A little yuletide profundity for ya.

The snow is falling outside. The ground and windshields are draped by a frozen concoction with the enticing consistency of cranberry ice. A custom family-sized stuffed pizza from Papa Murphy's is baking in the oven, filling the apartment with the cozy potpourri of aromas you only get from a Christmasy blend of Canadian bacon, pineapple, sausage, olives, chicken, green peppers, tomatoes, chives, traditional pizza sauce, and made-fresh today bread. A documentary on the geologic history of Yosemite Valley plays quietly on the tv. Soon I'll be feasting, enjoying a holiday film feature. This is the life.

Anyway, I figured since it's bound to come up a bunch in coming years, I may as well state my official, but still amendable, views on the origins of the planet. I'd hate for anyone to think I was apostate. I'm not. Really.

First off, the gospel is, was, and ever shall be true. Nothing ever offered man has proven more reliable, logical, genuine or beneficial than the good news of our Lord. I recognize that, and will stand by Him in anything He teaches. That said, it seems to not be His purpose to teach just exactly what went down before we came up. Every thinking Christian recognizes the potential for a multiplicity of interpretations of each passage of scripture, which can only be solved by revelation. When revelation is lacked, there is mighty room for speculation, friends, mighty room. My thoughts and early conclusions are as follows:

-- We don't know. My youthful philosophy on radiometric dating was, simply put, "You weren't there a billion years ago, how do you know this answer is right?" No scientist, no theologian was ever around for anything concerned with the formation of the planet. Either it was all done in some way we haven't fathomed and time began 6000 years ago so we all missed it, or it took 4.6 billion years as science speculates, which leaves us with about 500 years' decently recorded history, or about 1/9,200,000 of Earth's history that we can reliably describe. And in that time, relatively nothing has happened.

--God did it. Whether He organized everything just right in that little speck of infinity, then hit the 'Go' button and has looked on in satisfaction ever since the Big Bang, or whether He globbed the matter together in His labratory, dug the canyons with His mighty index finger and pinched up the mountain ranges between His unconquerable thumbs, then set Adam down and hit that 'Go' button, it was Him that set everything in motion in His own knowing way.

--Rocks are cool.

-- There are those who point to what is reputed around here to be the only talk ever given in conference on the matter, by Elder Talmage, approved by the 1st Presidency, in which he preached deep time, and stated that death had been going on for billions of years before Adam. There are also those who point to such statements as that I read in the Old Testament manual on Sunday after everybody'd moved on, in which Elder (maybe President by then) F. Smith said something to the effect of, "It is impossible for any man to believe in this theory of the earth, and to believe in the Plan of Salvation. Any man who says he believes both is a liar and a fool, because it's impossible." Other authorities have stated their feelings towards either side of the issue. I reckon this to be similar to the Christian divide between salvation through works, and that through grace. Every reasonable discourse I've heard on either side of that issue has said pretty much the same thing, they just don't realize that they already agree, because neither understands their 'opponent's' meaning. I may well be completely wrong, but it seems likely to be the case if inspired men are, with such conviction, at odds with each other.

--A lot about evolution and the big bang and all that stuff does make more sense than you'd think. That may only be because scientists can say whatever they want to make stuff make sense, and I've no desire to become a biologist, nor intention of becoming an astrophysicist, so I'll leave that to them. Did we come from monkeys from fish from plankton from chemicals from stars from light from an infinite speck of infiniteness, to become humanity with the crowning addition of spirits to the prepared tabernacles? Or were we molded and planted here in no time at all? I dunno. They both seem logical and justifiable to me. Tell that to the next democrat who calls me closed-minded, will you?

-- Geology works. The more I learn about science, the more laughable it seems to me. If ever there was a misnomer, it was science. We don't hardly 'sci' anything. We can't see small enough to understand chemistry, nor grand enough to understand the universe. So people guess until they come up with something that works, and if nobody can disprove it, the guess is built on as the foundation of truth until further notice. They are good guesses, though, because they work. Without science, we'd still be in caves. No comfort so common to us would be available without science. We can make plastic, build and fuel cars, grow food, do all sorts of amazing things, largely because of chemistry, and we know where to find the materials to create these things because of geology. It's entirely possible that when the Creator was poking and prodding this ball of clay to perfection, He built it so as to lead us to these conclusions about dinosaurs and prehistoric swamps and plate tectonics so that we would know how to access the treasures He'd planted inside the planet. That is to say, the Earth would be young, but it would be His purpose for us to treat it as though it was old. Or it could be that old. Or we could just be really lucky. Whatever the case, the model they've come up with works, so one can make the world a better place by studying it, using it, teaching it and advancing it.

