I am a leaf on the wind; watch how I soar!

Another Reason Why Utah Valley University Can Never Be Taken Seriously As An Institution of Higher Learning

2009-03-03T21:20:00.003-07:00

27. The geocentric universe suggests that:
a) God and all the saved souls existed beyond the tenth crystalline sphere.
b) The earth was comprised of substances similar to other heavenly bodies.
c) A motionless Sun is at the center of the universe.
d) The earth is perfect and constantly in motion.
e) God is the center of the universe.

Here it is...the question straight from my midterm. I got it wrong because the answer was "a" according to the teacher...even after I argued with her...

Take a stroll with Wikipedia...then you try and answer the question.

Poor UVU.

Copernicus--For the Love

2009-03-03T07:58:00.003-07:00

Copernicus...famed astronomer (also the name of one of Doc Brown's dog in Back to the Future) was convicted of heresy for his publication concerning heliocentrism and subsequently burned to death (is there any other kind of burning? crispy? flame-broiled?) for his beliefs.

Recent similar crimes in the tune of heresy have recently been committed in a neighborhood near me.

It's midterm season here at UVU and I'm down 1 test with 3 to go and as much as I am a neurotic perfectionist, I have succumbed to the Cs and Ds gets degrees Hakuna Matata philosoph. Don't judge me--I am disillusioned with school.

But...that was bound to happen having transferred from the University down the street (literally). I'm not sure what infuriates me more: the teachers teaching down to the students and the students' expectations of that kind of base pedagogy (I hate this word with a burning passion...sorry); teachers attempting to teach at the level of the course but ultimately teaching over the heads of the students who are not prepared for true academia; or teachers teaching at a higher level in a lower course but testing at a higher level nonetheless.

A part of me is all up in arms Newsies style but there really isn't anything I can do...

...that's where Copernicus comes in.

I was taking a midterm in history which I had not adequately prepared for (remember when I was out of school for a good part of January and February?). I turned out to be the last one done and decided to ask my professor if she wouldn't mind giving my exam a look over to give me a general idea about how I did.

"Of course, but I don't have the key."

What a loaded response!

First of all, I wanted a general idea about a midterm that she created in history. She was bound to know some of the questions...right?

No.

Secondly, she pulled out an exam of one of her star pupils (sorry, S**n B***n but I know all about your midterm) and started to go over the midterm with me. Should I stop to make a note about how unethical this was or should I keep going?

Keep in mind that this was not the key so I wasn't being graded, however, shiz hit the fan when we came to a question that she told me was incorrect according to S**n B***n's exam. I told her that I disagreed with the answer. She picked up the exam and reread the question and again said the "correct" answer in an attempt to stymie my efforts to refute the answer which at this point in time was backed by S**n B***n and her knowledge as a history teacher and because I got that question wrong, I got a couple more wrong because they were based on the same question/concept.

Oh, Mike...you're not one of those students that argue over every little point do you?

Audience, you decide.

The first question was something along the lines of: What is the geocentric universe concept? Mr. B***n's answer was something along the lines of (I kid you not) something about the tenth crystalline sphere of Earth where the souls of the dead and God reside. By this time, I was questioning the legitimacy of my teacher's sanity and intelligence. For those who don't know, the geocentric Universe concept was a prevailing piece of dogma that was backed by the Catholic Church back in European days. The claim is that Earth was the most important place in the universe because God placed his most important creations on Earth so therefore, the universe revolved around the Earth.

Let's put on our etymologist hats for a second. "Geo" as in the Geo Prism? Nah, "geo" as in geography, geology, National Geographic, geocache, etc...and "centric" as in center? So, something about Earth and something about being in the center...

"Are you sure geocentric doesn't mean that the universe revolves around the Earth?"

"No...the answer is A."

"Okay..."

The next question was along the lines of: Who was killed for his scientific heliocentric theory? I got that one right: it was Copernicus...but that means geocentric is not heliocentric--in fact, heliocentrism goes hand in hand with the understanding of why the geocentric universe concept is incorrect.

Etymology lesson again...only if you bear with me and promise not to laugh at my nerdery. I love Greek mythology. I've been reading about it since I was in elementary school. I watched Hercules: the Legendary Journeys starring Kevin Sorbo and shamelessy admit to watching its spin-off Xena: Warrior Princess starring Lucy Lawless. I was disappointed in Disney's Hercules because it didn't really follow Greek mythology (Hera was not Hercules' mom...in fact, she hated his stinkin' guts and wanted to off him any chance she got).

Okay, my point.

Apollo is the sun god. However, Helios is also the sun god. It's complicated--I don't know if the Greeks even knew what was going on. Helios drove a chariot across the sky. The steeds were supposed to be solar steeds. You can even see the process in the Disney movie when night becomes day via Helios and his chariots of fire (ha ha ha). We already know what centric means so...Helios+Centric=Heliocentric...therefore, we revolve around the sun.

I am irked for many reasons: Copernicus' death for his theory seems like a scientific tidbit reserved for an astrononmy class...BUT...his death also occured during a time (the effin' Renaissance!) when people were thinking outside the Roman Catholic Box...his theory was opposing the might of the church that held Europe by firm grip and he was put to death.

So, should she have known the answer to this question?

Yes.

She made the quizzes from where she took 5 questions from each to make her midterm.

Did I mention this is a history class?

Sigh.

It actually gets worse...like acne during puberty.

She asked if I had a quiz to turn in and I did even though it was late. She said that we could grade that one right now so she could take it home and record the score. Surprise--she didn't have the key, which I gathered at this point that she needed because she didn't know what she was teaching (more on this later). So, she pulled out another quiz from her stack that got a perfect score and we began to go through my quiz.

Take home open book multiple choice quizzes are impossible to fail. I'm pretty good at them because I'm good at I-SPY and Where's Waldo and at using the index to look up names and concepts. Needless to say, I know I had a perfect quiz...but I didn't...according to so-and-so's quiz that was being used as the key.

I hate confrontations but here I was again with a disagreement with one of the answers.

"I don't agree with that...I'm pretty sure this is the right answer."

"Well, the answer is B."

"No, it isn't."

"Well, we have to go by the book."

"Okay, can I show you where the answer is?"

"Okay."

I hurried over to my backpack, feeling guilty for arguing over another little question at the expense of my professor. I opened up the book and flipped to the page and pointed out the paragraph. She had some mad upside down reading skills and read the paragraph only to come to the conclusion in support of so-and-so's quiz. Please understand that by this time I was ready for violence.

"But if you keep reading, it actually says Japan here. China is only mentioned briefly in the paragraph you read in a commentary by a Chinese journalist. If you read on, the answer to the question is Japan."

"No, it isn't. Okay, the next one is C."

"I don't agree with that one either. Here, look at this paragraph. The answer is this Japanese man who convinced the Emperor of Japan to open Japan to foreigners."

"Okay, I can see that."

"Well, the supposedly correct answer according to that student's quiz is C which is the name of the Chinese journalist and it's obviously not. So, I'm right about the question before this one..."

Pause.

"Don't mark it wrong."

"Why would I mark it wrong? It's right."

"Well, we have to go by what the book says."

"I just showed you what the book says."

"Look, I'll give you the points for that question, but remember to mark the wrong answer on the final."

"What, why would I do something like..."

In the mere seconds that it took me to utter that last question, I realized that there was a bigger picture I was missing. She was not interested in changing the answer on the final. It's tedious work no doubt--but she wasn't going to educate her students on an insignificant question--heaven forbid she was a teacher.

But she is.

And her class structure and pedagogy (I REALLY, REALLY HATE THIS WORD) is not inducive to learning anyway. Class quizzes are handed out the class period before and are graded the next class period. Grading happens when two students come up to the front of the class and go over the quiz: "Okay, number 1, what did you get?"

Row by row, the students give their answers.

"I got A."

"That's not what I got...I got C...anyone get A or C?"

Half the class murmurs in support of one or the other while the other half are actually doing their quizzes as the class is going over the answers.

"Well...let's vote...okay, C it is...next?"

Don't worry--the professor isn't going to step in...she's sitting down already, flippantly observing the scene. Shouldn't she know the answers? It's her quiz. Well, in the perfect world...she would know the answers and she could prevent incorrect answers from transforming (not the cool kind of transforming in the tune of Autobots and Decepticons) into correct ones via majority vote. However, that's not how she works.

My studies in psychology as well as my work at work have forced me to become familar with pedagogy (...ugh...) and the learning process. There is ample research out there that supports the idea that students learn when they teach other. This history class is now my third class at this institution of higher learning that has taken this concept to the extreme.

On the first day of class, she divided the class into pairs and assigned each a chapter from the book. A class is 1 hour and 15 minutes long. Each partnership is responsible for teaching about the chapter and covering the quiz questions. That's pretty much all she's done this semester.

One partnership had the section on British Imperialism so one of the two girls brought in her neighbor who was from...you guessed it...England...which makes him the foremost authority on British Imperialism as he had been a postman at one point of his life which makes him an authority on the subject.

I'm presenting on the Vietnam War.

I'm my own special guest.

Administration of Justice (Hammurabi Style)

2009-03-02T09:33:00.002-07:00

I'm on campus early today so I can make up a midterm before I head in to work. In my drunken stupor that is the first hour after I get up, I told myself that I would go get breakfast. UVU has a place called the Valley View Room where breakfast, lunch, and dinner (I think) is served. And so with reckless abandon, I decided to test the perpetuated myth that eating breakfast is an important part of your day...nay existence...and I am thinking this might be one of those actual things I believe in like the American Dream, karma, or the military cover up of Roswell.

I feel focused and attentive...which is in stark contrast with some extra Zs I caught on the bus all the way to school. It wasn't the best nap in the world because I was jostled around quite a bit by bumps. I'm pretty sure we hit some curbs on the wide sweeping turns and I'm sure a puppy might have met its demise but I'm not going to judge the racial makeup of the driver (makeup as in the racial profile...I wasn't in a clown car).

But I have a reason I'm blogging!

I am studying for 3 make up exams and 1 exam that actually caught up with its make up exam. So, I'm throwing down history, geology, and two biology tests this week. I'm over stressing over history.

The Tigris and Euphrates just seemed way more entertaining in 6th grade.

My point!

I'm reading about the laws of Hammurabi and I came across a section that I thought was pretty interesting: "If a judge has heard a case, and given a decision, and delivered a written verdict, and if afterward his case is disproved, and that judge is convicted as the cause of misjudgment, then he shall pay twelve times the penalty awarded in that case. In public assembly he shall be thrown from the seat of judgment; he shall not return; and he shall not sit with the judges upon a case..."

Don't be corrupt.

The end.

Also, don't be get behind in classes and have to make up your exams up the wazoo.

25 Random Things About ME

2009-02-16T12:28:00.001-07:00

1. Sometimes, I dream about dropping out of school. I would open up a bakery (like Ana Pascal in Stranger than Fiction)…Or just travel down rivers like the Mighty Mississippi, Danube, or through a canal like the Erie or the Suez in a homemade skiff made from empty soda bottles and used gerbil wheels.

2. My siblings and I used to tape ourselves recreating Disney movies like Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast. Being Asian, my family had to video record everything. They didn’t like me manning the camcorder because my filming made them queasy but if only they supported me and I could have made Blair Witch or Cloverfield…or the Bourne movies.

3. When I was young, I resented Disneyland because when we would go as a family, my dad would get tired from the day and need a mid-day break to nap…on a bench. We wouldn’t be allowed to go off on our own because we were too young so we sat by the bench like beggar children trying to sell ‘papes on the streets of New York.

4. I watched the premiere of the first episode of the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers.

5. I am from California and I do not like In-N-Out Burger.

6. When I was in first grade, the school nurse suggested for me to see an optometrist. I took this as an opportunity to MAKE SURE I would have glasses like my best friend at the time. So, I stared at the sun. I wore his glasses that were thicker than the ice roads that the ice road truckers from the History Channel drive on. My eventual exam of lies went something like this…Doc: “What looks better, 1 or 2?” Me: “Um…neither?”

7. One late evening as a kid, I chucked a rock at the neighbor’s kid and when they called the cops and confronted my parents and myself, I blamed it on my older brother who had been in the shower the whole entire time.

8. I have an irrational fear of swimming in open water, especially when I can’t feel the bottom…but I also love Discovery Channel’s Shark Week (best week of the year). I have a scar and indentation in my skull/forehead from slipping on some of those big rocks pier things as a kid. I was catching little crabs that lived in the cracks and cracked my skull when I fell. I was holding a big, emptied can of Cheetos which were filled with crabs that took my debacle as a chance to scurry over me with their sharp, prickly legs.

9. My favorite X-Men is Jubilee but not because she is Asian.

10. My mom thought I was in a cult in high school because I had Star Wars posters on my wall after the Heaven’s Gate incident.

11. O.J. Simpson is guilty.

12. I have taken a P.E. volleyball class a total of 12 times during my undergraduate career. I came in second on two different teams during a one day tourney at my apartment complex and another for charity. Intramurally, I’ve played on a bunch of teams. I’ve played on two city league teams: last year at Orem when we won ZERO games and a few months ago at Provo when we won the championships. I play setter and I’m a setter snob. I played one year as a freshman in high school and that was that. Some of my volleyball team names have included: the Ligers, the Late Comers, the Flux Capacitors (go Provo champs!), and Affirmative Action.

13. I don’t know remember the last time I did a pull up.

14. The scariest movie for me growing up was Fire in the Sky.

15. Vitamin C’s Graduation Song (Friends Forever) still makes me think about high school but strangely, nothing specific.

16. I am Asian and I am terrible at math AND science.

17. I have never fired a gun.

18. I have rudimentary proficiency in Spanish that I use for eavesdropping more than anything else.

19. I am 25 but I still speak of the future in terms of “WHEN I GROW UP.”

20. I write in all-caps.

21. My favorite accent is the Scottish…which I would like to learn how to do perfectly.

22. I thought Dumbledore was still alive.

23. Dakota Fanning bothers me.

24. I believe in the American Dream.

25. I can watch Scrubs 24/7.

You Are The New Day

2009-02-16T12:09:00.002-07:00

I will love you more than me and more than yesterday, if you can but prove to me you are the new day.

Send the sun in time for dawn; let the birds all hail the morning. Love of life will urge me say: you are the new day.

When I lay me down at night knowing we must pay;
Thoughts occur that this night might stay yesterday.

Thoughts that we as humans small could slow worlds and end it all--lie around me where they fall before the new day.

One more day when time is running out for everyone like a breath I knew would come I reach for the new day.

Hope is my philosophy; just needs days in which to be; love of life means hope for me borne on a new day.

You are the new day.

When I was in high school, my then girlfriend was in choir and this is one of the ballads I liked the most! I have a King Singer's rendition of it and sing with it all the time...it makes me feel like a man when I go ahead and hit those low notes with all the manliness in my loins. Yep.

By the Power of Moleskine!

2009-02-13T04:17:00.004-07:00

So, I carry around with me this little black notebook called a Moleskine which is the same kind of little notebook carried about by the likes of Hemingway. I keep telling myself that the notes I jot down amount to something because it's in the Moleskine--like the quality of the paper and the famousness of the notebook will lift up my words into the higher echelons of English literature...the truth is, I haven't been carrying it around with me so I don't put down those million dollar thoughts anywhere anymore but I do have a last entry written months ago which I will dispense here like candy on Halloween (the good kind...not Tootsie Roll crap):

"How does the uncertainty of life not drive you crazy when there are no guarantees, no definitive anything to how things turn out...no security in a reality to which we can turn for surety...some people thrive under this kind of pressure but I can't resist the temptation to give in to the fear and let the weight roll over me and keep my in check, frozen in a state of paralysis from which chains there is no way to break free from nor to enlist the safety of freedom. Perhaps this is where hope and faith come into play: main characters on a stage though they've been reduced and recast to stage props and background scenery drapes. Therein the uncomfortable feeling of unfamiliarity, realizing there is a bigger plot device that has gone embarrassingly undetected by such a theater patron connoisseur who watches from the snooty balcony with old fashioned binoculars that are a spectacle themselves. And suddenly from the shadows, a shot to the head and chaos oddly becomes more familiar and connected than life a mere two seconds prior."

I just reread this and have come to terms that this was a jumbled mess of depression and lack of control in my life--like how I feel after eating at Costa Vida.

It's now 4:34am and I need sleep but it eludes me like breathing after climbing up the three flights of stairs to my apartment.

(Wow...I need to reread and edit some grammar problems...it is early)

Disclaimer...

2009-02-10T05:23:00.002-07:00

Disclaimer: this post is for the faithful readers and those who need to get a life instead of reading this…please don’t start reading without the intent of finishing it. It would be like not watching the end of the Sixth Sense and wondering why Bruce Willis wore the same clothes throughout the whole movie or even not finishing Robin Williams’ What Dreams May Come because what dreams may come!?

Let me set the atmosphere in which I am typing. It is 3:32 AM on Tuesday, February 10, 2009. I am sitting in bed with my little TV tuned to the Food Network. Marc Summers is explaining Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. It’s kind of an interesting thing to have Marc Summers hosting Unwrapped. It feels out of place like my DVD copy of You’ve Got Mail or Al Borland on Family Feud or Drew Carey on the Price is Right.
I remember mornings as a kid at my aunt’s house while she sewed clothes for the Man and she watched her soaps and her Price is Right. My favorite part of the show was the Final Showcase because it meant I was 10 minutes away from getting to play Sega Genesis.

The ambiance—I have iTunes in the background and it’s on movie score mode and I am listening to the iconic theme from Rudy. I am also chewing on BubbleTape which boasts over 6 feet of bubble gum. I’m pretty sure I’ve been working on this box for a year now so maybe the fun never ends…or was that Fruit by the Foot.

I haven’t blogged for a long time because I have been busy failing classes and being emotionally unavailable…it’s quite the common staple of my life.

I did get a chance to go down to see my folks which is a rare occasion for me. The last time I saw them was in April 2008. I figured it was time to drive down. I knew my mom was leaving for a trip back to ‘Nam so I figured a surprise was in order. Turns out, my mom was surprised which then turned into this emotion of letdown when she asked why I didn’t drive my little sister down too. Well, truth be told, the drive was a cathartic one and I wanted it to be free of distractions and diaper changes. But I think I am getting the hang of dealing with my mom now: I verbally mention that I heard whatever it was that she said and that I refuse to acknowledge it. It sounds pretty mature for a 25 year old who still talks about the future in terms of “when I grow up.” Case in point: I was showing my parents the wonders of Facebook and pointed to my current roommate who shares my first name, birthday, birth year, birth LA County…the only thing we don’t share is that my conception was immaculate while his was pretty run of the mill mundane…my mom asked if he served his mission when I did. I told her that he finished his second semester before leaving even though we were the same age. Without a beat my mom responded with, “Oh, he must care more about his education.”

Me: “I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that.”

Mom: “You heard me.”

Me: “So…I hear you and dad are sleeping in the same room again, how’s that going?”

Okay…that last part didn’t happen but two can play at this game of shocking statements though I think I was a little more childish…just a little.
Another aunt is on my mom’s mindset too as she encourages her bright little son who is starting high school this year, “You should be like your cousin and be smart and good…except for the Church thing.”

I’m feeling like unto a pimp so I’m going to go ahead and brush my shoulders off.
So alas! Why am I up at this hour when normal people sleep and dream of sugarplum fairies and relationships that can never be?

Simple: I have a lot on my mind. Most of the time I don’t feel the weight of it all, that is until the night comes like an uninvited house guest. The apartment is quiet and if you go out into the hallway, you can hear the creaks of my roommate turning over in bed. The light from the car dealership next door floods the living room with a pale shade of something in-between yellow and halogen. I still have a hard time waking up to use the bathroom or to get a drink of water. I have been scarred as a kid by watching Fire in the Sky when the power suddenly went out one summer day.

It’s true.

Aliens still scare me.

It feels out of sync with being 25.

My birthday was uneventful back in the end of December. My older brother called me to wish me a happy birthday. It’s hard for him to forget since it’s his birthday too. I remember resenting when people gave gifts for me and my brother to share. Yet, as I am getting older, the fact that I share something commonplace like a birthday with my older brother makes me feel more connected than I’ve felt before…
School started up in January and I’m going to give you the breakdown: my last semester was plagued with all sorts of letters from the alphabet that denoted certain rankings that most had never seen which I guess is a blessing for those people. Truth be told, I was rather shocked to see that my cumulative was still above a 2.0. It’s a mixed blessing like getting the flu and getting to skip out on Church.

Segue: the trip to CA was kind of a stress reliever because I knew Lady and I were done for good. It took me about 8 hours to drive down but the drive back was horrendous. I left San Bernardino at about 7:30pm and did not arrive in Provo until 8:00am the next morning.

Conditions were bad: I had loaded up my iPod with road trip tunes which consisted of a fair number of Rascal Flatts albums…so I was treated to songs about movin’ on, words I couldn’t say, things I couldn’t do to make her love me…it was hell…compounded by the road conditions. I checked the weather for the El Cajon pass but it wasn’t there that I encountered snow. I passed through St. George and when I hit Cedar City, it was snowing hard the whole time with somewhat plowed roads and a small little Accord with front wheel drive trying to make it up and down mountain passes at anywhere between 20 – 40 mph.

The madness of the road conditions and my poorly chosen road trip mix ensured that I would last about an hour before I would go crazy (not the cool kind like Freakazoid). So, happily, I turned on the Avenue Q soundtrack and sang along with it for 12 hours. Now here was a playlist that I could belt out my bass-y/baritone-y voice to: What Do You Do With A B.A. In English?; It Sucks To Be Me; Everyone’s A Little Bit Racist; Purpose; For Now; Fantasies Come True; and I Wish I Could Go Back To College. I kept the lyrics pretty true to the soundtrack but did switch B. A. in English to a B. S. in Pysch. Oh and you better believe I know the words to It Sucks To Be Me.

When I finally got back to Provo, I tried to nap but that didn’t work out so well. At about noon, my older brother called me to let me know that my grandpa (my dad’s dad) had passed away that morning sometime as I was maneuvering my car down the icy slopes of Southern Utah.

It was hard to process. About a year ago, I wrote an essay about my grandpa and how I didn’t even know who he was. Yet, oddly enough, as I’ve grown closer to my family, I’ve gotten a better idea of the man my grandfather was because it is who my dad is…and when it boils down to it…it’s who I am.

I met him once when I went back to ‘Nam. I think I was 12 or so and I don’t remember much. I do know that he looks a lot like my dad. Grandpa yelled at me once because it was raining and my little sister and I decided to go play on the roof. Unbeknownst to me, they still collected rain water for drinking and cooking. And unbeknownst to my family, the water had been contaminated with my tomfoolery.
I miss grandpa because I know dad misses him and as much as I hate to say this, I am grateful that I could share in the pain of my family.

School has been push aside like a helping of healthy salad—I didn’t even pick out the bacon bits.

I’m spiraling out of control and the damage has been done. Not to sound cocky but when I screw up…I make sure there’s no room for interpretation of whether I screwed up or not. It’s how I roll. It’s also how I will roll all the way back home from the market little piggy style.

