SAVAGE BEASTS

it has been a while since i have talked about music. so i thought i would, ya know, talk about it. first, lets start with some of the musical events i have been to recently. last night i went to my sister's byu orchestra concert. she is a bassist. she's pretty good. much better than the rest of the orchestra anyway. i suppose that isnt fair. it is not an auditioned group so naturally you are going to get some people in there who just absolutely love music and love to play, but who just simply arent very good at it. all in all, it wasnt bad. it was a step up from your average high school orchestra.

speaking of high school music groups, the highlight of the event reminded me of something that i did during a concert. while playing a really high note on my trumpet and standing on a chair with my legs locked, i passed out and fell on top of the trombone section.

last night's mishap happened after the first song. a second violinist had positioned her chair a little too close to a stairway to the left of the stage. as one of the chair's legs scooted to the edge of the stairway, she very slowly began to fall. in desperation she grabbed the dress of a fellow second violinist and temporarily stopped her fall. that is, until her contemporary started scooting backwards as well. the second second-violinist went heels over head in her best black dress, taking with her a microphone stand, and landing atop the first second-violinist. and the crowd cheered. (it was one of those "you-didnt-die-so-we-get-to-laugh-at-you" moments).

then there was the director. i have been in several musical groups, and i can never understand a director who gets really "into it." you know what im talking about. they get up there and wildly swing their baton about as though they are warding off some invisible flying creature; every once in a while they point at a random section as if they might forget that they are playing; they raise and lower their hands vigorously because they arent quite sure if the clarinets know how to read the dynamic markings on the sheet music; and they have crazy hair.

in my opinion, directors like that are entertaining to some, but insulting to those who actually know how to read music. during a performance, the director is pretty much just a human metronome ("cracked pepper with your cowbell, sir?") and unless the band is actually filled to the brim with idiots who dont know the first thing about music, they should never "get into it" (i also dont like musicians who "sway" or gamers who contort the controller--it really doesnt help).

anyway, on to my brother's concert. my brother is a freshman at byu. he is actually really good. major universities fought over him. and for what? to have him join a non-auditioned concert band? nope. my high school alma mater has one of the best high school jazz programs in the country. we have played and recorded with some of today's finest jazz professionals. world class musicians request to work with this ensemble. ok, so this probably means nothing in today's over produced hip-hop society. but the second jazz band wins major competitions all the time so the first band must be good, right?

anyway, my freshman brother is the lead trumpet in byu's jazz synthesis (byu's premiere jazz band).

so i went to the synthesis christmas concert (they also have an over-zealous director, but not to the same degree as the orchestra dude. but this is probably due to his prosthetic legs). now, i know more about jazz bands than i do about orchestras so i'll keep this simple. the band as a whole is really good. they have some very talented musicians in the band (my brother being one of them). they were tight and together; they played the complicated sections almost flawlessly; dynamics were solid; and they had a good sense of rhythm, balance and blending. the main complaint i had was their improvisation.

frankly, it was somewhat lacking. the soloists had very little variety in style and played the same handful of mid-ranged notes the entire time. not to mention they all used similar repetitive riffs as "fillers" until they could think of something more interesting to play. according to my brother they dont spend much time at all on improv. i guess the director finds it less important than those others thing i just said. but improv is the basis of jazz. that is where it begins. i could understand if the director didnt think it was important and kept the improv to a minimum, but every song had at least five featured soloists. that's more than some high school jam sessions! and it seemed like the solos were mostly going to the upper classmen (who in theory should be better than the lower classmen, although they failed to support that theory) rather than to the most qualified.

they also decided to bring in a half-rate professional vocalist who luckily only "scatted" once. in general vocalists irritate me. sure, every one hates the stereotypical lead singer of a band who thinks he is god's gift to women and rock and roll, who can no more sing on key than pluck out a chord on a piano. but jazz singers are equally annoying to me. anyone who doesnt know how to read music or play a single chord or scale on at least one instrument has no right scatting. ever. and even if you can do those things it doesnt mean you are good.

i hate it when a singer gets the lime light when the true talent is standing right behind him. "but he writes such wonderful lyrics." fine. keep your lyrics where all "great" literature belongs--in a book. music has very little to do with lyrics and i am disappointed that pop culture has forgotten this and we reward those who can rhyme and talk fast with grammy's and hail them as musicians. they are not musicians. they are vocalists at best. musicians play instruments. vocalists mimic them. dont believe me? where do you think scatting came from? wino's?

so why does this irritate me so much? it is simple really. anyone can sing. really, anyone who can talk can learn how to sing. the amount of musical knowledge it takes to sing is slightly above zero. the amount of musical knowledge it takes to sing well is equivalent to a novice instrumentalist. the amount of musical knowledge it takes to sing professionally is equivalent to a novice instrumentalist. why? because they dont need to know how modes work, or how keys are formed, or how chord progressions can be altered. they dont even need to know how to transpose or transcribe. instrumentalists do (charlie parker was mocked off stage in a jazz club in new orleans because he couldnt play a certain song in a certain key). vocalists can get by with natural talent and singing by ear (i.e. frank sinatra). it takes years of practice and study to even become a novice instrumentalist (like my sister's orchestra). they will never become professionals and never teach more than private lessons on the side. but they have put more time and effort into their craft than your average "professional" singer.

