Engagement Story

I woke up this morning to find an email detailing a very ridiculous engagement story. The story went something like this:

Guy puts ring in girl's milk shake.

Guy challenges girl to milk shake eating contest.

Girl takes contest seriously.

While eating milkshake girl eats ring.

Guy gets worried when she finishes shake and there's no ring in her cup.

Trip to E.R.

Find ring in X-ray.

Everyone is happy, she eats extra fiber, and the ring arrives a day or so later.

Final line of the article paraphrased: "If they can survive this, their marriage will survive anything."

***********************

Okay, so first off, the ring was the real survivor in that story...not their relationship.

Second, I can't help but think this was a bad omen. Did they just clean the ring off and put it on her finger? Someday as she lovingly reaches out her left hand and brushes his face isn't he going to think "That's the ring that was in her poop... now it's touching my face. Awesome."

I think they should have traded the ring in together and then picked out another. I don't see why they were so excited (or at least they appeared to be in the article) about their experience.

Also, if he really loved her he would have dug through her poop for her. That would have been true love. A real test of commitment She could never question his love after that. Also, if they're writing their own vows they could throw something like "in sickness and in...." well, you get the idea.

Who proposes by putting a ring in a milkshake, anyway? That's a bad idea. The best possible scenario is that she sees the ring and then puts a sticky sugary ring on her finger...which can't feel good. The worst scenario is that she chips a tooth on the thing...or she eats it. Not worth it.

My thinking is that the ring in the shake is a Mormon homage to the classic ring in the champagne glass. But the difference is that champagne is clear enough that you can see the ring at the bottom of the glass. Shakes....not so much.

This dudes best bet would have been sticking the ring in a Martinelli's.

Oh, and why on earth would you challenge someone to a speed eating contest when you want them to find something in their food?

There is just so much failure in this story.

I know what you're thinking now....."I'd like to see you think of something better."

My answer to that is "It wouldn't be hard to do better...but it might be a challenge to think of something worse."

Ben Franklin Method: Take the girl flying a kite in a thunderstorm. But, instead of using a key to diffuse the lightning, use the engagement ring.

Kidnapper method: Break into her house (or apartment) at night, throw her into the trunk of your car and drive to the desert. Then, open the trunk, cut her bindings, and wait for her on bended knee. When she finally lifts the dark hood from her head the first thing she'll is her loving (fingers crossed) fiancé. How romantic is that?

The dead body proposal: Have someone call the girl and say that you've died in a car crash along with your immediate family, that she's your emergency contact, and that she's needed to identify your body.

Go to the morgue with ring in hand.

Have the mortician (who's in on this of course) take her to the back to identify the body. When he pulls back the sheet covering your supposedly dead body you reach out your hand (containing the engagement ring) ...as if from beyond the grave.

Or, you could have the mortician say "We found this engagement ring on the body, do you know anything about it?" As she gets even sadder (because now she's lost a fiancé in addition to a boyfriend) you jump up and say "Tadaa!"....then propose.

I know, Romantic right?

The melodramatic: Have two boxes. Tell her to pick one. The inscription on box one reads: "a happy life together." The other box's inscription: "Plan B." In the first box place an engagement ring. In the second....a gun.

Top of a mountain: pretty obvious....propose on a mountain, but if she says "no" you're in real trouble...cause now you gotta walk all the way down the mountain together,,, and if she said "no" I can't help but think conversation would be awkward.

Lord of the Rings proposal: Watch the entire trilogy together. During a bathroom break step outside and dress up like Gandalf. Come back inside, take a knee, and invite her to be your ringbearer...now you can start a whole new "fellowship of the ring."

Fishing: Take her fishing and use her ring as a sinker. Pretend she has a bite and tell her to reel it in. When she sees the ring at the end of her line pretend she caught it in the lake. Declare it a divine manifestation you should be together.

Action movie: Have someone you know dressed in black bump into her, snatch her purse, and run away. You chase him down, heroically knock him unconscious in a scuffle, and retrieve her purse. As you search the "criminal" for identification you find the man had recently robbed a jewelry store (you plant a bunch of fake jewelry on him). As you sort through the fake jewelry you "find" your engagement ring. You grab the ring and say "So, he had this on him...wanna get hitched?"

The honest approach: Take a knee and say, "Hopefully this conflict diamond is the only conflict we'll ever have in our marriage."

Telephone: You remember that old game of telephone...you know, the one where you connect two cups with a string? Well, put a ring on the string and shake the string until the ring makes it to her end. The first thing you say into the cup is "will you marry me?"

Maybe I'll come up with more bad ideas later. I think this enough for now. Hope you all have a wonderful day!

p.s. I just thought of a better way of doing the proposal from the original story.

What if the guy had a fake X-ray made up of a ring in his stomach? He could complain about pain and ask the girl to take him to the hospital. The doctor (who is in on it) could then put the X-ray up on the wall and stare at it. He could point to the ring and say "Well, I think that's your problem..what do you think it is?" Depending on the intelligence of the girl a lot of explanation might not be necessary.

When the ring is discovered you take a knee and give her a substitute ring. You can say something thoughtful like "You're going to carry my children inside of you, the very least I can do is carry your ring inside of me."

Wow, that's terrible.

Roman Holiday

Last night I couldn't sleep so I decided to watch the movie Roman Holiday.

For those of you unfamiliar with the movie here's a little break down:

The movie came out in 1953. It was Audrey Hepburn's first major role and the only film for which she ever won an Oscar. It's a romantic comedy from the Golden Age of Hollywood and a fine example of the postcard genre (a film shot on location capturing the beauty of some exotic place).

The story is about a princess who is fed up with being a princess so she takes a break and runs away. She gets picked up by a reporter played by Gregory Peck. He takes her around town hoping to get a story...and the rest you can probably imagine.

Now, I realize that runaway princess stories are overused. In fact, the princess market might be the only market more saturated than the vampire market...but luckily Roman Holiday isn't your average princess movie.

(Oh, and be careful cause I'm going to spend most of this post talking about the ending so if you're gonna see it you probably shouldn't read much more)

At first the story is very formulaic: the jaded journalist (Peck) sees dollar signs when he meets the princess. But, after a a few scenes of Audrey Hepburn being her incredibly charming and lovable self, Peck's character's interest shifts and becomes more than financial. This is, of course, very formulaic and it leads you to expect that the film will continue in the stagnant romantic comedy genre: 1) secret in relationship 2) relationship secret revealed 3) fight over secret 4) post fight regret causes realization of feelings for other 5) reconcile with new insight into love for other (usually through some thoroughly romantic gesture that depicts the uniqueness and fun of the relationship....then rinse and repeat.

Roman Holiday is a great movie because it gets derailed from this genre at step 2 and it never makes it to step 3. The two begin to care for each other, they eventually kiss (all of this according to the painfully predictable romantic comedy formula)....but then they share a sad parting and walk away from their magical day together. Their lives are both changed and invigorated because of their time together...but they're practical enough to know that their time together, as magical as it was, was just a day and that they now gotta get back to their real lives.

So, he drops her off at her place, they tearfully say goodbye, and they walk away with neither of them expecting to ever see the other again...but of course that's not the case (this may be a twist on the romantic comedy but it's still a romantic comedy) and they see each other the next day.

The next day Peck goes on assignment to a royal press conference. When the princess enters the room she sees him with his fellow reporters and her face pinches with concern. In front of everyone she realizes that she spent the previous day with a reporter who now has the makings of a very salacious story(a princess in a fist fight, spending the night in a strange man's apartment, getting arrested etc.).

