...
In the meantime, I'm probably going to keep looking at the teacher as if I'm paying attention, but twenty minutes into my two-and-a-half-hour class I'll be a space pirate captain with a Firefly class vessel and a crew full of hobbits.

Why I Think the Muppets are Great

2011-05-07T11:09:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite all-time movies is Muppet Treasure Island. I am also a huge fan of Muppet Christmas Carol, and most people think that's either real cute or deserving of another snip from my man card. Either way, I don't declare my allegiance to such Muppetries for your sake, and probably not for the reason you think either.

My favorite character on Muppet Treasure Island is not even a muppet, actually. It's a person. No, it's certainly not Kevin Bishop and his amazing falsetto/soprano. It's definitely Tim Curry. He makes such a good pirate! I know he's done weird things before, but I don't condemn his performance as Long John because of his trans-sexual character in another film. I only emulate his laugh and hope it can land me a job at Pirate Island in Orem for a dream come true.

"PIRATES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA... pirates...? Oh Jim, if that's what you're thinking, you're DEAD wrong!" (Insert musical number here)

As for the muppets, there's not a whole lot of 'em that entertain me. I can't stand Miss Piggy (shoot her please, Long John!) and Kermit is boring, Fozzy is cliche (though refreshingly stupid in MTI) and the rest of them are all the same. I enjoy the masochism of Gonzo and the running joke of his whateverness--something ruined by the awful "Muppets in Space"--and Rizzo is tolerable, being a cowardly glutton, much like myself. I would have to say my favorite Muppets are Statler and Waldorf--
"That was the speech!?" "It was dumb!" "It was pointless!" "It was obvious!" "It was short..."
"I Loved it!"

Followed in a close second by Animal, who almost single-handedly redeems the Great Muppet Caper with "Woman! Woman!"

Moral of the story: the Muppets have never been the same without Jim Henson, and they will never be the same again... until they do "Muppets Independence Day" or "Muppets Firefly" with guest star Nathan Fillion.

The Other Night, Act I

2011-05-02T21:34:00.000-07:00

Characters:

Clown and his roommates, Klein, Snow, Rivers, and Wilson.

Mandolin, a girl and certainly not a type

Referee

perhaps some others, I haven't really decided yet

ACT I: In an apartment

Clo: Too long! Too long it runs, this rail of life

‘Ere it spans the length of man’s vision

And leaves us but to struggle all our days

To stand, and nay, to walk toward that vast

And inconceivable horizon, faith,

And all the while upon our wretched toes

For great its length and small its breadth on which

We each struggle, for one step here or there

To left or right is folly, fall, and faint

Toward that fog, where imbalance doth cloud

Our sight, deepen our hearts, and damp and dam

Progress, for which all man must strive and strive[1],

Indeed, there is no rest for those who live.

But what of this fall, can it be so grim?

The great abyss of gross insanity

In one degree or in many, so heats

The convection which bakes for souls habits,

And with habits, characters, and anon
A man is made, with passion, more it seems

That governs all his acts, and takes his choice

Like one, scorn’d and rail’d against since youth[2].

Enter Klein[3]

Kle: O, but that it were true, good jester, that choice were taken and mankind, as well as womankind, were left to follow the whims of those who seek their better happiness.

Clo: Now Klein, thou seems a bit crescent-fallen[4],

But whatever doth put thy mind in sorts,

For truth, could not be naught but can be so

Fix’d by thy warm, utilitarian

Nature, and by and by no longer stain

Thy bright and most expensive countenance.[5]

Kle: I am but crest-fallen, for so many a maiden practices enjoyment whilst in my company and yet turns away the greater reward when it comes due time.

Clo: And this reward, I cannot guess, for life

Hath made of thee the master of their hearts,

Not I, and so wouldst thou, in more, detail

The manner of this great offense thou suff’rst?

Kle: Ay, in more detail. Perhaps my longest and happiest friend will assist in the telling of the tale. Come, Ludovicio[6], for thou art the tool of tales in which I sorrow and rejoice. Give but a moment to attune my melancholy to its strings of fortune.

Clo: Thine instrument, a name? Average sir,

By thy label[7] I think tis thy brother.

Kle: More of a brother than can be asked for among such base folk as we are.

[Singing]

“She hid her face from me on the front porch,

And gave her love, burning like a torch,

A dousing of cold water and shoulders

And gave no action, so I told her

Off!”[8]

Enter Snow[9]

Sno: What racket, what racket! Silly jester, doth thou again prod him to his vain caterwaulings? Oft have his ugly verses disturbed my solitutde.

Kle: Back to thy gaming, dark spider. Speak not of vanity, I am in lament.

Clo: Would I destroy tradition for thy sake?

But use thy strengths, indeed, thy strength of noise,

And drown this wrench amidst the cries and clangs

Of never-ending battle, fantastic

It may be, more genuine than we,

At least to thee, and all thy friends abroad.

Sno: Would that it were so and you all were but imaginations of my lesser existence and I could but dismiss with you a thought. No matter, your advice is sound and I retire with increased volume that yours may be decreased.

Exeunt Snow

Kle: With little sympathy ever I regard him. Shall I resume?

[Singing]

“She gave not lip nor tongue,

So I felt I was stung,

By a great bee of disappointment…”

Clo: I pray, hold thy rantings for but a while,

For how wilt thou be beck’nd by that device

Which makes its home in thy outworldish pants

And governs thy life moreso than it seems

Than thy feminine equals of whom

You so lament the existence of here,

For methinks she calls upon thee soon

To rectify this base and sordid choice

To be rid of this, your most esteemed company.

Kle: Nay, twill make no matter, for it is on vibrate. Thy sentiments are most keen, jester, but I think not that they are remedy to my woe begotten state. Only the mirth of Ludovicio’s and my own voice combined can repair the wrongs of the universe.

Clo: [Aside] Repair, so true, for you to use such text.

Alas, here comes Rivers to join my cause.

Enter Rivers[10]

Riv: Mine ears were touched again by the sorrowful song of our perpetually sad roommate ‘ere I entered thus. I wonder, are thy lyrics truly of thy heart, or do they speak from another’s?

Kle: Simple man, you question my originality? ‘Tis worthy of a sound slapping of thy spectacles across yonder filthy[11] tiles!

Riv: Forgive me, they but sounded so much alike the sounds that play upon the radio these days. Doth the Fray or Nickleback[12] inspire thee?

Kle: What base accusation is this!? I seek not the lyrics of others when I am seeking the muse of my soul, and especially not such poppish and universally disliked bands of amateurs!

Clo: Heaven forbid, the lads and girls of note

Should discover such ugly truths in him.

Riv: Then it is Backstreet boys?

Kle: Social insect, you buzz too much!

Riv: I hear they may yet return, or so is rumored upon the net.

Kle: I believe you not, but if such is truth, I must be privy to such a disaster.

Exeunt Klein, probably to go check his computer for updates on various Boy Bands.

Clo: O what wisdom doth shine from your large head,

Most studious and ardent man of books.

By your sagacity he is retired,

And we are left to ponder life in peace.

Riv: My wisdom is heavily sought for and rightly earned. Pray, fool[13], have you yet given thought to your studies.

Clo: I thought of them, yes, but the thought troubled

Me so greatly, for thoughts would gather more,

And with study the very thought of thought

Compounds upon my poor, imbecile brain.

I imagine you thought upon yours too.

