Lone Survivor of the Alps

My pile of books, a mile high.

2012-02-05T01:57:00.001-07:00

Ever since I was a little boy I've read anything I could get my hands on. Rarely a day goes by I don't read the Salt Lake Tribune over breakfast and The Economist on my iPhone before I fall asleep. I read newspapers, blogs, websites, magazines, pamphlets at doctor's offices, instruction manuals, and sometimes even books. I love to read.

But I have a secret - I have a problem finishing books. Its bad. I have boxes and shelfs of books I've begun reading and never finished, from Jesus the Christ to Come be My Light to Good to Great to The Rum Diary.

And worse, I'm often reading (and not finishing) several books at a time. My nightstand is covered in boxes of varying degrees of completion. John Grisham's, The Confession has been sitting on my nightstand for months. I have less than a 100 pages left and I'm dying to know the ending (Do they find the body?!?) - but for some reason I won't/can't finish it.

I only realized this tonight when I began looking through my bookshelf to find a new book to read. As I grabbed The Tipping Point from the shelf, I realized I'd began reading it last year but never finished it. I admire Malcolm Gladwell and enjoy the books he's written (I've even finished a couple) but for some reason I'd never finished this one. And not only that, why am I searching for a new book when I have a small forest lying on my nightstand begging to be finished?

Not only is it frustrating, its slightly disconcerting. As I sat on my floor realizing the full scope of my problem, I stumbled across Life of Pi and remembered its incredibly dramatic conclusion and thought perhaps I'm missing out by setting books down before they're finished. I'm not giving these books their due attention. When I pick up a book, am I not making a silent commitment with that author to hear them out, and then quickly casting them aside?

I once heard, "You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have a lost a friend." Maybe I fear losing a friend... (Or I have ADHD.)

My goal this week is to finish The Confession and say goodbye to a friend.

Kiva

2011-11-13T19:27:00.000-07:00

I was recently introduced to an amazing organization, Kiva.org.

Kiva is a non-profit organization with a mission to connect people through lending to alleviate poverty.

Leveraging the internet and a worldwide network of micro finance institutions, Kiva lets individuals lend as little as $25 to help create opportunity around the world.

Its addicting...

My first loan was to Geoffery, a single man from Kenya. He is a brick maker and works as motorbike transport. He needed $800 to buy a moulding machine and a motorbike.

I then "met" Nurali from Tajikistan, a 42 year old married man with five children. He was a pharmacist and needed $3,000 to purchase necessary pharmaceutical products.

From there I've been able to donate to people from Tanzani to buy fish and the Philippines to buy merchandise and El Salvador to buy medical supplies...there are hundreds of loans to choose from.

The great thing about the site is that we are loaning these people money - we haven't donating it. Before they can submit a loan request, they have to show how they plan to pay the money back, over time. As the people repay the loan - the money is redeposited back into my account and I can choose to loan the money to other individuals. In a way, the donation is recycled and can help people over and over again.

If you're interested in joining - here is a link: http://kiva.org/invitedby/bryce2424

My profile is: http://kiva.org/invitedby/bryce2424

"We meet our soulmates when we're on our soul path"

2011-11-10T15:18:00.000-07:00

If you know me, you know Ihave an affinity for Greek mythology. I want my children to grow up learningthe ancient myths and stories - I may ever go as far as giving mychildren middle names from Greek mythology - (Perseus, Achilles, and Pericles are myfavorites...)

Oneof my favorite Greek myths involves the concept of soul mates. The Ancient Greeks believed the world is inhabited bypeople. But these people weren’t what we would consider to be “normal”- each “person” had two heads, four arms and four legs. These “people”were powerful. So powerful in fact that Zeus and the other Gods feared theirstrength. Trouble arose when the Gods heard that these beings that theyhad created were thinking about climbing to heaven to replace the godsthemselves.

Ofcourse the gods were upset. Some of them said that the easiest thing to dowould be to destroy humankind. But Zeus, patient and wise, listened totheir gripes and groans and malicious plans, and then came up with one of hisown. He proposed that they should cut all these human beings in half. Thiswould benefit the gods in many ways. First it would immediately double thenumber of people making offerings to the gods. And secondly, it would weakenthe race. Effectively cutting their strength in half.

Allthe gods loved the idea and the humans were divided in two. The human racewas confused, upset and feeling empty. Zeus, was filled with compassion andmade a decision to help ease their pain and suffering. He madeit so that each half was able to have sex with their opposite. And in theirbrief moments of love making they would be able to return to each other,becoming lost in their symbolical oneness if only for a short while. Andsince that day the human race has been in search for their soulmate.

Doyou believe in soul mates?

I do.

Ibelieve that I have another half out there - Someone that completes my soul. Asoulmate that I am deeply compatible with in disposition, point of view, andsensitivity - someone for whom I have a deep affinity and a profoundconnection with. Someone that brings out the best in me and someone that I canrelish the little moments with. Someone that I share an unspoken familiarityand mutuality with.

Ibelieve, as Richard Bach described, "A soulmate is someone who has thelocks to fit our keys, and the keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enoughto open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely andhonestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and for who we'repretending to be. Each of us unveils the best part of one another. No matterwhat else goes wrong around us, with that one person were safe in our paradise.Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense ofdirection. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chancesare we've found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who make life come tolife."

Granted,I don't think being in a relationship with your "soulmate" makeseverything smell likes roses and leads to a relationship free ofstruggles or trouble. I believe that soul mates must work hard at theirrelationship and there are many unique challenges. If the essentials of love,respect and communication aren't present - any relation ship will fail,including one between soul mates. A soulmate relationship should lackintimidation, manipulation or abuse - should make you feel safe.

Doyou believe in soulmates?

101 in 1001

2011-11-08T23:18:00.000-07:00

In my random ramblings through the intertubes, I ran across this site, Day Zero Project. The premise is to create a list of 101 specific goals to accomplish in 1001 days (2.75 years).

I started my list with 64 goals so far... take a look at tell me what I'm missing. I need to come up with some more...Oh, I just thought of another one.

http://dayzeroproject.com/user/bryceabplanalp

If you create your own list, be sure to let me know so we can follow each other.

...then fed by anyone else.

2011-10-14T15:11:00.000-06:00

"I'd sooner be eaten by you then fed by anyone else."

- The Horse and His Boy by CS Lewis

I love the power of this quote.

How often can we say that to Jesus Christ?

That we would rather be caught up in His consuming fire than taken in by all the world's pleasures.That we would rather follow Him by faith into all the troubles of this world than live by the world's comforts...

Or in the words of the afflicted prophet Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." (Job 13:15)

Are we willing to be consumed by Christ, devoured by His saving grace, and slain by His atoning blood?

Five Laws...

2011-10-14T13:49:00.001-06:00

The law of VALUE

Your true worth is determined by how much more

you give in value than you take in payment.

The law of COMPENSATION

Your income is determined by how many people you serve and

how well you serve them.

The law of INFLUENCE

Your influence is determined by how abundantly

you place other people's interests first.

The law of AUTHENTICITY

The most valuable gift you have to offer is yourself.

The law of RECEPTIVITY

The key to effective giving is to stay open to receiving.

My banner will be clear.

2011-10-12T23:31:00.004-06:00

When I'm struggling in life it helps to remember who I am...

I am part of the fellowship of the unashamed.

The dye has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made.

I am a disciple of Jesus Christ.

I won't look back, let up, slow down, or be still.

My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure.

I'm finished and done with low living, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, positions, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded.

I now live by faith, lean on His presence, walk with patience,

am uplifted by prayer, and labor with power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven.

My road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few,

my guide is reliable, my mission is clear.

I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, divided, or delayed.

I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the adversary, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity,

or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won't give up, shut up, or let up until I have stayed up, stored up, and paid up for the cause of Christ. I must go till He comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till He stops me. And when He returns for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me.

My banner will be clear.

A Forever Family

2011-10-12T07:32:00.001-06:00

I want a family that laughs together, learns together, and loves together.

"To love would be an awfully big adventure.”

2011-10-11T05:11:00.000-06:00

A spouse, a partner, a friend, and a lover to:

share ideas with and discuss current events
to go on bike rides with
to scrimp and save with
to change the world with
to see the marvels of the world with, but also help me remember the drops of oil on the spoon
to tell me when I'm wrong and accept my apologies
to share my dreams and aspirations with
to tell me its all going to be alright after I've had a bad day
to watch our kids open presents on Christmas morning with, after staying up all night putting them together
to go camping with and watch the stars
get lost on road trips
to achieve our goals with
to watch movies with
to succeed with
and fail with
to be my partner
to be my best friend
take long talks with and lose track of time
to inspire me to be better than I thought I could be
to inspire
to share the rest of my life
to share myself
to travel the world with (Italy, France, Australia, Africa, Mexico...)
to grow old with
to ride a train to the tip of Maine and be the first people to watch the sunrise over America
to have an eternal family with
to buy our dream house with and fill it with children and pictures and books
to go to the temple with
to adopt with
to serve a mission with
to hold family prayer and scripture study with
to pack bags of Cheerios for sacrament meeting with
be honest
to respect
that loves me
I'm in love with.

Is that too much to ask? I hope not...

(PS - I borrowed the title quote from Michal. Isn't it great?)

Home is Where the Heart Is

2011-10-11T02:09:00.001-06:00

I want a home that

we can raise a family in...
we an host get togethers with my extended family...
is paid off...
my children want to hang out in...
that as a sense of style to it...
that as all the quirks that I've thought of over the years, like outlets in the cupboards and a double entry doors, and stairs that are easy to get a Christmas tree down...
my kids write on the walls and I'm ok with it...
shows the wear and tear of raising a family.

"Do what you believe is great work..."

2011-10-10T15:58:00.005-06:00

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you fit in. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle." --Steve Jobs

I want a career that allows me to support my family, but doesn't keep me from spending time with them. I won't be a slave to my job. I would rather be poor and happy that rich and miserable.

I want a career that gives me the opportunity to fulfill my dreams and isn't about the money. Being the richest guy in the cemetery doesn't matter to me. I want a career that makes the world a better place, as cliche as that sounds.

I want a career that doesn't feel like work - something that I have fun doing and puts a smile on my face, something that I'm good at and that I can get excited about. I don't want to settle on my career - I'm going to keep looking...

Hey you...

2011-10-07T14:47:00.002-06:00

Hey you!

Yes, you.

Stop being unhappy with yourself. You are perfect.

Stop wishing you looked like someone else or wishing people liked you as much as they like someone else.

Stop trying to get attention from those who hurt you. Stop hating your body, your face, your personality, your quirks. Love them. Without those things you wouldn't be you. Why would you want to be anyone else?

Be confident with who you are. Smile. It'll draw people in.

Say, "My happiness will not depend on others anymore.

I'm happy because I love who I am. I love my flaws. I love my imperfections. They make me ME...and "me" is pretty amazing."

Christ - the only complete realist

2011-10-06T18:51:00.001-06:00

"No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have always lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it; and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation really means—the only complete realist." -- Clive Staples Lewis

Drops of Oil

2011-09-29T15:17:00.004-06:00

First, a story...

"A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.

"Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with the platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the man's attention.

"The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn't have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.

"'Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something,' said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. 'As you wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill.'

"The boy began climbing and descending the main stairways of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was.

"'Well,' asked the wise man, ' did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?'

"The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

"'Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,' said the wise man. 'You cannot trust a man if you don't know his house.'

"Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceiling and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen.

"'But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?' asked the wie man.

"Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

"'Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,' side the wisest of wise men. 'The secret of happiness is to see the marvels of the world, and never forget the drops of oil on the spoon.'"

How can we go through life and experience all the joys of the world without spilling our oil? I think the drops of oil are representative of our daily responsibilities and tasks...going to work, cleaning the house, taking a shower, etc. It all comes back to balance. Our lives must have balance. We cannot focus all our efforts on long-term goals and forget the short-term, after all, the journey of a thousand miles is just a million small steps. On the other hand, we cannot get too caught up in just surviving this life - we have to be able to thrive. This quest for balance is a decision we have to make everyday. We need to constantly balance today against tomorrow...and tomorrow's tomorrow. I don't want to look back at my life, twenty years from now, and realize that I haven't seen the beauties of the world...but I also don't want to spill my oil by running around recklessly.

What are your drops of oil?

Validation

2011-09-05T21:30:00.000-06:00

Everyone should watch this...it makes me want to be a better person.

"We could go bowling...or we could just hang ourselves."

2011-08-16T16:14:00.002-06:00

I hate bowling...

and this video is funny...

T.V.

2011-08-11T14:15:00.000-06:00

The Greek word for "far" is tele. The Latin word for "sight" is visio. These two words together form one pretty awesome word: TELEVISION. The TV is been commercially available since the late 1930s, and I love it.

Today, over 99% of American households own a TV. Also, the average home has more than 2 TVs and 66% of Americans have 3 or more sets. According to Nielsen, the average American watches over 4 hours of TV a day. In a 65-year life, the average American will have spent over 9 years watching TV! Almost as surprising, only 49% of American's feel that they watch too much TV. Does this mean that 51% don't think 4 hours is enough!!

I believe I more than qualify as an "Average American." I currently have six TVs in my house, not including the two sets sitting in my basement that aren't plugged in. I don't watch four hours of TV a day...but I might if I could. By no means am I a TV junkie, but I do indulge far too often. I started typing a list of all the TV shows a regularly follow...this doesn't even include the shows that I'll watch when nothing else is on. Some of my favorites.

Amazing Race (Truly AMAZING...I'm going on it one day and winning a cool $1,000,000)
Desperate Housewives (Its my guilty pleasure & I watch it every week with my mom)
Survivor (I've been watching all 20 seasons and we still hold "Survivor Parties")
The O.C. (My heart broke when Marissa died...stupid Volchok)
Seinfeld (The classic...always an awesome watch at 10:30 on Fox)
30 Rock (The show is comedic genius...Liz Lemon is hysterical)
The Office (I'm fading on this one...but still always hilarious to watch)
SNL (No show makes me laugh harder...those ESPN Classic parodies are priceless)
The Big Bang Theory (Highly recommend it...Sheldon is a genius...literally)
Lost (This is the show I hate to love...its addicting. I've broken the obsession a few times, but I've started back up again - I have Season 6 left...so many questions)
Law & Order (Dick Wolf is an icon and I love him. I have a L&O ringtone on my phone and I'm pretty sure I've seen every episode ever produced...yet I openly participate in those TBS marathons
Arrested Development (If I had a time machine, my first stop would be to go back and beg people (myself included) to watch this when it was airing so it wouldn't be cancelled...3 seasons was not enough...)

You Are Special

2011-07-22T00:19:00.004-06:00

You Are Speical

-by Max Lucado

The Wemmicks were small wooden people. Each of the wooden people was carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Every Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village. And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another.

The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots. The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing very pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.

Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star it made them feel so good that they did something else and got another star. Others, though, could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots.

Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots. He would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots. After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one without reason. "He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another. "He's not a good wooden person."

After a while Punchinello believed them. "I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say. The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia. It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either. 'That's the way I want to be,'thought Punchinello. 'I don't want anyone's marks.' So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it. "It's easy," Lucia replied. "every day I go see Eli."

"Eli?" "Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him." "Why?" "Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there."

And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away. "But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out. Lucia didn't hear. So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots. "It's not right," he muttered to himself. And he resolved to go see Eli. He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave. Then he heard his name.

"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong. Punchinello stopped. "Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you." Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.

"Of course I do. I made you." Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray circles. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks." "I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard." "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think." "You don't?"

No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots?
They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."
Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me."
Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this--much less his maker. He didn't know what to say.
"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.
"I came because I met someone who had no marks."
"I know. She told me about you."
"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"
"Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."

"What?"
"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care." Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground. "Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door. "You are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think he really means it."
And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.

May all your dots fall silently to the ground, for if given by man, they matter only to other men, if given by the Gods, no one questions, the scars that make up our lives.

Safety for the Soul

2011-01-13T17:17:00.002-07:00

Making Christmas about Christ

2010-11-03T14:52:00.000-06:00

Today forget all your worries of the world. Clear your mind and think of your Savior Jesus Christ. Imagine Him; think of Him as your older brother with the best expression of love for each one of you. Someone that accepts you with all your defects and appreciates all your qualities. Think of His power and glory, and all that He created and all He’s given you. Imagine that He smiles to you. Think of the life you have, in the marvelous world you are in with the flowers, trees, the sun, the moon, and the stars, and all that He has offered you. Think of your family, your friends, your parents, your brothers, your sisters, your children, your husband, your wife.

Think of the great example that Jesus Christ left you. Think of His sacrifice and His wonderful life that He voluntarily offered to give for you. Think of the suffering that He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane, in which He only felt, in his anguish, in his sadness, of everything He did so that you wouldn’t have to pay the price of your sins. Think of the desire that Christ has that you return home with our Heavenly Father and with Him.

Imagine the great Prince of Peace, humbled, wearing a crown of thorns, badly treated, and not appreciated. Imagine seeing Him carry that heavy wood, when He felt the nails enter into his hands and feet. Try to see His face, the tears He quietly shed. Think of all the suffering He took upon himself.

Now, try to imagine in the distance, you see the sacrificed body of the Savior. Imagine little by little you get closer to Him and the sadness overwhelms you for the suffering He went through. Think of Him agonizing. You and He are alone, you look at Him and He looks at you. Now He sees you and smiles and whispers, “I did everything for you and I want you to never forget how much I love you.” You observe the Savior. What would you be able to tell him? Is there any other way to reach eternal life than with out Jesus Christ?

Choices and Decisions

2010-11-03T11:42:00.000-06:00

I feel like I'm at a turning point in my life. Our lives are constantly and consistently filled with crossroads. These points in our lives are times when we must choose which path to follow. The great poet Robert Frost wrote in his famous poem, The Road Not Taken:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both.

And by one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear

Through as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

--Robert Frost

Elder Neal A. Maxwell said, “There are certain mortal moments and minutes that matter--certain hinge points in the history of each human. Some seconds are so decisive they shrink the soul, while other seconds are spent so as to stretch the soul.” In the words of Elder Maxwell, there are certain points that are more important than others and thus should be given more thought and much more preparation.

In his book, Defining Moments, Hoyt W. Brewster, Jr. affirmed the words of Elder Maxwell when he wrote: “While each decision we make has an ultimate bearing on our future opportunities and blessings, certain pivotal points are critical. In these soul-defining moments, we are faced with choices that one made will, in many cases, forever open or close door of opportunity. Every moment is not equal. Some moments simply pass while other moments determine the course of life.

“History records the positive and negative results of choices that were made in defining moments of such earthly and eternal consequence—moments that mattered so very much. Adam and Eve’s choice to partake of the forbidden fruit and thus effectuate the plan that would bring each of us to earth was a hinge point of history. The scriptures remind us that “Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.” (2 Nephi 2:25)

“Esau’s decision to sell his birthright for a bowl of beans, in order to satisfy a short-lived physical craving, not only shoed shortsightedness on his part but also had lasting effects on his potential posterity. Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are today the children of Jacob rather than of Esau.

“How often in life have we, like Esau, bartered away something of significant, even eternal, value in order to satisfy a short-lived passion, appetite, or desire? Occasionally this bartering away of values occurs in private moments, when we succumb to personal temptation. Choices made in character-defining moments, whether public or private, determine our destiny.

“King David’s decision not only to pause and watch a woman bathing but also to pursue the evil thoughts spawned in that moment of sin led to his loss of a much more important crown than the one won on his mortal brow.

“Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, was an example of one who made the right choices regardless of the sometimes unfair consequences. His steadfast refusal to submit to the seductive invitations of his master Potiphar’s wife led to her unrighteous rage toward him. Because he stood for what was right in a defining moment, Joseph was unjustly cast into a foul prison for years.

“Blessings for doing right do not always come immediately. One who stands for the right may sometimes suffer severe persecution or stand outside the popular crowd—for a few mortal moment. But the Lord has promised, “If thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes” (D&C 121:8).

“The prophet Abinadi’s unwavering refusal to recant his testimony of Jesus Christ led not only to his own martyrdom but also to the conversion of a young priest named Alma. In a defining moment, one man’s death by fire kindled the flame of faith in another.

“One of the great lesions to be learned from those who have made correct choices is that they have decided on their course of action in advance. They have set their lives on such a proper path that when a moment of decision arrives, their reaction is natural. Thus, if you haven’t already done so, make the decision now that you will never barter away the standards you know to be true.”

According to Hoyt W. Brewster Jr, it is before these decisive moments arise that we must make our decision. If we wait until we’re looking it in the face, it will be too late. Neal A. Maxwell wrote, “Act now, so that a thousand years from now, when you look back at this moment, you can say this was a moment that mattered—this was a day of determination.”

Our lives are all about choices. The choice is ours.

"Watch the costs and the profits will take care of themselves."

2010-09-30T11:07:00.002-06:00

It has been a long while since I blogged last. My two friends "Adventure" and "Whim" have been hanging around a lot lately...and it has been great. Three weeks ago I moved to Chicago to start an exciting new company called CLEANWRAP. (The website is www.cleanwrap.net if you want to check it out) I enjoy the spirit of entrepreneurship that everyone on the team has, its amazing. We are pinching pennies and trying to get by on our shoe-string budget. Sometimes as I lay down to sleep on the air mattress, I can't help but be reminded of the inspiring business quote by Andrew Carnegie, "Watch the costs and the profits will take care of themselves."

2010-06-01T17:11:00.001-06:00

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are younot to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

--Marianne Williamson

Political Correctness...

2010-05-17T14:15:00.000-06:00

I began to write a post on political correctness..but realized that Charleton Heston had already said it much better. This is taken (edited down a bit) from a speech he gave to the Harvard Law Forum on February 16, 1999.

"Dedicating the memorial at Gettysburg, Abraham Lincoln said of America,"We are now engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether this nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure." Those words are true again. I believe that we are again engaged in a great civil war, a cultural war that's about to hijack your birthright to think and say what resides in your heart. I fear you no longer trust the pulsing lifeblood of liberty inside you ... the stuff that made this country rise from wilderness into the miracle that it is.

