Suggestions?

welcome to my world

2012-02-06T23:10:00.000-08:00

When I was about six years old, my family and I were on a road trip down to California. As we were driving, I asked my Dad, "Dad, is hell a swear word?" My Dad, always liking to spice life up a bit told me, a six year old, that, "No Craig, hell isn't a swear. In fact, I consider it a good descriptive word." Well, of course that opened up a can-o-worms. "It's hotter than hell in here.", "You're driving like hell.", "Where in the hell are we?", is just a taste of my next few sentences. It didn't last long before my Mom just couldn't take it anymore. She turned around with a look that could kill and said as sternly as I've ever seen her, "HELL is a swear word." I learned a valuable lesson that day. First, that hell is a swear word. Second, and more important, that my Mom isn't one to be trifled with. Mother, forgive me for what I am going to say, but the best way to describe my experience flying to and from Erie, Pennsylvania this past weekend was hell. 10 hours of flying and layovers on Thursday and 13 hours of flying and layovers on Saturday....all I can say is that I still am wiped out. Why did I go to Erie, Pennsylvania, you may be asking? Medical school interview. I enjoyed, oddly enough, my cab driver more than almost anything. I got into that smoke filled cab at 7:45 and looked into the face of a man who has been through some rough times. I wasn't at all surprised to hear him use the F bomb casually in nearly every other sentence, or when he told me about his trip to Tijuana from Camp Pendleton where he was based as a Marine, or when he told me that his buddy got a bad case of crabs on that trip. Yeah, it all took me back to all the taxi drivers I met in that wonderful city of Tijuana. As foul as this man may sound to you, he really was a nice guy. He was just one of those guys that you know you would never want to cross, but if you were his friend, he would take a bullet for you. I thought he was great.

Do you remember the mice I got from a white elephant party? I do. I can smell 'em. Seriously, how can such tiny creatures create such horrible smells. Speaking of stinky animals, did I tell you about how I have lost all love for reptiles? I will never, and I mean never, allow my children to own a pet reptile. Back to the mice, I plan on releasing them into the wild, and I sure hope they get eaten by a hawk or coyote or something, anything other than a stinkin' snake. Seriously though, how on earth do they create such horrible smells so quickly? I just don't get it. Have you ever seen that movie about the dudes who bought a lion and raised it until it was too big for their apartment, they reintroduced it to the wild in Africa, and they went to visit it a year later and the lion remembered them? Here, watch this.

I bet my mice will remember when I come back to visit them, but instead running up wanting to play they will do what all animals do when I'm around, defecate. Those mice are going to make fantastic hawk food, and I might be a little sad, but I do like hawks.

So, I ran into a friend of mine last Wednesday. I was pressed for time that day. I needed to write a proposal about who knows what and study for a biochemistry test that I was doomed to fail because of my little "vacation" to Erie over the weekend. Well, I chose to talk to this friend, and what began as a short conversation turned into three hours. Those three hours involved discussing our lives over the past year, what has changed and what has stayed the same. It was a very enlightening conversation. Have you ever read self help book? You know, those books that tell you everything you need to know about being successful. Almost every one I have read begins with something about how you need to take responsibility for where you are at, no matter where that is. You need to take responsibility for bad decisions and failures, you just have to accept your position as something you chose. It's hard to do sometimes. But I believe I am getting there. All I can say is that it was a great conversation, but really put in me in a potential bind school wise. You see, I've been scared about my life a bit. I applied to medical school, but kind of late. I got two interviews. Well, one those interviews was a couple of weeks ago at a really good osteopathic medical school. Well, right after my conversation, I went up to my spot on the fifth floor and opened up my computer right to my email, and the first thing I saw was, CONGRATULATIONS. I got accepted. I couldn't believe it. I felt, and still feel, like I don't deserve it. It was a great moment in my life. I walked out into the hall, called my Mom, and told her the good news. She was very happy. I love her. She handed the phone to my Dad. I told him the good news. He congratulated me. I said thanks. He said something else brief about it being great, and then, he hesitated a moment, and then asked probably exactly what you think he would ask, "So, do you have any prospects?" All I could say was, "Dad, you have go to be kidding me." My Father is incorrigible. Remember how I said he likes to spice life up a bit, well, he never ceases to amaze.

perspective

2012-01-15T08:49:00.000-08:00

Have you ever thought about what you think about? Really though, what do you spend the majority of your time thinking about? Are your thoughts positive or negative? I am one of those believers that our thoughts have long term and immediate affects on who you are and what you accomplish in life. Our thoughts define us. But, just because we think something, or create a perspective of "reality" in our own minds, definitely does not make that reality. That is perhaps, reality through our eyes, but we have some limited perspective. We are so extremely biased by everything that happens to us. Especially when it comes to ourselves. Have you ever taken a personality test? No matter how hard I try, every time I take those dang things, I realize I'm just creating the person I think I am more than the person I really am.

I have met a few people while attending this beautiful university of Brigham Young. A few have offered there perspective of me prior to meeting me, and some of their opinions were surprisingly negative. I've been told things like, "You seemed arrogant." or "stuck up" or "an elitist" or "unapproachable". Yes, I have chosen some of the more negative comments because those are the ones I tend to react to the most. My reaction when told these things tends to be, "PUH-LEASE, I'm not arrogant! or stuck up! an elitist (along with that I recommend the idea they have no idea what that even means, which they probably didn't) or unapproachable!" But if someone had something positive to say about me, well I would act flattered or play it off as if I didn't want to hear it, but I soak it right up. The positive things, the compliments, were always spot on. The negative things couldn't have been more than wrong! Or could they have been more right? What really defines who I am? Especially to other people? Pretty much only one thing, my actions. If I don't walk by someone on campus and look at them and smile as they smile at me, they have all right to think what they want to think. Why didn't I smile at that moment? It could be for a myriad of reasons, but the most important thing is that I didn't smile. They may never get to find out why I didn't smile, and let's be honest, if they are willing to smile at me they sure as heck deserve a smile back.

Perspective is such a huge aspect of life. We are so biased, especially when it comes to what think of ourselves, all depending on our attitude. Some people think too negatively about themselves, others too positively, others are just a roller coaster. But maybe that's the thing, we might just think a little too much about ourselves and not enough about other people. You may be thinking, "Craig, thou idiot." Don't worry, I've thought that plenty of times in my life, but at moments, I need your humbling thoughts. I recognize myself to be entirely too self absorbed. Just the fact I have a blog adds to this. I am constantly acting as if my life is more important than everybody else's around me. But the truth is, what will define my life the most as being important or not is based all on the eye of the beholder. Ultimately, greatness comes from how we treat others.

Recently, I have sat and talked with a wide variation of people in my life, from those with whom I share a close relationship and others I've just recently met. With a very close person to me, I recently was expressing fears and frustrations that I face in life. And too be honest, they are reasonable things to be concerned about. But as I talked to him, I began to feel guilty for being so self concerned. I began to think of the trials his life, the things he had faced, was facing, and would have to face. At that moment, my life seemed easy, which in reality it truly is.

I remember going on a date recently, a believe it was a second date, and before the date I told myself, focus on her. Focus on what she may be going through and really learn about who she is. Don't talk about yourself unless it feels necessary. This is what I told myself. Afterwards, I though back on the date, and realized I again had fallen back on focusing on numero uno, me. Every conversation I somehow turn it back to me, about what I think, about how I feel, me me me, mine mine mine, now now now.....BUT! I have recently been converted to the idea that change really can happen. We can change, I, me, this self absorbed sack of selfishness, can change. When you read the Book of Mormon (assuming you do, if you haven't, give it a try, it is amazing), do you really apply the story to your own life? For example, this past week I was reading about the group of Nephites that leave Zarahemla to reclaim the Land of Nephi. They return, and at first, through righteous living, reclaim the land and survive their battles with the Lamanites. They follow their righteous king Zeniff. But, how every scriptural tale seems to go, Zeniff's wicked son takes the crown, Noah. Noah taxes the people to pay for his immoral lifestyle. The people follow suit, seeking after riches and pleasure. It is then that God does what he always seems to do, sends a prophet to save his people. Abinadi preached clearly and powerfully to the people of Noah, and he was burnt at the stake for it. He prophesied that if they would not repent, they would face persecution and death. Soon after the Lamanites attacked, took the city, and placed heavy taxes on the people. Noah's son, Limhi, a righteous man, was forced to deal with it. The people were continually humbled by the trials they faced, and began to repent of their sins. But, even after the people had turn back to the path of righteousness, they still faced the consequences of their actions. They could not escape the tyranny of the Lamanites. They prayed for means of escape, and after a time, perhaps a time that God found adequate to demonstrate his point, he provided the means for them to return to the land of Zarahemla. When I read this story in the past, I tended to look among the verses for doctrine, and honestly missed the whole purpose of the story. I rarely applied the story to my life. But now, I look at my life, and see how I have lived much like the people. For a time I perhaps failed to live the way I knew I should. I can repent and make changes, even be cleansed of my misdeeds, but that doesn't mean all the sudden God will free me. He will bless me when He sees fit, most likely when the lesson I need to learned has been learned. But that's just the thing, I really truly believe now more than ever that people can change. I believe that God does bless our lives with such incredible abundance and so often we miss it all. We get caught up in our little trials, our little problems, and miss all the good. After a time of feeling like things just weren't going my way, I realized, that's life. I can't change the fact that I am not always going to get what I want. But what is entirely more important is what I do with what I'm given. We become more like Christ in the moment we can, even the world can, justify us being selfish, but we choose not to. In that moment if we choose to serve, we choose to give, we choose save, tt is then we truly begin living up to the celestial potential we have. I intend to live more as to how I believe I am. Living more for others than myself. I can't think of any better way to change the perspective of others than by serving them....

blogging

2012-01-06T19:37:00.001-08:00

i think im tired of blogging.

chick flicks and what not

2011-12-26T23:24:00.000-08:00

I just downed some Nyquil, so I'm pretty sure this post has some great potential of being fantastically hilarious or obnoxiously revealing. What can ya do? I've already started so no stopping now. Christmas Vacation has been nice. Pretty much exactly what I expected. I got sick again, much like last year. I've decided I have a weird immune system. I don't get sick very often, but when I do I get real sick for a day or two, and then I'm fine. Like last year, I felt really sick on a Saturday night, woke up Sunday with the worst sore throat ever, slept all day, that night my brother prescribed me some antibiotics after diagnosing me with strep throat. The next day I felt much better, and the day after that I was at Disneyland all day. I sure love my immune system, except for that day or two where I feel like I just might die.

Let's not beat around the bush, most of my life I haven't been a huge fan of romantic comedies. I have sisters. I've dated girls. I've watched my fair share of chick flicks. Sure, every once in a while I'll see one that I'll like. Don't get me wrong, I have always been a sucker for a good love story, I just always found the chick flicks I was watching to be kind of annoying. Well, I was talking to my Dad the other day, and I came to realize why I don't like most chick flicks. It's because the female characters usually aren't that cool. Sorry if that offends you, but usually they make female characters out to be dumb and ditsy (like Marilyn Monroe) or too much the opposite (pretty much anything with Sandra Bullock). Granted, much of that is also based on the fact that I'm not a fan of immorality, so I guess I'm expecting a little much to find a contemporary female character with high morals. My parents made me watch some movies with them the last couple of days, starting with Roman Holiday. Any of you who haven't seen it, should. Unless you don't like old movies, but if you do, it's great. Today, we watched the never ending version of Pride and Prejudice. I'm not going to lie, the first hour was torture. But once I started to really pay attention, I was hooked. Here is what I realized from this weekend. Chick flicks just aren't as good as they used to be. Most of my favorite female characters from chick flicks have come from older movies, especially ones acted by Audrey Hepburn (minus her role in Breakfast at Tiffany's). The bad thing about finally finding some good chick flicks is....now they are all I pretty much want to watch. To make things even worse, I am home in Cedar where pretty much the only thing to do is watch movies. My game plan to save myself from this new little addiction, watch every violent MAN movie my parents own. Right now, Lord of the Rings. Later, the Bourne Series. Hopefully it works!!

Christmas

2011-12-25T23:15:00.000-08:00

Today is a very special day for me, as it is for most of the Western Hemisphere. As sad as this is, I don't ever remember believing in Santa. When I was around six or seven I remember telling my little brother that Santa wasn't real. My parents caught me and told me to stop telling him that. My response, "Well he isn't real!!" They agreed, but told me that I wasn't allowed to tell him that. So my whole childhood I knew my presents were coming from my parents. I remember one particular year, I asked for a new video game system (I can't remember which exactly). Christmas morning came, I opened all my presents and realized I didn't get much of anything I wanted. I was really mad. I think I even started crying to be honest with you. Right then my parents told me to look behind the couch. Of course, they pulled a Red Ryder BB gun on me and hid my present. I felt so ungrateful. Ever since then I have tried harder each year to not expect anything material from my family. I'm still far from perfect in this, but I am so much happier when I choose to enjoy being with my family more than some shoes or an iPod. I just hope that I never let myself believe that happiness will ever come from things, but recognize that it comes from the people around me and the great plan God created. Today, as I sat there and pondered this great day, I tried to understand the majesty of it all. My little niece Ava taught me a great lesson. My brother told us last night, as we were reliving the Nativity scene, that for quite some time now she has been thanking God in her prayers for the Star that first lit that night. This six year old child seems to have a better perspective on what is important than I do. Christmas, as we know, should be focused on something much more important. The greatest of God's children, the creator of this world and numberless others, the God of the Old Testament, even the great Jehovah condescended from his position at the right hand of our Heavenly Father, and was born in this mortal world. He lived perfectly, and prepared himself for his eternal task, and lowered himself further taking upon himself all of our sins and pains. He was tortured and killed. He conquered death by raising from the tomb, and paved the way for our eternal salvation. It is because of Jesus Christ that we are here. It is because of him that we have our agency. And it is because of him we are able to become like him. I am grateful for his love, and hope to repay it in anyway I possibly can. I know he lives. I know through him we can fulfill our celestial potential. I love Christmas.

how vague can a guy get?

2011-12-14T17:03:00.000-08:00

well, i got up this morning and bought a new cage for my mice. it was a great deal, pretty darn cheap for everything you could possibly need. i named them Little Justy Paco and Little Gerry Gringo.

i've been walking around the library a lot this week. really, i have. i pace while i memorize flash cards so i've been using the library as my pacing zone. i have covered every floor of the library. i think i spent about 5 hours walking yesterday. i'll count it as my exercise for the week. i think it gave me a sore back, and neck actually. i keep popping my neck, and every time i do i think of a story that my friend told me of a woman who popped her necked, somehow causing a blood clot to form that ended up causing a stroke. i still pop my neck, but i do it with a little fear each and every time now.

today is kind of a special day. not super special, but kind of special. especially in comparison to another day this week, which is very special. life is kind of funny. often, i feel like we are just on this roller coaster that just goes and goes and goes until it ends, you have your highs, and you have your lows, you have your thrills, and you have your spills. along the road, you make friends that get to join you for the ride. i've had a good number riding buddies, but most didn't last long. often those riding buddies are just ghosts in memories long lost, but sometimes those riding buddies leave long lasting impressions. i had one particular stretch of roller coaster, a particularly nasty stretch, with some of the greatest thrills but also most spectacular spills in all my life. well, my buddy through that time was one of incredible resilience. that friend stuck through some of the worst of the worsts. honestly, i still don't understand why, i just appreciate that this friend did. i'm not an easy person to get to know. i build my walls, and honestly, no matter how hard i try, they are hard to tear down. i can say only a few people have really gotten to know me. it is something i am not proud of. however, excluding my family, no one knows me better than this friend. this friend pushed through, and truly came to know me. no one in my life has been more optimistic, supportive, and confident of my future. this friend has a talent that most will never have. this friend makes every person met feel special, unique, even amazing. although circumstances seem to makes things harder than they should be at times, and sometimes some things just can't be controlled or changed, i am and will be forever grateful. i am grateful for this friend that has stuck with me through it all. i wish you the best, because you deserve it. for your special day this week, i dedicate this to you, my friend of friends!

Baby Steps to Christmas Break

2011-12-11T10:13:00.000-08:00

Today, my ability to control my anger was tested. Recently I wrote about a stinky iguana named Duke. Honestly, the name fits him. Last week, he relieved his bowels and bladder in his carrying case, which I spent half an hour cleaning afterwards. You might be thinking, "I sure hope Craig learned his lesson. I mean, he would never be dumb enough to use Duke again, would he?" Well, my friends. I was dumb enough. I took that little duker out of his box, was holding in my lap as I was teaching about lizards when one of the little girls in front cries out, "He's peeing!" Oh, he was doing much more than that! I got up, put him back in his cage, and tried to gather my wits because they were all over the place. Finally, I told them that the show was cancelled and if they wanted to see one they could come back at 3 (it was 1 at the time). I loaded up the animals and started pushing them towards the elevator when a certain mother came up and asked me rather piercingly, "WAIT! Why is the show cancelled?" I stood there, completely confused. As I looked down at my drenched and chunky clothing. I can't deny that I was closer to swearing in that moment than I have been in a long time. I wasn't going to direct the swears towards the woman, of course, but I sure just wanted to give a quick, precise answer as to why the show was cancelled. I'll leave it up to your imagination to guess what I would have said. But I resisted, thank heavens, because I have been on quite the streak of not swearing. In that moment I really tried to laugh, I tried so hard. Normally I would have been laughing my little head off, but for some reason that woman "cooked my grits". She wanted her answer, and obviously being covered in iguana fecal matter wasn't enough of a reason for me to cancel a free museum reptile show. I ended up just having to walk away. Of course, I was able to laugh soon afterward. That cured it for me. I just laughed and laughed and laughed. Sometimes I laugh at the worst time. I remember someone trying to have a really serious conversation once, kind of a DTR but not really, and I just kept laughing at certain things she would say and certain things I would say. I'm pretty sure it really bothered her, but I still get a hoot out of thinking back on that conversation. In fact, I think I may have laughed when things ended between us too. Goodness, I need to learn to control that sometimes. IN FACT, I have probably laughed in many serious relationship type conversations in my life. Speaking of relationships, I was talking to my a Dad a while back about my self destructive nature. I told him about some of the things I had been doing and saying in a relationship that honestly had a good amount of potential. He bluntly asked, "Why are you doing that?" I told him, "Pops, let me tell you a story." The story was this.

