The Deceptive Finish Line

My heart was pounding. Picking up each foot took effort and determination, as if there were twenty-pound gnomes clinging gleefully to each ankle. I could see the end of the 5K race; I was almost there. Just a little more. Hoofta. Just a little more. When I finally crossed the line, I heaved and rested with my hands on my knees for a while, sucking in huge quantities of air. There was a celebration! We ate watermelon on Mainstreet and congratulated old friends on finishing the annual Summer Festival race. Then we gathered our things and walked the three miles back to the car.

Finish lines are funny things. They aren't really the end. They are a milestones, but you still have to keep walking. You still have to run another race tomorrow morning. And I like it that way. Most good stories have closure, but a healthy life does not. I discovered this when I came here this semester. I, like most senior graduates, had been eulogized, given money in the mail for months, and treated like the cat's meow during high school graduation. My senior class and I thought we were pretty darn cool, and it was a good finish line. Our story was done, and what a great story it had been.

But then we went to college. It was strange to realize that I was a college student. I guess I supposed I would never get this old, I would just somehow magically end as soon as I was done with high school. I realized (as I saw others among our freshman class realize) that I wasn't dead yet, and I had "miles to go, before I sleep." The finish line was a good place to stop and rest and regain my perspective, but it wasn't the end, thank Heaven.

We now approach the end of a truly remarkable first semester. I wouldn't trade it for anything. But I also know that as Einstein said, "Life is like riding a bicycle: you have to keep moving if you want to keep your balance." I am ready for the new race to start. I can't wait to see what mountains we all climb in the days and years ahead.

Meaty Thoughts

On Thanksgiving day, I went hunting with my father, uncle, sister, and cousin in Montana. We woke up early and traveled out to a private ranch chock full of deer.

Deer are stupid animals. Some will be stand there and let you shoot at them for long periods of time before they finally run away. They run into cars, they eat people's gardens, and eat the bark off of your trees. Hunting is population control, and it not only helps citizens, but benefits the deer community at large by reducing pandemic ups and downs.

With two bucks in the back of the truck, it was my turn to shoot whatever presented itself. I had a doe tag, and when we found a whitetail doe about 200 yards away, I took the shot. I pulled the trigger; the deer jumped and ran about five steps, staggered, and fell over dead. It was a good clean shot thru the heart. The deer didn't suffer a long, painful ordeal.

That week my dad showed me how to make teriyaki jerky out of the meat. I was proud of my deer jerky, (it tasted pretty darn good!) and brought some back to Provo with me. My friends had diverse reactions. One (guy) friend tasted and enjoyed, and kept on eating. A girl I am friends with came to the party and tasted it graciously, then declined based on the flavor. The guy ate her piece, I think. A third friend, a beautiful girl who I have a lot of respect for, wouldn't touch it. "You killed a deer!" She gasped. I suddenly felt like I was eating a baby. She didn't condemn me, but she was clearly not supportive of killing Bambi.

Now I'm pondering. I don't particularly like killing ungulates. Fish are fine, I have no qualms, but it is a little sad to see a four legged creature die at your hands. But a part of me suggests that it is important to kill an animal and eat it's meat every once in a while. Why? Because I am eating the meat of animals that someone had to kill almost daily. Who killed the chicken cordon bleu you ate at the Cannon last night? What about that burger? Did it grow on a tree? We know that the Lord gave us these animals in part for our nourishment. The scriptures do say to have moderation in meat, but they also denounce vegetarianism. If animals are going to die for your sake, isn't it important to literally take part in that process occassionally, as a reminder of what the animals go thru for you? On a deeper note, this parallels the sacrament. Just as animal sacrifices reminded ancient Israel of the sacrifice Christ would go thru to bring them life, so the sacrament is a way for us to symbolically partake of the flesh and blood of Him who gave his life that we might have eternal life. Reverently participating is a very important reminder.

I hope this doesn't sound sacrilegous. I may just be defense, but I think hunting is a good thing to do every now and then. Not only does it make you self-reliant (you would be able to provide meat for your family should a catastrophe occur) but it also keeps you in remembrance of the animals that die regularly so that you can live.

