Wow. So to preface this story, I need to take you all on a little journey into my past. Pretend that I am the ghost of Christmas past, and instead of coming to haunt you, I'm actually just taking myself back in time-(only I'm also bringing a webcam and you just happen to be watching from your living rooms). Growing up, I was always fairly tall, but my metabolism was always running at such a freakish rate, that I never really "filled into my body" until my mission (at which time, my body decided to make up for lost time and poor on the weight, but that's another story). I enjoyed an active lifestyle as a kid. I didn't have a "gaming system" so most of my time was spent walking to and from school, playing sports, roller blading, roller blading to play sports, etcetera etcetera etcetera. In High School, I was in really good shape, with Soccer, running from bullies, getting cut from the basketball team, those sorts of things. I thought I had a six pack, but then realized in was more of a 4 pack with an exposed Rib Cage on top. Prior to entering the mission field I spent my freshman year of college staying in shape by walking to and from campus (when I had occasion to get to class that is) and honing my bball skills in the Richards Building. The Metabolism was still going strong entering my 19th year on this earth. Regardless, I was still a lanky 165 lb-6 footer. After my mission I returned to my "active lifestyle" after a rec center basketball injury brought on a hellish 6 weeks of crutches, gangrene, and physical therapy. The only difference is that I was now a 205 lb-6 foot dough boy. Well, thanks to a reunion with my friends and the Richards Building, as well as a return diet of Ramen Noodles, Crystal Light and Betos, I began to lose the mission weight and the part in my hair (also a different story). In the five years since returning home, I have remained as active as possible, but something has changed. My body doesn't seem to withstand 3, 4, and 5 hours of sport at one time as it did in the past. My body doesn't react well when I go out and run without stretching as it did in the past. And my four pack with ribs, has been replaced with a mini-keg and stretch marks (ok, that's a slight exaggeration, but not by much). Ahh, the ghost of Christmas past is a cruel cruel spirit.
Anyway, fast forward to tonight...well, lets start at last night anyway. Last night, I drove home from work, helped my sister put her tree up, washed the sap off of my body, and put on my running clothes. Then I turned my tv on to confirm I was DVR-ing Rules of Engagement and Sing Off. bad idea. Once I saw Sing Off had started, I was drawn in. I sat down for the first song, telling myself I would go running after the opening number....2 hours later, Groove For Thought was singing their Swan Song, and I was replacing my running clothes with pajamas. "well, I'll just try again tomorrow"
Today I was determined to run. I got home from work, went to pga tour superstore to check out some demo clubs, and returned home to "get fit". The following entry is of my exercise adventure...
I had previously mapped out a 2 mile course around my neighborhood. I thought two miles was a tad ambitious given my lack of activity in the last month (I pulled my groin in a Softball Tournament early November, and hadn't tested it since). Me running two miles could be likened to Jaba the Hut Clean & Pressing Han Solo 3 sets, 10 reps each. But I am an ambitious guy, so I thought I'd give it a try.
It actually started ok. I jogged the whole first mile. once I made the turn, I walked for half a mile, then decided to sprint the last 1/2 mile. after about 20 yards of sprinting, I started to dry heave in someones front yard-held it in-recomposed myself, and decided Sprinting was a little to serious at this juncture in my re-kindled relationship with Exercise. So I took the last stretch at what can only be described as a wounded gallop. The last 100 yards weren't pretty, but I finished. From the looks of my body language, you would think that I was a) finishing the last 1/4 mile of a Marathon or b) Humping down the Ho Chi Minh Trail with a fallen comrade over my shoulder and Charlie descending on me something fierce. Either way, it wasn't graceful. After a short blackout on my front lawn, I regained consciousness and thought back on the last 2 miles of my life. And, to be honest, I learned a few things on my run. You see, at the first half mile point there is a busy intersection, with a large public park on one side, and residences on the other. As I approached the intersection, there were a long line of cars cruising by, with some turning to enter the park. People were all around, some playing volley ball, some having Softball Practice, and a few kids Skateboarding in the parking lot. As I waited to cross the street, I did what I had seen thousands of other joggers do at similar intersections across the west. I kept jogging in place, and while placing my index and middle fingers against my throat, I looked at my left wrist and took my pulse. The only problem is I didn't have a watch on. I was missing one of the key elements to taking a pulse, and yet I was still jogging in place, going through the motions. Upon my realization that I was without a time piece, I slowly turned my head behind me to see if any of the Volleyball participants had noticed my miscue. Thankfully none of them had, so I waited for one more car to pass, and crossed the street. As I turned up the street, directly in front of me I noticed a car parked facing the direction I had just come from. Then, to my horror, I noticed that two people were sitting in the car talking. from the looks on their faces as I walked by (I was no longer jogging at this point), they clearly had seen me on the opposite corner from their car, and were no doubtingly laughing at my attempt to take my pulse without a watch, and my head turn to see if anyone had noticed. I'm glad I could make their night. But I was to preoccupied to dwell on a mildly embarrassing moment. so I continued on my way, but not without making a new years resolution to buy a watch. The next thing I learned was that Christmas is a good time to jog in Arizona. 