Friday, January 27, 2006

Ravan meet Revan - Yeah end summaranza!

So here I am. This is me, lookin’ back at the edge of 2005 (from which I’ve just jumped from). It’s been an interesting, lazy, enlightening, dull, thoughtful year. I thought since I promised myself that I’d write a blog every month way back when I started it back in early ’05 that I’d come up in here and cap it off with a run down. So think of the following as one of those Christmas family photos everyone sends out along with an update letter to let everyone know what’s going down (only without the family photo, heck wait a sec, why not, I’ll include one of my favorite shots of my family on a 05’ vacation while I’m at it).


So 2005, what a strange year for me. In beginning to think about a whole year, I find it interesting to sum up time. I mean we live our lives and spend so much time doing so many things and accumulate so many memories and then we end up forgetting so many of them when we want to recall them as they were lived. But even though memories pretty much suck, it’s hindsight that more than makes up for it. I can look back on my 26 years and if asked what my first memory was I’d give a blank stare but on the flip side ask me what I’ve learned in that time, hell-o, I’d never stop talking. And so I think I’m gonna tell ya what went down in hindsight mode. I’ve heard the saying, a smart man learns from his mistakes, a smarter man learns from other people’s mistakes, I think it’s true. And so please, in my ramblings I hope ya learn from my 2005 in one way or another.

I actually went back and read my journal at this time last year and it strangely reads as this probably would. You ever get the feeling you’re climbing a very long flight of stairs and think you’re not getting anywhere? Yeah, that’s what this year felt like. It was kind of a stale year. I started it off with really good intentions, much like each year’s new year resolutions, the fizzle in my shizzle fell flat. Now don’t get me wrong, I do pretty good in life(at least I like to think I do), I get many of its quirks, (of course with the realization that I still have so many more to learn), but I don’t think I applied that knowledge as much as I should have this year. I had a solid semester at the U at the beginning of the year, but I felt I was getting lazy about it. Then summer hit and I got a job workin’ at the Boy’s Ranch working as a sort of Camp councilor for troubled youth. That was a great experience for me. I’d been working in random sells jobs for so long that I really wanted to get out and do what I was really interested in, and that was teaching. I loved it there at the Boy’s Ranch. (You can read my very first blog about a week long hike I went on while I was there; you’ll have to dig though) It reemphasized the choice I made to become a Teacher. I really have a knack for working with the kiddies. They think I’m cool and stuff and I can usually sneak in some good things they need to know when they’re not looking...
So after the camp ended, I had a month till the next semester started, and I decided, what the hey, I’ll take it easy till school starts. Well that was a bad idea. I hate it when I have nothing I need to do. I just fall apart. I become a lazy bum. Put me in a crazy busy environment and I fulfill every expectation. Put me in a room with nothing but time on my hands and I do nothing productive. I hate that character trait about me. And so I hit that upcoming semester with some seriously lazy feet. And it became a very very long semester. Let me just tell you, I hate learning Spanish, not Spanish itself. Spanish is a sexy language. Heck, if anything I want to know how to say super hotness things in my future wife’s ear in Spanish. Things like: Yo quiero su lengüeta fervorosa en mi boca. Heh, but yeah, I hate learning a language in a class setting. It’s almost useless. There just isn’t enough use of the language as there should be to actually learn. The only real way to learn a language and become fluent is to be forced to speak only that language for a long period of time. But oh well, I just need to get through a couple more Spanish classes and then I’ll be done. As for the rest of the classes this year, diversity and multicultural education was a big topic for me this year. I volunteered at Horizonte, a multicultural school in SLC and I had a blast there working with students who have come from all around the world to Utah to learn English and start their “American Dream”. I could go on and on about how cool those students are, but I won’t, perhaps another blog.

Which brings me to another thing, I realized a couple of weeks ago (my birthday specifically) that this time next year, I’ll be a college graduate. It was an enormously encouraging thought. Makes me all giddy and stuff. It’s like a light at the end of the tunnel in that staleness I spoke of. I’ve gotten a little burned out with the cycle of college and working dumb part time jobs to get me through academia. But then again, the job I’m at right now rules. I work as a Recreational Specialist at an elementary school after school program, which basically translates into me throwing dodge balls at kid’s heads all day. I totally have a black belt in recess now, you should see it! I’m workin on my 2nd degree belt now. Heh, but yeah, I hope I can keep that job as long as possible through this next year, it works so good with a college schedule.