Gregory Peck can see that she's shocked and a little scared when she sees him, but he's on the job so he can't tell her that because of his feelings for her he won't use their time together to sell newspapers, so he tells her that she can trust the journalists and he places extra emphasis on the word "trust." She looks relieved (she acts this very well and somehow looks relieved while also looking like she never lost her princessly calm). She walks up and meets the members of the press on the first row and shakes their hands. When she gets to Peck they share an extra warm handshake and she is given the pictures that he was originally going to use as evidence for his article. She smiles to herself when she sees them, tucks them away, and then moves on.

It's such a bittersweet ending. The last scene is amazingly acted. When they shake hands you know they want to say so many things to each other, but they can't cause of everyone else around them. Somehow both actors convey everything they'd want to say to the other beneath the surface: through tension in the eyes, a set to the jaw, a half smile. It is really impressive.

Roman Holiday is a great movie because the end doesn't give you what you want, it gives you what you should want. Both of the characters know that there are two many things separating them. They both know that they can't throw their lives away on a whim. They both know that they can't throw their lives away because of one special day--regardless of how magical that day may have been. And while they both know these things, we as viewers don't. We're so trained to want and expect a relationship to overcome anything, even if the result is damaging.

We enjoy watching a guy throw his career out the window through a bold declaration of love during a board meeting. We enjoy watching a woman spurn all suitors while she wastes the best years of her life waiting for a soldier that might never come home...

But these stereotypes are a little bit different from the love in Roman Holiday, because hopefully, at the very least, these relationships were older than a single day.

The ending to Roman Holiday doesn't attack love, it attacks whim. It attacks the idea that the course of an entire life should be abandoned because of what feels good rather than what one knows is right. It attacks the idea that love can exist between two people who act so selfishly that they'll allow the other person to become something less so they can be with them. At it's most fundamental level Roman Holiday attacks the idea that love exists outside of virtue rather than through virtue.

Anyway, back to the movie. So, they both say goodbye. Bound by their respective duties they part and we as viewers assume that the parting is permanent this time. Both of the characters have grown for their meeting. The princess is more possessed. She's more affirming. She is willing to take risks she never would have before. The reporter is now softer. He now sees that the value of another person goes beyond what he can get out of them.

And I think at heart this is what makes this a good story. Love should, ideally, make you a better person. The stamp of approval that we have for the love between these two is that at the end of the movie they are both better people. But this wouldn't have been possible if they'd been together at the end.

Because if they were together at the end then the princess would still be a whimsical girl who never took control of her life. And if they were together at the end then the reporter would still be a selfish man profiting from the princess's misfortune. But separate...letting the other go...that shows that they really did have noble feelings for the other. That shows that they did really fall in love in a single, wonderful day.

So, this single wonderful day, and the love it fostered, is why this movie is a classic. If they'd gone for the happy ending they'd have changed this movie from a classic love story to a forgettable fairy tale depicting forgettable fairy tale love. It would have removed the feeling of realism and forced a suspension of disbelief.

We'd all have gone along with it I'm sure. We'd have been happy and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside....but we'd also have known that that isn't how it would really have happened. We'd know that in our painfully realistic lives it wouldn't have turned out that way. We'd say "Oh, if only life were like a fairy tale, then I could have something magical like that happen."

So, while this hypothetically happy ending forces resolution, it also leaves us with the sad thought that the sort of chemistry and excitement we just saw only works out in a world where practical considerations are suspended....but Roman Holiday with it's slightly sad ending gives you something so much better than that. It depicts love outside of a fairy tale. It shows love happening in a real world where circumstances can take it away from you...and it reassures us that love can still be magical despite its brevity. Roman Holiday elevates cinematic love to something believable.

Roman Holiday is a beautiful movie because it shows the power and immediacy that love can have in spite of the frustrations and complications of life. But beyond that, and perhaps even more importantly, it shows how love makes people better, even when it's only for a day.

Triceratops

Today I read that some paleontologists in Montana are saying that the Triceratops might not have ever existed.

I need to vent a little on this.

I mean, when I was a kid I loved The Land Before Time, and while the "3 horns" were never as courageous or as kind as the more noble "long necks," they were contributed to the community..and I'd be lying if I said that Sarah never helped Littlefoot out of a scrape.

As a kid I'd spend hours pouring over dinosaur books...trying to figure out who would beat up whom. At the top of my list of pre-historic tough guys was the triceratops. I figured that the triceratops, along with the Tyrannosaurus, were the top dogs of the Jurassic world. I liked T-Rex way more than the triceratops, but I figured with Rex's puny arms and Trike's defensible armor made them a pretty fair match up.

(My plastic dinosaur toys re-enacted this battle many times. According to my scientific battle re-creations, in ancient times the T-Rex usually won the fight by picking the Triceratops up in its jaws and then throwing the Triceratops out of the planter and onto the sidewalk).

Anyway, all I'm saying is that this animal captured my imagination (and I'm sure the imagination of a whole bunch of other kids).

So the question is who do these childhood attacking scientists think they are? What gives them the right to take the triceratops away?

It feels sorta like a betrayal when they try to.

I mean, well, look at it this way. Dinosaurs are fascinating to a kid because they're like science-based dragons. When you're a kid anything big and tough and monstrous (as long as it's not hiding in your closet when you sleep) is awesome. And while it's fun to imagine a dragon, you always know in the back of your painfully pragmatic childhood brain that dragons don't really exist outside of stories.

...But Dinosaurs? Scientists in respectable lab coats tell us all about them. They tell us how big they are, what they would eat, and they give us bones to look at and point to so we can say "See! That existed. That's a fairy tale monster with scientific support!"

Anyway, given that dinosaurs are basically fairy tales that we were told we could believe in, and given that they keep telling us that some dinosaurs never existed....it's sort of destroying one of the things that make dinosaurs so fascinating...that they're something we can believe in.

Dinosaurs are amazing to kids because they're horrific and real.

When you're a kid and you're told that a dinosaur that was accepted as fact never existed, it puts a hole in the imagination. That hole creates a vacuum of cynicism that sucks the rest of the dinosaurs down the ontological toilet.

You can't say "Dinosaurs are real, oh, except that one we told you about... our bad. So, all those daydreams about that dinosaur...yeah, might as well have been about a unicorn."

Also, to make matters worse, we're being told the awful truth about the Triceratops right on the heels of losing Pluto as a planet....this is just too much.

Is there some sort of trend now to take away beloved childhood science? It's like scientists in the exploratory disciplines like astronomy and paleontology can't find anything groundbreaking and new so they're trying to create excitement by attacking iconic things with redefinition.

Well, I say let's get ahead of the game and beat them to it.

Did you know that the big red "eye" of Jupiter really isn't a storm?

Yup, it's just a huge crater because, unlike Earth, Jupiter doesn't have a crack team of oil drillers in space suits lead by Bruce Willis to protect it from rogue meteors.

The pterodactyl? Yeah, it couldn't fly. Take all those daydreams as a kid of soaring through the air held up by the leathery wings of a huge dinosaur and toss them out the window...cause the pterodactyl's wings were used for swimming.

In fact, lets just throw dinosaurs out entirely. The bones we find were actually buried by angels to test the faith of biblcal literalists.

Now that I'm re-reading what I just wrote it's beginning to seem like a rant, so I'm gonna go back to the Triceratops now.

So, here's my problem with these wacky childhood attacking scientists, and their new position on the Triceratops...

What they're saying if I remember right is that the Triceratops is actually the Torosaurus. Supposedly, the Triceratops as we know it is just a Torosaurus in the early stages of development.

But here's the problem I have with that: even as I type Torosaurus my spell check is trying to tell me that Torosaurus isn't a word....this is cause everyone knows about the Triceratops but no one knows about the Torosaurus.

So, why do we have to lose the Triceratops? If there really is only one dinosaur being referred to twice, why are we losing the iconic dinosaur? If the Triceratops is nothing but a nascent Torosaurus, can't we just make the Torosaurus an aged Triceratops?

