Pancakes & Desperados

Molestache

2011-01-24T22:29:00.001-07:00

Oh the greasy stringy bristles on your face.
They call to me.
Like candy calling a child.
Neatly trimmed and sometimes combed.
They deserve more.
More of me and you. More playgrounds.
More 1992 windowless vans.
Oops, I caught you looking, longing, but never belonging.
As you near, my fingers find my phone;
and while your stache, that magnificent furry patch,
hypnotically suffocates me,
I dial 9-1-1.

Toothache

2011-01-11T02:37:00.004-07:00

For the past few days I've been suffering from a toothache. It hasn't been too bad, but the throbing pain has been keeping me awake. So I find myself at 2:38am unable to sleep. Therefore I decided to write and dedicate a poem to my toothache.

Root Canal:
French fries, Ice cream, and pumpkin pie.
Extravagant stews.
Milk
Pancakes, and even a few soups.
I'm pretty sure that you loved these foods too.
I tried 1200 milograms, you tried it too.
Vicodin was refused.

Like A Stream

2010-11-28T20:46:00.003-07:00

Nymphs and naiads sang, but not out loud, and not to me,

They sang under the stream.

Into the nooks and crannies, eddies and vales of aspen trees.

They sang of leaves changing colors in the sun.

From green

To yellow, with a little bit of auburn red.

Then their song continued to pass through.

I passed through too, but not entirely through.

The echo of their song stopped me.

Plus my feet were stuck in the stream.

Smoothed by the black, rolling rocks, and rooted like a tree.

I wanted to follow the stream, floating like a piece of green

Grass. Half submerged, struggling to stay above the red.

Instead I was well below the red.

Half drowned by the water siphoning through

My stringy, clinging toes, I could hear their echoes calling to me.

I just couldn’t break free and sidle down the stream

Past the quakies and evergreen trees,

That dance a dance in hues of green.

Still the nymphs sang. They sang a sad song called ‘goodbye green”,

About the fish listing in the stream. They also sang about a red

Autumn and a brisk dawn. They sang through

The setting sun. They sang through me.

The naiads sang too. But they sang from the stream

To the forests of aspen trees.

As I listened I felt myself bend like a poplar tree.

And I felt the trees, in all of their green,

Bend like me. My fingers reached out and touched their red

Leaves. Igniting the forest of fallen leaves through-

Out the valley, and the bend in me.

Until the fire reached the cool, darkening stream.

Then rocks began to roll down stream,

Rollicking to the beat of the whispering trees.

And the forest, still green,

Blazed red

And yellow, in the evening’s fading light. Through

This change, the nymphs and naiads sang, but not to me.

The light faded to night and the singing stopped me

From listening to the steam still streaming,

And the creaking of a thousand trees.

Weaver Girl

2010-11-28T20:33:00.005-07:00

With a caress of your hands, the spinning jenny whirled a vibrant tune. “Weaver girl” I said, “let me see you weave us two.” You smiled a sincere, but concentrated smile. And your hands kept plying and your feet kept pumping, the threads kept flying, and I watched. A majestic pattern of yellows and blues grew. Amazed by the colors, and the hues, I watched. “Weaver girl” I said, “let me see your weaving.” Again you smiled that brief and concentrated smile. Leaving wonder to tickle my sighing. Still you kept weaving. Until finally those different hues, filled with yellows and blues, came together to paint a picture so clear and so perfect I couldn’t move. Then I realized it was just you.

I'd LIke To Dedicate The Following Post To Tara Brock

2010-06-09T02:50:00.001-06:00

I don't know you, and I probably never will.

I've never heard your sweat lolling, rhythmic voice.
I'm sure if I did it would remind me of a white sandy beach with whispering waves.
This doesn't mean you are quiet or serious. It just means your voice would make me quake.

When I look in your eyes, if I had ever seen you, I'd see lazuli blue.
Or, maybe they are the color of a muggy day; hard and gray.
I wouldn't know.

I don't know for sure, but you'd make me feel a sudden fear.
The kind of fear that crawls like a slug. Leaving your skin clammy and pale.
And when it gets to the top, all there is left to do is jump. So I jump.

That is, if I knew you. But I don't. And I probably never will.

Mohe 'Aho

2010-06-09T02:34:00.002-06:00

Mohe ‘Aho

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven times around, then back through the hole. The fishing line and my lure sparkled in the late morning sun. Pull it tight, and done. As I lifted the knot to my mouth and bit off the extra line I looked out over the ocean. It was a beautiful day. I stood on the edge of one island, looking across a small channel to another island. The clear Pacific water reflected the raising sunlight from the right of the island. In the distance I could see the breakers, but couldn’t hear them. With a light breeze ruffling my hair, I waded, thigh deep into the ocean.
“Dear God,” I said, “I know I don’t always do what’s right. I know that I don’t pray as much as I should, and I know I doubt more than I should. But I’m trying to change, and you know that. Today while I’m fishing I just want to catch a fish. I know that with your help anything is possible. So let me catch a big fish. I promise if you do this for me I’ll be thankful and I won’t waste any of the fish.”
I’d been fishing six or seven times on this same beach. I knew there were fish. I’d seen them. I hadn’t caught any. My Tongan friends laughed at me every time I returned without a fish. When they went fishing they caught six to eight fish, easily.
I’d tried everything I knew. Live bait, lures, bare hooks, I altered my rate of reeling, I didn’t reel, I called the fish; I tried everything. That’s why on this day I prayed. It was the one thing I hadn’t done. I wasn’t sure that praying to catch a fish was right. I wasn’t starving. I didn’t need it. I wanted it. And my bruised pride wanted it. But I figured Christ was a fisherman, or at least he liked fisherman. So today I prayed.
I finished praying and cast my line. Nothing. I did it again. Nothing. Maybe my faith wasn’t strong enough. Even if it was strong enough I still wasn’t sure if this was the type of thing to have faith about? I cast again. Nothing.
By this time I started questioning how much faith I actually had. Did I really believe that God could catch me a fish? Who is God anyways? I knew my family believed, my friends too. Did I believe in God? Was I praying to God because I’d been taught to pray, or, because I believed in him? I cast again. Nothing.
I started to get angry. Not with God, but myself. It was silly to put so much meaning on catching a fish. And even if God did exist my faith wasn’t strong enough for his help. So why should I pray?
Suddenly, when my lure was at my feet, a sliver of a shadow darted from the sand. It struck my lure, and darted away. I laughed. “Okay” I said, “so you have a sense of humor.”
Rejuvenated by adrenaline and a shadow, I kept fishing. Nothing. My doubts returned. Maybe that wasn’t God’s joke; maybe it was a coincidence. Even if there were a God, why would he care about me catching a fish? I cast again, and again, and again. Nothing. My lack of faith was making me sick.
Wait, what was that? It looked like a fish had been following my lure. Was it a fish? Or, was it a shadow. Definitely a fish. I stopped thinking about faith and cast in the direction the shadow had gone. There it was again. That is if it wasn’t just my imagination playing off my hopes. I cast again. It came a third time, but it still didn’t bite. This shadow fish just followed my lure. I cast again. It didn’t’ come back.
I decided my faith was the problem. I once heard that a man, in a time of famine, called in hundreds of fish to the beach. And they came, hundreds of them. They came all the way up to the beach. Just his prayers, and his faith caught hundreds of fish. My shameful prayers couldn’t even catch one.
I changed my lure. Fishing wasn’t meant to be so stressful. I was supposed to relax and stop thinking. I was thinking too much. For a while I stopped thinking. I fell into a casting trance. One, two, three times. Patience. I just needed patience. One, two, three more times. Nothing. One, two, three times more. Nothing.
All right I’d had it. Clearly my faith wasn’t strong enough. Clearly I wasn’t going to catch a fish. One more cast and that was it. Nothing. Just one more and then I was done. Nothing. But I had a feeling that I just needed to cast one more time. So I did. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to catch anything. I’d had enough; I was just being silly now. I decided to quit right then and there. Even before I’d finished reeling in my line I started to walk back to the beach.
When my lure came within ten feet of my humiliated, trudging retreat, there was a bump on my line. I turned. Was that a fish? I kept reeling in the line. It was a fish. I’d caught a fish.
Maybe snagged a fish was the more appropriate term. My hook had caught it just behind the gills. It weighed three ounces, and was only four inches long. It fit in the box my Rapala came in. I took it home anyways. My laughing Tongan friends said they call the type of fish I caught Mohe ‘Aho. They also said it was too small for a Tongan to keep.
I’m pretty sure I heard God laughing.

White With Blue Stripes

2010-05-27T23:31:00.007-06:00

Like most people, I wear my faith on my sleeve.
So I weep.
Not because of faith. Although at times, I believe.
I weep because my shirt isn't white enough.
When my brothers button on the starchy white of atoning sacrifice,
I wear a white shirt with blue stripes.
But at least I'm not that guy with the black necktie.

What is Tonga

2010-05-18T23:52:00.003-06:00

Captain Cook called these the Friendly Islands,
He left before friendliness could kill him.

There isn't much to hope for, or much to do.
Nevertheless life goes on. And with a smile too.
Not because people are abnormally blessed with
gracious opportunity, rather because they use their
faith as a cornerstone to build their smiles. And their faith
is stronger here than back home.

The air sticks to the skin like crisp folded sheets,
But the nights are too hot for sheets, so you sleep
with your feet spread apart, and your heart mixed
with a desire to impart. But hearts are meant to remain whole.
When you do find sleep, or it finds you, dreams seem to rise and fall
As frequently as a squall.

The swaying palms and sparkling water aren't as free as they seem.
Mosquitoes swarm, and spiders creep everywhere that is green.
Everything is green, or hot yellow sand.

The sun doesn't shine, it fries.
And all my food seems to be deep fried.
But that's just because I'm American.
So I use sunscreen.

The dogs are mean and usually unclean.
The rats are nice and scratch in the night.
The pigs are many and most often seen.
All taste about the same.

A car falls apart before your eyes, while you ride on the inside.
And bathroom mats are black. If there are bathroom mats.
Mine has no mat.

And when you close your eyes, and feel the slight salty breeze,
Something unlocks. A sort of thaw. Because when you close
Your eyes you realize, how lucky you are.

You Are Lapis Lazuli

2010-03-30T13:36:00.003-06:00

I was thinking mango colored bruises
are not as sweet as the fruit. Then
I saw you. And my thoughts changed
from fruit to you. And I couldn't resist

the tingle of my lips. So I smiled.

It was the first time I've smiled

on the inside, for quite a while. But when

you didn't notice, and passed me bye,

my chest was hit with a Lapis Lazuli.

And I realized why I haven't smiled.

It's because you

chose to walk the other way. So my

thoughts returned to mango colored bruises,

which are definitely not as sweet as the fruit.

But when I look at one it tickles my lips

and makes me smile, and just for a moment

I want another.

Relationship Disclaimer:

2010-03-21T20:05:00.002-06:00

Note: This information is not to be used for commercial purposes.

Warning!

The failure to adhere to the precautions listed below may result in serious injury.

-Keep out of reach of children.

-Keep away from easily encouraged people.

-This is not for people with sensitive skin.

-Direct eye contact should be treated immediately and thoroughly with water.

-Remove oneself immediately, if the situation becomes too uncomfortable or too hot.

-Be aware of the possibility of varying sensations.

-Exposure can lead to tingling in the extremities.

-Too much exposure can lead to scarring, the swelling of the cardiac system, and anemic speech.

*Please do not respond to this message, as it will not be seen, nor read, by a human.

Mail

2010-03-10T13:21:00.004-07:00

Dear Mail Room Girl,

I guess I should start with an introduction. My name is Pancake. For months I have seen you around. If I said I saw you a lot, it would be a lie. I only see you a few times a week for brief moments. Usually our interaction lasts less than a minute. A good morning perhaps. Maybe, have a nice day. Not much more than that. I'd like to ask your name, and take you to lunch. Just to get to know you a little bit better. You see, for those brief moments of my week, those few and far between moments, that I see you, they brighten my day.

When I'm preparing for my day just in case you see me, I comb my hair. Just in case we speak, I brush my teeth. But when we do meet, and finally have the chance to speak, I'm usually holding my breath. Not because you stink. Because I'm afraid to speak. You see, for those brief moments of my week, those few and far between moments, that we meet, I feel complete.

In a few months, you see, I'm going on my way. I only have a few more weeks. I probably should just ask you on a date. But every time I look at you, my mind goes blank. All I could say would be something like: you're awfully beautiful today. And I'm afraid you'll take it the wrong way.

I'm not following you around all day. Maybe I pray to see you on more than one day. But I'm not lurking in the shadows. So you see, all I really want is to introduce myself one day. Unfortunately, those moments, those few and fare between moments, are not here to stay.

So Mail Room Girl, to conclude what I've been trying to say. Have a nice day.

Beneath a Bench

2010-03-07T20:28:00.002-07:00

Old ladies smell funny, and old men smell like couch. And church smells like old ladies sitting on a couch. Ian McGriff was only four, but he knew this for a fact. Because every Sunday his mom would feed him breakfast, make him take his weekly bath, and imprison him in his Sunday best. Then his mom, dad, brother Seth, and little sister Julia, would get in the car and drive the four blocks to the white cinder block building his dad called the Apple Chapel. His dad would hold open the glass doors for ambling old people, his mom and sister would find a seat on an empty, green cushioned, pew. Ian and Seth would walk in the glass doors and sneak off down the crowded hallway to the drinking fountain. Because Seth was older, Ian would kneel down on his hands and knees so Seth could reach the water. Then they switched, and Ian would get a drink. The water always tasted funny, but Ian didn't care. It was water from a fountain, and there was nothing better than fountain water. After quenching their thirst, the two brothers would sneak back down the hall, hoping to escape the searching eyes of their dad. Unfortunately their dad could see a fly from a mile away. Or at least that's what he told them. Before long Ian's family would be sitting "reverently" in a green cushioned pew.

The pews were better than the hard metal chairs in the back. Sometimes, if Ian was lucky, he could find old crackers hiding in the crevice between cushioning. But benches did have a tendency to smell like an old lady. And Ian didn't really like the smell of old ladies. Old ladies were the worst part of these Sunday excursions. They would always call him cute or a sweet little man. If they could get their hands on him, they would pinch his cheeks, and kiss him, leaving their sticky pink lipstick lips on his forehead. He didn't like the smelly old women and church was full of them. Naturally this led to a dislike of church.

It didn't matter which pew his family sat on, Ian's family always sat in the same order every Sunday. His dad on the aisle, with his sister on his lap, his mom next to his dad, and then Seth and Ian. Usually the meeting would start with the boys acting like little angels, but by fifteen minutes into the meeting Ian's mom would separate the little devils.

This particular Sunday, Ian didn't last five minutes. He couldn't sit on the bench any longer. Checking to make sure his parents weren't watching, Ian slide off the bench. He peered underneath all the benches at the all the feet. Feeling more mischievous and not very reverent, Ian slithered underneath the first bench. He crawled right up behind the feet of the smelly old couple sitting in front of his family. With the malice of a bored four year old boy, Ian reached out, pinched the nylon socks of the old lady, pulled the back, then let them go with a snap. The lady jumped in surprise. "Jus wike a ruba ban," Ian giggled in success.

His parents instantly became aware of their giggling son hiding beneath the pew. But before they could grab him and place him in reverent punishment, Ian slid past the old lady's feet, and underneath the next bench.

To Ian's gleeful surprise, another old lady was sporting nylons. Again he reached out and plucked the nylon with his tiny four year old fingers. Not only did this lady jump in place, but she squeeked as well. This was the best thing ever! He continued onto the next pair of nylons.

Meanwhile Ian's mom felt like she was going to die right there in church, from a severe case of embarrassment. "George", Ian's mom whispered to his dad. "George you've go to do something". Just then Sister Mitchell, four rows up from them, jumped in surprise as her nylons smacked her leg.

"I can't", he replied. "It would make a scene" he whispered.

