The New Year

So this is the new year.
And i don't feel any different.
The clanking of crystal
Explosions off in the distance (in the distance).

So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

So everybody put your best suit or dress on
Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
As thirty dialogs bleed into one

I wish the world was flat like the old days
Then i could travel just by folding a map
No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways
There'd be no distance that could hold us back.

There'd be no distance that could hold us back

I'm not a huge New Year's guy. That's a song by Death Cab for Cutie that I love, it really captures the feeling I really have about New Year's Day. I don't think I've ever gone through with a single New Year's resolution. The numerical difference on a Calendar is not really a motivation that lasts. Our goals should be planned and undertaken on their own merit's and we should start them when we are ready to actually be motivated to go through with them.

That being said, I like to party, and I have a goal set (but I started it a week and a half ago.) The party is the huge institute bash at the Student Union building every year. I usually dance until the last minute, make my usual request (one more time by Daft Punk, the greatest song ever written) and hang out with good friends. So I'm not anti-new year, I just personally don't find it a huge motivation. Real major life events are rarely coordinated naturally on the Calendar. But hey, I'm not gonna poop on this party. My New Year's resolution is to Blog 3 times a month minimum for my many (3 I beleive) readers.

Hold me to it America.

Gramma

"Donna Katie Patterson Olsen, 90, of Boise, passed away peacefully in her home Monday August 8th, 2011."

That's the opener from my Grandmother's brief Obituary in the Idaho Statesman. It's short, appropriate, and covers all the bases, birthdate, place, marriage, children, the list of who she's survived by and a one or two of her interests and hobbies. I'm sure everyone feels though that a snippet in a newspaper can never capture a loved one. I'm not sure a blog post can either but maybe this will help my own memory in the future. Here's my tribute.

I never knew how to describe my grandma to anyone else. I introduced her to some of my friends over the years, and I hope they were able to get a taste of who she was, and I know that everyone's grandmother was special to them. But indulge me when I say that my grandma has a little something extra. If I had to use three figures to triangulate who she was, I can only say she's some mix between Mother Theresa, David McCullough, and Winnie the Pooh. Let me show you why.

Mother Teresa: Someone at the funeral told a story of how grandma was introduced to someone fallen on hard times. "Go to Warm Springs and take a left, go down to the second to last house on the right and knock on the door. You'll find a free dinner, a hug, and a friend for life in the woman who lives there." Grandma had to feed everyone (Including the world's fattest squirrels in her back yard, I'm not kidding they're the size of Beagles), she was ninety years old and she had to help, she couldn't hear anything but she had to listen to how you were, every detail. The absolute worst insult she could bestow on someone living was "That Turkey", or maybe stinker if it was someone horrible and dead like Stalin or Genghis Khan. Don't cross her though or she might threaten to whup you and then laugh at herself for even thinking she could make herself hurt somebody.

David McCullough: The woman had history bleeding out of her dry irritated calves (seriously though she wouldn't stop scratching that leg). Grandma could turn literally any conversation in to a history lecture. Talking about the grocery list turned into Shakespeare, and then of course we had ancestors who were in Warwickshire when he was born, "And so you KNOW we're shirttail relatives charlie!" and then to Everette Farmer Dix somehow. Nothing worried her more than her descendants forgetting about their ancestors. It may not all have taken, but I know where George Washington Farnsworth, Ethel May Dix, and William Patterson all fit in Grandma. Hopefully I'll develop enough respect for what my heritage means someday.

Winnie the Pooh: For a woman so smart, no one could possibly be more bumbling and silly on the surface. (Key: On the Surface) The woman was just so unintentionally funny, and intentionally. She even had her own vocabulary. Grandchildren were "Beauties." Any and every piece of furniture was the Davenport. "Oh honey put the strawberries on the Davenport" "C'mere and put your bottom on the davenport and let's talk," "I think the letters and in the... davenport." Phrases like "Love your heart," and "You duffs!" had whole layers of meaning coming from her.

I'm one of 19 Grandchildren but from when her and Grandpa took me to see the our new house being built (My earliest memory), to letting me sleep over at her house when I had nothing to do, to the day that I had to be the one who found her after she'd gone, I always knew she loved me uniquely.

So Grandma, Happy Birthday today, I miss you, say hi to Grandpa, I'll try not to be too sad since I know you're so happy. Don't give up on me as I try to be a little bit more like you.

Summa

Oh summer, thanks to going to school in Rexburg you start in August and end halfway through September for me. But I think I did a decent job of compressing a lot of summer into a not very long time, now that it's starting to cool a bit (Not too much mind you, it's still warm) I'm going to have to do a recap.

Hyde Park Street Fair

One of the coolest little known events in Boise, it's our very own Hippie festival in the north end. Everything from homemade Tiki masks to hemp-based ice cream and 4, count em, 4 tie dying stands, all in one convenient location at Camel's Back Park.

Floating the Boise River

This is an annual tradition for Boiseans, every day from June throuh September in Boise you'll see tons of people floating the river, half of them drunk, the other half might as well be. Inner tubes, rafts, plywood, life vests, logs, you name it, will be used as flotation devices as people look for a relaxing way to cool off. It can take from one to three hours depending on how fast the current is and whether you paddle the whole way or stop to eat some hot dogs at Julia Davis park. I don't need to tell anyone this who lives in Boise but man what a sweet tradition this is. The water's cold but the air is warm, the trees are huge, and the sky is blue. Classic Idaho summer baby.

The Tour de Fat

Umm... this is a crazy freaky Bike Parade right through downtown. This picture says it all

Arctic Monkeys

Oh man, I know I already posted about this, but what a sick concert. Probably tied for best I've ever witnessed. It was sick.

Anywhoo, there's more but I'm tired and it was awesome. The End.

September 11th

These are my thoughts on the tenth anniversary of September 11th.

Ten years ago, September, 11th 2001 I was a 6th grader at Meridian Middle School, sitting in Mrs. Leipf’s class, when I first heard about what happened in New York City. Someone said the Twin Towers had been bombed, I didn’t even know what the Twin Towers were until someone said that they were the big buildings on the Spiderman preview I had seen at the theatre. Mrs. Leipf came in and gave us the news in the somber tone I now realize was the same as the one Ms. Steinhoefel used in 3rd grade after Columbine. Everyone was silent but my initial reaction was to feel sorry for my teacher, since it had obviously upset her.

I used to be embarrassed to admit to myself that I didn’t really think of the people inside the burning wreckage of the skyscrapers initially. But I couldn’t understand abstractions of far away events other than superficially, my teacher’s distraught face though burned the emotional side of the tragedy permanently into my mind. As a child I could understand fear, if not terrorism, I could understand confusion, if not anarchy, and I could understand loss, if not body counts (which were estimated to be many times the real number at that point). An Idaho resident may never know the full blunt of the horror that the residents of New York felt, but I knew the nation mourned with them that day.

