Mental Meanderings of a Modern Superhero

Sapphire Sting vs. the Pestinator

2011-08-25T12:26:00.001-07:00

When a new threat arises, a hero must emerge to combat it. After several years of quiet retirement, I, Sapphire Sting, have returned to active duty to combat the menace of the Pestinator.

It started small, as many such things do. A few ants here, a few there, never a conspicuous quantity. Little did the citizens of this tiny town suspect that these were but the advance scouts of an invasion force. The Pestinator had genetically engineered these ants for increased fecundity and resistance to most known toxins. They also bore a custom-built pheromone designed to drive humans mad. The Pestinator had nothing less in mind than total domination.

As the swarm hit, fumigators tried to hold back the rising tide of black trespassers but to no avail. Heroes across the city were left stymied as their powers - flame, ice, and even my radiation failed to have a significant impact against their sheer numbers.

A solution had to be found, and quickly. The invasion was so wide-spread that, even if a defense were devised, distribution might take too long to be effective. I realized, as I began assembling ingredients in my lab, that the ants had invaded there as well! Since they were unfazed by the chemicals and potions I had assembled, I knew they would be useless and, for a moment, I despaired of finding an answer.

I fled my lab and returned to my home, hoping to least protect my wife from the insect interlopers and found her in heated combat with them in our kitchen, holding them back with every ounce of her flaming fury.

Suddenly, my cybernetically enhanced eyes spotted something unusual which proved to be the key to our salvation. While they swarmed over the counters and table, I realized that there were two places they were avoiding - the spice rack and the pantry! I knew there was accessible food in the pantry and wondered why none had invaded there. I realized that the answer was right there in my own kitchen, but I had to act quickly to close off their access points.

I took several of the most pungent spices from the rack and hastily dumped them together in a super-sized bowl, then seized the baking soda from the pantry and added it to the mixture. The ants began to distance themselves from the bowl, but not far; the combined scent still wasn't strong enough! Remembering my chemistry, I reached into the pantry again, grasping the bottle of vinegar and slopped it into the bowl, producing a chemical reaction which carried the scent of the concoction through the house with the vapors of carbon dioxide.

The ants began to flee in an expanding circle, their tiny olfactory organs overpowered by the spicy stench of my stew. Now, the dilemma was to close off their access points before they could develop a resistance and return. Looking again into the bowl, I realized that my powder had become a sticky paste, which could be applied to the crevices, cracks and crannies they crawled through. I flew through the house, slapping the sticky solution wherever the ants were coming through. The flood of ants soon became a trickle, then there were none at all.

I knew I couldn't fly through the city in time to patch every home before the ants took over, but I realized that since the miraculous mixture was made of common household supplies, it could be quickly mixed in large quantities by everyone! I hailed my allies and we spread the word by all possible means and eventually, the city was won. His evil scheme foiled, the Pestinator was quickly apprehended and will now be spending a long time in a cell with a faint scent of cinnamon.

In case your home is still infested, use this recipe to antagonize the ant assailants:

Combine roughly equal parts black pepper, chili powder and cinnamon (can go a little heavy on the cinnamon to give it a more pleasing scent for humans). Add a little vinegar - enough to make a decent liquid suspension - then thicken with baking soda until pasty/sticky, though make sure to add that baking soda very gradually so it doesn't bubble over and make a mess. Water can be used instead of vinegar for a less potent brew.

Baby News!

2011-08-24T21:03:00.000-07:00

We've been relatively quiet about our baby. It's been a long road getting here; 5 years of trying and suffering many things of many doctors in Utah and Connecticut. Through the miracle of In Vitro, our baby has been growing in Emilee since the end of March. While things were a little touch-and-go at the beginning, Baby has been a constant reminder of God's love for us since.

With In Vitro, you start getting pictures of your baby earlier than most people . . . A LOT earlier:

This photo, taken March 28th, shows our baby (plus one) at 3 days after conception. We're not sure which of the two is our baby, since both were transferred back that afternoon and only one has grown, but we're happy either way.

At 7 weeks, 5 days, Baby was little more than a nugget with a heartbeat, but oh, what a blessing it was to hear that heartbeat!

At 12 weeks (June 6), Baby was beginning to show a lot more features. The doctor complimented Baby's nose bone and said everything was looking good.

These pictures were taken today (almost 24 weeks) and Baby has some beautiful bones. Here are presented a spine, a leg, an arm and a view of the back of Baby's head. We also found out today that my hunch was right, we have a girl! The biggest indicator to me that we were having a girl is that we had a very easy time picking a girl's name (chosen before baby was even conceived) but were having a very hard time settling on a boy's name. Her name shall be:

Alanna Virginia Watson

In our first musings on nomenclature, we hit on the name Alanna Jade over 2 years ago (while we were still driving the Cadillac) but we realized when we started thinking about it more seriously (January or February) that Alanna Jade sounded too much like something out of Dungeons and Dragons. We still liked Alanna and as we considered further, my dear Great-Aunt Virginia came to mind (the one who gave us the Cadillac) and we realized that the names flowed together beautifully. I cannot think of a woman I'd like her to be grow up to be like, except perhaps for my wife.

Thank you to all of you who have offered prayers and support through this time, as we have had our rough spots along the way. With a mid-December due date, we've still got a while before we officially welcome her to the world but it's nice to have a pronoun and a name to call her.

On the subject of tolerance

2011-07-13T01:45:00.000-07:00

After some recent discussions I've had with family and friends, I've felt the need to jot down and share some thoughts I've had with regard to the term "tolerance" and its application in today's society.

There are many today who, espousing a particular viewpoint or belief, will declare that those who disagree with them are "intolerant," quickly followed by accusations of hatred. Yet, by what definition is a person declared to be "intolerant?"

I must suppose, to begin, with the assumption that everyone believes that their personal beliefs have some degree of merit or, in other words, that they are in some way "right" in feeling or thinking the way that they do. Drawing upon an easy example, conservatives feel that conservative ideas have merit and liberals believe that liberal ideas have merit and each one feels that they are right and that the other is, by default, wrong.

Does this inherently imply that one side is intolerant of the other? While I do my best to try and see the logical basis behind any argument no matter how much I may disagree with it and while I am familiar with the idea that "A is right for me and B is right for you," many such ideas and beliefs are directly contradictory and I cannot conceive of a rational human being accepting all ideas presented to him/her as being correct and incorporating them into their philosophy.

I am, for example, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, more commonly known as Mormon. As such, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Savior of mankind. I also believe that God still speaks to mankind through a prophet, just as in ancient times. I believe the Holy Bible to be the word of God inasmuch as it is translated and preserved correctly. I also believe the Book of Mormon, written by ancient prophets on the American continent and revealed to a modern-day prophet, Joseph Smith, to be the word of God. These beliefs separate me ideologically from all but about 14 million of Earth's inhabitants which, compared with a little under 7 billion or so people on earth, is a fairly small group.

I am hardly immune from the right vs. wrong paradigm. Yes, I believe that I'm right. This implies that, while I believe that a lot of other faiths have valuable truths in their creeds, I believe that everyone else, at some point, is wrong. Does this make me intolerant? If so, does that automatically make me a hater and, thus, mean that I hate nearly 7 billion people?

By no means! One of the basic foundations of Christ's gospel, as I've discussed elsewhere in this blog, is to love everyone. EVERYONE. Think about that for a moment. I can wait.

While I cannot honestly state that I have achieved this perfect love of all mankind, I think I can honestly state that I don't currently hate anyone. Thus, in my case at the very least (and I believe that this extends to the rest of humanity as well), disagreeing with someone does not mean hating them, nor does it mean that one is "intolerant."

After all this, how do I define tolerance and, by extension, intolerance? To my way of thinking, it boils down to how we feel about and treat those who disagree with us. Do we attach a derogatory label to them by default, like one of my professors at BYU who, when it comes to politics, seems to automatically assume that anyone who disagrees with him is an idiot and, ergo, not worth his time nor a shred of politeness? This, to me, seems the very height of intolerance. As another real-life example, I recently heard of a friend of mine who had been labelled intolerant by a group of his peers because he disagreed with them on a particularly touchy political subject. A member of this group decided to buy cupcakes for everyone except my friend. Remind me, who's being intolerant here?

By contrast, getting back to the principle of loving all mankind, I believe that tolerance means loving and respecting everyone, whether they agree with you or not. As I once told a friend of mine while discussing another friend who had made what I believed to be a less-than-appropriate life choice, if I limited my circle of friends to those who strictly follow God's law according to *my* interpretation of it, I couldn't even be my own friend. The same applies for politics: If I only made friends with those who think the same way I do, I would have had VERY few friends in Connecticut. Thus, I still consider that previously mentioned BYU professor my friend (which is why he remains nameless here).

I leave you tonight with a scripture taken from the words of Christ which, while it never uses the word "tolerance," demonstrates my point well.

Matthew 5:43-48

⁴³Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.

⁴⁴But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

⁴⁵That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

⁴⁶For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same?

⁴⁷And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so?

⁴⁸Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.

Hypothetical future epic novel

2010-10-26T11:47:00.001-07:00

For quite some time now, I've had an idea for an epic novel floating around in my head. I have to confess that I don't believe I have either the talent or the time to write it well but it's an idea that I'd love to sell to someone one of these days. The central idea of the book is an exploration of meta-fiction. The main character, Tom (my prologue currently gives him an Homeric epithet, Thomas the Unbound) knows that he is a fictional character.

Furthermore, he knows that he is a main character which means that he is practically invincible, since an author will only kill his main character if it serves some higher, symbolic or poetic purpose (e.g. self-sacrifice) or if the author introduces someone or something more interesting than the main character with which to replace him. The author (to whom I have been referring as Arthur) basically tells him to find his own destiny in the fictional world and provides a guide to help him in his journey - Don Quixote de la Mancha.

Don Quixote is a powerful literary figure in that his belief shapes his reality. In the first part of Don Quixote, the fictions his madness invents are only in his own head but, by the second part, they begin to transform the world around him. Thus, centuries later, he has perfected to a degree the ability to travel between fictional worlds at will. His vision, however, is limited to books of chivalry and perhaps the bible (since a good knight is also a good Christian). Tom knows no such limits.

Tom begins travelling through the world of Fiction, gaining power as he learns more control. At some point, he analyzes his own text as though from an outside perspective, unsettling Arthur no end. He decides that he wants to be truly immortal. To achieve this end, he decides two things:

1. He must be the most interesting person imaginable and do many amazing things so that Arthur cannot invent anything more interesting.

2. He must be selfish - since self-sacrifice is a vulnerability - yet he must not become completely evil or risk the hand of poetic justice smiting him. He decides that being power-hungry is a reasonable balance between the two.

To gain in power, he begins placing himself in situations in which Arthur must grant him additional power in order to preserve him. In my great, climactic example, he travels to the biblical depiction of the 2nd temptation of Christ and flings himself from the temple heights. Since, in a biblical context, Arthur cannot send angels to support someone who isn't worthy of their protection, he must instead grant him the power of flight.

By the conclusion of the tale, Tom has gained enormous power. His control of the fictional world is virtually absolute. A massive storm builds behind him as he attempts to merge all fictional dimensions into a single, great kingdom, threatening to tear apart the very fabric of Fiction as we know it.

Arthur suddenly realizes that there is only one thing to be done to stop Tom once and for all. He writes himself into the novel and traps himself in it, knowing that a genuinely all-powerful author is the only thing more potentially interesting than a virtually all-powerful character. He destroys his creation, restoring balance to the fictional universe but now cannot leave.

Here's what I have written so far - it's only bits and pieces but I'd love to have the chance to make it more. One meta-fictional twist to it is that "I" shifts between Arthur and Tom as they struggle for power.

Prologue:

Sing to me, Muse, of Thomas the Unbound, of his glory and power that transcend understanding.  Speak to me that I may write his tale and do justice and honor to his name.  Fill me, oh Muses of Fiction and Fantasy with the power of pen to create new life.  Oh patron saints of madmen, artists and inventors, grant me thy gifts and bless me with the talent to bring him to life, to give him a voice and a will.

I set pen to paper and began to write.  "Thomas was a perfectly ordinary name, one that would fit well in almost any book.  This is precisely why it was a perfect name for the moat extraordinary figure ever created on a page."

Yes, that's a good start...

Chapter one:  the birth of a legend

I blinked open my eyes as if awaking from a long sleep which I knew I could not have had since I had never slept.  I looked around me, expecting nothing since nothing was precisely the sum total of my experience up until that moment and thus, nothing is exactly what I saw.

Nothing is quite so difficult to describe as nothing.  Except perhaps for eternity.  You may imagine, if it comforts you to do so, a field of white, glowing haze, a dark abyss or a simple, flat, gray plane but each of those is still something.  They have a color and a shape and so cannot be considered nothing.

I knew, though, that I could not be blind and that I ought to see something - even in the darkest chamber one can perceive the dark.  With that thought, I saw Him.  Arthur, His name came to me, was my creator, perhaps something akin to a father except with no possibility of a mother.

 *****

"What I'm telling you," replied Arthur calmly, "is that your destiny is completely your own.  As a fictional character, you have the freedom to do anything you can imagine."

"I haven't exactly had a lot of experience with imagining anything yet," I answered.  "How am I supposed to know what to do with my life without any experience to draw on?  I know nothing beyond my immediate context and those gifts of language you've given me."

"While I wish I could be your guide on your journey of self-discovery," said Arthur as he shook his head softly, "I am rather Ill-equipped for the task.  My life's experiences are those of a student, a writer and a simple father of a small family.  However, while I, myself, can only be your chronicler, I know the perfect guide to help you to find your own voice and lead you the rest of the way."

With that, Arthur bent once again over his notebook and began writing with his original furvor.  An admittedly overused (though no less impressive for that fact) swirling blue and purple vortex appeared providing a convenient image to accompany the appearance of a new figure onto the scene.

What first appeared through the portal was the head of an old, grey nag, well past its prime, whose decrepit body soon followed, bone by protruding bone.  Atop the horse sat a tall, gaunt figure dressed in a dirty, rusted suit of armor cobbled together, it seemed, from old kitchenware and a dingy yellow wash basin for a helmet.  For a moment, I doubted Arthur sanity as the weatherbeaten tail of the old gluepot passed into existence through the portal.  This was to be my guide?

My doubts were quickly put to rest, however, when the figure atop the horse raised his visor and said,"¿Quienes sois vosotros que me paréis aquí?". He glanced then at Arthur and inclined his head, his tone softening.  "O Sabio Encantador, escritor de la historia de mis hechos y aventuras en la Mancha, ¿que requiere vuesa merced de mi?"

I turned slowly to Arthur, certain now he had, indeed, lost his grip on reality or, rather, what passed for reality in a fictional context.  He returned my glance with a look of confusion.  He snapped his fingers as realization dawned on him.  "Of course, you don't understand Spanish.  Yet.". This last was added with a rueful grin and a quick scribble.

Heroes in a Colorful World

2010-10-23T18:31:00.000-07:00

Hi, everyone. It's been an exceptionally long time since my last post but I felt as though I had to stand up and say something today about racism. In a recent discussion, one of my colleagues, believing himself to be surrounded by fellow liberals (I am beginning to believe that I am the only conservative in the state of Connecticut) declared that those from the Right ignore racism and pretend that it no longer exists in our society.

At least in my case, this is most definitely a false perception of conservatives. I think the problem here, though, is one of how we define success in this area. Liberals, in general, seem to be very concerned with tracking numbers and percentages. "This percentage of CEOs are white males," they declare, for example, or "This percentage of black kids drop out of school compared to this percentage of white kids. And let's not forget the Hispanic kids, Asian kids and (more recently) homosexual kids," stating that this must change. The way they decide to change it is by fiat - the government declares, "thou shalt have no fewer than X percentage of employees be of Y racial background or thou shalt lose much money." Colleges are praised for their ethnic diversity and racially-based scholarships abound. If you can prove that you have Native American ancestry, even if your family is otherwise like every other family in your local corner of suburbia, you are presented with a cornucopia of opportunities unavailable to your Caucasian neighbor. Thus, for the liberal idealist, a perfectly racism-free society would have those numbers balance perfectly - if 15% of the population is *fill-in-ethnic-backgound* then they'll be happy when they count that at least 15% of CEOs, managers, politicians and major league baseball team owners are *fill-in-ethnic-background.*

I remember a time when I was blissfully unaware of the issue of race or racism. I was a middle-class kid attending a private school in Los Angeles. One day, I noticed a girl in my 1st grade class who I thought was cute which, predictably, instantly made me uncomfortable talking to her. Noticing my discomfort, she declared, "Well, you just don't like me because I'm black." My mind was completely blown. First off, I *did* like her - that was precisely my problem. Secondly, and this is the part I expressed, "What does that [being black] have to do with anything?"

That day, this girl taught me 2 lessons I wished I had never learned with that simple statement. First, she taught me that there was some sort of fundamental difference between black people and white people. I hadn't even considered breaking people up by their skin tone before that moment. People were people, end of story, right? Apparently, this little girl thought otherwise.

The second lesson of that brief exchange, even more damning than the first, was that being black was a reason to not like someone. Now, it's important to note here that this message was not being touted by a white supremacist or a redneck but by a 7 year old black girl. Obviously, our social programming starts very early and happens on both sides of the "tolerance" line.

The next year, we moved to Santa Barbara. A new school brought new friends and new, interesting social situations. My first best friend in Santa Barbara was a kid by the name of Paul Gosh (I apologize for not remembering how to spell that last name). I would come home and tell my parents about what I had done with Paul today at recess or what have you. Then one day he came over. My parents were somewhat surprised to find that my friend was quite dark-skinned, a fact which I had never once mentioned even though I spoke of him frequently. Despite my paradigm shift from the year before, I was still pretty darn colorblind with regards to race.

Over the next couple of years, though, a particular ethnic group started getting my attention. While I should stress that this is a viewpoint I no longer hold, I decided at that time that I had a problem with Mexicans (to use the overly generalized concept graspable by a 9-10 year old). Why, you may ask, would I develop that kind of prejudice? The answer is quite simple. While I tried to be a friend to as many people as were willing to be my friend (which were, admittedly, not very many people), they consistently traveled together as an exclusive and unapproachable gang around the playground. They set themselves apart from everyone else and made it clear in no uncertain terms that they really didn't want or need anyone from outside of their racial profile. This was my first encounter with "*Fill-in-the-minority-or-ethnic-group* Pride" and I. Really. Didn't. Get it. I still don't! Why, I thought, would you ONLY want to make friends with people with the same racial background and exclude everyone else? I was being taught segregation in reverse - rather than keeping *them* separate from *us,* they kept their *us* separate from all of *them* (their Them being our Us - if that makes any sense which it probably doesn't).

Fast-forward through the years a bit and you'll find all of the race-specific clubs, assorted "Pride" groups and a really frustrated/frustrating Mexican Spanish teacher who hated white guys (it's documented, folks!) reinforcing this idea that we are not all the same and that the difference between races is more than skin-deep.

Even as a missionary in Guatemala, I found various kinds of racism all around me. Among them, while the way the Ladino was viewed by Latino society was a shock, the most striking to me was that same paradigm I had encountered in elementary school being repeated among my fellow missionaries. While we were often placed in multi-racial companionships (I actually had more Latino companions than Gringos), there were always the zone meetings where all the missionaries from a large area got together for training and, usually, pizza. During the social pizza-consumption portion of the program, I realized to my dismay that, every time, all the Gringos would gather together in one room and all the Latinos would gather in another room, usually with the Gringos staying in the room with the pizza and the Latinos filtering out. It's obviously hard to point fingers in this situation as to who is at fault - I really felt as though this minor xenophobia was some kind of "natural" (in the sense that the natural man is an enemy to God) process that I had somehow missed out on. Of course the English speakers want to hang out with English speakers if only so they can get a break from Spanish, right?

I made my choice then. When groups started separating, I always followed the Latinos. Even if I stuck out, even if I maybe even made someone uncomfortable by my presence, even though my grasp of the language wasn't all that great, I refused to be party to segregation, no matter how voluntary. I believe that any advantage I have/had in Spanish over my fellow Gringos is due, at least in part, to that choice. While I once hated the Spanish language because I associated it with those kids who ganged up on me in dodgeball and that Señora with her issues, I came to embrace it as a means of bridging the gap, of crossing into the space of "the other" and becoming one with them. While I have instructors here at UConn who dismissively decline to so much as comment on the idea (raised by my classmates) that we Gringos in the masters' program might be part of Latinoamerica, by choice rather than by birth, I truly feel that part of my heart is Latino. Okay, specifically Chapín but that's another story.