"George get him now" his mom commanded.

"How? I can't see where he is," his dad replied.

Exasperated, Ian's mom said, "follow the jumping ladies". And true enough, looking through the chapel you could see a trail of ladies, jumping in surprise. So Ian's dad stood, and walked to towards the front of the chapel. In hopes of retrieving his mischievous boy.

Ian was pretty sure this was the best Sunday ever. Each row had at least one pair of old lady legs covered in that stretchy material. Each time he located a pair, he'd reach out, pinch the fabric, pull it back, then let it smack. And each time the lady jumped.

But just as he was reaching for the nylons of his next victim, strong hands grabbed his ankle and pulled. Ian found himself firmly trapped in his dad's arms. His dad quickly walked back down the isle, past his family, out the doors, and into the hall.

For Ian's mom, the meeting seemed to be in slow motion. As George walked by her, with Ian trapped in his arms, she felt all the old ladies eyes, and the muffled laughter questioning her motherhood. And for a brief moment. So brief that you would barely know it. Ian's mom wished she had been the one smacking nylons.

Robotics

2010-03-07T10:01:00.000-07:00

Good evening, I will say.
Or maybe Hello, how was your day?
Her reply will compute. But
I respectfully remain mute.

I'll grasp the handle of the door,
and open it for her.
My driving is sincere.
My conversation required.
My interactions adequate.

I sure like being in this fancy situation.

A muttered thanks. We embrace.
I depart, and walk to where I parked.
I carry this too close
to my artificial heart.

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

Coastline

2010-03-07T09:46:00.004-07:00

A salty breeze rides hard upon the memories

of painted gulls. Below these birds, on a beach

of driftwood dreams, children play, and their

exotic animals frolic in the waves. On this

beach a single plastic bag, tied by a single

piece of twine, begins to rise, and ride

the thermal currents of the breeze. Higher

and higher it goes, until the piece of twine

lets go. Then the plastic bag, that flew

with painted gulls and was abandoned

by the breeze, falls. Looking back

along the path, beyond the children, wading

in play, I can see a collage of kelp covered

dreams, trickling into the sea, like a ruffled

plastic bag, like a string, like a sun-bleached memory.

Bambi

2010-02-21T10:51:00.003-07:00

Bambi, your mother is dead.

The hunter didn't kill her

But the Japanese did.

Crossing the street at Center and 9th,

That little Toyota Camry

Bent her legs up over her head.

She lay there in that man made bed,

Kicking, and twisting the cold sheets.

Until finally she was bled.

Stand Back

2010-02-15T17:14:00.012-07:00

They all go, but I came home.

Their encouraging words accompanied by a smile

Turned to pointing fingers and hesitant hellos.

In this mess caused by my premature

Appearance and marred by what ifs,

Lies a crowd of unmet expectations

Here my heart resides but cannot rise.

So stand back a foot or two,

I wouldn't want to stain

Your crisp white shirts

With my tears of

Ineptitude.

A Flake

2010-02-04T21:40:00.000-07:00

The January wind cracked
Spreading the crystallized air through
Bare
Deciduous trees and empty playgrounds

High above
Condensed vapors cling
Before they fall
Like a thousand angels
Fighting
An expired war

Far below
Shuddering branches whisper
To a tattooed
Playground tube
Here comes our blanket

Painted Seagulls for William Slater

2010-01-24T16:30:00.008-07:00

A twinkle in my eye
passed from the past
when dreams were ideal and a meal was peeled.
This interwoven thread called my past is not yet past.
The twinkle remains and
so do I.

All The Right Signs

2010-01-10T16:32:00.006-07:00

Movie night.
Approximately 2ft. 1inch of couch separate her from me. To compliment and add to the space, two distinct and unique blankets, made by her grandmother, individually cover her and me. Her legs are crossed; The right over the left, facing away from me. My legs are also crossed, mirroring her cross. Her hands fold nicely, one upon the other, resting in her lap. A fold so nice and comfortable looking it seems to say, no room for another. So I keep my hands in my own lap. She turns to say something. I turn to meet her gaze. As I turn I lean........back 8 inches, increasing the distance to 2ft. 9 inches. Back to the movie; Back to 2ft. 1 inch.
The movie ends.
She stands and walks to a book shelf. I stand as well. We talk about books. We sit down again. This time 4ft. and a coffee table separate us. Polite conversation resumes. That was a great movie. I love Indian food. I should take you home. Okay.
The car pulls into the driveway. Thank you. You're welcome. No hug tonight. Last time there was a hug. I open the door and step out. Good night. Good night. I close the door. She drives away.
I can't help but think I missed a sign.

A Look In Your Eyes

2009-12-16T15:40:00.005-07:00

Looking into your eyes melts my resolve like,
a glistening piece of Spam.
Spam the reject of all...... Hero of none.
Those pieces of cow-
pig, dog, horse, maybe even rat.
smashed, bashed, thrice diced, liquefied, and congealed.
That pinkish, chunky cube, and the way it resists leaving the can.
You can't say no to Spam.
The slurping of victory as Gravity prevails- and the Spam slips from that tiny, tin can. Gravity always prevails.
Fried Spam, Boiled Spam, Oven Roasted Spam, Honey-Glazed Spam, Curried Spam, Pickled Spam, and just plain old Spam from the can.
Yes, Spam...
Hero of none, rejected by more than some.
Nothing like a nice, big, juicy piece of Spam

Light The Way

2009-12-13T01:04:00.004-07:00

I close my eyes. Close your eyes too.
I can see it again.
Someone this close is not supposed to be like that.
Trust? How?
Tau lotu, you can pray too. It might help.
Light my sky, like mana fetu'u. Light it like it should be.
Maybe this is why. Every damn time.
I close my eyes, hoping to see a way.
fie'ilo. fie'ilo. fie'ilo.
Close your eyes, help me find the way.

Living Death

2009-12-10T00:06:00.000-07:00

The title of James Joyce's story, "The Dead"(DiYanni,584-610) seems misleading. There are no gruesome murders, or any morbid images. But the truth in this story is more grotesque than any horror story scenario could possibly be. The is a story about the living dead. No not zombies. Joyce's story explores the death of imagination, dreaming, and zeal for living, caused by societies bondage.

As an individual ages their imagination grows old and dies. For most people their imagination dies before their bodies. This is seen in Joyce's story through Gabriel's aunts. As one said in her toast at the dinner party, "A new generation is growing up in our midst, a generation actuated by new ideas and new principles. It is serious and enthusiastic for these new ideas and its enthusiasm, even when it is misdirected, is, I believe, in the main sincere. But we are living in a skeptical and, if I may use the phrase, a thought tormented age. "(599). Ideas are always changing. The tendency is to assume an idea that is not yours is wrong. The beauty of the imagination is that it constantly grows and explores. But as we become immersed in society and its rules, our imagination is put in a box. In that box imagination shrinks and dies, like a wrinkly old woman.

We do not kill our own dreams; they are killed by the people we are surrounded by. It is their ideas of right and wrong, possible and impossible that make or break us. When a person dreams they become excited. This excitement permeates their life. So much of life is about your attitude. If you believe, anything is possible. But society layers us with unbelief. This embitters believers. Bitterness slowly poisons dreams until they die. The caretakers daughter epitomizes this form of death. This excerpt portrays her bitterness, "-Tell me, Liley, he said in a friendly tone, do you still go to school? -No, sir, she answered. I'm done schooling this year and more. -O, then, said Gabriel gaily, I suppose we'll be going to your wedding one of these fine days with your young man, eh? The girl glanced back at him over her shoulder and said with great bitterness: -The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you." (585). Circumstances have embittered her towards life. This bitterness, this skepticism, has murdered her dreams.
Death is generally a very sad, depressing topic. So everything that seems light and full of life would be the antagonist of death. The setting of this story is a dinner party. These parties are supposed to be full of light, laughing, and happiness. This particular dinner party is none of those. There is an underlying tension rippling from the beginning when the caretakers daughter shows in the guests. Gabriel emits a sense of anger and frustration towards life, throughout the party. Mr. Browne seems to be trying to drown his regrets with alcohol. The one lady leaves early because Gabriel offends her. The actual dinner is dry and formal. The toasting leaves a feeling of melancholy. "The coffin, said Mary Jane, is to remind them of their last end."(598). This is not a party. This is a funeral.
Decomposing bodies make great fertilizer. But what does decomposing spirit make? When the spirit slowly decomposes, it emits a sense of hopelessness, a sense of stagnation. The grass on the other side is always greener. This concept seems to be the same with people. It is always easier to say that somebody else has it made. With this thought comes stagnation. Focus turns from what we can change, to what is wrong. "He would fail them just as he had failed the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong tone. His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter failure."(586). This starts a downward spiral. The lower you spiral the closer you come to spiritual death. The only cure for this wallowing mess of a stagnant spirit is to find hope.
The death of hope, is the death of all. Nearing the end of the story Gabriel has a brief glimpse at this hope. He believes that he could have true love with his wife. For a moment he is rejuvenated and excited. At this point Joyce introduces Michael Furey. The story of Michael Furey emphasizes the fact that Gabriel is alive but he doesn't live. Furey was truly the only person in this story to live. He loved and acted upon that love. Regrets are made by inaction. Michael Furey died, but he died living life. He died without regrets. Gabriel and the others are alive, but when it comes to actually living life, they are dead. "His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."(610).

Like the characters in this story we are bound by society. Day by day we are growing more and more dependent upon societies boundaries. But if we live too much by society we will not be living at all. Joyce shows us this danger. Life is meant to live, and sometimes we just need to make our own rules. The key to living is understanding society, but abiding by your inner self.

Work Cited

Joyce, James. “The Dead”. Literature reading fiction, poetry, and drama. Robert DiYanni McGraw Hill 2007. 584-610. Print

Ambitious Living

2009-12-10T00:03:00.001-07:00

There are two ways to dream. One way is while you sleep. The other is a way of designating a wishful life goal. Both forms of dreaming supplement hope and rejuvenate the spirit and body. In Theodore Roethke's poem, "The Waking" (DiYanni 838) he explores the intertwining nature of these connotations of dreaming. Using metaphors, syntax, and diction, Roethke successfully simulates the experience of a dream.

Dreams are rarely clear and concise; more often they are foggy, unclear images, with brief moments of clarity. With the use of diction like “wake to sleep,” “those close beside me,” and “This shaking keeps me steady”(1,7,16) Roethke intertwines the two forms of dreaming. The effectiveness of these phrases is apparent. By using words and phrases that have multiple connotations it befuddles the reader, but also gives brief moments of clarity. This is important to the overall metaphor of the poem.

There are two words that really direct the purpose of the poem: waking and going. These words are transition words. With waking you are becoming aware, or growing in awareness. Going indicates that you are moving towards something. Clearly waking indicates the growing awareness of a goal and going indicates traveling upon the path towards that goal. These words are used over and over again. Almost as if the author keeps reiterating that dreams never stay the same; they are always in constant movement.

“Of those so close beside me, Which are you?”(7). The part of this line that catches my attention is the question, "Which are you?"(7). This clearly refers to another individual. To this point the voice of the poem is a soliloquy. This line is implemented for two purposes. When we dream we often fleet about: image to image. Rarely ever is there a conjunction between images. This line represents that jump. The other signifying factor in the line is the dependence of a goal on the world. As human beings we seek social acceptance. Usually our goals start out very personal and intimate. Eventually as they grow into a substantial entity, we can't keep them intimate. They bubble forth. This is when we seek the acceptance and support of those around us. It seems like every time somebody speaks of their goals, people respond in one of two ways: Face reality, you will never accomplish that. Or, that's so great, go get them, you can do anything. The question "Which are you?"(7) is asking whether the individual suddenly being addressed, as well as the audience, is a pessimist or optimist.

Death's metaphor awaits.“Great nature has another thing to do To me and you;” (13-14).This stanza reminds me that death is lurking. It is a natural part of life. It is an essential part of nature. “so take the lively air, And, lovely, learn by going where to go.”(15-16). Death is coming, it is the Great Nature's (13) plan for us. Live life while we have it. Don't wait to pursue your dreams. Go. Go now and live life. That is the purpose of this stanza. I heard once that all great poems either have the subject of death, or of love and life. Most of this poem is about life. In this one stanza the focus shifts. The shift is a warning. Dreams are meant for living. If we stagnate and don't dream we aren't really living. The author seems to say, death is on the way, so live your life ambitiously.

The first line in the last stanza is interesting. How can shaking keep someone steady? (16). My spirit is a wanderer. Complacency is my enemy. If life stagnates I get physically sick. The shaking, or change, in my life keeps me steady, keeps me healthy, keeps me interested. In many ways the whole purpose of a goal or a dream is to find change. By using the line "This shaking keeps me steady." Roethke is saying that the purpose of life is to have experiences. Throughout life we have experiences. Some are good some are bad. No matter how hard we try we will never be free from the consequences. But these consequences are the teaching principles in life. Without them there would be no growth. In order to achieve our goals, our dreams, we have to shake it up. We “learn by going where to go” (15).

“We think by feeling.” (4). This is true. Physically and metaphysically. The basic human has five senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. These senses help us evaluate and learn from our surroundings. Without one of the five the way we evaluate life would drastically change. How do you feel? A common question. Let me think about it. A common answer. When I think about how I feel I close my eyes and focus. Somewhere deep inside of me the answer resides. I'm trying to pull it to the surface. A tingle in my toes, warmth from my bosom, an ache in my chest. Consider the entity that makes up you. Close your eyes, focus, and listen. Listen to the quivering molecules, listen to the humming of your spirit. This is you. “I hear my being dance from ear to ear.” (5). When we are happy and satisfied with life, our being dances a vibrant tune; a dance that eclipses our whole entity. When we dream we unleash our subconscious, we unleash ourselves. As I concentrate I align these feelings and to come to a conclusion; I am happy when I have a dream.

Roethke is a magician. Using everyday words he creates a piece of art that intertwines and explores an intense, complicated subject. Why is it important to dream and set goals? Because we learn from the adventure. "I learn by going where I have to go" (19). Without dreams, life is an empty shell. The metaphors, diction, and analogies Roethke uses truly delve into the depths of the human spirit. I congratulate him on an exquisite piece. And I find myself dreaming.

Citations:

Roethke, Theodore. "The Waking". Literature reading fiction, poetry, and drama. Robert DiYanni McGraw Hill 2007. 838-839. Print

Knocking With The Wind

2009-12-04T23:02:00.003-07:00

The way they connect, leaves me breathless. Together they form a thought, or an idea. This idea flickers across my conscious: whispering to my blood. To take a step, just one step, would set me on a path. Towards what? Oblivion is obviously staying here. So that step that started with a whisper, created from a thought, leads somewhere I must go. The cliche would be to say, "I must find myself". In a sense this is false; I know who I am. Why does this whisper speak to my desire? I need this to satisfy my curiosity. I might bend, maybe even break. Maybe, hopefully I will stand tall with a spark of spirit in my eye. I need this, not to find myself: to define myself. All of this started with one simple thought; instigated by intertwining, smoothly justifying, obnoxiously satisfying: words.

Breathless, but to No Avail

2009-12-04T22:59:00.002-07:00

A few months ago I had a night that left me breathless. It started out like most Friday nights: met Taylor, went to campus to find girls, failed, went to a free concert. So there we are just the two of us at a free concert. At that moment I had no idea what type of a night it would become. I had no idea that by the end of the night I would have 4 exciting moments. Moments that stole my breath, and left my feet dangling somewhere above my head.

