The Reluctant Accountant

Hitched

2010-10-01T13:42:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted in a while. Only excuse is that life has been crazy. I changed jobs and moved back to Utah. I passed my CPA exam and am now a licensed nerd.

But most importantly, I got married! Our new blog can be found here.

Francis Church to Virginia

2009-12-01T23:16:00.000-07:00

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Brush with fate

2009-11-22T20:45:00.006-07:00

My toothbrush retired today. Not of its own volition, of course. Toothbrushes don't just shrug their bristles and say, "ehhh, i've had a good career. Made it through two tubes of Crest. I think I'm gonna go pursue other things. Maybe start up my own gig scrubbing showers or sumpin'"

No, toothbrushes just don't do that. Because they know that once they are done with the whole teeth-thing, they'll likely spend their silver years molding under a bathroom sink as the designated home "utility brush."

Since my toothbrush wasn't going into the night peacefully, I considered it my duty to take action. Show him who was boss. Exercise management control. So I brought him in for a little career counseling meeting.

Me: You know, Brush, I really appreciate everything you do for the company. Your dedication is unmatched.

Brush: Oh...thank you. I do my best y'know. Fight tooth and nail *chuckle* for this company...

Me: Tooth and nail. Ha. Funny. Yeah, the thing is that we've had some complaints about your uh bristles. They're too soft. And your blue indicator line faded away months ago...

Brush: You really believe those marketing scams? They make those blue lines fade away YEARS before you actually need to replace us. That's how Procter and Gamble makes its money, chief. They're rollin' in the greenstuff because of those indicator lines. I'll bet the guy who invented that is laughing his head off in Aspen, eating some kind of expensive French dessert at an overpriced ski lodge.

Me(muttering):Yeah well...at least his teeth will be clean...

Me: Ok look, the point is, you're done. You're yesterdays salami, Sunday's paper, The Old Kid on the Block. You've had a good run, but the show is over. It's time to call it Q. Pack up. Ship out. Move west. Try your hand at other things.

Brush: Are you firing me? After everything I've done for you? Just like that?? No notice!! I can NOT believe this. Remember when I worked overtime for you before that second date? Ten minutes of brushing. Ten minutes!! Huh? Remember that?

And what about the time I showed up to work even after you had just eaten fourteen oreos--I knew it was going to be a dirty job, but did I complain? Not once. Not a word. I was granulated for weeks. And did you ever even have the decency to buy me my own holding container? A cheap jerk like you, not a chance! Most of the time I was relegated to the second drawer or that horribly smelly leather travel case you own. And let me tell you now, man, that leather case is sprawling with bacteria. It's like an H1N1 spring break in there. And the drawer isn't much better. Hope you get strep throat, boss.

Me: Look, do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to move on to a new TB? We Heywoods are cheap. If I had my druthers, I'd just boil you for 30 seconds and call it good. But there's this little thing called the American Dental Association...

Brush: Oh, pish posh on the ADA!! Don't bring them up. They have nothing to do with this and you know it!

Me: Oh yeah!

Brush: Yeah!

Me: We'll choke on this, brush: "The ADA recommends that consumers replace toothbrushes approximately every 3–4 months or sooner if the bristles become frayed with use." And you are FRAYED!

Brush: No, I ain't afraid of anything. Fine. Send me to the showers. I'll scrub your mildew. But you better double and triple check your brush before every use because one day SHAZAM I'll show up in that VirusChamber you call a drawer and you'll be brushing your teeth with Comet reside. You just wait, Heywood, I'll have my revenge...

In the Last Days...

2009-09-25T17:52:00.002-06:00

A writer for Slate said this about Mormon culture. Interesting.

If I had a million minutes...

2009-09-25T16:05:00.004-06:00

I think I might try to write a few books. Not because I think I could write them well (I don't have the raw talent for that, which is why I work in the business world), but because I think it would be fun.

The first few books I would write:

From Deacon to Dating: A Guide for LDS Teenagers. I would write this in a style much different than, say, a John Bytheway book. There'd be a lot of lists. Practical pointers. Tips. I think the style would be like a modern men's magazine (not a dirty men's magazine, but something like Esquire, GQ or ESPN:The Magazine).

A satire of LDS romantic fiction/anything that Stephanie Meyer writes. Self-explanatory. Have you read that stuff? Someone needs to respond.

I've Been Everywhere, Man A book about truck drivers. There's gotta be some cool stories floating out there. Heck, I could even write a memoir. Quit my job as an accountant and drive truck for a year across the country. Learn Trucker Talk. Freight turnips and trusses and plastic combs across the continent. If at all possible, the book would have a foreword by C.W. McCall (unless he's dead).

Brothers don't shake, brothers gotta...

2009-09-22T09:45:00.002-06:00

Crazy.

NY Senkyoshi

2009-09-20T12:39:00.002-06:00

I loved this. Watch it.

9/9/09

2009-09-09T23:36:00.005-06:00

I coulda sworn that I joked with a friend of mine of the fairer sex back in the day that we would get married on

9/9/09.

Or was it 8/8/08? Maybe 7/7/2007?

Huh. Well. Whoops. Missed that hay ride.

Here's to the auspicious 10/10/10, 11/11/11, or 12/12/12.

Pro's Ranch Market

2009-08-09T23:50:00.004-06:00

At the advice of my aunt, I stopped by Pro's Ranch Markets, a big-box Mexican grocery store on Southern and Stapley.

If you go on a Saturday, be prepared for pandemonium. Key limes, 99 cents for four pounds? Beans selling in giant bins by the truckload? Tortilla machines operating with six-sigma efficiency? Puts Food City to south-of-the-border shame.

When I saw massive barbecue racks smoke firing chicken outside, I knew had I found my new favorite food store. My hypothesis was only confirmed when I encountered a pastry aisle, tropical fruit drink bar, and "deli" that really should be classified as its own Mexican restaurant. And that was just one third of the floor space!

I might have been the only white guy in the building. I bought a bag of beans, some garlic, peppers, and freshly made tortillas. I think I also bought a grapefruit soda called something in Spanish that I can't now, even one day later, remember.

And I might have even made a friend. As I was eating in the crowded food court (ahh the Pro Ranch cooked food! My new favorite Mexican restaurant--in a grocery store!), an older man with a Nacho Libre mustache noticed me devouring a smoke-grilled chicken burrito a little too quickly. He saw that I didn't have any napkins, and so he grabbed a few out of his bale-sized stack and handed them over towards my plate. I don't think he spoke English, and I can't speak a lick of Spanish, but we shared a moment of instant understanding--good food like this, on a crazy, crowded day like today, needs a coupla napkins.

Have someone in coach fiddle for me...

2009-08-05T23:34:00.002-06:00

I know I'm a few years late, but I love this article.

Yeah, but...it'll costya...

2009-07-26T23:22:00.003-06:00

Some say learning cost accounting is like riding a bike--after you first figure it out, the concepts come naturally the second time.

I say cost accounting is like riding a grizzly bear. If in fact it doesn't kill you the first time, you by heck don't want to get on for another round. What are you, stupid??

But that's just me.

Hey Dave, how'dya spend your weekend?

2009-06-28T01:09:00.003-06:00

Like this:

Assuming no other material misstatements are found, an independent auditor determines that supplementary information is not fairly stated relative to the basic financial statements taken as a whole. In this instance, the independent auditor should:

a)Issue a qualified or adverse opinion
b)Issue a disclaimer of opinion
c)Issue an unqualified but modified audit report, adding a paragraph to describe the auditor's position on the supplementary information

That was not smart...thaat was not smart.

2009-06-24T23:45:00.003-06:00

Tuesday: Nausea on the light rail. Everything inside my body wanted to be on the outside. Stomach involuntarily emptied. Sprite for dinner.

Wednesday: Sprite and a piece of toast for breakfast. Sprite for lunch.

And then...by six...I started to get hungry.

So I ordered Papa Johns (used my free coupon.)

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

Two thumbs. Up.

2009-06-11T23:43:00.005-06:00

I'm serious about Up. It's one of the best movies I can remember seeing in the theater.

Don't take my word for it.

Read this and this.

Get Up Off of That Thang

2009-06-11T00:29:00.001-06:00

Disney/Pixar has done it again.

Go see UP. You won't regret it.

(review to come. Maybe)

Welcome to Heber City

2009-06-09T00:04:00.003-06:00

It's been a few years since I've lived in Heber City, but the town still has a place in my heart.

It's a fact. Heber has grown. Despite the number of second homes and resort sites springing up to attract vacationers, many new developments have brought people who actually plan on staying in the valley for longer than a round of golf. To these newcomers, propriety dictates a hearty Heber how-ye-do.

But let’s not kid ourselves in pretending that a quick handshake is welcome enough to the new folks. Why settle for mediocrity? Read on to discover seven creative ways to welcome the new guy to Heber City, Utah.

1) Bring over a calculator and coolly report their portion of the bond amount for the new high school. $60 million divided by…

2) Casually mention that the high school’s wrestling program is perennial state champions. Drop names (Cael Sanderson…) if you need be. Put ‘em in a headlock and demonstrate the “Dear Creek In the Neck” hold.

3) Invite them to volunteer for Swiss Days. Be positive. Tell him that his daughter is a shoo-in for the Swiss Miss pageant. If that doesn’t work, explain that non-participation is an (Edel) vice that will not be tolerated. Leave with a refreshing joke, like “see you later, hosen." Har!

4) Misdirect him in his search for tickets to the demolition derby. Let’s be honest, some things just can’t be shared.

6) Be prepared to explain that, regardless of whether the view of Mt. Timpanogas is the back or the front, it is the superior.

7) Did I skip #5?

Heaps and heaps...

2009-06-04T21:38:00.002-06:00

Is everybody as excited about this as I am??

Get 'er done Cougs!

why DOES the caged bird sing?

2009-06-03T21:44:00.006-06:00

Sometimes, when I'm in my cubicle doing work papers
(note: workpapers are folders and folders, files and files, of shoot-me-now tediousness)

hour after hour

I think of this

A Shakespeare Question

2009-06-03T08:20:00.003-06:00

Who is more evil, Edmund of King Lear or Iago of Othello?

It's gotta be Iago, right?

The Papa Delivers

2009-06-01T23:54:00.005-06:00

In the mail this week.

Papa John's thanked me for my comments and offered to give me another chance on their pizza. They included two complimentary pizza cards to prime the pump for my return to PJ's.

I also received a personal phone call apology. Brian (not Papa John--he's probably busy making commercials) even admitted that their pan pizza wasn't quite up to par and a new recipe was in the works.

I quote Papa's letter.

"Rest assured, Papa John's is dedicated to providing you with a Worldclass Customer Experience."

I've been waiting for this release from the emotional shackles of my innerconsumer. I'm still not sure why "worldclass customer experience" is a proper noun, but I can dream of the wonders such a thing could hold.

And so, tonight, I can finally rest. Assured.

Dear Papa John,

2009-05-13T22:40:00.004-06:00

It pains me to write this letter. Honest to goodness, I’m usually your number one fan (I’ve been a member of the “Fan of Papa John’s” Facebook group since 2008). But right is right, and the American Consumer’s sense of duty in me hasn’t slept for weeks.

I think your pizza is great. I really do. Nine times out of ten it comes to my doorstep hot and fresh, made with those trademark “better ingredients” and always accompanied by packets of that wine-of-the-dipping-sauce-world garlic butter jus. Even my grandparents, products of the Depression who would rather eat leftover Vienna Sausage tetrazzini than pay for takeout food, order pizza from you. What can I say? My family loves your hand tossed crust and fresh-tasting pizza sauce.

And so it was with sunny anticipation that I decided to try something new from your menu. I ordered my pizza online for the first time and, while navigating through the process, I noted that I could “upgrade” to a pan pizza for a token surcharge. Feeling a little bit saucy, I decided to take the plunge.

Thirty five-ish minutes later, Arthur was at my doorstep. (I remember his name merely because of its novelty, not because I have personal relationships with my pizza delivery vendors.) Arthur delivered the pizza with utmost class, like a butler trained in the sitting rooms of Mayfair. I took the box with greedy anticipation. I make it a rule to act civilized in life, but come on, man, this is pizza!

I immediately noticed the temperature of the box. It wasn’t boiling. It wasn’t hot. It wasn’t even warm. If lukewarm describes the temperature of a cardboard box you could buy in a 72 degree Office Max supply store, then, yeah, I’ll give you that; it was lukewarm.