That compromise could have been made just as easily...only problem is no one knows what the heck a Torosaurus is so no one would care to lose it and the scientists that decided to attack our childhood wouldn't get research money for destroying a dinosaur no one cared about.

So I guess what I'm saying is this is how the conversation should go if someone wants to discuss the loss of a dinosaur:

"Did you know the Torosaurs never existed?"

"I've heard that "

"Yeah, scientists just discovered that it's just a geriatric Triceratops."

"Awesome. Never heard about a Torosaurs before, but I like the Triceratops so it must be cool too."

See? No waves. No controversy...just enlightenment.

We need to fight these scientists. They're the real ones that killed the dinosaurs.

If we don't let them get away with this nonsense we can get them out into the plains of Montana making real discoveries. They could find something like Superomegasaurus--a dinosaur that eats rocks and breathes fire. That would be a discovery that I'd be happy to read about. Yeah, do that...and leave Sarah and Littlefoot alone.

As far as I'm concerned The Land Before Time is an historical document.

Well, that's about all I feel like ranting on today.

In other news today is my dad's birthday. Happy birthday, Dad!

Also, a cool word is brobdingnagian. It means enormous and huge.

Here's a sample sentence: The Triceratops was a brobdingnagian beast.

Anyway, hope you all have a wonderful day.

Random Stuff

First off, here are two words that I've been thinking about lately...

Jehu: this words just means a crazy driver. It's the name of a crazy king and charioteer in the bible.

Pulchritude: this word is great because it sounds nothing like what it means. A girl in my ward asked me how she looked and I told her she looked "pulchritudinous." She almost cried before the dictionary saved the day.

Oh, and the word means "beautiful." Honestly, I don't see why we're so fascinated with Latin. That's an extremely ugly word and it's all Latin's fault.

In other news I haven't posted much lately because I was busy having what might be considered a nervous breakdown. Basically, I holed myself up for a while and didn't do anything (socially at least)...trying to simplify life a bit. It was sorta like Walden, but instead of going out into nature I troglodyted it up.

In other news, I'm pretty excited for the fall (my favorite season). Fall is beautiful in Provo. The trees are all yellows, oranges, and reds. and the weather is crisp. Also, hot chocolate tastes better, I I can find more flavors of eggnog at the store, and the holidays are on the horizon.

It's the perfect season.

On a side note....it bothers me that we don't capitalize seasons. We capitalize the days of the week for heaven's sake...why not the seasons?

Speaking of season names. What's everyone's opinion on "fall" and "autumn.' I think autumn is a more beautiful sounding word, but fall is more descriptive sounding word (leaves falling and all). Most other English speaking countries call the season "autumn." I guess we silly Americans wanna be special.

Oh, and I really missed the time change this year. Yesterday I woke up to my (uncorrected) alarm at 7 o'clock (really 6 o'clock) and rushed and got ready to make it to church by 8 (really 7) for a meeting.

I thought I was 4 minutes late so I just went right into the door and I walked right into the bishopric meeting that happens right before the meeting I'm supposed to go to.

So, I walked right in on the bishop having a meeting and I started my introduction by apologizing for being late. The bishop looked at the clock and said "do you know what time it is?" I said "Well, by the looks on all your faces, and by the fact that no one else is here, and since you thought to ask me that question...probably not."

He then explained that I lost an hour of sleep for no reason. It was a hard piece of information to take. My frustration at my lost sleep overpowered my embarrassment and I left the room to take a nap for an hour.

To make things worse, when the meeting finally did start up, another person walked in (this was a day for interrupted meetings). This guy was from the stake and he needed pictures of everyone with leadership callings so they could be put on the stake president's wall. The problem was that I hadn't shaved (I thought I was late after all).

When the guy came into the room the bishop looked at me and laughed and said "Well, this isn't a good day for you!"

I posed for the picture and then asked the guy if he wanted to photoshop me clean shaven. He laughed (guess he assumed I was joking). Oh well, I guess I'll just be the one scruffy face on the president's wall.

Well, I better get going. I gotta get a lot of stuff done today. Thank you for making it to the end of this disjointed and rambling post.

I hope you all enjoy Fall/Autumn (I'm capitalizing them in rebellion (and screwing up capitalization throughout the rest of this post for Consistency).

Have a wonderful day.

Blah

Hey everyone,

Sorry for being so bad about posting lately. I have been writing, I just haven't been writing here.

I was going to blog a whole lot tonight, but I got distracted by my friend Kyle's blog (The Eccentric Sage) and ended up posting a ridiculously long comment on his latest post. The topic was money. Particularly, the possibility of being corrupted by money; it's an interesting topic.

In other news I've been down a bit lately. Most of it due to memories. It was a year ago on October 1st that Garett died, and a year ago on October 10th that I attended his funeral.

October 10th last year was a bad day. I don't think I've ever been as emotionally exhausted as I was that evening.

As usual, when I'm feeling down I become detached and start thinking. So, lately I've been going on a lot of walks.

On the bright side this has helped in the life planning area.

All these walks have left me with this realization: Instructional Design seems to be the best path for me to take: I really love education, Instructional Design is very employable, and it will give me the opportunity to both write and teach.

Also, as luck would have it, BYU has one of the best programs in the country. So, if I study here I'll graduate with a PhD in 3 years in a very employable field, from a good school, and with very little debt...all good things.

I think this is a much better arrangement than going to an Ivy League law school. Not quite as prestigious, but I think overall it's a choice that will lead to greater happiness.

Besides, if I ever change my mind my LSAT will still be on file.

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking on during those long walks, that and the story I hope to someday finish.

Well, hope you all have a great day. I'm going to get some sleep.

Saints

I just want to let everyone know how awesome saints are. They're sorta like Catholic comic book heroes: they all got great stories and superpowers.

Along that comic book theme, I once met a family that had saints trading cards. The cards were really cool cause they described the cool miracles that each saint had performed (what his/her superpowers were) and what they were the patron saint of....which is often just flat out awesome.

Anyway, here is a list of some of my favorite patron saints...

AIDS: Aloysius Gonzaga, Peregrine Laziosi, Therese of Lisieux

Abortion (protection against): Catherine of Sweden

Accountants: Matthew

Advertising: Bernadine of Siena

Astronauts: Joseph of Cupertino

Butchers: Saint Adrian

Bakers: Elizabeth of Hungary

Candlestick Makers: Ambrose

Cab drivers: Fiacre (also the patron saint of STD's)

Comedians: Vitus

Drug Dealers: Saint Jesus Malverde

Gap (the clothes? I'm not sure.): Amulph

Gunners: Barbara

Hoarseness: Bernadine of Siena

Hernia Sufferers: Cathal

Hydrophobia (Rabies): Hubert

Internet: Isidore of Seville

Lawyers: Thomas More

Marriage: John Francis Regis

Marriages (unhappy): Gengulf

Occultists: Cyprian of Antioch

Possession (demonic) : Cyriacus

Toothaches: Apollonia

Unattractive people: Saint Drogo

****************************

There are way more of course. I had no idea how many saints there are until I started investigating last night.

Oh, and here is a link so you can figure out who is the Saint for the day you were born:

http://www.catholic.org/saints/sofd.php

Okay, I think this is all I gotta say on the subject.

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

Entrance Essay

Hey everyone. So, I need to start writing entrance essays and I've been looking into what most schools want. I have found a lot of essays that tell you all sorts of things about what you shouldn't say in a personal statement. So, to get all that out of my system I just wrote a personal statement that combines most of the mistakes people make when they write a personal statement essay. I've decided to share it here:

**************

I’m really glad that the personal statement essay length restriction is two pages because if it was any longer I’d have to start repeating myself to fill the space. You see, I’m a pretty boring person, and I can’t really think of anything I could put in this essay that will let you know that I’m special. I know my mom thinks I’m special, and that some people who tested me when I was a kid and then put me in a room with all the students that drool and eat paste told me I was special, but other than them I don’t think I’ve made many great impressions.