Am I burnt out? Disillusioned? Overall ornery because I’m not where I want to be right now in life? Would you judge me if I combined all of that into a singular word that sums it all up: poopies. Yep, I’ve got the poopies. I don’t think it’s contagious…it’s more disturbing than anything else as my roommates come home day after day to see me still in bed or playing Left 4 Dead to no end. In my defense though, Left 4 Dead is pretty freakin’ awesome…for the number 4, they use a hand that has a thumb bitten off and that makes me giddy.
Left 4 Dead is Skynet.

I threw that out there to see if anyone was going to follow me but let me reiterate: Left 4 Dead is Skynet. Yes, the same Skynet that becomes self-aware in the Terminator series and tries to wipe off the human skid mark that is our existence on this planet. It’s quite the conclusion but hear me out: Left 4 Dead is a game that learns. It analyzes how well you are doing in your group and adjusts the difficulty which sounds run of the mill unless I explain that difficulty means hordes upon hordes of zombies coming after you. It’s learning. It also never respawns zombies in the same place like a Terminator. Fortunately, Batman is going to be battling the Terminators this summer which makes me feel very safe inside—Skynet, the Joker, Pulitzer and Hearst…I’m okay with Christian Bale on my side.

The time is now ten till 5am in the morn’. I keep telling myself that the only way I am going to make it to school is that if I don’t sleep tonight. The reasoning is skewed like my forever broken left pinkie but it’s going to work.

My living room has recently undergone a facelift. A roommate who just got married crowded the living room with a love sac aka an Ohana Bag (“Ohana means family and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten”…oh Lilo, you are so wise) but let’s face it, am I the only one that thinks scrotum when people talk about love sacs? Well, roommate moved out and another roommate bought the wretched thing. Now I don’t have problems with bean bags that remind me of scrotums but other roommate kind of makes his nest in the love sac…like crabs. There’s a lot of trash around: candy bar wrappers, paper with accounting jibber jabber, someone has been leaving their bitten off finger nails around said place. Well, it’s been moved into the dining room now and I am glad to have my living room back.

It’s preppin’ time for the Orem City volleyball league. If you recall, we didn’t win any games last time which is going to change! Or not. It’s hard to say at this point but I picked out a really cool team name: Dunder Mifflin.

I’m conflicted. I am at this crux of life, this epoch, if you will, and I feel like I am face with decisions that are in no way easy for the faint of heart or those with heart conditions or those who maybe come pregnant…Plan A or Plan B.
Plan B is winning…in fact, right now as I’m typing this…I think Plan B has already won. Maybe one of life most toughester thing is to make a decision based wholly on perspective. Maybe that’s easy for some—they know what they want when they pull up to Wendy’s drive thru…but I don’t…I’ve tried the Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger before and I still like it…so I think I’ll get it again.

At any rate, I hope that those who read these can send some good vibrations my way.
I am afraid and I know the source of fear, but that does not make this easier in any way.

It makes it harder…

It brings me to tears…almost.

Obama Opinions

2009-01-20T14:53:00.002-07:00

Obama. One word. Three syllables. And only half African-American. I've never been politically active--and I am ashamed that I have never voted in any kind of election other than when playing Mafia or watching American Idol. However, I am a staunch American Patriot. I am so staunch that I exercise my right to not vote.

Sounds very unpatriotic to you? Well, I have read Stephen Colbert's book: I Am America And So Can You.

It's hard for me to vote because learning the platforms of each candidate is like molecular chemistry to me: this ion is going to join with that other ion because it needs to be balanced, but then this electron is greedy and therefore wants to complete it's shell by sharing/borrowing/stealing from another electron and depending on the amount of ions it can be an alkaline solution which is low in hydrogen ions but there's also a neutral pH as well as greedy acidic solutions high in hydrogen ions that can corrode and destroy.

Sure, taking the extra effort to learn about the running candidates would be a little patriotic because you need to know what you're getting. If you want a pepperoni calzone, you're gonna expect pepperoni on the inside...same thing with Gusher's Fruit Snacks.

When it came down to it, we were either voting for a Madame President a la 24 or on the old animated X-Men series on Fox or for an African American (old 24, new season of Heroes?). In the nicest way possible, I have a hard time seeing Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) making it to 2010. He's old and he appeared on a Viagra commercial but at least back then you knew it was an advertisement for erectile dysfunction—nowadays, you think the commercial is about high cholesterol, playing in a jazz band, or even working at a chicken farm AND then they hit you with the fact that chicken farming is no longer enjoyable because of erectile dysfunction—another example of how politicians work (don’t work): they have erectile dysfunction.

Now…how do I feel about President-elect Barack Obama (as I type this, Microsoft Word Office 2007 did not red-squiggly “Barack Obama”…he’s already infiltrated my personal life)…

A month or so ago, I bought a game called Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe. One of the characters on the MK side is named Baraka. I spent a good two weeks saying the words: Barakabama. I’ve grown up a little since then (a little little). Those who know me think I am pretty racist. I’ve almost got that Avenue Q song “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” down by heart…but I’m not, sort of. My area of focus in my psychology research is in the area of racism.

Remember when literally bad meant bad, cool meant cool, and crabs meant crabs? Racism doesn’t float very well as a standalone. It has changed too. A college friend once asked me on the bus after I told her my research concerning racism in America, “We still have problems with that?”

Yes, Virginia.

It has new PR with improved face, methodology, and alluring charm.

Obama represents a shift in society that I am a big fan of…and it is because he is not White. I don’t hate White people…I know what kind of meat I like from my turkey and it ain’t dark. America is hurtling towards a racial demographic shift that is reminiscent of Americas puberty years but its now obvious midlife crisis is more volatile than ever before. The American society is not ready to deal with this schism and you can bet there is going to be a schism.

Obama (see how I haven’t mentioned anything political because I don’t know anything about politics?) ethnicity combined with his status as The Leader Of The Free World is going to herald in a chapter where race will be confronted and dealt with and there is going to be a hope that America will be looking at things a little bit differently.

I watched his Inauguration today and noticed that the program featured his fellow African Americans. I’m okay with that. This administration is going to change our ideas and assumptions about the colored people (colored as in black, brown, yellow, white, peach [the crayon I shamelessly used as a kid to color in White people], or even mauve). No doubt there will be backlash at what could be misconstrued as racial favoritism (a fancy term which in this case should probably mean I picked those people because they were my friends in the first place before they were Black) but back down…America is diverse…it has always been, it will always be, it is what makes this land great.

America has stumbled on its principles and actions here and there depending on who you talk to, but for me, the son of immigrants who sacrificed everything to come for Opportunity, the times will get better. And in my hopeful heart, I see President Obama leading this nation into an era where racial tensions will flare but under his guidance and prominent position as our Leader, we will make it through and step up again as a respected world leader, at home FIRST, and then abroad.

Do You Speak Korean?

2009-01-15T23:56:00.002-07:00

School actually doesn't feel like bamboo shoots up my fingernails at the moment so I am counting this as a pretty big personal victory.

I sat next to the window during history--big mistake. I mostly thought about how everyone looked like little ants...well, human ants, and for some odd reason, I pictured a big foot coming out of the sky and smashing everyone...it was a tiring morning.

Biology was interesting because we spent the bulk of the time talking about covalent bonds. My professor enjoys using an overhead projector so there are a lot of transparencies going around. He's been drawing molecules on different sheets and then shaking them to show us that molecules move around in real life. I'm kind of excited to see us actually talk about biology. I have no doubt that with the use of transparencies, plastic wrap, shadows (the ingenious use of), an arsenal of transparency markers that he will make photosynthesis come to life like nobody's business.

In geology, I noticed how the Earth reminds me of the human body. First, there is the core which include the inner or the outer, and then there's the spreading of the sea floor which reminds me of stretch marks...

And to wrap up the day...

BYU Men's Volleyball loses to Cal Baptist in 5.

Ugh.

Then someone asked me if I spoke Korean.

No, I don't speak Korean.

Later, the MTC asked if I could come volunteer in Thai.

Yeah.

No.

Books and Books

2009-01-13T17:32:00.002-07:00

Reading for fun--it's what the cool kids are doing and it's also what I'm doing when I should be reading textbooks. Don't judge me because I don't find primary sources and secondary sources of history to be riveting. I wish my history book were more like Wikipedia because I don't have a hard time remembering useless facts when it shows up on El Wiki. I also wouldn't mind it if involved some more video game action...like Call of Duty...unfortunately, I hear history is too multifaceted even for Call of Duty which is essentially the same game, about the same war, from differing perspectives. Not to be a naysayer but it is pretty much law in video games about war to play the part of the good guys and the list of Allied Powers isn't exactly inexhaustible so in all fairness, when are games coming out of under the banner of Communism and the Axis Legion of Evil?

I bought a new book today to add to the bookshelf. I don't think I'm refined enough to call it a library just yet but I am probably snooty enough to give it a go ahead as my library also contains issues of the American Psychologist from the Journal of the American Psychological Association as I have become intrinsically linked to their organization (not by professional rapport or invitation, mind you, but by the professional distribution of money into their bank accounts). Oddly enough, there was quite the breaking of social norms in my search for this book. It was in the humor aisle and bookstore aisles are not roomy and spacious so that two and a half shopping carts (buggies for those of you of the Southern persuasion) can easily careen down. As I zeroed in on my book, I noticed two other similarly aged college students in the aisle: one seated Indian, er, I mean, Native American style on the ground and the other standing and reading like a loitering book reader.

As I made the move for my book, the Native American sitter moved one of his legs up and farted.

I raised my eyebrows--mentally. Not sure whether to laugh or to respond by any other means, I grabbed my book and got out of there before the mustard gas from his @$ did its work.

Seriously...who farts in public! Especially that loudly! There are about ten dozen other discrete ways to relieve the pressure and he chose the road less traveled (it makes sense because he was in a bookstore).

The book is by A.J. Jacobs. I read his first book called The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World a year or two ago and have decided to start on his The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible. I thoroughly enjoyed the former book and I am kind of miffed that the latter book will always be sullied with the sounds of farting. I am also reminded of a prayer from Ned Flanders to God about how he has always done everything the Bible had told him to do; even the stuff that contradicts the other stuff. Sure, Neighborino, the Bible is telling you to stone adulters on one page and on the next page to love them.

A little consistency would go a long way.

Scoops

2009-01-09T17:42:00.003-07:00

I ventured into UVU's ice cream shop called Scoops and much to my surprised, I found a collection of goodies covered in chocolate for sale: Oreos, gummi bears, pretzels...and...COOKIE DOUGH BITES. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the reason I will be putting on 50 lbs this year.

Not Labeled For Individual Sale

2009-01-08T10:55:00.002-07:00

School started today for me as I am rocking Tuesdays and Thursdays classes. I'm a bit apprehensive because of last semester's spiral into the land of failing all my classes. I pretty ashamed...it's UVU...yeah.

I was still pulling straight A's by the end of October but I was worn down by my 19 credit course load. And I started to fall apart like that one guy in the first Poltergeist movie who had his flesh melt away in the bathroom--it's that intense. In all seriousness, though, I have a terrible problem with perfectionism. I'll save the explanations for possible origins for another lengthy discussion on the psychosis that was my childhood. Anyway, I tend to go into whatever I am doing with guns blazing, running for the chopter all Arnold-like...this in and of itself is not the problem. The plot twist is hidden in my temper tantrum meltdowns that occur when I am not perfect. Instead of reassessing the situation like people of the normal persuasion, I get angry and I refuse to do anything else.

Example: I missed one day of class so therefore I can't ever come back so I give up on the whole semester. It's like mold on a loaf of bread because even though one slice has mold, you can't really eat the other slices because you know the spores have infected the other pieces of bread--in fact, this is exactly like that.

It's hard to describe this neurotic perfectionism but I am trying to realize the damages it is doing to my personal, scholastic, and professional life.

Truth be told, it is very much a habit.

So my goals are to keep morale high and sugar intake up and steady.

I'm in my last four GE classes of my college life. It's kind of thrilling...and easily eclipsed by the semester before but I am going to try to stay positive.

Watch out world.

Ye be warned.

Clarification

2008-12-28T18:33:00.002-07:00

chibirae101 said...

I don't understand most of those letters.

Well... I don't blame you because there are only some who have had the opportunity to understand this cryptic code.

A = Awesome
UW = Unofficial Withdrawal
I = Incomplete
E = The "P.C." version of the "F"

What Were You Expecting?

2008-12-26T22:29:00.003-07:00

Life

2008-12-18T13:23:00.006-07:00

Huh.

2008-12-11T10:44:00.002-07:00

I recently turned in a paper which started out with: "The gross square footage of UVU is approximately (insert actual number here)." The professor, aforementioned as being called professor as to refer to her as a Dr would be a very large and filthy disgrace to actual real and legitimate Drs everywhere, wrote two comments next to this sentence and nice, neat, motherly cursive: 1) What is gross square footage? and 2) Is this approximate?

Seriously.

Last Saturday, I went up to Temple Square with my ward. There was an event going down at the Tabernacle and having never been inside, I decided that I would be ignorant of being inside no longer. It turns out the event was a Hispanic Christmas presentation called Reciebe El Rey...or something like that...or as I affectionately called it, "Latino Fest '08". Needless to say, we only stayed there for a total of ten minutes...though Case and Miriam were convinced that I could understand what was going on...not so much...but last night, I dreamed in Spanish.

This is unusual because I don't fluently speak Spanish so most of my dream was in broken Spanish. The whole scene started when my coed Provo volleyball was invited to play in a tournament with regional winners. For some odd reason, the majority of the teams were either Latino, African American, or Polynesian. The tournament was being sponsored by an Evangelical church that was hosting the games at an LDS stake center but in order to play, each of the 20 or so teams present had to learn an assigned song and perform. My team was assigned the word "apple" and we had to come up with a song about apples...we decided to sing an a capella medley of some Beatles' songs because some of their albums featured the fruit on the cover.

There was anger coming from the person in charge of the event because we didn't do the song as it was meant to be done with apples in the lyrics. Eventually, we befriended the Latino teams and African American teams. It turned into a gospel choir right out of Baptist country down yonder in the South.

My dreams have been kind of crazy lately.

The other night, I dreamed it was the end of the world. It was like the Matrix because we had tried to nuclear bomb the world to fight the locust from Gears of War but ended up poisoning the atmosphere. The human race then had to go underground which enabled us to leave the nuclear ravaged air but we were now fighting with the locust on a daily basis because we were on their turf now...but worse than the locust were the worms. They looked like maggots but their mouths were like those worm things from Tremors. These ugly worm things tunneled underneath the surface and devoured humans easily like a vacuum effortlessly sucking up Skittles. And like I said, it was the end of the world. The locust cornered all of humanity in a tunnel and on the other end was a Tremor-worm. There was no way out and the Tremor-worm slowly worked its way from one end to the other and ATE EVERYONE. There were some pretty morbid screaming as people tried to avoid the worm but there was no way out and we were all packed in so tight and the worm just kept coming.

Dream analysis that!

Where is the snow?

2008-11-26T09:10:00.006-07:00

It's true.

I have been MIA.

School has overrun me like a stampeding herd of llamas. It's not so much that there are 19 credits hours in the mix but it's more like 19 credit hours that are not very organized and structured...there is the source of my stress--the classes aren't terribly difficult, they just are all over the place and for once, I find myself trying to discipline myself without any inkling of solidarity with what is being asked of me by my professors. Either this paragraph sounded like a pretty solid explanation that evokes remorse from my readers and sentimental metaphorical tears...or...a long paragraph to say that I am poopy at school.

Updates?

Lady and I are dating again. I feel like this requires a lot of explanation but dating is an interesting thing out here in P-Town. Some people go on a date and end up making out at the end of the night and then they spend the following two weeks trying to decide what their relationship status is but I'm more old-fashioned (or maybe less of a manwhore) because my definition of dating is that we've just started to hold hands.

I would be lying if I said this has been easy.

I have been on guard because I didn't want to get hurt again, but deep down inside, I knew my feelings for her never went away. And sometimes, you really have to put your heart on the line because somethings are worth that risk. And it's scary. And I have no idea what to expect but things that require the most out of you are the things that mean the most.

I dressed up as Harry Potter again for Halloween.

I asked my mission president a question that has always bothered me: why did he keep me in the field when there were so many reasons to send me home. Short answer: my mission president receives revelation from on high. Long answer: God loves me.

In other news, the Flux Capacitors win the Provo City Coed Volleyball Championships.

I might just go ahead and say right now that this was the greatest night of my life. I dare life to one-up that! We went undefeated in the tournament despite our season record being 9-5. We took down a very, very tough team that was stacked with Polynesians--which naturally are born with the ability to sing, laugh at life, and play volleyball. It was a great experience for all of us; but maybe a little bit more for Samwise and I because we wanted to win a shirt. Sounds a little bit weird to want a shirt as the penultimate sign of your volleyballing skills but don't judge us, we're materialistic. Especially redeeming for Samwise was that BYU intramurals had scheduled our first single elimination tournament game on the same night and we had to forfeit. He had captained that team...you could tell because our team name was The Late Comers. With an imagination like mine, there's not too many things we could chant when we came in for huddles. At least when we came in for timeouts on my team we could chant "FLUX" which sounded like a swear word which we used liberally and without shame.

Flux Capacitors...now that's an awesome name. I'm really proud of my team and the way we played. I wish our whole team could of been there but I'm going to photoshop her in to the picture which is completely legit because she is as part of the team as my girly kneepads and let me tell you, those kneedpads are hardcore. This year has stretched me as a volleyball player as I had to play positions I normally don't play like outside hitter and libero. The big challenge for me was to step it up as a hitter which was more about instilling some confidence in myself that yes, a stout, Asian man can actually leave the ground and defy Newton's Laws and spike the ball in some kind of semblance of what could be misconstrued as skill.

Levi actually came through and got us team t-shirts. It was blue with black ink: a nice big insignia of a flux capacitor on the front with our team name, and on the back, my name (I decided on Miguelito this time) with my number, and a danger symbol with 1.21 jigawatts underneath--it was an awesome shirt.

Our sights are now turned to Orem City Mens League next year and we are looking for a good name for the team. So far, the suggestions have included the Justice League with individual shirts representing different superheroes. I have vetoed this (yay, over the top captain power going to the head) as I really don't think there's enough characters in the Justice League. I for sure refuse to be Wonder Woman and no one is going to sink to the level of being the Green Lantern.

Harsh, I know, but I have recently purchased Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe and the Green Lantern is nothing short of lame. He has a ring. And it's a ring that needs to be recharged. So, does he have powers? Eh...not really...he has a magic ring. Sorry, but the Planeteers can kick his sorry green butt to the side. Even that one Planeteer with the ring power of Heart could rock Green Lantern--this is how pathetic it is...but at least the game is fun. It brought back an old nostalgia that you just can't buy (that was a filthy lie because you can totally buy nostalgia).

I'm open to suggestions for a team name...send suggestions but FYI, team names I've used in the past include the Ligers, Affirmative Action, and Joseph & his Team of Many Colors.

I've also started taking pictures again.

Pictures make me happy. This isn't exactly a TIME cover but with the election month and whatnot, I happened to be at a friend's apartment and noticed the arrangement of his candies.

Work has been going extremely, scarily well. My name was on a recent grant proposal and my title was used as well. I almost feel like a professional but you can tell that I'm not because I get hysterical when my boss calls me his colleague. I wish I could do more with other research projects at the moment but I'm just too swamped with school. I will be lucky if I make it out of this semester in once piece. There are those who are reading this and can only shake their heads but I have a legitimate excuse--really.

Despite being on top of meds and such, the stress from school caused a relapsed and I was treated to a spectacularly timed major depressive episode. I'm still trying to come back in school but it is a death march. Some teachers have suggested that I take the failing grade and retake the class next semester...that would work if this wasn't my last two-ish semesters. There would be no way of avoiding the fact that I would have to mention this plummeting drop of grades in any kind of paperwork that I might even think about sending for grad school applications.

Graduation. Oy. It is contingent on return to La Igriega, which is contingent on the fulfillment of a certain February related thing. It's complicated.

But, life is still good.

And, I don't mind that I get by with a little help from my friends.

Five Like Elder Eyring Said

1) Unlimited texting

2) Alex

3) Chilly weather

4) Miles

5) Macaroni and Cheese

Blip On The Radar Screen

2008-11-18T19:42:00.000-07:00

I'm still alive.

Superheroes (that are Black)

2008-10-28T11:38:00.003-06:00

Marvel Ultimate Alliance is a fun game--the funness comes from the fact that you can assemble your own team of heroes and save the world from Dr. Doom. Yes, it sounds like a Fantastic Four movie but it's not.

Anyway, I was coming up with some teams to make from the entire roster and I came up with: X-Men (Cyclops, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Colossus); Femme Fatale (Storm, Elektra, Ms. Marvel, and Spider-Woman); Assassins (Wolverine, Elektra, Deadpool, Blade); and Weapon X (Sabertooth, Wolverine, and Deadpool).

When you make up these combinations, you get bonus points which is the rule until I found a glitch in the game when I tried to make an all African American team: Storm, Blade, Black Panther, and Luke Cage...when I was done assigning them to the new team, the game froze.

This was more than enough proof to show that the world was not ready for an all Black superhero team.

One day.

Life As I Know It

2008-10-28T11:07:00.003-06:00

10:00am - 10mg Adderall

12:00pm - 10mg Adderall

2:00pm - 10mg Dextrostat

4:00pm - 10 mg Dextrostat

11:45pm - 80mg to 100mg Prozac

11:50pm - 100mg Seroquel

12:00am - 1mg Clonezepam

Elephant sized turds hitting jet turbine engines

2008-10-22T22:15:00.004-06:00

So.

Yeah.

I haven't really paid much attention to the hullabaloo concerning Prop 8. In fact, I'm kind of nervous because I'm going to a call center tomorrow on behalf of the Protect Marriage, Peeps! because I don't know much beyond the fact that it is something I don't agree with.

As I have been brought up to date by reliable sources, I realize that there is a wake of disaster like unto Godzilla on Tokyo damages--maybe even the Robot Godzilla!

There are interesting words being thrown around: bigot, hate, Nazi, bleep, bleep, bleep, death, bleep, persecution, discrimination, prejudice, homo-a-cide (I made that last one up)...

The difficult thing is to not get into a big discussion because there are many, many facets with angry, emotional feelings.

Things involved: Freedoms (the kind Norman Rockwell paints about), "Separation" of "Church" and "State" (quotations were added; not for dramatic effect), America...but alas, it's just too much and there is but too little of time. I would like to contribute by posting a copy of a death threat that was going around and placed on people's doors in SoCal.

Reader discretion is advised...because as with suicide threats, death threats should be taken with caution. I hope this man does not make good on his promises because of the following:

#1 Killing people is not kosher.
#2 Murder is still against the law.
#3 It's called "Man"-slaughter not because men kill men because it can involve females too but really, should we reword it just as Slaughter so that it is gender neutral...where is the Prop on that?
#4 It's hard to take him seriously when he uses bad grammar and poor spelling.
#5 We're sending people like him overseas to represent America?