In the l-o-v-e department, I can say it’s been much like my new year’s resolutions: turned out stale, with a few very interesting exceptions. I kinda like it like that and then again I kinda don’t. Ya know? I’m all about Quality over quantity, always will be. So I tend to date and meet a few choice individuals during a given year. Which brings me to a certain subject: getting set up. I don’t do that much at all anymore. I used to be cool with it. I always figured, why not? But a guy can only be willing to go out with a grandma picked girl so much before he has the audacity to say no to her. I swear, that’s frakin’ hard to do. My grandma is seriously the sweetest most fragile thing on earth. I had maybe four or five set ups this year that were just plain off. I still think back and wonder what the heck my friends/family were thinking. Anyway, the other thing with dating is I’ve realized I’m passing into another dating bracket. Here in Utah, there’s the unwritten 18-25 bracket where stereotypically (and seemingly) most get married. Yet outside the bubble (everywhere else but Utah) I believe that most people tend to begin to really consider marriage at around 25. I really think that’s when we should be taking on marriage anyway. Getting marriage at 18? That’s insane. Marriage is a massive responsibility, and except for a select mature few who really are mature enough for it, the M-leap should only be attempted by trained professionals (25 year olds) But yeah, when you get past that bracket, that dating labyrinth/marriage fly trap, you realize Holy Moses, I’m not married. It’s impossible not to here in U-town. That nagging question that only exists in the heart of the fish-bowl-known-as-Utah (“26? Why aren’t you married?”) keeps popping up. And ya know what I say to that question? “I have explosive bowel problems.” Heh, no, my bowels seem to work just fine, and no I’ve never really said something like that, but I should, the look on peoples faces would be classic. The true answer is: I just haven’t found my girl yet. I will one of these days, and it’ll probably be from the one place I’ll never expect (like a set up or Myspace).
So almost lastly, near the end of the year something truly radical happened in my life plans. I’ve been dead set up becoming a High School English Teacher for a couple of years now. The more time passed the more entrenched in that knowledge I’ve become. But something happened in the thick of the aforementioned loooong semester I just finished. During my institute class this semester I had an ongoing epiphany that ended with the idea of the very real possibility of me becoming a Seminary/Institute teacher. Just when I thought I had everything figured out God comes in to show me something wholly new, a path I never would have come to see if I hadn’t already taken the path I was on. Ironically it was my Priest class in my home ward, a class I taught for 5 years that turned me on to teaching in general in the first place. So this semester I will begin to take Intro to Teaching Seminary, a class that freakin’ begins at 7am. I find I’m really intrigued by the whole idea. Teaching the gospel for a living? AND getting paid better than a public educator (so I’ve heard)? I like the sound of that.

Even closer to lastly, coming home from work on the 23rd on the freeway, Ravan, my Kia Sportage that I bought for a grand about 3 years ago died on the freeway at approximately 6:37 pm.. He’ll be remembered as a good go-to-places car, a car in which lots of fun memories happened, and as my very first motor vehicle. I’ll never forget what I found underneath the driver’s side seat in a plastic baggy. I kid you not, a purple thong. I’ll miss his crazy overheating antics and those times I couldn’t hardly see the road because of the brightness of the sun (his sun visors were gone when I got him). So at the crack of the first of the year I bought me a 99’ dark blue Jetta, a car I might name Gerry. He’s got tinted windows, SUN VISORS, a nice pioneer MP3 stereo, a switch blade key (you won’t get this unless you’ve seen one in action) and a lockable glove box. Heh, seriously though, the Jetta will see me through the end of school. It looks like it’ll be a good car.


Bubye Rav

Meet Rev!


And finally, really, the last thing, specifically about this “little” blog you’re reading, just for reference, most of the things I write here are literary. I don’t usually blog the more mundane parts of my ongoing life unless it can be formed into some sort of entertaining story. My blog isn’t a journal. And so much of the stuff I wrote about this year was putting into words some of my favorite stories from my life. So it’s more autobiographical than anything, more often than not being an artistic outlet. My Testimony I wrote at the end of my mission is buried somewhere in there, and if any of you that happen to be reading this read anything of mine, read that. I’ve always said the best way to get to know anyone is hearing/reading what they truly believe in. I threw in a few poems and an essay on gratitude to spice things up and I’ll continue to push new ways of expressing myself. So all in all, there’s some good stuff, things that paint a somewhat spotty picture of who I am. Essentially, this blog is why I’m here.

So off I go into 2006, what adventures (or misadventures) I’ll end up getting myself into only the big guy upstairs knows. I have big hopes for the future, and I gots me some plans to unfurl. So we’ll see which ones get to see the light of day here in 2006. I wish all you crazies out there in my picture collection the best, hope we all get our kicks in 2006.

Insane

I still can’t believe what happened to me last night. I’m still shaking. I need to get this out. It’s just insane, something like this has never happened to me.

Last night I was driving home from Pleasantville after celebrating a friend’s birthday. It was pretty late and I had a tough time staying awake in the car. I turned the radio up real loud and my mind just zoned off. You know, when you’re driving and you’re not particularly thinking about anything, barely conscious of actually driving. I’ve heard that’s like a form of hypnosis, but I suddenly found myself pulling in to my driveway. As I got out of the car, that’s when I noticed this strange car parked right in front of our yard. I got this sinking feeling as I looked at it. Then I noticed there was someone inside. I saw this dark silhouette just sitting there looking at me. I was still right by my car door just staring at the person in the car looking at me and suddenly this guy bursts out of his car and starts running toward me. That freaked me out; the guy had something in his hand.

I froze for a quick second; I mean what would you have done? The guy looked disturbed. Something was definitely wrong with him. His cloths were was dirty, his hair was messy, and he had this crazy look in his eyes. Those eyes, I can’t get them out of my head. He was coming right for me and he was yelling something strange, I still don’t know what he was saying. I jumped into my car, it was the only place, I didn’t want to run around the neighborhood with this insane guy chasing me. I barely made it in the car and locked the doors when this guy ran up to the driver’s side window and started punching it. By this time I was in complete shock and terror. My mind was literally reeling trying to grasp at reality. The look on this guy’s face, he totally wanted to kill me. I’ll never forget it for the rest of my life.