Boiling all this back down and bringing it back to my original point, my experiences have led me to a quite different conclusion regarding how we can measure success in combating racism. Instead of changing numbers it involves a change of heart - truly loving all people equally as God has commanded us. If you love your neighbor as yourself, you won't care what color they are, what their ethnic background is. You'll support them, share with them, raise your children together in harmony, not "in spite of" racial differences but because they really, honestly don't matter to either of you. If you truly love all of God's children the way we should, there will be no *us* and *them.*

It involves parents not teaching their children hate, but love, and I'm talking about both ends of the equation here. While I know that there are many white supremacist groups out there teaching their kids a gospel of hate - and that clearly needs to come to an end - I have to ask where that 7-year old girl learned that white people wouldn't like her because she was black? She certainly didn't learn it in school and she didn't learn it from me. Combating racism is a struggle for every home, every parent and every child. Once a parent has taught their child to hate or that they will be a victim of hate at the hands of white oppressors, as soon as a parent teaches their child a dichotomy between *us* and *them* along those lines no governmental edict or fiat will change their heart. Teach the parents to teach their children that love.

This change of heart won't be something you can measure, count or calculate percentages on precisely because that would defeat the purpose. As soon as you start thinking in terms of race, of comparing and contrasting along racial or ethnic lines, you are perpetuating the problem.

In my heart, I stand together tonight with Dr. King: I have a dream that one day all of God's children will be as equal in each others' sight as we are in His. I have a dream that every man will love his neighbor. I have a dream that we can start working towards that today. To quote Dr. King:

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that my . . . children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

Four Years and Six Flags

2010-05-07T16:28:00.000-07:00

For our anniversary, Emilee and I decided to go to Six Flags, New England and check it out. It just barely opened for the season a short time ago so we knew there would be few crowds, making it an ideal time to test-drive a new theme park. While there were some disappointments, we decided at the end of the day that we had had enough fun to upgrade our 1-day tickets to season passes.

When we first got there, the coaster name that was blared at us from all sides was Bizarro. This mammoth purple contraption had guests streaming towards the back of the park and looked like a lot of fun. We zipped through what little line there was at that point, secured our loose articles (not doing to can result in being ejected from the park - trying to take a picture or use a cell phone on a ride can get you banned for 5 years) and climbed aboard - only to find that the ride's restraints were insufficient for my girth. Even having lost somewhere between 40 and 45 pounds since August, the seatbelt didn't simply not fit, it was several inches away from it. Even Emilee, far slenderer than I, just barely squeezed into the restraint. We were encouraged to try "another, less restrictive ride, like Batman" by the ride attendant who helped me out of the restraints I had managed to get on.

After this quite disappointing beginning, we tried another ride - Thunderbolt, oldest coaster still in operation at the park. After squeezing my hindquarters into the seat, I found that this belt, at least, was quite accommodating. While the squeeze was a tight one, I quite enjoyed this ride, helping to lift the dark mood, especially when Emilee helped me realize that I might not have been able to ride it 45 pounds ago. "We've earned a coaster!" became the rallying cry. At this point, Emilee recalled that a list of girth-restrictive rides was available at Guest Relations, so we headed there. I asked for that list, which prompted several minutes of searching in various cupboards and drawers, after which the young woman helping me simply jotted down the rides she hears a lot about - these were Bizarro, Tomahawk, Twister and Scream, the latter three of which weren't that interesting to us anyway. She mentioned that "Any ride with a shoulder harness might be a problem, but some of them, like Batman, have a modified belt in the middle so they're less restrictive."

We began wandering at random at that point and found Houdini's Great Escape, which turned out to be a very fun little thrillusion to which we returned at the end of our stay. Further description of the ride would spoil the surprise for anyone interested in going but it's a lot of fun. Pandemonium was also fun, a fairly standard small coaster setup but with spinning seats, adding a fascinating element of unpredictability to the ride.

Cyclone also turned out to be a very tight fit. A VERY tight fit, requiring some help from the ride attendant to get buckled. It was kind of a rough ride and a bit of a stomach turner. What really made us decide to take a break, though, was Flashback, a shoulder-harnessed ride that spins you around first going forward then going backward. My shoulder harness loosened just a click on the way up the inertia-gathering slope, causing just a bit of sheer terror as I clung to it, just in case. After returning from our lunch break, we rode a teacups ride quite similar to that at Disneyland and Catwoman's Whip, a gentler coaster which served as a good transition back into action.

From here, we headed to Mind Eraser, a dangly, twisty ride. Noting that there would be shoulder harnesses, I asked a line worker what my odds were of fitting on the ride. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "I'm sure you'll be fine." I clambered up the ride, slipped into the seat, pulled down the harness and pulled up on the belt which buckles into the harness. . . and discovered that it was several inches too short. Noting that the general statement about shoulder harnesses was true, I asked the ride operators about these rides more generally and was told that Batman had a few seats with a different belt system. Are we noticing a running theme here?

I was also too big for Batman.

Admittedly, the ride DID have a couple of more accommodating seats. If they had been about one inch more accommodating, I would have been just dandy. Ah, well. We got away from that part of town and found Splash Water Falls, a ring-shaped raft ride. A lack of seat belts made this one an attractive choice, so we got in line. We found ourselves behind a VERY dorky group of high schoolers who kept chanting random phrases and screaming at their friends who were on the ride. It was about the time they started randomly singing, "We are the champions" that I prayed for deliverance. My prayer was rapidly answered as the line worker asked for a party of two, one of several times that our nature as a small family came in handy. This ride made us dizzier than any other but it was a lot of fun.

At Emilee's suggestion, we then got on the bumper cars for a quick bout before repeating Houdini. As we began heading to that section of town, we noticed that some fellow travelers were wet, leading us to discover that Blizzard River, which had been closed when we arrived at the park, had beenre opened. Having just had a great time on a raft ride, we clambered aboard - only to find that the curse of the seat belts had come calling again. Thankfully, with the ride operator's help, we were able to bridge the gap and got on our way. The chilling mist on this ride, in addition to being a welcome change from the heat of the afternoon, was a great special effect to go with the penguins and fake ice floes. Neither Emilee nor I were the direct recipients of the waterfalls on the ride but we still felt nicely damp when we got off.

All in all, even with the number of rides we had to cross off as inaccessible, we had a really good time. It being an anniversary trip, I reflected that it really was a good synopsis of married life - there are disappointments and trials but sticking through it together makes it all worthwhile. Just as we got season tickets in anticipation of future visits, we look forward to many more years of happy married life.

Part of Your World: The Little Mermaid as a post-colonial text.

2010-04-16T22:11:00.000-07:00

My Literary Analysis professor has decided that, instead of a final exam, we can opt to write a 5-7ish page paper on the text of our choice - we just have to clear it with him first. He's really into film so I think this idea has a shot, but in case it doesn't, I wanted to jot down my notes for a possible future topic. Plus, they're bouncing around in my head and won't let me sleep. Rather than writing the entire paper here (and being up until 5:00 AM at least doing it), I'll restrict myself to a basic outline.

Basic ideas of post-colonial lit included here: The subaltern (oppressed and voiceless) and transnationalism (border societies, border crossings).

1. Merfolk are, by nature, a transnational group: Being half human and half fish, they have the ability to exist between these two worlds but never quite be an integral part of either one. King Triton has rejected the human aspect of his origins and commands his followers to do the same. While they have many fishy friends, they are not truly fish but are seen as something greater, as demonstrated by the deference shown them by (most of) the creatures of the deep. Thus, they have set up their own nation, Atlantica, within the ocean realm.

2. Ariel's grotto as a transnational space: Ariel, in opposition to her father, actively seeks out her human origins. Long before Prince Eric enters the picture, her curiosity about the human world leads her to intensive study including the collection of artifacts and anecdotes via her transnational contact, Scuttle. (see 2.5 below) It is within her transnational space, embracing both her aquatic and human roots, that she feels "at home."

2.5 Scuttle as a self-deluded transnational figure: He believes he understands the human world through his observations but really has no clue. Living proof that living somewhere doesn't make you an expert.

3. Part of your world: Ariel recognizes that, study as she might, she can never truly understand the human world without living among humans. While she has clearly learned a great deal of their language ("What's that word again? Street!"), she recognizes that something is missing, saying "I want more." She is not speaking of adding more thingamabobs or dinglehoppers to her collection but of gaining intimate understanding of the human world. This desire becomes even more keen with the entrance of Prince Eric and her ensuing infatuation.

4. Ariel in exile: King Triton learns of Ariel's treasure(d) grotto and misunderstands it as a subversive space rather than one of expression and exploration. As any number of colonizing and governmental forces have done through the ages, Triton destroys Ariel's transnational home, forcing her to choose between her origins. Having just been betrayed by all that she associates with her aquatic roots and feeling that she has nothing left there, she chooses to cross the border.

4.5a Ursula as the Coyote: She facilitates Ariel's border crossing but, as many migrant smugglers, extorts a heavy, manipulative price.

4.5b "Don't underestimate the importance of 'body language'. . . Yes, on land it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word:" In addition to being an illegal immigrant (for whom the border patrol will come in 3 days unless she can get her green card), Ursula points out that Ariel is and will be subaltern in her position as a female in a "man's world." Being unable to speak (both figuratively and literally), Ursula proposes that Ariel's only potential for power and influence within a patriarchal human society is her sexuality.

5. Voiceless: Ariel may have felt powerless under Triton's rule, but she now finds herself across the border, truly subaltern and voiceless. By a stroke of good fortune, she finds herself being ushered into what Angel Rama called la Ciudad Letrada (the Lettered City) but it is quite obvious, mainly from her initial awkwardness with human society caused by her incomplete knowledge, that she doesn't really "belong" there. She is quite clearly a guest of this society, not a member.

6. Deportation: She begins to adapt quickly to rules of this new society but every moment she spends adapting brings the border patrol closer to her door. She is caught and deported before she can secure her green card. While she may have regained her voice, she certainly has lost any shred of influence she may have possessed in either of the two worlds, having sacrificed all she had to the Coyote.

7. My hero: Ariel, disenfranchised and powerless, lies at the bottom of the whirlpool. She can do nothing for herself but feebly attempt to survive. It is not she but Prince Eric, representative of the Lettered City, who holds the power to save the day, release her from her prison and the bonds into which she placed herself and restore order to the world.

8a. "Get everything you wanted. . .": In the end, Ariel is granted the opportunity to remain with her prince in the Lettered City. The use of the word granted is carefully chosen here as she does nothing to "earn" her place in this world but, rather, is gifted her desires by Prince Eric and King Triton, both patriarchal authority figures.

8b, ". . . lose what you had.": As Triton says, "There's just one problem left. . . how much I'm going to miss her." She gains her voice in her new nation but at a tremendous cost, perhaps even worse than that exacted by Ursula: She is forever cut off from her society of origin. As with any subaltern seeking to have a voice in the Lettered City, she must adapt to their discourse, their way of life, and sever her ties with her family and friends. She has her green card and her prince but is otherwise quite alone.

Note: Quote for 8a and 8b is from Princess and the Frog.

Semi-practical applications of what I'm studying!

2010-03-19T21:49:00.001-07:00

One of the most crucial facets of the evolution of current literary criticism is the search for Meaning. During the study of it, the image comes to mind of a child asking, "Mommy, where does Meaning come from?" Not too very long ago, Meaning was thought to be tied in to the author's "intent." What the author meant to say with the text was what the text said.

Then came Barthes and said, similar to the declaration of Nietzsche, "The author is dead." According to Barthes and his contemporaries, a text, once written, is a separate entity from its author and the Meaning of the text must lie there, within the text itself, divorced from the author. While the author is alive, of course, they may write commentaries in an attempt to clarify the matter, but the text itself remains apart, as do each of the commentaries. This gave rise to the idea of the indeterminacy of Meaning, that a text can have many different Meanings embedded therein.

Following along those lines, in more recent years, the source of Meaning has been again transferred, this time to the reader. Reader Response Criticism (and other related schools of thought) state that it is the responsibility of the individual reader to, not simply find Meaning within a text but, rather, to place Meaning into the text in the process of reading it. The Meaning they find, of course, will depend upon their prejudices - not prejudices in the currently common negative sense, but with the idea of that which we are preconditioned to receive through our life experiences and the kind of person we are as a result of them.

With that out of the way, we get to the practical part of this blog entry. On a light-hearted note, Reader Response Criticism applies just as well to films and television as it does to printed media and Burton's production of Alice in Wonderland is a perfect example. Each of us comes into a theatre with certain prejudices - again, in the sense of a predisposition rather than one of bigotry, though such may be part of our prejudices - which color our viewing of the film. A person with a strong bias against fantasy films, Tim Burton, Disney or Johnny Depp is likely to find themselves disappointed. Some reviewers look to what they believe the author's intent to be, one saying "Lewis Carroll himself was not a writer but a mathematician [. . .] who liked the illogical, if that's how you wanted to approach the story then add in some of the illogical." One reviewer referred to it as "something like a post-modern tale of self-discovery." It could be interpreted as a feminist discourse as Alice becomes an independent woman freed from the shackles of her society. Emilee responded to it as a tale of courage as Alice finds the strength to be what she needs to be.

Personally, I discovered in Burton's rendition a striking lesson on the relationship between free will and divine foreordination. Alice arrives in Wonderland to find that her role has been foretold by a mystic scroll (I like that line - quite poetic, I think), an idea which she finds quite distasteful. She at first attempts to deny that role, stating, "This is my dream," and expresses a determination to reshape her destiny according to her own will. As the film progresses, however, through the guidance of the Mad Hatter and Absalom, the blue caterpillar, her determination to bend the world to her whims lessens. The White Queen's advice to her is, to my mind, the cornerstone of the message - she tells Alice that, if she is to serve in her role as the predestined hero of Underland, it must be her own choice to do so. A final push from Absalom commenting on metamorphosis and change brings her around to choose her predestined course.

We have been foreordained - predestined, if you wish - to that which God would have us do, but we always have a choice. We may choose to say, as Alice, "This is my life, and I'll do with it as I please." God's knowledge, however, is far greater than our own - His ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts than our thoughts, as Isaiah reveals. We must not seek to bend divine will to suit our own desires. We will find ourselves far happier if we learn to say, as Christ, "Not my will, but thine be done." Conforming our will to the will of the Father - making His path not only our foreordained one but also our chosen one - is the key to happiness, both in this life and in the world to come.

On that note, the Bible was a text (or, rather, a set of texts which were later compiled) which was/were written with a very specific intent, to lead people in a righteous path which would bring them back to our Father. The writings and actions of prophets and apostles contained therein demonstrated that the people, left to their own devices, found all sorts of Meanings in the text which strayed from the greater Author's intent. The leaders of God's flocks worked to give course correction through further correspondence and discourse and throughout their assorted journeys, all guided by the great Author.

But, just as Barthes said, the mortal authors of these texts are dead. Their works have been left open to interpretation and the proliferation of Christian churches and creeds which we see today are evidence of how many different Meanings can be found within that sacred text. People are ideologically tossed about by differing viewpoints and interpretations, all based on different individual understandings of the Bible. Reader Response Criticism put into practice produces a world of confusion about the Author's intent which, in the case of holy writ, is quite important, as stressed by its mortal authors.

Thus we may see the critical need, in today's world, for continued input from the Author of our souls to clarify the true Meaning of the sacred text. Thus the need for continuing revelation, of prophets and apostles "to guide us in these latter days." They provide, through their intimate revelatory connection with the Author, not simply *an* interpretation of scripture but *the* interpretation, the only one of divine origin.

Relating to my earlier point, God as our Author must be allowed to give continual input if we are to find true Meaning in our own lives. Through the guidance of the Holy Ghost, God can be not only our Author but our Authority, directing us in all things to our good. We must not simply rely on our own interpretation of the text of our lives but turn to Him and allow our story to unfold.

Reflections on the Looking Glass

2010-03-16T21:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Emilee and I went to see the Disney/Tim Burton production of Alice in Wonderland. When dealing with the surreal, dreamlike world presented by Lewis Carroll, one expects to find qualities both of dreams and of nightmares. For every Frumious Bandersnatch, there's a Vorpal Sword awaiting the hand of a hero. This film, as such, is neither the itty-bitty-friendly land of enchanted princesses we often associate with Disney nor the haunting and often haunted universe many associate with Tim Burton. The tone of the film is somewhat more akin to the Dungeons and Dragons modules based on the books - nothing is quite as it seems nor, perhaps, quite as you remember (or as Alice fails to remember) and it's hard to know whose side everyone is on - all presented with the flair, panache and spectacle (including great CGI effects) of Disney and Walden Media's first Chronicles of Narnia film.

While the CGI creatures are eye-popping (those of you who have seen the film will know exactly what I mean) and the backdrops breathtaking, the crew outdid themselves with Alice's wardrobe. With the various growing and shrinking that Alice does during the film, her dress is rarely quite up to the task, but she somehow (whether by magical means or through some help from the Hatter) finds herself in a new gown, each more glorious than the last a la Dr. Seuss's 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, all while exposing little flesh below the shoulders.

And, to any of my friends in Provo waiting for the dollar theatre, I suggest that you don't. This is a film which cries out for a theatre capable of making full use of a good theatre's sound system and 3D capabilities. The clearest example is Alice's high-speed tumble down the rabbit hole, where you hear objects approaching from the back of the theatre just before they whoosh past your/Alice's head.

In summary, hats (mad or otherwise) off to Disney, Burton and the rest.

Mental Meanderings in the Morning

2010-02-28T01:44:00.000-08:00

It has long been said that when you can't sleep because you've got too much running through your head, the best thing to do is write it down to get it out of your head. So, here goes:

I'll be administering another quiz on Monday and I keep going over the quiz in my head: Is this question fair? Did I phrase that clearly? Did I make an embarrassing mistake?

Before the quiz, there's a review activity: Did I set it up right? Will it run smoothly? Will they enjoy it as much as I hope they do? Will it really be a good enough review to be worth it?

Then I get to more general worries about teaching: How am I going to cover All This material before Spring Break? I'm SO sick of giving instructions for an activity and hearing, "So, what are we doing?" or "So, we're doing X?" in English. When they work in pairs or groups, I hear a bunch of them asking their partners, in English, what they're supposed to be doing. PAY ATTENTION! I honestly do make the instructions clear if you'll just listen up!

My thoughts about teaching wouldn't be complete without my Sunday School class tomorrow (or, every other week, leading the music for Primary). Did I plan well enough? Will the students/kids get what they need to out of the lesson? Will I make some colossal blunder and lose the respect of student/kids and teachers/parents alike?

Of course, I've got my own schoolwork to worry about. I've got a short paper due on Tuesday for which I haven't gotten beyond the planning phase. There's ALWAYS more reading to do.

Then, to top it all off, one of my friends posted a Spanish (technically Castellano, but whatever) version of Hakuna Matata on Facebook and I've got the tune stuck in my head.

Finances play a part in there too, of course, but that's more of a consistent back-of-the-head concern.

So, there's my report. Wish me luck getting back to sleep!

Final Exam Prep - Part 5

2009-11-28T11:54:00.000-08:00

Terry - Quevedo y el Concepto Metafisico

Stated purpose of article: "examinar algunas de las cuestiones planteadas por el término <>"

The next page criticizes other critics.

Two types of concepto: Ornamental y Orgánico

Ornamental, tambien llamado "meramente extravagante": Una obra de ingenio en sí misma completa, autosatisfecha, que no tiene ulterior propósito en su contexto."

Ejemplos:
Polifemo 109-112
Quevedo 67b

Organico: Ilumina un tema importante para, por lo menos, una gran parte del poema.

Example: Yellowness of gold (wealth) -> straw -> straw hut (poverty/el campo) -> death shroud (414a)
meaning: "el buen cristiano es feliz en su pobreza y acepta el hecho de que ha de morir." As the hut covers a poor christian in life, the shroud will cover him in death.

Metaphysical conceptos are a subset of organic conceptos. To be metaphysical, a concepto must contain tension - the constant reiteration of certain problems. Special emphasis on Constant - not just a one-time joining sino que "Los elementos de un concepto metafísico deben ser tales que integren una unión sólida y, al mismo tiempo, mantengan su separada y flagrante identidad."

Soneto 54b-55a of Quevedo:

Cabello connected to Leandro & Icaro -> mar & sol as sources of danger. Suffering for love is simply part of amor cortés and is in no way metaphysical - as a result, there's no tension, so it's an organic concepto, not a metaphysical one. Same thing with the idea of "tener y no tener" in the last tercet presented by Midas and Tántalo.

In the first tercet, however, "hay una distinción... entre razón y pasión. ¿Es una oposición metafísica genuina? No en sí misma; con todo, es una distinción (y por supuesto una fuente de tensión) que puede hacerse para remitir a una oposición de ese género. El poema trata, en efecto, de la eternidad del amor humano - es decir, de su aspecto espiritual... espíritu/sentidos... no es en sí una oposición metafísica. Pero puede llegar a serlo en la medida en que se ordene hacia el contraste eterno/temporal: 'el corazón actúa como el amor fuese eterno; la razón sabe que no lo es'... esta clase de contraste...reclama la metáfora para expresarse con plenitud."