I once questioned the wording a gay man used once because he called his partner by the word partner. The interesting thing about this relationship is that not only have they been together for a long time, they are completely monogamous and faithful to each other. I asked him why he does not use the word "husband." He replied that he was not married to this man. I asked why he didn't choose to go somewhere that legalizes same-sex marriages. His response was that marriage is when a man marries a woman.

I wasn't expecting that answer.

Apparently my gay friend and his partner are not truly homosexual because they have a different operational definition about marriage.

But...back to the death threat letter...here is my favorite response to it after it had been posted online on a news site:

What a dreadfully written letter.

Murderous hate is bad enough. Incoherent, grammatically-incoherent venting is simply inexcusable.

I was on the fence. Now? I'll vote Yes on 8 just to spite the fool who penned that screed.

That's right, Hate Nazi - if Proposition 8 passes, know that at least one Yes vote came directly because of your fascist, ignorant threats.

The Iraq vets I know are men and women of honor. You? Not so much. You certainly don't understand the Constitution you swore to protect and defend if you're advocating CRUCIFIXION for those who want to cast a vote you disapprove of.

More Mercy...Please, Sir, Can I Have Some More?

2008-10-18T22:11:00.002-06:00

(Insert Noun),

Hey. I hope you don't think I'm intentionally discriminating your class and only missing your class cause that would be very not right. I've been equally discriminating by non-attendance to all of my classes and work.

I am not feeling well. In fact, I am not a big fan of not feeling well. I am determined to show up for class on Monday though...I might be brain-fried but the good thing is I'll be there physically.

I'm also emailing concerning the quiz I took. I'm pretty sure I did terribly on it because when I reviewed my outlines from the chapters that the quiz covered, I had a gaping-wide-mouth-shocked-look on my face because I had put down some very wrong answers. I don't want to fall into any Asian grade-whoring stereotypes but I am very concerned about my grade on the quiz and would be willing to argue each wrong answer...within reason as in the questions I thought were right which were wrong.

I know this would take close to forever to work out but we could even do it online. I could send you my "challenges" for points. I don't know if that makes sense. I hope it does.

Anyway, I'm sorry for the lengthy email.

See you on Monday.
Mike

Mercy? Please....?

2008-10-18T21:12:00.001-06:00

Dr. (insert noun),

This email I am sending you could either be met with some kind of peaking curiosity to hear what explanation I am going to pull out of thin air to justify my lack of attendance and turning in of assignments.

Or.

This email could be met with a whimsical nature to see what I dare even say at this point.

My letter from the (insert noun) was never meant for preemptive purposes. It is a in case of emergencies contingency plan. It is difficult to explain the nature of the situation that would warrant my absences but I hope that you take my word for it that there has been substantial reasons.

I have a completed Billy Elliot paper that is beyond late. I would rather turn it to you so I can speak to you directly concerning this email; rather than send it as an attachment and hope for the best.

Please expect me to come to your office after class to address how to make up absences, the Billy Elliot paper, and the upcoming prison tour this Tuesday the 21st.

Don't be alarmed if I'm semi-smiling--it's better than not smiling.

I am looking forward to speaking with you.

Mike

Absentee

2008-10-18T20:08:00.002-06:00

I've been under the radar all covert ninja-like--if only the reasons were actually cool.

I am now playing catch up in every single one of my 19 credit hour classes. I am kind of feeling this mixed blessings thing because I have a metaphorical Get Out of Jail Free card that I wish I didn't have but at times like these, what would I do without it?

Yet, what are the implications for me as a student who is struggling through college? Are my achievements and successes indicative of artificial aided accomplishments?

It's kind of interesting how invested you can be in attacking life. It really becomes apparent when there are bumps in the road because those pot holes reverberate to every corner of your life. I'm not sure how I feel about that...feels almost like everything that is connected in life through God's wisdom, rises and falls with these ripples...maybe God should be more detached?

Or. We need to trust in Him more.

I'm voting the latter.

Also, hoping more in favor of the latter.

Do You Think I Will Be Plagiarized For Posting My Papers Online...and if so, Does this not mark my success?!

2008-10-18T20:00:00.004-06:00

Implications of Modern Hegemonic Society As Depicted In Billy Elliot

Film Review

A movie titled Billy Elliot would seem to be singularly plot driven and focused on one person; in this case: an eleven year old boy—but it’s not just about a boy. Any good coming of age movie can bring perspective to the audience but the distinction between good and great is wide; perhaps the gap can be delineated by how much the audience strains to grasp the bigger picture. Great coming of age movies deliver facets that speak volumes about self, society, values, morals, relationships, etc. Therefore, the movie could have been easily titled The Coal Miners’ Strike of 1984 or Jackie Elliot’s Son and still be great. Though Billy’s life is in the foreground, the tumultuous events that have been enfolding in Durham County, England provide a framework from which we can glean a working commentary on society. If Billy is the protagonist, would the society and the situation it sits in be considered the antagonist? No. Society as depicted in Billy Elliot is a catalyst for change and much more.

Billy Elliot lives in a world that is scripted by hegemonic masculinity, a rigid and seemingly incorrigible precedent defining gender roles (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). Consider the dichotomy that the United Kingdom has been ruled by both kings and queens (Hearn, 2004). Still, an andocentric hierarchy organizes and establishes norms even with governmental influence (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005; Hearn, 2004). Durham County is influenced by patriarchy because of culture. Most of the denizens are coal miners who belong to a volatile union. This culture appropriates a gender biased society because the nature of available work is considered to be male typical employment. It becomes very clear that this movie is not about a town moving towards political correctness; neither is it about the squelching of the female populace because of societal norms. Instead, the audience experiences societal upheavals through the interactions between father and son.

Billy is being reared in a single-parent household. He lives in a very modest house with his widower father, Jackie; hot-tempered older brother, Tony; and his aging, senile grandmother. The home itself provides commentary on this patriarchal environment: the house is cluttered, cramped; space is limited, it is in disorder. The situation at home mirrors the environment outside. The coal miners’ strike is composed of an angry throng of people; seething, cursing. In direct contrast are the police officers who are not only similarly dressed but standing in autonomous lines forming a wall between the protesters and the “scabs.” Herein the connection is made: Jackie wants his son to become a boxer but Billy wants to perform ballet instead—the standard of normalcy found in andocentric life and the rebellion against the gender roles that supposedly hold their ideal life together. However, the ideal remains rooted in the unattainable because of the conflict between father and son which starts out as pre-teenage angst but forges a pure love that is independent of restrictive gender roles and brings an eventual closure that is about heart. The conclusion, however, does arrive after much conflict.

Ballet is not the all encompassing gender blurred stereotyped item at hand. Billy expresses grief over the death of his mother. He plays her piano while staring contemplatively at her photograph. He finds a connection with his mother because she too is distant, albeit literally, from his father (Lancioni, 2006). He is conflicted when his father is forced to use the piano for firewood. Billy knows that dancing is not homosexual, an understanding that he arrives at for himself. Dancing is Billy’s coping mechanism (Lancioni, 2006).

Jackie, on the other hand, is trying to hold on to his construct of reality that is based on hegemonic masculinity that does not hold strong against chaos. He has been engendered by cultural norms that are rooted in sports like boxing (Swain, 2006). He had hopes that his son would excel in the sport. His disdain is found not only in Billy’s lack of boxing athleticism but that ballet has become the alternative. He is a firm supporter of the coal miners’ union which fosters hegemony not only within social class but as a reaction to threat (Swain, 2006). The union represents an example of male defiance combined with power as not merely a construed idea but a construct reflective of the hegemonic dominance that seeks control and change (Hearn, 2004; Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). While Billy has developed ways to handle grief, Jackie’s coping is confined to acts of violence through the union and against his own children. His repression is what leads to a change that almost eclipses Billy’s literal ugly duckling to swan story. Describing him as broken because of his emotional coming to terms shines a negative light on the transformation that has occurred. He sheds tears over his wife’s piano in the fireplace, he crosses the picket line to support his son, and he even trades in his wife’s jewelry for Billy’s financial cause as well—no, not broken, but heroic. Jackie’s face reminds the audience that he is still the same man consigned to life in the mines which was poignantly portrayed in the film as he is lowered down into the coal mines with his coworkers. His eyes, however, have learned to see things for what they really are, independent of his own perceptions, anchored by love and heart—he experiences his own ugly duckling transformation.

At face value, Billy Elliot is a story of the pursuit of hopes and dreams. The audience who chooses to delve will find connections. Is it human nature that makes us relate to those who live life with chaos all around them? Is this connection foil for our own lives? Are we examining the loss of innocence, comparative to our own? Maybe innocence is the wrong word. Perhaps the idea is that we are asked to make choices in life based on little if any direction. The choices we make don't seem as daunting when the scenes of this life are superimposed on white, with shadows overlapping by distance and perspective, interconnected and layered with purpose, the idea of many making the one.

Is the catalyst for change found in chaos? The happy ending of Billy Elliot, the change, and the progression exists because of a lack of structure. Differing viewpoints would berate this kind of culture and structure to be gender biased. Subjective as the issue may be, it is still order and not anarchy. However, a society that leans towards egalitarian ethics would rather not think of the existence of patriarchy as acceptable for the greater good. The cost of order does not justify the patriarchy—the sacrifice of the female opinion does not warrant the justification. Instead, modern society clamors towards an ideal situation rooted in an unrealistic fairness. A perfectly gender balanced social system will never be a reality because gender roles are so cemented in social and cultural contexts (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005; Hearn, 2004; Swain, 2006). Changes will come but will arrive slowly; tardy and appearing to be minor in magnitude, but it will come nonetheless. Patience is the key but a society that has been subject to a philosophy of instant gratification demands reorganization now. Therefore, this same society is very much willing to tear down gender roles and stereotypes to forsake order for chaos and call it equality. Society cannot exist in a construct devoid of order that is subjected to variations from lack of definitive gender roles.

Ironically enough, it is this state of social disorder that will invoke anomie, a period of time when gender roles become obscured as a result of social change and upheaval. Within the chaos, a person can be forced to develop as a human being and perhaps therein is the lone solution for creating a paradigm for change in people like Jackie Elliot: non-gender in place of gender balance.

Works Cited

Connell, R. W., & Messerschmidt, J. W. (2005). Hegemonic masculinity: Rethinking the concept. Gender & Society, 19, 829-859. Retrieved September 29, 2008, from SAGE Journals Online Database.

Daldry, S. (Director), & Hall, L. (Writer). (2000). Billy Elliot [Motion picture]. United Kingdom: Working Title Films & Studio Canal.

Hearn, J. (2004). From hegemonic masculinity to the hegemony of men. Feminist Theory, 5, 49- 72. Retrieved September 29, 2008, from SAGE Journals Online database.

Lancioni, J. (2006). Cinderella dances Swan Lake: reading Billy Elliot as fairytale. Journal of Popular Culture, 39(5), 709-728. Retrieved September 29, 2008, from SAGE Journals Online database.

Swain, J. (2006). Reflections on patterns of masculinity in school settings. Men and Masculinities, 8(3), 331-349. Retrieved September 29, 2008, from SAGE Journals Online database.

About 30 Minutes Until Class Ends

2008-09-29T14:38:00.003-06:00

Today, I saw someone wearing jeans with spandex in the waist. I immediately thought that he was pregnant--mostly because of Juno and the movie Junior. Frankly, I am a bit ashamed that the Governator was in Junior. He's got a pretty healthy list of blockbusters and then he does Junior (and by "does", I mean stars in). I even liked him in Kindergarten Cop. It's pretty much the best interrogation film ever: "Who is your daddy? And what does he do?"

Okay, maybe not the best because in the Dark Knight, Batman does a pretty good job of interrogating the Joker and by "pretty good job", I have no idea what Batman was saying the whole time so I assume that it was something that was upsetting him. If it was about that one girl blowing up, I can live with that but I would have preferred if Katie Holmes got blown up and the irony if her bones turned into deadly shrapnel and killed not only the cast of Dawson's Creek but Tom Cruise. She would be dead, yes, but I would still vote her in for the Nobel Peace Prize.

And yes, that was punny because Nobel as in Alfred Nobel invented TNT...just furthering my belief that although Wikipedia is corrupt and easily edited by knowledge graffitiers, I still get more out of life and learning from Wikipedia than from my professors.

There is one professor I currently have whom I refuse to address as "Dr." It's not because her last name is French and she reminds me of France and the gypsies there, but because she is a liberal, soft-spoken (on par with Mr. Rogers), and demeaning. She brought up Freud in our Environmental Psych class (which isn't about how your environment affects psychology despite how misleading the class title might sound) but instead of tying it loosely or even pathetically to the psychological field, she brought up Freud's defense mechanism.

And she didn't just bring it up.

"Global warming is a fact. We can't deny it. There is so much evidence of it but a lot of people find themselves in denial."

I'm in denial that Prof. French is actually a legitimate educator.

That example works better than hers.

And I didn't even get it from Wikipedia.

During the summer term, I noticed that some classes were terribly put together that I am embarrassed to admit that the teachers could have accomplished more if they made a Facebook group for the class...but I know I'm a revolutionary kind of guy, but at least it's more reliabler than Blackboard.

Blackboard...an electronic classroom so aptly named! English was not my first language so hearing teachers refer to the blackboard that was obviously green with a faint dusting of yellow chalk was confusing. I still remember when whiteboards were installed.

That made more sense.

But oh how I hated overhead projectors...Mrs. Twitchell, my algebra teacher in 8th grade, had an over abundance of saliva. Watching bits and spit fly onto the overhead was like watching the Rebels doing bombing runs on the Death Star...okay it was exactly like that.

I made a friend in my psychology of gender class. I'm only writing this because I know he'll eventually end up reading this...right off the bat, I am going to readily admit that I wish I could grow facial hair like him. I keep telling myself that one day I will be a man. That "one day" has drifted further and further away, disappearing almost magically like a ship fading out of the horizon.

Oh, the joys of being Asian. If we really were ninjas, that would be cool, but we're not.

My new friend's name is Lee. He has a young un' named Bo. It's good to know that in an era of Mormondom where you get names like Beverlinda Smith, it's good to know that parents like Lee and his wife are still sticking with what works.

Which is why I wish I was Black...because the names I would come up with! I would give new meaning to the apostrophe: Le'Phon'James'Olo'Nay-Nay. This would be a girl's name.

I'm at about the 15 minute mark before class ends. No lie. I am very tempted to not go to my Race and Minorities class. It's pretty much the most ridiculous class on this so-called Univerisity's campus. I think the only thing I have to look forward to is an entirely enclosed building made from construction Lego blocks that will be warm throughout the summer. I love how people call certain sections "the LA building". The last time I checked, it was more like the "LA Wing" of the entire building that is UVU--ugh, I hate saying UVU...it just doesn't sound pleasing to the ear...and it sounds like a woman's private parts--true story.

In conjunction with that stretch jeans thing, there's this kid in my class (I have two classes with him) and he wears these cut-off t-shirts. I think they're even called an "A" type shirt because of the shape but I'm pretty sure "A" is for a-hole. In both classes, he thinks he is the shizniz...if he were Dr. Dre, he would run around talkin' about guns like he ain't got none. The shirt is just weird. The place where your arms protrude from features a slit that goes down to about under your ribs. Is it because he can't see his "massive muscles" if they are restricted to a sleeve? I don't know. Is it aerodynamic? Maybe. But why would you need aerodynamics when you are sitting down? And now Lee reminds me that it must be for air conditioning. He's got a point. I think the A-shirt dude wears a t-shirt to school one day and then cuts off the sleeves the next day so he can wear a new shirt to school the new day. It's kind of ingenious--but you know you don't see everyone all the time...I would just FeBreeze the shirt up. Maybe he's using the sleeve cut offs to make something...like a sleeveless shirt.

Heaven forbid...he's probably from SoCal. Like you know? Cause he's all like this and then he totally like did that and like it went like that like all the time.

I hang my head in shame at SoCal when we produce people like sleeveless guy.

Another point from Lee: the girl he is sitting next to is in a tank top...perchance he is trying to fit in with her. Their colors are matching but I don't think her tank top is homemade.

I can't get over how much I hate those shirts!

Those shirts for the armless!

I can't remember the last time I saw a superhero that left that much of his body unprotected...well, that's a lie cause what the Incredible Hulk, Colossus, Wolverine, the old TV disturbingly/questionably gay Robin, for sure even Mr. Fantastic had clothes that stretched with himself (and I've always wondered if he would be liberal with his stretching for certain parts of his body...that dirty Reed Richards).

Okay. Class is done.

Summer in 5 Pictures

2008-09-23T13:20:00.003-06:00

Janie my niece.

Thumb injury.

Old friends.

Reminders of then.

New friends who redefine everything you used to think.

The Block of Time Called Class (1:00pm - 2:15pm) and Billy Elliot as Today's In Class Movie With Play by Play Commentary by Yours Truly

2008-09-16T14:34:00.003-06:00

I'm still a fan of British cinematography despite my inability to understand what the people are actually saying which really has nothing to do with how good the film looks. I'm going to go ahead and blame my lack of comprehension on my welfare upbringing and bilingual saturation. Oh what the heck, I'm blaming it on Waking Ned Devine too.

In my Race and Minority Relations class, a sweet daughter of God made this comment that made me embarrassed for her and her beliefs: “I’ve met Asians who dye their hair lighter and wear blue contacts and that goes to show their oppression and support for the Aryan race.”

The class I’m sitting in right now is Gender Roles.

Yes, I’ve got quite the volatile semester.

But back to right now.

From the get go, I realized that the TA was incompetent because of her inability to use the media console. I can't be too mad at her because there was a moment when white snow static rumbled on screen. I don't think many people are this lucky to experience white snow static in high definition--it pierces the eyes like sand whipped up by the wind at the beach.

She finally got the movie going.

Premise.

Billy is a 10 – 12 years old kid who is trying to be a boxer but decides he wants to do ballet instead much to the chagrin of what I am assuming will come at the behest of the He-Man Woman Haters Club members of his family. It's like that one horrid show on Fox with that washed out hockey player who teams up with a figure skater to do pairs competitions only there's not so much skating involved and I understand and believe most of everything I see and hear on Fox.

Okay—recap.

So, we're watching this film in my Gender Roles class. The class so far has been a foray into wishful egalitarian thinking. My favorite part is the comments from newly married guys who seem to have taken on new personas of pro-feminist agendas because apparently marriage has provided them with enlightening ventures into the hardships of the female life. As far as I'm concerned, these guys have just started to learn that they too will do laundry, they too will cook, and they too will clean; so I sure don't buy this magical presentation of their new female friendly manhood.

Back to the movie.

The cinematography feels English. And I am totally making this assertion from watching the first 30 minutes of this movie and my obsession with Dear Frankie.

Ah, the awkward silence of being caught in the act of doing ballet by your coal mining father. The biting tension of "I want to do what I want to do" erupting into fatherly putting down of the metaphorical foot.

There...the movie isn't about dancing or coal miners on strike but some conglomeration of the Little Mermaid, Garden State, October Sky, Shaun of the Dead, and maybe a better film interpretation of Spider-Man--it's quite the thematic potpourri.

And I'd be a horrible liar if I didn't admit that the song Safety Dance hasn't been going through my mind the whole time. The question now is do the filmmakers give in to the conventional and throw in the song somewhere? Or do they slyly pass it off during the credits like at the end of Iron Man courtesy of Black Sabbath’s Iron Man? If this were a Rocky movie, I would feel more comfortable with the film being rife with training montage music that swells with fervor as the voices of an invisible choir chime in AND BAM! Eye of the Tiger!

And now the boxing turned ballet kid feels a little better because his friend is a cross dresser...

I have to hand it to the ballet instructor--she's the quintessential Mr. Miyagi of ballet.

Heart.

If this movie is about heart, there's something to say about good acting and the tried and tested Disney formula of absent parenting. In Lilo and Stitch we get the double whammy of the removal of both parents but it's Lilo's character that sells it with solemnity and passion. Here in Billy Elliot, the mom is dead and the lack of nurture is markedly noticeable. At least in Hot Fuzz the death of the mother was catalyst to the formation of a cult society that killed for their version of the greater good.

The English are pretty good with pre-pubescent angst. You haven't been slapped until you've been b-slapped by a red headed possibly middle age chain smoking Irish woman.

Is it human nature that makes us relate to those who live life with chaos all around them? Is this connection foil for our own lives? Are we examining the loss of innocence, comparative to our own? Maybe innocence is the wrong world. Perhaps the idea is that we are asked to make choices in life based on little if any direction. The choices we make don't seem as daunting when the scenes of this life are superimposed on white, with shadows overlapping by distance and perspective, interconnected and layered with purpose, the idea of many making the one.

The one...

Billy's older brother is a singular player.

He runs to escape the Fuzz and exits out of a stranger's house, sipping away at what could only be stereotypically placed as Irish coffee. He emerges and is faced with a No Man's Land separating him and the system, the man, the strike breaking arm of the law, the wall of police against the one.

Well, class is done for the day so I won’t know what finally happens until Thursday.

This concludes your daily broadcast of what I’m doing to pass the time in classes that are very, very, very boring that my death in any of these classes could be easily counted as voluntary slaughter by boredom.

Review: Freud’s Relevance For Contemporary Psychoanalytic Technique

2008-09-16T10:35:00.002-06:00

The professional psychological world has a vicious love-hate relationship with Sigmund Freud—one minute we revere him as the seminal father of modern psychology and the next minute we discredit him as a perverted crack user who wanted to sleep with his mom. Perhaps psychologists are nothing more than rowdy fair-weather fans who lend credence to what is acceptable in the here and now (like New York Yankee fans). However, that line of logic can only be described as Freudian. The truth is that people are not smitten with the fact that an indelible mark has been made on psychology that brings along with it all manners of stereotypes: leather sofas, talk therapy, German accents, etc. Despite the fact that critics are prone to debunk Freud’s sexual based theories (wouldn’t that make critics themselves the perverts?), contemporary psychology and psychoanalytic methods are rooted in Freud’s approach that Summers (2006) defines as hermeneuticistic.

Although seemingly revolutionary at the time, such an approach seems almost base in today’s perception of understanding psychosis. Psychoanalytic psychology as a logical, procedural, correlation leads directly to causation model is flawed. First, correlation does not necessarily mean causation which is a basic principle of psychology that has evolved into a war cry from aspiring freshman psychology majors. Secondly, psychoanalysis is very, very subjective. It is surprising to note that Freud was unsure himself about his own influence during his attempts to foster open-ended personal journeys of self discovery with clients (Summers, 2006).

Freud felt pressured by criticisms of psychology as a legitimate science as evident by his adherence to reductionistic methodology (Summers, 2006). However, discrediting such an approach to explain other phenomena is erroneous. When it comes to psychoanalysis, especially dream analyzing, reductionism falls shorts in explaining the significance of manifest content and latent content. The key behind the fallacy is again found in the subjective nature of dreams. With Freud in the role of Interpreter, dreams become augmented within his own perspective of infantile wish fulfillment (Summers, 2006). This framework increases the likelihood for themes and messages to be open for a variety of interpretations—essentially a dream about becoming king of Canada could be related to one’s inner support for the Canadian universal health care system, which could point to a hatred of the health care system in the United States, which points to anger or hate toward something; possibly the abuse of health care by citizens of the United States and illegal immigrants alike, which in the end is not really about health care reform but about the family dog that died and one’s deeper fear of becoming intimate with anyone else.