There was once a frog who was hoppin' along. The frogs hops led him right to a river. Coming to the river, he ran (or should I say hopped into!!! haha, that was for you Jenn Blosil, if you ever read this) into a rather vicious looking scorpion. The scorpion called out to him, "Oi! Frog, give me a ride across the river, will ya?" (If you didn't read that line in an Australian outback accent, then go back right now and read it again, correctly this time) Well, the frog was very suspicious. Maybe it was the pinchers, maybe it was the eyes or the legs, but you know what I think, I think it was that dang stinger. The frog simply replied, "NO WAY JOSE! You'll sting me!" (The frog must be read in a Nacho Libre accent, so again, return and reread) That sly little scorpion thought about it for a moment, and then deftly replied, "Mr. Frog, if I sting you, we will both die." Well, of course that convinced the innocent trusting frog. They were but half way across the river when the scorpion stung the frog. "WHY?", the frog cried out. Coolly, as the scorpion prepared for his death, perhaps even with a shrug of his shoulders, the scorpion replied, "It's my nature."

I won some mice (two to be exact) at a sweet White Elephant Party last night. I've been trying to think of what I can do with them. So many wonderful ideas have come to mind, but first and foremost in my mind is revenge. When my roommates and I moved into our place, we started receiving weekly cookie gifts on our doorstep. They were delicious. We came to expect them nearly every week. To this day we have no idea where they were coming from, or really who they were for. Well, one Sunday, after a couple months of not getting cookies, we got some rather tasty looking sugar cookies. Well, I took a big bite, and was surprised to find that the green frosting was made with WASABI! We recently discovered the baker of the tricky cookies. So, my plan is to leave a little gift on her doorstep with some squeaky little mice inside. That, or release them on the fifth floor while everyone is studying for finals. Or put them in someone's bed. Or just release them into the wild. Or feed them to Monte the Python. Or train them to be circus mice. The options are endless!

Anyways, to wrap this post up, I want to say this. First, never trust an animal with unruly bowels. Second, never trust scorpions. Third, never trust green frosted sugar cookies from strangers. My conclusion, change is necessary. Don't let your nature ruin things. Laugh when animals poop on you and when cranky obese women get mad at you, laugh when you realize that you've caused much of your own problems in life, and laugh when you're eating wasabi cookies. Life is good. Live it up. Remember this, God allows us to experience trials and difficulties. Eternally speaking, they are great opportunities for growth and learning. Have faith and do what is right. What else can you do? Things will work out in the end. I know it.

Curse of the Stinky Iguana

2011-12-03T15:53:00.000-08:00

I just finished cleaning up some fecal matter. Nothing I love more than cleaning up a big pile of poo. That's what I love about the Bean Museum. Worst thing of all, the dang iguana just laughs at me as I clean it up. Seriously, the mangy little creature just laughs away. I can just imagine what he is thinking, "I poo and you clean it up. Who says humans are the most advanced species?" I really don't like that stinky iguana right now. Speaking of stinky animals, how many of you are familiar with the Curse of the Billy Goat? In 1945, the Chicago Cubs were playing in the World Series. Billy Goat Tavern owner Billy Sianis was enjoying one of the games at Wrigley Field with his pet billy goat when it started to rain. The goat stunk so bad that Sianis and his goat were thrown out. Upon being kicked out, Sianis cursed the Chicago Cubs that they would never play in another World Series. Up until that time, the Chicago Cubs had been one of the most storied franchises in baseball. Since then they haven't made it to a single World Series, even though they are in the top ten in pay roll nearly every year. They just can't make it. The curse, this unbreakable curse, haunts them to this day. Why do I bring this up? Well, mainly to discuss a curse that seems to haunt me. At some point, most college age students seem to suffer from this curse, the curse of all curses, the curse of wanting what we can't have. There are two problems that seem to have plagued me with this curse. Firstly, if I have wanted something but never got it, then even when I have something else I still want what I couldn't seem to get. In the past, this problem ruined a lot of great things. I think I'm over this one. The second problem isn't really so much wanting what I can't have, but not appreciating what I have when I have it until I don't have it anymore. Sometimes it is hard to tell if losing something reinvigorates this curse of all the sudden wanting what you lost, and perhaps if you got back what you had you really wouldn't want it. Who knows? It's so hard to tell. The tough thing is when you lose something and really learn how much you just didn't appreciate what you had, and you want it back so badly you can taste it, well, that just isn't fun. But then sometimes you get it back, and do the same dumb thing. Did you really not appreciate it or did you just want what you couldn't have? I think it's a little like a hair cut. I hate hair cuts. As soon as I cut my hair, I instantly regret it. For a week or more I just can't take it. But then, I forget about it, it grows back, and what do I do right when I start liking it again? I get it cut. Interestingly enough, after I shaved off the Stache I didn't miss it instantly. But, I am really beginning to go through withdrawals. What can ya do? Maybe I'm just cursed to always lose, or chase away, the one thing I have forgotten to appreciate it. And then once I learn to appreciate it, and get it back, I just chase it away again. Well, hopefully today is the day I change that attitude. Appreciate what I have when I have it, and appreciate what I wanted once I get it, like my mustache, and....other things.

welcome to zombieland

2011-12-03T00:59:00.000-08:00

perhaps we're not so much better than our brain feeding friends. how great would it be if the next twilight-esque book was about sexy zombies that resist eating your brain rather than sucking your blood. think about it. instant hit. but seriously, are we really that different from them? i mean, they have physical needs and urges, so do we. they act on those urges without reservation, but often we do too. at least they have an excuse for their behavior. we on the other, well, we don't. we make our decisions. we are fully capable of sound reasoning.....or are we? who knows? i have been listening to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in my car over the last week. deep down, i often wish i was Huck Finn. i want to leave everything that confines and organizes and live on a river. but for me, i would prefer Hawaii over Mississippi. oddly enough, however, i often imagine Huck's life as one that escapes societal pressures, but in the end, it often does not. when Huck realizes his participation in the possibly freeing of Jim, Miss Watson's slave, he begins to feel guilty. he feels bad as if he has done Miss Watson some great harm, even though he is good friends with Jim. it made me wonder how often i misjudge situations as being wrong when they are right, or right when they are wrong. that's where the sound reason question comes in to play. im not entirely sure i use sound reason all that often. in fact, i think i act very irrationally nearly all of the time. really, its true. you see, fear is a disease i suffer from. one that, literally turns me into a zombie. like Huck and my zombie friends, i am driven by social pressures. maybe its not a want of brains, or racism, but something much more serious than that, an acceptance of fear. today people seem to take less responsibility and allow fear to keep them from acting. i let that social norm control me. i let myself accept the social fears, and then i let them control me. meet me, a zombie of the 21st century!

Life: A Story of Trial and Error

2011-11-20T09:20:00.000-08:00

My little brother and I consider ourselves great friends, best friends even. We are really similar, but very different. Growing up, we spent pretty much all of our time together. We either were having a lot of fun, or fighting like cats and dogs. Honestly, for much our childhood a day wouldn't go by where my little brother wouldn't go running into my Dad's studio to complain about me hurting him or being rude. Sad I know. Even sadder was that most of the time it was probably because he beat me at something I couldn't live with it because he was my little brother. Back in the day, my Dad had this really squeaky easel and so I could hear in the other room when he was paining or not. When Chad would run into his studio, I would listen for a couple seconds and if I didn't hear a squeak, I knew it was time to run. And run I would. Many times I didn't get away, and I was forced to watch my Dad paint as he lectured me. Oh how my Dad loved (and LOVES) to lecture. "Craig, someday you'll regret being so rude to Chad." "Someday, Craig, Chad will be your best friend." You could always tell with my Dad when he was really upset about something I did, because he would stop painting and sit down in front of me to lecture. I always thought he was crazy. But I also knew he was right. My little brother is now my best friend, and the older I get the more I realize how right he really was. Too often we have to learn on our own these things, even when we have some wise advice that we go against time and time again. I've been learning a lot about myself as of late. Sadly, it has taken me a long time to learn things that I should have learned years and years ago. Let me give you a quick analogy, to help you understand.

When I was about six years old, my family lived in St. George. Across the street was a vacant lot, which happened to be our favorite place to play. We loved war games as children, and that usually led to my little brother going home crying because I wacked him to hard or chucked a rock at him or something. What can ya do? Hopefully I've learned my lesson. Anyways, one of my favorite war activities was to launch rocks with a very primitive catapult, that consisted of a board and a log. The log would act as a fulcrum and the board would lean against it with one end sticking up and the other end on the ground. I would place particularly sharp and mean looking rocks on one end and throwing an even bigger rock at the other end, quickly rotating the board around the fulcrum and launching the rock airborne! I loved to see those rocks fly!! I'm not sure if they ever hit anyone, but every time I launched them I knew if they did I would regret it. What did I do about? Well, I just kept launching them. That's when it happened. You see, I was starting to get bored with the distance and velocity of my launches, and I realized I needed to throw something heavier. But I was six. I couldn't lift anything of substantial weight. I then received an epiphany, a horribly amazing idea. I could jump on the other end of the bored! With that kind of weight, I could probably hit my house with a rock or two!!!! So, I found the most vicious, jagged rock I could and put it on the end of the bored. I turned, and facing the rock I jump as high as I could and stomped on the bored. Oh baby that rock went flying! Yeah, it went flying right into my face! My next memory is busting through my front door screaming bloody murder, my Mom practically tackling me to the ground and where she finally treated my wound.

(This is quite a bit after the injury. I got hit right above the lip. I still have the scar today.)

Now how do we analyze my analogy. Like this. Often we don't recognize how our actions affect other people. None of my rocks ever caused any damage, or did they? I have no idea whether or not I was hitting or hurting anybody with my rocks. I didn't even think twice about it until finally my own actions hurt me, and in hurting me, helped me recognize how they were affecting other people. Life is like that too often. It seems that until we are hurt by our own actions that we finally understand how our actions were hurting others. Even worse is it seems we hurt those we care most about, and often misunderstand what we are putting them through. Does that make sense to you? I hope it does, and I hope you learn now to take notice of your actions before you have to get hit in the face with a rock to realize what you're doing.....

Les Miserables

2011-11-16T11:14:00.000-08:00

A friend pointed out to me the other day how I often dislike things just because so many other people like them. And lets be honest here, I do. She mentioned that mustaches are trendy, so why would I grow one. Also, she pointed out how I seem to dress kind of trendy. All of these thing were a little surprising for me. I think perhaps I don't feel as if I am being trendy because I dress differently from my closest friends. I also have been mocked day in and day out for having my mustache, mainly because of the people I surround myself with. So in the end, I am not being trendy amongst those I am around the most, but I can understand this idea of my overall trendiness. I don't like being trendy. For years I refused to like Cafe Rio because it was trendy. I refused to go to Prom in high school because I just thought it was a dumb, trendy tradition. Honest truth is, a lot of times trendy things are really dumb. Like certain TV shows, or movies, or books ( *cough* Twilight *cough*). And sometimes certain trends aren't conducive of my desire to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. Often trends fall into categories such as material, superficial, or vain. I like to feel free from social pressures to think or act a certain way. I want to like what I like because I like it, or because it falls into or supports my beliefs and standards. BUT, I have learned that certain trendy things ARE absolutely great. LIKE, Cafe Rio and Sperry Topsiders. The greatest trend that I have come across in a very long time comes in story form. It is up there with the greatest stories I have ever read. A story that truly impacted my life. This is none other than Les Miserables. I recently finished the book and still can't get over how amazing it was. I have yet to see the movie or musical, but plans are in the making. It is literature like this that gives me hope for the world. I want nothing more than to become like Jean Valjean. Now contrast that story with The Catcher and the Rye. I just barely (yesterday in fact) finished reading this popular novel. It was very interesting. Seeing life from the eyes of someone just struggling with so many internal conflicts, greatest of all being the loss of his brother. I wanted so badly to hate that book, but again I found myself in the end loving it, and just hoping that this kid's future contains the potential of happiness and light. In the end, it is up to him. It is up to him to take adversity and mold his life into what he wants it to become. He can choose to be miserable, or take his somewhat miserable existence and become like Jean Valjean and change the world for the better. Here I am again, learning another of life's lesson.

My Talk on Sunday

2011-11-14T07:41:00.000-08:00

I'm not entirely sure if this is appropriate, but I can't think of any reason it wouldn't be. So here you have it, my talk from this past Sunday.

I had the great opportunity to serve a mission in Tijuana

Mexico

. Arriving in the field, I was introduced to Elder Pineda, my first companion. Let me tell you a little about Elder Pineda. He was a great missionary, but he had one really annoying trait, he had a weak stomach and a small bladder. Every house we entered he would have to go to the bathroom and I would be stuck to make conversation in a language I could barely understand let alone speak. Needless to say, it was a little annoying. Well, one particular Sunday night, about two weeks after my arrival in Tijuana, we were hurrying along to make it to an appointment, and lo and behold my companion looks at me in pain and says, “Tengo que ir al bano.” Unluckily for him, we weren’t close to any members or investigators houses, in fact, we weren’t close to any houses at all really. He looked over across the road and saw a little clump of trees. So we crossed the road, and when we got the other side noticed a little ravine that separated us and the trees. It was pretty dark, but the ravine looked completely harmless. He took the slope at a dead sprint (he really had to go), and I watched as he reached the bottom I heard a splash (well, more like a ploop sound, like he dropped in mud or something) and saw him sink up to his neck. All the sudden I could see what was at the bottom of the little ravine, it was a pool of stagnant water filled with trash and whatever other gross and disgusting things you can imagine. Naturally, I stood there shocked while he tried to scramble out until he yelled out, “Ayudeme”. Shaken out of my trance, I slid down and pulled him out. We climbed back up to the side of the road, caught our breath. Honestly, I don’t think I have ever smelled anything so horrible in all my life. Naturally, he decided we couldn’t go teach a lesson, and we took off for home. He ran straight to our cold water shower as soon as we got home. He chucked his clothes out of the bathroom which I threw outside because I thought I might pass out from the fumes. I heated some water for him on the stove for a warmer shower. He was probably in there for about an hour or two.

You’re probably wondering why I told this rather odd story. We will get to that soon. First, I would like to review a recent talk given by President Thomas S. Monson called the three R’s of Choice, which are the right of choice, the responsibility of choice, and the results of choice.

David O. McKay said, “Next to the bestowal of life itself, the right to direct that life is God’s greatest gift to man.”

I have often thought about this idea, the importance of our agency. In our pre-mortal existence, we had agency. We made decisions, the extent of which we do not remember. But in one great and dreadful day Lucifer chose to propose a plan to take away the agency of the children of God to ensure that we all return safely to our Father in Heaven. But it was a selfish plan, and one that completely contradicted our purpose in coming here. It was a plan where we would not learn, we would not grow, and we would not have the potential of becoming like our Father who created us. We know a great battle ensued, all over this concept of agency. One third of our brothers and sisters chose to reject God’s plan and run from the great eternal blessings available through a life on Earth where we would become agents unto ourselves. We chose to accept his Plan, and came to this Earth knowing the many possible outcomes. I can be scared of decisions at times, so I can’t even imagine how difficult it must have been to choose to come here knowing I may fail, that I may never accomplish what I was sent to do, and may never return to my Father’s presence. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for God, a perfect being capable of perfect love, to send his children knowing that he would and will lose some of them along the way.

The key to God’s plan was and always has been centered on Jesus Christ. Essential to provide us agency, and knowing we would fall short, God provided a way for us to return. The great sacrifice of Jesus Christ, that infinite and ever lasting Atonement that he made for us provides a source of mercy to fill the demands of justice. God created the Earth, and upon it placed Adam and Eve. It was in the Garden they chose to transgress His commandments, but in so doing provided the way for us to come to the Earth and be tested.

2 Nephi 2:25 says, “Adam fell that men might be, and men are that they might have joy.”

We are redeemed from the results of the fall, spiritual and physical death, by Jesus Christ, and we are left to be judged only for our own choices.

In 2 Nephi 2:27, it reads, “Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.”

No matter what our circumstances, no matter what happens, in this life, we will always have this right to choose.

But as you and I know, and as President Monson taught, with the right of choice comes responsibility. We are constantly faced with choices between right and wrong, whether they are big or small choices. We are forced to choose between one of the other. Often, we, myself especially, try to find a middle ground, but this is playing with fire.

God has sent us here, but we are not left alone. He has provided teaching for us to know right from wrong. Each and every one of God’s children has received the Light of Christ, so that we can know the difference between good and bad, right and wrong, light and darkness. In our age we have been provided scripture, ancient and modern. God has sent prophets and teachers to help guide and direct us. And we always have the great blessing of prayer. We can at any moment directly communicate with our Father in Heaven.

“Decisions are constantly before us. To make them wisely, courage is needed—the courage to say no, the courage to say yes. Decisions do determine destiny.

I plead with you to make a determination right here, right now, not to deviate from the path which will lead to our goal: eternal life with our Father in Heaven. Along that straight and true path there are other goals: missionary service, temple marriage, Church activity, scripture study, prayer, temple work. There are countless worthy goals to reach as we travel through life. Needed is our commitment to reach them.”