Moment 1:
She was on stage. Like usual I joked about talking to her and getting a number. Eventually she finished singing and stepped down to mingle with the crowd. This was my chance, she was walking right by me. As she passed within a foot of my personage I stood like a stone sculpture. Missed my chance. My gut was tied into a square knot. Sometimes I wish I would just forget all the other guys around and make a move. But I was chicken. So I stood around waiting for the next band. Meanwhile my self confidence was slowing molding. Looking to my left I saw her about fifty feet away. I couldn't take it. "I"m doing it" I told Taylor. I walked over and introduced myself.
"Hi you were great tonight" I said awkwardly.
"Thanks, what was your name?" she replied.
"My name is Zac. Do you think I could get your number" I asked. Making an awkward situation more awkward.
"Ya, do you have a pen?" she asked.
"No, but...."
"Here's my bands business card, There's a number on there".
"Thanks" I said, and walked away.
Yep thats story 1. Awkward, and hardly successful. At least I wasn't completely shut down.

Moment 2:
We were still at the concert. I was experiencing that exultation that follows putting yourself on the line. Its kind of a giddy exultation. The current band announced that the next song would be a great song to hold someones hand during. Taylor stuck his hand out to a girl, but she rudely ignored it. I rudely laughed. Then I saw a good looking brunette just a few feet away. Letting my giddiness get the better of me I said, "Watch this". I shouldered my way through this girls friends and got her attention. I stuck out my hand and said, "The band said we should hold hands". Surprisingly she consented. For a whole song I held this girls hand.

Moment 3:
Isn't much of a story. I thought I saw Rachel. You know the Rachel that danced with fire in her eyes (see earlier post). But she disappeared before I could make sure, or get her number.

Moment 4:
So the night was waning. The concert ended, we went looking for a party, didn't find one. Went to visit a friend, she wasn't home. Eventually we settled on getting drinks at Spark (a restaurant lounge). It didn't take long before we noticed the singing Rachel was there with her friends. I weighed the options. Before I had made a fool of myself. I'd been ultra awkward. But this was my chance to make up for it. I could send her a drink, but that was cliche. I could take her a pen, but then I risked repeating my earlier mistakes. With advice from Taylor I made a decision. I borrowed a pen from our waiter, and wrote the on the back of her bands business card, Rachel # ?. Then I had the waiter take it over to her. As he pointed me out to her I waved. She sent her number over with a friend. Apparently she was too embarrassed to face me. In retrospect I should've know that as a bad sign. She never answered when I called.

A Man Am I?

2009-10-27T21:50:00.002-06:00

I am just like him, or her. But I'm not. A shell, a hollow house. My spirit roars its indignation. Am I a lesser man? A man am I? From the earth I've grown, but my wings don't unfold. I am not a bird, but a man. But a man. I try, upwards I climb, enduring the indignation of the wind. It whispers you are lesser, a lesser man. A man who changed the plan. I read poems, peace, war, sorrow, more. I am a man, an incredibly misunderstood, never given a chance kind of man. a man who changed the plan, and a man who is incredibly sick of this societies gelatinous spam. "Just go" they say. But they don't pray my way. I can't go, I am not alone, but it seams so. "Just go" I frown, wrinkling my broken crown. A ringing sound penetrates leaving me writhing on the ground. One chance. One name. One chance. To get to know me. For the man I am, and the man I became, not the man that I was. "Just go."

Fish Talk: An Extended Holiday

2009-10-13T21:58:00.003-06:00

Unfortunately this segment of my blog failed to garnish the support I had hoped for. This will most likely be the last Fish Talk posting.

The world today can become a chaotic vortex of swirling emotions, events, and people. It is important to cope with this chaos. A medley of strategies abound. I find fishing to be an excellent strategy.

There is a sense of alignment when I fish. Crisp mountain air prickles my flesh. Gurgling streams ease my mind. I step from the bank into the icy water, submerging my feet and my soul. Nothing compares to an ice bath. The methodical stroking of my line through the air. Flick the wrist, swish and flick. Speak? Why would I? Nature does the speaking for me.

Fishing is more than sport. It's more than a coping strategy for life. Fishing is about the memories, the peace, the experience. Fishing is living.

The Social Butterfly

2009-10-09T12:04:00.011-06:00

Butterflies flutter about. Conversing, what about? It doesn't matter, they just talk and talk, chat, chat, blah, blah. Their beautiful colors intertwine and combine. Their patterns are neat and unique. Grace lifts their wings, their wings swirl the air, carrying them on currents of delicious care.

I sat in class. Not making a sound. Class was far from profound. Make connections they said, ask a question, make a statement. Class improves when you participate. So I did. I made a comment, maybe two. Now I'm alone in a corner, in a room. A room full of twenty other students. I dare to say, Silence was preferred. Silence was acceptable. Now these social butterflies, flutter about, but they dare not land by my side. I might make a comment, a comment which they cannot justify.

Blah, blah blah. Blah. Blah.
Speak. Talk. Sound. Silence is preferred.
preferred not acceptable.

Expectations did not meet, was that the turning point? I fight to remain apart, yet I am afraid to separate.

Paper Cranes

2009-10-07T22:02:00.001-06:00

In Japan the crane is a mystical creature of legend. It also plays a central role in the recent animation “Kung Fu Panda”. It is said that if a person folds one thousand paper cranes they will be granted a wish. The paper crane can also signify peace. In my life the paper crane means so much more.

My Grandpa Al has made paper cranes for as long as I can remember. They are intricately folded pieces of paper. When discussing his paper birds he often points out that the wings of his birds flap: apparently other paper birds don't have flapping wings. After folding the bird he calls someone over and gives it to them. Everywhere we go he gives away these paper birds. Packets of pre-folded birds fill his pockets. It has become an art of efficiency. These paper birds epitomize my grandpa. He is an intricately folded man: a man of charity, courage and integrity. He is always willing to give of himself. Another amazing attribute is his unique sense of humor. I'm pretty sure he spends hours thinking of witty jokes. Many of his jokes are told time and again; but just when you think you've heard them all he'll surprise you. One day while holding a ruler he called me over. Pointing at the one inch mark on the ruler he said, “be careful when you give someone an inch.” He paused, eyes twinkling, then said, “because then they'll want to rule ya.” Classic grandpa.

One day I decided to learn how to make a paper crane. I took one of my grandpa's birds. Fold by fold I unraveled the bird; then I put it back together. I did this until I learned how to make a bird. One day I decided to be clever. While visiting my grandparents I sat down in front of my him and made a bird. He sat and watched as I folded a small piece of paper into a small white bird. When I finished I handed it to him. Slightly confused he said, “I know a faster way.” He whipped out a packet of his pre-folded birds, separated one from the flock, and handed it to me. At the time I didn't understand. I thought he would be pleased with me. I thought I would be funny, I wasn't. Looking back now, I know that for my Grandpa folding paper cranes is not a joke. Instead it is a way for him to interact and spread joy. So many times I've seen him call over a little child, give them a bird, and watch the expression of happiness spread across their faces.

I haven't always appreciated my grandpa. I put up with his unique quirks instead of embracing them. It wasn't until recently that I've learned to appreciate my Grandpa Al. He has done so much for so many. He taught me how to fold a paper crane. No, he never sat me down and said this is how you do it. His example was enough. His example is enough. Today I can still fold a square piece of paper into a paper crane. The ability to do so is much more than origami to me. It is a connection to my grandpa; my birds wings flap too.

Spiders, Dangling from my Nose

2009-10-05T11:53:00.005-06:00

Today I had a spider crawl out of my nose. A warning, maybe. Are the cobwebs falling? Or are they growing? Why worry? It was only a small spider; minuscule in the world of humans. I was walking when it escaped the confines of my hairy nostril. It dangled from a small web, an invisible web. I thought it was a gooey green thing; I was wrong. I smashed that spider. Making it a gooey green thing once and for all.

The Eagle has fallen, The Raven sings

2009-09-28T12:02:00.008-06:00

Excitement permeated. What will I do? How will I ask. So positive; this will be a blast.
A lump begins to-but I choke it down.
No.
"Zac" I say. " Believe. Between you and me, please. believe."
Fortitude.
Scrolling, locating, dialing. beep, boop, beep, beep, boop, boop, beep, boop, beep, bop. Stop. Is it ringing?
yes.
once, twice. "Please hold," is that right? What is this? My stomach heaves, the elevator music leaves. "You've reached the phone of," my mind shuts off. Is this an eternal clock? The speaking stops.
A permeating existential thought.
"This is Zac, I guess I'll try back."
Confusion.
What just happend? Once again or Not yet to begin?

Frivolous Exploration:

2009-09-18T12:13:00.000-06:00

Why Dost Thou Tormentest Me?

2009-09-16T11:54:00.010-06:00

My guts tumble and roil about. They tie themselves in a knot. Not an ordinary square knot, nor the fantastic figure 8 knot. This is a ridiculously complex knot. In fact you couldn't call it one knot. No, this is a knot upon knot upon knot, type of knot. For simplicities sake let us call this a rats nest knot. My guts tie themselves into this huge rats nest knot. Along with the knot comes a queesy green feeling. Almost as if the rat that made a knot of my stomach decided to interweave rotting garbage between the strands of gut. A chunk of dripping diaper, a diabolic smelling sandwich, a gangrene cat. Dizziness threatens to overwhelm me. My eyes glaze, my tongue becomes a thick slab of meat stuck between my teeth. This is a crime. I try not to dwell, but my gut continues to swell. Heave, "OH NO!", Heave, "NOT NOW!", Heave.

My leg vibrates, Nay, it grates. From my pocket I pull my little telephone. 1 text it reads. Here we go. All the pain, the waiting, the nausea, the end is here, one way or the other the verdict will be known.
"Hey" it began. "I can't today". My rising gut fell. "But maybe another day". okay.

Fish Talk: Vocabulary

2009-09-13T17:48:00.003-06:00

Fishing, like any activity has a specific vocabulary. And like any activity if you don't know or understand the vocabulary you end up sounding like an idiot. For example when you catch a big fish you would say something like, "She's a beauty". You wouldn't say something like, "This fish that I have caught is really big". A sentence like that and fisherman for miles around would know that you are a greenie. This is a list of commonly used fishing terms and the appropriate response.

"She's a beauty/she's a beaut"- when a fish is large and worth keeping.
Response: "yep, She's a keeper".

"Any luck?"- addressed to another fisherman when you first arrive at a fishing hole, or you pass another fisherman currently fishing.
Response: "A few hits, nothin much" or "A few small ones". Humility is key. It is considered impolite to brag to a stranger about the gigantic fish that you just caught.

"What's your secret?"*- When you are having no luck and you are desperate enough to ask the guy next to you what he has been catching all the fish with.
Response: You give a ten minute lecture on the proper speed to reel in your line, how to cast, and how to select the right lure.*

These are only a few of the phrases that are common when fishing. A few more vocabulary terms that are appropriate to add to your fishing repertoire are:

like magic
broke my line
she was a biggun
little guy
catch and release
keeper
monster
whopper
sardine
minnow

Typically creativity is a plus when fishing. But as you get creative with your vocabulary you might confuse your fellow fisherman. Simplicity works magic with the fish, and communication between your fellow fishermen.

*(Refer to previous Fish Talk posts)

school assignment

2009-09-12T12:54:00.002-06:00

This is a school assignment.

In class we have been talking about chronos and kairos. These are two different kinds of time. Chronos is chronological time. Kairos is emotional time.

For class I am writing a paper on good sportsmanship at BYU. Over the last few decades, ever since the last national championship, BYU has faded from the national spot light. But in the last 4 years or so, since Bronco Mendenhall became the head coach, there has been an incease of attention from the nation. The football team has had 3 consecutive seasons with ten or more wins. BYU football has renewed its traditions of being a annual competitor. This recognition brings a lot of attention to the university. Now is the perfect time to address sportsmanship at athletic events. This also represents the chronological timeline behind my reasoning.

After last season the Oklahoma sooners invited BYU to play them in the first game of the 2009 stadium. Most of the nation thought that the #3 Sooners would destroy BYU. On a fateful day in September BYU shocked the nation. Suddenly BYU is once again in the national spot light. There has been some discussion about the possibility of BYU playing in the national championship game if they go undefeated. Over the last few years, BYU football has been building up to this point. As this season moves foreward with the nations eyes on our University, we need to remember to show them the power, grace, and positive qualities taught here at BYU. We need to show them that we can be the best fans, coaches, and players in the nation. But we need to do it in a sportsmanlike manner. This is the kairos of my argument.

A Moment

2009-09-10T16:48:00.003-06:00

For a moment.
Maybe two.............
your eyes
caught me, trapped me, entranced me.
Released me.

I can breath.
I'd rather not.
Just one more chance!
One more moment,
caught, trapped, entranced.

Quaking Aspens

2009-09-08T22:00:00.000-06:00

The greatest part about being awake at 5am is the serenity. Life seems to take a break. The cool air refreshes. It is so quiet that if you listen carefully you can hear the sky whisper. It whispers of the coming day, of the hot sun, and the billowing clouds. The sky whispers of hopes and dreams yet to come. As day climbs closer and closer, and the morning stars drift farther and farther, I pause and wonder why I don't wake up at 5am more often. Its sad how it takes an extraordinary event in my life for me to wake up and witness such a majestic display. And a little ironic that the extraordinary event is an attempt to take the life of another living creature.

It used to be a large family affair. We'd all get together, brothers, parents, sisters, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Annually this was a time of excitement. To some we may have been attempting to murder innocent creatures. Others would call it bow hunting. For me it was a a bonding experience. Over the years it has dwindled from a larger family gathering to a small intimate family outing. Usually just my dad, brothers and myself. But with dwindling numbers the depth of meaning has only deepened.

On this morning I found myself staring at the breaking dawn with my dad and youngest brother. All the others had moved away. We crossed the stream, stumbled through sagebrush and found our way to the base of a rolling ridge. We climbed up through the quaking aspens to the first of many deer highways crisscrossing the ridge.

"We'll take this trail." My dad said. "And you take the higher trail. Walkie talkies on channel 1. We'll meet at the flat rock."

"Okay."I replied and continued towards the top. Looking down the ridge the trees gaped open, revealing golden rolling hills slowly being illuminated by the rising sun. I took a deep breath and began along the trail.

"Soft" I thought. I need to step softly. Thousands of leaves whispered their secrets. I didn't whisper back, but I wish I had. What was I stalking? Deer, maybe. But mostly a fleeting feeling. Kind of like the feeling of letting go. It was like standing on a cliff edge. Thoughts and fears crowd your mind. Some unknown force pulls you forward. At first you resist, but then the cliff slides from under your feet and you fall. As you fall your mind clears and becomes so light that you begin to float down, spiraling like a feather. That was what I stalked.

A branch snapped off to the right, breaking my contemplations. A beautiful buck, bounded from about ten yards away to thirty-five. It stopped and stared at me for a few minutes. I could see the muscles quivering, eyes sparkling, and nostrils flaring. It was majestic. My heart raced. In my hand I held a weapon of destruction. I could raise my bow, draw back and attempt to end this life. But could I? With a wild snort the buck bounded away.

I sat down. And waited. For my mind to clear? For the buck to come back? For another chance? It doesn't matter. I waited.

After a little while I stood up and went to find my dad and little brother.

Some people may say that my hunt wasn't successful. In some regards they were right. But for about 20 seconds I experienced that elusive feeling that I had been stalking.

Fish Talk: The Lure

2009-09-02T19:07:00.005-06:00

There are many ways to fish. You've got bait, flies, lures, artificial bait, etc. etc. My point is that for a successful fishing trip you need to select the right method for the right fish. Now here's the thing, I've only lived 22 years on this beautiful earth, and most of my fishing is in mountain lakes, so my experience is limited. But as far as I can tell trying to catch a fish is like trying to get a date with a girl. You've got to use just the right combination of flash, tastefulness, and edibility. Whether its fish or girls it takes precision, planning, and being able to think on your feet to succeed.

There are a lot of factors that can affect the outcome of your fishing. The biggest and most unpredictable factor is personal taste. You never really know what a fish or a girl will bite on. But for every factor that can't be predicted you have another that if properly identified can lead to success. A few of the most important factors to be identified are: water currents, how the fish are feeding, the weather, and depth.