Although this scenario is easily exaggerated, it clearly demonstrates subjectivity in interpretation. However, there is relevance as Summers (2006) quips:

"If interpretation has not been found to achieve analytic goals as frequently as we desire, one wonders why interpretation continues to be part of analytic technique. The answer is simply this: It is the only way we have to access deeper layers of meaning" (p. 336).

Succinctly, Freud is still an unavoidable foundation as forerunner for a system to uncover and identify the origins of mental disorders as a means to formulate treatment. Consider that what is accepted to be the final and defining word as psychology is also highly subjective to time. Criticism of Freud therefore is based on outdated theories and information. In that same vein, we might soon find ourselves dismissing Philip G. Zimbardo (Freud the father of modern psychology, Zimbardo the spoiled nephew who has it coming) textbooks as the standard for mainstream education in psychology.

Works Cited

Summers, Frank. (2006). Freud’s relevance for contemporary psychoanalytic technique. Psychoanalytic Psychology, 23(2), 327-338.

Sept 11, 2001 - I Will Remember

2008-09-11T23:12:00.002-06:00

My senior year was quite the ordeal.

It was barely September and I already had a lot on my plate; some clandestine and even some down right crazy. I was the editor in chief of the high school paper, getting ready to secretly apply to BYU, putting together the plans for my running away from home to join the Church that would be put into action in December, I was dating, I was taking a stupid math class that would not let me graduate if I failed (no, not all Asians are good at math), and I was sneaking out to seminary--still...for the second year now.

I was leaving the stake center, much like how I begin most of my mornings after seminary, and took Halliburton down to Hacienda Blvd. Halliburton is quite the hill. My seminary friends and I would often race down the hill: them to their homes for breakfast and me to school for my zero period. Once I saw the remains of what looked like a thing with guts that was strewn across Halliburton and I deduced that 1) it was hit at a very high speed in order to spread that kind of carrion and 2) it might have been a dog--it was too hard to tell.

On this particular day, I was not racing anyone. I was just nonchalantly listening to the radio. I was tuned into a popular music station but they weren't playing any music. The announcers were talking about something big that had just happened. I couldn't figure out what they were talking about.

It's a pretty short commute from stake center to school so when I pulled into my parking spot that had my name on it (oh the joys of being a senior), I still hadn't picked up on anything unusual.

On the way to class, I stopped by Mr. Rockwood's room. He had been my honors English teacher when I was a sophomore and as a journalism advisor for the two subsequent years after that.

The door was open which is unusual because Mr. Rockwood would often read his scriptures in the morning before classes start. In the LDS world, Mr. Rockwood was actually a counselor in a stake presidency in a stake in the Chino Hills and Diamond Bar area. And he had been an unexpected source of guidance in my two year stint of trying to hide my religious desires. It was in my sophomore English class that I started keeping a journal. It was a stupid assignment, I thought at the time. However, certain circumstances happened and the gospel of Jesus Christ came into my life. The journal became something else entirely as I could write questions about doctrine or questions seeking advice knowing he would read the entry when he collected the journals to grade. For what it's worth, I've been keeping a journal since my sophomore year of high school.

But I digress.

I walked into the classroom and Mr. Rockwood was sitting on one of the tables, his attention fixed on the TV.

And that's when I saw the smoke billowing out of one of the towers. I don't recall if the other tower had been hit but I just stood in shock. I asked what was happening and I kind of wished I didn't. Mr. Rockwood calmly explained what was happening. My mind immediately raced to the idea that there were thousands and thousands of people still inside those buildings. I felt sick to my stomach and found myself eventually arriving at my math class.

I was late.

I was always late to math because seminary ends right when math starts but I had spoken with the teacher and she had made special arrangements to not count my tardies.

I told her to turn on the TV because the WTC had been hit by airplanes. She thought I was joking but I told her to do it.

The TV came to life and the shock and horror from my classmates washed over me like liquid dread.

By the time I came home from school that afternoon, I realized I was feeling pretty traumatized.

My heart literally hurt when I thought about the humanity that had perished.

The events of those day made me grow up a little more and I look back and realize how much the definition of America really became clear to me that day, that I could no longer use the word HERO the same way any more, and that somehow, I trusted that God had a plan.

Do any of you mind sharing where you were and what you were thinking when 9/11 happened?

Poem (or what I did when I took a break from studying)

2008-09-10T13:12:00.003-06:00

A Last Refrain For Summer

Autumn staggers in--
Out of place but welcomed
like a daydream

The air is cold,
night is colder--
and Summer exits stage right,
behind a curtain of rain
basking in peals of applause
and cheers
of encore

It is gone
In it's place--
Longing

Somber shadows fall
Clouds loom with menace
Summer is gone--
Reduced to memories
Pictures and side thoughts
Secrets--
Mosquito bites
Faint strums by professional Porch Guitarist
Freshly mowed lawns; sweet and aromatic
Easy smiles--
--easy laughter
Dry, arid heat--thin and dusty

Summer, now, sleeps in fond reverie
The earth shivers
Only for a minute's Time

Store of Books

2008-09-09T20:59:00.002-06:00

I get pretty tired of blue and black ink.

At least in pen form there's some variation because when it comes down to printer ink, you can't really turn in blue font homework--but oh how I have turned in many-a-papers in blue because I got a message from the printer that the black was low (sounds pretty racist to me too).

I'm also kind of neurotic when it comes to note taking.

I've got a system that involves two different colors of ink and I have expanded into a multiracial smorgasbord that Crayola could be b-slapped by.

Anyway, I went to find some more color prism spectrum appropriated pens.

And there she was walking between the fictional books which included some Greek mythology and hauntingly enough, a copy of the Red Badge of Courage that I was supposed to have read the summer before honors junior English in high school but I was not on the train of pre-start-of-school homework so I Cliffnote-d the crap out of that book AND something about Huckleberry Finn.

She was a former co-worker from the M^2 days and we referred to her breed of employee as the middle-aged moms that dealt with the other middle-aged moms but in some circles you could even call them customer support but mostly I called them the super moms because they had instant answers for taking care of sick idiots like me who didn't know what to do when sick with sickness.

At first I didn't even know if it was her or not but I called out her name and she turned around and there it was: the smile of comforting motherness I had come to love when days at work were just so dang annoying.

I gave her a big hug and as we broke off and her arms fell slowly to the side, I noticed that she didn't have her wedding ring on. It was a weird observation and I found myself taking note of how odd that it was something I had noticed.

But I already knew something was wrong before she even spoke.

She was getting divorced.

I started checking in to see how she was and in the most awkward situation ever on earth, I found myself giving someone else who was not only older than me but has a lifetime of experiences but there I was dealing out advice like drugs or Uno cards.

But I can't escape the fact that I was randomly there at the right time and in the right place and for some astrological reason I had some other worldly knowledge and comfort with which to comfort her with.

She cried.

I watched her cry.

And at the end of the conversation, I had lifted someone up who wasn't expecting to be lifted up.

And somewhere it kind of settled in my mind that I was doing what I was meant to do.

And somewhere tonight, a middle-aged mom might not be crying herself to sleep tonight.

I'm okay with that--and above anything else what I want to do and why I want to do what I want to do has become clearer and spacious--exactly like the view I get from my new vantage study point in the library.

Big Shoes

2008-08-12T23:00:00.002-06:00

I've been trying to understand God as of late and I find that I am still fumbling towards this sense of unknown. It's not so much a negative feeling but it sure has the intonations of such because I am one of those people that likes to be able to conceptualize the world around me. It's an annoying habit that I have but at least this one doesn't involve an incurable addiction to bacon.

I'm just not sure how to take all these complex emotions and sift something out that I feel like I need to be walking away with here... and... when I don't feel like I'm walking away with something, it sure feels like I'm doing something wrong. If anything else, it feels like a foggy grogginess.

I have been standing still and I see my life whip around me, gusting and blurry.

WTF

2008-08-07T00:44:00.001-06:00

I was told today that I was white-washed for my opinions about Hawaiians and that I was narrow-minded and lacked the depth to understand the plight of the Hawaiians let alone what it is like to be essentially a minority.

Raised Eyebrow(s)

2008-08-06T09:30:00.004-06:00

I'm a fan of how unexpected good things can happen out of their unexpected nowhere.

I've got today and Friday and I will be done with 2nd block. I've got a nice break until the 27th and I have decided to hibernate (yeah...it's summer...) until school starts again. I have been feeling kind of burned out which has made me increasingly angry at the fact that I feel burned out--I don't have time to be burned out!

I always thought I would have most of everything figured out by the time I was this involved with education focused towards a potential career but alas, that thought has been a filthy lie conjured up by my subconscious to wreak havoc in my life.

It's unfair. I need a new subconscious.

As much as psychology is one of those unemployable majors, I've been narrowing what I want to do with my life in terms of how much more school I want to do... Maybe this isn't the exact way to do it but hey, it's valid because of the aforementioned burned out feeling.

It breaks down into a master's and anything past a master's. I figure that if I don't actually refer to "anything past a master's" in terms of actual nouns that the whole situation will become a little less daunting.

I was a little disturbed by a conversation that I deliberately eavesdropped on yesterday afternoon. There was this ethnic Hawaiian guidance counselor talking to two new ethnic Hawaiian students. My ears burned because of my sordid love affair with cultures, racism, biculturalism, cross generational conflicts, discrimination, prejudice--you know, things of skin pigment importance.

Well, this lady was ranting about the "current state" of BYU-Hawaii. Her angry comments were directed towards the supposedly new difficulty of getting into BYU-Hawaii. She broke down the demographics and seemed to be very agitated at the low numbers of native Hawaiians. She claims the new president of the school needs to be mutinied because he is changing what BYU-Hawaii is "all about". Besides, she explains, her grandfather helped build the school and is rolling over in his tropical grave at such exclusion.

I have already been exposed to Hawaiian discrimination as I have a friend who attended the Kamehameha Schools which gives explicit preference for those of Hawaiian ancestry.

So, I was a little agitated when I heard this lady go off about how BYU-Hawaii does not stand for what it used to because there aren't enough Hawaiians attending (she also tried to rope the two students she was talking to join the Hawaiian dance team which as she stated, was different from BYU's Living Legends which combines cultures, the Hawaiian dance team is exclusively for Hawaiians).

Truthfully, I don't know where to begin to want to send a roundhouse kick. I agree that cultural identity and preservation is important but this lady was in a position of guidance and she was off her rocker. Her idea of heritage as THE determining factor seemed awfully ... I'm gonna go ahead and say it ... Nazi-like. She spoke of her people as superior, that they had inalienable rights to go to BYU-Hawaii because it's "our school". Frankly, I am dismayed and shocked. This is the problem of having outlying states: they come up with their own crazy ideas about how to do things and therefore need to be annexed or STAMPED out by Pro-American Patriots. She felt like she was owed something. Additionally (this is the kicker), she felt like BYU-Hawaii should let Hawaiians in regardless of their academic performance.

This is where I became a judgmental rock/stone thrower.

This college guidance counselor was advocating that an educational institution should be more lenient with admissions based solely on heritage. Her example was that the temple president's kids can't get into BYU-Hawaii because their ACT scores are too low. First of all, BYU-Hawaii is a university. It's not open enrollment. It's academically biased as ALL RESPECTABLE SCHOOLS IN THE WORLD ARE!!! Just because you're Hawaiian doesn't mean you should be allowed into BYU-Hawaii because you put the Hawaii in BYU-Hawaii.

Face it, BYU-Hawaii is making a big change in becoming a reputable institution and is going to require screening based on academics. BYU-Hawaii is not Hawaii's school nor does it belong to the Hawaiians. It's an LDS Church sponsored institution. Funding for the school as well as any other BYU incarnation is paid by tithes and donations of Church members--not just Hawaiian Church members.

I'm seriously so annoyed I don't even know if my thoughts are coherent.

I just want to say that the fact that this lady is this frantic (she mentioned organizing opposition to remove the University's president) undermines any legitimacy that BYU-Hawaii is trying to achieve as a respectable academic institution of higher learning. I don't have any problems with Hawaiians (besides the whole Pele rock thing) but if you want to get a good education at a respected university, y'all are the ones who need to change your standards NOT the University.

Aloha that.

The Week That Was

2008-08-04T22:50:00.002-06:00

I'm gonna go ahead and say that today was all kinds of good.

I think I have a fair chance at getting all A's this last summer block. I haven't worked this hard in school for a long time and by long time I mean ever...

I've also printed out HUNDREDS of pages of research...and I've actually read some of it!

It's been all kinds of redeeming.

Hard work. It's such a biotch.

But then you come home today and there's a half tuition scholarship waiting for you in the mailbox!

Inbox

2008-07-31T23:59:00.002-06:00

how's shark week coming? want to go to the caribbean with me?
Hey bud would you like to meet with bishop tonight
How'd the presentation go?
U done with school 4 the day?
K. So what was controversial? Did the prof have an issue with it?
Hey bud interviews are at building 2 room 310 because there as a big water leak in the other office
Come play volleyball at the court by the club house! If you want to, that is...
I know, but come anyway! :)
we heard the heartbeat of the baby today at the doctor and S---e will be due sometime around feb 9
U at home? Id like to stop by and get my ds sometime :-)
Watchin a movie. What do ya need?
Anytime!
Nah, there's a few people over here.
I do what I can :)
Well, I'm glad I can help out.
Greetings from Fairbanks!
Grr, i think the interview went poorly
Hey are you the among living?
Lata. Need to eat and get to work finding a piece of crap job. Time to admit defeat
No, i need to go on campus to focus
Where are we going to eat?
What is that?
No..
Alright.

Outbox

2008-07-31T23:51:00.002-06:00

Wish i could
Controversial
Yeh class let out early. im waiting for the bus
Long story to be had in real life
On the bus home btw
Sure but u know how much i hate sand!
Ok im here
Sand vb at branbury
Remember Gama? He hit this kid so hard on Saturday that the kid almost passed out!
Bishop interview
Hey u occupied?
Nothing. I just wanted to thank u for thinking of me and inviting me today
U watching by yourself?
Just wanted to thank u for all u do. I told bishop today that when ur smiling the world is a better place. I am happy for the experience waiting 4 u on sunday.
Just so u know, its a lot to me
Want to come vent?
Yea
Use internet here? I sent u a job referral
Sleepland?
In my dreams. Have you been to bajio?
Its mexican
Come awaken me

My Brain Feels Like Ouch -- and a Short Essay

2008-07-26T01:15:00.003-06:00

Apparently there wasn't any school today.

Having missed a couple of classes that rounds up to almost two weeks, I was uninformed. Funny, I recall emailing my professors about the sickness based lack of attendance--you think they could have at least emailed back to tell me there wasn't any class today but I am pushing the envelope on customer service.

Hold your applause...I stayed on campus from 9am - 3pm to catch up on reading for quizzes and research. When I say "research", it makes me feel like I'm actually doing something productive but in all seriousness, I have hundreds of pages of PDF ranging on topics from illegal immigration to cognitive dissonance to acculturation with second generation Vietnamese immigrants. The stack of paper is reaffirming...mostly because I didn't pay for printing because of access I have to a certain computer lab for cool kids.

My studies over the last 2 blocks of school have made me very interested in racism/prejudice. I'm advocating for some change and I think my continuing research will focus on long term solutions. I've also been reading up on acculturation and the conflict it brings in the family which sometimes manifests itself in problems in society. Studies about identity, assimilation, biculturalism, cross-generational conflict, etc. are really starting to interest me.

I find it interesting that when you drop all the frills of race, religion, culture, ethnicity, that these problems are merely identity centric--who am I, how do I fit in, where do I fit in, what defines who I am?

Good stuff.

PELE (NOT THE SOCCER GOD BUT THE HAWAIIAN ONE) & ALASKA

I was in second grade when I learned of Pele the Hawaiian volcano goddess of molten fury, creator of all that is Hawaii island goodness. They say that if you removed rocks from the island and take them home, nothing but bad luck will accompany you until you return the rock back to the island chain.

Apparently there is a curse attached to stealing from the island which is really stealing from Pele. Frankly, I think she's a greedy little biotch. Yes, I understand that island land masses don't just form overnight, and that lots of millennia are involved so every rock really does count, but I am living in the immediate gratification age--I don't have time to wait around for continents like Australia to form.

Seriously though, Hawaii is not having a rock shortage crisis.

If anything, Pele should be pretty dang proud that people are taking home chunks of rock as souvenirs. I, personally, would forgo the rocks and be packing back coconut bras with matching grass miniskirts (not for me...for a friend...). It's just that when I think of Hawaiian souvenirs I think of that plastic hula girl playing the ukulele that bounces around on the dash of the car. Rocks just don't jump out at me as a tourist attraction that leads to impulsive theft.

And you know, Pele can't be having that much of a hangup on her rocks because what about the sand that gets caught in your bellybutton when you go swimming in the ocean? Does she only have a monopoly on rocks but not sand aka minuscule rocks? Sounds like a double standard and I don't respect goddesses who roll like that.

I'm thinking a starfish would be a nice souvenir too.

Admittedly, my hometown is only an hour and a half from the beach which offers the same starfishes, rocks, sands, and Pacific Ocean as does Hawaii. It's the same water so if you've seen it here, you've seen it there. Save yourself the trip! Also, remember how Pele doesn't share rocks?

This might make me sound like I believe California to be bigger than it is but it is. California is America but I have lived in other states that have claimed the same distinction: Utah, Texas, and Alaska (vicariously through a 5th grade report).

Logistically speaking, there was not enough students to cover all the States so how did Mrs. Reams pick which States would be reported on? Was she a stark raving Democrat who picked only the Blue States or the same stark raving Democrat who intentionally picked only the Red States to reassure herself that the information her kids would glean would be easily dismissed as frivolous in the sense that nothing good comes from the Red States?

It's too hard to tell--she was from Massachusetts.

Facts I do remember about the situation is that Alaska's state flower is the Forget-Me-Not and to that I must say: COME ON NOW, ALASKA! Are you crying for attention? Are you that afraid of being left out of the fun that is the contiguous United States!?

Well, I am a believer of solutions and options and although I mention solutions and options in the plural sense, there are only two courses of action: Alaska can annex itself OR start carrying its weight as a United State by conquering Canada to MAKE ITSELF contiguous.

When I think about how Alaska has failed me as a valid state of the Union, I am filled with compassion for Pele. Perhaps what she has been trying to do this whole time was to bridge the gap to California via volcanic expansion to be truly a part of the Union in a way Alaska could never be.

If this is the case, every rock counts. No wonder she's pissed.

Stop stealing her rocks!

Junior High, the Color Blue, and Timpanis

2008-07-22T01:02:00.004-06:00

I was pretty sure 68 wpm is fast...or so I thought. My resume wouldn't be that fallacious if I rounded it up to 70 wpm. If I can make janitorial work sound like I invented the cure for cancer, I don't think anyone would mind that I rounded up. Besides, it's a fundamental math law that has been precedent since junior high.

But either way 70 wpm isn't fast...it's quick like a mongoose mixed with a meer cat but it's not exceptional. It's still freakishly fast though and I blame it on my 7th grade teacher. I had signed up for journalism which was secretly not newspapering but the cover for yearbook and before I knew what happened, I had sold my soul to Satan...and the yearbook. The deal seemed dirty and under the table like a dirty deal under the table and very covert like a so-called fixed 0% APR that is tacked on in sized 5 point font in credit card deals.

My job as slave laborer of yearbook was to type up every single student's name and I quickly came to the understanding that someone picking up that Spartan '97 yearbook could easily deduce that we were a junior high based out of Tampico, Mexico. If memory serves me right, there was about 7 million people in my school and they got the best damn typed yearbook directory in the world--I say this without any reservation. This is because we spent the whole year on the book and released a 2 paged newsletter at the end of the year.

The only thing keeping me calm now is the fact that I've accepted that Mrs. Holtz, the "journalism" teacher, sold out to Jostens (aka Satan [see aforementioned Satan reference above]).

In California, 8th grade graduation happens to be a big deal but come to think of it, so was graduation from kindergarten. My point is that Josens starts the raping and pillaging of wallets early. Graduation is synonymous with Jostens which is a proper noun under the qualification of thing.

Fact: by the time I graduated from high school, I had worn three different commencement gowns in the tune of royal blue, olive green, and royal blue again. Truth be told, I only owned the last gown because I was poor and could only afford the Jostens' high school graduation packet which came with a yearbook (easily the bane of my life), a senior portrait sitting, class ring, class key chain, official diploma by Jostens, official water bottle by Jostens (with each refill costing me money paid in royalties to Jostens), and finally, a Jostens tattoo on my lower back.

Junior high wasn't all that bad though because I met my first Jewish person and also the only person I've met to this day named Nehemiah (the "h" is silent). My math teacher was Jewish. I am still vague on Jewish stereotypes concerning numbers, taxes, banks, yamikahs, and Adam Sandler. However, perceptions about Bic pens, hot urine, and music teachers did become a lot clearer.

One day during home period which is essentially the school's base of operations, I found myself involved in reading for the mandatory 30 minutes. And by "reading", I mean I was playing with my blue Bic pen. I am in support that the color is worth noting because not only is it relevant, but also because I am sure of the color's affect on the flavor.

Yes.

Flavor.

Being bored with reading as I am naturally, I started to suck on my pen cap. The pen cap was still attached to the pen--this is important to this retelling. All of a sudden, it was like soda zipping through a straw and my mouth was filled with blue ink that tasted like burning Ralph Wiggum purple berry style.

Rain. After waiting for my parents for my ride home for quite some time, I figured they had forgotten they had another son. The conditions were bleak and survival was not to be expected because of the light rain that was falling but in California, light rain equates to sub zero temperatures with wind chills that can freeze your eyelids shut...also I think snow drifts were involved because when I finally got home, frostbite must have set in because when I went to pee, it burned like it was boiling on the way out into the toilet. This toilet was also scene to my crime of flushing down a piece of bologna which incidentally wielded the power to clog drains in the ENTIRE house. It probably wasn't a knock off brand...it must have been name brand Oscar Meyer bologna. This particular bathroom was also home to my attempt to take out a roach with Edge shaving gel--the kind that turns into foam when you lather it up (the roach escaped unscathed at a time when I had yet to learn about the roach's mutant power to withstand nuclear holocaust).

This period of two junior high years gave me the impression that I could learn to play the guitar. I am adamant that junior high has some sort of power to make any kind of future naively attainable. It is directly connected to the banishment of the milk carton.

In an effort to reduce paper waste, the school district had now approved the use of these plastic pouches. It was the size of that little pillow thing that you stick pins into when not in use. I look back now and do admit that I didn't have a much fun with the plastic pin cushion as I should have...but it wasn't about fun remember?

It was about innovation, inspiration, and the guitar.