However, I really want to go to your school so I’m going to try to share a bit about my life. Hopefully I’ll be able to make my life sound interesting; I figure if I can do that, you should really consider me for your creative writing program....because if this essay interests you, then I somehow took one of the most unremarkable lives ever lived and made it sound interesting, that is the real gift of a talented writer: to be able to take the simple and unremarkable and turn it on its head and show the world something completely new. But, I realize you don’t want to hear any of my opinions on writing just yet, I promise I won’t have any more of those until I’ve received a PhD and I’m allowed to have them.

Anyway, I better get started…

I was born on June 4th 1982. I didn’t talk until I was two. My parents thought that maybe I had a hearing problem. Turned out I could hear just fine, I just didn’t have anything to say. But all that changed when my family went to Pakistan. When we got there I decided that I needed to express some things, namely: “Where in the world have you taken me?” So, I went from mute to speaking in full sentences in a matter of weeks. I haven’t shut up since. I’m pretty sure that if my parents had the choice they’d go back to the fear of having a mute child if it came with my silence. I’m sort of the verbal equivalent of Pandora’s Box.

I grew up unremarkably. The first few years of my life were mostly spent being nice to others, sharing, and building with blocks. I spent hours every day trying to create new things. I would just sit and stare at the blocks and try to envision all the possibilities contained in their matching shapes. Years later I’d have similar feelings as I’d think about words as I stared at a blank page, but I’m getting ahead of myself (that right there is what I like to call “foreshadowing”).

Anyway, years passed. I played sports. I did stupid things. I fell a lot. I accepted a lot of dumb dares.

I spent my summers wasting away my time playing hockey, running through sprinklers, and getting sunburned. I was good at just about everything I did, mostly because I was extremely competitive.

As a student I wasn’t all that great at first. I remember in the first grade I would watch all the other kids color within the lines and write their names legibly, and I’d be so frustrated with all of that that I’d just look at the window and watch the cups get pushed by the wind, and then I’d watch the janitors pick up said cups (people threw a lot of cups on the ground at my school).

Eventually I decided that I wanted to be a good student so I decided to stop staring out the window and pay attention. I started focusing like crazy. I had a friend who sat next to me who was the best colorer in the class. His name was Romeo. The kid was a six year old prodigy. Looking back I think he must have been near-sighted because as he colored he would hold his face about 3 inches from the page...but he got results. I made him my role-model and I started copying him (only his mannerisms mind you, I didn’t perfect plagiarism until the second grade).

So, I started holding my face a few inches above the paper the way he did, I started holding my pencil the same way he did. I noticed that he pushed really hard so that the led would make really dark cuts into the page and I did that too.

I took following his lead very seriously. One day I noticed that one side effect of his near sightedness was that he would accidentally brush the led around with his shirt. This created a sort of cool grey halo effect around each letter. I decided I needed to have a similar effect (but I didn’t want to ruin my shirt like he did) so I would use a kleenex and push the led around after I finished each sentence. After a while I took my emulation so far that I tried to copy his really weird pigeon-toed walk (I didn’t know that being pigeon-toed was a bad thing).

Well, as you can see, even at an early age I picked an amazing mentor, and hopefully I’ll find one as equally skilled at your fine school.

Eventually my hard work paid off. I became student of the month and I was given a little badge with my schools logo on it and a coupon for a free mini pizza at Pizza Hut. That weekend I enjoyed the spoils of my success and ate a free pizza courtesy of Pizza Hut. The pizza was so pathetically small that if it was the culinary equivalent of a midget with thyroid problems, but I’d earned it so it tasted wonderful

In Jr. High I focused most of my efforts on figuring out how to be cool. In High school I figured out how to be cool. Somewhere in that search I decided that my personality’s greatest export was sarcasm. I worked on that quite a bit.

I spent most of my days reading. I would usually go through a book every day or two. It was then that I decided I wanted to be a writer.

I was really afraid when I had this realization because, although I liked writing, I also liked food, and I knew that I would struggle to have both as a writer. But, I figured that if I worked hard, went to a good school (ahem), and paid my dues I could find a way to be successful and do what I love.

After graduation I got a job working as a pharmacy tech. It was in this job that I met enough crazy people to draw characters from for the rest of my life.

When I got tired of dealing drugs I went on a mission for two years. I worked over 80 hours a week, every week. I made a lot of friends and I annoyed a lot of people. It was on my mission that I realized that I have a personality often described as “grating.” I wasn’t even on my mission for a week when someone came up to me and said “You think you’re funny, but you’re really not.” As he walked away I watched him leave. I compared him to the people I had laughing and I realized that I was doing something right.

After the mission I went to college and I rocked it. I am very smart. I graduated with academic honors and nearly every professor I had wanted to work with me on some project or another. I had a wonderful time, but eventually they told me I had to graduate. So I did and now I’m at the next step. I guess you lucky folks on the admissions board get to determine the contents of the next chapter.

***************

Anyway, I wrote that in about 30 minutes or so. It's what I can't turn in, but if there was a college admissions committee that would enjoy reading that I'd really like to go there.

Push-Ups

Sorry for not posting lately. For a bit of great news, that song I have been working on is now done. I play it a little rough in some parts, but overall it's finished. In a few days it should be polished and then I can let this horrible project slip from my mind. I really hate it when I set a goal for something...maybe if I was better at moderation it wouldn't be such a problem.

Anyway, today I thought I'd briefly post about something that happened last Sunday.

Last Sunday I walked in on a conversation that two of my roommates were having with a girl. Let me paint the picture for you.

The girl was what in some circles is known as a "woo girl." This is a girl that yells "woo" in excitement all the time, a girl that has "girl's night out," that runs around the town and flirts with guys while wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, and a tiny cowboy hat.

(These girls are the female equivalent of those guys who get fake tans, wear really tight pink (oh, sorry guys....salmon) colored shirts, use way too much hair product, say dude in every other sentence, and wear Axe cologne)

One thing that is know quite as well known about girls of this sort is they also like manipulating guys. I don't know if they're trying to gauge the power of their feminine wiles or if it's for pure sport, but they always put challenges to guys that test their machismo.

Well, as I walked in on this conversation somehow my two roommates were talking with this woo girl about how many push ups they could do (woo girls are really good at steering conversations into topics like this).

One roommate said he could do more push ups than the other. The other laughed and said no way. The girl giggled because she knew that two guys were working hard to impress her. As I gauged the situation I decided it would be fun to help the woo girl out. So, I told everyone a story. I told them my push up story....

The push up story happened in 2005. I had been back from my mission for a year and I was getting ready to go to BYU.

It was late at night...probably around 12 or so. My sister had a boy over. They were talking about push-ups (and no my sister wasn't a woo girl, this guy was probably just a braggart).

So, the guy was showing my sister how he could do push ups and clap his hands. That really isn't very hard and I said as much. I then said "well, what would be really hard would be to do a push up and then clap your hands behind your back."

Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. The braggart said such a thing wasn't possible. I hate hearing that something isn't possible so I decided to give it a try.

Now, when it comes to feats such as this I'm a very stupid person. Also, I'm an overconfident person. So, instead of thinking ahead and realizing that it might be intelligent to find a soft surface to try this on....I went straight to my knees on the painfully hard tile floor and prepared to execute my feat of strength.

Well, I made a pretty good effort at it. I did clap behind my hands and I got my hands in front of me...sorta. But I hit the ground with my chin at the same time I hit the ground with my hands....so the hands didn't do very much to absorb the impact.