The school was silent in class in the presence of adults, we knew how to show proper behavior in the moment of tragedy, but in the Hallways, the break areas, and the cafeterias a low intense buzz filled every inch. Most kids talked about the end of the world, the irony of the date being the same as the emergency line, and a lot about God, trying to sort through this mess with what parents, television, and our imaginations had taught us. Most seemed worried but an undercurrent of excitement filled the room. Our generation was one raised on Nintendo, internet, blockbuster action films, and 9 o’clock news reports of daily murders, we coped by compartmentalizing the real world into the rules of virtual reality. We knew from that most problems could be solved in a two hour block, or at least by the end of the next level.

But as my generation has grown up, the magnitude of what September 11th really meant has filled out and expanded in our minds. It still comes up now and again in conversations among college students, “Where were you on September 11th when you found out?”. We’ll be the last to authoritatively tell our grandchildren what that day was like because we lived through it. We may not have understood, but the weight bit by bit fell upon all. The world we are now inheriting was changed by one day. The first time I felt the weight was when I realized I couldn’t see “The Matrix” because it was now rated “R” and my mother wouldn’t let me. I felt the weight when I was randomly selected for extra screening at airport security when I was 15 years old and flying for the first time in my life. My generation has watched a national tragedy become a political tool for those on both sides of the political spectrum. We had watched as the brief unity after that day unraveled into rabid bi-partisanship. But the images policemen running into hell to find others, of strangers crying and embracing each other when there was no one else, and of firefighters raising the American flag are still the first thing’s my mind goes to when I think of that day.

Full Circle

So let me take you back to September of 2008. I was a senior in High School, My good friend Cody Nesbitt and I were planning a trip, to Eugene Oregon, to go see what might have been our 2nd favorite band at the time, the Arctic Monkeys, live at the McDonald theatre. SO stoked, we'd planned the money, the couches to crash on, talked our parents into letting us miss two full days of school to go hit this off the hook concert and rock our faces off to the british punk sensations.

And I screwed it up.

That same weekend We had a marching band competition, I hadn't put two and two together that they might be in the same weekend and might there might be difficulties in being in Eagle, Idaho and Eugene, Oregon at the same time, I had yet to master my technique of being in two places at once. I had dealt with a lot of drama on the drumline and didn't dare miss it because the last time I missed 2 days of anything, that summer, they almost threw me off the line (I was bad at politics even if I was a really good drummer at that point) so I had to cancel. Cody, obviously, was pissed. But he's a forgiving dude, eventually, so we smoothed it over.

WELL GUESS WHAT HOMIE!

Next week they play the Crystal Ballroom in Portland and guess who's going? (It's not Bill Cosby) ME! So my face just might still get rocked off after all. It's seriously so cool that three years later we're actually going through with what was going to be our ultimate high school roadtrip, IT's probably not as good anymore since we're not as dramatic, and since the Monkeys have since dropped a few spots on my list, but still, they rule and this is gonna be off the hook.

Five songs I desperately hope to hear. 1. Fluorescent Adolescent 2. The View From the Afternoon 3. Brianstorm 4. A Certain Romance 5. She's Thunderstorms.

Boo yeah baby, the monkeys are in town!

Dirt

I am so dirty.

What did you think I meant? I'm not dirty in an inappropriate way, I'm dirty as in covered in dirt. Covered in dirt as in dirt all over me, all over me as in up my nose, in my eylashes, and down my socks, down my socks as in between my toes, between mytoes as in ground under my toenails. I've been congested and my snot is brown, i can taste dirt in my throat when I breathe.

Working construction in July gets dusty folks. I got a short time job with family friend Jay Jones (Hay Hones as one of the mexican workers called him). It was hard but it was fun, moving stuff, nailing stuff, breaking stuff, cleaning stuff, and lots and lots and lots of dirt. Watching the sun rise as you get filthy creates a nice contrast between beauty and filthy. The contrast leaves though when it gets hot as the July sun bakes the dirt into your pores and cakes itself into every nook and cranny on you. Here's some pics.

Sad and Dirty

Happy and Dirty

Epic and Dirty? High And Dirty? Shocked and Dirty? I'm not sure. But definitely dirty.

Dirty Arm? Clean it Up!

Nostalgia

Well today I was on a Gage Olsen nostalgia tour. I am currently at my best friend Andy's house while he packs up his belongings into his Nissan Xterra and heads to Texas for Pilot training. It's been good to see him again and what did we do? Nothing. Why? Because 1 he had to pack, 2. that's what we always did. You know someone's your best friend when you don't have to do anything with them. Or say much. It's great that after these years of separation we still don't need to say a word to communicate. His girlfriend is here and she doesn't get our conversations at all since they are diagrammed like this: 30 percent completely non-verbal communication, 10 percent grunts, 20 percent homestarrunner quotes, 30 percent other inside jokes, and 10 percent normal conversations like regular human beings do. I've wasted so much time in this house.

Earlier, I mowed my grandma's lawn. I love driving out there, connecting from I-84 into downtown Boise, driving to the east end and cruising through my favorite neighborhood of Warm Springs Avenue, home of 1930's mansions and ancient oak trees, eventually giving way to flat roofed ranch homes and remodels, past Adams elementary school and the Trolley House diner, the 2nd to last house is where Gramma is. Gramma has been the eternal backup source of employment for my family for as long as I can remember. That lawn was my job for almost 4 years after Chad left for college/mission stuff. Dumping mulch, wiping sweat and smearing green onto my forehead, the smell of cut grass and sitting in the dirt of her garden as I try to salvage what's managed to grow while under the care of my 90-year-old grandmother. Of course it takes 20 minutes of conversation before starting to mow, in between the front half and back half of the lawn, and a solid 40 minutes of lunch after I'm done to get the job done. But I head home with my 25 dollars in my pocket.

And Tomorrow I go see Hey Marseilles, hopefully I'll find someone to go with.

Done

I'm at my friend Chelsea's house and on her computer so I thought I'd add a semi-actual entry to fill out the last one.

I am done with school. For 5 months I'm done with classes, homework, and the accompanying stress. That feels so good. I just threw a 6 inch stack of chemistry assignments, quizzes, and tests into the dumpster and clicked my heels on the way back into my apartment.

I'm leaving Rexburg, the town of 5 dollar pizza (way better than Lil' Caesar's), mormons everywhere, nose-hair freezing cold, and a thousand kids with a provo chip on their shoulder.

I'm headed to Boise, my football team, my favorite restaurant Merrett's, Home of the Scone, grandma's house, warms springs avenue, the greenbelt and boise river, my parents new house, my old house, and whoever is left of my friends.

I'll miss the sand dunes at night, playing guitar and sitting around with my roommates, smash brother's tournaments, girls to date unsuccessfully, trying desperately to get people in my ward to actually participate, and just walking out the door not knowing where I'm going and finding someone to hang out with.

But I'd be lying if I said I'm not looking forward to air conditioning, hanging with my brothers especially Jared who comes home in September, basketball, a huge TV, new potential dating targets, and clean socks every morning.