Mr. Miercov, the music teacher, was in charge of band and choir. He was definitely the cool teacher. I often ate lunches with my friends in the music room. Afterwards, I would play with the xylophone. Over a period of time, I graduated to the timpani. Soon, I decided to play instruments I actually owned. I finally worked up the courage to talk to the coolest teacher at Sparks Junior High. I told him about a guitar I owned (vicariously and coincidentally also owned by my dad) that I wanted to learn how to play but I didn't even know where to go to buy guitar picks. I gave him some change and asked if he could buy them for me because he frequented the music stores. He said that he would and gave me an encouraging smile. If he were to say right then and there that I could be an astronaut on top of a guitarist, I would have immediately called NASA.

When I returned the next day, he had two bonafide Fender picks waiting for me. One was a soft powder blue and the other one was gray like the color of the Nintendo that I had at home.

The passing of the picks into my hand was marked by imaginary trumpeting John Williams music to commemorate the sacred ceremony that bore nothing but stark similarities to Greek god Promethesus giving fire to mankind. Maybe a lot like Prometheus who Zeus (king of the Greek gods who's name is not pronounced Zee-us like Jesus like some people might have thought for a long, long, long time...) had chained to a rock where eagles would come every day to eat out his liver with flava beans and a bottle of Chantel. Zeus was a glutton for punishment for other people because Promethesus' liver would grow back overnight on account of his god status which meant more pain and eagles for the next day.

But that's kind of beyond the point.

Kind of.

These picks represented an adult who believed in me who also happened to not be Mr. Rogers. Herein was the magic of junior high: the idea and the devotion to the idea that you could do whatever you dreamed and here were the people like Mr. Miercov who stood by and supported such fanciful aspirations of grandeur.

Five years later, eagles came for his liver--I found out that he had a nervous breakdown that cost him his job, marriage, and kids.

Alone

2008-07-21T01:17:00.002-06:00

I can definitely see how life can bear proof of how alone we are in life but it is not a fact that I am willing to accept.

I had a conversation with a good friend who is craving for a personal relationship with God. He feels alone, abandoned, and marginalized by a God who supposedly claims love for his children. He feels betrayed by the God he worships that is seemingly MIA in his life.

I know how he feels. Fortunately, and unfortunately, I can empathized.

It is easy to cite the unavailability of God but I am under the impression that he is more there than we give him credit for...as human beings, we have a tendency to expect answers in other forms outside of what is common for the Lord.

"For ye shall not go out with haste nor go by flight; for the Lord will go before you, and the God of Israel shall be your rearward" (3 Nephi 20:42).

Easy to say but difficult to fathom but there is strength in having an open heart to understand the workings of God in our lives through others or through life itself.

List of God Related Things From Just Today

#1 - A friend of mine willingly offered to drive down to St. George so that we could attend our mutual friend's farewell.

#2 - I wanted to break the sabbath by going out to buy stuff which might seem innocuous or even meh but my friend said that he would drive but would not be purchasing. He didn't say it with a mightier than thou attitude or a self-righteous up turned nose. He just spoke simply and I ended up not breaking the sabbath.

#3 - My friend's talk in church was full of tears... and no, they were not silly, girly tears, but they were tears of humility and desire to serve God.

#4 - My friend's dad prayed specifically for our safe journey home when he blessed the food.

#5 - My friend's mom reminded us that we could always come down for a meal whenever we wanted.

#6 - A thunderstorm left the rolling desert hills wet with a haze of smoky condensation that came alive when sunlight peeked through the clouds.

#7 - We arrived home safely.

#8 - Playing video games alerted passersby who stopped in and played with us in my apartment
which alerted me to the fact that these people would not have come in if they did not feel comfortable around us.

#9 - The last scripture I highlighted a few days ago was specific to the main conversation tonight.

#10 - I am alive and aware of God's love.

One Day or Count to Five

2008-07-16T23:18:00.002-06:00

I'm an emotional guy that doesn't cry.

I know that sounds weird and obtuse like saying I like George Lucas.

It still remains a fact nevertheless and I have found myself trying to understand the emotions of the people in the BOM when Christ comes to visit. I'm interested in the social psychology during that period of time. It must have been surreal--even for those who were skeptics because right there in reality was Jesus and if that wasn't proof enough, He invited those in attendance to feel the prints in His hands.

There is also a lot of mention about how the people are unable to transcribe the ongoings while Christ is in the Americas, "Nevertheless, so great and marvelous were the words which he prayed that they cannot be written, neither can they be uttered by man" (3 Nephi 19:34). This fits in the literal sense in that perhaps they were forbidden to record the happenings because of the sacred nature of what was transpiring. I am under the impression that perhaps it was because they also could not comprehend the things that were being spoken. I don't mean that Christ was speaking in a different language but I mean that perhaps Christ's words were so pure and full of love and mercy that the people could not describe it, they did not have the vocabulary or the capacity to put into words what Christ was saying. Their language failed to give them the tools to translate into human words the prayers of the Lord...their mortal language failed them.

This inability to describe in words is perhaps a greater thing than I've realized. In an attempt to conceptualize, we are left with nothing except the fact that what was being said, in this case Jesus Christ's prayer to Heavenly Father, included grandeur and purpose that is beyond comprehension. Paul said, "Eye hath not seen, no ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him" (1 Corinthians 2:9).

The love of God has been explained to us, we have examples in the scriptures, we have the words of the prophets, but still, we cannot wrap our limited minds around the love of God...and that is a good thing nestled in a kind of ambiguity that leaves me feeling empowered by an indescribable love, an unfathomable sacrifice, and an ever complex compassion. At the end of the day, it is enough for me to hold on by faith to something as simple as the fact that, "I know that he loveth his children; nevertheless, I do not know the meaning of all things" (1 Nephi 11:17).

It is indeed this faith that I find myself reflecting on. I don't know why life gets tough. I don't understand why bad things happen to good people. But I do know that we are loved and that our eventual return is being counted on with a godly anticipation that we cannot possibly describe.

So, life has gotten a bit tough. More tougherer. I've got two options: give myself a day to wallow in it or count to five and move on. I'm more or less wallowing.

But everything is going to be okay. I don't have the specifics but I have the general idea and that is leaps and bounds.

The Time When It Counts The Most

2008-07-15T23:16:00.002-06:00

Incessant; the weight has been incessant.

And almost embarrassingly, I have not shouldered up to the occasion. I haven't done anything stupid as of late but I sure feel like I have.

Yet, I fight on because at the end of the day, all I've got to go on is faith.

Sometimes that is enough, but sometimes, I need a little bit more but I don't know where to find that extra boost.

Maybe the key is attitude...or maybe it's polarization of negativity (which is my fancy way of saying positivity)?

I woke up this morning with the intent to get started on my presentation. After recording at least 2 hours of Wii time, I started to get some notes down. Eventually dinner time came about which culminated in a group excursion to Chuckarama--say what you want about buffets but you're wrong...they are the fount of goodness and efficiency. How many times have blood been shed amongst friends and neighbors when the decision concerning where to go eat could not be made? Buffets are the answer in their smorgasbord glory.

The return home featured a run in with Greg which is always all kinds of raised eyebrowed fun.

And here I am now: four stenograph sheets of paper on which notes have been illegibly scrawled in front of me, eyes tired and bloodshot, fingers dancing across the keyboard (step pivot turn turn pivot step NOT turn pivot step step pivot turn!) with furious strikes at the backspace key as the hour at hand renders me unable to spell, and not surprisingly, I am also fighting a need for some kind of chocolate thing (bar or liquid is fine).

But the presentation...it does not leave me be.

It lags along at my heel like a diseased puppy.

Lists

#1 - How hard is it to refill the ice cube tray with water after you've gotten the ice out? Maybe I shouldn't make mention because before, the trays were just left on the counter and hence no ice for no one.

#2 - I am getting excited for Dark Knight. It's like Heath Ledger's Mr. Holland's Opus Opus.

#3 - I have now looked at the GRE book in my bookshelf a total of 5 times.

The Plan

2008-07-14T21:09:00.002-06:00

I had some free time today so I decided to map out my graduation plan...yet again. The plan has been compromised by the introduction of a little thing called panic...you know, like in that Coldplay song "Don't Panic."

Today is Monday and I am under the impression that even my yawns are Monday yawns. This has been one of the few times in recent weeks that I've been this exhausted. I did, however, manage to force my lazy arse onto the bus in time so that I could study and prepare for the quiz in my adolescent development class.

I also managed to track down yogurt. It's been quite the discovery. I usually buy my sugar in the morning in Mike & Ike form in this little food stand area. Once, there was yogurt there! However, subsequent trips have yielded a lack of yogurt. To this end, I discovered a food court above the court that I thought was the food court. I'm pretty excited. I think I'm gonna be having some good breakfast and adding some veggies and fruits back into my diet. I think I'm done with my fat-et.

Or at least I think some fruit would be nice.

Touch and Go

2008-07-11T12:28:00.002-06:00

Surprise.

The difficulty of life difficulties has reached a plateau again but with the difference that I wallowed for about 30 minutes...okay, maybe more than that.

It's an interesting feeling because I am very aware of the constant tangible weight that is pushing down on me as it has alerted me to the fact that the heat has been turned up a notch. I think it would be easier if it wasn't noticeable...but if it wasn't noticeable it wouldn't have reason to be...conundrum.

Mostly that was crazy talk.

My abnormal psych class was canceled today so I have stranded myself on campus so that I can work on my PowerPoint presentation for next Wednesday. It's been quite the labor of love because it's tedious but also has brought up interesting topics that I am developing a taste for like how I used to hate Mike and Ikes but now I can't go a day without having them. According to the DSM-IV-TR, this is substance dependency.

I'm going to outline my presentation on here so that I can have a better idea about how I want this thing to flow.

I would like to start by providing a review of the terminology associated with my topic. I will present ideologies and explanations about interdependence and collectivism-common (but not generalized) threads of similarities. I find that focusing my presentation on Vietnamese immigrants in America will allow me to make solid claims and provide evidence that can be interpreted as a whole for the Vietnamese-American population.

A brief background of Vietnam will be provided and I will touch on "the War in Vietnam...there's only one thing I can say about the War in Vietnam", immigration waves, first generational experience, and segue to my main body of people I am going to concentrate on which are the second generational Vietnamese-Americans.

In order to properly describe the generational conflicts, I will also be discussing cultural norms, gender roles, and expectations specific to the culture.

I will then move on to my meatier part of the presentation: "Hyphenated America". In this section, I will discuss the clash between culture that is consistent among the second generational Vietnamese-American population. I will present ideas and examples concerning: dating, education, honor, respect, marriage, etc.

I will then present a resolution...which is still in the works because I'm not sure myself if there is a resolution yet.

These past few months spent entrenched in research about minorities problems on every level has led me to a pessimistic conclusion: there's no easy answer to racism in America. I was talking to a friend the other day who is a sociology major and she asked in almost bewilderment if there were still problems with racism in America. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and he is white and his naughty list is filled with minorities...especially the job stealing illegal kind.

There's so many facets to racism which makes progress in egalitarian beliefs hard to achieve...but really, this is all in my back burner part of the brain as something I would like to research and contribute to change the problem.

You read this blog and you might be led to believe that I know what I want to do with my life but that is a filthy, odious lie...I only seem like I know what I'm doing in blog form.

List

#1 - Maughan is coming down to visit for the first time since forever. I sure miss that kid. If you were to objectively claim that all social interactions (making friends, dating, getting married, etc.) are part of God's grand scheme, yes, if you were part of that persuasion, would you try to continue to keep friendships lasting despite the differing courses of life paths? Or was it only for then, that time, and now it's over and demoted to a fleeting thought of a fun moment of time encased in specific periods of time?

#2 - Shark Week (arguably the best week of the year) is coming up on July 27.

#3 - I have the cutest nieces in the world and if you argue with me, I will kill you ninja style (this includes ninja stars and Batman's sweet arm-blade).

#4 - We watched a documentary on the Amish's Rumspringa, the period of time when Amish youth are allowed to go out into the world to experience and by experience, I mean most of the kids went and got high, drunk, or involved in bow-chick-a-wow-wow. Dressing in what we call normal clothes is called dressing "English" but the girls who are involved with Rumspringa do not dress "English." No lie--it's all kind of interesting to see what is surely a calmer type of Girls Gone Wild: Barn Raising is for Suckas. I see a lot of similarities between LDS culture and even my own culture. Plus they all grow beards but it's not like ZZ Top or Hasdic Jew style...the beards are long but they seem to be well-groomed.

#5 - I heard the best analogy the other day concerning life and mistakes in life...if you imagine the process like a car trip, the breaking down of the car does not mean you have to start over from the beginning. You fix your car and you continue from where you left off. It was pretty much the best example I've heard lately. Factors to consider about the metaphorical car: are concepts like space-time continuum thrown out the window if the car hits 88 mph, is it possessed by evil spirits like in Knight Rider, and is it environment friendly as in does it recycle plastics and paper and volunteers with the EPA?

An Email in the Morning

2008-07-10T10:53:00.002-06:00

Dear *****,

It was all kinds of good to hear that you are doing well.

Go easy on the members...sometimes I want to drop-kick some of them, but I don't because I'm not a ninja...okay, so I am a ninja but you can't tell anyone.

It's funny to me that as missionaries or just regular old members that the act of bringing non-members to church becomes this all out HOPE and PRAYER that brother and sister so and so don't offend the non-members. It's sad that we even have to worry about that, but that's how it is...

I had a weird dream last night...for some reason, I was at a ward building that was familiar to me but I have never been to in real life...in fact, this ward building that I have never been to has shown up whenever I have had dreams about going to church. Anyway, we were getting ready for the sacrament and this new member brought two of his friends to church that day and asked if he could say some words to the congregation before the blessing of the sacrament. He then starts to go off in some weird Catholic/Baptist mumbo jumbo about the Eucharist and has his two friends touching the sacrament. Essentially, he was trying to bless the sacrament. Then, out of nowhere one of the members stood up (he must have been in his late 50s) and very loudly said, "STOP RIGHT NOW. YOU DO NOT HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO DO THAT! THEY HAVE THE AUTHORITY ! THEY CAN!" And he turns and points out of the window to the Elders who are arriving a little bit late for church. The weirdest thing was that this dream was all in Vietnamese which doesn't happen much (ever) even though it is a natural second language to me. How's that for some spiritual badness? The room where sacrament is held in my dream ward building is located in a smaller Relief Society room that I stumble upon when I leave my current class to go get a drink of water...I always end up getting lost and I always stumble into this room where the members (who I don't recognize but they seem to know me) start chatting with me in Vietnamese. Interpretations?

What do you do during the day now that you are home? I remember being BORED out of my mind while I was healing from the surgery because I was not released and therefore was committed to continually dress like a missionary and keep my mission rules. I even got to the point that I opened up the Ogden phonebook to look for Vietnamese people I could contact. I would also go on errands with my friend's mom. It was already weird to be staying in my friend's room while he was on his mission but going out in public with his mom must have been a sight...an Asian kid dressed up as a missionary with a name tag that was impossible to pronounce going around for groceries with a middle aged Caucasian woman.

Looking back, I'm glad I had someone around though. I've always had this irrational fear that Satan would come for my soul and I wouldn't be able to repel him so I always felt safer when my companion was nearby on the mission. Being home in Ogden was a bit scary as I slept downstairs and my friend's parents slept upstairs. Even when I finished the mission it took some time to get used to...I didn't get released the night I got home because I had hit some delays before getting to California so I wasn't released til the next evening. That morning, my mom and I went to the grocery store and since I was still a missionary, I dressed up in my proselyting clothes and went with her. I remember walking down an aisle and realizing that my mom was not next to me--I'm embarrassed to say that I nearly panicked.

Oh, before I forget, I wanted to tell you to continue to seek after spiritual experiences while you are home. For me, back in mission times and right now, things that don't go my way sure feel like setbacks but I've had to painstakingly build the mentality and humility to understand that these were not setbacks but different conditions in which I could still find that God was there; does that make sense?

No lie here...it would be way awesome if you came up for the semester...well more selfishly than not, for me, it would be fun to have you around again but this isn't about fun or about me so ignore this paragraph.

After the *************** with the subsequent ******** from BYU, I rationalized that I would find a job full-time and wait for the year to pass and then reapply to BYU. I then remembered that I didn't come to UT to work but to go to school so I enrolled in UVSC. I'm glad I made the choice because it keeps me busy and the time and effort I put in makes everything very enjoyable. Most of all, however, I'm glad I didn't decide to go back home to CA. My support group is here but it's different for everyone. Some people still have lots of close friends from high school and such but for me, that kind of all went away when I joined the Church. I love my family dearly. They have come to mean so much to me as of the last year and as much as it kind of painful to say (especially for my mom), I prefer my apt here in Provo because it is home...this is where I am safe...this is where my support group is...this is where I can heal. Just remember that. Wherever you decide to go to wait it out, make sure that there is a support group of good people...from what it sounds like from you and your little brother, Michael, it seems that your family provides not only support but that sense of home that everyone needs to have fulfilled in their lives.

Holy crap! That sounded a little too wise for me to be saying...

Well, it's my day off from school but I still have homework. I just wanted to make sure I wrote you this morning because you were on my mind after I prayed last night. Here's the last two verses I read and marked before I went to bed: "But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself" (3 Nephi 13:33-34).

I continue to hope and pray for your welfare.

As always, please let me know if you need anything.

Give me a call sometime.

Love from your Asian brother,
Mike "We can use the flaming arrows now!" Nguyen

P.S. I have a question for you...in Ether 12:27, Ether presents a paradox: the closer we come to Christ, the more weaknesses or flaws He will make apparent...initially, it sounds like a horrible deal because why would you want to have more of your imperfections and such pointed out? In my personal life, the question is sometimes phrased like this: why did you bring the gospel into my life when it was still going to be this hard...wouldn't it have been better if I just remained in ignorance and get taken care of in the Millennium...you say to come unto you, especially those who are heavily burdened, but how can you make such an invitation if coming unto you will just mean more weights and burdens?

Well, for two reasons.

Christ gives us weaknesses because we need weaknesses to come back to Heavenly Father. Okay, that still sounds unfair but weaknesses and overcoming weaknesses are essential as Paul explains in 2 Cor 12:9-11. He begins by quoting a comment from Christ, "My grace is sufficient for thee..." He then continues to expound on that little piece of doctrine saying in an almost if-then statement--if Christ's grace is sufficient for me, then what?--the following, "For my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore, I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong. I am become a fool in glorying..."

First impression: Paul is a glutton for punishment. He is a teacher's pet who brings a Washington Red apple to school everyday for his teacher and that teacher is made up of parts trials, parts Paul's weaknesses (both known or not known but soon to be known), parts temptations, and triple parts adversity--her voice is also very wheezy when she teaches and she often spits onto the overhead projector when she puts equations on the transparencies during math so in the spirit of math, you often tally up the number of spit particles that hit the projection surface.

I digress...I actually have a point and that is Paul's attitude is reflective of the testimony he has in Christ. He doesn't flinch when he draws closer to Him because he knows that to be perfected, his personal imperfections will have to be brought out by Christ besides, how do you perfect the someone who is already perfect? If we are perfect, it means we don't need the atonement. So, we are imperfect...hopelessly so?

No, not so.

Paul doesn't wallow because at the same time, he also believes strongly in Christ's promise that His grace is sufficient, that the weak things will indeed become strong. Paul understands the paradox that as he draws closer to Christ, Christ will in turn draw closer to him. And therein the way is prepared as Christ is there to help, love, and support when we are exposed to our weaknesses.

So...where is the question?

I have often conceptualized Ether 12:27 rather erroneously as I think about weak things becoming strong like someone who doesn't have a testimony of tithing but puts the idea to test and receives a confirmation of the law of tithing...and then he goes around in his life and in stake-circuits to give talks about tithing.

While the scenario I have presented could actually happen, it is rooted in spiritual trials. People who are substance abusers or dependent on substance can also turn weakness into strength. However, what about the weaknesses that are overwhelmingly crippling at times like mental health issues including depression and anxiety? How can we make that into a strength? Is it even possible?

Argh

2008-07-10T00:09:00.002-06:00

My research, methods, and design class will not be involving a full scare (ha ha ha...scale) research project like it normally would...in fact, the proposal has been bitten off into smaller individual pieces of projects. At first I felt like I was getting away with not doing the project--it felt like the perfect crime like stealing quarters from decorative fountains. However, each project has turned into 5+ pages of paper o' fun. My latest assignment has been the literature review which in the real world would take maybe a page and a half while encompassing two columns but noooooooo -- 8 freakin' pages. These stand alone things are not working.

I am liking how familiar I am getting with the APA. I'm still checking the manual for every little thing but I hope to become more confident as time progresses. It sure feels weird using APA again after the return of MLA from last block's English foray. I don't care too much for technical writing. It feels laborious and I don't get to use metaphors that I pull out of my arse. The only freedom I have is in the title and even then I have to throw in a colon to make it longer for kicks and giggles.

Negative Racial Cognitive Dissonance: Incorrigibility of Racism Characterized by Social Cognitive Dissonance Theory

How's that for spicy?

I have to admit that I have made fun of a fellow classmate from last block who did not know how to paraphrase but with all these different research papers I have been reading lately, everything is starting to blend together like a Jamba Juice but with the nasty added vitamins that taste like sand so I am hoping that I am putting my own thoughts down on paper. At least it's not like the PowerPoint presentations from another class where my colleagues actually read off every single word they have on their text laden slides...perhaps I am being too critical but I was under the impression that most people at this level have learned to do research and have given presentations in the past.

Also, one of my teachers referred to Central America as "the northern part of South America."

I had a dream about Lady the other night (stop giggling, you perverts). Apparently we were at her old middle school's stage performance of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Remember the lists of yestermonths?

#1 - I have discovered a new found sense of gratitude that has been spiritually invigorating.

#2 - I now possess my own copy of the DSM-IV-TR aka the Psychology Major's Bible aka the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition, Text Revision and like a pervert, I read about the sexual dysfunctions first. It sure will add credibility to my bookshelf right next to the Complete Idiot's Guide Psychology. How would you feel if your shrink had THAT book in his bookshelf when you came for a therapy session?

#3 - Once when I was in the restroom in between classes this block, the lights turned off on me because they were motion activated and I had been going number two for a long time. As I was finishing up, a guy walked into the restroom and the lights naturally turned on. I opened the door to my stall and walked out and washed my hands as he gave me the weirdest looks.

#4 - I've picked up an old GRE test manual...you know...for looking at it.

#5 - My new favorite TV show is Ace of Cakes.

Fishy

2008-07-07T23:13:00.003-06:00

First paper...48/50.
Second paper...50/50.

Am I done being at the end of the spectrum of low grades, due now for the dizzying heights of the quintessential "A" student?

I don't know.

It's scary.

It's like high school all over again.

Sunday

2008-07-06T23:36:00.002-06:00

Today was a good day.

The first time I ever stepped foot into church I had this overwhelming sense of returning home like I had been somewhere really foreign for a long time but I had finally made it back. My early experiences with the Spirit were very much like this and that's how I identified it.