Riv: No, not thought, but acted. Silly fool, you cheaply sell that which would ever remain to strengthen thy character. Today we studied vice, and one of its greatest uglinesses is sloth. I thought of thee today as I studied such.

Clo: Didst thou study as well the sin of av’rice?

Or perhaps that most universal one,

Of which I shan’t name here, but only hint

Remains foremost, and marked in front with ‘p’.[14]

Riv: Poverty? Aye, a most heinous crime in my family, and one to which all the world’s fools are bound, and all those who actively practice sloth.

Clo: Yet, what is sloth? ‘Tis relevant at best,

For of two men, one who makes highest marks,

And ever thus attends his class and work—

Thus is he rewarded with earliest

Letters of the Latin alphabet[15],

And declared a scholar of words and numbs[16].

And yet, the next of these two men who oft

Skips his class and opts instead for home,

Wherein he cleans and sees to order there

So that his fellows may enjoy the house.[17]

For as the former never thus employs

His art or wit to do that which without

Complaint, the latter thus achieves, then who

Sayest thou, would be the more slothful now?

Riv: Easily, it is the second, for he sought to employ himself in the easier industry.

Clo: Easy, you say? Then why did he not make

Time for such a selfless, simple task yet,

I say for him, and even in defense,

The schooling is more easily obtained,

For he is practiced more in this than base

And menial tasks which he finds too hard.

Else why would he refuse to lend a hand?

Riv: I have not time for your riddles, fool. I must retire to review the day’s intake of sacred learnings, both secular and otherwise.

Exeunt Rivers

Clo: Indeed, he missed the greater moral here,

And being thus refuted from his claim

Of knowledge invulnerable, he runs

Perhaps to ponder such a riddle more.

For sloth is never as it seems but is

More of a matter of priorities.

For River, books; for Klein, the woman’s lips.

For Snow, his games; for Wilson, food and games.

And for me, the clown of no consequence[18],

All of the above, just in shambled parts.[19]

Enter Wilson

Wil: [Yelling] Come hither, player, come hither all ye players! Snow, Rivers, Klein, it is time for us to depart and take part in that sordid recreation of mannish strength and speed[20]. Come hither, for the other competitors hope for our absence, as ‘tis the only means by which they obtain victory! Come hither, else the battle goes awry and we are left without reason to indulge in foodstuffs for celebration!

Clo: You fit the type too well, Wilson,[21]

And prove my label thus mentioned.

Wil: Prepare yourself, player, for we take on a much greater fiend than your broken iambic. The fiends who deem themselves officials and have yet always robbed me to this day, and I stand before you a broken and ravaged man by their judgment. Perhaps your charisma may sway them to our cause, and see me benefited, for once in eternity.[22]

Re-enter Klein and Rivers, wearing shorts and tennis shoes

Riv: I remembered the event and intend to attend, so leave of your prep-talkings. Let’s get this over with.

Kle: Will there be fans today?

Wil: Fans, indeed. Who cares for such a crowd? And where is Snow, our numbers are short without him.

Clo: And we are short[23], whether or not he comes.

Wil: Speak not this pessimism. I hunger. What leftovers may be had in seconds?

Kle: Take my noodles and spare me the carbs.

Wil: Done. Someone get Snow before I pumble[24] him and let us depart for the gym.

[1] Being a play on words, the double meaning being both “putting forth effort,” and in biblical terms “fighting, arguing” (Matt. 12:19, 2 Tim. 2:14, 24)

[2] Being a reference to Satan who takes away agency.

[3] Klein is named after the brand of power tools, he being the quintessential “tool” or player or whatever name you give to one who spends all his faculties (and often in vain) to impress the ladies.

[4] A deliberate twisting of the term, “crest-fallen” referring to the crescent wrench. This will not be the only tool pun from the clown.

[5] Notice how the clown retains a semblance of iambic while no other character does except, as you will see later on, Mandolin, and only she does so as a sort of game with the clown.

[6] I was afraid that to have Klein name his guitar would be playing too much into the stereotype and make him too much of an unlikable character. I ended up leaving it for some reason…

[7] Another tool pun, being a reference to when Klein called the guitar his “tool of tales”

[8] For clarification, the lyrics are deliberately awful

[9] Being named in reference to the popular electronics company, Blizzard, Snow is one of those one-in-ten or so guys that has spent a fortune of time and money on Mass Multiplayer Online Games

[10] A name simply sounding hoity toity smarty-pants, and later discovered to be accidently harmonious with ‘River’ Tam from the series, “Firefly”

[11] All mens’ apartments have filthy floor tiles

[12] In ten years, both of these bands will be completely forgotten

[13] The clown is called something different by each of his roommates—Klein refers to him as the “jester,” Snow calls him the “joker,” Rivers calls him “fool,” and Wilson calls him “player”

[14] “Pride,” in case you didn’t catch that

[15] Aka, good grades

[16] A slightly distasteful slant of the word “numbers”

[17] This latter man certainly describes the author… er, the clown

[18] The first of a few references to the “Man of Little Consequence.” If you need explanation on what that is, check out this blog: regularguylife.blogspot.com

[19] Here is stated, nearly outright, the central motif of the play: balance. The clown represents some semblance of balance whilst his roommates have become slaves to their solitary passions, however noble those passions may be. In this imbalance comes a form of madness which clouds reason and even spirituality, and I believe this was one of Shakespeare’s chief portrayals of madness in all his plays as well

[20] Aka, basketball

[21] This is a sort of “disclaimer” line, somewhat vindicating me for using such obvious stereotypes

[22] Having been an official once myself, I couldn’t resist putting in a plug for the inhumanity by which they are treated

[23] Referring to the stature of the roommates. If they are all indeed patterned after some facet of my life, then they may also reflect my physical stature as well

[24] A word having much history in my family, derived from a 3-year old’s mispronunciation of the word “pummel”

Why does it snow, precious?

2011-04-29T14:32:00.000-07:00

Yes, it being April and everything, the snow makes me sad. It makes me so sad, in fact, that I start thinking of all the things that make me sad, which probably makes you think I'm gonna make one of those listy blogs again, but I'm not going there today. Instead, I will list one thing that has made me the most sad so far this summer:

They took out my rail south of campus!! You know those stairs that lead straight to 300 E? I always used to ride those rails (but not on Sundays, because it's the Sabbath and my dress pants make me go too fast). In fact, I used to look so forward to coming on to campus just because I knew I got to ride the rails on the way home. Now they're gone, gone away with all the shattered dreams and yesterjoys and made-up words that hint toward my meaning but are only manufactured for the sake of completing these sort of congeries and for sympathetic emphasis.

Speaking of not made-up wordses:
My little sister is a flibbertigibbet. No squiggly red lines under that one.
You can expect her to participate in any lollapaloozas around here, especially if there are doohickeys involved. At least she's not a ninnyhammer like me, doing naught but eating my slumgullion and leaving no orts or bezoars for my imaginary zedonks. Interrobang!!?
Good night, America!

It's Not Good...

2011-04-19T15:22:00.000-07:00

Is it bad that I'm usually the first one done with my finals? I mean, for the Shakespeare final, there were but two essay questions. I was done in an hour and a half, and I even proofread it and everything, and I still left before anyone else... Of course, I had plenty of time to go get some Taco Bell.