I opened up the box. Like every man who is abruptly called upon to revise his entire scheme of values, I was a bit undone. What was I staring at? Could this be my pizza? I’ll admit, I was at first taken aback by the square shape of the pizza. I was expecting round, but tomato tomato (please say that second “tomato” with an accent for effect), shape doesn’t much matter, I guess.

But, oh the rest of the pizza! The pieces were already broken apart, like it was made of Californian tectonic plates that no longer wanted to live in California. The cheese was only half-way melted. And I’m being generous when I say melted. I probably could have had a more melted product on that pie if I would have used my own sticks of string cheese kept outside the refrigerator for twenty minutes. And the crust! Oh, the crust! What normally should be the LeBron James of a pan pizza—the pinnacle, the climax, the point d’ appui—was a mockery of flour, yeast and water. It lacked any sort of character (not that I want my crust to be honest, chaste and true but...); if I had been chewing on Pillsbury croissant dough, I might not have noticed a difference. Maybe I was chewing on Pillsbury croissant dough. Do you outsource your pan pizza dough to General Mills?

I could go on, but why bother? I think you get my drift. It’ll be a few blue moons and a couple of real estate cycles before I ever order a pan pizza from you again.

With every good wish,

David Heywood

My mother is

2009-05-10T02:04:00.003-06:00

Energetic, charismatic, loving, An example, life-of-the-party, friendly, Motivating, diligent, healthy, A little out of control (sometimes), creative, caring, the cream of Westwood, Zealous, virtuous, determined, a water skier, cheerful, Incomparable, happy, fun, “Mashed Potatoes and Gravie, Marie”, No pushover (right Red Ledges?) a Warriorette, easy-going, frugal, compassionate, a December baby, often right, popular, spiritual, strong, faithful, Great

Happy mother's day--

Uh...yeah...almost forgot

2009-05-08T23:31:00.002-06:00

Hahahha. I did go a little overboard in college. I forgot about this.

http://www.thezoobie.com

Found in my old BYU papers. Was this a cry for help?

2009-05-08T23:18:00.005-06:00

Dear Friend,

Hi-dee-ho neighbors and fellow Zoobies.

Unless you’ve been underwater for the past few years, you might have noticed something. We Zoobies are getting a bad rap. For some reason, the phrase “Zoobie” has become about as popular as a Tahitian Noni salesman. The meaning of Zoobie now brings negative connotations and eye-shifting silence, almost as if we are self-righteous dorks. We’re not, of course (self-righteous, that is. I’ll be the better man and let any Zoobie-hater out there call me a dork, if that makes their black inner souls happy).

Normally, I am just a normal go-to-my-ballroom-dance-class-minding-my-own-business type of guy, but experience after experience has changed all that. The straw that broke the Cosmo’s back occurred a few weeks ago, when I heard a U of U student say “Zoobie” in a tone so snooty, I had to readjust my glasses to confirm that I wasn’t talking to Rick Majerus or Alex Smith. After that day, I knew I had to do something—write a letter to the New Era, picket outside Wasatch Front stake centers, or at least complain to my three awesome roommates (Spencer K. Ball, Ben Ezra Taftson, Alma Richards, and Walley Chessler). My rants turned to rage, my rage turned to fury, and my fury turned to sound. I stopped for a day to read some Faulkner, and then decided to make this post. Here I can protect the good and faithful name of Zoobie, the Lord’s University, and President and Sister Samuelson’s honor.

Yes siree, Bob, I want to tell the world that I’m 100% Zoobie—true blue, through and through. I was born a Zoobie and I’ll die a Zoobie. When I pass on, I hope to be buried in Cougartown, with my headstone facing east—-my heart towards the Y, the mountains, and Zion.

So, blend together a scoop of Lavell Vanilla, some caffeine-free Hershey’s syrup (you can buy it off the internet) and indulge yourself with a malted shake too thick for a straw. Rise and shout—it’s Zoobie time! The Cougars are

Out,

D.B. Heywood

D-Day

2009-04-22T00:44:00.003-06:00

I think these pictures are the funniest thing since Al Gore invented global warming. Why?

Exhibit 1. The picture of Beffy and me with the wizard hats. Obviously its in the Disney store. Obviously we are too cheap to actually buy a hat. So why were we sitting in a store taking pictures wearing wizard hats? Because that's how we Heywood's roll.

Exhibit 2. Look at Ryan's expression. It's not fear. Nor is it terror. Not really boredom. What is he trying to express??!!!??! I don't know if the question can be answered. Hands down, Ryan wins the "Mona Lisa smile" trophy of the decade.

Here I am, posting at 11:22

2009-04-22T00:14:00.004-06:00

when I promised myself I would be in bed by 10:30

so I could be up at 6:00

so I could go running before I catch the light rail to work

so I could burn some of those cubicle calories

so I could be energetic and positive during my workday

so I could carry on that energy as I head home

so I could perhaps meet an engaging young woman on the bus (ummm...chances of that...a billion to .01. I have a better chance of being hit by lightning and then robbed on the bus by Headsize Radio Man. On second thought, that contingency has quite good odds)

so I could ask her on a date Friday

so she could play it coy and say she's busy until to next week

so I could be cool and tell her next week'd be great except I'll be on a jet plane to Utah

so she could laugh chicly and tell me she's free on Thursday

so I could shrug my shoulders and mention that I could spare an hour or so

so she could sigh and casually mention that she wouldn't mind chatting over drinks

so I could suddenly remember that I found a Starbucks card in the dark sands of Huntington Beach with $8.10 still on the tab...but...not that a Starbucks card mattered or anything, because, after all, I am relatively wealthy

so she could smile, showing her Trident white teeth and glittering eyes and say, "sure, call me."

so I could pull out my phone and ask for her phone number

so she could start reading out the digits

so I could suddenly realize that I forgot to charge my phone

so she could say, "this is my stop! The Tempe ghetto! I do charity work here every Wednesday. Call me later tonight, David!" and then walk off the bus, leaving me up and biting my own tail

so I could come home, pieces of a man, bereft of even a spark of self-confidence and dignity.

No, Mr. Sandman. Not tonight. I'm staying up 'til twelve!

Give me a break

2009-04-02T22:43:00.005-06:00

A guy and the three walls of his cubicle can get mighty tired of each other.

I think that's why we take water breaks at work.

"Water? Tea? Coffee?", someone in our TRE group asks, like KSL traffic updates, every hour on the 39's.

We stand in the break room with our red plastic cups, talking about love, and dreams, and bacon. Mostly, we talk about sports. And we plan.

We plan our next water break.

MMMBOP

2009-03-31T17:36:00.002-06:00

Is MMMPop by Hanson the catchiest song ever released?

I think so.

If you don't agree, tell me what ditty has a catchier tune.

It's called reading. Top to bottom, left to right; group words and phrase them into sentences

2009-03-25T01:05:00.009-06:00

I've mentioned in the past that I have book ADHD. I tend to end up reading snippets and chapters of many different books at a time.

My current reading list:

CPA Financial exam study guide: Gag me with an HP calculator. Ok, it's not that bad. What pulse does not quicken whenever the Generally Accepted Accounting Principles are mentioned? Sometimes I simply can't contain myself...

Bonds of Affection: Civic Charity in America--Winthrop,Jefferson, and Lincoln by Dr. Matt Holland: Dr. Holland's class made me sorry that I wasn't a political science major. The thesis of the book is that shared ideals of biblical, or "Christian (as some might call it) love played a distinct role in the formation of America's form of liberal democracy.

I lived with the Hollands for three months in England. I love the Holland family. Professor Holland is now president of Utah Valley University.

Walden: Thoreau writes about his experience at Walden pond. An American classic. I made good headway for a while, but the book started grating on me after a few chapters. Maybe it was because I was working 14 hour days for an accounting firm while H.D. Thoreau kept bragging about his year and half of pleasureful unemployment. I soon realized that, however many good ideas Thoreau may have had, if everyone lived like he did children would surely starve.

Christ and the New Covenant: Another book by a Holland. Elder Holland covers the Book of Mormon's testament of Jesus Christ.

Thinking Strategically: The Competitive Edge in Business, Politics, and Everyday Life: I only started reading this recently. Once I'm through, I'm hoping to be able to gain a competitive edge in business, politics, and everyday life.

Henry V: Shakespeare was genius.

Oh...

2009-02-07T17:56:00.002-07:00

I discovered the perfect combination last week. Cheerio's (sans the milk) and Ghiradelli Milk Chocolate Chips.

But then I realized.

Wait.

Anything is good together with Ghiradelli Chocolate Chips.

"Things"

2009-01-25T15:35:00.006-07:00

don't mean that much to me.

That being said, I do like

my new truck that I bought from my grandpa. It's a 2002 chevy silverado 1500 V8 pickup.

I'm also crazy about the new Japanese rice cooker I just bought. It can cook white rice, brown rice, cakes, beans,vegetables, stews...the foundation of any meal, I guess. It has a 15 hour time delay--I can (and will) literally wake up to the smell of freshly steamed rice.

Lunchtime

2008-12-18T23:14:00.006-07:00

Anybody remember reading my post about tuna ?

I thought that once I left college, I would break free of my scrape-the-bottom-of-the-mac-and-cheese barrel lunchtime habits. I assumed that, as a working professional,I would have the means to experience exotic and exciting foods like Schlotzky's Deli, Paradise Bakery, and Chili's.

Boy was I wrong.

For the past five days strait, I've had a peanut butter and banana sandwich or microwave ramen (or both--I went a litle crazy on Wednesday) for my midday sup.

We Heywood's are frugal as a rule, but I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't at least mix in a microwave dinner or a Quizno's sub. For reasons that can't be explained (ok. They can be explained. Being raised where the only occaision that merited a trip to Wendy's or Taco Bell was a birthday or a family vacation), I feel guilty going out to eat.

I do, however, splurge occasionally in the morning when I order an English muffin from the cafe at the basement of our Tower. The muffin is always on the toasted-too-much-on-the-outside-yet-cold-on-the-inside side, but I keep going back because of the personality of the Asian couple who manages the establishment.

The man, who I've never heard say one word since I began my visits, stands near the back of the kitchen and silently surveys the operation like Joe Torrey in the 5th inning. His wife is the polar bear oppposite. She rushes around the kitchen/cash register/chocolate milk display case with grasshopper zeal. I think her smile was surgically stapled to her face--it's as wide as Montana and it never leaves. I feel like I complete her life's mission every time I order an extra item.

"I'll have an English muffin, toasted on the toasted-too-much-on-the-outside-yet-cold-on-the-inside side, please." (she smiles wider and raises her eyebrows.) "oh...and a...blueberry yogurt...I guess..." (she beams like she's just been knighted by the Queen).

Which shows once again that half the world doesn't know how the other three quarters lives. Or eats.

Renassiance Tower at Copper Square

2008-11-13T22:38:00.003-07:00

This is where I work--the 23rd floor of 2 N Central Ave. I have an incredible view of the city (well, if I get up and walk over to the window).

Some other perks of the location include:

--An escalator I can use for no charge
--Parking I can use for a steep charge(they give you a free escalator and make it up in the parking)
--Statue of a naked man in front of the building (no, really.)
--Close to the light rail. (in two months)
--Near Chase Field and U.S. Airways Arena
--Gift store at the bottom of the building with Dream Catchers. People still buy those things?

Cat got your

2008-11-13T22:34:00.003-07:00

Tongue Twisters?

I wish to wash my Irish wristwatch.
(who doesn't?)

Lovely lemon lininment.

Eleven benelovent elephants.

Gobbling gargoyles gobbled gabbling goblins.

Three short sword sheaves.

Classified Dating

2008-11-13T22:17:00.002-07:00

Last weekend, my cousin told me about a website (planetredhead.com) with the mission to unite redheads for dating so that they can eventually have redhead children. Apparently, redheads are becoming extinct.

This got me thinking. What if I did want to put my profile up on a dating site. What would I say?

How about:

Single white male WLTM a DTE YSF for FS and hopefully a LTR. ISO VGL girl with SOH and a healthy 401(k). Not a SD, but always up for a cold DDP. PA and ALA (literally, these days).

A battle well fought

2008-11-03T21:12:00.005-07:00

I spent many hours in the hospital this weekend feeling helpless. My oldest cousin Jeff passed away after a battle with cancer, leaving behind a beautiful wife and two bright eyed children.

During those hours of grief in the oncology ICU, I didn't know what to say or do. I was just...there. Watching. Praying. Hoping.