My cup is somewhere at the bottom of the Ocean

This is to be an interesting blog. I have much to be grateful for, but right now, I'm grateful to be alive and able bodied. I had a bad collision just a few hours ago on Canyon road, and my car is probably totalled. The airbag went off, and it was the most dramatic crash I have yet been involved in.

I realize a little shakily now how grateful I am to be alive. I love life. I deeply and truly love my friends and especially my family. The Lord is so infinitely good to me. He is merciful and patient, gracious and understanding, to those who trust in him. What ridiculous wealth, prosperity, and happiness are all around us! I am especially grateful for the happiness. Prosperity is not a fair means for measuring happiness; some of the most miserable people on earth are the wealthiest. But with the bounty we as Americans enjoy, we as Latter-Day Saints ALSO have reason to be SOOOOO happy! It is easy to lose sight of, but there are truths we have that justify our being the happiest people on earth, collectively.

I am grateful for prophets. Where would we be without revelation! In utter darkness and confusion. Much of the world is. I am grateful for the knowledge by the Spirit that I have, that God does again speak to prophets on the earth for the benefit of His children. There is so very much to be grateful for! This is the best holiday ever! and it really is what you make it.

My cup is done running over, it's basically drowned. I think many people are in my state as well, and how wonderful it is to ponder.

I am alive. I will not always be. I almost wasn't tonight. But today is a gift, and what a gift it is.

P.S. I am also grateful for food. It is delicious. :)

The STRESS! Factor

Stress is an interesting thing. It is a hinderance and a source of harm, but it also is often a help and a motivator. I find it much easier to write a paper or do some homework I know will be due tomorrow than to do homework due in a few weeks. Pressure is helpful at times. I would liken it unto a kite....

If there is not enough tension on the string of a kite, the kite will come crashing down. It needs a little stress to keep it up in the air. Similarly, if we as people were without ambition, purpose, or stress, we would be useless and uneffective in the purpose of our creation. However, just as a kite with too much tension will snap from its string and plummet to the ground, so do we risk destroying ourselves by putting too much strain and stress in our lives.

I am always astounded to ponder the lives of the general authorities. My sundays are really busy; I am just a ward mission leader. I cannot imagine having the responsibilities those men and women have! And yet, they don't seem stressed. I think stress is a choice in many ways. What is required of you is required of you, what is going to happen is going to happen, so why stress about it? Why not choose to be relaxed and work quickly instead?

Stress definitely affects the way we eat. I usually don't eat hardly at all when I am stressed and working on a big project, and then I eat a ton afterwards to celebrate and relax. Food is a good destresser.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone...

Re-vision, to see again. I really like this topic, as I had not thought of revision in this way before. Revision is looking at a paper in a new light, in a different way, with new perspective. I suppose we are all constantly revising our attitudes and actions as well, and learning to see again.

On Sunday, our bishop shared a powerful story called "The Spyglass," I believe. There once was a kingdom in disrepair and disaster. The fields were unfruitful and unkept, the economy was in shambles, and the countryside was disgusting. One day a traveler came by and stopped at the king's palace, mistaking it for an inn. He talked with the king about the state of the kingdom, and promised him a gift if the king would let him stay the night. The next morning, the stranger gave the king a magic spyglass. When looking thru this spyglass, the king could see things as they had the potential to be. The fields looked fruitful and beautiful. The economy was healthy. The people were productive and happy. The king traveled around the country sharing the spyglass with his citizens, showing them what their country could be. With new motivation, having seen the outcome of their labors, the people revolutionized the country and made it an amazing and ideal nation. Then the stranger came back and requested his spyglass. The king responded, "No! I need it!" The stranger told him he did not need it, all he had needed all along was faith and vision.

I think this story applies to revision. Sometimes we have to stretch our minds and look at what our papers (or our lives, for that matter) have the potential to become. This "vision again" provides us with the motivation to work toward that goal. I am grateful for good people, and divine prophets in particular, who have the perspective to inspire me, to hand me a proverbial spyglass thru which I can see my potential. Writing is rewriting is rewriting; vision is revision is revision; and life is reliving is reliving.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone....

Re-vision, to see again. I really like this topic, as I had not thought of revision in this way before. Revision is looking at a paper in a new light, in a different way, with new perspective. I suppose we are all constantly revising our attitudes and actions as well, and learning to see again.