Yesterday I reached for a door handle in the library and this girl walking beside me reached for it at the same time. I almost held her hand. She giggled.
Is it bad that this might be the closest I've ever gotten to holding a girl's hand if you don't count Disco Skating, which I don't?

Is it bad that I have this rather large paper due tomorrow, and I'm blogging instead of working on it?

Is it bad that I get excited every time Kobe Bryant takes a hard fall?

Is it bad that my tooth is loose again? You know, Waylon... he wants out again, I can feel it... literally.

Is it bad that I settle for a B- on a term paper instead of doing it over?

I don't think I'm a bad person. Maybe I settle for some things in life that I shouldn't, and maybe I just have some really awful luck... yet I am happy. What else matters?
Back to work

Dream Journal

2011-04-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

I had a frightening dream last night, that I was at some sort of Basic Military Training Camp, but the exercises we took on were not really that basic. In fact, they were quite real and quite deadly. Not only did I have to run a great deal on my bum leg (which was still bum in my dreams), but we were given a task to storm a hill whereon three enemy tanks were lodged. Real enemy tanks. I somehow overheard an officer estimate 70 casualties amidst our troop of 150 recruits. Real casualties. I then had visions of running up the hill with nothing for defense against the bombardment of artillery shells but constant prayer and luck, which I somehow knew would fail me. So I did the only plausible thing and tendered my resignation right there and fled the camp, the whole while wondering, "How on earth did I think I was going to be able to do this?!"

So Jake, if Mr. Freud had anything to do with this, you are more of a man than I am.

Book of the Man of Little Consequence

2011-04-08T16:16:00.000-07:00

Chapter 10

1. And now my brethren, and sistren, I beseech of you that ye do not procrastinate the day of working on your term paper until the end. For when the end cometh, then cometh the night of no sleep, wherein ye have no chance for sanity, but must compose words of incessant mediocrity and hope for participation grades.
2. For the man surely did not procrastinate this day as was implied, but did write his name and the date for all of his papers that were due on the final day of classes. And being thus past the status of "Not yet begun," he considered the matter in order, and left his labors for a season.

3. And lest the man should be exalted above measure through the abundance of runnings and jumpings, there was given to him leprechauns in his leg, who beat incessantly with tiny hammers that gave him much displeasure in the night.
4. For, for he could not sleep whilst the leprechauns beat upon his leg, or so was the imagination.
5. And thrice times thirty times did he entreat the Lord to remove the leprechauns.
6. But the Lord's grace was sufficient, and his strength was made greater in weakness..
7. Though his strength is not made greater in whininess, so the matter is left.

8. But one other thing may yet be whined about.
9. For the man did take ill, and the leprechauns ceased not their labors.
10. Thus his sleep was robbed, and he was seen to be watching the celebration of celestial gluttony (or as some would say, Man v. Food) in the wee hours of the morning.
11. And thus he subsisted on little sleep and much dreamings of excessive eatings.
12. And he called them not 'crunchings and munchings' despite the plural gerunds, for he despised the reference and the movie unto which it pertained.

13. And for all this, the day of Friday came, and he so excited. He, he, he so excited, for the morrow was Saturday, and then Sunday came afterwards. Fun, fun, fun, fun...

14. I implore your forgiveness for such a reference.
15. But the man slept and his classes came and went like a thief in the night, or rather, a thief in the morning, which would be a thief that would surely be caught.
16. Unless the man of the house was sleeping, for what man will try to break in and steal from the house of a strong man? For they will surely bind the strong man first, or drug him, or bribe him, or flatter him, or throw great amounts of putty at him until he moveth not, and then will they steal from him, assuming he has anything worthy to steal.

17. And the final day of his occupation drew nigh, and the people rejoiced, save only a few who deemed themselves Hate-onites, and they threw much hatings and gnashings at the man of little consequence.
18. But the man slew the Hate-onites with his smile and smart-alec wit, so they were much the more wroth and threatened to retire him early.
19. Of which he answered saying, "Surely, thou wouldst do me a great service by such an act, for the payment of my job is but small when considering that I must listen to the words of such paltry sluggards as thyself. Jump up and cut yourselves, and then will I hear thy whinings and wailings, and hatings, and gnashings of teeth."
20. For this, his coworkers deemed him the greatest of them all, if but for this season. And he received two and a quarter scores to be wasted in the store that hath not true merchandise (or as some would say, the BYU bookstore). And he murmured not at this.

21. And so the season came to a close, and a new chapter of the book of the man of little consequence was to be begun, if but for four months from now. For where goeth the man when the leaves turn red, and the celebrations of honor, valor, largeness, and man-stink begin? Not even the angels in heaven know...
22. And he ended this chapter, mentioning not his dealings with the females.

Some Commercials Just Need to be Posted

2011-04-04T13:08:00.000-07:00

This one makes me giggle and homesick at the same time.

"Hey Ya'll, Watch This!"

2011-03-29T21:28:00.000-07:00

That's what the redneck said before he died. What does it have to do with my post? I don't know... if you really read deep--deeper than I ever intended to write--perhaps you'll find a connection, and then you can let me know.
Back in high school, I had this really lousy injury. When I say lousy, I'm talking it put me out of basketball practice for a week or so, and what with my small stature, I couldn't really afford to miss too much practice, if you know what I mean... The worst thing about it was that it was diagnosed as a deep bruise. As mythical and pansy as that sounds, it backs itself up with a complete lack of swelling... not even any discoloration! So there I was, missing practice for probably what most people, including the coaches, thought was an injury completely conjured in my imagination.
So here at school, tonight, in the first offensive play of our tournament game of this football team I managed to get on, I split the defenders but pay the price. I knew it right after it happened... it happened again. Deep bruise. The pain was so severe at first it made me nauseated, and I HATE being nauseated! I'd rather be hit in the gut with a cannon ball! Then again, that would probably make me nauseated of itself, so the scenario is void. What I'm trying to say is, it's gonna be a loooong week.
But long weeks are not without their perks. Imagine when Saturday rolls around, and the long week is over! Then I get to sit down and enjoy conference, crossing my fingers that Pres. Uchtdorf brings up sportsmanship again.

Now for something totally unrelated!

Here's a shout out to Dan Patrick and a shout down to the miserable Rick Reilly. For the former, I've always considered your show entertaining. For the latter, you can bag on Jimmer's D all you want, but when you bring the church into it, that's just unprofessional, especially when you showcase your ignorance with such things as "no-caffeine honor code". That last bit was actually included in a response to Mr. Reilly himself, bless his little heart.
Then I got to thinking... as an aspiring columnist myself, would I be willing to write that which is controversial, stupid, ignorant, and offensive to great populations for the sake of sensationalism? Well, if I was a sports columnist, I would do naught but bag on big market teams like the Lakers and Yankees, which would most assuredly offend huge masses of people. This is probably why I would never be a sports columnist unless if it was for some joke website like DownWithTheMan.Com, which isn't a real website... yet. Needless to say, I would certainly make mistakes with my amateur attitude.
And who am I to judge what Reilly did as a mistake? Well, I'm not much of one for it, but I think Dan Patrick is.