Let’s take another quick trip down memory lane. From about the 5^th grade up until high school I had a best friend named Bob. Bob and I grew up in the same ward and played the same sports. We both were active members of the church and were planning on going on missions. But when high school came, things got harder. In our junior year, we both found ourselves amongst the wrong group of friends. We both weren’t making the best decisions. At the time, we were both in the same seminary class. Because we both were idiots, disruptive and rude and variety of other things, we both were about to get kicked out of the class. We were faced with the decision to stay in seminary and get our acts together, or not come back. Bob chose to leave, and said that he would prove to everyone that he would still go on a mission. I decided to stay, probably more out of fear of my mother than anything. That was one of the most pivotal decisions in both our lives. Since then, he fell into drugs and alcohol, has been married a girl with even more problems than him and now is divorced. He is today completely inactive. I started from that time to make changes in my life to prepare to serve a mission. It was not an easy path, but I am so grateful for choosing it.

That brings us to results of choice. There are, and always will be, consequences for our decisions, whether big or small. Sometimes it is difficult to see immediate results from our decisions, but they are most definitely there. Because we make our own choices, we choose the outcome of our lives.

Brigham Young said, “If Brother Brigham shall take a wrong track, and be shut out of the Kingdom of heaven, no person will be to blame but Brother Brigham. I am the only being in heaven, earth, or hell, that can be blamed.”

We will all make incorrect choices in this life. We will all fall short. God knew this, and for that very reason has provided a Savior for us.

D&C 45:3-5 says: 3 Listen to him who is the ^aadvocate with the Father, who is pleading your cause before him—

4 Saying: Father, behold the ^asufferings and ^bdeath of him who did no ^csin, in whom thou wast well pleased; behold the blood of thy Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest that thyself might be ^dglorified;

5 Wherefore, Father, spare these my ^abrethren that ^bbelieve on my name, that they may come unto me and have ^ceverlasting life.

If we choose to come unto Christ through repentence, we all can be made clean. I know that Jesus Christ is the only path for us to return to our Father’s presence, and obtain everlasting life.

Now back to Elder Pineda. Elder Pineda’s experience gives a clear example of choice. He made the decision to indulge a physical desire because he had the right to choose that. His choice came with immediate unwanted consequences. Often we are faced with choices that can seriously affect our spiritual progression in this life. But like Elder Pineda, if along the way we do fail, and we will, we can be made clean again through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

President Monson shared a story in his talk that greatly impacted my life. I would love to share that with you now, and many of you I’m sure will remember it.

In closing may I share with you an example of one who determined early in life what his goals would be. I speak of Brother Clayton M. Christensen, a member of the Church who is a professor of business administration in the business school at Harvard University.

When he was 16 years old, Brother Christensen decided, among other things, that he would not play sports on Sunday. Years later, when he attended Oxford University in England, he played center on the basketball team. That year they had an undefeated season and went through to the British equivalent of what in the United States would be the NCAA basketball tournament.

They won their games fairly easily in the tournament, making it to the final four. It was then that Brother Christensen looked at the schedule and, to his absolute horror, saw that the final basketball game was scheduled to be played on a Sunday. He and the team had worked so hard to get where they were, and he was the starting center. He went to his coach with his dilemma. His coach was unsympathetic and told Brother Christensen he expected him to play in the game.

Prior to the final game, however, there was a semifinal game. Unfortunately, the backup center dislocated his shoulder, which increased the pressure on Brother Christensen to play in the final game. He went to his hotel room. He knelt down. He asked his Heavenly Father if it would be all right, just this once, if he played that game on Sunday. He said that before he had finished praying, he received the answer: “Clayton, what are you even asking me for? You know the answer.”

He went to his coach, telling him how sorry he was that he wouldn’t be playing in the final game. Then he went to the Sunday meetings in the local ward while his team played without him. He prayed mightily for their success. They did win.

That fateful, difficult decision was made more than 30 years ago. Brother Christensen has said that as time has passed, he considers it one of the most important decisions he ever made. It would have been very easy to have said, “You know, in general, keeping the Sabbath day holy is the right commandment, but in my particular extenuating circumstance, it’s okay, just this once, if I don’t do it.” However, he says his entire life has turned out to be an unending stream of extenuating circumstances, and had he crossed the line just that once, then the next time something came up that was so demanding and critical, it would have been so much easier to cross the line again. The lesson he learned is that it is easier to keep the commandments 100 percent of the time than it is 98 percent of the time.¹³

Brothers and sisters, we are all facing constant temptation. Being constantly vigilant is very difficult, and nearly impossible. We will make mistakes. But we can choose now to be like Brother Christensen. We can decide to be 100 percent obedient, and strive for that. We must all avoid falling into darkness. But, with our attempts to resist temptation, I wish to invite you and myself to do something more. Let us be producers of light, not just avoiders of darkness. When I was working to change my life and prepare for a mission, I was forced to search for new friends. I found a friend who became a source of light for me. He was so excited to serve a mission. He was excited for me to serve. I remember him coming over one Sunday night and he showed me a scripture, and I’m sure all of you are familiar with this scripture, but I will never forget the night he shared it with me. It hit me stronger than any other scripture ever has.

It is found in Helaman 5:12 “12 And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the^arock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your ^bfoundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty ^cstorm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.”

Let us strive to be like my friend, and produce light. Let us use our agency for good. Let us make Christ our foundation, and help others do the same. I know that God is our Father. I know that in his love he created this plan, in it he provided our opportunity to grow and also provided our way of salvation. I know Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior. I know through him we can obtain eternal life.

I share these things with you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Doppelgänger

2011-11-12T08:48:00.000-08:00

A while back, I talked about the inescapable awkward phase I hit around age age 10. Perhaps this picture will either remind you or help you understand what I mean.

Needless to say I have been fighting an uphill battle, one that I am not fully sure I will ever win. The purpose of this blog post is to discuss the idea of doppelgänger, and perhaps demonstrate the sad reality that I live in. Like everyone on this planet, there have been certain characters on TV or the Big Screen that others have pointed out resemble myself. I have a friend who has recently pointed out three. First, a gazelle from The Lion King, ya know, one of the ones that Simba eats for dinner (important to note, this is after this particular friend told me she has a mini crush on Simba. So she crushes on the animal that wants to eat me). Second, from The Lion King as well, Ed the Hyena. Apparently we have similar personalities. Third, this one was particularly embarrassing, Gustave from Ever After, ya know, the effeminate artist friend of Drew Barrymore. These are the most recent comparisons drawn to me. But since we have already started, we might as well dig deep into the past. The next to come to mind is the little nerdy kid with glasses from Cheaper by the Dozen. But, being that I used to act just like him and probably still do at times, I can totally understand. Plus, looking at the picture above, it wasn't just based on personality. Okay, this is just getting too difficult to relive. Seriously, my last bit of self confidence just evaporated out the window, so I think it's best that we just jump to the killer dog doppelgänger, the one that people just seem to keep bringing up. Drum roll please....................yes, you guessed it, BOB SAGET.

It started with a Mexican missionary companion of mine, and I was sure it would die in Mexico. But, alas, it has not. It continues to plague my very existence to this day. Perhaps I just need to accept the truth, that no matter what I do, Bob Saget is and always will be my doppelgänger.

A Tale of Three Staches: Qistache, Manstache, and Lovestache

2011-11-07T12:15:00.000-08:00

Option #1: Sleep. Option #2: Write a blog post about my mustache. What kind of idiot do you think I am? Sleep when I have a mustache to write about? Morons! Some of you may be wondering what kind of person grows a mustache. Or perhaps you have asked the simple question, why? Well, often I have wondered that myself. But now that I know, and I do know, I'm not going to tell you the secret. Only true mustache growers can ever understand these things. Sorry :) I do wish for you to know that my mustache is now coming very nicely. At first, with a thin wisp of dirty blonde hair barely clinging to my upper lip, I would look in the mirror at myself in disgust and for the next hour try to avoid looking people in the face. I couldn't do it. I was embarrassed. I have written before about self image. I have written before about my state of ease when it comes to my own image. I really don't have anything I want to change about myself. NOT because I believe myself more attractive than the next Joe Schmoe walking down the street (I just hope my girlfriend/wife thinks I am ha), but because my self worth comes elsewhere. BUT, this mustache experience for a time recreated those self conscious feelings. I had gotten used to walking down the sidewalk, smiling pleasantly at passerby-ers, but the more I smile now the more disgusted people look back or the more they laugh. You see, a mustache has a great polarizing effect; people either hate mustaches or they love them. They either say, "What the heck is that?" Or, they say, "nice mustache." But when anybody says "nice mustache", it seems about fifty percent of the time they are being facetious. I can read it in their eyes. Or sometimes I just ask them and they flat out tell me they are joking. Harsh! But I don't care anymore, this has just been one more obstacle to overcome in my quest for freedom from vanity. I believe I am growing closer and closer to reaching self-imagery nirvana. Not to beat a dead horse with the subject of Qi, but this stache is helping me see life for what it is, and what is most important. I can feel the Qi within, and I WILL HARNESS IT. You see, it is all because of the mustache. It is changing me. All I've been wanting to do lately is grab a back pack, stuff in a sleeping bag and some clothes, and just start walkin'. Where to? Who knows! But I want to. Beyond that, I believe it is bringin' out the true hick in me, and exponentially increasin' my masculinity. The other day my friend Kade was going duck huntin', and all the sudden I wanted to shoot me a duck and roast it over a fire. Maybe I'll convince him to go out for a week and survive only on what we catch and cook ourselves. Don't worry about me, my mustache will keep me mighty warm! Going back to Kade, he loves to talk about the good ole days when men were men. When men were tough and blue collared. Before men started wearing skinny jeans and color coding. That all reminds me of the time when my Dad asked my cousin if the reason I wasn't married was because my jeans were too tight. More reason as to why we need to go out, shoot some stuff, cook some Dutch oven, build something with some power tools, play some tackle football, hike to the top of the tallest mountain we can see, and then pee off the top when we get there. This all reminds me of Kade's favorite song.

But now that I have that off my shoulders, there is one more thing I need to get out in the open. The other day, my friend told me she didn't think of me as an idealistic person. On a lot of accounts, I would agree with her. But, she was definitely wrong on one account. You see, deep down, I am nothing more than a hopeless romantic. You think this might contradict my push for manliness, but I've decided it doesn't and if anything true men are romantics as well. And if they don't go hand in hand, I'll just blame it on my artist father. Some of you that know me may not believe this, so let me explain myself. As far back as I can remember, there has always been one thing on my mind, love. In elementary school, being as shy as I was, I would walk around and watch the other kids playing kissing tag and whatever else they were doing and just wish I was doing the same, but at the same time I wanted something more than that. Every time I've been somewhere beautiful, for as long as I can remember, I wanted to share it with someone special. I watch fireworks and am always amazed by their majesty, but they never are quite the same without someone by my side. Walking along the beach at night is fantastic and great, but those moments with someone are unforgettable with a special someone. I'm sure you are all saying to yourselves, "Well duh, everybody is like that!" And maybe you're right, maybe they are, but deep down I don't agree. You see, I go to Disneyland, and just like anybody else, I have fun. I always do. But I have never in my memory gone to Disneyland and not wished I was there with someone. Never, not once. And not just a passing thought, but I spend a legitimate amount of time just wishing that I could be there with someone. And not just anybody, but the "one". I feel this often in most of the things I do. Of all the reasons I'm not married, this is the top reason as to why I'm not. I want to feel something that I just haven't felt yet. I've had tastes of it. My Dad calls me Jerry Seinfeld, and that my expectations are just too high. Again, I disagree. I am not looking for a perfect person, but I AM looking for a feeling. Beyond that though, I want nothing more than to show that person I love her. I want to pick her flowers, write love notes/songs (heck, I'll learn to play the guitar or piano if necessary), paint paintings, travel the world, conquer it if necessary, just for her. I know it's the cheesiest thing ever heard or written, but I am what I am. I want my her to know day in and day out that she is the greatest thing that will have happened to me. That she was the one I looked for my whole life and it was well worth the wait. At points in the past it couldn't have happened, but I believe I am ready for it. So am I idealistic? Pretty dang! Do I believe I will find what I am looking for? I believe I will, and I will fight for it to get it. Just like Edward Bloom.

So all I have to say is I am glad I've grown the stache.

memories

2011-11-03T16:27:00.000-07:00

Just like every other kid in the 90's, I loved growing up watching Michael Jordan. But it wasn't just him, it was just the game. As a kid, there just seemed to be something magical about the NBA. Most likely because I didn't have a more warped view of professional sports, I viewed the players and the fans as this weird, almost pure form of happiness. I know, it's strange. Anywho, my family owned this NBA highlight film that my little brother and I would watch religiously. I loved it. We would run around and jump off the couches and try to fly like Mike. Oddly enough the music from that video stuck with me, and one song in particular always stings me with a pretty nasty taste of nostalgia.

Listening to that song today hit me especially hard. Thinking back on the passed 5 years, since I've been home from my mission, I'm shocked to think of where I am at in my life today. Especially in comparison to what I wanted coming home from my mission. Honestly, I didn't want to come home from my mission in the first place. I felt a happiness on my mission I had never experienced before. But coming home was hard. Starting school was hard. I had no life plan. I was enrolled at Dixie State, mainly because I had never really thought about anything else. That semester I made some decisions that have really changed my life. I decided I wanted to do something different. I decided I wanted to put myself out of my comfort zone. I decided to move to Provo, and go to BYU. Actually, it's funny because the girl's dad that I was dating at the time was the one who influenced my decision the most to leave southern Utah. I bring up that decision because as I reflect back on the past 5 years I am hit so hard with how different my life may have been. I wouldn't have met most of the people I have met, if any. I wouldn't have dated the girls I dated. I wouldn't have experienced a lot of the things I've experienced. Perhaps the reason I am thinking of this more now than ever is because this is my last semester at BYU, and if things go as planned this time next year I'll be going out into the world. First of all, I am so happy thinking back on the amazing experiences I've had and the incredible people I have met. Many of these people have left life long impressions on me. It makes me sad as I watch them move away or slowly disappear from my life, and now it's my turn. I'm soon leaving the place and the people that I have grown to love. I am leaving home all over again. Often throughout my life I looked back on life with a lot of regrets. Regrets for doing something or not doing something, but interestingly enough the older I get the less I regret. Especially now, as much as I love life here in Provo, I am really excited for the next stage in life. I have no idea what life has in store when I leave, or even before I leave at that, but I am really excited to meet new friends and go on new adventures, it's just too bad I won't be getting to watch Michael along the way....

Sorry for being too serious. I'm just feeling serious.

Ahhh, the mysteries of life.....

2011-10-18T13:49:00.000-07:00

Doesn't it look I'm about to squash him? Just like Mario.....

Some of you may be familiar with my abnormal, and perhaps disgusting, love affair with Little Caesar's Hot n Ready pizza. I love it. I want it. I need it? That may be going too far, but a friend finally helped me understand myself. He helped me see that perhaps the reason I have such a hard time falling in love is because my heart is too busy dealing with all the extra fat clogging up my arteries.

On a lighter note, did you know that Taylor Swift works in the BYU Bookstore? No JOKE!!! She does. I must confess that I woke up every morning for a semester and turned on VH1 hoping to hear "You Belong With Me". Not because of Taylor, but more because that song spoke to me. Speaking of famous people, I think my Functional Anatomy professor is related to Toby (secretly I believe he is Toby) from The Office. They look the same. They have the same dry humor. Only difference....my professor has huge muscles, especially his obnoxiously large arms. It's a little scary. What if he's on steroids? I hope not. I can imagine him going into a ROID RAGE during class and flunking everybody. That would be sad. Or maybe funny? Roids are a scary thing. I have a friend who would take this stuff called Black Powder. It would give him mini roid rages. He would stomp around wearing an ugly flat brimmed A's hat exclaiming mild profanities. It was funny. Maybe too funny. For some reason he reminded me of a deranged Oompa Loompa. I was just waiting for him to burst into song about spoiling your children and how chocolate is tasty. I hate profanity. But I really can't understand why certain swear words said at precisely the right moment can make me chuckle. I guess it's just one of those mysteries of life. Speaking of mysteries, most days when I walk up to class I listen to very carefully selected songs that become the soundtrack of my life. I feel confident and carefree, particularly when I listen to this song. Or sometimes this song. I'm embarrassed to say that it wasn't until after my mission that I found out that Alien Ant Farm weren't the originators of Smooth Criminal.

My roommate got an iPhone yesterday. He downloaded a program that resembled artificial intelligence just a little too much for comfort. At first I was worried he would become best friends with his iPhone, spending every waking moment with it. But don't worry, the iPhone spurned his advances when he asked the phone if they could be best friends. The phone told him it wasn't allowed to be best friends. I suppose there is still hope for my roommate yet!

The other day I learned about Qi (Chi). You know, life energy, energy source, or life flow. Qi opened my eyes, and helped me see what I want to specialize in as a doctor. It is called External Qigong. I implore you to watch this video to better understand. I also discovered the secret for me to harness my own Qi. I spend a lot of time walking, especially on campus. I am going to take advantage of my time by performing walking meditation. I believe this will be the key truly harnessing my Qi and unleashing the DRAGON!!! Okay, that was weird. Sorry, I have become a little obsessed with Qi I know. On a completely different note, I've been thinking about The Sandlot lately. I've decided, Squints Palledorous was a man's man. Those thick rimmed glasses, those protruding ribs, and that whiny voice just didn't do him justice. Sure, he was a bit odd, maybe a little bit of a creeper. Heck, in today's world he probably would be in prison because a variety of sexual harassment charges filed against him. But come on, at least he had the guts to do what he did. Which leads me to another thought.....I always wonder about these Zoobs. I mean, we give up on the slightest sign of disinterest. Women intimidate and terrify us. What's the deal? What happened to society where men were men and women were women? Men, or specifically, Zoobs are spineless. We live through non committal, casual invites to girls and are crushed if they say no. What happened? It's sad and embarrassing. To all those BYU bros out there, my father said it best, "Dating in Provo is like hunting elk in Yellowstone." The problem is, Zoobs are chickens, yellow bellied even, and can't even pull the trigger when the target is five feet away and not even trying to dodge. Or is that it? Do we all just want something we have to work for? Who knows? The world has so many mysteries that I may never understand. I've been wondering about my own manliness. But, thanks to a 2nd grader I know longer have to wonder. As I was teaching his class about snakes and lizards, he asked me if I'm afraid to hold them. Then, before giving me time to respond he said, "You're probably just used them, aren't you?" "Actually," he said, " I know what it is, you aren't afraid of them, because you're a MAN (he definitely emphasized man)!" I no longer question my manliness all thanks to you friendly second grader.