--Brother Brigham says Satan can make pancakes. Maybe he can make fossils too? Or maybe the "more refined" matter of spirit creations can leave imprints to become fossils? It's a stretch. We're just brainstorming here.

--The order of creations in the scriptures matches reasonably well with the order of such things according to science. If you accept ancient algae as a plant (it was photosynthetic and green?) and suppose that science is allowed one mistake in putting stars before planets, when the scriptures say it was planet then light, it fits okay! Fascinating, I thought.

--I really don't know everything about geology, and geologists really don't know everything either. Heck, the entire modern state of the science is based on plate tectonics, and we've only been working with that since the 1960s. That's not a very long time to decode a planet.

--Miracles happen, and if the brother of Jared or the brother of the brother of Thomas S. Monson (see, his brother's brother, it's him, right? see what I did there?) says unto yon Rocky Mountain range, "Be thou cast into the sea!" it shall be done. And then geologists the world over will throw up their hands and take to liquor.

--God thinks very quickly, and could almost certainly keep up if he sped up the process a hundred billion times until we got here. It may well have happened in what we would call an instant, rather than billions of years or six days. And yes, that 'almost certainly' was a joke. I'm sure He could.

--It apparently doesn't matter, because it hasn't been revealed. So I'm just gonna play along, and then find out when I go over the Jordan. In the meantime, should I be describing whatever aspect of creation and say something about, "See, 350,000,000 years ago, blah blah blah..." I'm just speaking as a geologist speaks to the best of our human understanding. I realize it could be entirely wrong.

And I guess that's that. I had a couple other thoughts, I think, but it's hard to keep track of them all at once, ya know? I'll surely add and subtract from this as time goes by without telling anybody unless it comes up. I know nobody here thinks I'm apostate, I'm mainly just getting my thoughts out there and gearing up for a lifetime of dirty looks from ward members who think I'm possessed of a devil, along with the jeers of my atheist coworkers. Whoo-hoo.

I have now updated my blog for the first time since school started. What a refreshing feeling! Oh, and I wanted to share this video 'cause it's super amazing. And that's that. Charlie Brown Christmas på svenska, the time is yours.

Culinary Escapades

I've learned my lesson about using words on my blog with which I'm only mostly sure of the definition. So I looked up "escapade" before writing this to make sure it didn't just mean "the act of escaping." According to dictionary.com, the second definition has to do with escaping. The first has to do with "a reckless adventure or wild prank." I was aiming for reckless adventures, and that is evidently a valid use of the word. Isn't that just sublime? Now I venture forth in renewed confidence to explain this reckless culinary adventure.

As of late I've been venturing somewhat recklessly into the culinary world. I figure it's possible to eat much more cheaply and healthily by making your own food. Recent exploits include mixing two cans or refried beans, one can of corn, and two packages of imitation crab over the stove, and using the solution as chip dip or burrito filling. I thought it might be the biggest new thing in years. Turned out it tasted a lot like refried beans. I can live with that.

In the course of a recent evening, I found myself considering the case of a mission favorite, the kebab tallrik. Fries can be bought at one or two dollars for a large bag, as can salad. I have sauce. The peppers, though missed, were mostly a gimmick after all. That left only meat posing any significant financial issue. So today I was at Walmart, and found some thinly-sliced steak of which I forgot to note the name, for something like $4.58/lb, which ended up leaving a reasonable price on a surprisingly reasonable amount of meat. So I went for it. Meat, fries, salad, probably ended up less that $10, and will almost certainly last for three or four meals. I even got some orange soda, calling upon memories of cooks marinating meat in the stuff.

Got home, did some laundry, found myself available to prepare the food for future enjoyment. So I trimmed the fat off the edges of the meat and sliced it all up into appropriate kebab-sized strips. I found a box of gallon-sized zip-locks in our general use cupboard and pulled one out. There's nothing more to marinading than putting the meat in a bag or dish with the marinade, I figure. So I put the meat in the bag, and I pour in some soda.

And the table starts turning orange. And wet. That was a life-changing moment. Up to that instant, I hadn't any inkling that people made bags specifically designed to leak. Suddenly the world was a more complex, more hostile place. Apparently these are special bags for storing vegetables that need air to stay fresh, or something like that. I sprang into action with a couple of nearby kitchen towels, and eventually a third, soaking up the orange-flavored blood... or the blood-flavored orange soda... hopefully the latter, chuckling inside at the irony of soaking all three of our kitchen towels at the very moment my laundry is sitting in the dryer. I ended up putting the culination (yeah, pretty sure that's not a word at all) in a cup of bachelor apartment proportions, which had room for the meat and the soda quite perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that it looks a lot like a cup of soda with meat-shaped ice cubes. Fortunately, I'm the only one using my fridge currently, so there should be no reason for any adventurer to drink any.