1- it was 70 degrees outside, so the weather was perfect for running. 2-it's Christmas time, so all the houses are lit up, and jogging gives me a chance to not only become healthier, but also enjoy the lights around the neighborhood. Also, being that it's Christmas time, people are naturally in better moods, and thus aren't as mad when you throw up in their "Desert North Pole" scene. Thirdly, I learned that jogging with music is so much nicer than without it. My ipod broke a while ago, and so I ran tonight without any music to 1-pump me up and 2-help my keep pace. another adverse affect of not listening to music, is that I have to rely on Songs that are in my head. And, for some reason, no matter how many awesome Christmas Songs I hear during the day, the one that always pops into my mind when nothing else is on is "Baby it's Cold Outside." Which isn't a horrible song, but definitely not my favorite (especially after a friend gave me a rather peculiar hidden meaning about the song). So, getting some jogging music together is definitely high on my priorities list right now. My jog finished with a classical encounter with 2 members of our fine "elderly community" here in Gilbert. I was a block from home, and I could feel my body begin to question my decision to go for two miles without any warm up. my rhythmic jog had turned into something similar to the scene from Jurassic Park one, when the little boy is running from the Raptors, and his leg is busted up, so He's limping along at a brisk pace, but his posture is still really good (it's a classic visual, I recommend re-watching the movie when you have a chance, John Williams did an amazing job with the musical score as usual). Anyway, I approach the last intersection and a car comes right up to the curb next to me and stops. I figured they were either someone I knew (which isn't really anybody but my family, so I ruled that out quickly), or someone that wanted to do a wellness check on me, because they probably felt I had been stabbed by the belabored body language I was showing just to keep my body moving in a forward direction. So I stop and turn to let them know that I'm actually not suffering from any immediate medical crisis and they can go about their day, when the guest waves at me. I then assume they are wanting to turn right at the intersection and they are waving me to go ahead and cross. I then wave back to them to go ahead and turn (at this point I had stopped running completely, and I figured that walking was the only way I was going to make it home, so what's the rush?). The older gentleman in the driver's seat then leaned across his wife and waved again. So I took a step toward the car thinking that he must be waving for me to come over (probably to give directions or give jogging tips or something). He then waves more emphatically, and now I'm confused- does this guy want me to cross? Does he want directions? Does he want my autograph? What?? So I step a little closer to the car to see if I can help in some way, and then realize that he was waving neither for me to come over nor to cross the street. He was just waving me out of the way. Apparently I was standing in his line of site from his car to the street sign he was looking at. And me walking toward him, just made the obstruction larger and the guy more frustrated. So he just stepped on the gas and turned the corner in disgust, leaving me standing there contemplating the events of the previous 2 minutes. I shrugged to myself and walked into the house. Immediately upon entrance to the house, I went to the fridge to hydrate. I opened the fridge to look for a gallon of water, but instead found egg nog (not the best for a post cardio workout), milk, apple juice and a bottle of wine with a cork screw poking out of it...don't worry it's not what you think! My sister is using it for a sweet Fish Recipe. Funny story about the wine though. So I borrowed a cork screw from the hotel, but instead of borrowing one of our nice ones, I picked up one of our small, plain cork screws. So the problem is with the standard cork screw, is that it doesn't have the lever that will raise the cork up out of the bottle. Instead it works purely on your own strength to get the cork out. I happened to have a rather embarrassing moment a couple years ago, opening a bottle of wine for a guest in their room, and between that, and the fact that I don't use cork screws very often, I am having the darnedest time opening this bottle of wine. I have the cork screw in the cork, but I can not get it to budge. the other day, I was trying to open it so we could have some fish, but not wanting to break the cork into pieces, and also not wanting to spill all over myself, I was relegated to leaving the cork screw in the bottle, and heading into work. We haven't had time to do the fish yet, which is good, because I currently have no idea how I'm going to open the bottle...