I was moved by the love that was shown during those hours. I don't know of anything that can be purer than a mother's and a wife's love, nor can there be anything so exquisite as their grief. I saw the courage of a father and the tender kindness of a sister. I witnessed the bonds of affection that tie family together, knotted with the peace and promise of a reunion scheduled for all eternity.

Jeff's struggle on earth is over. His course is finished, his battle through. With all the strength and tenacity that Jeff showed, it is now our turn to fight through this trial. The empty days and long hours will stretch until they seem unbearable to those who for so long traveled with Jeff along life's paths.

"Oh stong soul, by what shore
Tarriest thou now? For that force,
Surely, has not been left vain!
Somewhere, surely, afar,
In the sounding labour-house vast
Of being, is practiced that strength,
Zealous, beneficent, firm!

Yea, in some far-shining sphere,
Stil thou performest the word
Of the God in whom thou dost live,
Prompt, unwearied as here!"

The battle now turns to those who knew and loved Jeff, to live in rememberance without remorse, to step into the future in submission without sulleness.

Jeff, we miss you.

A speed read creed

2008-10-19T00:37:00.004-06:00

I have a mild case of book ADD. Throw in a few newspapers and magazines, and I have a problem no ritalin can cure.

Here's what I've been reading lately:

John Adams by David McCullough- Wow. One of my favorite books I've ever read. I'm sure I will post about it in the future.

Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin-I've read it before, but I'm getting more out of this reading.

The Neal A. Maxwell Quote Book-I read a couple of pages of quotes everyday, marking my favorites.

LSAT study guides (logic games and logical reasoning)--fun fun...

The Book of Mormon--it's true.

Forbes magazine
Conde Nast Portfolio
American Speeches
Isaac Asimov's Treasury of Humor
An Idiots Guide to Cold Calling
The World's Greatest Letters

New plan of action: I need to read slower to get more out of the books I take on. Also--I probably need to throw in some fiction. Any suggestions? (I'm not interested in Grisham, Dan Brown, Stephanie Meyer, and the like...)

iPod iPod iPod iDunno

2008-10-16T00:19:00.004-06:00

OK. I'm usually not materialistic. But I've had my eye on a new iPod. I think it would cheer up my commutes. I'm sick of KTAR's "Detour Dan," the same five country songs (seriously KNIX...play some older stuff or at least mix in some Garth Brooks or Alan Jackson), and I am done listening to local pundits predict what's going to happen during the next debate (no really. I'm done. Because, well, so are the debates...).

I've justified buying an iPod in my mind. But...they're so expensive. And I'd have to choose. Do I get a touch? A nano? An iPod classic? It's all so confusing.

How can I expect to know what I want in life if I can't even decide what I want in a portable electronic device?

Adhesive Shout Out

2008-10-10T01:20:00.001-06:00

Do you know what's underrated?

Gorilla glue.

Just gettin' the word out.

A New Blog

2008-10-09T01:09:00.002-06:00

I'm disgusted with politics. I'd rather eat cooked spinach than take another serving of Presidential Canidate Rhetoric.

So I'm seperating my political thoughts from my personal blog.

The new blog is http://davespoliticalnotebook.blogspot.com.

Enjoy.

"Dogs and Cats, Living Together, Mass Hysteria"

2008-10-06T22:57:00.002-06:00

The flow of credit has stopped, the Dow is crashing, the dollar is weak, stagflation looks inevitable, the government still cannot pass a bill without adding greasy layers of pork, and to top it all off, I ruined my chicken broccoli three cheese alfredo sauce last night.

These are tough times. Hard to predict what will happen next. Just ask any analyst--economic or political.

However, we can be certain about some things.

An economic depression would be grim, but it would not change the reality of immortality. The inevitability of the Second Coming is not affected by the unpredictability of the stock market. Political despots make this world very ugly, but they cannot touch the better world to come. Thus the things of which we can be most certain are also those things which matter most.
--Elder Neal. A Maxwell

Our Moldin' Corral

2008-09-29T01:41:00.006-06:00

For years, American's have had a feast of easy money. All kinds of buffets--especially Aunt Fannie and Uncle Fred-- wanted to take us in as customers and let us try our hand at the fat of the land. Like the dulled football spectator watching the game with a box of Cheez-Its, we kept thrusting our hand in the bag for a couple more. But then--during the fourth quarter--the box was suddenly empty.

The end of the day found us a fattened and, oddly enough, still hungry for real food. We reached for our wallets to pay for our past meal so we could then order another, but were surprised to find that we hadn't the means to pay.

And the bank-buffets? They were all out of food to give us. All that's left is an empty kitchen, a pile of sloppy leftovers--ranch dressing encrusted salad plates, a few morsals of bad canteloupe, a piece of t-bone from the steak--a bbq stained shirt,and a stomach that's been stretched from our years of overeating.

Luckily, there's that trustworthy and efficient Dietician, ol' Uncle Sam, willing to sweep up our dirty plates, hide them away in a doubtlessly magical kitchen, and order us some new dishes, a fresh set of flatware, and another round of drinks. Banzai! Bon appetit!

But...wait? Who's going to wash the old dishes?

Best not to think about it now. They'll get clean. One of these days...

Stratford-On-Avon

2008-09-18T22:47:00.014-06:00

--the name of the village has been shoveled into my mind time by English teachers in my formative years. I heard the name at least once a year (whenever Shakespeare came up. It seemed that my teachers loved to throw in this town name as that one little piece of tidbit that they remembered from their college days). I had no idea what "on Avon" meant, and I always tended to confuse the Stratford scene with my few other associations of England, most notably the Disney animated feature Robin Hood. So, in my mind, I pictured Stratford on Avon as a village in a forest glen populated by bald-headed friars and lyre-strumming roosters.

I am in a bus driving back to London from the modern Stratford. The green and beauty of the countryside keeps me awake--I don't want to fall asleep and miss the scenery.

By nature, I am always skeptical of "tourist traps"--places of historical merit that are so full of artificial atmosphere and "pay here for a look" that the solemnity or majesty of the area is swallowed up in capitalism. The Tower of London was such a place for me. I feel like I am wasting time anytime there are more glass display cases and usheres hurrying you along than there is seconds an hour. Stratford had a little of the tourist trap atmosphere, but felt it was very honest in its identity. Sure, the "shrines to Shakespeare" shop got a little tiring--a Shakespeare bra? Shakespeare insult magnets? Come on guys. The energy of the town was genuine, despite the kitsch.

My visit to Shakespeare's birthplace was rushed because of the large afternoon crowds. However, the guides were very helpful and friendly. One of them even too k time to leave his station and show me some of his favorite signatures in the "autograph window."

Stratford was an enjoyable place, but once I'd visited shop after shop of Shakespeare gifts, I couldn't help but thinking , "What? All this for Shakespeare?!!??" Perhaps I'll be convinced by the end of this term that Shakespeare really deserves the magnets, mugs, lingerie, postcards, plates, pens, cards, and chocolate bars.

Portraits In General (Not "Portraits of a General"--that's a completely different topic)

2008-09-18T22:47:00.011-06:00

Why was the Renaissance age fascinated with portraits? They show power. They show pride. They exhibit a hope to last forever, if not in the body, at least on a wall or canvas.

Virginia Woolf once wrote that "the essence of snobbery is that you wish to impress other people." Was it for snobbish reasons that King James wanted his portrait the size of a large room, with his horse's head shrunken like a voodoo doll?

Life, wrote William Hazlitt, is a struggle to be what we are not and to do what we cannot. If Hazlitt is to be believed, we are, as he goes on to say, very much what others think of us. Is that the reason for these portraits. To impress others? To impress the courtiers? To impress other nobles? To attempt to impress themselves?

Is it vanity, then, that guides the rich, the royal, and the "noble" of this age to wish for a portrait? In many respects, these portraits are an expression of vanity. Even more than pride, vanity wishes to show to all ones worth. Says Schopenheaur "pride is an established conviction of one's own paramount worth in some particular respect; while vanity is the desire of rousing such a conviction in others and it is generally accompanied by the secret hope of ultimately coming to the same conviction oneself."

A portrait lives on--men (and Virgin Queens) do not.

National Gallery

2008-09-18T22:47:00.009-06:00

Erasmus and his labors. He was a humanist, a Cambridge professor, an advocate to reform the Catholic church. The book he holds looks to be written in Greek. Or is it Latin? I am not a classicist, so I couldn't tell you. It's not English, that's for sure. My guess is Greek, simply because Erasmus WAS a humanist. The Labours of Hercules of Erasmus of Rotterdam. It fits, I guess. Never had to kill a hydra, but I hear going against the Catholic Church and advocating a new way of learning is tough stuff.

Holbein also painted The Ambassadors. A few thousand academic papers could be written about the all of the symbolism mixed in with this painting; I'll keep it simple here, more so because I'm not an art guy (I appreciate it, see it, but, for the life of me, mostly never understand the "correct" interpretation). Katie R noticed a broken string on the lute. That could only mean one thing. Those ambassadors need another string (ba dum chhh). Ok. Seriously. It probably reflects the discord of the times. As I move to the right hand of the painting, I see a skull appear on the bottom of the work. The skull often represent man's mortality. We're gonna die. We are going to die. If you look up, though, with the natural movement of your eye, you will notice a silver crucifix in the left hand corner of the painting. Hmmm….death but. But what? Well, salvation. Christianity. God's kingdom. Perhaps this portrait reflects fideism and the plea to trust in God.

National Portrait Gallery

2008-09-18T22:47:00.007-06:00

Queen Elizabeth the 1st. Ahh, how white thy face shines in portraits! Why wast thou shunned by love's strait arrow, unwed, unbed, and unbecomed?

Probably because you were picky, power hungry, or maybe just a little too focused on running Britain.

Ditchley's portrait shows you with the most power. Here you stand atop a map of England. Your feet smash down on the globe, your skirt is wide, ready to overtake all. The pearls on your dress, the jewels sewn in your garment are impressive. You glimmer and shine like a queen should. You rise towards heaven with your might but…

The other painting by Ditchley portrays you as austere and stern. You wear no smile; perhaps that would betray your image of power. You wear your crown with strict dignity. Your collar of lace (maybe it's not late--I'm a man and so I assume that anything that is white and frilly on a woman is lace) is aligned with the fashion of the time and…

Your hair is not as long as your coronation portrait. Here you have flowing gold hair, the color of your dress. Beautiful, golden locks. Your hair matches the cold crown, orb and sceptre…truly you were destined for this power, your hair becomes it, your eyes become it, but…your husband

Never did.

Tate Britain

2008-09-18T22:47:00.006-06:00

If you see a man in his 'powers' (that's what our x country team called the ridiculously short shorts they wore) running up and down the halls of the Tate Britain, don't panic. It's only an exhibit sponsored by Martin Creed.

While at the Tate Britain, you may see a painting of The Virgin Queen by Nocholas Hilliard. You might notice that the painting is a symbolic representation of the queen. The jewel above her head is a phoenix, a symbol of her virginity. There are no thorns on the stem of roses in her hand. This alludes to the Virgin Mary, again a symbol of Elizabeth's virginity. The showdowless portrait, with ostentatious clothing and fancy decorum, is a symbolic representation of the monarch. Why shadowless? Perhaps Elizabeth wants to present the image that all light emanates from her. Perhaps she is trying to keep the focus on her, with eyes not wandering to shadows. Or, perhaps, she told Hilliard that she wanted the picture to be "showerless" (meaning no rainclouds) and he misunderstood. Only Hilliard and Elizabeth really know the answer to this conundrum.

Victoria and Albert Museum

2008-09-18T22:47:00.003-06:00

Victoria and Albert Museum: I

The displays on the church in this museum are a good contrast of pre and post Reformation sentiments in Britain. Before the Reformation, churches were furnished to appeal to the senses. They were richly decorated with ornate tapestries and ostentatious robes and costumery. Even the Bibles--a costly work in itself--were ornately decorated. Edward VI and Elizabeth I, Protestant minded royalty, reformed this pagaentry to plainer displays. The Puritan moralists attacked the ostentatious displays of the church. Reformers replaced crucifixes in the churches with royal coat of arms. The pre-Reformation painting on display (no 23) shows a crucifixion scene. This painting is an example of the catholic sentiments of the time.

Victoria and Albert Museum: II
A Young Man Among Roses, Hilliards painting about court life, is a representation of a courtiers devotion. The coutier declares his devotion to the queen with his hand on his heart. He wears her colors and symbols in his dress. Clothing was one of the most popular way to express ones wealth and feelings in the times. In this painting, the painter and the sitter of the paining devised the symbolism together.