Hopefully this was a good idea. In a couple hours I'll fry it all, put it in the fridge to keep, and eat some food that Mom sent home with me on Sunday. I've had enough escapadery for one day.

Road trip!

As Dan and/or Tanya so aptly pointed out, I told them I was gonna blog about something and then didn't. So now I shall.

I shall travel to Arizona. Never done that before. But it's looking like it's gonna pan out this week. I work at Timp Wednesday and Thursday, and that's all for this week. The geology work is particularly flexible this week, so that won't be an issue. The only remaining complication would be if Timp puts up the schedule for next week and has me working Monday, but that should be easy to remedy.

So yeah. I discovered the opportunity for this weekend, then Bret said, or rather Lindsey said Bret said, that he also wanted to go to Arizona this weekend. So it will likely be a non-solo trip. It might be, things still seem to be a bit up in the air, but it seems likely this will pan out. So, leave Friday, play in Mesa for a couple days, advance my cause, impress the heck out of any potential in-laws, come back sometime on Monday. Aside from the blazing deadly unbreathable heat, it should be a grand time. And heck, it'll be a good warm-up anyway supposing I go down again in July.

It's a little tricky planning something like this, largely 'cause I haven't any idea what I'm doing. I bought one of those car GPS tricks off of ebay, that should be swell to have around, unless of course Bret already knows the way and is awake. I got my hair cut today, and the barber lady (barbress?) seemed to understand when I explained the need to have that "week-and-a-half after the haircut" look by Friday, so hopefully I'm cute. If I'm going solo, basically my plan is to plug in the GPS, throw some clothes in the back and see where the road takes me. Sweet plan, I know. If Bret and Co are coming, then I'm really not sure how things'll go down, though it'll likely involve fewer regretable college-bachelor type decisions. Ah heck, anybody else wanna come to? I'm sure there's plenty of fun for the whole family down in Arizona. We all know Utah pretty well, a change of scenery can't hurt. And who wants to be in California, that place is gonna break apart and drown any day now! [incidentally, that's not true at all.] If enough of us work together, we're bound to be able to find the right roads!

So just so you know, I'm gonna be away this weekend. If any of you get a call from me asking what to do after missing that left turn at Albuquerque and ending up in Kansas, you needn't wonder now why I'm not sitting safely in Provo.

Ah yes, faithful readers, I live on. I'm sure you're all dying to know what's been going on with me these past months, even though I'm equally sure most everybody who reads this already knows everything, but this post won't actually discuss anything recent. I spent much of yesterday and today making some slideshow videos of my mission. Two are complete. I present to you now my rough draft of a video featuring Jakobsberg (my first area. rough draft because I lack certain pictures I desire and am hoping to get them from the appropriate companions.) and the probably final draft of the more light-hearted half of Malmo (my fifth area) and I hope you heartily approve of both.

The Beginning of the End of the Beginning

School started again yesterday. I'm taking 12.5 credits this semester, and my goal is to get 12.5 A credits. I've never done that before, and really I don't know how. But dang it, it's gonna happen.

Yesterday I had New Testament in the morning, that was all. No big attitude shift required. But today... today I start both of my 4 credit classes, Geology and Calculus. And guitar, but really that's not as intimidating. Geology starts in about 40 minutes. Once that happens, it's all over. I'll be busy for the rest of the semester. Classes on Tuesday and Thursday, studying and homework Monday and Wednesday, work Friday and Saturday, rest on the blessed Sabbath.

Wish me luck.

I'm going in...

Stiiiiiiiill don't get it

We talked about the House of Israel in sunday school today. Not much about that topic has ever made much sense to me. Take for example the following simplified version of a dialogue found in most any Israel discussion:

Teacher: Who are the House of Israel?
Class: We are!
Teacher: Right! And what's a Gentile?
Class: Somebody who's not of the House of Israel!
Teacher: Right! And who are the Gentiles?
Class: We are!
Teacher: Right!

That discussion went about the same way in Sweden as it did in America. I'm curious how it would go in other areas of the world. In the meantime, my patriarchal blessing, indeed the very nature of patriarchal blessings tells me that I'm of Israel. The Book of Mormon tells me I'm a Gentile.

What the heck.

BZZT!

