Don't you just love it? I know I do.
Not that my plans today were particularly great, but they all happened. I finished my exams, cooked myself the dinner I've been wanting since Monday and saw No Country For Old Men (and no one talked! Huge pet peeve. Maybe I'll explain it in a later post.) Anyway, I'll maintain an acceptable GPA, probably sleep very well tonight and check another one off my "movies to see" list. It's the simple things, right? SIGH...
Maybe this post was boring. But at least it's over.
You're the best.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Escuela
Believe me, I resisted posting anything about school during finals week as long as I could but I think BYU is such an unusual institution that I had to say something about it.
I don't know when, but I have to believe that at some point in my life people will stop giving me what I want just because I say it's important to me. I never want this to happen and, I should add, that I never feel like I have twisted anyones arm to get what I want. However, especially where school is concerned, it has been my experience that if I go say - "Excuse me, dear sir or madam, I need a higher grade on this because presently it will reflect poorly on me. Can I please have one?"- it works. I have received two critical grades this semester that I did not earn, in different classes, simply by asking. I hope this doesn't come off boastful. I promise, I'm as confused as you.
I'm glad I am at school at BYU. I chalk this unwarranted generosity up to the teachers being invested in teaching something beyond the curriculum. A very LDS sentiment. "David- I just read your email. I believe in mercy. Megan please add 12 points to his score. - Dr. Dollahite" That 12 points took me from a failing grade to a B. Unreal.
I recommend talking to your teachers. Maybe even start out by saying "Hey, you know what? I'd really like an A in this class. What can we do about that?" It seems to do the trick.
Good luck on your finals. You're the best.
I don't know when, but I have to believe that at some point in my life people will stop giving me what I want just because I say it's important to me. I never want this to happen and, I should add, that I never feel like I have twisted anyones arm to get what I want. However, especially where school is concerned, it has been my experience that if I go say - "Excuse me, dear sir or madam, I need a higher grade on this because presently it will reflect poorly on me. Can I please have one?"- it works. I have received two critical grades this semester that I did not earn, in different classes, simply by asking. I hope this doesn't come off boastful. I promise, I'm as confused as you.
I'm glad I am at school at BYU. I chalk this unwarranted generosity up to the teachers being invested in teaching something beyond the curriculum. A very LDS sentiment. "David- I just read your email. I believe in mercy. Megan please add 12 points to his score. - Dr. Dollahite" That 12 points took me from a failing grade to a B. Unreal.
I recommend talking to your teachers. Maybe even start out by saying "Hey, you know what? I'd really like an A in this class. What can we do about that?" It seems to do the trick.
Good luck on your finals. You're the best.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Would you rather?
Would you rather write a paper on the morality of socialism for me or give me your paycheck for the first five years of your career?
Take your pick.
This is not hypothetical.
You're the best.
Take your pick.
This is not hypothetical.
You're the best.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
The Best Song Ever Written
As close as I can figure it, a better song has not been written than "When The Ship Comes In" by Bob Dylan. At least I've never heard one. It's off "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and it hits just as hard every time I hear it.
It is, to me, about the second coming of Christ and somehow resonates with the deepest part of me that believes he will be my rock and my salvation. The part of me that needs someone to fill in the huge, embarrassing gaps. The part of me that simply can't fight anymore.
I believe when that time comes, Christ will be there to peacefully and unflinchingly end the torment that Satan has inflicted upon God's children. And it fills me with profound gratitude to know that there is someone so much stronger than me who wants me around enough to fight for me. The world has a way of picking on you and mercilessly highlighting your limitations. Christ will return full of mercy and will welcome all who seek him. I know of nothing in my whole life that feels more true than this. I wish you were here to see my sincerity. I hope it comes through in my words even half as well as it does in the words from this song.
These are the lyrics:
Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin'.
Like the stillness in the wind
'Fore the hurricane begins,
The hour when the ship comes in.
Oh the seas will split
And the ship will hit
And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking.
Then the tide will sound
And the wind will pound
And the morning will be breaking.
Oh the fishes will laugh
As they swim out of the path
And the seagulls they'll be smiling.
And the rocks on the sand
Will proudly stand,
The hour that the ship comes in.
And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as they're spoken.
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean.
A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline.
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck,
The hour that the ship comes in.
Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a-touchin'.
And the ship's wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin'.