My Mother

2011-09-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

Here I am, at BYU, just about to finish up my last full semester of college. My medical school applications are in and I'm just waiting for my call up to the big league. It's Sunday and my stomach is growling a little bit, but the good news! I bought groceries last night. I'm pretty excited for another Sunday. I'm excited to go to church. I'm excited to visit friends. But today is especially special. Today is my Mother's (I know MOM, I don't have to capitalize Mother because I used my, but I'm gonna do it anyway) birthday. My Mother is my hero. Let me tell you why. My Mother attended college, got her degree, but didn't get married. Instead of sitting around and just wasting away hoping to find her man, she continued on and got her masters degree. She filled a temporary position teaching at the University of Rhode Island, and after her time was up was offered a full time position. She decided not to stay. Why? Because she wanted to marry a returned missionary, and there were only two in her entire region at the time. So she went to Ricks College (now BYU-Idaho) where she taught religion. While teaching, she was introduced to a recently widowed man with two children under the age of three. He was a broken man, struggling to deal with the new challenge of raising his children all while dealing with the loss of his wife. The country bumpkin artist hadn't even served a mission, but thankfully my Mother knew he was the man for her. My Dad gets a lot of attention for the things he has done in his life, and for the trials that have helped him become the person he is. He is a wonderful man, who I love with all my heart, and respect more and more each day. But the secret to his success is my Mother. She is the hero of the story. You see, my Mother is an angel. Seriously, I don't think I've met anybody in my life that could have done what she did. She has served her family with near perfection from the moment she married my Dad. I have never known my Mom to take time for herself, to take a selfish moment. She is always doing something to make the lives of everyone around her a little easier. She loves to work, she loves to serve, and she loves her family. Every once in a while my Mother seems worried that she didn't teach her children well enough. Mom, you taught us everything we needed to know!!! More than anything, she taught us by living everything, and I mean everything, that she preaches. She is the most obedient person I have ever known. I feel most people are convincing themselves of what decisions they must make, convincing themselves to be obedient, but to my Mother, it's natural. Doing evil isn't even a temptation or after thought. You see, my only hope is that I am somewhat like my Mother. I know that God loves me. One of the clearest ways I see it is by the Mother he chose for me. Thank you Mom, for teaching me the Gospel, to love the Lord and to show it. Thank you for loving me and our family the way you have. Thank you for being you. I love you Mom. You are my hero.

The Glass Castle

2011-09-11T11:34:00.000-07:00

I've developed this nasty little habit of going to bed early and waking up early. I get about one hour less sleep now than before, but I feel more rested. Perhaps Benjamin Franklin did know what he was talking about. Anywho, I don't have church until 1:30 PM, so waking up this morning at 6 produced possible annoyances. I, on the other hand, looked at the brighter side of things. Father Time finally provided an opportunity for me to finish my book. You would think that Saturday would have been ideal for reading, but after going bird watching in the morning, playing flag football and working at the Bean in the afternoon, watching BYU throw another game away and give a friend one last hurrah before she returns to the land of the Taters (not to mention killing endless Terminators and hanging with one of my little bro's ex girls (which was very funny)), I was plum out of time. I finally finished it. The worst thing about the book is that among the praising reviews they quoted Rosie O'donnell. What on earth has Rosie O'donnell done to be qualified in reviewing literature? Good thing I didn't see it before I read the book or it may have tainted the whole experience for me. I just went through an emotional roller coaster by reading The Glass Castle. Any of you familiar with the book should understand my feelings. At times, I just wanted to throw it down in disgust and other times my eyes felt literally glued to the pages. The lives of the nomadic Walls family seemed beyond surreal and imagined. I read half the book before I realized it was a story of the author's life. That made it even more exciting, and disgusting, and frustrating, and inspiring. I learned some fantastic lessons. One, I've realized that life is far more simple than we make it (well, I make it). I have this innate ability to make things more complicated than they need to be. I learned that with hard work and a passion for the work, great things can be accomplished. But perhaps the greatest lesson I learned was that a selfish attitude contains incredible destructive power. Enough to ruin not only your life but the lives of those you care most about. Seriously, I can't even express how grateful I am for my parents. They both raised me and provided for me (along with the rest of my family) in such a selfless way. Even though they both are terrified that I will never get married and end up having a shot gun wedding at some point down the road, their examples fill me with confidence that life will turn out just fine. Why? Because however much it annoys me when I act like them, deep down I know who I am because of who they are, and who I can become. All the good within me comes from them, and for that I am forever grateful.

Like a child

2011-08-15T16:15:00.000-07:00

I worked today. Pretty easy shift. Two to five and no shows. Pretty much I was searching for things to entertain myself. As I was going about my business, a little Asian child spotted me, walked up, and asked casually, "Where's Jesus?" I've been asked so many questions while at the Bean, but that one stumped me. Even still, my brain is wrapping around his question. Why am I not more concerned about Jesus? This little two year old seems to understand things better than I do, or at least he's on the right track. What was I probably wondering? Well, I was probably wondering what I wanted to eat when I got off work. Or just over thinking the same stupid things I always over think. This kid was at least "thinking" about Jesus. Sure, it could have been that he has a little Mexican friend named Jesus. Or really, he was probably just asking for Cheez-It's. So my goal for today is to think more about the real important things and stop thinking about the trivial things. I have learned another lesson recently. I've discovered one of the keys to happiness...selflessness. I know, you are thinking, IDIOT, you are just learning this. Well, some of us are slow learners. Sometimes I wonder why naturally humans are selfish. Not all, but most. I don't remember God telling Adam and Eve they would forced to eat by the sweat of their brow, oh, and you're going to be naturally selfish. But on the other hand, it's just part of that "natural man" talk. Ultimately, I am still very much a natural man. That's probably what helped me realize how happy being selfless makes a person. I've been trying to figure out what it requires for a person to make subtle but important changes in life. For example, I want to become less selfish and make some other changes. But how do I do it? How do I change? Do I just say,HEY, I'm gonna change! Well, I've tried that. It hasn't worked. But I'm starting to feel like Tom Hanks in Castaway, ya know? I've tried all these different things, and no matter how hard I try I just can't get off my bloomin' island. But I think I may have finally found my Porta-Potty. I think I've found motivation. I'll test it out and let ya know if it works.....

JULY

2011-07-09T10:27:00.000-07:00

Dear blogspot.com,
It was another hot day today. Of course, you wouldn't understand. You aren't exactly capable of noticing temperature, are you? Maybe I'll get you a weather notifier so that you can understand just a little better what I'm going through. But that's just the thing, sometimes I think you understand me better than anybody. Or maybe it's because you seem to understand that all I need sometimes is someone to listen. You see, you understand that. You never have any advice, you never want to lecture, you just listen. Thank you for that. Oddly enough, blogspot.com, it has been a very interesting summer. Honestly, even though you are probably thinking that I'm losing my mind because I'm addressing you as if you aren't inanimate (I can't even call you an object, because that would be a stretch), my eyes have been opened to reality this summer, my friend. I learned something about myself. What is reality? Reality is that until you do something, you have no idea how hard it is. I have no idea how hard marriage will be. I have no idea how hard be a father will be. Heck, the reality of my life is that I have yet to grasp life. Really just accepting reality as it is for me is much like fishing for crawdads (or crayfish, or little fresh water lobsters if you are still confused). I just want to just reach in a grab one, but I get nervous about those little pinchers. How bad is it going to hurt if it "gets" ya? I've been through some pretty nasty injuries, but those pinchers still make me nervous. That's probably why my reality is still far from reality. I haven't "grabbed" life yet because I'm afraid I just might get pinched. And it's not so much that I'm afraid of getting pinched, because I'm sure it will happen, but it's the fear of not knowing how hard I will get pinched. It's the unknown that gets me. It makes me nervous, even a little scared. And we all know that fear is the opposite of faith. So as I've been forced to open my eyes more and more to reality this summer, I'm realizing I'm far from really grasping it. I have a ways to go. I guess you wouldn't understand that, would you blogspot.com? But like I said, you're an excellent listener. Anyways, time to go and see if I can go catch one of those little suckers.......
Sincerely,
me

love is a four letter word

2011-06-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

Death Cab For Cutie tried to establish in song that fear is not existent in love. Often I find myself wondering what type of relationship fear and love have. I firmly believe that fear and faith do not coexist, much like light and darkness. The scriptures teach that love for God comes with fear. Is fear the heart of that love? But is our love for another, especially our significant other, different from our love for God? If so, and if fear is intrinsic to love of God as scriptures lead on, what do we need to fear in dating and marriage to truly love? My endless and worthless opinion leads me to believe one thing. The fear of losing that person. Sure, it's completely different from fearing the wrath of God, but perhaps not so much. Ultimately, when we truly come to love God, we fear not returning to his presence. That fear is the HEART of our desire to do right and return to him. So, fear is the heart of love. When you care so much for someone that you fear you may lose them that you do all in your power to keep them, that to me is love. I'm sure you're thinking right now, this dude is crazy! Fear being the heart of love! Puh-lease! You know what, I'm starting to believe love parallels art. Everyone's perception of what art is is completely different. Is love any different? Perhaps finding the one that loves as you do develops that which much of this fanciful world is searching for. Or maybe, you need to find someone who flat out loves differently. That's the mystery of it all. It just seems that with all the games that seem to confuse every step of the dating process that when it works, games go out the window. NOT! The games never end. I can see them in every marriage. And perhaps they are necessary to keep life a little spicy.... Dang, after all that, I feel more confused on the subject than I did before I started writing this stupid post. I don't know anything about love. All I know is that Dan In Real Life taught me a valuable lesson, that love is not a feeling, it's an ability. Sorry for confusing you more on the subject of LOVE. Every time I think I know all there is to know about love, I realize I don't know anything. My Dad always says, the smartest man in the world is the smartest man in the world because he knows he knows nothing.

well well well, what do we have here?

2011-05-24T19:42:00.000-07:00

confession: i like to think. i like to think a lot. when people ask for a favorite hobby, i want to say to think, but i resist. why? maybe because its weird. i am fine with being weird, but i still dont tell people its my favorite hobby. but im realizing a few things about thinking. it can be such a blessing, but a damning curse. and i think i may have figured out why. i mean, the greatest people seem to be great thinkers, right? but we all know those people that love to hate things. we all know people that think in such a negative and cynical way that it's not even fun to be around them. do you know what's sad? im pretty sure im that way. like today, i got on facebook for who knows why, and saw an event about a girl's birthday party, so i clicked on it. she is throwing herself a birthday party! to some of you, that may be natural. but for me, i dont like it. its weird to me. even worse is when people pretend like they aren't throwing their own party but are doing everything vicariously through someone else. but you know what, who cares? i dont need to dislike that. and even if i do, it shouldn't be something i have to voice. and what if instead i thought of how maybe that person just needs some friends. maybe the joy they find in life is from getting attention, and why should i look down upon them for trying to be happy. sure, i dont have to completely agree, and i definitely dont have to live the same way (this is a very moderate example, im probably speaking more at this moment of more serious differences of opinion). so i may be having some sort of epiphany. maybe thinking isn't the problem, but the way i think. i try to be positive at times, but i think i need to take it a step farther. to really fix the problem, i must be more positive to the core, all the way down to the way i think. this is mainly because i don't like it when people point out every negative thing about me, so why should i even do that at all about someone else? its wrong, and rude. i want to be nice. i want to think positively even of those stinkers who are always rude (im workin on it). but whenever i look back on my childhood of reading Calvin and Hobbes, i realize that Calvin was one grumpy little kid. Hobbes, on the other hand, was positive. thats probably why Calvin had him as his imaginary (i know, he wasn't completely imaginary, he was stuffed) friend. time to think more positively.

today

2011-05-17T14:42:00.000-07:00

i just got out of van training. i learned a few very important things. if you text and drive, you will probably die or kill someone, most likely 2 local rocket scientists. seriously, now im terrified to even look at my phone in my car ever again. and i learned that wearing your seat belt is importante. some of the surveyed reasons as to why people don't wear their seat belt is: wrinkles clothes, uncomfy, but my favorite, too macho. if i had big muscles i might be able to understand this, but alas....i do not. anywho, the room was a little roasty so i made sure to point that out as a suggestion to improve the class, oh, and they gave me a pencil without an eraser so i suggested they change that as well. i hate that. every pencil needs an eraser. without an eraser, to me, its just a pen. and if i want a pen, im going to get a pen. right after training, i was walking back to the library when this tall Indian (or some sort of Asian) guy came running by. when i say running, i dont mean like he was wearing some running shoes and he jogged by at decent pace. or even that he appeared to be late for a class and was kind of running to get there. no, full sprint with his wide legged jeans and his tucked in shirt. it was a site to see. i couldn't help imagining how horrible (and maybe a little funny) it would be if he fell. i say funny, because in comparison to one of the videos we watched in training it would be nothing. this video we watched was a guy who just stole a car, a police helicopter was following him as he tried to get away, and he rolls the SUV. as its rolling, he is ejected nearly straight up in the air, hits the ground seconds before he is run over by oncoming traffic. it was pretty sad. but of course, because he was a criminal, people were cracking jokes. i was just thinking, if that was Osama, everybody would have started cheering and giving high fives. America confuses me sometimes. anyways, back to the Indian track star, right as i walked in the library i see him enter the opposite side. someone must have been timing me. that reminded me of the times that my older siblings would try to trick me into getting them things just by telling me they would time me. no worries, someday i will have children and i will treat them as my own personal peons (im kidding, i would never......;)). anywho, right before i walked into the library i remembered that one of the girls at van training was named Leia. i started wondering how high of increase there was of babies named Leia in the 80's. i thought i cared while i was walking, but i dont think i care enough to look. as i walked in, other than the Indian trackster, i saw a pretty girl talking to a very short, balding, chubby guy. for some reason, it just made me happy to know that women are nicer than men. thank you women, for being nicer and less shallow than we are. well, back to the library, to spend the rest of my life studying for the MCAT. yeah, i know, its about the 3rd summer in the row i've been talking about this infernal test!

old man river

2011-05-14T09:55:00.000-07:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days, and I think I finally figured it out. What is "it", you may ask? "It" just happens to be why I'm so different. Yeah, I know I'm different, but I just haven't been able to figure out why I'm so different. But it's all been resolved. I understand "it" now. "It" all just makes sense. I have an "old" soul. Seriously, I think I was supposed to be born in late 30's, but for some reason it just didn't happen. Or maybe I was frozen as a baby and my parents aren't really my parents, but they bought this frozen baby from the Black Market (I always imagine the Black Market as a big flea market, or in Tijuanese "sobreruedas". Seriously, that would be weird. Everything from elephant tusks to kidneys stacked on ice like fish. It would be one crazy sight, I'm tellin you!). Who knows? All I know, is most of the things that I really like tend to be old. Like, I enjoy certain types of music from the last 30 or so years, but nothing makes me happier than listening to old Jazz music. I can sit and listen to Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole, or Frank Sinatra all day if i had to. Overall, movies have just gone down hill over the past few decades. Sure, every once in a while a movie will come out that I just love, but nothing like the good ole days. When I think of love stories, I don't think of the crap that comes out these days. I don't think of Twilight, or anything written by Nicholas Sparks (I just barfed a little even writing his name in my blog, just kitten, but seriously, lame!). I think of movies based on dialogue and story line, not sex and booze. Pop culture today is just weird and gross. Whenever I hear most pop music today, I can't help but cringe. I know, I'm weird. It's because I'm old. I was supposed to be raised in the 40's and 50's. So when everyone thinks I'm weird for telling girls its lame to dress immodestly, or obsess over movie stars, or love their TV shows and movies that are about as stupid and immoral as you can find, please understand that I'm not trying to be mean by being different, I'm just old. When I see all these kids walking around with their smart phones I just shake my head and say, "kids these days, with all their new gadgets and doohickies." They should be out shooting BB guns, swimming in water holes, and fishing in the creek. Yeah, I'm just an old soul in 80's baby's body.

life in a nutshell

2011-04-30T07:41:00.000-07:00

the good

1. the king's speech - someone came up with the crazy idea of editing the movie of the year and putting it in theaters as PG-13. whoever you are, thank you.
2. mountain west burrito - i can't get over their carnitas nachos.....(i just imagined a bunch of chips, beans, carnitas, cheese, guacamole, and sour cream dancing to this song). i hate being at work when im hungry!
3. the NBA playoffs!!!!
4. the eternally good, LITTLE CAESARS Hot n' Ready
5. free Costco muffins - all thanks to the power going out at the ward sleep over.....accident? i think not! chalk one up to divine providence...
6. summer just around the corner.
7. NETFLIX
8. It's a Wonderful World - by Louis Armstrong - always good for a smile and a little taste of nostalgia.
9. Spent Easter with my peeps.
10. Red Cliffs!!!
11. Finding out my nieces "watered" the flowers with gasoline.

the not-so-good

1. a girl gave me herpes and then left me. what the cuss!
2. my fingers are still struggling to heal themselves after the dislocation/stitches.
3. i have to move, and to ARLINGTON! are these subconscious efforts to become a Provo All-Star?
4. studying like a mad man for the rest of spring term.....
5. Recognizing that it really is time to grow up.
6. Why do Mormons love to watch immoral entertainment?
7. materialism
8. too much focus on fashion/hollywood/anything dumb and stupid

Winter semesters always turn out to be the strangest and most exciting of my life. A lot of times not the preferred type of excitement I seek, but definitely has spiced my life up a bit. This semester I learned a lot about life. I learned that girls that are really in to fashion and material things are boring and lame. I learned that life is what you make of it. I learned that when you go to someones house, you should always be on your best behavior no matter how you are treated. I learned that I'm 25 (I know, how did I not recognize the past 3 years of my life go by.....), and that I truly have become a menace to society. With 3+ talks at General Conference at least "touching" on the theme of marriage and that men have no excuse, for a second a glint of light broke through my overly crusted eyes. For a moment during that eventful conference weekend I felt much like the Grinch after he realized that he hadn't destroyed Christmas from coming. Maybe marriage, just maybe, marriage isn't a ball and chain, maybe it's greater than the doubts that fill my little brain. As I was sitting there, listening to Elder Scott, much like the Grinch my heart grew and it grew, perhaps 3 sizes (not much improvement when it originated as the size as a grain of sand). But I do feel enlightened....or I did. I tried to give a girl my heart, and much like Andy Samberg, she took it, and threw it on the GROUND. But not before she gave me herpes. Seriously, who does that. Now here I am again, alone, living in the land of beautiful and horrifically materialistic. So, for now, I'll just keep breathing, I'll force myself to crawl out of bed...somehow, I'll keep on living. Although the cold sore on my face will someday heal, I'm not so optimistic about my shattered heart.....then again, maybe she didn't throw it on the ground. Maybe, it slipped, and she didn't really want to leave me, and really actually wants to be with me but didn't have a choice. yeah, maybe.....I like maybe. But like I said, what an eventful semester. I nearly lost two of my fingers playing basketball.