It doesn't feel like coming home now...at least all the time and that's to be expected. What does matter is that I'm still there despite what I might be feeling because I know what I should be doing. The time for playing dumb has come and gone.

And for the first time, in a long time, I am cemented with a resolve that I will see myself accomplishing the spiritual goals I have set. Back in my pre-LDS days I was very much optimistic of where I wanted to be spiritually but I had no idea how I was going to get there but that never stopped me. The way to get there now shouldn't be stopping me. Resolve is a funny thing. I try to define it as finding some kind of inner hope or activating faith but it's different...it's abstract like a toddler's finger painting that is sold for money but it's not...it's real and I'm happy to be feeling the realness of it all.

Are you kidding me?

2008-07-02T23:49:00.002-06:00

"Hey, Mike."
"Yeah."
"Did you get all that?"
"No."
"Me niether. He's going so fast. I can't write everything down."
"Oh, you know. I just write the topic of the slide down and then I write notes on what he says."
"That's crazy, man. He's going too fast."

This is probably the fifth conversation I've had with a fellow classmate who does not know how to take notes. He printed off the slides that the professor uses in class and is still trying to copy everything down from the slides from the lectures...the ones he already has printed.

Frankly, I don't understand it. The professor often remarks that he won't be going over certain principles because it is an upper level class and we should know the stuff but I think to the guy to my left, back a row...he's probably lost.

It's not that I hate him without reason, it's that he often puts down an educational institution of which I have been a part. He makes the most idiotic comments. And lucky me, I have two classes with him.

Buddy. You wear pea soup green slippers to school.

Enough.

"What's that?"
"Oh, it's Ben's paper from the research and design class we have together."
"Whoa. You already have papers due?"
"Yeah."

What kind of college experience has been fostering this kind of ilk!?

"The quizzes are soooo hard."
"I'm doing okay on them."
"How does she expect us to remember everything?!"
"I don't think she does, but the quizzes have been on the main idea with the specific questions coming from that."
"I don't know, man. It's not fair that she makes us memorize every bold line of text."

Did I mention he wears pea soup green slippers?

Epochs

2008-06-30T14:11:00.002-06:00

Life is worth the scary parts.

Yet, it still doesn't change the fear.

A missionary that I am close with is returning home six months early due to psychological health problems. He must be devastated.

I feel like I should have written him more often and it makes me feel guilty. I can easily see how I am making myself a little too important in the life of someone who is influenced by other sturdier foundations like family.

I tried to keep in touch and I've sent letters but couldn't they have been more supportive and more spiritual? Was the last one I sent him not rife with depressing news despite my progressive attitude? Could I have not been a source to bolster the goodness of life despite the trials of missionary work?

Unfortunately, there is a certain stigma attached to coming home early from one's mission and some of that is based on factual circumstances but unfortunately, these seem to be more the rule than the exception nowadays. Coming home for depression...how much more depressed will he be facing that kind of situation from those around him? And, scarily, from within.

This is something out of my power but I still feel powerless.

And I'm hurting for him.

This does not make me pretend to be a bigger part of his life for some other social gain. This is who I am. I hurt for those who struggle. I worry about those who cannot find sure footing. It might seem unnecessary and easily avoided stress but this is who I am--I love those who I call my friends--that's me.

Perspective?

2008-06-27T01:10:00.003-06:00

How can you help someone when you can't even help yourself?

This is how I have seen the world until last week.

My abnormal psychology professor is a clinical counseling psychologist.

He is married with two kids.

And he has Tourette's.

Homework

2008-06-25T00:19:00.002-06:00

(entry written as brain was shutting down from exhaustion.)

I spent the bulk of the day reading and homeworking. It's turning to be quite the process. These assignments are taking a lot longer than I expected but I am happy to report that I am getting them done and done well.

Results from the 1st block:
English 2010 = A-
Physical Science 1000 = B

I have to say, I am very pleased.

The hours for this block are horrendous but it means that I just have a lot more time to do the homework ahead of the hour before class--I think that's a good plan to start enforcing.

I also found something fun to do while studying. I try to get myself out of my bedroom so I usually park myself in the living room. The big screen can split into this twin mode with two inputs but only one has sound. So, I hook up my iPod to the one with sound and set the other side of the screen to the Food Network--I profess without hyperbole that there is nothing more exciting and fulfilling than watching the Food Network cook people cook to the musical movie score stylings from Batman to Pearl Harbor.

I endorse it wholeheartedly.

On another note, an assignment that took me quite a bit of time was to write an article review and critical analysis off of a peer-reviewed journal article. I decided to pick something I was remotely interested in and ended up with: Maladaptive Perfectionism and Depressive Symptoms Among Asian American College Students: Contributions of Interdependence and Parental Relations.

I can't wait until I write the title for my article to be published. I'm going to make sure that it is long and engaging...maybe haiku form?

Anyway, after spending a long time reading the article and having to reach into the dark recesses of psychological stats to understand what the data was telling me, I began my review and analysis. I was a little surprised at the things I had to say because I have to admit that either I understand jack squat about research articles or there just seemed to be key elements missing like Eddie Furlong missing from Terminator 3.

1) Broad, sweeping generalizations were made to define and describe "Asian culture." Sure there are common elements but I wasn't pleased with the cop-out. The researchers did break down the ethnicities of the participants in the research survey and that gave me Vietnamese, Cambodian, Hmong, Lu Mien, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Filipino Americans. I can't speak for Hmong and Lu Mien because I don't think they even have a country but last I checked, I didn't see a lot of semblance enough to categorize this group as one culture.

2) The sample was pulled from "a large West Coast university." Judging from the aforementioned demographics and the origin of the researchers, this mysterious university could be none other than UCLA...University of Caucasians Lost among Asians.
My problems with the sample group include:
a] the college students who are supposedly affected by parental stresses and pressures are growing up in enclaves of Asianess, therefore, their parents are more likely to adhere to a tradition and culture that can be readily sustained by the surrounding community which will definitely influence the students' perception
b] a substantial if not majority of the US's Asian population reside on the west coast which leads to the question that if these Asian Americans (didn't these two words used to be connected via hyphen or is that how you're gonna be?) were growing up in an unAsian saturated environment, would their parents' cultural belief systems be different therefore affecting the Asian American college student differently?
c] the numbers are laughable for a study that purports aforementioned generalizations because out of 140 Asian Americans, 79% were female. I'm not a hater of the females, but seriously, the conclusions that were derived were seen through some not very manly eyes. You think you could tell yourself, okay, I need 140 Asians...why didn't you just have the goal of surveying 70 of each? I am not even going to start on the part of the study where these students evaluated their relationships with their parents and no offense, I see a lot of young women ready to drop kick their mothers.
d] the percentage for United States born Asian Americans was 77%. That number could represent first generation students, multigenerational students with roots back to Shanghai Noon...it also doesn't even factor in what situations brought their parents here to the US which I believe is an important critical piece of information used to forge new cultures and traditions that are anti-Communism, anti-war, antiperspirant, etc.

Sorry if that was boring. And you know, you can't cover EVERY factor that you think correlates between depression and parental inspired perfectionism--there would be too many tangents...even for me.

Closing thoughts? It's a good article that involves a lot of things I'd like to do research on however, I wouldn't group people and culture together for sake of labeling. I also note the importance of a narrow topic when dealing with cultures. Would the paper be more informative if it focused on Southeast Asian Americans? Or 2nd generational Chinese American? Or kids who are bilingual?

Remember When Summer Was Fun?

2008-06-24T01:34:00.002-06:00

I got to campus around 10AM and I got home at 8PM. I had three class spread out intermittently throughout the day...today was psychological development: adolescence, abnormal psychology, and research, design, and methods in psychology.

Can you guess what my major is?

Sometimes

2008-06-22T00:13:00.002-06:00

There are times when I just want to drop out of school and open a bakery somewhere. Seriously. Just go out there and do something I love like making desserts and yeah, I'd be poor, but I'd be okay with it because someone's day can be a little bit brighter from something I baked.

Going Out With A Bang, Or Just Part Of Your Final Project

2008-06-19T01:57:00.005-06:00

Today has been arguably one of the toughest days I've had in a long little while.

I did not make it to my last day of class to give my final oral presentation.

I was only barely able to hand my research paper in for that class because I happened to run into my professor as he was leaving the parking lot.

Although the research paper is the main component, I did not turn in along with it: my service log, service journal, transmittal letter, or student evaluation.

Did I mention that I also didn't give my oral presentation?

And indulge me as a fortune cookie for once because I came to the revelation 30 minutes ago that being lost in whatever circumstance is not necessarily a bad thing because how can we find what was lost if it was never missing in the first place?

It sure sucks to be lost sometimes though.

I Made A Butt Groove On The Couch Today

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

Yes. It's true. I made a butt groove on the couch today. I only left my spot for food, water, and wrapping Lil' Smokies with bacon and covering them with a good sprinkling of brown sugar before putting them into the oven for thirty minutes to get the bacon crispy and the brown sugar to form a nice glaze over the whole thing.

My whole day has been spent writing a research paper that I am thoroughly hating...to give it credit, I liked the research I was doing and the topic, but given the long, long, long hours I have put behind me and still to come, I hate it like I hate Dakota Fanning.

Thanks to everyone who left comments and suggestions on my Father's Day enry. It has been very helpful to read your thoughts. I see that there are a lot of things I'd like to change.

If anything else, I'd like to leave my own comment on the comments.

In my mind, this work, this book will turn into a collection of personal nonfiction stories told by me and when I say that, I mean to literally throw my brain onto the paper. These stories are special to me, but they do carry their emotional weight. I will be the first to admit that I am the biggest wuss when it comes to letting emotions out or talking about things, so as it is in my nature, I joke, I make light of the situation, I avoid the subject, I talk about John Cusack...the end result is something disjointed and disconnected, and I think that's what I'm going for...I want this work to reflect that part of me that approaches difficult issues and backs away, my inability to get intimate with a story, the touch and go nature within me when dealing with the big speeches or the scary conversation or the debilitating situations...I want to be able to show that in the end, despite all the avoidyness, I can embrace my past.

That's the goal...kind of hard to pick up on because it was all over the place but just you wait for a book with stories EXACTLY like this one!

(ha!)

Happy Father's Day

2008-06-15T12:59:00.005-06:00

MY DAD SMILES THROUGH ME

(literally)

I'm going to start a running tally of actual conversations I have with my dad. I'm not sure if this is something I am going to approach from a wartime perspective because there is something uneasy about drawing a picture of my dad's head with a big "X" through it.

Also, I don't have an airplane. This is a setback (on top of the uneasy feeling).

The number is a respectable single digit of 1. Though I have been known to add a weird sense of grandeur to my claims by sensationalizing them to shamelessly attract those with a taste for the new and different, I must reassure that this lonely number isn't even trying to appeal to the low brow natured by shock and awe-ing at how 1 is not only a low number on the verge of 0, but its use to measure the interaction between a dad and his son is so low and foreign and unheard of that it must be as un-American as Major League Soccer (no...hiring foreign soccer stars will still not help boost American support because those stars are only stars outside of the US...still not convinced? Consider that the sun is the quintessential source of life when every thing boils down to it; truly it is the life giver. However, visitors from other far reaching realms of space like the Decepticons would probably find our ball of gas to be small when compared to others (that's what she said).

Yet I still linger on the singular moment that is 1.

Maybe it was the timing?

Is it something difficult to perceive that 1 happened exactly when it was ready to happen to me as a 24 year old college student who just gorged himself on an endless Brazilian meat buffet and decided that lying down in the car would be a good decision? Surely divine fate cannot be dismissed as coincidental as I was unable to physically move without garlic sirloin and turkey wrapped in bacon spewing out like what happens when you put Mentos into a liter of Diet Coke.

My dad, however, was simply going to stay in the car and smoke.

Serendipity?! (I am not a fan of actor John Cusack from aforementioned movie because I think he has a dull, vacant look with limping stagger abounds like a zombie from Shaun of the Dead but seriously, he can’t retire)

…and here’s why:

The money is way too good.

Well, shame on him. I’m not going to make any assumptions on what he does with his personal financial life (and private life) because I really don’t know nor have a shred of evidence to bolster my arguments but let’s assume that if he were to buy a copy of Quicken and cut down on unnecessary costs like prostitution, organize/limit his intake of illegal drugs by adopting a system mirroring the ones used to ration gasoline during the gas crisis of the 1970—this would save him enough money so that he could never act again. I am also an advocate for him to fire his agent so that he can hire a real one that will get him in some good flicks so that a generation under the age of 30 can recognize his name. Perhaps after all these measures are put into place the money might be still too alluring. Consider that Mr. Cusak is competing at the bottom rungs of below sea level salary where you find others jockeying for money like Disney’s workhorse Cinderella pre-glass slippers, people who break rocks with other rocks, seasonal Santa Claus impersonators, and even kindergarten teachers (with the exception being deep pocketed Arnold Schwarzenegger in ‘Kindergarten Cop’ who didn’t even need the money but went out of his way to bring us the phrase of all phrases: “Who is your daddy and what does he do?”)

But, I digress.

I need to start all over with 1.

It was unusually cold for April when my family (mom, dad, older brother and younger sister) came to Utah to visit my brother-in-law and little sister who had just given birth. My mom was in a state of panic as fears about the inability of white people to take care of their newborn young began to be intermixed with the child raising habits of wolves and Britney Spears. She was intent on making sure my white brother-in-law was doing his part. Her plan was to come to Utah and completely smother my sister like one would use a blanket to smother out the flames on a person on fire. This descent into madness deserves a novella all its own.

The end of my family’s stay found me full of roasted meat and unable to move and stuck in a car with my dad drawing puffs out of his Marlboro cigarettes. The silence was a tad uncomfortable seeing how I had never engaged in a conversation with my dad that lasted for more than 10 syllables. My mind easily recalled a conversation from last October when I called home to wish him a happy birthday.

“I miss you,” chided my dad as I had been MIA from visiting home from college for the last year and a half—what can I say? I am extreme; I grip it and I rip it. If I wasn’t going to go home, I was going to make it longer than a mere 3 months.

“I don’t know about that, dad…it’s probably really, really quiet now,” I explained. “I would think you would enjoy the silence and lack of troublemaking and breaking things.”
My dad remained silent on the phone. He was holding something back and deep in my mind I knew it was going to be something like the final career pitch of a retiring pitcher.

“And besides,” I continued. “You now have a niece [my brother’s little girl] that I’m sure will take up my legacy,” My mind was rife of other such comparable legacies like those who would play James Bond and unfortunately to a lesser extent, those who would play Batman pre-Christian Bale.

And then.

The pitch.

It was a sinker.

“But she’s not you.”

I was speechless.

“She might be my granddaughter but she’s not you. You are my son. I don’t mean that I won’t love my granddaughter but I can’t love her more than you.”

I barely managed to thank him for his kind words before cutting the conversation short and hanging up the phone—I had now been thrust into unfamiliar territory.

Years ago, I led the charge as one of the three kids to get my dad to stop smoking. Elementary schools in those days had anti-drug programs and not only was anti-drug propaganda life saving, it became cool because of the abundant supply of D.A.R.E. stickers. This moment in my childhood led to two things: acronyms that made drug free the way to be and the instillation of a moral conquest to save my dad’s life.

We requested an audience with the head of the house. We showed him pictures of healthy lungs versus lungs belonging to smokers. We explained the consequences and highlighted the health benefits. Most of all, we didn’t want him to die.

My dad is a man of few words but with a strong hand for discipline. He grew up in South Vietnam and was very studious. However, the deteriorating condition between North and South Vietnam would prevent him from ever finishing high school. He met my mom when they were in their teens. They were married by their late teens. When South Vietnam fell to the North, they decided to flee for America and their lives. The journey there was about as tough as the Fellowship of the Ring’s journey to Mt. Doom. Their plan was to cram onto a boat like the thousands of other fleeing refugees and try to make it to a nearby country that would grant them amnesty and refuge.

I find it ironic that they were robbed by Thai pirates when Thailand was their destination.

But they were lucky...

Most Thai pirates would rob those on the overcrowded boats and kill the men. They would then moor the boat on an island or somewhere on the mainland and rape and kill the women.

But they were lucky to only have been robbed.

Details of this chapter of my dad’s life as with any chapter pre-America is obscure like the fleeting moments when you are waking up from your dreams and nightmares. I know they eventually came to a refugee camp from Thailand to the Philippines where my older brother was born. And then, they came to America as protected refugees. My dad would become the first American in our family. I would be the first in our family to be born in America.

My dad made it a point to secure the traditions of his motherland which also included the habitual chain smoking that he had picked up as a prepubescent lad. I get the feeling that third world South Vietnam was devoid of Legos and Disney movies because it seems the only thing to do was to hang around and smoke.

My brother and sisters and I were able to get my dad to promise to quit smoking and I felt like I was a hero.

A year or two later, I felt like an idiot.

One day, I was out back in the yard and there was this section of the garden that was so damning that it chilled me to the core: there were cigarette butts everywhere.

My trust was broken and shattered like a light bulb which pops when breaking because of the vacuum the filaments are kept in—something popped inside of me too.

I hated my dad.

Yet there I was in the car with him as he blew a column of smoke outside into the crisp air. But something was different now. I was 24 which is a number that must have evoked the dead (but not dead) spirit of Jack Bauer. The moments and memories of hate over the last dozen years were gone now. It wasn’t something instant and blatant but it had been in the works since I realized the fallibility of my dad which in turn made it impossible for me to hate him kind of like how it is impossible to hate Shia LeBeouf.

And then and there I accepted the fact that the man whom I feared and often times loathed had become something entirely and utterly different.

My mind thinks back to a scar on my right elbow. My siblings (then numbering three including myself) and I were playing swords with some metal curtain rungs we had found in the garbage. Bam! (Emeril style) A life changing lesson came: don’t play with trash. My irate father ordered us to line up to get whacked on the butt by the same betraying curtain rung. I thought that if I was at the end of the line that his arm might somehow tire when he got to me but I was sadly underestimating the strength of a man who performed daily back breaking construction work. My dad deftly swung the light piece of metal and in a scene worthy of the Wachowski brothers’ bullet time, I thrust myself forward as though I could delay the impact with my rear but I had neglected to swing my arms forward.

The scar doesn’t stir up negative feelings. It reminds me of childish reasoning gone wrong and of the house we were currently living in where my parents had a water bed and where I discovered I enjoyed taking sewing needles to it.

My father cleared his throat and spat out of the window into the night—this was the perfect setup and I greedily snatched it up as though I was Barney Rubble stealing Fred Flintstone’s Fruity Pebbles.

“Dad, I want to thank you for what you said to me back in October. It really meant a lot to me,” I barely whispered but it was good enough in the uneasy and pioneering facets to start the ball rolling on a conversation that would forever establish father and son.

As I listened to what more he had to say about me and as he listened to what I said about him, I realized that my dad was proud of me; he had always been—I just never took the time to either listen, recognize, or even deem important his opinion which makes it interesting that I sought his approval that was already there in the first place. This conversation had the workings of a Robert Redford movie in it…probably “A River Runs Through It.”

Suddenly what I saw in him as shortcomings brought me to a consensus that despite all those things that plagued him; that if I could be half the man my father is then I would be comfortable with calling it success.

Dad came here with the shirt on his back with a wife and kid and me in the oven. He was a legal refugee, displaced by war, weighed down by the responsibility to care for a growing family in a land that he sometimes still considers to be foreign. He washed dishes, he mowed lawns, and then he got into construction, and is now the successful business owner of a private contracting construction business. And in case I might whine about the difficulty of life, California’s contracting licensing exam is offered in English and only in English.

My paragraph here does not do my dad justice. Saying that he embodies America and the American dream falls short of who he is. He is an exemplary man and if he were orphaned because his billionaire parents were gunned down, and happened to have a fear of bats, and decided to lead a dual life of business man by day and masked vigilante by night, my dad would be Batman.

Either way, he is my hero.

The gift he has given me would be his ability (if it’s a super ability he is not Batman) to love unselfishly. He has been an unwavering and unaccredited sentinel of goodness. And almost as a side thought, I never ever once felt poor while growing up.

I’ve always made snide remarks about how he never smiles in photos. And there it is: a lifetime of self-sacrifice for those you love and it becomes very clear that my so-called stoic father is more interested in the smile on my face.

Worthwhile

2008-06-15T00:50:00.007-06:00

Brian (with spirit fingers) and Trueman while waiting for our favorite bank teller.

Our favorite bank teller (an alien is bursting out of her chest like from Aliens) and I in my brand new cardboard Jetta (I look like I think I got away with farting in the car).

A typical Saturday of gorging with a minor reason of getting to know new people, catching up with old people, and relaxing (never underestimate the value of relaxing).

And how would this day be complete if there wasn't a picture that my mom would hate because it isn't proper?! Fight the power!!

A Hope and Promise (I'm Back)

2008-06-14T00:28:00.003-06:00

I've been MIA for the last little bit here. Honestly, I have come to a crossroads of sorts where my blog cannot continue to be my journal and public at the same time. Certain unique catalysts have been thrown into the mix like Mentos into Diet Coke that have created a tough call to make. If I were to include my Mentos, my journal could no longer be public...so leave out the Mentos? Well, I could try that but Mentos is not only the freshmaker of my life, it is also a conglomerate of pressing issues that saturate every part of my existence...like spilling Coke onto your car's upholstery.

So. My conclusion is that I will continue to write. I apologize if it seems cryptic at times but consider it all to be a big metaphor of some kind. And to those who don't see random crypticness, there's a reason you get to know the specifics and that gets a thank you from me.

Comment on picture...
Devan's eyes are squintier than mine...and what's the deal with longboarding? I feel committed to get one or else I can't be like everyone else.

My First Quiz

2008-05-06T01:23:00.003-06:00

Friday was to be rememberd. After drawing and using an example of a car on the chalkboard to explain Newton's Laws of Motion, my professor erased the board and asked everyone to take out a sheet of paper. It was quiz time and I didn't even realize that it was one of those end of the class type quizzes to give points to people who stay the whole time but nonetheless, I was there...what I was not prepare for was the contents of the quiz.

1) Show me what happens to a car when it accelerates.

2) Show me what happens to a car when it decelerates.
3) Show me what happens to a car when it turns right.4) Show me what happens to a car when it turns left.
I wish that this were a joke but it isn't. He really wanted me to draw arrows showing where the car is going when it does those four things.

The sad thing was that today, he had to reexplain Newton's Law because 6 people in our class of 30 failed the quiz.