Oh the foes will rise
With the sleep still in their eyes
And they'll jerk from their beds and think they're dreamin'.
But they'll pinch themselves and squeal
And know that it's for real,
The hour when the ship comes in.
Then they'll raise their hands,
Sayin' we'll meet all your demands,
But we'll shout from the bow your days are numbered.
And like Pharaoh's tribe,
They'll be drownded in the tide,
And like Goliath, they'll be conquered.
I know that my redeemer lives. That he loves us.
And that he will come again.
Merry Christmas, friends. You're the best.
It is, to me, about the second coming of Christ and somehow resonates with the deepest part of me that believes he will be my rock and my salvation. The part of me that needs someone to fill in the huge, embarrassing gaps. The part of me that simply can't fight anymore.
I believe when that time comes, Christ will be there to peacefully and unflinchingly end the torment that Satan has inflicted upon God's children. And it fills me with profound gratitude to know that there is someone so much stronger than me who wants me around enough to fight for me. The world has a way of picking on you and mercilessly highlighting your limitations. Christ will return full of mercy and will welcome all who seek him. I know of nothing in my whole life that feels more true than this. I wish you were here to see my sincerity. I hope it comes through in my words even half as well as it does in the words from this song.
These are the lyrics:
Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin'.
Like the stillness in the wind
'Fore the hurricane begins,
The hour when the ship comes in.
Oh the seas will split
And the ship will hit
And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking.
Then the tide will sound
And the wind will pound
And the morning will be breaking.
Oh the fishes will laugh
As they swim out of the path
And the seagulls they'll be smiling.
And the rocks on the sand
Will proudly stand,
The hour that the ship comes in.
And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as they're spoken.
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean.
A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline.
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck,
The hour that the ship comes in.
Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a-touchin'.
And the ship's wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin'.
Oh the foes will rise
With the sleep still in their eyes
And they'll jerk from their beds and think they're dreamin'.
But they'll pinch themselves and squeal
And know that it's for real,
The hour when the ship comes in.
Then they'll raise their hands,
Sayin' we'll meet all your demands,
But we'll shout from the bow your days are numbered.
And like Pharaoh's tribe,
They'll be drownded in the tide,
And like Goliath, they'll be conquered.
I know that my redeemer lives. That he loves us.
And that he will come again.
Merry Christmas, friends. You're the best.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Re(al)Load Button: Revamped
I have been called out on my post about insanity. Soundly so. I'm willing to admit it.
My example about the weights doesn't hold any weight itself because the expectation of going to the gym is to add muscle mass. An increase suggests a change, even if it does have a nice loophole quality to it. It's not as though a person goes to the gym one day to put on muscle mass and the next day to see if they can grow some antlers. Although, I 'd like to watch that. You psycho.
I have also been informed that the quote did not materialize out of dust in the cosmos as I had originally hypothesized and hoped. Einstein said it. And not that the man can't be disproved, but he was no slouch. Sorry for doubting you, Al. Take some comfort in the fact that you will always have a staunch and able advocate in Spencer Wilcox.
You're the best.
My example about the weights doesn't hold any weight itself because the expectation of going to the gym is to add muscle mass. An increase suggests a change, even if it does have a nice loophole quality to it. It's not as though a person goes to the gym one day to put on muscle mass and the next day to see if they can grow some antlers. Although, I 'd like to watch that. You psycho.
I have also been informed that the quote did not materialize out of dust in the cosmos as I had originally hypothesized and hoped. Einstein said it. And not that the man can't be disproved, but he was no slouch. Sorry for doubting you, Al. Take some comfort in the fact that you will always have a staunch and able advocate in Spencer Wilcox.
You're the best.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Strike On
I think the WGA is still on strike. Or anyway, I joined a facebook group this morning supporting their return.
I have to be honest though, as I did on the wall of the group, I don't support their return. I get a pretty good kick out of the thousands crying foul like addicts at a rehab. "Don't take our shows!" Get real.
I think it should be upsetting to people how easily placated they are by fast cut, fast solution garbage. Is that what you want your mind to be? So much so that you are willing to get up-in-arms about it? Go have a glass of whiskey. At least it's you manipulating your thoughts that way. Not some talented staff of writers crafting whatever sells for higher ratings.
I'm not actually as pissed as I may sound, but I do think it's pretty sad to see people suffering actual withdrawals from having to watch a few re-runs of 24. Go read a book. Or watch a movie that you don't understand right away. Or go for a jog. There is more to life than what the Writers Guild can compose.