Sadly, the display of Elizabeth was under a canvas wrap the day I visited the museum. I asked the curator when the display would be available for viewing, and she looked at me like I was plotting a robbery. Must be the red hair. I'm sick of discrimination.

London Fog

2008-08-26T23:26:00.004-06:00

I've been back from London for more than a week, and now, the whole experience is starting to feel like a dream. I need to write down my experiences before they drift away into the foggy corners of my memory.

I've checked out eight different movies from the library with an English theme--My Fair Lady, Bednobs and Broomsticks, Much Ado About Nothing, etc. I haven't made time to watch any of them yet, but the fact that I made two trips to the ol' Wasatch County library for movies is evidence of my recent fetish for all things Anglo.

But now, the field days are over. The band has gone home, the birthday cake's been cut and the ice cream put away. I move to Arizona in a few days for a new chapter of life at Ernst and Young. I need a good attitude, a shot of confidence, and a new suit. Probably even a coupla new pens.

Elephant House Cafe

2008-07-26T17:15:00.004-06:00

There's a little cafe in Edinburgh called The Elephant House Cafe. It's a quiet place if you go in the evening. The interior is modest and unassuming, and there are a few tastely placed elephant figurines and a coupla pieces of elephant artwork. All in all, the place is a tad boring. It costs $5 to buy a postcard, and $2.80 for a can of Coke.

Why is it so popular then? It's not the view (although the window in the back boasts a rather stunning look at Edinburgh Castle). It's not the food (the chocolate cake was good, I hear, but it didn't look like anything magical).

Maybe it's so famous because a single English mother spent many days, and likely, a few nights writing out a book about a boy wizard named Harry Potter. So, here's to Ms. Rowling and Harry, who turns 27 on July 31 (trust me, the only reason why I know this is because we have a few girls who are rather large Harry Potter fans. I mean uh...tbey aren't large, as in, their body structure, they are just really big fans. Ooops...not big as in pregnant big, uh...they just really like Harry Potter. Ya know.)

Happy Birthday, Harry. Why dontcha stop on by to The Elephant House and get yourself a malted shake too thick for a straw. And, while you're at it, buy me one of those $5 postcards. I'm good for it...

Gochisosamadeshita

2008-07-26T17:05:00.004-06:00

Wagamama (say that five times fast without sounding like a Comanche choo choo train) is my new favorite Japanese food restaurant. I think it only exists only in here in England, but, I hope not. I hope there is one in every state of the union. It's that good.
The ramen was delicious--scallops, shrimp, egg, chicken, mushrooms and tofu in my Wagamama Ramen. One of the girls we were with got Yakisoba. Not enough sauce, and too much of a burnt taste but I'll forgive 'em because my ramen was so good. Despite the yakisobat dissappointment, I still have to give wagamama two chopsticks up.

Comin' Round the Mountain

2008-07-26T16:36:00.004-06:00

One of the destinations of our excursion to the North of Britain this past week was the Lake District. Here, Wordsworth, Coleridge and the like perfected the art of Romantic period poetry. It's no wonder their writing leaned to the Romantic--the Lake District is beautiful.
We stayed at a youth hostel on the shores of Lake Windemere in the town of Ambleside. The hostel was hot, their mushroom and lentil rice was atrocious, and the service was terrible. But the location! Ahh--the location! Well worth the minor bothers.
I spent the day relaxing, attempting to write a poem or two (and failing miserably. There once was a man from Australia/Who...uh...never thought he'd impale ya??? what?) and conoeing with katie and jackie on the lake. The next morning, a bright and sunny morning in Ambleside, a few of us went hiking. The stone and green mountainside was friend to a few weary hikers, some bleating sheep, and my keep keep bleeding love.

Take Me Down to the Paradise City

2008-07-16T16:27:00.005-06:00

35 to 3. No, those aren’t the odds that I’ll stay Uncle Dave for the rest of my life (though, we often think that, don’t we?).

35-3 is the girl-to-guy ratio in the London program. “Wow—advantageous,” people say. “You must be in heaven,” others insist. Admittedly, it is nice to come to dinner every night to a sea of beautiful faces. And, an additional plus, at other times, my masculinity finds a blessed home when I am invited to attend late-night excursions because I provide two arms of manly safety.

But for the most part, I feel like I am in an enemy minefield with size 48 shoes (on a related note, I know a LOT more about shoes now than when I began this program)—no matter where I step, something is going to go off.

No matter what I say, I feel like I’m just a footstep away from offending someone. Girls are much more sensitive than boys, and if I make such innocent comments as, “Wow, you girls are so tall compared to other girls I know” or “Were you up late skyping last night—you look tired”, I’m sure to offend. I find myself double and even triple checking what comes out of my mouth. This dashes ones confidence and turns what could be witty banter and well-bred conversations into a stuttering staccato of “oh, uh, neverminds” and “uh, wells.”

Another conversation killer is the fact that I know nothing or have no interest in a large proportion of the conversations that go on around this joint. Clothes—no interest. Male movie stars—zip. Female movie stars—a bit more than zip, but not much. Shoes—I’m soleless. Dating—interesting, fun to analyze, but sometimes a bit too dramatic (whattaya do when a girl starts crying? Give hugs? Shake hands? Pat backs? I dunno…I just don’t know).

So, back to my situation. Little confidence to try and be myself, not too much to add to any conversation, and, to top it all off, I ALWAYS feel like a polygamist wherever I go. Especially when we meet people from the states who already assume that Mormons are polygamist.

Man from America: So, where are ya’ll from?
Me (and eight girls standing together on a subway): Utah.
Man from America: Ahh…yep. That makes sense.

I’m trying to look on the bright side of things. All these girls are amazing—very cool. And, I get my own personal course of study in Female Behavior. I’m learning a lot of secrets of the fairer sex. Maybe I’ll post a few of my discoveries. But I have no time right now. I’m going to the market to try on some shoes, and, if I can’t find anything I like, to buy some chocolate.

And I would walk 500 more...

2008-07-14T16:37:00.004-06:00

These two pictures are from a country walk through the Kent area. The pastoral English countryside was beautiful. Green and magical. You might be able to tell that we were just in time for the lavender crop. We visited an annual lavender festival, and I tried my hand at some farm-raised English lavender honey. Wow.

If my PAF charts are correct, I have some ancestors from Bethersden Kent, which is a small town about 35 miles from the place where we did our walk. If Bethersden is anything like Shoreham, it's beautiful. The town probably has what every English village has--a church, a pub, and a cricket pitch.

This is the street where I live. Go to www.bmw.com, www.audi.com or www.idriveastinkinexpensiveforeignsportscar.com to see pictures of the cars parked out on the street in front of our flat. It's a nice neighborhood, our Notting Hill. We're neighbors with Reese (that actress girl from the South) and we're kitty corner from a few embassies.

Oh, what a night

2008-07-11T09:04:00.004-06:00

I went to Jersey Boys last night.

If you haven't heard about Jersey Boys, lemme fill you in. Have you seen Ray or Walk the Line? Then you know Jersey Boys. It's the typical story of a band or musical artist that struggles in the beginning to get discovered. They eventually find success, but then succumb to the "pressures" of the road. The girls/booze/drugs finally get to them, they crash, and the group breaks up. *Yawn* It's a tired plot structure, but the music and performers were amazing. The sets were incredible--I definitely enjoyed it despite the fact that I knew exactly what was coming.

Jersey boys is about the Four Seasons (the band with Frankie Valli). They recorded hit songs such as Big Girls Don't Cry, Walk Like a Man, Can't Take My Eyes Off of You, December, 1963, and others.

The show also included several salty phrases frowned upon by the postal authorities, including a generous use of the so called "R-rated" word.

Ice Cream Treat During intermission, a popular thing for Londoner theatre goers to do is either 1) go up to the theatre-bar above the balcony or 2) to buy an ice cream to consume during the break.This ice cream is usually Haagen Daz, and it costs three pounds ($6). What does this six dollars get you? A serving size of about 2 1/2 tablespoons. "Hey, look what I put for the serving size! It was just a joke, but they're goin' out there like that..."

The crazy thing is, people are going crazy for this ice cream! It is the thing to do during intermission. I don't understand what the deal is. Perhaps it's the challenge of downing that whole 1/4 cup in the alloted twenty minute time. Maybe it makes the break go by faster. Maybe it's their way of rebelling against the quality of the show--"your performance is so disappointing I'm going to amuse myself with ice cream"
Absolutely crackers!

A Cambridge Bath

2008-07-09T11:00:00.005-06:00

First, the pictures.

A group of us "punted the Cam" at Cambridge and I took time to relax at Bath with some "Roman" women. Athena was particularly nice and let me take the picture.

Walking Through The City

Pink and blue. Pastel colors seem to be the menswear rage in the financial district. And most of the young guys appear to be working sans neckties as well. If that’s one method to rebel against the stodgy establishment of our fathers, burn the silk and polyester, I say. Rage against the machine. Hang the ties and the Hung, Drawn, and Quartered and leave e’m to the pinters.

I noticed the fashion of the area because of my fashion choice for the day. If you could see a picture of me at the Royal Exchange, you’d observe that I look like a loud, annoying American tourist with my plaid shirts and Nike athletic t-shirt. Did I feel out of place walking near such places as the Bank of England, the Stock Exchange, and the Lloyds of London building? Absolutely.

But it wasn’t because of the fashion. I could have worn a tux and still have felt like a loud, annoying American tourist. Walking down Lombard street, focusing all my energy into navigating my way through a construction area while attempting to follow the trailblazing path of Arty, I was hit by a realization (and nearly hit by a double decker bus)—I AM a loud, annoying American tourist. I carry around a dorky spiral bound walk book. I have an accent that sounds like sledgehammers banging on tree stumps to the gentle gentry ears of the English. I usually travel in parks of other Centre students, blocking the way and laughing about silly things we see. I’m always hungry.

I need to embrace my American touristness. I can play the part of the fool, because hey, I’m not from around here. I must remember that London’s economy functions because of tourists like me. I have the power here. Without us, these city folk would all be stuck in a button factory. And I would be in Prague, living like a king near some castle in a country that doesn’t have a ridiculously expensive exchange rate.

Regents Park

What do you get when you cross Antonio Banderas and the Islamic Centre?
The Mosque of Zorro.

Alright, alright, a bit lame, but that joke was the highlight of my Regents Park walk. Well, that and my thirty second conversation with a stodgy security guard. He was patrolling a ritzy looking area (I just checked on a real estate site. A home in that area, just over 6,000 square feet, is selling for $25,000,000) and I asked what was going on (clearly, there was some sort of social function or party). He had the gall to pretend that nothing was going on, that there was only a private residence, and that I must be some crazy and stupid American for assuming anything would be going on when there was merely a few dozen sports cars, an armored guard (with enough arms to fight the Revolutionary War—wait, who won that war again? Oh yeah. We did.) amidst houses selling for $25,000,000. Yeah, you’re right Bobby. Nothing’s happening tonight.

I spoke with some girls from Spain about the area. All they could say were very good things. Those very good things happened to be “We don’t know English” and “We are from Spain.” Despite the communication barrier, I think we bonded at Regents. From what little Spanish I know, I could tell that they were here for the Mosque of Zorro.

Wimbledon

2008-07-03T16:08:00.004-06:00

Wimbledon:

Tennis begins with love, so they say. And what’s not to love about Wimbledon? It is the right mix of stodginess and public democracy. Wimbledon is the only US major that allows the public to “queue” for tickets, with an ultimate chance at seeing a match played on the show courts (at Wimbledon, they show courts are Centre Court and Court No 1).

My Wimbledon experience was unlucky at first. We had a few hours on Tuesday this week, so four of us took the Tube to Wimbledon, about a half hour ride from the BYU London Centre. The station just outside Wimbledon was filled with people going to the tournament or coming home. We knew that there was a queue that formed for the general public to get into the tournament, but we didn’t know exactly where it was.
The queue turned out to be easier to spot than we thought. After a five minute walk from the station, we realized the queue was the line as long as the Mississippi, winding at least a mile through Parking Lot #10, dirt roads, and the British countryside. It turns out, Andy Murray, the British entry into Wimbledon, was playing at the time we arrived. Two or three of the Wimbledon ushers, in their calm and matter-of-fact British-butler way of speaking, told us that we really didn’t have a hope to get in today, as the queue was over four thousand people, and the general admissions only allow around 2,000 per hour (and it was already about 6:30 or 7:00). We decided that we didn’t want to waste our time in London in a line, and so we gave up and went back to the Centre (consoling ourselves with a mint chocolate chip ice cream on the way home). Also on our way home, we ran into three girls from the Centre who were just behind us on the way to Wimbledon. We told them what the usher said, but they were determined to try the queue anyways. Their determination proved successful, and we found out later that night that they were able to get in. My first trip to Wimbledon was a disappointment.