"I've come to understand that a cultural war is raging across our land, in which, with Orwellian fervor, certain acceptable thoughts and speech are mandated. For example, I marched for civil rights with Dr.King in 1963 - long before Hollywood found it fashionable. But when I told an audience last year that white pride is just as valid as black pride or red pride or anyone else's pride, they called me a racist. I've worked with brilliantly talented homosexuals all my life. But when I told an audience that gay rights should extend no further than your rights or my rights, I was called a homophobe. I served in World War II against the Axis powers. But during a speech, when I drew an analogy between singling out innocent Jews and singling out innocent gun owners, I was called an anti-Semite. Everyone I know knows I would never raise a closed fist against my country. But when I asked an audience to oppose this cultural persecution, I was compared to Timothy McVeigh.

"From time to time, friends and colleagues, they're essentially friends from Time Magazine, say how dare you speak your mind. You are using language not authorized for public consumption!" But I am not afraid. If Americans believed in political correctness, we'd still be King George's boys - subjects bound to the British crown.

"For me, hyphenated identities are awkward ... particularly "Native-American." I'm a Native American, for God's sake. I also happen to be a blood-initiated brother of the Miniconjou Sioux. On my wife's side, my grandson is a thirteenth generation native American... with a capital letter on "American."

“Telling us what to think has evolved into telling us what to say , so telling us what to do can't be far behind. Before you claim to be a champion of free thought, tell me: Why did political correctness originate on America's campuses? And why do you continue to tolerate it? Why do you, who're supposed to debate ideas, surrender to their suppression? Let's be honest. Who here thinks your professors can say what they really believe? It scares me to death, and should scare you too, that the superstition of political correctness rules the halls of reason. You are the best and the rightist. You, here in the fertile cradle of American academia, here in the castle of learning on the Charles River, you are the cream. But I submit that you, and your counterparts across the land, are the most socially conformed and politically silenced generation since Concord Bridge. And as long as you validate that and abide it ... you are - by your grandfathers' standards - cowards.

"Who will defend the core value of academia, if you supposed soldiers of free thought and expression lay down your arms and plead, "Don't shoot me." If you talk about race, it does not make you a racist. If you see distinctions between the genders, it does not make you a sexist. If you think critically about a denomination, it does not make you anti-religion. If you accept but don't celebrate homosexuality, it does not make you a homophobe. Don't let America's universities continue to serve as incubators for this rampant epidemic of new McCarthyism.

"But what can you do? How can anyone prevail against such pervasive social subjugation? The answer's been here all along. I learned it 36 years ago, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C., standing with Dr. Martin Luther King and two hundred thousand people. You simply ... disobey. Peaceably, yes. Respectfully, of course. Nonviolently, absolutely. But when told how to think or what to say or how to behave, we don't. We disobey social protocol that stifles and stigmatizes personal freedom. I learned the awesome power of disobedience from Dr. King ...who learned it from Gandhi, and Thoreau, and Jesus, and every other great man who led those in the right against those with the might.

"Disobedience is in our DNA. We feel innate kinship with that disobedient spirit that tossed tea into Boston Harbor, that sent Thoreau to jail, that refused to sit in the back of the bus, that protested a war in Vietnam. In that same spirit, I am asking you to disavow cultural correctness with massive disobedience of rogue authority, social directives and onerous laws that weaken personal freedom.

"But be careful ... it hurts. Disobedience demands that you put yourself at risk. Dr. King stood on lots of balconies. You must be willing to be humiliated ... to endure the modern-day equivalent of the police dogs at Montgomery and the water cannons at Selma. You must be willing to experience discomfort. I'm not complaining, but my own decades of social activism have taken their toll on me.

"Let me tell you a story. A few years back I heard about a rapper named Ice-T who was selling a CD called "Cop Killer" celebrating ambushing and murdering police officers. It was being marketed by none other than Time/Warner, the biggest entertainment conglomerate in the world. Police across the country were outraged. Rightfully so-at least one had been murdered. But Time/Warner was stonewalling because the CD was a cash cow for them, and the media were tiptoeing around it because the rapper was black. I heard Time/Warner had a stockholders meeting scheduled in Beverly Hills. I owned some shares at the time, so I decided to attend. What I did there was against the advice of my family and colleagues. I asked for the floor. To a hushed room of a thousand average American stockholders, I simply read the full lyrics of "Cop Killer"- every vicious, vulgar, instructional word.

"I GOT MY 12 GAUGE SAWED OFF
I GOT MY HEADLIGHTS TURNED OFF
I'M ABOUT TO BUST SOME SHOTS OFF
I'M ABOUT TO DUST SOME COPS OFF..."

"It got worse, a lot worse. I won't read the rest of it to you. But trust me, the room was a sea of shocked, frozen, blanched faces. The Time/Warner executives squirmed in their chairs and stared at their shoes. They hated me for that. Then I delivered another volley of sick lyric brimming with racist filth, where Ice-T fantasizes about sodomizing two 12-year old nieces of Al and Tipper Gore.

"SHE PUSHED HER BUTT AGAINST MY ...."

Well, I won't do to you here what I did to them. Let's just say I left the room in echoing silence. When I read the lyrics to the waiting press corps, one of them said "We can't print that." "I know," I replied, "but Time/Warner's selling it." Two months later, Time/Warner terminated Ice-T's contract. I'll never be offered another film by Warner's, or get a good review from Time magazine. But disobedience means you must be willing to act, not just talk.

"When a mugger sues his elderly victim for defending herself ... jam the switchboard of the district attorney's office. When your university is pressured to lower standards until 80% of the students graduate with honors... choke the halls of the board of regents. When an 8-year-old boy pecks a girl's cheek on the playground and gets hauled into court for sexual harassment ... march on that school and block its doorways. When someone you elected is seduced by political power and betrays you...petition them, oust them, banish them. When Time magazine's cover portrays millennium nuts as deranged, crazy Christians holding a cross as it did last month ...boycott their magazine and the products it advertises.

"So that this nation may long endure, I urge you to follow in the hallowed footsteps of the great disobedience's of history that freed exiles, founded religions, defeated tyrants, and yes, in the hands of an aroused rabble in arms and a few great men, by God's grace, built this country. If Dr. King were here, I think he would agree."

The Unexamined Life...

2010-05-11T15:52:00.003-06:00

"The unexamined life is not worth living." --Socrates

What is an 'unexamined life'? I think it means that day-to-day, routinely repeating pattern of our lives: sleep, eat, work, eat, work, eat, sleep...repeat. All to often, we get caught up in our hectic lives that we fail to STOP and THINK. When we're young, all our choices are made for us.We're told what to wear, to eat, to learn, and to do. We get in that pattern of doing what we're told and never thinking for ourselves. When we're older, we make many more choices, yet we make these choices from a limited selection of options that our environment, our friends, our families, our employers, our teachers, or simply our habits present to us. Rarely, if ever, do we stop to reflect on what we truly want in life, on who we are and what we want to become, on what difference we want to make in the world, or on what is really right for us.

The price we pay for living an unexamined life, is precisely that, our lives. The real cost is the investment of all our energies in a direction thats not of our own choosing! Cervantes said, "Make it they business to know thyself, which is the most difficult lesson in the world."

Let us each live a life worth living. Take a moment each day to ponder about YOU. Think of what you want, what you want to become, what is really right for you. If you think you're too busy or the cost is too great, think of the real cost your paying--your entire life. After all, "The unexamined life is not worth living."

He has not left that open to us...

2010-04-27T10:41:00.003-06:00

"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: 'I'm ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don't accept His claim to be God.' That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would be either a lunatic — on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to." --C.S. Lewis

Flaws

2010-03-06T12:29:00.000-07:00

Flaws, we all have them. Some are more noticeable and worse than others. While some people may be arrogant or argumentative, others are dishonest or conceited. A few are perfectionists and some are stubborn. Where some are combative or selfish, others are humorless or vain. Not everyone has every flaw, but I'm pretty sure everyone has at least a couple. Too often we are overly critical of ourselves or we always see ourselves through rose-colored glasses. Either way we stick to the ends of the spectrum and get no where productive. A few years ago I was taught to always attempt to see others as their mother's see them...and my mom thinks I'm perfect, so you get the drift. Everyone on this earth is perfectly imperfect. We all have flaws. I want to try to learn to celebrate flaws, not judge them.

Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone...

2009-12-01T14:35:00.000-07:00

**I originally wrote this post back in August, but never posted it. In light of Tiger Woods' recent struggles with the media, I've decided it is again relevant*

What makes any sex/money/politics/family/religious scandle ten times worse? A failed cover-up... Everyone loves a good cover-up right? Just ask Bill Clinton how much a cover up really works? Or Richard Nixon if you need a second opinion. And if you're still not sure, ask the Catholic Church if any sort of cover-up worked out for them. A failed cover-up only adds fuel to the fire and headlines to the news.

How many times have you promised not to tell a soul, heard a story and then turned right around and told someone else? (I know what you're thinking..."But I made them promise not to tell anyone, so I'm ok.") Its a social disease and everyone has it, NO ONE CAN KEEP A SECRET. We've all done it and I'm just as guilty. You hear a juicy, tantalizing story about someone and you just have to tell someone. I don't write this post because someone betrayed my secret trust, quite the contrary. For some reason people feel drawn to tell me their secrets. Sometimes people don't tell me their secrets and then think I don't know, but really someone already told me the secret. Confused yet? Basically, I know your secret. I contemplated making a list of all the super awesome secrets I know about people. I'm sure to get a few more readers, but a lot less friends. So your secret is safe with me...for now.

Don't take pity on me...

2009-11-29T11:30:00.002-07:00

Life can be rough. I've been sick for the last month with a cold and then the H1N1 flu. I wrecked my car. I can't find a job...blah blah blah. Sadly, I even went as far to say, "I feel like Job" as a Facebook status. How pathetic am I? So I kinda thew together this little poem...I can't even remember the last time I wrote a poem.

Don't take pity on me.

Empathize for the sick and the dying who's days are marked.

Give solace to the soldiers who risk their lives for freedom.

Have mercy for those who wilt away in prisons for crimes long ago.

Don't take pity on me.

Pray for the starving children who awake and sleep each day with pangs of hunger.

Feel compassion for the homeless who sleep on cold concrete and search for shelter.

Have charity for those downtrodden who have no one to love.

Don't take pity on me.

I have my health.

I have my freedom.

I have my future.

Don't take pity on me.

I have my subsistence.

I have my home.

I have my family.

Don't take pity on me.

Cheating...