And as I sat there in utter horror looking at this psycho bang on my window, wondering how long it was till he shattered it. I finally broke out of the shock of it all and one thought burst into my mind. I had to get out of there. I fumbled for my keys and jabbed them into the ignition. The guy outside was screaming something about my head. I turned the car on and suddenly he was gone. My trembling hand put the car in reverse and I screeched backwards and turned, reaching back and putting the car in drive. Then I saw the guy’s car’s headlights flare up in my rearview mirror.

“Oh no.” I said to myself. This is insane. I kept repeating that to myself. Over and over and over again. This can’t be happening to me. But it’s weird, when you’re in a situation like what I went through, seriously your thoughts start focusing on one thing and that’s all you can think about, and that’s when I went into survival mode. I was not going to go down like this. So I gunned it.
I screeched forward all the while honking my horn. I hoped someone would have come out by now, my neighbors, my family, anyone, and see what was happening and call the cops.
The cops. I needed to call the cops, I wasn’t going to get any help from anyone else, I was alone, my life was literally in my hands. Now I’m not much of a driver, in fact I’ve always said I’m a pretty cautious driver, but last night I threw caution to the wind. I drove over my neighbor’s lawn toward the 2700th west. The guy was right behind me following me.

That’s when I started to ask myself all these questions. What the heck did this guy want? Why me? Who was it? Why was he waiting at my house? I didn’t recognize him at all. I turned right onto the street without looking at any cars coming. I was shaking so bad. The radio was on and it was as loud as it was when I was falling asleep. My eyes were just livid. I kept looking back behind me in my rearview and the guy was getting closer. I made a wild left on 126th South toward Redwood. I had no idea where I was going. The guy was suddenly inches away from behind me and he rammed into my bumper. I started screaming.

I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I started to pray. Please Please, let me get away from this guy. I was going 90 mph down 126th, my car barely handling it. The guy rammed me again. I couldn’t think, but I had to, the radio blasted all my thoughts away, I was petrified. The cops, I had to call the cops. I quickly grabbed my cell phone, and tried to open it, but it fell out of my hands. I really started to panic at this point. I had to breathe. Redwood quickly came up and I made another left, the guy was right behind me swerving back and forth.

I pushed the gas peddle as far as I could and held it there, griping the steering wheel as I headed north now. He tried to come along the side of me, but I wouldn’t let him. It was getting crazy. I somehow ended up with the cell phone back in my hand, I knew I had to call for help. I got it open and somehow managed to look down and dial 911. I don’t think I’ve ever called 911 before, but a calm female voice answered. I was freaked out, I was truly scared for my life and I started breathlessly telling them what was happening. She told me to calm down and focus. That really helped me. Someone else’s voice telling me to hold on. While I was talking to her, trying to tell her where I was, the guy hit me and made my car spin off the road. I dropped my cell. I almost crashed into someone’s mailbox, and the guy hit me from the back on my side of the door. I hit the gas again, and he went right with me, and I made it back out in front of him back on the street. I wasn’t hurt, but my mind was in serious shock, I was running on adrenaline.

The thought crossed my mind at this point, “This guy’s gonna kill you.” I’ve never faced a situation where my life was on the line. You start thinking about stuff. Things you love, things you haven’t done, things you want to do. I started crying, but I was angry. Who the heck was this guy? I gritted my teeth and looked for the phone but I couldn’t see it. I could barely see the dark silhouette behind me in the mirror, it was like inhuman, cold and dark and ruthless. I saw another car cruising down heading the opposite direction back south way down the road. I started honking my horn at the car as I came close, trying to keep the guy from heading to the side of me. I remember hitting my brakes a few times making him hit his. The car sped past me and behind me. I quickly wiped some tears from my eyes. I really didn’t know how it was going to end, it was completely unnerving.

I kept saying help me help me help out loud in a whisper through gritted teeth. Suddenly the guy gunned it and ended up beside me. I swore I saw him smile in the shadows of his car. It was sick. I tried to go faster but my poor car couldn’t handle it. A light was coming up. I didn’t know what to do, should I stop, should I keep going? I decided to go. It turned green just as I would have had to stop and I flew through the intersection. The guy was right there with me, I couldn’t loose him, how was I supposed to loose him? Then the flashing blue and red lights suddenly appeared behind the both of us. I can’t tell you how good it felt to see them. The cops had found me!

They started coming up along the guy behind me trying to get him to stop. Another police car appeared behind the first. I could barely handle my car at that point. I started slowing down and I suddenly wanted it all to end, I was so tired of running, I was seriously hanging on a thread of consciousness and awareness. So I suddenly hit the brakes and turned to the right as I was passing 90th sound. The guy tried to follow me, and hit me, but he swerved by with the two cops in toe.

When I came to a stop I just started heaving in breaths. My heart was pounding something fierce. I was shaking uncontrollably. I could barely move. My hands were still gripping the steering wheel, I couldn’t let go. I could see the flashing lights far away down the street; the guy was trying to get away. Another cop sped by me in pursuit.

I finally got my breath back, and slowly my hands let go of the steering wheel. I let out a deep shaky breath and there was silence. I closed my eyes.










A dark hand appeared out of nowhere over my face! I tried to scream as my eyes flared open in horror. I heard a voice right behind me scream:

“DIE!”

















Hah! It’s all fake, Happy Halloween! I so got you!