On Sunday, our bishop shared a powerful story called "The Spyglass," I believe. There once was a kingdom in disrepair and disaster. The fields were unfruitful and unkept, the economy was in shambles, and the countryside was disgusting. One day a traveler came by and stopped at the king's palace, mistaking it for an inn. He talked with the king about the state of the kingdom, and promised him a gift if the king would let him stay the night. The next morning, the stranger gave the king a magic spyglass. When looking thru this spyglass, the king could see things as they had the potential to be. The fields looked fruitful and beautiful. The economy was healthy. The people were productive and happy. The king traveled around the country sharing the spyglass with his citizens, showing them what their country could be. With new motivation, having seen the outcome of their labors, the people revolutionized the country and made it an amazing and ideal nation. Then the stranger came back and requested his spyglass. The king responded, "No! I need it!" The stranger told him he did not need it, all he had needed all along was faith and vision.

I think this story applies to revision. Sometimes we have to stretch our minds and look at what our papers (or our lives, for that matter) have the potential to become. This "vision again" provides us with the motivation to work toward that goal. I am grateful for good people, and divine prophets in particular, who have the perspective to inspire me, to hand me a proverbial spyglass thru which I can see my potential. Writing is rewriting is rewriting; vision is revision is revision; and life is reliving is reliving.

What's Yo' Style?

Someone once asked Ralph Waldo Emerson, "What's your favorite book?" His alleged response was "I can no more remember the books I have read than I can remember the meals I have eaten, but both have made me.
I feel the same way about my personal style. I can't remember all the books and articles I have read throughout my short life, but I do know they have affected me and made my style what it is today.

Betimes I tend to use big words, even when they aren't needed. I share with Neal A. Maxwell a friendly faddish for alliteration. I write songs and sing, so rhyme and rhythm are engrained in my psyche.

These are all important elements of my style. What is interesting to ponder is that we as college freshman aren't done growing up yet. Is our style already set for life? Or are we going to change over time? I guess only time can tell.

It's.....great!

As there is no particular assigned topic this week to blog about, I am going to relate a few instances of particularly horrible food concoctions that occurred during my childhood.

When I was a young boy, our babysitter asked us what kind of sandwich we would like for lunch. I said "peanut butter and mayonaisse!" to be funny. It wasn't that funny. I would seriously not recommend it to anyone.

A few years ago, my dear (pregnant) mother had a brownie craving. She was tired and probably not thinking all that clearly. We had a box of Cheesecake brownie mix. She started making it, and then she realized that we didn't have the necessary cream cheese the recipe called for. So, she used.....sharp cheddar, shredded.

Yeh.

Brownies are not meant to include shredded cheddar cheese. The consistency was wrong. It was too runny. To thicken the mixture, she thought to add flour. But we were out of flour too. So she used....famous Idaho potato flakes.

It was one of the wierder things I've ever experienced. In my mother's defense, she is a great cook and makes us fine meals all the time. She was just in a funny mood that day. All the same, I can't recommend potato flake cheddar brownies in good conscience to anyone with more than two tastebuds.

As a postnote, I read an insightful letter to the editor today, called "redistribution of grades." Give it a read! Twas very good.

In this random smorgisborg blog, I conclude with a question; did you ever notice how the words fishy, cheesy, and corny all mean near the same thing, and all have to do with food? I wonder where they originated.

Health and Food

I can definitely tell that my health is affected by what I eat. Whose isn't? Skipping breakfast makes me weak and shaky, a huge lunch makes me fall asleep in afternoon classes, and too much junk food makes me feel like junk. I am reminded of the story of the "Very Hungry Caterpillar," who ate a whole load of junk food on Saturday and felt sick. The next day he ate thru one very green leaf, and "then he felt better." I have days like that, where salad just sounds good.

How is the health of those around us affected by what we eat? I can think of a few ways. I set a goal to only eat desserts from the Cannon Center on weekends. I can stick to it and stay healthy most of the time, but when all my friends get dessert and then tell me how good it is, it's difficult not to cave to peer pressure. Their unhealthy decisions influence me to be unhealthy. On the flip side, when I see someone eating right or sticking to their goals, I am inspired to do likewise.