2009-11-12T10:18:00.004-07:00

As most of you know, for the last two years I’ve been a substitute teacher. I don’t do it a whole lot, but its always an adventure when I do. If I were smarter, I would’ve written down all my funny and memorable experiences…but I didn’t. But yesterday, I got a good one…

I was subbing a high school English class. The students were taking a vocabulary quiz using a scantron. I’m at my desk, minding my own business, when I see out of the corner of my eye, some girl slyly slide the test and scantron into her notebook. I’ve seen this move before. I call it the “switch-n-sneak.” Here’s how the rouse works: Students take the test home, complete it, then sneak it back into the classroom. Maybe they’ll put it in the basket or hide it among papers on the teacher’s desk. All in the hope that the teacher thinks they’ve simply overlooked it among all the other papers they have. It’s a solid move when executed correctly. But sadly, this girl doesn’t understand how to play the game. She was WAY TOO sneaky and I caught on. I saw her do it…but decided to see what her plan was. So I wait until ‘everyone’ is done and count up the exams. Of course, I’m one short. So I play the idiot and ask, “Who isn’t done yet?” No one responds… “Ok, so I’m an exam short. Did someone not take it?” Silence…but I decide to wait this one out and let the guilt eat her alive. After about 30 seconds of awkward silence she says, “Oh, I was gone last time so I didn’t take it.” Again, playing the part of the idiot I say, “Oh. That makes sense. So did I give you the exam and scantron?” She, thinking she’s in the clear, says, “Nope. I just didn’t take one.” It crossed my mind to cause a major scene and jump up on my desk, scream “YOU LIE!”, grab the notebook from her desk and parade it around…but I declined. I let her think she had gotten away with it for a few more minutes. When the class had moved on to other things, I sat down in the desk next to her, smiled and said, “Ya…so I saw you sneak the test into your notebook. Lets not cause a scene, so how about you just give it back to me and we move on?” She got a wide eyed look on her face and then accepted my pardon by handing over the exam. Hopefully she learned a valuable lesson on lying, but I doubt it. She’ll probably just refine her game for next time.

Some students walk into a class I’m substitute teaching in and automatically assume I’m an idiot. I know from experience that some subs are idiots…I just try not to think of myself as one. They probably think they can get away with their little tricks and games. Most of them don’t realize that I was in high school not so long ago and I learned those tricks and games and substitute teaching has only refined my skills. The “switch-n-sneak” was in play long before this girl attempted it and it’ll be here long after. I know of tricks she hasn’t even dreamed of. I’ve heard of all the tricks, seen some in action and even practiced a few. This are some of the tricks I’ve encountered in one way or another:

“The Sneak-n-switch”: cousin of the “switch-n-sneak.” It works in almost the opposite way. You somehow get a hold of the test before hand and sneak in your answers. Say you have an in-class essay. You write the essay beforehand, in the comfort of your home, and then simply turn that one in.

“The Informant” or “The Accomplice”: where you have a friend who has the class before you and can relay information to you. They take the test, then relay information to you that you use when you take the test. This works best if the principle of reciprocity works: you need to have class before them somewhere in your schedule so you can return the favor.

“The Morse Code”: This one is elaborate. You and a friend in the same class devise a system of sharing answers using a series of signals or taps on the desk. You tap out the number in question and then have a system taps to indicate the answers; A=1 tap, B=2 taps, etc. This one is tricky and can’t be used often.

“The Hall Pass”: In this case, you store valuable information in you locker. Get stuck on a question, use the hall pass, find said answer. Again, this is a one-time deal. Unless you have a 44 oz. Mountain Dew on your desk…then maybe you can get away with two trips.

“The Technology”: This one involves the sophisticated use of technology. Most teachers will let students listen to an iPod while taking a test. Classical music is always good to get the brain firing, right? Well, what if that “Classical Music: Track 1” is actually a series of recorded notes? Don’t laugh, I’ve seen it in action.

“The Old School”: This is where you writes on some portion of your body, ie. Your hand, arm, ankle, etc. Or writing notes on a pencil, the brim of your hat, tongue of your shoe, etc. Again, these techniques are old school to the core.

“The Pre-emptive Strike”: This is where you miss the class the day before the exam. Hence, most likely granting yourself one more day of study time and probably allowing you to use the “Informant” technique.

“The Excuse”: “My computer wouldn't print off. I sent you the e-mail did you not get it? My boyfriend's uncle died. I don't know how to work Blackboard. I did the assignment but it deleted itself while I was trying to print it off. I'm just having some real serious personal issues right now that are too hard to talk about...” You get the idea…

Now, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I cheated my way through school, I didn’t. Although, I’ll be the first to admit that I have cheated on occasion but I think everyone has at one time or another. We’ve all, in a moment of weakness, looked over at our neighbor’s paper or asked a friend what was on the exam. Some people are better at it than others. Thats the sad thing. If that girl had an ounce of "game" she would've gotten away with it. She was a rookie...

I before E except after who the hell cares.

2009-10-11T11:24:00.000-06:00

There a few things in this world I'm good at... like knowing all my state capitals, jumping off high things into extremely shallow water, and rolling my Rs... These things come naturally. I can almost do them with my eyes closed, and in the case of jumping into shallow water-I have to. One thing that I am awful at is spelling. My friend Spelling & I do not get along; he is my nemesis. Ever since I learned to talk, I could not spell. (You may find this strange since my last name is a such an awesome word to have to learn how to spell as a child. This is the exception.) I still have little tricks and mnemonic devices to remember how to spell words. B-E-A-utiful, Tom-mor-ow, etc. You know the drill. These little tricks are my crutch...

I once heard it said that a synonym is a word that you use when you don't know how to spell the word you were going to use. This must've been said about me because I am constantly replacing words with easier to spell ones.

You're probably wondering why this post isn't littered with misspelled words...Well, one day my spelling woes were changed forever...I discovered Spellchecker. Many historians say the printing press was the greatest invention in the history of the world...Without a doubt, Spellchecker is a close second. I could not survive without it. There are too many rules and exceptions to those rules that I can't keep them straight. Its always "i before e, except after c, unless..." and you lost me. I can't keep them straight...

I bring this all up because I typed a paper for school a few weeks ago. I had done a good job of having a decent thesis, transitions, conclusion, etc. I got my paper back and my professor docked me a full letter grade because I spelled his name wrong. His name is "Stephen" and I spelled it "Steven." (He still pronounces it with a "V" sound, bytheway.) I now make it a point to always call him SteFFFFFen. I should have been more careful but I still think its a stupid thing to get all worked up on. I've spent my entire life having my last name slaughtered and it doesn't bother me. Some people need to put their big-boy underwear on and do work...thats all.

Epiphany: A Divine Manifestation

2009-09-11T23:38:00.010-06:00

Back in May I decided my life needed a little more spice to it. I began looking into buying a motorcycle. My dad called it "the stupidest idea he'd ever heard". Thats when I knew I had to do it. I bought myself a nice little gem of a starter bike to learn the ropes on, in the hopes of buying a sweet Harley sometime soon. For several months she went unnamed. I tried to force the name by looking up ideaa on the internet. Wisely, I consulted my motorcycle guru, Miss Jordan Rasband & took her advice. "Don't force it. It will come, just give it time." This is that story...

There are certain moments in history that you never forget where you were when you heard the news. I remember being at South Hill Middle School, roaming around the halls when I heard the news about 9/11. I remember reffing Jr. Jazz when the Space Shuttle Columbia crashed over Texas. I remember sitting in a hotel room in Mexico when the US invaded Iraq. I remember being in my basement when John Stockton hit "the shot" against Houston in '96. Recently, I remember being in Target when I heard the news that the late-great-King of Pop, Michael Jackson had died. I've been a fan of Michael Jackson ever since I first heard him. It was Smooth Criminal in my friend, Ted Ethington's basement in elementary school. Although I was a fan, it was casual at best. I had several of his CD's and a playlist on my iPod, but nothing too major. My King of Pop 'fanhood', if you will, was taken up a notch one special night after watching his live DANGEROUS concert in Bucharest (pure awesomeness & the work of a true genius). After leaving the company of Chelsee, I was riding around my nameless bike singing Michael Jackson tunes at the top of my lungs. (The sign of a true fan) Luckily I was wearing my helmet so no one was forced to run me off the road to save the world from my tone-deaf vocals. It was in the midst of singing one of my all-time favorites, that it hit me...

My motorcycle was Diana. Just as in the song, "Dirty Diana", I had told myself she wouldn't seduce me, but she did. It was as if she had spoken to me and whispered "I have the stuff that you want, I am the thing that you need." She was my "night lovin' thing" that "thing I could taunt." So I named my motorcycle Dirty Diana. It suits her well. We both know it wont last forever. She fulfills my needs and I rev her engine. She is my Dirty Diana. It may just be a summer fling until I move on to something better, but you never forget your first.

For your viewing pleasure...and this is required.

OMG ROLFLMAO LOL makes me (sad face)

2009-09-02T19:51:00.005-06:00

The origins of texting are somewhat obscure. NASA claims they sent the first text message in 1989, using a simple pager and upside down numbers that could be read as words. Remember that from elementary? Spelling "Boobs" or "hello"? Same kind of thing...

However, Nokia asserts they sent the first text message from a cell phone in 1993. In 1995, the average customer sent .4 texts per month. Today kids send that many per second, literally.

In my blog research, (Yes, I do research) I stumbled across this little nugget of a story. You can read it if you want, but I'll summarize: In one month a girl sent 14,528 text messages. The text message portion of her bill was 440 pages long. This equates to 484 text messages a day or one text every two minutes of every waking hour. Luckily she had unlimited texting, if not, her bill would've been in the neighborhood of $3,000.

I got my first cell phone when I was in 7th grade. Not very many students had cell phones back then and I probably had like 10 minutes a month. Texting wasn't big in my middle school. We had the option but it cost $.25 or something every text you sent or received. The only reasonable text you could send would be "Mom, the house burned down. Everything is gone. I'm sending this with my one remaining digit as I'm being rushed to the hospital." Anything other than that was unheard of and a waste of money. I don't even remember it being very big my sophomore year...but by my senior year it was multiplying like a bunch of rabbits. Today the average person sends about 200 texts per month. Obviously this is somewhat skewed by that girl texting her fingers raw...but then again my dad sends a grand total of 0 texts per month. In the interest of full disclosure, I average about 2,500 texts per month.

I bring all this up because of a text I received the other day. As embarrassed as I am to admit I actually associate with people like this, this is what it said: "Hw l8 u gna b up 2nit? We gta tlk." If I had anything in my stomach at the time, I'm sure I would've lost it. There is no place in the world for things like that. I was sickened... People that are fortunate enough to frequently text me know that I don't partake of the texting slang and abbreviations. I use appropriate capital letters, punctuation and grammar. Sure it may take me a little bit longer, but at least I don't look stupid. Honestly, I didn't know what ROFL meant until I finally looked it up the other day. Show some class out there folks.

Also, another small text messaging rant. There is never a reason for someone with a Y chromosome to use LOL...never...ever...ever. I instantly lose respect for guys that use it. And I doubt you're literally laughing out loud. Just stop doing it.

Onwards and Upwards...

Moses, Tiger and I...

2009-08-08T14:56:00.002-06:00

What do Moses, Bill Walton, Herschel Walker, James Earl Jones, Bruce Willis, Mike Rowe, Adrian Peterson, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Winston Churchill, Jack Welch, Tiger Woods and I have in common?

We all stutter.