Basically you have two approaches once you've considered the factors. You can either try and blend in with the natural environment or you can shock and awe with uniqueness. If you decide to stay natural; watch for bugs and insects, and try to emulate those. This works because it plays to the comfort of the fish. But if you want to have your lure stand out try something a little bit flashy. Like a golden spinner. This method catches the light and leaves the fish intrigued. Therefore the fish is likely to strike at the lure. Use these same concepts with girls.

As a disclaimer each and every fish or fishing hole is unique. These are only a few of the methods and factors to choosing the correct form of fishing at any given time. My methods may not be the best for your particular fish.

Fish Talk: Secrets

2009-08-28T14:25:00.003-06:00

Secrets:

There is no better feeling than the day you pull up to a crowded lake, everybody turns and watches as you fix up your line. Their looks say, " I haven't caught anything all day. There is no way you're going to". You pick a spot and cast. Wham. You've caught a fish. You can practically hear the other anglers, sitting in their little lawn chairs, ask, "What's his secret?"

Everyone seems to have a secret. Whether its a knot, fishing hole, lure, or way of reeling, its as important to fishing as the fish. What I don't get is how they remain secrets. All too often some guy will tell you his secret to catching the killerwhale of trout. Then you hear him telling the next guy too. Pretty soon the whole lake knows. Is that really a secret?

Anyways, you need a secret. It doesn't mean you have to go tell the whole world. But the day you have a secret is the day that you are a true fisherman. When you first start out I recommend keeping your secrets to yourself. The only thing more embarrassing than telling a guy your secret and it not working for him is when you tell him and then it doesn't work for you.

Through the years I've heard many secrets, and I've had many of my own secrets. Here's one that I'm willing to pass along. One day I was fishing at a reservoir with my dad, uncle and cousin. It just so happened that I started catching fish. I looked to my right. My cousin had his line tangled up and the only thing he caught was himself. My uncle was on my left and hadn't caught much. My dad was nowhere to be seen. My uncle asked, "Zac whats your secret?" At that moment I realized one of the most important fishing secrets. It's all about luck.

Fish Talk (This is a new segment of my blog. Its all about fishing, my experiences, and how to fit in as a fisherman.)

2009-08-28T13:49:00.004-06:00

Fishing is great. It can be relaxing, exciting, frustrating, and awe inspiring all in one. But it isn't easy to be a fisherman. Every community has it's do's and don'ts. If you do the do's but not the don'ts you'll fit, but if you do the don'ts and not the do's you won't. These are a few of the do's and don'ts I've noticed for the fishing community.

St. Buds Day*

2009-08-23T08:41:00.007-06:00

What's that?
A challenge, a feat!
Be not afraid to say, 'I'll step forth upon this day'.

We may die.

Yet if we live, the few that may, upon this day brothers we'll be made.
For that
I shall be glad to die today.

Scared are ye?
Depart hence!
For upon this day, upon St. Buds day, there is no place for thee.
But if you stay and outlive this day, years from now you'll stand and say 'I was there on St. Buds day'.

Old age forgets.
But you'll tap your brow and manage a bow.
For we happy few, we very few, will not forget
or be forgot among the best of you.

*Inspired by Shakespeare's St. Crispens day speech in Henry V, and the annual scavenger hunt

I'm Captain Hook!

2009-08-11T00:26:00.003-06:00

I've realized that life isn't the story I expected it to be. My imagination has always been overactive. When I read a book, see a movie, or hear a story I succumb to the interweaving threads. These threads entwine around my mind until I can't escape. For days after I experience a story I run around imagining myself as the hero. This has seemed much better than facing reality. I've gone throughout my life daydreaming of the day that my destiny as a hero is revealed and I save the world. As I waited for that day I became increasing mean, selfish, disrespectful, and insincere. It's the little steps that lead a hero to their destiny, and my steps have been taking me in the wrong direction. I am the villain that I've always dreamed of stopping. I'd like to apologize for my villainous ways. As life and reality moves along I plan on changing, step by step. I'll be trying to become more considerate, harder working, respectful, loyal, and sincere. Maybe if I can accomplish these goals, one day I'll be the hero I've always dreamed of being.

Pee U, Was That You?

2009-08-08T22:02:00.003-06:00

The problem with a blog like mine is that only people I know tend to read it. Therefore the probability of someone reading a story and realizing it is about them, is high. But at the risk of offending someone I write this anyways.

Before my wingman aka K-shizzle departed for the south pacific we had a tradition. I call it the annual birthday double. Kaleb would find a date, I'd find a date, and we'd double. As simple as that. In all actuallity it tended to be more like this. "Zac! I don't want to go on a date". I'd beg. "Do it for me, its my birthday. Kaleb please get a date. For me". He'd relent and get a date. Then my date would bail. But Kaleb would then have a date and I couldn't leave him hanging. So I'd scramble around, get rejected by almost every girl I know, but one. Which is a good thing because I only needed one date. Then just as I would find a replacement date his date would call and tell him that she had the flu and couldn't go. But then I had a date and he couldn't leave me hanging so he'd go through a similar process as mine. Eventually we'd both have dates.

Anyways it was the annual birthday double. We'd gone through the whole process of finding dates and now we were driving up the canyon to go shooting. Have you ever heard that little ditty of a song that goes like this, "Driving down the highway, going 64 when someone let a big and blew me out the door. The wheels started shaking, the engine fell apart, all because of your supersonic fart". Well driving up a beautiful canyon in late Autumn someone let a big one and nearly blew me out the door. Thank goodness for seatbelts. Typically I'd voice my displeasure at the culprit, but seeing as I was on a date I decided to be a little more delicate. I rolled down the windows. Problem solved. The date proceeded and for all acounts it was a success. Until we started back down the canyon. Then someone did it again. I nearly died right there. This was no ordinary fart. I could see the headlines of the newspaper the following day. Four Youth Die In A Car Crash Caused by Lingering Fumes. Lucky for me, and all the other people in the car, including the culprit, I had a brilliant idea that saved our lives. By this time it was too cold to unroll the windows, instead I turned up the heat as high as it would go. Our sense of smell was quickly burned out. Literally.

After the date ended I pulled Kaleb aside. "Was that you?" I asked. "No, I thought it was you" he replied. We looked at eachother and realized, one of our dates had one heck of an upset stomach.

To Ring!

2009-06-15T23:43:00.004-06:00

Deep Breaths. In. Out. Deep. With each step I came closer to hurling. Deep Breaths. Pounding, aching, pounding, aching. Air became cement. "Come on!" I screamed. I couldn't stop. I wanted to, but I couldn't. Deep Breaths. Pounding, Aching, Pounding, "AHHHHH!" I roared. Deep Breaths. I couldn't.
At first it was quiet, creeping like a mouse. Braver it grew, becoming a whisper in the wind. Braver still. Still. Still. Then it was too late.
"NOOOOOO!" I cried. Breath! One lung. Then, the other. I had to breath. One final lunge.
It was over, the doorbell rang.
Seconds, minutes, hours. How long? I looked at my watch. Seconds.
The door opened.
"Hi. Let me grab my coat and we can go." she said, smiling pleasantly.
"Okay" I replied.
Victorious.

Stalker Girl

2009-06-12T21:43:00.003-06:00

Step back in time with me. This time-traveling adventure is not all that long ago. It is my senior year of high school. 2005-06. Try not to be offended. She wasn't the funniest, best looking, or most charming girl. In fact she kind of freaked me out.
Physical contact generally makes me feel uncomfortable, especially from the opposite sex. I don't know why, but girls seem to use contact as a way of expression more than guys. I guess I just haven't gotten over that kindergarten mentality of cooties. When a girl sits next to me and bumps my leg with hers, I cringe. When she reaches across me, I curl into a defensive ball. Intentional contact makes me flinch, such as: lightly touching my knee with her hand to get my attention. To add my disclaimer; physical contact has its place. I don't mind hugging a family member or close friend. But I would prefer it if most people kept there distance. Maybe this phobia is a key to my being single? Back to my story.
The one thing she did have going for her was a sweet heart. She seemed to smile a lot, and she was very friendly. A little too friendly. Every time she said hello, she would grab my arm. This squeezing of biceps and caressing of flesh, made me queasy.
Survival instincts kicked in. I learned to keep my back to a wall, and my eyes peeled. When I saw her coming towards me I would quickly duck away. But she was an experienced hunter. She would approach from down wind. Then she'd pounce. She would grab my arm, and smile as she said hello.
I was losing sleep. She haunted my dreams. I needed help, so I turned to my brother.
"Kaleb" I said. "I don't know what to do. This girl is practically stalking me. Every time she sees me she comes up grabs my arm and caresses." He laughed and asked "Is her name Megan? (Not really her name, but in case she or a friend reads my blog!)"
"Yes" I replied.
"I can't help you. She does the same thing to me."
I don't know if she was always that way, or if it was just Ostraff boys that received her "special hello". Either way we didn't like it and decided to help each other out. We quickly came up with a warning signal. When either one of us saw her we would signal the other and both duck away.
It worked 90% of the time. The other 10% became a contest between the two of us. One of us would see her, and let the other walk into the trap. While the one with the misfortune of being caught had to put up with the arm caressing, the other one slinked by.
Once again I was able to sleep.
Fast forward to Yesterday. My brother Josh and I are at the movie theatre buying tickets.
"Oh hi, I barely recognize you" the ticket girl says. Trying not to look confused, I looked closer. It was her! The stalker girl from high school.
"Hi" I replied, secretly feeling grateful for the glass that separated us.

Like a Brick

2009-06-07T16:17:00.001-06:00

Passsed the spilled coke on the now sticky floor. Through the masses of people socializing in the Halls of Provo High. Beyond the smells of lunch wafting from the school cafeteria. The sound of jingling keys cut through the air, like a hot knife passing through butter.
“Shut up!” yelled Adam Henry. The best way to describe Adam would be like a brick, solid and unbreakable, quite a lot like a Chevrolete. And just like a Chevrolete you could depend on his ego to match his bulk. In reality a Honda or Toyota was more dependable, but that is an argument for another day. Adam was the center of the universe. Life was either about him or it didn't matter.
I looked at his chiseled torso, and bulky arms in disgust. I wasn't in the mood to put up with his crap. I wanted to vomit. How anybody could enjoy a life so self-revolving escaped me.
“Stop, or else,” Adam threatened. I looked down at my jingling keys, at Adam, and then back at my keys, and continued jingling them. If he wanted to make the whole world about him that was his problem, not mine.
Whether the jingling keys bothered him, or my lack of respect did, Adam had enough. He stood up, pushed his way through some freshmen, and walked up to me.
“I said stop.” he said. I looked at his hulking mass and decided I didn't care. I kept jingling my keys.
By this time we had gathered quite a crowd. Sadly most of them wanted to see who Adam's latest victim was. I didn't really want to be a victim, but I was too stubborn to relent to his bullying. The only thing I hated more than being told what to do was when someone tried to bully me into doing it.
With his gorilla-like hand, Adam snatched at my keys. I may have been smaller than him, but I wasn't slower. Flinging my arm to the side I avoided grasping fingers. He lunged again, and again, each time I just moved my hand to the side. Eventually he realized I was too quick, and stopped snatching at the keys. The surrounding crowd began laughing.
If it wasn't for the crowd it probably would've ended there. Adam's pride wouldn't let him lose with this many people watching. Thinking he was finished I turned back towards my friends. With a roar Adam grabbed me from behind.
Tighter and tighter he squeezed. There wasn't much I could do. He had me wrapped in an enormous bear-hug and he was twice my size. But my hands were free and I still had my keys. So I just kept jingling.
“Give me your keys!” Adam yelled in my ear, making them ring like a bell.
“Why don't you take them,” I taunted.
“Ahhh” he roared and hoisted me towards a big black garbage can. Realizing that he intended to dump me into a bucket of soggy sandwiches and other assorted material, I kicked out with my legs. With a stroke of luck, one of my legs sent the garbage can sailing through the crowd. By this time my patience had run out. I had enough.
“Let go of me now” I ordered.
“What if I don't?” he asked.
“Do you really want to find out?” I replied through clenched teeth.
Very slowly Adam relaxed his bear-hug and let me go. I turned and faced him. This whole thing had gone way too far and I wasn't going to let him get away with it.
“Come on, just hit me.” Adam taunted. “Or are you a chicken? Just hit me.”
I was ready to become a sledgehammer that would break this brick. With my fists clenched, and my body tensed to move, a new voice cut through the electrically charged air.
“Zac, we have state track tomorrow.” It was my friend Jared. Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Adam was so annoying. I was sick of him and his self-revolving world. But Jared was right, I had state track, and if I got in a fight I wouldn't be able to race.
In angry silence Adam and I stared at each other. Finally Adam turned and walked away. I know that I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. As he walked away I gave my keys one last jingle. Adam stopped. I could see the enmity rise from his shoulders. Just then the bell rang and lunch ended.
The crowd quickly dispersed. As I walked passed the spilled coke, I couldn't help smiling.

A Chance

2009-06-05T23:28:00.003-06:00

“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Why are you calling so late?”
“I was wondering if we could talk?”
“Now? Its 3am.”
“I really need to talk.”
“I guess so. Where are you?”
“Outside.”
“My apartment!?”
“Ya, I really need to talk to you.”
“Uhh, okay I'll be out in a minute.”
“Thank you.”

Why was he here? His chest ached with secrets. The kind of secrets that sculpt the way a person lives life. At first they weren't secrets. Break ups, failures, laughter, moments that were known but not talked about. Eventually people forgot, moved away, or stopped caring. He didn't. Those moments stuck with him. For better or for worse, these were his moments.
He could hear his Grandpa's favorite line repeating over and over again in his head. “Don't open a can of worms until you're ready to fish.” Was he opening that can before he was ready? He should just leave. But he already woke her up. He'd call back, apologize for waking her and walk away. Yes.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked startling him from his thoughts.
“Umm,” He took a, deep breath, let it out and decided he'd go for it.
“I've missed so many chances. I've played it safe. But I'm tired of being alone. Thats why I'm here tonight. We have been friends for some time now. I want you to know that I really have appreciated your friendship. Every time I look at you I see a chance. An opportunity. I don't want to be alone anymore. I'd like to take a chance on you.”
“I don't know what to say. I appreciate that this was hard for you. But I'm not interested.”
“Oh.” His chest hurt.
“Sorry to wake you.”
“I'm sorry, I just......”
“You don't need to explain. Sorry to wake you.” He stood up and walked into the comfort of the night.

Her Name Was Rachel

2009-05-23T12:45:00.000-06:00

Her name was Rachel. She had brown hair, and she danced with fire in her eyes.

“Hey come dancing with me tonight,” Taylor said. Taylor was one of my best friends. We had known each other since early elementary school, first or second grade. It had been some time since we'd gone dancing.

“Come on, it will be a blast,” he said.

“I don't know,” I replied. I really didn't feel like going out, let alone going dancing. Lately I hadn't really gone out much to do anything. I had been avoiding social gatherings. For no reason really, I just felt like being aloof.

“Come on. What else are you going to do?” he asked. And that was the problem. I'd been avoiding social gatherings for too long. I didn't have a liable excuse, I couldn't say no.

“I guess so,” I replied.

“Great,” he said. “I'll see you tonight”.

The music was blasting, lights were flashing, and I really didn't feel like dancing. But I was there and I couldn't just abandon Taylor. If I left he would leave too, and that would ruin his night. We had been standing on the outskirts of a mob of people, supposedly dancing. Mostly it was a few girls dancing with a bunch of guys standing around them. It reminded me of Jr. High dances. Taylor looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and waded into the mob. Inside I groaned, but my feet followed Taylor.

Before I go any farther I need to explain how I dance. Typically it starts in my fingers. It is almost like a twitch. A highly contagious twitch. It goes from my fingers into my arms, through my torso, and down through my toes. I call it static. From that moment rarely do my body parts mesh into a fluid motion. My feet will be doing one thing, my arms another. Most people find it intimidating or weird. But they are just jealous. I am a chameleon. I get up in your face and wag my tushy all over the place. In short, I let loose.