I've got this memory from when I was probably 5 or 6 years old, living in Colorado. I was out in the front yard. Storm. I'd say I was around ten feet away from that tree we had, and what do you know, a bolt of lightning comes down just a few feet away from me. I conclude that it would be best for me to not be there, and I run back into the house as fast as my little feet can get me there.

In recent years, I've looked back on that memory, and at one point was struck by the thought: shouldn't I be dead if that happened? Maybe I'd dreamed the whole thing, or remembered wrong, or just been imaginating. I mean, it was a long time ago. Another memory from around then involves some balloons floating off in one direction, while my sister swears that in reality they flew the opposite direction.

So today after my weather class in which we were discussing lightning, I ran the story by my professor to see what he thought. He said it was entirely possible, albeit very lucky. He seemed to think that the lightning hit the tree instead of the ground, and I remember it hitting the ground, but so what, I still say I got a professional confirmation. And it's really nice to have that somewhat settled.

Major... so close!

I was leaning a lot towards geology. Not decidedly so, but noteworthily so. I sign up for classes accordingly. Then after Environmental Biology the other day, I went up to ask the teacher a question, and then he asked if I'd decided on a major. I admit that I had not, and had meant to talk with him about an EnviroScience major all semester. He says he's got time right then, I say I do to, so we go tour the facilities and talk for a good hour. Now I'm torn again. Do I want to do geology and know what's in the earth, or environment and know what's on the earth? Then there's the factor of them both having relevant emphases, so it's sort of an issue of knowing both, but which should I know better.

The kicker is while they share a number of classes, they both require my taking an introductory class next semester, or find myself here for an extra year, just because of the way the classes are scheduled for certain terms and left out of others. Either way I have to take calculus, so that's four credits. The intro courses are both four credits, so that brings me to 8. If I do enviro, I have to take chemistry right away, and I have to do it for geology eventually, that's another 4 credits, so we're up to twelve before we even get to religion and guitar. If I'm taking three 4-credit classes, I'd like to know I'm taking the right ones, dang it!

And that's the way the cookie is crumbling right now. Updates as the story develops.

Sublime. Not just a band.

Yesterday I went to the clubhouse (that's what they call the central hang-out office gathering place building here) to play the piano. Hadn't played for a few weeks, and I was really in the mood. So I played for a while, got my fingers moving, had a good time. After about half an hour I turned the lights off and kept playing. There's got to be some sort of learning benefit to that, I figure. So I play everything I can play by memory. After a while I hear the door open and a girl comes in and lays down on one of the couches and tells me to keep playing. So I do. I play, we talk a little, I play some more, it was a grand time, ended up being probably 40 minutes, just sitting and playing and talking quietly in the dark. At 7 o'clock more people came and turned on the lights and we had family home evening and went ice-skating.

Later that night I lay in bed, musing on the singularity of the scene. 40 minutes, serenading a girl in the dark, without any idea of who that girl is. I still don't know who it was, or if she knew who I was. Talk about sublime.

He's a what? He's a what? He's a:

Music Man! It's just wrapping up at a theater around here, and I'd been meaning to go see it. Finally did. It was real good.

The funny thing about it is as follows. There's this girl I knew from my Euphony days that lives in this same apartment complex. We ran into each other two wednesdays ago, and decided we needed to go out and have a little fun sometime. Ran into each other the day thereafter, and she asked when I was going to ask her out. I shrugged. Hadn't really planned it out yet, you know? So on Friday she calls and says she's free and so I may ask her out that evening. Well gee, I guess tonight's the night! So we go see Music Man, and it was super swell. As for her, swell girl and I like hangin' out with her, and admittedly I kinda had a thing for her a while back, but that faded away and let's face it, the last thing I need is another Euphony girl episode. Whether or not she's inferring something I can't say for sure, but the point is, that's the second time a girl has made me ask her out, and both times it was a girl I'd been interested in before but wasn't anymore. Dang timing.

On a side note, the scene from the play where Marian kisses Charlie the anvil salesman until the train whisttle blows, you know the one? Well, she kissed him, and she kissed him some more, and she kept kissing him, finally she gave up and said her next line and a second later the train whistle finally blew. I had to laugh at the image of the actor who plays Charlie slipping five bucks to the sound guy to hold off on the whistle.

My day in sales

I was cruising around the internet, minding my own business, when suddenly my trainer's wife mentions that her mom is looking for people to work a flexible schedule for $13/hour. One of my favorite things in the world is making $13/hour, so after some discussion and and pondering and a few days, I make the phone call and sign up.

