three chord myke

preserving the integrity of the English language, part 2

2012-01-16T16:58:00.000-07:00

Last summer I wrote a post decrying the use of a powerful word that has since been rendered meaningless by its improper usage and overuse, the word "epic." Today I'd like to talk about another word in common parlance that has suffered even greater mistreatment. The word is "awkward."

If you logged onto Facebook over the weekend you likely saw this captioned photo of (left to right) Matthew Lewis, Rupert Grint, Harry Potter, er, I mean Daniel Radcliffe, and Tom Felton. I imagine it was taken after a performance of the Broadway musical How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying starring Harry Potter as Daniel Radcliffe as J. Pierrepont Finch (was that joke funnier the first or second time? Let me know in the comments below). (Apparently no one told Rupert about the taboo of wearing the t-shirt of the performance you're seeing to the actual performance.)

Image from here

I'm trying to understand this "awkward moment," and in the hope of doing so, I've consulted the collective knowledge of famed lexicographers Noah Webster and the brothers Merriam, Charles and George.

Definition of AWKWARD

1 obsolete : perverse [Had we been discussing the sex appeal of these four young men 10 years ago at the debut of the first Harry Potter film then, yes, this obsolete definition would be quite fitting.]

2 archaic : unfavorable, adverse [Any man might find it unfavorable or adverse to be less attractive than the next guy but Rupert Grint, Daniel Radcliffe and Tom Felton have a fairly large advantage over the "next guy": they were in all those Harry Potter movies.]

3 a : lacking dexterity or skill (as in the use of hands) [This misuse of awkward has nothing to do with dexterity.]

3 b : showing the result of a lack of expertness [Perhaps the author of the caption thought the juxtaposition of Rupert, Daniel and Tom next to ugly-duckling-turned-swan Matthew Lewis appeared awkward, revealing their "lack of expertness" in being "hot." However, since the author is quite clear that the awkwardness lies in Matthew's becoming the "hottest" of the lot, this definition does not fit; in the case of these four gents, I believe overall "hotness" has to do more with heredity than some acquired expertise.]

4 a : lacking ease or grace (as of movement or expression) [Sure, this isn't the most flattering photo of Ron, Harry and Draco but the usage of awkward here has nothing to do with how they look at a given moment.]

4 b : lacking the right proportions, size, or harmony of parts [Uh, one way for things to get awkward quickly would be to start talking about the "harmony of parts" and "proportions." Moving on...]

5 a : lacking social grace and assurance [The fact that these four would pose together for what appears to be a casual photo infers friendship, for which at least a small amount of "social grace and assurance" is required.]

5 b : causing embarrassment [I think this is the definition of awkward the captioneer* had in mind. Who is embarrassed here? Matthew, Rupert, Daniel, and Tom all look quite comfortable in each other's presence. Is this one of those situation where we're supposed to be embarrassed for them? Sure, "that unexpected moment" certainly doesn't have the same ring to it but it's the phrase the captioneer should have used.]

6 : not easy to handle or deal with : requiring great skill, ingenuity, or care [What skill is required to deal with the fact that Matthew Lewis ended up "hotter" than his Harry Potter co-stars?]

I have nothing against the word awkward, I'm simply attempting to advocate its proper use. Consider eliminating the word from your personal vernacular for a few months and employing one of its many synonyms in its place. Your vocabulary will thank you.

*Is it hypocritical of me to use made-up words in a post that deals with the abuse of language?

Alice et le clown

2012-01-15T23:12:00.001-07:00

For an assignment in a French writing class a few weeks back, we had to write a quick story using a small bank of words provided in a textbook. I started writing and about three paragraphs in, I went back and reread the instructions -- keep the story 100 words or less. Having written almost three times that, I trimmed my story to fit the assignment.

I revisited the three-paragraph version of the story last week to give it a conclusion. The story is about two friends travelling through Germany. Out of the two, Alice begins to believe she is going crazy as she catches brief glimpses of the same strange clown in each city they visit. Not the most original premise, I know, but I enjoyed writing it. I've hastily titled it "Alice et le clown" ("Alice and the Clown"). I thought about including an English translation but decided against it. So if you can't read French or use Google Translate* you're out of luck.

(I'm sure this thing is rife with errors since my French ain't what it used to be.)

"Alice et le clown"

Nous arrivâmes à la gare de Düsseldorf au départ du dernier train jusqu’au matin. « Zut ! » s’écria Alice, une chère amie avec qui je voyageais depuis une semaine, « Le train est parti ! » Je la rencontrai lors de ma dernière année d’université où j’étudiais la littérature européenne à l’étranger à Londres. Je la vit la première fois à la bibliothèque où elle travaillait et ce fut en m’aidant à trouver un volume rare de Léon Tolstoï que je tombai amoureux avec elle.

Cependant, ces sentiments d’amour n’existaient pas chez elle. Quand même, on s’entendait bien et elle accepta de m’accompagner pendant un voyage de recherche littéraire de deux semaines en Allemagne. Notre premier après-midi à Berlin, en revenant seule d’une sortie pour une tasse de thé, Alice remarqua quelque chose de très bizarre à l’extérieur de notre hôtel : un vieux clown aux cheveux jaunes citron qui portait un habit saumon d’un temps ancien longtemps passé. Quand nous sortîmes ensemble pour dîner le clown n’y était plus.

Deux jours plus tard, Alice le vit entrer un magasin à Hambourg. Curieuse, elle insista que nous le suivions mais dans le magasin on ne trouvait aucun clown. Quand elle l’aperçut à Hanovre le lendemain elle commençait à se croire folle. Et enfin, à Düsseldorf, après l’avoir vu sortir du café où nous terminions le soir, elle demanda en larmes que nous partions pour Paris où habitent ses parents.

Alors, nous sommes seuls au quai de la gare. Des larmes apparaissent aux coins de ses yeux et elles coulent sur ses joues au battement des paupières. Elle se met à grelotter de froid. Je sais qu’elle n’est pas folle mais je n’arrive pas à voir ce qu’elle voit. Je m’approche près d’elle et la serre dans mes bras.

*Unsurprisingly, the Google translation isn't entirely comprehensible but my bad French might be as much to blame for that.

you make my dreams

2012-01-08T11:40:00.002-07:00

I spent just enough time driving yesterday to listen to the soundtrack from Amélie by Yann Tiersen. I'd love to be able to write music like this -- instrumental music with great melodies, not necessarily complicated but layered. Here's a sample:

Yann Tiersen - La Valse d'Amelie by nurseda_cagatay

Really, the hardest part of writing a song like this would be composing the melodies, which I think has more to do with inherent talent than a technical knowledge of music.

I had a dream last night that I heard this great arpeggiated chord progression in my head. I struggled to pick it out on the guitar. Eventually I failed to recall the arpeggiation and soon I was unable to play the simple chord progression itself.

In terms of events this dream is far from interesting, but what is interesting is that somehow my brain created this complex melody in my head as I slept. (That or my brain tricked me into thinking I come up with this melody. Which might be likely.)

This isn't the first time my brain has written songs for me during that most sublime form of nocturnal respite known as sleep. Last summer I dreamed about hearing this new Peter Cetera song -- I could hear everything in my head, guitars, keyboard, drums, vocals -- it was all incredibly vivid. (I'm pretty sure my brain drew heavily on Bon Iver's love-it-or-hate-it "Beth/Rest" for inspiration since that song could be tacked on to a Peter Cetera album without anyone knowing the difference.)

My favorite YouTube comment for this video: "this song is like going to a really nice restaurant and getting served a bologna sandwich only to find out that it is the most amazing thing you have ever eaten."

So now I'm trying to determine if I'm really this talented musician while I sleep or if I my brain is just making me think I am.

I'm talking to you, come on

2012-01-04T23:51:00.000-07:00

I can't tell if Scout loves or hates music. If I watch movies on my laptop or iPad she likes to investigate and paw at the speakers when there's a swell in the soundtrack. Tonight as I was playing guitar she jumped on the back my chair and started nudging my shoulders with her paws. She's the least affectionate cat ever so I think the nudging is her way of saying, "Please stop."

so many light years to go

2012-01-03T11:20:00.000-07:00

I know every family has their own Christmas traditions, but it seems like my family's are a bit more rigid than some. From Christmas Eve on, what we eat, what we do, where we go, where we sleep, what time we wake up, the order in which we open presents have all been cemented by years of repetition.

Our New Year's Eve traditions are far less set in stone because, well, we don't have any. Growing up celebrating New Year's consisting of staying up till midnight and banging pots and pans. Which is cool. But far less exciting than what goes on at Christmas.

How many years does it take for something to become tradition?

Crystal Pier, San Diego, California, January 1, 2011

I spent the beginning of last year in San Diego with some dear friends, Jackie, Deena and Chip, and Afton. Back in September or October, Chip and Deena and I talked about making a repeat trip for New Year's 2012. Sadly, Afton and Jackie weren't as enthused about creating this annual tradition but Chip and Deena were.

This year, instead of heading straight to San Diego -- where Deena's folks have a condo -- we decided to make a New Year's Eve pit stop at the happiest place on earth.

Disneyland, Anaheim, California, January 1, 2012. Note the empty medical stretcher in the background.

I hadn't been to Disneyland since 2004 so it was great to be back, even if the crowds were among the most dense I've seen anywhere.

Sunday was quite a lazy day but I didn't mind as it gave me time to start rereading one my favorite books.

I don't understand why more people don't love this book as much as I do.

Monday before heading back we had breakfast on the beach, did some shopping and spent a bit of time downtown. Here I am at the Ghirardelli shop enjoying an overpriced butterscotch sundae:

Slowly eating my way to diabetes.

I suppose time will tell whether or not this trip becomes an annual New Year's tradition. I certainly won't mind if it does as I have yet to have a bad time in Southern California.

of pizza, dancing, and regret

2011-12-27T12:28:00.000-07:00

I got a pizza stone for Christmas so, naturally, one of my goals for 2012 is to learn how to toss a pizza. Fortunately, world champion pizza tossers like Tony Gemignani are gracious enough to provide instruction via YouTube:

At the beginning of December I somehow acquired an uncharacteristic desire to learn how to tap dance. Because why not, right? At the end of the year I hope that you'll expect a similar performance from me:

Looks like I need to learn how to do the splits too.

I hate how fast 2011 flew by. I think part of the reason it did was because during certain parts of the year I wanted it to. In particular, I remember wanting the summer to fly by. I was anxious to establish a decent running habit, a feat not so easily accomplished in our summer desert (limit myself much?). And I knew I'd be starting school again in the fall and was looking forward to that. So with eyes focused on future, the summer really did fly by. Looking back, I'm reminded of how Yoda described Luke Skywalker in my favorite movie ever, "All his life has he looked away... to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing. Hmph."

I've never had anyone tell me that life seems to pass by slower as you get older. I have yet to hear that. Time only seems to go by faster and I don't anticipate that ever stopping. I'm not advocating the practice of hanging on the past; I just know that I can enjoy life despite an unfavorable environment, despite the hype of an exciting event in the near future. It's just plain stupid that I would wish for a part of my life to go by faster than it should. I hope that I never do that again.

in defense of pie

2011-12-23T11:40:00.001-07:00

I have yet to meet someone who doesn't like cookies. Or cake. I've met a few people who don't like cupcakes. Which I don't understand. Because if you like cake why wouldn't you like cupcakes? Maybe those people just don't like that cupcakes have been the "it" dessert over the past couple years, and it is therefore cool to hate cupcakes, the same way hipsters are required to hate any semblance of mainstream. I'd be lying if I said that I've never adopted that attitude at one time or another.

Image from here.

What I don't understand, though, is when people tell me they don't like pie. I just don't get it. Really, what is not to like? Flaky, buttery pastry crust. Rich, overflowing fillings. I mean, c'mon. Sure, I get that some people don't like fruit and that they like it less when it's all soft and mushy, but don't they know that pies come in non-fruit varieties? French silk (fancy for chocolate pie) was my favorite as a teenager. You can make a pie out of anything: I've seen brownie pies, cheesecake pies, pies made from peanut butter, Oreos, ice cream. A favorite regional dessert in Quebec is tarte au sucre or sugar pie (think pecan pie without the pecans).

Clowns have no respect for pie.
— Demetri Martin (@DemetriMartin) December 23, 2011

And what about lemon meringue, key lime, and pumpkin pies? Yeah, they're fruit-based but they lack the fruit chunks of an apple or cherry pie that might scare away a frugaphobe*. And for those that dislike cooked fruit, I've made my fair share of peach pies whose filling never saw an oven. I dare you to find something wrong with sweetened fresh fruit and a tasty crust.

To any pie haters out there reading this post I strongly urge you to reconsider your prejudice. You're only excluding yourself from a realm of decadence so uncommon in the dessert world.

*A word that I made up to describe someone who doesn't like fruit.

this much delight

2011-12-16T14:00:00.000-07:00

This week, taste-making music blogs like Pitchfork and Consequence of Sound reported their top 50 albums of 2011. I'm always curious to read through these lists, although I never have the desire or capacity to verify most of the releases. As I perused this year's rankings -- which I often disagree with, even if CoS was a little more "on" than Pitchfork this year -- I was reminded of a tweet I stumbled across back in August:

in my old age, my gripes with "the kids" isn't that their music is too loud or obnoxious, it's that their music is too safe and boring.
— brian cook (@bbcbubblegutz) August 11, 2011

I don't know this Brian Cook guy -- a musician, I believe -- but he couldn't have voiced my thoughts on the state of modern music any better. (Also, how awesome is Twitter's new "Embed this Tweet" function?) It's no surprise then that my favorite album from 2011 is neither safe nor boring.

The Big Roar by The Joy Formidable

One Tuesday morning last April my buddy Buster sent me a text, "Are you going to The Joy Formidable show tonight?" Having only heard of them I hopped on Grooveshark (I believe this was the pre-Spotify era) and listened to a couple tracks from the The Big Roar. I liked it. I replied to Buster, "Count me in."

OK, I know I'm not an old man but sometimes I feel one. I miss the days when I had the wherewithal and vitality to go see a band relatively unknown to me, and on a "school night," as older folk are prone to say. Going to see The Joy Formidable that evening hearkened back to my high school days when the only thing stopping me from going to just any old show was, well, nothing.

That night ended up being one of the best on-a-whim shows I've been to in recent memory (and not because they've been fewer than I'd like). At a visit to the Joy Formidable merch table, I happily surrendered the cash to purchase The Big Roar and now, with new ears, comparing the album to the band's, um, truly formidable live performance, I discovered one of those rare records nearly capable of what studio albums can only really attempt, capturing the energy of a live performance.

This video is from a year and a half ago so they're a little unpolished and Ritzy sings a bit flat at times but hey, that's rock and roll.

There aren't too many bands out there that mix rock, punk and pop as well as The Joy Formidable, and even fewer doing so with the economy of a three member line-up. They're destined for a bright future, and by extension, so is rock and roll:

Every time I listen to @joyformidable my faith in the future of Rock is restored
— Buster Heine (@bst3r) November 30, 2011

Amen, brother.

bedtime

2011-12-05T21:43:00.001-07:00

I might be getting sick. I'm not surprised because there's definitely something going around. And I haven't been eating well, and keeping my apartment dust-free is a daily battle to which I too often resign to defeat, which won't be much of a help in fighting off any potential illness.

It was my intention to stay up a little later to work on my French term paper -- my very first "graduate" project -- that I am embarrassingly behind on, but if my body is threatening sickness, I'm probably better off fighting it now by getting some sleep.

Scout -- my dear feline companion -- is in heat right now, which might be one of the most annoying things ever. Especially with all the rolling around she does on my couch -- I don't know how or why such a small cat manages to produce so much extra hair (Jenny knows how badly my couch collects pet hair (because she gave me said couch)). When Christmas is over and I'm a little less busy I'm getting her spayed.

Oh yeah, the other day Scout peed in my bathroom sink. Yeah, I was a little mad at her, but I was more amazed than anything that she would know to go in a place where it drains and wouldn't make a huge mess. She's a smart cat. But why she didn't go in her little box is beyond me, she hasn't done anything like that since she was a tiny kitten.

And she seems to enjoy depositing hairballs around my apartment, like the one she left me on my bed last week. Today's hairball -- at the foot of my bed -- was thankfully a bit easier to clean up. The next place I live will have a yard where she can frolic, shed, roll around, throw up, and urinate as she pleases.

A lot of people like to include photos in their blog posts. I do too, most of the time. But only when it really adds something to the post or when the photo is the focus of the post itself. Otherwise, I feel like adding photos is pandering, at least when I do it. Because, for me, blogging has mostly been about writing. Not because I'm good at it, but because, simply, I like writing and I like reading. So even though I could share several photos here -- the piles of dust in my apartment I sweep up so often (aging brick walls are incredibly overrated) or some of Scout's hairballs -- I'm choosing not to include any in this post because sometimes it feels good to just write.

Also, I think some of my neighbors might be drinking, they're being uncharacteristically loud.

and one more thing

2011-12-04T18:50:00.000-07:00

The other day I finished listening to the audio of this book:

Image from here.

In the past, I've described Apple products as phenomenal (iPod, iPad), smug (iPhone), too rich for my blood (Mac), and a necessary evil (iTunes). After listening to this biography, I've gained a great respect for Apple's integrity in the creation these products. Steve himself described it best:

My passion has been to build an enduring company where people were motivated to make great products. Everything else was secondary. Sure, it was great to make a profit, because that was what allowed you make great products. But the products, not the profits, were the motivation.

Interestingly, Apple -- a company with little concern for profit, supposedly -- is one of the most valuable enterprises in the world. (I wonder what would happen if we applied that same integrity, passion, and outlook to everything we undertake in our lives.) And while I'm not about to go out and buy a brand new Mac or switch my Droid for an iPhone, my general opinion for these products has certainly increased.

Steve Jobs' commencement speech at the 2005 Standford graduation has become somewhat legendary. Walter Isaacson said of this address:

The artful minimalism of the speech gave it simplicity, purity, and charm. Search were you will, from anthologies to YouTube, and you won't find a better commencement address. Others may have been more important . . . but none has had more grace.

If you haven't heard it yet, you owe yourself the 15 minutes it takes to listen:

"Because believing that the dots will connect somewhere down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart, even when it leads you off the well worn path. And that will make all the difference."

P.S. I went the audiobook route on this one because:
a. I can't say that I've ever completed a biography, so I thought I'd have better luck listening to this one rather than reading.
b. I don't have time to read right now (I don't really have time for blogging either, but here I am); but I can always listen to audiobooks while driving, working, cleaning my apartment, walking my cat, making dinner, etc.
c. I was able to score a free version from Audible.com.

P.P.S. I don't really walk my cat (though I daresay she could benefit from it).

P.P.P.S. It's only fitting that I finish writing this post on my new iPad (the acquisition of which was more a coincidence than a result of having pseudo-read this book).

guest post: free, exploring, undirected

2011-11-21T08:26:00.001-07:00

A couple weeks ago I asked my friend Clint if he'd like to do a Steinbeck post for my blog and he kindly acquiesced by providing me with the following below. When you're done reading, you will undoubtedly want to read more of Clint's writings. So you will thank me for providing the link to Clint's blog, which you will find here. And now, Clint:

John Steinbeck is pretty much the only author that when I read his words, I spend time trying to imagine him writing them. I don't do that with David Sedaris or Dave Eggers or whoever it is that authors all the For Dummies books that I read, because that would be excruciatingly boring. Where is the romance in imagining a pajama-clad modernite silently tapping on a whispy-thin laptop while sipping a Slimfast and balancing on an exercise ball? (I do sometimes imagine Cormac McCarthy at work, but not intentionally, nor for long periods because in my mind it's mostly just him sitting at a desk made of the corpses of drug traffickers and dipping his long-nailed fingers into an ink bottle filled with horse blood.)

But there is something about Steinbeck's work that makes me just wish I could have been there while he clacked it into existence on his typewriter. Sometimes it's young Steinbeck, the one that's only marginally affected by hairline recession and adorned in what appears to be laborer's clothing. Sometimes it's old Steinbeck, visuals of whom could easily be confused with Walt Disney. But most frequently, it's the middle aged John, a ragged-looking cigarette in his hand, and his wrinkles just starting to find their footing on either side of his mouth.

In my mind, his house has lots of wood paneling, a well stocked aquarium and humongous bookcases chock full of classics that we would occasionally discuss, agreeing to disagree about Prince Hamlet's degree of sanity. I would stand just to the side, reading over his shoulder as he wrote. I'd watch the following words appear between the fluttering of typebars:

"And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected."

I'd soak it in for a moment and then say "You know that is going to piss off Hemingway, right?" to which Steinbeck would turn around and say "Ya' think?" and then offer me a high five. He'd start typing again and there'd be some talk of maybe starting a softball league come spring, but it would never materialize, which is no big deal because of course I understand that he's busy writing--which is obviously the way I want it.

poet laureate

2011-11-14T22:34:00.001-07:00

I'd be really interested to hear the thoughts of my artist and art loving friends regarding the matter below. I'm not trying to solicit anything here, I'm just genuinely curious.

A couple weeks ago I mentioned that I'm currently enrolled in a French literature class where we study 19th century French theater pieces. The second play we read was called Chatterton by Alfred de Vigny. It's a fictionalized account of a real-life English poet named Thomas Chatterton who lived during the middle of the 18th century. This play depicts the plight of Chatterton, a young man struggling to earn a living as a poet. In the end (spoiler alert), when he fails to do so he kills himself. (According to Wikipedia, the real Chatterton "died of arsenic poisoning, either from a suicide attempt or self-medication for a venereal disease." Either way, tragic.) (Incidentally, his death date is my birthday.)

The Death of Chatterton by Henry Wallis. Poor guy. Image from here.

For every piece we read in this class we're supposed to write a paper expounding upon a theme or topic found in the piece. For Chatterton, one subject my teacher suggested for such a paper was the role of the poet in society. Her opinion is that the poet is a guide for the people, a person who gives inspiration and enlightenment. And in order to produce works of such enlightenment and inspiration, a poet needs time for constant reflection and pondering -- time that should not be lost in the pursuit of earning one's living, as a factory worker, or a cobbler, or a mason, or whatever it was people did for work in the 18th century. Therefore, as a guide for the people, it is then the people's duty -- or really, the government's duty -- to provide for the living of the poet.

Now, in theory, I don't necessarily disagree with that sentiment. While I'm not much of poetry reader, I enjoy literature, fiction, stories -- dare I say? -- more than the next guy. Not only do I find enjoyment in prose, poetry's sibling, I find a great deal of insight, hope, and wisdom therein. There's no doubt that the written word has been vital to my general well being as a human. I very much agree that writers, whatever their medium, contribute much to the enrichment of our society.

This sentiment in practice, however, is a different story. For one, sadly, not everyone in the society to which I belong will like reading as much as I do. I have friends who celebrate how little they read. That's fine, that's OK. They have different interests, to which they are just as entitled, that I will not begrudge them. Maybe, someone can find just as much meaning in, I don't know, football as I find in reading and re-reading some of my favorite books. (The same can be said for music, or photography, or painting, or film, or sculpture, or name your preferred form of art). So, what complex society of such differing interests and passions will support the poet or writer but not the photographer or painter? Or, is it up to society to provide a living for all these supposedly invaluable artists?