NEW QUERK

i think just about every one has an uncommon viewpoint on some obscure topic. for years older generations thought jazz was the devil's music. now most people think jazz is one of the more innocent genres of music (you'd never see fats domino pimping out crack whores to pay for his next record. nor would frank sinatra ever sing about his "gang" affiliations). but that is a poor example of what im talking about. how about converting all 4-way stops to round-abouts? or making basic traffic violations felonies? or putting fluoride in the water (or not)? arming police with non-lethal potato guns? instead of using animals for vital scientific testing just use members of peta...?

i only agree with some of those. im not saying which...

i recently watched an HBO special on ingrid newkirk. she is middle aged, blond, divorced, british, atheist, vegan, obsessive, compulsive, imposing, quirky, fanatical, conniving, condescending, self-righteous, and is the head of a domestic terrorist organization called peta.

i am continually surprised by the number of people sucked into her campaign. she uses tactics such as trespassing, slander, destruction of private property, and vandalism to get what she wants (that's called domestic terrorism). some say she is a saint for speaking for animals who cant speak for themselves (unless she is Mrs Doolittle, i think they might be exaggerating a bit). i say she is a miss-guided vigilante with too much time and money to waste on her cause ("but her cause is so good and holy. she is the next nelson mandela." im sorry but the ethical treatment of animals is no more equal to the civil rights movement than the war in iraq is equal to "Nam." (similarities ≠ "equal") ).

and how dare they equate it to the holocaust.

think about it, science can only progress through proper testing. and proper testing almost always requires test subjects. small animals are the perfect test subjects prior to human testing. and for those of you who think that i am heartless and cruel to the core, just so you know, not all testing is dangerous or even painful. in fact, most scientific testing is neither. if you take away proper testing we will never find a cure for AIDS and cancer and TB and so on. tell me, which is the greater good?

ok, so let's talk about the slaughter houses she has infiltrated and "spied" on. they talk about isolated incidents where animals are mistreated before they are killed as if that is the norm. well, that is not the norm. for instance, at a turkey factory they put the birds on a conveyor belt before they are killed. peta's complaint is that the men pick up the birds by their feet and put them on the belt too forcefully and too quickly and some of the birds fall off the belt. i dont know how much you know about birds, but i used to raise chickens growing up (we would even kill and eat them) picking them up by their feet is not uncomfortable for them and it actually puts them to sleep. and as for falling off the belt, well i personally think that any creature that can fly (albeit only for short distances) can handle a 3-foot drop.

their only valid complaint that they actually had evidence of was an isolated incident where an employee kicked a turkey that had fallen off the belt. that should not have happened and i think butterball would agree that that type of behavior should not occur in their facilities.

the thing that really irritates me (other than the fact that they are so self-absorbed that you cant have a reasonable discussion with them. they are so convinced that they are right that they have no room for an actual debate--only mandates and ultimatums) is their method of protesting. it is all glamorized self-righteous illegal activity (did i mention public nudity?). and their targets? people that either dont want to talk to them in person (and who can blame them) or have cancelled an appointment. so naturally peta has the right to retaliate for the inconvenience through destroying the private property of those who have been so terribly rude.

if you support peta then you let the domestic terrorists win.

RETURN OF THE RAVING RABBID

so i had a dream a couple months ago about a certain stuffed bunny. and i wrote about it. well, i decided to pay tribute to the great yahtzee and make a video about it too. enjoy.

THAT THING THAT'S GOING AROUND

so i have recently taken to drinking hot chocolate. call it seasonal depression if you want to. i just like putting as much junk food as i can into a mug and calling it a drink (cocoa, milk, candy bars, marshmallows, chocolate syrup, caramel syrup, and, my personal favorite, mint chocolate chip ice cream.) besides, can you really call something that sears your taste buds off a "comfort food?" i didnt think so.


seasonal depression is just an excuse to wear poorly knitted sweaters and listen to christmas music 4 months prematurely. (i hope that by now everyone has realized that i am not actually describing seasonal depression. i am actually describing "middle-aged house-wife syndrome.")


that's right MAHWS is real and is plaguing our nation. you probably know people who are afflicted with MAHWS. i have relatives who have been struggling with this disease for years. nothing is harder on a family unit than finishing a nice picnic/bbq at the local park and as you start lighting the fireworks grandma starts singing "silent night..." and makes the baby cry. sure, she may blame it on the senility, but she isnt fooling anyone. MAHWS is a lifetime disease and she is a carrier.


perhaps you have experienced it yourself. have you ever found yourself laughing at a joke with a little more diaphragm than usual thus shaking your belly like a bowl full to the brim with jelly? or perhaps you wake up in the middle of the night only to find that you have a sugar plumb in your mouth and "up on the roof top" stuck in your head.


this is what you need to do if you suspect someone to have the illness. set up your living room as though it is christmas eve. if they are actually afflicted then they will just go with it no matter what time of year (or even time of day) it is. by now they will be so far gone that there is no reasoning with them. they will appear to smile constantly but it will be a more of blank grin than actual happiness. they will also sing every holiday song they know. and when they run out of songs they will likely start singing songs from other faiths or even just make up new songs all together. just sing with them. it will help keep them calm before the next part, thus making it more effective.


the next part is where you have some freedom. basically you need to kill santa.** you can do it any way that you want. i recommend something like having a dummy come down the chimney and land on a bear trap. you can also have an animal attack him (a reindeer would be the most effective but a dog or badger will work too) or simply shoot him in the head yourself. the point is that it is a bloody mess and the victim becomes so traumatized that they never want to celebrate a major holiday again.

PTSD > MAHWS.


** do not attempt on children under 12

SITE METER

so it has been about two months since i last wrote something worth reading. that is, unless some of you were able to decifer my "nervous breakdown...." just kidding. it was real.

about three days ago i looked at my site meter and realized that people have stopped checking my blog as regularly. so i decided to do an experiment: wait to write and see how long it will take for people to stop looking all together. as you can see im a horrible scientist.

so i guess i should prolly say what ive been up to. back in august i took that other job i mentioned. i also kept the other two i already had. for about 4-5 weeks i was working about 70 hours a week. (hence the "nervous breakdown") but i have since quit best buy even though the schedual says otherwise. i suppose i should go and officially quit, but the longer i postpone it the longer i get to use my employee discount...

as for my other jobs, they are going well. i have no days off though, which kinda sucks. but at least i like my jobs. and i get paid holidays and sick days and such.

so, now that i work a reasonable 45 hours a week, what do i do with my free time? well, halo 3 came out. that was pretty cool. but i have since moved on to even more destructive cartoon violence. two things have occupied my time: a cartoon i made and "the orange box."

first, the less mysterious cartoon. i made all the pictures in photoshop and recorded the music and so on in about 10 hours. originally i did them separately without considering putting them together, but the cartoon needed some sound so i just threw the song in for fun. enjoy.



so, what's in the orange box? it is a compilation of games including my personal favorite first person shooter: half life 2. but it also has two very cool bonus games which i think even non-gamers will at least find interesting. the first is greatest puzzle game since myst. the most interesting part about this puzzle game is that it is in the style of a first person shooter.

just remember, the cake is a lie.



the other game is team fortress two. the simplest way to describe this game is to say it is a cross between halo and the incredibles. this is cartoon violence at it's best. (seriously, this is the funnest multiplayer game i've played in years.)



ok, let the experiment begin.