I told myself that I was not going to be slave to the queue. Today, a few of us took off after class and lunch and braved our chances. Whether it was because of the impending, or because there was no more English players in the tournament, I can’t say, but the queue today was nothing. A 2 minute wait, if that. Once inside the gates, I rubbed my eyes a bit, took a few pictures, and we watched a juniors match. Our task was then to get into Centre Court. In order to do that, you must wait in a resell line. As the real ticket holders leave, they put their tickets in a red box that then goes over to another queue. For $10, middle-class fans like me can wait in a line and purchase the wealthy people’s tickets. Serena williams was playing the underdog Zheng in centre court, and all of the ushers in the resell queue advised us that nobody was leaving the court so we should go watch other matches and come back when Serena was over. We wanted to see Serena, however, so we waited. And waited. And waited. As luck would have it, it began to rain. And rain. And rain.

We got a little wet, but so did some of the people in the Centre Court stadium. They had been watching tennis all day, so a few of them decided to leave. They put their tickets in the resell box and—ACE—we were in the gates for Serena. We had amazing seats, the match was incredible, and the atmosphere was unparalleled. Tennis etiquette really is amazing. You could hold a church meeting in the stadium when the play starts it’s so quiet. During breaks and after points the noise is loud but during play—silence. And nearly everyone in the stadium is dressed nice. I felt like a scmuck with my red t-shirt and shorts. Another cool thing about Wimbledon is the ball boys and girls. They are incredibly disciplined. Here’s what wikopaedia has to say about ‘em.

boys and ball girls
In the championship games, ball boys and girls, known as BBGs, play a crucial role in the smooth running of the tournament, with a brief that a good BBG "should not be seen. They should blend into the background and get on with their jobs quietly."[13]. Since 1969, BBGs have been provided by local schools.
Prospective BBGs are first nominated by their school headmaster, to be considered for selection. To be selected, a candidate must pass written tests on the rules of tennis, and pass fitness, mobility and other suitability tests, against initial preliminary instruction material. Sucessfull candidates then commence a training phase, starting in February, in which the final BBGs are chosen through continual asessment. As of 2008, this training intake was 600. The training includes weekly sessions of physical, procedural and theoretical instruction, to ensure that the BBGs are fast, alert, self confident and adaptable to situations. As of 2007, early training occurs at Sutton Junior Tennis Centre, and then moves to the main courts after Easter.

As disciplined as they are, mistakes do happen. One of them ran into Serena during the match—Serena’s not a slight gal—I think the poor chap got pummeled by a girl in a tennis skirt. Funny stuff.

London Pictures

2008-06-28T16:29:00.003-06:00

Not much time to write yet, but here are some pictures from the UK.

Anglophilia

2008-06-27T08:58:00.002-06:00

I'm in London. Heaps of things to see, but battery is almost dead. I'll see what I can do about getting an American adapter. Stay posted...

Dekimashita

2008-06-04T00:18:00.002-06:00

Done with the Honors thesis. London in three weeks.

Another find from freshman year, for Jamie

2008-05-14T22:32:00.002-06:00

I’ve never committed suicide (attempted and committed are two totally different conversations). I’m not an eccentric brother like Faulkner’s Quentin from The Sound and the Fury. But I do take my responsibilities seriously. I mean, as an older brother, I’ve got to look after and set an example to my siblings. If my sister gets an A- average, I’d dang better pull A’s. If my brother joins Scouts, I should be an Eagle. That’s not always an easy task to take on. Especially with Jamie. She was the Homecoming Queen. Head Cheerleader. Lead part in the school musical. Madrigals Most Valuable Singer. Student Council member. Drama Troupe President. Little sister.

The little sister is a tag-along, a tattletale, a brat. It is a nagging four-ply piece of toilet paper stuck on a clean pair of Levi’s. It’s a mindless Tickle-Me-Elmo. Somehow, the cute little eyes and soft hair always seem to win everyone over. Jamie was a little sister like that. She had those cute little eyes and soft hair. She had spunk, dreams, and an iron fist. I’m a softy—a pushover. She could destroy me. Her fury knew no bounds, and occasionally, even singing “Say Say Oh Playmate” together could turn into Rocky II. I was the one who always came away with a bloody nose. Literally.

Going to school with Jamie always meant competition. Even from elementary school days. She jumped further than I did at the Acequia Elementary Field Day. She took more superiors than I did at the Rupert Music Festival. She placed higher in the Spelling Bee— a third grade third place prize compared to my pathetic fourth grade honorable mention. Growing up we moved around a lot, and she always made more friends than I did. As much as I resented my defeats, I tried to fulfill my duties of elder brother with the utmost care and compassion. I pushed elevator buttons for her and showed her how to order food at McDonalds. I watched over the little sister. I made sure she was following rules, doing her chores, and not getting more breaks than I was from my parents. I was Big Brother—born one year earlier than 1984.

An older brother’s busiest time has to be the teenage years. Middle School brings a new set of challenges to caring over a little sister. As the older and mature one, I would have to pave the way for Jamie. I was opening lockers and going to block schedules while she was still experiencing recess. Through my experience and wisdom, I could teach and direct her, control her development. All she had to do was follow my lead, obey my commands, and she would be fine. Or so I thought.
One day I came home from a gruesome three-hour school presentation. The middle school called it “Development Awareness;” we called it “Puberty Day.” Reeling from the experience, I resolved to buy some deodorant and do a little better job of keeping my clothes clean. I started a load of laundry and, of course, Jamie forgot to take her clothes out of the dryer. Grabbing her clothes, I started throwing them in a basket, when, to my breath-wrenching horror, I noticed something I’d never seen before. Maybe I’d seen it somewhere, but never fully recognized it. Until now. Strung shamefully along my arm was little sister’s bra. I shook it off like it was an Arizona scorpion, embarrassed as a pig during Passover. I quickly looked back up again, turned my eyes away from the peccant scene, gulped, and finished my laundry. I realized that maybe Jamie didn’t need my training and *ahem* support with physical maturity.

Middle school melted into high school like disintegrating shaving cream on a hot May parking lot. My role of older brother didn’t change much. I was a counselor, an exemplar. I told the little sister to not take Mr. Edwards for algebra (he should have never come out of retirement. Twice. ). I advised her about the pitfalls of absences and chastised Jamie on her tardiness. To add some humor in our relationship, I made fun of her friends and mocked her occasional poor grades. In the many battles over our shared Chevrolet Corsica, I taught her the value of financial management and respecting her elders. I’m not saying our relationship was perfect. Sometime little sister didn’t always agree on my rules or advice. Despite the bitter glances and the many “I HATE YOU!!”’s, I never lost my focus. I forgave the hours of being ignored and the piercing fingernails. I quickly forgot the many shoes hurled at me, and the little changes done to the Corsica “just for spite.” Surely, her ambition and constant competition with me was just a “stage.” She would grow out of it eventually. Once she reached my level of maturity. Although I generally was calm and forgiving, I was taken aback when her friends became my friends, and my friends became her friends. Couldn’t we have anything that we didn’t have to compete over? I thought it couldn’t get any worse until—well, until Marshall came around.
I guess Marshall was always around; he was one of my best friends. We had a television show together, Co-Starred, Co-Directed, Co-Produced. We were almost always together. And then, something happened. Marshall stopped coming over to my house to see me. He was coming over to my house to see her. And I don’t think they only saw each other. Little sister was dating my best friend. I was losing big time.

My senior year of high school ended, and I found myself working for a summer while preparing for a mission. I left in the fall, but not before I was dragged back to high school to watch the Homecoming Pageant. Jamie was in it. I didn’t think she had a chance of winning. The little sister?? Homecoming queen?? The combination seemed to be like peanut butter and tuna fish. On Rye.

Fifteen hours later (at least it seemed that long) I watched in disbelief as little sister was paraded around the auditorium, wearing a crown and smiling like a French ambassador. The crowd was applauding, my parents were applauding, yet, I was motionless.

For a split second, the green-eyed monster of jealousy attacked me. I looked around at all the fanfare— the roses, the silky dresses, the giggly girls attending to Her Majesty—and wondered how I could one-up that. Jamie was standing on the stage, all the lights were on her and…and then, suddenly, something happened. Nineteen years of arguments, name-calling, and pointless competition simply melted away. . Jamie and I were never in any competition! The center of attention, that pretty blonde girl wearing a long, pink dress, was connected to me in a magical yet very real way. I looked back up at Jamie and I slowly started clapping. She’s not just a little sister. She’s my little sister! And my little sister is Homecoming Queen! She’s beautiful! She’s amazing!! That’s my little sister!!!

It’s been a few years now, and I think I’m doing a better job now of fulfilling my duty as the oldest in the family. I do what any older brother should—take orders and stay out of the way. The little sister’s will take care of the rest.

Cowboy Poetry

2008-05-13T11:04:00.002-06:00

I wrote this poem freshman year; it's newly discovered as I am organizing an Honor's portfolio.

Blockhead Chet
Ol’ Chet and I raced on down the ravine
We needed to head back home and get clean
It was six oh four and I knew at a glance
We weren’t gonna make it in time for the dance

We jumped in the truck and we flushed up some dirt
Ol’ Blockhead Chet put his hands on my shirt
I scraped off the mud and said with a glare,
“What the foolhardy thing…you’dda better take care!”

The bunkhouse light was a shinin’ all gold
The chickens were skittish and the smell was of mold
I threw off my boots and I jumped in the shower
I said to Ol’ Chet, “We got half an hour”

He said, “I aint’ got time to git everythin’ done”
I said, “Well, then, Chet, You’dda better run!”
I finished my warshin and put on some cologne
A man’s gotta smell good when he’s with a lady alone.

Ol’ Chet grubbed up some dinner and put on a hat
Then took a few minutes to play with the cat
I said, “Come on Chet, we’sa gotta go”
“I ain’t got time to shower??” I said, “no!”

We picked up the girls at a quarter to seven
Kandi walked out and boy was she heaven!
We hopped in the truck and--- *sniff* I couldn’t be sure…
But Blockhead Chet smelled dang like manure!

I tried to open a window and let in some air
But Kandi protested—she had just done her hair.
I swear that the stench of disease so impure,
Couldn’t compare to Chet’s stink of manure

So now here I am with a girl like a rose,
Usin’ one hand to drive and one to plug up my nose.
Who’da thought that tonight I would have to endure
Ol’ Blockheade Chet and his smell of manure!

Sand in the Hourglass

2008-05-09T14:51:00.003-06:00

Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.

Hold fast the time! Guard it, watch over it, every hour, every minute! Unregarded it slips away, like a lizard, smooth, slippery, faithless, a pixy wife. Hold every moment sacred. Give each clarity and meaning, each the weight of thine awareness, each its true and due fulfillment.

-Thomas Mann

The Chevy of Cell Phones

2008-05-08T23:31:00.002-06:00

I love my phone.

I originally bought a fancy flat phone with sophisticated music features and a glossy surfaced that practically screamed "glossy surface". I took it back after a few hours and traded it for my current model. I wanted this phone for one reason: it was cheap (free with a 2-year, don't-even-think-about-switching-carriers-because-now-we-have-you-more-committed-than-you'll-ever-be-in-a-relationship-with-a-girl-you-no-good-for-nothing-loser contract).

I've had it for almost a year and half now, and I have to say. I love it. I love the scrapes of sacrifice it proudly wears on its gunmetal-gray exterior. I love the background of my brother Jake wakeboarding that greets me every time I flip open its fast-acting cover. I love the way it feels in my pocket--not thin and tiny--I always know it's there, ready and waiting for a call, or (what usually happens), an alarm to go off to tell me "it's 7:00 AM and, once again, you've gone through a whole day without anybody calling you." I love the fact that the antenna lasted so long--about a year-- and now my phone is still struggling on without that semi-important appendage. I love how I miss calls at random, how I will have hours of failed calls or texts that won't send and messages that i never receive. "It's all in the network" Verizon says, but I think my network is a part-time technician working from Huckfin, Oklahoma. The problems keeps life interesting at least. And give me a good excuse for when I *ahem* screen calls. Not that I screen calls very often, but sometimes...y'know.