My head felt groggy almost immediately. I shakily stood up. I reached my hand to my chin and felt blood... I knew had a trip to the emergency room ahead of me.

It's always embarrassing when you go to the emergency room after doing something stupid. They always ask you what you're there for and you gotta just bear it and explain to them how dumb you are. Well, that night, as I was filling out my paperwork, when I got to the question"What caused your accident?" I wrote an answer that I thought was true but delightfully vague: "extreme exercising."

The doctor asked what that was when he started to stitch me. When I told him he started laughing....a lot. I started to laugh too and that opened my chin up again.

Now, I don't know if the doctor was a sadist, or if he thought I just deserved this because of my stupidity, but he decided to sew me up using red thread. This is a problem because my beard has a lot of red in it.

The doctor told me I couldn't shave for at least a week, but I could get my stitches out in a few days. So, when I went to get the stitches out I had a pretty full beard in the area of the cut, and the stitches and my beard matched almost perfectly.

When the nurse was pulling out the stitches she's usually use the needle nose pliers to pull out about 3 hairs by the root for every stitch she found. It really hurt. I think this hurt more than the initial injury.

That doctor got me so good.

Oh, and on a side note. That week was the week I interviewed with the stake president about going to BYU...a school that requires careful grooming....so I went to my interview to go to BYU with a beard. The president told me "You're aware that how you look will not be appropriate when you go to BYU?" I said "yeah, I'm just not allowed to shave right now." He looked at me sideways but I really didn't feel like explaining my stupidity to him. If I did he probably would have recommended that I not go to BYU...not for moral reasons but for intellectual ones.

Anyway, after I shared this story the woo girl got it into her head to make my roommates prove themselves to her. She said, "Oh, you can do a push up and clap behind your back?"

You'd think that from my story that she'd have taken home the message that I couldn't, but I did admit that as soon as I got my stitches out I performed the feat in more controlled and softer conditions. I said I wasn't going to, she pressed, I said "not gonna do it," she pressed. I said my roommates could do it, they agreed.

So, both of them attempted the feat. One of them (the one who is in the army and does push ups every day) made it look really easy. The other one knocked all the wind out of his stomach (but he sorta pulled it off).

The girl then continued the conversation about how many push ups my roommates could do and my two roommates had a push up contest. They each did about 100 push-ups.

The entire time the girl watched like a puppet master as my roommates acted on her every whim.

It really is depressing at times to see guys behaving like this. When it comes to showing off we don't have much dignity.

It really makes me sad to watch people blatantly and whimsically manipulated. Even when they sorta deserve it.

Anyway, when we got back to the apartment my friends joked that I couldn't do it, and since the girl was no longer around, I showed them that I could.

And that's the end of the story.

I was going to write a bit about the ethics of manipulation, but I'm sorta hungry so I'm gonna stop now.

Hope you all have a great and safe day.

Update

Hey everyone,

Well, I haven't been posting much lately so I thought I better get on here and write something.

Excuse: I've been spending most of the time I'd spend blogging working on a song on the guitar. It's a song called Asturias and it's really hard. It wouldn't be so bad if I could find an accurate copy of the music, but since I can't I've been working through it by watching Youtube videos.

This is the version of the song I've been working on:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0y8l4KijBA0

If I ever perform this song I'm gonna make sure I get a rocking blue sweater like that one.

In other news, I have a very cute niece. My sister is pretty handy with a camera so there are a lot of pictures of her. I think she might be the most photographed child that ever lived. Here are some pictures that I find especially cute:

This pictures is just here for contrast. When Summer is placed beside a regular baby it is easier to appreciate how cute she really is.

Summer and I chewing on our hands. She started it.

Well, that's about all the news I have. There are some exciting things that may be coming up, but I'll report more when they're more definite.

Hope you all have a fabulous day.

The Social Universe

Last night I went to ward prayer. That's something they do in singles wards throughout Utah. It's basically a chance for young people to get together on Sunday night and socialize (which for singles wards usually means flirting and planning one's date for the upcoming week).

Anyway, since this was the first ward prayer of the new school year it was very well attended, and all the guys were in top form.

What is top form? Well, the guys were running around and forming small flocks around the pretty girls. Those pretty girls were each like a nexus or hub....actually, while both those similes work, I think I'm gonna change course and say they're like little suns...

Alright...prepare yourself for a long and drawn out simile/metaphor.

These very attractive girls are like suns. The orbitals around them are guys (planets).

Okay, and now that that image is in place we need to account for all the less fortunate women who, sadly, lack the physical endowments necessary to generate social gravitational pull.

These unfortunate women are moons. They cannot attract (physically or gravitationally), so they are relegated to orbitals themselves: around the men. So, these women orbit the men (planets) who in turn orbit the suns (pretty girls). Lunar girls can do nothing but reflect the light from their more fortunate sisters.

This sounds a bit convoluted, but, sadly, it's quite accurate.

I noticed this cause I spent a good portion of this past ward prayer watching people closely cause I needed to find a few people to help me in my calling. To better watch for potential aides, I sat on the porch (which is elevated) so I could get a feel for everyone's conversation. As I sat up there, I had this realization: a social gathering is a mini universe.

It really was quite funny. I enjoyed the epiphany so much I decided I needed to share it here.

Imagine with me....Little clusters of people, all of them centered on a highly attractive object (albeit aesthetic rather than gravitational). Each system somewhat discreet, but all sharing a similar form. I was surprised I'd never noticed it before.

So, now that you can envision the situation, let's focus on the conversations taking place therein.

The one thing all these conversations had in common was how hard the guys were working at being funny.

A cluster of guys would surround a girl and sorta corner her. Upon doing so, they'd feign interest in every uninteresting detail of her life. As the girl would speak the guys would savor her every word and try to come up with clever witticisms that coincided with whatever she'd said.

The most successful guys were those who could come up with the most material based on her limited character exposition.

These witty fellows were rewarded for their efforts with her interest. Once a guy has interest, he takes on the role of conversation lead....until he says something stupid, loses control, spins out, and the girl loses interest. When she loses interest, she becomes neutral. At this time other guys can once again vie for her patronage.

Honestly, when you watch these situations closely it makes you feel bad. It makes guys look like a bunch of wolves fighting for scraps, pushing each other out of the way, trying to be the center of attention...

It's sorta sad how a pretty girl can turn the best of men into a complete moron.

What's really sad is how a pretty girl can turn a complete moron and turn him into....well, whatever is lower than a complete moron.

To wit: last night there was a guy (a complete moron) who had cornered a cute little blonde girl.

Whatever can be said for this guy, he does have a talent for immediately finding the prettiest girl in a room and making her feel uncomfortable. He's a very awkward fellow, and often very inappropriate. If he had some special talent at math or something I'd say he has asperger's syndrome.

Anyway, this chap had cornered a girl.

(by the way, if I was still on the solar system metaphor this guy would be a black hole).

When I saw him corner her I decided to play white night and step in. All I heard was the last end of his pick up line, but it went something like this: "I bet it's hard for you to get things done cause you're always hearing (he then did a very loud cat call))."

She looked very uncomfortable, perhaps even scared (he's sorta a heavy fellow with yellow teeth and a smile that makes you want to call child services).

I asked if I could join the conversation.

She looked grateful.

He looked threatened.

I asked what they were talking about. He repeated his clever cat call joke.

When I didn't laugh he said "You needed to be there."

I said "I'm not sure I'd like that."

I asked him about his life and sorta forced him into a conversation with me. She took that opportunity to escape the conversation and go form a solar system somewhere else. As she left she whispered "thank you."

This of course was an extreme example of the degenerative effect a woman can have upon a guy's discourse (actually a very extreme example cause it was the degeneration of a degenerate), but it does highlight the issue: pretty girls bring out the most competitive and insincere in men.