This is even truer in families, where everybody eats dinner together. You are to some degree forced to share the same eating habits as your family, eat on their schedule, and partake of the same food. It's important to keep tabs on what you eat personally and how what you eat affects those around you, because we can lead eachother toward health or down to physical degradation.

Food Ditties

Well, we don't have a specified topic to blog on this week. Therefore, I am going to compose a few ditties on my personal favorite topic, food. :) I hope you enjoy this as much as I hope I am going to.

They often say the surest way to a man's heart is thru his stomach,
and though it sounds legit, I find I have to disagree
In anatomy class last year we did some work with some cadavers,
and there's a surer way, take it from me!!

Hmm don't think about it too hard. Hey! I said don't! :)

I wonder now, is chocolate milk
made from milk chocolate?
Or does it come the other way around?
I guess the world may never know
The only one who could tell us so
would probably have to be a chocolate cow.

Alright, this is getting obscure. I'll let one more fly and then I'm done. A sonnet? A sonnet!
Iambic Pentameter! Shakespear would roll over in his grave. Here goes:

But soft! I think of when we first did meet.
The cannon center was the place, I think.
I passed you by and gave a little wink;
I'd never seen another look so sweet.
I gained the guts to walk up and say hi,
when HE came by and stole your glance instead!
Oh, In my mind I wished the fellow dead
He you took with him and you both passed by.
You sat down at a table side by side,
and softly did he bring you to his lips
I saw the sensual melt of chocolate chips
While I was left with nasty cherry pie.
Next time I see a cookie sweet as you
I'll grab it fast, but you are gone. Adieu!

Wow I am really tripping out on Dayquil right now! I imagine I am going to laugh at this ridiculousness when I recover, but that's enough bloggage for today.
Adieu, yo!

Conference in General

What a wonderful weekend! Conference was absolutely inspiring. I was humbled and uplifted and motivated to excel. I did pay attention to the speakers' diction and "lard" content. I felt a little hypocritical, like a second-grader criticizing rhetorical giants. But I did notice how straightforward and simple many of the talks were. The speakers didn't use fluff or extra wording. You could tell they had put a lot of work into prepare these talks, and President Monson informed us on Saturday morning that the speakers had prayed much to know what to say.
Passive tense was avoided. :) just kidding. The speakers seemed to avoid passive tense carefully, with the blatant exception of President Monson, who is famous for his parallelisms. "Hearts were touched, testimonies were strengthened, memories were made..." This is forgiveable (of course!) because the emphasis President Monson intended was on the actions and not the people. This parallel structure also makes for more interesting listening.

These Brethren are superb rhetoricians. They have our hearts and employ expert pathos with humor, warmth, and empathy. They have ethos that comes with their calling and demeanor. But more than that, there is another factor in their talks. The Spirit truly bears witness that they are teaching the truth. This cannot come from their own rhetorical skills. I bear testimony of that; I've tried to teach people the gospel, and without the Holy Ghost teaching them it is impossible. I sustain these prophets not because they are great speakers, (and indeed, not all are. Some of the foreign ones struggled a great deal) but because of the Holy Ghost which witnesses of their message.

I have three tiny regrets from this weekend: 1. I didn't stay awake the entire time. 2. I could sit with my family at home. 3. I miss the home cooking, the roast and mashed potatoes we usually have on a Sunday. That's my tie to food. :)

Word, Yo!

Today, as I sat eating in the Cannon Center (affectionately deemed the "Cancer") my friends began discussing a certain French dish known as haggis. They told me it was...I honestly don't remember exactly. They got to the words "sheep intestine" and I shut off my ears promptly in revulsion. One friend sensed my disgust and sensitively comforted me by asking, "Don't you know what hot dogs are?" I said I didn't want to.
Now, I am starting to ponder my declination. What would it hurt me to hear what the ingredients of a hot dog are? I've eaten plenty and never gotten sick from them! Why would the words associated with elements of hot dogs make me so queasy?
I attribute it to the power of the word. Words are just noises, but the mental images and meanings they invoke are powerful enough to change the destinies of nations and the dinners of freshmen. They have the power to create worlds, and destroy worlds. Wow. That's power, eh?
With the great potential words have to shape our lives, it is a little worrisome to realize that everyone has them in their toolbox. In the words of the infamous Spiderman, "with great power, comes great responsibility."