The central contrast is presented as being between the heart and the phoenix. The joining 'concepto' is that they both burn but have a hope of rising again. The real contrast which overlays the entire poem is between "el corazón que cree que renacerá y la razón que sabe que ha de morir.

Another example of the same concept - soneto 63a: Good ol' "cerrar podrá mis ojos..." by the mix of llama y agua to demonstrate the same eternal/temporal principal.

Final Exam Prep - Part 4

2009-11-27T15:49:00.000-08:00

Góngora's Polifemo: the Humor of Imitation.

Intro labels Góngora as an Erudite poet - those who "imitated the poets of Classical Antiquita and also the Italian Renaissance poets"

2 aspects of imitation: linguistic and poetic/thematic

Linguistic: "use of neologisms and Latinizing tendencies of his syntax."
"He is the poet who through imitation of the Latin language caused the balance to shift in favor of Spain in the debate between the ancients and the moderns."

Poetic/thematic aspect: "Góngora usually recalls specific lines of poetry, entire poems and the thematic material or topoi of Renaissance and Classical literature."
"Much of Góngora's poetry cannot be fully understood and appreciated if the context of the source is not borne in mind."

Goal of the chapter: "I would like to show how Góngora is using the literary principle of imitation as an important, if not a principal element in the narrative structure of the Polifemo."

"In its structure, Góngora's Polifemo consists of two principal parts, each of which has a different narrator. The narrator of the first part (80%) is Góngora, the poet, inspired by Talía... This second part is an imitation of the stanzas that have preceded it, and Góngora's final line before introducing the song of Polyphemus, "Referidlo, Piérides, os ruego" is intended rather humorously and with seeming exasperation to advise the reader that what follows are the words of a new narrator."

What follows is a LONG list of specific points in which Polyphemus's song is an imitation of Góngora - unfortunately, there really IS no way to boil that list down much. It pretty much goes line by line and says "This thing Polyphemus says is like this thing that Góngora says." Sorry.

Polyphemus imitates Garcilaso who, in turn, is imitating Ovid. Thus, Polyphemus is ALSO imitating Stigliani's overly wordy style at the climax.

"When one considers the Polifemo as the last, perhaps the most outstanding version in a long sequence of imitations, then Góngora's erudition comes into play and gives his thematic laitmotifs a complexity and depth that transcends the simpler process of reception and mutation."

Final Exam Prep - Part 3

2009-11-27T12:38:00.001-08:00

Uses of Classical Mythology in the Soledades:

Explores the use of Ovidian mythology in Soledades - begins by mentioning last 4 lines "each of which is a periphrasis for a mythical character"

Góngora's predecesors - Theocritus, Virgil, Boccaccio, Sannazaro

At this point, the copy the professor has provided is missing 2 pages - hope there's nothing important in there!

Presence of graeco-roman religion in pastoral in Sannazaro and Góngora. Sannazaro's references are always explained, never obscure.

*** Major quote which sums up article*** "[Góngora] eschews the straightforward ornamental description of a mythological tableau. He certainly uses myth in his pastoral for atmospheric purposes, but more figuratively than directly. Allusions to mythology lie thick upon the ground in the Soledades, but they are intrinsic to his expression rather to his matter. They illustrate and emphasize his meaning but are not in themselves part of his subject."

"Thus Baco confuso, Vulcán coronado, tanta Ceres, Neptuno, Febo, Venus are mixed wine, shepherds round a fire, rich crops, the sea, sun, love respectively with no suggestion of divinity or worship."

"Góngora, following Renaissance tradition, humanizes the world of nature by using metaphors from man and his activities, because he often uses Ovid's stories in reverse

"In the matter of classical pastoral Góngora depends more upon Virgil than upon any other classical author."

Accusation of obscurity rests on:
"constant use of allusive metaphor, an erudite and neologistic vocabulary, and different syntax."

Recurrent images:
Land/sea antithesis indicative of mistrust of commerce.
Ganymede and Adonis as types of masculine beauty.
Castor & Pollux in sonnets (320, 379) = St. Elmo's fire = hope amid the storm.
Power of Orpheus' song
Plants and animals - Nature

Menosprecio de corte etc.:
Bienaventurado albergue (I, 94-135)

Inserts poem into mythical realm:
II 460-464
II 584-597
"Whereas the rest of the Soledades can be explained and accepted on the plane of realism, these two episodes, and the hymeneal invocation they already discussed, seem to destroy for a moment the poise of the poem between fantasy and the poetical expression of reality"

Why did Góngora leave the Soledad segunda unfinished?
"In the Soledad segunda, the four references to this story [of Proserpina] serve no apparent purpose than that of periphrasis, in spite of the potential emotional and symbological significances the story offers. This is a very noticable falling away from the variety, aptness and ingenuity of the earlier parts of the poem. It does seem to suggest that one reason why Góngora left it unfinished was that he found his inventiveness failing, his pen diverging from his original intention."

"the legend of the mares who are made pregnant by the wind... is taken up by Góngora and applied with local patriotism to the horses of Andalusia (II, 724-728). This is the unique instance of precise geographical location of the Soledades and it is yet another distinction between the latter part of the poem and the rest, and again shows how far Góngora had moved from his original careful poise of uncommittedness."

Other examples of mythology in text:
I 7-8
I 1028-34
II 418-20
II 612-625
Spring and stream -> Snake (II 320-27)
Ocean -> centaur (9-13)

Final Exam Prep - Part 2

2009-11-26T15:23:00.000-08:00

Cap. 4 "The Greatest Love: Lisi.

First 2 pages are a discussion of why applying biography to Quevedo's poetry is a waste of time. So why did you waste our time talking about it?

Author dismisses the idea that the love for Lisi is platonic, citing references to Lisi's lap as a bed for a child and to touching (No. 477 - "Descansa en sueño, ¡oh tierno y dulce pecho!")

Bulls as a symbol of passion.
Love at first sight leads to (442)
Carpe Diem leads to
Desire for revenge for jilted love leads to (467)
Desperation/helpnessness in the face of impossible love - escarmiento (475, 478)
Deterrent to others (461)
Lisi "is the conventional 'belle dame sans merci'"

Author finally gets to the point!
*Imitation of Petrarch in this cycle of poems to Lisi* (starting on page 113 of article)

(491) declares 22 years since first encounter - Petrarch's love for Laura lasted 21 years.

Mythology:
452 uses Hercules
453 uses Jupiter

Conceptismo:
Love and death: 460 - also suggests persistance of love after death

Concern with death: (474, 475, 479, etc.)

"The passing of time and the consciousness of death are at the root of perhaps the profoundest and most elusive theme in Quevedo's love poetry, which has been variously defined as the 'ceniza enamorada' and 'amor constante' theme. It revolves around the assertion that the body, like the soul and its faculties, is eternal and as such retains its amatory significance even after death." (472)

Last few pages are about "Cerrar podrán mis ojos" and concludes with:
"In Lisi's poems, more than in any other collection of love poetry from the Spanish Golden Age, we have a poetic document of the fullness and complexity of human love."

Final Exam Prep - part 1

2009-11-25T22:03:00.000-08:00

For those who have been reading my blog for any length of time (if that list includes anyone other than my family, I'll be surprised), feel free to ignore this post and others which come under similar titles. One of my professors is giving us a final exam on Tuesday which is . . . shall we say all-inclusive. I'm working with a small study group to prepare for this exam and, toward that end, I'm posting my analysis of a few of the articles we've read for the class here.

El contexto poético de Góngora y los primeros poemas de Quevedo

Basically, his first page is spent in a discussion of how difficult and complex his topic is - lovely. From there, he discusses the gradual drift from Pertrarquist poetic style.

Central question of the article:
"¿Cómo han llegado a converger en ese momento dos corrientes aparentemente tan distantes en un solo tono de época, el que anuncia el esplendor de las jácaras y de la novela picaresca?"

Central point of the article: Define and explore "manierismo" in the context of Góngora and Garcilaso.

Potentially important quotes:
"La difusión del petrarquismo es, con toda seguridad, el comienzo de su decadencia como modo poético prestigioso."

"Si consideramos que la poesía renacentista triunfa entre 1545 y 1565, y que el barroco aparece muy en las postrimerías del siglo XVI, el manierismo ocuparía ese hueco del último tercio del siglo XVI del que pretendemos hablar."

"Estéticamente se romperá la unidad entro lo formal y lo espiritual. . . En esta distorción el manierismo intenta liberar a lo espiritual de su costra formal."

"El manierismo se reencuentra con viejas corrientes clásicas, el estoicismo particularmente, que le prestan su tono rancio y meditativo. Pero por "manierismo" entendemos también la sobreimportancia de los elementos decorativos y formales. . . para mostrar la "manera" como ésta se ha fabricado."

**"El petrarquismo tardío se proyecta, pues, hacia varios caminos esencialmente: el refinamiento artístico, el desvío moral y neoestoico que busca nuevas fuentes en el inagotable minero de los clásicos, el distanciamiento irónico, el espiritualismo exagerado o tortuoso."**

"En general todas las colecciones de la última década contienen poemas que anuncial el mundo picaresco y la carcajada barroca. Y por lo que se refiere a esta última colección, inserta ya, como se sabe, algunos de los primeros romances de Góngora." This has a footnote: "Por ejemplo el Ciego que apuntas y atinas... Arrojóse al mancebito."

"En muchos de ellos Góngora dialoga con el género que practica, pero con una clave artístico-lírica, de muchos quilates, o en tono humorístico, tal el 'Ensíllenme el potro rucio...' "

Mention is made of "mezclar metros, incluso romances y formas italianas."

Major point: "En estas dos décadas finales del siglo XVI existe una clara conciencia de tradición gastada, de final de ciclo. . . lo gastado es el tono meloso, el exceso lírico, el lenguaje petrarquista, la metaforización imaginativa en el mundo morisco y - menos - pastoril; el exceso expresivo; la propia retórica de lo uno y de lo otro."

"En el 'alma' del sujeto burgués que se paraba a contemplar Garcilaso ya no habita exclusivamente el amor, como fuerza poderosa y cósmica que todo lo llena. . . es también el espacio de la angustia, la soledad, el placer... que no provoca el amor tan solo."

"[e]l tono grave y meditativo de las epístolas y de las odas: las ruinas, el paso del tiempo, la amistad, el estudio... son temas muy característicos de esta poesía. . . hasta que el joven Quevedo, hacia 1603, creyó encontrar en la silva estaciana el modelo clásico. . ."

"La otra gran novedad - la primera hubo de ser la de la poesía neoestoica - . . . habían aprendido a versificar a partir del endecasílabo, y volvían a cantar en versos de arte menor."

Boiling it down - Góngora, by expertly mixing classical italianate forms with recent poetic sentiments and ideas, functioned as a transitional agent between poesia renacentista and the barroco. This transitional period, which we call manierismo, saw an abandonment of certain clasical ideals and forms (see bolded paragraph) in favor of current cultural concepts such as irony and burla metapoética.

Hi again, at long last!

2009-10-29T22:35:00.000-07:00

Hey out there, friends, fans and family, I'm stopping by here briefly in between things to give everyone some updates! First of all, let me apologize for the long gap between entries - I've got a heavy workload in my classes that just keeps getting more interesting as time goes on. I think I'm starting to get a handle on things now. First, a list of what's keeping me busy:

1. Golden Age Literature. So far this semester, I've written a 5-page (a full page and a half of which hinged on the interpretation of a single word) analysis (on which I got a 94% - YAY) of a sonnet by Góngora (one of the giants of his century) and given a presentation about my final project for the class, which will be a 15-20 page paper whose major focus is a comparative analysis of the sonnets of Garcilaso de la Vega of Spain and Sá de Miranda of Portugal - so chosen because they've got really similar backgrounds (to the point that it was rumored ((my instructor believes that the rumor is false, however) that they were both in love with the same woman!) as the men who brought Petrarchan Italianate verse to their respective countries. Some fun, eh? Not to mention, what an incredibly long and rambling sentence! What am I, some kind of literature student? Oh yeah . . .

2. Modern Hispano-American Poetry. I recently turned in (and got 8/10 on, which I take as a good thing since some others in the class have simply been asked to rewrite their paper from scratch) a 5-page paper about a poem written by Jorge Luis Borges (one of the coolest modern authors I've ever run across - if he's good enough to quote at my convocation opening ceremonies (not to mention in General Conference!!), then he's good in my book!) titled, in translation, John 1:14. The title of my paper: The gospel of Sartre (The guy who basically founded the philosophy of existentialism) according to Saint Borges. With the underlying concept of existentialism as defined by Sartre being "existence precedes essence," it really is amazing how existential John 1: 1-14 is! I'm currently in the middle of a similar paper on a poem by Octavio Paz, a major surrealist poet. Besides a simple analysis of his poem Olvido, I'll be comparing it to the works of Salvador Dalí, most particularly The Broken Bridge and the Dream. This blog entry represents a brief mental respite from that one. My final project for this class will be a 15-20 page analysis of Borges's abandonment of Ultraism (a school of thought of which he was one of the major founders). Borges's departure from Ultraism was sufficiently severe that he later rewrote a lot of his early poetry when his "complete works" were assembled. I'll be focusing on the differences between the original and the updated version.

3. Literary Approach to the Spanish Civil War. Each week for this class, we read a THICK tome (generally between 400-600 pages, though we've had some plays of late which has helped) about the Spanish Civil War, mostly works which take an autobiographical look at the author's experiences during the war. We then (each week) write a couple of informal pages of our thoughts about what we've read. My final project for this class has taken an interesting turn. I had originally thought to take a "War: What is it good for - according to each of the authors we've looked at?" approach for my final (15-20 page) paper but our instructor doesn't want us to base our final paper on what we're reading for class. That's right, he doesn't want us to use the approximately 3,500 pages of material we will have read by the end of this class. My current thought, after a brief discussion with him, is to base my paper on "Political Applications of Religious Archetypes in Art and Iconography of the Spanish Civil War." At least with that, I don't have to read quite as many thousands of additional pages, I just have to talk about pictures. All three of my instructors seem to love tying in visual arts to the literature - good thing I took those Art History classes back at SBCC! Thank you, Professor Handloser, wherever you are!

4. Work at UConn Residential Life's Front Desk. I spend 20 hours a week waiting for phone calls from people who either have maintenance issues or have foolishly locked themselves out of their dorm rooms. Thankfully, not a whole lot of calls come in between midnight and 3:00 AM (which is part of my shift on Wednesday-going-into-Thursday) so there's hypothetically time to get some reading done. Unfortunately, between the TV, the interruptions and the siren song of Facebook, it's not really a productive place to get my schoolwork done.

5. Emotional issues. First, a bit of history. As those of you who either know me or have followed this blog know (if you're one of those people, feel free to skip down to number 6 unless you'd really like a synopsis), I've been dealing with cyclical bouts of depression since January of 2004 (at which time I was ministering to a small congregation on the Guatemalan coast). The diagnosis given at that time was clinical depression and, after some experiments with Prozac (during which time I wrote this poem) they settled me in on Zoloft. This kept me, if not happy then at least functional through the beginning of 2006. My then-fiancee, Emilee, pointed out that, even though the Zoloft kept my bouts of depression down to about once a month, it also blanded me out so that I never seemed really happy. I left the Zoloft behind, convinced that my newfound love would banish my doubts and depression.
It didn't.
I saw a new psychologist in Provo, Doctor Griffin, who declared, "you're not just depressed - you're bipolar!" and prescribed Lamictal (for the depression) and Lithium (for manic moments) My bouts of depression began to come much less frequently, eventually only striking when I was under significant stress (read that as Finals Week).
That all changed when we got to UConn.
With the stress of a new environment, homesickness, financial pressures of student debt, missing our friends in Provo, missing our families in Utah and California, being thrust into graduate school without much guidance as to what the heck I was supposed to be doing here (not to mention the question pounding in the back of my head - what the heck AM I doing here?? Every time I tell people I came here from Southern California for graduate school, they ask that exact same question, reinforcing the issue), the depression became an almost constant burden. Finally, realizing that I needed more help, I set up an appointment to talk to someone at UConn's mental heath facilities.

6. New meds and a new diagnosis! After meeting with Doctor Powers (Psychologist) and Doctor Grace (Psychiatrist) at UConn's mental health facilities, they became convinced that I wasn't bipolar after all - especially since the dosage of the lithium was, clinically speaking, insufficient to have any real affect! Finding that I had a history with A.D.D. (I took Ritalin through high school), Doctor Grace took me back to cyclical clinical depression - A.D.H.D. just makes my normal, happy times SEEM like manic moments! Last week, they took me off the lithium and, instead, put me on VyVance - a fun little drug that's kind of like Ritalin, but with a very important difference. It doesn't take time to build up in the bloodstream - it's more like a 12-hour aspirin (if aspirin cured chaos as well as pain). On day one, I noticed a difference - as though my brain was reawakening to a level of intelligence which it and I had forgotten. This effect lessened over the next couple of days and I felt somewhat emotionally fragile. This Tuesday, I spoke with Doctor Grace again who said of my experience, "Perfect! That's exactly what I expected! Now we have to play with the dosage so you can feel that smart every day!*" She told me to experiment with different dosages - take 2 or 3 and observe the results. "You'll know if it's too much - you'll kind of bland out." Where have I heard that analysis of my personality before? Today I tried taking 2. I feel that I have been more productive and Emilee notes that I seem happier today. Yay for modern medicine!
*at least, for 12 hours of every day. Today's twelve hours, coincidentally, ended shortly before I began this blog entry.

I'm still hoping to get Emilee to post something about our trip to the Omaha zoo but that can wait. Come on, world - I'm ready for ya!!!!

We interrupt this travelogue . . .

2009-08-17T15:59:00.000-07:00

To bring you a Charity Challenge!

**Step 1**
For all of you out there with a spouse/significant other who is NOT currently in the room or very close by:

Think of 3 reasons why you love them.
Contact them immediately and share your feelings.
DO NOT mention this challenge in the process. If you do, you score no points!

For all of you out there with a spouse/significant other or other close family member who IS currently in the room or very close by:

Go right now and give them a hug.
Look them in the eye and tell them that you love them.
If you laugh, you score no points!
Sometime this week, do them a special, secret favor.
If you call attention to it or tell them you did it because of this challenge, lose 10 points!

For all of you out there without a spouse/significant other (bonus points for those who do have one!):

Take a moment to think of a friend, family member or neighbor whose life you can bless today by either your presence or your words.
Pray about it, then act on it!
DO NOT mention this challenge in the process. If you do, you score no points!
If you can't think of anything/anyone, lose 5 points!
If you think of something you could do to bless someone's life and you don't do it, lose 10 points!

**Step 2**
For everyone:

Do someone in your life (other than the person from Step 1) a favor today.
Say something kind to someone else today.
Say an extra prayer for someone today.
Introduce yourself to someone you don't know this week.
If you call attention to doing any of these things or mention this challenge as your impetus, no points for you!

**Step 3**
Scoring

Your score is determined by how happy you feel when you finish.
Are you satisfied with your score?
If so, doesn't it feel nice? Keep up the great work!
If not, keep trying!
Regardless, try to be charitable every day. I promise that your life will be blessed for it even more than the lives you personally touch!

Road Trippin' to CT. Chapter 1: Getting out of Utah

2009-08-11T14:04:00.000-07:00

We got internet hooked up in our new apartment today, so it's time to share some of our experience with everyone.

First, a huge thank you to everyone who helped us move out (especially our good buddies, the Auds), those who helped us move in (Jason, you da' man!) and, most of all, to my parents who made the whole enterprise possible. Without their old van (which we have redubbed "Cosmo" in honor of BYU's mascot) and them behind the wheel of their new van (St. Lawrence), we would pretty much have nothing left.

Our first stop on the trip was an unscheduled one just a few miles up Provo Canyon. As we began reaching higher speeds, the mattress and box springs atop the vans were wobbling and shifting uncomfortably. While bungees are supposed to stretch, it was enough to worry us. Mom and Dad noticed first and called us to let us know they had pulled over. We stopped by Bridal Veil falls to give them a chance to take a look and snapped our first photos of the voyage.

We started on our way and realized that the mattress on our roof was having trouble, too. I fished out the 200 ft. length of twine we had purchased and wound it through the eyelets of the tarp, around the car's windows and vents and over the top of the mattress. Feeling slightly more secure, we continued driving - until we heard a loud SHUNK behind us - the sound of the twine snapping.

We pulled over again and contemplated ditching the mattress - it was a $500 investment, but we'd never get to Connecticut this way. Mom, ever the crafter, crocheted the twine into a triple-thick line which we wound over the top of the mattress. With that reinforcement, we were able to make it to Heber (a normally 20 minute drive which became a 2-hour journey) and a hardware store. Dad purchased a set of 8 ratcheting bands which we fastened around the mattress and box springs to lock them in place, which gave us peace of mind through the journey.