Furthermore, in a society whose government supports the poet/writer/guide-of-the-people, who or what determines who gets to be town poet? Let's say that in a society of 100 working adults there'd be room for one poet. The rest of the working population would have to fill the other important posts: baker, grocer, thatcher, tailor, cooper (someone's gotta make the town's barrels), butcher, farmer, and you get the point. But, what if in this same community, there are 10 individuals who want to be town poet but society has the means to provide for only one? What is the fate of the other nine wannabe poets? Do they kill themselves because they think that poetry is the only profession in which they would find success and enjoyment, just like Vigny's version of Thomas Chatteron?

Anyway, I've been wondering about all this lately -- because being town poet would be a pretty sweet job.

Additional Reading: "Distressed Nation Turns To Poet Laureate For Solace"

David and Return of the Jedi

2011-11-08T11:38:00.001-07:00

Only three people have ever beaten me at Star Wars Trivial Pursuit: my brother Matt, of course, my friend Joby, and most recently, David here. Though in my defense, when I played David a few weeks ago it was an extremely close game: he won only after I answered my final question incorrectly, and had I gone with my gut feeling I would've got that question right (life lesson here?). In the end though, David is the kind of guy I don't mind losing to.

Notes:
Whoa, what would Star Wars be like without John Williams' masterful score? I don't even want to think about it. Return of the Jedi includes some of my favorite Star Wars compositions, like "Luke and Leia" and "The Death of Darth Vader". John Williams has set the gold standard for fantasy and adventure movie soundtracks -- something he did well before Return of the Jedi.

in another life

2011-11-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

One of the best jobs I've ever had was on campus at BYU-Idaho. One afternoon in late spring I was perusing job listings on the BYU-I website when I noticed there was an opening for one of the most coveted student jobs -- grounds crew. These spots always filled up fast so I ran to the hiring office immediately. I was surprised that they didn't ask me any questions, didn't want a résumé, didn't have me fill out an application -- they simply hired me on the spot.

My crew spent the rest of that spring and part of the summer landscaping -- leveling earth, laying sod, planting shrubs and trees. We were assigned to an area of campus that had been an unsightly patch of dirt for over a year. It was so easy to feel satisfied with this job because we could see the direct results of our work. When we were done that vacant swath looked a little something like this:

Yeah, I did all that. You're welcome BYU-Idaho. Image from here.

The only downside to this job? It paid crap (like most student jobs on campus). When finding a job why does pay have to be so important? Maybe a better question way to ask that question is why is it so important to maintain a lifestyle that teeters between comfortable and affluent? How can I get by on less and either save more money or have a job that I enjoy more but maybe pays less? While I ponder these questions (please feel free to add your two cents), here are two more jobs I think I'd love if money was of zero concern:

I love baking, and even though I don't do it as often as I'd like, I feel like I'm pretty OK at it. I would love to bake professionally. Breads, cookies, cakes, croissants -- anything that goes in the oven -- quality artisan stuff, better than homemade, not the crappy store-bought fare.

This is bread. I made it.

A week or two ago I got this weird urge to chop wood. Not only does it sound incredibly therapeutic, but imagine the health benefits that would come from exercising for work. And let's talk about how great I'd look -- loosely-tucked flannel shirt, loose suspenders, threadbare jeans* -- powering that ax while dirt, sawdust and sweat congeals in my beard. There's no doubt about it, I'd make a great lumberjack.

It's interesting that with each of these three jobs, you're left with a tangible result: a new patch of grass, a fresh batch of cookies, a formidable pile of logs. And who knows, perhaps it is possible to maintain a comfortable lifestyle doing any one of these things. And if it is possible, then why am I not lumberjacking mornings and baking afternoons?

Now it's your turn, give me your dream job, whether it means a lifestyle change or not.

*This might be redundant imagery as I'm similarly attired in one of the above banner photos.

toutes les grandes personnes ont d'abord été des enfants

2011-10-25T22:44:00.000-07:00

Le Petit Prince was the first book I read completely in French. Which is not much of a feat because it's a children's book. But children's book or not (I'd describe it as a children's book for adults), it's one of my favorite books -- I've read it a good five or six times.

I would love to own a first edition copy of this book. Image from here.

More than once I've encouraged friends to learn French in order to enjoy this book in its purest form. And more than once I've wanted to read it in English just to see if the feeling is the same. But each time I try I end up feeling like reading it in English would be a waste of time in comparison or that it would somehow cheapen the original French version.

In my nineteenth century French theater class* we just finished reading a piece called On ne badine pas avec l'amour by Alfred de Musset (rough translation of title: Don't Mess Around With Love). At the end of the final scene of the second act is my favorite passage from all that we've read so far this semester:

[M]ais il y a au monde une chose sainte et sublime, c'est l'union de deux de ces êtres si imparfaits et si affreux. On est souvent trompé en amour, souvent blessé et souvent malheureux ; mais on aime, et quand on est sur le bord de sa tombe, on se retourne pour regarder en arrière, et on se dit : J'ai souffert souvent, je me suis trompé quelquefois, mais j'ai aimé. C'est moi qui ai vécu, et non pas un être factice créé par mon orgueil et mon ennui.

I wish I had more French speaking friends with whom I could share such passages. So instead I'll just pretend that you all understood that and enjoyed it as much as I did.

*When I tell people I'm taking a nineteenth century French theater class they usually think it's a performance class. Nope. Sadly, it's merely a literature class.

Brian and IV

2011-10-18T22:11:00.001-07:00

To be honest, it'd be a bit of a stretch to say that Brian and I have bonded over this album. No, our friendship was forged from a different fire, a literal fire, one that launched model rockets hundreds of feet into the air. A fire that could have gotten us in trouble with the law. Yes, I'm making vague, confusing allusions to the time that we launched model rockets at the local high school baseball field late at night (read all about it here, fourth paragraph in).

In addition to a penchant for model rocketry, Brian and I also share similar professions. We're both accountants, although our respective functions as such differ greatly.

Notes:
I think IV by Led Zeppelin was the first classic rock album I owned on CD (I didn't pick it up on vinyl until 2008). It was a sort of chicken-egg scenario: I either bought that album because I was learning how to play "Stairway to Heaven" (as apparently every budding guitarist should), or I was learning "Stairway to Heaven" because I bought the album. I was 15 or 16 at the time so I don't recall the exact circumstances.

It quickly became one of my favorite classic rock albums and remains one to this day.

committee of sleep

2011-10-14T01:37:00.001-07:00

Today wasn't a bad day but it ended with a bit more anxiety than I would've liked (which anxiety will most likely bleed over to tomorrow). I could sure use one of these days:

And I could sure use one of those cupcakes right now.

"It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it." Thank you, Mr. Steinbeck (not sure where that's from, I'll get around to sourcing it later).

Well, we'll see how fast that Committee of Sleep can work with the four hour deadline I'm giving them tonight instead of the seven or eight they probably need.

Update:The Committee of Sleep performed far beyond my expectations, especially with the time they were given. Good job, guys.

miles to go

2011-10-11T16:44:00.000-07:00

When it comes to style and fit I have a hard time buying t-shirts. Style, because I can never find designs that I love. And fit, because when buying a new t-shirt, I never know how that thing will wear after I wash it.

In the past, my t-shirt wardrobe consisted solely of band shirts and thrift store finds. I'm certainly not opposed to either, but with band t-shirts -- unless it's an American Apparel t-shirt -- I run into the same how-will-this-fit-me-after-several-washes problem. And while I still love a good thrift store t-shirt more than the next guy, thrift stores are so over-picked, with the time and effort it takes to find something cool, you're almost better off heading to a vintage shop and spending five to ten times as much (notice how I said almost).

So imagine my delight when I came across Miles To Go* last week when I noticed this gem of a t-shirt on Pinterest:

I'm sure you can by deduce by the tattoos and slimmer form that this is not me. Image from here.

Miles To Go is an independent clothing line (mostly t-shirts, hoodies, and the like) by artist Greg Kerr. As someone who is influenced greatly by reading and literature, I love the premise behind his original designs: all of them are based on a novel, ranging from classic literature (see the Moby Dick t-shirt above) to more contemporary selections, like The Perks of Being a Wallflower. And Miles To Go prints on American Apparel t-shirts, so I know exactly how the shirt will fit me and how much it will shrink after washing.

After ordering the Moby Dick t-shirt above in blue, Greg sent me a personal email thanking me for the order with an update on shipping. Even better, the t-shirt arrived the next day, which, more than anything, had to do with the fact that Miles To Go is located in Phoenix and I in Mesa. Still, regardless of proximity, ordering something online and getting it the next day is the best.

I'm looking forward to seeing what great designs Miles To Go comes up with in the future while hoping that just one of them might be Steinbeck based.

Be sure to check out Miles To Go on Facebook and follow on Twitter.

*Not at all to be confused with the Miley Cyrus autobiography.

UPDATE: Just found out via Facebook that Miles To Go will be doing a To Kill A Mockingbird run in December. Looks like I know what I'm getting myself for Christmas.

Kiana and Teaser and the Firecat

2011-10-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

While it's not a surprising thing to like Cat Stevens (because what's not to like?), I wasn't aware of Kiana's affinity for the guy until she grabbed this record off my shelf for this photo. The fact that I didn't know this about her is quite indicative of her personality -- not because she's an overly private person, not because she's too shy to talk about herself, but because she is always so interested in others, perhaps at the expense of sharing things about herself. Some people are always talking about themselves; Kiana is always asking people about themselves.

This trait will certainly come in handy as Kiana leaves on her LDS mission to Michigan next week. She will be sorely missed for a year and a half.

Notes and Miscellanea:
Teaser is on par for best Cat Stevens album, right up there with its predecessor, Tea for the Tillerman. While Teaser has some of the more heavy-hitting songs of Stevens' career -- like "Moonshadow" and "Peace Train" -- Tillerman is more understated.

I'll make this a bit easier: Teaser is like Splash Mountain at Disneyland -- dramatic ups and downs -- while Tillerman resembles the Lazy River at Sunsplash -- a consistent stream of lower impact, though still poignant, folk hits.

comparative greenery

2011-10-03T22:40:00.000-07:00

Over the past four years I haven't lived in any one house or apartment for more than eight months or so. I don't love moving -- and I certainly dislike the physical act of it -- but I still find myself doing so every six months or so.

Most of those moves were only across town, but a few of them were of an interstate nature: Arizona to Idaho, to California, back to Idaho, to Colorado, and back to Arizona. I still love Arizona, and while I thought that when I moved back here over a year ago that I'd be here for good, I really wouldn't mind moving somewhere else.

We don't get trees like these in Arizona, at least not where I live. I took this photo last July at the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York. Does the green in this photo hurt your eyes too?

I almost moved to Fremont, California, in the San Francisco Bay Area right after graduating college. I would kill to live there now. An hour away from San Francisco, the ocean, Muir Woods. And two hours away from Monterey County, the birthplace of my favorite author and the setting of his best novels. For all the things I love about that part of Northern California -- Steinbeck sites, San Francisco hills, redwood forests -- I wonder if I would begin to take them for granted, just as there is so much greatness -- being close to my family and constant sunny days -- that I take for granted while living here in Arizona.

I don't think I'm ready to live here for the rest of my life, not just yet. But I am happy to be here.

If moving were as easy as packing a bag and leaving tomorrow -- where would you go?

you've got my song

2011-09-29T17:06:00.001-07:00

After moving to Rexburg, Idaho, for school, it took me a couple semesters before I settled in with a group of friends who had interests similar to my own. You know, the type of people who liked going to shows and shopping at thrift stores and listening to records. For people with such great taste, I was surprised that many of these new friends hadn't spent their junior high and high school years listening to Weezer like my Arizona friends and I had (although a couple of them had). I set out to correct this supposed wrong and made them all a Weezer mix to download.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I already included this photo in a previous post. I guess this album, for better or worse, is that important to me. And try as I might, I can't seem to get past my current writer's block unless I blog about this album. Again.

I don't know why expect so many people to have the same childhood I did; it used to be so unfathomable that people my age could grow up without having seen Star Wars (OK, to be fair, I still have a hard time with that). When you connect with someone I guess you assume that you have common passions and that you care deeply about the same things. While there might be so truth to that assumption, you'll never have everything in common with anyone. Intrinsically, that's a pretty common-sense statement, but for whatever reason there are things like this that I have to learn by experience. That's a lesson Weezer helped teach me.

Notes and Miscellanea:
Pinkerton includes some of my favorite Weezer songs ("El Scorcho," "The Good Life"), as well as some of my favorite songs of all time. And I dare you to find an album with better b-sides -- see "You Gave Your Love to Me Softly" and "Waiting On You" as examples. (The b-sides are now conveniently included in the deluxe edition released last year.)

If you didn't grow up as a millennial listening to this album it might behoove you to check it out now. In 15 years or so it's destined to attain the status those classic rock albums from the '70s now enjoy.

Ben and Tap Root Manuscript

2011-09-26T09:25:00.001-07:00

As I mentioned earlier this month, I've been somewhat inspired by my friends Tyson and Jeremy: they both have been counting down their 50 favorite albums. I love this idea but if I were to try it, two problems would arise: my tastes change too often to be happy with a list; and such a structured blogging regimen would bore me after two weeks (these are reasons why I admire Tyson and Jeremy for undertaking their respective projects).

So, in an effort to document my record collection, I'll be doing something that's a little more me. Over the coming weeks, months -- perhaps years? -- I'll post sporadic photos of a friend or family member posing with a record that means something to them. And I'll talk about what that record, the individual, and myself have in common.

Unfortunately, many of my friends I'd like to include in this project live far away. So if you're living in or visiting the Phoenix area, I hope you'll stop by and peruse my record collection and let me take a picture of you (and for the next six months (maybe longer?) I'll have this awesome brick wall that makes a perfect background).

In addition to being an all around great friend, Ben has been a huge inspiration to me as a runner -- earlier this year he ran a couple half marathons (one of which we dominated together) and in April, he ran his first full marathon. Running with Ben always pushes me to go a little farther than I thought possible.

Another thing Ben and I share is a love for the venerable Neil Diamond. One night, it must've been last January, Ben and I were finishing a long run in my old neighborhood. I was tired and nearly out of breath when Ben began singing "Cracklin' Rosie" by Neil Diamond, which is the first track on Tap Root Manuscript, the album Ben is holding here. Despite my heavy breathing I joined in, and in seconds we were shouting it at the top of our depleted lungs, the lines of song punctuated by desperate gasps for air.

Notes and Miscellanea:
The second half of this record is very experimental: it's Neil's attempt to dig up the roots of music, which he believed to be buried in Africa.

I picked this up for 50 cents in January 2008 at Rasputin Music in Newark, CA (though it might have been Fremont, CA, since the store was on the border of the two cities. I tried to verify it online but apparently the store no longer exists. But what if the store never existed in the first place and my owning this record was the result of some inter-dimensional, Twilight Zone-esque adventure that has been since repressed from my brain by some clandestine government entity, and the Rasputin Music location in Newark/Fremont is a memory implanted by said government entity? That'd be awesome).

photo frustrations

2011-09-23T16:19:00.001-07:00

Why I just don't use my DSLR much these days:

Since I was a teenager I've always loved taking photos. I remember buying my first camera around age 16. It was this bulky Canon point-and-shoot, and I'm pretty sure I bought it from Walmart for around $100. At that age I took two types of photos. One: Goofy, posed photos with my brother Matt or another family member or friend. Two: Photos of bands. I always brought my camera to band shows and concerts, and whenever my band played a show, I always gave my camera with a fresh roll of film (yes, these were the film days) to a friend to take pictures of us while we played.

This photo is a synthesis of both of those types: a goofy, posed band photo, circa late 2000. This was right outside a small convenience store (hence the beverages/snacks) in downtown Mesa right after playing a show at the Nile (incidentally, if I tried hard enough I could throw a rock at both of those places from my new apartment). Looks like I did a poor job of scanning it.

That camera lasted me through my mission, after which I replaced it with a digital point-and-shoot.

In January 2009 I was expecting a sizable tax refund*. Depending on the size, I would buy myself either a new iPod or a DSLR camera. Apparently it was sizable enough because a month later I ended up with a new DSLR. I began using it instantly and I couldn't put it down, especially after moving to Colorado a few months later.

So why haven't I been using it much nowadays? I will postulate two reasons:

Firstly: Shortly after picking up my DSLR I began shooting in RAW format (as opposed to shooting in the internet/software friendly JPG format). RAW captures colors, especially skin tones, just a little better and photos come out a bit more clear. I got to the point where I felt that if I was going to shoot JPG I might as well use a point-and-shoot.

Now, the problem with RAW is that, based on my limited experience anyway, only the high-end photo editing softwares (like Photoshop) can do a good job of editing RAW photos. Formerly, this wasn't a problem because, up until a few months ago, I had a bootleg version of Photoshop. But then I bought a new computer and now bootleg Photoshop doesn't work (which is probably a good thing, because, as the word bootleg implies, I hadn't paid for it). So now if I want to edit a photo or even just post it on Facebook or my blog I have to copy it over to my computer, convert it to JPG, and then continue with editing/posting. Sure, it's not that big of a deal, but it is cumbersome enough to be annoying.

This is one of my favorite photos I've taken with said camera.

Secondly: Who posts entire albums of photos on Facebook or Flickr these days? Most of my friends who take photos do one-at-a-time mobile uploads on Facebook and Twitter or they use popular photo apps like Instragram. (Is anyone else getting kinda sick Instragram? It seems like a great app (iPhone only and I'm an Android guy), but why does everything have to be filtered and square? It makes me glad that I have a few friends out there that still take real photos**.) If I'm not sharing or displaying my photos, be they on Facebook or elsewhere, I don't have as much of a motivation to actually take any.

Part of me thinks I should invest in a decent point-and-shoot -- my new phone, despite its glorious speed, has a pretty worthless camera -- but that's $200-300 (or whatever they cost these days) I could put toward a new guitar. Or a record player. Or records. Or a plane ticket. (Or something practical and useful, but who are we kidding?)

Now that I can get a student discount (I think) I should probably just bite the bullet and buy Photoshop.

In the meantime, to all my photographer friends, and to all my friends who take photos, what Photoshop alternatives do I have? And what motivates you to go out there and take tons of photos?

*People are always confusing the terms tax refund and tax return, and more often than not, people refer to their refund as a return. But they're not the same thing. A return is the actual form or series of forms you file with the IRS, not the money you get back when you overpay.

**No offense, Instragram users.

P.S. I almost titled this post "photo phrustrations." That was a close one.

triple threat

2011-09-16T12:02:00.001-07:00

Some thoughts from last night's concert trifecta:

The singer for the Walkmen came across as a bit of a tool -- the only member of his band in a suit, the way he jokingly berated the absent sound guy before the start of their set -- although I feel like he somewhat redeemed himself with a gracious thank you to the audience as they left the stage. Wish I would've known their music better, but I wasn't left wanting to pick up one of their albums after. Still though, solid band and I'm glad I got to see them.

Apparently everyone and their mom loves the Fleet Foxes, though I'm pretty indifferent. I was hoping their performance would convert me to fandom, but alas, that conversion failed. However, I did come away with a respect for them as the talented bunch they are -- especially the dude who played the flute, upright bass, guitar, violin, and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. My favorite part of their set was when fans were shouting song requests, Rachael yelled out, "Just do your best!"

I love this(ese) version(s) of "For Emma," and the conversation with the French dude at the beginning is pretty great. Thanks to Zach who posted this on his blog a few years ago. His love for Bon Iver was infectious and it's partly the reason I love them too.

Bon Iver was the real reason I was there. I was surprised how large and full this band sounded -- but I shouldn't have been given the nine band members on stage (including two drummers and various brass and woodwind multi-instrumentalists). And who would've thought that "Blood Bank" could be such a great rock song? Let's talk about some of the great guitars on the Bon Iver stage -- a Jaguar, a Les Paul, an SG, what appeared to be Telecasters Deluxe and Thinline, a couple Gibson hollow bodies, an ancient dobro, and on "The Wolves" Justin Vernon played a guitar I didn't recognize -- it had three P-90 looking pickups and sounded great. Anyway, enough guitar talk, I just loved the variety -- so much better than Ben Gibbard switching out different Telecasters the entire night when I saw Death Cab last month. (More to their credit, the Fleet Foxes guitarist had a great selection as well).

I don't care much for Comerica Theatre -- it's so big and sterile -- but hanging in the GA standing area made quite a difference. Sadly, those are usually hard tickets to come by unless you have the extra cash to pay the resale price (I lucked out in the presale this time).

Oh, those nine or so guitars I mentioned weren't played simultaneously, they just passed them around among band members throughout the night.

car wars

2011-09-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

I bought a new car last May. It's a 2009 Nissan Altima SL. While next time I will pass on the leather interior (very glad summer is ending), I like the car quite a bit. I have therefore resolved to take better care of it than I did my last one.

About a month ago I took said car to get it washed. I went to the Genie Car Wash on McKellips and Lindsay in Mesa. As they were finishing up -- washing the windows and drying the car -- a gentleman who worked there approached me. He pointed out a scaly-looking white build-up on my car. He said it had been caused by exposure to hard water and sunlight, and unless I had that build-up removed soon, it could cause permanent damage to the paint job.

One thing you can always count on -- almost as sure as death and taxes -- is that car people will always try to sell you crap you don't need. For that reason, and the fact that I didn't have the $100 the guy wanted to remove the hard water scale, and because I couldn't think of a time when my car had been exposed to hard water, I told him I'd take it to the dealership where I bought it to get a second opinion.

I went home and tried removing some of the scale myself and it didn't come off so I figured there must have been some truth to what the guy told me.

After work last Thursday, I took my car to the same car wash to get the oil changed. The oil change comes with a free car wash -- just a cheap standard wash, nothing fancy -- so I had that done too. While they were finishing the wash, I expected someone to tell me that I needed to fork over another $100 to have the scale removed but this time no one said anything. As I approached my car, I was surprised -- and not surprised -- to see that the scaly build-up had been removed.

So the lesson here is, if you frequent the Genie Car Wash on McKellips and Lindsay and some dude wants to charge you $100 to remove scaly matter from your car, kindly punch him in the gut and tell him where to go. And then have him actually wash your car.

brick and wax

2011-09-04T11:22:00.000-07:00

About a week ago I decided I needed to photograph my record collection (or at least the ones I care about). I've been wanting to catalog my collection since Jeremy added a table of his records to his blog. Furthermore, Tyson, and now Jeremy, inspired by Tyson, have now consecrated their blogs to a top 50 countdown of their favorite albums, which has only fueled my desire more to document my record collection. Oh, that and I've been wanting to add my favorite albums to Pinterest without having to rip off someone else's photos.

Lucky for me, this weekend I moved into a new apartment with a brick wall that serves as a perfect backdrop for these photos. (I copied the idea for these pictures from my friend Becky, as seen in this post.) So last night when I should've been unpacking, I took my first batch of photos.

Left: Heady Nuggs by the Flaming Lips. This hefty gem is a box set containing the Lips' first five albums on the Warner Bros label spanning a decade, from 1992 to 2002. This also happens to be some of their best stuff (The Soft Bulletin, 1999, is probably one of my top five records). It was released on Record Store Day earlier this year.

Right: Hot August Night by Neil Diamond. I bought this album because, upon browsing the liner notes, I discovered that it was recorded 10 years before I was born, to the day. And because I love Neil Diamond. But I usually don't like live albums. With most live albums the recording engineer fails to capture the raw energy of a live performance, and you're left with a version that's even more stale than the studio recording. That doesn't happen with Hot August Night, though. These live tracks are so rich and warm -- especially on vinyl -- it doesn't necessarily feel like you were there, rather, it's like Neil is in your head* performing for you personally. But you know that he's really not so it's not as creepy as it sounds.