Movie Recommendation


Okay, can I just tell you, this movie is just fantastic. Ya know, every once and a while, I find myself catching a romantic movie. And as a guy, I can usually take just a few of those generic romantic comedies on, usually on dates, or with well, girls. Most of the time I'll see a show merely for the sake of the respect of affection I have for the girl I'm seeing it with. But, man oh man, lots of them are just, well predictable and simplistic. I mean really. I swear they all seem to follow the same formula, well at least lately. Still, they are light hearted, whimsical, fun, cheesy, most of them lack a decent plot, but they all end well and they make ya think, well isn't love just special. Warm fuzzy and all. That's nice and all, and some are pretty good. For instance, Groundhog Day freakin' rules all romantic comedies, it's got this wonderful combo of moral depth and fun that is just plain cool. It's genuine. (quick write that down, there will be a quiz in just a moment) Return to Me is pretty good too, I love the old geezers. I would seriously go hang with those guys. Plus I thought the story in Return to Me was pretty unique. (unique, write that down too) But most fall short of the dang good movies those two are and most are basically weak excuses to go on a date. Btw, quick question, who takes a girl on a first date to a movie anyway? That just doesn't make sense. Wanna know what the best first date is? Walking. Pick a place and walk. You'll see why after ya read the rest of this.

But anyway, back to movie stuff. So, remember those two things that I said to jot down, what were they? Yeah, genuine and unique, and Before Sunset is both of them and how. Seriously, I was really impressed and surprised by just how the movie plays out. It's probably unlike anything you've seen in the theaters lately, especially when compared to the recent romantic offerings Hollywood has churned out.The movie plays out as one long intriguing conversation between two people, one from America, and one from Paris, who ran into each other in Paris 10 years ago in their youth and clicked right off (Apparently this is actually a sequel of a movie called, Before Sunrise, which came out back in 95'. And this show has the same actors, same director, and they got together and said, what if we actually brought them back together after 10 years, what would happen, what would they talk about)

So 10 years ago, they spent this incredible day together, the kind of day people long for all thier lives, and then the guy has to leave on his plane and they decide to meet later, but never do. Until now, after most of their lives have past. Well their conversation is one of the most sincere things I've ever seen in a movie. It just seems so real, like it's not actually a movie that was written and scripted, and directed and cut and spliced. It really seems like they just filmed a whole spontaneous conversation. And it's one of those conversations, it goes everywhere, God, the world, past relationships, careers, memories, hopes, dreams, failures, they cover it all, and you can just see them just opening up to each other in a very real way, coming to terms with not having done what they should have done a long time ago, of living with this gnawing 10 year old regret. It's captivating watching it unfold, and the stuff that is NOT said, my heck, the non verbal looks, the near touches the other doesn't see, it's like some of the best parts of this "conversation". It's kinda amazing to see a movie capture it as it really happens, but this is how people fall in love. And through this long conversation around Paris, seriously, it's like there's a couple takes and the camera just follows them as they walk and talk, you get to really know them as they are getting to know one another again. You will connect with these characters because they are portrayed so beautifully through this genuinely conceived conversation. It's subtle, it's powerful, it’s interesting, it’s funny, and sweet, and all that mushy stuff.

I'm kinda afraid to say it, ya know, being a guy, and the need to grunt through something like this, but it strangely kept me silent and captivated. So, really, if you've never even heard of this, good, it'll come out of left field and knock your socks off. I love it when movies do that. When a movie is rather an experience, as opposed to an observation, that's what a good movie is. And make no mistake about it, this is the stuff. Watch it with all your girlfriends, that special someone, it'll aim right where it counts on the "aww" factor. It's a thoughtful, perceptive, piercing, portrayal of two people who have a chance at finishing what they started ten years earlier.

Disclaimer: Now I will warn ya, my Mormony friends, this is Rated R. There are a few crude references, and a few F words. But the good outweighs the bad by like 99 percent, and on the bad Rated R shows scale, this one is really really harmless compared. Sometimes, every once and awhile a Rated R show trumps the "no rated R" rule and it's okay. Spirit of the law. The movie is worth seeing because it has wholehearted good intentions. Shawshank Redemption is an example of one. Saving Private Ryan is another, so is Schindler's List. So use your discerning powers, and let the Holy Spirit guide.

Upstream




Oh the wide blue before me
To my side, there is nothing
Home I go,
to the stream,
where I came.

Instinctual, meaningful, blameless
I hold to my greatness,
Within me

It is dark now
The darkness is deep and cold
It is painful, harrowing, naïve

The currents of life pull me
They pull me, oh they pull me
To the beginning and the end

Of eternity

And yet I go, because I know
Who I am--

I am a Steelhead -

The Journey is a part of me
Like my Father's, and his father's and his and his ad infinitum
This is my destiny
The time is nigh, there is no looking back
It is my choice, and it will
everlastingly be.
I don’t realize the power
Because my mind hasn’t learned to see
The deep blue waters go
Away, and I can feel the promising power of
The Current.
It pushes me back,
Back to where I left
Back to nothing
Back against my promises!
Back to foolishness
Back to being alone
Back to being languid,
sluggish, slow, unhurried,
Back to naivety,
Back to loosing friendships
Back to loosing love
Back to loosing my potential
Back in black

It is growing, harder and harder
Deceptive, confusing
I have not nourished the knowledge
The mythological light.
Why have I let the sand slip
Through the hourglass so
Mindlessly?