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
3 years and the memory remains...
The other day I walked into our Resort Shop, looking for a Gatorade. I picked out a "cool blue" and was heading to the register, when something caught my eye. It was something I haven't given second glance to in quite a long time. Yes, it was an 8 oz bag of White Chocolate covered Pretzels. I picked the bag up as I placed my Gatorade on the counter. I perused the bag as if I were studying an old photograph of long separated friend. "Those are good aren't they?" asked our lovely Shop Attendant. "Yes....yes they are" I replied, as I placed the pretzels back on the shelf. "Well, aren't you going to buy them??" She asked.
She obviously didn't know my history with these pretzels. She had no idea how high I had soared, or the depths of which I had fallen. It was an honest and naive question by someone who had no idea the seductive power a Chocolate Covered Pretzel possesses over the weak. It was like a bartender walking out of his establishment and enticing the recovering alcoholic peering into his window with parched lips (ok, maybe not that extreme, but you get my point). I hesitated for a moment, and then, having decided that 3 years was enough recovery time, I said "absolutely"
I took the pretzels and the Gatorade back to my office and placed the pretzels on the desk in front of me. After staring at them for a few minutes, I opened the cellophane bag and reached in for a pretzel. The moment I ate that pretzel, the memories of its taste flooded my mind. Memories of when I was a kid and first started eating them. Memories of Christmas parties where I would fill my plate with them and be content the remainder of the night. And then the two most recent memories: firstly, Josh and Amy's Reception where this whole mess began. Josh and Amy just happened to have some of the most delicious reception favors ever: Creme Puffs, Carrots with ranch dressing, and of course...Chocolate Covered Pretzels.
quick sidebar:
In recalling some of the greatest accomplishments through the ages, it's fascinating to note that most share a common start. almost all were born out of a friendly wager, or "one upsmanship mentality" Pocahontas showed John Smith how to play football in the first ever Turkey Bowl, so Lewis and Clark had Sacajawea build them the Oregon Trail. FDR had a sweet wheelchair to ride around in during the Great Depression, so Truman decided to "one up" him by giving a bunch of scientists Einstein Bagels in exchange for the A Bomb. Magellan sailed around the tip of Africa in a boat, so Alexander the Great used African Elephants to cross the Alps, and we could go on and on...
This experience was no different. Friends enjoying some savory snacks, not knowing that they would soon be orchestrating one of the greatest "I can eat a significant amount of one particular item on New Year's Eve" accomplishments ever to be attempted along the Wasatch Front.
Of course, when surrounded by pure testosterone and wedding food, eyes tend to be bigger than stomachs. So the wagers ended up starting a little high. 50 lbs of chocolate pretzels, 50 lbs of carrots, 10,000 creme puffs. Yes, I admit, this is a little over the top, but consider the Chinese for a moment (second sidebar, be prepared for it to wrap back to the original point, if I can remember it... I tend to get off subject). Originally, they wanted to build a wall around the entire world. Talk about big eyes! Sure, if you ask someone now-a-days, they'll tell you the Chinese wanted to build a wall to fortify them from their northern enemies, but we all know the real story. Qin Shi Huang was at a golf event with Genghis Khan when Genghis started talking about how many Mongolian Restaurants he could open in one day. He said he could open up enough restaurants that they could form a delicious fence across the entire Asian continent. Then Qin Shi Huang said he would one up Genghis by building a wall around the world, forcing local patrons to pay a toll in order to get from one Mongolian Grill to the next. They both left the golf tournament with a mission (neither made the final day cuts, Genghis shot an abysmal 83 and stabbed a rules official, and Qin Shi Huang was DQ'd for grounding his club in a green side bunker).
Well as we all know, The Chinese did build one fantastic wall. It even has "great" in the title. But we also know that it doesn't span the globe. We also know that while Mongolian Restaurants don't quite form a fence, they do spot the globe, offering a nice variety at a fair price. So I'd say Genghis was the more successful of the two, but that's a different debate.
Back to the Reception (which was lovely, by the way)...
We decided at some point we were going to have this "overindulging throw down" and began prepping ourselves for the day of reckoning. I approached training for my pretzel mosh, much like Kobyashi (pre-arrest).
Alas, New Year's Eve day arrived, and we gathered for the festivities. The hodgepodge of delicacies sat on the table: brownies, cereal, ho-ho's, creme puffs, pretzels, cinnamon rolls, rice krispie treats, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, ice cream, lasagna, and even Swedish Fish.