Left: Diary by Sunny Day Real Estate. I wish I'd be so lucky to have an original, now out-of-print pressing of this record but I was nowhere near that cool back in 1994. So I was pretty happy when this album was remastered and re-released in 2009, with added bonus tracks. This has to be one of my favorite album covers ever.

Right: Star Wars by John Williams. I've always wanted to quantify John Williams' contribution to the Star Wars franchise. For example, I'd like to be able to say, with the math and reasoning to back it up, "Thirty percent of the greatness that is Star Wars comes from the score by John Williams." But if greatness is subjective to begin with, then maybe I'm better off estimating a percent without all that math. If that's the case, I'm gonna stick with my previously purported number, 30%.

Pinkerton by Weezer. This is probably my favorite album ever. So I was elated when I learned Weezer would be releasing a deluxe version of this album both on CD and on vinyl (which is four records long, that's over 800 square inches of playable Pinkerton vinyl). The packaging is great too, with photos from the era and photocopied handwritten lyrics and a letter from Rivers to fans. Needless to say, it's one of the crown jewels of my record collection.

So there's the start of my record photo catalog. Five down... at least 100 more to go.

*For the record, I wouldn't mind being incepted by Neil Diamond.

an open letter to George Lucas

2011-09-01T17:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Lucas,

First of all, let me say, thank you for Star Wars. I can't even begin to catalog the number of hours I have spent -- as a child, teenager, and now adult -- with Star Wars. Watching the movies. Driving from Walmart to Toys"R"Us to Target to comic shops and beyond with my brothers looking for hard-to-find Star Wars action figures. Camping out at the movie theater and missing school -- when I was in danging of failing more than one class -- for tickets to see Episode I at the first moment possible. Missing even more school and work to see Episode I and Episode III (I was serving a mission for my church and unable to see movies when Episode II came out). Updating my Facebook status at least hourly -- perhaps to the chagrin of many of my Facebook friends -- with a Star Wars quote on May 4, the unofficial International Star Wars Day. Talking Star Wars, reading Star Wars, engaging in lightsaber battles with my brothers and cousins, finding new ways to arrange our family collection of Star Wars action figures. As they say, the list goes on and on.

Suffice it to say, I am a Star Wars fan. I know I'm not the biggest Star Wars, but apart from my brothers and my buddy Chip, I'm the biggest Star Wars fan I know.

As a teenager, and as a young adult, I came across people who had never seen a single Star Wars movie. I found this so hard to understand. For me, having not seen Star Wars as a kid was tantamount to having missed out on childhood altogether, that's how important Star Wars was for me growing up.

In 1997, you released the Special Edition versions of the original three Star Wars films, and I couldn't have been more excited. As I was either unborn or much too young to have seen them in a theatrical setting, I was now finally able to. I enjoyed and welcomed the changes you made (with the exception of replacing the Sy Snootles scene with the tacky CGI "Jedi Rocks" number). However, I'd like to make one thing clear: had these changes come about or not, I would still love these films. (Incidentally, my favorite of the series, The Empire Strikes Back -- possibly my favorite movie ever -- was the least changed by the Special Edition makeovers.)

As a filmmaker, how fortunate you were to have the resources, technology, and fan base to go back and effectuate these changes to make these films closer to the films you imagined.

When you released the original Star Wars Trilogy on DVD in 2004 another significant change was made at the end of Return of the Jedi. The final scene of the movie shows the ghostly figures of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, and Anakin Skywalker during the Rebel Alliance's celebration of their defeat over the evil Galatic Empire. The DVD release shows not Sebastian Shaw, the original actor who played Darth Vader sans mask, or Anakin Skywalker, but the prequel version of Anakin Skywalker, played by Hayden Christiansen. Justifiably, this change upset many fans, myself included. Eventually though, I grew into this change because it made Return of the Jedi work on an additional level, it gave needed poignancy to the prequel trilogy, and it occurred during less consequential, post-climactic part of the movie.

Like most Star Wars fans, I have eagerly been awaiting the release of all six Star Wars films on Blu-ray. And now we're two weeks away. But today I read a disturbing piece of news that has made me rethink my willingness to shell out another $100 in addition to the hundreds (thousands factoring in opportunity cost?) I've already spent on Star Wars-centric pursuits. Today I learned that the new Star Wars Blu-ray release will include even more changes.

The most grotesque of which, as you know, occurs during the end of the throne room scene of Return of the Jedi -- the true climax of the movie, of the entire series even. As the evil Emperor Palpatine tortures Darth Vader's son Luke Skywalker with the intent to kill him, Vader looks on at his suffering son, then at the Emperor, then to back his son. It's at this point where you decided to add some extra audio. In the new Blu-ray version, at this point Vader mutters, "No," and then yelling, "NOOOOOOOOO!" he hoists the evil Emperor Palpatine over his head and throws him down the nearest reactor shaft, thus rescuing his son Luke from imminent death. It's one of my favorite scenes of any movie, not just Star Wars, and Mr. Lucas, you've effectively ruined it.

With the creation of Star Wars, unquestionably you became one of greatest filmmakers of all time. And not only have you created a universe in which so many people have found enjoyment and pleasure, but you have created stories that have inspired hope and meaning in so many people. Most importantly you've created a medium through which friendships and family bonds have been made and strengthened. And yet, you risk cheapening all that with these willy-nilly changes to these films that have meant so much to so many.

On September 16, you won't see me in any line waiting to purchase a copy of Star Wars on Blu-ray.

Sincerely,
Myke Olsen

2011-08-28T23:45:00.004-07:00

Pre-P.S. I pride myself of my ability of coming up with post titles that indirectly or subtly reference the post's content without being redundant of the content itself. However, I'm having a hard time coming up with such a title for this post. If you happen to think of one while reading please make it known and if I like it I'll consider using it. Thanks in advance!

I started school this week. If you want to get technical, one might say that I started grad school this week. Even though I feel like a bit of a cheater when I say that I'm a graduate student. I haven't taken the GMAT or GRE, and I'm not enrolled in any actual program. But at ASU, I am technically a grad student -- a non-degree grad student -- but a grad student nonetheless.

Things are somewhat unofficial right now because I have yet to be admitted to my graduate program of choice -- ASU's Master of Arts in French linguistics program. That's why I'm a bit hesitant to declare myself a grad student -- despite my being enrolled in one grad class, which will likely count toward the MA degree in the event I am admitted.

(I do this thing where I minimize myself when I do something that could be conceived as a notable accomplishment by at least a portion of the world. (Starting school again is probably one of these things.) It's a bad habit and I should probably stop.)

My grad class is French 19th century theater. Probably not my first choice for a French literature class, but I'm glad to be taking it for that reason, since I can study and read what I like on my own. We've only met twice as a class and so far I'm loving it. The class is small -- very small -- consisting of three undergrad students and two grad students (as grad students, we have a more advanced work load).

I'm also taking an advanced French writing class (it's an online class because the professor is currently abroad. But not a broad. See what I did there?). I'm taking this to help me get back to the level where I once was. That, and I will need to take a few undergrad French courses to make up for the fact that I have only a minor, not a major, in French.

So with my new scholastic responsibilities, I will undoubtedly fall behind in blogging -- I already have. But it's a worthy sacrifice and one that's easy to make. I look forward to the day when I can call myself a master of something, and I look forward to the road ahead that will get me there.

avoiding discretion

2011-08-23T21:44:00.004-07:00

My stats teacher explained it this way, "A discrete number is something you can count, it's a whole number. For example, the number of students in a class is discrete. You can't have half a student," he continued in jest, "unless you're a liberal arts major!"

On the other hand, continuous numbers are used for measurement. I'm five feet ten and a quarter inches tall. Last night I slept for six and a quarter hours. Pi is 3.14159....

Sometimes we think of aging as a discrete event. As a young child I never liked the question often posed on my birthday, "So how does it feel to be a year older?" It's such a confusing question for a kid because he thinks he was only five years old yesterday but in reality, he was five years and three hundred sixty four days old (depending on the year), and that's certainly closer to six years than five.

With that, another common mistake is to think that when you turn six you're beginning your sixth year. This is not true. Turning six means you've lived for six complete years. That sixth year has now come and gone. On your sixth birthday you start your seventh year.

I mention all this because tomorrow, in a few short hours really, I begin my thirtieth year.

in my dreams; or what I blog about when I can't sleep

2011-08-17T03:28:00.005-07:00

Last January my brother Matt -- who got engaged on Friday -- bought a house and I've been living with him since. With Matt's nuptials on the horizon (the word nuptial always makes me think of a certain scene from Arrested Development), I've had to find me a new place to live. Which wasn't hard. I'm moving in to my new apartment on September first.

It's a small place so I'll be living alone. (Well, not entirely alone, I'm bringing Scout with me.)

With a new apartment comes the welcome challenge of furnishing it. Other than a bed and some bookshelves, I don't have much furniture to my name. So hopefully over the next month or so I can come up with a couch, table, chairs, coffee table, and maybe a rug or two since the floors are all wood.

Part of the fun of looking for furniture is dreaming about items that I just can't afford that probably have no business in a small one bedroom apartment. Here are some things I'd buy if I had more money than sense:

Every time I take a trip to Stinkweeds in Phoenix I see this ferry boat wheel in the window at Red, a vintage modern furniture store on Camelback. I have no idea how much it costs, and I don't want to know, but if I were to buy it I'd pretend and tell people that it was a wheel from an actual pirate ship, and I'd go so far to say that it belonged to some obscure pirate (because, honestly, who'd believe me if I said it belonged to a famous pirate like Blackbeard or Henry Morgan).

While I love Scout, if I had $20,000 to spend on a pet, I'd get an Ashera cat. These cats, bred by Lifestyle Pets, are supposedly part African serval, part Asian leopard, and part domestic housecat. While the breed's authenticity has been challenged, it's still an awesome cat. These cats are hypoallergenic, meaning those allergic to cats won't have reactions to this one, and get this, you can actually take an Ashera cat on a walk (though in her defense, I've never tried this with Scout). I wouldn't be so nervous to run the canals at night with a domestic leopard in tow.

Recently I've thinking about buying a new electric guitar. Right now it's up in the air between a Gibson SG and Fender Jaguar, two fairly different guitars (for example, SGs have been used in countless hard rock settings -- think Tommy Iommi and Angus Young -- and Jaguars got their start in the surf rock scene, although both guitars have proven to be quite versatile over the years). If I've got money to drop on a ferry boat wheel and a pet leopard, fronting the cash for two guitars wouldn't be tough, even for vintage models. I'd look for an early '60s issue on both. And I'd probably need a vintage guitar amp to go with them, an old Fender Bassman would do.

So there you have it. If you happen to have a superfluous flow of cash, I'd be happy to front any wire transfer fees. Also, I take checks.

guest post: how Becky met Hazel

2011-08-15T09:27:00.004-07:00

A few weeks ago I asked my friend Becky if she would do a post on my blog detailing her recent adventures with my favorite author, John Steinbeck. She kindly obliged and provided the post below.

Becky is from one of my favorite places on planet Earth, Ottawa, Ontario, the capital of our lovely northern neighbor, Canada. She currently resides in Calgary, Alberta. Becky has a blog of her own, unabashedly becky, so please go read, comment, follow, share, repeat, ect.

And now, Becky:

Hey peeps! I want to tell you a story. Spoiler alert: It’s about me, and John Steinbeck.

I had a phase (that lasted for years) where I didn’t read novels. I couldn’t stand fiction. I was still reading, but I read non-fiction. Books like The Stuff of Thought (authored by Steven Pinker), or The Elegant Universe (Brian Greene wrote that one), oooor...anything Malcolm Gladwell wrote (that guy is the boss). When I came out of that phase, I was craving not just stories, but good stories. Entertaining stories. Literature. I started out by reading Salinger, then moved to Kafka, then Vonnegut. All good stuff. Mostly, incidentally, short stories. Short stories are the best, for me anyway. I love that I can get through an entire narrative in a few fifteen minute blocks -- give or take.

I should tell you now, I suppose, that I had an unofficial boycott of Steinbeck going for many years. It began when my dad was reading The Grapes of Wrath. See, my dad has this quirk* where, when he really loves what he’s reading, he has to read it aloud to someone. For those of you who haven’t read the book, Grapes of Wrath contains one whole chapter which is devoted to a turtle crossing the road. This is the chapter my dad read to me. It could have been because I was a teenager, but I found the whole thing ridiculously boring. That’s how the boycott began, it continued on account of a boy I particularly despised in high school** choosing Grapes of Wrath as his book of choice for his Independent Study in our last year of high school. So, you can see how I might be poisoned against reading Steinbeck, so to speak.

ACT III: Through a short series of events, mostly consisting of my sister-in-law emailing me a link, I started reading and then following Myke’s blog. Both of them, actually. After reading what he posted about Tortilla Flat on Earthbound But Aspiring I resolved to read it. You know what convinced me? This: “Each short chapter is so self-contained, but not to the point of being able to stand alone like a short story.” Granted, he does say they can’t quite stand alone like a short story, but I figured...close enough.

Guys, I loved it. It made me laugh out loud. On the bus. In public.

Once I had the skeleton of the plot (by which I mean setting and characters) it really was almost like a series of short stories. Of course, the chapters build on previous ones, so they really can't stand alone out of context, but I was able to read roughly a chapter or so a day while riding the bus. The characters are fantastically loveable (a few notches above scamps on the scale of badness, really) and I couldn’t get mad at them, even when they did very bad things. One part in particular made me laugh until I cried and tell anyone who would listen. It involves a gift that is as thoughtful as it is thoughtless: a vacuum cleaner for a special lady-friend who has no electricity. The description of her "using" her vacuum is reason enough to pick up the book. With that, the boycott was officially lifted.

Next I read Cannery Row which I also really liked. It has a similar feel to Tortilla Flat but the characters aren’t as loveable. They’re no more conniving, but they seem less innocent. Nevertheless, I found it mostly funny, and sometimes infuriating***, and I fell totally in love**** with Hazel. And while I’m not American, I loved the Americana in the book. It feels like Bruce Springsteen, or Bob Dylan, or a segment of “This American Life”. I don’t know how to describe it better -- maybe that’s just because I’m not American.

During the time I was reading Cannery Row, my best friend Darryl found a copy of East of Eden and started reading. Yep, it spread. We resolved to swap when we finished our respective books, but East of Eden is like five times the size Cannery Row, so I started Grapes of Wrath. Or, rather, I tried to start it.

It was the perfect setup, even. My dad has a copy (had, I stole it from him), and it was right on schedule with Myke’s reading list. I couldn’t, and still can’t, get past the second page. I meant to just borrow it from my dad, read it and then put it back on the shelf, but then I couldn’t get interested in it, and then I moved. So I took it with me. It’s on the tippity-top of my pile, actually. I just, for whatever reason, can’t get past the second page. I’m going to keep trying though. Maybe Grapes of Wrath is my Macbeth? Just in case, as a backup, I bought a used copy of East of Eden for ten bucks.

Anyway, kids, that is the story of how I became a fan of the badassest looking author...probably ever.

* I have the same quirk, incidentally. Nature or Nurture? Who can say.
** I had very good reason to despise him, trust.
*** (Spoilers) I’m pretty sure my blood pressure went up a few points while I was reading the chapter with the first party. I could not believe they let the frogs out.
**** Not romantically, yeesh!

pick your poison

2011-08-10T20:42:00.002-07:00

I may have shot myself in the foot with the challenge I issued last week to write a lengthy word-only post. I don't have writer's block, I just don't have that much on my mind that's impersonal enough to share on a medium accessible to anyone who uses the world wide web. So I tentatively write the following, taking some comfort that the length of this post will scare most readers away.

Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne is a sort of pseudo-hero of mine. I don't agree with many of his personal philosophies, but I love the passion and originality with which he approaches his career. For example, earlier this year the Flaming Lips released a digital EP stored on a USB drive embedded in the gelatinous brain of a seven and a half pound gummy skull -- you had to eat your way to the USB drive.

A year or two ago, a piece of Wayne's unconventional wisdom struck me and made me realize something important about myself. During a commencement address at an Oklahoma City high school in 2006, Wayne said, "We are not what we dream. We are what we do." Now, I know that's not terribly profound, and it's something I already knew, in a nebulous sort of way. It just had never been articulated for me so clearly (or if it had, I hadn't been paying attention).

Sometimes I feel like more of a dreamer and less of a doer. I contemplated making a list of all the things in my recent life that I've wanted to do or thought I would do but haven't. I look back on a few of those things and think, Why didn't I do that? Why haven't I taken the GMAT yet? It would be so easy to get that out of the way. Why didn't I take the CPA exam right after finishing college? I could've been done with that by now.

And then I try and account for the time I spent not doing these things. What have I done instead? Why is it easier for me to focus on what I haven't done than what I have done? And why do I feel like my most important accomplishments are limited only to the realm of school and work? -- especially when, historically speaking, my passion for both of those things has been so up and down.

Anyway, I feel like I know the answers to these questions. They just tend to bounce around in my head less when I know someone else has heard them.

== == == == ==

In case you haven't noticed, from reading this post and from subtle hints on other posts, I've been rethinking my line of work. I remember someone saying that who you work with is more important than what you do. If that's the case, then maybe I should change my attitude instead of my career. I don't know which scares me more: a new attitude or a new job.

corpus callosum

2011-08-04T22:33:00.005-07:00

Every now and then I wax nostalgic and peruse past posts on my blog. It's interesting to see how my writing has changed over the years. Now, I don't really fancy myself a writer, but I do love writing. I was talking with a good friend the other night, and I decided that I really like to use both sides of my brain, left and right. Writing lets me do that. To write, you have to know grammar; it's like math for words. You have to know where things go, how to marry quotation marks and punctuation, for example. Writing also requires a certain amount of creativity -- creating metaphors and similes, drawing conclusions and forming ideas where they aren't expressed in an apparent manner.

A couple years ago my blogging habits were a bit different. Rarely did I post pictures. My posts were thick with long paragraphs. Recently I've strayed from that a bit, I guess to make my blog a little more interesting. I don't know if I'd call this pandering but it sort of feels like it. I didn't start blogging to write for an audience and I didn't do it to post pictures, especially ones that others have taken. I started blogging because I like writing and I think that needs to be the reason I continue.

So, just for fun, I thought I'd post links to some of my favorite posts that are nothing but writing -- a few short creative non-fiction essays, if I can be so bold as to call them that. Here they are:

"Fingerprints": This is my second blog post ever but it's one of my favorites. It's short.

"my skeptic sight": This one's about Jimmy Eat World, one of my favorite bands.

"My Fidelity": This one's about my love of record stores and records.

I happen to like reading as much as I like writing (OK, maybe I like reading a little more because it's easier) so I'd like to issue a little challenge: Try doing a post with only writing. No photos, no videos, no music. Use words to describe what you would share as a photo or video or otherwise. Avoid single-sentence paragraphs and avoid making lists (like the one you see above) -- make it long, paragraph upon paragraph. Tell a story. Or make one up. Try learning a few new words to use in this post, or at least use a thesaurus to replace any repetitious words. I'll do one too. If you decide to take this challenge, post a link to this entry and I'll link your post here.

murder by numbers

2011-08-02T16:04:00.003-07:00

On the first day of one of my accounting courses my teacher asked the class, "What is the purpose of business?"

We weren't idiots, we knew the answer to the question, the answer he was looking for anyway. But we kept silent. Maybe it was the first-day jitters, maybe some of us were ashamed of the answer.

"The purpose of business is to make money. There's nothing wrong with that," he continued, addressing our silence, "and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Is this dude's house just really small, or is it half buried in dust? Famous Dust Bowl photo by photojournalist Arthur Rothstein that I stole from Wikipedia.

One of my favorite things about The Grapes of Wrath is how Steinbeck arranges the chapters: for each chapter of plot -- the story of the Joad family as they migrate west from their home in Oklahoma to a new life in California -- there is a brief, three or four page chapter that gives a broader context to the meat of the book. It's a sort of macro and micro view of the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression. (Steinbeck chapters out Cannery Row in a similar manner.)

In chapter five, one of those short, contextual chapters, Steinbeck explains the role of the banks and land companies during the Dust Bowl:

If a bank or finance company owned the land, the owner man said, The Bank -- or the Company -- needs -- wants -- insists -- must have -- as though the company were a monster, with thought and feeling, which had ensnared them. These last would take no responsibility for the banks or the companies because they were men and slaves, while the banks were machines and masters all at the same time.

So when the crops failed and farming ceased, Dust Bowl farmers defaulted on their loans. And that insatiable monster took their land away.

== == == == ==

A few years after that accounting class, I remember discussing the differences between French and American work ethics in a French civilization and culture class (French was my undergrad minor).

My teacher -- who was French -- had a tough time understanding our American workaholic culture. It's not that she didn't want to, but coming from a country with a 35 hour work week and five weeks of mandatory vacation for full time employees, it must have been a hard concept for her to grasp.

As we talked, I remembered what my accounting teacher taught us on that first day of class. I offered an explanation, "The purpose of a business is to make money. When an employee is absent, the company makes less money."

It's a simple explanation, and it's also true, at least on paper.

"Seal my heart and break my pride, I've nowhere to stand and now nowhere to hide." Mumford and Sons' Grapes of Wrath-inspired "Dust Bowl Dance."

While I read chapter five of The Grapes of Wrath, as an accountant it was really easy for me to understand the position of the bank and land owners. Repossessions happen every day in our country: if you can't pay the loan, the bank takes the asset.

But what happens when that asset is your livelihood, your home? In the course of business, there are many types of gains and losses. But this kind of loss is one I never learned how to account for, how to quantify.

Of Mice and Men

2011-07-27T13:00:00.000-07:00

The storytellers at the city gate twist life so that it looks sweet to the lazy and the stupid and the weak, and this only strengthens their infirmities and teaches nothing, cures nothing, nor does it let the heart soar*.

I have a t-shirt of this book cover. It's a size too small but it was on sale so I bought it hoping to shrink myself into it. Hasn't happened yet. I stole this image from here.

I feel like most people who have read Of Mice and Men, read it in high school or junior high. (I specifically remember classmates giving away the ending when I was in junior high.) The first time I read it was a good six years after graduating high school.

I'm glad I read it when I did. Who knows if I would've enjoyed it, or even finished it, back in high school; such is the nature of compulsory reading. (And English and literature were some of my worst classes in high school. But in those days the only thing I got consistent A's in was ceramics.)

The first time through, I liked it. The second time, just last May, I loved it**. When you read Of Mice and Men a second time, it's such an aching book. You already know the characters, and you know how it ends. You hope that this time, George and Lennie will succeed in their dream, which is something so many of us take for granted -- having a place of their own. But in the back of your mind, you already know of the imminent tragedy to come.

== == == == ==

George said, "Guys like us got no fambly. They make a little stake an' they blow it in. They got nobody in the worl' that gives a hoot in hell about 'em--"

"But not us," Lennie cried happily. "Tell about us now."

George was quiet for a moment. "But not us," he said.

"Because--"

"Because I got you an'--"

"An' I got you. We got each other, that's what, that gives a hoot in hell about us," Lennie cried in triumph.

Knowing what came next, I might have cried a bit as I read this part (which is why I like to finish books in privacy).

== == == == ==

Within the last few years, I've talked with friends who read Of Mice and Men in high school. Quite a few didn't like it. I can't say that I've matured much since then, but my choices in reading have. For those who didn't like it in high school, I wonder if their minds would change after a second reading.

Of Mice and Men is a story that "lets the heart soar" -- it's the crash at the end that makes your hopes fly so high.

== == == == ==

*This quote is from the superlative East of Eden.