You're the best. Not the guild.
I have to be honest though, as I did on the wall of the group, I don't support their return. I get a pretty good kick out of the thousands crying foul like addicts at a rehab. "Don't take our shows!" Get real.
I think it should be upsetting to people how easily placated they are by fast cut, fast solution garbage. Is that what you want your mind to be? So much so that you are willing to get up-in-arms about it? Go have a glass of whiskey. At least it's you manipulating your thoughts that way. Not some talented staff of writers crafting whatever sells for higher ratings.
I'm not actually as pissed as I may sound, but I do think it's pretty sad to see people suffering actual withdrawals from having to watch a few re-runs of 24. Go read a book. Or watch a movie that you don't understand right away. Or go for a jog. There is more to life than what the Writers Guild can compose.
You're the best. Not the guild.
You're The Best
I feel like this needs a qualifier. Heck, maybe even a vote. Tell me (after reading this post) if you still don't like it.
As if you hadn't noticed I've been killing off each entry with the phrase "You're The Best." I did have a few reasons for this:
Firstly, if you were sitting here with me, intently listening to whatever i could conjure up, I think that's about what I'd say at the end. How kind of you to put up with me and to continue to feign interest. If you do that in real life, You really are the best.
Secondly, I really think it. I don't know what You are the best at, but you'll find it. And I want to encourage you to continue your search.
Thirdly, I've always wanted a sign off. Reagan had one. Why can't I? It's like a finishing move in Mortal Kombat. You can throw punch-kick combos aimlessly and still win but if you memorize one dank fatality, everyone is beholden to you.
Fourth and lastly, It reminds me of my homeboy Curt who used to go about his daily activities asserting to all that he was the best. If you say it enough times, it becomes true. So I say it in hopes that you start saying it to yourself. Would you do that for me?
I hope so. You're the best.
As if you hadn't noticed I've been killing off each entry with the phrase "You're The Best." I did have a few reasons for this:
Firstly, if you were sitting here with me, intently listening to whatever i could conjure up, I think that's about what I'd say at the end. How kind of you to put up with me and to continue to feign interest. If you do that in real life, You really are the best.
Secondly, I really think it. I don't know what You are the best at, but you'll find it. And I want to encourage you to continue your search.
Thirdly, I've always wanted a sign off. Reagan had one. Why can't I? It's like a finishing move in Mortal Kombat. You can throw punch-kick combos aimlessly and still win but if you memorize one dank fatality, everyone is beholden to you.
Fourth and lastly, It reminds me of my homeboy Curt who used to go about his daily activities asserting to all that he was the best. If you say it enough times, it becomes true. So I say it in hopes that you start saying it to yourself. Would you do that for me?
I hope so. You're the best.
Re(al)Load Button
I have never agreed with the recent trend in defining insanity as "trying the same thing over and over again expecting different results." It has gained popularity in the last, I would say, three or four years. No one knows why this became the good thing to do all of the sudden.
For one thing, insanity isn't a verb. We can all agree on that, I think. No one says "What's the matter with Ed?" "Oh don't worry about it, he's just doing some insanity." Well, maybe someone does. But I assure you, that person is insane.
Lets take for instance lifting weights. Not one of my favorite pastimes, but it works. By this definition, anyone who sets foot in a gym in any sort of consecutive fashion is a lunatic. That might be true, but I promise it won't be because they don't get ripped.
Take also the reload button on the top of your screen. If the page you want isn't loading, just keep pushing that baby. You will get what you want. Although, to be fair, that button has driven me a little insane on occasion. Just stick to the example about weights.
To set the record straight, this is the definition:
in·san·i·ty
[in-san-i-tee] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
For one thing, insanity isn't a verb. We can all agree on that, I think. No one says "What's the matter with Ed?" "Oh don't worry about it, he's just doing some insanity." Well, maybe someone does. But I assure you, that person is insane.
Lets take for instance lifting weights. Not one of my favorite pastimes, but it works. By this definition, anyone who sets foot in a gym in any sort of consecutive fashion is a lunatic. That might be true, but I promise it won't be because they don't get ripped.
Take also the reload button on the top of your screen. If the page you want isn't loading, just keep pushing that baby. You will get what you want. Although, to be fair, that button has driven me a little insane on occasion. Just stick to the example about weights.