IMPORTANT UPDATE

i dont normally update entries post facto (as opposed to updating entries pre facto) but in light of what i wrote up there ^ i have no choice but to post this. btw: he swears.



ok, back to the experiment.

PARENT TEACHER CONFERENCE

on the plus side of working a 15 hour shift today, apparently i met this guy.

NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

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MONY MONY

this is me using all of my free time to write a blog.

ICEY DEAD PEOPLE

"you are a unique individual... just like everybody else." some how i found a way to make this my motto in high school. i think it had something to do with my newly acquired sarcastic/morbid/disaffected sense of humor. i enjoy things that make fun of things that other people enjoy. this is also about the time i started to follow websites like despair.com and the very prestigious darwin awards.

many people have theories about why i am the way i am. i have dozens of hobbies. wrestling, hockey, rock music, jazz improvisation, trumpet, sax, clarinet, bass, piano, music composition, graphic design, pencil drawing, movie making, video games, motorcycles just to name a few. but i dont really seem to need much in the way of social interaction. in high school i usually spent my free time on one the above things all by myself and i was perfectly happy doing so. it wasnt until my second year of college that i decided having close friends would be a good thing. so i started making time for them. but i never considered it a need. more of a guilty pleasure.

i know im weird. i know i have issues with certain things. but i refuse to believe that it is all my dad's fault.

people are funny. they see some one else with similar issues and automatically assume that the cause must be the same. why do you think both adhd and depression among high school students exploded in the mid 90's? because some one had a son who couldnt sit still, took them to the shrink and that's what the doctor told them. that's not to say that the doctor copped out and just went with an easy answer. no, the kid probably did have adhd. the problem comes when the kids mother starts telling all of her bingo buddies that they finally took her kid to a psychologist and he fixed everything. so the other mothers start saying "oh, you know what, i think jonny has the same thing. what were his symptoms?" then the mother starts spitting out a list of things that virtually any kid is guilty of and the other mothers blow it out of proportion, and all of a sudden everyone has adhd and a shrink on speed dial.

so what does this have to do with my dad? i have noticed that the media has a simple formula for today's bread-winning american dads. work-aholics who dont care about their delicate children and can never keep a promise to attend a recital or tournament or whatever. the children are all the same too. they are so distraught by the fact that daddy has to work during one of their many extra-curricular activities which they somehow have decided is more important than the rest of them and never speak to their father again. at this point the father has an epiphany and decides to risk loosing his job and puts the well being of said children in jeopardy because, dammit, enough is enough. and that is basically the best argument he can come up with as he slips in the back of the theater just in time to witness his child's big moment dancing to the theme of peter and the wolf. and it is at this pivotal point that i vomit.

the reality is i was one of those children. sort of. ok, maybe my dad was one of those dad's. sort of. my dad was very busy. during most of my childhood he was a doctor and a bishop and so on. he would get up at 4am and be gone before the kids were up, and he wouldnt get home until 8-9 ish. basically he was never home. one day some one asked me (at about the time i acquired my sarcastic/morbid/disaffected sense of humor) if it was hard for me to never see my dad because he was gone so much. to which i replied, "huh?"

i had never noticed. even when i was a kid and i watched movies and tv shows like the one i described above i never actually thought "wait a second! that is just like my dad! grrr, i hate him now. thank you hannah barbera for enlightening me to the ways of truth."

to all of you who read this and think that daddy is to blame for all that is wrong with you and that is why you have to get tattoos and go to raves to find your niche in life as a non-conformist as you drink coffee in the local star-bucks pissing on "the man" with all of your other non-conformist friends with the same eye-shadow as you, i say if daddy didnt love you enough when you were pure and innocent then i cant imagine your current behavior is helping the situation. which is why you are spiraling into self-loathing and depression (notice that i didnt say chemical depression; your depression has more to do your self-destructive behavior and chosen lack of self esteem and NOT your serotonin levels). so stop living your storybook tragedy and "grow up."

IT’S A MAD MAD (INSERT SYNONYM FOR MAD) MAD LIB

i have been wanting to write this (noun) for a (adjective) long time. i have never tried (verb) one of these before. here it (verb).

a few (measurement of time) ago some (nouns) and i went to see (pg-13 animated movie). it was very (adjective). it was like a (type of young animal) on (drug/supplement/performance-enhancing-somethingerother/herb). or maybe it was like a (favorite adjective about bleeding/dying) (type of young animal) in the circus. no, it was (definitely/probably/sometimes/sort-of) the first one.

so anyways, (pg-13 animated movie) was worth (verb). i will probably go and (verb) it again when it (verb) to the (adjective) theater.

but not all of my (nouns) could come to (pg-13 animated movie). i dont know if "could" is the right (noun) to use here. technically, they "could" have (verb). but (nagging wife) forbade it. (female pronoun) insisted they shouldnt go because it was (inappropriate adjective). more specifically, (10 year old boy from pg-13 animated movie) shows his (animated anatomical feature) during (pg-13 animated movie).

i guess it is good to know who wears the (article of clothing) and that (10 year old boy from pg-13 animated movie) has bigger (animated anatomical feature) than (male pronoun).