The Nearly-True Ballad of Ethos, Pathos, and Logos

Long, Long ago, in the East hemisphere,
Where the food is authentic and dank,
Lived three Greek poets: Ethos, Pathos, and Logos,
and their little rotweiler named Frank.
One evening the Greecians waxed hungry indeed,
and decided to go out to eat
(when considering how much the Greecians urn,
it was really a jem of a treat)
So they put on their best, and were really well dressed,
in their Frat-party bed-sheet style Togas
And they set out to dine in "It's Greek to Me"
until they were stopped short by Logos.
Said he, "Know ye not that such food is chock full
of cholesterol and MSG?
And statistics do show that such substances will
cause your death before you're 63?"
Replied Ethos, "Good friend, I'm a fine conneiseur,
and I know what is good and what's not!"
And Pathos appealed to Logos' lusts,
and he said "Dude, the waitress is hot!"
"Well, I still would prefer that you both would defer
to the facts and statistics of science."
Logos' plea just offended the friends he'd befriended
and undermined Ethos' self-reliance.
Replied Ethos with a huff, "Why, you insolent wuff!
Do you challenge my authority?"
Pathos went for endorphins, saying "Think of the orphans!
This restaurant donates to charity!"
At this moment, young Frank, giving his leash a yank,
Ran out in the middle of the street.
Ethos yelled, "Come back!" Pathos muttered "O crap!"
and Logos cried "Streets are unsafe!"
And wouldn't you know, a sweet chariot swung low,
and Frank gave a yelp of despair.
Pathos broke down and cried as sweet Frankie died
While Logos inspected his hair.
Ethos tried CPR, (He'd been trained in first aid)
but it was to no avail.
Logos said, "Well, he's dead, and his spirit has fled."
and Pathos let out a wail.
But Logos said "It's ok, the fact known today
is that all dogs will go up to heaven.
Frank's gone, his remains
Must not be in vain!(s)
So they went right back home circa 7.
They never decided which restaurant was best,
but in the end it all turned out alright.
Cause they pulled out the grill, and they brought forth the kill,
and had a delicious frank roast that night. :)

You've Been a Wonderful Audience!

The subject of audience reminds me of speech and debate competitions last year. In an event called "duo," (a two-man skit in ten minutes) I was one of two mans in a duo pair. As a part of the humorous skit, I was supposed to say the line "I know that the real James Bond would have wanted his name to live on, embodied in the body of some other hot-blooded, muscular young ruffian." My partner and I would then stare at a predetermined and unsuspecting member of the audience in a creepy way. There was formulaic timing in this. We stared for 3-5 seconds. The audience caught on to what we were doing and chuckled. The chuckling subsided. We continued to stare for another few seconds. The uncomfortability of the fact that we were still staring creepily and earnestly led the audience to an even louder laugh. As it died, we would move forward with the piece.
It was fun, it was funny. Until that fateful morning. Our audience changed. We stood in our pressed suits in a small classroom, performing for about twenty attentive audience members. The time came, and I deliver my line: "hot-blooded, muscular young ruffian!" We stared at the specified person. Nothing happened. He stared back with a dazed unflinching look, as if to say "oh, the monkeys stopped talking! Interesting,..." An awful silence filled the room. Everyone stared at us. No one laughed. 5 seconds passed. My partner and I increased our creepy look from "hey there, I'm your facebook stalker!" to "Come here and let me eat your liver, child!" Nothing. 10 seconds.
AWKWARD!
We moved on quickly, trying not to laugh ourselves at how utterly ackward the situation was.
Clearly, audience is important. What one audience thinks is funny or worthwhile, another audience will observe with disinterest (or dyspepsia, I'm still not sure what the issue was that day.) Interestingly enough, individuals change their responses to a certain stimulus depending on the audience they are a part of. I have laughed at stupid movies like "Napolean Dynamite" with my friends in ways that I never would if I was with my parents or teachers. Doing so would undermine my competence and intelligence. But not laughing with friends would undermine my sense of fun in their eyes.
I would say that audience is just as important in how a message is delivered as the message itself. Feeding meat to babies is unwise, and so is feeding Gerber's Baby Food to adults. Trust me, my older brother spat it back all over me!
But really, the metaphor applies. We need to tailor our messages to the audiences consuming them. That's an important part of communication, as well as culinary work.