So next step is find a job, and try to save money for Round 2 of the 'burg.

Finals Week.

HiI'mGageNoTimetowritegottastudythatsallidobesidesscubtoilets,morelater
bye.

Things, and stuff...

Turns out my supervisor Lisa has a nickname: Umbridge. For those not familiar, that is the name of the terrible terrible teacher/dictator lady in the 6th installment of Harry Potter. She acts sickeningly sweet but what she actually does is sinister. But that was just a funny development, the main thing is this...

I learned a new thing:

GIRLS ARE GROSS! I guess I'm relearning it because I believed that very strongly for the first 8 years of my life. Cooties. But seriously, how does a girl get pee under the lid of a toilet? They always have more sticky's to the sides of the bowls also. Don't even get me started on what's in the brown bags in the white containers on the side of the stall. (Hint it's monthly)
I can't believe I'm writing this but seriously, the girls bathrooms are worse 3/4 times every morning.

Other than that my birthday is tomorrow, and I treated myself to a blizzard today to celebrate. I figured if my parents sent me 50 bucks on my birthday, i could spend 3.27 of it on something good instead of what the other 46.73 went to. Gas/Groceries/a rip off of a car wash. I remember when I got cool stuff for my birthday...

I'm super grateful I got it though, I wouldn't have survived otherwise, I think it's a sign that I'm growing up now that birthday money is for necessities instead of videogames. But as Ben folds said: "It sucks to grow up."

Welcome to college.

4AM

I haven't updated in almost a month. Things have happened though. One thing in particular. I got a job. Not just any job, I got the most despised job on campus, 4 AM Janitor. At 3:30 Every morning I get up, get dressed sort of, try to shake off my tired brain like a lingering cold or nagging mother and go to the Hinckley. It's fun to watch the roads and sidewalks as the other victims of financial necessity stumble through the dark, making their way to their respective janitorial kingdoms, prepping for 3 hours of toilets, carpets, windows, grout, dusting, and stacking chairs.

The crew is a funny mix but just about everyone gets along (except for this one guy named Dan who no one likes, I'd feel bad but I don't think he likes anyone either, the first words he said to me were "You're stacking those chairs wrong.", which my man Will informed me that I was fine.) They range from the aforementioned Will, who is 6'3" and a great basketball player, to Sarah who is 5'3" great dungeons and dragons player, no fooling she told me that (she also appears to be a hello kitty fan). After Will showed me the ropes, my main bathroom partner is Kyle, a shrewish looking local who can't stop talking about his "Angel" who is his fiance and really looks like she'd be out of his league, but I am judging the man based on how he looks while mopping pee of the floor at 4:15. He's seriously the nicest guy though, probably why he's done so well for himself. And of course the supervisor Tiffany, who despite being from Mud Lake Idaho and despite working as a career janitor, manages to show up with full makeup, manicured nails, and her hair permed and stacked up to the sky. Seriously, you can't make people like her up. Most everyone else is boring married students.

Naturally, as the new guy, I'm on Toilet duty every morning, and it doesn't look like that'll change any time soon. I've started to name them, I'm told I'm not the first. Will told me I couldn't change the name though of the second toilet on the left in the 3rd floor girls bathroom, he had thrown up in it once and had named it Manda, after his ex girlfriend. My favorite one is Charlie, the handicapped toilet on the second floor Boys bathroom. He's not screwed down right since he broke at the base, and he leaks water if you tilt it wrong, we're supposed to be getting a new one but they don't know why it hasn't showed up yet.

And so I go, every morning to eke out a living and to try and not beg my parents for money (if you're reading mom, I really do try.) I hope I'll get some good stories from it, if not, I'll find something else to write on.

Tribute

Song of the Day: Portions for Foxes by Rilo Kiley. I don't actually relate to this song technically but there's a certain jaded feel to it that makes me feel better for some strange reason. But that's not what this blog is about.

This is about www.homestarrunner.com

Since this website has been updated all of one time in the last year, I think it is pretty safe to say that it is dead. And I feel a need to write a tribute to something that me and my best friend shared for years. It's a web cartoon that has probably lost popularity since it's rabid fans have eaten up everything to the point that it's become self-referencing and no one from the outside can really break in enjoyably anymore.

The Homestar Runner universe is completely self-contained in Freetown U.S.A. a fictional "town" where all the Characters live and interact. The main geographical features are Bub's Concession Stand, Strong Bad's basement (although we never see the house exterior) and the Stick. Which is indeed a stick, sticking out of the ground.

The website gets its name from Homestar Runner, who is an armless long legged white thing wearing only a red t-shirt and spinny cap. He is hardly the dominant character though since the most popular segment is definitely Strong-Bad answering fan emails. Strong Bad is short and shirtless with a Luchador mask and boxing gloves on and treats everyone in town terribly. He is assisted in all his wrong-doings by The Cheat, who is a anvil shaped cheese colored rodent. Despite the description, he's pretty cute trust me. Just Look at Him! Most of the stories only involve the main characters, Pictured Here but side characters are not uncommon. Take Senor Cardgage for instance, the only person in Town who Strong Bad doesn't abuse and might be him in the Future if he let's himself go. He usually sneaks up behind you chewing melty candy bars and is always carrying a grocery bag with mysterious contents. Famous quotes include "No Probalo!" and "Savings is my Left Name." Another popular example is Homsar, who might be an alternative Homestar, he's impossible to describe but these quotes should help, "I was raised by a cup of coffee!" and "I'm Captain of the Gravy Train."

From mythical creatures such as Trogdor the Burninator, to vague pop-culture references poking fun at such people as Martina Navratilova and old GI Joe cartoons, the humor is varied and usually absurdist. The rules of the universe are very loosely defined. One should not question how Homestar gets items to levitate, since he has no arms, and don't you dare ask how strong bad types on a keyboard with boxing gloves on or your e-mail will be deleted. Other mini-universes also exist. Popular examples include Teen Girl Squad, which stars Cheerleader, So and

So, What's Her Face, and The Ugly One who says "I have a crush on every boy!" skewers female social interaction. Also 20X6 is a recurring theme which is a spot on Anime spoof "Huge moon boots, and for some reason, I have blue hair"





But in the end, I just have an emotional connection to this thing. I'll just close out with some favorite quotes (probably one from every main character), sbemails and toons.

"I actually enjoy a good chafe"
-Coach Z

"Oh look who thinks he's Clever Dan!"
-Strong Bad

"If I Had Arms, I'd be sticking em up my armpits right now."
-Bubs

"People get presents on Decemberween?!? I always just get locked in the bathtub by my brothers."
-Strong Sad

"Meh"
-The Cheat

"Your from Talahassee FL? What does FL Stand for? Far-off Lands? Foreign Leadership Camp? Fish Lake? Oh, okay, you're from fish lake."
-Homestarrunner

"I DON"T WANNA EAT A GUITAR"
-Strong Mad

"Too Much mayo? I love too much mayo..."
-King of Town

"I'm fiercely independent about which soy products I choose."
-Marzipan

A Few of My Favorite E-Mails

Caffeine
Trogdor
Your Funeral
Kind of Cool
Interview
English Paper

Enjoy!