The deal is this fella Eric Dowdle is an artist, and he's got his art showing at Costco's around Utah this fall, and he needs people to watch and run the display and answer questions and explain why no home is complete without a piece of Dowdle Folk Art in the parlor. I hoped I'd be mostly a theft deterrent, but oh well. My first station was to be Murray (gas was reimbursed) so I drove forever, learned what I was doing, worked for a few hours, drove home. It wasn't super painful for a salesman gig, but it was still a salesman gig, so I was a little down by the time I got home.

It behooveth me at this point that I explain a main motivator in going for the job in the first place. You may but probably don't recall from one of those tags a while back that I listed six or eight things that I wanted/needed or something like that. At the top of the list was DMC-TZ5. It's a camera. It's about $370 at most stores. Ouch, right? So I figure if I take this job I can earn that much money, buy the camera and be no worse off financially than I would have been without the job, and see if I wanted to keep working. I really planned to earn the money and then pay cash for the camera, but after that first evening I needed a morale booster, so I went ahead and searched online and got the camera brand new for $200. Whoo-hoo!

Went back to work the next evening, and really things were going okay. The art was cool, so at least it was a product I believed in, and ya know, I just like being in Costco. I don't know why, but I do. Not too bad a gig all things considered. But then I started considering all the time I was investing. It came out to 13 hours in two days, which two days I really really needed to get a lot of stuff done and couldn't. Basically I thought it would work out great but it wasn't going to and I thought it best to cut my losses and drop out before they got used to me. So I finished out the shift enthusiastically (don't want to get paid for nothing, after all) and then called up and quit when I got to my car. She didn't seem too offended, which was a relief, cause I like her, and she's my trainer's wife's mom, which is to say she's the mother of the wife of my mission 'father', which makes me sort of a step-grandson-in-law, so we're practically family, and I'd hate to have family not like me.

So that was my schpiel as a salesman. Now I just gotta make another $100 on top of my normal income to pay for the rest of that camera. No worries, I will. You know how creative and ambitious we college kids are. But hey. That Panasonic Lumix DMC-TZ5 is sweet.

Vitamin Evil!

I've never really been the standard of health, it's true. And a couple of the ailments I've discovered to the world have been pretty puzzling. But this one is just plain weird. Just about every time I indulge in a large dose of vitamin C, I get a cold. I almost never get a cold nowadays what with my strict Claritin diet, but vitamin c gets me every time!
That drink powder I got in some packages on my mission didn't do it, thank goodness, but the half-gallon of orange juice I drank during a particularly long day at the train station during transfers certainly did. The c-supplements I got in the MTC to ward off the sickness going around had 800% of my daily value, and rather than warding off any cold for the next ten years, it gave me a cold like none I've had before or since, which led to an ear-infection that messed up my ears to this day. And a few days ago I invested in some Centrum. It's got 170% of my vitamin c in it. Suddenly I've got a cold.
Coincidence? Dubitable.
Anybody else have this going on? Does it run in the family? Or did my body just get creative again?

Audition

Okay, so a while back I had an adventure, but I kept hoping for a different ending, so I never blogged it. I think the case is pretty well closed by now, so here goes! [editor's note: I just started typing and stopped when the story was done. Turned into a novel. Get comfy!]

See, there's this kid at work who was in The Hale Center Theater in Orem's production of A Christmas Carol last year. I'm a fan of that theater. He suggested I try out for it. I figured if nothing else it'd be good experience and audition practice, so what the heck, I went for it. I really had no idea what I was doing, like how auditions work and such, so I got to the evening of my appointment before I even decided what I was gonna sing. I decided on "The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing," which is of course one of Danny Kaye's songs in White Christmas. I've got that book full of Irving Berlin music, and even with all the songs Bing Crosby did, one of the only songs with a cozy range for me was a Danny Kaye one. Who'd've thunk? So I got there, filled out a couple papers and took a picture, waited because they were way behind schedule, I finally got in about exactly an hour later. Pretty uneventful, but still kinda entertaining hour, standing in that crowded hall full of show choir kids.

So I got in, the piano guy reached for my songbook, I gave it to him, and everybody just looked at me. I stared back and them, and finally caught on. "So I just start singing, huh?" They nodded. So I sing, the accompaniest accompanies me. A few measures into it I thought I heard somebody come in through the door behind me, so I looked over my shoulder to see if it was somebody important that wanted me to do something else. Nobody there. Makes a guy wish he hadn't looked away from the jury in the middle of his audtion like he didn't care whether he made it or not. Anyway, I finished singing, they asked if I was sure I didn't want to read for a speaking part, I said I guess I might as well, so I pulled the script they gave me out of my pocket. Did my best to explain in a British accent why Belle should love me and not be bitter that I was spending more time with my money than with her. Alas, I haven't been able to pull off any sort of decent accent since I hit the MTC, and that didn't change for the audition. Nonetheless, I put it down, and the guy that I think owns the theater asked kinda dissappointed-like if I was determined to not have a speaking role. I shrugged and said if they wanted to give me one I guessed I'd take it. They said thanks, I left, that was that.