Okay, I admit it, I was still paranoid about it through the journey, but at least it provided some amusement. At one point, the side view of our mattress with its billowing tarp resembled, as my parents put it, "a low-slung Italian sports car." Mom and Dad, having a less flexible bundle, looked more like this through the rest of the trip:

Stay tuned for Chapter 2: Going to the Zoo

Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, ladies gotta have girl time

2009-07-27T00:59:00.000-07:00

Note to begin: If the person/people who inspired this thought process read this blog entry (unlikely, but possible), please don't take this personally - you just gave me some food for thought. Thank you.

Moving on. Everyone knows that, no matter how much you love your spouse (or Significant Other, as the case may be), there are times in life when you just need to spend time with people of your same gender, people who more or less think like you do. Ladies needing "girl time," or guys needing "man time" (or whatever your group calls it) is understandable and perfectly okay. How this is accomplished, however, may need some review. The following options assume that there is a goal of a gender-specific get-together of some sort. We also assume that your Significant Other gets along with the S.O.s of the other people in your group. Ready? Here we go.

Option 1: Regularly scheduled meeting, probably on a more-or-less weekly basis. Examples could include gaming groups, singing groups, lunch dates, etc. This is, in my opinion, the best option. Your significant other knows exactly when you're going to be having your gender-specific time and can plan appropriately, perhaps arranging for some gender-specific time with his/her friends or pursuing a hobby you find annoying since you won't be around to be annoyed. It's a beautiful thing.

Option 2: Call up your buddies and say, "Hey, let's get together next week and do X." This isn't bad - gives some time for you to sit down with your S.O. and find something they would enjoy doing while you'll be away. You also have a specific plan so your S.O. knows you're not getting into trouble (assuming you've got the whole "relationship of trust" thing running smoothly). If you're too spontaneous/flaky for Option 1, this is the way to go.

Option 3: Call up your buddies and say, "Hey, let's ditch our S.O.s tomorrow night and go have some fun." Even setting aside the attitude issues, this is entering the realm of tacky for several reasons. First, there's no plan for either of the concerned parties and probably won't be until you meet up. Once you get together, you'll probably spend half the time trying to figure out what you want to do, assuming you don't just give up, order a pizza and tell stupid jokes/gossip until you pass out, several pounds heavier and not a ounce wiser. If that sounds like your idea of an ideal get-together, power to you and best of luck. Second, there's no time for the S.O.s to make plans. They'll probably hurriedly get together and be in the same less-fun-than-it-would-be-if-you-planned-it-out state as you are. If not, they'll spend the evening by themselves, probably doing something that they enjoy, but it's still tacky.

Option 4: Call up your buddies and say, "Hey, let's dump our S.O.s off to go do X while we hang out." This is bad. There's worse, but this is bad. You have the audacity to set the destiny/plans of not just your S.O. but of every other S.O. from your group of friends, doing something which, if they really all enjoyed it, they'd probably be getting together to do anyway, while leaving no plan for yourself. Basically, you'll be doing the less-than-ideal Option 3 while your S.O. and their friends end up doing something they probably didn't want to do in the first place. If any of you are ever tempted to do this, do yourself a favor and AT LEAST get the consent of all concerned S.O.s to participate in the activity you've planned for them. Much resentment will be avoided if you do so.

Option 5: Show up at their front door expecting to be entertained. Unless you're really, truly BFFs, so close that you would consider adopting each other and would take bullets for each other, this approach shouldn't have survived beyond grade school. It was tacky back then and it hasn't gotten any better in the meantime. You're making yourself an annoying door-to-door salesman with nothing to sell. Calling with anything less than 24 hours notice fits roughly into this category. And no, even if you've said, "We should hang out sometime," and they have agreed, that doesn't make this any better.

Summer reflections

2009-07-24T11:22:00.000-07:00

It was the best of months, it was the worst of months, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us . . .

July is always a fun month. With Emilee's birthday to kick it off, my birthday toward the end and one of our BFF's birthdays in the middle, there are parties, presents, excuses to spend extra time with family and friends and, of course, cake, ice cream and Tucano's.

July is always a hard month. With cake, ice cream and Tucano's comes another notch on the belt, another article of clothing that just doesn't fit like it used to, a more disgusting visage in the mirror, more reluctance to shower and contemplate my body in all its corpulence. With the heat of July comes difficulty sleeping and a sapping of energy, even with our wonderful air conditioner, that brings malaise and a lack of motivation to do much of anything, let alone exercise.

This July has been laid back for me. Not having a job for the moment, while I do my best to maintain the house (doing dishes and cooking dinner for Emilee being the main daily responsibilities) and pack a box every day, I have plenty of free time to read, write, play games, make blog entries, load music onto my iPod, etc.

This July has been tense for me. With every piece of furniture that leaves the apartment, with every box I pack, every time I look at the new van, every time I say good night to my friends, every time I listen to music from the CD I made with Impact, I think of what we have lost and are losing as we move to Connecticut. Every time I read my email, every time I look at paperwork still to be filled out, every time I think about spending so much as a dollar, my mind shifts to the doubt, debt and uncertainty which await us in Connecticut. Every time Emilee asks if she really does have to go to work today or if she can come home early (jokingly done almost daily), my heart is filled with guilt as I know I'm not contributing enough.

My friends and family encourage me to be excited for the adventure to come but I'm kinda having trouble feeling adventurous through the doubt.

Hypothetical birthday wish list

2009-07-22T17:13:00.000-07:00

It might seem odd to make a birthday wish list 2 days after one's birthday, but this is being done with a purpose. This isn't a true birthday wish list but, rather, a list of things I'd love to either receive or obtain if funds for utterly-useless-but-still-cool birthday presents were unlimited. In other words, there are things I'd MUCH rather get for giftable occasions and there are far more useful things on which to spend one's money but it would be cool to have this stuff:

The Master Sword and Hylian Shield from The Legend of Zelda. Combined Cost: $120. The tunic would be nice, too, but I doubt they make that in 3XL

What gamer wouldn't want his own health and mana potions? Even if they are just well-marketed energy drinks, this would be super cool. Cost: $20 for a six-packA new, superpowerful computer (yes, with all the bells and whistles, including the lighting effects - that's the part the makes a computer upgrade fit into the "useless" category) like this one. Cost: Starts at $7,000.

Assorted Star Trek memorabilia - outfits, equipment, starship models (too bad the real thing won't be on the market for a few hundred years!), the works. Cost: maybe if I got on Bill Gates's good side . . .

Where are we going?

2009-07-22T07:55:00.000-07:00

No, this isn't a post about getting ready for Connecticut - that would be counterproductive to my state of denial which is allowing me to keep going in my swiftly emptying apartment.

What this IS is a chance for you, my loyal readers (and yes, I know that this mostly means my parents and brother), to influence the direction this blog is headed. What would you like to see more of here?

Mental Meanderings - Steve's inner thought process and psychoanalytic journey
Modern Superhero - More stories/input from Sapphire Sting
Photo blogs
Spiritual musings
Political ramblings
Somehow convincing Emilee to actively participate
Something else entirely

Please sound off and let me know!

Birthday Party at the Zoo

2009-07-15T22:40:00.001-07:00

As part of our ongoing celebration of our birthdays, Emilee and I decided to head to the zoo with whoever else could come along. We picked up in-laws Stacy and Jared Loveless and bestest buds Derek and Stephanie Aud, packed a light picnic lunch and headed down to the Hogle Zoo. Photo time!

The curtain of water parts to reveal our cast of characters.

Yes, the kitty was my favorite thing at the zoo. Can I take it home with me, pweeeze?

Their bird show is really quite impressive. Our group agreed that it by itself was worth the price of admission.

Steve the Prarie Dog

This little fellow (you'll want to click the picture to zoom in) perched on Stephanie's shoulder for a long time before we bopped it off. We jokingly referred to it as her attacker.

The only thing "light" about this picnic lunch is the fact that we followed it up with a trip to Toucano's. You ladies outdid yourselves!

Saying goodbye

2009-07-08T17:59:00.000-07:00

Over the last few months, Emilee and I have been preparing for our upcoming journey to Connecticut - putting stuff into storage, spending time with friends and family in the area, going to the Hogle Zoo one last time, etc. As we get closer to the time of departure (only a few more weeks now), we're coping with the emotions times like these bring. In the midst of this, we have had a sudden blow. As previously mentioned, our old car, Virginia, died on us. At the time, this was a worrying inconvenience which, thanks to my parents, had a fairly rapid solution - we now drive their 2006 minivan.

Today, however, we had to say goodbye. I called an auto wrecking shop and, feeling like Judas Iscariot, signed away my old friend for a few silvers. I followed her to her resting place, her headlights looking back at me from the back of the truck as I drove. We reached the yard and the doors opened, revealing a yard full of wrecked bodies and hacked-off engines. And there, with tears in my eyes, I bade her my final farewell. I retrieved her new tires, the forklift hauled her away and the gates closed on her forever.

It's silly to invest so much emotion in a car - it's an inanimate object, after all - but she's been part of our family for 3 years, our companion through our greatest adventures. She's bailed out friends, escaped fires and survived so much, only to be destroyed from the inside by rusted antifreeze and sold to men who will destroy her without remorse or feeling. She deserves better, somehow and it breaks my heart to leave her to die.

I need a kitty.

Why are you here?

2009-07-05T05:41:00.000-07:00

If you visit this blog on a regular basis, you're probably a family member or, at least, a close friend. There are many people who stumble across here for other reasons, though. Some recent things people have come here looking for include:

Wii related questions:
How to thrust nunchuck forward
Assorted Wii game reviews

Random search terms
Disney Pixar short Slightly Cloudy
Skit about LDS Pioneers
Helpless Superheroines

Pictures
The Blue Whale bones at the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History
The Fireworks Stand

One of the odd search items that brings people here most frequently is Vibroman, usually searched for from Spanish-speaking countries. Could it be that I have tapped into some cultural icon by accident? Searching for it on my own turns up very little. On the other hand, maybe I don't want to know what lies deeper on this one.

A blessed? event

2009-06-30T16:05:00.000-07:00

She's been in a delicate state for quite some time. But now, it's all said and done - the anxiety, the almost weekly checkups, the moodiness - they're all behind us now. On Saturday, her water broke after we got back from work and we rushed her in. That's right, folks, we're the proud parents of a new car!

What, you thought I was talking about something else?

For those of you unfamiliar with our recent troubles with Virginia, this has been a long time in coming. It started with some expensive and complex repairs at the beginning of the year. Then we had more fixes for the Safety and Emissions checks, a process which took weeks of going to Ray's on a daily basis (as described earlier) and left some major problems unresolved. On Saturday, after dropping Emilee off at work, I was staying with my friends Ryan and Becky Sultana who were going to borrow the car and take it to work, where Emilee would then retrieve it to come home. Little did we know that they would come outside to pick it up and see this: Calling it a mess would be a severe understatement. Orange/brown fluid had made a large trail under the car. This turned out to be bad antifreeze mingled with rust. The nearby mechanic told us the damage would take $600-900 to repair. I called Ray and he said he could do it a little more cheaply, but towing her back to Provo is out of the question. And so, the time has come to say goodbye to our little lady.

Virginia Seville Watson
1990-June 27, 2009
Rust In Peace

P.S. More pictures (and the resolution to our story) forthcoming.

The strangest dream

2009-06-19T08:04:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I gave you folks a good glimpse into my psyche, so I'd like to give you something new to analyze - last night's dream. What's particularly strange about it is that it had absolutely nothing to do with the book I was reading into the wee small hours - more on that later. This post may not hold much interest for most of you but I wanted to record this one for posterity since it's unique in several ways.

Chapter 1: Disney World
The dream opened with Emie, Dad and me at Disney World together. We passed by a colorful plaza and into a restaurant. I'm guessing that it was the Brown Derby, one of Dad's favorites, since there was a definite Hollywood atmosphere. The dream skipped ahead a bit to when we had been waiting a very long time for our food and we had been given some cookies to compensate for the wait. I decided to go enjoy Disney World since the food showed no signs of coming. As I left the restaurant, I noticed a sign board where you could order pizza by writing down your order and placing it on the board. I did so, thinking that it might be faster than the Brown Derby. Abruptly, the dream cut away from Disney World to . . .

Chapter 2: The Creamery
I worked at the old BYU Creamery for a semester shortly before it was torn down. In my dream, the old place was brought back to life and filled with nostalgic memorabilia, like a shiny pre-credit card cash register that looked like a miniature pipe organ - the whole place looked like an old fashioned malt shop, as though the clock had been turned back almost a century The place was strangely empty so I wandered around for a moment looking at everything. My old boss, Brian (incidentally, Facebook suggested him to me as a friend last night - there is no love lost between us, however, and I declined) showed up and told me breathlessly that all of his workers had called in sick and he needed my help. We negotiated my temporary wage and I told him that I had somewhere to be right now but that I would return once I was done. The somewhere I needed to be turned out to be . . .

Chapter 3: Jane Austen meets Charles Dickens
I dreamed that I (when I say I here, I mean it somewhat loosely, as I was apparently inhabiting a female host - the first time I've portrayed a woman in my dreams) was entering the garden of a lavish Victorian manor house where a man whose circumstances had prematurely aged him (he reminded me of Ebeneezer Scrooge but not as old in reality) sat outside grumpily. He had come outside to look at his flowers and the colorful pigeons (and I mean colorful - red, blue, green, etc.) for whom he had left a feeder. The pigeons, however, had become aggressive and were pecking at the miser and eating his flowers. I devised a solution to his problem (the dream kinda skipped over the details) and we entered the manor to figure out a solution to his other problem . . .

Chapter 4: The "Haunted" House
The old man had begun hearing odd sounds in his house at night and was convinced that the place was haunted. I agreed to spend the night in the fellow's room (on the floor while he took the bed) to observe. (The inside of his manor house looked like the inside of my church building in Santa Barbara. After a while, we began to hear the noises and I arose to investigate. As I turned a corner, I nearly collided with a kid whose arms were laden with the man's possessions. I looked through the lighted doorway beyond and saw a woman who I presumed to be the boy's mother also looting the man's home. I clamped a firm hand on the boy's shoulder and pulled out my anachronistic cell phone to call the police as the boy's parents fled.

Chapter 4.5: The Austenian Ending
The scene cut away and I found that I was reading the book in which the events of chapters 3 and 4 took place and had reached the ending, in which the man's youth and heath were restored by the woman's actions and she declared her love for him. "I don't even know your last name but it doesn't matter - I know your heart and I love you." I closed the book and found myself . . .

Chapter 5: Back at the Creamery
I was in the creamery's back room where I found bright red and blue uniforms, again reminiscent of years gone by, as well as another employee Brian had managed to locate. I was again female so moved to the appropriate section of uniforms/costumes and selected one. As I began slipping it on . . .

Chapter 6: Return to Disney World - the Circle is Complete
I found myself walking across the same colorful square toward the restaurant. As I passed, a fellow at the pizza sign board called my name and said that my pizza was ready. I told him to wait a moment while I fetched my family and I hurried to the restaurant. I found my father and wife still waiting for their food, sitting together with a fellow who looked like Groucho Marx except that he had Harpo's hair. I told them that pizza was available outside and they began to rise.

Epilogue: Waking up is Hard to do
I awoke in my old room in Santa Barbara and opened my door as my wife opened the door across the way. I told her "I had a (I hesitated for a moment as I decided not to call it weird) great dream last night, and you were in it." "Was it about a cookie?" "Actually, there WERE cookies involved." As she smiled . . .

I really woke up. I came out of the bedroom and saw Emie on the couch. I told her "I had a (I hesitated for a moment as I decided not to call it weird) great dream last night and you were in it." "Was it about a cookie?" "Actually, there WERE cookies involved. And we had the exact same conversation in my dream."

Time travel, Deja Vu, gender bending, meta-fiction . . . quite the dream, eh?

Silly sites and dreams of the future

2009-06-15T12:17:00.000-07:00

From a friend's blog, I decided to try out an interesting website - makemebabies.com. Put in a couple of photos and see what your future babies might, hypothetically, look like. So, meet the twins: Stephanie and Miles.

Disney-Pixar's UP in 3D

2009-06-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

Pixar's scriptwriters have a way of tugging at your heartstrings. Toy Story made grownups want to run home and dig out their old teddy bears (or monsters, rubber ducks, sheep, etc.). The Incredibles made grown men want to run home to their wife and kids. UP makes grown men weep, hold their wives closer and keep every promise they ever made, no matter how silly.
But it's not all tears and soppy sentiment. The overenthusiastic cub scout, Russel, plays wonderfully off of the crusty, 78-year-old Carl Fredricksen. Carl manages to be simultaneously a dreamer and a sarcastic straightman as he unwillingly leads Russell on a grand adventure to the wilds of South America in search of his boyhood dream.

What truly makes UP unique is how realistic the characters are. I'm not talking about their physical appearance but, rather, their personalities. Russell is everything Pinocchio wants to be - a real boy through and through.
Dug the talking dog is a very real dog, with such memorable lines as "Hi! My name is Dug. I have just met you and I love you SQUIRREL!!! . . . . . . . Hi there!"

Needless to say, the visuals are fabulous. Unlike most 3D movies (I'm looking at YOU, Journey to the Center of the Earth - much as I love Brendan Fraser, please don't make him spit on me in 3D ever again), UP doesn't resort to a lot of what the Muppets would refer to as "cheap 3D tricks." Just the opening pan around Cinderella's Castle with the fireworks brought a tear of joy to my eye. The attention to detail is incredible, down to stubble slowly growing on Carl's chin as he neglects to shave through his journey and Russell getting progressively dirtier. No wonder Disney had previews/trailers for 3 other films "in Disney Digital 3D." The effect is astounding.
While the film does have a direct antagonist, Carl's real enemy, from the very beginning, is time. Time to do the things he wants to do, time before he goes senile and gets put in a nursing home, time before his balloons lose their lift and his house becomes immobile. This universal theme can appeal to anyone - if you are a human being and you can breathe, you should watch this movie.
Also, as a side note, the pre-film short, Slightly Cloudy, is destined to be one of the greatest Pixar shorts - just trust me on this one.

Of vehicles, forgiveness and the Atonement

2009-06-08T00:30:00.000-07:00

Sunday, particularly Fast Sunday, is a time for reflection, for pondering the things of God and the blessing he has given us. Today, my mind turned to a recent tremendous blessing we received at the hands of a kind and honest man. Kind and honest are not words one usually associates with mechanics, but in Ray's case, they fit.
He offers a special "student discount," the amount of which is rarely expressly stated but which has always saved us a bit when we've taken our car, Virginia (named for a kind and generous aunt from whom we received the car), in for routine check-ups and oil changes.

Recently, Virginia's cruise control stopped working. This is an annoyance for Emilee, whose hour-long daily commute is made somewhat harder because of it. It was somewhat more of an annoyance during our recent trip to California. Considering our impending journey to Connecticut, we realized that we would really like to have it working. Since we were taking Virginia in for Safety and Emissions inspections (and the new tires and oxygen sensor needed to pass those inspections), we figured it would be a good time to have Ray's people look at the cruise control.

We had the misfortune to be placed under the management of Randy, Ray's number two in command. Randy has a politician's smile, a salesman's smooth talk, a coal miner's handshake and an unfortunate tendency to neglect to call you when he says he will. After several hours of examination Randy told us that we needed a whole new engine computer and that we could either find one ourselves or he could procure one for about $200.

A quick search on eBay revealed an appropriate part for $45. We ordered it, got it in and handed it to Randy. Blake, the beleaguered mechanic who actually did the work, spent a couple of hours prying open our car to get at the engine computer and said, "This isn't the right engine computer - the color coding doesn't match!"

The person from whom we acquired the part refunded our payment without any hassle. I quickly found (using part numbers this time instead of just a description) a correct computer, ordered it and presented it to Randy. Blake confirmed that it was the right part and proceeded to spend a few hours installing it.

It didn't fix the cruise control.

Randy said, at this point, "Well, we've only been able to have a few hours at a time with your car so far - if you let me have it for an entire day, we'll be able to get it fixed." Accordingly, we left Virginia in Randy and Blake's care for over 8 hours on the following Monday, which Emilee happened to have off of work. The word now was that we needed a new Cruise Control Module (Question here: Why skip the Cruise Control Module and go straight for the Engine Computer when you're trying to fix the Cruise Control? Maybe it's because I'm not a mechanic, but that doesn't make much sense to me . . .), with similar options for acquiring one.

At this point, Emilee and I decided to cut our losses. As a friend took me to Ray's, I began a fretful calculation in my head of the number of hours of labor for which we would be charged and the hundreds of dollars we would have sunk into a wild goose chase. When I arrived, I found Ray behind the counter - Monday is Randy's day off. Ray had familiarized himself with our situation and said, "After everything Randy's had you do to try and fix this problem, making you find your own parts and everything . . . I'm not gonna charge you for the labor."

Now THAT'S what I call a Student Discount! Instantly, through nothing I had done, just the simple kindness and generosity of one man, my debt was forgiven. I was elated as I brought Virginia home, feeling truly blessed.