Change

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
courage to change the things I can
and wisdom to know the difference."

-Reinhold Niebuhr

Okay so I'm trying to figure myself out right now. Without being too Neurotic I try to find the balance between improving who I am, and staying true to who I am and not worrying things I can't change. It's a tightrope.

On One hand, we have personal weaknesses and character traits that we need to improve upon, change, enlarge, or get rid of completely in our lives. To say that I am who I am and everyone should just except that is the same as giving up on life and making excuses for why you aren't the person you should be.

On the other hand though, you have to love yourself for who you are and it can be easy to just hit the "everything sucks" button and never be satisfied with anything about yourself. That's no way to live. This battle is ongoing, to recognize weaknesses, without unduly comparing ourselves to everybody else.

This has been the subject of a lot of prayer and fasting for me right now. I seem to vary between these two Ideals and don't spend a lot of time in that happy medium. Luckily though, life is really pretty good at this moment in time. I just want to make sure it stays that way.

Harder than I thought.

I lost today, so I got on facebook for school. No reallY! It was, I had to get a video of our dance class (don't judge me) so We could practice for our mid-term, and it was only on Facebook. While I was on, i learned Shaq retired (which will get it's own post on this blog)and so I had to post. And then the Girl I'm now chasing was on chat and hadn't responded to my earlier text (a great sign I know) and so I called her out on it and before you know it I was on Facebook.

Dang.

Facebook Fast

Okay, So I have a problem. I check my facebook like, 10 times a day. Usually only for s second to see if I have any notices, but that doesn't make it any better in my opinion. I also waste tons of time reading news on Goodgle and other stupid things like Foxsports.com. So I'm off it all for a week. Until next Tuesday I will not be checking my Facebook for any reason. I will also not be online for anything that isn't directly school or business related.

There's a lot of life to live out there. I've got dates (two this weekend actually) and friends in person Why do I have to listen to music for 4 hours straight when I can make my own? Mine isn't that great but it's mine, and creation is a thrill. That's why I have this blog right? It doesn't mean much but it let's me put something out there.

I'm nowhere near the electronic addict I was as a teenager at one point in my life, but who wants to go back to that?

Is this resolution earth shattering? No. Is it romantic? No. Is it even that hard? Heaven help me if it is. But little things like this help me to improve myself I think. I have much bigger goals for my own personal self to make me a better person morally, inter-personally, and spiritually but I'm not feeling like exposing those at the moment. Something like this though I have to at least publish before I'll ever go through with it.

So to sum up, 7 days, no facebook, no internet time waste, no TV (NBA Finals excepted, that's just not okay), no recorded music, and I'm going to talk to one stranger and get to know them every single day. What's life if you're not out living it right?

Song of the Day: Part of It by Relient K

Snapshots

These are just two memories that I have put into snapshots, Short stories or snippets describing a moment from my life. The first one was from a few months ago, I wrote it in my English class. This second is being written right now.


Spot In Line

I'm standing in a High School courtyard, the middle in a row of 14 waiting kids, and I"M trying, failing really, to act cool and nonchalant. Most the others are the same way, sitting on benches or on the ground against the walls, spinning sticks in their hands. The mid-May sunshine filters through cottonwood trees casting spider-web shadows over the concrete and brick, a breeze swaying the branches. But the air in here is still. It's nice to have blue skies on a day full of thunder. Everyone keeps glancing at the blue metal door with the security window, waiting for it to open and Mr. Bowker to come out and give us the news. It's been a long day, a day of tension, rhythm, drills, music, competition, performance, tired feet, and tired wrists. Waiting, spinning, that familiar feel of hickory between your fingers is my only friend there. Not that these kids are my enemies, just competitors, and judges. Kids I'm familiar with, Quin, Tom, Jessi, Ashley, all here in this sort of line we've made unofficially, until we got but in our official spot in line. Out comes a high heel and that's definitely not Mr. Bowker, so we continue waiting, spinning, and I exchange a glance with Tom. Finally he comes out. Everyone gathers round, standing close and silent as he begins to read the list. Positions are announced, name by name, some heads nod and some heads hang. "Gage, you're on tenors," says Mr. Bowker. A grin finally releases, and I take a deep breath for the first time all day. A few more instructions, I don't remember what was said. Finally we leave and Quin laughs as he says, "Gage you haven't stopped smiling for the last fifteen minutes."


Next.


Ninja Lessons

To a Ten-year old boy, there are very few things that are cooler than Ninja's. Maybe no things at all, Transformers and Pirates being the only contenders to the throne. And so when your older brother Calvin offers Ninja lessons, it becomes only natural to follow him right out the back door onto the trampoline and become his Protege. All four of us enrolled in the program but Chad, being the second oldest, seemed dubious. For credentials he had a bandana tied around his head. For the uninitiated reader, that constitutes full ninja expertise in the minds of the prepubescent. We sat in order by age, being the natural hierarchy of things, in a circle on the padded green and blue edge of the trampoline. Warm ups of course had to come first and these came in the form of forward somersaults and a few air punches. Words of wisdom such as "Ninjas must be at one with themselves to reach the art of Ninja." And "One cannot expect to have Ninja skills, if you aren't willing to first be Ninja'd" formed most of our theoretical instruction. After letting him knock us all over once or twice to build toughness, Chad decided he was done. "Calvin this sucks!" Chad said, emphasizing the phrase with a punch in the stomach. He jumped off the tramp and walked away. We weren't through though, we wanted to reach level 2 Ninja. So now came our test.

Calvin stood up and declared, "Fight Me!"

Apparently he didn't fear the younger three since he had had his growth spurt and weighed about as much as all of us put together. First one to knock the other over won, if he won, we kept the lessons, if we won, we got to level 2. This all seemed to make a lot of sense for us so the three of us struck like hyenas. Calvin had a jolly old time knocking us all on our Tush's and laughing as if he'd upset Jackie Chan in a sparring match.

In the Ninja master's great mercy and benevolence, a rematch was granted, level 2 continued to make our imaginations salivate. We needed a game plan so a huddle was convened. If the movies were to be believed, our best shot would be distraction followed by the old kneel behind him and push him over. Our roles assigned, we lined up and Calvin shouted "GO!" Chase served as distraction. While he was the youngest, he was probably the easiest target so Calvin, like any self respecting kung-fu master went for him. Chase jumped between his legs and kicked him in the but. Jared got on his hands and knees behind him as Calvin turned around to Catch Chase. Since I was the only one who had nearly enough weight to move him, I was the designated pusher. I geared up and dug my socks into the rubber weave of the trampoline, dropped my shoulder and slammed into him with as much force as a 10 year old could imagine an NFL lineback having. Calvin laughed, didn't move, and shoved me. Luckily, I got a hold of his wrist as he did so and started him tipping. Chase came in and bit his ankle, and Jared finished the Job by ramming the top of his head into Calvin's left butt cheek. The leviathan fell. He crashed like the tower of babel. It all happened in slow motion as the deadly master went to the ground like we've all been waiting for the tower of Pisa to do. Score one for the good guys.