**I tend to judge books by the range or depth of emotions they evoke. That's probably why I can love a book as sad as this one.

== == == == ==

I'm curious of the thoughts of those who read this in high school (or beyond) -- did you like it?

just the other night, at a hometown football game...

2011-07-16T20:50:00.006-07:00

Matt and I never did find our passports. I looked everywhere. Four times. I'm pretty sure this was my logic when I last saw and stowed my passport -- which was probably right before I moved to my current residence:

Well, I don't have a permanent spot for this thing (a mistake I will correct when I find it) so I'll stick inside this book/notebook/folder/other object. That way, when I move I won't leave my passport behind.

I do this with other things all the time. For example, when I was looking for my passport, I came across my ticket stub from Star Wars: Episode III -- I had stashed it in this book about the Arabic alphabet. I don't keep ticket stubs but I wanted to keep this one and had nowhere to put it. (Maybe I should get into scrapbooking??)

So in a year from now, I'll crack open some forgotten, dusty book and out will fall my passport.

But then, Matt couldn't find his either, and he's usually way more together than me, so maybe there's some other force at work here. Hmmm.

We were supposed to head to Montreal tomorrow. From what I hear (from my Canadian boss), getting into Canada sans passport isn't tough, but getting back into the US is. So tomorrow we're driving to Concord, New Hampshire, and staying the night (we're in Palmyra, New York, right now). Monday morning we're driving to Maine (and seeing the first showing of HP 7.2 we can get to) and hanging there for a few days.

Why New Hampshire? Why Maine? Because none of us have ever been there and when are we gonna get the chance to go to Maine.

After Maine, we'll head down to NYC via Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut (again, when are we gonna get the chance to go to any of those places). I'm currently trying to convince my family to make a stop in Sag Harbor, Long Island, New York, to check John Steinbeck's home (where he lived later in his life -- not to be confused with his boyhood home in Salinas, CA).

So what all of this really means is, I need to find another time to go to Canada. Making it its own trip (instead of combining it with other destinations, like this trip) is probably a good idea -- then I could see beautiful Ottawa and other parts of my beloved Quebec. I still dream about going to live there for a summer. Lately I've been all about following my dreams.

I need to start having some less costly dreams.

passport prayers

2011-07-12T18:46:00.003-07:00

I'm going out of town on Thursday. My sister is performing in the Hill Cumorah Pageant, which takes place every year in Palmyra, New York. So I'm flying with my mom and brother to Rochester, New York, and we'll drive to Palmyra and hang out in Palmyra for a couple days.

On Sunday we're supposed to head up to Montreal for a few days, but there's just one little problem: I can't find my passport. Neither can my brother Matt. While I know it's not the end of the world -- there is plenty to do and see in that area and in New England -- I really want to see Montreal. I served my mission there, and I have been back since, but that was seven years ago. That's a long time to go with a real smoked meat sandwich or a decent poutine.

So if you're the praying type, please say one on the behalf of my passport, and on behalf of Matt's, that they will find their way back to us. Please.

adventures in facial hair

2011-07-10T10:36:00.012-07:00

Most people who know me know I have a penchant for growing facial hair, and luckily, it's something that as man, I'm not too bad at. I grew my first beard during my senior year of high school -- it was an Abe Lincoln-style chinstrap. It's barely visible in this photo:

Who are these kids? At the time we were collectively known as the Manhattan Project. This was taken during the recording of our terribly mixed album, The Night Was Sultry (a high five to the person who can tell me what movie that is from -- no Googling).

It wasn't until the mid-'00s that I dared growing a full beard.

This wasn't my first beard but it's from that first beard era. Notice the matching bass guitar (christened the Bumble Bass) and bass drum.

A year or two later I ended up attending a college with a strict honor code that severely limited my facial hair options. But the honor code didn't prohibit all types of facial hair; it did leave me with one option: the mustache.

Here I am with Jeremy Enigk (on the left), one of my musical heroes, at a show in Pocatello, Idaho, of all places. I forget the dude's name on the right (Jeremy's guitarist for that tour).

I started growing the mustache as a joke. But after some time it grew on me (get it?!) and I began to legitimately like it. I remember getting so many compliments from guys, "Dude, awesome mustache!" To which, my response never varied, "Thanks, why don't you grow one?" "Oh, I can't grow a mustache," or, "I could never pull it off like you."

I posted this photo on Facebook.com and my good buddy Jeff (light blue t-shirt in the top photo) left the following comment, "It looks like you're having a vision of the day when everyone has mustaches... and you're liking it... a lot." From my Colorado days. I miss that hair.

Now, I understand that some men out there, bless their hearts, cannot grow facial hair. To these men I extend my sympathy: you're missing out. But to the latter, those who can and have wanted to, but are scared because they "could never pull it off," I extend this invitation: just try it. Maybe you can't pull it off, but you won't know till you try. (You might look like an idiot or chi-mo for a few days, but at least you'll know.) If you're worried about what others think, if you're worried what girls will think, remember this: if someone is judging you by a piece of transitory facial hair, they're not worth your time (such was the wisdom imparted to me by a fellow mustachioed student when I lacked mustache confidence).

One of the greatest things I acquired from adhering to the BYU-Idaho honor code was a deep love for the mustache (which, I admit, was not the intended effect of said honor code).

In closing, one of my favorite beards (circa 2008), and one of my favorite people.

earthbound but aspiring, revisited

2011-07-07T14:54:00.007-07:00

Those of you with a greater attention to detail will notice two new tabs located directly above this here post (until this post is superseded by a newer one, that is). The first is a self-explanatory home page link and the second is a link to my Steinbeck reading-blogging project, or blogject, if you will. As mentioned in previous posts, I've decided to move said blogject (that's the last time I'll use that word, I promise) here in hopes that doing so will raise the quality of Steinbeck-centric (Steinbentric?) posts.

I almost lost my lens cap near Steinbeck's grave when I visited last March. I daresay it would've fit the eclectic collection of mementos. Those barely discernible tiny green frogs make sense (read Cannery Row with me in a few months), but a golf ball? A guitar pick? Maybe by the time I finish reading all his stuff I'll understand the other objects (doubt it).

The biggest change I'm making is in my reading schedule. While I was Steinblogging on the separate Earthbound But Aspiring site, I created a timeline that had me reading one Steinbeck work per month. I will try my best to keep that pace but I am no longer constraining myself to that schedule; sometimes schedules add just enough stress to make things less fun, and that's what was happening here.

So if you are interested in following along -- there are still so many great books to come -- befriend me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter (@threechordmyke) and I will post or tweet about a week in advance of starting a new book. Hopefully that will give you enough time to procure that book in the off chance you feel like joining in.

an appeal to speakers of English

2011-07-01T15:49:00.003-07:00

As practitioners of the English language can we lay off the word "epic" for a while? Unless we are careful, epic will soon suffer the same fate as the the ubiquitous and trite "random" and "awkward", two words whose true meanings have been obscured by overuse.

In an effort to preserve the word's meaning, let's re-familiarize ourselves with epic's definition. As a noun, an epic is:

1 : a long narrative poem in elevated style recounting the deeds of a legendary or historical hero

2 : a work of art (as a novel or drama) that resembles or suggests an epic

3 : a series of events or body of legend or tradition thought to form the proper subject of an epic

By that definition, one would be remiss to refer to the Twilight Saga as an epic (and it may not fit the definition of a real saga either but we'll tackle that another day).

As an adjective, what does epic mean?

1 : of, relating to, or having the characteristics of an epic

2 : extending beyond the usual or ordinary especially in size or scope

Thanks, Merriam-Webster.

Now, here are some helpful examples of when to use the word epic and when to refrain:

Your most recent bike ride: Not Epic (unless you just won the Tour de France or that bike ride took place in the Rocky Mountains, particularly the Canadian Rockies)

Sigur Rós: Actually Epic

A book found in the "Teen Paranormal Romance" section at Barnes and Noble: Definitely Not Epic (see the note on Twilight above)

Launching a robot to the edges of the atmosphere using a weather balloon: Yep, Epic

Anything involving outer space or the Grand Canyon: Most Likely Epic

Sporting Events: Possibly Epic, depending on the game and only for those involved in the athletic struggle (i.e., the actual players); while spectating is enjoyable, there is nothing epic about it

Let's all use a healthy dose of skepticism when employing the word epic. If there is some debate to whether or not it is epic, it's safe to say that it's not. If it's truly epic, you'll know.

Post Script: I fully realize the contradiction of my having used that word at least 19 times in this post. I promise you won't be hearing that word from me for quite some time, unless I'm using it as part of a proper noun. For example, the new thrift store that just opened up down the street from my place, Epic Stores (that is exactly the overuse I am trying to combat). OK, now I've used it at least 20 times. I'm done.

artless Art

2011-06-29T23:21:00.006-07:00

I tried publishing this last night but Blogger had other plans.

These were my options for tonight: 1.) Go see Transformers 3; 2.) Stay at home and watch episodes of 30 Rock on Netflix; or 3.) Go see this movie:

Why do movie trailers have to be two and a half minute condensations of the movie being advertised? You have now just seen the entire movie.

I chose option #3, I saw The Art of Getting By. This movie got pretty terrible reviews -- 19% on Rotten Tomatoes. I knew that going in, so I wasn't expecting much. And while Rotten Tomatoes does a pretty good job of telling how good the movie is, it's not an indicator of whether or not I will like the movie.

That said, this movie was neither terrible nor great. About half an hour into the movie I leaned over to my friend Afton and whispered, referring to the dialog, "I feel like I could've written this movie." Which means that either I have a future career as a screenwriter, or the script was pretty bad. (But if Hollywood is making poorly scripted movies then it really does mean I have a career as a screenwriter.)

Beside the poor dialog (which does improve), my two biggest complaints about the movie were these:

One: Teenage drinking. Some teens drink. I get that. In movies, I don't have a problem with that. But these are teens, high school seniors, drinking at bars. On three separate occasions. The first time, I let it slide. But two other times, we see teenage characters at bars, drinking. How many mainstream bars in New York City serve teenagers?

Two: Why the predictable Hollywood ending? I mean, it's a Fox Searchlight picture, it's not gonna be a summer blockbuster, so why give it the artless romantic comedy ending? Without giving away too many details, George, the protag, didn't need to get the girl for the movie to have had a strong resolution. In fact, the film would've been so much stronger if their relationship had been left up in the air. The movie wasn't about them, it was about George finding himself and his passion.

Regardless, I still liked the movie. I could relate to George's anxiety, his struggle to express himself, and his dispassionate, objective way of viewing things. And while Emma Roberts' character, Sally, causes a fair amount of trouble for George (she is referred to as "hussy" on more than one occasion), you can't help but like her because Emma herself is pretty adorable.

So yeah. The Art Of Getting By. Not good, not bad. Whatever it was or wasn't, it apparently moved me enough to come home and blog about it. I doubt I'd be saying as much for Transformers 3.

the grapes of math

2011-06-28T19:25:00.004-07:00

"...and some of them worshiped the mathematics because it provided a refuge from thought and from feeling." -- John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

Should I be worried if that's one of the things that attracts me to accounting?

it's a start

2011-06-26T21:49:00.005-07:00

"Don't ask me about Facebook. There are books to read, songs to learn on my guitar, flowers to grow and a marriage I need to nurture." -- Nick Offerman

I'm not married, and growing two basil plants and some rosemary doesn't make me a gardener, but I sure do love reading and guitars.

Here are some of the productive uses of my time today:

(+) Read about 25 pages of The Grapes of Wrath
(+) Cooked a steak for lunch (it could've used more salt and/or a marinade)
(+) Went to church
(+) Had dinner with my family
(+) Revised some calculations for my Jupiter project
(+) Found a possible hotel to stay at in Montreal next month
(+) Learned Phil Collins' "Against All Odds" on guitar
(+) Played with my cat

Some less productive aspects of my day:

(-) Re-watched an episode of Parks and Rec that I've seen twice already
(-) Played this dumb game on my phone at church
(-) Didn't really extend myself beyond my comfort zone at a church activity tonight

Few days (if any) are ever lived perfectly. So when pluses (+) have an almost three-to-one advantage on the minuses (+), I think that's a day I can be proud of. For me, that's progress.

a bitter form of refuge

2011-06-24T13:51:00.008-07:00

Sometimes my favorite (and unfortunate) way of dealing with a problem is to ignore it or, if possible, to remove myself from whatever physical aspects that I deem to be part of the problem. While I admit I sometimes ignore and avoid solvable problems, if a problem becomes debilitating or serious enough that I have to be physically somewhere else, I'm usually willing to solve that problem. But sometimes I don't know how to solve those types of problems -- the ones that shut me down, the ones that make me wanna just get up and leave.

I love the strain on his voice when he sings, "But we still fear what we don't know."

I guess I'm sort of lying to myself when I say I don't know how to solve these types of problems. I usually have some kind of idea of what to do. But usually that idea seems so indirect and maybe even useless, or it involves stepping outside a major comfort zone -- something that I'm not known for doing. But I've got to make those small steps, and hope that something or someone will reach out and pull me up along the way.

P.S. I'm entitled to a vague emo post every now and then and I haven't had one in a while. Don't pretend like you've never done it.

science is happening!

2011-06-23T16:45:00.001-07:00

Last Christmas my friends and I had a white elephant gift exchange, and I have to say, it was the best white elephant I've ever been a part of. Sure, people gave away joke gifts and stuff they didn't want anymore, but most of it was pretty covetable, like a giant stuffed fish or a Barack Obama lava lamp (which Matt ended up with). Not everything was great, though, because I'm pretty sure someone went home with a copy of Twilight.

I was quite pleased to have ended the night with this:

Who doesn't love a good globe? Thanks, Angie.

Right after bringing this lovely globe home I got the fantastic idea of sanding down the surface and painting it to look like Jupiter. Now, it's pretty common knowledge that my favorite non-habitable planet in our solar system is the mighty Jupiter. Its mass is greater than that of all the other planets in the solar system combined and it has 63 moons (now don't you feel cheated knowing that Earth only has one moon?), three of which are suitable for extraterrestrial microbial life! (Why are we not exploring these moons?!)

Being one of the world's best procrastinators, I finally got going on this project last night. To my surprise and delight, it turns out sanding to remove the map on the globe was unnecessary, as the map peeled right off after I picked at it a bit with a knife:

Map scraps. Kinda rhymes.
The newly naked globe bears its full glory:

Reminds me a bit of the Parachutes album cover. It'd be great to have that version of Coldplay back.

As great as a light-up globe of Jupiter would be, I decided I will take things a step further by making an orrery of Jupiter and its four largest moons, the Galilean satellites: Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto. What's an orrery, you ask? Great question. An orrery is a model, usually of the solar system, that is used to display how the planets orbit the sun relative to their actual orbits. See the video below for an example (fast forward a bit to see it in action):

Great music, fitting for a demonstration of planetary revolution, right?

So our orrery (try saying that outloud. I say "our" because Fatcat (né David) will be joining me in its construction) will consist of a slowly rotating Jupiter and four revolving moons.

For inspiration/experimentation it made sense to take apart my out-of-service record player. A broken box fan suffered the same fate.

We had a pretty good brainstorming/experimenting sesh last night and we have a basic plan of how to make it work. The challenge will be finding the parts we need. Wish us luck!

coming home to a place he'd never been

2011-06-20T14:38:00.012-07:00

I spent the weekend in the transcendental Rocky Mountains of Southern Colorado at the Telluride Bluegrass Festival. I'm not really much of a bluegrass guy, or rather, it's not something I've taken the time to fully appreciate and grasp, so when I bought my festival pass earlier this year, it was an on-a-whim type thing. That, and another chance to see Mumford and Sons.

My friend Jeremy was the one who spearheaded this thing. To give you an idea of Jeremy's enthusiasm for this event, I'd say that the Telluride Bluegrass Festival is to Jeremy as John Steinbeck is to me. He drove up Wednesday morning, Brian, Laura and Kiana got there on Thursday, and I made my way up on Friday.

Waiting for the festival to begin.

I had such a great time. Hanging in the Rocky Mountains is an experience in itself, but being with friends and having so much to do with the festival made it that much better. Here are some highlights from the weekend:

I'm pretty indifferent when it comes to the Decemberists -- try as I might, I just can't really get into them (that said, I don't hate them either). But I really dug their set on Saturday. I enjoyed Colin Meloy's banter and overall the band sounded pretty tight. The highlight of the set, though, was when Meloy engaged in a self-deprecating pick-off with banjo virtuoso Béla Fleck and dobro master Jerry Douglas.

Saturday morning I went to meet Jeremy at the Nugget Theater for a Punch Brothers documentary (whose set on Sunday was pretty phenomenal) when I was stopped by two folks from Porchlight Sessions. They asked me to do an interview for an upcoming documentary they're filming about the burgeoning bluegrass movement. As a bluegrass newbie I was worried that I wouldn't have much to say on the subject, but it turns out that my newcomer perspective was part of what they were looking for. Anyway, I look forward to seeing the film regardless of whether my interview makes the cut.

On our way to the festival Sunday we shared a gondola with Victor Wooten (if you're unfamiliar with Wooten's unparalleled bass prowess, educate yourself here). We didn't say much to him, out of timidity (with the exception of Laura), and out of not wanting come across as over-zealous fans. But by the end of the gondola trip, he had recommended a good hike for us.

Here are some scenes from our Victor Wooten-recommended hike. OK, so Jeremy recommended this hike long before he did but having Wooten's stamp of approval certainly didn't hurt things.

Mumford and Sons. I saw these guys in April on the Railroad Revival Tour but I seemed to enjoy them so much more this time around (I think the crowd had a lot do with that; at the RRT show there was so much cajoling and arguing within the crowd for a place to stand that it really ruined the spirit of the show).

Please excuse the cell phone quality photo, it was far too rainy to use anything else.

When I see bands I love, I'm not always excited about hearing new material, at least not at the expense of songs I'm already familiar with. But it's the opposite with Mumford and Sons. They played four new jams -- "Beneath My Feet," "Hopeless Wanderer," "Lover of the Night," and "Lovers Eyes," all tentatively titled (although "Lovers Eyes" has existed as a demo/bootleg for some time so I don't know if I'd call it new) -- I enjoyed the tracks as much or more than the rest of the songs I already know and love.

massaman curry

2011-06-15T19:50:00.010-07:00

For the past two months or so I've been consuming Thai food on weekly basis (except for that one week I skipped but then made up for it by getting it twice the next week). The best place that's relatively close to my place is Thai Food Corner on Higley and Brown.

A few months ago I came across this recipe for Massaman curry. I've been wanting to try it for quite some time but I haven't because some of the ingredients would only be attainable at an Asian market (and the closest one is about 15 minutes away; I know, lazy me). But after actually going to Mekong Plaza (Dobson and Main) last night, a trip to an Asian market will be motivation enough to make this curry, that place is so awesome and probably deserves of a post of its own.

There were a few ingredients I've never used before -- Massaman curry paste, cardamom, star anise, tamarind paste, and fish sauce (this stuff smells as bad as it sounds). The recipe also called for Thai basil, but knowing I would make this recipe sooner or later (and hopefully other Thai dishes), I planted some at home.

My home grown herbs (well, until last week they were Home Depot grown herbs). Thai basil is the smaller leafed plant hanging over the side. Side note: Do not grow rosemary outside during the summer in Arizona. It will die very, very quickly and you will be sad because it is one of your favorite herbs and you'll have to season your red potatoes with oregano instead. You've been warned.

There was one point in the recipe where you stir-fry the cinnamon sticks, cardamom pods, and star anise, and it smells like the best thing in the world. Can someone make a scented candle with that combo or do I have fry that that shiz every time I want the house to smell good? (Normally I'd just bake cookies, but the diet keeps that from happening.)

Little Scout kept me company the entire time. And she only jumped onto the counter once, quite a feat for a cat who can't keep still to save all of her nine lives.

Here's the finished product. The star anise and cinnamon sticks look pretty gnarly. If you do any kind of cooking, I highly recommend investing in a Lodge Dutch oven (the receptacle in which this dish was prepared) (or something similar). It's super durable, very versatile (bakes a mean loaf of bread), and you just feel cool using it.

I'll be honest though, as much as I enjoyed making this, it turned out quite a bit less flavorful than I expected. Kind of bland, it wasn't spectacular. And I've never cooked with some of these ingredients/spices before so I don't know what to add/subtract at this point. It was plenty hearty though, and that's necessary for a good curry. So this recipe does have potential. Here's what I'll do different next time:

Use the full four ounce can of curry paste. The recipe only called for three tablespoons.

Marinate the chicken in the curry paste for a few hours. Flavor-wise the chicken was lacking.

Buy better chicken. Discounted chicken from Walmart? I should know better. (And I should know better than to shop at Walmart, period.)

Find a way to dial down the coconut milk and/or water. This will make it a little less diluted and lower in calories (who knew coconut milk was so high in saturated fat?).

Use a real onion instead of shallots. The shallots were so small and got lost once the curry was finished. Where'd they go? And they didn't make me cry when I cut them -- you can't expect much from an onion-type product that doesn't make you cry.

Monitor the potatoes. Don't throw the potatoes in, watch an episode of Family Guy, and then come back and expect your potatoes to not be overcooked. They were pretty mushy. (Maybe that's what happened to the shallots as well.) Actually, I read about someone substituting garbanzo beans for potatoes, so I might try that.

Actually roast the peanuts instead of buying roasted peanuts.

Check fork/spoonfuls of this stuff for cardamom pods/star anise/cinnamon sticks, because you don't wanna swallow any of them whole (although the cardamom pod I accidentally consumed wasn't bad).

Invite a friend or five over because this recipe makes a ton (but not literally).

I'm really looking forward to trying this recipe again. Can I have my own cooking show now?

pound for pound

2011-06-14T10:42:00.003-07:00

Some of my friends and I just started a biggest loser type challenge thing. Ben and I were running about a week and a half ago and he proposed the idea as a way to be more accountable for our weight loss goals.

To be honest, I'm pretty OK and comfortable with where my weight is at. I'm a little overweight, but not dangerously so. When I look in the mirror I feel good about myself. But I hate that I don't run as fast and as far as I used to.

So my plan is to drop 40 pounds. I don't know if I'll be able to lose that much by the time the contest is over on August 22. That's 10 weeks away (counting down the weeks will really make this summer fly by, which is both a good and bad thing), so that means a loss of four pounds a week. It also means serious dieting and daily exercise. It's going to be hard with 100 degree plus temperatures and two summer vacations (Telluride this weekend, NY/Canadia in July), but I think I'm up for it. If I can perfect my exercise habit during the scalding Arizona summer, I'll have such an advantage when running season starts in the fall.

In the end though, my goal with this challenge isn't so much to lose weight, but to establish healthy and sustainable fitness habits.

In the past, my running goals have only been for distance, rarely (if ever) for speed. My goal is to be able to run a 5K at a 8:45 mile pace, that clocks in at about 27 minutes (hey, that's fast for me). Working on speed is also advantageous because it gets rid of fat faster than distance running (which is probably why I didn't lose much when I was half-marathon training last winter).

I also plan on buying a bike for stuff like grocery shopping and going over to Ben's for our weekly CPPP (Cool People Pool Party; yes, you're invited) and other short trips (and for bike rides in general). I'm going to be cooking a lot more instead of eating out so much (I'm planning on making this tomorrow night; I won't eat it all so come hang if you're hungry).

