In the same chapter of the Book of Mormon where we find the prophecy about the Gentiles' rejection of the Book of Mormon, saying "A Bible! A Bible! etc.," the Lord gives a timely explanation as to why He has caused more to be written. 2 Nephi 29: 10-11 read as follows: "Wherefore, because that ye have a Bible ye need not suppose that it contains all my words; neither need ye suppose that I have not caused more to be written. (11) For I command all men... that they shall write the words which I speak unto them; for out of the books which shall be written I will judge the world, every man according to their works, according to that which is written." I originally read these verses this evening in connection with Doctrine & Covenants 68:4 which explains that any words spoken by the servants of the Lord, when they are moved upon by the Holy Ghost, shall be scripture. This combination of verses brings two points to my mind. First, there must be a LOT of scripture out there. I, like many of my friends, keep a journal for documenting spiritual promptings and doctrines which are revealed to me when I study the scriptures or otherwise pursue gospel knowledge. The D&C states that the writings of the Lord's servants are scripture whenever they are prompted by the Spirit. I don't know what the bounds are for the meaning of "servants" here, but I know it includes missionaries. Does it also include counselors in the Elder's Quorum, home teachers, or even just members of the church? As members of the church, we each serve in the capacity of standing as witnesses of God at all times, in all things, and in all places. If so, then like I said, there is a TON of scripture out there. 2000 lbs at least. This brings me to my second point.
Most of my journal entries for about 2 or 3 years were similar to 2 Nephi 4, wherein Nephi effectively bashes himself, mourning over his sins but trusting in the Lord and his infinite Atonement. It is understood that Nephi acquired forgiveness for the sins he referenced in his psalm. My fear however, is that I have written about transgressions for which I have not yet been fully forgiven. I don't know how it is for other people, but when I blog or journal-write, at least in the past, I have generally been pretty honest about my mistakes. This is actually the very reason why I didn't keep a personal journal on my mission*. I don't find value in going back and reading about all my mistakes, let alone saving a record of them for my posterity to read. Furthermore, since the Lord apparently plans to judge every man according to that which is written, I guess I'd rather not allow those things to be written.
I know the Lord knows about my transgressions, whether I write them or not; it's just that in the past my journal writing habits have been more destructive than anything else, and I don't think it's a healthy practice to clobber oneself, even in thought, let alone in writing making it possible for later review. With this knowledge, it becomes apparent why I am so sporadic on my blog: If I don't have something uplifting to say, then I just don't say anything. This doesn't mean that I am primarily a negative person. It's just like I said; I'm just pretty hard on myself when I'm in these contemplative writing moods. Anyway, that's my thought process here at 4:39 in the morning after having a pretty crappy day. Here's to a better day tomorrow.
(*Instead I used my letters home as a journal of my memories. This public appropriate journal works in connection with my study journal which documents my spiritual discoveries and doctrinal education.)
Chinese proverbs are striking in their belief that "hard work, shrewd planning and self reliance or cooperation with a small group in time will bring recompense." Here are some of the things that penniless peasants would say to one another as they worked three thousand hours a year in the baking heat and humidity of Chinese rice paddies (which by the way, are filled with leeches).
"No food without blood and sweat.""Farmers are busy; if farmers weren't busy, where would grain to get through the winter come from?" "In winter, the lazy man freezes to death." "Don't depend on heaven for food, but on your own two hands carrying the load." "Useless to ask about the crops, it all depends on hard work and fertilizer.""If a man works hard, the land will not be lazy."
And, most telling of all: "No one who can rise before dawn three hundred sixty days a year fails to make his family rich." Rise before dawn? 360 days a year? For the Kung leisurely gathering mongongo nuts, or the French peasant sleeping away the winter, or anyone else living in something other than the world of rice cultivation, that proverb would be unthinkable.