They promised me it,
The Light
If, if, IF! there is one thing,
Just one thing,
I know
in the middle of the raging violence of the stream,
They will never lie

Bubbles of thought
Rubies of experience
Explode all around me

Thrashing in the glory and subterfuge
of The Current
The darkness and the light
I receive another ruby, and I
Loose it, and gain it,
And loose it
Over and over, and over again

I see them now,
Steelheads
I try not to look
Some have each other
I don’t want to be alone
Anymore.
The fight of winning
Eternal Happiness, is won, not with one,
But With 2.
Raging white, powerfully, ferociously thrusts me back, it never lets up, never fails, always flowing, always compelling me to swim,Never rest, never never never never never rest, It is not in me, in my heart of hearts, to go back to the ocean that is….deep …dark …black…blue

The Sun!
The Light!
The moment!
Through the crashing blue, the bubbles, the pain, the white,
I can’t breathe!

Love
Is this what this is for?
Can I seize that thin thin fragile slippery-to-grasp line?
And who is the fisherman?
Is it Him that guides me? Or is it her guided by Him?

My fins swim, silver scales pulse, shimmer and my mouth shifts to bear the eternal current
White explosion, blue sand, white fangs
Snap!
Miss!
Did it miss me, or did I miss it?

I am slippery, because I am mortal
Weak, human, lazy
The Bear seems to be hungrier to fill
than,
my,
fledgling,
will…..

I am a temptation, I am food,
For thought

Yet who will eat my thoughts, and who will cherish still?

My arms grow--
Stronger
Yet the cost of strength
is
Pain.
My shoulders form, my back is bare, weighed down
By it’s watery cross. Will I drown?
Watery tendrils, ropes and chains,
Seek to hold my sudden legs, my kicking feet,
They seemingly seek to maliciously, pull,
But never
Ironically,
Wisely---------push!/?
The instinctual truth is The Current
It is my breath
It is my weakness
It is my failure
It is my salvation
I clench my jaw, and bow my head,
…In humility…
I kneel in the worst of the flying, flowing, cascading blue and white,
Calling on the limitless strength that is
Far beyond me
White blasts pummel my face
Why am I letting it happen?
Why don’t I fight it, with His help…
Hazel is the color of the window of my soul,
The soul of a steelhead
Yet I am a fool! A fool! Steelhead!
Yes, The nature of my calling
Rests on my shoulders
And I cannot shake it
It is ever mine to have

Jump! Fly! Choke! Breath!
Jump! Fly! Choke! Breathe!
Jump! Fly! Choke! Bask, in the light,
Underneath the current,
I can feel it now…
Warmth, and cold,
Warmth and cold,
Separated
By a
(------------------)
Of wet and dry.
Yet, There is warmth in the darkness of the
Thrashing water
There is a Moon which melts blue
And defies death
I am alive
I am worthy
I am lost
Please help me
You can do it
Yet you are lost too
Who will find who?
Yet until we find
Each

Other
=
We will die
To the light
Hope,
I learn, as I scream, through the massive jaws
Of another deceptive she-bear
Is the thing that will not die
It is as eternal as The Current
Violence, blood, sweat
Glory, mountainous glory
Clouds, and another blue
Is discovered
The sky I cleave
But not now.
Not now
The sky,
the searing brightness
of the glorious Sun
exists in my mind…
But one day, you
and I
will!
exist
far from my troubled mind
We will be everything, brighter than the golden sun
We will find home, and nestle, wrestle
Raise our destiny,
There to grow beside us
~Into the cold blue again~
I can’t turn, can’t see, lost, confused, worried. no! I can’t see…
…The very beginning…
Before both blues, before the sun, the earth, the heavens, was

I seem to have come full circle, back to faith,
Back to repentance
Back to basics
For, I know, ever since I first jumped,
and in every jump into
The Light:
Faith is the door, and the key is unlocked
Once more

And my will
Will!
Return to me
Return to me
Return to me
Please, return to me

The Great American Blue Moon Scar Story



So I was thinking the other day about an exercise a fellow student shared a couple semesters ago in a memorable class I had at the U. It struck me because I looked down today and realized I have this little scar across my left thumb, and I have no idea where the heck I got it. It must have been yesterday sometime, but anyone ever have that happen to them? Mysterioso smally scars that sneak on ya undetected? So anyway, the exercise was a simple tell a story about a scar you have. I really liked it because when I got to thinking about it, every lasting scar has a story behind it. And usually the big scars have a really interesting story. I’m big on stories, so I thought I’d share my own little scar story. As always, this is always open to participation. Share your own scar story if ya wanna be cool, and know that a scar can be lots of things, from emotional scars, to when you bumped your head when you were five. They can be serious, and they can be funny, but they always tell a story worth hearing. So, without any further blah blah, I present my own little scar story:

I was in fifth grade. And one week I got all sick to my stomach. I couldn’t hold anything down. I literally threw up like clockwork. Every half an hour was a trip to the toilet. I hate throwing up, I like to go on years without having to, and so this was just torture. So my mom thought it was the stomach flu. But she just wasn’t so sure. She decided to play the waiting game, and about a week goes by with the same symptoms. I was getting pretty worn out. And then one night, I woke up in sheer pain.