Special note to friends participating in this challenge: This blog is a "happy place" for me so any crap-talking posts will be deleted. Thanks!

to a distant and unknowable friend

2011-06-13T13:43:00.009-07:00

I think everyone feels awkward and out of place in junior high, but somehow, you make yourself believe that you're the only who feels that way. As a seventh grader I was shy; I had a hard time talking to new people, especially girls. A bit on the chubby side and self-conscious about my weight, I was the kid who was afraid to take showers after P.E. I dressed in baggy shirts and baggy shorts and even my glasses were baggy (to be fair, baggy was in during the mid 90s).

I remember the first time I heard Weezer's "My Name Is Jonas," almost 16 years ago as that frumpy, 13 year-old seventh grader. As a brand new teenager, the music I listened to consisted of the Star Wars Trilogy soundtrack and a small repertoire of Chicago and Peter Cetera songs I had heard incessantly as a kid (my dad being a huge fan of Chicago and Mr. Cetera). As great as those songs were and are, "My Name As Jonas" made me feel something different. It was a strange nostalgia -- nostalgia for what, I don't know, I was too young to be nostalgic -- I didn't understand the feeling (I still don't) but I was nevertheless hooked. Weezer became my favorite band, my first true love.

As my love grew, I learned more and more about the band, and in particular their singer and principal songwriter, Rivers Cuomo. To me, Rivers was a kindred spirit. He too was shy, and by his appearance, he seemed to not quite fit his niche, the world of rock and roll.

If I had to choose a favorite song of all time this might be it.

About a year after my first encounter with the band, Rivers and Weezer released their second album, Pinkerton. I didn't understand the album at first. It was so much more messy and raw than their debut album, the lyrics were intensely personal, and at the tender age of 14, I was too young relate to most of the subject matter. However, the album's first single, "El Scorcho," a song about about being too shy to talk to a girl despite having so much in common, struck a chord and kept me coming back to Pinkerton.

As I grew up and experienced life, this album began to mean more and more to me. The premise of the song "Pink Triangle" -- falling in love with a lesbian -- might seem laughable to a kid, but even a high schooler can know the pain of falling for that unattainable girl who barely knows you exist. Or the simple ache of loneliness found in "Across The Sea": "As if I could live on words and dreams and millions screams / Oh, how I need a hand in mine to feel". Or the simple joy of finally connecting with someone: "I'm shakin' at your touch / I like you way too much / My baby I'm afraid I'm falling for you."

Pinkerton felt like a glimpse into Rivers Cuomo's diary, but somewhere in my late teens it became my diary. Rivers became a distant and unknowable friend who nevertheless chose to share such private moments of his life with me. His music helped me be comfortable with the teenager I was: a chubby, shy kid who couldn't talk to girls.

Happy birthday, Rivers. Thank you for these 16 years of music, and thank you for the years to come. Keep being who you are.

consolidation?

2011-06-09T15:52:00.005-07:00

I'm thinking about absorbing my Steinbeck blog, Earthbound But Aspiring, into this one. Looking back at recent posts, somewhere around In Dubious Battle, I stepped away from the purpose of that blog: sharing my thoughts on Steinbeck's works in the context of my life. Somewhere along the line, my posts, few as they may be, became uninspired book reviews -- something I might write for an unimportant freshman-level college class.

John's boyhood home, Salinas, California, circa 2009.

This and this are examples of what I wanted my posts to be like. For whatever reason, recently I've lacked the enthusiasm and inspiration to create posts that do justice to the subject matter. Changing the venue and using the already established tone of this blog might help me to provide the personal context I've wanted my Steinbeck posts to have.

There are still some logistical things I have to think through and experiment with, like migrating posts and making sure they fit here chronologically (I'm pretty sure blogger lets you back-date posts). Right now I'm thinking consolidation is a pretty OK idea. Your thoughts? Will you stop reading/caring if one-three posts per month are about Steinbeck?

(My problem is I have so many (underdeveloped) hobbies and interests. The Steinbeck blog was a way of focusing and refining one of them. But it seems I might be incapable of doing that. Things are about to get super eclectic around here. In other words, welcome to my life.)

So not only does this thing exist, but now you have deprived everyone of cake!

2011-06-06T13:52:00.008-07:00

It's no secret that I have a man-sized man-crush on Ron Swanson from NBC's Parks and Recreation. While I share many of his views on food ("You had me at meat tornado."), body grooming ("Only women shave beneath the neck."), and old wooden sailing ships ("They're beautiful."), it's his political ideologies that I'd like to highlight in this post. Take a look:

"Drop in a token, look at a duck."

Here is a Swanson-esque list of facts detailing an experience I had recently with a government agency, the United States Postal Service.

On May 17, I purchased a book, Eat Like A Man, from Amazon. The package was shipped via USPS.

The morning of May 19 I checked the tracking number. Its status read "Out for delivery." A day or two ahead of schedule -- I was delighted.

Later that morning, I rechecked the status and it had changed. Not to "Delivered" but to "Incorrect address." I was confused because I'd had many packages delivered from Amazon to that address.

I trusted USPS so I decided to play the waiting game. May 19 was a Friday so I would probably receive the package on Monday or Tuesday.

By Tuesday, May 24, I hadn't received anything and the package's status, which now read "Arrival Scan," told me nothing.

The same day I went to the local Post Office to get to the bottom of things. A supervisor took my name and address and told me I would likely receive the package in the next day or two.

Two days later I found myself back at the Post Office talking to a different supervisor. He took my number and told me he'd call me later with info on my package. He never called.

Tuesday, May 31, I called the Post Office and talked to yet another supervisor. She told me the same thing, that she'd look into it and call me back.

Thursday, June 2, I called again. I talked to the second supervisor. He remembered me. In a roundabout way, he told me that USPS had no idea where my package was. A package with a tracking number. That they were supposed to be tracking.

Having done more than my part to find my package with the help of USPS, I decided to call Amazon for a replacement.

Friday, June 3, 1:59pm, within less than 24 hours of my call to Amazon, the replacement package was successfully delivered via UPS. At no extra cost to me.

This experience helped me understand why Ron feels the way he does about government. There are some things the government should leave to the private sector, and delivering our mail might be one of them.

Note #1: A man-crush only means that the object of the crush is worthy of emulation. Or that you want to do something manly with him, like go camping or have a barbecue (it really behooves you to click that link).

Note #2: I don't have many "real" celebrity crushes, i.e., a crush on a female celebrity, but I've got a pretty big one for Aubrey Plaza, also on Parks & Rec.

Note #3: Over the years there have been talks of a government bailout for the USPS. Maybe it's time for privatization instead, like a buyout from UPS and/or FedEx.

take a look at me now

2011-06-02T23:14:00.005-07:00

There's this sort of dream that I have. It's a pretty simple dream. It goes something like this:

I meet a girl. We start dating. Things go well for quite some time and maybe we even fall in love. Whatever. Anyway, several months to a year go by and we start to take one another for granted; the relationship goes stale. As a result, I mess up and do something stupid. It doesn't matter what. But it's serious enough that she decides to leave.

It's at this point that I realize the only I way I can win her back is with a completely un-ironic performance of that Phil Collins heartbreaking classic, "Against All Odds."

Please treat yourself to this video if it's been a while since you've heard the song. I would define "a while" as "within the last ten minutes." Also, does Phil Collins remind anyone else of Bill Murray, if only so slightly? I'm not sure what it is.

I don't know what the best venue for such a performance would be. Maybe on stage at a hotel bar where she's on a date with another guy, perhaps a former lover (apparently in this version of the dream I'm also a lounge singer). Or how about in a rainy inner city alleyway right after an argument? It just has to be at a public place, be there others present or not. It certainly wouldn't have the same effect if it were her and I alone in her apartment, for example. Also, the performance should be spontaneous, it can't have been planned too far ahead. And I'd have to sing it a key or two lower, a few of those notes are just too high for me.

So after an emotional performance (much like the one you just watched in that video), do I defy the odds, does she really come back to me? I don't know, and actually, whether she does or not is beside the point. Because my dream here, summed up in fewer words, is to be in a situation where I can sing sincerely and seriously Phil Collins' "Against All Odds" to a girl and mean every word of it.

But in the meantime, I wouldn't mind having a girlfriend I could sing it to as a joke.

gender-alizations

2011-06-01T21:32:00.008-07:00

I can't believe it's June already. I'm not sure why 2011 is so important, but I seem to be reckoning my life from before and after the beginning of this year. And it feels like my post-2010 life is going by too fast.

I've been blogging a lot lately. In fact, April and May have been record months as far as number of posts go, twelve posts each month. In April I had five posts here, five on BUST3R, and two on my Steinbeck blog. May, I had seven here (a monthly record on this blog), two on BUST3R, and three on the Steinbeck blog. I know twelve in a month might not seem like a lot for other bloggers out there, but for me, with the fact-checking I do on some posts and the time it takes me to write something I don't hate, twelve is pretty darn good.

In May I also took a great deal of time editing a short story that I wrote at the end of March. I submitted it to a couple short story contests. (Most of you will probably never read it though, I just don't feel comfortable passing it around.)

Anyway, I guess I'm pretty proud of myself. This month I'm thinking about blogging a little less to work on another short fiction project but we'll see if that ends up happening.

The other day Buster and I were talking and we postulated that around 60% of Blogger.com users are Mormon wives/mothers. I know that's an exaggeration, but there are quite a few. There's nothing wrong with that -- I follow, read, and comment on several blogs that fit that niche -- it's just at the end of the day, as a single male, I'm finding fewer blogs out there I can relate to. But part of that is that some of the typical guy stuff I just don't do. For example, I'll read a hundred mom blogs before reading a single sports blog.

So fellas, where you at? Buster, you're my most consistent male blogging friend, so I thank you for that. Also, happy birthday. Jeremy, you're a close second. Keep it up. Clint, while your posts aren't as frequent, they are of a higher quality than most blogs I read. Trev, I thought you were poised to take over the world and then you disappeared. Come back. Quinn, your posts are always relevant and usually pretty hilarious -- please post more often. Speaking of hilarious, Thome, where did you go? Zach, I'm glad you're still blogging.

With all this attention on my guy-friend bloggers, I'm not trying to take away from the contribution of you female bloggers because many, if not most, of the blogs I read are written by you. I'm just striving for a more gender-equal representation in the blogs I read and enjoy, that's all.

P.S. I think people respond better to posts with pictures. I just haven't been taking any lately. Sorry.

P.P.S. I'm looking for more blogs to read -- male or female. Recommendations are welcome.

P.P.P.S. Speaking of Mormon blogging, this article is pretty interesting.

P.P.P.P.S. Update: I forgot to shout-out my buddy Whit's blog. Check it if you need inspiration for making your house look awesome. Check it even if you don't.

science fact

2011-05-30T23:55:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I'll read something, a piece of fiction, and I'll wish it were real. Harry Potter, for example. And sometimes I'll read something so convincing and so appealing that I pretend it's real.

(Preface: When I use the word "physical" in the following paragraphs, keep in mind I'm talking about physics.)

In the Ender series, Orson Scott Card creates a physical explanation for why we feel connected to each other. I won't go into the mechanics, but the "science" of it says that through proximity, emotional interactions, and other circumstances, beings (human and otherwise) develop a physical, though unseen, tie between one another.

OK, you're probably thinking, Well what's so special about that? Of course you'll grow closer to someone as you interact with them. Right. But that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about using physics (about which I know very little) to explain how we grow closer to each other. Everyone knows friendships and relationships tend to grow as a function of time. But how do they grow, how and why does love develop, and is there some unseen physical event happening when all that goes down?

There are just some connections I don't know how to explain. Like being able to finish someone else's sentence, even if that might be a trivial example. It's like when you kiss a girl (or guy, depending on the reader's gender). It may or may not be the first time, but the second before you do it, somehow you know she wants it and somehow she knows you want to. It extends beyond body language, there's almost a palpable -- but subtle, quiet, unspoken -- communication taking place, and it lasts only an instant. It's an almost true understanding, truer than can be communicated by speaking. How do you physically explain that communication?

In the end, I know it doesn't matter whether or not this level of physics exists because regardless, physical or not, these bonds still exist. Call me a sci-fi romantic I guess, I just love the idea of a scientific explanation for love and attachment.

you had to be there

2011-05-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

November 18 was one of the best days of 2010. It started early. Around 5:15 am I woke up and showered and drove to the Cine Capri at Tempe Marketplace to meet up with Buster. The occasion? A Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 midnight showing. (Yes, I skipped work and waited in line about 18 hours to see a movie, and it wasn't even Star Wars.)

(Spoiler alert: if you haven't seen the movie or read the book and plan on doing either and don't want the ending/middle ruined for you, stop reading here.)

Ben and I in SpiritHood mode. That morning some news guy thought my fox hood was part of a Harry Potter costume, partly because when he asked who I was dressed up as, I lied and told him I was Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf. I said what I thought the guy wanted to hear so I would get on TV. It worked because whatever station it was showed a clip of my interview later that night. Also, I stole this picture from Laura. Thanks, Laura.

During the movie I sat between Ben and Buster. We were all enjoying the film, and enjoying being around so many friends (Afton and I bought 30 tickets between the two of us). At the end of the movie, Dobby, a heroic house elf, rescues Harry and friends from the clutches of evil. Sadly, Dobby is killed in the process. Just after the daring rescue, Harry sits on a beach and holds Dobby and mourns the death of his friend. At that moment, Harry's friend Luna reaches over to close the gaping eyes of the now dead Dobby. As Luna does so, Ben leans over and whispers to me, mimicking Dobby's childlike elf voice, "I'm not quite dead yet!"

I -- lost it.

At that point in my life, there had never been anything quite so funny. I started laughing. It was an I've-been-awake-for-over-20-hours, it's-almost-3:00-am kind of laugh. And then Buster started laughing. Ben started laughing. Behind us, Matt started laughing. At the same time a cacophony of "ssshhhhhh!"-ing erupted from the row in front of us.

For a brief second, not wanting to ruin the movie for those around me, I regained composure and controlled my laughter. And then my thoughts returned immediately to Ben's comment and the laughter started again, this time as a soft chortle that quickly developed into an obnoxious giggle. Ben and Buster, who had both since stopped, couldn't contain themselves either and they joined in.

The cycle continued at least one more time until we were finally able to regain control of ourselves and settle down. But at that point the movie was just about over.

== == == == ==

This July my sister Marianne will be part of the cast of the Hill Cumorah Pageant (if you're like me and you're not a fan of websites that automatically play music/audio, then turn your speakers down/off because this one does). Our church has put on the pageant since 1935, so it's a great opportunity for my sister and it's a great opportunity for my family to fly out to see her in the pageant.

I'm a little sad, though. Sad because the day we fly out to see her is the day my friends will be waiting in line to see Deathly Hallows: Part 2. Don't get me wrong, I'm more than excited to take this trip with my family -- we're also making stops in Montreal and New York City. I just wish that on July 15, 2011, I could be in two places at once.

utility

2011-05-22T23:03:00.000-07:00

What's better than The Empire Strikes Back?

Over the past several weeks my roommates and friends and I have been watching a different Star Wars movie each Sunday night. I bet you can guess which one we watched tonight.

I'm not much of a movie guy. OK, that's not entirely true, I love going to the movies and I love watching them. I just don't collect them the same way some people do. I'm not talking about a physical collection. I mean that when people ask me what my favorite movies are I have a hard time coming up with a list that extends beyond The Empire Strikes Back.

In economics there's a concept called marginal utility. It says that utility (or pleasure) decreases as you consume more units of a certain product. So, marginal utility says that the more times I watch The Empire Strikes Back the less I will like it.

I'm glad there are a few things in life that defy marginal utility.

I can't win

2011-05-20T11:00:00.000-07:00

Here's my dilemma. The registration on my car is expired, by a few weeks. I blame the US Postal Service. Why aren't you forwarding my mail from my old address? Specifically my Vehicle Renewal Form? I have better things to do than remember when my tags expire.

Anyway, no big deal, I can easily renew my tags online, right? Wrong. Not when your vehicle has to be emissions tested.

OK, still no big deal, I could do that during lunch today, no problem. Wrong again. According to the Arizona Department of Environmental Quality's emissions testing website, under the helpful "Testing Tips" section: "1996 and newer vehicles with on-board diagnostic (OBD) equipment will not pass emissions testing if the check engine light is on. It is advisable to have the vehicle tested to determine the reason for the light being illuminated."

First, because pointing out someone else's mistake will make me feel better, let's take a look at the grammar mistake in the first sentence. You never start a sentence with a number (in this case "1996").

OK, second, my check engine light has been illuminated for the better part of the year. Why? Because only recently was I able to determine what is wrong with my car. Apparently coolant is leaking into the engine through a cracked head. So why don't I get it fixed? Because at a minimum, it's likely to cost me around $1,800-$2,000. Sure, no one wants to pay that, but I'd bite the bullet if I thought it was worth it. Here's the deal, though, my car is probably worth $2,000. Why would I put that much money into my car when it won't increase its value? Why don't I trade my car in and add the cost of repairs as a down payment on a new one?

Because then I'd have a car payment, that's why.

Maybe it's time to get a second opinion on those repairs. And/or buy a bike. And/or move somewhere with good public transportation. I'm leaning toward one of the latter....

time may change me

2011-05-18T22:25:00.001-07:00

Changing some things around here (in the unlikely event you hadn't noticed). See how long it will last. Not sure how my much I'll like seeing my mug staring back at me every time I check my blog.

Then again, I don't think I care enough to change things again anytime soon.

no thanks, I'm trying to quit

2011-05-11T13:50:00.000-07:00

Two (possibly) good reasons to (maybe) stop using iTunes:

Reason #1: Amazon MP3
Amazon MP3 isn't new, it's been around since September 2007 (and it was offering DRM-free songs a year before iTunes). I still buy a great deal of music in a physical format (CD or vinyl or both if I really love it) but sometimes Amazon has great deals I just can't pass up. Every month they have over 100 MP3 albums for $5.00 or less. They have daily deal albums for $3.99, like the new Okkervil River album that I just picked up today. And during their Black Friday weekend sale, Amazon had quite a few great albums (Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem) for only $2.00. Right now, Amazon is having their largest MP3 sale I've ever seen -- over 1,500 MP3 albums for $5.00. It's not crap either: I'm willing to guarantee you'll find something you've been wanting in there. Go see for yourself.

In March, Amazon debuted their new Cloud Player. It's 5 GB of free memory and you can put anything you want on it -- music, files, movies, etc. Granted, 5 GB isn't that much. Additional memory is pretty affordable though -- one dollar per GB per year, available in different tiers, 20 GB, 50 GB, 100 GB, up to 1000 GB of storage. It can get pricey if you plan on uploading your entire music library, but if you don't need your entire library online then it's actually a pretty good deal (myself, I don't anticipate ever needing more than 20 GB of cloud space). And if you're someone who already purchases music from Amazon, your Amazon MP3 purchases don't count against your storage limit (which I realize is a marketing gimmick on Amazon's part, but that doesn't matter to those of us who have been downloading from them for a while now).

Right now the Cloud Player is available on any browser and on Android devices (which makes me want an iPhone less; I'm guessing Apple declined the Amazon MP3/Cloud Player app because they didn't want to give their iPhone users a better deal than iTunes, though I could be wrong since it's not on Blackberry devices yet either).

Reason #2: Google Music Beta
Google Music is similar to Amazon's Cloud Player in that you can upload your music library and stream online via a web browser or Android device (once again, sorry iOS users). It differs from Amazon though, because the uploads are limited by the amount of songs, not actual storage space (you can upload 20,000 songs at any bitrate). And unlike Amazon, you can't purchase MP3s from Google. Right now, Google Music is free (subject to change?) but you need an invite (as with most Google Beta products) before using it (if anyone out there happens to have an extra invite send it to myke.olsen@gmail.com, thanks).

Caveat #1: I'm still using iTunes to manage my iPod. And to listen to a few podcasts. But it stops there. I don't plan on getting rid of my iPod anytime soon (even though it's been pretty clunky lately). It's so much easier to use than my Droid when I'm running, it has a great battery life, and I love being away from my phone for a while. I'm not opposed to Apple products, I just don't care for the Company's overall smugness; it kills whatever brand loyalty I've had for Apple and makes me want to ditch them the second something better comes along. Which, when it comes to downloading music, has effectively happened.

Caveat #2: I try to only download music when I'm not positive I'll end up loving the album. That way I don't spend the full price on a CD or vinyl (this is where the $5.00 Amazon sales come in handy). If I like it enough I usually buy it on CD and/or vinyl, and I try to find it at a local record store before looking for it online. I realize it's redundant to buy the CD when you have the MP3, it's not hard to burn a disc. I guess I'm a bit of snob and don't like burned CDs.

sacred road

2011-05-03T22:57:00.000-07:00

I was planning on running a marathon in June. I just don't have the confidence for it. Here's how my plans went awry...

I ran a half marathon back in February. I wasn't in as good of shape as I would've liked but I was definitely ready for it. After the halvsie (I'm gonna go ahead and call it that) I kept running and I started a training program to run the Teton Dam Marathon in Rexburg, Idaho, on June 11, 2011. Then I came down with a cold at the beginning of March. I didn't run for a week. I should've made it two because when I started running again my lungs just couldn't handle it. I kept running (probably a mistake) and it took almost a month before I could handle an easy pace without going short of breath. And my lungs still tire quickly when I try to push my pace.

All the while my orthotics weren't fitting quite right and causing a bit of pain in my right ankle. I had them adjusted a couple times but with no luck. (My awesome podiatrist has since fitted me with a new pair on which he gave me a huge discount and they fit perfectly.)

I've injured myself twice in the past through overtraining so that has been a constant fear. Especially with having been sick and orthotics that didn't fit right, I was afraid of injuring myself again so I didn't push myself too hard.

So with that, I'm definitely not ready to run a marathon in June. At least I don't feel ready. My buddy Ben is convinced I could do it if I really wanted. And maybe I could. I want to enjoy my first marathon, I want it to be as positive as possible. I don't want to be worried about injuring myself or not finishing, or worse, I don't want one of those two things to actually happen.

So I've consigned myself to doing a half marathon in June. I'm determined to run a full marathon in the fall. There's one big obstacle that is gonna make that difficult for me though: summer. The Phoenix Valley is quite possibly the worst place to be if you're trying to train for a race in the summer -- our low temperatures are higher than other places' high temperatures. It's seriously rough. I really don't know how I'm gonna do it.

I've got a couple summer trips planned that will interrupt training as well, even if they are to places with excellent summer climates. (Traveling always messes up training.)

I've got to do it though, I can't give myself any excuse not to. Your encouragement and positive thoughts are welcome and appreciated. Thanks in advance.

Please don't tell me I can't make it
It ain't gonna do me any good
Please don't offer me your modern methods
I'm fixin' to carve this out of wood

je l'adore

2011-04-28T23:21:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago my roommate Brian mentioned that a friend was trying to give away a couple of kittens. Brian, Matt and I have been talking about getting a pet -- a mascot, if you will -- since we started living together back in January. So taking in one of these kittens was a bit of a no brainer. The next day Brian and I went up picked up this adorable creature:

Here she is on the day I got her. If that doesn't melt your heart you're dead inside. And you're dead to me (OK, not really).

I named her Scout, after Scout Finch. I feel like the name suits her. She loves running around, climbing, exploring, attacking hands and feet, and she's the most ravenous eater I've ever seen.

And here she is helping me out with a pair of cut-offs. I may have posed her inside the cut-off pant leg for the sake of the photo.

Here's the thing with kittens -- some even say it's a problem -- they grow up to be cats. I like most animals no matter their stage in life so I look forward to her growing up -- I just hope she maintains whatever element of her personality that makes her Scout. Because I'd hate to have to start calling her Jean Louise.