EXAMPLES

since i have lived in utah i have seen some of the crappiest drivers in my life. oh, they top anything i ever saw over seas. other countries may be aggressive and angry when they drive, but at least they are paying attention. most of utah's drivers are either on cell phones or talking to a passenger or having their own sing-along (gotta keep the chops up to par for men's chorus).

time for some examples. one time i was trying to turn left in an intersection in my car and the light turns yellow. since i am in the middle of the intersection waiting i expect to be able to turn before the cross traffic starts coming. but wait, there is an idiot in a roll cage on wheels gunning it through the intersection. luckily, i see him/her before i start turning and they run the red by about 2 seconds. as you may know, 2 seconds is considerably longer than the pause between red lights and the next green lights. as he/she clears the intersection cross traffic starts coming (apparently they are all idiots too since they didnt see my car sitting in the middle). so i did the only thing i could to avoid an accident--i gunned it and almost hit the cross traffic. and guess who everyone honks at....

the worst one i ever saw, though, involved a pedestrian. it was after dark and i was waiting to go straight through an intersection. to my right was a pedestrian also waiting. when the light turns green a car in the left turn lane guns it through the intersection trying to beat myself and the pedestrian. we both let him win.

now, it could be that the bubble is the source of all this stupidity since there are about 30,000 students in about a 5 mile radius. in fact, i was absolutely sure that this was the main reason for the chaos. until this morning.

on my way to work i was just riding my motorcycle, minding my own business, when along comes a dodge charger police vehicle trying to merge into my lane with ME still occupying it. he didnt even use his blinker!

it must be the water.

/WRIST

i just finished an ELEVEN hour work day on this many (/holds up five fingers) hours of sleep. i cant decide whether im more hungry or more sleepy or more achy-breaky.

***NEW POST***

i assume most of you know my current working situation. for those who dont know, here is the scoop. in the mornings i work at a high school/hospital teaching computer classes and in the afternoons i work at best buy in the geek squad. i have two name tags that qualify me as a geek. that doesnt mean that im actually good at what i do. but i dont let that stop me from doing it. in fact, i have had some pretty good blunders at both jobs.

really, having two jobs isnt that terrible. im constantly busy and, therefore, constantly getting paid to either fix computers or teenagers. for example, this week and next will put me at about 100 hours! 73 of which will come between tuesdays (73 hours / 8 days = 9 hours/day -- and thats just the average!). not to mention i dont get any real days off for at least two weeks ("free-days" are for whimps and commies) whats not to like? i mean, this sunday i get to go to best buy to help count inventory from 6pm to 1am. (counting stock software is the best, it is constant and easy to handle) and then i get to get up to teach at 8am! awesome! additionally, i really get to stay on my toes all the time (and feet) since i rarely know what im doing well enough to actually do it with confidence. it's the challenge that drives me. and who doesnt like constant correction or always asking for help with anything and everything. at least they are paying attention to me.


well, i got a very interesting phone call today from my boss at the school. he called me at the end of one of my classes and i didnt have time to ask a bunch of questions but this much he did tell me: "we would like to extend to you a full time position with benefits."


i have weighed the options very carefully all day (i even took the "extra-long way home" from work to think about it) and based on the info i have it comes down to this: taking the job would be best for me in almost every way, but it would completely screw over the geek squad (which i would really hate to do, since i am the only one with my job title at the moment, they are already short-handed, and they just invested lots of time to train me, and the clincher--my roommate helped me get the job).


i honestly dont know what to do.

A PATHETIC

some say im laid back and easy going. they say i roll with the punches (occasionally i punch back) and i dont let stuff bother me. eh, i say im just apathetic.

honestly, there are few things that really irritate me enough to get an immediate reaction. most of the time when some one does something to really piss me off i get so frustrated that i have a hard time formulating my rage into a coherent sentence. the result is that i appear to either not care or not have a spine. but in reality i just need some time to process the situation a little bit and cool down before i lay into them.

"does that mean you are a little slow?" no. it is all about context. to be slow i would have to react this way to all external stimuli. but those of you who have had the pleasure (or misfortune for some) to hang out with me know that i thrive on spur-of-the-moment wise cracks at anyone or anything around me.

case and point. the other day a friend was visiting us and was playing the new zelda game on the wii. (he was married a year ago, moved away for a while, then moved back. apparently certain majors are dead ends in and of themselves. so they are working towards masters degrees.) he commented that he would need to pick up his wife soon. and then my roommate commented on a creature in the game, to which he responded "it is so annoying and ugly." to which i replied, "so, why are you going to pick her up?" he let out a single laugh and said "i hate you."

where was i? oh ya, apathy. you see, i used to care about stuff and get all worked up over things but i decided it was better for my health (and the health of those around me) to not care.

TWO THINGS

FIRST: i just watched transformers. awesome. great solid movie with good action, good characters, ample humor (including witty references to the original cartoon series (im going to start using "i think there is more than meets the eye with you" as a pickup line)), and the first time i can ever recall an emotional attachment to a camaro being pinned down by multiple helicopters with giant harpoons. this movie seriously rocked.

however, i am thoroughly disappointed that the toy industry completely botched it. plastic? who the crap wants a plastic optimus prime, or bumble bee, or even jazz? seriously? is the war in iraq so bad that we have to collect all the metal we can for bullet shells? the best christmas present i ever received as a kid was a solid metal transformer (i dont even remember which one it was; i remember it was a red sports car). i played with that thing for hours a day for years. it was the best toy i ever had. there is no way a plastic replica could possibly withstand the abuse my metal one went through.

but the movie is still great.

SECOND: i hate flaky people.

BOOK-O-SUPPLEMENTS

i have a book of random stuff i dont want to loose. it is blue and weathered and water-logged. i did loose it once. it happened during my last move, but i found it a few weeks ago. as much as i like my book-o-supplements there is only one thing inside of it that i actually care about. everything else is just kinda cool to read every once in a while.

when i was in high school i took an english composition class. it was supposed to be college level or something. anyway, i struggled in that class mostly because i was a very inconsistent writer. when i was interested in the topic i would actually try and do really well. otherwise, i just sucked it up. well, we were given an assignment to describe a life-changing moment in our youth. something pivotal. something that developed character or interests. well, i wrote my paper the night before it was due (i stayed up pretty late too. maybe that's why it was a "college level" class...) and had a friend proof-read it at a party. she said it was one of the best papers she had read in a while and started quoting it. weird.

so i turned it in, and the teacher reacted in much the same way. i thought it was cool because i would finally get an 'A' on an assignment. but it really pissed off a girl in my class. she was a book-worm and worked really hard on every assignment, yet she managed to get a worse grade than me. one of those 'prodigal son's older brother' situations.

anyway, im going to post the paper below because im afraid i might loose my book again and im sure some of you will like it. i dont expect any great reviews since im no longer in high school. also, i appologize in advance for the use of the phrase "all the vigor of my being" (i did actually think it was an original thought. at least it isnt "fiber of my being"). enjoy.