Time for Level three.

Poetry

Okay, so I've been attempting poetry. Mostly because my big brother Calvin is an amazingly talented poet, and I think that'd be cool. So I'll post some personal doggerel, I'll probably have to put in the kind of work he has to ever be as good as he is but hey, this is my blog right? I guess these both stem from my childhood, I hope I'm not ripping you off too bad Calvin!

Catching a Cold

I grew up in the desert
Sagebrush, black mountains, you know the kind.
Rain comes occasionally, usually violently
Kids sprint outside to play when they can.

Wet embrace of a sweatshirt
Hair plastered, bone shivers means a good time.
Mom tries to yell patiently, but never quite silently
It seems like she couldn’t but she understands.

She raised you in the desert
Clouds look like death but the truth is sublime
It goes back anciently, seems to be piracy
Rain stands as God if you’re on his left hand.



Scouting for Food

Mid-November sun shines but doesn't warm a thing
My own heat trapped in a forest green jacket keeps me alive
Searching for sustenance, makes me hungry

but hey, I get donuts at the end.

an endless subdivision
Smack of sneakers on the sidewalk, hop the bush,
good this one's already on the porch, makes it easy
Jared's slower than I am so far,
but he keeps getting the old ladies

We all need someone to talk to.

Steam breath comes faster, face hot, panting as
the food we're looking for stacks higher in the back of the green van
"Ma'am did you get our flyers last week?"

The other women told me how cute I was.

Sprint back, that was the last one
the seats were taken out for the food so our knees all rubbed together on the turns
Hop out in Albertson's parking lot next to the big semi-trailer
Hundreds of other bundled worker bees doing the same job
One last load before those donuts.

Never wondering who all the food was really for.




Well I hope you enjoy, I should probably stick to prose but oh well. This was fun.

My "Poetry"

That was gross, I apologize to any who read it.

I LOVE THE ONION

Okay, so now these posts are pretty pointless, but I LOVED THIS and want to share it with all the 4 of you that have read this at any point.

Check it out after the jump.


I Really Hope that I Can Be one of These Someday!

Okay, Alright, Fine.

Hey guess what, the Sun rose today! Who would've thought that I can have a bad day and the world will still go on, with or without me. I think I'll choose with me. I wrote 2 songs today, pretty happy about that, haven't successfully penned anything for awhile I'll perform them this Monday at the essentially open mic night they have on campus here, that'll be fun for me. They're not really negative despite the timing, day after a lame day. One's a little bit dark though, it's called Illegitimate Son. I guess that might be a bit of an exorcism but it's hardly journal entry dashboard confessional style music. It's almost CCR style but not really at all. I'll post the lyrics and maybe the song when I've ironed out the kinks.

There's not a lot on my mind right now, honestly, I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do this weekend besides homework. I have a decent chunk but not the kill-yourself-sized pile like I've had the last few weeks. It's too late to get a date (and don't know who I'd ask anyways at this point). So you know what, I literally just decided this as I was writing. I'm going to see how many songs I can write by Monday. I won't set a cap but I want to do at least 10. I've never tried anything like this and I'm sure the quality will be less than Ideal, but I"m feeling good about this one.

Until then America, good night, and good luck. ( I wish that was my landing line. Darn You Ed)

One of those Days.

...




This was one heckuva day. I  don't want to just do a all negative vamping post. That's not what this is here for. But man, after today, I think I need to read my own advice (the way we get by)

So It all started when my tutor didn't show up. I get out of my calculus class late because my teacher kept us too long, and I had to rocket across campus so I wouldn't be late to our appointment. I showed up on time, just a little sweaty and out of breath. And he never came. So that put me behind on my Math study, since I had a huge test to take today.

Next, after my Chemistry lab for 5 minutes I run home, and lo and behold, my car has a boot on it. 50 bucks down the drain for no reason. The worst part is that this was my fault since I forgot to buy a parking permit since i didn't think I"d have a car this semester.

That made me late for my test since I Had to wait for an hour until the tow guy came since I would've been towed and it would have cost me 100 additional dollars which I DON'T have. Since I was late for my test, the testing center closed while I was only 3/4 of the way done. So my max grade is 75 percent. Goodbye A, hopefully I can get you back.

So bad things happen in three's right? I've already had 3 (Tutor, Boot, Test) So I tried my luck and told a good friend of mine I had feelings for her. That went as well as it always has for me and she informed me as kindly as she could that we should just stay friends. Girls always seem thrilled to be my friend.

Major bummer.

And last but not least, came home, my old FHE sisters came to visit, totally cool. One of them is in My Dance class, in fact she talked me into staying when I was sure I was going to drop it due to the fact that it's not what I thought it was and I was one of 2 guys in it. But I needed the credit for a potential scholarship and it fit my schedule, she talked me into it. It came out today that she likes to make fun my dancing (as if I wasn't self conscious enough) when she's with her roommates.

So, I'm on a roll. to be frank, most of these were little things. But they add up I guess. I'll just try to pick myself up, dust myself off, and get up and start tomorrow fresh.

Hopefully next post is better written but this was oddly theraputic.

California

I'm kind of have a problem, everytime I sit down to write, I just want to post songs... don't know what's up with that. Today though, I can't even resist. I'm in CALIFORNIA! How many freaking songs are there about this place? I'll just list what comes off the top of my head. California by Phantom Planet, Dani California by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, California Dreamin' by The Momma's and the Poppa's, It Never Rains in Southern California by Albert Hammond, Goin' to California by Led Zeppelin, California Love by Tupac, Beverly Hills by Weezer, West Coast by Coconut Records, California Girls by the Beach Boys, Ventura Highway by America, California Waiting by Kings of Leon, San Francisco Nights by the Animals, and LA Woman by the Doors.

Just to name a few.

It's interesting though, the legend about this place. I've seen the main sights, from the Redwoods to Rodeo Drive, from Alcatraz to Anaheim and from the Golden Gate to the Ghiradelli Factory. But the Legend of California is so much greater than the sum of it's individual parts.

This place has been the epicenter of America's mystique for over 150 years now. Ever since the Gold Rush of 1849 (which is where my favorite team and the long source of my suffering, the San Francisco 49ers , got their name) there have been more boasts about the potential California has than just about anywhere in the world. It's warm, there's a sparkling ocean, stacks of money to be made, fame to be had, love to be found, and dreams to be fulfilled.

There's also smog to be breathed, government issues to be endured, and violent crime to be avoided.

But hey, to some white suburb kid who's watching MTV, that only makes it better. What's a good story without a bit of danger huh? This is the place that voted for the Terminator and made him the Governator. Then went back to the guy everyone hated before the Governator and gave him another chance to be head honcho. What's more Hollywood than that?