This is not, of course, an unfamiliar observation about Asian culture. Go to any Western college campus and you'll find that Asian students have a reputation for being in the library long after everyone else has left. Sometimes people of Asian background get offended when their culture is described this way, because they think that the stereotype is being used as a form of disparagement. But a belief in work ought to be a thing of beauty. Arguably every success story involves someone or some group working harder than their peers. Bill gates was addicted to his computer as a child. So was Bill Joy. The Beatles put in thousands of hours of practice in Hamburg. Working really hard is what successful people do, and the genius of the culture formed in the rice paddies is that hard work gave those in the fields a way to find meaning in the midst of great uncertainty and poverty. That lessons has served Asians well in many endeavors but rarely so perfectly as in the case of mathematics.
Every four years, an international group of educators administers a comprehensive mathematics and science test to elementary and junior high students around the world. It's the TIMSS, and the point of it is to compare the educational achievement of one country with another's. When students sit down to take the TIMSS exam, they also have to fill out a questionnaire. It asks them all kinds of things, such as what their parents' level of education is, and what their views about math are, and what their friends are like. It's not a trivial exercise. It's about 120 questions long. In fact, it is so tedious and demanding that many students leave as many as ten or twenty questions blank.
Now, here's the interesting part. As it turns out, the average number of items answered on that questionnaire varies from country to country. It is possible, in fact, to rank all the participating countries according to how many items their students answer on the questionnaire. Now, what do you think happens if you compare the questionnaire rankings with the math rankings on the TIMSS? They are exactly the same. In other words, countries whose students are willing to concentrate and sit still long enough and focus on answering every single question in an endless questionnaire are the same countries whose students do the best job on solving math problems.
The person who discovered this fact is an educational researcher at the University of Pennsylvania named Erling Boe, and he stumbled across it by accident. "It came out of the blue," he says. Boe hasn't even been able to publish his findings in a scientific journal, because, he says, it's just a bit too weird. Remember, he's not saying that the ability to finish the questionnaire and the ability to excel on the math test are related. He's saying that they are the same: if you compare the two rankings, they are identical.Think about this another way. Imagine that every year, there was a Math Olympics in some fabulous city in the world. And every country in the world sent its own team of 1000 eighth graders. Boe's point is that we could predict precisely the order in which every country would finish in the Math Olympics without asking a single math question. All we would have to do is give them some task measuring how hard they were willing to work. In fact, we wouldn't even have to give them a task. We should be able to predict which countries are best at math simply by looking at which national cultures place the highest emphasis on effort and hard work.
So, which places are at the top of both lists? The answer shouldn't surprise you: Singapore, South Korea, China (Taiwan), Hong Kong, and Japan. What those five have in common, of course, is that they are all cultures shaped by the tradition of wet-rice agriculture and meaningful work. They are the kinds of places where, for hundreds of years, penniless peasants, slaving away in the rice paddies 3000 hours a year, said things to one another like "No one who can rise before dawn 360 days a year fails to make his family rich."
Recently, I've been feeling a lot like Tevye, from Fiddler on the Roof. In the musical, he offers the following prayer: O Dear Lord. You made many, many poor people. I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor. But it's no great honor either. So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?
The purpose of this blog post is not to question why I live subject to any given set of financial circumstances, but rather to express my three wishes. The objects of these three wishes are certainly worth a fortune to me, and I long for these things with the same if not greater conviction with which Tevye longs for money. I feel a little uneasy posting this type of material because it seems covetous and inappropriate considering how blessed I am. I truly recognize the choice circumstances I enjoy in my life, and I wouldn't want to come off in a way where anyone might misunderstand and think that I'm ungrateful. On the contrary, I am so blessed. And I know it. That being said, here are my three wishes.
1. I wish my family was more unified (like it was when I was younger). I have a great relationship with my parents, and with my sister (and so I share this wish with them). My relationship with my next older brother is good, but it would be better if he weren't the reason for so much unrest in my family. As for my oldest brother, we rarely talk because he too struggles to participate in my family in a peaceful, harmonious way.