THE HUNT

Stealthily, I hunted my victim. I sprang into the air with the force of a tiger, tackling my prey, bear-hugging him with a vengence. He had entered my territory--my realm. Strapping my paws around his torso, I felt him quiver with the realization of my attack. I could not let him go--not this time. He squirmed viciously in an attempt to be rid of me, but to no avail. We struggled our way to the ground; rolling in chaotic patterns across the marked-off expanse. I grabbed ahold of his leg and threw him with all the vigor of my being. His weakened body hit with a sickening thud. I pounced again. Having my arms wrapped around his head and arm, I squeezed the remaining thoughts of escape from his mind. Losing all hope of regaining strength, he slowly lowered his shoulders to the ground.

Slam!

What happened? I looked around. Next to us was the referee, anxious to get us off of the mat. I jumped up, helped my opponent to his feet and awaited for my hand to be raised. Sweat poured off of my 105 pound, 5th grade body, boiling like a natural hot spring, muscles tensed with adrenaline. Confused with the thoughts and emotions that had possessed my mind only moments before, i walked toward the judges' table and loosely signed the bout sheet with my trembling hand.

A husky body approached with burning eagerness. He had been yelling at the top of his lungs on the sideline trying to wrestle for me, but I had become oblivious to his cries. He put his steel-framed hands on my tingling, scrawny shoulders, his forehead slick with perspiration. Staring into his deep brown eyes--as I had done so many time before in hopes for approval--I nervously awaited his response to my match. In a solid, satisfied voice he said, "That's it. That's how you wrestle."

COCKED

i just figured something out. i dont write much anymore and i think it is because over time my posts have been aimed at entertaining people who might read this. that's not to say i dont like it when people read my blog, i have just noticed that i have slowly started writing for the readers and not myself. so what is the difference? i rant a lot more when i dont think people will read something.

so, here i go.

i played my trumpet today for the first time in about six months. i stopped playing regularly last summer because i got tired of people complimenting me on my 'incredible ability to improvise' when they dont know the first thing about it.* ignorance is bliss. apparently they didnt notice what the byu music program did when i auditioned for the jazz band and didnt make it. the fact is, im not that good. shut up, i mean it. my technique sucks, i have a crappy armature, and i cant play very high. i have a decent sense of rhythm and style, but im sloppy. i have developed a technique over the years of guessing the chords rather than taking the time to actually figure them out. in other words, i got pretty good at playing by ear.

i know how to read music and chord progressions very well. im just lazy. you see, when i first got into jazz (8th grade) i got some play-a-long cds and just played the same thing over and over for hours. i would simply figure out the root chord and only play that. i had a great time just playing whatever the crap i wanted. but it didnt help me get any better. long story short, i use a more sophisticated version of that same model.

well, today just reaffirmed the effectiveness of that system so long as i only play along with cds. i suppose it is enough to impress those who dont know any better.**

for most of my life i have struggled with accepting compliments. i used to fight it. i would actually argue with the person and downplay anything nice they might have to say about me. this brings me to the one personality i truly hate. and i mean hate.

cocky people.

i knew a kid in high school, named brandon, who was just that. he was the lead sax in the jazz band and had a passionate romp with a very popular girl. so naturally he thought he was god's gift to anything and everything. that's all im going to say about him. he was the second person i ever hated.

the first person was a basketball player in 6th grade, named adam. he actually tried to convince me that basketball was a full contact sport. me!?! i was a freaking wrestler. i know what full contact is and i refuse to believe that a sport that penalizes you for touching some one's hand is great. sorry, paige. basketball sucks.

anyways, because i loath cocky people i often try to do the opposite. not because im humble. hardly. im a pretty cocky bastard myself. and it is one of the things i hate most about myself.

so, im sure i have offended some of you. if i have, eh, you'll probably get over it. if you dont get over it, then stop reading my blog.

* jazz is a lost art. im sorry for those of you who read this thinking "i know what jazz is. i love jazz. big bad voodoo daddy is awesome. nora jones has an amazing voice. swing dancing if fun." the fact is, most people who like "swing" are dorks that dont know the first thing about it. just take a walk through the HFAC and you'll see what i mean. if you can tell the difference between maynard ferguson and jon faddis then you might know what you are talking about. anyone ever heard of sammy nestico? buddy rich? mingus? the duke? didnt think so.

** dont even get me started on vocalists.

HELL'S LITTLE ANGELS

so, i have my bike. and i like it. but there have been a few mishaps already. first, i ran out of gas riding to spanish fork. but as soon as i figured it out i remembered that my bike has a reserve tank; so i only spent a few minutes on the side of the highway.

also, my bike gets about 45 mpg.

later in the week i got a call from the honda dealer letting me know that my license plate came in (yup, i only need/get one). on my way back i rode down center street at 15 mph and hit a screw with my rear tire. im not sure how my front tire missed it, but the outcome would have been the same. karma seems to be holding a grudge. so i had the dealer fix it for me (i know, you are probably thinking "you of all people should know how to change a tire." well, it is a little more complicated on a motorcycle than on a car. you have brakes and shocks and stuff on both sides of the tire. and you cant just prop it up with a jack and expect it to stay still.) they finished it the next day with barely enough time for me to pick it up before they closed.

one thing that any biker can tell you about is the "biker salute." it is pretty simple. whenever you ride past another motorcyclist you make a sloppy peace sign with your left hand. most people will keep their hand on the handle bar, but some will let go and drop their hand to the side to do it. but never, ever do it to someone on a scooter. (in fact you probably shouldnt even mention this to them. i think it is a pretty sore subject. bikers have only recently started accepting bullet bikes (aka crotch rockets). the biker community just isnt ready to accept scooters. i guess they figure once they let scooters in, they have to start letting in riding lawn mowers too. then what? weed whackers? trollies? buggies? minivans?)