I could barely move, my stomach was in terrible pain. I remember just laying there and crying for my mom, but I was in the basement, and no matter how hard I tried to yell, she never came. Ya see, I was a big boy then, and we finished the basement and I got the basement bedroom because I was the oldest. Yay! But I realized that being “big” had some drawbacks, I was gonna have to make it up to my parent’s bedroom on my own. I knew it was serious, it wasn’t just some pansy stomach ache, this was gripping pain. I remember it still today as one of the worst pains I’ve ever been through.

So just turning on my side was excruciating. I stopped crying, and forced myself to roll out of the bed and plop on the floor. That killed. Then I tried to stand, and it got worst. I went down on the floor again, and waited for a while, and then I got back up and slowly left my room. I swear, I walked like egor, all hunched over, coupled with a limp. I passed into the family room, which was this long rectangular room, the entertainment center on one side, the couch and chairs on the other, and I was supposed to walk to length of it to reach the stairs. As I was lurching along, it was too much and I looked at the nearest chair and hobbled over and sat on it. I remember this chair distinctively. It was this golden hued 70’s chair that swiveled and rocked, and was all cushiony. I sat there for a long time. I have this really really vivid memory of the clock on the VCR flashing 12:00. I sat and stared at that flashing light in this sort of trance. Yet, in the darkness, the room bursting with a dim green light every few moments, I recall I understood that I needed to get up. There was like this urgent something pulling me to act. Yet in my 5th grade mind, I thought I just wanted to sit there and try to wait the pain out. My little life flashed before my eyes, literally (flashing 12), in hindsight. It turned out to be a life or death situation, and getting up those stairs was a really really urgent thing.

I don’t know what made me get up, or why I got up, I think I just knew that if I made up to my parents, they could stop the pain, or do something to stop it. It was simplistic, but it got me to try. So I slowly moved forward from off the golden chair and quickly sat back in pain. Just across the room was the stairs, and looking at them in the flashing illuminated darkness, I thought to myself how impossible it seemed to get over there and climb them. The pain grew worst it seemed.

I don’t remember getting up and climbing those stairs, all I know is that I made it up them, through the kitchen upstairs and down the hall to my parent’s bedroom. I freaked them out something fierce. But they both got up and my dad quickly picked me up and put me on the couch down the hall to the living room. I remember them both standing there before me with this medical book or encyclopedia of symptoms, and frantically, (perhaps not, but *I* remember being frantic) trying to figure out what was wrong with me. They reached the decision to take me to the hospital. I was totally against it. I didn’t want to move an inch. But my dad picked me right up again and took me to the car. I think we had one of those Ford Aerostar vans then.
On the way there, I remember the moon. It was massive. My mom pointed it out to me to keep my attention up; she said has heard on the news that there was going to be “blue moon” that night. (Which, by the way a “blue” moon isn’t actually blue; it’s a full moon that occurs twice in a month, something that happens about every 2 and ½ years. The one above is just photographed with a blue lense for effect). To this day, the moon has always meant something special to me. A light in the darkness.

So we make it to the hospital, and the Doctors begin poking and prodding my stomach.

“Does this hurt?”

“Yes”

In another spot.

“Does this hurt?”

“Yes”

In another spot.

“Does this hurt?”

“Yes”

Ect.

Finally they make me walk around all hunched over in pain, my hair sticking out in every direction in my PJs. And to top it off, they had me go pee in a cup. Ugh, I just wanted to explode. They left for a bit, and then came back and told my mom they thought it was an appendicitis and that they had better operate.

So off I went, it seemed like a blur now, and I was on the operating table, and they put me out with anesthesia. Turned out that during the operation my appendix burst, and it got messy. Every moment had counted. And if my appendix had burst before they got me cut open, I would have been poisoned from the inside. I would have been bad. After the operation I wasn’t out of the clear and I ended up getting infected and they had me in intensive care for a while. My Dad gave me a couple blessings, and my body came through and I returned home finally after a week or two at the hospital. The whole experience was quite the ordeal, much bigger than what getting an appendix out should be.

So I think back on this little 5th grade boy somehow making it up the stairs, wondering what it was inside me that got me out of that golden chair. Whatever it was, it’s why you’re reading this right now. You should be like putting your hand in a fist and saying “Yes!” while bringing it down.

And so I have a three inch scar on the lower right half of my abdomen and whenever I notice it, it makes me think about being grateful to be alive.

There’s me scar story! What’s yours?

Manure is funny!


Alrighty, this is usually my first joke I share. Hope you enjoy. But here's the thang, this blog entry is gonna need some audience participation. So here's what I want all of my buddies here, and anyone that happens to read this to randomly do. Share the best joke you've heard as well. Search for one on the net if ya have to, just share jokes, images, quotes, anything that will garner a laugh. Hopefully we can get a nice collection goin'! So let's get some laughs up in here! Gosh!



So, this guy has two twin sons. One is a 100% pessimist, no matter what, he will see the worst in everything. The other is an eternal optimist. The kid walks around with sunshine and flowers in his head. Living together with both of them is pure hell. They are so contrasted, so perfectly different that it makes it even worst.

So one day this guy decides he's gonna put them to the test. He hatches a plan and on the eve of both of their 16th birthdays, he sets it in motion.He gets his sons two gifts. To his pessimist son, he gets.....THE GREATEST STEREO SYSTEM KNOWN TO MAN! It cost him an absolute fortune, and it is worth every penny. It can do everything. It can pick up his room for him while playing his favorite type of music. It can shoot out a disco ball and turn his room into a party with the touch of a button. It provides wise advice at any given moment, and it can transform into a car and go with him anywhere. It comes with a soda dispenser, candy dispenser, and money dispenser. Every kid in the universe wants one, and now that his son has it, he will become extremely popular. His social life and pure, unadulterated happiness would be unalterably secure.