(Although, to be fair, women also bring out the very best in men: they inspire them to new heights of creativity, caring, etc.....unfortunately, these uplifting influences usually manifest themselves after marriage. Until then, guys are a relatively depraved lot, fighting and snapping at each other, ravenously pursuing whatever girl will give them the time of day.....it's not a very flattering description, but it is often deserved)

Okay, so now that I've stated my case (probably stronger than is deserved) I must now admit that there are some exceptions...some men behave like gentlemen.

Also, it is sorta unfair to characterize all men as I have--not all guys use wit (or at least try to use wit) to differentiate themselves. Here are some exceptions:

Some men just get really loud and talk over everyone else (usually dumb guys...but hey, it's effective).

Some guys are just so good looking that they let the women come to them.

And some guys (perhaps the most effective of the bunch) play in a band.

Anyway, hope this description wasn't too offensive.

Please excuse any exaggeration you find offensive as either a failed attempt at comedy, or the cynicism that naturally follows from spending nearly a decade in marriage-hungry singles wards.

Next time I'll try to be more participatory and have a better attitude.

Have a sunny day.

Church

My last Sunday at Church before I came home was sorta interesting. It was interesting mostly cause of a certain speaker. Here's what happened:

A sorta awkward looking guy stood up to the pulpit, grabbed it firmly with both hands, and said, "Hi, today I' going to speak on the Word of Wisdom, and just so you know....I'm a chemistry major, but I'll try to keep it at your level."

First off, that's sorta condescending, but I coulda put up with that. What bothered me was how he approached his topic.

(info: for those not in the know, the Word of Wisdom is the blanket term for all the commandments regarding proper diet: both what you should eat and what you shouldn't. It came as a revelation to Joseph Smith in 1833, and it is recorded in the 89th section of the Doctrine and Covenants (Mormon scriptures)).

Anyway, back to my complaint about this guys approach. Well, what he did was he explained the Word of Wisdom from a purely physical perspective (demonstrating his vast knowledge of chemistry and kindly sharing his remarkable mind with all of us less fortunate folks).

Now, I agree that the Word of Wisdom has a physical dimension (it is after all about what you should eat)....but my problem with this guy was that the Word of Wisdom (while insightful regarding our physical needs) is not really a law focused on our physical health. That is just an added perk. The heart of the Word of Wisdom is spiritual health (more particularly: how physical health affects spiritual health).

So, while there are some studies that show that Mormons live slightly longer than the average, that's the wrong approach to take. A talk on the Word of Wisdom shouldn't focus on the chemistry involved or death statistics. What a talk on the Word of Wisdom should focus on is how following the Word of Wisdom unlocks spiritual potential.

Frankly, I don't want to have faith that is only effective when it agrees with science. That's the message that underlied this guy's talk and it's flat out wrong...while he was skimming through his chemistry notes he was oblivious to the real reason we follow the Word of Wisdom: God said to. What this speaker said was, "Science says this, and since that coincides with the Word of Wisdom, we should follow the Word of Wisdom."

This sort of talk is a great way to develop mediocre faith. What's the point in having faith if it's limited to what you can prove (actually, that's sorta by definition not faith).

I think there is a trend to say "Hey! Science agrees with a commandment. Hooray!" And while it often does, that shouldn't be why the commandment is followed.... because there are times when the two are at odds, and often, the friction of their struggle ignites the spark of real faith. If you try to substantiate all faith claims through reason you'll head down a slippery slope that will lead to a very limited worldview.....cause everyone has (and uses) faith. Even an atheistic scientist has faith; it's just faith pointing in the wrong direction.

What do I mean? Well, look at the scientific method. It never leads to truth, it just gives you what is most likely, and it proves what is most likely through trial and error...but there is no end to this method. A proposition gets more and more likely every time it is tested and yields the expected results....but this doesn't give certainty. The gap between what is extremely likely and scientific fact is bridged by faith. We don't call it faith (cause for most that's a bad word), but it's faith alright; scientific hypothesis is the post-modern equivalent of a heartfelt prayer: both are a reaching out beyond the limits of what is known with the hope (or faith) that there will be a positive response showing one is heading in the right direction.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think that the laws of our universe will ever be at odds with a commandment from God. Actually, I think God understands the universe pretty darn well...so, I can only imagine that they'll always be in sync. So, it's not a matter of whether or not God will contradict the rules of the universe...the question is whether he'll contradict our understanding of the laws of the universe.

Reason can only be as strong as its premises, and our premises are derived from observation and testing. We make mistakes. Right now in every mind on this planet there are impostors; there are little ideas posing as truth that just aren't so. Part of learning is figuring out which ones don't belong and getting rid of 'em.

So, when the commandments of God coincide we should be excited for our understanding of science, cause it shows we're on track. What we shouldn't do is say "well, now that that's supported I can believe."

And that's what this guy's talk was all about.

After his talk was over he came and spoke with a friend of mine and I was introduced to him. Everyone congratulated him on his talk. When it was my turn to say something I said "Thanks for speaking"( I felt it was a sorta safe response cause it didn't convey my feelings about what he'd said).

He was a sorta arrogant fellow and he wanted more so he said "Well, did you think it was a good talk?"

Now, I know that courtesy requires certain things from us, and usually I try to respect the demands of propriety, but this guy was pushy (and he sorta rubbed me the wrong way), so I said, "Well, I know this isn't gonna start us off on the right foot...but I would given your talk differently."

He was sorta taken back by my response. He asked, "What would you do differently?"

I said "Well, what's the harm in saying 'We follow the Word of Wisdom because God told us to.' I know that doesn't sound as impressive, and it's not really the way people like to hear things...science is way sexier, but that's the truth. I'm pretty sure if God hadn't said anything on the matter, regardless of the scientific data both for and against, I'd probably drink--at least a little. Also, all the scientists out there that drink and smoke sorta demonstrate that scientific knowledge isn't the intellectual parent of the Word of Wisdom. So, I guess what I'm saying is that since your topic was 'why we follow the Wisdom' you should probably have spoken on that. Maybe as a sidenote you could have said that the Word of Wisdom also coincides with scientific understanding."

I don't think we're going to be friends.

Anyway, if you've made it this far I'm impressed. I probably should let the subject die. I guess it's just something that I'm sorta annoyed with these days.

I think what we need to do is realize that religious truth and science (for us) are sorta like a venn diagram. In the farthest circle to the left we have religious propositions. In the circle to the right we have scientific propositions. And in the middle there is the overlap. I think for us this is the way it's gonna be until we can clear out all those impostors in our mind that I wrote about earlier. I think for God there is no venn diagram...it's just one big circle containing all true propositions...cause for him the circles perfectly overlap. Sadly, for us, we gotta work through the muck see if we can get them to merge; some people have more overlap than others.

So, when you're speaking of the propositions in the religious circle, it's best to speak religiously. Science can peak over your shoulder if it wants, but it shouldn't be a backseat driver...cause in the realm of faith (the section removed completely from science due to the limitations of our understanding) science really doesn't have much to say.

Anyway, that's what's been on my mind. I wrote this really fast and I'm sure it's riddled with mistakes. Please be kind.

Delinquent

Hey everyone,
Sorry for not posting much. I guess lately I haven't felt much like blogging.

Anyway, I'm back in Provo now. The drive wasn't so bad this time. I listened to a book on CD, listened to the Wicked soundtrack for the first time, and rocked out to classic tunes from the 90s. The only thing that made the trip eventful was I was pulled over by a cop right outside of St. George, Utah.

I don't know how many people know the drive, but there is a period of time where you wind through a bunch of rocky cliffs (it's actually quite pretty)...well, at the windy part the speed limit is 55 miles per hour.

So, I slowed down through the windy part because years ago I got a ticket there (I took them at a regular speed and the officer did not approve of this choice).