Inspiration from Nerdy Bands

2011-03-25T11:17:00.000-07:00

Why don't we see more nerdy bands? Perhaps we do... or perhaps I just don't pay enough attention to the musical culture in Japan. Moment of silence.
Anyways, what with basketball being over and all, I think it was a great run this year. Despite all the downcast countenances last night, I am really happy for our team. Sweet 16 for the first time in 30 years, Jimmer being pretty much on top of the world, and ESPN giving us a shout out for upholding our standards amidst Davies-Gate [getting booed for the cliche there].
So here's to a great run this year in basketball! What an exit! Raise a glass of apple-raspberry juice which I swear, next to Martinelli's, is the closest I have ever gotten to alcohol--you know, special occasion type drinks.
So then the conversation turns to next most exciting thing: next year's football. And then it turns to our marching band, and how they epitomize the nerdiness of BYU [some jock comes out of nowhere and punches me in the face]. I mean, Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, and of all the popular songs that suggest domination or sticking it to the man, we go with the Imperial March from Star Wars.
I think it's great!
Let's take Lord of the Rings, for instance. Should our quarterback be likened to Legolas, he would never miss a pass! In fact, he could take that football, stiff arm an opponent with it right in the chest, run up the back of another opponent and leap off his head to throw a strike right to the reciever 100 yards down the field, who likened unto Aragorn, would never drop a pass. Then again, none of this would even matter, because you had an offensive line of nothing but cave trolls, so nobody's getting through. Well, in reality we have Polynesians, which is about as close as you get.
"There will be a day when the pride and honor of BYU comes crashing down around us, but IT IS NOT THIS DAY!!"
And what's wrong with having Wizards on the field? There's a professional sports team with the name, albeit they are certainly not wizards on the court.
So, enjoy the optimism on sports while it lasts. From here on out, it's naught but tournament in my wonderful job, so I'm gonna have my fair share of venting to do here before the end of the semester.

What's Math Got to Do With It?

2011-03-23T13:41:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I've got all my requirements signed up for and by August, I should be done with classes. Let's see the fireworks, everyone!! Hooray!
But then, there is this stupid foreign language credit, which says I have to take four semesters for it... and I says, "What about all those math classes I vainly took? Do they not transfer over?" And the university says, "Nope. Here's an atomic wedgie to your future!"
Well, I figure I can get by in Spanglish 205 without taking any extra semesters. The difficult thing is actually getting into that class. Hello, academic advisor!
So, by the sheer force of my determination and my own refusal to accept another fall semester here, I will see it done! "But Monsieur Madeleine!!" I WILL SEE IT DONE!!
For those of you who don't know, I finish with BA in English and a minor in Communications, planning to be alternately licensed to become a high school teacher in English and Journalism, and during this time also to have my own online column for some commercial purpose, probably an online LDS column, or maybe a sports blog if I'm really masochistic. I also plan to write books and stuff.
Also, also, check out my goodreads profile, if you're wondering about what to read for fun and you're into the really-nerdy-but-not-as-nerdy-as-Star-Trek-or-Star-Wars novels.

And it's like the fog has lifted...

2011-03-10T17:53:00.000-08:00

I took a survey for Martinellis the other day. One question asked, "What would be the ideal situation for you to be drinking Martinellis?" I answered, "On an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone... surrounded by enormous piles of money!" Snicker....

When I talk to my dad on the phone, he usually asks where I'm gonna be in August. Trust me pops, not a day goes by where I don't ask myself that same thing. But, as big things loom on the horizon like dusky clouds of mystery and indecision, I find that my ability to scatter them and bask in the sun of accomplishment always comes through.
[pulls a trumpet out of his own pocket and plays it]

So where will I be come August? No idea... but I didn't know what I was going to write my popular bridge for 361 on until tonight, and then it hit me like a brilliant revelation of success! "I propose to compare the Cask of Amontillado to the Count of Monte Cristo" [takes a bow amidst thundering applause].
So I could only sing in my head, "At last I see the light!" But strangely enough, when I sing this cheesy Disney song in my head, there's always a girl singing with me. So, does that mean that to scatter the clouds of the unknown, there must needs be some female in the instrumentality of my own wordiness? Just the thought makes the clouds seem darker and bigger and more ominous and more... feminine.

"I've got scrapes and lumps and bruises, and something here that oozes, and let's not even mention my complexion..."

Dream Journal

2011-03-08T21:26:00.000-08:00

I had a dream the other day that I was a wizard, like one from Harry Potter. I was in a chapel somewhere, and I just kept avada kedavraing everybody. I was one wicked sweet evil wizard, probably still haling from house Hufflepuff. In fact, one specific instance, there was a girl who came in and saw her friend lying dead in the hallway (courtesy of yours truly). She was so distraught that she sat down on the couch in the lobby, just across the room from me. I offered to take her pain away with the magic, and she closed her eyes in submission. I could only point my wand right at her temple, and whisper... "Avada Kedavra..."
Then this crazy music started going off and everyone was under a spell to dance like in that old Disney movie Hocus Pocus with the talking cat. I was dancing too, and my dancing was way cooler and slightly more evil than everyone else's who wasn't dead yet. I was just thinking, "Man, it 's so cool to be EVIL!"
After I woke up in a cold sweat, I had to stare at myself in the mirror for like five minutes. My hair was uncontrollably long, and my eyes were sunken from broken sleep... and I wondered, was this dream a freudian slip of my dark side? I guess I've just been reading too much Poe lately... or maybe the fee's too pricey for them to realize my disguise is slipping; everything's slipping, away, so...

I Can Link My Blog With No HandleBars!!

2011-02-18T13:16:00.000-08:00

How shall I look upon this day now? (Yesterday) A quarter century? Two and a half decades? The silver anniversary of my body and spirit's union? Perhaps as my graduation from a regular guy to "A MENACE!"
Shall I rename my blog: "Modern-Day Menace" or maybe, "Episode 1 and a half, the Randumb Menace" or maybe, "Dennis the Menace Part 2: This Time, it's not Dennis"?
It's strange... I don't feel like much of a menace...?
Anywieghs, for my birthday I didn't do much. I was treated by my little sister, but other than that, I went to a work meeting, then to actual work itself, and inbetween I was scouring Utah valley for Elderflowers. No, not elderberries. Anybody can find those. I mean ELDERFLOWERS, which I made this medieval cheesecake with that turned out to be just plain evil. Evil smelling, and quite evil tasting. I knew it was gonna be wierd when the recipe told me to mix the cottage cheese and the sugar. It was actually for an assignment for my 371 class, but after one bite, I decided my medieval experience was over. I'll stick with regular old cheesecake, thanksverymuch. If you do want the recipe and are feeling particularly masochistic, here it is. It's called Sambocade.
You know what, the Lakers lost to the Cavs. I can ask for no better birthday present. Well, maybe I could...

The Glorious Finale

2011-02-16T13:00:00.000-08:00

Here is another essay written for my 218 class last semester, and most of you are familiar with this occasion. Considering a different audience, however, made me present it in somewhat of a different light:

If you’ve ever seen me, you may not believe me when I tell you that I played high school football. You'd be even more incredulous when I told you that I started on varsity at outside linebacker. For those of you unfamiliar with American football, the outside linebacker position is given to some of the bigger, faster types, and I am not particularly big or fast. In fact, I weigh in at about 150 lbs, but only in my dreams. In reality, I fluctuate between 135 and 140.

My high school career of football was not spectacular by any means, but I had my glorious moments. I was ecstatic with those few interceptions and a few lucky shots on opposing runners, but the most glorious moment came during the last game of my senior year.