The starting signal flashed, and we were off. What seemed like eternity, but was most likely an hour or so later, all had succeeded or failed, and we were on to less caloric activities (namely lighting fireworks and singing karaoke).
I came away with three things that night. 1: Skyrocketing Cholesterol 2: a huge appreciation for the gag reflex, and 3: a satisfied resolve never to eat a chocolate covered pretzel again.
Fast Forward to this week. All of the above memories flooded my senses as I bit that first pretzel. but overpowering the sick feelings I had December 31st, 2008, was the deliciousness of that pretzel, and the many fond memories I had prior to that overindulgence... I ate another, and then another, and then I found myself stupidly saying "If I had 5 lbs of these exact pretzels, I would have done it!" I ate a few more, and then all of the sudden.... I couldn't eat any more. They are so RICH and so SALTY...it was crazy. I couldn't even finish an 8 oz bag of pretzels! What was I thinking??? 5 lbs??? 50 lbs???!!! these are the times when I really just sit back and think, "man Ben, sometimes, you are such a MORON" I finished the bag eventually (it only took me three days), and it was delicious, but it was also a good reminder of the age old adage "all things in moderation". Now, I understand this was quite a long story for such a short moral, but sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination (wow, a two-fer of adages in one post...I'm on a roll).
She obviously didn't know my history with these pretzels. She had no idea how high I had soared, or the depths of which I had fallen. It was an honest and naive question by someone who had no idea the seductive power a Chocolate Covered Pretzel possesses over the weak. It was like a bartender walking out of his establishment and enticing the recovering alcoholic peering into his window with parched lips (ok, maybe not that extreme, but you get my point). I hesitated for a moment, and then, having decided that 3 years was enough recovery time, I said "absolutely"
I took the pretzels and the Gatorade back to my office and placed the pretzels on the desk in front of me. After staring at them for a few minutes, I opened the cellophane bag and reached in for a pretzel. The moment I ate that pretzel, the memories of its taste flooded my mind. Memories of when I was a kid and first started eating them. Memories of Christmas parties where I would fill my plate with them and be content the remainder of the night. And then the two most recent memories: firstly, Josh and Amy's Reception where this whole mess began. Josh and Amy just happened to have some of the most delicious reception favors ever: Creme Puffs, Carrots with ranch dressing, and of course...Chocolate Covered Pretzels.
quick sidebar:
In recalling some of the greatest accomplishments through the ages, it's fascinating to note that most share a common start. almost all were born out of a friendly wager, or "one upsmanship mentality" Pocahontas showed John Smith how to play football in the first ever Turkey Bowl, so Lewis and Clark had Sacajawea build them the Oregon Trail. FDR had a sweet wheelchair to ride around in during the Great Depression, so Truman decided to "one up" him by giving a bunch of scientists Einstein Bagels in exchange for the A Bomb. Magellan sailed around the tip of Africa in a boat, so Alexander the Great used African Elephants to cross the Alps, and we could go on and on...
This experience was no different. Friends enjoying some savory snacks, not knowing that they would soon be orchestrating one of the greatest "I can eat a significant amount of one particular item on New Year's Eve" accomplishments ever to be attempted along the Wasatch Front.
Of course, when surrounded by pure testosterone and wedding food, eyes tend to be bigger than stomachs. So the wagers ended up starting a little high. 50 lbs of chocolate pretzels, 50 lbs of carrots, 10,000 creme puffs. Yes, I admit, this is a little over the top, but consider the Chinese for a moment (second sidebar, be prepared for it to wrap back to the original point, if I can remember it... I tend to get off subject). Originally, they wanted to build a wall around the entire world. Talk about big eyes! Sure, if you ask someone now-a-days, they'll tell you the Chinese wanted to build a wall to fortify them from their northern enemies, but we all know the real story. Qin Shi Huang was at a golf event with Genghis Khan when Genghis started talking about how many Mongolian Restaurants he could open in one day. He said he could open up enough restaurants that they could form a delicious fence across the entire Asian continent. Then Qin Shi Huang said he would one up Genghis by building a wall around the world, forcing local patrons to pay a toll in order to get from one Mongolian Grill to the next. They both left the golf tournament with a mission (neither made the final day cuts, Genghis shot an abysmal 83 and stabbed a rules official, and Qin Shi Huang was DQ'd for grounding his club in a green side bunker).