And so, I tip my hat off to you, LG VX8000. The Chevrolet of Cell Phones.

Gaff the Muscles

2008-05-04T23:42:00.005-06:00

The summer signals the advent of beach season. Wakeboarding. California. Hiking. Sunburns. And white, freckled Dave.

What is the perfect body? Who has one? Ryan always wishes he was taller, I wish I was skinnier, Jake wishes...well, Jake's pretty set with his blonde hair, blue eyes, "the girls all love me" physique.

Genetics play a huge part in how we look, obviously--Sometimes you've just gotta play with the hand that you're dealt in life. But there's always room for improvement. Not that i want to be obsessed with looking like the gym rat, Arnold Schwarzie, "gonna go crazy til I get in my egg white shakes and 55 reps for today" tough guy. I don't need the perfect bod. Obsessing over that is often c'est la maladie du temps--the sickness of the times. I can improve, though.

Not for nothing--in other words, for something--do people call me Big D or the "large one" of our apartment. I need to expend more energy (and by energy, I mean time) on being healthier.

This is a question of priorities.

My problem is two fold (ok, it's probably six-fold, but let's not get in to every depressing detail). One, I enjoy eating good food (even though I do pretty good with self-control since the last few years--- I'm nowhere near Mom or Jamie). And by good food, I mean food that tastes good. Food that isn't bulgur, zucchini muffins, or soy milk shakes.

My second problem is personality. I love playing sports, going to the gym etc. I feel good when I do it. I enjoy it. I could do it all the time.

But, at the same time, I could spend the whole day reading books and learning, writing, and working on projects in the library. And, if I have deadlines, projects, or assignments due, my responsibility gene kicks in and forces me to stay until I'm done. Which means, I don't make time to go and do the other part of life--the basketball, working out, hiking, swimming--that I also enjoy. My life lacks balance in that regard. This is especially so since I started working on my thesis. And i don't think it will get any easier once I start work at E & Y. So. I need to SCHEDULE time for the physical activities, i need to make it a priority, and make it more of a daily necessity, like brushing my teeth and logging onto espn.com.

And, so...I will.

Maybe just one week...

2008-04-29T23:10:00.003-06:00

Ok. I had my week of fun. I didn't think about school. I slacked on my honor's thesis. I went to bed late, woke up late. I had two meals of tuna strait from the can, tortilla chips, and ranch dressing. I spent too much money on textbooks, and didn't sell any back. It's time, now, for me to get disciplined. Back to basics. Pushups every morning, no more hanging out at all hours of the night.

But I did enjoy myself...

We had El Burrito de Chatswoth, with three pots of beans and over 60 burrito's served...(still eating burrito's for lunch)
A bonfire at South Fork. the wind almost took the fire down to Spanish Fork. Wished it woulda hit the MUSS at the U...
Not my hat, nor my glasses. I look like a punk, huh. we rode trax down to SLC and ate at Thaifoon in the Gateway.

Wondering About Jake

2008-04-21T00:47:00.003-06:00

Jake hit his year mark in Japan. I miss him. I'll write him a letter this week (after finals). Until I hear from him though, I wonder:

--Does he constantly have to replace his bike brakes because of the always-present moisture during rainy season that makes normal brakes disentegrate in a matter of days? Does he have disc brakes?
--Does he use missionary slang like "goched" and "spoked" and "saikou desu yo" and "yakusokusha"?
--Does he just love tonkatsu?
--Has he ever been to bikkuri donky? I always wanted to go but...
--Does he ever get sick of ringing those kekko boxes that people pretend they can't hear you or aren't home, even when you know they looked through the peephole because it was light and then dark?
--Does he get excited to attend DTM and zone conferences?
--Does he have picture-happy companions (Missionary: Elder, we need to take a picture of this moment... Me: Umm...we're just doing the dishes, Elder...)?
--Does he love the Japanese landscape yet?
--Is he learning the respect and honor of Japanese culture?
--Does he ever eat at Oushous?
--Does he love riding the trains?
--Has he met a member of the yakuza (Japanese mafia)?
--Has he spent hours and hours and hours looking for an address, only to never find it because of the fact that 1)he is illiterate in the country, 2)he is using a copy of a map that has been soaked by the incessant rain and 3) For the most part, Japanese addresses really have no rhyme or reason, just scattered numbers across the paper like shotgun bb's flying through a tornado?

Just wondering about Jake tonight.

Keepin' It Fun

2008-04-18T01:12:00.002-06:00

Finals week can be stressful. Jokes and fun and people make it bearable.

We thought these girls might want to keep a phone book handy, just in case...

Shashin o shimesu

2008-04-14T00:45:00.002-06:00

Middle eastern food and American Gladiators. Do I lack culture? No way, Jose...

Awww...

2008-04-08T13:09:00.002-06:00

Wasn't Jamie a cute baby?

Healthcare REIT IPO Waves

2008-04-08T00:17:00.003-06:00

I've been spending a good portion of my time lately on my Honors thesis. By a "good portion," i mean hours and hours. To some, healthcare REIT IPO volume fluctuation may not be the most exciting thing in the world, but to others...well...it's not exciting to others, either.

Lines Composed Upon Watching Bourne Ultimatum

I think it would be nice to be a hit man
No forty hour a week grind
Or spreadsheets to worry about.
You just need a cell phone and a gun
A few passports, maybe, and an indistinguishable
Eastern European accent.

I’m sure I’d have good stories to tell,
At parties. Not that I could tell them, though
Because, then “I’d have to…”—you know.
But the health insurance is great, I hear,
And think of all the frequent flier miles I’d rack up.

But what would I do with all that down time?
Lying in a hotel, waiting for the text to come
With pictures and location of my next, uh, client
Might get pretty boring.

Do you think hit men watch soaps
Or yell at the screen when Ann Coulter comes on?
They must spend some of the time brushing up on languages and reading
How to Shoot a Machine Gun and Never Hit the Hero
For Dummies.

I can see how that life would get old. And stressful too,
Never knowing when that text will come and pull you away
From a Holiday Inn nap.

The Twelve Minute Song

2008-04-04T00:22:00.002-06:00

Meatloaf''s I Would Do Anything For Love lasts twelve mintues. Exactly. Listen to it five times, and you're an hour closer to Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.

Just an observation.

Some quotes from Victor Hugo.

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved.

What is that to the infinite?

A compliment is something like a kiss through a veil.

The third quote reminds me of the TL game, the second quote reminds me about perspective, and the first quote is so true, isn't it?

And to bed.

Gottanuther one, Shakespeare????

2008-04-02T00:20:00.002-06:00

I feel lame posting another poem, but I just returned from the library and a friends house, it's late, and this is all I have to post.

Heber City is known for cowboy poetry. Well...what about Jock Poetry? This is the first of possibly more to come:

Jock Poetry
Love Ode From A Power Forward
-dave heywood

They say love is like roses and
Daisies and the smell of rain
On a spring day in El Paso Texas

But it’s not.

My love is boxing out with a forearm check
Moses Malone hits the deck
I escape without a tech,
Just a flagrant foul, but what the heck
That’s no sweat off of my thick neck

Baby—my loves like that

I want to see
You and me
Three in the key
Forever

I hope you realize
My heart is the size
Of Barkleys’ thighs
When I gaze in your eyes
And say,
“Babay,
I love you.”

But you never cared for me
Baby

I took a shot, 15 footer, wide open, soft and delicate, gave it my all
But you stuffed me a la Thanksgiving Turkey; “get that weak stuff outta here” you said,
Nicely,
in that fake way, like a mascot on stilts, ready to fall—

But don’t worry, Baby. The world still turns round.
And I
Am on
The rebound.

1:02, and to bed.

2008-03-31T01:00:00.001-06:00

With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day, and wish 'twere done
Not till the hours of light return
All we have built do we discern
-Matthew Arnold

Talks and talks and talks...

2008-03-27T23:17:00.002-06:00

I'm not a very good communicator. I recognize this, it's something I'm working on. Jamie used to make fun of me in high school for reading books about how to talk to people. "Just go talk to people!" she would say.

Here's a poem I wrote today. I thought of using it for a poetry workshop, but it's a little 8th-gradeish in quality.

A Letter and a Stamp Won’t Solve This Problem

I’ll start with a note on Facebook
Not long— a few lines on her Wall.
And if she responds on Tuesday,
Well, maybe I’ll give her a call…

Better yet, text her a message—
How R U? It’s been a long time :-)
And if I’m feeling creative,
I may even send her a rhyme.

She’ll answer in a few minutes—
Or hours, if she’s playing coy—
If it’s days, maybe she’s busy
Or was murdered in Illinois.

Eventually, I’ll need to call her
(Unless she’s in a Chicago grave).
First, I should work up the courage;
For phone calls, you’ve gotta be brave.

Perhaps I’ll send her an email
Bcc to no one but me
It worked out for Tom Hanks and Meg
Ryan. Plus, all email is free.

Well, next thing you know we’re Blogging—
The relationship’s getting intense
She thinks I’m fully committed,
But clearly I’m still on the fence.

Hey, don’t get me wrong, I like her—
She’ll make someone a perfect mate.
But we don’t blend well together—
We just cannot communicate.

Picture says one thousand words

2008-03-25T23:39:00.003-06:00

From our Heber Date and Ray's Party

Tagged...

2008-03-25T23:22:00.002-06:00

A rose, by any other name...

1.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)Grasshopper ThinMint
3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name) D Hey
4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)Azure Meerkat
5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)Bruce Provo
6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)HeyDa
7.SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)Green Mizu
8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)Al Norman
9.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names )Bruce Hancock
10. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 6th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) Espinoza Edinburgh
11. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower)Fall (fun)Gi
12. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”)Raspberry Shortsie
13. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)Cheerio Maple
14. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)The Reading Sun Tour

Tag--uh, anyone who wants to waste five minutes...

Amy, you're missing out...

2008-03-23T22:31:00.002-06:00

Amy, sad you're not coming to BYU for spring/summer. A few friends got together last night and made a list of things we are going to do for those months. Our goal is to do as much from this list as we can.

Looks like it's gonna be a dope summer! But you'll have fun in Australia, I know...

Fishing-cuttin, guttin, and grillin
Crawdad fishin'
Star gazing (learn constellations)
Float Provo river
Bike to Bridal Veil falls (tandem…)
Wakeboarding (deer creek, utah lake, jordanell, pineview/yuba, echo, bear lake??)
Sleepover @shelley's cabin
Horseback riding
Fishing in the dark
Rope swing @mona
Hot pots in Heber
Manti pageant and penny candy
Strawberry days rodeo
Strawberry ice cream
Ride trax to gateway, fountains at nighttime
Vegas and back (or not back…)
Bryce Canyon/zions
Dinner cruise on the Great Salt Lake
Lagoon
Sundance-movies outside, ride ski lifts
Watch movie outside Chats on projector
Springville art gallery
Art projects--huge canvas and ballons, paint darts
Slip n' slide mud at rock canyon park
Goblin Valley
Thanksgiving Point
Riverraft in Moab
Drive in movie at SL
Day out to take pictures, then make photography collage
Park City--Downtown, alpine slide
Service project
Ultimate frisbee
Glow in the dark crochet
Country dancing
Shotgun shooting
Homemade ice cream
Hiking (mt timp?)
Backpacking
Buy helium balloons and suck them
Huge nertz face off game night
Bowling and pool
Swimming!!
Watch sports! Hello!
Christmas in July
Provo Parade
Hot air ballons (4th of July)
Memorial day-take flowers
Tie die shirts or make matching tshirts/pj pants
Run a 5k together-Charleston 5k
Dinner at Ottavio's
Dinner at Carrabas
Sushi Night
Iron Chef Competition
Heber Sleepover

They're Grrreat!

2008-03-19T23:24:00.005-06:00

Today, I found out I'm gonna be getting a nephew. Get 'er done, Shamie.

This cereal is currently changing my life. So sweet and crunchy, perfect with milk, or just as a midday snack.

Did you lose something, sir? No...but I will...

2008-03-18T23:55:00.003-06:00

Summer is fast approaching. That means wakeboarding, London, California (maybe), and adventure.

I've made a goal Thursday of last week to get down to 167 pounds by April 28. I was at 178 last week, I'm at 175.7 tonight, and I will be dedicated to this until April 28th, baby!

They say if you make a goal and then let people know, you become more committed. So here goes. I'm gonna be down to 167 by April 28th. I've let the world (or, my mother, the one reader of this blog) know.