Post Script: For a few hours her name was Steve Buscemi. Still an awesome name, and I fully intend on giving it to some future pet. But like I said, Scout just seemed to fit her so well. Speaking of Mr. Buscemi, you really need to check this out.

formidable, indeed

2011-04-22T12:16:00.001-07:00

As soon as I heard their band name -- the Nervous Wreckords -- I knew I wouldn't like them. And sure enough, they didn't disappoint (in the sense that it felt pretty good to have my prejudice validated). They weren't terrible, it's just that mediocrity isn't my style (I'm trying to be less hard on myself so maybe I shouldn't admit that sometimes it is).

That said, I wonder if Brandon Flowers chose the Nervous Wreckords as his opening band because he knew they'd make him look and sound so much better -- not that he needs it, the guy oozes charm and pumps showmanship through his veins. Like I mentioned in one post prior, Saturday I road tripped with some pals to see Brandon Flowers perform at the House of Blues in Las Vegas (don't ever see a show there unless you can get general admission floor seats).

I haven't seen a white tuxedo jacket look that good since Sean Connery as James Bond.

I had a similar experience when I saw the Joy Formidable, from Northern Wales, at the Rhythm Room Tuesday night. The opener, the Lonely Forest from lovely Anacortes, Washington, left me with nothing to complain about (other than some weak lyrics and the bass player's choice of attire) but they didn't impress me either. Then the Joy Formidable took the stage. It only took them thirty seconds to make the Lonely Forest look like a junior high talent show band (not that they were trying to do that, TJF had great things to say about the Lonely Forest).

Here's a sample of what you missed on Tuesday.

I loved pretty much everything about this band. Ritzy Brian's intense rock-out death stare and her adorable Welsh accent were simultaneously charming and disconcerting (in a good way, of course). Rhydian Dafydd's full-chord, distorted bass lines carried the weight of a rhythm guitarist and a bass player. And I'm usually not a fan of the double bass pedal, but if more drummers were to use it the way Matt Thomas does, I wouldn't mind. I hope to see these guys and gal live again, and soon.

in a heartbeat

2011-04-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday was a holiday, an albeit lesser known one, that celebrates two of my favorite things -- record stores and records. Record Store Day 2011 was recognized as a holiday in Arizona this year by our governor, Jan Brewer. Other states and cities did the same.

My Record Store Day started early... I was up at 5:30am because I couldn't sleep due to excitement and anxiety; several factors contributed to that -- a new kitten, a trip to Vegas to see Brandon Flowers, and yes, Record Store Day itself. So I went for a run, packed for my trip, met up with some friends and was in line at Stinkweeds by 8:45.

I was so impressed and pleased with how many bands issued special releases (mostly in the sonically superior vinyl format) for record store day -- over 300 new releases (compared to about 150 releases in 2010). I spent more than I planned but I don't regret it at all. Here's what I got:

Heady Nuggs by the Flaming Lips

This is the crown jewel of my Record Store Day purchases. It's a box set containing their first five albums on the Warner Bros. label. It's some of their best stuff -- The Soft Bulletin, Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots, and Transmissions From The Satellite Heart are my top three favorite Lips albums -- and four of the five albums have been out of print for 10 years or so.

Bleed American Deluxe by Jimmy Eat World
I wasn't planning on picking this one up but I couldn't resist once I got to Stinkweeds. I didn't care for this album when it first came out, but it's really grown on me since so I'm happy to own it on vinyl. And it's the deluxe version so it's three records worth of music.

Volume I-III by Piebald
I've been looking for We Are The Only Friends That We Have on vinyl for months now -- I'm pretty sure it was never issued. This three vinyl collection has that album and two more. Each vinyl disc is a different color so that's a plus too.

Dharohar Project by Mumford & Sons/Laura Marling
This is a collaborative EP by Mumford and Sons, Laura Marling, and a "collective of Rajasthani folk musicians" from India. I don't think this EP is destined to become a favorite but it was nevertheless a necessary Record Store Day purchase.

I only had time for Stinkweeds this year because I had to be on the road for a concert in Vegas that evening. Next year I hope to have enough time to hit up Zia and Hoodlums as well. Regardless, it was the best Record Store Day yet.

the relative theory of practicality

2011-04-06T19:59:00.000-07:00

I had a hard time falling asleep the other night (a nap at 9:00 pm, no matter how short, will do that to you). Around 1:00 am, as I read the last pages of In Dubious Battle, I started fleshing out an idea I got Sunday night as I was looking at satellite images of Montreal on Google Maps. More on that later.

Earlier today I was perusing different graduate degree programs at ASU. Why is it that anything I have any interest in studying has no application in the real world? Or won't provide any benefit to my current job/career path? Why can't I get a master's degree in French just because I want to? Never mind that the only thing I could do with that is maybe teach; never mind that I'd make considerably less money doing that than if I stuck with what I'm doing now.

I don't regret getting an undergrad degree in accounting, not for a second. Would I regret getting a master's degree in something less practical like American literature or geography? I really doubt it. At this point though, I feel like the only reason I would get a master's degree is because I feel like I shouldn't leave this life without one. Maybe when I feel like having a certain master's degree would benefit my career or life in general, maybe that's when I should tackle it.

So the other night when I couldn't fall asleep I thought about giving away (selling when possible) all my stuff (i.e., records, books, CDs, most of my music gear) and moving to a big city. Or rather, a city with a bike/pedestrian friendly downtown area. Just for the summer. From May to September or October. San Francisco comes to mind. So does Montreal. I'd try to make friends with random people I'd meet while frequenting whatever city's public transportation as well as other atmospheres and venues that don't exist here in Mesa. I'd take an hour or so to run every morning. I might find a job somewhere but I wouldn't work for more than four hours a day. I'd ride my bike or just walk around the city, exploring, really getting to know my surroundings. I'd read a lot, write a lot, and take a lot of photos.

I think about doing all that, and suddenly, a master's degree in French doesn't seem so impractical.

your already cold mind

2011-04-03T21:39:00.000-07:00

I read somewhere that Alcatraz was the only prison in its time to have hot showers. This was so the inmates wouldn't grow accustomed to cold water, which would facilitate escape through the hypothermia-inducing waters of the San Francisco Bay.

The hot water heater at our house is currently non-operational. I got in the shower Friday morning and the water was too cold to do anything but wash my hair. Friday also happened to be a record-breaking 100+ degree day here in the Greater Phoenix Metropolitan Area. While the water was still a bit chilly, the weather was perfect for a quick dip in the pool. I stayed in long enough to get used to the cold water, which made taking a cold shower bearable.

This photo turned out much better than the ones I tied to take of Alcatraz, which shares the Bay with this iconic landmark.

So until the water heater is fixed, if I want a shower I've got to go for a quick swim first.

== == == == ==

If there's one thing I've learned over the past year, it's that life is much easier, more enjoyable, and [insert any positive superlative adjective here] when you involve other people -- be they family, friends, or even complete strangers. For that reason, when my buddy Buster invited me to contribute to his blog, I was happy to accept. Read my inaugural post here.

of serendipity and San Francisco

2011-03-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

There's one experience I had as a teenager that I remember more vividly than many others. It wasn't the most life-changing or noteworthy thing that ever happened to me. I can't really explain why I remember it so well.

It was St. Patrick's Day 2001, and I was a senior in high school. There were eight of us -- my brother Matt and six of my best friends and I -- waiting in a line that wrapped around the west side of the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium in San Francisco, California, around 3:00 pm. We had traveled far that weekend (far for us, we were but teenagers) to see our collective favorite band, Weezer.

Trevor brought his guitar. As most of us were in bands at the time, and we were all avid show-goers and music lovers (evidenced by the distance we had just traveled), it was a normal thing us to entertain ourselves by sitting down with a guitar and belting out songs (most by Weezer) till we were blue in the face and sore in the fingers. However, we were nervous that our brand of fun wouldn't be readily accepted on the streets of San Francisco so we strummed the guitar quietly and our voices were hesitant.

Then something happened we didn't expect. People in the line ahead and behind us began singing along. And a small group formed around us. Others began shouting requests, b-sides like "Jamie" and "You Gave Your Love to Me Softly," not just the hits like "Say It Ain't So" and "The Sweater Song." I don't know which would be the dependent variable in this case -- our voices or the crowd -- I just know that as one grew larger so did the other.

== == == == ==

Exactly ten years later -- which happened to be this past weekend -- I once again found myself in San Francisco. The serendipitous occasion was the wedding of my college buddy Zach.

Not only was it great to be back in Bay Area (where I had since lived for a three month internship in 2008) but it was even better to see so many great friends that I don't see often because of the distance between us all. (Maybe we should all get married more often.)

== == == == ==

The St. Patrick's Day 2001 concert was Weezer at their best. While the concert was memorable -- how could I forget seeing "The Good Life" and "Only In Dreams" live for the first time? -- I feel like the event itself will be forever overshadowed by the spontaneous sign-along that happened before the show. When you make your own fun, sometimes it just goes better than when others try to make it for you.

== == == == ==

After the wedding reception last Friday night we -- a group of friends, less than a dozen total -- boarded a train in South San Francisco for the hour-long ride back to our hotel across the Bay in Concord (if you want to sound like a local, pronounce it like conquered). We were in good spirits from the wedding and one another's company so I guess it was only natural for us to break out in song as we sat together on the train.

Our repertoire consisted mostly of off-key 90s jams, interspersed with tunes from other decades, and rarely did we finish singing an entire song. I think most of our fellow passengers were indifferent to our potentially obnoxious musical outbursts but there were two who vocalized their opinions. One middle-aged man found our singing off-putting even though he kept a good sense of humor about it. Another passenger, a college age girl, thanked us for an entertaining ride as she disembarked the bus.

The next morning we took the train back to San Francisco for a day of sightseeing and touristy activities. About halfway to the City (don't call it San Fran or 'Frisco) who should step onto the train? The very same girl who voiced her appreciation of our musical stylings from the previous night. Of all the trains, of all the cars, she ended up in ours less than 12 hours later.

Of course, we beckoned her to come sit by us and we got to know her a bit as we made our way into the city. She helped us find our way around the city, and in the evening she even came out and hung with us for a bit. I don't have many 'small world' experiences; it was cool to be a part of this one.

== == == == ==

It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway: I'm anxious to get back to the "city by the bay." Thanks again, San Francisco.

Additional Reading: "I Left My [unconditional love for Weezer] in San Francisco" by Trevor: Trevor's account of our San Francisco Weezer adventure

I wanted to have a line from a Lady Gaga song as this title but I don't know too many of her songs, so I couldn't come up with one that fit

2011-03-12T01:27:00.001-07:00

I rarely remember my dreams. But last night I had a dream that I was being held hostage by Lady Gaga. Which was almost as memorable as the time Carl Winslow tried to eat me.

Everyone knows -- and it's well established in the hit documentary dream film Inception -- that you never really have an explanation for how you get to the place you're at in your dream -- your dream just starts there. This dream was no different. I'm alone at my mom's old house that she just sold. It's the middle of the night and I'm in the family room. The lighting in the house reminds me of Christmastime when we'd turn off all the lights and leave on the the Christmas tree lights on. (Sigh.) Except there is no Christmas tree.

I'm sitting by the fireplace. In the fireplace there is an egg carton. Don't ask me how, but somehow I know that in the egg carton there is a bomb. And somehow I know that this bomb was planted by Lady Gaga, and unless she gets what she wants, she will detonate the bomb.

Her demands are that I deface a rare original painting by painting over it. The painting I'm supposed to ruin is by John Steinbeck. I oblige her and paint a clown over the painting and it looks pretty darn good. Deep down inside I must know it's not a big deal that I paint over this supposedly rare painting; it has to be fake because homeboy Steinbeck was not a painter, he was a writer. So really, the joke is on Gaga.

At that point Lady Gaga herself shows up. I'm disappointed to see her wearing a frumpy maroon t-shirt and faded mom jeans with her hair in a pony tail. I mean, it's Lady Gaga. When has she ever looked like she could blend into a crowd? Disappointing.

That's all I remember of the dream.

Naturally, I was curious what this all could mean. So I consulted dreammoods.com. Everything was so vague -- any old interpretation could fit -- so I dismissed it. But I woke up singing "Bad Romance" to myself. So here's the simplest -- and most likely -- explanation for this dream: I was incepted to have Lady Gaga stuck in my head.

speaker

2011-03-01T14:21:00.000-07:00

I think I've mentioned here before that Speaker for the Dead is probably my second favorite book. If I haven't, I'll say it now: Speaker for the Dead is probably my second favorite book. That said, nothing saddens me more than when I hear of people reading Ender's Game and they don't bother to read Speaker for the Dead. What saddens me more than that (even though I already said "nothing saddens me more") is when people do read Speaker for the Dead and they don't like it as much as Ender's Game, or worse, they just don't like it. What saddens me equally as much as the first thing that saddens me is when someone starts reading Ender's Game and a year later (give or take) they still haven't finished it (you know who you are).

Speaker continues the story of Ender's Game protagonist Andrew "Ender" Wiggin in his travels as Speaker for the Dead -- a type of humanistic 'preacher' who recounts the deeds and misdeeds of the deceased as a way for the departed's loved ones to find truth, understanding and reconciliation in the wake of death.

About a year ago I decided to put my neglected Audible.com subscription to good use by downloading the complete Ender Saga (there are nine novels and countless short stories that make up said saga). They're fantastically produced, and according to Orson Scott Card himself, having the stories read aloud to you is the optimal medium for experiencing these books. At the end of some of the books, OSC provides an ad-libbed afterword explaining how the book came to be and so on. I love what he says at the end of Speaker:

If you really understand someone well enough to speak for them when they’re dead, you will end up – probably – loving them. Now, that’s a pretty bold thing to say – because what if you had to speak for the death of Adolph Hitler or Joseph Stalin or somebody like that – but I really think that if you knew enough about them you could at least understand how they got set on the road that led to the terrible things they did. And you don’t pull any punches, you name their sins for what they were, you talk about their flaws, you talk about their horrible choices, the viciousness, the violence, whatever they did. But you also say, "But at one point, this was a child. At one point this was a kid who wept, or a kid who wanted to be loved, or a kid who tried to well at this or at that." You look at the war experiences that shaped Adolph Hitler, or you look at the deep hunger for influence or control that drove Joseph Stalin in his childhood, and it doesn’t excuse anything, but it makes the person comprehensible. [...] You don’t eradicate them, you don’t glorify them either, you just face them for what they were, good and bad – you understand how it is a human being could get to where they are.

It's impossible to have such a complete understanding of someone, even of those we love the most. But simply knowing that we can't understand everything, and knowing there is a motive behind each action, and believing that the majority of people are inherently good -- all that is the first step, and it's quite a large one.

how I live or die

2011-02-21T03:14:00.001-07:00

Once every few months I wake up in the middle of the night and I can't get back to sleep. It's been one of those nights (well, it's almost 5:00 a.m., so I guess it's been one of those mornings). Usually, I'll wake up and then worry that I won't be able to fall back asleep -- and ironically, said worrying will keep me from sleeping. But tonight (this morning) there are three thoughts that are occupying my attention and keeping me from sleep -- only two of which are worth worrying about but probably not worth losing sleep over -- but alas, here I am unable to sleep. But this post is about none of those things.

== == == == ==

I wasn't born in Arizona but I proudly claim it as my home. The way I feel about Arizona is similar to how Texans feel about Texas. What others say about my state -- be it positive or negative -- I take personally.

This weekend some distant friends from my college days (I say that like they were so long ago) were in town visiting. It warmed my heart to hear them speak positively about this state I love so much.

== == == == ==

There's a saying in the church I belong to -- said mostly in jest -- that a single man aged 25 or older is a menace to society. The following is a tale of how six young men gave evidence to that theory.

A couple months ago -- I'm fairly sure it was back in October -- a few friends and I decided to take up a new hobby: model rocketry. At the time, I wasn't terribly close to any these guys. I had known most of them for a couple years but hadn't had the opportunity to bond with any of them on a deeper level. On this particular night we ended up launching rockets at one of the baseball fields at Mountain View High School.

After a good hour or two -- it had to be around 10:30 p.m. at this point -- we got a little bored with traditional rocket launching. We started launching off rocket engines by themselves, sans rocket. At one point, we duct taped two engines to a glow stick and attempted to ignite both engines simultaneously. We laughed in hearty delight at the result.

At this point we decided it was as good a time as any to call it a night (and we had just launched off our last rocket engine). As we were packing up and responsibly cleaning up our trash, we heard the rattle and clang of a chain link fence about a hundred yards away. I assumed it was another party who wanted to use the field for their own mischievous means and who was I to deny them so I ignored the noise and went back to my cleaning.

Seconds later we saw a dark figure approaching us at a run. The figure yelled, "Mesa Police! Get on the ground!"

If I could roll my eyes with my whole body, it was with that attitude that I took a seat on the grass. For the next hour four or five police officers (they all had nothing better to do) explained to us the nature of our wrongdoings. How model rocketry, while not expressly illegal, was nevertheless an unsavory hobby. How the school could press charges for our having apparently trespassed. How we as 'adults' should be ashamed of ourselves.

The school didn't press charges though I don't think I would've minded if they had -- you can't put a price on friendship and any fine I would've had to pay would've made the bond I formed that night with those guys that much deeper.

== == == == ==

It's hard to explain group dynamics and friendship. I've always been blessed with great friends (I'd like to cite the previous story as evidence). It's funny because as I kid I was more content to stay at home and play legos and watch cartoons on TV. Now I feel like I can't do anything alone.

It's strange how group dynamics change. You get close to people -- collectively and individually -- and then suddenly things are different. So-and-so starts dating someone and they don't come around as much. Someone gets a new job so they hang out less. Circumstances change and you just don't see a valued friend that much anymore. For the individual, these changes are usually for the better and I certainly don't begrudge the changes or the individual.

I feel like I live or die by my friends, be they far away or close by. It might seem weak to rely on other people so much. It's not that I don't believe in myself (though to be honest, I have my doubts more often that I'd like to admit). I guess the older I get the more I believe in mutual strength -- that strength comes from reaching out -- not from looking in. I'm trying really hard to act on that belief.

halvies, an encore

2011-02-13T22:04:00.000-07:00

I ran a half marathon this weekend. Training for this one was tough. I injured my foot just over a year ago, and it took far too long to recover from that. Not long after the injury I got new orthotics and it's taken forever to get them properly adjusted (and they're still a little bit off). I was so scared of over-training (the cause of said injury) that I under-trained for this race.

Ice cream is hardly the best post-race recovery food, but after running 13.1 miles I felt justified in indulging.

I usually don't do races with friends -- not because I'm anti-social (OK, maybe I'm a tad anti-social), but because most of my friends don't run. For this race though, seven of us drove up to Sedona for the weekend; four of us did the Sedona Half Marathon, and three did the 10-K.

This was easily the hardest race I've done (which isn't saying much, I haven't done too many, and this was only my second half marathon). The race was mostly uphill or downhill, and having trained in Mesa, I definitely was not used to the hills -- especially going up. My time was 2:36:41, about half an hour slower than my first time -- I look forward to beating both times my next half marathon.

for my consideration

2011-01-31T23:36:00.000-07:00

Recently I've considered doing the following:

1. Working only 20 to 30 hours a week and using the time off to bake. And cook. But mostly bake. I have a dream one day of starting my own bakery -- what's life for if not for following your dreams?

2. Quitting my job entirely and going to school somewhere gnarly (back East-ish?) for a master's degree in Literature. Then I can teach English at a community college or something (I'm not sure if I have the patience/ambition/general-scholarly-attitude to take the PhD/teach-at-a-University route).

I really like my job and I love the people I work with. But the job isn't really mine. I don't have a problem filling a position that someone else has created, but when my working life is over (which will probably be when I'm either dead or too senile/feeble to work), career-wise, I would like to have accomplished something that's mine.

On a far less weightier note, I'm considering selling my electric guitar, amp, and acoustic guitar and buying a new acoustic guitar (my current acoustic has some serious, possibly irreparable warping going on). I've also thought about buying a bass amp (as I already own a bass guitar), and I've even considered looking for a band that needs a bass player.

decent exposure

2011-01-24T17:03:00.000-07:00

When I was in high school some friends and I used to think that a local park, Chaparral Park, was haunted. This belief came from my older brother claiming to have seen a ghost there as well as rumors of other ghastly manifestations. From time to time we visited the park late at night in hopes of witnessing such an apparition. A few times we scared ourselves into thinking we saw such supernatural phenomena, but looking back it was probably the old weird dude out walking his cat (which, admittedly, is pretty creepy).

I remember spending part of a late Saturday night at Chaparral Park with a group of a dozen friends, give or take. I was a junior in high school at that time. It turns out the park was a popular destination for other teenagers as another group of adolescents arrived at the park and began frolicking around the active sprinklers at the bottom of the basin in the park.

I can't remember what gave it away, but it was somewhat obvious that the guys in this new group of kids were trying to impress their female counterparts. I don't know who came up with the idea, but in no time me and two other guys in our group were running down the hill -- wearing nothing but our boxers -- toward the sprinklers where the other teens were hanging out.

We reached the other group and ran a couple laps around them, yelling at the top of our lungs. After a couple laps and laughs, my two friends started back up the hill toward our friends. I made to follow when I was overcome by a fit a spontaneity. Instead heading back to our group I began my final lap alone -- but this time, I removed my boxers and swung them wildly over my head.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I managed to get my boxers back on while running up the hill to where my friends were watching and waiting.

It doesn't hurt to do something absolutely outrageous. You'll know what to do, and you'll know exactly when the time is right.

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with my buddy Jeff who lives in the far away land of Washington. We were discussing a particular occurrence that had been troubling me for a couple weeks. From there our discussion turned to a more general topic and Jeff concluded by saying (paraphrase), "Myke, you're overthinking it. I don't think you gave it much thought when you went streaking through Chaparral Park." We both laughed, but he was right.

I am a chronic overthinker. There's nothing wrong with processing and drawing conclusions and trying to learn from a certain situation, but when thinking gets in the way of taking a necessary action, you have a problem. I hope I can catch myself overthinking, and I hope I can remember the time when I exposed myself -- albeit inappropriately -- at Chaparral Park.

And it is true what you said
That I live like a hermit in my own head
But when the sun shines again
I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in

Thankfully, I happen to live where the sun shines 300 days a year.

Trevor's Monster

2011-01-12T09:36:00.000-07:00

Trevor and I became friends in high school. At the time I was in a band called Scooch (wisely, we later changed our name to The Manhattan Project). We needed a bass player. Jeff, our singer/guitarist/half-time bass player, knew Trevor's older brother so we invited Trevor to come play bass for us.

In addition to clever bass lines, Trevor brought a certain je ne sais quoi to the band. It may have been his stage antics -- like hanging from the ceiling pipes at the Nile basement -- or it may have just been his overall energy, passion, and talent for music... whatever it was, adding him to the band awakened a similar gusto in the rest of us. I'll sum it up this way: some gnarly dude named Paul taught me how to play guitar, but Trevor taught me how to rock.

Along with two other great friends, Trevor and I later played in band called XYZebra, pictured here (my favorite band I've been in and one of my all-time favorite band names). Trevor is on drums. Yeah, he does it all.

In addition to fronting his own rock band today, Sun Ghost, Trevor maintains music-centric blog called I Have Created a Monster. This blog focuses on artists and bands who push the levels of creativity in music. This week Trevor has allowed me to guest-blog about one of my favorite bands, the Flaming Lips. My first post is up as of this morning. Please check it out and follow Trev's blog, not for my sake, but because it's a great blog.

a week late, but still

2011-01-08T09:38:00.000-07:00

So yeah... I finally have my John Steinbeck blog up and running. Click here: Earthbound But Aspiring.