Stuttering is a speech disorder in which the flow of speech is disrupted by involuntary repetitions and prolongations of sounds, syllables, words or phrases, and involuntary silent pauses or blocks in which the stutterer is unable to produce sounds. Stuttering, in my case, is an involuntary repetition and prolongation of sounds or syllables, or block in which I cannot produce sounds. I have had this condition as long as I can remember. I went through speech therapy with a speech pathologist since before kindergarten and into high school. It has gotten better throughout the years but has never completely gone away. I'm told that people don't notice, but I don't believe these people. I know I stutter and I know that others know I stutter. I'm on the path of learning to accept it and living with it. I'm not at that destination yet.

Most people wouldn't make fun of a quadriplegic, a deaf or blind person, or a mentally handicapped individual; but for some reason people don't seem to have an issue with pointing out or making jokes at someone that stutters. Honestly, I believe its more out of ignorance than shallow character. I don't think people are intentionally attempting to make fun of my speech disorder, although I could be wrong. Usually people will repeat my stutter, as if I was unaware. Believe me, I'm more than aware. More often than not, the first time I meet someone they will point out my stutter. Several of my closest friends have made fun of my stutter as well as countless strangers. I don't bring this up because I'm bitter or spiteful. I've learned to be able to laugh off these situations, at least publicly. I try not to bother me, but it is frustrating and thinking about it only makes it worse. It makes job interviews or phone calls difficult, but I've learned to keep it at a minimum. A funny "stuttering" story happened a few years ago when I went to a missionary farewell of a friend of a friend. We were all in the kitchen telling stories and making jokes. I don't remember what story I was telling, but I stuttered badly on the word "commitment." A woman I'd never met jumped in and began to psychoanalyze me based on my stuttering on "commitment." She claimed I was afraid of commitment and a long-term relationship. I listened to her theory for a few minutes and then said, "Actually, I just have a speech impediment." In her defense, the woman apologized profusely and my friends and I still joke around at the story.

I stutter but so do a lot of famous and successful people. Because of my stuttering, I've had bad job interviews, horrible church talks, and awful school presentations but I don't think it'll stop me from living a full and happy life. The next time you hear someone stutter and you think how hard it is to understand them, remember that you have to deal with it for a few minutes while they have to live with it constantly. They're much more aware and self-conscious of it than you are. At the end of the day, there are a lot worse disorders or disabilities that I could have so I'm not complaining...

Love it? Hate it? Let me know...

Literally...

2009-07-15T13:40:00.002-06:00

Every good Mormon knows that a decent Sacrament Meeting talk begins with the very original line of "Webster's Dictionary defines _____ as... In that spirit I submit the following...
Webster's Dictionary defines literally as: in a literal sense, actual, without interpretation or embellishment. Literally maybe be the most overused word in the English language, or at least a close second to like or just. How did literally come to mean the complete opposite of what it actually means? How did literally come to mean figuratively?
There are numerous ways to misuse and abuse literally. I simply point out the worst two.

First, people often use literally when it is unnecessary.

"I am so tired I could literally fall asleep." Is there another way to fall asleep? I thought thhe literal way was the only way.
"I am literally upset." Thank you for making it clear that you weren't figuratively upset. I was confused with what exactly you were going for there.

Second, the most frequent abuse of literally is when you actually mean figuratively.

"I am literally going to kill him." Wow, I'm glad to know that you evaluated every rational response to this scenario and came up with premeditated murder. Are you sure you wouldn't want to figuratively kill him?
"I am literally losing my mind." Thank you, I will alert the proper authorities.
"I am going to literally die of boredom." First off, that has never happened. If you did, you would be a medical phenomenon, and that is rather exciting.
And my personal favorite, "I am literally starving to death." Ask the children in Africa what it feels like to literally starve to death. I bet it's a lot worse than you think.

I know I'm not the first, nor will I be the last, to write a ranting and unoriginal blog post about literally. I beg us all to use literally less and figuratively more. If you don't, I may figuratively explode.

Gratitude...

2009-07-07T17:36:00.005-06:00

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot on the subject of gratitude and being thankful for what we have. I like to think that most of us “think” we are grateful. Not to discount what we all feel, but I think we are all wildly inadequate. If we could truly stop and think about EVERYTHING that we have and how it compares to the majority of the world, our heads would explode. It is difficult to comprehend. We say we’re thankful for our clothes, our food, or friends, our family…but are we really?

Actually, I take that all back. I cannot speak for all of you, so I’ll speak in terms of me. I like to think I’m an overall grateful person. I try not to waste the things I have; but I am so incredible short on the gratitude scale. I open the fridge and lament that there is “nothing good to eat”…all the while there are children going to bed hungry. I complain that I can’t find anything to wear…all the while there are people shivering in the streets. I complain that I have nothing to do on the Friday night…all the while there are people fighting for their lives. At times I wallow in self pity, but I’m almost positive that 99% of the world wishes they could live the life I do. Overall, I need to be infinitely more grateful.

I don’t mean to be a downer and call everyone to change their ways and become better people. All I’m saying is that I need to be a better person, and I think it starts with gratitude. I had originally typed this post along with another few paragraphs on the beloved Mother Teresa; but I feel that she deserves her own space. (Thats coming soon...) So instead, I close with a simple quote for Saint Teresa: “The trouble is that rich people, well-to-do people, very often don't really know who the poor are; and that is why we can forgive them, for knowledge can only lead to love, and love to service. And so, if they are not touched by them, it's because they do not know them.” Also, “There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things that we could use.”

I’m going to try to “know” the poor, in order that I can be touched by them.

Gratitude…jump on board.

LOST

2009-06-27T21:41:00.004-06:00

Have you every watched LOST? Its crazy good if you haven't. Granted, it has gotten a little weird, but it's still captivating. Why is is that we're fascinated with things that are lost. When we lose things, its hard to function until we find them. We overturn every piece of furniture and look in places we know very well it's impossible its there. I've found myseflf looking in the back of the toilet for things...I have no idea why. And another thing, why is it that whenever you lose something, someone always has the nerve to ask, "Where's the last place you had them?" As if we hadn't thought of that. Thank you very much Captain Obvious...."Oh, ya know what, I had searched every other place besides where I had them last. Thank you for that inspriational guidance you wizard..."

First, a story... When I was younger, my older brother Joel, a friend, and myself walked over to a friend's house to play basketball. Our parents had gone out with some friends and we had neglected to tell anyone where we were going. We were playing basketball and as kids do we lost track of time. It was dark and we went inside to get a drink before we headed home. We realized that it was about 11:30 at night... In our infinite childlike wisdom, we decided that our parents were already asleep and we shouldn't call and wake them up to tell them we were on our way home. Awesome idea huh? So we started walking home. The walk was about a mile and about half way home we were picked up by some fine law enforcement officials. Apparently, we were "lost"... our house was surrounded by about ten flashing police vehicles and the "news" was on their way. The good thing about getting lost when you're young is that your parents really can't yell at you because they are so glad that you're safe.
Second, another story... When I was in about 7th grade, I went with my best friends Bo and Blake to Lake Tahoe on a little vacation. We went with their mom and their mom's friend. They had decided to go into town and do some shopping and left us at the condo to swim. We decided to go to see the new Star Wars movie. We went to the front desk and asked them where the nearest theaters were. They told us there were two, one was just down the street and the other was about 10 miles away. I don't remember why, but the front desk lady got the impression we were going to the one 10 miles away. We left a note that we were walking to the theatre...(ok, maybe we said we were going to the one 10 miles away, I don't remember) Well, we ended up going to the movie just down the street... After the movie, we walked back to the condo and again we were picked up by some fine uniformed officials. Again, we were "lost". (I should note, that Elizabeth Smart was kidnapped about a week before...) Again, its hard to yell at kids when you've been worried sick for the past few hours and you promised God everything just to see them again.
There are numerous other stories of me getting lost...camping, Lagoon, Disneyland, rodeos, etc...As you can see, I have a history of losing things...most often it is myself, although I commonly lose all kinds of things. My 6th birthday was ruined when I lost a little "helicopter pilot" figurine in my front yard. Humanity wasn't restored until about two years ago when I finally found him. I probably spent the greater part of my childhood on "resuce missions" for the poor guy. He now resides on my desk, I kid you not...
Also, I currently cannot find my black Prada sunglasses. I would really like to get them back...if you find them, help me out...

St. Jorge...

2009-05-06T09:38:00.004-06:00

If you read my last post, you know how much I love to play games. I wrote that post not knowing what was in store for me right around the corner. Me and a few of my friends jetted down to St. Jorge for a weekend getaway. We mostly lounged around by the pool, witnessed "Hick & Stick" getting it on in the hot tub, heard an old man yelp at the top of his lungs while bearing his testimony in church. (Apparently it was his pacemaker...), and played glow stick hide-n-seek. This was the highlight of my trip...or it pulls a close second to the old man yelling in church. We hiked up to a cave in Snow Canyon State Park and climbed, crawled and stumbled deep inside the earth until we reached the 'playing field'. We then took our $22 worth of glowsticks and "activated" them. Once they were sufficiently glowing we cut off the tips and proceeded to cover the cave walls and ourselves with the glow stick juice. It looked awesome. We then played an intense game of hide-n-seek. The concept is brilliant...you are able to hide in the open, but no one can see you. You blend in perfectly with the rocks and walls. Believe me, we tried many times to take a picture but it would never turn out...so take my word for it. Even though it got in most of our eyes and burned like all fury, Rachel developed some sort of hives, and we all got cut and bruised, it was the most fun I've had in a while. Thank you Rachel...

The game to end all games...

2009-05-01T09:48:00.003-06:00

When I was younger I was obsessed with hiding. I was constantly hiding and popping out to try to scare people, most commonly my mother or siblings. I would hide in closets, under beds, behind doors, under couches, around corners...anywhere that my childhood frame could fit. Sometimes I would wait for minutes while my prey unsuspecting worked their way into my lair. I loved the excitement and the thrill of the victory when someone would jump and scream. *(I still do this. It is my flaw. Why? Perhaps I have some deep psychological issue that must be dissected by a qualified professional.)*
Hiding was was my first game love, but not my last. I used to play Cops & Robbers with my brother almost everyday during the summer. I think it was our excuse to beat up on each other...because everyone knows that cops beat up on robbers. If you went too fast on your bike then you deserved to be knocked off, drug through the road, handcuffed and left to think about what you'd done. Simple as that, no way around it. The laws of the land could not be ignored. Do the crime, do the time.
As a child, nothing was more fun than playing games; hide and seek, kick the can, flashlight tag, or capture the flag. Capture the Flag (or as I affectionetly call it, CTF) was ALWAYS my choice. To this day I am still in love with the concept. Two teams, two flags, one goal.
A few years ago my best friend Preston and I decided to add our teenage ingenuity (and free time) to this classic game. We spent the greater part of a day and about $60 at Home Depot creating competition quality flags complete with hemmed fabric, reinforced PVC, and sharp screw/spear ends for easy and efficient placement. They were our Sistine Chapel...our Titanic...our War and Peace.
Upon completition of our masterpieces, we began the daunting task of selecting a host site. More research than you can appreciate went into the process. We weighed the pros and cons, asked for opinions, performed field analysis, and followed our intuition. We finally decided on a new park being built in the Jordan River bottoms between Draper and Riverton. The troops were assembled and the teams decided. *Side note: It is more difficult than you imagine to explain the rules, objectives, and strategy of CTF to somone who has never played...and English is their second language. Thank you Fernando.*
In our minds, we expected an epic battle of good and evil. Scenes from Troy, Braveheart, Gladiator and Saving Private Ryan ran through our minds like an eager river of anticipation. Sadly, the game never reached its full potential. Even our military quality flags could not save it. People lacked courage and vision. People were weak and spineless. The love of the game was not instilled in their young hearts. They wanted ease instead of excellence. People gave up, gave in, and gave nothing. The game asked for their best and they weren't willing to part with it. Granted, there were a few stalwart players who tried their best to do it justice but ultimately the dedication of a few could not overcome the apathy of many.
For now the flags rest quietly in a darkened unworthy corner of Preston's garage...undisturbed and unloved. One day they may rise from their hypothetical ashes like a phoenix and regain their destined glory...but only in the hands of people who love them as much as they deserve.