Two Quotes

2008-03-16T23:43:00.002-06:00

“This is my prayer for all of us—'Lord, increase our faith.' Increase our faith to bridge the chasms of uncertainty and doubt. . . . Grant us faith to look beyond the problems of the moment to the miracles of the future. . . . Give us faith to do what is right and let the consequence follow.”
--Gordon B. Hinckley

Courage, brother! Do not stumble,
Though thy path be dark as night;
There's a star to guide the humble,
Trust in God and do the right
--Norman McLeod

And to bed.

You want a Hobbit?? No! A HOBBY!!

2008-03-13T23:15:00.002-06:00

Ok, so I am in quest of a new hobby. I want to spice up my life, make myself more interesting, expand my horizons.

I did decide to go to London for Summer Term Study Abroad (I think...still iffy, but only one day left to back out without penalty...).

I hope to come back from that trip with an Oliver Twist Cockney accent, and also an uppity Jeeve's the Butler English accent. Maybe even some Scottish, because we'll be in Edinburgh too (and I'm taking a Scottish literature class..."Sticks and stanes may brake yer banes, but words will naever hurt ye")

But back to the topic at hand. A new hobby.

Here's a list of possible ones to pursue. I'm sure I'll add more as I think about it.
*Racketball
*Tennis
*Fishing
*Hiking (I already enjoy hiking, but I could do it more
*Wakeboarding (Ditto hiking)
*Swimming (Ditto hiking and wakeboarding)
*Photography
*Geocaching
*Shotgun shooting

Ok, here are some hobby's I will most definitely NOT pursue:
*Checkers (I'm the worst checker's player ever)
*Rock climbing
*Skiing
*Bird watching (uh...that's a robin...er no...a sparrow...er..ahh..dahh!!)
*Shopping
*Painting
*Pottery
*Bow hunting
*Video games

Any thoughts, fam and friends?

I Have a P..P...Personality?

2008-03-12T23:44:00.003-06:00

Crazy busy day. But it's good to be busy.

After 4 hours of working with numbers in Salt Lake for le Ritchie Group, and two hours of driving with thought time, I rushed over to an Honor's Symposium. Elder Bruce. D Porter and his wife spoke, and it was amazing. I'll recap what I learned tomorrow--no time tonight.

A conversation at the Honors Symposium

Girl: So...what's you major?
Me: The most boring major you can think of...
Girl: Accounting?
Me: Yep.

This happened twice tonight. So, it made me wonder...can I work for an accounting firm (even if it isn't tax or audit, and I get to travel around helping big corps do transaction real estate) and still have a personality?

Yeah.

For example, I hate peaches. The texture is too fuzzy, like eating a cat or a velvet pillow. And, Abi in OA says that homeless people smell like peaches.

I hate cashews. Eating a cashew--texture, shape, taste--is like eating an overgrown toenail. Sick.

I just discovered this morning that I love peanut butter and banana sandwhiches on Granny Delight's wheat and fiber bread. Toasted. So delicious.

I can't say no to people--I'm a people pleaser. I'm too nice. Sometimes I get overextended and stressed, and then I tend to shut down my personality.

I need to pursue more hobbys and interesting things in life. I've thought about this today, and made a list of possible hobbys to continue doing more of, or to begin anew (I like using the word "anew"). I'll post the list tomorrow.

I have good taste in friends and associations. My friend Jon in Cedar just won the student body president elections at Southern Utah University.

I have amazing roommates, and great friends.

Life's pretty good, y'know.

Been Spendin' Most My Life, Livin in Bachelor's Paradise...

2008-03-10T23:50:00.006-06:00

So, another breakup.

Two classic lines from Bethany when she was consoling me.

"Just eat some chocolate and endure to the end."

and

(with a strait, yet smirky, face)

"I know what always helps get people out of depression. Service."

I went to Heber tonight for some good 'ol family time, and we decided to go bowling. Of course, it was leagues night so no lanes were open. We ended up dragging Main St., listening to Mom talk and talk and talk.

Anyways, taking the Pollyanna approach--

the top five reasons Why It's Fun Being Single:

1)More time for pickup basketball

2)New chances to use pickup lines

3)Flirting is fun

4)Uh...more time for basketball?

5)( TO BE FILLED IN LATER)

Some ironic things. I'm supposed to speak on a dating panel for the Stake Relief Society Enrichment on Thursday. Also, people had finally stopped asking me whether I was dating someone or not. Now, the questions will begin anew.

Well, let the good times roll.

Vision

2008-03-08T00:19:00.004-07:00

On my mission in Japan, we had a zone conference where President Whitesides showed us a picture of Mt. Fuji, and shared a story about the first time he saw the mountain. Mt. Fuji, while certainly not as tall as the world's tallest mountains, is stunning because it rises from almost sea level to it beautiful peak--it can be seen from miles and miles away.

He encouraged us to create a vision for our area, and also where we wanted to be in five years, ten years, and so on.

Before I came to BYU, I made a list of a "vision" of what I wanted to accomplish from my education and experience.

Maintain 3.9 GPA
Find a good job
Learn how to be more social
Become active in student clubs and leadership
Travel somewhere in the summer
Lose 7 pounds
Write for a BYU publication (newspaper etc)
Get Real Estate license (if fees are reasonable)
Get into the accounting program
Get an internship for a newspaper/publication or an accounting firm for the summer
Finish reading the Book of Mormon
Get married
Go camping at least 8 times
Keep a scripture journal
Be able to run 4 miles
Help Jake get into BYU
Keep contact with the missionaries I teach and missionary friends

Ok--these are from a list I copy and pasted from my journal my freshman year. I have more, but I didn't want to share smaller or embarrassing things. Looking at it now, I'm surprised at how many of these things I've been able to accomplish. I'm not married, of course, and I've lost my scripture journal so I need to get that back up and running again, (oh...and Jake isn't in BYU...yet) but I look back at the years I've had at BYU so far with gratitude. I've learned so much, and i still have much to learn in my last spring and summer semesters. Whether it's in Provo, or London, I'm sure that I will be able to learn the things I need to that will prepare me for my career and my new vision for the next five years of my life.

If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
-Henry David Thoreau

If I Can Change a Tire...

2008-02-28T23:17:00.005-07:00

Progress and change--repentence, as the scriptures call it--is one of the hardest things. Oftimes, when you think you are making progress in some areas, you find yourself slipping in others. The "two steps forward,one step back" principle. Life goes fast. Am I constantly progressing? How can I keep moving forward in faith?

Elder Maxwell said "“The pressures of life will mean that we shall be known as we are, that our frailties will be exposed and, hopefully, we shall then work on them."

Whenever we open ourselves up to introspection, and to new relationships, our frailties are exposed and it's a little uncomfortable. It feels like the puff of air the dentist sprays on a tooth that's already been beaten into sensitive submission by his iron pick.

I have so many things to work on, sometimes it's a bit overwhelming, like eating a buffalo for breakfast. One bite at a time, though. One bite at a time.

But you know, isn't that life and why we are all here? Press forward with a brightness of hope, and joy is the reward. Fukuin ga shinjitsu desu ne!!

Jamie, I saw your list of things to do before you're thirty. I'm going to make one for me, but revised the title a bit. I actually have a lot to think about this weekend.

Let us, then, be up and doing
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait
-H.W. Longfellow

Night Rider

2008-02-24T23:24:00.004-07:00

I visited Heber on Saturday night (it was great to see the Fam!), and got sucked into staying until late late. Finally, Jamie had to take her pain meds and announce to the world that she was "Going to Bed!"

As I usually don't get enough sleep, I had a hard time staying awake driving through the canyon so late. So I mentally made a list in my head of the best songs to drive to late at night when you're by yourself.

So, without further adieu, here are

The Top 11 Songs to Listen To When You Drive At Night Alone:
(note on my criteria: I picked the songs that create the best nighttime "mood," not songs that would necessarily keep me awake)
1)Don't Stop Believin'--Journey
2)Lullabye-Creed
3)Knocking on my Door--Peter Brienholt
4)Nightswimming-R.E.M.
5)The Dance-Garth Brooks
6)100 Years-Five For Fighting
7)Who Needs Sleep?--Barenaked Ladies
8)Moonshadow-Cat Stevens
9)Hard to Say I'm Sorry/Look Away/You're the Inspiration--Chicago
10)The Scientist-Coldplay
11) Soledad and 11:20-Colors

If you have any songs you think should be added...let me know. I can already think of some that belong. If Kori ever reads this, I'm sure she has suggestions.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

2008-02-21T00:44:00.002-07:00

A lunar eclipse tonight, but the clouds covered the sight. Still, though, a night to be remembered.

Squid, Squash, Surveys,
Admiration and Respect.

"My Life Be Like... Ooh Ahh"

2008-02-18T23:23:00.008-07:00

10 Skills/Past Parts of Me I Would Like to Devote More Time to Reviving:

1) Japanese language and Japanese culture

2) Acoustic Guitar

3) Camping/Scouting/Outdoor activities

4) Newspaper column/book idea

5) Video projects

6) Fishing in Alaska

7) Dutch Oven Cooking

8) Journal Writing

9) Sabbath Day Bandits

10) Teaching

Valentine's Day

2008-02-13T23:14:00.003-07:00

I am exhausted from today, but life is exhilerating (sp?). But am I spending my time effectively? "It is not enough to be busy--so are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about."
---H.D. Thoreau

Victor Hugo wrote, "The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved."

Does Valentine's Day help towards that conviction? It can be a fun holiday, but I prefer the small sacrifices, heartfelt thoughts, and charitable kindness that surprises you when you least expect it.

From George William Childs:

Do not keep the alabaster boxes of your love and tenderness sealed up until your friends are dead. Fill their lives with sweetness. Speak approving, cheering words while their ears can hear them, and while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier by them.

On that note, I know you read this on occaision mom, so I just want to quickly tell you how much I love you. You are such a good mother, and now that I am out and about associating with girls, you make it very difficult for me to ever find a celestial star with your wonderful qualities. Have a million dollar day!

"And the moral of that is--"Oh, tis love, tis love, that makes the world go round."
--Lewis Carroll

Messages

2008-02-11T23:36:00.000-07:00

A family that taught me by example about charity and hard work.

Some thoughts before I sleep.

In my creative writing class today, a classmate read an essay he entitled "Messages" about a few experiences on his mission. One of the things that lingered with me was a discussion the class had about his title. He originally had his title "Messengers," but changed it to "Messages" because he wanted to focus on the fact that it is the message that is important. I agreed with him at the time, and I think I still agree with him now, but my opinion towards the importance of the messenger is also starting to change.

When talking about the gospel, of course it's the message that is the meat--it's the message that Christ lives, that He atoned for our sins and redeemed us from death ,that carries power. But the messenger, both the Holy Ghost and the teacher (whether it be a prophet, missionary, or best friend) wields so much influence on the hearer that a true testimony cannot be gained without it. That's why it's so important to have the spirit when teaching or learning about the gospel--and also why it's so important that we gather often to bear testimony, pray, renew our covenants, and listen to direction of our leaders. It's why good examples in our life, people that inspire and motivate, exhort and correct, are so important. We take the message to heart because of the way we feel when we are around the messenger. One of my favorite poems illustrates the effect a good leader and example can have on an individual (and on a family). Matthew Arnold wrote Rugby Chapel as he was sitting at his father's graveside, thinking on the life that his father had lived. It's a long poem, so I won't quote the whole thing, but here is a portion that I think is applicable.

But thou would’st not alone
Be saved, my father! alone
Conquer and come to thy goal,
Leaving the rest in the wild.
We were weary, and we
Fearful, and we in our march
Fain to drop down and to die.
Still thou turnedst, and still
Beckonedst the trembler, and still
Gavest the weary thy hand.

If, in the paths of the world,
Stones might have wounded thy feet,
Toil or dejection have tried
Thy spirit, of that we saw
Nothing—to us thou wast still
Cheerful, and helpful, and firm!
Therefore to thee it was given
Many to save with thyself;
And, at the end of thy day,
O faithful shepherd! to come,
Bringing thy sheep in thy hand.

Ok, it's a smaller portion than I wanted (RC is a long poem...) but I think it helps clarify my thought that, really, those examples and influences in our life are, at times, almost as important as the message, because with out them, the message's meaning is lost in the "noise" of the world around the hearer.

Flip the Bird

2008-02-11T00:10:00.000-07:00

Speed. Stamina. Hand-eye coordination. Dogged determination. These are the skills necessary for a succesful badminton team. (oh...and you need headbands. Can't forget headbands). Admittedly, we didn't place first in our lower-division bracket. But we did place. And we weren't last.