That contrast is what makes this place so great. I never know what to feel here, because even the drive on the freeways is beautiful, but the horizon is blurry with brown fog. It is just a delicious range of benefits and pitfalls that it can be hard to resist. I love California but I don't know if i could ever live here. Then again, part of me says how could I not?

More on this subject later. I'm tired.

Where I'm At

Back Home.

     I'm trying to figure out where home is. (Where the heart is right?) I can't even count how many songs have been written on this subject, from Mozart, to Simon and Garfunkel, to Daughtry, home is a subject that makes for great song material. I've got a few homes now, and it's been interesting to see how my living outside of Meridian, Idaho has changed my perception of home, what it means, why we long for it, and it's effect on our lives.
      I've only lived there for about 8 weeks of my last 2-1/2 years but I can definitely still count Meridian, Idaho has my number one home. But my Parents moved to a new house in town while I was gone on my mission, and so It's no longer the same absolute that it was before. I drove by my old house this weekend. They have cats. For the 17 years we lived there we only had one cat, named Eliza and no one liked it. All it took was for it to pee in the Suburban and we got rid of it. Now I see two of them soaking in the sun in the windowsill. Isn't it odd that I lived there for 17 years and if I were to walk in there now I could be arrested for trespassing. They've only lived there a year and they can put cats in the windowsill.
     Don't let me fool you though into thinking I'm sad/angry about it. You could make a strong case for Nostalgic but not much more. One thing saved me though from that. When I first walked into our new house I took a big strong breath and the smell of the place brought me back home emotionally. I never knew what we smelled like, couldn't tell until I was gone for 2 years. But I recognize it now, and it's wonderful. It's odd because I've lived in my apartment here in Rexburg longer than I've ever lived at 2129 W. Astonte St. but only that house smells like home. I sure my old house just smells like cats and Californians now.
    But as much as Meridian is still home, there's not much there for me now outside of my family. Rexburg is where most of my current friends are now. My closest friends from childhood live in Colorado Springs and Seattle now. Rexburg is my main place of Residence. But I kind of feel outside of everything here, like everyone's in on a joke that I just don't get. Maybe I will get it, but I don't feel anything when I drive into Rexburg like I do when I drive to Boise.
     Of course, Arizona was my home for 2 years, and is still the state that I have my driver's license from. But when I visited there, as much as I loved it, and as much that state defines who I am today, I can't bring myself to define it as home. It very well could be in the future, but I wonder how many years away it would take for me to not count Meridian as home. More than 2 apparently. I don't know if I will be able to really call anywhere home until I get married and can put down some real roots somewhere. Until then though, I'm going to love this feeling of drifiting. I  need to see some things while I'm just a dandylion blowing in the wind. Tokyo? Prague? Istanbul? Maybe I could call one of those home someday. Until then though, 2129 W. Astonte St. my residence of 8 weeks is home.

The Way We Get By

This one's for me. I've got a lot of friends right now who have been through bad times. A few family members too. To any who read, I love you, if you enjoy this post that's wonderful, I would love it if something this personal touched someone else, but I really wrote it for me.

"We go out in stormy weather
We rarely practice discern
We make love to 'Some Weird Sin'
We seek out the taciturn

And that's the way we get by"
                     -Spoon, The Way We Get By

What gets us by? What keeps our legs moving one after the other when we can't think of a reason to keep walking or even anywhere to go? What gets us out of bed in the morning when we're not sure if we can honestly say we know of a single good reason to do so? What  keeps us from ending it all?

Is there a nice tidy abstract word to throw out that'll answer these questions? Faith? Love? Hope? Charity? I'm not so sure if there is for me right now. I really do wonder. It might be perspective, maybe it's because I know that for every terrible night I've had there's been a sunny day opposite. Maybe it's because when I wonder if anyone really cares I remember that I've got a Mother who's is nothing short of perfect even though I've seen her faults fully exposed. Maybe it's because I remember on my mission when I had no investigators, a terrible companion, and was stuck in a hole of a desert trash heap, it all got replaced by 7 amazing converts,  a companion I loved and respected, and my favorite town in America not named Meridian. All without any visual changes.

 If this doesn't help you, I can't help you.

Maybe it's hope. Why do I keep dating even though I've never really had a girlfriend and I'm 21... I don't have prior experience to go on but I know there's someone out there who could make me feel like this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pp-Gl-70dSo. and who knows, they might even be into me. Why did I start training for a half marathon even though I couldn't run 2 miles when I started? I actually don't know that yet but I'm up to 11 miles last week and have to get to 13.1 by next month. Man that feels good to read back to myself. Can't wait for the race Chase!

Sometimes we get by with destructive habits. I've eaten to escape, got mad and used people to escape, and done other things I really would prefer not to publish to escape. The thing with those is that all we really do by "escaping" is add a nice basement to the hole we put ourselves in. It's tempting though, you can't see the depth of the hole as long as you're in the basement, problem is you can't see anything much at all.

Sometimes we turn to positive things to cope, but the problem is that these can become part of what I talked about in the last paragraph. I've done that with music, using what can be a beautiful and uplifting form of art that can bring us out of darkness, as a way to not deal with whatever it is I need to do. Loved one's are usually our best form of coping. But I've seen that be abused by many, and I apologize if I've done it to anyone I know. The biggest issue with using (in the negative sense) other people to cope is that when we drive them away we might not get them back when we need them next. And then we usually turn to people who will not be a positive influence in our lives at all and we've got ourselves a new basement.

So I just try to remember, there's more gorgeous sunsets coming my way. I got one tonight here in Rexburg. Best I've seen since I've been home from my mission. I try to remember family barbecues at Municipal Park. I think about sweat, blood, n' concrete front yard basketball with the 5 men (My Dad and brothers Calvin, Chad, Jared, and Chase) that mean more to me than anyone else in the world outside my mom. I try to remember light-saber battles with my best friend and the fact that he still is the first guy I call when I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I try to remember riding my scooter and screaming in the pouring rain, rain is the best weather imaginable in my book. I've never lived anywhere that got enough of it, and so I see its absolute beauty. I'm sure anyone from a wet place thinks that's nuts.

But that's the whole point, it might be nuts to keep looking forward, it might not make any sense to see things positively. I might be completely delusional in assuming that it'll all work out somehow. But it beats the Hell out of seeing rocks in the dirt instead of the flowers that you could plant. End.

P.S. To anyone who hasn't listened to This Too Shall Pass by OK GO, this is your reminder. Grooveshark.com.

Indie Cred...