Viva Mexico

2009-04-26T23:21:00.008-06:00

Since I left for Mazatlan, Mexico a day after I got back from Chicago, I contemplated following up my last blog with a list of "Things I Learned in Mexico"...I'll be brief.
-They drive with their horns
-Its nearly impossible to spend an hour on the streets without someone trying to sell you timeshare
-You get really good at your 12 time tables (the exchange rate)
-They are all Laker fans...the Jazz get no love.
-You always sleep better when you can hear the ocean
-You burn quickly on antibiotics (ask my mother)

Now for the good stuff...err, mostly good, but always exciting. I left Salt Lake City and everything was great. I had a row all to myself, couldn't be better. We land in Mazatlan and not so quickly go through Immigration and Customs (if you've seen my Passport you would understand, it totally looks fake...only because its been through hell, literally, I have a stamp from Hell) only to discover that unlike us, our bags did not make the trip. I tried not to sweat it which is difficult to do in 100 deg weather...they told us they'd be on another flight and they'd deliver them to our hotel. No worries... I wanted to hit the beach, but had no suit so I hit up the nearest Mazatlan Beach Wear store where I proceeded to buy some clothes without once effectively communicating with the store employees...my total came to $1,290.(Confession: It was in Mexican pesos...something like $92 US.)
I had gone with my mom and my grandma. Normally, you wouldn't think they'd be the most exciting company in Mexico; but we did exciting things. We went zip lining through the jungles of Mazatlan. (Jungles=dry, arid desert.) It was actually a blast. We drove in a wicked cool "Swiss Army Vehicle" (Random thought: If the Swiss are neutral, why are they so darn good at making 'army' equipment?)
After our awesome adventure through the Mazatlan desert, we took a walking tour of a working Tequila factory. Exciting right? Wrong. First, I knew we were doomed when our tour guide couldn't speak a lick of English...and non of the tour takers could speak Spanish. Not a good combo. Secondly, the tequila factory smelled like my uncles dairy farm. Thirdly, it was in the middle of nowhere. I kid you not. (Interesting fact: The tequila cactus plant takes 7 years to mature.)Next on my list of fun adventures was parasailing. Frequent blog readers and fans will remember I've been skydiving twice, but I had yet to parasail. I crossed that off my bucket list. I have a cool video of me doing it (thank you Grandma) but it's 13 minutes long and I'm sure you don't want to see it. Therefore, I will post a pic and you'll have to believe me that it was in fact me and not some random person.

The next day or so I decided to live on the edge and some sweet tattoos. (Confession: They are henna, temporary...I'm so not cool)

This tattoo means "Strength"

This tattoo is LIVESTRONG.

Normally that would be enough adventure for most people. I didn't know what I was in for. I leave Mexico to come home and we had a layover in Phoenix, AZ. Soon after landing we were told that our flight to Salt Lake had been cancelled. What the F? Through of series of jogs through the airport and several rebooked flights we ended up spending the night in Phoenix. Unfortunetly, our bags did not spend the night...once again I was bagless. We flew home the next day...finally.
Here are some Mexico pics for your viewing pleasure.

In Chicago...

2009-04-10T18:40:00.008-06:00

CHICAGO

I spent the last week in Chicago having a blast. I was hanging out with this cool kid Anthony and I learned a few things...

--In Chicago there are literally hundreds of different ways to get from point A to point B; and the fastest route is often the longest.
--In Chicago the roads don't have pot holes, the pot holes have roads...--In Chicago the roads are very narrow...and people usually park on both sides.
--In Chicago you can only turn right on a red light between 7AM-7PM.--In Chicago you don't put ketchup on your hotdog...ever.
--In Chicago Roosevelt, Washington, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Lincoln, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Jackson, Van Buren, Harrison, Polk are roads not Presidents.
--In Chicago people pay a toll to drive on roads...imagine dropping a few coins to take Bangerter home.
--In Chicago red, green, blue, brown, orange, yellow, purple, and pink are trains, not colors.
All in all, I had a lot of fun hanging out and going to the nicest gym I've ever been in...fancy stuff.

The wink...

2009-04-03T09:21:00.007-06:00

;)
Typing this little guy in a web conversation means "wink"...and sometimes, as me and Rachel discovered in Gmail chat, it actually creates a little face that winks at you. Believe it or not, it kept us entertained for longer than it should have.

Winks are interesting expressions. A wink is like watching America's Funniest Home Videos. In moderation it's great, but you can't watch it everyday. As my great grandfather use to say, "It's easy to overwink and impossible to underwink." (Ok, he really never said that, but I wish he did.) You have to know when to use the wink. It must be strategically placed with perfect timing and delivery. You can't just throw winks out left and right...you'll become the tragic "over-winker." We all know an over-winker. (If you don't know an over-winker, you ARE the over-winker. I'm sorry I'm the one to have to tell you. Just stop doing it...) The over-winker is almost as bad as the exaggerated winker. You know, the one that uses their whole face as if to say, "Look, I'm winking!" These two faults are cousins to the "creepy-winker." You have to be careful, it's a very delicate science... Everyone appreciates a good winker.

The wink can have many meanings. It can mean, "Go along with whatever I just said" or "I think you're smoking hot but I'm too afraid to say anything so I'm winking at you" or "You know what I REALLY mean" or "I'm kidding" or "Riiiigggghhhhttt."Although most of the times the intent of the wink is clear, sometimes it is not. One of the great Seinfeld episodes in season 7 is titled, "The Wink." In the episode, Jerry squirts grapefruit into George's eye at breakfast, and for the rest of the day George is misinterpreted because everyone thinks he is winking at them. As only Seinfeld can do, we laugh at sometime simple: the wink. For your viewing pleasure, I have included the classic Seinfeld scene.

The next time you go to wink....if you have to think about it, don't do it.

...

2009-03-31T19:37:00.002-06:00

...

I have been experiencing a moderate to severe case of "blog block." I haven't written a post in a long time and my fans are clamoring for new material (if only Bryce...if only). This blog won't be my best ever, but probably one of my favorites. Anyone that reads anything that I write knows that I use a lot of ...s in my writing. I found out not long ago from my friend and English extraordinaire Rachel Clark that these little nuggets of perfectness are called ellipses. My other good friend Wikipedia tells me "An ellipsis can also be used to indicate a pause in speech, an unfinished thought or, at the end of a sentence, a trailing off into silence..." I mostly use them to indicate a pause in my speech or a trailing off into silence. No joke, 99.99% of all my texts contain an ellipse and about 90% of all my text messages end in a ... . For example: "Just sitting around...doing nothing..." or "That sounds like fun...lets do it..." or my favorite "Oh...". They are my calling card, my M.O., my way. I'm sure I overuse them, but they are perfect for how my mind thinks. I'll continue to use them because I like them...and it annoys some people...which makes me like them more...

...

The Amazing Human Body

2009-03-09T09:53:00.000-06:00

A few months ago I went with my friends to see the Body Worlds Exhibit in downtown Salt Lake City. I like to think that if I was more dedicated that I would've become a doctor. Some of my favorite shows on the Discovery Channel involve cutting bodies open and other gorey stuff. It was awesome to see real human bodies preserved for my viewing pleasure. After actually seeing a smoke and cancer filled lung, I wonder how anyone could smoke cigarettes-its disgusting.
The human body is amazing, luckily I have one of my own. My body and I are very close, we've been really good friends since birth. I never leave home without him, and he follows me around everywhere I go. We sleep in the same bed and shower together.
We're bfffe. (best friends for freaking ever...thank you Rachel)
The human body can do amazing things. For example:

Everyday, humans lose and replace 200 billion red blood cells. Our bodies manufacture 2 million replacement cells in a split second. Since you began reading this blog, your body has manufactured about 30,000,000 blood cells. A single red blood cell will travel over 100 miles through a network of over 60,000 miles of capillaries and arteries.
Every minutes 30,000-40,000 dead skin cells fall off your body.
Your heart beats 6,000 times an hour, 144,000 times a days, and 30,000,000 times a year.
There are over 10,000 taste buds all over your tongue, except in the center. Babies have taste buds all over the inside of their mouths, not just on their tongues. On a somewhat related note, have you ever tasted baby formula?...not recommended...unless its part of an extreme dieting technique...
Humans literally see the world in a new way every morning. The first time we open our eyes, the top layer of our vision sense receptions is simply scorched away.
Human bone is as strong as granite in supporting weight. A block of bone the size of a matchbox can support nine tons--four times as much as concrete.
A man's testicles manufacture 10 million new sperm cells each day-enough that he could repopulate the entire planet in only 6 months! Although, just because you can, doesn't mean you have to...
The focusing muscles of the eyes move around 100,000 times a day. To give your leg muscles the same workout you would need to walk 50 miles every day. As Dwight Schrute says, "The eyes are the groin of the head." I believe it.

When I was in high school, I discovered a powerful tool. Life, as it usually is, was stressful. On this particular day I was in 3rd year Honors French, or should I say, J'étais dans les troisième Honneurs d'année Français. I didn't really enjoy the class or the teacher, and it was hard. On one particular stressful day, my left eyelid began to twitch. At first I pushed it aside and didn't think anything of it. Over the course of a few days, I realized eye twitch=stress. I was looking for a solid reason to drop the class and this little eye twitch was my gift wrapped package of excuses. I dropped it like it was hot. (way too corny Bryce, show some class...) The eye twitch subsided and the universe was restored.
I've noticed that my eye twitch will return, usually before a big test, or when I'm playing my bro on the Xbox. My body is telling me something isn't right, my environment needs adjustment. My eye hasn't twitched in quite some time, most likely due to the fact that I've graduated from school and that I don't have a job, or any other real responsibilities. Unless beating Assassins Creed on the PS3 or shooting the moon in Hearts can be considering responsibilities. I think they are...
Honestly, I miss the eye twitch. The eye twitch keeps me on my feet. It keeps me moving forward, progressing of sorts. Stress isn't always a bad thing, there is such a thing as good stress; more commonly known as Eustress. Eustress helps us to meet life's challenges, to take that step into the unknown, to fall (and stay) in love. I could use some eustress in my life...