To set the record straight, this is the definition:
in·san·i·ty
[in-san-i-tee] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun, plural -ties.
Next time you want to sound smart don't go with what you heard in a catchy flick about unrequited love or a church talk about changing your ways. Look it up.
You're still the best. Even if you are a little dense sometimes.
| 1. | the condition of being insane; a derangement of the mind. |
| 2. | Law. such unsoundness of mind as affects legal responsibility or capacity. |
| 3. | Psychiatry. (formerly) psychosis. |
| 4. | extreme folly; senselessness; foolhardiness. |
Next time you want to sound smart don't go with what you heard in a catchy flick about unrequited love or a church talk about changing your ways. Look it up.
You're still the best. Even if you are a little dense sometimes.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
In Addition
I would like to say that the only reason I did not delete my first two posts, which embarrass me tremendously, is because the only thing worse than writing the insecure crap that I wrote is not not owning that I wrote it. So, I hope I get better at this so I don't have to feel ashamed when I post.
Feel free to tell whoever you like about this blog. My secrets are safe with you.
You're the best.
Well, maybe you are second to my awesome sign-off catch phrase. But you're still pretty good.
Feel free to tell whoever you like about this blog. My secrets are safe with you.
You're the best.
Well, maybe you are second to my awesome sign-off catch phrase. But you're still pretty good.
Renaissance
I have decided to give this baby another twirl. Six months later. The way I will do it (unless I am incredibly inspired by something that I am really itching to write about and my hands are on this exact keyboard begging for me to spend my free time on blogspot) will be to transcribe the things that I write in class. I feel like that is a frequent enough event that I could manage to post semi-frequently and feel like I am contributing to some community. Even if it's a virtual one.
Here goes. I wrote this about a month ago, in the tiniest handwriting possible, when some kid kept trying to see what I was drawing in my pink cougar spiral.
I can't tell you how much I enjoy writing small. Highly cathartic, this. I sincerely believe that if I do this, it will make onlookers think I'm writing a genius piece of literature. "Why else would he write so small?" They will wonder. Well, keep on wondering you peeping tom. I write this small to tantalize. Its like a seductive neighbor intentionally using translucent drapes. You may be close, but you just can't tell. Certainly, my favorite "moth" in this class is the brain dead seducee behind me. Keep trying to look around my beautiful shoulders. Catch a word like "colloquial" and speculate as you slump back again. Should you be writing? Did you miss the memo? Oh, I suppose you did. Big trouble for you, buddy. Get movin'.
I want to add, for your sake my little blog babies, that it is in this same class that I receive a daily sudoku puzzle from the attractive girl who replaced the brain dead bum who used to sit right behind me. Everyday she tears them out, and passes them around to her neighbors. I have concocted, in my mind, that if I do them the fastest that she will be more interested in me thereby. It's my only incentive to pick up the pace. And everyday I'm let down that she doesn't write her number on the torn out puzzle she hands me. One day, darling. One day.
I'm glad to be here, even if school does try to kill me. You're the best.
Here goes. I wrote this about a month ago, in the tiniest handwriting possible, when some kid kept trying to see what I was drawing in my pink cougar spiral.
I can't tell you how much I enjoy writing small. Highly cathartic, this. I sincerely believe that if I do this, it will make onlookers think I'm writing a genius piece of literature. "Why else would he write so small?" They will wonder. Well, keep on wondering you peeping tom. I write this small to tantalize. Its like a seductive neighbor intentionally using translucent drapes. You may be close, but you just can't tell. Certainly, my favorite "moth" in this class is the brain dead seducee behind me. Keep trying to look around my beautiful shoulders. Catch a word like "colloquial" and speculate as you slump back again. Should you be writing? Did you miss the memo? Oh, I suppose you did. Big trouble for you, buddy. Get movin'.
I want to add, for your sake my little blog babies, that it is in this same class that I receive a daily sudoku puzzle from the attractive girl who replaced the brain dead bum who used to sit right behind me. Everyday she tears them out, and passes them around to her neighbors. I have concocted, in my mind, that if I do them the fastest that she will be more interested in me thereby. It's my only incentive to pick up the pace. And everyday I'm let down that she doesn't write her number on the torn out puzzle she hands me. One day, darling. One day.