At first I had a hard time finding my groove. The music just wasn't working, and I had a hard time letting go. But as the night wore on I started feeling that twitch. Before I knew it I was dancing and having a blast. I guess it was the same for most everyone there, because about he the time I found my groove, other people started to dance too. Nobody was just standing around any more.

I was doing my thing. Weaving in and out of sweaty bodies, busting my moves. Just having a good time. Because of my “eccentric dance style” not many girls can keep up. But she could. I wasn't really paying attention until Taylor shoved me into her. As our eyes met she smiled and busted a move in my face. It was a straight up challenge. I went to work. I'd swerve left, flick right, get low, go high, pull a fireman, then an apple picker, I even threw in the ping-pong player. She stuck with it. Every move I had she had a move to match. Before we could finish our dance off the crowd pushed and shoved and tore us apart.

After that I went back to the usual, dancing as I pleased. But I kept finding myself drawn in her direction. Every time we met, she would bust a move, I would answer. I would bust a move, she would answer. It was a never ending battle. And before a winner was decided the crowd would separate us.

To emphasis the fact that it felt like a Jr. High dance, they played half a dozen slow songs throughout the night. I sat out the first one. By the second one I had already had two dance offs with that girl, and I decided I'd like to dance a slow song with her. But by the time I found her she already had a partner, so I sat that one out too. When the third one came along and she was dancing with some other guy again I decided to take a restroom break. The fourth one was like all the others before it, she was already taken. I decided then that there were a lot of girls that were dancing that needed a partner, so I moved on. I ended up dancing with a girl that was in Graduate school studying manufacturing. I wish I had had windshield wipers on my face, because she showered me in spittle. Learning from my mistake I skipped the slow song.

As the sixth one came on, and the DJ announced that it would be the last song of the night, I knew I had to find that girl. I shoved through the crowd, hoping to find her before some other guy did. I saw her standing to the side, not dancing. Woohoo. I was going to get to dance with her. Just then another guy stepped in front of me and asked her to dance. I dejectedly danced with some other girl.

The lights switched on, the music switched off. Everyone moved towards the exits. As I was exiting I saw her again. Our eyes met and she walked towards me.

“You're a fun dancer,” she said.

“Ya, you're fun too,” I said. “My name is Zac”.

“Nice to meet you, I'm Rachel,” she replied.

“Well have a good night,” I said.

“You too,” she replied. And with that we walked our separate ways.

Thinking back, I wish I had asked for her number. But I didn't. If my life were a movie, I would meet her again. Its not so I probably won't. But I can't help looking for those fire filled eyes.

2009-04-01T08:49:00.011-06:00

After a cold blistery week the weather finally cleared out. Maybe that is why thousands of people gathered together on a sage brush strewn hillside. Or maybe it was static electricity sizzling between minds, calling for a mass gathering. For me personally, it was the witch burning. It isn't every day that you get to see a witch burned at the stake. I can only think of a few times in history that such a magnificent event took place, Joan of Ark and the Salem witch trials. (I don't count the movie "The Monty Python and the Holy Grail" because I can't remember if they burned the witch or not). Anyways, I went for the witch. Because of the immense amount of traffic on normally deserted streets, my friends and I parked a mile away and hitched a ride in the back of a Chevy pick-up. As we looked upon the hill, a loud cheer erupted along with a mushroom cloud of swirling colors. We were late, the burning had begun.

Through a dark pink haze I snaked through the crowd. "Where had they gone?" The sticky mass of human flesh surged around me. "Where had they gone?" Frantically I searched the passing, chalk plastered faces for my friends. Somewhere behind me, a body had been torn screaming from the mass and heaved across the top. I saw the poor girl kicking and screaming as she was passed above the crowd. A hand burst from the mass, plucking off one of her shoes. "Give that back!" She screamed. Other hands burst from the crowd, grasping for her remaining shoe. Trying to protect it she began to kick her legs. One of her flailing legs whacked my head. In her attempt to save her shoe, she lost the support of the crowd and was dropped head first onto the ground. I reached down and pulled her up. "Thanks" she mouthed before she was swept away in the writhing mass.

Magic

2009-03-22T18:16:00.003-06:00

Most people assume magic is a primitive concept with no true foundation. These people are wrong. Magic is all around. When a person writes and then performs a song, that is magic. When an artist creates artwork, that is magic. When an accountant crunches numbers, that is magic. Magic is not confined to an imaginary world. It is all around us. The way butterflies float through the sky on warm days or the way a stream flows over rock, that is magic. When light reflects off of a mirror, that is magic. I believe magic to be those moments in life when time stands still and your spirit is at peace. Its a calm, soothing sensation that clears the mind and eases pain. Magic inspires and it does not have boundaries. Every person has their own source of magic. Sometimes the magic of two people can intertwine, this is when lifelong memories are created. The key to finding magic is letting go of skepticism. when you open your mind and heart your eyes open too.

Story Time

2009-03-02T04:05:00.003-07:00

I really enjoy writing stories. I've decided that I want to write for a living. Everyone has stories that are worth hearing. They make up such a large part of our personalities and our lives. I want to write those stories. So if you want a story told, let me know, because I want to write it.

An Ocean of Gold

2009-02-22T15:28:00.002-07:00

I have a dream. In this dream I'm walking through a field of wheat. The sun shimmers from above; leaving its reflection on the wheat. Each step I take makes the field sway like an ocean of gold. I stretch out my arms with the my palms of my hands down. They brush along the surface. A cooling sensation creeps from my fingertips all the way up my arm and into my spine. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This must be like heaven. Just then I feel a sharp pain in my left hand. I open my eyes and look. A thin slice runs from one side of the palm to the other. I watch a drop of blood ooze and then fall. Staining the beautiful gold wheat below. Then I wake up.

Idleness

2009-02-20T10:34:00.002-07:00

Movement.
My feet need movement.
Soft grass, hard cement, hot asphalt.
The whispering wind between my toes.
Something new with every step;
Like electricity hovering in a cloud.
My feet need movement.
And so does my heart.

The Greatest Game Ever Played: Comeback, Comeback to Me

2009-02-08T10:13:00.004-07:00

In the world today there is good, and there is evil. Occasionally the good has to take a stand against evil. Last night I took my stand. I decided to make my stand at Trafalga's miniature golf course. Unsuspecting to the rest of the world, a fight ensued that held their fate in it's hands. Evil scum suckers aka Miles and Elisa decided to surface from their wasteland of doom to reap havoc on the innocent bystanders playing golf that night. To aid them in their terror and destruction they called Kenny the terrible smelling Ogre from G-land and Iva the Snow Queen from the Great North. After I heard of this evil plot I knew I couldn't stand by and watch. I needed to face these despicable foes in a battle to the death. But 4 against 1 was Hopeless. I knew I would need help, so I enlisted a sidekick from the land of Cheese. 4 against 2 has Hope. Together we fought. It was a terrible fight. Gushing, oozing, refuse flowed from their mouths. Darkness swept in, blocking out the light. Just before they vanquished me for good, I saw a beautiful sliver of light. I knew then that no matter what the consequences were, I had to defeat these evil organisms. I grabbed onto Hope and battled back. Blood, guts, sweat, and blood flowed like a river. In the end light prevailed. I sent those scum sucking toads and their allies back to their underworld of waste. Today the sun shines.

I should have said

2009-02-04T18:44:00.002-07:00

Sometimes it takes the loss of a loved one to realize how much they meant and how much we should have said while they were here. I am no exception. Today I would like to remember Kaleb Joseph Ostraff. He was my brother, but he was much, much, more than a brother. Kaleb was my best friend. Shortly before he left us, Kaleb and I had the opportunity to talk. While we were talking we happened upon a few choice memories. One of these memories was playing with toy cars in Tonga. We spent hours pushing our cars through the dirt. I could play anything with Kaleb. He made everything more exciting. This last summer Kaleb and I had the opportunity to travel the United Kingdom together. We had yum yums in York, and we ate haggis in Scotland. In Bath we wrote poetry, and in London we explored the back alleys. I can honestly say I couldn't ask for a better travelling companion. Along with some great memories Kaleb left me with a great example. He has always been a good example to me. It is assumed that the older brother is the one to set an example. It wasn't that way with us. During one of our trips to Tonga my parents told me to go take a bath. I really didn't want to. The bath water was cold and I hated taking baths. I argued with my parents and was throwing a fit. Then Kaleb stood up, grabbed a towel, threw it over his shoulder and said, "Come on Zac, I'll Teach you how to be a man." To close I would like to say what I should have said to Kaleb.

You are the best brother I could ask for. As you know I didn't start talking until I was three. I'm pretty sure I started talking then because I had you to talk to. You've always been there for me. We have had some wonderful adventures. We have also had some pretty awful adventures. But I couldn't think of anyone else that I would rather have a bum adventure with. You are one of the few people that could and would laugh at my jokes. Your example gives me strength. Because of you I've realized I have to believe in Hope. I love you. I will always keep your spirit close to my heart. Remember its all about the Whakapapa. Last but not least, don't get into a strangers car to pet their dog or to try their crystal raspberries.

Hopefully I can live my life in a way that honors Kalebs example and life. I love my brother and always will.

Pajama Parta!!!!!!

2009-01-26T14:48:00.002-07:00

Hidden Drugs

2009-01-25T16:16:00.002-07:00

Lately, well ever since elementary school, I have heard that you should never eat weird candy. Whether it was offered by a stranger or if it was found in a random corner I was told to not eat it. "Zac", they said, "If you eat that candy something very bad will happen".

Today during Sunday school, Kaleb aka K-shizzle, Jenny aka J-sista found a box of mints. Deciding that they wanted the mints they took them and ate some of them. I tried to tell them that strange candy found in a strange room in the "Depths of Hell" isn't good to eat. They wouldn't listen. Over and over they tried to make me try one. "Everybody is doing it" they said. Well I refused. I wouldn't succumb. But they continued to eat them. I warned them again and again that they shouldn't eat them, but it was too late, they were addicted. Finally I convinced Jenny to hand me the box of mints. I knew I couldn't let them continue to eat the mints, but I didn't know what to do. That's when I decided I needed to sacrifice myself for my brother and sister. Before they could stop me I consumed somewhere between 20-40 mints. Not more than 5 minutes later I was looking at the mint box, when I saw it. The mints had an expiration date that read Nov. 5 2006. Needless to say I have a hard time remembering what ensued after the consumption. But I do say by sacrificing my taste buds and smell for the next two weeks, I saved the lives of my siblings.

Island Caretaker

2009-01-18T22:59:00.003-07:00

Tonight I had a friend inform me of an amazing job. In Australia there is a job opening to become a caretaker of an island. The position lasts for six months and the salary is about $100,000. I think I could do that. Along the same lines I was wondering if I would survive on a deserted island. When I say deserted I mean an island lacking in humans. I decided I probably could. And if I could take ten items I would take: 1 machete, 1 wool blanket, 1 tarp, 1 rope, 1 spool of 10Lb fishing string, 1 pair of chacos, and 4 rolls of duct tape. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of that. One of these days I'll need to give it a try.

Fall Love Signs

2009-01-13T19:07:00.002-07:00

Today I happened upon a gem. I was at Allens grocery store checking out, when I saw it. It was a little book called Fall Love Signs. I felt an overwhelming urge to spend the dollar to get help with my love life. This is what it said about me.

"Scorpio's smoldering sensuality is a magnet for many, and few can resist your sign's intensity. However, only those who know you well discover your somewhat hidden side, a sensitivity that reaches the depths of your Pluto-ruled soul". So far it is all true.
"This passionate planet is one of ultimate devotion, but it also can spark possessiveness and jealousy. With Neptune guiding your love life through Pisces, you're a sentimental romantic who remembers every milestone from a first kiss to an anniversary".
This next part is my favorite.
" You also know instinctively how to charm a date and effortlessly choose just the right setting for romance". I'd really like to meet that part of myself.

"When you're ready to settle down, you commit heart and soul to the one you love with all the affection of Venus-ruled Taurus, your partnership sign, sensible and sensual. For you, love truly is for a lifetime. fall brings many opportunities to meet people and launch a romantic liaison, especially during the second solar period when three planets are in your sign".

Well it is quite an interesting forecast if you ask me. Mostly the part about knowing how to charm and date effortlessly. I would have to say I can see the perfect moments, but it is completely different acting on them. Anyways, that is my love forecast for last fall (the downfall of buying at Allens, most things are expired).

Change

2009-01-12T21:41:00.002-07:00

I've found that my life is full of growth spurts. Most of the time nothing happens. Occasionally, for a short period of time, a lot happens. I can feel it coming. The feeling is similar to a brewing storm. Some innate unexplainable force tells you of the approaching static forces. Maybe it is a slight tingle in the toe, or a simple thought that pierces deep. Either way I can feel it coming. It all started on December 27, 2008. That was the day I was to return home from the Sydney Australia South mission. Well that was the day I would have returned home. Instead I never really left. Ever since that day there has been a kind of static energy forming. It is as if I have been walking on thick carpet wearing wool socks. The pressure is building and I can feel change in the air. First, many close friends found significant others. I found myself spending more and more time alone. Just when I felt like it would be unbearable, I was invited by a professor to go to France. I accepted, but now I have to study and work harder in school than I have ever done. In a few months many of my closest friends return from their missions. I feel like the last two years were mostly stagnant. Ever since that fateful day in December my life has charged forward, bringing change with it. It isn't bad, in fact it feels relieving. Yet I still find myself scared that I will be swept away and lost. I've realized that I can't fight it, even if it is scary. I just have to try and surf the wave until it crashes on the beach.In the words of my father, "the stars are aligning".

Semitruck From Hell

2009-01-11T12:07:00.002-07:00

The other day I was driving on the freeway towards Salt Lake City Utah. I was minding my own business, singing along to the killers song "All these things I've done", when I had an eerie feeling creep from the tips of my toes, all the way past my nose. Looking in the my rear view mirror I saw him. The semi was flying up from behind. Unfortunately I had nowhere to move. Within seconds the semi was tailgating me like a fly stuck to a wall.
"Get off my Butt", I yelled out loud. Unfortunately the trucker couldn't hear me over the roar of his engine. He continued to tailgate me. Eventually a spot in the lane next me opened up. I decided to move over so this jerk of a trucker could pass. For some strange reason (maybe he was blind, it would explain a lot) the semi didn't move past. Instead he merged into my lane again, to continue his favorite past time, tailgating innocent drivers. Biting back my anger I decided to wait it out. It couldn't continue forever right? Wrong. After a few more minutes of getting tailgated, I decided to change back to my original lane. Being the trucker from Hell, he decided to change lanes as well. There was no escaping his grasp. If I sped up, he sped up. If I slowed down, he slowed down. If I moved over, he moved over. I knew my death was imminent. My short life, that had so much more that needed to be accomplished, started to replay itself. Just before I rolled over and died, a bump in the road shook me from my comatose state. I had to live! I had way too much I still had to accomplish in life. With that thought, I decided to try and let him pass again. As I moved over the truck began to speed up. I did it. Relief swept through my body. When he pulled alongside of me I yelled, "good riddance you jerk". To my horror the trucker must have heard me. His forward velocity stalled. He was now blocking the lane next to me. That is when I realized his plan. It is my belief that when he saw that I might escape his wrath, he used his radio to call in back up. He blocked the lane to my left, and another semi blocked the lane in front of me. I was boxed in. I could only imagine the look of triumph on this devil truckers face. It must have been so smug. I think it was the smugness on his face (I may have imagined it, but it seemed real enough) that got to me. I was not going to give up. I would escape and I'd shove it in his face when I did it. First I sped up. Both he and his compatriot sped up with me. The bait was set, any minute now he would try and end it all. Checking to make sure the traffic behind was far enough away, I hit the breaks. If I had hit the breaks a second slower I never would have made it. Right as I hit my breaks the devil trucker merged over. He would have crushed my car, and my life. Fortunately he barely missed running me off the road. Looking at the back of his truck I noticed a little sticker. The sticker said, "I believe in safety first". Before the trucker could react to my brilliant escape, I switched lanes and accelerated past him and his compatriot.