Soap, Men, and Alan Ladd--All on the Same Page!

Being on the same page.
When I ponder being on the same page, I think of an experience I had last year. I was enrolled in an online Pre-Calc Class for two separate semesters. What I failed to notice was that the two semesters used different editions of the same textbook. When I went to do my homework, the problems didn't make any sense. I was entirely frustrated and didn't do my homework for a few months. I was so convinced that the class curriculum was wrong. I knew I wasn't wrong! I later came to find out that neither was necessarily wrong, it was just that we were on different pages.
Being on the same page is obviously important in persuasive writing. If two people aren't on the same page, understanding one another and communicating respectfully, the result will be stagnation and frustration.
In terms of food, being on the same page is important as well. I heard of a man who once went to a restaurant in a South American country and ordered "el jabon."He meant to order "la jamon," or "ham". Instead he ordered "soap." Perhaps my memory is embellishing the story, but I believe the waiter brought him a bar of soap on a plate, as if to say "Silly Gringo, soap is for idiots!" Another man wandered Columbia, lost on a study abroad program, telling restaurant owners, "Tengo Hombre!" He meant to say "Tengo Hambre"--"I have hunger." He was really telling them, "I have man."
Clearly, being on the same page linguistically is important when ordering food. Communication is also important within a single language. I remember eating at a restaurant where everything you ordered came out three sizes bigger than you anticipated. One of our party ordered a burger. We expected to see a dead cow fried between two planks of bread. It came out, a singular burger about the size of a poker chip. It stood alone, the nonconformist burger that never flinched as the rest of the table burst into laughter. It was like Alan Ladd in the movie Shane, standing strong and proud, alone on the wild plane of a porcelain plate. Funny thing, Ladd was barely taller than five feet. Alan Ladd, the burger, was also confident in it's own size.
Communication is important. Being on the same page is important. That's all I have to say. If you'll excuse me, I've gotta run by McDonald's and pick up an Alan Ladd with fries.

Breakfast and Bloodbaths

What did I have for breakfast today?
As an interjection, I think a girl once asked me that at an EFY dance. I was pretty much completely caught off gaurd. "Um, I ate in the cannon center. So did you. What is it to you what I ate? Are you just being friendly? or are you secretly considering keeping contact with me for seven years and then becoming my eternal companion, and you want to make sure I have good eating habits so that I don't instill overeating and slothfulness in our posterity for generations?"
That's not really what I said. I probably said something like "Cereal. You?"
Ahh, EFY.
But to the subject matter, I was one of the many students who this morning lost track of time and overslept, and so I ran out the door eating a yogurt without a spoon as I ran to class. It was a difficult task. Not only was my head moving around like a pig under a blanket as I speed-walked past the Cannon Center, but the yogurt was noncooperative. It didn't want to come out of the bottom of the container any more than I wanted to come out of my bed sheets this morning. What if the vending machines were to vend Go-gurts? Who wouldn't like that?
After class, I stopped in the Cannon Center and ate a muffin, potatoes, ham, a peach slushie, fruit and yogurt. MMM the Cannon Center is good eating.
And what is my favorite food?
This requires a little history. It's only interesting to me, so I'll keep it short.
I was on a Speech and Debate team in high school in Bozeman Montana. The competition was fierce between our school and Flathead High. For nearly a decade, Bozeman was robbed of the state trophy each year. Not only was Flathead competition, but their coaches had a legacy of cheating and manipulating scores. This allowed us to demonize them into something of a monster when there were really some nice people on the team. (I remember our student body president saying something to the effect of "This year's inter-scholastic blood drive competition is coming up. But its not worth the effort. We all know Flathead is just going to donate a ton of watered-down ketchup so they can win this year, the dirty rotten cheaters!") At any rate, my senior year on the Speech team we finally won state fair and square. Oh, it was a glorious occasion. We all went out to a local pizza place, and many of us ordered the "Flathead Pizza" along with "Flathead Lake Huckleberry Cream Soda". Not only was the food uber good, but it was sort of symbolic. It was sort of like drinking the blood of an enemy after stabbing them through the heart. It became my favorite food.
A little morbid, to drink the blood of an enemy? Yeh, but it's ok; Flatheaders really only bleed watered-down ketchup anyway.