I'm glad to be here, even if school does try to kill me. You're the best.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Monday(ne)
Today has been uniquely uneventful for me, which is really a pity. It seems that if I can transfer momentum from day to day that I do quite alright, but today was not that day. I have run a few errands, plead for more money, attached a hose to a swamp cooler and watched "The Blackboard Jungle". By the way, watching movies that blew the lid off an issue back in the day are laughable and tedious now. I recommend it if you are in the market to get a sense of our frightening advancement as a society.
It seems that my current favorite artist, Conor Oberst, has nailed it again for me (I know. A blog with bright eyes in it should be cause for you to punch through your screen and tell me to lose the 'tude. C'est La Vie.) The line that has kept making its way out of my mouth since bedtime ended is:
A good woman will pick you apart.
A box full of suggestions, for your possible heart.
But you may be offended, and you may be afraid,
But don't walk away, don't walk away.
Can't help but let that one play on loop upstairs. My current love interest is unable to get involved with me because of some decisions I've made in the past but, as always, she'd like to remain close. Insecure as I am, I obviously said that I wanted that too and am paying the price for agreeing to those terms. I remember years ago writing that a girl was doing this same thing and that the relationship was always close enough to sense but never close enough to be realized. Patterns are tricky things to unravel. A sincere laugh and a glance that lasts more than a few seconds is pretty much cause for me to impersonate Pavlov's dogs. One day, so I'm told, I'll meet "the one". I could do without her for the time being though. Almost any "one" would do just fine.
Thankfully no one reads this yet. I am met with the constant realization that I sound like a horrible pompous moron. Someone who knows me, please tell me, is this how I really sound? If it is, I sincerely apologize. It's still a little uncomfortable for me to say things to essentially no one. Its not like a conversation so you, my faithful reader, get the full brunt of my neurosis. Every whit. And I appreciate it.
You're the best.
It seems that my current favorite artist, Conor Oberst, has nailed it again for me (I know. A blog with bright eyes in it should be cause for you to punch through your screen and tell me to lose the 'tude. C'est La Vie.) The line that has kept making its way out of my mouth since bedtime ended is:
A good woman will pick you apart.
A box full of suggestions, for your possible heart.
But you may be offended, and you may be afraid,
But don't walk away, don't walk away.
Can't help but let that one play on loop upstairs. My current love interest is unable to get involved with me because of some decisions I've made in the past but, as always, she'd like to remain close. Insecure as I am, I obviously said that I wanted that too and am paying the price for agreeing to those terms. I remember years ago writing that a girl was doing this same thing and that the relationship was always close enough to sense but never close enough to be realized. Patterns are tricky things to unravel. A sincere laugh and a glance that lasts more than a few seconds is pretty much cause for me to impersonate Pavlov's dogs. One day, so I'm told, I'll meet "the one". I could do without her for the time being though. Almost any "one" would do just fine.
Thankfully no one reads this yet. I am met with the constant realization that I sound like a horrible pompous moron. Someone who knows me, please tell me, is this how I really sound? If it is, I sincerely apologize. It's still a little uncomfortable for me to say things to essentially no one. Its not like a conversation so you, my faithful reader, get the full brunt of my neurosis. Every whit. And I appreciate it.
You're the best.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Let Us Begin
I had an entire first entry written about progress, the significance of age and insecurity. But it made me hate myself so I took it down. The easiest way to sum it up is like this:
I'm 22.
I am a committed church-goer.
I play music and watch movies.
I can't stand rejection but I subject myself to it in many forms.
I live on a sinking ship. So do you.
I love and hate myself for something.
I love you and hate you for something.
I hate that Spell Check exists to permit words like blog but not faux.
It was really quite standard. I just wanted to get the ball rolling.
The reason I got rid of it was because my deepest thoughts and biggest words somehow made me sound even more stupid. And I didn't think you would comment on it.
Thanks for reading. You're the best.
I'm 22.
I am a committed church-goer.
I play music and watch movies.
I can't stand rejection but I subject myself to it in many forms.
I live on a sinking ship. So do you.
I love and hate myself for something.
I love you and hate you for something.
I hate that Spell Check exists to permit words like blog but not faux.
It was really quite standard. I just wanted to get the ball rolling.
The reason I got rid of it was because my deepest thoughts and biggest words somehow made me sound even more stupid. And I didn't think you would comment on it.
Thanks for reading. You're the best.
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