I got to ride X2 at Six Flags about 5 times in a row.

I got to go to the BEACH, and almost lost another finger.

I've seen the Carl Bloch exhibit at least 3 times. I was employee of the month at the Bean Museum. I spent Easter with my family and hiked Red Cliffs.

I must say this was a fantastic semester. Even though I got left high and dry (dang London study abroad), and I have to study my butt off for the next 2 months, I'm excited about the summer and about the possible prospects of the year. Who knows, maybe some day this year I'll finally get over my Peter Pan syndrome and grow up......maybe..

Disclaimer: I have exaggerated and usefully used sarcasm throughout much of this and many other blog posts. please don't take me too seriously....especially about the girl. She is and will be missed.

my dog akela...

2011-03-25T10:06:00.000-07:00

so, when i was pretty young my parents decided to get my older brother a dog. my mom grew up with pomeranians so we paid the extra dime or two for one of the little red yappers/snappers. my little brother and i tortured that dog for the next few years of its life. it had to grow a tough skin, ya know? i remember i would put her in my backpack and ride around on my bike. or my little bro and i would fight over who got to hold her. we would try to force her to sleep inside our beds or at the bottom of our sleeping bags. we would make her sleep on the top bunk of our bed so she couldn't get away. she still jumped down....probably seriously injured herself. needless to say, she learned to defend herself. haha, i remember my little brother trying to give her a kiss and she bit him on the lip, it drew blood (hahahahahahahaha). it was classic. so many memories. but over the years, as we treated her better her temperament only gradually adjusted. still, i got really used to lying down on the couch and saving her a spot next to me to jump up and cuddle. she always wanted to snuggle and be pet, but sometimes you had to watch yourself because if you stopped when she wasn't done yet you might just get nipped a bit. haha, that dang dog. pretty soon after we got her name became Bad Dog most of the time. well, the day i got home from my mission my family told me the bad news. she had died. she developed some very serious conditions so we had her put to sleep. it was so weird at first coming home and not having her there. 12 years of her there had become habitual for me. anyways, the other day, i was watching My Dog Skip on netflix and sat there wishing i had a cool dog like that growing up. but then i realized, i did in my own way. it got me thinking a lot about my life, the post mission years, and especially the past semester or so. there have been some really hard times over the past fourish years. i have faced more difficult things these past few years than i ever did my whole life. but the crazy thing is, they have been some of the best if not the best of my life (other than those 2). ive made some amazing friends and ive dated some amazing girls. ive learned a lot about life and people. i know too often that i come off negative, cynical, or pessimistic. especially when im trying to be sarcastic. but i love life, i love people, and i am excited for what my future holds. im excited for the people i will meet, the girl i will marry, and the family i will have. im excited to be a doctor, to do whatever i can to make a difference in this world in any way i can. im excited to live in a place where i can share my beliefs with those around me. you see, i love God. and no, im not being sarcastic. i see the blessings that he has poured upon me everyday of my life. a short time ago, an Apostle of God suggested that we express our testimonies in any setting available. i love Jesus Christ. i know he paid the price for the sins of us all. i know that his Gospel is true. i am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. i know it to be his church. i miss having the opportunity to testify of these things day in and day out as a missionary, but im learning that the greatest way for me to testify of those things now is the way i live my life. i can imagine that many of you are gagging at the cheesiness of this post, but i had to do it. ive been too blessed not to write to about them. i am grateful for the trials, i am grateful for my faith, i am grateful for my family, and i am even grateful for old Akela, that stinkin old snapper.

a little this and little of that

2011-03-24T00:51:00.000-07:00

so, i was walking out of the BEAN museum (my place of occupation) the other day and i came across two ducks. this puzzled me. the BEAN museum is one of the northern most buildings on campus, while the duck pond is found on its very southern edge. what are these semi-domestic ducks doing up at the BEAN. thats when it hit me, and a near tear (haha, near tear...) came to my eye, they came to mourn their lost loved ones. ok, so maybe they didnt, but i think they did. those ducks remember things. they never forgave me for lasering them that time so long ago. and i know i'll never forget that dive bomb attempt. so right now, it's 1:12 AM. i have a new testament test tomorrow. ive barely studied. i think ive become semi-irresponsible. it may be the fact that im suffering from peter pan syndrome. that, or ive been eating so poorly i may just keel over and die any minute. its true. the other day, i felt so sick to my stomach from eating so much junk food that the best option i could think of was frozen yogurt with as much fruit as i could find. i was teaching little kids today how snakes are so lazy and dumb because they dont eat very much. well, people are lazy and dumb too when they dont eat WELL. im still trying to define the word "well". i wanted to let you all know (im starting to think by "you all" it really just does mean 3.5 readers/followers) that ive learned some valuable lessons this year. first of all, never try to have fun on valentines day. if you think you are going to have fun, especially because you think any gifts you have purchased for a significant other are particularly funny, change your game plan immediately. ive realized that im not very funny. plus, i may be crazy. its true. i may be crazy. i blame it on my genetics. its the best excuse i got, and it helps that my dads an artist cuz everyone knows artists are crazy. i think i should have a disclosure written out about me for any person that tries to date me so they know what they are getting themselves into. it would probably say something like: you may think he is cute even with his crooked nose and unruly hair and think that he is nice and good, DONT BE DECEIVED. he really isnt cute (crooked nose, crooked teeth, unruly shag hair, skinny as a rail, pin head, etc.), he has to get his way, he can be self-righteous and un-righteous within a five minute span, and he smells funny, like stinky shoes (i blame that on the fact i live in a leaky old basement that seems to be the breeding ground for all of PROVOS spiders). in the end, if they do date me, then i can show them the disclosure and say just like the rattlesnake did to the little indian boy, "you knew what i was when you picked me up." yeah, its life. speaking of life, the other day i went to "a BIEBER movie". first of all, we were like 45 minutes late and then i had to sit by myself next to little 15 year olds that kept cheering when he was shirtless or taking his clothes off. i tried to sleep. literally, i tried my hardest. it didn't happen. i think its because im just a boring old prude at heart with stick up his bum (speaking of stick up my bum, whenever im accused of having one up there and asked to remove it, i kindly explain that it must be left to avoid the risk of splinters) or maybe i was just jealous that i didnt have hordes of women chasing after me (that, or be worth millions upon millions at 17). actually, if i know myself at all, its just because i was bored and bugged by the weirdness of girls literally crying about a BIEBER. heck, what is a BIEBER? ozzy osbourne knows what im talking about. anyways, who knows? all i know is its later than it was, and im still not studying so i may have to change to plan X, wake up early and cram like my life depends on it....which it doesnt by the way.

anyways, there you have it.

my life.

fin.

this morning.

2011-02-01T14:07:00.000-08:00

It's Tuesday. I've always loved Tuesdays. I don't have class until 10 so I sleep in until I have to rush myself to get ready. Actually, I don't really sleep in. I wake up around 8 and go to ESPN.com to get my sports fix for the morning. That, or I watch a few minutes of the show I used to fall asleep the night before. This morning it was Hook. I was trying to decide which of the Lost Boys is the wisest. I've narrowed it down to two, Tootles and Pockets. So when it finally got late enough that I knew I would have to rush myself, I jump in the shower. I live in hole, by the way. Seriously, I lived in nicer places while on my mission in Tijuana, Mexico. For the most part, its hard to feel the heating system anywhere in our "love nest" downstairs....except in the bathroom. I swear it gets over a hundred degrees in there when I'm getting ready. I shower just sweat while I do my hair and brush my teeth. So to answer why I look like a ragamuffin most days, its because I refuse to die of heat stroke in my own bathroom. Anyways, like an idiot I grabbed my thinnest jacket and run out the door (not forgetting my Strawberry and Cream Cheese Toaster Strudels of course), and get hit in the face with the frigid wind. It's the coldest my face has felt in quite a while. So I start walking and my dang ear bud wont stay in my right ear. The left ear bud fits perfectly, the right just won't stay. It makes me wonder if I'm already growing old man ear hair thats keeping those buds from staying. Of course, being the visual person I am I picture long thick hairs springing away the ear bud time and time again. Anyways, I get to the Hill. I start lumbering up it when I notice the girls shoes in front of me, fake Uggs. At least I think they were fake because they didn't say Uggs. That's beyond the point because my overriding thought was that those shoes look a thin pillow with a rubber sole. For some reason this thought led to thinking about this girl walking in front of me. I wondered, "Is she as cold as I am right now?" My nose was on the verge of frostbite. Then I thought, "I wonder what that girl is thinking about." I hate it when this happens. Every person after that, I look deeply at the expressions on their faces trying to figure out what the heck they are thinking about, or what is going on in their lives. I find I have many weaknesses, and one is that I am somewhat self-absorbed. It's just easier to think about what going on with me than other people, because I know what I'm thinking. So of course I've spent most of today trying to figure out who people are and what they are thinking, just by getting a good look at them. It's hard business I'll tell you what! It's like that chick flick with Mel Gibson where he can hear women's thoughts, but for me everything es made up (gotta love a good imagination). Oh, and how do you feel about listening to music while you walk? I swear it makes me feel like Tom off 500 Days of Summer, depending on my mood and what I'm listening to. It's like I have a sound track to my life. This morning I listened to Jerry Seinfeld. I kept asking myself why Jews are so funny. Did their sarcasm and cynicism develop over those thousand years plus of persecution? I'm Mormon, my ancestors were persecuted for hundreds of years. But no, I'll never be Jerry. Maybe we just need a couple more hundred years of persecution. That, or we just don't swear enough. SWEETNESS! I just got an email from President Cecil O. Samuelson himself. I knew it, I am special. HE WANTS MY FEEDBACK! Well, I'm making it official. I've decided to renounce Facebook for a time. I want to see if I can notice myself become less narcissistic. I'm going to call my experiment, The Anti-Social Network: Getting Back to Reality. Anyways, it's been an interesting morning. I am now on the fifth floor, and it is time for me to finish watching Hook. Have a wonderful day.

Picture stolen from my sister's blog. Its at the premiere of the documentary done on my Dad. Has nothing to do with today.

How to be popular?

2011-01-24T17:05:00.000-08:00

Reader beware.....if you are hoping that I actually have the answers to this question, you better look elsewhere. Interesting as it is, all people seem to have this internal desire to be liked and wanted. We all want it. We all want friends. In a sense, depending on how you define the word, we all want to be popular. But how badly do we want it? And how do we go about achieving it? What I find most interesting is how people approach achieving popularity, and the fact that most people do it differently. So why would I even care? I mean, this is a well known and accepted fact about our society today. But for me, recently my perspective on these things has changed somewhat. First of all, I've realized I got it really easy in life. I may be weird, but I am secure with who I am and what I look like. Sure, there are aspects of my personality that I hope to improve, but I am still happy. Secondly, I've realized women have it hard. The hard thing is, I know I will never really understand how hard they really have it. There are major differences in the way we, females and I, think that makes it impossible for me to completely understand. For example, Forbes.com rated Salt Lake as the Vainest City in America based on the number of plastic surgeons per 100,000 people. Salt Lake City, including the surrounding cities like Draper and Sandy, is considered the VAINEST city in America? How is it that a people who are taught to base their self worth not on what they look but on who they are, and they still come out on #1? I just don't understand, and what it comes down to is that I probably never will. Our society has established such huge importance on outward appearance, especially for women. The best way for me to understand this is asking this question: how often do you see a good looking guy marry a not so good looking girl? How about the other way around? Men are more focused on outward appearance, much of it because of their preoccupation with sex. Women are better than men. They are more caring and compassionate, and definitely more emotional. But, because of these things the incredible amount of social pressure on women takes a greater toll on them than it would on men. Utah women are taught their whole lives in a church setting that their self worth should be found in their eternal importance and value, being daughters of God. They are taught the evils of immodesty and vanity. But outside of church, the world teaches them the opposite. You are accepted mainly by what you look like. You are guaranteed more attention from men wearing a bikini to the pool than a one piece, or wearing short shorts or low cut shirts etc. You are guaranteed more attention being skinnier and bigger breasted than being fat and flat. It is a very sad fact about the world we live in. Too often I find myself on my soap box, arguing about the evils of immodesty and vanity. Too often I try to tell the women I know that the way they think is ridiculous, and that they need to obtain a more secure and true self worth. But what have I done to actually help? How often have I dated girls that dressed immodestly and justify my decision to date them? How often have I dated girls based more on what they look like than who they are? Too often I am as much of the problem as the next person. I can sit here and try to blame Hollywood and all the stupid magazines women read, but at the end of the day I have to change before I can expect to ever see a change in society. I really just hope to be successful in teaching my own children, especially my daughters, to find their self worth and that of others in who they are, not what they look like. Hopefully by then I am capable of living what I teach.

Christmas Vacation: Part One

2011-01-08T09:41:00.000-08:00

Every year it seems that Thanksgiving comes and goes way too quickly. Those last couple of weeks in between Thanksgiving and that last day of finals blow by like a whirlwind, leaving me dazed and exhausted. Seriously, right after my last final my brain shifts into recovery mode, automatic shut down. If you have had a conversation with me at any moment within 24 hours of me finishing finals, or ever do in the future, I apologize for what I have or will say (it's probably as bad as my post surgery conversations, involving my intense interrogation of friends and family, often involving their love lives). But the worst thing of all, Christmas break arrives all too suddenly which just leads to its all too quick ending. Perhaps much of my lack of Christmas enjoyment has to do with the fact every time I come home it's a constant inquiry as to why I'm not married, or maybe also because everyone is always so busy at my house that more often than not I just end up sitting on the couch going crazy trying to entertain myself. No joke, last Christmas break I was soooo bored that I watched nearly every movie in our house, including Sleepless in Seattle and A Walk to Remember (and far more embarrassing, I actually enjoyed both of them way to much). However, things were different this year. My parents, namely my Dad, hasn't nagged me once. NOT EVEN ONCE. Nothing about school, or dating, or that "other" unpleasant topic. I've never felt this relaxed at home in years. I spent most of my Sunday playing with my little nieces and nephews. One of my cute little nieces, the same who refused to be anything but the devil for Halloween, now wants to be the Grinch for Christmas (she was a lizard in last years Nativity so I'm not sure if we can consider the Grinch an upgrade....). Monday morning I worked out at 615 AM with my brothers and my old Young Men's leaders from high school. We did the INSANITY work out, and it was INSANE!! Monday ended wonderfully when the Dallas Mavericks beat the Miami Heat, again. Tuesday I got up and went to shadow my brother, who is a Family Practitioner. It was pretty awesome. Some people don't like the doctor's office. I love it. The best part of all, I got to help in surgery. To avoid the grisly details, my Brother made me hold back a particularly sensitive part of the male anatomy to expose growths on the inner thigh. Wednesday I tried to get my Mom to watch Rambo with me. She said it wasn't a good show for boys. She just doesn't understand. We love Around the World (ping pong style). Just last night my 62 year old Father dove after a ball trying to keep himself in the game, and he says he's changed...that he's not as competitive as he used to be. Dad, I just want you to remember, it's your nature. Christmas Eve morning we all went to play basketball and just to give you an idea of how we play, my Dad broke a tendon in his finger and my brother dislocated his finger (seriously, it looked like an M). Go big or go home, that's our policy. Christmas Day, I got lots of socks, and we went to see True Grit, which was awesome (except for those horrible last 5 minutes). Christmas night, I started feeling sick. Next morning I woke up with Strep Throat, so in and out of my NyQuil induced sleep I ended up watching Free Willy. I can't lie, I was severely disappointed when that annoying kid, you know, the grumpy foster kid, didn't get at least wacked in the face as Willy leaped to freedom. I guess you can't get everything you want. Monday I rested, and used the best Christmas gift I have EVER received to purchase a Little Caesar's Hot 'n Ready (who knew Little Caesar's sold gift cards? I sure didn't, but it's like a little piece of heaven in my wallet). This is the conclusion of Part One of Christmas Vacation, tune in soon for Part Two: California Adventure.