well, i tell you this because as i rode through mapleton one day a motorcycle cop rode past me and made the sign. i quickly returned the gesture.

ok, fine. my stories kinda suck so far. nothing incredible has happened yet (although i did ride the alpine loop this weekend. it was just dandy). and i hate leaving a blog without writing something interesting if i can help it. so here is a story of my dad's biker days.

when my dad graduated high school he had a honda 160cc. for those of you who dont know what that means, it is small. very small. scooter small. mine is a 750cc. so, naturally he decided to go on a cross country bike trip with his best friend. his friend's bike was the same size. somewhere in the mid-west they were riding down the highway just minding their own business when they nearly get run off the road by a guy in a convertable sports car (i guess they had those back then). soon after this happened, a pack of hell's angels sped past them and caught up the to sports car. they surrounded the car and started kicking it and spitting at the driver. terrified for his life, the driver picked up speed and left them in the dust.

my dad caught up with the biker gang at a gas station and thanked them and asked them why they did it. one of them said, "we bikers got to stick together."

RAVING RABBIDS

i know i have already written several blogs this week, what with the whole purchasing of a motorcycle and all. but i had the most entertaining dream last night. i mean, this sucker was better than the one i wrote last july about the "portal to hell...and all that jazz."

so the dream starts out with me laying in bed asleep (go figure, sleeping in a dream. does that count as two sleep cycles?) when something wakes me up. i look around and find myself in my own bed but in a different room.

then i see a stuffed bunny on the other side of the room facing directly at me. nothing really special about this bunny in appearance. it is average size and blue in color. but then i notice that when ever i move my head and look at the doll from a different angle the head always faces directly at me.

so i try moving to different sides of my bed to see if my eyes are just playing tricks on me and the head keeps up with my every move. until i actually fall out of bed. it is at this point i see that the head-shifting doll is holding some papers in one hand and a revolver in the other. so i approach the bunny and take the papers from his hand. there are about 5 papers, hand written. almost immediately after taking the papers from the bunny's hand, it raises the revolver to its head and blows its brains out.

and then the alarm clock goes off before i get a chance to read the papers.

JOY RIDE

this is my very first motorcycle ride. i thought you would all like to join in my joy, and bask in my awesomeness.




also, i like this picture of me on the bike. you'll want to see this in high rez.

LONE BIKER OF THE APOCALYPSE

i...umm...bought this today. (for those of you who want to know it is an '07 honda shadow spirit 750, black with red pin-stripe flames.)

and yes, i have a helmet.

PARTNERS BLACKIE AND RED

when i first thought about getting a bike this is what i figured i would get:

the honda rebel. a classic, so they tell me. one of the most reliable starter bikes in the market. the main complaint with this bike is that it is small. so some one my size is about all the weight it can handle. wonder why it has two seats then...

but still, it is supposed to be exactly what im looking for--an in-town commuter bike. and with a price tag of only 3 grand off the lot, its hard not to take it. but i probably wont.

if i go the small/cheap bike route i will probably go with this one:

the yamaha virago. similar to the rebel, but it is longer and wont give you leg cramps. also, it looks pretty.

but salesmen are smooth talkers and im considering a bigger bike. i mean, im not a small person, so its only logical right?

the first big bike i considered was the honda shadow.

just take the rebel and double every thing. especially the engine. the rebel is only 250cc. this bad boy starts at 600cc.

it is wide, heavy, and still a great starter bike. and it has tons of features and accessories.

but it only has 4 gears (dude, even the rebel has 5 gears. what the crap?). and according to consumer reports it has the most uncomfortable stock seat ever made.

so in order to ride on the freeway (which is the main difference between big and small bikes) i would have to upgrade even more to the 750cc model. the shadow spirit. same as the regular shadow, except for the bigger engine and the absolutely necessary fifth gear.

but there is still the seat issue...

so we move on to the yamaha V star. very similar in size and make to the shadow except for a slightly bigger engine (650cc) and it has a fifth gear. as for the seat, it felt very nice.

and it is roughly the same price (a couple hundred more than the shadow, but still under 6 grand).

so i think i have decided on the V star. so now all i have to do is decide between red and black...

oh and the safety course and riding test, yada yada yada. and let's not forget about leather jackets and chaps.

some day, little buddy. some day...

NUBIE ZOOBIE

a couple summers ago, while i was still living at the villa, my friends moydie! and joe gibbs came knocking on my door proclaiming that they were driving to rexburg, ID and back down to provo that afternoon/evening and that i should come. having virtually nothing else to do for the rest of that sunday (i dont do firesides) i agreed. the purpose of the trip was to take the sister of a girl we all knew back to byu-idaho before her classes started the next day. an 'emergency road-trip' if you will.

well, the ride up was just dandy. we listened to one of the harry potter books on cd (i still have no desire to read them, and i think it is funny that adults think they are more intellectually stimulating than, say a video game, simply because they are books, completing ignoring the fact that they are written at a 6th grade reading level. that's right, they are children's books. not bad movies though.) and eating fresh cherries and spitting the pits at semi's. great fun.

we got to rexburg at about 9:30 pm. we decided to get out for a bit and stretch our legs before the trek home. so there we were, all dressed in casual clothing (most importantly, shorts) and i with a goatee on my face, just mingling with the natives. they, all dressed up for church and heading over to the recently vacated stadium (now only used for intramural sports and devotionals and snack/nap time) to sing hymns together, looked at us funny. you would think that we were streaking the way they looked at us. so, in hopes to find some normalcy and slightly more mature 18 year olds, we decided to visit with the girl's roommates for a while.

when we walked in the apartment we discovered a girl and a boy kissing. they are apparently in the rebellious crowd. we got along fine. until 10:30-ish came around and we were kicked out of the apartment. i guess the girls didnt want to be quarantined for a week for having guys in the apartment after bed-time. (no this isnt the dorms, this is for all of their single's housing). the thing that really gets me, though, is that everyone we talked to insisted that the rules arent that bad. but the fact that they feel like they have to say that (to byu-provo students no less) only makes it seem worse.

