I before E except after who the hell cares.

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

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)

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...

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...

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...

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

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...