Well as we all know, The Chinese did build one fantastic wall. It even has "great" in the title. But we also know that it doesn't span the globe. We also know that while Mongolian Restaurants don't quite form a fence, they do spot the globe, offering a nice variety at a fair price. So I'd say Genghis was the more successful of the two, but that's a different debate.
Back to the Reception (which was lovely, by the way)...
We decided at some point we were going to have this "overindulging throw down" and began prepping ourselves for the day of reckoning. I approached training for my pretzel mosh, much like Kobyashi (pre-arrest).
Alas, New Year's Eve day arrived, and we gathered for the festivities. The hodgepodge of delicacies sat on the table: brownies, cereal, ho-ho's, creme puffs, pretzels, cinnamon rolls, rice krispie treats, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, ice cream, lasagna, and even Swedish Fish.
The starting signal flashed, and we were off. What seemed like eternity, but was most likely an hour or so later, all had succeeded or failed, and we were on to less caloric activities (namely lighting fireworks and singing karaoke).
I came away with three things that night. 1: Skyrocketing Cholesterol 2: a huge appreciation for the gag reflex, and 3: a satisfied resolve never to eat a chocolate covered pretzel again.
Fast Forward to this week. All of the above memories flooded my senses as I bit that first pretzel. but overpowering the sick feelings I had December 31st, 2008, was the deliciousness of that pretzel, and the many fond memories I had prior to that overindulgence... I ate another, and then another, and then I found myself stupidly saying "If I had 5 lbs of these exact pretzels, I would have done it!" I ate a few more, and then all of the sudden.... I couldn't eat any more. They are so RICH and so SALTY...it was crazy. I couldn't even finish an 8 oz bag of pretzels! What was I thinking??? 5 lbs??? 50 lbs???!!! these are the times when I really just sit back and think, "man Ben, sometimes, you are such a MORON" I finished the bag eventually (it only took me three days), and it was delicious, but it was also a good reminder of the age old adage "all things in moderation". Now, I understand this was quite a long story for such a short moral, but sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination (wow, a two-fer of adages in one post...I'm on a roll).
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Memories-Destination Unknown
So, memory is a funny thing... and if I ever get accepted to another university willing to take a chance on me, I might take a class on the human mind (I wonder if that would count as an elective?)... It's amazing the things you forget over time. I know that last sentence sounds stupid, but seriously, it sucks to forget things. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day who regretted not keeping a journal during a 3 month visit to Europe. And it's true- very few of us actually keep good records of this show we call life. I pulled out the 2001 Springville High School Yearbook with "Destination Unknown" on the cover. Don't ask me why I pulled out my junior year yearbook, I hadn't yet reached my peak of coolness, so one would naturally assume I'd go straight for Senior year, but alas, this is where my attention focused.
1 sidebar very quickly: if you ever are in need of a self esteem boost, look at your old yearbooks. Generally speaking, you only had people sign your yearbook, whom you liked, and knew liked you. So 98% of what people wrote were compliments about you (I reserved the 2% for Blake Haines who wrote something about how I should stop being a closet gay, and the person who wrote "Duke Rules" all over my year book...thanks a lot Mortensen). But seriously, even if half of what these people are writing is generic "yearbook jargon" it still suffices as quite a morale boost :)
ok, sidebar aside, I think everyone should pull out their Junior Year Yearbook (I'll wait while you search frantically through old book shelves, or call your parents and ask if they kept any of your old belongings...).
Got it? ok, good. Now, just open up the first page and read the comments...I defy any of you to not find some quote, advice, memory that you had forgotten through the falling of the sands of time. I found tons! first off, some of these people had very nice things to say about me (again, they may have written the same thing in everyone's yearbook, but it doesn't matter), and I can not even remember who they are. I feel like a huge jerk for that. Secondly, it's often been said that adolescence is a time filled with identity issues. well, apparently, Junior year was mine, because I had way too many nicknames. the thing is, I'm pretty sure most of them were self appointed, which is not how nicknames are supposed to work...but it's nice to see that some things don't change, because I'm still giving myself nicknames. But there were some good ones from back in the day, that I had long forgotten about: Mr. Sensitive (I'm totally Mr. Sensitive!!), BYOB (thanks Kirsta for reminding me in your message on the back page!), Mr. Tough, Muerte! of course, I'm not sure how I had the nickname Muerte (spanish for death) and Mr. Sensitive at the same time, but clearly I was a chameleon back then.