The Field: 2,3,4,9,10,11,12

2009-03-01T15:32:00.001-07:00

When I was 18 I got a great opportunity. I went on a cruise with my two best friends, Bo and Blake, and their dad, Mark. As you can imagine, we hit the "cruise scene" fairly hard. We'd usually stay out until 3 or 4 in the morning, before retiring to our pitch black stateroom. Seriously, this room was a dream: best sleep I've ever got. Our 'party-hardy' ways soon caught up to us when we slept through the port of Nassau, Bahamas. I hear its great, but I really wouldn't know.
Those of you that know me know that I'm not into the 'party scene', I'd never be mistaken for the 'life of the party.' So what kept us out until the wee hours of the night? It was a combination of 1/4 part looking for Blake and whoever he was currently 'dating', and 3/4 part gambling. See, on a cruise ship, you only have to be 18 to gamble...international waters or something like that. This was my first real experience in gambling. What was my first game of choice? My ugly friend Blackjack, aka 21. Like any 'sinner', I started out dipping my toe in the water and testing it out. Dropping a few bills here and there, winning some and losing some. Before we knew it, we were dropping down Jacksons like they were Washingtons. Before I knew it I was down some serious coin. Meanwhile, Bo was doing considerable better. I decided to hedge my bets and turn it over to Bo. I 'invested' in Bo's game and gave him a mission to win back my losses. Thankfully, over the next few days, Bo won my money back. I ended the trip up about $20. The moral of this little story? Don't gamble? Hardly... The moral of the story is: don't play Blackjack, play craps.Craps is a dice game, played over a large, expansive table with many players. There are literally hundres of different bets on a craps table: one can bet the pass line, the come out line, hard eights, or the field, etc.
Around this same time, Mark brought my attention to a strategy of playing craps that maximizes wins and minimizes losses. I won't get into the nitty gritty details of it, but it has its advantages. Granted, it doesn't guarantee success; but anything rarely does. (Except those late night exercise infomercials... Of course I want abs like that! Who doesn't? Only 3 easy payments of $29.99? BUT WAIT! If I order now I can get it for only 2 easy payments of $29.99?! BUT WAIT!! If I order now you'll also double my order?!?!)I digress... Over the years, I've experimented with this strategy, throwing random dice around and keeping score in my head. A few months ago, I took it up a notch. I created an Excel program that randomly 'rolls' dice and records their results and figures this into 'the strategy' and gives me some outcomes. After thousands and thousands of rolls, 'the strategy' holds true. I'm taking the next step. I'm withdrawing $1024 and booking a flight to Vegas. I'm gonna go toss some spotted cubes and see how they land. Will I go to hell for it? I've been told so...but that's between me and someone else...

My 25 Things....

2009-02-20T10:20:00.006-07:00

1. I have a stutter. I went through ten years of speech therapy and I still I have it. I’ll probably always have it. I’m told that it’s hard to notice, I don’t believe these people.

2. I have an iPhone, and I don’t know how I lived almost 21 years of my life without one. I’m addicted to it. My five most used aps: Email, ESPN, Facebook, Stocks, and Mancala.

3. I like to work-out, and I try and do it every day. I’m a bit of a health nut, there are a lot of foods I won’t eat and I really like V8 juice.

4. I love to play the card game Hearts and I think I’m pretty good at it. My high score is 0, and I’ve got it three times. Unless you play, it’s impossible to appreciate the feat...but you should still appreciate my greatness.

5. I’m a reality TV junkie: Survivor, Amazing Race, Girls Next Door, Big and Rob, The Real World, Dr. G, anything really. If its reality TV, I’ve probably seen it. Every week we have a little "Survivor Party" and everybody thats anybody attends. We usually have it at Michal's house and you're not invited, cuz you aren't a big enough fan. It's very exclusive...

6. My favorite movies are Legends of the Fall and The Count of Monte Cristo.

7. I have this weird thing where I start a book and never finish it; but my favorite book is It’s Not About the Bike by Lance Armstrong, and I like any Grisham books...who doesn't?

8. I love the Utah Jazz and my mood fluctuates with their record. Obviously, this year has been rough. I cried when they lost in the Finals, but I was ten so it was ok. Last night when they beat the Celtics I felt great, immense joy. John Stockton is me hero, and D-Will aint half bad himself.

9. I can complete a Rubix cube in under two minutes.

10. I finished my Bachelors degree when I was 20, and I plan to have my Masters when I’m 22.

11. I enjoy board games; Settlers of Catan in particular.

12. My favorite tv shows are The Office and Desperate Housewives.

13. I’m looking for a job right now, but I routinely substitute teach. Oh the stories I could tell about the future of America...

14. I still drive the car my dad bought me in high school. It gets me around and doesn't chug the fuel.

15. I’ve been to almost all the 50 states.

16. I have a crush on Jennifer Aniston. Jen, if you read this, call me. I love you.

17.

18. I’ve never broken a bone and had never had a cavity until about two days ago.

19. I believe wholeheartedly in the Law of Attraction.

20. I have hundreds of basketball cards and thousands of dollars of basketball memorabilia. It’s my “guilty pleasure.”

21. I use to own a window cleaning company so I can appreciate a nice clean piece of glass.

22. I want to live in Chicago or San Diego.

23. My favorite car is a Porsche Cayenne.

24. I eat paper, all the time. Is it weird? You betcha…

25. I plan on being a millionaire one day. Why not a billionaire, you ask? Well, I think anything over a couple mil is just gravy. I don’t want to work my whole life. I want to enjoy my money.

I want to punch society in the face...

2009-02-15T16:55:00.005-07:00

So lately I've noticed that I have an urge to collectively punch "society" in the face. I'm not usually a violent person, but I've reached my breaking point.
A few recent reasons...
1: I went to a concert last week: Benton Paul and John Allred. It was an awesome show and thankfully we had got in line early enough to stake claim to a spot close to the stage. Our night was nearly ruined by a group of about four girls that we directly next to us. They must've be socially retarded, or at least stupid, because they talked through the entire show. Now when I say "talked", I don't mean they commented on the show or at least talked about the performers. They talked about school, dating, tv shows...everything but the concert. Ok, so I lied, they didn't talk through the whole show, the YELLED through the entire show. When I didn't think it could get worse one of the girls answered her phone and proceeded to attempt to carry on the call. I quote: "You're gonna need to talk louder, I can't hear you. The music is too loud." We did the socially respondible thing of giving glares, telling them to "shhh", and even asking nicely for them to keep it down....to no avail. When people talk during a concert I want to punch them in the face.
2: I was driving down to Utah County the other day. I had left in a reasonable amount of time so I wouldn't have to speed and I could take my time. Once I hit about Lehi the freeway came to a near standstill. My windshield was flooded with red tail lights. I didn't get frustrated, I thought it was a little blurp in traffic that would soon clear up. After a few minutes of 20 mph driving, I checked my nifty iPhone MAP application...it was solid red (red=bad traffic) for a long stretch of road. Fastforward about 30 minutes through my life, still occupied with bumper to bumper traffic. I glance over to the opposite side of the freeway where a wreck had occured...and low and beyond, not ten feet past the accident, the traffic cleared up and normal speeds resumed. Why is it that people feel the need to slow to frustrating speeds when they see flashing lights on the other side of the road? Does the hope of seeing human flesh across asphalt really require the need to slam on your brakes and take your time? Granted, I understand that people ought to slow down a little bit, heck, knock the speedomoter down to a calm 50 mph; I'm cool with that. There can be a pregnant lady with her hood open on the side of the road and people will sail past without even thinking; but the moment they see flashing lights and broken glass they'll slam on their brakes and turn their heads. I want to punch these people in the face.
3: As a newly graduated college student, I've spent my fair share of income on fast food. I understand the types of people that work in fast food...I can sympathize, they don't want to work there. Rarely do I get more frustrated than when I pay for my meal in cash, reach out to collect my change, only to have them place bills in my hand followed by change. Without fail the change will slide right off the bills and either on the ground or in my lap. Is it too much to ask to reverse this order? Change THEN bills!!! Now thats "Change I can believe In." Unlike a dollar bill, the human palm is built perfectly to collect and store change. I repeat, CHANGE THEN BILLS!!! I want to punch these people in the face.
4: I went to a movie last night, Friday the 13th, with my friends Andre & Steve. The MPAA gave the show a "R" rating for "strong bloody violence, some graphic sexual content, language and drug material." As we purchased our tickets and handed them to the ticket taker guy, he asked us for our ID's. Granted, I'm often told that I look like a high school kid, so I've learned to deal with it. We enter the theater, take our seats, and watch the show. Let me tell ya it was well deserving of it's "R" rating. It was the typical "slasher" film. Even though the movie was disgusting at times, I was far more disgusted when I exited the theatre at the same time as a man with three kids, all no older than 12. Are you kidding me?! We try to see the movie and we're ID'ed, but a guy can bring his young kids and they get in scotch free. People like this shouldn't be allowed to have children. Again, I wanted to punch him in the face.
Thats all I've got right now. Do you have any?

Whats in a name?

2009-02-09T10:52:00.000-07:00

Everything in this world is comprised of energy. Energy=power. Words have power, they stir emotions. What do we feel when we hear, "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among them are life, liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness." A sense of patriotism? What about the words 'spic', 'gook', or 'nigger'? A little embarrassed, maybe even shocked?

Obviously, words have power and energy. There was a study done several years ago regarding peoples names. Scientists hooked people brains up to some fancy machine and recorded how their "happiness" levels fluctuated with different words. As you could expect, words such as "hate" made their "happiness" levels decreases, while words like "love" made them increase. Do you know which word, across the board, made people the most happy? Their own names... Dale Carnegie once remarked, "Their is no greater sound to someone than their own name."

Some people have common names, while others have very unique names. The top ten baby names of 2007 were: Jacob, Emily, Michael, Isabella, Ethan, Emma, Joshua, Ava, Daniel, and Madison. All these are great names, just not for me. There is a fine line between unique and weird. I read a story on Ancestry.com about "unique" names. I kid you not, these are actual names:

-Harry Pitts
-Envy Burger
-Lust T. Castle
-Cook Cook
-Doctor Love (Middle name "Strange"? I hope so...)
-Lunch Magee
-Dinner Ware
-Bread White
-Banana Bowdy
-Fever Bender
-Mumps Sykes

Are you kidding me? What kid wants to grow up with the name Harry Pitts? Or Lunch Magee? Can you imagine the jokes, the laughs, the stares? What kind of parent seeks to destroy their kids lives like that? Granted, I'm familiar with the popular Johnny Cash song, "A Boy Named Sue". When "Sue" asks his dad why he named him Sue, his dad responds, " Son, this world is rough and if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough. And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along. So I give ya that name and I said goodbye, I knew you'd have to get tough or die and it's the name that helped to make you strong." Thats all well and good, but seriously?

Now everyone knows that I have a rather weird/unique last name. Abplanalp isn't something you hear everyday. I've heard all the funny jokes: Apple-plop, Astro-nut, Abpl-muble jumble. I understand my kids will already have to deal with my last name, so I don't want to burden them to much...I decided several years ago that I want my children to have names with power and energy. Names that mean something, names with a story. I know I may be a little weird to already be thinking about names (I have a lot of time on my hands and I can only watch so much TV), and I'm sure my wife will have ultimate veto power; but here goes...