Broken

2009-01-07T03:18:00.003-07:00

For the last couple of years I have hidden away. I built a fortress of impenetrable walls, and hid inside. These walls gave me safety from a lot of things; at first they were a protection from disappointment. I started to build them the day I returned home from my mission. To this day I can remember the look of disappointment on the faces of my family when they picked me up from the MTC. The walls were a way for me to forget all the expectations that I had failed. They provided a way for me to move onwards in life. To a degree they worked. I was able to move on in many ways. As the years passed on, I've realized the walls protected from the pain, but they stopped me from progressing as far as I wanted in life. I found that I couldn't have an intimate relationship with anybody. My walls barred the path of unwanted disappointment. But in order to have a meaningful relationship, you need to be open with the other person and risk disappointment. I realized I had built myself a prison of loneliness. With the help of some of my closest friends I realized that I needed to break down my walls and try to face my fear. I needed to risk the pain and discomfort of being disappointed and the fear of disappointing others. If I didn't risk it, I would end up alone for the rest of my life. As easy as it may sound, my walls were not easy to bulldoze. Eventually, with the encouragement of my friends and family I escaped from prison. I broke my walls down enough that I could start caring again. It was quite amazing. It was the feeling of being in a dark, dank house for hours, and then opening the front door to a bright and beautiful day. Hope became my ally and I embraced it. In the end hope betrayed me. There was a girl of course (all good stories have a girl), and for a while I had the hope that I might actually have some sort of relationship with her. That hope was like a bubbly bouncing light that made every moment of my life better. But in the end I found out she didn't feel the same way as I did. To make it worse I know the guy she liked. He was a close friend of mine. In fact he is the closest friend I've ever had. I love him like a brother, which makes it that much harder to bear. I'm now stuck, my hope has been shattered by my brother. He didn't mean to hurt me, I know he didn't, but he did, and now I'm afraid that once again I'll hide and build a new wall.
I know not what to do. But I've found writing often helps me cope. so I wrote this post, not to offend or sway anyone to action, and definitely not to make anyone feel bad. I wrote this post so that the few people that read it and myself, know the cause of my frustrations and sadness. All I ask is that you bear with me as I fight to keep my walls from rebuilding.

Death and/or Glory

2009-01-05T16:38:00.002-07:00

Since High School I have had the privilege of knowing some of the finest, and best friends a lad could have. Many people look at my friends and myself and believe us to be eccentric, crazy, and sometimes immature. My response to those people is, AMEN!. That would describe us. All that is needed are a few more definitions. Such as: Ultra-competitive, creative, strange, and belligerent. One of our self given names was, and is, the Provo Pirates. In the book Seafaring Lore & Legend by Peter D. Jeans, a definition of pirate is given: The Latin pirata is from the Greek peirates, peirao, attempt, assault- thus pirate, synonym for vice, cruelty and plunder, one who marauds and pillages. This would best describe us when we play games together, or when we compete. As a group or crew, we have had many wonderful adventures. Too many to really go into detail about.

Throughout these adventures my friends have taught me a lot. Foremost in my mind is that you never wave the white flag. Surrender is out of the question. Time and time again I find myself applying this lesson to my life. When I'm torn down from above, set upon by fiery monkeys, and beaten with a stick, I remember this line from a song by Dido, "I will go down with this ship. And I won't put my hands up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door".

My rambunctious friends, that are often thought of as crazy, strange, and sometimes downright dangerous, taught me one of the most important lessons of my life. I will not surrender, I will go down with my ship, fighting to the very end.

Ultimate Sledding

2008-12-29T07:34:00.006-07:00

Christmas is a time for:
family, friends, snow, remembering Jesus Christ, and riding a canoe down a snow covered slope.

Growth

2008-12-22T17:41:00.003-07:00

He huddled alone in the sweat tent . The ceremony was coming to a close. Memories of a good life flowed before his closed eyes. From a very young age he knew this day would come. He was leaving the life of a boy behind, hopefully, if he survived, he'd become a man. One of the village elders entered the small tent. The Elder squatted nearby studying the boys face. When the Elder was satisfied he said, "it's time". Startled from his meditation, the boy opened his eyes. The Elder stood and walked out of the tent. Taking a deep breath the boy stepped out of the tent into the bright light. The whole village was waiting. They stood around the hut whispering in clusters. Just ahead on the path the Elder waited patiently. With a wave of his arm he beckoned the boy to continue down the path. He tried to act stoic as he marched through the village. As he passed a group of girls they began giggling, his face turned bright red. He followed the path out of the village and into the woods. At first it stayed level, but eventually the path grew steeper. After a while the boy found himself at the top of a cliff. He stood on the edge, and looked down. Far below was village he had left, along with his childhood. The cliff was covered in jagged cold rocks. This was his final step to becoming a man. With a grin he stepped off the cliff.

The air flew passed his face, whispering of an end. Suddenly a falcon swooped in to land on his back. It dug it's claws into his flesh. A large chunk of his back tore free. The boy cried out in pain. Then another bird appeared. Again it latched onto his back, and again it tore off a piece of flesh. Bird after bird swooped in, and tore a piece of flesh from the falling boy.

The villagers stood at the base of the cliff waiting to see if the boy had failed in his preparation. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes passed by. There was no sign of the boy. With a loud cough the village Elder drew the attention of the villagers away from the cliff. He was standing outside the sweat tent once more. He reached towards it and pulled up the flap. Hundreds of birds burst from the tent. Inside they found the body of an unconscious man.

Freedom-exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.

2008-12-01T08:59:00.003-07:00

Lately I've found myself becoming more and more frustrated. I feel restrained. My problem is not so much needing to realize that I am stuck. My problem is trying to escape the box. If I was a magician my magic went terrible awry. It is a feeling of being stuck in a small, dark box, just large enough to fit, but every corner is filled with my fleshy body. The oxygen is running out, and I can't escape. I plan and plan, but buying a motorcycle and riding it to Mexico would only give me temporary freedom. Eventually I would find myself in an even smaller box. I've thought of transversing the globe on my own two feet, but it would be lonely. I'm afraid this magician has lost his magic. Sometimes I feel like the only thing I can do is take a deep breath....... and let it out. Maybe if I am patient for a long enough period of time, breathing slowly..........I'll eventually find my magic again.

Bread for Jose

2008-11-17T13:25:00.007-07:00

In a world of dreams people never sleep. There is no need. Magic runs rampant throughout the world, glittering like fresh snow at the dawn of day. Angels sing, and dinosaurs roar. Cowboys sing songs and tell stories next to bonfires. In a world of dreams, eagles cry and mice don't die. Unfortunately for Jose he didn't live in a world of dreams. Instead poor Jose lived in a dreary world. A world where money ruled and the poor went hungry. Jose was one of the poor. If you pause for a moment, listening to the silence seep, you can hear the gurgle of Jose's tummy.
"Oh, Jose," it cries. "I want some bread! I want some bread to fill me up".
Jose then replies, "I'm sorry my stomach. I have no bread to feed you today. Maybe tomorrow I will have bread to feed you". This was the story of Jose, his stomach complaining and his reply. One day while Jose lay on the side of a dirt road, a large man, waddled towards him.
"Boy, come help me with my groceries," ordered the man. "I need to buy my food and my servant boy is sick today. If you help I will give you a small loaf of bread".
It was a miracle. "Stomach, today I will fill you up with bread," Jose whispered.
Jose followed the large man down the dusty street to the store. Then he followed the man through the store grabbing the groceries the man wanted. The large man bought a lot of food. He bought olives, steak, chicken, bacon, fruits of every kind, he even bought a bar of chocolate. The one thing the man didn't buy was bread. After the man paid for his groceries Jose hauled them across town to the large mans house.
"Boy," said the man. "put those groceries away and then leave". Jose took the groceries to the kitchen and put the food away. Then he went back to the large man and asked, "sir you said you would give me some bread for my services". The large man laughed a deep, mocking laugh. "Boy" he said, "you are a fool. I have no bread for you". Jose left the large mans house and went back to his street.
"Stomach", said Jose "That large man is a liar, he gave me no bread to fill you up with".
"Jose, I was told I would have bread today, but I had no bread. I am even hungrier than before," his stomach moaned.
"I am sorry stomach, maybe I'll find you bread tomorrow" said Jose.
The next day Jose was sitting on the same street when the large man came by again. "Boy" he said, "I need more groceries today. Come carry them for me".
So Jose, trusting the large man, carried his groceries. And again the large man laughed at Jose when he asked for some bread. Every day for a week the large man would tell Jose to carry his groceries, and every day he laughed at Jose.
At the end of the week Jose was waiting for the large man to come ask him to carry the groceries, but the man never came. Instead a skinny man in a fancy suit walked down the street. The man walked up to Jose and asked, "are you Jose the grocery boy?"
"My name is Jose", he replied.
"Well I need you to carry my groceries for me", the skinny man said.
Standing up Jose followed the man to the grocery store. The skinny man bought many, many groceries. He bought everything the large man would buy, but he bought much more. He even bought bread. As they left the store the skinny man turned to Jose and said, " The large man is my brother, he is mean and a liar. He told me how he makes you carry his groceries every day without giving you bread. These groceries are for you. I apologize for my brother. He will no longer ask you to carry his groceries". The skinny man walked away, leaving Jose with many, many groceries.
"Stomach" Jose said. "Today I will fill you up with bread".

The Wifery

2008-11-12T11:48:00.003-07:00

The wind blew the autumn leaves around and around. A man walked alone among this concert of excitement and loss. With each step his shoes would scuff the cold cement. He walked up to one of the many doors lining the street, pulled out a key and unlocked the door. With a heavy sigh he walked into the cold dark house. Too tired to make dinner, the man found himself slumped on the couch staring blankly at the television. He was remembering.

"It's time", he said to his friend.
"Time for what?" his friend replied.
"I'm going to get a wife," he said.
After a minute of sitting in awkward silence his friend asked," where will you get her from?"
"I've looked into three stores, wife patch, soul match, and wife in a basket. I've decided to try wife in a basket. They seem to have slightly better quality than the other two," he replied.

The front of the store was clean and neat. Above the entrance a large yellow sign with swirling red letters read, "Welcome to wife in a basket, come on in and get a wife". Choking down his anxiety the man pushed open the door. Responding to the door a little pudgy man popped up from behind the cash register.
"What can I help you with today?" the storekeeper asked.
"I'm looking for a wife," he replied.
"Well you came to the right store; all we sell here are wives and wives aplenty. What is your preference?" the store keeper asked.
With a look of confusion the man replied, "I'm not sure, this is my first time getting a wife".
"If you just walk this way then, I'll show you our wonderful selection of wifery," said the storekeeper.
The man followed the storekeeper trying not to be overwhelmed by the gawking women. He was about to give up when he saw her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Only ten feet away she waited, eyeing this prospective husband up and down. There was coolness about her, a sense of self that many other women didn't have. Her light brown hair graced the top of her shoulders and her eyes sparkled with the light of a thousand stars.
"I'll take her," he said to the storekeeper.
"Excellent choice, if you step this way we can make it official" said the storekeeper.

On the drive home, the man had a hard time controlling his enthusiasm. No longer would he have to spend the long holiday season alone. The cold winter months would finally be filled with companionship instead of loneliness. As he turned the corner to his house he realized the woman was crying.
"Why are you crying?"He asked.
With a sniffle she replied, "All my life I've dreamed of this moment. I dreamed that one day a man would come and buy me and we would travel home together. Finally this day has come, and I've realized I don't want it. I just want to be free. I want to be able to choose a husband for myself. I don't want you for my husband".

His heart stopped. Everything had been so perfect. He had actually bought himself a wife, but suddenly she didn't want him as a husband. Darkness filled his soul. He stopped the car in front of his house and said, "If you don't want me I won't force it". Fiddling with the keychain he removed his house key and got out of the car.
With a face of stone he said, "For your troubles take my car, and farewell. All your belongings are in the trunk". Then he walked away, leaving his happiness, and companionship behind.

Music to my Mouth, Not my Ears

2008-11-09T18:41:00.002-07:00

Today Jenny made some scrumptious cookies. There are hundreds of different kinds of cookies, but nothing beats a classic. The cookies Jenny made were chocolate chip. They were warm with a slightly crunchy surface. When I took a bite it seemed to melt in my mouth. There were just enough chocolate chips to satisfy a chocolate craving, not so many that it overwhelmed you. Not a single cookie was burnt. My only regret is that there aren't enough to share with everyone. At least I was able to experience this amazing experience. Don't worry, I'll think of all of you while I eat a few more.

Call Me Captain

2008-11-06T18:10:00.003-07:00

Rarely do pranks ever enter my life. Maybe because I've always lived at home, but that doesn't matter. Anyways, I have two friends, Kenny and Elisa that work together. The other day I was eating ice cream with the Elisa. She was complaining that she can't ever prank Kenny. Apparently Kenny is all-knowing, and knows every trick in the book and to go along with his brilliance there is an invizible shield protecting him. I have to admit when we feel like causing mischief we know Kenny will have some great ideas. Anyways Elisa wanted to prank Kenny, she asked if I would help. Those are dangerous words. You don't want to get involved in a prank-off with Kenny. But I decided it was time to unleash my creativity on a world of chaos and humiliation. A world that until now I have avoided. In other words I decided to help Elisa. We talked for a while and came up with some good ideas, but realized they needed work. We parted ways with an understanding of great secrecy. Or so I thought. Today Kenny stole Elisa's phone. Using her phone he texted me trying to find out if I would help Elisa prank him. Realizing that it was Kenny trying to figure out my allegiance I didn't give anything away. Later when I was talking to Kenny I found out that Elisa told Kenny I would help her prank him. At that moment I decided needed to prank both of them. Kenny because he is the master, and Elisa because she betrayed me. So I developed a beautiful plan to cause mischief, humiliation, and a downright sense of being beaten by the best, and put it into action. We'll see how it goes. The only reason I divulge my secret now is it can't be stopped. Also so that when it happens ya'll will know I am the new Prank master. But you can call me captain.

Corruption, Presidents, and Ralph Nader

2008-11-04T13:01:00.003-07:00

I figure since the election day is here, I might as well jump on the band wagon of political posting. I'd like to say that a candidate represents me and my morals. That would be a lie. I would also like to say that I am well educated on the different issues. That would also be a lie. Most of my information comes from Saturday Night Live, or the Simpsons. Although my sources may not always be the best, there is a lot of truth in sarcasm and humor. In my most humble opinion neither of the two men with a chance of becoming the next president deserves that title. Time after time they change their stance on issues. Neither candidate has the same morals that I approve. John McCain tries too hard to get votes. He plays a popularity game with America. He understands that he isn't as charismatic as Barack Obama. Trying to make up for that fact he recruited Sarah Palin. Oh boy, that was a mistake. She talks and talks, never shutting up. I don't have to point out all the times she sticks her big heavy snow boot into her mouth. Obama may be a charismatic speaker, but he is a sleazy business man as well. Inexperience runs rampant throughout his campaign. I can't vote for Obama or McCain. This is a lucky day for Ralph Nader. Without changing his campaign in the last couple of decades, Nader won my vote. It's a shame I forgot to register.

All Alone

2008-11-02T11:11:00.004-07:00

Last night my friends and I decided to have a spur of the moment Jazz game party. Each of us had an assignment. Reagan was to pick up Sarah and some pizza. Miles and Kelly were to get some cheese fries and apple beer. Kenny was just supposed to show up, (he had been working all night). My assignment was to get some girls to come. Thinking back I'm pretty sure my assignment was a joke. Out of all my friends, I know the fewest people and can be the most introverted. But being the team player that I am, I took my assignment to heart. First I went to the apartment of some girls I barely know (miles recommended I stop there). Only one of the girls was home and she was playing cards with some guy. I still invited her, but she didn't show up. Then I was walking back to my car when I saw a couple of girls walking down the street. Deciding that I was going to take my assignment seriously I walked up to the girls to invite them. Neither one of them came. Next I went to another girls apartment. She wasn't home. After that I decided to call almost every girl in my phone. Only one of them answered and she was busy. I should have quit right then, but like I said I was serious about this assignment. I then proceeded to go to the apartment of another girl. I didn't really know her, but one time Miles, Si, and I randomly knocked on her apartment. Nobody was home at her apartment either. In the end I showed up at Reagan's house completely alone. Later when Kenny showed up he said, "No girls, I guess Zac failed" (or something like that). Well I guess I did fail, but at least I tried.