Dating or.........FLAG FOOTBALL

2010-12-04T10:30:00.000-08:00

I am in a state of mourning. In fact, I questioned my ability to actually write this post knowing my emotional instability. It was to be a miracle end to a miracle season....but alas, it came to an abrupt halt. Our team made it to the Upper Division Championship Flag Football Game after losing the first game of the double elimination playoffs. We were the lowest ranked team in the upper division because of some undesirable conditions in our last game (we only had five dudes show up to our last regular season game). But, after our loss to start the playoffs, we went on a tear. We beat team after team, some in a very convincing manner, others in nail biters to the end (7-6 win over the team that beat us). I had threats on my life made. One kid in particular said to me after I told him to settle down and that it was "only" flag football that "it might only be flag football here on the field, but in the parking lot it will be a different game." Of course, I laughed in his face. Someday I'll learn to be more diplomatic in those situations, especially when dealing with someone twice my size. But flag football is not a time for diplomacy, it is a time for ruthless domination. Only the the cutthroat survive.....and survive we did, well, for a while. Going into the championship game, I had visions in my mind of the new inspirational Disney movie about our team, named "Remember the Gomers" or "The Mighty Gomers" or even "The Little Gomers". BUT NO, again, we fell short. It's starting to establish a theme in my life. First, in Little League as a ten year old I committed an error to ruin our hopes for a perfect season. Then, again, as a 12 year old Little Leaguer I had the worst game of the season to again dash our hopes for an undefeated season, sure we won the league but we didn't achieve our goal. Flag football as a twelve year old we lost again in the championship. Are you seeing a pattern here? High school basketball (first round of the playoffs), football (state semi finals), baseball (lets not even go there), and track when I got disqualified in the state finals for running around a hurdle; I just keep falling short. Sure, I've won a few championships along the way, but they just weren't satisfying enough. But that brings me to my next point, the other day I was making fun of chick flicks again and Westin finally got me, he said, "Craig, you only hate chick flicks because your life is a chick flick." I sat there as I let that one sink in. Well dang it, he may be on to something here. I mean, looking back on my dating life, from my life a person could come up with at least 3 or 4 legitimate chick flicks. But lets not get into details on that one. But combining my lack of coming up big in big moments, I'm starting to see something terrible. I may become the side kick, or the loser in my own chick flick. Like Dave Chappelle in You've Got Mail, or Inigo Montoya in the Princess Bride, or George Wickham from none other than Pride and Prejudice (confession, I have never seen the movie or read the book, but I've heard enough references to it that I feel like he had to be mentioned). Do you see where I'm going with this? If my life is a chick flick, especially one of those horrible high school comedies where the actors are all at least 25 and are wealthy beyond measure (and who's parents don't seem to exist), I better start winning some of these championships if I'm gonna get the girl. But then again, I'm not all that sure I want my life to be a chick flick. I'm starting to think a movie like Nacho Libre might be more suitable for me. Just think of it, I could be the next Esqueleto, because if I have to be a side kick, I'd rather be a side kick to Nacho than freaking Matthew Mcconaughey or the Edward vampire guy (worst day of my life was when someone said I resembled him). Seriously, along with Harry Potter, I just wish someone would punch Edward in the face. Stupid movies.....anyways, as much as I want to say that I could just turn my life into a sweet action/blockbusting flick, I know what I am. In the words of the great Alfalfa, "I am a lover, not a fighter." So, I guess it's just time to start winning some championships.

Jedi Warrior vs. Wizard (Harry Potter style, not Gandalf the White)

2010-11-14T19:08:00.000-08:00

So, I was just sitting on my bed just now writing another blog post about dating(yeah, I know, HOW ORIGINAL?) and I realized I didn't have my phone on me. To add to that, my room is pretty cold, and since I live in a one room apt with Westin below a house most likely to be condemned in the next few years, I hope you can imagine how poorly insulated our little bachelor pad is. So of course I have a blanket rapped around me(I would give anything for a Snuggie right now, my arms are mighty chilly) and I started looking around for my phone and spotted it across the room on the book shelf. Dang! What I'd give to be a Jedi master? Seriously, every time something is just beyond my reach it is the first thing that comes to mind. Like when Luke Skywalker(I have a nephew named after him, so he holds a special place in my heart) is frozen upside down, waiting to be eaten by that crazy abominable snowman creature. Luckily for Luke, he knew how to use the force enough to snatch up his light-saber just in time. Poor snow creature though, lost himself an arm (haha, I wonder if that snow creature inspired the Yeti at Disneyland. I swear, he almost gets me every time but luckily I always choose the fastest bobsled). Anyways, what I would give to just "will" my phone into my hand right now. Kind of like Matilda when she gets rid of that horrible Miss Trunchbull(ps-what's with kids growing up not reading Roald Dahl books? how freaking deprived can you be? the BFG changed my life). I was just thinking about it, it was a good thing that Darth Vader got really slow with age, because Luke was pretty dang horrible at fighting. Just compare him to a young Obi-Wan, Darth Maul, or even Yoda(you all know you freaked out when he walks up with his cane and the next thing you know he's flipping all over the place). So I was wondering, in everyday life, what would I prefer, magical powers (Hogwart's trained) or Jedi powers? I see some pro's and con's from both sides. I have a confession though. I can't deny that while watching Harry Potter movies I am secretly hoping Voldemort kills Harry, and that Harry comes back, reincarnated in the form of a better actor(you all know deep down you wish it too). Yeah, those movies suck, but so is life. Every time you start believing that most books cannot be turned to movies, just go watch the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and you may still have some hope for later installments(but not Harry Potter, it's a lost cause). So I guess if becoming a wizard means I would have to be friends with Daniel Radcliffe in the form of Harry Potter, I would take becoming a Jedi warrior. Actually, in every scenario I would rather be a Jedi. They are so much cooler. And I wouldn't even have to worry about getting married because Jedi's have to live void of feelings. So, first things first, I need to get my phone. I know the chances that anybody has called and/or texted me are slim to none, but I still have to check. Plus, I know I'll never be a Jedi, or a wizard, but I can get a Snuggie, and that would almost be just as cool. Oh, and to recognize the opening of Harry Potter 7, here is a little BLAST FROM THE PAST from HP6. CRAIG=DOBBY

My Job Portfolio

2010-11-09T10:49:00.000-08:00

At some point in every person's life, they look back at the things they have done, the places they have gone, the people they have met, and the lessons they have learned. My little bro, Chad (aka Wick), always loves to harass me and say that I am 25 years old and have never had a job. Well, that's where you're wrong little buddy, and that's exactly what I spent an hour or so doing in the library today(clearly I wasn't studying). I have had a wider variety of jobs than almost anybody I know. I have never worked with food, puh-lease. That is way too normal for me. Heck no! I've never sold clothes or worked telemarketing(I'd probably rather lick rocks, or be forced to watch a full season of The Hills, or maybe stick a thousand needles in my eyes[better than watching The Hills]. So what jobs have I had? Well let me tell you. It all began as a young tike when I needed to make some extra cash to buy some baseball cards. I mowed our lawns, picked up fruit, weeded the garden, but none of those things really were out of the ordinary. But that's when I became a specialist, doing something almost nobody else has ever done. I became a "brush washer". My Dad, being an artist, paid me to wash his brushes, sure, it may have been closer to slave labor than paid employment, but a kids gotta do what kids gotta do. I washed those brushes until my hands were raw. Then, for a summer I tried out landscaping for a summer. That summer I learned the value of college. I spent the two of the "easiest" years of my life in Tijuana Mexico, loungin' around hangin with my homies in the drug cartel and learning the in's and out's of the "pollero" business(don't know what a pollero is, look it up on urbandictionary). When I got home, I went looking for work, and didn't look long before I found a new exciting way to spend my time. I became a lab technician for a soil engineer. Pretty much, I sifted and washed dirt for ten hours a day. I've never had sooo much fun in my life. Then, while working with the mentally handicapped, I learned I am horrible at phase ten. When I came up to BYU, I found that I was somewhat talented at Math 119(business calculus), and was offered a position as a TA. But I can't lie, I was already sick of calculus, so I turned that down and chose to work as a secretary in the Math Lab. Half the time when I said I worked in the Math Lab people thought I said meth lab(which is understandable being that I served in Tijuana). That summer, I became a psych tech. A psych tech, if you didn't know, pretty much hangs out with the mentally ill all day. Most of the patients I worked with were suicidal, or just straight up psychotic. This one lady who had fried her brains using every drug known to man fell in love with me(which is totally understandable, probably wanted to use me because of my Tijuanan connections). But she didn't have very good control of her bowels, so I spent most of my time cleaning up her urine, and her. Plus, she was plenty over weight, maybe 300 pounds. Oh yeah, and I don't think she had any teeth either. She was convinced that she was pregnant, and one day she brought out a cup of her "babies" after using the bathroom. She was livid when I flushed those suckers down the toilet. BUT, she did make a good blocker when we would play dodgeball. Another of my favorites was the guy who was brought in because he was trying to dig a baptismal font in his apartment. There is something wrong with this world when a man is deprived of digging his own baptismal font. The highlight of my time there was definitely when I beat Elijah the Prophet at dodgeball, but that's a long story. Our whole lives through, we search for that one opportunity, where we can display and further develop our talents. At last, I've found my niche, I've found that job that I've dreamed of my whole like. What do I do? I am a museum docent at the Monte L. Bean Life Science Museum. I know I know, you are terribly jealous. I mean, who would want to be able to teach kids about reptiles and hang around humongous stuffed animals all day? How many people get to answer questions like, "What would win in a fight out of an anaconda and Hogzilla(like Godzilla, but a pig, and only 6 feet tall)?" Of course my answer was Hogzilla, but if he was taking on Big Foot it would be close. I have also learned that in a foot race, I can out run a Blue Tailed Monitor any day of the week. So, being that I have the coolest job in the world, I invite all of you to come visit me at work, Fridays from 5-9pm and Saturdays from 10am-1pm. I'll give you a free tour, and I promise you won't regret it!!

Cedar

2010-11-01T09:57:00.000-07:00

A year or so ago, I made a new friend. To protect this friend's good name, I'll be calling her Shawniqua. Now, Shawniqua is a fifth floor studier(or I should say, she was. I haven't seen her on the fifth once this whole year), much like myself. Any of you familiar with the fifth floor knows that it isn't exactly the ideal location for effective studying. I would say last year the vast majority of my friends would go up to the fifth at least once a day to "study". So of course, I found myself socializing more often than studying. I had more of a social life in the library than I did outside of it. Sad, but true. I can't deny that I'm not one to really approach people that I don't know, especially in the library. Anyways, as winter semester of 2010 was drawing to a close, I went on this pretty amazing date to the Bean Life Science Museum(like some of you may know, this trip to the Bean would later become my inspiration for my current employment). My roommate, Westin, was set up on a blind date that night with Shawniqua. Well, on this date Shawniqua and I became friends, and became better friends over the next couple of weeks as the semester came to an end. On one eventful day, up on the fifth floor of the library, Shawniqua made a confession. Shawniqua told me that she and some her friends had always considered me an elitist, arrogant jerk. BUT, upon learning that I was from Cedar City Utah, she retracted her beliefs of me being an elitist, and arrogant. I can't deny that when I first came up to BYU I was somewhat embarrassed to tell people I was from Cedar. They would, and still act very surprised to hear that I come from the only southern Utah town with a lighthouse. But, I can no longer deny my roots. I am what I am. I am a Cedarian. I went to Cedar High School(GO REDMEN!). I lived on Leigh Hill(aka Snobb Hill[but I'm sure you can't be too snobbish living down the street from a huge yellow water tower, but who knows?]). 3 out of my 5 siblings graduated from Southern Utah University, and my two oldest brothers met their wives while there. It's a great place. I mean, who else do you know that would go fishing, with their bare hands? Seriously, my friend caught a fish and chucked it right at my face. Or the days we would see what we could blow up with dry ice, like that freaking huge pumpkin. Or where every weekend we spent out at our fire spot behind the golf course? Or where you can find places like this within 15 minutes of your house. Or this....
That tush belongs to none other than the infamous Mitch "The Ditch" Mosdell. But we can't forget about this.
And definitely not this...
Four brothers competed to see who could handle that ice cold water the longest, and although many of you may think I'm a major wuss, I humbly proclaim myself the victor! Sure, I don't beat them at too many other things, but I risked a major brain freeze and dominated. When one of your bros is a doctor, another runs marathon's in 2 hours and 50 minutes, and the last was an All-State long jumper, you have to pick your battles, and that was the one I chose. Anyways, back to my love for Cedar. It all comes down to the people. You won't find too many places with nicer people. Plus, it's always fun to go home and see old high school chums, hear how much more pronounced their Utah drawl is, and see pictures of the monster fish they have been catching. I mean, who wants to hear about their kids when you can see a pictures of monster 30 pound mackinaw. You see, in a town where 99 percent of the people have never even heard of a single designer brand, you learn that life has a lot more meaning than material possessions. It's all about family there, and Cedar High Football. So at the end of day, people can make fun of where I grew up all they want, because deep down, I love that light house, I love that Wal-Mart is the most happening place in town, and I love that when everyone is crazed about what's in and what's fashionable, when I go home, nobody really cares. So to my friend who no longer considers me an elitist, thank you for helping me gain a new and greater appreciation for home.

NBA: The Year of Booing

2010-10-27T15:40:00.000-07:00

As any "true" friend of mine knows, Steve Nash is my favorite player in the NBA(and all sports combined; in fact, if he wasn't Canadian and so dang liberal, I would vote him in as our next President just because of his mad basketball skills[based on our current administration, we might as well have someone just going around "crossing over" foreign diplomats rather than putting us further and further in debt]). But just for my quick preview on the NBA this year, most of us can tell after the "GENIUS" moves made by the Phoenix Suns this off-season, my boys are going to have a mighty hard time making the playoffs. Unless good ole Robin Lopez turns out to be freak this year down low, this year is looking a little grim. As a Utah resident for nearly my entire life, I must say that I have finally become somewhat of a Utah fan. It might have taken front row seats to a Jazz-Laker playoff game, but I now consider them my second favorite team. But, as always, they lack a center and are just hoping Al Jefferson can regurgitate Boozer's numbers while pushing Pau around a little. Of the true contenders, I am pulling for the Boston Celtics. Rajon Rondo is my current second favorite player in the NBA, and with Stevie's retirement somewhere in the near future, will likely battle for my number one spot very soon. Why do I like Rondo? He is a facilitate first, score second point guard(a "true" point guard"). Plus, he got very little credit for practically averaging a triple double in the playoffs two years ago. As for the last team I will be truly "rooting" for this year, the Oklahoma Thunder. Kevin Durant is a stud(my favorite non-point guard player). More humble than any other superstar, and more loyal. Can they beat the Lakers? I sure hope so. That brings me to my greatest debate of the year, who will I hate more....the Laker, or the Heat? The Lakers have owned my least favorite team spot for probably the last 10 years. I have never liked Kobe Bryant. But from the moment he got accused of rape, paid his way out of it, and came back the next year covered in tattoos, I will never like him. Of course, I respect him as one of the greatest winners of all time, but I can't stand him. Now let me explain why I don't like, and now hate, Lebron James. My initial dislike for Lebron comes down to two things: first, I automatically cannot like a player with tattoos, second, I don't like freak athletes. I like "skilled" players. Plus, I Lebron is an overrated winner. I have never watched a game where I felt like I just knew his team would win. He will never be like Jordan or Bryant. And now that he joined the "Dream Team", he will never be able to anyways. I can't stand what he did this summer (the HOUR long announcement, and then just watch the smoke screen antics when him and his bros danced around in their new uni's. It still gives me the chills. So now I can't decide who I want to win less this year. Surprisingly, I almost feel like I would prefer a three-peat over the three-Heat (did you see what I did there? literary genius!). But, at the end of the day, we might as well all just admit it, Steve Nash is still the greatest player in the NBA, and will probably go on to win the Championship this year. If only my dreams ever came true. Good luck Stevie, I'm rootin for ya!

DATING III

2010-10-25T17:33:00.000-07:00

All I've had on my mind preparing for this new installment on DATING has been Clubber Lang(Mr. T), Thunderlips(Hollywood Hulk Hogan), and brining it all together, ROCKY(Sylverster Stallone). WHAT A POWERHOUSE ACTING TRIO!!!!!! All I know is there are very few moments in the history of cinema that are more heart wrenching than when Mickey dies and Rocky is Clubbed. Climax? I think not! Rocky teams up with former arch nemesis Apollo Creed(Carl Weathers, other major roles: Predator, and.....ummmm...oh yeah! Arrested Development, as himself!), gets back into rockin' shape(no pun intended) exercising to Eye of the Tiger (pre-iPod days, who knows how he was able to hear it), and pummels Mr. Tee back into the 70's(or so he wishes, life was better for him back then). Anywho, I kind of feel like thats the story of my life. Some of you may look at me and say, "Well, the climax of his story has come and gone, and in theatric terms, we will call it a tragedy. Poor sap...". Well I tell you NAY!!!! My climax has not arrived, for it is yet to come. My Dad, the Guru, in all his wisdom often relives his past failures to help me understand my own. This brings us to the infamous ragamuffin story. Nearly two years ago, I was packing my bags and preparing to travel to Dallas to visit my girlfriend of the time. I got all packed and dressed in, you know, my average style, jeans and a T-shirt. They were definitely my lucky jeans, which meant they were a little, well, ragged. But they were lucky, so I had to wear them. Anyways, I hopped in my Dad's Prius(what can you expect, the man's an artist) and we made our(my Mom and Dad were going to Vegas for their anniversary[GROSS!]) way for the airport. Due to distraction my Dad didn't notice what I was wearing. But eventually, he did. He even gave me a double take, made his signature disapproving face/sound, and shook his head. We were on our way, I was stuck in the back, and there was nothing I could do but prepare for another story. Years ago, when he was in college(which really was years ago, being that the Old Man is in his 60's[senor citizen status=increased savings for him]), told me of this girl. He was quite smitten, and how couldn't he be, her name was Bobby Joe. Anyways, it was Christmas break and my Dad's family was vacationing in California, and it just so happened that Bobby Joe was a Southern Cal girl. Well, my Dad had this jacket that he just loved, an old Army jacket that he got probably at a second hand store. But you have to remember, my Dad was an arteeest, his greatest dreams of the time were to move to New York and live the poor-starving lifestyle. You also have to remember that he was raised in Rexburg Idaho, in a family that when they decided they wanted to upgrade, they pulled out the shovels and pick-axes and dug a basement right in the kitchen. So for him, that Army jacket may have even been pretty fancy. So he goes out to visit this girl, and upon stepping out of what I can only imagine was the family station wagon, she gives him a look up and down and tells him, "You look like a ragamuffin." Seriously, she called him a ragamuffin. Dictionary.com defines ragamuffin as a ragged, disreputable person. You may be familiar with the synonyms waif, urchin, or guttersnipe. Anyways, my Pops returned home, and at the end of the break, Bobby Joe shows up for school engaged to another man. Since that day, my Dad blames his failure on his poor choice of dress. Of course, we all can tell that his life is much better the way it played out, but deep down no one wants to be rejected because they are a ragamuffin. So, out of the love of his heart, he told me this story as we were stuck in two hour Las Vegas traffic due to the combination of construction/accident, in which I missed my flight. He told me that I needed to change at some point before I saw this girl, and especially her family. Well, I didn't take his advice. I arrived in Dallas in my ragamuffin clothes, enjoyed a wonderful stay there, and came home. That's when it happened. My girlfriend decided to stay home that winter semester. She had some decent reasons, but of course, I had my Dad reminding me, "You should have changed your clothes." Then she moved back, and things just kept going south, no matter what I tried to do. But there is no way to turn the tides, when you're a ragamuffin you're a ragamuffin, and there's nothing you can do about it. For years I've been striving to improve my style and look, but deep down, the truth of the matter is, there is no getting away from what I am, a ragamuffin. BUT, DOES THIS MEAN THAT I SHOULD JUST GIVE UP!! NO SIR!! It probably just means I need to look for another ragamuffin, so we can have little ragamuffin chilluns. My life is no tragedy my friends. I am Rocky, and luckily I have an iPod so Eye of the Tiger is constantly playing in the soundtrack to my life. The climax, my friends, is yet to come.