Before I get into the details, it's necessary to preface the situation. It was a home game, first of all. The cheering crowd knew my name because it was a really small school and we didn't have a huge number of players (thus explaining how I was able to participate in the first place). The real doozey was when my father, who was also my stake president at the time, came to me before the game saying he had a vision that we would win this one (it would be our first district victory) and I would be a pivotal piece in our triumph. Can you imagine my excitement? Probably not. There are few things in this life that compare to the feeling of impending heroism, especially from a guy that nobody expects much from. Putting it all together, we have a hometown crowd, no regular season victories, and a prophetic guarantee of victory and adoration. Surely, this was the sort of finish that Disney made movies about.

Picture a small, yet boisterous hometown crowd. The Danbury Panthers entered the field in their black jerseys with gold numbers, and golden helmets with a panther that is identical to the Carolina Panthers logo. We were undersized and outmanned, but full of hype and hope and every bit as loud as our fans. Nothing I have experienced quite compares to that atmosphere: the smell of sweat that began even before the game was under way, the brightness of the lights that reflected off the wings of a hundred insects that were mindlessly attracted to its radiance, the taste of a rubber mouth-guard that had become saturated with my own saliva over the period of twelve weeks or so, the feeling of the pads and the helmet which fit uncomfortably because of the extra padding to compensate for my tiny head, the sound of the measly band that was a band nonetheless, and the whistle of the officials that governed our lives for those ninety minutes. For a guy like me, it was glorious and ominous at the same time, especially when our opponents came into view for the first time. I can’t remember what colors they wore, or even whether it was Brazos or Ganado we played that night.

The game began as most other games did that season: we quickly fell behind. I did my best, but as usual I was more of a speed bump than an actual hindrance to the runners I was up against (who outweighed me, on average, by about 45 pounds). The halftime whistle blew, and I was not disturbed by our lack of success. It was going to be a bit more dramatic than I imagined, but that was expected, even desired. Then about halfway through the third quarter it happened.

It was a turnover on downs, so I was headed for the sidelines as it was no longer a linebacker's responsibility to be on the field of play. Then my coach began to yell something: "He's a Mormon, he's the last person who would throw a punch!"

Remember I came from a very small school in South Texas, one of which there were precious few Mormons in attendance. There was only one on the football team.

As soon as I figured out that the coaches were yelling about me, I turned and saw my coach motion me over only to hear the news that I had just been ejected from the game for allegedly throwing a punch. This was as much news to me as it is to you now, if you are reading this for the first time, that is. Unfortunately, the call was irreversible. My game was done.

Now the first things that went through my head were not "Why would anyone throw a punch in football? You'd hurt your hand more than anything," or "Wow, this is ironic on so many levels" or "One day I will be an official and make sure that this never happens to another.” These are all legitimate thoughts that came to my mind some time later, but the first thing I thought was simply, "It's over. My chance has just been robbed from me."

Now if you've ever participated in any sort of competition in your life, whether it was high school or something else, you should be able to relate to me on this part. Imagine losing your very last opportunity to compete in whatever it was you did on account of someone else's mistake--God and all His angels are witness that I punched no man that day. So if you can empathize with me on this case, surely you would also forgive me for doing the manliest and most obvious thing I could on such an occasion—I took off my helmet and went to the bench for injured players and sat down… and cried.

That lasted for about fifteen minutes with various teammates, coaches, waterboys, and even a cheerleader offering their consolation. Then I felt like I was not done with my football career. In what I consider to be one of the most heroic efforts of my life, I put my uncomfortable helmet back on and went back to stand with my teammates and yelled out encouragements and the sort of adrenaline-fueled, borderline murderous things athletes like to hear until my lungs were sore. The actual guilty party, a sophomore no less, approached me sometime and said he was sorry and that he was going to ask to have himself removed from the game. That sounded as silly to me now as it did then, so I told him to instead go out and hit the opponents harder.

Ultimately, we lost the game and my efforts made little difference, whether on the field or off as the fourth quarter martyr. Why would I then consider this to be one of the most defining moments of my life? I didn’t win the game, in fact the team didn’t win the game, and I had been sent to the sidelines in shame and made it fifteen yards easier for the opposing team to score. Despite this, I feel it was so extraordinary because I rose to the occasion amidst adversity, and did something that seemed so difficult and at the same time so inconsequential. I firmly believe that these small and inconsequential acts are what define us most, and I could write an entirely separate essay on that issue.

I am also a firm believer that the Lord helps us in whatever situation we need Him, even if it is a somewhat meaningless game of recreational competition. Because of my size and lack of raw athletic ability, my high school football career was a source of struggle for me, and that struggle made me so much of a better man and prepared me for the mission and for life in ways I wouldn't find anywhere else. So when my father envisioned my heroics in that simple game, I don't think he was wrong in the slightest. Sure, it turned out like all the prophecies in the fantasy novels people read—completely different than the surface meaning—but I think that it turned out much better than even I realized, and since that experience I have lived with the axiom that I'm sure someone said before me, but I still consider it originally mine: Life never turns out the way you expect it; it usually turns out better.

The Day That is Three Days Before a Real Holiday

2011-02-15T15:11:00.000-08:00

When I went to school yesterday, and everyone keeps saying "Happy Singles Awareness DAy!" I'm thinking, "Woa, the world is way more aware of couples than singles on this day..." And then my sister explained to me that it is called such because singles are more aware of their own singleness. I'm thinking, "Woa, I'm painfully aware of my own singleness every day of the week!"

"And the man of little consequence needed not the help of the festival of hormonal imbalances (or as some would say, Valentine's Day) to remind him that was yet a man of little consequence."

So I figure, since there is Valentine's Day, why not spend every other day of the year celebrating that singleness! Perhaps I should really indulge in my autonomy while I still have it, right? At least up until that day that I actually do end up strapping on the exceedingly heavy weight of everlasting joy and punishment (or as some would say, marriage).

At least it's always a good day to get candy in class, which is the only time I really look forward to having candy because it helps me stay awake.

Hypothetically Speaking

2011-02-07T09:18:00.000-08:00

If I had a three wishes from a genie, my first wish would be to have a never-spoiling, self-refilling gallon of 1% milk. My second wish would be to set the genie free, which negates my third wish. I like to keep things simple.

Jinx Kinda

2011-02-07T09:11:00.000-08:00

I was watching The Bucket List the other day, and it got me thinking... no, not about my personal bucket list, but about my computer.
My computer is a lot like a cancer patient. I tried to save some money and "restore" the thing myself, which ended up earning me a blue screen of death every time I tried to access the internet. Maybe a day later, it overcame that malady, in which I put Microsoft Security Essentials on and all the sudden it was working better than ever! Little did I know that this was only a brief period of remission before the terminality hit.
A few days and a "Windows Service Pack 1" later, it quit altogether on even starting up. My computer is dead, to begin with, as dead as a door-nail.
It's funny because that very same day, I broke my new watch (which I fixed just recently). Still... I have a history of broken watches, backpacks, cars, computers, phones, bones, teeth, and hearts. Could it be that Todd loves broken things?

On a More Sentimental Topic

2011-01-28T13:38:00.000-08:00

This is called "My Place to Be With Him". It's a very personal essay about the pond in my back yard at my parent's house in Texas, the place where I grew up. It's somewhat reflective of my choice of the pond background here on this blog as well.

“But thou, when thou prayest, enter into they closet, and when thou hast shut thy door pray to thy Father which is in secret…” (Matt. 6:6).