I reflected today that we, as a human race, spend much of our time broken in a spiritual sense. We stumble about through life, looking for help to get fixed but, in the end, no earthly power can truly fix us. The worst of it is that, the longer we're broken, the more spiritual debt we rack up. In the end, though, after all we can do, the great Mechanic of our souls says to us, "After all you've done, I forgive your debt - you owe me nothing. Welcome home." And then He fixes our cruise control anyway.

Status Update

2009-06-05T13:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sure there's at least one person out there who is eager to know why my blog hasn't had any posts lately. Alas, life really isn't very interesting right now. Emie's job continues as planned and I don't have a job - who hires somebody for 2 months, really? So, I've been devoting my time to cleaning up in the apartment, personal projects and, of course, gaming which hardly make for interesting reading. I've washed the dishes a few times, packed up a box of stuff from our bookshelf, rewritten a couple of pages of my short story, started setting up my old computer to get some prized files off of it, started making contacts in CT and . . . well . . . played a lot of games. Not much to report.
The only really noteworthy thing of late is that we've had to send in our Wii for repairs again. Back in February, we sent in the Wii for repairs - the standard cleaning so it can function with Super Smash Bros. When is came back, I noticed that the top cover - the white flap over the gamecube controller slots and memory card slots - was missing. This was not a major concern at the time, since we usually have it open anyway, since we keep our gamecube memory card plugged in.
A couple of weeks ago, for the first time since then, I decided to play one of my gamecube games and discovered a more serious problem - memory slot A no longer reads my memory card. Slot A thinks that the memory card is some other device. Slot B works, but many of my games will only look at slot A (E.G. Twilight Princess, the one I was trying to play). It worked perfectly before I sent it for cleaning. I don't know why the technicians felt it necessary to mess with that part of the Wii if all they were doing was cleaning the lens, but there's obviously something wrong here. I recently sent it off to get fixed and now I miss it.
The worst of it is, since the lady on the phone claims that they've never heard of this problem before, they're probably just going to replace the unit. This, in and of itself, wouldn't be so bad except for the probability of losing our saved game information. Emie and I have spent many hours on Animal Crossing, for example, a game for which the memory won't transfer to an SD card for safe keeping. We've recruited my brother and his wife to hang on to and tend our many virtual flowers while we're away but it would be sad to lose the rest of it. Many thanks to them as we hope for the best.

California Dreamin', Disney Style

2009-05-10T23:32:00.000-07:00

Our big Anniversary/Graduation trip - what better place to celebrate than the Happiest Place on Earth, Disneyland!

If I were ever in charge of advertising for a scary ride, I'd want Emie's scream face right up front. I kinda own an apology to the people behind me on Splash Mountain for my "Cowboy up" pose, though.

Here are a few favorite shots from the Pixar Play Parade:

Mr. Incredible is, truly, my hero. Superhero and Family Man. I swear, I tear up every time I hear that line near the end, "I can't lose you again! I'm not strong enough."

We finally got Chip and Dale, too - we'd been trying for them for a while.

Rejoice with me - the long-awaited day has come!

2009-05-10T23:11:00.000-07:00

Graduation - the moment of transition from College Life to the Real World (or to Grad School, in some cases). At long last, Emie and I donned our caps and gowns and walked together in BYU's Marriott Center. Despite graduating from a different department, we made special arrangements so that Emie could sit with me in the Humanities graduation ceremony, then walk with me.
Little did we know that these plans would change. An email was sent asking those in the Humanities who had shown interest in music to audition to perform at graduation. In the end, only 3 of us responded, all vocalists, so we formed a trio to sing "Lead, Kindly Light." A few days before the ceremony itself, the event coordinator informed us that, since we were part of the program, we would sit up at the front with the important people. This kinda spoiled our plans to sit together, but Emie made the best of it - she made faces at me through the ceremony until our time came to walk.
The song went quite well, considering how little time we had to rehearse it. Here are a few photos of the event.

The trio singing

Emie makes ANYTHING look good - here she is working that cap 'n' gown with sister Stacy and Mama Roach in the foreground.

A farewell to BYU - Bring on Connecticut!

Hot times in the old home town

2009-05-10T22:07:00.001-07:00

When Emie and I planned our trip to Disneyland for our anniversary, we didn't even know the half of what we were going to get!My mother was the first from our group to hear about the Jesusita fire. In her words:

So, there we were at Disneyland, in line for the Toy Story ride, and I was checking Facebook on my PDA when I saw that a couple of friends here in SB had posted notes about a new fire in the SB foothills. I wanted to know more about it!! So, I checked a couple of usually reliable sources, and really couldn't find anything much - - - the fire was only a couple of hours old. When we finally located it on a Google map, it was just a tiny spot somewhere in Southern California.

What began as a small spot many miles away from home became a cause of much fear and alarm in the coming days. It was our actual anniversary, May 6, and we were visiting the Santa Barbara Zoo. We had debated between the Zoo and the Botanic Gardens, but I decided the Zoo would be better, since it's right next to the ocean. I had it all planned - A romantic walk on the beach to watch the sunset on the ocean followed by dinner at the Beachside Cafe.

It was as we got up from eating our lunch that we noticed the massive plume of smoke rising to the north. Having lived through the painted cave fire when I was a kid, my panic instincts started to kick in - this actually looked WORSE than the clouds that were gathering over the T-ball field those many years ago. Calling Mom (with interference from the smoke making the call cut out constantly), she told us that a mobile home had just gone up in the blaze, but it was nothing to worry about.

A few minutes later, we heard a zoo employee on his cell phone telling his family "I don't care what the police say, it's getting worse fast and I want you out of there! I'm coming to meet you at . . ." My panic rose. With my body on fight-or-flight mode (Emie, meanwhile, calmly wandered through the zoo's snake house), a romantic walk was out of the question, so I decided it would be better to just head back to my parents' house before things got any worse instead of our beach walk.

We checked in on the fire and didn't seem to be in immediate danger, so we went to the Elephant Bar instead. We returned hours later after some less-than-stellar service and realized that the fire could now be seen from our front door. It was on a distant hillside, true, but it was a frightening sight. We knelt together in family prayer and I called upon God to send His angels to fight the blaze, asking Him to use his power over the winds and elements to fight the flames. We felt somewhat better but the fire was still too close for comfort.

Emie went to bed and was sleeping soundly while my mother and I stayed glued to the news watching the blaze spread and destroy people's homes and lives. The Botanical Gardens were burned, striking a personal sorrowful note - I was glad we hadn't been closer to the fire, but sorry Emie never got to see the Gardens in their splendor. Mandatory evacuation zones expanded and multiplied quickly - the sundowner winds were taking their toll. Dad was out-of-state on business, but assured us that he had, while praying, gotten the distinct impression from the Spirit that we would not have to evacuate.

I tried to get back to sleep, but couldn't - it can be tough to share in that same Spirit of safety when you're scared to death. When I next emerged, Mom told me to get my shoes on - we had just been placed in an "Evacuation Warning zone." Essentially, we were being told that, while we didn't have to get out right now, we should be prepared for that order to come within the next hours. Much as we do our best to be faithful and trust what the Spirit says, God rarely favors an unprepared fool. We decided to start packing things into the van.

Mom and I had been through this sort of thing before, but only when I was a little boy. Mom said that, during the painted cave fire, she mainly held me while Dad took command of the evacuation. Without Dad there, our psyches took a heavy hit, but it was time to dawn the Superhero mindset again and set to work. Between the two of us, we managed to keep each other sane, though, sufficient to start working on top priority items to load into the van.

Our top priority thing to save - the cats. From the 6 cats I grew up with, Mom and Dad are now down to three. Two of them, Tribble and Q (am I from a family of Trekkies or what?) are wonderfully placid, docile creatures, easy to pick up and toss into the van. The third, Molly, is half feral, so we knew we'd have to get her caged. Molly was already on alert (probably smelled the smoke from the fire) and was difficult to catch, to say the least. I finally pinned her against the bed with my knee, then grabbed the nape of her neck and her tail while she dug her claws into the knee of my pants. I slowly rose from the behind the bed with Molly forming an obtuse triangle then got her into her cage. First task: Accomplished.

Mom was taking care of clothes, pills, money, checkbook, etc., so my task was to load the van with other "precious things." For Mom, this means her needlework, crocheted afghans, tatted doilies and her grandmother's quilts. I spent an hour or so wandering the house, collecting the symbols of Mom's hard work and loading them into the back of the van. They may not be worth much monetarily, but they have enormous sentimental value and represent many hours of Mom's labor.

We decided to let Emilee sleep (a fact about which she laughs) for several reasons - we didn't want to worry her, but we also wanted someone to get a few hours sleep in case we needed to drive for a long time in a car full of nervous cats. About 2:00 AM, having done just about all we could to prepare and observing that we could no longer see the fire on the hill, Mom and I decided to try to get some sleep ourselves. I awoke frequently to the sound of sirens in the distance, so I think I got about 2 good hours in preparation for our long trip home.

It's now several days later and we see our prayers being answered. The winds died down miraculously, the humidity rose enough to create mist, the fire is mostly contained and people are returning to their homes. As my father prophesied, Mom and Dad never did have to evacuate, despite being only a few blocks from a mandatory evacuation area. As my mother said, "There were angels on the fireline." God's promise came through for us again - no great surprise, but a wonderful reinforcer for faith.

Do you believe in Facebook?

2009-04-20T07:20:00.000-07:00

Well, I hope you don't believe in it TOO closely. My brother recently posted the results of some personality quizzes he took on Facebook and I thought I'd follow suit. For good or ill, here we go!

1. Which Old Testament character am I? King David

People like you and follow your leadership. You love deeply even though relationships can cause you great pain. You’re sensitive and just want to get along with everyone.

I've got no problem with the analysis given above, but going a little deeper into King David shows some major pros and cons.

Pros:
David V Goliath.
Writer of the Psalms
Prophet/King

Cons:
Bathsheba. One of the questions on there was about relationships. I replied "There's only one woman for me," which really does not fit King David at all.

According to what claims to be a personality test given by HR departments found here: http://www.personalityquiz.net/profiles/hrdepartment.htm

Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out.

For the Ice Cream flavor quiz here: http://www.personalityquiz.net/foodtests/icecream.htm

I was torn between two, but I like the responses for both:

If you like chocolate, you are lively, creative, dramatic, charming, enthusiastic and the life of the party. Chocolate fans enjoy being at the center of attention and can become bored with the usual routine. Seductive, well-dressed, extroverted, easily influenced, a follower, intuitive, enjoys intimate relationships. Prototype: Feminine woman, macho man.

If you like banana, you are easy going, well adjusted, generous, honest and empathetic. Prototype: The perfect husband, wife, parent or child.

I can live with those!

Facebook's Star Trek quiz tells me I'm Captain Kirk

A similar blog analysis program to the one my brother mentions has given me similar results - completely opposite those I usually associate with myself.

Oh yeah, order and logic, those are my strong points, and Sapphire Sting has no imagination to speak of. Pthththth.

Yes, this blog entry is still under construction

These lovely parting gifts . . .

2009-04-17T12:44:00.001-07:00

There's nothing like getting ready to leave a place to let you know who loves you. Yesterday, my boss threw a going-away pizza party for a couple of us who are leaving - on company time, no less. That's kind of expected at Independent Study, though. What's not as to be expected is Malia Beckstrand giving me the coolest going-away present ever: A book of the Batman dalies (1943-1946).

Why this gift is particularly appropriate requires a bit of explanation, even knowing (as you, my faithful readers, should) about my penchant for superheroes. It all begins almost a year ago, when work was just heating up at Independent Study. (Man, if I were any good at drawing, I'd make a comic strip of it with that kind of intro - curse my clumsy fingers!) As Rush approached, Independent's customer service department opened up a room in the basement which became affectionately known as The Batcave. A handful of CS people would head down there every day to work.
What was special about the Batcave (other than the cool moniker?) The computers were faster, the screens were bigger - their only problem was lack of access to things like the fax machine (and the acoustics, but there's not much you can do about that). A call came up from the Batcave - we need a Robin! Since I preferred to work upstairs (that acoustical issue drove me nuts when I went down there), I was only too happy to volunteer.
I began to throw myself into the role. Our inter-office instant messenger, Spark, allows for an avatar - the Boy Wonder quickly became my symbol. When I got to work or returned from my lunch break, I would announce that the Boy Wonder had returned to Gotham City and was ready to receive orders from the Batcave. It was really lots of fun.
Malia, being a frequent Batcave denizen, was the first to join my enthusiasm. Her Spark avatar quickly became Catwoman and a fast friendship was formed - not that we hadn't been friends before, of course. Working the 6:00 AM shift together for a while will make either fast friends or bitter enemies out of just about anybody. Ah, those were the days . . . but I digress.
Since moving to the Morris Center, the Batcave is now long in our past, but the banter continues. We often swap jokes and stories or provide an electronic shoulder to cry on over Spark, something which helps keep me relatively sane in my repetitive work. And now she gets me a great going-away present.
I've already learned a great lesson from the book. The most important thing in becoming a real superhero is - yup, you guessed it - long hours. For those of you able to read that, I salute you. For the rest of us:

Both their parents innocent victims of the guns of Gangland, Bruce Wayne and his young ward, Dick Grayson, have dedicated their lives to fighting crime. . .

Long hours of rigorous training in their private gym . . .

. . . And long hours of diligent study in their scientific crime laboratory . . .

. . . Have created those mighty champions of justice - - - Batman and Robin
. . . Symbolized by the hooded bat costume, designed to instill fear in the denizens of the underworld!

Speaking of long hours, it's time for me to get back to studying for finals. Watch for the thrilling adventures of Steve, coming soon to this blog!

Quick Update

2009-04-13T12:46:00.000-07:00

I don't have a lot of time, but I thought I'd poke my head up for a moment and let people know how I'm doing.

1. Impact had its big concert last Friday. It was GREAT! Y'all missed out big time if you weren't there (which includes most of you). While we DO have the CD and the CD is cool, the show was awesome. 'nuff said.

2. School is quickly coming to its end. Over the past few days, I've written a 6 page paper for my Hispanoamerican Theatre class, a 14-page journal-style paper for my New Testament Class and the first half of a 12-15 page paper for my Borges class (due Tuesday). This is why I've been a little busy to blog.

3. Easter was really nice. We spent the day with our good friends in the ward (they're practically family at this point), Derek and Stephanie Aud. Stephanie doesn't like ham and lamb is too expensive, so we had a nice, crock potted pork roast with carrots, mashed potatoes, mac 'n' cheese and some of the best gravy I've ever made, with homemade punch to wash it all down. And plenty of Easter candy, of course.
3.1 Stephanie came the night before to color Easter eggs with Emilee. I was working away at my papers, of course, so was only able to do one egg. With white crayon, I made a reasonable (for a 5-year-old) approximation of the classic Disney castle with a red background. Emilee made me an egg with a large, green hedge labelled Steve (an homage to Over the Hedge).

4. Anything else you want an update on? Let me know and I'll probably let you know once I'm done with finals.

Gotta Love 'im

2009-03-30T23:08:00.001-07:00

In my A Capella group, we've got a guy named Stu. With a name like that, you either end up developing a great sense of humor about it or you become embittered - kinda like Ebeneezer. Thankfully, Stu has chosen to use his powers (and attitude) for good AND for awesome. His latest blog post has Impact's poster (which he designed, no less) on it and is pretty darn funny. Check it out!

Having fun at work

2009-03-26T16:45:00.000-07:00

My current job at Independent Study (my unofficial title is Overdue Lesson Guy) can get kinda tedious at times. My workday begins with picking up a 2-foot tall stack of papers, lugging it across the parking lot and finding the 15 or so pages I need, leaving the rest of the stack for another department I then spend about an hour going through the report with various highlighters looking for bad news that wasn't there yesterday and double-checking its accuracy against what's in RS6000, our main student database. I then spend the next 2-3 hours putting that new bad news into another database and emailing our instructors their particular piece of the bad news., with any remaining time being filled with projects for my supervisor, Lauren. Within those emails, however, I've recently found a bit of fun.

You see, some of our lessons are graded in-house by a group of friendly neighborhood tutors. Since I know them personally, I can afford to be less . . . shall we say formal . . . with them. Instead of the form letter that I send everyone (Professor Whatsyourface, the following lessons haven't been graded for a long time, please let us know if you have them and grade them as soon as possible. That sort of thing, but more precise and formal), I can send something a bit more creative.

I began by sending the form letter in various languages. While my first translation that I sent (to Spanish) was my own work, I turned to good old Babelfish for things like Chinese and Korean. I also sent one in "|337" 0r h4ck3r-5p34k, then one in the form of a Star Trek captain's log. Recently, I began doing lesson-themed parodies. I wanted to share some of this with you all, as I think some of them, at least, are worth a good chuckle.

1. The Mad Lib - feel free to play along!:

Tutors:
Please provide the following:
Plural noun__________
Past tense verb__________
Another past tense verb__________
Number___
Verb__________
Person in room__________
Past tense verb__________
Verb__________
Adverb__________
Verb__________
Plural noun__________
Past tense verb__________
Adverb__________
Past tense verb__________

The following ______ (plural noun) _______ (past tense verb) one or more lessons that have not been ______ (past tense verb) in over ______ (number) weeks. Would you please ______ (verb) this list and let ______ (person in room) know if you either have or have not ______ (past tense verb) these lessons? If you do have these lessons, please _____ (verb) them as soon as you ______ (adverb) can. Also, please feel free to _____ (verb) me if you have any _________ (plural noun) at all. Thank you for all of your hard work; it is ________ (past tense verb) and ______ (adverb) __________(past tense verb)!

2. Thus sayeth the Overdue Lesson Report:

Luke, Chapter 1

³It seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all these lessons from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent Tutors,
⁴That thou mightest know the certainty of those things, wherein thou hast been instructed.
⁵THERE was in the days of Lauren, the queen of IS, a certain student who had submitted lessons unto the tutors . . .
⁷And they had no grade . . . and they were now well stricken in weeks, having been 2 weeks since their submission . . .
¹¹And there appeared unto him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense.
¹²And when the student saw him, he was troubled, and fear fell upon him.
¹³But the angel said unto him, Fear not, Student: for thy prayer is heard; and thy lesson shall be graded . . .
¹⁸And the student said unto the angel, Whereby shall I know this? for I am an old man, and my lesson well stricken in weeks.

Alma, Chapter 5
14 And now behold, I ask of you, my tutors of IS, have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his lesson on your desks? . . .
26 And now behold, I say unto you, my tutors, if ye have felt to grade these lessons, I would ask, can ye grade them now?

3. Declaration of Grading:

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to grade the lessons which have connected them with students, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should grade the lessons which they are impelled to do within 2 weeks.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all students are created equal, that they are endowed by Independent Study with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the grading of their Lessons. That to secure these rights, Tutors are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of Lauren, That whenever any Form of Lesson is not received, it is the Right of the Students to resend it, and to institute new Grading, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

4. Overdue Soliloquy

To grade, or not to grade--that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous students
Or take red pens against a sea of e-mails
And by so grading end them. To grade, correct--
No more--and by a grade to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
A student’s heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To grade, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub.

5. Dr. Seuss and Sam-I-am:
Will you grade These lessons, man?

I will not grade them, Sam-I-am.
I do not have those lessons, man!

Would you grade them here or there?

I would not grade them here or there.
I would not grade them anywhere.
I do not grade those lessons, man!
I do not have them, Sam-I-am.

Would you grade them in a house?
Would you grade them with a mouse?

I do not grade them in a house.
I do not grade them with a mouse.
I do not grade them here or there.
I do not have them anywhere!
I do not grade these lessons, man!
I do not have them, Sam-I-am.

Would you grade them in a box?
Would you grade them with a fox?

Not in a box.
Not with a fox.
Not in a house.
Not with a mouse.
I would not grade them here or there.
I would not grade them anywhere.
I would not grade these lessons, man.
I do not have them, Sam-I-am.

Would you? Could you? In a car?
Grade them! Grade them! Here they are.

I would not, could not, in a car.

You must grade them. You will see.
You may grade them in a tree!

I would not, could not in a tree.
Not in a car! You let me be.

I do not grade them in a box.
I do not grade them with a fox.
I do not grade them in a house.
I do not grade them with a mouse.
I do not grade them here or there.
I do not have them anywhere.
I cannot grade these lessons, man.
I cannot grade them, Sam-I-am.

A train! A train!
A train! A train!
Could you, would you, on a train?

Not on a train! Not in a tree!
Not in a car! Sam! Let me be!

I would not, could not, in a box.
I could not, would not, with a fox.
I will not grade them with a mouse.
I will not grade them in a house.
I will not grade them here or there.
I do not have them anywhere.
I cannot grade these lessons, man.
I do not have them, Sam-I-am.

Say! In the dark? Here in the dark!
Would you, could you, in the dark?