DATING: First Blood: Part Deux

2010-10-20T15:26:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was lounging around my apartment after church, and decided I needed to phone home. Sundays are the most unpredictable when phoning home, and is for multiple reasons. On that specific Sunday, I called my Mom's cell phone to be surprised by my Dad's voice. He answers, "Hello Craig, we were just talking about you." Of course, I inquired as to what "they" (this usually means a tag team of my two older brothers, my Dad, sometimes my sister, and my little bro when he isn't too busy wooing the women) were just talking about. BIG MISTAKE!! I already knew exactly what they were talking about, but still I was stupid enough to let myself fall into another of my Dad's traps. His response, "We were just trying to figure out why you're not married yet, but you don't want to hear about that do you?" Well, gosh dangit, of course I don't want to hear how hopeless my future is, but at the same time it's like telling Curious George not to be curious. This is what he tells me, "Craig, you are too defensive (well, okay, that's nothing new) and you lack skills." Of course my response confirms the first accusation, "I HAVE SKILLS!" I played right into my Dad's hands. He had me. By me confirming his first accusation, he made me doubt myself on the second accusation. Do I lack skills(and what the cuss does he mean by that? Does that mean I don't have bow fighting skills, or whittlin' skills)? Shoot dang, I don't want to be skill-less! That conversation with my Dad lasted a little longer, and consisted primarily of me telling my Dad he needs to get a life and should harass Chadwick (my little bro) a little more. I got a little flustered, and my Dad of course enjoyed it because he pushed the just the right buttons to make it happen. Anyways, this brings up some of the advice Guru Del has given me in "winning" over my future wife. Multiple times the Guru and I have discussed "The Game". We are all familiar with "The Game". "The Game" is not to be played by the weak or easily offended. In fact, the more heartless you are, the less you care, the better player of "The Game" you will be. My Dad told me that I shouldn't let girls know that I like them. Of course, when he told me this, he told me of his glory days where he could have dated any girl he wanted because he was a master of "The Game". My response to all this was, "But DAD, I don't want to marry someone I have to trick to marry me." "Well then, I hope you enjoy being single", was his clear response. This takes me back to right when I got home from my mission, and I was playing with different ideas of what I wanted to do with my life. One day I went to my Dad's art class (portrait drawing I think), and sat down with a pad of paper and some charcoal and started drawing away. I looked down at my drawing, feeling very pleased with myself, and then he comes over, takes one disgusted look at my drawing, and says, "Craig, DON'T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB!" Back to "The Game", my Dad tells me I need to develop some skills. He recommends a certain television series my software-pirate mooching brother discovered called The Pick-up Artist. I bet you would never guess it from the name, but it involves the training of a bunch of nerdy, loveless men by a man of many skills (you might familiarize this man with some of the 27-41 year old men that attend the 5th stake[Belmont, Highland Park, Arlington, etc.] that date and seduce many 18-19 year old girls, you may know them as Provo All-stars). Anyways, I am yet to obtain a copy of the series, but my Dad has adamantly recommended it for my wellbeing. So, lets summarize the advice el Guru has given on the subject of dating. First, learn to pick up on girls, making sure they don't get to know your true self, because that would be disastrous. Second, once dating a girl, never let her feel like you like her more than she likes you. In his words, "Tell her you just aren't looking for anything serious." Third, the ability to manipulate is more important than the ability to build trust. Last, DON'T QUIT YOUR DAY JOB!
Warning!!!!!
The information provided above may not have ever happened, some of it may have been GROSSLY exaggerated, and some of it may be exactly how it is. My Dad once claimed to be creative speller. Well, I suffer from a creative memory.

DATING

2010-10-14T13:02:00.000-07:00

We all know that dating for the average college student is probably the most interesting aspect of our lives (except for flag football season, but that is a whole other story(bahaha, that just reminded me of when people say "whole nother", one of my top ten favorite grammatical errors; that and "i seen it")). Sorry for the tangent, I know I'm sporadic. But back to my story (yes, i have a STORY for you). My Dad is a dating guru, and has been my most trusted advisor since before I could pick up a baseball. For you to get an idea of what my dating life has been like, I want to give you a few pieces of advice that my Dad has given me,or other members of my family, and also a few personal stories intermixed to liven it up a bit. Lets start off with the brown turtle story. My sister, a while back, was dating this kid. He was a vegan(not that there is anything wrong with that), an arteeest(if you want to know the difference between an artist and an arteeest, you will have ask me another day), and just straight up weird(my family just didn't understand the pink plastic belt, but we are ignorant Cedar folk). Of course, with the artist blood running through my sister, she was head over heels for the guy. The only entertaining thing that I ever saw come from the guy was when our rat Ratigan bit the poor fetcher. It still remains as one of my fondest memories. Anyways, my parents were desperate to break up this little romance, and one of my Dad's most strategic maneuvers, and subtle I may add, was the brown turtle story. Here is his tale of tales, I quote, "As a young'n (my Dad was raised in Rexburg so naturally he says young'n) I raised up my money so I could by a pet turtle(I just realized that there is a major problem with his story. He always brags about being able to catch turtles in the river. Why then, DAD, did you have to buy one? Anyways, back to the story.). I scrimped and saved penny after measly penny (funny thing is, he still brags about how much a penny could get you back then) to save up to buy this little turtle. When I finally had raised enough money to go to the pet store,I couldn't wait a minute more to get there. I busted through the doors, and sprinted to the turtle tub, and searched for my soon to be new best friend. I looked around and saw sooo many beautiful green turtles, so healthy and lively. But then, he caught my eye. A little brown, scraggly turtle. It was small and looked as if it was withering away. I felt so bad for the little guy, and he was just so different from the rest. I couldn't help myself, I bought the brown turtle. I was going to nurse him back to health, but within in a day, the turtle had died." So, again with incredible subtlety, my Dad nimbly and ever so carefully drew out the meaning of his story; "DONT WASTE YOUR TIME WITH BROWN TURTLES!!!" So, I've been told that hindsight is 20/20, but since I got Lasik and now see with 20/15, my hindsight is even better. My sister dumped the the dope and married a doctor, who may just be one of the best guys you will ever meet, seriously. And the dope, well, he got married and divorced within a year, and his mannequin limb art just never really panned out for him. So, examining the situation through my 20/15 hindsight vision (seriously, it's better than yours probably), we can see that sometimes we are blinded by the fact we want to help out the person we are dating, or just like them because they are different, but at the end of the day, Elder Scott said it best when talking about watching movies on dates, "WELL THATS STUPID" (okay, I don't remember what the exact quotation was, but it was close to that). Anyways, I would love to continue on with the advice from Guru Del (that's my Dad, and yes I capitalize Dad all the time), but I've decided to pull a Harry Potter 7 and split it up into parts. So, if you want to learn more from the man of wisdom, well, check my blog every once in a while.

haters gonna hate

2010-10-08T10:24:00.001-07:00

I was watching Myth Busters a while ago when they were testing what was worse, driving drunk vs. driving while talking on the phone. One of the "busters" drove a course set up for a driving test while talking on the phone. Then, she did it drunk. Surprise surprise, she drove much worse while on the phone than while drunk. Here's my problem, and I know I talk about this way too much, but some people are just awful at walking. To make matters worse, they talk on the phone or they text while they walk. After class gets out in front of the JFSB, I swear I almost run into four or five people who are talking/texting on the phone and have no idea where they are going. I've seen the bike cops go at great lengths to catch any bikers riding at those illegal times, but gosh dang it I want something done about those ridiculous walkers. They are very dangerous ya know, if anything the embarrassment of walking into or almost walking into someone is damaging enough. So if you are going to outlaw mobile couches and long boards, get rid of these retard walkers. Alas, i have a confession...I realized I may be the worst of these people. For some reason, as soon as I'm talking on the phone I feel like I own the world. I feel like I have free reign to walk where and how I want to, and I feel like I'm allowed to stare at people longer than I should, and I feel like I can talk as loud as I want to. I'm the worst of these retards. I'm sorry. Now, for some reason all this talk of walking has got me thinking about another pressing matter, or question, that has reigned dominate on my mind the past few weeks. How does an average Joe Schmoe guy like me become one of those Mormon profiles on mormon.org? It's killing me. I feel like all those people have something special about themselves. First of all, I am white, and from Utah. I can trace my heritage back to the pioneers on both sides of my family except for my Grandpa, who is from Kansas(and everyone knows Kansas is the most boring state in the nation, if you don't know much about it, just watch The Wizard of Oz...heck, everything is in black in white all the time in Kansas). I've lived a normal life, went on a normal LDS mission, and am a student in Provo. BORING! But, sooner or later they are going to have to make a profile on someone who has nothing special about them. I nominate myself for that. I would say at the end, "My name is Yadda Yadda Yadda. I am from Utah and go to BYU. I want to be doctor because my Dad told me to....and you would never guess it, but I AM a Mormon." It's perfect. I am needed to help people see that even though there are many people with cooler stories than me, the majority of us are like me, the average Utah Mormon.

talk about awkward phase....

2010-10-03T21:41:00.000-07:00

So, this past conference I learned a lot of things, and perhaps one of the most important of those being the evilness(If that is a word, sweet. If not, I understand, sounds fake to me) of pride. So, pride is bad, but in somethings can be not so bad. I've decided one way that pride is bad, but not too bad, is when I brag about how cute I was as a child. And I thought for my reader's pleasure (all 5 and 1/2 of you), I would give you a quick demonstration of my cuteness, and then hopefully towards the end you can see why I justify my actions now, even knowing the even possible future consequences. This first picture is of me probably around the age of one. I am wearing one of my favorite shirts of all time, the train shirt. This later became a major issue between my brother and me as we fought (or I threw hissy fits) over him taking over my beloved train shirt. For our next image, we will jump forward to my preschool graduation. As you will notice, I had an impeccable sense of style as a young 5 year old, not to mention my swagger. I carried myself with confidence because deep down, I knew I was cool. Now, to the next image, will be one of the last because I really want to go to bed. Except, problem, I can't. I let some kid borrow my book for what he said would be an hour and he still hasn't brought it back and its been two. I am pretttttttty (don't even ask how I intend you to read that, but if you do anyways, try pret-t-t-t-t-t-y and just bounce the tongue) angry right now.... Anywho, back to the image. This one is of me as a young tee baller. You will notice the uniforms. They were the same for every sport in St. George at that age. But this was just the beginning for what would become a fantastic love affair I had with Little League baseball (emphasis on Little League, hated it after I was 12). But here ya go, tee-ballin' Craig. And the second to last image, because now I'm even more tired and that dude finally brought my book back (good thing to because if I had to stay up any later I don't even know what would have happened). So this last image is from when I was probably in first or second grade. It was just a class photo, one of those pictures that your mom puts you in your best shirt and combs your hair all nice. I remember one kid actually was dressed up in a bow tie (freakin' preppy). Anyways, here it is. Okay, so over the last few minutes, as I've been writing this blog, I wondered to myself. What are the consequences of my pride? I mean, there must be some. I thought, and still think I was a pretty cute kid. I've come to the conclusion that I was punished earlier, and still am feeling the repercussions today. You may be asking how, well let me tell first, then show you. I got cursed right where it mattered to me most....my looks. Not only that, but I lost all sense of style, and I definitely lost my swagger. I went from a dang cute kid going places to what may or may not appear to be an inbred from some unnamed town in Southern Utah. Okay, no more delay. Here you have it.

So, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it. First of all, this is why I brag about my glory days. I know it may lead to more punishment, but I'm not sure things could get any worse than that. Second of all, pride is evil, and must be avoided. Some of us may never recover from the results of our pride (hence the reason I never made it out of my awkward phase [CURSED AWKWARD PHASE!]), so save yourself while you still can so you don't end up like me, cursed to live alone forever. For some reason right now, I completely understand how Nacho felt when he came to the brutal realization of his loveless future. Anyways, I hope the best for you all out there (again, all 5 and 1/2...unless I lost one of you in this probably horrifically boring blog entry), and good luck in the journey.

Why do elephants paint their nails red?

2010-09-27T16:39:00.000-07:00

So, first of all, FHE dad is a great calling. Second of all, I was walking around with my backpack, and by around I mean I was leisurely strolling up the ramp of death by the tennis courts. Before we continue on with my "second of all", lets talk about that ramp. OK, so its totally my new favorite part of campus. On one side, you have the wilderness, full of all sorts of adventures. Like the other day, I was walking home from school pretty late, the sun was down, and I heard rustling in the bushes. I look over and see a herd of deer prancing around back there. WHAT THE CUSS!! I mean, who else goes to a school with deer running around all over campus. On the other side of the ramp, you have a hedge made out of those berry bushes. I've decided some kind of magical kingdom is on the other side of that hedge, like Fablehaven or even Middle Earth or something. But yeah, that ramp blows my mind. Anyways, so back to my "second of all", my backpack was pretty heavy. And I was like, "Dang, why am I walking around with this thing on my back when I could throw it in a wagon or something and just drag it behind?" Well, of course no self respecting college student would dare pull a Radio Flyer around with their backpack in it (except me, but its still debatable how self-respecting I really am), so next I thought of those innovative backpacks with wheels. I mean, I've seen them around. They are pretty sweet. I was in the middle of this thought when all of the sudden, some crazy chick cut me off with her stupid backpack with wheels, nearly causing me stumble to the ground. She just sped of, clicking away on the cobble stone walking way. I hate those stupid backpacks. Either they make their owners become the worst walkers in the world, never following the accepted the unwritten rules of pedestrianism, or the opposite, the walkers are the problem. This question to me is near unanswerable, almost as bad and the chicken and the egg, or the half full or half empty, or whats cooler between the Sword and the Quill Club or the Star Wars at BYU Club (I must say, I approached the Sword and the Quill tent to present them with my resume and membership application, but I knew it couldn't be and walked away to prevent the embarrassment of rejection). Anyways, so what it comes down to is this....some people just don't know how to walk. I mean, every day I get in the awkward "I don't know what direction you are going in" dance. But, it doesn't have to happen anymore, and shouldn't have from the beginning. I follow the reworded advice I once learned from my D.A.R.E. officer (who later became sheriff, then became an inmate for embezzling money from the city for a hunting trip, I guess he didn't take his own advice in "Just Say No") saying "Just Go Right". I promise if we all follow this advice, we wont ever dance again. It's awkward for both of us, and unless you are doing it intentionally, which if you are that is incredibly evil but kind of funny, just follow the advice and life will be better. Back to those backpacks with wheels, if you can't ride a Razor on campus, you shouldn't be allowed to have a backpack with wheels. And if they get to keep those backpacks, I'm bringing my Radio Flyer. Just think how sweet it would be riding down the ramp on a red wagon! I imagine it would be like Calvin and Hobbes, and I would just need a friend there with me to discuss the meaning of life, especially focusing on consequences of our actions. Maybe I'll just get a stuffed Tiger and name him Locke. But back to the nitty gritty, why do elephants paint their nails red? So they can hide in strawberry patches. And why do elephants hide in strawberry patches? So they can jump out and stomp on people. Everyone knows that.

Farewell Stevo

2010-06-07T21:21:00.000-07:00

Remember that one time, Stevo, when we planned our futures together? What is it Stephen, cat got your tongue? All the sudden you seem to have forgotten that we were going to live in San Diego together, in our personal yachts, often dressed like Dr. Leo Marvin. Lets not forget our farms in Missouri where we would be live self sufficiently, and independently of that gender that just makes life confusing/complicated. Most importantly, what happens now if we actually receive our acceptance letters to Hogwarts School of Magicry and Spellcraft? What are we going to do then Stephen? Are you going to write the rejection letter to Dumbledore? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? Women, can't live with them, and apparently you can't live without them. Fine, I'll be the lone wolf. I'll stand up for what is stupid, with my last ounce of pride, fist in the air, much like that bad A wolf on Fantastic Mr. Fox. Goodbye Stephen, I'll remember you when I'm sailing around the world, plowing my field, and blowing Voldemort to smithereens. What, you think marriage is better than defeating the most powerful dark wizard of all time? What happened to you man, you used to be cool? My guess is that while you were lifting one day, you popped a blood vessel in your head, and it hemorrhaged, mainly because that Black Powder weakened your veins. Thats why you are making such crazy decisions. Here's what we'll do, you get a CAT scan, and if everything checks out okay, I'll support your lunacy. But seriously, lets get down to brass tacks, I'm going to miss ya buddy. Thanks for being a good example in making a decision that will lead to your eternal progression. And don't worry, we can always visit San Diego someday when we are old and have kids and junk, rent a charter fishing boat and catch ourselves some monster marlin or hammer head shark, whichever comes first.