dont get me wrong, i hate lots of things about provo too. like the driving/traffic situation; several slightly less juvenile and demoralizing rules; all the molly-mormons and peter-priesthoods who think pink floyd is the devil; opening hymns in nutrition classes; and so on. but provo has had 4 years to work on its bitter after-taste. rexburg had 45 minutes.

besides, we'll always have jon heder to keep our dignity. (idaho may have spawned him, but utah educated him)

IDIOT BOX

lately i have been watching more tv than usual. there are a few reasons for this. namely, "acceptable tv" and "extras."

first (because the alphabet says so), "acceptable tv." this is a new show on vh1 which is a cross between SNL and american idol. the producers create 5 short films (about 2-4 minutes) and viewers pick the ones they like best. the top two will get sequels the next week along with 3 new shows. most of the sketches are really funny. this is one of my favorites:



ok, that one was kinda creepy. but it is strangely entertaining. perhaps you will like a little 007 action.



glad to see im not the only one consumed by a mad dream. also, i think more things should come epuipped with a self-destruct device.

the next show, "extras," is a british comedy on HBO. everyone is familiar with "the office," right? good. well, england did it first on BBC. the star of the BBC version is also the star on extras. his character, andy, is an old washed up actor who gets signed for a really crappy british sitcom and he has a daily struggle with his conscience about whether he should quit with his integrity or continue getting paid doing something he hates. but dont worry, its really funny. one of the best parts about the show is that HBO manages to get big name guest stars for each episode. but since it is a show about showbiz, all of the actors and musicians play themselves. so far david bowie wrote a song about andy being fat and a bad actor, sir ian mckellon produced a gay play and andy was the star, orlando bloom tries desperately to convice a middle-age divorcee that he is attractive, and other appearances have been made by patrick stuart and good old harry potter. so, here is orlando defending his title as "god's gift to women" (note: he does say the F word once... sorry, its HBO).



i like that one, but it doesnt have the star of the show. so, here is david bowie making fun of andy:



maybe i should write a sitcom...

TEACHER! I NEED GO POOPY!

funny story: when i was a kid we had a hard time keeping teachers for sunday school. i dont remember exactly why that was but the following may have had something to do with it. i remember getting to class early one day (along with the other kids) turning off all of the lights and propping a folding chair up against the doorknob. when the teacher came she couldnt get in. we suppressed our laughter enough that she didnt hear us and she went to get help. i dont remember exactly how long it was before we opened the door, but it was a while. and i dont recall them asking where the kids were...hmmm.

we did have one teacher that wised up to our antics and had some...creative solutions. he was short, heavy set, and very bald (he waxed it). i think his philosophy was "if the kids stay in the room it is a successful class." he was mostly successful. one particular boy, named aaron, was... wow i cant think of the word. he was more than a handful (satan in a box?). whenever aaron would get out of line the teacher would sit him next to his chair and put his hand on aaron's head. then he would give aaron a warning "if you move, i'll make you look like me!" sometimes aaron would challenge this warning and try to run away only to be brought back to his place next to the teacher by his golden locks. aaron just made one of those 'half laugh- half cry' sounds. the rest of us were pretty well behaved after that.

well, i got a calling in our ward recently. sunday school president. karma knows no bounds (and it is apparently very patient).

but that isnt the point of this entry. you see i also got a job recently. high school teacher (that's a whole different kind of karma).

the funny thing about becoming a teacher is that i have some friends who are getting their degrees in teaching and i, an exercise science major, beat them to it. and i'm not even teaching P.E. i teach the morning computer classes.

take that karma.

THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT

"i need a drink," "i want to play video games," and "i need go poopy" were all i heard the last two days. (ya, that's a good attention-grabbing intro) you see, on sunday afternoon i got a call from my mother informing me that she, along with my two younger (teenage) brothers were coming down from seattle. its only a 14-15 hour drive, so why not, right? but before they make it to my house they are picking up my older brother's kids. some of you may recall my description of christmas break as this:



my brother's four children, between the ages of 2 and 8, were part of the reason for that description.

dont get me wrong, they are great kids and they are tons of fun to play with (dont worry, we didnt play pass with lil charlie this time). but holy crap im tired. the purpose of the trip was for my younger brother's audition into byu's music program (he is a trumpet player, and yes he is better than me...). so guess who got to take care of the kids while grandma was driving around town ===> ME!

i have baby-sat kids before, it has just been a while. a very long while. a "not since 9th grade" long while. and i was the sort of baby sitter that would just morph into a jungle gym until the kids were too tired to continue running amuck. i didnt mind then, and i really dont mind it now. im just getting old and out of shape, so continuously throwing children over my shoulder onto a pile of couch cushions for three and a half hours just isnt an option anymore.

so what did i do? guitar hero, half-life, world of warcraft, moydie's motorcycle, and pretending to take a nap while standing up. but that only works for so long. i did have to cook up some bbq chicken and hot dogs too. not to mention constantly filling cups with water and pink lemonade, which consequently opened a whole new can of worms: potty training!

let me paint the picture. i finally get the kids interested in a game on my computer (half-life) and adrian (4 years old) is playing while his sister rebecca (8 years old) watches when lil charlie (2 years old) walks in a says "uncle! uncle! i need go peepee! uncle!" to which i reply, "umm, ok." having never done this before, lil charlie describes the process to me. "you hold me! its a big seat! you hold me!" so that's exactly what i did. after washing his hands with soap (which he insisted was actually lotion) we went back to my computer and the other kids were still captivated by the dune buggy armed with a 5omm.

it is at this point that lil charlie notices my bag of pretzels. i give him a handful. not his size handful, my size handful. i figure this will keep him occupied for a while. after eating about three pretzels lil charlie announces "uncle! i need go poopy!" to which i reply "umm, ok." so i grab a paper towel and put the pretzels on it. as we walk to the bathroom lil charlie then says "dont worry! we wont leave you, pretzels!" the 'poopy procedure' and 'peepee procedure' were very similar until the very end. apparently lil charlie is learning the fine art of wiping. fantastic. but the hands of a two year old are only so precise. guess who gets to go in for round two ===> me! afterward he decided to use the 'big soap' instead of the 'lotion soap.'

in related news, this afternoon i am driving up to idaho falls for a family wedding. im hoping the ratio between adults and potty-training toddlers is higher.