I would not, could not, in the dark.

Would you, could you, in the rain?

I would not, could not, in the rain.
Not in the dark. Not on a train.
Not in a car. Not in a tree.
I cannot grade them, Sam, you see.
Not in a house. Not in a box.
Not with a mouse. Not with a fox.
I will not grade them here or there.
I do not have them anywhere!

You will not grade these lessons, man?

I will not grade them, Sam-I-am.
Could you, would you, with a goat?

I would not, could not, with a goat!

Would you, could you, on a boat?

I could not, would not, on a boat.
I will not, will not, with a goat.
I will not grade them in the rain.
I will not grade them on a train.
Not in the dark! Not in a tree!
Not in a car! You let me be!
I do not grade them in a box.
I do not grade them with a fox.
I will not grade them in a house.
I do not grade them with a mouse.
I do not grade them here or there.
I do not have them ANYWHERE!
I do not grade these lessons, man!
I do not grade them, Sam-I-am.

You do not grade them. So you say.
Try them! Try them! And you may.
Try them and you may, I say.

Sam! If you will let me be,
I will grade them. You will see.

Say! I'll grade these lessons, man!
I will! I'll grade them, Sam-I-am!
And I would grade them in a boat.
And I would grade them with a goat
And I will grade them in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a car. And in a tree.
They are so overdue, you see!

So I will grade them in a box.
And I will grade them with a fox.
And I will grade them in a house.
And I will grade them with a mouse.
And I will grade them here and there.
Say! I will grade them ANYWHERE!

I now do grade these lessons, man!
Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am!

6. Charles Dickens abridged and revised (warning - even worse puns ahead):

Marley’s lesson was ungraded: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of its reception was placed in RS6000 by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. The Tutor signed it: and The Tutor's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley’s lesson was as dead as a door-nail.

Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley’s lesson was as dead as a door-nail. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.

As the Tutor threw his head back in the chair, his glance happened to rest upon a bell, a disused bell, that hung in the room, and communicated for some purpose now forgotten with a chamber in the highest story of the building. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange, inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he saw this bell begin to swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scarcely made a sound; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in the house.

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together. They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine merchant's cellar. The Tutor then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.

The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.

"It's humbug still!" said the Tutor. "I won't believe it."

His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried, "I know him; Marley's Lesson’s Ghost!" and fell again.

Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.

"How now!" said the Tutor, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want with me?"

"Much!" -- Marley's Lesson’s voice, no doubt about it.

"You haven’t graded me," observed the Lesson.

"I haven’t." said the Tutor.

"What evidence would you have of my need to be graded, beyond that of your senses?"

"I don't know," said the Tutor.

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because," said the Tutor, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

At this the lesson raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain with such a dismal and appalling noise, that the Tutor held on tight to his chair, to save himself from falling in a swoon. The Tutor fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.

"Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"

"It is required of every man," the Lesson returned, "that the assignment written by him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that lesson goes ungraded in life, it is condemned to be so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world -- oh, woe is me! -- and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!"

Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy pages.

"Oh! Stapled, bound, and double-spaced," cried the phantom, "not to know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian lesson working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its grading. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!"

"But you were always a good man of the business school!" faltered the Tutor, who now began to apply this to himself.

"Business!" cried the Lesson, wringing its pages again. "Students were my business. Grades were my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my grade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!"

"I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, Tutor."

"You were always a good friend to me," said the Tutor. "Thank `ee!"

"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three Lessons."

The Tutor's countenance fell almost as low as the Lesson's had done.

"Is that the chance and hope you mentioned?" he demanded, in a faltering voice.

"It is."

"I -- I think I'd rather not," said the Tutor.

"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to keep your job at Independent Study. Expect the first tomorrow, when the bell tolls one."

"Couldn't I take `em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?" hinted The Tutor.

"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for your own sake, you remember what has passed between us!"

***

Abridgement: The Lessons visit and convince the Tutor of the error of his ways. He swears to grade all lessons that he receives in the past, the present and the future.

***

The Tutor was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to the Overdue Lesson Guy, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a grader, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.

It was always said of him, that he knew how to grade lessons well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as the Overdue Lesson Guy observed, Please Grade Them, Every One!

Dreams Come True Parade

2009-03-22T04:24:00.000-07:00

As I struggle with Insomniaman again (Curse you!), I bring you (now with more irony) the "Celebrate a Dream Come True" parade. Since this is a WHOLE LOT of pictures, I'll intersperse it with my (hopefully) humorous and (possibly) insightful commentary . . . but it IS 6:00 AM, so don't expect too much.

The pre-parade. A pretty awesome marching band that came through about 15 minutes before the parade itself, presumably to clear the path for the upcoming floats. Good work, guys!

Ah, the man himself, leading the parade. You ready for your close-up?
I've gotta put my 2 cents in here. Having dancers in a parade? Nice. Having matching outfits? Also a nice thing. Having cloned haircuts (okay, they're really wigs, but still) done with laser precision, making your dancers look like freakish clones? SO not a good thing. Say hello to the mildly disturbing Pixiclon© army!
Man, check out this guy in purple . . . he's been in the sun WAY too long. The rest of them look to be suffering also . . . it's as though they're all being controlled by some evil Puppet Master . . .
Okay - Puppet Master yes. Evil . . . unless you count the whole Possessed Toy thing, probably not. Maybe their connection to the forces of evil will be revealed later on. Keep an eye on those guys, they're spooky.
No, Figaro, don't eat Chloe!!!

Often, the back ends of these floats have some of the most cool/fun stuff of the entire float. Between the gems, the princess and Dopey, this qualifies.
So, this float has a bunch of things that fly - Aladdin on his carpet, Genie, Dumbo, Mary Poppins, the Stork and . . . Winnie the Pooh? Well, I guess he's got a balloon . . . with which Bernard from The Rescuers seems quite intrigued. I hadn't even noticed that the rescuers were ON this float until I did this blog! Disney Magic - It's all about the details.
I had a dream about flying when I was a kid that involved Dumbo . . . and a bunch of care bears. I guess a kid's subconscious doesn't separate franchises.
Another wave of the Pixiclon© Army, ushering in . . . the forces of evil! I knew it!!!

Malificent may have gotten the high spot on this float and did most of the talking, but . . .
For me, Cruella made the show. The Villain float was parked in front of us for quite a while and Cruella was fantastically in character. Her vainness as she subtly altered the lyrics of the song from "Celebrate You" to "Celebrate ME!!!" and the look on her face as she dared anyone to celebrate anything or anyone else . . . PRICELESS! I hope the rumors going around the internet that they're planning to remove this float aren't true. I don't consider myself a big fan of Villains (what self respecting hero would?), but these guys deserve better.

Let's see . . . Peter Pan, Wendy, Alice, the Mad Hatter and . . . ummm . . . a bunch of globes/bubbles/Jareth's crystal balls, etc. with a castle inside. What's the theme of this float? Is this a Fantasy-land float? An Old Disney Cartoons with Non-Princess Female Protagonists in Blue Dresses float? There's no banner on the side to help you out with this one, either. What's your theory?Okay, zoom in really close on this one and tell me something . . . is that Mushu in the central globe? If so, what the heck is he doing with these guys? Mulan's not a "vintage" Disney Film, Mulan isn't a Fantasyland kind of girl, she doesn't wear a blue dress . . . Now I'm really confused.
Yet another Pixiclon© as the Happily Ever After float approaches. They've got someone on the inside!

You gotta love the stone-faced security guy walking by the prozac-powered parade.
Once again, it's all in the details, man

The After-parade: All the people who've been trying to get out of the park for half an hour but have been stuck following this parade around. You're almost there, kids! For more professional photos, a more in-depth analysis and more musings about the freaky dancers, go here.

You're cordially invited!

2009-03-17T20:38:00.001-07:00

Anybody out there interested, just let me know!

Monkey Business, Disney Style

2009-03-17T19:18:00.001-07:00

When we went to Disney World, we brought a long a few stowaways. See, we have a large collection of stuffed critters.
While a few of these are of an aquatic persuasion, the majority are Emie's favorite - Monkeys. We've got tiny kids' meal monkeys, Beanie Baby monkeys, Build-a-Bear monkeys, great big novelty monkeys and a few gorillas for good measure.

Naturally, we couldn't leave them all at home when we went to Disney World, so a few of them stowed away. Bradley (Beanie Baby purchased at IHOP), H. Soarin' Primate (Purchased at Wal-Mart by our friends, Ryan and Becky) and Chloe (Emie's Webkinz fishie from Joy) When we would come back to our room at the end of a day at the parks, we would find the room cleaned up, which was no surprise. What WAS a surprise was that the staff had also arranged the monkeys around the pillows for us to welcome us home. We experimented for a day or two and determined that it was, indeed, intentionally staged. So, we decided to set the stage for the maid staff. By this point, Emie had purchased another monkey (Misty Dawn) at Animal Kingdom. We had also picked up a few interesting props from our Princess Breakfast. Thus, we set up a clash of the titans - 3 monkeys in an epic struggle as one fishie tries to hold them back!

In order, top to bottom, left to right: Misty Dawn (with the magic wand), H. Soarin' Primate (swordsmonkey #1), Chloe (would-be-peacemaker), Bradley (swordsmonkey #2)

We returned to the following picturesque scene:

Our little friends set aside their differences and were now watching TV together (the Disney Channel, of course). Toys probably really like the story of Pinnochio, of which they are seen here watching a clip.

This wasn't the end of it, though: Mom and Dad also found a little surprise across the way in their room! Mom had brought along her little white kitty stowaway and we had obtained a Webkinz dragon for her (which she has dubbed Aurora). When Mom and Dad returned that evening, they found their little friends also watching TV together. I think Aurora was diggin' that firefighter cartoon, especially since the fire wins.

Diversion from Disney

2009-03-12T15:20:00.000-07:00

We'll be back to more Disney adventures soon, but a friend of mine just passed this along to me and I need to share.

During my missionary service in Guatemala, a few other missionaries and I were put together into a singing group - and quite an eclectic group we were. Our original trio consisted of an opera singer (Seth Gruber), a rocker (Matt Digiordanno) and a barbershopper (me), to which was then added a choral singer (Saul Howard). We put together a collection of songs with which we toured central Guatemala, seeing old friends in the capital and the coast. I have often reflected that those were some of the happiest times of my missionary service and wished that I had more than memories from those times.

Little did I know that, at one of our performances, someone in the congregation was bootlegging it. Or, rather, suitcoating it, as their camera was concealed beneath a suitcoat. In addition to the photo above, they also videotaped our performance. The video quality ain't great and, admittedly, we were sometimes out of tune, but I wanted to share with you a few examples of our work.

Safety and Security

2009-03-02T12:55:00.000-08:00

Sapphire Sting here - sorry I've been away so long. The move from Paragon City took a lot out of us.

In any event, many of you may have wondered why you never see movies or comic books about superheroes rescuing major theme parks. The closest you get are random amusement parks and county fairs (which are really cover-ups for dastardly plots, of course) and most of those are abandoned. The explanation is simple: Places like Disney World have plenty of security on their own! You may not always see them, or even notice they're there, but they've got security everywhere, starting from the moment you come into the park. Here's a tribute to the brave men (I'm sure there are women working these jobs, too, I just didn't see any) who keep Disney World safe for you and me.

Animal Kingdom's Tree of Life

2009-03-01T07:57:00.000-08:00

With Emilee being a biologist, Disney's Animal Kingdom is particularly special for her and, by extension, to me. Animal Kingdom's central feature is a massive tree called the Tree of Life. This is no ordinary tree, though - it's been carefully carved (shaped, whatever) with the forms of
hundreds of animals. How many can you find?

A Plethora of Princesses

2009-02-28T12:39:00.000-08:00

What would Disney be without its princesses? And what would a visit to a Disney property be without some good Princess photo ops? We had two Princess themed meals, the first at the Akershus Norwegian restaurant in Epcot and the second at Cinderella's castle in the Magic Kingdom. Most of the princesses were the same between the two locations, there were a few notable differences. While the lack of a scanner prevents me from putting in their signatures for a side-by-side comparison, we took plenty of photos, as shown below. The ones in which Emie is in black are from the Akershus, the ones in white are from the castle.

Belle (Emie's favorite)

Aurora (Sleeping Beauty)

Jasmine (I was saying Rajah, which is why my smile is so goofy in this picture)

Ariel (Who has a great signature, incidentally)

Snow White (Ain't the dress perfect?)

Cinderella (in Florida, it's her castle)

And, of course, my favorite princess of all:

Our Disney SCUBA adventure

2009-02-15T10:10:00.000-08:00

Okay, I've put this off way too long now. It's time to start documenting the rest of our Disney adventures. Rather than a chronological approach or a "land-by-land" approach, I'm going to make use of the over 500 pictures/film clips we took while there and create a Disney photo essay.

I'm going to start with what I think Emie and I both agree was the biggest, coolest thing about the trip as a whole - Disney Divequest.

Yes, as Dad explains in the first video, we're just "people who paid a bunch of money to swim with the fishies," or in our case got Mom and Dad to pay a bunch of money so we could do so. Still, as our first dive since we got certified back in July of '07, it was a fantastic experience, especially since our certification dives were in a hot spring without any life other than us in it. With sharks, rays, beautiful fish and even a couple of endangered turtles, this aquarium dive was truly a wonderful opportunity.

Disney Day 1

2009-02-03T21:04:00.000-08:00

So, here I am in a hotel room on the 11th floor of Disney's Contemporary Resort through which a monorail runs to the Magic Kingdom and EPCOT. My parents (THANK YOU!!!) have brought Emie (Aunt Jill abbreviated Emilee's name that way and we likes it) and me along to Disney World for a week-long vacation/graduation party/early anniversary party. Lemme tell ya, getting here was NOT an easy matter.

Yesterday began with frantic turning in of graduate school app. materials and my usual Monday classes. After that, things got interesting. We got to the airport on schedule (Thanks, Mom Roach!) and got on our plane on schedule. This is when things ceased to happen on schedule.

The plane needed some more hydraulic fluid for some system, so we sat . . . and sat . . . and sat on the tarmac waiting for hydraulic fluid. We were to have 30 minutes of layover time in Denver before boarding our plane to Orlando. Instead, between waiting for Mr. Hydraulico to show up, to pump the fluid and (gotta love this part) waiting for the PAPERWORK to go through documenting the hydraulic fluid's insertion, we found ourselves scheduled to arrive in the Denver airport 3 minutes after boarding was to begin for our plane. Problem? I think so.

Thankfully, the gate at which we arrive (gate B20 - take good note) isn't too very far from the gate which we need to reach (gate B36). After landing even later than they had said, Emilee and I made a mad dash through the airport at maximum possible speed. We are hardly in the best of shape under the best of circumstances and my cold made these not the best of circumstances. We arrive, coughing up a lung and gasping for a death rattle of a breath, just barely in time to get on the plane with Mom and Dad(THANK YOU!!!). We get on the plane, they close the doors . . . and we wait.

We cough for a while, chat with Mom and Dad (THANK YOU!!!) for a while, watch the lighting flicker for a while and, boiling it all down, sit around for a while waiting for the plane to get going. After half an hour or so, they announce that, instead of trying to fix the mechanical problem they were having with that plane, we were now moving to a new one at gate B24. Quick memory check - at which gate did we land? Don't look back at that paragraph up there, cheater! That's right, B20.

With all that, our plane leaves over an hour after it was supposed to. So, instead of killing ourselves running 16 gates for a 6:57 departure, we could have made a leisurely saunter (heck, we could have crabwalked or slithered!) to a plane 4 gates down and waited for an hour. But, life goes on, we get to the hotel at about 3:00 AM, get to sleep between 4 and 6 AM, depending which of us you talk to, life is good.

This being Emie's first trip to WDW (my 3rd), we woke up at 7:00 AM (note times above to get average sleep time calculations) to go hit EPCOT. Photos and detailed descriptions will be forthcoming at a time when I'm not so darn sleepy.

Major highlight: Akershus Norwegian Buffet. Mom and Dad (THANK YOU!!!) have done so much for us for this trip (and other things ((THANK YOU!!!)) ) that we decided to do a little something special for them. Thus, I called up EPCOT's cake hotline (can you believe each park has a specific hotline dedicated to nothing but ordering custom cakes?!?!) a few days ago to arrange for a surprise for Mom and Dad as a way of saying THANK YOU!!!. I tell them that my parents are celebrating their anniversary (I don't mention that it's really a 31&1/2th anniversary) and I order a special chocolate cake for the occasion. I am told (rather brusquely, I'm afraid) that I cannot pay for this cake over the phone, but will pay for it at the time of the meal. Thus indicating to me that Mom and Dad (THANK YOU!!!) would be paying for it. Not exactly what we were hoping for.

SO, Emie and I headed to the restaurant a little early to make sure the details are ironed out - Yes, we'll be the ones wearing pins, but this cake is for the parents. They make a note in the system ("CAKE IS FOR OLDER COUPLE, NOT FOR YOUNGER COUPLE. Surprize (sic) from son!") and they say they'll give us a separate receipt for it.

Little did we realize that, even with this advance preparation, it would be REALLY HARD to keep our secret. We get to the lunch appointment together and they hand a ticket to my father for the meal and hand me another ticket with the cake info on it, saying "and you can just keep that to yourself." Dad is, of course, baffled as to why on earth they would be handing me a ticket for something. I'm trying desperately to either figure out a way to explain the situation or abscond with this piece of paper.

We get inside for a picture with Princess Belle (Emie's favorite, incidentally), during which time they have us hand our little pieces of paper (complete with incriminating "6 inch anniversary chocolate cake - Surprize (sic) from son!" on it) to various people who then hand them back to us, thus drawing more attention to it. Somehow, perhaps by divine intervention (if so, THANK YOU . . . errr . . . THEE!!!), we are able to keep Dad from seeing the text on this ticket as we make the final handoff. They bring us to our table and leave the ticket FACE UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TABLE! (Thanks a lot!)

Emie now springs into action to protect our secret plot. With a curious "Let me look at that!" she picks up the paper, peruses it for a moment, then places it surreptitiously behind her menu. Time passes. They come to take our orders and, of course, our menus. While Emie reaches for her menu to hand it to the waitress, I dexterously flipped the paper over to the blank side. At last, somebody collected our little piece of evidence from the table. The meal ended, the cake was brought (rated by Mom to be better than anything on the dessert sampler they brought to our table with it), surprize (sic) was evidenced, mission accomplished!

On that note, I'm heading to bed. Photos, details and more fun to follow!

My song!

2009-01-23T11:54:00.000-08:00

At last, mixing/mastering is done on my song! Affectionately referred to as Steve's Song by Impact, my official title is Part of Me. Head on over to this link to have a listen!

Christmas Redux: The month in review - Part 2

2009-01-16T11:50:00.000-08:00

Okay - time to break up the chronology a bit. We're heading backwards now.

Mid-way through Christmas, my wife and I took a trip on the Polar Express (as done by the Heber Creeper railroad) It was quite the ride, with cheerful elves, cookies from Mrs. Claus, singalongs and, of course, a visit from the big man in the red suit himself, Santa Claus.

Other highlights of the Polar Express:

The elves telling their jokes - made particularly memorable as the first elf forgot his joke and got it out of order: "Where does a snowman keep his snowbank? In his money!"

Jingle bells handed out by Santa and his elves. They were targeting the little kids to give the bells to, but a bunch of us "adults" pulled an elf by the elbow and got bells, too. We paid good money for this train ride, darn it, we want a bell, too!

The "Ho-Ho-Ho" contest. Our conductor told us that, when Santa boarded the train, we should greet him in his own language. So, to show every how it was done, they invited us to come to the front and give our best "ho ho ho." After a string of kids, I approached the microphone and gave a hearty belly laugh. Emilee tells me that people sitting near her asked if I worked as a mall Santa. I don't, of course, but that doesn't mean I don't have some experience behind the red suit and whiskers . . .

As my father can tell you, our family has a long history with Santa Claus. I'm not sure how it began - perhaps it was that night when I caught Santa filling my stocking - but Santa recruited my father as one of his helpers. You see, many people operate under the misapprehension that Santa can be everywhere at once all the time. In actual fact, as Santa explained, while Santa's magic can keep his workshop running and make reindeer fly, the space/time bending magic is beyond what even he can do alone. Christmas, though, has its own special magic, and when Santa combines his power with the natural magic of Christmas, anything is possible.

In any event, Santa needs helpers to fill in for him during the rest of the year - to be his "eyes-and-ears" as it were. So, men who fit the basic physical profile and have the right kind of heart are chosen by the man himself to fill the role. Men like my father serve as Santa for parties, malls and parades, anywhere that Santa would like to be but can't come to himself.

A couple of years ago, Santa came to me and asked for my help. He told me that I'm a bit young, but that my heart is one in tune with the Christmas spirit, and that's more important than a minor thing like age. I was also recruited as one of Santa's helpers, and have been practicing my Ho-ho-ho for several years. It's an honor and a privilege to wear the red suit and a delight to see the happy faces of children visited by Santa Claus.