So I could go on and on about the, well for lack of a better term, and this being the digital age "postings" on my yearbook, but since I only know of a select few that have occasion to read this blog, here are a few things I'd like to bring up:
First-and just a general statement. Lots of people mentioned memories of me in College Alg/Trig, and how fun it was. I don't remember it being fun. I barely passed that class. I honestly did not remember that I was such a nuisance...No wonder I didn't learn anything, and I'm surprised anyone learned anything with me in their class... I was a complete distraction. Teachers must have hated me!
but I digress...
Diana...you said that "if we ever got bored, we needed to conjugate irregular french verbs" well, I just want to say that your lack of follow through probably is the reason I'm not fluent today... :)
Justin- you said we were going to go camping everyday during the summer of 2001. I'm looking back on my date book, and you know what I didn't see?? it filled with notes about all my various camping appointments! although the few we did go on were wicked cool. (I'm guessing my schedule at the Hogi Yogi was pretty demanding or something :)
Mossey, you made several comments about my rugged good looks...I can't argue with that.
Will said something about me being the Great American Pelican... I know there's a story behind this, but I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps because I blocked it out. Ring a bell to anyone else?
Brad brought up something about cell phone smashing, which I vaguely remember...but not completely since I didn't own a working cell phone until I was back from the mish...
Boyer talked about how I was the greatest locker partner he ever had (loose translation)
Dave... guess what dave?? I can't find anything in my junior yearbook from you!!!? what's that about?! next time I visit Utah, I'm bringing this yearbook and you're going to write something in it!
So, generally speaking, it was really fun to look this over. I think when you are in the last days of school, and a whole day is basically set aside for people to sign yearbooks, it seems like a waste of time...I remember thinking that the whole process was a tad bit self centered. but looking back on it, it's good to remember the days of yore. These I've mentioned and a few specific others that I haven't, have had a distinct impact on the person I am today. I think we sometimes forget that the journey of becoming who we want to be, is often just as important as the attainment of that persona. I just looked back on what was only a sliver of my life, and realized-that sliver, albeit small and seemingly insignificant on the outside, actually affects a huge part of who I am, and how I act, and why I tend to use comedy as an escape.
This small moment has opened up this stroll down memory lane...It's like the movie inception, only without all the complicated twists, turns, and thrills. It's as if I'm walking down a street and the buildings I walk past are structures representing my memories- my past. I pass a building on my right, it's a concert hall. Inside are all my memories of orchestra. I walk past the concert hall, and there's a frozen yogurt/sandwich/Japanese fast food restaurant (crazy, I know...) just across from the restaurant is the french embassy with a crazy man and lady standing out front (how were we so blessed to have two completely insane french teachers?? I'll never know). I turn down the street to the right and there's an open courtyard, with some sort of street fair in progress-filled with dances I've been to, and kids listening to a stereo in the middle of the hall... it's crazy. So many buildings/events are going on in this city in my mind. It's really quite amazing and in that respect, the fact that only a few things have slipped past my ability to recall them, is in and of itself a miracle. But that's why these things are so important. Journals, pictures, video, scrapbooks, and yes, even High School Yearbooks, can serve as defibrillators for the mind.
Anyway, this is a long post, but I encourage everyone to look back at these tools and take a trip through your own "city of memory". perhaps I'll see you there ;)
1 sidebar very quickly: if you ever are in need of a self esteem boost, look at your old yearbooks. Generally speaking, you only had people sign your yearbook, whom you liked, and knew liked you. So 98% of what people wrote were compliments about you (I reserved the 2% for Blake Haines who wrote something about how I should stop being a closet gay, and the person who wrote "Duke Rules" all over my year book...thanks a lot Mortensen). But seriously, even if half of what these people are writing is generic "yearbook jargon" it still suffices as quite a morale boost :)
ok, sidebar aside, I think everyone should pull out their Junior Year Yearbook (I'll wait while you search frantically through old book shelves, or call your parents and ask if they kept any of your old belongings...).
