post the sixty-ninth

I've been told that if you aren't going to get more than three hours of sleep in a night, you ought to just forego sleep altogether. I found myself in that position last night, and decided to just stay up until I had to be at church at 8:00. What they don't tell you, though, is that you need to find something to do for those three hours. One can only sit in front of a jigsaw puzzle for so long, especially in a sleep-deprived state. Somehow, I managed to entertain myself through the night, but I found another fatal flaw in the advice "they" had given me. Not sleeping at all during the night makes you immensely tired. It doesn't matter that you would perhaps be even more tired had you slept for a few hours - you're still dead to the world. I was falling asleep without even realizing it.

Friends, be kind to your bodies. If they're telling you that you ought to fall asleep, listen to them.

More to come in the days ahead. I've been busy enjoying my tiny vacation between winter and spring terms.

post the sixty-eighth

Today has been a pretty good day, which is surprising, considering how it started off. I had a final today for my American pop culture class, which had me worried more than any of my other finals (and that's saying something, considering how tough my Soviet Russia exam was). I studied for a fair part of Saturday and most of this morning for it. I memorized countless names for my identification section; I now totally know who people like Robert Warshow and Larry Bennett are. (They wrote about gangster movies and the domestication of rock and roll, respectively, in case you were wondering.) The only thing is that most of the test was on parts of the class that I didn't study much for. I relied a lot on my natural knowledge of pop culture to get me through it, although there was a bit of residual echoic memory that helped me out. I think I did fairly well on it. I certainly hope that I did well on it, because I got a D+ on the midterm, and I'll really need an A to balance that out to have any hope of doing well in the class. Here's hoping.

Anyhow, I was walking out of the exam when my friend and I ran into Petra. That made my day just that much better. I was already excited about doing well on my exam, and seeing her just made things even better. I spent some time with her, and then I came home to bond with my roommates over a couple of games of Perfect Dark. And now I'm going to watch 24 with Angry Block.

It's been a good day. I think I may even have a shot at getting a job for the summer. Life is really good. I like it when days turn out like this. Listening to Sufjan Stevens just makes things that much better. Feel free to email me if you're interested in hearing a bit of it - the song "The Dress Looks Nice On You" is absolutely beautiful.

post the sixty-seventh

I have done a good thing, friends. I was searching through Wikipedia while reviewing for my Soviet Russia final, and found an article that wasn't there that needed to be. Being the benevolent being that I am, I decided to create it.

I feel really good about myself right now. I'm so proud. You can read it (it's about the Shakhty trial) if you want, but I don't know if you'll find it quite as interesting as I did. Rest assured that I'm very pleased with myself right now.

post the sixty-sixth

Lent is over, dear readers. My blessed commas have been restored to me. I was really excited this morning, contemplating all of the ways that I could use commas today. The bummer is that not only am I not deriving much pleasure from my newfound comma usage, but I'm not even all that good at it anymore. I've forgotten how to write like I used to. I'm just so used to forming choppy and comma-free sentences. I can only hope that I'll be able to express myself normally after a few days of getting used to it again.

It's also Easter. It just doesn't seem to have the same meaning that it does to me at home, though. My dad absolutely loves Easter. It's by far his favorite holiday. We hear Easter music (which is beautiful stuff) for a while before and after the holiday proper. I was disappointed when we sang other songs in church today. I was really excited to sing Easter hymns. I know we would have at home, and music is one of the things that I strongly associate with Easter. Alas. I've been singing Easter songs to myself all day today to make up for it. I'll get my Easter one way or the other.

I don't know what connection commas and Easter have (other than my observation of Lent), but there you have it.

post the sixty-fifth

Apparently one of our devoted readers came to the 100 Hour Board booth today and dropped off a box of warm cookies. I only wish I'd been there - I left around then so I could study for a quiz in my Japanese class (which I didn't even do all that well on anyway). Alas.

Much love to our dear friend Heretical in Heritage. As for the rest of you - get crackin'. We need more readers as dedicated to the Board (read: willing to give us cookies) as Heretical is.

And now I'm going to go listen to the music that lanada gave me. I really like trading music. It's a good thing.

post the sixty-fourth

Are you a current BYU student? You really ought to come to the 100 Hour Board booth we're going to have running tomorrow (4/13). It'll be going from 10:00 until 2:00. I'll be there most of the day. Extra points if you can guess which one I am.

Not a current BYU student? I guess you'll just have to find something else to do from 10:00 to 2:00 tomorrow. I'm sure you'll manage.

The booth will be running on Friday during the same hours. I may or may not be present on Friday though. That doesn't mean you shouldn't come. Please come and learn more about the Board. Bring your friends.

post the sixty-third

Dear readers - it's time for a guilty confession. I hope you won't think too much less of me for this.