Engl 2010 - Pick a Title and Write the Opening Paragraph for your Autobiography

2008-05-02T23:12:00.001-06:00

The Truth About Pluto

California probably looked really good on paper but anything after the fall of your war torn country and being plundered by Thai pirates can make you extremely biased. Therefore, I’ve come up with three conclusions about my mom and dad: #1 they hate communism more than Captain America and Joseph McCarthy combined, #2 Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow might as well be Johnny Depp as evil itself, and #3 I would never, ever, ever, ever be able to whine about my childhood. I find exception wholly justified in complaints and obtuse reflections ever since Pluto has been planetarily demoted. This singular act has stirred up the passions within a community who once worshipped Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle as role models, a people who once believed R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps series to be the penultimate peak of English literature, and a society who could depend on constants that would cement life itself like recess and Pluto. The truths you are about to read can be construed to be a very factual account of a son of Vietnamese refugees born and raised in California but look closer and then beyond—it is a plea for Pluto. Be prepared to come across buzz words like “welfare”, “affirmative action”, and “health care for low-income families”. Do not be alarmed that I have used rice for glue or that I represent the 1% non-stereotypical Asian minority populace that does not excel in math. Come delve. Come experience. Come support. Commiserate for the status of a planet that in the end will decide whether or not my childhood was nothing short of a terrible lie.

Bienvenidos A Su Nuevo Hogar!

2008-04-30T06:44:00.002-06:00

I barfed last night.

I have a horrible gag reflex so I don't know why I was trying to swallow six pills at once. It amazed me to see how quickly the pills were desolving just in the wake of barf. I guess that's how it's supposed to work but seeing the pills in preaction was kind of nastily fascinating.

I start classes today at my new institution of higher learning until I can come back to the Y at the end of April 2009. I'm playing in the major leagues now so I had to plan out my whole graduation plan from this point until the end of August 2009. A part of me is actually anxious to get down and start working hard and get school (well...this leg of it at least) finished. And as shocking as this sounds, I am actually excited to be doing something!

An old ward member gave me a job referral and I'm going to interview for it. It's customer service, inbound for FedEx Kinkos. The most appealing thing is that it's flexible. I'm going to have to decide to push myself and go to work and school full-time. I hope no one is offended by this but a big factor I'd like to figure out as soon as possible is the degree of difficulty at UVSC compared to the Y. If it's easier, bring it.

If not...

don't?

April

2008-04-29T00:59:00.002-06:00

I feel like April is dying and I didn't get to know it very well. It came and went inside a snow globe like flurry between job searching and meaning of life searching. I've come up empty handed with respect to both of these arenas.

But. I have lived life for these last couple of weeks. I've stared down my fears and insecurities about dating, alphabetized my dvds, mistakenly alphabetized the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles triology under "turtles" instead of "teenage", and I've come to the unequivocal conclusion that being a nice guy is okay.

I consider the recent purchase of Mario Kart Wii as a highlight but ending a serious relationship was also a highlight. That sounds weird to say as if I were to mention that an object were to be both blunt and sharp or to tell you that my orange tic tacs a la Paulie Bleeker are labeled as mints but have no mintyness to them whatsoever.

But yeah, the ending of the relationship

It was abrupt and caught me by surprise like the ending of the Sixth Sense when I first saw it; but it was more emotional like the ending of Stranger than Fiction. However, I can stand by in all seriousness and fervor because this "ending" will lead to a beginning. And I'm okay that I am hopeful because falling in love has been worth it...and I'd do it again.

My bishop whom I've known for the last two years is getting released. They passed around a book for us to sign. My mind wandered back to middle school: KIT, Stay Cool, Don't Change, Have A Cool Summer, You're Way Smarter Than That Simon Mak Kid... I just feel at a loss for words for a man who has considerably changed my life. Instead I wrote that he had permission to physically harm me to keep me in line now that he wasn't my bishop.

Change

2008-04-25T01:37:00.001-06:00

I find it interesting that a place that I have tried so hard to make home can feel so different when life changing events occur.

Down With Satan

2008-04-23T16:47:00.002-06:00

I'm going to go ahead and say that we give Satan way too much credit. However, after reading some books (actually starting cause I actually start more books than finish so there's this running plot line conglomerate of letters from Screwtape, stuff about Mal Reynolds, Elder Holland's thoughts on trusting Jesus, some guy's dad who lied to save the planet, and TV plots all the channels round) I'm pretty sure that kind of credit is well-earned. I'm always rolling my eyes at how much people blame Satan but I've got to hand it to the Devil, he's pretty subtle, and crafty, and sneaky, and he doesn't have mercy. He plays for keeps and does not care who gets hurt. or who gets ruined. And he is so good at making you believe that he doesn't even exist. He's like the setting sun at dusk. Your eyes start getting used to the darkness even though there is less and less light. Pretty much, I hate Satan.

Hit Those Low Notes...Like A Man

2008-04-18T00:52:00.002-06:00

Choir practice is going well. I felt like I was struggling to hit the notes in the manner of how I struggle when I try to swim or stay afloat. I was the only other bass today. We rocked it though. We went into a capella and oh, holy crap, Batman, it sounded angelic. Probably because I actually felt confident when there wasn't a piano playing which sounds really strange to say. I'm the guy that would never EVER sing in a quartet because I fear the sound of my own voice singing my own part. I know people hate the sound of their own voice but I also hate the sound of my own voice and appearance on film. I think I look like an Asian hobbit.

I am embarking on a different path now to complete school than I had originally planned. It's weird, but I don't think there's any of life's plan that we EVER make that actually goes through as planned. Why the crap do we spend so much time making plans that never come to fruition the way we hope? A part of me feels really frustrated and I'm not sure why because I know God's in control but it still feels like I'm getting the raw deal. I should be feeling comforted in the fact that I am still in the concerned area of the Omniscient's mind. I'm more than a speck of sand! Horton Hears a Who style...on a beach...with a pier.

I guess the real comfort lies in the fact that maybe life won't go wrong if you're always doing what's right.

Go Wolverines.

I think.

Missing In Action

2008-04-17T01:22:00.002-06:00

I thought I would have a lot more to say when I realized that I had last posted a couple of days ago. I have started to include apples in my daily diet. I know. This revelation might come as shocking to some of you who know that I do not eat nor even touch anything that is grown from the ground...unless it's a bacon tree. On top of that, I decided to buy some healthier juices. I've been enjoying Fuze and upon further inspection, it only contains 5% juice and for some reason, I feel very gipped. At least the bottle's label provides information about the vitamins in the drink. I see the normal staples like calcium, vitamin A, C, and E but when it comes down to B, there seems to be 4 different kinds. I didn't know that vitamins had subgroups. It's not like we don't have a lot of letters in the freakin' alphabet! Instead of vitamin B12, let's rename it vitamin q and defiantly not pair that q with a u.

I kind of forget but life is worth the scary parts. I've also been reminded that falling in love doesn't mean that fears and worries disappear.

This Is Why I Love Life

2008-04-13T01:14:00.003-06:00

LIST
1) Good people fill my life with joy.
2) I am going to make a Terminator movie spoof.
3) Surf's Up is one of my new favorite movies.
4) I have injured others while playing tennis on the Wii.
5) I need to reevaluate what it means to be a child of God.

Man Overboard

2008-04-10T21:16:00.002-06:00

How does everyone else do it?

There are these endless waves of decisions that seem to just relentlessly pound on me. I worry about decisions that don't need to be made now but I feel like those decisions are contingent on decisions that I make now and I buckle under the pressure and implode like that guy that fell off the sea cliff in the submersible in the Abyss.

I need something more than "take it one day at a time" or "don't freak out" or "everything will work out" but my problem is that this stress is just a normal part of life but oh how I hate it.

I take pride that when I spellchecked my blog that there were no errors.

Yay. I'm taking that one down as a simple joy of life. Score.

Pet Smart

2008-04-09T00:51:00.000-06:00

Cats don’t know how to love or so says my mother. Stray kittens that we found in backyard by the tool shed were subsequently and rebelliously kept hidden in the laundry room. However, my siblings and I failed to take in account that my mother frequented the laundry room because she dealt with grass stains, blood stains, and paint stains on a daily basis. So, the kittens had to be put back. My ritual for such an ordeal started with a last meal of milk which had to be at least whole and vitamin D fortified because anything less would be milk powdered flavored water. I would them put the kittens back in the corner the shed where they were found, hoping that their mother would come back for them. Cat mothers everywhere have come to the conclusion that humans don’t know how to love. Crap.

Our home was definitely filled with pets (except for cats…and not really filled with pets because the pets lived outside). We even had quail at one point in time in a big cage outside with chickens and pigeons. How I come to remember this? It was near this cage that I came to the conclusion that rain, thunder, and lightning were a culmination of God bowling, using the restroom, and crying. Being raised early to be cat haters, we had a dog named Rocky which just so happened to be the name of the iconic boxer at the time. I could raise an eyebrow to the fact that my sister Lucy and I would have been named Britney and Justin if we had been born during this last decade and instead of the 80s. Rocky’s favorite game was to place the chickens in his mouth and go hide their carcasses. How I come to remember this? I was playing with Weebles when I looked out the window to see our dog adding another body to the pile of bloody feathers. The next day’s window watching would find that there were no more dead chickens and that Rocky was gone. The Weebles were also gone.

This was also the time where I was bitten by a chihuahua while I was feeding it hot dogs. Still, no cats.

We had rabbits that left little droppings in the grass that looked like wet Grape Nuts which to me, were neither grapelike nor nutlike, but more like animal feed or the aforementioned rabbit poo. We were poor then to afford the likes of Honeycomb or Cocoa Puffs which were very much shaped like honeycombs and puffs of cocoa respectively. No. We poor kids would have to mix our own sugar into Rabbit Poo.

Not only did rabbit poo remind me of breakfast, rabbits also scarred me for life. Apparently, they scream bloody murder (not the actual words because these were not talking rabbits) when they are scared. We’re talking banshee woman shrieks. I need you to know that the banshee I am referring to is a female banshee. I wasn’t aware that rabbits had vocal cords but there you have it. At least you knew when you were stepping on one.

Their distant fourth cousins twice removed fared better with me—except when they started eating each other. Hamsters are cannibals and not by choice because there was a whole thing of iceberg lettuce in there so the only conclusion I can now draw is that they were flesh eating zombies that needed other hamster flesh and/or brains to live. Case closed.

I also had guppy fishes I kept in a big pickle jar minus the brine and pickles. I used to stick a spoon in there and make a whirlpool to see how the fish would fare. It wasn’t cruel. I was just preparing them for a more realistic world out there with maelstroms and bull sharks.

Still no cats but plenty of pigeons.

Then came Shepherd which is what my parents named our German Shepherd. True, not the most creative, but at least it was easy to remember. My father told me that you had to spit down the dog’s throat to get it to respect you. Poor dog. On drives to school in the winter, my father would often sneeze which the warm air conditioned blasts would mercilessly and generously spread throughout the car. It was hard not to gag.

Poor Shepherd.

A chill still comes up my spine when I think about my father’s sneezes. This could be the reason why I’ve never seen my parents kiss in public.

No cats…still.

Shepherd died on a weekday. I remember going in the backyard and noticing that she was choking. A neighbor kid was sitting on the fence and I assumed he had poisoned her. I hurried and got my father to come help. By this time, she was already unconscious and not breathing. My dad reached into her throat to see if he could clear anything out but it was too late. And somewhere in my mind, I came to the conclusion that I had killed her. And it wasn’t even because I liked cats better but because I didn’t get help in time. I hid in the closet of my room and cried buckets of tears while praying to my dead dog to let her know that I was sorry.

Oh, by the way, cats have nine lives.

POST IS RATED R FOR LANGUAGE

2008-04-04T03:59:00.002-06:00

My life has been changed when Pabs introduced me to www.gizoogle.com where your webpages can be translated into Snoop Dogg jive talk. I won't even begin to list the blasphemous things I have done with it.

However, it did bring to mind some things that could be improved upon. Namely, the epilogue for the last Harry Potter book. I hate the epilogue. I loathe it. But after Snoop Doggin' it up, I love it. Ya feel?

DISCLAIMER AND WARNING: I USED MY 70 WPM TYPING TO TRANSPOSE THE EPILOGUE SO IT CAN BE PRESENTED HERE VIA GIZOOGLE. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER IN THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS. PLEASE ENJOY BECAUSE IT'S SNOOP AND HE COULD HAVE DONE IT BETTER THAN ROWLING. FO' SHIZZLE!

Epilogue

Nineteen Years Drug Deala

Autumn seemed ta arrive suddenly thizzay year so bow down to the bow wow. The weed-smokin' of tha F-to-tha-izzirst of Septemba was crisp n golden as an apple, n as tha shawty family bobbed across tha rumbl'n road toward tha bootylicious sooty station, tha fumes of ride exhausts n tha breath of pedestrians sparkled like cobwebs in tha cold air. They call me tha black folks president. Two large cages rattled on top of tha laden trolleys tha parents wizzle push'n; tha owls inside tizzle hooted indignantly, n tha redheezeeed girl trailed tearfully behind her brotha, clutch'n her fatha’s arm in tha mutha fuckin club.

“It won’t be long, n you’ll be going too,” Harry told her.

“Two years,” sniffed Lily. “‘Izzy wizzy ta go now!”

The cracka stared curiously at tha owls as tha family wizzle its way towards tha cracka betweens platforms nizzy n thizzay with the S-N-double-O-P. Albus’s voice drifted bizzy ta Harry over tha saggin' clamor; his sons had resumed tha argument they had started in tha car like old skool shit.

“I won’t! I won’t be in Slytherin!”

“James, give it a rest!” said Ginny.

“‘Izzy only said he M-to-tha-izzight be,” said James, messin' at his younga crazy ass nigga mah nizzle. “There’s nuttin' wrong wit thiznat. He M-to-tha-izzight be in Slyth—”

But James caught his motha’s eye n fizzell silent like this and like that and like this and uh. The fizzle Cracka approached tha barria’. Wit a slightly cocky look over his shoulda at his younga brotha, James took tha trolley fizzy his pusha n broke into a run and yo momma. A moment brotha he had vanished.

“You’ll write ta me, won’t you?” Albus asked his parents immedizzles capitaliz'n on tha momentary absence of his shot calla. Put ya mutha fuckin choppers up if ya feel this.

“Every day, if you W-to-tha-izzant us to,” said Ginny.

“Not every day,” said Albus quickly. “James sez mizzost thugz only git letta fizzle hizzle `bout once a month.”

“We wrote ta James three times a week last year,” said Ginny.

“And you don’t wiznant ta believe sippin' he tells you `bout Hogwarts,” Harry put in yaba daba dizzle. “He likes a laugh, yo brotha.”

Side by side, they pushed tha second trolley forward, gather'n speed. As they reached tha barria, Albus winced, but no collision came cuz it’s a doggy dog world. Instead, tha family emerged onto platform nizzy n three-quarta, whizzay was obscured by thick white steam thizzay was pour'n frizzom tha scarlet Hogwarts Express. One, two three and to tha four. Indistinct figures were swarm'n through tha mist, into whiznich James had already disappeared.

“Where is they?” asked Albus anxiously, peer'n at tha hizzle forms they passed as they made they way down tha platform.

“We’ll find them,” said G-I-Double-Nizzy reassuringly.

But tha vapor was dense, n it was difficult ta makes out anybody’s faces. Detached from they owna, voices sounded unnaturally loud and can’t no hood fuck with death rizzow. Harry thought he heard Percy saggin' loudly on broomstick regulizzles n was quite glad of tha excuse not ta stiznop n say hello… Snoop Heffner mixed with a little bit of Doggy Flint.

“I think that’s T-H-to-tha-izzem, Al,” said G-I-Double-Nizzy suddenly.

A group of four thugz emerged from tha mist, stand'n alongside tha very last carriage but real niggaz don't give a fuck. Their faces only came into focus wizzle Harry, Ginny, Lily, n Albus had drizzawn right up ta thizzay in tha mutha fuckin club.

“Hi,” said Albus, sound'n immensely relieved.

Rose, who was already wear'n her brand-new Hogwarts robes, beamed at him.

“Parked all right, then?” Ron asked Harry keep'n it real yo. “‘Izzle did. It don’t stop till the wheels fall off. Hermione didn’t believe I could pass a Muggle rollin` tizzest, did you? She thought I’d hizzle ta Confund tha examina.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Hermione, “I had complete faith in you.”

“As a matta of fact, I did Confund him,” Ron whispered ta Harry, as togetha they lifted Albus’s trizzay n owl onto tha train motha fucka. “I only forgot ta look in tha wing mirror, n let’s fizzle it, I can use a Supersensory Charm fo` that.”

B-to-tha-izzack on tha platform, tizzle found Lily n Hugo, Rose’s younga brotha, hav'n an animated discussion `bout whizzich Hizouse they would be sorted into when they finally went ta Hogwarts.

“If you’re not in Gryffindor, we’ll disinhizzle you,” said Rizzle “but no pressure.”

“Ron!”

Lily n Hugo laughed, but Albus n Rose looked solemn.

“He doesn’t mean it,” said Hermione n Ginny, but Ron was no brotha clockin' attention dogg. Catch'n Harry’s eye, he nodded covertly ta a point some fifty yards away fo' sheezy. The steam had thinned fo` a moment, n three thugz stoop in shiznarp relief against tha drift'n mist. I’m a bad boy wit a lotta hoes.

“Look who it is.”

Draco Malfoy was stand'n there wit his wife n sizzay a dizzy coat buttoned up ta his throat cuz I’m tha Double O G. His hizzle was reced'n somewhat, whizzay emphasized tha pointed chizzin. The new boi resembled Draco as mizzy as Albus resembled Harry crazy up in here. Draco caught sizzight of Harry, Ron, Hermione, n G-I-Double-Nizzy mackin' at hizzy, nodded curtly, n turned away again like this and like that and like this and uh.

“So that’s shawty Scorpius,” said Ron playa his breath and can’t no hood fuck with death rizzow. “Makes sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. T-H-to-tha-izzank God you inherited yo nigga brain.”

“Ron, fo` heaven’s sake,” said Hermione, half stern, half amused. “Don’t try ta tizzle thizzem against each otha before they’ve even started school!”

“You’re right, sorry,” said R-to-tha-izzon, but unable ta H-to-tha-izzelp himself, he added, “Don’t git too friendly wit hizzle though, Rosie. Boom bam as I step in the jam, God damn. Granddad Weasley would pimp forgive you if you married a pureblood.”

“Hey!”

James had reappeared; he had divested himself of his trunk, owl, n trolley, n was evidently burst'n wit news yaba daba dizzle.

“Teddy’s biznack there,” he said breathlessly, point'n biznack over his baller into tha steppin' clouds of steam. “Just seen him. I’ll slap tha taste out yo mouf! And guess wizzle he’s do'n? Clockin' Victoire!”

He gazed up at tha adults, evidently disappointed by tha lack of reaction.

“Our Teddy! T-E-Double-Dizzy Lupin . I'm a mutha fuckin 2-time felon! Saggin' our Victoire. It’s just anotha homocide! Our cousin, niggaz, better recognize! And I asked T-E-Double-Dizzy what he was do'n—”

“You interrupted them?” said Ginny, “You is so like Ron—”

“—and he said he’d come ta see her off! And thizzen he told me ta go away. You gotta check dis shit out yo. He’s snogg'n!” gangsta James added as though worried he had not made himself clear. Throw yo guns in the motherfuckin air.

“Oh, it would be lovely if they gots married!” whispered Lily ecstatically fo my bling bling. “Teddy would really be part of tha family then!”

“He already comes round fo` dinna `bout four times a week,” said Harry in tha Dogg pound. “Why don’t we just invite him ta live wit us n have done wit it?”

“Yeah!” said James enthusiastically. “I don’t mind shar'n wit Al – T-E-Double-Dizzy could have mah room!”

“No,” said Harry firmly, “you n Al will share a room only when I wizzle tha hizouse demolizzle.

He checked tha battered old W-to-tha-izzatch that had once been Fabian Prewett’s.

“It’s nearly eleven, you’d shot calla git on board.”

“Don’t forget ta give Neville our love!” G-I-Double-Nizzy told James as she hugged him.

“Mum! I can’t gizzle a professor love!”

“But you knizzay Neville—”

James rolled his eyes.

“Outside, yeah, but at schoo` he’s Professor Longbottom, isn’t he? I can’t walk into Herbology n gizzy him love….”

Shak'n his heezee at his motha’s foolishness, he vented his perpetratin' by aim'n a kizzy at Albus so I can get mah pimp on.

“See you playa, Al. Wiznatch out fo` tha thestrals.”

“‘Izzy thought you said they were invisible? You said they were invisible!”

But James merely laughed, permitted his bitch ta kiss hizzy, gave his fatha a fleet'n hizzle, then leapt onto tha rapidly fill'n train. They saw him wave, tizzle sprint away up tha corridor ta find his friends. I'm a mutha fuckin 2-time felon.

“Thestrals is nuttin' ta worry `bout, ya dig?” Harry told Albus. “They’re gentle dippin' there’s nuttin' scary `bout them. Anyway, you won’t be going up ta schoo` in tha carriages, you’ll be going in tha boats.”

G-I-Double-Nizzy kissed Albus good-bye.

“See you at Christmas.”

“Bye, Al,” said Harry as his son hugged him. Aint no stoppin' this shit nigga. “Don’t forget Hagrid’s invited you ta tea niznext Friday. Don’t mess wit Peeves. Don’t duel anyone till you’ve learned how cuz this is how we do it. And don’t let James wind you up.”

“What if I’m in Slytherin?’

The whispa was fo` his crazy ass nigga alone, n Harry knizzew that only tha moment of departure could hizzle forced Albus ta reveal how bootylicious n sincere that fear was.

Harry crouched dizzy so tizzle Albus’s face was slightly above his own. Alone of Harry’s three children, Albus had inherited Lily’s eyes. It don’t stop till the wheels fall off.

“Albus Severus,” Harry said quietly, so tizzy nobody but G-I-Double-Nizzy could hear, n she was tactful enough ta pretend ta be blingin' ta Rose, who was now on tha train, “you wizzle named fo` two heezeemasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin n he was probably tha bravest dawg I ever knew.”

“But J-to-tha-izzust say—”

“—then Slytherin Hizouse wizzay have gained an excellent student, won’t it? It doesn’t matta ta us, Al in all flavas. But if it botha ta you, you’ll be able ta choose Gryffindor over Slytherin and yo momma. The Pimpin' Hat takes yo choice into account.”

“Really?”

“It did fo` me,” said Harry.

He had neva told any of his children that before, n he saw tha bitch in Albus’s face wizzle he said it fo' sheezy. But now tha doors wizzle blunt-rollin' all along tha scarlet train, n tha blurred outlines of parents wizzle swarm'n fo` final kisses, last-minute brotha. Ain’t no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. Albus jumped into tha carriage n G-I-Double-Nizzy closed tha door behind him. Students were hang'n from tha windows nearest thiznem fo all my homies in the pen. A bootylicious bitch of faces, both on tha train n off, seemed ta be turned toward Harry doggystyle.

“Why is tizzle all mobbin'?” demanded Albus as he n Rose craned around ta look at tha baller students.

“Don’t let it worry you,” said Ron. “It’s me. I’m extremely famous.”

Albus, Rose, Hugo, n Lily laughed, ya feelin' me? The train began ta move, n Harry walked alongside it, ballin' his son’s thiznin face, already ablaze wit excitement now pass the glock; anotha Dogg House production. Harry kept gang bangin' n mobbin' even though it was like a shawty bereavizzles watch'n his son glide away fizzy him… now motherfuckers lemme here ya say hoe.