Oh, and a little backhistory: I don't know if anyone else does this, but when I am on a long drive I usually pick a pacer car. This car is a car that is traveling at about the speed I like to go (usually a few mph faster than you're supposed to go but not fast enough to get a ticket).

Well, on this drive I had a pacer car...it was a BMW that sorta looked like a Rav4.

As we drove through the windy part where I got a ticket all those many years ago I slowed down (once bitten twice shy and all), but my pacer car friend kept going at the usual speed (oh, I remember when I was so young).

Needless to say, when I made it out of the windy mountains my pacer car was way ahead.

Now, I'm sorta sentimental, and I wanted my pacer car back (it's good to have one: if you're going too fast the radar usually dings the person you're following and they get the ticket).

So, I sped up to find my friend and continue our journey together.

Well, right as I speed up to catch up to the BMW I look to my left and see a police car. And since I was trying to catch up to someone who was going just slightly above the speed-limit I was of necessity going faster than someone just going slightly above the speed-limit.

When I passed the cop I immediately got into the right lane, got behind another car, and slowed down to a crawl (I'm sure my car looked like it was moping and repentant).I tried to make it look like I was just passing a slow driver. Well, the cop pulled out of his spot...and I got sorta nervous.

He stayed in the left lane for a while while and I stayed in the right, and I thought maybe he just coincidentally pulled out...but then he pulled into the right lane. His lights weren't on so I thought maybe I was in the clear.

I began to get my hopes up, but kept snailing it along to just be safe. I kept furtively looking over into the rear-view mirror watching the cop's lights, wondering if they'd turn on and declare my sentence.

After far longer than normal (maybe the policeman was contemplating whether to give me a ticket) his lights went on and he pulled me over.

He came up to the passenger side door and asked for all my info which I readily gave to him. He told me I was going a little fast and that there was construction up ahead so I really needed to slow done.

He asked me where I was heading. I told him I was making the drive from California to Provo. I looked at his CTR ring and I began to hope. Maybe he'd think I was a poor and pathetic student driving back to BYU (66 percent of that is true). He winced when I told him where I was driving from (obviously he knew how annoying that drive can be). He commiserated with me for a sec., took my license back to his car, and looked up my info.

I guess my record is pretty clean cause when he came back he didn't shoot at me or anything. He just gave me my license and said "Watch your speed."

I told him I would watch my speed, and I drove off feeling like a convict with a presidential pardon.

Sadly, I never found my pacer car again. I had to do the rest of the drive alone. I found a Mustang to drive along with for a while, but it just wasn't the same. Oh well.

So, anyway, now I'm back in Utah. In some ways it's good to be back, but in others I kinda wish I was still at home.

Here's just a sample as to why: on the drive to Utah I received a call at around 11PM and was told that the person who was supposed to teach in Elder's Quorum had moved out of the ward and that the person in charge of planning our lessons hadn't found a replacement....and since the person who didn't check into the matter was going to be out of town, and since it was a bit too late to ask anyone else to do it...it fell upon me to give the lesson. I skimmed the chapter once and then gave a lesson for 45 minutes. Realistically I never prepare much anyway, but it's the principle of the whole thing. Anyway, when I got that call I thought to myself "Yep, I'm back."

Well, that's where I'm at now. Back in Utah, and I really gotta get back into studying the GRE. I need to go to the dentist too (I was told I need to get an on-lay cause I grind my teeth at night really bad and I've cracked one of my molars along the biting surface).

funfact: when you grind your teeth during your sleep you can bite down with up to 8 times more than your regular bite strength (my dentist told me this, but I didn't clarify if this meant that you are 8 times stronger than your maximum waking bite strength (I would sorta like super strength while I sleep) or if he meant 8 times harder than you normally bite).

It was actually sorta funny, when I bit down he noticed that I have extremely overdeveloped muscles just below my temples and along my jaw. When he had me bite down he said "oh yeah, judging by that bite you definitely grind your teeth, a lot." But, he also noted that there isn't much wear on the biting surface so I probably clench rather than grind.

I guess I'm angry when I sleep or something. Maybe I just have a recurring dream that I'm a rock-grinder.

Well, that's about it. I hope you're all doing well. I'll try to post more regularly again.

Babies (With Pictures)

Well, I've been home for a few days now, and I've spent a good deal of that time playing with my niece...so, I've been thinking about babies.

It's really sad: it's so feminizing for a guy to say they've been thinking about babies. I really can't imagine myself hanging out with the boys and saying "let's talk about babies for a while, aren't they so cute!" Oh well, I guess I'll have to find some other avenue to project my masculinity.

Anyway, back to the main point, we really have a clear division of labor as far as babies are concerned. For example: on Sunday my whole family gathered together. In one room all the women gathered together, cooing and prodding my niece. In the other room all the guys gathered together, and had testosterone time.

In the woman's room they all took turns spewing adjectives about the baby. And of course to do this, they all raised their voices a few registers (because as everyone knows, babies only communicate in frequencies dogs can't even hear).

In the man's room the guys talked about manly things like shaving, video games, and not asking for directions.

I'm not quite sure why it's not cool for guys to like babies. They're so crazy and small. Babies are really lucky that for some reason tiny equates to cute. Their hands are amazing (they're like real person hands but fat and smaller (disclaimer: babies are real people...sorta)).

Baby feet are just silly-cute. Clothing designers caught on to the cuteness of baby feet are and they've made all sorts of ridiculous furry things to put on them. Babies got bunny shoes, ladybug shoes, shoe shoes, little paw shoes....I really think the majority of creative people in this world work for the baby-clothing design firms.

Another cool thing about babies: their expressions. Only a newborn can set a room in motion with a smile.

What gets me is that I find babies really cute, but if I ever try to describe them it's hard to justify their cuteness. The smallness is cute, but let's look at the rest of them......

1) They're bald: that's not attractive by any standard. My little niece has such fine hair that wherever she lays down she goes bald. Also, she has cradle cap so the top of her head needs to be scrubbed...which results in a look remarkably similar to the traditional horseshoe shape of male pattern baldness... somehow she pulls this off.

2) They're fat: I don't get this. Fatness is a bad thing, everyone talks about how it's disgusting, but with babies, the fatter they are the cuter they are.

3) They can't talk and they cry all the time: When regular people cry their face crumbles. They really can't look attractive.... they got snot on their face, it gets all puffy and red....but baby tears are cute. They inspire us to gush and reach out to them with love. When an adult cries you expect them to leave the room.

As for talking, they just can't do that. They just sit there and coo and gargle and blow bubbles that glide down their face. I find this cute, but I for the life of me can't figure out why.

4) They can't control their bowels: Okay, so their poo doesn't stink yet, but it's still disgusting. They poop so often, it's like they're rabbits or ferrets or something. An adult with the bowel frequency and control of a newborn would (justifiably) have no friends.

So, these are the major complaints I have about babies. I would complain about how they require feeding every 3 hours, day and night, but I've never had to wake up to feed a baby in the middle of the night so I don't feel qualified to make this complaint.

I guess the real amazing thing is that with all these faults babies are still wonderful. They're so peaceful, helpless (the perfect underdog), they're so trusting, they smell fresh (usually)...I guess we're lucky that all these qualities are enough to tip the scale and ensure the perpetuation of our species.

Oh, I almost forgot, a really great thing about babies is getting to play with them. You can take their hands and put them in funny poses (my niece plays an awesome air guitar). You can talk to them like they're a regular person and they don't interrupt (my niece has had quite a few lectures on topics ranging from the economy to pirates). You can sing them ridiculous songs and make up lyrics as you go without fear of looking stupid (a frustrating thing about this is that sometimes the song is quite good and the imparitiality of the baby means your genius goes unappreciated).