Our journey for mastery of the shuttlecock (that's what the little bird thing is called, for all of you living in ignorance to this grand Olympic sport) began with a Monday open gym night. A Chinese mystic going by Simon (we couldn't pronounce his real name), took it upon himself to educate us on the art of Badminton. After one session with Simon, the Chatsworth Deuce was ready for the tournament.

Did we win the coveted BYU intramural t-shirts? No. But our friends did (see above picture). And in life, it's not what you know (or what you win...) that's important, it's who you know.

Vertical Mining Exercise

2008-02-06T23:53:00.000-07:00

Working on "vertical mining" in creative writing (whatever that means...). I've made a few jokes about how much I hate it in class, so Prof Earl is starting to prod me a bit. So, I will attempt to create "vertically mine" my day today.

Cake decorating book, color of clowns, distracting me from Management Economics.
Dream State Scottish poetry, Alba Einstein and Adorno. Negative is the negative is the negative, dialectics.
Floor Four, Floor One, "where ya goin, hun" "to officially declare
An English minor in that building over there."
Time me, time you, workshop time, and the creative juice is through.

I see a familiar green bag and "puffiness" from a distance, walking up stairs by a statue of Chalk Man Himself, Circle of Integrity, Mr. Maze.
Been waiting long, I ask
When I know the answer is no. Miss, Miss, you dropped your pen. Er...I'm a moron.

DI, nice try, rusty pocketknife. One size fits all and the yellow canary ain't lyin about that.
Can't lie when you're stuffed in a vase, with germs on your face
Step ladder up and lets chute her off!

King me, queen you, red, black, non-island style
Spring, summer--who knows what
The future holds for us (or anyone)

But let's burn a match and wait
Til someone wins the pain.

Politics this, and politics that
Everyone in the room is a Democrat
Shouldn't the Y be more conservative? My!
Political Political Political Review.

Institute lesson, I needed that.
Brother Hobson????!!?
It's true, it's true.
Political Political Political review???

Homework, wait N2, L. Thomas, hey!
How do you know her...hmmm...
Face goes red (but whos?).
Saturday

OK. That's about enough of that. Everything turns into a poem when I vertical mine.

Metaphor #1

2008-02-03T22:59:00.000-07:00

You're going to get a #5--the grilled chicken sandwhich with tomato and lettuce. Looks so good and juicy and it sounds perfect. Tina, who's name you know only because you see the outlines of her worn out name tag as you approach the register, smiles politely but not enthusiastically and asks, "What can I get for you today?" You are about to say a #5, the thing you thought you wanted all along, the reason you've been standing in line for 8 minutes counting the number of times the ice machine has turned on.

But then...you see something else on the menu. And suddenly you feel like a burger...or...a salad. Ahh, hmmm...yeah. A salad is more healthy--maybe a crispy chicken salad. And the bacon cheeseburger looks good. Haven't had one of those for a while. The grilled chicken sandwhich you thought you wanted the most suddenly isn't what you want the most. Or... is it? You're only having doubts because you are about to order and make the $6.26 cent decision. And the person behind you is tapping her Sasquatch size foot..tap...tap...tap

That, in a nutshell, is my life right now. Except, the restaurant is inside a semi truck careening towards a 3,338 foot cliff and I have to steer, and order, and cook the food. At the same time. One of the tires is flat, there's a techno song blaring in prestissimo with the synthesizer beating faster and faster and faster and...to top it all of...Tina (and the drink lady, Faye) doesn't really seem to like me...

Tagged

2008-01-31T22:13:00.000-07:00

10 Years Ago
I was the fat new kid in town with braces and a tooth in the middle of my mouth. I was generally pessimistic, cynical, but wanted to always follow the rules and do my best in school. I wore clothes from DI, read Louis L' Amour books (or anything else I could get my hands on), and was just realizing that I was never going to make it to the NBA.

5 Things On My To Do List Today
1) Finish my lyric essay
2)Figure out how to do better in technical writing
3)Laugh
4)--->Try to plan date and (maybe) attend mardi gras party? Wanna watch Hotel Rwanda later on in the evening....hmmm...still don't quite know yet.
5)Work at TRG in SLC. Train Yvette, finish Pheasant Run project draws, and work on Ironwood banking items.

5 Snacks I Enjoy
1) Tortilla chips and cottage cheese
2)Flavor blasted goldfish crackers
3)Baby carrots
4)Celery, peanut butter, and raisins
5)Banana (but not too ripe-no brown spots is preferred)

What would I do with a billion dollars?
Study. Invest. Philanthropize. Buy a truck, tour Europe, build a cabin, support a school.

5 Places I have Lived
1) Cockaroach infested Yamanoue cho
2)Rupert, Idaho aka Christmas City, USA
3)Heber Valley
4)Valley of the Sun
5)Nara, Japan

5 Jobs I have had
1)toilet scrubbing janitor
2)sandwich artist
3)printing pressman
4)grocery bagger
5)sensei

5 Things People Don't Know About Me
1) I had chickens, sheep, dogs, and a steer as a kid
2) I was in 4H (even won a red ribbon in cooking at the Minico County Fair)
3) I was on the swim team as a kid, and won the Rupert Swim Team high points award as a ten year old
4) I don't like peaches, pears, or strawberry shortcake.
5) I wrestled for three months in Idaho. The only reason I quit was because...ok...well, there were two:
a) I'm a pansy
b) and a wimp.

Rusesabagina in the House

2008-01-30T00:09:00.000-07:00

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

--Robert Frost

The General Manager of the hotel in Hotel Rwanda, Paul Rusesabagina spoke at a forum at the Marriot Center today. He told his story, and mentioned a few things that I thought inspirational. He said that no matter what happens, no matter what circumstances occur, there is always hope--God will provide a way. This idea echoed the pretense of Elder Eyering's talk in the Marriott Center two weeks ago about God's power of deliverance.

Mr. Rusesabagina said that bad leadership created the problem in Rwanda; he challenged us to rise up and help some one, to stand up and make a difference. An excellent forum, I thought--I want to watch Hotel Rwanda now (I've seen parts, but never the whole thing all the way through).

Some of the members of the red team at American Gladiator night.

Hinckley Daikancho

2008-01-28T22:10:00.000-07:00

For most of my years in primary, I learned and sang the "prophet song" with Ezra Taft Benson as the final prophet. I still remember the feeling of peace that I had when I saw pictures of President Benson. I didn't fully understand a prophets role, or why exactly we needed a prophet, but I felt that he was somebody important, somebody to respect; not so much like a grandfather (although he liked like he could be anybody's grandpa to me), but a figure that I knew my parents trusted and followed.

I remember when Howard W. Hunter died, and Gordan B. Hinckley was announced as the prophet. I felt the same feeling of respect and admiration for President Hinckley, but this time it was coupled with a better knowledge of a prophets role and importance.

My first real confirmation that President Hinckley was a prophet of God came when he was giving his "Six B's" devotional. I felt his love as he prayed for us. I tested the message he delivered, and tried to develop those B's. That was one of the things that helped change my attitude during high school.

The same feeling came during a temple rededication that President Hinckley presided over. I was at a national FBLA competition in Nashville, Tennessee. The day prior to the evening dedication, I had the chance to talk with a large group of students of different faiths from across the country about religion in a hall of the hotel. Almost all of the non-deonominational and Babtist/JW/evangelical students ganged up on the few Mormons that were there and went into attack mode. This was one of the first times I had my beliefs really (almost professionally) attacked. That night, I went into the bathroom so the other guys in our room could sleep, and read from my litle paperback copy of the Book of Mormon. I read for a couple hours, then prayed about it, not really getting any immediate answer. The next day, a few of us were able to go to the dedication (or, rededication...) of the Nauvoo temple. As President Hinckley spoke, and then as the congregation did the Hosanna shout, I felt another answer to my prayers about the truth of the Book of Mormon, and the calling and mantle of the prophet.

This testimony was only solidified as a missionary. When I testified of gospel truths, especially of the fact that there was a living prophet on the earth, I felt the same confirming feelings--peace, confidence, comfort. I read as many of President Hinckley's, Monson's, and Maxwell's talks that I could get my hands on. President Hinckley's optimism and enthusiasm (netsui!) was inspirational.

I think the best way to sum up my experience in Japan with the faith of the Japanese saints, and their love for the prophet, is by recounting a scene from a movie clip that I love. The church put out a Japanese film that showed the process of selecting the site, constructing the building, and then dedicating the Tokyo temple. This was when President Kimball was the prophet. The film showed a meeting that was held when President Kimball came to announce the temple. During the meeting, President Kimball stood on the podium and began to announce the site and location of the temple, and then he asked for the sustaining vote of the members. When general authorities speak at Japanese meetings, the translators are always a few sentences behind because they need to wait until the speaker finishes his sentence before they can start translating (because Japanese takes the verb of a sentence and puts it at the very end). Well, this time was no different--the translator was behind, but despite this delay, as soon as President Kimball raised his hand to sustain the action, the camera panned out and showed all of the congregation raising their hands, following the prophet's action. The translator was way behind, so they didn't know exactly what they were sustainin, but they trusted President Kimball and had faith in their prophet. They saw their prophet raise his hand to sustain, and they followed suit.

Every time I saw that video, I felt the spirit of faithfulness and sacrifice of the Japanese people (and all saints who follow the prophet). I hope I can have the same obedience and faithfulness.

4 O'Clock and All Is Well

2008-01-25T04:46:00.000-07:00

It's four in the morning and I can't sleep. I've been coughing all night (you know...that nagging, persistent cough that won't go away--like a piece of gum stuck to your shoe) and I finally found some cough medicine after 40 minutes of searching.

I've thought of just going to work, because I'm leaving to Salt Lake at 6:00 in the morning anyways. But then I realized I need to email my professor about meeting today to work on a thesis project. And then I looked on ESPN.com. And now I'm here. Doing nothing productive with my life.

Just a note, after rereading my "Eyes Tired in California" poem, I decided to write another one about our Oceanside reunion--this one in a more enthusiastic, positive light. I, personally, like reading poems that are more humorous, or encouraging, or inspiring.

Well, Sal's in the brothel, Pat's in the Jail, and I'm the one to tell the tale. I don't have much else to say, except that the cough syrup label lied and said I would be drowsy and/or dizzy (it'll probably kick in as i'm halfway down I-15).

I've been reading Alma 5 (slower than I'd like to be reading it because last night I one chapter more than my daily allotment of a memior by Clarence Thomas), which has led me to think more about change and hope. Hopefully I will be able to flesh out my feelings on the subject into thoughts and readable prose in the next few days (weeks).

Eyes Tired In California

2008-01-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

I need to write poems for my creative writing class. I was looking for ideas, and I came across part of I poem I wrote this summer in California at the reunion. Still a work in progress...I must have wrote it during a lonely day. The reunions are not as fun without Jake there, that's for sure.

Eyes Tired in California

Under the sun with no one
Alone among thousands
Stares, glares, glances.
My shy lips mumble greetings
“Hi mister, bye ma’m”

Go to hell says the silence.

Beer and shorts— men gather.
White erased by tan, they
Complain of immigration,
Wetbacks invading their beach
Even the sand looks darker.

Spanish speakers fish the peer,
Scrape guts and blood across the railing
Knife in hand, they
Laugh at the smell of perfume
On a teenage bikini.

She and a friend wear nothing
But thong bras and low-self esteem;
Faster, they pass the fishermen
Scared by stares, glares, glances.

This…is vacation?

Semester of Strength

2008-01-21T20:37:00.000-07:00

In our Elders quorum this semester, we have a theme "Semester of Strength," with the goal to better ourselves in our academics, social, spiritual, and temporal endeavors. Here are principles we are trying to follow with our goals.

1-Daily check off, weekly evaluation.
2-Consistency, consistency. "The secret of success is constancy to purpose" (Benjamin Disraeli)
3-Be specific with your goals. "When performance is measured, performance improves" (Pres. Monson).
4-"For if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them" (Ether 12:27)
5-We must not fail.
6-"Heorism is endurance for one moment more"(George Kennan).
7-"What small potatoes we all are, compared to what we might be!" (Charles Warner).
8-Be excited about this year! NETSUI! "Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm" (R.W. Emerson)
9-Make goals that will stretch you. "Not failure, but low aim is crime" (James Russell Lowe)

As the Disney movie Meet the Robinson's teaches, Keep Moving Forward.

Henry W. Longfellow said:
Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the Shadowy future, without fear, and with a manly heart.