I was getting my hair cut today and heard a song I didn't particularly recognize come on the radio. It sounded vaguely familiar (as most pop songs do) so I started to tap my feet and hum along to it. I was even sort of enjoying it...until I found out who it was.

It turned out to be Maroon 5.

I'm so embarassed. I promise never to do that again.

post the sixty-second

I woke up this morning to find that high winds outside had caused the power in my apartment to go out. I was absolutely blown away (ha!) to learn just how much I depend on electricity to carry on my desired lifestyle. I quickly found that I wouldn't be able to use my computer (it has a battery life of approximately eighteen seconds). So much for playing on the Internet. Watching the Colbert Report would also be out of the question. Televisions don't operate well in the absence of electricity. Taking a shower proved to be more difficult than I'd thought. Getting hot water wasn't a problem - getting light in the shower was. I ended up just taking my shower with the door open and prayed that no one would walk in on me. (No one did.) I figured that there would be little else for me to do in my apartment in the morning and beat a hasty retreat up to campus where I could be productive.

Or at least so I told myself.

I've been sitting here in the library for the last hour and have accomplished next to nothing. I looked at some pictures of WWII advertising in a vain attempt to find some sort of pattern in the images of soldiers. I contend that the image of the American soldier during the war helped to create a national identity. We'll see if I turn out to be right. I've also read a slew of blogs and answered some questions on the 100 Hour Board. I just haven't really done much that's terribly worthwhile.

Think I'll go eat a sandwich somewhere and read about Nikita Khrushchev. I'm more excited about this book than you might think.

post the sixty-first

It's a widely known fact that Gmail is easily the best e-mail provider in existence. Nothing else even comes close. I converted a little more than a year ago and haven't looked back. I can't believe I managed for as long as I did on Yahoo! mail. Ugh.

A couple days ago I found a reason that makes me like Gmail even more. I received an email from CBS Sportsline (which I had signed up for to receive updates on the NCAA men's basketball tournament) updating me on the world of sports. The tournament is dead to me at this point--UConn lost in heartwrenching fashion on George Mason. I have no reason to stay updated on the tournament anymore. I was about to click on a link to unsubscribe to the newsletter when something at the bottom of the email caught my eye.

Gmail wanted to know if I wanted to invite CBS to open a Gmail account. Imagine the power! A lowly college student like me could invite the entire Columbia Broadcasting System (a network that brings us shows like Survivor and CSI) into Gmail!

Nothing else will convince you to join Gmail if that doesn't. I was floored when I saw that. It's fantastic. Let me know if any of you want to open an account. I still have 47 more invites left. Act quick before I spend them all trying to get CBS to join Gmail.

post the sixtieth

11:30 on a Saturday morning. I've showered but not yet shaved. I haven't really eaten breakfast yet; I'm sitting here in front of my computer munching on a bowl of grapes. I have a fair amount of homework to do--enough that I need to buckle down and do it here soon but not quite enough that it's panicking me just yet. I'm still in that state where I can put the things off that I need to do today and it won't hurt me quite yet. I'm feeling really relaxed - for the first time in days. It's very nice. I'm finally over the cold (for the most part) that has been pestering me all week.

Life is good. It's taken a weird week to teach me that. All I could ask for now is for my back to stop aching quite so much. (I suppose there are some other things that I could do with. Perhaps my commas again.)

Sorry for the lack of creative posts of late. I generally post on the strange and humorous events in my life; nothing of especial interest has happened to me lately. I'll be sure to let you know should something exciting happen to me.

post the fifty-ninth

I saw this painted on the back of a truck on the way home from the store today. I swear I'm not making this up.

If this ride's a-rollin'
Don't come a-knockin'

You can try and make sense out of that if you'd like. I couldn't come up with anything.

post the fifty-eighth

It's been a strange last few days. I've had some pretty high highs and some pretty low lows. I can't tell you why I've been so up and down recently (I'd have done something about it if I knew what was up). I just know that I've been all over the place. Normally I'm pretty even-keeled. Not this week. I just recently received some really good advice that set my mind at ease though. I suppose part of the problem is that I've been stressing more than usual about my future. I like things to be really planned out for me. Such has not been the case of late. Someone told me yesterday to remember that all I can control is the present. I can safely leave the future in God's hands.

I found that really comforting. There's really no use in stressing unduly about the future. I still have plans for the future. It would be even less logical for me to ignore the future and not plan for it at all. I have a plan for the future but am taking things one step at a time. I can control the present. That's enough for me.

It's not anything big. I just wanted to share it with you all.

post the fifty-seventh

I was in a foul mood for most of today. Nothing was going my way. All the little things that normally make my life really good were just turning out wrong. It was awful. Thanks to those who came to my aid. I appreciated it. It's just that I was in a nasty mood and nothing was going to get me out of it.