The father, with a smug smile on his face as he leaves the room in the middle of the night, is giddy thinkin' "There is no way he can find anything wrong with THAT".To his optimist son's room he leaves a....big...pile...of manure. Running off to bed, he sleeps with the knowledge that he's finally cured his two sons.

Upon waking up, he jumps out of bed to run across the hall to burst into his pessimist son's room. There on the bed, his son is staring, not at the huge stereo that looms over him, but something on the floor. On the ground is the gigantic manual that goes with the stereo. It is about 3 feet thick. His son begins to complain the moment his dad came into the room. "Dad, I'll never even begin to learn how to use that thing. The manual is just too big for me to even think of starting to read it. I'll never finish it, it'll take the rest of my life, and I'll die before I do."The dad simply stared in utter shock at his son. He had actually thought that that this time he'd got the better of him. Dejected, he walked slowly down the rest of the hall to open his optimist son's room. The smell of the manure was terrible as he slowly pushed the door open. What he beheld shocked him even more. There prancing around the pile of horse crap was his son with a shovel. He was busy digging holes gleefully. Blinking once, then twice, then three times, trying to comprehend how anyone could be this excited about a pile of crap. He finally stopped his son and asked, "Son, what ARE you doing?"When the kid saw his dad, he stopped everything and exclaimed with a face covered in poop, "DAD! WHERE'S THE PONEY!".

How do ya like this apple?!

Everyone always has this funny reaction whenever I tell people I'm studying to be a Teacher. And yeah, that's teacher with a frakin' capital T. Teachers are one of the last noble professions out there. They take a vow of poverty, and most of are more than fully aware they could make a lot more but they are doing it because they love it. Teachers should be makin' at least 50k a year! Hug a teacher, tell them thanks for what they do. At the very least they deserve a little more respect. But anyhow, since people are always wondering what in the blazes would make me want to be a Teacher, here's why:It has been about three years since I made the decision to become an educator and during that time to this, that decision has rooted itself deeper and deeper into how sound that decision has become. The more I learn about the profession, the more I hear about the reality of it, the more I hear about the rewards and the challenges, the burnout, the benefits, the role of it all in society, the more I realize this is exactly what I need to be shooting for right now. There was a point during my volunteer experience where I was given the reigns to take the students through an exercise; being up in front of the class felt like home. I have taken that experience very seriously lately, and I’ve reflected on the things I’ve been learning with the intent to apply them in the near future. I think its an incredible thing to wield the answer to the question of what I wanted to be when I grew up, and to understand the meaning behind many of my talents. In that way, my schooling has become more enlightening than it ever has. And so over time I have generated some well grounded thoughts on what being an educator would mean to me and what I will do as an educator.
Firstly, I will preface my current philosophy of teaching with this statement; being a teacher is a high calling, one which bears a great deal of responsibility and with that accountability. Teachers often play the roles of a mentor, counselor, role model, parent and many more to youth who are often like white hot metal. No other profession has that sort of responsibility and that to me makes it noble, and it therefore becomes a sort of lifelong aspiration to be constantly growing in fitting into those roles and being able to overcome the challenges that are prevalent in the profession.

I think teaching today is different from what it was twenty years ago. There seems to be more challenges and diversity in the classroom. There is a lot of reform going on and so the profession is evolving and as a teacher wannabe Ill need to be able to adapt and work with what I can do. I’d say students today are unlike any in the history of the world. This is the information age, and I think many of the students already possess a wealth of information because of things like the internet but need to be guided in how to use that knowledge. Application of knowledge is wisdom, and I think students can do a lot with so many resources. My philosophy of teaching consists of being a teacher who guides a discussion rather than lecture. I feel that the more interaction that is going on between the students and the teacher the more that is being learned. As a future English teacher I would want students to be able to express themselves as much as possible through writing to help them define who they are and how they might be better able to think and comprehend the ideas and events around them. Being literate is a lot more than reading and understanding writing, it is the ability to study, learn, think and apply knowledge. It is the hallmark of what it takes to be educated in anything. Students need to know this. The more students are able to communicate their ideas to others and especially to themselves, then the more poignant the term reading comprehension will be to them. Students are like sponges, but I think you need to squeeze the information out of them as much as possible rather than pouring it all on, that way you can see what type of sponges they are.

I’ve come to understand that a great teacher is one whose expectations of the students are crystal clear; they are personable, entertaining, and sincere. They are creative; they know their students and customize lessons to meet the specific needs of the students. A great teacher is prepared in every sense of the word. They teach in a way that steps out of the box, allowing students to see subjects in a whole new way. A great teacher is neutral, unbiased, never judging their students by their cover, whether it be performance or appearance. A great teacher understands that a classroom needs to be open and comfortable, where the teacher and the students know each other and there is a functioning relationship, a democratic community at work between them. A great teacher has won and earned the students respect by displaying a persistent and enduring attitude of caring for the learning of their students, and above all respecting the student’s potential by adhering to high standards and believing they can achieve them. Great teachers understand their actions, their attitude, their words, their dress, their beliefs all have an influence on the students they teach, for good or ill. And most of all, a great teacher loves what they do.