Chapter 2: Waited and waited and waited and wished I'd taken my hands out of my pockets when I sang and thinking how at least I'd sung pretty, which is good, cause that's what I was banking on in the first place, and waited and waited and gave up most of my hope, then five minutes before Meteorology is over the day after (Friday, it was) they call and leave a message and say I made call-backs. Rock on. Call-backs are Saturday at 9 a.m. Flip. I work then. I get to work the next morning hoping I'll be able to pull off some plan with the other kid who tried out, but it turns out he isn't working that day. Fortunately, the sun isn't there either. In fact it's snowing. Very slow day at work. I mention to my fellow yard-techs that it feels dumb to be sitting there with nothing to be done while I could be auditioning. They agree and tell me to go. So I go inside and casually hypothetically mention it to my supervisor, who tells me, "Oh heck yeah man, go, get out of here!" which I didn't expect, but hey, I gotta do what he says, right? So I go, agreeing to the condition that I bring hot chocolate when I come back. Thirty, forty minutes, right? Ha! That's what I thought. Nope.

Chapter 3: So I get to the theater miraculously easily, took a new route and didn't even get lost. Pull into the parking lot, see all the other kids walking in the door, looking all pretty. I climb out of my car with my oil-stained coat and dirty, holy shirt, Timp hat and steel-toes, feeling a little less classy but a lot more manly than most everybody else there. We go, we wait for the guy with the sheet music to get there, we warm up, we sing Angels We Have Heard on High, altogether, then in quartets as directed, the people go out to consult about who to keep while we learn the next song. It's Ding Dong Merilly on High, a familiar, but a new arrangement to all of us besides the sopranoes, and in fact pretty much the opposite of any bass line I've ever sung to that song. They come back in, name the people they want to keep, I'm one of them, oh joy! So we sing altogether for the lady in charge, then she puts us in quartets again, over and over and over, looks like she's having a hard time deciding on everybody. There are 7 basses, a few more tenors, a few more altoes, and a few more sopranoes, so we basses got to sing several times. Finally she says, "okay, I think I've got it, thanks!" and leaves. And that's the end of it. Didn't even tell us who made it, harsh!

Chapter 4: I go back to work. By the time I get back with the hot chocolate, turns out it's been about three hours. Nobody seemed to mind, apparently I hadn't hardly missed anything. I keep checking my phone throughout the day. I'm feeling pretty hopeful, see? I saw most every other bass had their hands in their pockets every time they sang, so that wouldn't be an issue. I learned the harmony to the new song faster'n they did, sang pretty well I thought, I was feeling good about my chances! I also considered how the kid I worked with, who was actually a tenor, somehow ended up being one of those 7 basses, and he sang once in those finals quartets, while I sang 3 or 4 times, and we sang quite differently, so I figured with better than 1:2 odds, one of us was bound to make it. Other than that there were 4 of those kids who you'd expect to be in most shows in high school and have everybody love them, who sing like tenors who can hit a decent baritone note now and then, as well as a guy called Steve who was probably 30 and a half foot taller than the rest of us, wore a leather jacket, sang quite manishly. Had a certain Barry Carl tone to his voice, actually. I was excited to sing with him for two months. So there were we two genuine basses, four bari/tenors, and one tenor. I was feeling confident! Just kept waiting for that call... and waitin for that call... and boy did I wait. About the wednesday after I gave up the last dredge of hope. The kid I work with never got called either. Now, they kept saying they were looking for a specific sound in the people they chose, and the way I figure, if they didn't want my sound, and they didn't want my coworker's tenor sound, they must have wanted the high-school heart-throb sound and gone with those four guys. But then first off, there wouldn't hardly be anything on the low notes when the choir sang, and second, that would also discount Steve, the guy who got cheers every time he sang at the audition, he was really good! How could they leave him out? And if they left him out, how could they leave me out, being the only other guy who could actually sing like a bass? But they did leave me out, so did they also leave him out? These and other questions have haunted me in the weeks since that audition.

Conclusion: So no go on the show. I was pretty annoyed that I tried out for a role called "Bass" and didn't make it. For crying out loud, it's what I do. But then I remembered once hearing that Charlie Chaplin once entered a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest and lost, and that made me feel better.