Although I want this blog to be my thing, I've toyed with the idea of having guest bloggers every now and then so if you're interested, let me know.

Please go read, comment, follow, share, etc. Thanks. Feedback is appreciated.

Word? Word.

Oh yeah, happy new year and stuff.

perfectibility is at hand

2010-12-16T15:55:00.001-07:00

I came across this gem of a quote while I was doing some research for my forthcoming John Steinbeck blog:

"We have usurped many of the powers we once ascribed to God.

"Fearful and unprepared, we have assumed lordship over the life or death of the whole world - of all living things.

"The danger and the glory and the choice rest finally in man. The test of his perfectibility is at hand.

"Having taken Godlike power, we must seek in ourselves for the responsibility and the wisdom we once prayed some deity might have."

Given by John Steinbeck upon receiving the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1962 (emphasis added). Full text here.

Please don't tell me I can't make it

2010-12-08T14:49:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago a friend told me that I've done a lot with my life; I wish it were as easy to believe the good things that others say about you as it is to believe the negative things you think about yourself.

I'm fixin' to carve this out of wood

That must be what friends are for -- to believe those things when you don't.

earthbound but aspiring

2010-11-30T14:08:00.000-07:00

It seems like a lot of people I know have their first run-in with Mr. John Steinbeck in a high school literature class, usually by way of The Grapes of Wrath or Of Mice and Men, sometimes The Pearl, or if they're lucky, Cannery Row. I must've been enrolled in the dumb kid high school English classes because my first Steinbeck encounter didn't occur till age 24. I'm glad of this though, because I wonder if I would have appreciated or understood him in high school (in other words, I was appropriately placed in those dumb kid English classes).

This is probably my favorite photo of Steinbeck. There's just something about it that says, "I'm John Steinbeck, what the #@%$ are you gonna do about it?" Incidentally, if anyone can find a hi-res version or a poster/print of this photo I'll be your best friend.

For the past year and a half or so I've been searching... though for what I've never been quite sure. I've just had this urge to create something original, to share something unique. I try to not make a habit of comparing myself to others, but in some cases with the right motivation, it's not such a bad thing. So in my vague search for fulfillment I considered my hobbies, my talents, things I enjoy doing -- specifically music, writing, and photography -- to find out what sets me apart from my friends, family and peers. I didn't feel that I had to be the best at any one of those things, but I did feel like my natural abilities in each of those areas were dim at best when compared to certain friends. While I enjoy those aforementioned pursuits and I will continue doing them, I don't necessarily feel like I have something unique and significant to offer therein.

A few weeks ago I feel like I identified a trait that sets me apart from my friends and many of my peers -- something that only I bring to the table: my love of John Steinbeck. When you love something, you have a hard time understanding why others don't love it as much as you do; when you love something, you want to share it with others. So the next step is logical: create a separate blog devoted to Mr. Steinbeck.

Now, I couldn't just create a blog about Steinbeck and blog here and there, willy-nilly about random Steinbeck thoughts and readings. So I decided on a structure and made myself a schedule. The plan, starting December 2010, is to read one work (novel or non-fiction) per month in the order in which they were published until I have read each work (which, according to schedule, won't be until November 2012). Throughout each month, I'll post my thoughts on the book I read, along with two to three other posts having to do with thoughts related to the book or to Steinbeck in general. (Click here for my reading schedule. I'm not expecting anyone to join my quest but it would be awesome if every now and then someone read a book or two concurrent to my schedule.)

Because I want to do this right, I don't have the blog up and running yet (and I have yet to read Steinbeck's first novel, Cup of Gold). I'm planning on having it up by January 1, 2011; sooner if I can manage.

Update, 2/14/2011: You can find this blog here: earthboundbutaspiring.com.

I owe you one, Harry

2010-11-15T21:28:00.000-07:00

I remember it well. My senior year in high school. Ms. Tuzzino's mythology class. I sat in the front left corner of the classroom with my buddies, Jeff, Tyler, and Dave. OK, maybe I don't remember it as well as I thought because I don't remember how they got on the topic, but somehow Dave and Tyler started taking about Harry Potter. I was confused. I interrupted, "Wait, you guys read Harry Potter? My 12 year old brother reads that stuff."

They were two friends whose tastes and opinions I respected, so I was intrigued. I don't know if it was that night, but soon thereafter, I picked up my brother's copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I thought it was a good book, though I wasn't blown away, and I wasn't moved. But never had I been able to finish a book so quickly, and never had I been so engaged as a reader.

I picked up the second. By the third I was hooked. Forever. Reading the fourth was a milestone for me -- by my first reading, it was the longest book I had ever read, weighing in at 734 pages.

Only days away. Mere days.
Something magical happened after I read Harry Potter. I began devouring other books with the same passion. Prior to Harry, I had never considered myself much of a reader. Sure, I read here and there, but never with any consistency, taking months at a time to finish a single book. Through Harry Potter, I discovered that reading was not only enjoyable, but that it moved, inspired, and effected me in ways few things can.

So the least I can do is say thanks. Thank you, Harry and friends (and enemies) for so many great years, all seven of them. Thank you for helping me develop a love for reading, without which I would have missed out on so many great books that have influenced me so positively. Thank you for the movies too, which don't really compare to the books, but have nevertheless provided a way for my friends and me to grow closer as we celebrate you, the Boy Who Lived -- the boy who will always live on in my imagination and heart for years and years to come.

old school

2010-10-24T16:23:00.000-07:00

So a couple weeks ago I bought a scanner. I've been pretty busy so I'm just now getting around to using it.

I bought it partly because I have a slew of pictures to scan (mission, high school and otherwise) that I took before the advent of digital photography. But one of the main reasons I bought this scanner is because it scans film negatives.

About a year ago I started messing around with a couple old film cameras and it didn't take long for me to realize how expensive it is to shoot film. Film processing, a set of prints, and a CD of negative scans can easily run $12 or roll per roll of film. This way, I can shoot a roll of film, have it developed (sometimes the cheapest part of the process, depending where you go), scan the negatives myself, and have prints made if I so desire.

I haven't had a chance to scan any negatives I've shot recently but yesterday I scanned some photos that I've wanted to digitize for quite a while now.

There are several things I love about this photo:

1. My grandparents, these are my dad's folks. They're the elderly couple in the rickshaw. My grandpa passed away in 1997 and my grandma in 2009. I love and miss them, and I hope I live as long as they did.

2. The matching Hawaiian outfits. I inherited that Hawaii shirt when my grandpa died. I wish it still fit.

3. They're in a rickshaw.

4. The dude in the foreground looks exactly like Lando Calrissian.

My Grandpa Olsen was an educator and principal by trade. I'm assuming this is a school photo. I love everything about his ensemble -- the coat, the shirt, the tie, and the frames. I think I get my crooked grin from him. The date on the back of this photo is 1976.

fall: eight & ten

2010-10-21T20:55:00.001-07:00

A couple weeks ago I was vainly perusing photos of myself from yesteryear on the popular social networking site Facebook.com. I was surprised at how skinny I was. Or at least how much thinner I was back then compared to now.

Remember when you guys made fun of my fingerless gloves? I felt so vindicated when those were the only type of gloves Urban Outfitters was selling a year later. I'm such a trendsetter. (Photo that I stole from Facebook.com courtesy of Harper.)

I'm so used to Arizona either being a furnace (summer) or a paradise ("winter"). The last fall I spent here was four years ago; I'm not used to the in-between -- when it's warm during the day and cool at night. I handle these unfamiliar seasonal changes by grasping onto memories of the last fall I spent here. And the one before that. And the time between then and now.

Sometimes I'm too content to explore the past.

fall: two thousand five

2010-10-08T15:40:00.000-07:00

I've been spending some extra time in my car lately. Not driving. I come home at night and park. I leave the car running even though it's finally cool enough at night to not need air conditioning. Sometimes I'll check Facebook on my phone. Or play Wordfeud for a couple minutes. But mostly I just think. Not about anything in particular or of great consequence. As if I wasn't already an over-thinker -- now I have a special time alloted for it.

* * * * *

I've had the year 2005 on my mind. About five years ago this very month my brother Matt got home from his mission. Some cousins from Utah came to visit for the occasion. I don't remember how we got on the subject but I remember my cousin Greg talking about how he had recently run a marathon. How long was a marathon, I asked. 26.2 miles. I decided that night that I was going to run a marathon.

A month later I ran my first race, a 10K, on Thanksgiving. My time wasn't that great, but I finished, and I felt great doing it.

Though I didn't realize it at the time, I started running to set myself apart from my friends and family. Sports never interested me in high school though I come from a family of athletes -- actually, a family of runners. But most of the running they did/do involves running short distances while jumping over hurdles. At the time, a 10K -- 6.2 miles -- was farther than anyone in my family had run.

Around the same time and not long after, some of my good friends got engaged and married. And they were farther ahead of me in school. I had to do something to catch up. I started running.

Speaking of marathons, here we are after watching all six Star Warses in one sitting, December 26, 2005. Man, I loved those pants. (This photo has nothing to with this post, other than it was taken in 2005. I didn't feel like digging out my external hard drive for a more relevant photo.)

One morning, a week after running my first 10K, I ran eight miles (well, it was probably closer to nine). Later that day I remember talking to this girl I had an enormous crush on and she was impressed that I had ran so far (which was also another great motivator for running).

The next day I could barely walk. Bad, worn out running shoes and overtraining had caused a stress fracture in my left foot. This was unfortunate because xyzebra had a show that night. And it spelled doom for my newly acquired running habit, for the time being.

This all happened during 2005.

unlimited wants

2010-10-04T19:08:00.001-07:00

I kinda want this camera:

Olympus PEN E-P1 12.3 MP Micro Four Thirds Interchangeable Lens Digital Camera with 17mm f/2.8 Lens and Viewfinder (Silver)

I don't know much about it other than it's a high quality point-and-shoot and is supposedly capable of taking DSLR quality photos (probably depends on who's using the camera in both cases).

I came across this type of camera one day on Flickr; I was impressed by a certain shot so I looked up that photo's EXIF data to discover what kind of camera the photographer had used. I was surprised to find out that he hadn't used a DSLR camera but a camera similar to this one made by Panasonic. The Panasonic camera employed the same "Micro Four Thirds" technology that this Olympus uses. I don't know exactly what "Micro Four Thirds" means other than it allows interchangeable lenses like a DSLR.

I also saw this type of camera all over the place in Hong Kong. In fact, a girl on the metro retro-fitted her camera with an old Nikon lens (from the film era, it appeared) by using a special adapter -- I'd love to try my dad's old Olympus lenses on this thing.

Anyway, I've really been wanting a new point-and-shoot camera for the times I don't feel like dragging my DSLR around or at shows where I'm not allowed to bring it in and just because it'd be nice to have a fun backup. Unfortunately, a camera like this is pretty low on my list of big-ticket items, which includes a new computer, a new electric guitar, an 85mm lens or a high quality wide-angle lens (undecided), an iPad (or Android tablet if such a thing exists by the time I have the money), and maybe a down payment on a house (?!?). In other words, it might be quite a while before I can afford one. So we'll see.

Any photographer types out there know anything about this kind of camera?

fixin' to carve this out of wood

2010-10-03T00:17:00.000-07:00

It kinda bugs me when artists and bands release a single months before a new album is released. Because I end up overplaying the single and I'm bored with it by the time the album is out. I swore this would be the case with Brandon Flowers' "Crossfire". Watch the video:

All a good music video needs is Charlize Theron and a few ninjas. It's that simple.

But I didn't get sick of "Crossfire". I still get pumped every time I hear the distant piano and delayed guitars in the song's intro.

Incidentally, the first time I heard "Crossfire" I didn't feel one way or another about it. I should've known that I would end up loving it because my feelings (or lack thereof) were the same on my first couple spins through The Killers' Sam's Town, the band's best album (I have to say though, Day & Age has grown on my quite a bit, more than I had expected it to).

The interesting thing about Mr. Flowers -- interesting to me, anyway -- is that we belong to the same faith. So when he releases a solo album, Flamingo, rife with religious allusions and spiritual insecurities, I'm bound to sit up and listen a little more than if, say, Rivers Cuomo were to start writing songs about the earthly limbo between "heaven and hell".

Maybe that's what has drawn me to The Killers, the fact that I feel like Brandon understands when I struggle to live up to my faith as completely as I should (see songs like "All These Things That I've Done" and "When You Were Young"). And while Flamingo offers its fair share of commiseration and empathy, at least one track offers something that I haven't found as much of in the Killers' releases: hope. It's one thing to say, "Yeah, I've been there," but it's so much better to say, "Here's how I got out." You can hear the latter on this song, "Magdalena":

I need that vest (although I'd probably have to lose about 40 pounds to rock it as well as he does). I love the key change after the bridge.

As an album, Flamingo isn't perfect. The songwriting sags a bit in the middle and album's closer is a bit on the weak side (this is remedied by buying the deluxe version -- bonus tracks!). But in the end, if Brandon continued to put out albums of this caliber at The Killers' expense, I might not mind.

in pictures and words

2010-09-29T20:24:00.000-07:00

About a week ago I got back from a two week long trip to Hong Kong and Beijing with my brother. Why Hong Kong and Beijing? My brother Matt served as a missionary in Hong Kong for two years. He's been meaning go back and visit for years now and I've always wanted to go with him. That and it was a good way of sticking it to all those people who travel to trendy places like Europe. JK but really.

The unique thing about Matt's mission was that he spoke Mandarin, instead of Cantonese which is the main language of Hong Kong. But this gives him an advantage outside of Hong Kong because more Chinese speakers speak Mandarin than Cantonese.

Anyway, rather than bore you with the details of what I thought was an incredible trip, I've posted photos (with captions in case you wanted to be bored by the details).

The process of flying to Hong Kong wasn't as bad as I anticipated. We flew from Phoenix to LAX, to Seoul, Korea, to Hong Kong. Korean Air is pretty nice; the seats weren't too small and there were plenty of movies to watch (so what if the movie I enjoyed most on the way over was Letters to Juliet). Anyway, on to the photos:

Left: I wish I could remember the name of this park. It had a few structures like this one and was across from a Buddhist (I think) temple.

Center: This water wheel was at the same park. I just decided that sometime in my life I'm gonna own property with a body of water that will power a functioning water wheel. And that water wheel will do something cool, like grind flour for a bakery that I will have someday.

Right: A Mong Kok market. This is what would come to mind when someone would say Hong Kong. This market is the place to go if you wanna buy a cheap rip-off. I'm kicking myself now for not getting that Ed Hardy t-shirt (JKBR).

We went to these places on our first full day in Hong Kong.

Left: This looks like it could be a modern art exhibit, right? Believe it or not, it's the wall of a restaurant where had lunch called Modern Toilet. As you may have deduced, it's a toilet themed restaurant: the seats are padded toilets, the food is served in small toilet shaped bowls, and the ice cream resembles poop (which isn't as bad as it sounds). The food was OK.

Right: The following day, Saturday, we took a ferry to Lamma Island with members of the Mandarin Branch where Matt served a big part of his mission. I loved this place. As we got off the boat, we walked through a row of outdoor seafood restaurants. This was a two-in-one experience because most of the seafood restaurants had small tanks filled with various sea creatures. Which was awesome because I love sea creatures, like the cuttlefish in this picture (click on the picture to enlarge); these guys were hanging out in front of the seafood restaurant we all ate at. Overall, I loved it -- the island, the food, the company -- I loved it.

Sunday for church we attended the Mandarin Branch (the same folks we spent Saturday with). Before coming to Hong Kong, the branch president learned that Matt was coming to visit so he asked him to talk at church on Sunday.

That day we visited the Hong Kong Temple. It would've been cool to do a session there; maybe next time.

On Monday we flew up to Beijing. Rather than fly from Hong Kong, we crossed the border north of Hong Kong to Shenzhen and flew to Beijing from there -- it was $100 cheaper and it allowed us to see a part of China we wouldn't have otherwise experienced.

We landed in Beijing in the early afternoon and took a train, then the subway to our hotel. Subway fares in Beijing were ridiculously cheap (as is just about everything else if you went to the right place), only 2.00 Renmibi (RMB) per trip, which converts to about 30 cents.

It took us over an hour to find our hotel. In other words, we got lost. But we enjoyed it because it allowed us to explore a non-touristy part of Beijing. Eventually, we dropped our stuff off at the hotel and wandered south toward a dumpling restaurant recommended in Matt's travel guide. On our way we made a pit stop at a drum tower; we arrived just in time for this performance (left).

They next day before visiting the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square, we stopped at a park to the southwest of the Forbidden City. Matt called it He-Man park because he thought it would've been the perfect place to play He-Man as a kid (I agree with him). The park had some pretty awesome architectural structures; I especially liked these beams (right).

This is just inside the Tiananmen Gate. The small arch in the bottom center leads to the Forbidden City. The Forbidden City was impressive, it was just a bit repetitive. It's something that would be more fun with a big group, I think. And it was pretty crowded the day we went.

Left: Forbidden City lion. Lions in China? Is there/was there such thing?

Center: Private eyes are watching you, they see your every move. These light/camera poles were all over Tiananmen Square. It's stuff like this (and Facebook being blocked) that made me feel the tension of being in a communist country.

Right: These bikes were parked just outside the subway station by our hotel. It reminded me of Rexburg. Sigh.

The Great Wall of China. NBD. This was my favorite part of Beijing/mainland China. Climbing around was one of the best workouts I've had in a while. So steep.

Left: A Chinese Snickers (it has Chinese writing on the side, that's the biggest difference). American candy was my totem (Inception, anyone?) while I was over there. I had very few problems with the food we ate (other than, holy crap, I ate so much of it), but it's stuff like candy and Coke that gave me a sense of familiarity and anchored me to home.

Right: These guys were awesome, like a mix between empanadas and dumplings. The price was right too, four for 5 RMB (or about 75 cents US).

The next day, Thursday, we flew to Shenzhen and took a bus back to Hong Kong. Friday we went to Lantau Island (which I like to call Lando Island), a less populated part of Hong Kong. Lantau Island is home to Big Buddha (left), which used to be the largest outdoor Buddha in the world. We took a cable car to get there, which provided some great scenic views of Lando Island.

I'm not sure about the significance of the statue on the right but I thought it made a cool picture.

A view the from the platform where Big Buddha resides. I love gnarly trees.

We spent the following day in Macau. I didn't bring my DSLR camera because I was sick of hauling it around (I know, it's not that bad, but you get a little sick of it hanging around your neck for 10 days straight). I took my Holga (cheap plastic film camera) but I have yet to get the film developed so no pictures from Macau to post at this time.

I loved it there though. Macau is similar to Hong Kong in that it's a former Portuguese colony (Hong Kong was a British colony). And since gambling is legal there it's known as the Las Vegas of Asia. Thankfully, though, it wasn't as smutty as Vegas, but maybe I just didn't notice because we didn't get too close to the casinos.

We took a ferry to Macau with three of Matt's friends from his mission and met up with even more people when we got there. It was one of my favorite days because: a.) it was fun to do something in a large group and b.) Macau is awesome. Signage and such there is in Chinese and Portuguese; the Portuguese influences gives it a quaint European feel.

Going with Matt was great because he knew so many people over there. When we were in Hong Kong we always had a place to sleep and more than we were able to eat (I swear, Monday before we left we had two dinners -- with the same family). China's got a lot going for it but its people are by far its biggest asset.

Lunch me yet?

2010-09-19T08:10:00.000-07:00

I'm in Asia right now. (Asia sounds cooler than Hong Kong even though Hong Kong is awesome all by itself.) So far, so great.

This picture has nothing to do with Hong Kong, per se... it's just that I had a few copies of it that I put in my journal a few months back and I've been leaving the copies in public places for people to stumble upon and (hopefully) enjoy. (Vain much?) I wrote the web address of my blog on the back so if you've come to my blog as a result of finding this photo, welcome.

Be back in AZ in a few days. Word.

Hugo Reyes

2010-09-07T18:56:00.001-07:00

So, Weezer has been streaming their new album Hurley on Myspace.com, A Place for Friends, for the past day or so. I checked it this morning. I have to say, I quite enjoyed the second track, "Ruling Me" (I'm listening to it right now). It's poppy and fun and has some 'oooohs' reminiscent of "Susanne". Anyway, in the midst of the song, I thought to myself, what if this album is awesome; what if I can hang with every track. Then I got to the unsavory fifth song, "Where's My Sex." If you thought "We Are All On Drugs" was bad, well, Weezer have really outdone themselves with this jam, but not in a good way.

It's funny how every Weezer album can manage to get my hopes up then dash them against the rocks. Every time. It's funny how I keep thinking that Weezer will come out with something that I'll love as much as the Blue Album or Pinkerton. Sigh.

I need to give this album a few more spins before I can say really if it's good or not (though I can tell you right now it's better than Raditude; and, by good I mean, will I love 9 out of 10 songs on this album (I've already identified one that I hate)).

I can say this, though: I feel like Weezer didn't take too much time on this album. It's not that they rushed through it, they just left it slightly unpolished. The guitars are a bit more rough and Rivers' voice seems a little flat at times -- it gives the album a raw edge, something Weezer fans haven't really heard since Pinkerton. I like it.

Hurley is out next Tuesday, 14 September. Incidentally, I'll be in Beijing next Tuesday. So who knows if I'll be able to actually buy it until I'm back in the U.S. and A. Perhaps I'll have an update for this album review then...

(Sorry if you thought this post was about LOST.)

spoiler alert!

2010-08-30T21:23:00.000-07:00

I finished reading Mockingjay last night.

[I'd like to preface the this post with this rant.]

I think I was looking for something other than what these books turned out to be. I was looking for an adventure story and, while there was plenty of adventure along the way, in the end it was more about who Katniss ended up with than what happened to the people she was fighting for. It was almost like reading Twilight dressed up and sold as Harry Potter. If it weren't for all the dying going on I'd feel cheated.

Or maybe I just hoped too hard and tricked myself into thinking that the Hunger Games wouldn't be another girl-loves-guy-but-then-this-other-guy-comes-along-and-it-takes-three-books-for-her-to-really-decide series. I was hoping the love story would end up as an incidental aspect of the plot, not the ending point of the final book.

[End rant.]

Despite this particular setback, it's obvious that I had to enjoy this series to have made it to the last book and read it in a matter of days (as much as I love reading, I'm really slow at it).

I feel like most 'real' sci-fi authors use a dystopian setting as social commentary -- which can be annoying. However, Suzanne Collins manages to create a post-apocalyptic world whose commentary is more subtle than overbearing.

I was always surprised by the deaths of certain characters -- characters you'd think the author would keep alive for the sake of continuity. Like Cinna for example. Or Finnick, you feel like he should've made it out alive to share in the triumph over the Capitol. These unexpected deaths add a sense of reality to the series.

If it's not too morbid of me to say so, the constant death is what makes these books meaningful and sets them apart from other young adult fiction (that I've read anyway).

But I feel like the author should've played up the death aspect even more. I always love it when books explore the nature of death (HP7 did a great job of that). I would've loved for the author to develop some kind of philosophy around death instead of leaving it an incidental although integral part of the story.

I think there are few books that I read and like that I would recommend to just anyone -- but The Hunger Games series just might have something for everyone.

Update 5/19/2011: Looking back, I think there are fewer people I would recommend this to due to how the series ended.