I’ve come to understand the aforementioned things are what a teacher is and I will accept no other definition. I also understand it will be extremely hard to be that teacher, almost unrealistic, but not impossible. I understand that the profession is not full of blue skies, I see it as a house that is run down that needs some remodeling, that I have my work cut out for me. I somehow understand that there will be days that I’ll wonder if I’m doing what Id always hoped to achieve as a teacher, and that Ill come across a student who lets me know that I helped them and it’ll make all the difference. I understand that Ill have to deal with tough financial obligations as a male teacher who will be a provider of a family. I understand that there will be students I won’t be able to reach; there will be parents I won’t be able to impress. I understand there will be things I would want to do as a teacher but cant due to federally mandated obligations. I understand that Ill most likely complain about those types of things. I understand the first few years will be hard; that I don’t think they will get easier if I want to be a good teacher. I understand there is some cynicism about the profession, that the most effective way of teaching isn’t clear, even to the nation as a whole. I understand that I won’t make millions, that funds in schools will always be tight, that materials will often be scarce. I understand I won’t know everything about what I teach, and more often than not, I will be the student. I understand that I still don’t have an inkling of what its like to be a teacher day in and day out. But through all that, I do understand above all of it, for better or worst, that it’ll be worth it. I really don’t know how I can say that, but I know that every teacher I’ve asked who has taught all their life wouldn’t trade a moment back. That’s why I want to be a teacher.

Pick up the Reciever, and I'll make you a Believer


Here we go, with Thanksgiving comin’ up, I thought I’d fire out some thoughts on what we celebrate every year in November. I was talking to a friend of mine, and we were talking about how she used to write essays on a topic just for the hey of it. She told me I needed to write one (to be cool like her), so this is the product of that conversation. I’m going to write as essay, much like ole Emerson. So today my friends, I’m an essayist. Hope ya like it, and maybe even learn something from my silly imitative rambling.

***

It is at the center of the success of anything. The fuel that will get you through the worst life can throw at you. It was the stairs every one of the greatest characters in history stepped upon to become who they became The greatest cannot stay the greatest without it, nor can they appreciate their journey without it. It is perhaps the biggest key to opening the door to true happiness. And it may then be the antidote to the epidemic of depression. It is the secret to continual optimism, the shield against cynicism, the sword against forgetfulness. It is the heart’s memory. The eye’s color. The nose’s sweet scent. It is the poetry of life. Before there is love, hope, humility, kindness, abstinence, chastity, patience, liberality, diligence, there is gratitude.

Gratitude is a wonderful thing to possess. Is there any greater gift than true appreciation?

It has many faces. Expected by every God in every religion. Lauded by, philosophers, Prophets, Mothers, and Teachers. Studied by Psychiatrists, theologians, spiritualists. Gratitude has been weighed, scaled, given depth. It can be harnessed, not in saying, but in doing.
The spiritual practice of gratitude has been called a state of mind and a way of life. But we prefer to think of it as a grammar — an underlying structure that helps us construct and make sense out of our lives. The rules of this grammar cover all our activities. Its syntax reveals a system of relationships linking us to the divine and to every other part of the creation. It connects families, communities, cultures, nations. In its essence, it is what perpetuates the Golden rule.

To learn the grammar of gratitude, it is a matter of practicing saying "thank you" for happy and challenging experiences, for people, animals, things, art, memories, dreams. But it isn’t enough to say it, it must be shown through actions, smile for smile, laugh for laugh, love for love, memory for memory, dream for dream. It is the continual cycle of all good things, and it can grow to become something that can change a great many things. From one’s life, to the whole world. Perhaps we do not consider the far effects of the virtues, perhaps in today’s world, we are loosing our spirituality. We are loosing our farsightedness. Spirituality gives us a telescope to view our lives, the effects of our choices. If we could view the far reaching effects of our mistakes, would we make them? Yes, we would, we’re human. But we would regret making them all the more. Gratitude banishes regret. You cannot be truly grateful and have regret. It is the same as fear and love. Faith and doubt.

Gratitude is the one thing that we need to look at very closely here in America. I find it sad to see so much ability, so much freedom abused. We are a greedy self entitled people. We have become prideful. And pride is a terrible terrible thing. It is the source of all evil. It is the unraveling of every moral thing, the virus that causes love to die, families to split, friendship to expire, men to kill, religion to judge unjustly, nations to war. What hope do we have in these increasingly dark times? We have gratitude. For it combats greed, and most importantly pride when it can be fought and won. But it must be built up, it must be heated, white hot, and then folded, tempered, sharpened. And in that moment, and then beyond, must be expressed; it must leave ones heart and become reality, a continual reality.

Is it any wonder why Thanksgiving comes before Christmas? Isn’t there a great lesson in celebrating gratefulness before charity? Have we forgotten, like a great many have with Christmas what the reason for the season is? Isn’t there a great purpose in how things are organized? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

When will we learn that Thanksgiving is more than a dinner? Why have we been inundated with Christmas so early this year? It seems to me to have started earlier than it ever has, in all its commercialism. I’ll tell you why, it is greed, and never has the need to stop and ponder the meaning and effects of gratitude than now.

And so this thanksgiving, as you are siting there with family, alive, with food all around you, stop and say thank you, and then show it, again and again and again ad infinitum. Do that, and you'll change the world.

P.S: 10 points if you know where the title to this blog comes from!