The End

T-A-G-G-G-G

The rules are:
* Link to the person who tagged you
* Post the rules on your blog
* Write six random things/unspectacular quirks about yourself
* Tag six people at the end of your post
* Let each person you have tagged know by leaving a comment on their blog
* Let the tagger know when your entry is posted

I shall now write six random things/unspectacular quirks about myself.

1: My feet were bigger in middle school than they are now.

2: I usually put the AC on even at night in my car, and leave it on for the whole drive, no matter how cold it gets.

3: "So she climbed to the top of the tower that night, feeling quite lonely and left out alright!" That was my line from the Christmas play we put on in first grade.

4: My singing record is a low Eb. The really low one. I'm inordinately proud of that.

5: I think gummy bears and smarties make a heavenly combination. The shame is that's it's so darn unhealthy!

6: I can sing just about every word of every part in it's proper octave, including the girls as long as I'm alone in my car, to The Music Man.

And I taaaaaaaaaaag... anybody who hasn't already done this super recently. Go!

And the next thing you know, it's been almost two weeks since my last post. This just cannot be! So I'm gonna post something.

The question is...what?

Soooooooooooo in the weeks since I came to school I've been meaning to go for a midnight swim sometime. Haven't done it yet. Today we got a notice on our doors saying that they're gonna close the pool on Thursday. I'd be less bummed if they hadn't already put signs all around the pool saying "Pool Closed." Somebody should tell management. You'd think they'd know, but I guess not! So my dream of that midnight swim is probably not gonna pan out until at least April. It's a real bummer.

8!

*shrug* I got tagged. Whatcha gonna do?


8 Things I am Passionate About:
1.The Gospel
2. My family
3. 'The Family'
4. Happiness
5. Music
6. Health
7. Babes
8. Guys that can sing really really low

8 Words or Phrases I Say Often:
1. I believe it.
2. I think you're bluffing.
3. Serious[ly]
4. You're mocking me, aren't you.
5. Get 'er done, Johnny Reb
6. I wish I was rich.
7. I wish I was in bed.
8. Do YOU know what I should major in?

8 Things I want to do before I Die:
1. Get married. That's about it. But if I live longer, I guess I should have other goals.
2. Choose a major.
3. Release an album or two.
4. Sing that darn low A. Ideally with witnesses.
5. Get really good at the piano. And singing. And guitar.
6. Figure out that flippin' music program I bought.
7. Raise a righteous posterity.
8. Be rich. Really, really rich. Sooner rather than later.

8 Things I Have Learned From my Past:
1. I am, in fact, usually right. Alas, I'm usually wrong too.
2. Swedish.
3. Everybody's just trying to do their thing.
4. Trust people because they've earned your trust, not because of any title they have.
5. What doesn't kill you burns calories.
6. Truth isn't an opinion.
7. There's always a bright side. Look for it, and enjoy it.
8. It'll all turn out okay in the end.

8 Places I Would Love to Go or See:
1. Broadway
2. Antarctica
3. The spot where Norway, Sweden, and Finland connect. I wanna put my foot there.
4. Pluto
5. A prophet's apartment
6. Everest
7. Moscow
8. Alaska

8 Things I Currently Need or Want:
1. DMC-TZ5 camera
2. Z-5500 speakers and something to do with them.
3. My own F-18... with unlimited fuel and ammo... built in...
4. A major
5. A woman
6. A popsicle
7. A trick to keep me awake while reading for classes
8. Fifty-hundred-million dollars.

8 People I Tag:
1. Um... I only have like 5 people that will even read this, and one of them already did it. I guess if you wanna do it, consider yourself tagged. Tag!!

Math study session

I'm taking a math class for the first time in 5.5 years. That's right, 5 1/2 years. 11/2 years. And I'm doing relatively okay with it. We have a test over the first section starting today, and I think I'll do okay with most of it. I just wish I knew the official formula for completing the square with a quadratic formula. We did a bunch of examples, but never actually got a straight formula. I'd like to have that formula. So I went to a study session that was announced in class, where the TA's would help get anybody interested ready for the test. I went tonight, expecting a small room with few or no people. I mean, come on, it's math. How many people want to spend their Wednesday night studying math instead of partying?

Well, turns out there are very very many people who lean that way. I got there at about 8:20ish, the announced hours being 7:00-9:00. Thought I'd just go get my formula and take my leave. Imagine then my surprise upon discovering not a quaint room with bored TA's waiting eagerly to meet me, but a stadium-seated room with students pouring out into the aisles, and the TA going crazy up front with all them symbols and numbers. So I walked to the back, out of the way, and figured I'd just watch and see if my question came up on its own.