Except for food. A quick trip to Applebee's with Angry Block served to fix me right up. I set out to mend all of the damage I'd done by being morose after that. I'm really feeling a lot better now.

I'm feeling wonderful right now. Somehow I always seem to when I come home this late. It's a good thing.

post the fifty-sixth

This was a day full of seeing Board writers past and present (always a good thing). I studied at the library with Petra for most of the night. I'm always glad to have the chance to do so--it helps keep her from going 'round the bend. That's not something any of us need. I like being able to help people. We ran into L'Afro on the way out. She kept us talking in the library until it was 12:06 and we absolutely had to leave. I spent some time over at Petra's after which I headed home. I decided I was hungry; fortunately Uffish Thought was making ramen and offered to give me some. Who am I to turn down free ramen? I immediately headed over.

I was sitting on Uffish's porch while she was inside fetching some utensils when I saw someone shuffling across the street toward us. He had sort of a wide-eyed stare that completely unnerved me. He also had the air of a drunken person (pun intended). Uffish was quite cordial to him and invited him to sit and talk with us. He seemed friendly enough--he was just really creepy with the way he was speaking and phrasing things. He told us that he was a Presbyterian and that with all the Mormons around one could hardly hear a Hallelujah chorus around here. He felt it was his job to fix that and was going around teaching everyone the Hallelujah chorus. He then asked if we would be so kind as to give him a bit of our ramen. I thought it would be a bit rich of me to offer him some ramen that wasn't even mine in the first place. Uffish was only too happy to give him a bit of ramen (best not to upset a drunk guy) and went inside to fetch him a bowl.

I thought I'd go ahead and introduce myself to him while she was inside. He told me that his name was Joel--although some called him Shaggy. He wasn't quite sure why people called him Joel. If it were his choice he'd just go by the name "Crow." Crow was from Georgia and was telling me about all of the different Greek roots to the city names there (such as Atlanta and Rome). We sat and talked for a while about all sorts of things (all of which were just as random as what he was telling us earlier). At one point he insisted to me that he was a "magic man." That was wild. He even started to sing the lyrics to a Kenny Rogers song to us. He told us that learning this song was his "ticket out of here." Apparently Kenny Rogers will get him out of Provo and into the big time. He ended up singing the whole song to us while finishing off his ramen. After he finished he ended up just stumbling off and singing the song at the top of his lungs. It was all we could do not to burst out laughing while he was still in earshot.

It made for a pretty exciting ending to an already pretty good day.

post the fifty-fifth

Welcome to Lent. I haven't ever celebrated (celebrated? observed?) Lent in the past - I'm not Catholic and haven't felt that I really had any pressing sins or shortcomings that I needed to give up. This year will be different; I finally have something to give up. I was discussing the matter with Petra (who will be giving up Internet addictions this year) and she guided me toward something useful to give up.

Commas.

I will refrain from using commas (or even relative clauses) for the next forty days. It hasn't even been a full day yet and I'm already going out of my mind. I never realized how much I used commas before. Try it - you'll be surprised. You'd also be surprised at how many ways there are to get around it. I've never used so many semicolons and dashes in my life.

It's going to be a long forty days. A really long forty days. I may perish from the insanity of it all.

post the fifty-fourth

I was at my aunt's today with Petra (who, blessedly, had the social sense not to pick a fight with my uncle, which would have been really easy), when the subject of education classes came up.

Before I continue, I'm going to refer those of you who aren't regular readers of my blog to peruse some of my older posts for my thoughts and feelings on education classes. If you're not going to bother going back and reading my earlier posts (you lazy sack of chum), you can be content with knowing that I disapprove of them. Strongly.

Anyhow, my aunt is also a teacher. She asked me how school was going, and I mentioned that there's this one class that I'm really disliking. She realized it was an education class and immediately sympathized with me. She remembered her own days of studying educational theory and described them as "asinine." Few things could have made me happier than hearing that word used to describe the bane of my existence. My sister was there as well and seemed confused as to why we should hate education classes so much. She's an English teaching major, but she's only taken one class so far, and that's been a class in which she only observes other teachers in their classrooms (and thus is extremely useful). Next week, though, she starts another non-observation based class, which I think she's really going to hate. The poor thing.

The moral of the story is that I was really happy that someone else - especially someone with direct experience in teaching - agreed with me that education classes are, in fact, a ridiculous waste of my time. I'm still planning on going into the field, mind you, but I still think it's ridiculous that I should be subjected to these classes that are completely asinine.

I may rant more on these later. We'll see.

post the fifty-third

I seem to be remarkably gifted at making a poor first impression. I'm not entirely certain why that is, though. I used to be very charming when I first met people, and now I'm not anymore. It might have something to do with my personality. I'm quite a sarcastic person by nature, so sometimes I manage to rub people the wrong way at first. Once I realize that I'm doing that, though, I try to make up for it and end up overcompensating.