Got it? ok, good. Now, just open up the first page and read the comments...I defy any of you to not find some quote, advice, memory that you had forgotten through the falling of the sands of time. I found tons! first off, some of these people had very nice things to say about me (again, they may have written the same thing in everyone's yearbook, but it doesn't matter), and I can not even remember who they are. I feel like a huge jerk for that. Secondly, it's often been said that adolescence is a time filled with identity issues. well, apparently, Junior year was mine, because I had way too many nicknames. the thing is, I'm pretty sure most of them were self appointed, which is not how nicknames are supposed to work...but it's nice to see that some things don't change, because I'm still giving myself nicknames. But there were some good ones from back in the day, that I had long forgotten about: Mr. Sensitive (I'm totally Mr. Sensitive!!), BYOB (thanks Kirsta for reminding me in your message on the back page!), Mr. Tough, Muerte! of course, I'm not sure how I had the nickname Muerte (spanish for death) and Mr. Sensitive at the same time, but clearly I was a chameleon back then.
So I could go on and on about the, well for lack of a better term, and this being the digital age "postings" on my yearbook, but since I only know of a select few that have occasion to read this blog, here are a few things I'd like to bring up:
First-and just a general statement. Lots of people mentioned memories of me in College Alg/Trig, and how fun it was. I don't remember it being fun. I barely passed that class. I honestly did not remember that I was such a nuisance...No wonder I didn't learn anything, and I'm surprised anyone learned anything with me in their class... I was a complete distraction. Teachers must have hated me!
but I digress...
Diana...you said that "if we ever got bored, we needed to conjugate irregular french verbs" well, I just want to say that your lack of follow through probably is the reason I'm not fluent today... :)
Justin- you said we were going to go camping everyday during the summer of 2001. I'm looking back on my date book, and you know what I didn't see?? it filled with notes about all my various camping appointments! although the few we did go on were wicked cool. (I'm guessing my schedule at the Hogi Yogi was pretty demanding or something :)
Mossey, you made several comments about my rugged good looks...I can't argue with that.
Will said something about me being the Great American Pelican... I know there's a story behind this, but I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps because I blocked it out. Ring a bell to anyone else?
Brad brought up something about cell phone smashing, which I vaguely remember...but not completely since I didn't own a working cell phone until I was back from the mish...
Boyer talked about how I was the greatest locker partner he ever had (loose translation)
Dave... guess what dave?? I can't find anything in my junior yearbook from you!!!? what's that about?! next time I visit Utah, I'm bringing this yearbook and you're going to write something in it!
So, generally speaking, it was really fun to look this over. I think when you are in the last days of school, and a whole day is basically set aside for people to sign yearbooks, it seems like a waste of time...I remember thinking that the whole process was a tad bit self centered. but looking back on it, it's good to remember the days of yore. These I've mentioned and a few specific others that I haven't, have had a distinct impact on the person I am today. I think we sometimes forget that the journey of becoming who we want to be, is often just as important as the attainment of that persona. I just looked back on what was only a sliver of my life, and realized-that sliver, albeit small and seemingly insignificant on the outside, actually affects a huge part of who I am, and how I act, and why I tend to use comedy as an escape.
This small moment has opened up this stroll down memory lane...It's like the movie inception, only without all the complicated twists, turns, and thrills. It's as if I'm walking down a street and the buildings I walk past are structures representing my memories- my past. I pass a building on my right, it's a concert hall. Inside are all my memories of orchestra. I walk past the concert hall, and there's a frozen yogurt/sandwich/Japanese fast food restaurant (crazy, I know...) just across from the restaurant is the french embassy with a crazy man and lady standing out front (how were we so blessed to have two completely insane french teachers?? I'll never know). I turn down the street to the right and there's an open courtyard, with some sort of street fair in progress-filled with dances I've been to, and kids listening to a stereo in the middle of the hall... it's crazy. So many buildings/events are going on in this city in my mind. It's really quite amazing and in that respect, the fact that only a few things have slipped past my ability to recall them, is in and of itself a miracle. But that's why these things are so important. Journals, pictures, video, scrapbooks, and yes, even High School Yearbooks, can serve as defibrillators for the mind.
Anyway, this is a long post, but I encourage everyone to look back at these tools and take a trip through your own "city of memory". perhaps I'll see you there ;)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
"Is Possible???"
Almost every Monday we have a tour group with 2-4 buses stay at the hotel for a night, on their way to visit the "Enchanted Canyonlands of the Southwest". Usually we have an Italian Bus, a French Bus, and then sometimes we get Australians.