Most of us have our places where we go to be one on one with our Father in Heaven. I believe that this is one of the messages of this scripture: to find such a place. Surprisingly, it is indeed a closet for many of us. For me, it is a place in my backyard, just by the pond.

Picture a backyard completely fenced in that spans about an acre. The Texan St. Augustine grass that grows thick and coarse on the ground never goes yellow, and the atmosphere is always thick with humidity. A few sparse trees provide the blessed shade that we would often turn to in the hot summer months. There is a garage, a smaller shed, and pool, but these aren’t the important things. There is also a pond about 100 feet long and twenty or so feet wide that covers the Northern side of the enclosure. It’s not very deep, but it teems with life from the plentiful Red-Gill perch to the few snapping turtles that have made enough frequent appearances at the surface so as to be named by my nephews and nieces. The water in the pond is always still, and is a dark, almost metallic color because of the muddy bottom. The eastern half of the shore (if ponds truly have “shores”) is entirely cement, as if to present to our family the border where man meets nature. This cement slab, which is actually an extension from the deck of the pool area, is covered in splotches of dirt from yard work over a few decades, and burn marks can be seen here and there from the various 4^th of July celebrations.

Over the years, little has changed about this picture that I so inadequately painted. However, as stable as this location was, I was always changing. I often came to this place, however, because of the calm serenity of the atmosphere there. In a family of eight children, two parents, and multiple animals, I was never wanting for company. Instead, I was often wanting for privacy—for a place to escape—and this area provided just that.

My earliest memory was one innocent summer time—I must have been about ten years old—when the rains had just fallen and the water in the pond was low. It was so low, in fact, that my little sister and I were able to sit on a log that jutted out from the bottom, right in the middle of the pond, and watch the plethora of American toads go about their boisterous lives. South Texas is much more wonderful when it is overcast, and the clouds cover the wide and high sky and the over-bearing sun. It was such a day, and a light drizzle still fell on the umbrella we shared. It was the first rains we had all summer, and there was a sort of celebratory feel about it, with us and the frogs. I was just about to go in and have a dental appointment or something, but for that moment we could sit there and just enjoy being part of this great biosphere. My little sister and I didn’t get along too well back then, but at this moment, we were in harmony, not saying much but enjoying each other’s company for once. I didn’t fully realize what was happening then.

Throughout my teenage years, I would often retire to the pond when life was being unfair, and it was unfair most of the time. I can’t point to a specific instance that I visited the pond because there were so many, and my teenage years were so long ago. Still, I can feel the warmth of the sun-baked cement that had, ironically, this strange cooling effect on my hot temper. I didn’t realize fully realize why it had that effect then.

In my adult life, I remember vividly one day in my backyard in the summer of 2007. I had just come back from California after two years of service to my Lord. My feelings were a tumultuous mess, from the excitement of being back with family and friends again, to the relief of all this autonomy I had back in my life, to the shame I felt at that relief, and to the realization that I was no longer being prayed for by a million plus people worldwide. I had to clear my head of all this, and after having arrived in late and being released the night before, it was only 6:30 a.m. and I found myself back at the pond in my backyard. I sat in a hammock that hung from a nearby tree and drank it all in, coming to terms with this new chapter in my life. I was a different person then, and though I no longer wore “the badge” the Lord was still very much part of my life. Yet still, I didn’t fully realize it then.

Less than a year passed and a found myself there again. It was early January, and I was supposed to be in Provo. My house bustled with activity, and with a pervading sober mood that I wanted to escape for a while. I now sat on a small bench that was put there for my nephews and nieces to sit on when they wanted to fish. The water was perfectly still, and the brown leaves of winter were still falling from the trees and dappled the surface of the water that offered a perfect reflection of myself as I looked down on it from that cement slab. All was calm, and all was well. I knew the next few days would be hard as we reflected on the life of my sister who had been abruptly taken in a car accident just a few days before. I was in one of those deeply philosophical moods where I began pondering if there truly was such a thing as an “end” in the eternities. My reflection that stared back at me from the surface of the dark waters offered consolation I could little find elsewhere. I finally realized at that moment that when I retired to this place, I was never alone. With that realization, that cement slab by the pond became a sacred place to me.

A Thousand and One Ways of Dealing With Stress

2011-01-24T17:30:00.000-08:00

Ok, maybe not a THOUSAND... but each one is soooo good, you might just multiply it by a thousand.
Anyhosers, over the weekend I felt stressed like I haven't been in a long time. I had all these things to read and do and date and ref... and I was rapidly running out of hours to be legitimately productive. So I turned to the happier things in life and all my troubles floated away on a purple cloud of ecstasy!! That didn't sound right...

These are things I did and they worked for me:
1. Tend to the bare necessities and forget about your worries and your strife. Listen to some Disney music while you're at it.
2. Read a book that's just for fun and not for school. All the sudden the day is gone and you no longer have the ability to finish your homework, so why worry?
3. Sniff exorbitant amounts of dishwasher soap. Then make up words. Exorbitatious!
4. Think about the Joker and how crappy his life was. Then think about how happy he was. Talk about a 'glass half full' guy!
5. Act like the Joker. Then again, if you've gotten to the homicide part, maybe you've gone too far.
6. Write on your blog about coping with stress, or find other ways to procrastinate the day of your repentance.
7. Go to Taco Bell or Chick-Fil-A! Scientifically proven stress relievers! If by science you mean gaseousness. Gasiosity. Dish-washer soap.
8. Annoy your roommates.
9. Take a shower just you can sing at the top of your lungs and nobody minds (or if they do mind, they can't tell you stop, or they'd have to risk a very awkward situation).
10. Take a page out of the Polynesian's book and find something to celebrate. The other day I celebrated going back to school, which is about the biggest antithesis of celebration there could be. Olive Garden was great though.
11. Maybe... if all the other options fail... just maybe... actually do some homework.

Just some suggestions.

The Adventures of Adventure Haver!

2011-01-14T13:32:00.001-08:00

Episode 2: Adventure Haver vs. the Ego Ridden Jersey Toting Gang of Miscreants that Aren't as Good at Basketball as they Think They Are

So it came around time for me to do my duty. I donned my super-hero outfit, in silver and black this time, and headed straight for the source of the trouble. The gang of Ego Ridden Jersey Toting Miscreants were at it again. Do these guys never quit? This time I enlisted the help of some sidekicks to help keep the peace, but it wasn't long before they were throwing Shakespearean insults at one another. "You infectious half-faced hedge-pig!" "You errant elf-skinned dewberry!" "You frothy fen-sucked mammet!" "You puking, pottle-deep foot-licker!" All I need was one blast from my super-sonic audible force mechanism, and then the fight was over. Well, it was over because now they were all looking at me to deliver the final insult. "You're all a bunch of weedy, tickle-brained strumpets!" The crowd went wild, and I began to bask in my victory.
But it was too early... (insert ominous sound effect here)
In my basking I failed to notice the projectile now sent straight for me in a last ditch effort by the miscreants to regain the playing field. It hit me right in the man factories. It hurt. A lot. I crumpled on the floor and they escaped, while my side-kicks just laughed at me.
Well, Adventure Haver (insert less enthusiastic sound effect here), you win some, you lose some. Until next time, you miscreants!!!! PUNT!

More 2010 Reviews

2011-01-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

As I promised.