           Oh my goodness, here it is, I'm going to attempt to verbalize my love for Independent Rock Music. Or as it's better known: Indie. Indie is more than just a music, more than a sound. There is definitely a sound that you can Identify as Indie, usually low quality scratchy recording, but that is not the definition. It's more of a spirit, a movement almost, but it's a movement that tries its best to not be a movement. I think that's the first thing that you should all know, Indie is not out to conquer the world. It's not the British Invasion of the 60's, or the Punk movement, or Hip-Hop, all aimed to take things over. Indie is just fine where it's at, selling out concerts and thousands of tickets without most of America even noticing. It's about doing it yourself, not making corporate music, sometimes making bad music, but all in the name of Independence. Artists that wouldn't mind going big (being anti success isn't indie, that's Kurt Cobain) but are only going to do it on their own terms. Take Death Cab For Cutie, they've been accused of selling out, but if I have a problem with them, it's that they sound exactly like they did when they were underground. But every once in awhile even teenage girls accidentally listen to something good and you'll here DeathCab blared out of Jettas with Roxy stickers in the back window all across the nation. It may be sandwiched in between cheap pop like Katy Perry, Beyonce, and Dashboard Confessional (which is fake indie), but it has wormed its way into public consciousness.
         Indie's effect is seen in ways that people don't recognize. You know that big glasses trend that's been in recently, completely Indie a few years ago, you won't see it as much anymore since it's gotten into the mainstream fashion world, but have no doubt, bands like Pavement and Of Montreal have been rocking those bad boys a lot longer than Brad Pitt has. Other places such as iTunes (which has been crucial in the mainstream success of indie) and Hot Topic (they just can't seem to make anyone happy) have picked up on the Aesthetic and made money off of it. Even rappers like Kanye West and Lil Wayne have sampled totally underground tracks in popular songs of theirs. (which have referenced King Crimson and The Shins respectively.)
         I don't know what it is, maybe its my overdeveloped but underexpressed rebellious streak, (I have a secret love of Graffiti and Public Disturbances). Maybe it's my thickly sarcastic and thinly veiled music snobbery that makes me only enjoy music that couldn't be called normal. But when I see cheap christmas lights strung over a bass drum and the lead singer of the band comes on and tells everyone to go home before the show even starts, my blood gets going. When I here some strange dissonant chord ring out from a tinny guitar and an off time beat, it's beautiful to me. Seriously though, it's not a sound, whether it's Built to Spill's triple guitar attack, to the Shins laid back folk-pop, from Dntel's sharp electronica, to Mates of the State's Piano Balladry, the range is diverse but the vision is singular. Indie.

Point? no.

So I just finished an unholy 6 hour Chemistry/Calculus homework binge. It feels good to be done but I am sapped of all creative energy, seriously, i've tried guitar, piano, and now writing, but nothing. So I'm just going to list some of the best indie songs that got me through that homework time today. Here they are, look em up on grooveshark or something.

MGMT - Time to Pretend
Pixies - Where is my Mind?
Phoenix - Lasso
Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Built to Spill - I Would Hurt a Fly
Dinosaur Jr. - See You

Next time I'm going to do an expose on the virtues of Indie Rock... this should be a good primer.

Follow-Up

Okay so this Morning, I realized, that It's hard to follow up an incredibly unique day. Like, we've all had good days, those are fine, when you realize this hot member of the opposite sex is into you, or you get to eat at Olive Garden, but crazy days are just hard to follow up with.

Let me explain.

Yesterday, I had nothing to do, I stayed in Phoenix a day longer than planned to get to spend some time with a family I had gotten close to when I was a missionary, but that wasn't until nine o'clock that night. My buddy,who I was staying with that day, had to go to work at 7 in the morning. Thus I hopped in my car and started driving, looking for something, anything really, to do.

I spotted a mountain right in the middle of Phoenix. I decided I needed to be on top of that mountain. So I drove around, I figured that here in the 5th largest city in the US that this mountain would have a marked trail and Park Service station to go with it. It turned out later I was correct but I could not find it for the life of me. So I just started driving up hill in this really nice neighborhood. As is usually the case, the higher on the mountain I got, the bigger the houses got. Big stucco homes, Arizona style, complete with palm trees, cacti, and rock lawns. But the last house on the mansion, towering over the rest, was a castle. Seriously, a castle, complete with bridge, huge door, stone masonry, gothic windows, battlements, everything. I parked under its shadow in an empty lot and started walking up the side of the mountain. Soon walking was climbing and I had an amazing view of the entire valley. It was a pretty hard climb, kind of dangerous considering I was by myself, and especially at one point where I had to balance between not falling off the side of the mountain, and not sitting on a cactus, while shimmying sideways on a ledge. But I reached the top, and saw the trail, with about 20 people on it. They were all staring at me, and I just explained, "I'm not from here, I didn't know where to start hiking so I just climbed up over there."

Turns out that's illegal. Oh well. I'm from Idaho, what do I know?

So I went down the proper side of the mountain, and ended up about 10 miles away from my car, with a mountain in between us. I had NO idea where I was, I don't know that part of Phoenix at all, and so I just started walking around. Eventually I ran into two kids spray painting some cinderblock wall in a pretty old neighborhood. It was actually really good, they had their deseigns looking almost shiny and three-dimensional. They didn't seem worried by me so I just walked up and started talking to them about it. I'm a total sucker for street art and graffiti, I think it is so cool, so I was just thrilled to learn from these criminal da-vinci's. They told me to just buy a lot of spraypaint, build some stencils and practice practice practice. They had both taught themselves and were seriously good.

These gentleman have posted some of their work on Flickr. Check it out...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/janettowbin/sets/72157603845269957/with/2238729439/

So after talking with them for awhile I went to where my buddy Brent said he'd pick me up and take me back to my car.  It was on 44th and Camelback, I waited at a Circle K that was on the bottom floor of a convention center. Classiest Circle K ever. It still had a tough looking lady working there and a dirty bathroom, so rest assured, it was still Circle K.

So to make a long story short, when we got back to my car, Brent knew who lived in that Castle I was parked beneath. Alice Cooper. No seriously, it was, he was born in Phoenix, now he has a castle on top of a mountain. That seems to work well for a scary rock star from the 80's.

So now, I'm in Tucson, with two very cool girls, but I just don't think I'll be able to top castles, and grafitti, getting lost, and climbing mountains. But it is sunny, and we do have a pool.

Demetri Martin is a Genius

Okay, so Demetri Martin is my second favorite comedian, (Number 1 being the Late Mitch Hedburg and Number 3 being Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Cosby tied. And they might actually be Number 2)

But turns out he is also a genius. He wrote a 224 word poem that is also a Palindrome. A Palindrome is a word or a phrase that can be read forwards or backwards and it's the same, take racecar for instance. But anyhow, his is 224 words long, I cannot imagine how much time this took but I'm so glad someone took the time to do something so amazing yet so pointless. I got this from Pastemagazine.com, and here it is. (sorry if the light profanity is offensive, but great writing shouldn't be censored)

Dammit I'm Mad by Demetri Martin

Dammit I’m mad.

Evil is a deed as I live.

God, am I reviled? I rise, my bed on a sun, I melt.

To be not one man emanating is sad. I piss.

Alas, it is so late. Who stops to help?

Man, it is hot. I’m in it. I tell.

I am not a devil. I level “Mad Dog”.

Ah, say burning is, as a deified gulp,

In my halo of a mired rum tin.