GOOD OL' OSCAR

yesterday was the FHE oscar's night for the second ward. i was invited to do an exibition video to be played during the judging of the entries. i actually started planning this video in the summer but i never got around to filming the live action scenes until this week. but now it is done and the oscar's are over so now i can post the video. if you want a higher quality copy of the video you will need to talk to me. enjoy.

MISINFORMED

yesterday, i went to a friend's apartment to eat cookies. chocolate chip and butterscotch, if you must know. this is a pretty typical outing for myself and my roommates. pretty much every sunday we go, eat cookies, and make fun of the neighbors. good times had by all. except for the neighbors. unless they are masochists. which they might be. j/k roflmao /chuckle

anyway, while we were there a semi-regular cookie eater shows up. he chimes in every once in a while, trying to contribute to the wise cracks about how so-and-so's boyfriend is a "duh-duh-duh" (mind of mencia, for those of you who didnt get it right a way). and then he puts in his two cents about how eating right before going to bed is bad for you, makes you fatter, and you magically acquire more calories. and i shot him down.

it is a common view actually. i have heard it several times over the last few years. but it doesnt make any sense. his argument was this (and i assume he was just spitting out something he heard on the radio or something, like most people do about such things. they have no formulated opinions of their own, only borrowed information. but they sure do get defensive when someone calls them out on it) "when you eat the food and go to bed the calories get stored in the body, and they become harder to use, so you gain weight."

fine, i'll explain the process even further. you consume calories, you go to bed, your body's metabolism drops as does your caloric expenditure meaning you need less calories to run basic bodily functions like breathing and heart rate. the calories not used then become stored as glycogen and fat. fat takes more time to breakdown into usable glucose (which is where i think the theory comes from). so what is the effect on the body? you might become slightly more lethargic when you wake up.

you see, when it comes to gaining weight it comes down to a simple equation. calories consumed > calories used. that is it. when people say they have a glandular problem that prevents them from losing weight, what they mean is the glands are releasing a hormone which gives them a feeling of being hungry, or the glands fail to release a hormone that would have them feeling full after eating. either way the result is that they eat more food than they will use through exercise.

the idea that once calories are stored as fat they are never coming back is ridiculous. your body is constantly adding to and taking from your fat stores. it just happens to do it more quickly after a few minutes of aerobic exercise. so eating before you sleep has nothing to do with weight gain. calories weigh the same no matter how they are stored in the body. and even if it did affect the body in the way it was explained to me last night, i cant think of a single situation where it would cause significant weight gain. if you are eating right and exercising regularly, a few extra fat cells wont last more than a day anyway. and if you are obese then you have bigger issues than the time of day you are eating more than your share (no offense).

i just dont get health fads.

SUMPTHIN

some of you may have noticed that i havent been posting as often as i used to. this is true. at one point i posted up to three times a week on two blogs. now im doing well to get one a week ... or so. some of you may have even asked why this is. well, to answer that i guess i should explain why i started this thing in the first place. last summer, as i sat at work, i realized my job is incredibly boring, and i have lots of down time. so i came across kat's "choose your own katventure" (still the best blog i have seen) and decided to give it a go. i mean, i really had nothing better to do.

so what does this have to do with not posting? well, i cant say that i have something better to do. im just not as bored anymore. since i finished my classes and consequently had to quit my job (it is for students only) i have found my self at home playing video games a lot more than usual.

with that said, at what point do you accept that your degree is useless and apply to the home depot?

HOOCHIE HOOCHIE HOOCHIE

WARNING: ANY LADIES WHO READ THIS SHOULD DO SO WHILE WEARING GUY'S SHOES.

i have participated in and been the subject of several conversations concerning dating. it is awkward, really. usually it is not so much about dating itself as it is about not dating. i have been accused of not putting forth any effort and not asking girls out for superficial reasons. fair enough. however, in my defence i will say that 'dating' is not what it used to be and there are, in fact, alternatives to dating (at least in the initial stages of the relationship). you see, i can tell you within five minutes of a conversation with a girl if i will ever have any interest in ever possibly pursuing even a casual relationship with that girl. oh, i'm good.

with that said, get off your soap boxes about how hanging out is bad and first dates are good. the first date is a sham. you can get to know some one quite well with out the pressure of a good impression. besides, i have talked to older generations (much, much older, mind you). dating meant something quite different. when we say 'dating' we actually mean paired off. the older generations would say that you are dating anyone you take out with any regularity. even if that means twice. so you could be 'dating' several people at the same time. in other words, the definition of dating 50 years ago and the current definition of hanging out are actually defining the same thing.

and another thing, what is so wrong about girls asking guys out on dates? is it immoral or simply tradition? im guessing the latter. and if it is tradition and nothing more, where did it come from? who started it? i know. it comes from the same people who said that women have no place outside the home and shouldnt vote. that's right, ladies, the comfortable assurance that you have no real responsiblity over the initializing of a relationship comes from sexist pigs whom you normally detest. so, stop complaining about not being asked out as often as you would like and take some initiative. i know for a fact that most guys are perfectly comfortable with the girl asking them out, if only for the first date. which should be enough for you to let him know you are interested in him.

let me tell you a story of what i mean by girls complaining about dating. in high school i knew a good christian girl who happened to be dating someone in a city about 45 minutes north. this 'long distance' relationship resulted in her only seeing him every once in a while. so she would go a week or two without a single date! gasp! so, about 6 months or more into this relationship she complains to me that no boys ever ask her out. to which i reply "you do know that you are dating 'so-and-so' right?" "gasp! well, its not like im engaged or married or anything like that. guys can still ask me out." i hope you are all thoroughly disgusted by this argument. taking out another man's girlfriend while full well knowing she isnt available is one step below adultery in my mind. if i were in that position i would probably break up with the hoochie mama and grab the guy by the testicles and run away with them.

i feel better.