Tron Legacy Soundtrack: It's like an alien invasion and a late night dance party laced with ecstasy got together and had a baby. And that baby's name was "Pure Awesomeness"

Berets: The only thing that screams "TOOL" louder would be the visible guitar attached to your back.

Parry Gripp: Celebrating the absurdities of life in a manner that children can appreciate it. This is the sort of thing that is right up my alley, pardon the cliche.

The Book of the Man of Little Consequence: When submitted as a final semester project for my creative writing class, I actually got an A! Hoowah!

On a different note, I spend a lot more time at church now, what with being the Ward Mission Leader now and having so many meetings. I find it difficult to concentrate at times, especially when I know that when I get home, I get to use my new Foreman grill (a Christmas present to myself) to cook homemade bacon cheeseburgers. I haven't been that excited in life since I last bought myself a pack of chicken cordon-bleau for my birthday. It's coming up soon, precious! *Cough* GOLLUM!

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Night?

2011-01-07T22:34:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have heard my saying before that "Dating is like throwing up... you feel so much better after it's done," let me clarify... I still stand by that. Kinda. Maybe I like to date, but it's more fun to talk about it like it's some sort of miserable obligation imposed upon me by my own conviction not to be a male version of the "cat lady".
Here are some other things that dating is like, but these are truly original whereas the "throw-up" one is not.

Dating is like a cheesy gordita crunch in that the first few bites (or dates) are just lettuce and tortilla, nothing to get really excited about. It's not until you get to the juicy middle that you remember why you spent money in the first place.
Unfortunately, I've never been beyond the lettucey outer layer.

Dating is like the game of cricket in that it's competitive, it's a game, and nobody really understands it at BYU. Then again, if you have an English accent, you've got a huge advantage.

Dating is like going to McDonalds, except not as fun.

Asking out girls is like whizzing on a fire hydrant- I only do it when nobody's looking.
What'd you think I was gonna say?

Dating is like fishing where only the dimmest fish/girls go for the bate more than once... at least this bate.

Dating is like wearing pants- I only do it in the winter and late fall, and rarely ever in Texas

Going on a date with me is like making the best decision of your life because it's likely that the next guy you take out will be your husband soon.

Dating is like this blog in that I don't do it as much as I promise myself I will. But when I do, oh the rejoicing!!

People are like paper dolls- paper dolls and people, they're a similar shape. It's from a song.

Dating is like my recently broken car- I'm goin' nowhere.

Let me assure you, these are my opinions, but again they're not altogether true. Are they? McDonalds sounds real good right now... or maybe a cheesy gordita crunch. Highlight of my weekend.

*Disclaimer: You may think I write this only as a whiney pity party, but such is not so. Please do not pity me, as I certainly do not pity myself.

2010 Reviews

2011-01-04T16:25:00.000-08:00

Nah, I'm not gonna review the year 2010. I just don't want to. I feel like I've done that a few hundred times before for the few hundred years I've lived, so I'll do something different this year and simply post some other reviews from 2010.

Let's start with the movies I saw over the holidays. 4 trips to the theaters, and none of them disappointed.
Tangled: Disney still can produce some magic sans Pixar.
Chronicles of Narnia, the Voyage of the Dawn Treader: The action scenes were brief, but they were many. The final meeting with Aslan sent shivers down my Christian spine. I don't mean that in jest.
Harry Pottter 7, the prequel to Harry Potter 7 1/2: Even though I'm not a fan of the Potter films, I really liked this one. It kept very much in line with the book, which is excellent for the first half of number 7 (and it will be great for the next half so long as that '19 Years Later' nonsense isn't included). They did miss some of the more emotional parts in Godric's Hollow which I was disappointed by, and I suppose they didn't have time if they were to include a cheesy, platonic dance scene in the wilderness--which thrilled all the loyalists to team Harry-Mione, including my little sister.
Still, you know a movie is good when the feeling of impending credits makes you sad.
Tron, Legacy: Ok, this one made a lot more sense when I realized that it was a sequel... after I'd watched it. (They named the movie after a guy who had precious few appearances in the actual film?) Do you ever watch a movie and think, "This one was made to fill the Happy Meals with cheap plastic toys!"? Yup, neither do I. But as I sat at McDonald's and enjoyed my free meal, courtesy of my Christmas gift cards, the thought certainly crossed my mind.

For some non-movie reviews-
Southwest Airlines: Ok, we always go with what's cheapest... but three flights in a row with non-weather related delays? Come on people! At least their pilots don't get fired for being funny. Or trying to be funny.
The Wanderings of Wuntvor (a novel by Craig Shaw Gardner): Aw-ful!! I loved the Malady of Magicks series, but here we have a prime example of repetitive, stretching out of parts that don't matter and rushing through parts that do. Can parodies become so overblown that they're not funny anymore? Shrek seems to have done ok with it.
The Lost Hero: Seriously, Rick... October? That's an awful long wait.
Off-Brand Egg Nog: DO NOT go there.

More to come, but for now, I have to get to work. Another three hour classroom training for basketball that I've been through five times now. Hooray.
Here comes 2011!!! Less than a year from sub-zero apocalypse!

Digital Civilization

2010-12-09T21:59:00.000-08:00

There comes a time in a man's semi-well constructed life in which he must seek for extra credit in order to ease his stressing soul. Tonight, I attended a seminar/class thing in order to do just that on "Digital Civilization", which I had no idea what to expect apart from the fact that it would NOT be about video games.
Imagine my surprise and delight when they had a very distracting display on the projector that showed the entire auditorium your anonymous comments and questions while the speakers presented their various programs and experiences. All you had to do was text it, and it showed up for 100+ people to see while the speaker was oblivious to it, like a constant public twitter feed.
People were afraid at first... the comments were all the same. "I want to take this class", and "wow, that's cool...." and one brave soul posted, "I wonder how long it will take before someone proposes on this." Then I decided to introduce a little anarchy.
"Mormons are wierd"
After the reactions to that one died down, and the hard nosed participants voiced there dismay at the lack of focus (and by voiced I mean typed a few motherly words of rebuke behind the safety of a cell-phone keyboard), I wasn't quite done...
"These mashed potatoes are so creamy"
I only got three responses for that one, but a lot more comments on how the randumbness of people was distracting. Hey, they're choosing to be distracted.
Finally, I advertised this blog, saying "There's a guy who does a blog that's great for bored people at regularguylife.blogspot.com" so if anyone heeds that promotion, then I consider myself... incriminated.
All in all, the Digital Civilization was still a neat-o presentation, being an amalgamation of methods is which we utilize technology to enhance students' experiences. I got that much out of it, despite that fascinating toy that proved to be even more fun than Y-Chat rooms from the 90's.
Ope, it's 11:11. Cross your fingers for passing grades!

Why 'Homework' Is Not a Good Excuse for Anything

2010-12-08T13:17:00.000-08:00

"Hey Sally, wanna go out this weekend?"
"I can't. I'm just swamped with homework."
"Well... *&$@# you!"

This was not a real conversation, I assure you. But maybe it got somebody thinking...
The other night I had to turn down an opportunity to do something on account of writing a paper--on account of homework. As hypocritical as this sounds, I am an exception to the rule that I am about to argue for in the following blurb. Why? Because I had a virus back in the summertime which wiped my computer clean so I no longer have Microsoft Word and I have to go to campus to write or edit papers and print them off. It's not a fun situation at all, especially for an English major. Since the library is only open for so long, I have to respect its hours and it puts me in a tight corner sometimes due to my own procrastination.