Liberation

2008-10-29T23:12:00.002-06:00

Sometimes I let my imagination get the better of me. I sit and daydream of a day when I won't be in school. A day that leads to the nutrition of my actual desires. No longer will I be liable for busy work assigned to me in a class that I don't want to attend. I'll finally have the freedom to choose what I want to do. My research, my writing, my peace of mind will be my own. Then the ticking of a clock wakes me from my dreams. Liberation will have to wait for another day. All I can do until that day is to doggy paddle along, hoping that a wave doesn't come along to submerge my hopes.

This I Believe

2008-10-28T09:48:00.002-06:00

This post was inspired by npr's program, This I Believe.

The other day I bought a handmade Alpaca wool poncho. My poncho reminded me of a time when my hero was John Wayne and my dreams were filled with cowboys, horses, rope, and yogurt. My biggest worry was avoiding the bathtub. I didn’t care about presidential candidates or illegal immigration. The term “politics” meant nothing to me. I can remember the pride I felt every morning in elementary school when we would recite the Pledge of Allegiance. "I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." This was my America. This was my home. Underneath all the corruption, all the spite and envy, underneath the pain and the politics, this is a land of freedom. The words on the Statue of Liberty written by Emma Lazarus say, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door." The United States of America is still my home. This I believe.

Me vs. the Raptor

2008-10-24T18:30:00.004-06:00

1 minute, 6 seconds

Created by Bunk Beds.net

Answer Honestly!

Police Beat: Phonecall Hypnotization

2008-10-22T11:59:00.002-06:00

I found this article in the police beat of BYU's infamous newspaper, The Daily Universe (police beats are the best and only slightly decent part of the paper).

Oct. 18, 2008:
A female resident of Wymount Terrace called in a suspicious phone call in which a man made statements with the intent of hypnotizing the student. The student said she does not remember most of the conversation, but remembers she called him master. Police say it is virtually impossible to hypnotize over the phone.

My favorite part is when she called him "master". And if I've learned anything about technology, nothing is virtually impossible. I wonder if this mysterious hypnotist gets a lot of dates by hypnotizing innocent girls over the phone. If so I've got to learn his technique.

Dentists and Doctors, cohorting with the Devil

2008-09-29T09:53:00.006-06:00

Have you ever gone to a Doctors office. 90% of the trip consists of waiting to see the doctor. 5% is actually spent with the doctor. He'll either prescribe medication or tell you that you that all the tests are normal and you can leave. Which doesn't seem to answer any questions, but by this time you have spent so much time sitting in the doctors office you just want to get out of there, so you don't push the issue. The other 5% is leaving the office. As awful as visiting the doctor can be, I'd rather see them then a dentist. You spend half your visit to the dentist in a waiting room. But the other half you spend sitting in a chair having some newly trained hygienist scrubbing away at your mouth. Eventually the Dentist will come in. He'll be wearing some glasses that make his eyes bulge like a fish, and a smile that everyone knows is fake. He'll act like you are the best of buds, ask how you've been and what you've been doing. He'll want to know if you are going to school, and if so what classes you are taking. He'll ask if you're married and if not try to hook you up with the hygienist, but then realize she is married. He will ask all these things while he his starring down your throat, jabbing away at your teeth and gums. How the heck are you supposed to answer any of his questions? I'm pretty sure dentist are either really good at talking to themselves or they are fluent in Grunt. Eventually he'll get tired of deciphering each grunt so he'll turn his attention to the hygienist. He'll then proceed to ask her how she is doing, what she has been doing and how her husband is. They will then have a lengthy discussion about how the hygienist recently visited her in laws. Meanwhile you are left sitting in a chair with your mouth open, looking like a dead fish. Eventually the Dentist will finish up and tell you that you have a cavity and he needs to see you sometime in the next month so he can remove it. Then he gets up and leaves. The hygienist will give you a little baggy consisting of a cheap toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a little container of dental floss, and a sticker. Truly the only thing worth keeping is the sticker. She'll then inform you that your co-pay is due and that while you are at it you might as well pay for the next seven visits you'll be having because they will all be within the next couple of months. At least a Doctor has enough sense to send you the bill instead of haranguing you with it after they've tortured you for the last two hours.

A life more ordinary

2008-09-28T22:34:00.002-06:00

For weeks now I have been wondering how to escape the regularity of everyday life. It has really been weighing me down. The last thing I wanted was to give in to the ordinary. I wanted to make my life different. Aware of the worry that I cause my family, I can't help but to scheme ways to achieve my goals. I even got to the point that I wanted to drop out of school, buy a dog, name it Biskut, and then roam North America on a motorcycle. Although it would lead to acheivement of some goals such as: getting a dog and a motorcycle. I realized that doing something like that isn't what I am looking for. It wouldn't lead to the freedom that I seek. Unfortunately most of my other plans followed suit, they never quite seemed to satisfy my desires. I was at a loss (and still am). As hard as I tried I couldn't find or even create "my neverland". Through my pursuit of irregularity I have learned a few things:
5 month old neices are great listeners.
It is harder than it seems to become a gypsie.
Life as a pirate is great, but short lived.
Television is the nemesis of creativity.
Pie is sweeter than cake.
A dead mouse is an unhappy mouse.
As my life has moved on, slowly, ever so slowly. I go to college, I date periodically, I go to church, I sleep in church, I play, I work, my life it has seemed extremely ordinary. It is filled with a regularity I have been trying to avoid. I don't own a motorcycle, and I don't have a dog named Biskut. Although my life is ordinary I've realized something important about ordinary lives. They aren't always ideal, but they are real. For now all I can do is to dream of "my neverland". I know dreams never achieved anything, but It is those dreams that keep me going in a life that is filled with regularity. As long as I have dreams there is hope of finding the freedom that I seek.

Scottish Blood

2008-09-14T19:40:00.002-06:00

For Saturdays football game I got in touch with my Scottish ancestry. Realizing that the game was huge, I decided to paint my face Braveheart style. It seemed to work. I think that from now on I'll paint my face Braveheart style. FREEDOM!

(byu 59, ucla 0)

2008-09-14T19:39:00.001-06:00

This is the after affects of the pepper spray.

The Spray of Doom

2008-09-11T20:51:00.003-06:00

Have you ever accidentally rubbed Jalapeno pepper juice on your face? Now, picture yourself dunking your head in a bucket of jalapeno juice. Times the pain that it causes by 500 hundred and that is what I went through tonight. I had the opportunity (through work) to be sprayed by pepper spray. Before we were sprayed we were warned that it was reminiscent to a scene from "Raiders of The Lost Ark", you know the part when they open the ark and the guys face gets eaten off. Yep, that part. Luckily it wasn't quite that bad. I recommend that everyone tries it at least once. That way I can laugh while I watch your face get eaten away.

Robots in Disguise

2008-09-09T09:15:00.003-06:00

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

Level sixty one is incomplete. Please do not repeat. Level nine is galactical and sublime. Prepare to tear your mind, level 29 is one of a kind.

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

RM Syndrome

2008-09-04T23:59:00.004-06:00

Because of friendly influences I attempted to try something I don't normally try. Needless to say it is slightly embarrassing. You see there is a girl, I knew her for about a week. Then a few weeks passed by and I had forgotten about her. Until I got an email saying we should keep in touch. I reacted about the same as I normally would. My first thoughts were, "Holy crap, how the heck did she get my email". It didn't take long for me to figure out how she achieved such a task. I'm not necessarily the most secure person. Most of my contact info is listed through BYU. Anyways, I reciprocated and stalked her a little bit. I wanted to know more about the type of girl that would stock me. Well I ended up with a information about her. (She is a nice girl, and is attractive too). Then today, after getting some friendly peer pressure, I changed the way I normally do things. I actually used the number and called her. This is where it gets embarrassing. I didn't have the guts to just ask her out . So I asked her if she wanted to go see a movie, and that she could bring a friend too, because I was trying to convince my brother to come. (At the time it seemed rational. It would give me an opportunity to get to know her a little better, but without the awkward date situation). Anyways, Little K didn't want to play and she didn't have any friends that wanted to come either. So it ended up being just the two of us. The evening actually was alright except the fact that it felt an awful lot like a secret date; I'm 15 years old but wanted to go on a date with that girl so I lied to my parents and told them I was going to a movie with a bunch of friends, but really I planned it so it would just be the two of us, kind of date. I'm wondering if she considered it a date too. Wow! So now I'm left pondering my awkward behaviour, trying to figure out why I acted like a spaz. I felt so much like a return missionary its scary, I haven't even served a mission. I'm doomed.

Clearance

2008-08-28T08:51:00.002-06:00

I was shopping with my family. We were in some sort of clothing store. All the clothes had ridiculous prices. There was no way I could afford anything. Then I saw the clearance section. It was filled with warm weather clothes for girls. I was getting very frustrated. I just wanted some shorts. Then suddenly, right before my eyes was a beautiful winter jacket. It had a tan linen outside, with a hood. It was almost rustic looking, but obviously new. I tried it on. The inside was lined with fleece. I had never before found a jacket so marvelous, so comfortable, and in clearance. There was no price on the jacket. Obviously someone had misplaced it in the clearance section. Deciding not to give up I found a store clerk and asked her how much the jacket was.
She said, "Oi, that beautiful thing is $9".
I couldn't believe it. I decided to try it on again to make sure that I wanted to buy it.
The store clerk said, "that is one fine jacket sir. It really fits you great".
I looked around for my family, but they couldn't be found. Again I noticed how the clearance section was mostly women's summer clothing.
Feeling slightly curious about the jacket I asked, " why is this jacket on clearance?"
The clerk replied, " the airbags are malfunctioning".
I made the mistake of laughing. She punched my arm. POOF!

Pancake Zac

2008-08-24T09:32:00.016-06:00

The hot summer days seemed to be evaporating before my eyes. There was change in the air. Autumn was nearly here. My favorite way to spend the evenings was to doze in a rocking chair. Back and forth I'd rock, remembering the good ol'days when Apple Beer cost only a nickel. The sound of two boys wrestling around in the dirt waffled through the air, breaking my sweet remembrance,
"CHEATER!" yelled one.
"AM NOT!" yelled the other.
Around and around they rolled, punching, clawing, biting, spitting, doing anything young boys could think of.
"HOLD UP THERE", I roared.
Neither one payed notice. Trying again I said, "Stop this bickering boys".
They continued rolling around like wild animals.
"Hey I'll give you both five dollars if you stop", I said.
Their scuffle paused momentarily.
"Really?" they asked in unison.
"No, I just wanted to see if you could hear me", I replied.
They began fighting again. Realizing that they weren't listening to words, I decided to try a different tactic. Lifting my old body out of my rocker I reached over and grabbed my cane. I used it to hobble over to the occupied boys. When I got close enough I began whacking. "Take that, and that, and this," I said as I smacked them with my cane.
"Ouch!" Said one.
"Ouch!" Said the other.
"Stop!" they said together.
I just kept whacking away.
"Why, OUCH! Why are you, OUCH! doing this, OUCH! too us?" asked one of the boys.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me", I replied with a chuckle.
"What?" Screamed the other boy.
"My words didn't work so I figured I'd use sticks and stones. Hopefully my stick works, if it doesn't I'm going to start using stones", I cackled.
"We'll stop!" they yelled,"please just don't hit us with your cane any more!"
"Alright", I said, as I whacked them again for good measure.
I stood eyeing them as they caught their breath. Both boys looked to be about 11 years old. They were covered in so much dirt you could hardly tell they were humans.
"So what type of argument could make creatures like yourselves roll around in the dirt?" I asked.
"He called me a cheat!" one said, pointing to the other.
"He is a cheat!" Said the other, pointing to the one.
Before they could begin fighting again I whacked them on their heads.
"OUCH!" They yelped.
"Well did you cheat?" I asked the boy with that label.
"Just a little bit!" he replied.
"How about you?" I asked, pointing at the other. "Did you cheat too?"
"Not as much as he did", he replied.
"Hmmm, so you both cheated? but neither of you wants to be called a cheater? Is that correct?", I asked.
"Yes sir", they replied.
Trying not to smile at their serious response I said, "Why don't both of you climb up onto my porch here, and I'll give you an apple beer and tell you a story about cheaters".
Realizing there was no way out of listening to an old timer like myself, they answered, "yes sir". I knew they didn't really want to listen, but it gave me someone to talk to, so I ushered them onto my creaky old porch and gave them a cold apple beer.

Many, many years ago there was a young man. His name was Zachary, but most people just called him Pancake, or Pancake Zac. You see, ever since Pancake could remember, pancakes were his specialty. He could make blueberry, craisinberry, chocolate, whole wheat, half wheat, no wheat, sweet, not sweet, or just plain'ol pancakes. You name it and he could make it with a pancake. For miles around everybody knew Pancake could make the best darn pancakes there ever were. Well one day Pancake found himself in a game of Texas Hold'em. Boy oh boy was it a game to remember. This game had begun in a tournament of cards. Everybody and their dogs had started, but now there were only four people left. Wiley Cry, a Native American brave, Susie Mcdougal the local inn keeper, Smelly Tom the barber, and Pancake himself. Oh and also Smart Henries dog. (I said four people, Henries dog was still in). Needless to say, everyone of those people (and the dog) were incredibly handy when it came to card playing. There were bluffs, calling bluffs, Straights, full houses, Royal Straights, you name it they played it. The game went on and on, nobody gaining ground on the other competitors. The night came and went, morning arrived, then left, then the day passed on by, Still they played, and played and played. Nobody was going to give in. Well Pancake being an intelligent young man, knew he could only take so much more. So he hatched a plan, so devious and sly he couldn't believe Wiley handn't thought of it before him. Yet again the night went by and morning arrived.
"Hey there Susie", Pancaked said. "If you give in now I'll make you pancakes for a month". And he really would, he kind of liked Susie, she was an awefully nice critter for those parts.
Susie gave Pancake one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen and replied, "Those darn pancakes you concoct aren't worth the tail of a door mouse". Everyone nearby gasped. Nobody had ever passed up Pancake's pancakes.
"Dang Susie you must never have had my Royal raspberry pancakes before!" Pancake replied in mock surprise. "I like to go pick some fresh raspberries, then I sprinkle them into the batter. After I fry them up I sprinkle a little bit of powdered sugar on top. OH! I almost forgot, after the light sprinkle of powdered sugar I add some of my mama's special buttermilk syrup. Hmmm it's making my mouth water just thinking of it."
"This is no card game, this is torture! Pancake if you make me half a dozen of those special Raspberry pancakes I'll quit now!" Wiley yelled as he stuck out his hand for Pancake to shake.
"Deal", Pancake yelled back, grabbing Wiley's hand before he could take it back.
Because of Pancakes cunning there were now only four participants left, Pancake of course, Susie Mcdougal, Smart Henries dog, and Smelly Tom.

-------To be continued---------

2008-08-22T17:19:00.002-06:00

Sorry for any poor writing in previous posts. Many are created in the wee hours of the morning.

Cornbread?

2008-08-21T23:31:00.002-06:00

This last week I have had a wonderful experience. I've been a building supervisor for education week at BYU. At the beginning of the week I was a little nervous about all the responsibility that I would be facing. But one day away from the end, everything has been magical. I use the word magical because it seems to be a teenager kind of word. The building I've been supervising is the Smith Field House. All the classes in there are youth classes. Ages 14-18. Needless to say there is a lot of awkwardness and flirting. But there is a magical quality that lingers.