New Year's Eve was interesting for us this year. Instead of the traditional "go outside and make tons of noise" thing, we decided to be a little more sedate. We got a bottle of Martinelli's and turned on our Wii. Animal Crossing for the Wii has a great feature in which you can visit other people's towns, including for special events. This was how, all the way from Arizona, we were visited by my brother-in-law Brian and his clan for New Year's. Animal Crossing's celebration includes party poppers, fireworks and special music - it's a lot of fun, especially when shared with friends. On a related note, the Wii Speak makes interacting over Wii-fii . . .err . . . wi-fi much cooler and easier.

I just realized something - I left everyone in suspense a month and a half ago when I went to take my GRE exam! I scored 710 on both the verbal and the quantitative portions, for a total score of 1420. Considering that I'm in a verbal field (literature/linguistics), being in the top 98% of GRE test-takers for the verbal portion is pretty darn cool. I am so thankful, to my parents for helping to give me good academic preparation, my wife for her support and God for the many gifts which went into that score.

This leads me to the topic of graduate school applications - the very thought of which makes me feel depressed and queasy, so I think I'll pass on that for the moment, giving a thank you to my wife for her emotional support as I've been filling these darn things out. Also, a big thank you to my recommendation senders - I doubt any of you will ever read this blog, but thanks anyway.

There's more to share, but this entry is plenty long as is. See you next time!

Quick Idea

2009-01-15T09:54:00.000-08:00

I'll get back with chronicling Christmas soon, but I thought I'd take a moment to insert a thought that I've seen floating around out there:

Everyone' life starts with a bag full of Luck and an empty bag for Experience. The trick is to fill the bag of Experience before the Luck runs out.

This has been your moment of Zen

Christmas Redux: The month in review - Part 1

2009-01-13T08:01:00.000-08:00

Where to begin? I suppose chronological order would make the most sense.

Finals week: I'll keep this one brief. Tests were taken. Good grades were received. Several "A"s were posted to my transcript. The passive voice was used. :~)

The first day of Christmas for my wife and me occurred the weekend before Christmas with our trip to California to visit the Watson clan. Our plan was to get to California in the early evening, have mini-Christmas Dinner with Grammy and the clan, meet Grammy's new, adorable cat, open presents at Grammy's house and then head down to Santa Barbara and bed. You know what they say about plans of mice and men . . .

The weekend before Christmas marked the first GINORMOUS snowfall of the season. Through heavy snow and worse traffic, we didn't get to the airport until our plane was supposed to have left, but that was okay - the plane didn't leave until almost midnight anyway. When we reached the airport, the Departures display said that our 4:00 flight had been delayed until 9:15. We camped out near our gate, Nintendo DS and book in our respective hands, and waited. The time displayed fluctuated between 8:30 and 9:30 for a while, then they sort of gave up on updating it.
At about 9:15 or so, they announced that our plane was landing and would be disembarking shortly, eliciting great enthusiasm from the assembled passengers. In the overcrowded terminal, they announced that we should make some room, because we were about to make about 100 new friends as they got off the plane. The plane disembarked, the 100 people got off and they made another announcement. "Well, your plane's here, but we can't board you yet because there your flight attendants aren't here yet. They're in a holding pattern right now and should be landing in about half an hour." They left the door to the plane tunnel open during all this, letting cold air in (which didn't make my cold any better).

Half an hour passed. No word. After about another 15 minutes, they announced that a private jet had flipped on the runway, blocking it until they could get everything cleaned up. They told us that there were 5 planes in a holding pattern above the airport . . . make that 4, one of them just diverted to another airport and they couldn't tell us which one it was.

Long story SLIGHTLY shorter, we got to California a little after midnight. We said a quick Merry Christmas to Grammy, met her cat, headed home and got to bed at approximately 3:00 AM.

As has become a family tradition, we woke up for an early-morning choir rehearsal the next day so Emilee and I could join the ward choir at the last minute for their Christmas program. When your father's a choir director and sometimes addresses you as "My son, my friend, my tenor," how can you say no? Not that I'd want to say no - it's always a great experience to sing with Dad's choir, even if it is on 5 hours of sleep.

Christmas with the family was great - it's always nice to sit back and enjoy time with family, especially when it involves games, music and good food. On the subject of games and music, of special note is a fun game Mom got for us based on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I set up a model of Mt. Crumpet atop which the Grinch and his sleigh sat. The basic objective of the game is to make sure that the Whos down in Whoville get their Christmas gifts. The Grinch, meanwhile, is trying to steal them all. Your secret weapon in this battle - music. Just as the Grinch's heart was touched by the song of the Whos in the village below, you can sing when the cards allow it and a special sensor below the sleigh picks up the music, sending the sleigh filled with presents down to spill out its contents, which can then be distributed to the Whos. While it's a little silly, it's a lot of fun and I'm glad we had the chance to play it together as a family. In a world of cutthroat competitive games, it's nice to play cooperatively as a family and have an excuse to sing Christmas Carols, even if the game is geared to a somewhat younger crowd.
On the subject of gifts, my wife and I are always grateful for the generosity of our respective clans. Wii games, board games, new clothes and a good pair of snow boots, books, movies and that remote control helicopter I've had on my list for years were among the wonderful things which graced the floor beneath our assorted trees.

Let me take a moment to go on a tangent here. Presents go beneath trees. Under trees. When was the last time you had your "presents on the tree?" I have issues with the lyricist who put together "I'll be Home for Christmas." It wouldn't have been that hard to put in an extra quick syllable for Under the tree, or (s)he could have done a classic Christmasy shortening and said 'Neath the tree, but the only present I've ever had On the tree is the Christmas Pickle, and even then what's "on" the tree is the thing you find in order to get the present, not the present itself.

And now I return to the circle. We returned from our extended Pre-Christmas weekend to more heavy snowfall, to the point that Emilee's mother (hereafter referred to as Mom Roach)convinced us to spend the night of Christmas Eve at their house rather than risk driving through the predicted heavy snow of Christmas Day. They had plenty of air mattresses for everyone. We arrived and watched Kung Fu Panda with Emilee's brother, Brian and Dad Roach while Emmy chatted with Mom Roach in the other room. Watching the film while lying on the air mattress assigned to us, I made an unfortunate discovery - the mattress leaked. Badly. Making use of my overly sensitive ears, we located a pair of holes on the underside of the mattress and quickly applied some duct tape. When we could locate no more holes, we refilled the mattress and got ready to sleep.

Predictably, we didn't find all of the holes. I realized that the mattress would retain air better if only one person were on it, so I moved to a comfy rocking chair and got what sleep I could. I got up a couple of times during the night to put some more air into the mattress for Emilee, but managed to get a couple of hours before our 3-year-old nephew, Isaac, woke everyone up at 6:00 to open presents. After presents were opened, Dad Roach allowed me to sack out on his bed for a few more hours. Again, thank you!

The following weekend, we were joined by Emilee's sister, Stacy, and her husband Jared. We enjoyed some games together, including Harry Potter Clue, an enjoyable variant on the timeless classic. For the first time in a very long time, I won, though it was admittedly by an unusual means. My wife went into Dumbledore's office to make her accusation and was wrong - it was revealed that Jared had forgotten that he had a particular room card in his hand which he should have shown Emilee earlier in the game. Thus, the guilty party and their weapon (Lucius Malfoy and the Sleeping Draught, if I recall correctly) were revealed - all that was left was the room.
This is when I decided to get sneaky. Since the moment anyone asked about a room which no one had in their hand would see a mad dash to Dumbledore's office to make the accusation, I passed into the Great Hall, whose card I held in my own hand. Emilee, of course, was out of the game, but had seen the real room in the secret envelope and a questioning look filled her eyes, met by a sly wink from me. Jared and Stacy both rushed to the office, Jared missing his chance by 1 step. A triumphant Stacy made her accusation and became quite upset when my trick was revealed. Jared, presumably deciding to make use of his rush to the office, made his best guess and was also wrong, leaving only me to claim the ultimate prize.

At that point, I realized that I had to make up to Stacy, so I made up a batch of ice cream with hot chocolate mix as the flavoring added to Ben and Jerry's sweet cream base. Stephen's hot cocoa mix in its many flavors makes some good mixes, so I put in a little Italian Amaretto and some Mint Marshmallow chocolate mix. It really turned out quite well, if I do say so myself.

My time grows short, so I'll have to bring you part 2 later on. In the meantime, Happy New Year!

A funny thing happened on the way to the office . . .

2008-12-12T06:53:00.001-08:00

Okay, it was actually after I got to the office, but I had to use the title. Anywho, this blog entry will be a little bleary-eyed today, since 8:00 is normally the time I get up to get ready for work and it's just barely that time now. So what am I doing up before my accustomed time? Lemme tell ya . . .

Last Monday, my Songwriting teacher told us that there would be a test review on Friday at 10:00 and another at 11. He also declared that, since we hadn't had time to give oral reports about our "model songs," (songs after which we patterned our original songs) we would instead turn in a short paper on them on Friday, thus making attendance at the review session somewhat obligatory.

10:00 is the time that I normally get to work (thus my normal 8:00 - 8:30 wake up time), so I realized that I had a problem. I couldn't even go to the one at 11:00 because I need to be at the place where I'm taking the GRE before 12:30. Thus, I asked my supervisor's permission to come to work early, and she agreed. I figured I could get my main job done in just a few hours (I usually spend an hour answering emails after I'm done with my reports), so I decided to come in at 7:00.

When I got here, the office downstairs where I usually collect my reports was locked. Turns out it doesn't open until 7:30. So I headed upstairs, booted up my computer and my assorted programs and answered the emails which were in my inbox. At 7:35, I had answered my emails and headed downstairs to get my reports. Which were not on the desk. Thankfully, the guy who prints and sorts them was there and was able to give tthem to me.

So I headed upstairs with my reports, ready to begin and a bit worried that I might not be able to finish in time. I looked over my reports and made a surprising realization. My reports contain all of the lessons which have been submitted to BYU Independent Study over 2 weeks ago. My job involves putting new lessons into the system and emailing instructors about them, which new lessons show up on my list 2 weeks and a day after they are submitted.

Guess what day it was 2 weeks and a day ago . . .
Guess how many people were in the office to process lessons 2 weeks and a day ago . . .
Guess how many lessons were officially submitted 2 weeks and a day ago. . .
Guess how many lessons I have to put into the system today . . .
Guess how many emails I have to send today . . .
Guess how much I can accomplish at work today now that my emails are done . . .
Guess how many hours of sleep I feel as though I got . . .

On a much more pleasant note, though, I took a practice test for the GRE last night and the results are quite favorable. To anybody our there who reads this, I ask for your prayers of support today so that my actual score can be even better.

Wish me luck!

2008-12-11T12:39:00.000-08:00

Just a quick one today. It's that time again, Finals Week (bum bum baaaaaaaaaaaaahm) I need all the prayers and good vibes you good folks can send my way. I've got the GRE tomorrow, a final on Monday and another next Friday. I'm doing my best to keep from being stressed, but it's turning into a very busy couple of weeks.
Thankfully, most of the things keeping me busy are pleasant things - the A Capella Jam last night was tons of fun and I think we gave a great performance - more on that to come! There are Christmas parties and plays to attend, trips to go on and families to visit. It will be good to have a break, but in the meantime, nose to the grindstone!

Giving Thanks

2008-11-26T11:34:00.000-08:00

As members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we are instructed "to give thanks in all things” (Mosiah 26:39), as was stressed by Elder Bednar of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles during our last General Conference. As my wife and I emerge somewhat from a period of hardship, I feel it appropriate today to take some time to express my thanks for my blessings.

I am thankful for my wife, for the warmth, peace and joy she brings to our home. Emilee, I thank you for your support, your tender care, your patience, your love, your gentle touch. I thank you for the hard work you do to make our home a happy p

lace where the Spirit of God may dwell. I thank you for your guidance when I feel lost and your fun-loving spirit when I feel down. For this and so much more, I thank you.

I am thankful for my parents, for the support and teachings they have given me. Mom and Dad, I thank you for raising me in the light of the gospel of Jesus Christ, for teaching me correct principles and helping me to explore my talents. I thank you for supporting me financially and emotionally as I complete my schooling. I thank you for praying for me every night for as long as I can remember, praying that I would meet those critical spirit

ual goals. For more than I can possibly express, I thank you.

I am thankful for my brother, for the example he has given me. Derrill, while we are very different from each other, you have always been a firm defense and support to me. You were always the first to extend a hand of friendship and forgiveness after our quarrels. Your quiet spiritual leadership has helped to shape me, to make those critical decisions that have made me who I am. For the music and the joy that we have shared, I thank you.

I am thankful for the gift of music, for its power in my life. I thank God for the talents with which he has blessed me, for ears to hear and a voice with which to sing. I thank Him for the talent of composition which has allowed me to more fully express my devotion, as well as my feelings. My thanks go to Impact Vocal Band, the Santa Barbara Channel City Chorus, the BYU Men's

Chorus,

Wild Pitch, The Honor Chord, Sing For Your Sweetheart and various other choirs in which I have participated and which I have directed. For the sweet resonance of the heart, I thank God.

I am thankful for our friends who enrich our lives and help us to extend

our focus beyond ourselves and our personal needs. Without our friends, life would be a lot more boring. For your generosity, your patience, your eagerness to share, for laughs and love over good eats and weekend sleepovers, for helping us smile through our problems and our pain, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I am thankful for my job, for the security it grants me. The power to pay my bills while maintaining my personal integrity is a tremendous gift, especially in this day and age where so much of business is based on trickery.

I am thankful for the opportunity I have to study at BYU. I am grateful for the chance to learn not only a vocation but also more of the doctrine of the gospel. The chance to associate with so many who are of my same faith and hold my same values is a priceless treasure.

I am thankful for Jesus Christ, for His love and His atoning sacrifice. I am thankful that He was willing to suffer and die so that I can be forgiven of my sins and live forever with my Heavenly Father. I am grateful for His gospel and the life with which I have been blessed through living according to His teachings. I am thankful to be a member of His church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Sants. I am thankful for the scriptures, the Bible and the Book of Mormon, written by ancient prophets who testify of Him. I am thankful for a modern prophet, Thomas S. Monson, for Apostles and other church leaders who lead God's church just as prohets did in ancient times. Within the framework of the restored gospel, I am especially thankful for the temple, for the opportunity to live with my family for all eternity. I am thankful for the power of the priesthood, through which I and my family may be blessed and eternally joined. I testify of the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ and I give my heartfelt thanks and devotion to Him for it.

Whenever I hear the song of a bird/
or look at the blue, blue sky/
Whenever I feel the rain on my face/
or the wind as it rushes by/
Whenever I touch a velvet rose/
or walk by a lilac tree/
I'm glad that I live in this beautiful world/
Heavenly Father created for me.

He gave me my eyes that I might see/
the color of butterfly wings/
He gave me my ears that I might hear/
the magical sound of things/
He gave me my life, my mind, my heart/
and I thank him reverently/
for all His creations, of which I'm a part/
Yes, I know Heavenly Father loves me.

Thanks for reading.

Waxing Nostalgic

2008-11-25T11:58:00.000-08:00

Looking a little further forward, my family and I have planned a trip to Disney World in February. A lot of my greatest memories come from Disneyland/World: Losing a tooth on a frozen banana; A soggy trip to the airport followed by 2 weeks of illness; losing my Goofy hat in the Haunted Mansion; the day a friendly train conductor tried to convince me to take his job - the list goes on. But one of my most treasured memories is of the time I pulled the Sword from the Stone in Fantasyland.

Every day (in fact, several times a day), a large procession marches through Fantasyland toward the carousel. Merlin and a host of castle guards come to the sword to test the crowd and see if there is one among them with the heart of a king, one who can pull the sword from the stone.

This particular day, my brother had headed off by himself to hit some rides while I was with my parents. Derrill was late for our rendezvous, allowing us time to watch the Sword ceremony. I watched as Merlin called forth brawny, burly men to pull the sword while a royal band played a strength-inspiring tune. The large men with their bulging brawn pulled until their faces turned purple, but to no avail - the sword didn't budge.

I, being a somewhat impetuous lad (I believe I was somewhere in the vicinity of 8 years old at the time) began flexing my non-existent muscles to the guards who stood by the side. One of them called to Merlin that he should try this lad and I was summoned forth.

I stood before the stone with my beloved Donald Duck hat perched on my eager head as the band struck up their tune. I tugged and pulled and heaved . . . and nothing happened. As the band began to die away, Merlin announced that he still felt that I had the heart of a king and that all I needed was a bit of magic to help me find my courage. He waved his want and cast his spell, then told me to try again. I gripped the sword and gave a determined, white-knuckled heave on the magical blade's hilt as the band began again. After a moment, the sword rose - only a few inches, of course - and the band struck a triumphal note.

As I grinned proudly, Merlin bustled me to the front of the crowd declared that I was to be crowned King of the Late Afternoon. He opened a large chest and removed a shining crown, then removed my Donald Duck hat and tossed it casually into the chest. I shouted in protest that it was mine as tears washed my cheeks, thinking my hat would be locked away in that chest. Merlin quickly assured me that I would get it back and told me to smile for a waiting camera. My parents still have that momento of our trip, a picture of their tear-streaked little boy smiling sheepishly with a crown on his head.

Earliest Memories of Christmas

2008-11-21T12:11:00.000-08:00

Whenever the holidays approach, I get nostalgic about Christmases gone by. One of my very earliest memories (Perhaps my earliest clear memory, in fact) is a Christmas Memory - catching Santa Claus when I was 5.

It's been over 20 years, but I can still remember what I asked Santa for in my letter that year - a big box with all the magic tricks in the world. I don't think I realized just what a tall order that was, but I knew that if anybody could pull it off, it would be Santa Claus.

I loved Santa Claus - I still do, in fact. I wanted, more than anything, to see him and tell him myself what I wanted for Christmas. Letters were nice and Mall Santas could bring him the message, but I really wanted to be a magician, so when Mom suggested that I try to catch him, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get my Christmas wish.

Santa Claus has to fill all official Christmas stockings, wherever they may be, so we put a stocking with a jingle bell on it under my pillow on Christmas Eve. I awoke to the sound of that jingling bell (and a slight shaking of my bed - I guess Santa was having trouble reaching it or something) and opened my eyes to see the jolly man in red himself right beside my bed with a big smile on his bearded face. For some reason that I was too sleepy to question, Mom was there with the camera. When I said we should go get Dad, she told me he really needed his sleep and Santa couldn't stay long.

So then the moment came. After a big hug, Santa asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him that I wanted a big box with all the magic tricks in the world inside it. He laughed (bowl-full-of-jelly jiggle and all) and said that he had brought me something even better - a magical book!

Now, I know what all you kids are thinking right now . . . what a rip-off! You asked for cool magic tricks and you got a stupid book! I'll admit that I was disappointed at the time, but let me tell you something. It's been 20 years, and I still remember that book with a smile. Opt: An Illusionary Tale was a collection of optical illusions set in a fantasy kindgom. I cannot tell you how many times I flipped through that book and wondered how it all worked. It may not have changed my life, but it was still a lot of fun.

Would I have remembered a big box full of magic tricks? Probably. But what I really remember was the love of Santa Claus. Jolly Old St. Nicholas invites Santa to "Choose for me, dear Santa Claus, what you think is right." Santa Claus may not have given me exactly what I asked for, but he chose well anyway. Isn't it funny how life works out that way sometimes?

Shattering the Fourth Wall - What is a hero?

2008-11-07T11:14:00.000-08:00

Okay, I admit it - I'm not a superhero. I can't fly, I can't shoot radiation bursts from my fingertips and I would look horrible in blue spandex. Ever since Sapphire Sting left Paragon City, I've been losing touch with him. It's been several months now since I stopped playing City of Heroes - after 3 years, it was definitely an addiction. Sapphire Sting, Alba Caliente, Graham and Envinyatar, along with literally dozens of other lesser-used characters, are slowly slipping away. Perhaps more importantly, my friends like Nickarr, Kick Back and Trick Tracy are no longer a significant presence in my daily life. I miss them, but I cannot go back. The characters I created, the bases I designed, the friendships I forged - all are, sadly, part of the past now.

Yet part of it lives on in me - the ideals, the dream of saving the world, one day at a time. Most days, it's little things like going to work and school when I don't feel like it. Another day it may be a vote, or a blog entry supporting Proposition 8.

What makes a hero? Is it super powers and spandex, cool catch phrases and bullet-proof hair? The villains have those, too. How do we know the difference? Where does the shallow veneer end and true devotion begin? Where can we turn in such troubled times?

There is one source we can always trust, a perfect hero to us all: Jesus Christ. The gospel of Jesus Christ is the surest and only true guide to happiness, safety and truth. Every day, if we strive to be as He is, we will become the heroes our world needs.