Weezer 2010: too little, too late?

2010-08-23T20:54:00.000-07:00

Whenever I blog about Weezer it always ends up being a long rant that I feel like no one would care about reading but me and I end up deleting it before I finish. This may turn into that. But so be it, because maybe I just need to get it out of my system.

- - - - -

Nostalgia is so in right now. And Weezer seems to be capitalizing on it. A few weeks ago Weezer released a single called "Memories" from their new album Hurley (this might be their best album cover yet), due out September 14. The song details the band's exploits during their early days and reaches levels of fuzz and rock rarely, if ever, seen in Weezer's past decade (could this be due to the band recently signing to Epitaph?).

If that's not enough, the band is set to release not one, but two throwback albums during the month of November. The first is called Death To False Metal... A Collection Of Unheard Songs From The Weezer Vault (previously titled Odds and Ends -- though I'm curious to know how much of this collection is actually 'unheard' -- old demo Weezer tracks weren't hard to find online in the early '00s).

The second album is a two-disc deluxe version of the fan favorite Pinkerton. Though I'm pretty positive I've heard every song that will be on the 'deluxe' portion of this album I'm nevertheless excited for it because a.) my Pinkerton CD skips like nobody's business and I feel cheap rocking a burned copy; after all, it is one of my top three favorite albums; and, b.) they might release it on vinyl (although I already have an import version of Pinkerton on vinyl). In addition to all this Pinkerton goodness, hardcore fans can purchase a three-disc 'superdeluxe' version of Pinkerton that includes the third installment of Rivers' Alone series (Alone is a collection of Rivers' home-recorded demos; two Alone albums have been released so far).

In sum, we're being bombarded with five albums worth of Weezer in the span of less than two months.

- - - - -

When Weezer's Pinkerton was released in 1996 I had just turned 14. I bought the album a couple weeks after it was released; I found it in the used section at Sam Goody for $9.00. I remember listening to the album the next day while working on my bike in the garage. I didn't hate it, but I didn't get it -- the rough guitars, the raw, intimate vocals, the raucous, bombastic drumbeats -- it was certainly a change from their debut Blue album. I wasn't surprised that it had ended up in the used section where I found it only a couple weeks after the album was released.

Pinkerton did have one pop gem, however, that kept me coming back to the album during the first year of owning that album: the album's first (and only semi-commercial) single, "El Scorcho." I listened to this song almost every day before school in eight grade. I know this song like I know few things in my life.

When I found out that Weezer would be stopping in Tempe during their Pinkerton tour on December 17, 1996 (I'm pretty sure of this date) I knew I had to go. But, my mom didn't agree with me. She said I was too young to attend such a concert. I was devastated. I remember walking around the block and crying (gimme a break, I was 14) when I found out I couldn't go.

I didn't see Weezer live till 2000 at the Warped Tour in 'lovely' Chula Vista, CA, with Danny, Joby, and Jeff, as evidenced in this charming photograph -- a story for a different blog post, perhaps.

Like I said, I didn't quite 'get' Pinkerton when it was first released. In time, though, I came to regard it as work of masterful genius and my love for it even surpassed that of the Blue album.

- - - - -

A week or so ago MTV News caught wind from Rivers himself of some news bound to excite even the most cynical Weezer fan: Weezer's plans for a Blue/Pinkerton tour to coincide with the release of the Pinkerton deluxe edition.

Attending a Weezer concert where they play nothing but songs from Blue and Pinkerton is something I've dreamed of since 1996. So why am I not jumping up and down and peeing my pants with joy?

I just revisited a blog post from almost two years ago wherein I describe my excitement and elation at the announcement of Jimmy Eat World's Clarity tour.

So why doesn't the announcement of a Blue/Pinkerton tour illicit a similar emotional response? Here I am, I'm not even a cynical Weezer fan and I refuse to let myself get excited. What did me in? Was the Raditude straw that broke the camel's back? (I do love a few songs on that album -- I just have an impossible time hanging with tracks like "Love is the Answer" and "In the Mall.")

Where was Weezer two years ago when Jimmy Eat World was announcing their Clarity tour and paying back the devotion of their longtime fans with the gift of a lifetime? Is Weezer's potential Blue/Pinkerton tour too little, too late?

Don't get me wrong. I still love Weezer. You know I'll be in the front row of whatever Blue/Pinkerton show I can get to (which will probably be in California because I doubt a tour like this will come to Phoenix). Maybe the Blue/Pinkerton tour is just what I need to rekindle my love for Weezer... a love that has been ever more fleeting in the recent years.

...maybe.

Perseid power

2010-08-13T09:58:00.000-07:00

Late Wednesday evening I embarked on a nocturnal photogging journey with my buddy Seanathon Tedwerd and a new friend, Caleb. The following photo resulted:

The purpose of the journey was to take star trail photos and view the Perseids meteor shower. We were successful on both accounts.

We ended up finding the perfect spot to take photos -- a small dirt road connecting Power Road and the Beeline Highway that passed at the foot of Red Mountain (is that even the real name of the mountain?). The headlights in Sean's van threatened to cut out several times but that only contributed to the spirit of adventure and camaraderie.

With work in the morning, I didn't get home to 3:30 a.m. -- it was worth it.

something for everyone

2010-07-27T15:55:00.000-07:00

This album has been in and out of my CD player (yeah, I still listen to CDs) during the past couple weeks:

These Four Walls by We Were Promised Jetpacks
There are quite a few things I like about this band:

-- Their name. I'd like to know who has the ability to make (and keep) such a promise. And how one gets promised a jetpack.

-- I don't know what it is, there's just something raw, something a bit more manly, a bit more tough about this guy's voice. Maybe it's the slight rasp, maybe it's his Scottish accent, but it's probably both.

-- Electric guitars. Nothing searing, soaring or face-melting, just dirty and sometimes dynamic. More often than not that's all I ever need.

-- They're touring with Jimmy Eat World (more on them later) this fall. Not sure if they'll be playing at JEW's TBD Arizona show but a guy can hope, right?

*****

I kinda like it when Brandon Flowers makes religious allusions in his songs. He's LDS too so I feel like I can relate -- or at least I can understand where he's coming from. That said, I really enjoy the single "Crossfire" from his forthcoming solo album, Flamingo.

There's just something about the way Charlize puts her arm around him at the end there. It's cute. Flamingo is out September 14.

*****

Speaking of September, it's shaping up to be a good month as far as music releases go. My hometown homeboys Jimmy Eat World release Invented on September 28. This could be their best album in a long while for at least two reasons:

1. Producer Mark Trombino is back -- his resume includes prior JEW releases Static Prevails, Clarity, and Bleed American, not to mention a slew of albums by other 90s emo/indie/post-punk greats like No Knife and Knapsack.

2. Tom Linton -- JEW guitarist and former full-time JEW vocalist -- takes over lead vocal duties for one song on this album -- something he hasn't done since Clarity in 1999.

JEW has yet to announce a date in Arizona for their upcoming tour this fall but they have assured fans via Twitter/Facebook that they are indeed planning a show in their home state. To that I say, thank you Jimmy Eat World for not sweeping your AZ fans under the rug like so many other bands have because of SB1070 (for the record, JEW opposes SB1070).

*****

For me, blogging about movies would be sort of like someone who listens to the radio and occasionally downloads a song from iTunes blogging about music (OK, not exactly -- I like movies more than that, but I definitely wouldn't call myself a movie guy). Nevertheless, I encourage those who have yet to see this movie to go see it:

Here's why:

1. It's a good movie.

2. Cohesive cast.

3. Why is it that anything successful in Hollywood is either based on a book or a remake of another movie? Inception is great because it's an original story -- not based on a book, not based on another movie, but based on a screenplay -- and it's been successful at the box office. Hopefully, filmmakers will realize they don't have to regurgitate someone else's premise in order to make a few bucks (or a good movie). (Ironically, none of Christopher Nolan's other box office successes, Batman Begins, The Prestige, and The Dark Knight, are not his original works -- but they're nevertheless very well done.)

4. Finally, financially, I hope it does better than the latest Twilight installment. (Which, by the way, was awful. This is coming from the guy who kinda liked the second movie, so I'm not just being biased or close-minded.)

duty of friendship

2010-07-11T19:57:00.000-07:00

"I'd like to ask you something," Hazel said.

"What?"

"Well, this ain't none of it true. It's a kind of a--a whatchamacallit--"

"Hypothetical question?"

"I guess so."

"S'pose there's a guy and he's in trouble."

"Yes?"

"Well, he can't get out of it. But he got a friend maybe he don't know about."

"That's you," said the seer.

"No it ain't! It's some other guy. I forget his name." He hurried on. "Well, s'pose the guy's in trouble and there's one way he can get out but he can't do it. You think his friend ought to do it?"

"Certainly."

"Even if it hurt like hell?"

"Certainly."

"Even if it might maybe not work?"

"Certainly. I don't know what the situation is with your Doc, but I know how it should be with you. If you love him you must do anything to help him--anything. Even kill him to save him incurable pain. This is the highest and most terrible duty of friendship. I gather what you must do is violent. You must first make sure it can be successful, and you must, second, make sure within yourself that you know you will be punished. It is quite possible that even if you are successful your friend will never speak to you again. That takes a lot of love--maybe the greatest love. Make sure you love him that much."

Hazel caught his breath, "Hell, there ain't no such guy. It's hypa--it's malarky, a kind of riddle."

"I guess you do love him that much," the seer said.

John Steinbeck, Sweet Thursday

Arizona's Eyjafjallajökull

2010-06-22T16:49:00.000-07:00

I paid an unexpected visit to the Grand Canyon last Sunday night and all I came away with was this photo:

I'd've liked a more in-focus background but when you're in an empty, secluded parking lot late at night in Northern Arizona you start worrying about skinwalker attacks -- not a terribly conducive atmosphere for making sure your camera is in focus.
I was driving home from Utah when I was forced to make a bit of a detour because of forest fires just north of Flagstaff. Here's my route:

Who needs a fancy Mac or Photoshop when you have Microsoft Paint? Best image-editing software out there. Period.
My detour took me past the Grand Canyon. I'm a pretty in-the-zone traveler and I was already behind schedule but if people come from around the world to see the Grand Canyon, I might as well stop and snap a pic. So I did.

Symptoms in Some Cephalopods Approximating Apoplexy

2010-06-13T22:17:00.000-07:00

So apparently I used to blog. It's not that I haven't had anything to blog about -- AZ's immigration law, feelings on leaving Colorado and moving to Arizona, books I've read recently (I, Robot, The Trial, Catch-22), the LOST season finale, book(s) I'm reading now (Sweet Thursday -- welcome back Mr. Steinbeck), my new job, friends, family, et cetera and so on (strangely music wasn't included on that list... I need new tunes). I've been adjusting to some recent life changes and blogging has fallen by the wayside.

So be it. Life is good and if a good life doesn't include as much blogging as it used then, well, so be it.

I do, however, hope to blog more because in the past it's been a way for me to discover things about myself that I don't necessarily find out until I write them down (since I'm too lazy too keep a journal and vain enough to want others to know about the inner workings of my brain (or more accurately, the lack thereof)).

Arizona has been treating my well since I've moved back (already four weeks ago, wow). I'm glad I'm finally getting settled down enough where I'm starting to develop routines and itching to pick up neglected hobbies (sadly, I haven't touched my camera since I've been back).

I love the summer. Even when it's 107 outside (although this weekend has been supernal -- yesterday's high of 85 was downright refreshing and today's 91 felt wonderful). No doubt I'll be sick of the heat by August. But then I'll remember how the month of October in other states (*cough* Idaho, Colorado *cough*) is worse than Arizona's January and the sweltering heat won't seem so bad.

I hope I'm here to stay.

I miss Lost

2010-05-24T09:12:00.001-07:00

Sigh.

we should all be alive

2010-04-25T21:00:00.000-07:00

So apparently April has been a slow month for blogging.

Two Wednesdays ago during a particularly slow day at work, I was looking for a way to stream stream MGMT's new album. Amongst the MGMT related pages I found was a link to a cover of MGMT's "Time to Pretend" by Jónsi. The link took me to Jónsi's website. I listened; his version is better. At the beginning of April Jónsi released a new album -- Go -- which I hadn't bothered to check out yet. I had read somewhere that it was supposed to be a mellow acoustic album and the idea of such an album left me feeling pretty indifferent.

But since I was there at his website, it wouldn't hurt to listen to a few tracks, right? Especially after such a compelling version of "Time to Pretend". I could check the new MGMT album after listening to a song or two from Jónsi. But after 30 seconds of "Go Do", the first song from Go, I forgot who MGMT was and I certainly didn't care about hearing their new album.

Check this album cover. Jónsi at his indie superhero best.

Almost as epic as anything Sigur Rós has done -- and possibly more epic than Lord of the Rings -- it turns out Go is anything but a mellow acoustic album.

Naturally I made plans that day to see Jónsi in Denver the following week on April 21.

Mere hours after first listening to this album and making said plans to attend his show, I received a communication via text message from my buddy Abel. It read, verbatim:

"Hey do you want go to the jonsi concert at the paramount theater on the 21st... Ill get you on the guest list if you can give alex a thumb drive for me."

The only suitable response to this question was, "Yes yes and yes" (which, by the way, is what I said). Anyway, how Abel knows Alex -- Jónsi's boyfriend and guitarist in his touring band -- is probably too much to explain for now. Just know that it resulted in a guest pass to Jónsi's show last week at the Paramount Theater in Denver.

Epic: an adjective I've already used twice in this post. It's an adjective that I'll use once more in describing Jónsi's live set: epic. Comparisons would be helpful to describe this concert, but really there is nothing I can compare it to because it was unlike concert I've ever experienced, and most likely, unlike anything I will ever experience in the near future. It was like enjoying a live art exhibit -- that's the best I can come up with.

The guest pass Abel hooked me up with included a trip backstage after the show to meet the band. I shook Jónsi's hand -- he was quite the cordial fellow -- but I didn't say much, which is a pretty natural reaction for me in a room full of people (there were six other fans in the room as well), though my silence was punctuated intermittently by quick conversations with Alex.

Once "Gansta's Paradise" began playing on the drummer's iPod in the far corner of the relatively small dressing room, I knew the night couldn't get any better. I took that as my cue to leave, and with a quick thank you and goodbye, I was on my way back to Colorado Springs.

miscellanea

2010-03-28T21:45:00.000-07:00

& I just finished watching Return of the Jedi with some friends (&). I love that movie.

香港 A week or two ago my brother and I purchased tickets to go to Hong Kong (香港) for two weeks in September. This will be my first trip out of this continent/hemisphere.

≠ I went to San Diego the beginning of last week for work. I love it there. I spent the night in the Denver airport because of bad weather and cancelled flights, (≠) which turned out being kinda cool.

∞ I haven't been able to do any serious running for about four months (∞) now because I hurt my foot and it's not healing right. I'm worried I'm getting fat.

© Some friends and I started an online book club (©) on Facebook ("Miles & States: A Book Club"). We're reading I, Robot for the month of April. Right now, it's a closed group. If you want to join I believe you can send a request to join the group -- or just comment below and I'll add you.

! I'm going to Arizona for Easter. Couldn't be more excited (!). My youngest brother and sister are in the Easter Pageant as angels.

$ So many good shows in Denver the next few months. My buddy Justin and I devising ways to attend them for free ($).

four for four

2010-03-20T00:16:00.000-07:00

I went to a band show last night.

I seriously can't remember a time when I enjoyed every band almost equally (though for different reasons).

My buddy Justin and I showed up right as the first band O'Brother took the stage. Hardcore without overdoing it, discernible melodies and occasionally spacey guitars. Their last song rocked my face off. Justin and I hung for a few minutes after the show and made friends with a few of the band members (two of whom complimented my Yanni t-shirt) -- awesome dudes, I hope they come again soon. Purchased a t-shirt and a 7 inch.

Biffy Clyro from Scotland played second. These guys have to be bigger in the UK than they are here because they had a set of roadies setting up their gear before the actual band came on stage. I didn't know what to think of these guys at first -- all three of them took the stage with their shirts off. But in doing so, I think they were just skipping a step because I'm sure they would've rocked their shirts off one or two songs into their set. Such a full sound for a three piece, such a tight, together performance. I wish I would've bought their album at the show because it's currently only available in the US as an import (and therefore costs twice as much).

The Features. I had heard about these guys thanks to a blog post by Tori a few months ago. Short, simple pop songs without being trite. Refreshing, original and fun. I would've liked to hear these guys play longer than they did. Tried talking to these guys after the show but they were in the middle of doing merch inventory so they didn't have much to say. Which is cool -- they seemed cool enough (one did give me a compliment for Yanni), and regardless, the put on a great show. Bought a green t-shirt. I can't remember the last green t-shirt I've owned. I'm glad to have one now.

Manchester Orchestra headlined. Rocking set punctuated with a few quiet singer/songwriter jams, what I assume might have been Andy Hull (MO singer) solo tunes or Right Away, Great Captain (Andy's side project) songs. For the most part, the crowd was great, but there were a few drunk hecklers that upset both the band and the crowd. The band responded well enough -- which included Andy singling out and hilariously tearing one guy apart -- but eventually frustration overcame them, and from what I understand, MO refused to play an encore because of the few unruly crowd members. I don't blame them, it got so distracting during Andy's solo songs or when the band played quietly.

But despite the setbacks during MO's set, it was definitely one of the most solid shows I've ever been to. A great dynamic between the bands but still similar enough that no band appeared out place next to another. An A+ show.

galilean moons

2010-03-11T20:20:00.000-07:00

So about three and a half years ago I ended up taking an astronomy class. I needed two science credits for my associate's degree at MCC. I had already taken physical geography -- one of my favorite classes ever -- and I certainly had no desire to take something like chemistry or biology (although I had to take a life science class, i.e., biology, when I got to BYU-I, so this astronomy didn't really count in the long run). So for my second science class I took astronomy.

The first half of the class we talked a lot about physics a la Newton, Kepler, etc. I didn't really pay too much attention to this part of the class. Which I know regret because I think it'd be rad to know a thing or two about astrophysics. Anyway, the second half of the class we learned about the "geography" of the planets and their moons (since "geo-" means "Earth" I don't know if "geography" is the right word here but I think you get the idea). For some reason I think we started with Jupiter.

Jupiter has 63 moons. Not fair; Earth only has one. Most of them are pretty small, but four of them -- the Galilean satellites -- are comparable in size to Earth's moon. Behold:

From top to bottom: Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto.
Said moons were discovered by Galileo around 1610-ish. They were an important discovery because the fact that these moons revolved around Jupiter helped prove that the Universe did not revolve around Earth. And they were important discovery because they're freaking awesome. Wikipedia them or look them up on Google Images. Seriously, they make our moon look pretty dull and bland.

Needless to say, these moons inspired me. I started doing a bit of research on my own and discovered that these moons were named for four of Zeus' lovers: Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto. (FYI: 1. Jupiter is Zeus' Roman name; 2. Ganymede is actually a guy; 3. None of these mythological characters were Zeus' wife.) I was so inspired, in fact, that I decided then and there that I would write a song about each of the Galilean satellites -- either about the moons themselves or the characters for which they were named.

So far -- in the span of three and a half years -- I've only managed to write one song, "Ganymede". It's about Ganymede the myth, not the moon. I didn't take long to find out that it's hard to write songs about astronomical objects.

Anyway, I've set a goal for myself to finish the rest of the moon-songs by my birthday (which is August 24th in case you were wondering; mark your calendar). I'm planning on writing a song for Zeus as well and maybe one for Galileo himself.

A song for Io is in the works right now... I don't have much, just a working title -- "Fire to Man" -- and perhaps one or two guitar parts. It's a start.

When I get 'em all done I plan on recording them demo-style, by myself or with a friend. Then if/when I get money I'd like to record them professionally and release it as an EP.

Ha, we'll see how far I take this. It's been in the works for three plus years now, but I've got a pretty good feeling about it this time around....

"Let me tell you about the gods."

2010-03-06T17:16:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to the audiobook Xenocide at work for the past week or so and the the other day I heard a passage that I really love:

"Gods again," said Wiggin.

"Always gods," said Ela.

"What do you mean?" said Wang-mu. "Quing-jao doesn't say that she's a god, and neither do I."

"Yes you do," said Ela. "'Quing-jao is wise and good,' you said."

"'Brilliant and good,'" Wiggin corrected her.

"'And I can never be like her,'" Ela went on.

"Let me tell you about the gods,'" said Wiggin. "No matter how smart or strong you are, there's always somebody smarter or stronger, and when you run into somebody who's stronger and smarter than anybody, you think, This is a god. This is perfection. But I can promise you that there's somebody else who'll make your god look like a maggot by comparison. And somebody stronger or smarter or better in some way. So let me tell you what I think about the gods. I think a real god is not going to be so scared or angry that he tries to keep other people down.... A real god doesn't care about control. A real god already has control of everything that needs controlling. Real gods would want to teach you how to be just like them."

"Quing-jao wanted to teach me," said Wang-mu.

"But only as long as you obeyed and did what she said," said Jane.

"I'm not worthy," said Wang-mu. "I'm too stupid to ever learn to be as wise as her."

"And yet you knew when I spoke the truth," said Jane, "when all Quing-jao could see were lies."

Wise words from Ender and friends.

Happy National Grammar Day!

2010-03-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago my friend Kayla emailed me and a few other friends a list of holidays and observances for the month of March. I was pleased to discover that March 4 is National Grammar Day. I developed a love for grammar as I learned French on my mission. Grammar is the mathematical side of language; it's all about nuance and detail. Which I suppose is why my accountant mind loves it so much.

Anyway, I really enjoy some of these observances/holidays and I love any reason to celebrate so I thought I'd share some of them. All during the month of March:

Expanding Girls’ Horizons in Science and Engineering Month - Because every woman scientist/engineer was once a girl.

International Ideas Month - What does this even mean?

National Cheerleading Safety Month - I don't think this is random/specific enough. I can understand a month dedicated to cheerleading. But they really take things a step further here to highlight safe cheerleading. For an entire month. Which is why I love it.

National Eye Donor Month - Seven Pounds anyone?

Workplace Eye Health and Safety Month - Not to be confused with Workplace Leg and Safety Month in September.

National Procrastination Week: 1-7 - AKA every week of my life.

National Professional Pet Sitters Week: 7-13 - Because giving them a whole month would just be ridiculous.

Act Happy Week: 15-21 - Act happy? Fake it till you make it, I guess.

Consider Christianity Week: 21-27 - You only need to think about it, that's all. Just give it some thought.

Courageous Follower Day: 4 - Giving all you sheep out there a reason to feel good.

National Grammar Day: 4 - Finally, something worth celebrating!

24-Hour Global Marathon For, By and About Women in Engineering and Technology: 10-11 - ... ?

International Day of Awesomeness: 10 - This holiday is really about me.

Genealogy Day: 13 - Family history is legit.

Forgive Mom and Dad Day: 18 - Let's face it, they had no idea what they were doing when they raised you.

Swallows Return to San Juan Capistrano Day: 19 - I don't even know what this means.

Kiss Your Fiance Day: 20 - What if you don't have one?

Won’t You Be My Neighbor Day: 20 - I love Fred "Mr." Rogers.

Corn Dog Day: 20 - Now we're starting to get to some of the more serious holidays.

Maple Syrup Day: 20 - Ah, how I wish I could find a cabane à sucre here in Colorado.

Grass Is Always Browner On the Other Side Of The Fence Day: 30 - Is it though?

And finally, saving the best for last:

National Fanny Pack Day: 13 - YES!