Tristan (Boys name)
I know it may be corny, but Tristan comes from my favorite movie: Legends of the Fall. I like everything about the character. His determination, his love for his brothers, his journey to find himself, his love of his children and family. And I think Brad Pitt is bad ass in the movie...

Achilles (Boys name)
Achilles was the greatest warrior in Homer's Illiad and the hero of the Trojan War. Who wouldn't want to be named after the greatest warrior? Sure its a little weird, but I think its more on the unique side than the weird side. I may be wrong... And, I admit, I may have a man crush on Brad Pitt. And granted, this will be a middle name...

Michal (Girls name)
I know what you're thinking. Michal as a girls name? It's not a misprint, its one of the greatest names I've ever heard. As you may or may not know, Michal is my best friend; a very special person in my life. I decided long ago that my first girl would be named Michal, I'm not willing to budge on it.

Mercedes (Girls name)
Mercedes is the love interest in Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. In the story, she loves Dantes but amid a series of events, ends up marrying the man that ruined his life, while still pledging eternal love for Dantes. It's the classic story of hope, justice, vengeance, mercy, forgiveness, and love.

Obviously there are in depth reasons and meanings in my life, and these are just a few. Names are powerful, ripe with meaning and connotation. My goal is to empower my children through their names. After all, words have power.

Skydiving?

2009-01-31T18:16:00.010-07:00

Do you have any idea how many people died skydiving in 2008? 58... How many since 2004? 322... yet people still decide to do it, myself included. Why don't we call it what it is, "sky-plummeting"? Isn't skydiving just a suicide-like activity in which a person jumps out of a plane and releases a parachute in hopes that it will reduce his rate of descent below a bone-crushing threshold before he makes contact with the earth? Almost three years ago, I went skydiving for the first time, for my friend Steve's 18th birthday. There were six of us: Preston, Steve, Bo, Blake, Morgan, and myself.
Was I excited? Oh ya... Was I terrified? Partially... My nerves were actually doing pretty good until I started to fill our the application. The very last section before the signature had these instructions: Rewrite this sentence word for word. "I UNDERSTAND THAT THERE ARE INHERENT RISKS INVOLVED WITH SKYDIVING, INCLUDING DEATH, AND I RELEASE SKYDIVE UTAH FROM ANY AND ALL RESPONSIBILITIES AND LIABILITIES." I was working at a law office at the time, and I remember thinking, "I wonder if this would hold up in court...". After signing away my life and dropping some coin and before any of us chickened out, they had us in our "jump-suits"... I was just hoping it wouldn't become my "he died in this suit"... After getting dressed for perhaps the last time, they had us scrawled out on the ground, on some weird contraption practicing our back arch. We were told that if we failed to perform this menuever correctly that our back could snap and we'd fold up like a taco shell. (At least I wouldn't have to worry about the landing right?). Death is a very good motivator. Most of the time when somebody says, "Do this or die" I do it...and I do it as well as I possibly can.
Soon thereafter we boarded the plane... Our plane had a sliding fiberglass door. Weird? I thought so. Before I knew it, we were circling over Ogden. Obviously my heart was starting to beat a little faster, my breathing a little more frequent. I don't remember, but I'm sure I had to pee. After we ascended to our jumping altitude of 13,000 feet, a little red light went on inside the cabin and we were told it was D-Day, time to jump. Oh, I forgot to mention one glaring detail. This whole flight I had a dude strapped to my back, pelvis to pelvis... Every movement had to be perfectly choreographed...
As we neared the open door, he asked me if I wanted to do a flip when we jumped out. At the time, I had never even done a flip off a diving board at the swimming pool. I consented...
With a 1-2-3, we barreled out the plane, flipping end over end. A common misconception about skydiving is that it feels like "The Rocket" at Lagoon, that stomach in your throat kind of a feeling. Wrong... It feels more like flying, more like "Soarin' Over California." It may be the single most awesome feeling/experience I've had in my life. We free fell for about a minute before he pulled the parachute. I've never been so happy to see neon fabric in my life. After a few more minutes of semi-peaceful/painful wedgy free floating, we came in for our landing. My instructions were to stick my legs straight out. We landed without incident. (Only later would I discover how lucky I was...) The experience was a blast...and low and behold, almost exactly a year later, we did it again. Only this time we exchanged Bo for Rachel Clark.
I'm giving props right now to Rachel Clark. She's amazing. I know she hates it when people say she's like "one of the guys" (rightfully so), so I won't say that; but I will say that she has more "balls" than Bo... Bo was afraid of "death" or something...whatever right? (I'm gonna take some heat for this. Bo, I'm kidding...you had already proved yourself...and in retrospect, I should've followed your lead.) This time went pretty much like the first...all the way up until the landing. As you know, my first attempt at defying the laws of gravity and resulting death was without incident. This was not the case when I tried again. As before, when we approached landing, his instructions were to lift my legs parellel to the ground. I though, "Ya ya, I'm not a rookie." We hit the ground perfectly, not bad at all. I started to turn around (as best I could strapped to another human being) and congratulate him on the landing. Little did I know I was just seconds away from being thrown the ground by a gust of wind. Apparently it is someones job to grab the semi-inflated parachute once the tandem team lands; this is basic Skydiving Assistance 101. Maybe the guy that had that responsiblity had decided he'd done enough for the day and he was gonna humiliate me. Mission accomplished. As I said, me and my instructor were hurled to the ground, face first. Although, I must admit, my instructor had me to break his fall. We (I), the proceeded to be drug through a dirt field, with my face and mouth taking the brunt of it. Once we were finally able to stop our skid and stand up (with the parachute safely in tow) I proceeded to spit up and cough out mouthfuls of dirt. Of course everyone was laughing at me, and I admit it was funny. I just never thought that my biggest injury while skydiving that day would've come after skydiving. And bytheway, 32% of all skydiving deaths occur while landing...it doesnt' surprise me.

The mountain was angry that day my friend...

2009-01-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

Several months ago I did one of the best/funniest/stupidest things I've ever done. It ranks right up there with the time I decided to flip off a guy on the freeway. I went hiking/on a death march with Rachel Clark and one of her friends, Jordan Rasband.We were going to hike Timpanogus, not to the caves, to the actual mountain peak. I expected it to be about a five hour hike, nothing too bad. I'm in good shape right? I've heard stories of people doing it in the night, so I figured it wasn't going to be that bad…If I only knew. We began our journey through hell at seven in the morning. After about two hours, I get up the nerve to ask how much farther. The response would b

urn in my ears, "We're about an 8th of the way." I almost crapped my pants, but alas, I kept hiking. By about 10:30 we reached "Emerald Lake", which is actually only a glorified pond.

I assumed we were almost to the top…wrong. We then proceeded to hike through what we dubbed the "Valley of Rocks.” Imagine walking for about an hour through a solid field of rocks: MASSIVE rocks, and little tiny ones. As if we weren’t having enough of an adventure already, I kid you not, we came across mountain goats! Are you kidding me?! We had to stop for a little bit to let them cross the trail so we wouldn't die by pronging. The goats then walked across the cliffs above us, causing rocks to fall below...near the trail...near my head (which I use more often than you'd think). After we survived several close encounters, we made it to the "saddle". It is basically where two mountains come together and it looks like a saddle. It was awesome! We could see all of Utah County on one side and the Heber Valley on the other. The moment was soon seriously weakened by strong and cold winds. I was not prepared for this. I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I soon began to freeze. (This is a story for another time, but when I get cold, my muscles be gin to shake and quiver. It's quite a sight) Here I am 12,000 feet up and the wind is blowing like a mad woman... Was our adventure over? Nay, I say, it had only just began. We then had to hike along cliffs in order to reach the true summit. We finally reach the true summit. We write our name in the little shack, spit some sunflower seeds and res. Then we get this crazy/awesome/stupid idea to slide down the glacier. We've asked around and no one dares to do it, apparently they knew much more than us. We finally reach the glacier. The task was daunting, but we’re invisible teenagers right? I decided to wear my plastic garbage bag like a diaper, poking two leg holes. I then decide to see what happens...bad idea...I begin sliding down this ice slide of a glacier and I can't stop. I'm seriously flying, I would estimate I was going about 25-30 miles an hour. There are huge rocks that I'm trying to avoid (I discovered I am a poor ‘avoider’) I'm catching some sick air. I'm trying desperately to stop, but to no avail. I'm digging my feet in, trying to grab anything with my hands...not a chance.

I've heard people mention that their lives flashed before their eyes, now I believe it happens. After a very terrifying minute of terror, I finally got myself stopped. Disaster avoided right? Oh no… I was only roughly half way down this sucker. (It is a REALLY big glacier...imagine the steepest, longest sledding hill...filled with rocks...big ones.) I'm lying on my back wondering if I'm dead. I finally came to my senses and sat up. Rachel and Jordan were screaming down at him, I managed to give the “I’m alive” signal. After that little episode, we decided that the whole garbage bag idea was a poor one. We then basically crawled down the mountain on our hands and knees, in shorts, without gloves. We literally could not feel out hands, and for several days afterwards it felt like needles every time we touched anything. We finally made it off the glacier and then the reality hit us. We still had to hike for another 4 hours to get down. We reached the cars at about 6:00, we hiked for roughly 11 hours.

All in all, even though we almost died (and several times wished I had) the hike was a blast and worth it. Although, I’m not sure I’ll be doing it again anytime soon. I still have the scars to remind me, until they fade, I think I’ll just watch Man vs. Wild instead of living it.

The Parable of the Video Store...

2009-01-27T08:59:00.000-07:00

Parable [par-uh-buhl]. noun.
1. a short allegorical story designed to illustrate or teach some truth, religious principle, or moral lesson.
2. a statement or comment that conveys a meaning indirectly by the use of comparison, analogy, or the like.

I went to the video store to rent a movie. I was in the mood for one of those great movies; something like The Dark Knight, or Legends of the Fall, or The Departed. I had seen all these movies before and enjoyed my time with them. As I searched the NEW RELEASES and DRAMA sections, I found nothing... I decided that rather than wondering aimlessly through the aisles like a loser, I'd ask. I was informed of the tragic news, all the "good" movies had been checked out. Naturally, I asked when they'd be returned. The bundle of happiness and self-motivation that is a video store clerk replied, "In about two years."
Devastated, I began my search again. I'd have to find something to hold me over until then. The only movie available was From Justin to Kelly. (IMDB ranking of 1.8)
I've been watching it for the last year and half, only six months to go until the good movies come back.

"A single step..."

2009-01-27T08:33:00.000-07:00

After much deliberation and searching of my soul, I'm throwing my hat in the ring...thus, I blog.
My story begins in a small village in Switzerland, several hundred years ago. In those days, people lived and died within their small mountain village. One fateful day there was a rather large avalanche that swept through a village. When news arrived to a neighboring village, they came to offer assistance and help the people rebuild their lives. After several days of search and rescue, they found no survivors among the carnage. They began to tire and begin the journey home. By God's great grace, someone stumbled upon a basket, containing a small child. They named the child Abplanalp, meaning "Lone Survivor of the Alps"...