To help and to heal without hurting another.

To love and forgive your enemies no matter what.

To be both just and merciful in all your dealings.

To boldly stand for what's right, no matter the cost.

To gently guide all those who are lost and will follow.

To share the light of the gospel with all who will listen.

To be a brother to all even as they smite you.

To be true to your own divine heritage.

We are all sons and daughters of God, brothers of Christ, and are all eligible to feel the promptings of the Holy Ghost if we will but listen. The days ahead - the last days, it seems - are times when we will all need to stand and be counted among the heroes who follow with faith the divine light of truth, even Jesus Christ, our Redeemer.

The battle lines have been drawn. Let the last crusade for Christ begin - not a crusade of blood or of worldly conquest, but a crusade against the evils of this world. Let us defeat the villains, the destroyers, the haters, the hypocrites. Let us stand and wave the banner of truth!

Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me?

Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see?

Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!

Will you give all you can give so that our banner may advance?
Some will fall and some will live, will you stand up and take your chance?

Mixed Feelings

2008-11-05T07:12:00.000-08:00

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout . . .

Which, after everything is said and done, describes America, even if the election didn't go the way we each may have wanted.

Congratulations to everyone out there who likes Obama. I hope you continue to like him, since I hope he does a good enough job that we can get to like him. I recognize that he's in charge now (or will be once he hits office), and I plan to uphold him and pray for him so he can be the best leader he can be, the duty of any true American hero. While I don't expect much good out of him, I look forward to being proved wrong.

On what is, for me, a much more cheerful note, the votes are in from across the nation:

Arizona's proposition 102:

Yes	56%	1,039,606
No	44%	801,279

Florida's Proposition 2:

Yes	62%	4,662,558
No	38%	2,851,598

California's Proposition 8:

Yes	52%	5,163,908
No	48%	4,760,336

Ameican voters have chosen, once again, to defend the family, our rights as parents, our rights as voters and our religious rights. And, in small small measure, my faith in America is restored. God bless America, and may we continue to live so that He may continue to do so.

Props to my friend

2008-10-17T06:22:00.000-07:00

For those of you interested in the Prop 8 debate, my buddy Stu Beck (the High Trail blog I've recently added to my list) has an excellent summary of the issues at hand. Check it out!

A frightening Proposition

2008-10-10T10:14:00.000-07:00

I'm getting political again. You have been warned.

Anyone who knows me doubtless knows where I stand on California's Proposition 8, designed to place in the state constitution the definition of "marriage" as being between a man and a woman. Most of the pro-Prop 8 advertising I've seen focuses on the moral aspects of the issue. "Look at the consequences for our schools and our children," they proclaim. "We warn that the disintegration of the family will bring upon individuals, communities, and nations the calamities foretold by ancient and modern prophets," warns The Family: A Proclamation to the World from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I agree with and support these statements, but there's another issue at hand here, one which will, perhaps, help those who are having trouble with their decision based solely on moral grounds.

On March 7, 2000, California citizens approved Proposition 22, the Knight Initiative or Defense of Marriage act, with 61.4% approval and 38.6% against, a truly significant margin. By the democratic system established by our forefathers and supposedly upheld by our public officials, the people voted to uphold the traditional definition of marriage.

The California Supreme Court ruled on May 15, 2008 that Proposition 22 violated the state Constitution and was therefore invalid. These seven people decided that their opinion was more important than the mandate of nearly 5,000,000 voters. This sets a terrible precedent, and robs the American People of what little power they have left in government.

I find myself frightened at the prospect, particularly as I read the scriptures and find many direct parallels. From Alma, chapter 46, we read the following account of stirring turmoil and rebellion:

3 Now the leader of those who were wroth against their brethren was a large and a strong man; and his name was Amalickiah.
4 And Amalickiah was desirous to be a king; and those people who were wroth were also desirous that he should be their king; and they were the greater part of them the lower judges of the land, and they were seeking for power.
7. . . . and thus were the affairs of the people of Nephi exceedingly precarious and dangerous . . .

So for any of you who are undecided about the moral aspects of the situation, for any who are trying to decide what is right, let me ask you this question: Who do you want to have holding power over the law? You and your fellow millions of Californians, or four out of these seven glorified lawyers? Now is the time to show them that we decide what our laws are, not a pack of power-hungry judges with an axe to grind. It's time to show Mayor Gavin Newsom that, "like it or not", this is America, a land where the law and the government are, in the words of Abraham Lincoln, "of the people, by the people, for the people," and that it "shall not perish from the earth."

In closing, for all of you who cannot vote in this election, let me implore your aid for my fellow Californians in the words of the prophet Moroni (8:28)

Pray for them, my son, that repentance may come unto them. But behold, I fear lest the Spirit hath ceased striving with them; and in this part of the land they are also seeking to put down all power and authority which cometh from God; and they are denying the Holy Ghost.

New Poll!

2008-10-02T07:05:00.000-07:00

Well, friends and family, Halloween is approaching. I decided that it might be fun to create a poll about something scary. After some consideration (and some inspiration from my Portuguese class), I realized that one of the biggest and scariest things for Americans today is the issue of Global Warming. Does it scare you, or do you believe it's nothing more substantial than Trick or Treat? Answer my poll (bottom of the blog) and let me know!

The Demon Within

2008-09-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

As we've seen before, power often has a dark side. Of late, I've found myself battling my inner demons with a different understanding than I have hitherto had. I'm coming to recognize the voice of my inner demon - the creature nestled in my soul that whispers all my imperfections. "You're not good enough" it states in a quiet voice which still pierces my heart. "You're not strong enough or smart enough. You're weak and unworthy," it states in a sibilant hiss that cuts to the core. It's the voice that weeps in the dark, that shuns the light of day and the joy of friends and family. It's the grasping hand that pulls me down into despair. The Hyde to my Jekyll, the Gollum to my Smeagol.
Of late, I've been trying to distance myself from the demon, to separate him from my own identity. I've been considering naming him Xander, after the dark persona of my past. Can I truly pluck him from my heart and end his torturous cries? Will the void in my heart ever be filled? Can I ever know true peace in this life? Only time will tell.

Experiment

2008-09-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

So, we've got an interesting situation at work that's been puzzling everyone here, and I realized that we could use some input from the outside. Go to the following address: http://ce.byu.edu/courses/hs/999061041002/secure/sampleexm.htm and tell me, in the comments or in an email, what you find there. If it's a sample exam for a physics class, it's right. If it's something else, please let me know about it in detail. Thanks!

Much as I hate to complain . . .

2008-09-19T11:42:00.000-07:00

One of my instructors this year will be getting a really, really bad student rating from me. He is a master's student here at BYU and has been given the responsibility of teaching my Music Fundamentals course at 8:00 AM. This is his first experience teaching, so he is, understandably, nervous.

That's not my issue with him.

My issue is that he's on a power trip and seems to believe that he has already achieved his divine destiny of becoming a God. He has publicly declared that he does not have time for us, our problems are not worth taking his time, and he does not have office hours for precisely that reason.

The real icing on the cake is that this object of self-adoration is incompetent. Let me take you through a few typical moments in the few days I have bothered to attend of this course:

1st day of class: "Hi everyone, welcome to Music Fundamentals. We're going to be going over the syllabus today. Now (nervous cough), I haven't actually managed to get the syllabus out to everyone yet - I'll be sending an email with that later today - but we can still go over the basics." (Moves to his computer. Continues in dramatic tones) "So! The most important thing on your syllabus . . ." (Goes to board and slowly writes his name. Pauses for effect. Returns to computer) "The next most important thing on your syllabus . . ." (clears throat and reads directly from computer screen) " 'This syllabus is subject to change.' This is very important to remember." Class ended after 20 minutes

2nd day of class: "Welcome back everyone. I see you all brought your books, very good. Okay, so, you there in the corner, what's your name? Chelsae - is that with an A E, an I E . . . A E, okay. Chelsae with an A E, would you read for us number 1.1?" (she reads) "And the answer to the question in 1.1 everyone is?" (class speaks in bored unison) "Sound." "Right, sound! So, uhh, you in that corner over there, what's your name? Brian - is that with an I or a Y? Okay, Brian with an I, would you read for us number 1.2?" He spent the entire hour doing this.

3rd day of class: We've been discussing musical notation, clefs, etc. (David points at the board and speaks in a voice that one might find on Sesame Street) "So, THAT note is a *G.* Since we've established that THAT note is a *G*, using my remarkable ability to go backwards in the alphabet, we can determine what THIS note is!" (Slowly, pointing at each line and space as he goes) "*G*, *F*, *E*, *D*! THAT note is a *D*" The rest of the day was similar.

Quiz day: A note on the board reads: Quiz will begin at 8:10. 8:10 comes and passes. Several minutes later, the teacher strolls in without a word of explanation or apology and hands out the quiz, then proceeds to make stupid jokes and comments while we're trying to concentrate on our quiz.

Fortunately, attendance is optional in this course. I'm seriously considering getting together with some of my classmates and lodging a complaint with the Dean's office - this guy is getting paid WAY too much for the work he's doing (he's being paid to work 20 hours, including office hours and prep time - he's not even putting the full 3 he's supposed to into our class time!), and we're the ones paying it!

And another thing . . .

2008-09-18T15:16:00.000-07:00

Note: This is part two of a longer blog entry - the first half is here.

While we're on the subject, Senator Obama, Let's talk about your use of the word mistake. A mistake, when you boil it down, is something done in ignorance. If, for example, I write down a formula wrong on a math test and get the wrong answer, I made a mistake. The word "mistake" cannot be appropriately applied to pregnancy in our era - is it possible to grow up in America today without knowing that sex generally results in pregnancy? If I'm not too mistaken, it's that same leftist regime that's gotten that put into the school curriculum so strongly. And, of course, being a leftist invention, the main purpose of sex education is to teach kids ways to escape the consequences of having sex.

But I'm getting off topic. I believe, Senator, there is a word which far better applies to what Ms. Palin has done which fits quite well with your vocabulary. I believe the pro-abortion crowd is quite fond of it, in fact: she has made a choice. She and Levi chose to engage in sexual activity, knowing full well the consequences. Thus far, they appear to have chosen to accept the consequences of their choice. Your offer to pay for the murder their unborn child, in addition to being a slap in the face to her mother, is an offer to allow her to escape not only the consequences of her actions, but the price of it as well. I cannot, in good conscience, support anyone who believes that a government's duty - or that of its governing bodies - is to throw money to people so that they can escape the consequences of their choices. Who was it, in the great war in heaven, who offered a plan to escape all consequence which won the hearts of a third of the host of heaven? That's certainly not God's plan.

Since we're getting into details of vocabulary, let's discuss some more words which are applicable. A villain is defined as a "wicked or evil person." The definition of wicked simply states "Evil by nature and in practice." The applicable definition of evil states "Causing ruin, injury, or pain." Is not that an apt description of what would happen to Ms. Palin's unborn child if she took you up on your offer? The medically documented screams of the unborn as they die will tell you exactly the kind of ruin, injury and pain it causes. Congratulations, Senator - you've shown your true colors as a villain, and you have gained at least one enemy.

In defense of the defenseless

2008-09-18T12:19:00.000-07:00

This is extremely out of character for me, but I'm about to get political. You have been warned.

As the tabloid mongers (by which I mean the mainstream media) have eaten up the scandal about Bristol Palin's teenage pregnancy, the true character of the media is clearly shown. But this is not the only revelation which has come out of this situation. Assuming that my source is accurate, Senator Obama, presumably in an attempt to show himself as nurturing and caring while, at the same time, slinging some mud at Governor Palin, said the following: “Governor Palin . . . you tried to teach your daughter about morals and values, but she made a mistake, and she shouldn’t be punished with a baby.” He then offered to pay for young Bristol's abortion “at any time between now and the scheduled moment of birth.”

As a defender of the defenseless, as any true hero should be, I find myself compelled to speak. This sums up everything I have ever seen from the political left: A refusal to recognize that there are certain things in life which have natural consequences. These consequences are not a punishment, something placed by a 3rd party as a penalty imposed for wrongdoing. A consequence is something which naturally arises from a situation. If a student fails to study for a test, a low grade is a consequence, not a punishment. If you choose not to go to college or otherwise fail to get a good education, difficulty in getting a high paying job is not a punishment, it is a natural consequence.

Who would be doing the punishing, Senator Obama? Who has decided that this fetus and future baby should be placed within Bristol Palin? 3 people are involved in such a choice - the mother, the father, and our Eternal Father, the father of the soul which she will bear. Do you propose, Senator Obama, that God is punishing her? Of course not - your implication is that her mother is punishing her by forcing her to accept the consequences of her actions and is an insult to Gov. Palin, Bristol and God. God has given us consequences as a system to learn from our mistakes and our poor choices, not as a penalty. If we ever hope to grow into the divine destiny we share as sons and daughters of God, we must be willing to accept, deal with and learn from consequences. This is, perhaps, one of the most important lessons about morality which her mother could teach, and certainly one which Senator Obama, as well as other Pro-Choice (choice-to-murder-the-unborn) have failed to learn: Consequences make us better people and better citizens. We must learn, as a nation, to face and deal with the consequences of our actions, rather than seeking ways to be bailed out of them, or we will lose the blessing of a "firm reliance on divine providence," that upon which the founding fathers built this nation.

In loving memory . . .

2008-09-16T09:50:00.000-07:00

At 10:30 PM last night, I made a saddening discovery. Our guppy, Little Ryan, had passed away. Now, any of you who have made a habit of keeping fish will be saying, "So what? Guppies have a life span of, like, 3 weeks, a couple of months if you're lucky. Of course it died!" We've had Little Ryan for nearly 2 years. Even the story of his birth is a strange one. His life is a story for which I feel the need to drop the 4th wall and face reality.

Emilee had gotten 10 guppies for an experiment for her biology class (observing fishy behavior and feeding patterns in different temperatures). She made certain that they were all female - we didn't want to have a huge tank full of little guppies, especially since we really aren't supposed to have pets, including fish, where we live. The experiment involved partitioning off part of our large tank to create a seperate feeding area, which we did with a small, flexible plastic grating, with tiny holes so the water still flows through.

The guppies slowly died off, as one expects, and no emotion accompanied their passing - they were a science experiment, nothing more, and we had only had them a short time. One day, my friend Ryan went in the back room to look at the fish. From the living room, he heard him exclaim, "Hey, guys! There's a baby fish in here!" I yelled back that that was impossible. He replied, "No, I'm serious, there's a little fish in here!" I wandered in to see what he was yelling about. I found that it was true, there was one little fish which had squeezed through the grating to the other side of the tank from the rest of the fish. This was either quite lucky or quite smart of him, since guppies have a tendency to eat their young.

We named him Little Ryan after his discoverer, and fed and took care of him while the other guppies died off. Since then, he's survived numerous vacations and moving to a new apartment, showing incredible resilience to changes in his environment (when we've left him in the care of a friend) and to lack of food while we've been away over two Christmases and assorted other trips. He was smart, strong, and had a gorgeous tail. We shall not soon see his like again.

Joyous Return to Active Duty

2008-08-18T06:15:00.000-07:00

There are times in life when one gets tired of doing the same thing day after day and wants a change of pace. When local officials asked for someone to help with a project they were working on "for a few days," I felt my opportunity had arrived to do just that. I happily volunteered and reported for duty. Little did I know that "a few days" was really 2 weeks.

There are times in life when one gets tired of having a change of pace and wants to get back to doing the same thing day after day. The project has been consuming my life and my soul for far too long (hence the absence of posts for the last 2 weeks), and it's good to be back.

I'm sure that many of you are curious as to what the project was. While I can't go into too much detail, a massive database was being compiled of super-criminals (super-criminal being defined as someone who uses abilities or powers beyond those of average criminals, which really isn't that hard when you think about it). The database itself was fairly straightforward - compile a list of current location, known contacts and security level of the penitentiary to which they were sent. I began with the ones who are currently incarcerated (approximately 1000 names), since we have somewhat more information on them (Current Headquarters: Algonquin penitentiary, Cell block D. Locations of known henchmen: Cell block C, etc.) This process took several days, but was completed without much incident.

Then they gave me the list of the supervillains who have escaped from imprisonment or are still at large. Not to alarm anyone, but this list contained no fewer than 2,000 names and, for obvious reasons, little was known about their current location and contacts. This part of the process involved over a week of painstaking, mind-numbing research. As the project neared completion, I asked the commissioner if he had any additional requirements. This was a mistake. He immediately gave me additional information to seek out. I finally finished with everything an hour before my deadline, 2 weeks after I began.

I used the word "mind-numbing" to describe this process. After the first 2 days on the project, I began falling asleep in front of the station computer. Realizing I needed something to keep me going, I discovered Pandora, a free online music site that lets you create your own online radio stations, using a "seed" of an artist or song, from which it derives certain stylistic points to create a station. I quickly created a station for musicals (using Alan Menken and Sir Arthur Sullivan as my main "seeds,"), another for stirring, dramatic orchestra music (using John Williams), and a station for slower, more haunting music (using Howard Shore).

These kept me going for about a week. But I soon found that, by the end of my shift going in to week 2, even the dramatic strains of the Star Wars theme were insufficient to keep me on my task. I finally resorted to something quite different. I realized that the only way I would be able to complete the project would be to shut out all thought and emotion beyond that needed to complete my task. With a trembling hand, I moved my mouse to the "genre" based station, seeking a numbing form of music and made a selection. Thus it was that for the last week of my task, I spent several hours each day listening to the whining, grinding beat of techno. Shutting out all thought, all feeling, I became a machine, my fingers moving in time with the droning sound. Selling a piece of my soul to the beat, I completed my task day by day. It's good to be back.

Going the distance

2008-08-05T06:17:00.000-07:00

Time for an admission here. There's a reason why I love flying so much, even though I may not match the super-speeders' mph. My legs just can't handle it - after just a few minutes, they start to hurt, I start to lose my breath, it's not pretty.

For this reason, when I have to run, I prefer to do it alone - avoid the mockery, that sort of thing. So when my wife offered to go running with me, I was less than thrilled with the prospect. While she's seen me at my worst, I still try to avoid reaching new levels of worst. Her 20 minute jogging goal seemed to me a proposal to do exactly that, since the old hams start to hurt at about 5 minutes. But, between Alba's insistence and the fact that we'd be using the action simulator (positioned next to an air conditioner) to do it, rather than heading outside in the hot summer sun, I soon found myself jogging by her side.

Yes, it was painful. Yes, I had trouble keeping my balance when it was done. But Yes, I did it. And I did it again (once again by her side) a few days later. It's amazing the power that a beautiful young woman can have in her husband's life.

California Vacation

2008-07-29T06:47:00.000-07:00

Having left Paragon City to attend to domestic responsibilities, we decided it was high time we took some time together away from those domestic responsibilities. (Makes sense to me . . .) So, we went to visit family in Santa Barbara, California. Good times, good food and wonderful weather were enjoyed by all.

One highlight of the trip was watching the 1991 film Oscar, with good ol' Sylvester Stallone as "Snaps" Provolone, a comical 1930's gangster trying to go straight. It features such great lines as "Of course I knew. I just had no idea!" and touching family scenes like this:

Lisa Provolone: ...I wanna lay on the beach in Honolulu!

Snaps: Do whatever you want, just don't leave this room!

Snaps: You're going to marry this bum. Just as soon as I get my hands on him... And after the wedding you'll move into a nice ground floor apartment.

Lisa Provolone: Why a ground floor apartment?

Snaps: Because after I break his legs, he's not gonna make it up any steps!

We also went to Santa Barbara's Museum of Natural History. I've always liked the Museum, especially their bird room. You step into the room and hear a symphony of bird calls as great, majestic birds look down on you from above. Imagine my annoyance at finding out that they were rebuilding/revamping their bird room! Thus, not only were we not able to enter it together, but the presentation (my favorite thing at the museum) is gone forever.

The museum's big draw is undergoing some changes, also. The SBMNH's claim to fame is the large blue whale skeleton prominently displayed in front of the museum which has, until now, been a favorite photo op spot for families and tourists. Someone at the museum realized that all this human contact (not to mention exposure to the elements) was deteriorating their skeleton (is this a surprise to anyone?), even with the protective coating they put on it. It is now in a tent-like shelter, safely chained away from would-be touchers.

No matter where a hero goes, his talents are called upon. My family was putting on a skit about the trevails of the LDS pioneers when they reached the Salt Lake Valley, in dealing with massive swarms of crickets who were devouring their crops. While these crops were eventually saved by flocks of seagulls who ate the crickets, the skit also detailed the efforts made by the early settlers of Utah before the seagulls arrived on the scene. The show was to begin in a few minutes and one of the actors hadn't shown up. While theatricality isn't one of my trademarked superpowers, it's certainly part of my personality, so I stepped in to save the day, donning a straw hat and a thick dialect to provide for our missing man: Boy #2 (a crucial part . . . really!).