As for you, it's all a matter of priorities. If you want to make time for something (or someone) then you will make time. Homework is flexible in the fact that it can be done ANYTIME YOU'RE HOME! That means you could stay up til five in the morning doing the overkill study that college students are surprisingly prone to do. So when you tell a guy that you can't go out with him on account of an over-abundance of homework, what you're really saying is, "You're not important enough to me to find the time." Sure, dates may take a while, but if you simply informed him of your situation, however dire it may be, I'm sure he would be accommodating--he could change the plans to take up only, say, an hour of your time. And it could be a meal, so you could take out whatever time you had planned on cooking your Veggie Burgers or salads or whatever you girls eat. You don't need to spend two hours getting ready for this one... the man just wants to spend some time with you, to enjoy your company, and to know that maybe there is some interest on your part.
The moral is: You can manage your time to find room for somebody, but only if they're important enough to you. Homework? Not an issue... the real issue is your own priorities. Now, it's not a bad thing to have homework higher on your priority list than dating (is it?), just understand that if I ever get that excuse from you, you'd have been better off telling me you were busy shampooing your llama.

Disclaimer: Anyone reading this probably gets the impression that I've recently been turned down as some silly female opted for homework over a chunk of manliness she probably couldn't handle anyways. You would be incorrect to assume such. It's been a few months now since I've got that excuse from anyone. This is only something that's been on my mind, what with finals and everything.

Why I'm Excited to Graduate

2010-12-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you a parable: there once were two men, and one said, "I go a shopping," and the other said, "Buy me some milk, or on the morrow, I shall have yours." So the man went and bought milk for himself and the other man, knowing that his threat was indeed valid (for it had happened previously many times). And the man was a malk-oholic, so he bought 2% for himself and 1% for the other, for he drank not skim, and he mused to himself, "Should I run out first, and surely I shall for I am a malk-aholic, I can then drink the 1% that I bought for the other man." Yet the other man was wroth with him for not buying skim, saying it was not his favorite. And the malk-aholic vowed from that day forward to do the other man no favors.

Ok, it's not a parable. It's a true story. And when I say that I'm excited to graduate, it's not so much from BYU as it is from the bachelor pad. I'm sick of dude roommates. A permanent chica roommate surely ain't a smooth ride either, but at least then there will only be two people making the kitchen messy, and I'll only have to clean up after two people every other day.
So if there are any particularly desperate females reading this post, just give this number a call: 832-472-2204. I can't guarantee that you'll be the supremely lucky one, but you're almost guaranteed a shot at it.

Then again, maybe there's a cave somewhere with my name on it. I could take a paper out of the wizard of Ajziou's book ad just go full hermit... ha, I just referenced my own work!

Dream Sports Journal Corner

2010-12-02T22:41:00.000-08:00

So I read Lindsey's Facebook status about her childrens' night terrors. Strange... I still have night terrors. In fact, I had one last night. It's always the same yet progressively worse--there I am, having a good time, and then I remember that my teeth are rotting away, and I find that there are now three teeth on my bridge and they keep falling out. Poor Waylon... he never was happy in his home. Then my bottom teeth start to rot and fall out. All a man can do in such a situation is cry, and then awake in the morning in a cold sweat, checking with your tongue that they're all still there, and let the vivid sensation of despair slowly ebb over a few hours before I can return to normal activity.

Phil Jackson joined the bandwagon for saying that the Rockets' championships were tainted by the absence of Michael Jordan. Can you say "Sour grapes"?! Wow, for a while I kind of respected the simian man for his humor and lightheartedness with the media, being a minorly respectable person on one of the nation's most disrespectable teams. No more. Now the zen master can keep his title, but only if zen means surrounding yourself with the biggest egos in basketball to bring you championships.
And as for all you morons who want to downplay the Rocket's championships because Jordan decided to go baseball those years or whatever, guess what... You don't know if it would have turned out any different. Jordan didn't play, and the Bulls didn't win. The Rockets did. And that first championship over the Knicks in 94 was done with but one superstar on the team and a bunch of role players. Who else can claim that, besides maybe the Pistons? Phil Jackson certainly can't with any of his teams.

If I were to agree with your assumption, Phil, (and we all know what happens when we assume) that the Rockets would have lost should Jordan have played, and the wins were indeed tainted... then perhaps your game seven victory against the Rockets in the 2009 playoffs was tainted because Yao didn't play that game... and perhaps your ensuing championship was also tainted because Kevin Garnett was out for that post-season, as well as Jameer Nelson for the Orlando Magic. I mean, maybe they can't be compared to Michael Jordan, but you just never know what sort of difference they could have made. You just never know... and there's no way you could ever know.

Sports Corner with a Dunce Cap

2010-11-22T23:04:00.000-08:00

Here's the sports news that you don't hear from ESPN. Unbiased. Unproven. Underdogs. Well, maybe a little biased.

This just in: There are no good NFL teams. They all suck! It seems like every week, someone who you thought was good loses to a team that everyone acknowledges as being bad. Therefore, all the teams are bad. Bring in the replacements.

This is NOT Brett Favre's last year. Perhaps it's his last with the Vikings, but oh, he's not done. He can't end on a note like this, not with his pride. And I'd hate to see him go out on such a sour note. Despite everything that he's done and all sources pointing to a universally unlikeable guy, I kind of feel sorry for him... and last year's Vikings were pretty exciting, no? Besides, he can always come back, blaming all the bad kharma on injuries, when in reality, it's just bad kharma.

The NBA is no country for young men. Here's a shout out to the young guns of OKC: I still think you're underrated. On the other hand, the best records in the league belong to the Spurs, Lakers, and Celtics, each one being jam packed with geezers who still know how to get the job done. And the if the Lakers aren't overrated, then Kobe Bryant certainly is. It's all about the Cave Man now (Pow-wow Gas-hole), and his ugly grunts that put him at the line every time he misses a lay-up. He's the second most unfair player in the league. The first is Dirk.

And what is with Houston teams and the inability to finish? If there was a rating for "Most frustrated fans," I'm sure we'd get the number one spot. Well, maybe number two after New York (welcome, Knicks, to another decade of irrelevance). Get well soon, Yao.

Jimmy Johnson won his fifth straight cup, but that means about as much to me as a velvet painting of a whale and a dolphin gettin' it on.

Good night, Provo! Soon I will awake and no longer be in the land of abominable fans. Actually, I think most of them are all pretty abominable anywhere you go. That's a personal issue though.

When Other Blogs Fail...

2010-11-18T14:10:00.000-08:00

Today in my English 291 class, we talked about the value of keeping a record regularly as opposed to only when interesting things happen. So perhaps I can do this at least twice a week, no? That would be better than what I have usually done. I still keep up in my other journal (my real journal) every day.
It's now been over six years since I began keeping that journal. Apart from the stint in Centenniel and Aragon House, I have input for every day. So I could ask myself what I was doing this time last year, and most likely I could answer myself as well. Then again, sometimes my life seemed pretty boring. I can always tell because my entries are more philosophical on those days.
Oh shoot, I think I missed my third year anniversary for this blog! How to celebrate? Shall I go buy some pasta? I think so... and maybe some Crispix. I LOVE CRISPIX!!