I erase many men. Oh, to be man, a sin.

Is evil in a clam? In a trap?

No. It is open. On it I was stuck.

Rats peed on hope. Elsewhere dips a web.

Be still if I fill its ebb.

Ew, a spider… eh?

We sleep. Oh no!

Deep, stark cuts saw it in one position.

Part animal, can I live? Sin is a name.

Both, one… my names are in it.

Murder? I’m a fool.

A hymn I plug, deified as a sign in ruby ash,

A Goddam level I lived at.

On mail let it in. I’m it.

Oh, sit in ample hot spots. Oh wet!

A loss it is alas (sip). I’d assign it a name.

Name not one bottle minus an ode by me:

“Sir, I deliver. I’m a dog”

Evil is a deed as I live.

Dammit I’m mad.

Night at Home.

Well, I'm spending the night at home by myself. My ideal night is always doing something, anything, with a good group of friends. Sometimes though that's not available so here I am. Some nights that's a huge problem for me... I start going crazy. But today I am more than happy to just take a shower, get in my pajama's, pop some ibuprofen to finally get rid of the headache that's been following me all day, play some guitar, and stare at the one currently working lamp in the living room of our empty but usually crowded apartment. Another plus of my "me" night, I satisfied my #1 vice after over a month of painful sobriety... McDonald's. It was in celebration of two things, first I got my car keys back, thus McDonalds was in reach at 10 pm. The second reason for celebration is that my first semester is over. Thus the quarter-pounder with cheese in my lap right now and sprite on the coffee table next to my feet. I would like to quote my little brother Jared, one of the smartest people I know, "Anyone who says they don't like McDonald's is lying."

Did I mention my first semester is over? 1 down, 15 to go. At first that was super exciting to think about. Then it was extremely depressing to think, and now It's at once daunting yet fun to think about. I think one of the big reason I want to be a Doctor is just the audacity of it. It's a huge commitment, one that I really hope I can pull off. 8 years of college, plus residency and another year or two depending on what I choose to specialize in. (I think that's oncologist by the way, but I've got awhile yet to think about it.) When I say audacity, I mean that I want to do something that matters with my life. I want something that is hard, something that will stress me out when I get a single B (like beat my head into the wall today about because I didn't get the grade I needed on my science final to get an A). What's life if it isn't a stretch, an adventure, and a little bit crazy? People are always like, well that's a lot of school right? I can't help but think, there are doctor's aren't there?

It's been a learning experience for me this semester. I learned things like how much I love writing. How much I actually do enjoy science even though I don't think it comes as natural to me as classes like English and History do to me. I learned things like girls are always willing to give you a first date to be nice, and said date might even go perfectly... doesn't mean that they're interested. I've learned how much fun though it is to date around and just enjoy the chase for what it's worth, even when you're constantly guessing (and usually wrong!) I learned how much study school is really going to take, because I'm only a Freshman and the classes are only going to get harder. That's why I'm taking the study skills class next semester, hopefully I'll be able to use my time much more efficiently, instead of just staring at the screen in the Library zoning out. I learned how much I really like warm weather. I just might end up living in Arizona someday permanently. Until then I'll satisfy myself with trips every once in awhile. Like the one that starts THIS WEEKEND! Not that I'm excited... I definitely didn't spend all day today thinking about how excited I am. Nope. Didn't do that, that would be silly.

This post was fairly random but it's what's in my brain.

Peace

This I Believe

I wrote this for my English class, and kinda like it. So here it is. Names have been changed.

When I was a freshman in High School, everyone knew Mike Tanner was dangerous. No tyrant or assassin my history teacher had told me about could ever reach his level of dangerous. You see, there was a long standing tradition at Meridian High School called the freshman roundup. A handpicked group of large seniors (Mostly football players) would line up at one end of freshman hall, stand shoulder to shoulder and run through the hallway, obliterating any freshman in their path. Everyone knew it would happen at some point, everyone accepted it, no one got in trouble for it. But Mike Tanner, as a freshman, got caught in it and fought back. As the story goes, he uppercut all-state linebacker Derek Clifford in the jaw, flooring him. When one of the other seniors retaliated, he threw the would-be avenger into a garbage can, kicked it down the stairs and ran like the devil before they ganged up on him. Insolence like that did not go unpunished so three other seniors jumped Mike the next day, as he was walking home by the canal. Two ended up in the ditch with broken noses and the other ran away while Mike just laughed. We couldn’t verify the story independently, but Cody’s brother knew a guy that saw it go down. So it had to be true.  After that year the freshman roundup was outlawed. Mike was more feared than Hitler, John Wilkes Booth, Mike Tyson, and Bruce Lee put together.

Local legends are the ultimate tall tales, no amount of fame and notoriety can make a popular or historical figure greater than the hometown hero or villain. The people on TV and in the books are abstractions, people I accept are real, but don’t truly have any personal connection to me. I can relate to the “firsthand” accounts of my neighbors. How could Mother Teresa even compare to Mrs. Williams, who was always feeding hobos in her living room and gave out king-size candy bars on Halloween? Most in our town had seen pictures of Mother Teresa, but everyone had received a Mrs. Williams smile in person. Who’s Usain Bolt? Just because he won 3 sprinting gold medals at the Olympics doesn’t mean he was faster than Ryan, who everyone knew outran Dan Malcombe in a race, when Dan was driving his dirt bike! More boys in Meridian, Idaho had the hots for Shannon Abernathy than Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, or Angelina Jolie could ever hope for. They’re pictures might be nice, but we had seen the way Shannon moved. And of course, no American hero could hold a candle to the legendary Bob, who lost both his arms throwing back an enemy grenade in Vietnam. You can read stories about the others, but you can see Bob carrying his groceries down Linder road with the claws on his Prosthetic arms every Wednesday.

These local legends are born, word of mouth by kids in the schoolyard, in the streets, and next to the gas station drinking Coke. They’re carried on by Moms catching up at play dates, gossiping in the nail salon, and organizing community events. They’re expanded by men talking sports, cars, and work at the auto shop or before Friday night football games. They’re immortalized by old folks, sitting on their porches and eating at JB’s diner, bragging about their grandkids and complaining about everyone else’s kids. It’s these legends that make every small town in America the greatest town in the world if you ask the people who live there. And when I hear the stories, I know that they’re all true, especially when they’re made up. I might know some history, but I believe in legends.

End.

Wilkommen!

My wonderful English teacher Sis. Clemens said something I'll never forget while critiquing the 2nd draft of a paper I was writing, "You've eliminated most of the wretched logical fallacies from your paper Gage, Good Job." I was elated, then insulted as I thought about it. Either way the phrase stuck with me, and in all my subsequent papers in that class I made sure I eliminated all WLF's as I dubbed them in my mind. I'm sure I'll be making more of them as time goes on so feel free to make fun of them as they appear. If I know myself (and I don't) I'll be really sporadic in updating it so just check randomly if you're interested. I hope you like what you read.

End.