Revenge of the Ducks

2010-03-25T10:33:00.000-07:00

You always hear how small of brains animals have, and I can't imagine a dumber animal than a duck. Think about it, hunters put out fake wooden ducks on ponds to lure in their buddies just to blow them away. But then again, from my experiences as a child I learned that ducks fly in V's to reduce wind resistance. That's pretty smart if you ask me. Towards summer's end, my friends and I decided to harass the ducks, which looking back on it wasn't exactly fair. The botany pond, aka the duck pond, houses hundreds of clipped-winged ducks. Not only did we harass animals a tenth our size, but crippled as well. Anyways, we took laser pointers and shined them at the ducks, which for reasons beyond my understanding put them in a frenzy. I've never seen a group of animals freak out quite like that. Anyways, with my experiences with animals I should have known that my decision would come back to haunt me, but I never expected to get dive bombed by two of those vengeful ducks. Thats right, kamikaze style right at my head. Luckily I dodged at the last moment possible, but I've been edgy around that pond ever since. Anyways, last week I was walking by the pond and looked down the street at duck smashed on the street, roadkill. Obviously it was karma, teaching that duck its final lesson on the negative effects of vengeance, and at wasn't more than a block away that I found his comrade smashed to smithereens. Now, I asked myself, I harassed these seemingly poor defenseless ducks, and in the end they came to their end because of it. What does that mean for me? According to karma, am I the next to go? All I know is that not only am I looking out for vengeful ducks, but also I'm crossing every street with my head on a swivel. I don't know how I fall on the eyes of karma.

Creature of habit

2010-03-09T11:20:00.000-08:00

Through 24 years of self-discovery, I found one undeniable attribute....tendency for addiction. I fall in love with something, and lose control to its every whim. For example, I love pizza. Every time I am hungry, I crave only one thing, Little Caesars. Rarely a week passes without one 5 dollar pizza. Often I ask myself, what must I do to change this? My conclusion this week, no more trying to change the tendency, just change the addictions. Only with my new, and improved addictions, learn patience when I crave. Possible future addictions: reading, exercise, studying (ha, this still a strong maybe), and many others...

Fantastic Mr. Fox

2010-02-07T10:49:00.000-08:00

Greatest movie ever? Maybe not...but it was pretty dang funny. One thing I learned from Mr. Fox is that he is a wild animal, and his nature is his nature. You can't expect him to change his nature. So why do we go around expecting people to change their nature?

Turning over a new leaf

2009-01-21T09:58:00.000-08:00

So, that term, turning over a new leaf, frustrates me more than anything. Imagine if turning over a leaf was really as easy as breaking a bad habit or developing a good one. I could turn over a million leaves before I could shake a habit like procrastination. I know, I know, I would have to probably multiply that number by a billion and then it might be more realistic. But seriously, whoever thought of that cliche was an idiot. Or, maybe this person changed life long habits just like the turn of a leaf. For me, on the other hand, would be more likely to compare shaking a habit to turning over Cadillac Escalade........ with my bare hands.

provarian experience

2008-09-19T15:33:00.000-07:00

Oh Provo, Provo.......
So, I used to own a pair of sandals. Honestly, I didn't like these sandals very much, but still I owned them. So, I have this friend. We were bunk mates in the MTC together, which also means we were forced to get to know each other as well as you can possibly imagine (tree of life ring a bell?). The bunkmate of mine constantly told me memories of recent past. He told me tales of bushes and chinese foreign exchange students. Of Dr. Pepper and saltine crackers. Anywho, after a few weeks we were forced to part, I was off to Tijuana, he was off to the jungles of Guatemala. Who would have thought after 2 years of beingn torn apart, our lives would be smashed back together like protons crashing together to create antimatter. So, back to the sandals. It turns out my bunkmate from the MTC becomes my bunkmate at King Henry. After a summer with this bunkmate, I came away with broken sandals, deliberately stolen basketball shorts, missing clothes, missing food, and a lowered self esteem (constant mocking of my poor hair, small muscles, weak personality or lack of it, etc.). Now, this bunkmate has revealed my most embarrassing moments just to see me squirm under the intense mockery of everyone we know. Thank you bunkmate, thank you. Oh, but I guess he does let me go to his house on Sunday's for dinner, so I guess it makes up for everything.

Life: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

2008-09-18T20:54:00.001-07:00

A wise old turtle once said, "You are too concerned with what was and with what will be. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present." Now wait a minute. This turtle was crazy. Am I just supposed to forget about the past. You and I both know that's not possible. I compare it's likelihood to that of having Ryan clean the apartment, on his own, without being coerced for hours to do so. Similar comparisons could be made like pigs flying, or dragons, maybe pet unicorns, or flying penguins (I must admit, this would be my favorite, unicorns are lame). But I don't think I should forget the past. That isn't really what the crazy turtle was talking about. I mean, history is one of my favorite subjects. My only problem is I don't really learn from the past, but live in it. Regretting is one my greatest talents. If they were giving out awards to the Greatest Regretter, I would at least receive an honorable mention. Honestly, the future scares me, but not because its that scary, but because I know my past. My negative hindsight has cursed me for years, and appears to do so still. There was a time, as a spiritually enlightened missionary I came to a very surprising conclusion, I came across a quote that really changed my view on things. Of course, it just so happened to be printed on paper towels at the house where my companion ate every Tuesday. "You can't change the wind, so adjust your sails to meet your destination." The conclusion I came to was I only had, and currently have, today. This is my day. It really is a gift from god. I can use it, or waste it. Now, if today is the day of my repentance, it is also the only day I really have for anything. With no guarantee of tomorrow, I'll have to use today. So, I guess it's time for me to change my sails.....

THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE

2008-08-22T19:31:00.001-07:00

The other day I was challenged by Elijah the Prophet to a 1 on 1 DODGE-BALL match to the death, or the next closest thing. Now, I don't if you have ever been challenged to death match dodge-ball by a man who can control the lights in a room with the snap of his fingers and calm a psychopath with the wave of his hands, but it was a challenge I couldn't refuse. I mean, turn down a challenge like that and he may just turn me in to a burning mass of skinnylankyman. I stood before the him, with the white puffy dodge-ball in my uncontrollably quivering hand. I felt as if he could smell, dare I even say taste, my fear. I searched deep within to find the power to conquer my foe, but I saw the odds against me insurmountable. The whistle blew, the man drew me into a trance with his overpowering quickness, and just as I began to fall before him, I raised my hand and with one of the most accurate throws perhaps ever seen by man, I struck him inches above the navel. He appeared to misunderstand the rules, and set up for his "death" throw. Miraculously, I found at my feet the ball that saved my life, as I nailed him right on his throwing shoulder. I defeated him. TAKE THAT HOSER! Oh, did I mention that I work in the psychiatry department of the hospital. Gotta love it!

Born Again?

2008-07-31T07:44:00.000-07:00

Being the weak geneticist that I am, I tend to place the belief that the majority of our personality is developed environmentally. Sure, I believe I inherited a lot of personality traits, whether its really possible or not, I still believe it. One thing I am sure of is that I was raised a pessimist. My father, a successful artist(yeah, I know, sounds crazy but it's true), never taught me to have confidence in the economy. In fact, not a day went by where I watched CNN or MSNBC without noticing how low the DOW was that day. It seemed that his happiness paralleled the climb or plummet of those odd numbers. As a child I thought a good Christmas would only come because of two reasons, snow, and a soaring stock market. According to him, every new day leaves new opportunities for the market to crash. To make matters worse, my mother is perfect. I know I know, there has only been one perfect person. But if anyone compares to his perfection in terms of exact obedience, my mother ranks among the greatest. Yet, as a near perfectly obedient woman, she is a perfectionist. She still feels like she is lacking. Perfectionism in a way contradicts optimism, or atleast in her case I would say it does. So, with my economically depressing father, and my perfectionist mother, I have never felt optimistic with my state in life. As a missionary I rarely wrote home of anything but my need to be better. But not in an optimistic "I can do it!" sort of way, but with a "I just can never be good enough!" attitude. BUT, I am now going to change. I am going to be born again into a world of optimism and hope. A world where things will work out. A world where life is good. A world where is the grass is greener and the sky bluer. Oh, what a wonderful world(hahaha, I just imagined good ol' Louis Armstrong singing that last sentence). Anyways, getting out of bed is no longer an opening for life to knock me down, but for me to take it by the reigns. Today, my friends, is a good day.

Patience is a virtue

2008-07-03T23:54:00.000-07:00

Much of my life I have been a very impatient person. Now make no mistake, I fall far short of the mark my sister makes with her impatience, but still I am what I am. There is one area of my life I have been able to find patience. Dating. Thats right...dating. Now with my irrestrainable personality, I find myself even bewildered by this ability of mine to "take things slow". Many call me noncommittal. I say to those people, "HOW DARE YOU?" For once in my life I am patient, and instead of congratulations and praise, you coin me non committal. People confuse easily my patience with a desire to manipulate, or "play the game" as some may say. Lately, few have gone as far to say that I restrain some young women with a leash with which I tie them up when I want to find someone new, but come back when I want some security. Again, I find this outrageous. Two extraordinary examples come to mind to explain my stand on Patience vs. Non-Committal. The other day I took route on 9th East in Provo heading to my apartment with some frozen Chimichangas dancing in my mind, when POW, EPIPHANY. I saw the most glorious sight in a hungry, college dude's eye(apparently I only have one eye). LITTLE CAESERS. Without hesitation I pulled in the parking lot, jumped out of the car and sprinted through the doors. "Pepperoni", I demanded as I stood there anxiously panting. The most disappointing things that I can told nearly always include, but there is nothing that is harder to deal with than the grim news of "They're in the oven." You can't make a person wait for a Little Caesar's Hot and READY (emphasis added) Pizza. They gave an option: wait ten minutes, or take a cheese pizza. I was slightly offended that the thought even passed their minds that I would take a cheese pizza, but then I thought about it. Could really be all that different. The only difference is a few silver dollar sized slices of meat (and honestly, I have no idea what is in pepperoni nor do I want to know). I couldn't resist and I couldn't wait. I took the cheese pizza. I rushed home, as I often do after my stops at Little Caesar's. I sprinted up the steps while balancing the pizza in one hand and fishing for my keys with the other. I busted through the door, plopped down on the couch, flipped open the box, and took one huge bite. It was awful. I couldn't believe it. I took bite after bite, expecting the savory Little Caesar's taste to explode on my taste buds, but alas, after half the pizza was gone I knew it was never going to happen. To me, everything that happens in life has a moral. NEVER, NEVER make a hasty decision. Patience is a virtue, so get off my back about it.

Willy Wonka....crazy or genius?

2008-05-25T13:38:00.000-07:00

I come from a family of six children. I was 5th in this line, right before the baby and after the "middle child" sister. They both had roles to play, but what about me. I couldn't really be the middle child, even though I tried, and I definately couldn't be the baby. So, I played the quiet, stand offish child whose existence was noticed only while torturing his younger brother. But, in all honesty I don't remember doing things to draw attention to myself. Mainly I just lived in my own little world. I was the kid in elementary school who was walking around or playing in the sand box when everyone was playing kissing tag. Now, in my family I had a brother who was ten years older than myself. This brother thrived in what he called "helping" his brothers and sisters by building tough skin. He poked and prodded each one of with an array of touchy subjects and areas where he had no business putting himself. The "middle sister" rarely made it through a session of "helping", or what I call manipulation, without blowing up and storming from the room in rage. I observed those two for years, and myself suffered these "helping" sessions from him and every sibbling in my family. So, add a little unnoticed kid with tough skin, you get a kid who learns to build walls of sarcasm and humor. Sarcasm is my defense mechanism, my greatest and last wall of defense. So, Willy Wonka sent out hidden Golden Tickets, but had planned out in a way who he wanted to receive them. He set up an elaborate way to find the new owner and manager of his "special" factory. I mean, the dude was crazy, but I had no clue that the whole thing was just an apparent synical plan that turned out to be brilliant and special. The poor, unnoticed boy got the prize. Gotta love that movie!

Karma?

2008-04-11T08:35:00.000-07:00

Well, I don't actually believe in Karma itself, but the idea makes sense. As a member of the church we have learned quite a bit of late from our late beloved Prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley, especially on the importance and power of optimism. This past week I have had perhaps one of the worst weeks of all time. I know, I know....you that know me are saying "You're just exaggerating." Any of you that have read my previous posts found my brief description of hell, you know...involving bridal fairs. Well, to that description I would add probably this entire week itself. It all comes down to one thing in my mind. I have not looked at any new challenge in my life with optimism. I'll call a girl to go on a date with all my mind power fighting against the possibility of her saying yes. I'll study for a test telling myself I am going to fail. I take the test knowing I am going to fail. It's kind of like a drug, pessimism; it grabs a hold you and doesn't let go. My new goal in life is to flip flop. That's right, I want to be a flip flopper. No more pessimism for me. I might even have to change the name of my blog. Now I have to be pro everything, well not everything, you can't make me like Hillary Clinton. Dating, marriage, engagements, school, life in general, etc., I'm not only going to be nice to other people about it and not mock them, but I am going to enjoy the mere thought of myself being somewhat involved in them. Optimism, it's going to change my life. I know it is going to be a great challenge. Genetically I am just a pessimistic person. But, imagine the possibilities of positive thinking.

GOOB!!

2008-04-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

If I was going to describe myself as a Disney character, I would Goob off of Meet the Robinsons. I don't really have any reason as to why I would be like Goob other than he makes me laugh. I love to laugh.

Weird?

2008-03-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

Has anyone ever called you weird? What does that mean? Lately I have been called weird quite often. I have chosen to take it as a compliment. If I am weird, then that means I am not normal. I have heard many people talk about how they dislike the BYU BUBBLE, or how everyone is identical. So if I am different from most Zoobies, then I feel like I am being successful in life. I am myself. Because I have chosen to be an individual, I actually enjoy the BYU BUBBLE more. People don't like it because they have chosen to fall into the mold, and they just feel themselves being like everyone else. Moral of the story, be weird and enjoy BYU. But what happens when someone you have coined as "bizarre" calls you weird? What does that mean?

Do I really need to try something different?

2008-02-29T10:24:00.000-08:00

My friend once gave me an analogy trying to help me understand her philosophy on dating. She compared men to ice cream. Her favorite ice cream was cookie dough. She knew she loved cookie dough. Every time she bought ice cream it had to be cookie dough. Now the question was, if she loved cookie dough so much did she really need to try something else? Would she find another flavor that she would like more than cookie dough? Or would trying another flavor make her appreciate cookie dough more? Or would it make her realize that all ice cream flavors are pretty much the same so why choose just one flavor?

Have you ever been forced to eat something where it wasn't that great at first? There is a Mexican dish called Mole. Mole has probably the most bizarre ingredients you could possibly imagine. The first time I tried it I thought it tasted like chocolate dirt on chicken. But, it was such a popular dish I was forced to eat it time and time again, until at the end of my mission it became my favorite Mexican dish. I loved and love Mole. Assuming my friend went through the same experience I did, but make it certain flavor of ice cream. In the end she likes "mole" as much as cookie dough, but she must choose only one flavor. Which should she choose? Originally she loved cookie dough. She has developed a taste for "mole", and at the moment loves it as much as cookie dough. But, will that acquired taste last? Or will it become even more appetizing? What about cookie dough? Will its lusciousness last forever? Well, that's the great thing of eating over dating. You don't have to choose between foods. I'll stick with food and leave dating to my friend.

Ummm................

2008-02-22T13:01:00.000-08:00

The BYU Testing Center has plagued much of my college experience. It seems like that blasted TV at the bottom of the stairs is never right. The worst part about it is when you look at other people scores and see not only the percentage but also words of congratulations. Pretty much they are just implying when you see your score of 50% or 60%, words of discouragement should follow, like "Freaking Terrible" or "You Suck!" Even worse than seeing a terrible score is when you come down those stairs one terrible step at a time, open that heavy door poking your head through with your eyes almost closed, and see a black screen. It's horrible. You've already built yourself up to be punched in the face, and you don't get hit until you aren't even ready for it. I would have to say it is one of the worst things that could ever happen to you at BYU. BUT, what about those days that you walk out and you are one of those people to get an "Awesome" or "Perfect". I don't know of many experiences in my life that have made me feel better. Now, I just thought of probably one of the funniest things you could do. Just go and watch people see their scores. I haven't done it, but I can just imagine you would see some of the funniest faces ever.

Segregation in the COUGAR EAT (read as if Cosmo the Cougar were roaring)

2008-01-11T13:30:00.000-08:00

Hola!!! Bienvenidos to my blog. At the beginning of this new semester, I find myself without many important key factors to make it run without problemas. The biggest key factor would be my lack of a lunch buddy. Fall semester my buddy (we will call her Delilah to protect her identity) and I ventured through many walks of life as found and expressed in the COUGAR EAT. The greatest treasure we discovered as we metaphorically trudged through lunch hour after lunch hour was the luscious L & T. You'd be surprised to know that the name of this restaurant is Lettuce and Tomato. Pretty boring I should say in comparison to the party which is found in each and every o wrap that is found on the menu. Our greatest challenge while exploring through this mysterious lunch room was where we belonged as we waffled between the "cool"side and the "not cool" side. Perhaps there are a few of you that don't recognize the segregation that has occurred in the COUGAR EAT, but after my years of experience it has become blatantly clear. If you always get your lunch to go you obviously understand what I mean (wink, wink). I invite you all to truly study the great divide.