About a minute went by. He was wrapping up one equation, and somebody asked a question about parentheses vs brackets. He answered, thanked the room, everybody clapped, and we all left. I didn't feel much more prepared after that minute than I did before, but hey. At least I was there. Now it's all up to karma.

The silentest conversation ever!

Had a new experience today. I went back to Sandy for a friend's farewell, and there were a bunch of other people there too, including one deaf guy. He and I left her house at about the same time, and as I'm walking to my car, I hear somebody clap behind me. Remembering the deaf guy, I turn around, and sure enough, it was him trying to get my attention. He starts doing his thing with his hands and I'm trying to think what the signs are for "I don't know sign language!" I almost said "No hablo espanol," but upon further thought, that wouldn't have helped much. But thank goodness that whoever wrote sign language made it sort of make sense! He pointed at the car, and me, and himself, and made like he was outlining a house, and put his hands together and bowed his head, so I'm thinking, "Okay, so... you- drive- me- house- please or something like that.... he wants a ride?" So I nod and motion to the car, he does it all again to check if I understood, which I wasn't sure I had, but I nodded again, he got in, and away we went. Then it hit me... he wasn't meaning "I pray thee good sir, my house!" but more "pray house! pray house!" Oh yeah. The church. So I drove to the church and he seemed pleased, and he pointed to his car in the parking lot and I let him out and we waved to each other and he signed 'thank-you' and I'm like Hey, I know that one! and then we both drove our seperate ways. I'm not sure what I learned from the experience, but it was pretty sublime, so I thought I'd blog about it. And that's the way the cookie crumbled. very quietly.

I saw them, I can prove it!

I'm sure you all heard about Acappellastock 2008. It was the party of the year. I went. My roomie and I both went. Don't regret it. I was doubtful at the beginning when the sun was blinding the show out of my eyes and I figured it'd all be over by the time the sun went down. But the sun went down pretty quick, and the show was about 3 hours long, so it worked out great. And it was an awesome show. Like fer serious.

Rockapella, familiar with them? When they started out, there were four guys, none of who[m] are currently involved. They're retired, you might say. But they reunited by popular demand, and performed a whole twice. Count 'em, one, twice. The twicent performance was Acappellastock. I was there. The bass was Barry Carl. He's my hero, as far as alive people go. See the video currently featured on this blog for further information. So I was real excited to meet him, cause, ya know, he's my hero. I even wrote ahead of time to ask him if it was plausible for me to expect to get a picture with him. He said yes. Huzzah! Then we got to the show. I've got the tickets, I've got four sets of extra batteries just in case my camera dies, but wait a minute... how can my camera die... if it's sitting at home in the kitchen? Which it was. I was pretty disgusted when I realized that. So after the show I got all their autographs on my ticket stub, and shook their hands, talked to them for a few seconds before the line moved along. That was grand. Then I got home and decided that rather than be discouraged, I'd take control of the situation. I took my own pictures anyway!
Me and the boys chillin'

Sean, Me, Barry, Elliot, Steve

Me and 'Bear' shaking hands. What a guy.

Yep. Just as good as the real thing. I'll be tellin' stories about these pictures for years.

Quroak!

I was driving home. I turned left onto a road with a 45 speed limit. But I saw the car ahead of me slowing down. I didn't want to hit him, so I slowed down too. Then he comes to a dead stop. Now, I've noticed that people generally drive really slow on 45s for some reason. But a dead stop? Turns out there were ducks. Three ducks. They looked like they had started to cross the road (why?) and noticed all the cars coming, so they froze in line. "No sudden movements guys, maybe they won't see us if we stand still!" Good intentions, but really not a well-educated plan. But they stayed stiff, so the car in front of me cranked the wheel around and made his way past. I made my way past too, revving my engine a bit in a "Hey dummies, yer gonna die, move!!!" sort of way. But they didn't. So I finished the drive home and supposed I'd never see the end of the episode.

But I did.

I had a movie to return. So I went and returned the movie. On the way back from the rental joint I found myself on that same road. The 45 speed had resumed nicely, cause I was the only car on the road. I remembered the ducks and wondered how they'd fared. I didn't see them from a distance and figured they'd left. Then I got closer, and noticed the duck-sized lump on the road, right where the leader had been standing before. I think we can all imagine how the episode ended. There's no 'to be continued' on that episode! Though... there might be sequel, a follow-up series about the other two ducks, and the things they learned from that experience. Maybe even a shocker season finale where the first duck returns, not dead!

I don't reckon this drama series will ever come to fruition. At least a few of us are aware of the pilot episode. Aren't you glad you read this?