The other day, one of the Italian guests came to the desk and started asking a question....in Italian... I looked at him blankly for a few minutes until he was done. Then I told him I didn't speak Italian, and he responded with....well, more Italian. I've had similar experiences with our French and Spanish speaking guests. Almost always they're sentence starts with "Is Possible...?" i.e. "Is Possible....to aah, internet??" which is fine, because that, I can understand. But with this gentleman, there was no working through the phonetics. He kept repeating himself, and I would point to things, or answer with what I thought he was asking, but eventually he just muttered something under his breath, then turned and walked away. If there was ever a time when I wish I could download a language learning system directly into my brain, this is it. Unfortunately, I can't draw on my experiences in Foreign Northern California to aide my translation skills... not that I'm bitter for going English Speaking or anything...
The other day, one of the Italian guests came to the desk and started asking a question....in Italian... I looked at him blankly for a few minutes until he was done. Then I told him I didn't speak Italian, and he responded with....well, more Italian. I've had similar experiences with our French and Spanish speaking guests. Almost always they're sentence starts with "Is Possible...?" i.e. "Is Possible....to aah, internet??" which is fine, because that, I can understand. But with this gentleman, there was no working through the phonetics. He kept repeating himself, and I would point to things, or answer with what I thought he was asking, but eventually he just muttered something under his breath, then turned and walked away. If there was ever a time when I wish I could download a language learning system directly into my brain, this is it. Unfortunately, I can't draw on my experiences in Foreign Northern California to aide my translation skills... not that I'm bitter for going English Speaking or anything...
Catching up on the train ride to BlogTown
Wow, it's been a little while. I'm working the graveyard shift today and tomorrow, so I figure I'll have some time to post. I was trying to post a Youtube video Dave showed me when I visited Utah, it was Hilarious, and totally reminds me of the great Videos we made in yesteryear. When I went to share it, the title came up, but not the video....weird. Anyway, you should all go to Youtube and search for "Canadian Border Patrol" it's the first video that pops up...Amazing!
Mainly I use this forum for random thoughts, stories, and the like, but I was re-reading the July 1st Presidency Message from Pres. Eyring. He spoke of Friendship, and quoted D&C 84 when the Savior called us his Friends, if we will follow him. Pres. Eyring goes on to say that we should be the kind of Friend to others that the Savior is to us. This is great counsel. I've had my share of "down times" lately, but I can honestly say that I have always had the most joy and the most blessings, when I've forgotten about myself and looked to help others-when I've been a good friend. So my focus the rest of the year is to do more on that front.
Mainly I use this forum for random thoughts, stories, and the like, but I was re-reading the July 1st Presidency Message from Pres. Eyring. He spoke of Friendship, and quoted D&C 84 when the Savior called us his Friends, if we will follow him. Pres. Eyring goes on to say that we should be the kind of Friend to others that the Savior is to us. This is great counsel. I've had my share of "down times" lately, but I can honestly say that I have always had the most joy and the most blessings, when I've forgotten about myself and looked to help others-when I've been a good friend. So my focus the rest of the year is to do more on that front.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Ellen's large feet
I just got off of work, and I'm basically debating on whether to go to bed (it's 8pm by the way) or do some laundry. I just polished off the better part of a box of Mac and Cheese (I added a can of green beans, my mother would be proud), and almost immediately regretted eating that much. While I contemplated the insane amount of pasta I had devoured today (I finished off some vegan leftovers from last night for breakfast: noodles and vegetables pan fried in Tai peanut sauce...very good); I decided to sit down and rest for a spot. Ellen's Somewhat Special Special was on. First thing I noticed was her sweet 3 piece suit. she is, after all, a sharp dresser. Next I look down, and what do you know, She's got some decent sized dogs! I mean, her shoes looked really long. not quite clown like, but definitely bigger than her small frame would suggest. I didn't dwell too long on her feet, however, because I got to thinking to myself "self, Ellen's got a pretty sharp hairdo going on...maybe you should get yourself an Ellen haircut!" I just wonder what the reaction will be when I go to the Great Clips down the street and tell the stylist "I'll take The Ellen." I would think it could be quite embarrassing, but hey, this is me...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
"Time Flies on Wings of Lightning"
Dallin H. Oaks referenced this quote from a Hymn in the April 2001 Conference. It was evident tonight as I looked at some pictures of Blake.
How did this little tyke
turn into this little Man Child in less than 2 years????
How did this little tyke
He still makes the same face when he sleeps though. I love it.
We're letting his hair grow out a bit. I want to see how it looks. If it's horrible, we'll have to get him a trim before his 2 year photo, but until then, I say grow baby grow.
I think he's getting a little big of a Samson complex though. He's been a little bit of a tyrant recently. We had a little chat though, and he's going to work on it (If only parenting were that simple :)...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)