It's certainly not like I do it on purpose, though. Who would go out of their way to be awkward? (answer: certainly not me) Once you get to know me and understand all of my quirks and idiosyncracies, I can actually be very charming. There's just something about that intial encounter that weirds people out. It's a wonder I manage to make any sort of friendships last at all.

I further wonder if other people feel like this, or if it's just weird and quirky me. I promise this isn't a rant about my lack of self-esteem (there's plenty, don't worry), but just something I've been wondering about lately.

post the fifty-second

Have you ever posted on your blog (or, if you haven't a blog, seen someone else post on theirs) simply because they hadn't posted for a while and thought it was about time to post something, even if what they post doesn't have any real value to it?

Rest assured I haven't forgotten about you all. I just haven't anything worthwhile to post about today, other than the fact that I ate some really good bread today.

Mmm.....bread.

post the fifty-first

As promised, today I discuss the issue of the word "boy."

Boy carries a certain connotation that the words guy and man do not. I don't really mind being called a guy; as a 23 year old male, I feel like that might be the most appropriate description of me. Man seems to imply a sense of grown-up-ness. Men are the ones running the government, businesses (for the most part; Steve Jobs, for instance, is definitely a guy), and other important aspects of society. I'm pretty sure that I'm not a man just yet, or, at least, I'm not one very often. I rather prefer being a guy, in which state I can be irresponsible from time to time. Being a guy just feels cooler than being a man.

But a boy...

The term boy, to me, at least, seems almost condescending. There really isn't a female counterpart to it that I'm aware of. Seven, seveteen, and twenty-seven year old females can all safely be called girls. There aren't any subtle nuances that are carried with that term. However, boy does carry some implications with it. I feel like calling a male a boy implies that he is still emotionally immature. This feels especially so when young women talk about boys that they're interested in. It feels as though they are (subconsciously, perhaps) setting themselves above these males. I, for my part, feel slighted when I'm referred to as a boy. I really don't like it. I'd much prefer to be called a guy, or perhaps even a young man. I wouldn't mind being called a man, terribly, but it makes me feel more grown-up and responsible, which feelings I'm not sure I'm ready to take on just now.

Maybe some others of you have felt like this before. Maybe you haven't. In either case, I'm very tired from having taken Petra to the airport this morning for a flight which, to my knowledge, left the airport after sitting at the gate and on the runway for over four hours. Good thing I got up at 4:30. When I get really tired like this, I get increasingly philosophical, and I think it's coming out in this post. Maybe I should go take a nap.

post the fiftieth

As it turns out, I'm quite a bit different from other people.

This isn't such a bad thing, in my opinion. Allow me to explain.

I was standing around after church today, waiting to be interviewed by my bishop. I assume most readers of this blog are either BYU students or familiar with how BYU operates (as most of you are either friends of mine or found this blog through the 100 Hour Board), but for those of you who are unaware as to such matters, each year every BYU student has to receive an ecclesiastical endorsement to prove that he or she is still following the BYU Honor Code. It's an exciting yearly tradition that generally takes me all of two minutes. My interviews usually go something like this:

BISHOP: Have you read the Honor Code?
OPTIMISTIC: Not recently, but I know what's in it.
BISHOP: Are you following it?
OPTIMISTIC: Yes.
BISHOP: Are you sure?
OPTIMISTIC: Yes.
BISHOP: Okay. Do you have any questions for me?
OPTIMISTIC: No, not particularly.
BISHOP: Okay. Thanks for coming.
OPTIMISTIC: Not a problem.

This is how most of my conversations with my bishop go, actually. He's an excellent man, it's just that we usually don't have very much to talk about.

At any rate, I figured it would be a while before I got in to my interview, as my bishop likes to talk an awful lot. There's just very little to talk about with me, so our interviews usually go very fast. As it turned out, I waited in the hall for close to forty minutes before I actually had my interview. In that time, he interviewed two people. I had the pleasure of waiting in the hall with a pair of glitter girls during that time. Predictably, they chatted merrily away about boys (more on my hatred for this particular term later) in their lives, strange places that they'd left objects in the past, and about bagels and which sorts they liked best. (I'm not even kidding about that last one.) I compared their conversation to the book that I was reading - Thomas Kuhn's The Structure of Scientific Revolutions - and realized just how different we really were. At several points during these girls' conversation, they looked over at me with a quizzical look, as if to say, "What on earth are you doing reading a book? Especially a book as weird as that?"

I am different than a lot of people. I enjoy reading this particular book. I like discussing historical theory with those who can appreciate it. I feel and act more "intellectual" (as my roommate sneeringly describes it) around many of my friends. I rather enjoy it. I think I enjoy it most precisely because it makes me different from many other people. I've always enjoyed defining myself as something "different." If all that does is free me from having to talk about boys and bagels, then I'm okay with that.