Tonight as part of my responsibilities as a building supervisor I had the opportunity to chaperon the Youth dance. At first I was at the gate making sure people had passes. After a little while I was allowed into the dance. (I don't know what they were thinking letting me in, but I didn't dance, I controlled myself). Here are a list of things I had to inforce:
1. NO moshing. (jumping up and down was okay, but they weren't allowed to run into each other)
2. Ties had to be tied, shirts had to be tucked in, and shoes had to be worn. Oddly enough I spent a lot of time asking young men to tie their ties and tuck in their shirts.
3. I was an inforcer when it came to couples dancing too close together. When I witnessed episodes of dancing too close I would walk up, tap them on the shoulder and tell them they had to spread apart and dance like so, I would then precede to lift my left hand to eye level and my right hand to waist level. (A little cheesy, but they got the picture).
4. No standing on benches. For some reason people enjoyed dancing on top of the benches.
5. No kissing. Luckily I didn't deal with any kissers.

While the youth danced, my job was to patrol the perimeters and the dance floor checking for the above mentioned taboos. That was when it got really interesting. Numerous girls flirted with me, (my favorite was when a young lady told me she liked my hair). I also had a bundle of girls ask me to dance. Seeing as I was working and about 6 years older then some of them I apolegetically declined.

All in all it was a good dance. But it sure was hard not to bust a move.

Ode to Nutella

2008-08-07T22:23:00.001-06:00

This was a poem written by Kpup and myself.

Ode to Nutella

Creamy brown, sufficient to turn my frown upside down.
Thou art a divine creation, not subject to my malignation.
Oh how my addiction howls for consumption of your quintessence.
Oh nutella
Oh nutella
I need you nutella
When your jar is empty, my upside down frown turns back around.
Without Your sugars my jowls recede, leaving me quite healthy.
I come to indulge my palatial desires, upon thy Heavenly substance.
I peak in the cupboard hoping to find thee, but thou art gone! On the counter I search, on the floor, in the fridge, but you have evaded me. Eventually I find thee, Open and scrapped bare next to a pair of dirty underwear, in the garbage.
Nutella!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Gnome

2008-08-07T22:21:00.004-06:00

The following poem was inspired by William Blake's poem called, "The Lamb".

The Gnome
Little gnome who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Tweedy clothing neon bright;
Gave thee such a scruffy voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little gnome who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Little gnome I'll tell thee,
Little gnome I'll tell thee!
It was not thy parents who made thee
Indeed it was a factory in Malaysia that made thee.
They are cheap and super efficient
I a human and thou a gnome,
We are not called by the same name,
Little gnome god bless thee
Little gnome god bless thee.

It Has Been Figured Out!

2008-08-07T21:45:00.005-06:00

What inspires us to create? The other day I was inspired by a commercial for bottled water. The first time I saw the commercial it was absurd. The next time it became interesting. The third time it was inspiring. After watching the commercial over and over again, I decided to create my interpretation of the commercial.
These are a few words that represent my project and the commercial I saw:
Freedom
Conform
Bizarre
Conventional
Harmony
Estranged

Lost

2008-08-05T23:08:00.002-06:00

To be unsuccessful in retaining possession of; mislay:
1. To be deprived of (something one has had):
2. To be left alone or desolate because of the death of:
3. To be unable to keep alive:
4. To let (oneself) become unable to find the way.
5. To remove (oneself), as from everyday reality into a fantasy world.
6. To elude or outdistance:
7. To be outdistanced by:

Blood Brothers

2008-08-03T22:37:00.004-06:00

This was one of the best nights I've had in a long time. Often I leave gatherings with a big hole in my chest. Something always seemed to be missing. Tonight I left Sunday Scribble feeling pretty darn good. Over the last few years I have gotten to know some guys pretty well. I feel like they are my brothers. Tonight my actual brother joined us in some games. It was fantastic. All my life Kpup has been there for me. My last few years of high school a wedge seemed to be driven between us. We still got along alright, but we didn't seem to be as close. Since last spring I feel like I have been pulling that wedge out. Kpup and I seem to be getting closer again. Even though our relationship was improving it still seemed to miss something. I've realized tonight that it was my social life. It seems so empty without him. Tonight was great. My brothers were united and it was a blast. At one point Kpup and I both became the Mafia. We killed everyone else. I can truly say it was thoroughly delightful. A piece of that hole that was filled tonight. I'll miss him when he is gone.

A Mischievous Tortoise

2008-08-02T00:53:00.005-06:00

A little bit of background: My grandpa has been told by the doctor that he can't/shouldn't drive. His muscles are slowly deteriorating and he is less capable of moving his foot from one petal to the next. One time his foot got stuck on the gas and he hit a post in a parking lot. My siblings and I don't ride with him when he drives. One of the last times I did ride with him, he sped up for every red light, then slammed on the brakes. That was a few years ago before the doctor told him to stop driving.

On this lovely afternoon my cousin and I found ourselves sitting in the back of my grandparents vehicle. The sun was beating down, and it was hot! Grandpa, who was sitting in the passenger seat, slowly stood up. Using the car as support he looked at the front door, checking for grandma. Then he looked back at us and smiled. Again he peaked over the top of the car checking for grandma. She was nowhere in sight. Moving as fast as he could and looking like an old tortoise, he made his way around the car. As he got to the driver side door he checked for grandma again. She still was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door and sat down in the driver's seat and started the car. Why he even had keys to grandma's car I don't know, but he did and they worked. I looked over at my cousin and closed my door. Grandpa closed his door too. Shortly after my grandpa closed the door he put the car into reverse and started backing up. My cousin decided to close his door too. When we reached the end of the drive way grandpa stopped the car. Then he put it in drive. I looked over at my cousin and shrugged my shoulders. Then I put on my seat belt. Very slowly we inched forward, but instead of returning to the previous spot, grandpa turned the steering wheel. We were headed out onto the grass of their front yard. My cousin started snickering. I felt like snickering too, but I could just picture the car smashing into one of their many trees. As we drove into the yard grandma came out the front door.
"Al what are you doing?" she shrieked.
"Hearing Aids," he yelled back.
"What are you doing? You aren't insured," she yelled.
"I need my hearing aids," he yelled.
"That's convenient," grandma said under her breadth. "What are you doing on the lawn?" she asked.
"Oh, I was just giving the boys some shade. They looked hot," he replied.
I couldn't take it any longer. Both my cousin and I started laughing. Luckily grandpa couldn't hear us. He didn't have his hearing aids. Grandma was too worried about grandpa in the drivers seat to notice.

whoosh!

2008-07-31T18:48:00.002-06:00

To my friends, associates, family, and the odd person who happens upon my blog:

I ate the Easter Bunny.
My Sandwich ate me.
I climbed to the top of the world but didn't yell.
Yard work fulfilled my desires.
Yes meant, I hate you.
No meant, I hate you more.
Anger turned to fear.
Fear turned to a mirror.
My soul went on a break from my body.
It became a super-tramp, and a mountain man.
My body got stuck in Provo.
Inside I'm so twisted, it is amazing that I survive.
I restrain 90% of my thoughts.
Telepathy controlled my mind.
When I slept, I flew.
Dark corridors gave me comfort.
The edge called my name.
The sun tore through my brain.
Leaving me in a puddle of rain.
The edge called my name.
I tried to refrain.
Sometimes I'm 100% insane.
I danced with a wolf.
He tore out my throat.
Like I was a billy goat.
My freedom shrank, and it stank.
I need to break free.
Free like a flying tree.

A Magical Malady

2008-07-15T23:22:00.005-06:00

It wasn't the largest track or the prettiest. In fact it was quite ordinary for a slick track. Even with it's imperfections, at that moment, for me, it was perfect. A slight breeze ruffled my hair as I climbed into the cockpit of my go-cart.
I leaned over my left shoulder I addressed my competition, " K-bear, you don't stand a chance. I'm going to wipe you all over the track".
He replied, "Z diddy, the only thing that is going to be wiped is your corpse after I smash you".
I laughed and strapped my safety harness across my chest. The official began speaking. First I zoned out the official, then the crowd, then my opponent. This was my moment, the only thing that mattered was my own performance. My lungs paused and my heart lurched to a stop. Time stood still. Then the light turned green. My foot hit the gas and I sped around the track. Somehow K-bear got ahead and claimed the inside. I swerved in behind him, using his cart to draft. Around and around we went. A bump here, a bump there, but I couldn't weasel my way by. Then it appeared. K-bear swerved out just far enough. I sped forward. Realizing his mistake he tried to cut me off. I swerved into his cart, sending him into the wall.
Swerving around the carnage, I laughed aloud, "Serves you right. You can't touch this!"
Knowing the race was over I began to coast around the track. It wasn't nearly as much fun alone. As K-bear caught up I let him pass. Then we began to swerve back and forth. The wind was flowing through my hair, my brother was driving next to me, and we both were having a blast. The only thing that could improve the moment was a U-turn. So without further adieu I whipped around and drove in the opposite direction. As K-bear came around again, I whipped out another U-turn and pulled up behind him. What started as a hard-core race, finished as a hard-core laugh.

The Curse of the Purple Pirate

2008-07-11T01:09:00.004-06:00

"Yargh! Matey, pass me some rum!" roared the Blue Pirate.
"Oi, if you call me matey again I'll run you through with me saber and then I'll feed you to the fishes!" the Yellow Pirate threatened.
"Would you both please be quite! I'm trying to decide which island I want to visit next." the Purple Pirate pleaded.
Everyone of the pirates, surrounding the small wooden table, started to laugh.
"Shhh, shh," said the yellow pirate menacingly. "The Purple Pirate needs silence to make a move".
The room filled with laughter again.
"Aye, mateys, hold your laughter, the purple pirate is going purple in the face," said the Blue Pirate.
With that the Yellow Pirate jumped to his feet pulling out his saber.
"I warned ye, now I'm goin to eat your gizzard for brekkie," he roared at the Blue Pirate.
As they ran around the room trying to kill each other, the Green Pirate stuck out his foot and tripped the Yellow Pirate. Again the room filled with laughter. During the commotion the Red Pirate slipped the Purple Pirates treasure into his own pile.
"Hey, who took my gold?" the Purple Pirate asked.
"Nobody took your gold, you just lost it," the Green Pirate scoffed.
Contorting his face in anger the Purple Pirate yelled, "I'm already losing. My ship is a mess and I don't have a chance of winning. Would you all please stop picking on me!"
Yet again the room filled with laughter.

A Monster Mayhem

2008-07-09T07:20:00.007-06:00

"What's up Joe?" said the three year old boy as we drove up.
"Not a lot, is your daddy home?" Joe replied, as he got out of the truck. Leaving Kaleb sitting luxuriously in the front seat while I was crammed in the back seat. Back seat might be a little too nice. It really was half the size of of small, very small, bath tub with a few seat belts. The only way someone my size could fit was by laying horizontal across the seats.
"I'll only be a minute or two," Joe told Kaleb and I. Knowing that Joe's minutes tended to be a little bit longer than 60 seconds I let out a moan.
"What was that?" asked the little boy now only fifteen feet from our small Toyota truck.
"Oh it is my monster," Kaleb responded.
"A monster?" the boy repeated incredulously as he tried to peer through the tinted glass.
"Yep I caught him the other day," Kaleb continued.
"How did you catch him?" the boy asked.
" I caught him in a bush. First I threw out some Haggis. Do you know what Haggis is?" Kaleb asked.
"No," replied the boy.
"It is something that people like to eat in Scotland. Haggis is sheep guts," Kaleb said.
"Where do you get sheep guts?" the boy asked.
"From a dead sheep," Kaleb answered.
Looking quizzical the boy asked, "Why would you want sheep guts?"
"To catch a monster named Zaccis,"Kaleb responded.
"Is that your monsters name?" asked the boy
"Yep," Kaleb said.
"The monster you caught in a bush?" asked the boy.
"Yep," Kaleb responded.
"Is that his foot next to your head," the boy asked.
"Yep," Kaleb replied as he smacked my foot.
"What does your monster like to eat?" asked the boy.
Slightly widening his eyes, Kaleb responded, "little boys wearing blue shorts, gray tee-shirts and with green eyes".
"And haggis?" asked the boy.
"Yep," Kaleb said.
"My eyes are green," said the boy.
"And your shorts are blue, you better be careful. My Zaccis might eat you," Kaleb said.
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Because he's hungry" Kaleb replied.
I decided it was time to add in another moan, "GREEEEaAAAAAAAOOOOOn".
"Can I see him?"the boy asked.
"He sounds hungry," Kaleb warned.
"I'm not scared," the boy bravely responded as he thrust out his chest to show his courage.
Kaleb helped the little boy climb into the truck.
"That isn't a monster!" the boy said. "That is a human".
"No it's a monster, and be careful you don't get too close he'll eat you!" Kaleb warned.
Like most little boys at age of three he ignored Kaleb and poked my foot.
I roared, "AGARAAAAAA" and ate the little boy.

Immortal experiences

2008-06-29T01:11:00.002-06:00

I've been changed. First of all I usually try not to blog like this. But I've been changed. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to attack my bag strap and slide it off. Every time I get a flat tire I see a joyful beautiful beaming face. The face just sits there waiting for my response. Every time I hear the name of Obama I think of a violin. I can hear her teacher voice telling me that my project is neat. Anything purple reminds me of J. Shortly after I'm reminded of the square. I see ice cream cones and I think of punting along to his sarcastic remarks. My stomach makes a sound and I think of Dr. J aka "The Grumbler" and some French word that means talk. Saying the name Dr. J or "The Grumbler reminds me of Angels fighting Angels, which in turn reminds me of bad rapping. Green moss makes me want to fly. Pigeons remind me of pigeons. Public transport reminds me of PVC pipes. Little creature noises make me cringe and smile at the same time. "Do you need help? Should I get your mom to take you to the hospital?" When I eat dinner I'm left feeling empty as I think about banana leaves. Sleep reminds me of transition. I can't listen to Queen without dancing. Hippos are now my second favorite animal( only in a very rare, hard to find form). I hear something click and I think of black and white and purple. The purple in turn leads me to J. which leads me to Square which leads to futbol. Which leads to many many things. It is all a big circly tight knot thingy inside my head. I've been changed.

Pause

2008-06-27T16:16:00.003-06:00

My crystal glass shattered, leaving me bare.
My eyes were peeled like an orange. Now I care.
The blanket of fear that encircled me is decaying. Now I care.
I'm part of your memories. Now I care.
I'm beginning to fight for my dreams. Now I care.
I embrace my pain. Now I care.
I am not alone. Now I care.
I took the time to discover myself. Now I care.

Resume

2008-06-25T23:00:00.000-06:00

Zachary Ostraff

OBJECTIVE:
I would like to obtain a part-time doing work of some sort. Preferably work that is exciting and fun. And it pays well.

QUALIFICATIONS:
I coached a Jr. High lacrosse team. I took a volleyball class at BYU. I have understood and can play most sports. I’m took a soccer class at BYU. I love having fun. Sometimes I can work hard. My mind likes to create. (I think)

EDUCATION:
I Graduated from Provo High with Honors in 2006.
I’m currently going to college.

ACHIEVMENTS:
I am an Eagle Scout. In High School I was awarded the Kiwanis Club Youth Leadership Award. I was the captain of my lacrosse team. I also helped start Timpview’s lacrosse team. My Cross-Country team won the 4A state title. I took 9th in the 300 Hurdles at the state track meet.

EMPLOYMENT:
Provo Parks and Recreation/soccer official, March 2008-May 2008
All The Great Rooms/furniture assembly and delivery, June 2006-May 2007
A+ Window Cleaners/window cleaner, July 2007-August 2007
BYU Event Staff/usherer, September 2007-December 2007:

REFERENCES:
1. Brian Wilcox, Cinematographer:
2. Joseph Parry, BYU Professor:
3. Joshua Campbell, Ex-Scout leader