“He’ll be all right,” murmured Ginny.

As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly n touched tha lightn'n scar on his foreheezee.

“‘Izzy K-N-to-tha-izzow he will.”

The scar had not pained Harry fo` nineteen years. All was wizzay.

Holy Family Dizzle My Izzle, Batman!

2008-04-03T11:16:00.002-06:00

My family is coming into town.

Elephant size shiz just hit the jet turbine engine.

I know everyone in this situation means well but this could be disaster so I'm trying to make sure I can do everything I can to alleviate the stress from my little sister and her husband.

List

#1 - I'm going to force my family on a tour of campus.

#2 - We are now 1-8 in our league season. Last night's game was pathetic. Also, if you're on the team and you're not going to be there, how hard is it to muster some courtesy and call your team captain to let him know you're not going to be there?

#3 - Can the Wii and PS2 and the divers games ranging from Rockband to Karaoke to Smash Bros. keep 6 people occupied and out of little sister's hair from 9:30am - 5:30pm?

#4 - I'm going to take my whole family out to Tucanos. $$$.

#5 - There's not too much to do in Provo. I hate you, Provo.

Say Uncle

2008-04-02T00:10:00.002-06:00

Janie holding on to her dad.

The former Elder Gus LaFontaine got to visit my sister today as I found out he was in town. We surprised her this afternoon. It must be all kinds of rewarding to know that the person you had taught the discussion to is now married in the temple, and having kids who are hers for eternity. I don't think it gets better than that.

It was fun catching up with Elder LaFontaine. I haven't seen him in over five years in which he had finished his mission in February '03, served a tour of duty in Iraq, graduated from college, started teaching 1st graders, and built his own house.

I'm still trying to finish college.

I find that Elder LaFontaine has preserved a pretty humbling memory of me. Old-Mike was sure different. Now-Mike might worry him. I just feel like information about Now-Mike would make him feel cheated out of what he thinks of Overall-Mike... it's kind of like the feeling of being cheated out of something like if you were in line for two hours to get on Splash Mountain at Disneyland and right before you get on the ride, it breaks down for five hours.

I don't care how good those fireworks at night would be because I didn't go on Splash Mountain. Freakin'-A.

New Born; Still Sick

2008-03-31T22:34:00.004-06:00

Viruseseses

2008-03-30T10:45:00.003-06:00

I can't seem to kick the sickness.

It also snowed today which adds to the fun.

In case you didn't know, I love Chipotle. Truman and I went up to Sandy to get some. Apparently, they just opened one there because before, we drove to Bountiful to get some. I am in burrito bliss--except for the whole sick thing.

Lady got her voice back. It had nothing to do with sickness as much as it had to do with her fervent cheering at our volleyball match. Our last match is coming up before we enter tourney time.

Listification

#1 - I named my new cell phone Donatello because it is green and glows and manly purple.

#2 - Can too much of vitamin C be a bad thing?

#3 - The coldest water from the tap is in my bathroom sink. Places I would never drink the water from the tap: Texas, California, and Vietnam.

#4 - I'm pretty excited for the Incredible Hulk, the Happening, the Forbidden Kingdom, Wanted, and Indiana Jones IV. Nicholas Cage as a superhero is as believable as Ben Affleck as Daredevil. To tell you the truth, I like Edward Norton. So, I'm a little afraid of what Hulk-smash, Hulk-bash will do to him. It seems like the filmmakers are approaching this from a deeper internal psychological blah blah which I know Edward can pull off (we're on a first name basis); I'm just wary when he turns green.

I'm an M. Night Shyamalandingdongifjfdskjfhe fan through and through so I am excited that he didn't jump off a bridge because of the reviews and criticism he received for Lady in the Water. I liked Lady in the Water. I thought Paul Giamatti's character was well written. I also loved his deep back story that was only revealed in bits and pieces--superb. Anyway, the Happening stars Mark Whalberg (which now marks two Whalbergs who have been in M. Night's film the other being Donnie in the Sixth Sense [M. Night is a superhero name. I would respect Nicholas Cage in a superhero movie if his name were M. Night... okay, that isn't remotely true]). It's also M. Night's first foray into rated R films. I'm very interested in this move. Until now, his films have all been a nice PG-13 of goodness with nothing in terms of sexuality or language but strong in terms of terror and other themes that make people wet their pants. So, this rated R business feels to me like he is "stepping it up" to a harder type of movie. I don't think there will be any sexuality but I imagine a lot more dying and an f-bomb or two. And in true M. Night fashion, the trailer is hopelessly cryptic but I'm excited for it like a kid switching from diapers to big boy underwear.

The Forbidden Kingdom is my childhood or at least the part spent watching kung fu films from China dubbed in Vietnamese. There's this chick who fights with her hair a la Sindel from Mortal Kombat or Dixie Kong from the Donkey Kong games! The people in the flicks I used to watch fought with fingernails, their sleeves, and even a sword that was infused with the blood of a martyr so I am excited for this jaunt to my childhood. Also, I feel all raised eyebrows and such that Jackie Chan's English is better than Jet Li's.

Wanted is cool because as much as I loathe that Jolie girl, when she plays a bad-A, she gets the part down well like Denzel Washington playing Denzel Washington in every film he has been in. The special effects and stunts look freakin' tight and Morgan Freeman is very much bad-A as well. I think if I were to choose an all-star line up for a film of action, drama, life changing goodness, my line up would include Morgan Freeman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Joan Allen, Emily Mortimer, Kevin Spacey, Keira Knightley, Shia LeBouf (cause he's so hot right now), Ellen Paige (cause she's so hot right now), and Tea Leoni (not because I like her but I want her character to be killed off in the opening credits because she annoys me so much). The film would probably be about college kids, broken homes, fighting for dreams, and leukemia.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. 'Nuff said.

#5 - I miss volleyball class.

Providence

2008-03-27T01:32:00.002-06:00

I am here with follow up.

I called my mission president and we had about two minutes of chit chat before he cut right to the chase. He knew something was wrong and felt inspired to contact me immediately. Oh, I was very ready to dodge the questions that I thought he might ask but BAM he did exactly what he felt prompted to do and asked how I was doing in the Church.

I am very humbled by this experience. I don't think thoughts of my mission president and his wife cross my mind often or at all until I got that email. At times I feel selfish that the Lord is seemingly wasting these kinds of special experiences on me when others could use a spiritual reaffirmation. Yet, I am in need. Sometimes I find myself in need and I don't even realize it until God decides to remind me about revelation and inspiration and the importance of following the Spirit--then I realize how much I have been wanting.

The Lord loves me and watches over me and instead of feeling awkward when he stretches out his hand, it is time to start feeling very grateful because I am important to him.

Lists of Things on my Mind:

#1 - We lost both our volleyball matches tonight but we played well. I even got a killer angle spike in. I also need to stop crashing into our outside hitter when we transition. I collided with him at least twice today.

#2 - My little sister's baby isn't pointing in the right direction. She's going in next week to have a doctor... well, I don't know... push and press and rearrange the baby so that she is going to come out head first. It makes me nervous because if that doesn't work, it's going to be a c-section. I don't care what anyone says... it's still major surgery. It makes me worry.

#3 - Lady is sick now. I feel pretty bad because she really doesn't have time to be sick with her busy school load. Don't look at me. I haven't kissed her yet.

#4 - Our fans who come to the volleyball games have now adopted the Angels in the Outfield wave as well as making pigeon noises at the opposing team. Apparently some are coming just to heckle.

#5 - Josie by Blink 182.

Hmm...

2008-03-25T23:09:00.002-06:00

An unusual day.

I went and played volleyball with my class even thought I'm not in the class anymore. I told the teacher I had been sick and had a doctor's note which is all true but in the long run of two months when he goes to enter my grade in, he'll see that I haven't been in his class for a long time. There are even these practice sheets where you do volleyball drills and get them signed off. He handed it to me today and told me I should work on it on my own because it is a big part of my grade. I took my sheet and then threw it in the trash when he wasn't looking. It's better when there's no evidence.

Here's where things get unusual and it is evident from three emails in my inbox.

#1 - This is an email that was sent to anyone in the Vietnamese program in Houston that served with me.

Brethren,

Does anyone have a current phone number or e-mail address for Mike Nguyen? The one from California not Tucson. If you do, please let me know anything you have as soon as you can.

Love,

President ***

#2 - My good ol' trainer responds and gives President *** three email addresses that I have used but also forwards the email to me from which I get the information for item #1.

#3 - This also appears in my inbox.

Mike,

Please call me. I would like to talk to you.

Love,

President ***

Odd. Pretty dang odd. I don't imagine I know what he wants to talk about... I have a guess but how in the world would news like that travel so fast when I don't even talk to anyone from my mission!

So... I throw this out there to the masses: DO I CALL HIM OR NOT? Yes, it sounds like a silly question but it's weird considering where I'm at in my life. And it's not that I'm afraid or that I hate my mission president, it's just really random.

Encylopaedia Britannica and Nasal Gel

2008-03-25T00:18:00.004-06:00

I read today for leisure. It was some kind of weird. I picked up a book that I had been working on for quite some time and remembered how much I enjoyed anecdotal, vignette orientated books. Also reminds me that I want to write a book like that some day. I love books that have strange titles that have to be included in its totality by use of colon or taking needless abuse of the word "and". The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World by A. J. Jacobs is my current endeavor and preceding that was She Got Up Off the Couch and Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana by Haven Kimmel. I think a title I would fancy would have a colon and the word "and". Something like... Monkeys in a Barrel: the Shortcomings of the Not-So-Tall or How I Came to Learn and Un-Learn Cursive.

Random.

A. J. Jacobs' book is about reading the "Encylopaedia Britannica" from A to Z. I guess you would have to read a couple chapters into my book before you can see why the working title was even considered but never fear, the book has yet to be written.

I am still on the mend. I feel much like a baby kangaroo that can't survive out of its mom's pouch for too long. I feel alright sitting at home but if I leave that humidifier for too long, I start coughing up body parts like my pancreas and gall bladder. Three weeks of sickness is something fierce. It has deterred my job search but I started to send out resumes today again and have also found out that my sickness is warding off the huge lecture I am going to get from Levi for being irresponsible with my recent Wii purchase but not only that... people around me are starting to come down with something reminiscent of early March.

This period of time has marked the return of cough syrup that I haven't had since I was a child. That of course does not eclipse the weirdness that is pumping nasal gel into my nostrils. Upon further inspection of the medicine bottle, it appears this doctor also treated me for my run in with someone's teeth and mouth once in volleyball a year or two ago. I think I get injured enough regularly to make the rounds at the student health clinic to recognize the doctors. Speaking on injuries, the third setter of my league volleyball team is out of commission. Poor guy. I'm a bit miffed because all of our matches are double headers which means I am going to be all sorts of tired from two games in a row. But I am not complaining. It's one of few things I have to occupy my time with so I don't go bonkers.

I even had time to write in my journal today. I am feeling a bit more caught up but am having trouble deciding what to write about outside of the ongoings of each day. Highlights always include Lady and playing games. Tonight I built a second DVD rack thing. It sure made me miss my dad's power tools.

Another List

#1 - I learned how to spell "comeuppance" today which brings to mind that I have been pronouncing it very wrong.

#2 - I hate quotes that are quoted in papers by random people who's background you don't know which brings crap validity to the quote in the long run... "Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity," educational reformer Horace Mann quipped once and I am quoting him for no reason.

#3 - It is amazing how much a smile can change your day.

#4 - Out of 249 DVDs that I own of movies and TV series, there are approximately 46 movies I own which I have yet to actually watch.

#5 - I had ice cream made before my eyes with liquid nitrogen today. I have truly lived.

P. S. I am literally defying gravity in that picture because it's not natural that I can get that high without aid of trampoline.

Easter

2008-03-24T00:36:00.002-06:00

Mmm...roast beef.

It's almost 1AM but I'm hungry. I ate last at about 3:30PMish and lo, it was my second time ever having eaten lamb. I hate words that end with "b" because I spent a large amount of my life pronouncing the "b" as in thum-b or dum-b. This of course just supports my remaining in ESL for a good chunk of my elementary school days.

I'm pleased to announce that I am feeling better. The coughing only gets out of control when I leave my apartment. It's weird. Lady and I ate Easter dinner at Keeleyshire and there is a corner of their home that I kept leaning over to cough into. They are probably going to have to burn everything within a 2 feet radius to sterilize the place.

I didn't make it to church today. I stayed home and rested some more and it turns out that was a good health decision. Later after Easter dinner, I watched Dear Frankie with Lady and Case and then we played some sabbath appropriate Smash Bros. Brawl. It's quite the game. I do have to admit that I am pleased that I have unlocked Sonic. It seems the AI on these games aren't as easy as they used to be to defeat--you actually have to try. Sonic kicked my butt three times, I think. And yesterday, Luigi schooled me twice. I've lost my edge. Computer kicks my trash, girlfriend kicks my trash, and a blue hedgehog takes me down without breaking a sweat.

Life puts you in position where you feel strongly about things. When you see other people doing things you feel strongly against, and they happen to be your friends, where do you draw the line between standing up for what's right and standing up for what's right for you?

More Stuffs

2008-03-22T22:26:00.003-06:00

Enduring is an interesting concept because it is a slow poison for people like my parents. The trip home to CA was supposed to be a surprised but my older brother couldn't resist and my parents found out. I was a little miffed but as I thought about the situation, I was reminded that it wasn't like he revealed my super hero weakness or anything. Probably on the top of the list of things my brother could have divulge to me was the fact that my parents don't sleep in the same room anymore.

Sure, it's kind of a new-age pseudo-divorce but it still felt weird. My mom felt that she had to explain herself and I willingly listened. It's interesting that she feels that her marriage problems are unique to her because of her personal experiences. It's rather textbook: couple starts out with nothing, starts building careers, success happens, wife feels content and comfortable with where they're at, and husband can't back down because he's still driven by the desire to succeed even more.

Here's the boat.

Here's the anchor.

It is simple and complex.

I enjoyed the trip home. I didn't realize how much I missed home after being away for so long.

Life here in Provo continues to roll on. I am still on the job hunt and I am still sick. The meds from the doctor visit are helping but I am impatient and annoyed. I want to be with my friends, be close with Lady, cuddling and such but I'm still moderately contagious. I can give you my sickness if I bite you too but only if I bite you moderately.

League volleyball games continue to be fun and a respite from weeks of nothing to do. We are now 1 - 4. We're in the A division and let it suffice it to say that it's not like we can't compete and hold our own, our abilities are just under the A division. I told Lady that they should have made a B.5 group because as much as we put up losing match scores like 24 - 26, 23 - 25, I still would like to win.

At least we have matching team shirts.

List of Things

1. I am now in possession of a Wii. It is like a drug. Like candy crack nicotine with morphine nougat filling.

2. People got up and danced at the Malt Shoppe a la Happy Days. I am never going back to the Malt Shoppe.

3. Lady has been pretty busy with school and such. I decided to give her a little pick me up by way of her favorite candy, Twix, in carton Costco form with total of 42, wrapped in nice paper with a hot pink bow waiting for her when she got home.

4. I shamelessly admit that I bought the original Power Rangers movie to add to my collection.

5. How did swearing get to be so funny in Hot Fuzz?

Bum

2008-03-22T03:06:00.003-06:00

I really thought these posts would be occuring more often but blogging has slowed down to a halt. I am barely caught up in my written journal but I am trying.

Enteric adenovirus has made me its biotch for the last two weeks. I finally gave in to peer pressure and humiliy and the realization that coughing shoudn't be this painful nor prolonged--I went to the student health center. Of course I couldn't make an appointment so I had to go to urgent care. When the doctor came in to see me, he had my info on a clipboard and began to jot down notes, underline, and draw arrows to and fro. My information sheet looked like some art work from my pre-kindergarten days where I could not color inside the lines if you paid me a bazillion dollars. It was also during these pre-kindergarten days that I would get my mom's sewing needles and poke holes in my parent's water bed.

But back to the virus: the doc gave me a prescription for horse-pill-sized antibiotics and heavy duty cough syrup. I also had to get some nasal gel things that you pump into your nostrils--that was a first for me and so was the humidifier. The health center lent out to me a humidifer. I've never used one but this model seems to be humidifying just dandy. It also reminds me of a fog machine.

So, where have I been? Well, believe it or not, I have been home. I flew down for a good solid visit of 6 days and 5 nights to visit my family in lieu of my niece's birthday. I figured I would have to stop being a dead beat uncle and start spoiling but what do you know...the little monkey doesn't like chocolate! She also doesn't like to be held by me but I can let something trivial like that pass but to not be fond of the sweetness of chocolate; I cannot comprehend.

Home was interesting. I say interesting because I was pleasantly surprised that I had a good time. I wasn't expecting that for any number of reasons. My illness reared its head during the California trip and I now have come to know the pain that is the unstopped ear while descending into LAX. I wanted to jab my ears out cause you know, they were on rupture mode.

It's late so I'll just post a picture and head to bed and recount the trip later.

Divertido @ Hockey

2008-03-09T10:01:00.001-06:00

Wii and Hockey

2008-03-08T02:43:00.002-07:00

Today was quite the day.

Layton and I ran some errands and by errands I mean we decided to check out the Wal-marts located south and north of Provo to see if they would have any Wiis. The hypothesis was that since these stores were further away from Wii starved Provo/Orem, we might have a better chance of securing one.

We were wrong.

Very wrong.

Apparently the competition for the gaming system out this far is not other college students but ravenous Mormon moms. They have a routine where they drop their gremlins off at school and then go to such places as GameStop and wait for an hour from 10am - 11am to see if that day is the day a random shipment of Wiis would come in. Sure, that's some dedication to your child's happiness but what the hell!? If I were to act like the children of these days when I was growing up, it would have gotten me slapped about by my mom and then sent to kneel in the corner, back straight, lactic acid burning, and awaiting for my dad to come home to deliver the striking punishments of noteworthy brusiness.

These kids of today cannot comprehend the Wii.

They don't understand that college students, like myself, crave... need... starve for entertainment and have something to prove by mastering a new coming Smash Bros. game so that I... er... he/she can reign supreme and stop being beat by his girlfriend.

No vendettas here.

Perhaps it is a good thing that I came out empty handed today but it sure felt nice to convince myself of a hope that I could find a Wii.

Now if I could only apply that kind of energy to finding a job! You know... the kind of dedication it takes to keep the All Spark out of the hands of the Decepticons or the determination of Little Foot to carry that darn tree star all the way to the Great Valley and not snack on it en route (unlike a certain friend who once bought me In-N-Out as she was driving back up from Las Vegas and consumed it within an hour) or even Jim Carrey's trying jaunt in drama in The Majestic which itself tries very hard to be a political film--down with communism and the film industry!

I'll pass on that kind of maturity of purpose for now.

Mostly because I like hockey fights.

BYU played our neighbors to the north today and what do you know, one person was ejected from the game, fights broke out, people got checked hard into the wall, three players from both sides simultaneously had to sit out due to penalties, and BYU led the whole time by a lot so it was a little boring. What did make it saucier were the racial injustices that plagued the match. A Ute fan asked a girl in front of me to sit down (she happens to be from my ward) and she let him know that she was not going to sit down in the student section--she could stand as much as she likes and Ute man could not stop her. With all respect due to Rosa Parks, I informed my friend that she could sit wherever and whenever the hell she wanted to: in the front of the bus, in the back, or even in the student section of the hockey venue.

During intermission, Jo and I went to get hot chocolate. I was informed that I could use my card with a minimum purchase of $5. Three churros and two hot chocolates later, I handed my card over only to be denied with the reason being that the lady who ran the swipy machine had turned off the machine for the night. I was more curious than furious. Pabs had gone right before me and could use his card. Having worked retail before, the credit card swipy thing is not something that is easily turned on and off. It needs hours and hours of time to warm up to be able to print out a little receipt on cheap thermal paper. Wait, I lied--there's no reason to turn that thing off and not be able to turn it on again...it's not a freakin' Xerox machine from the early 80's that needs 1.21 jigawatts, a bolt of lightning, or Mr. Fusion to get going.

But like I had previously mentioned, I was more curious than furious so I asked the teenager girl who refused my card about the lady who had turned off the machine, "Did she turn it off because she's racist?"

(I'm not racist or have many multicultural blah blahs but I sure do like to joke about it.)

This teenager looked at me with shock and stammered out a, "No..." Her eyes were mortified. She was in between awkward town and WTF. You can read the quotable version over at Naked Thursdays. She looked like she was going to cry and I knew she was going to spit in my hot chocolate or at least grind in cockroaches.

Jo stepped in and paid for the treats in cash and wanted to cut the tension as I searched for a proper straw to use for hot chocolate. Seeing that teenager girl was still uneasy about what had happened which was helped by the fact that Jo was red from embarrassment and Levi was off to the left trying hard not to laugh or explode from not laughing, I decided to throw her an olive branch, "I'm really not racist. I like white people. Look, this is my girlfriend and she's white." Feeling that all was well, Levi, Jo, and I walked about three feet away from the cashier and laughed till we died of shame from confronting a young lady about racism. So, that didn't happen. No death. No shame. It was the highlight of my hockey night aside from the rude and base comments I shouted to the other team: "Take off your skate and shank him!", "Use your hockey stick to poke through his mask and jab his eyes out!", "Go for the jugular!", and even stepping up a notch to an old favorite saying as a Ute player dropped his hockey stick: "You need a stick!--That's what she said!"

All in all the night was fun. I never tire of good company of friends and the sense of security I feel when I'm with Jo. She is like those red bar things that were all the rage ten years ago that you could attach to your car's steering wheel to prevent it from being stolen but like a hundred bazillion times more better.

A 17-year-old made fun of me tonight when he saw I had purchased The Little Mermaid. He has not experienced true Disney magic and high priced DVD sales and the horrible practice of putting movies into this mysterious "Vault" and ominously mentioning that they won't come out again but then throwing out The Little Mermaid Deluxe Edition Extreme Awesomeness and charging you $30 which you have to shell out because there's that chance that The Little Mermaid could go back into that "Vault" and never come out again... until like 15 years later and the "Vault" is opened and The Little Mermaid Deluxe Edition Extreme Awesomeness of Coolness of Joy and Joyness comes out with the ominous warning that this is a time sensitive offer because The Little Mermaid could go back into the "Vault" and never return-ish.

Screw the "Vault"... which upon mental pronunciation coincidentally rhymes with "Walt" and that's just craptacular.

Migration

2008-03-07T04:39:00.004-07:00

I have severed the ties with Xanga as far as personal blogging is concerned. It's late right now...or early depending on how you want to look at it so this decision could be clouded by lack of sleep and other such variables which include losing in Smash Bros. to my girlfriend...twice...and losing in Buzz, a trivia game, which ended my reign as champion and snuffed out my pride and ho-humming.

I haven't stayed up this late/early for a long while.

There's not really any reason--I wasn't even reading wikipedia. The truth of the matter is that I miss online blogging. This is going to be quite the juggling experience with an online blog as well as keeping a written journal but I've been known to deftly defy conventions regarding juggling...cause I'm Asian.