But when it all comes down to it, I think one of the best things about babies is how they bring a person's soul to the surface. When a baby is around you see the sorta love a person has, what they're capable of. I mean, we all sorta hold back when we love, probably cause we're afraid to get hurt. But when you have a baby around you can love as intensely as you want and you'll always feel rewarded and safe. It's sorta like taking a car to a closed track and flooring it to see what's under the hood. Babies let you really explore how deeply and purely you can love. I think this is why so many people love having babies...it changes them because they get to experience (often for the first time) the intensity of love that is the standard (standard here meaning our self-imposed maximum capacity to love) by which we should love everyone else.

Well, that's what I've been thinking about. My niece is pretty awesome. She's very cute, and she's so well behaved. She hasn't cried once since she's been here. Also, she's got some awesome clothes. She really can rock the ladybug sleepers...not many people can.

I guess this wasn't a very masculine post. I probably better go have a manly talk with someone. Anyone want to talk about explosives?

p.s. I didn't proofread this, sorry for all the mistakes.



Picture 1: Mommy and happy baby. Summer loves to rock the headband.



Here's Nick. I've known him since I was 6. He's really good with babies, but it looks really strange when he holds Summer cause he's kind of enormous...and she's pretty small.







Here is the picture where she looks like a little pink Sith Lord...very scary.



Here's Summer with Uncle Tim.

English

Today I am going to ramble about English a little bit.

Okay, first off, here are some crazy words.

Omphaloskepsis: this fancy word means "to contemplate one's navel."

So, if you're ever thinking about your navel, now you got a word for it.

Other fun words are:

Pulveratricious: this word means covered in dust.

widdiful: someone who deserves hanging.

nudiustertian: the day before yesterday.

limerance: an attempt to study love scientifically

Oh, and here is a really long word. It was the longest word in the first Oxford English Dictionary:

floccinaucinihilipilification: to judge that something has no value.

This is actually a sorta funny word. It was originally a joke, but it caught on. Some person took 4 words in Latin that meant nothing. The first word "flocci" this word comes from flouccus which means a tuft of lambs hair (which was used to mean nothing). "Nauci" means worthless. Nihil means "nothing." "Pili" means hair, which is also abstracted to mean little or nothing.

Some person took all these latin words that meant worthless and nothing and then strung them together, and then they placed the suffix "ification" at the end to make it a noun describing the act of making something worthless.

I dare you to use that word in a sentence.

Speaking of words, here is a complaint: the words data and media.

Today I read something where the person wrote "the data are private."

That just sounds stupid to me. Now, I realize that data is plural and datum is singular, but the meaning of the word "data" has changed over the years.

The problem is that data is rarely used as singular because data is such a nebulous term. What would be the smallest unit of data (which we would call "datum"). It's hard to say. A bit? A byte? A kilobyte?

I think it would be best to classify data as a collective or mass noun. I recently read online that some people have a problem with this; they think that data can't be a collective noun because collective nouns are always singular. And, while this is true, I don't think we use the word datum frequently enough (or with enough clarity) to split the word making the plural verb form necessary. Basically, what we'd be doing is making a hideous sentence like "the data are confidential" correct so we could make room for a word we don't even use: datum. I don't think it's worth it, and luckily, most grammar guides agree with me.

You can say "the data are saved," but if you do you should lose your friends. That is just so pretentious sounding, and I can only imagine the kind of person who would say that would be someone you wouldn't want to talk to.

Well, that's my rant for today. I hope you all have a wonderful day.

Oh, and another cool thing: many people know that there is a tendency to get sad during the wintertime when the sun is hidden and it's sorta gloomy. Well, there is a name for that problem; it's called "seasonal affective disorder." The cool thing is that the acronym for this is S.A.D. Isn't that a cool name? I appreciate diagnosticians with a sense of humor.

Anyway, that's all I got. I might get driving today to go to CA to see my niece, Summer. She's supposed to be the bee's knees. I can't wait to meet her.

American Graffiti

Last night I couldn't sleep so I decided to watch American Graffiti. It's a DVD that I found under a bunch of junk as I was cleaning out the apartment yesterday (yeah, I spent over 8 hours cleaning the apartment; I figure I'm the only one that lives here right now so I might as well make it clean).

I've always heard about this movie but I never knew anything about it other than that it was directed by George Lucas and that Harrison Ford was in it (and I only know this because of a comment Lucas made about casting Ford as Han Solo).

For those who haven't seen it, the movie is basically a film set in the post World War II financial boom; it's about the social scene among young folks (film was supposed to set in 1962).

I know the film was supposed to be nostalgic, but for me it was sort of depressing.

Why was it depressing?

Well, because everyone was so good to each other back then and I wish it was that way now (if this movie is to believed....and this movie was praised for its realism so imagine it's at least somewhat accurate).

Here are the things that stuck out in my mind:

1) The main activity in the movie is picking up girls with nice cars. The film takes place in Modesto, California. What happens is young guys in tricked out cars drive up to girls (who are either in a car or walking along the sidewalk) and say something like "Hey Babe! Wanna go for a ride?"

When I first saw them do this my thought was "Oh no! Don't get into the car! I didn't know this was a slasher film! She's gonna get killed! Don't trust him! Run! Run!"

But, she smiles, gets in the car, and they spend a pleasant evening together.

2) The main tough guy in the film is John Milner. He's got "the fastest car in the valley." He is feared and respected, but he's harmless. He gets tricked into taking care of an early adolescent girl for the evening, and rather than dropping her off anywhere and going on his way, he makes the best of things and tries to give her an enjoyable evening. He puts up with her prattle and even gives her a keepsake to remember him by. He was totally justified in dropping her off the moment she got annoying, but he put up with it.

If I had compare a film from my generation with Graffiti, the best match would probably be The Fast and the Furious. John's character is basically the character Vin Diesel played. Now, imagine a lighthearted trick where a pretty girl doesn't want to spend time with Vin Diesel so she tricks Vin into taking care of her little sister for the night (trusting a strange man). Then imagine Vin trying to make the most out of getting duped. The modern revision would have him throwing the girl out the window, chasing down that previous girl, and shooting her tires or something.

3) Central locations. In Chino Hills people don't hang out (or the cops break them up....groups bring trouble, drugs, and in general, tomfoolery).

Well, in this movie (and many others that depict a similar time) they have a central diner (usually a person's name is the title....like "Stan's" or "Mel's"). People goes to the diner and they see all their friends there because that's where everyone goes to hang out. Then, together, they decide to go see a movie at the drive-in or go drive up to the mountains or something.

I see the diner location hang out in a lot of films and I'm beginning to believe they might have actually existed...and that seems cool. If the movies are to be believed (always a risky proposition) people would gather together and there wasn't much posturing or bickering...just a lot of people looking for a good time.

I think part of why this sort of social networking was possible was that people drew together because they were disconnected. By this I mean that today we have social networking sites and cell phones. We can reach a friend anywhere in the country in seconds and plan something. Back then they had the land line in their homes (which parents might monitor) and that's it....so they had a social gathering spot. This sort of gathering is way better than instant messaging, texting, or writing on someone's Facebook wall. This was people gathering together face to face to have/plan a good time...and they had to do this cause there was no other way. So, now (counter intuitively) , all the technology that connects us in a way divides us. It makes it possible to settle for inferior forms of communication.

Well, I'm tired of typing. These were just some thoughts I had this morning. I realize that the early 60s weren't as wonderful as they were in this film. There were definitely bad things about this time that weren't depicted: i.e. racism, The Cold War, The Vietnam War (3 years into it in 1962), but overall it seems like America was generally optimistic; times were tough but we believed in America and our ability to pull through....nothing like the cynicism rampant today.

Honestly, it seems like the 60s was a big party, and my generation got stuck with the hangover.

But hey, we got the iPhone.