2. I wish that I could find true love as easily as the people around me seem to find it. I've been to hell and back again with relationship problems, and the journey has turned me into an overly picky, quick-to-judge basket case with a lot of emotional baggage. I suppose this is the harsh way of saying that my taste has been defined and refined through lots of temporary, indirect dating successes. I'll be 25 this year, and I'm graduating from college in two months. I'm ready to meet the woman who I can depend on, and who's willing to depend on me.
3. I wish that I had been given full exposure to excellent rudimental percussion instruction during my public schooling years. I'm 24 and teaching one of the best drumlines in Utah. These kids are collectively leaps and bounds beyond where I was in high school. Perhaps I was a stronger player than some of them individually, but they compete at a high level and enjoy a fair amount of success. I've been forced to live vicariously through them because while my high school was a jazz band powerhouse, we didn't participate in indoor drumline, and our fall rudimental percussion program was plagued with crappy instructors that made it impossible for us to succeed. Despite my circumstances, I've tried to experience as much marching percussion as possible. I played for a talented university drumline for two years, and my chops have developed to a point where I feel worthy of trying out for a drum corps (with a little bit of fine tuning). Because of this, I spend a lot of time watching world class indoor drumlines, and marching drum corps, dreaming of what opportunities I could have if only I was still under 21. WGI & DCI disallow people from participating beyond age 21, so once again, I missed the bus. I wish I could've grown up, drumming in the Southern California Percussion Association with Ayala High School's line, only to go on and play with RCC, Pulse, Rhythm X, SCV, Bluecoats, Cavies, and/or BD. In conclusion, I have to ask myself the same question that Tevye asks at the end of his song.
Lord who mad the lion and the lamb, You decreed I should be what I am. Would it spoil some vast eternal plan, If I were a wealthy man?
As is clear by the content of this post, the wealth I'm interested in is not money. As Jack Sparrow stated, "Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate." To answer Tevye's question, though... Yes. It just might spoil that vast eternal plan that God has for me. If my life were any different, the lives of countless people around me would be affected in at least a small way. The impact of these differences is unknown to me, but I am confident that the Lord has used me to accomplish His purposes in the lives of at least a few people around me. So, I will be satisfied with my circumstances, and continue to enjoy the talents and conditions with which I have been so blessed.
1. I've had pneumonia, pleurisy, and mesenteric lymphadenitis all in the last 9 months.
2. In the 550 days I spent in Greece (*MTC and Cyprus have been subtracted from a total 730), I ate over 650 gyros.
3. I've been drumming for longer than some of my students have been alive.
4. I work for a police department, but I've also been arrested.
5. I achieved my first kiss when I was 14 at an ice rink. Honestly, I wasn't sure if it really happened or if I had day dreamed the whole thing up. I finally found out that it happened in reality due to a rather embarrassing but awesome conversation with the same girl on a roof at a mutual friends' birthday party over a year later.
6. Because I was upset that I didn't get to be #13 in soccer growing up, my dad suggested that I be #31, and made a deal with me saying that ever time a scored a goal, he'd take me to Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors. He did... although he still owes me a lot of ice cream :)
7. I was born in Santa Monica, California but grew up in Boulder, Colorado, and I also lived in Athens, Greece. Out of all the places I've traveled to, and all the places I've lived, these three are the places that I call home.8. I was once wrestling with my brothers (2 and 7 years older than me) when my mom told us to take it outside. Once outside, they ganged up on me, took my pants off and threw them over in the neighbors' yard within reach of the evil, dangerous, chained-up rottweiler. Then they locked me outside in my tighty whities... 9. Everyone always pictures hell as a really hot, and fiery place. In my opinion, hell would be freezing because cold weather is freaking miserable. If I end up going to hell (God forbid), and it IS indeed fiery... it'll be heaven to me. But really, I'd rather just go to heaven.
10. I don't remember the last time I "made my bed." I just sleep on top of the covers and sleep underneath a bunch of heavy blankets each night.
11. During the summer, something comes over me that makes me not want to ever sleep in my bed. I've ended up sleeping on porch swings, couches, floors, and concrete porches (no pillow!... yes, ouch)
12. In elementary school, I had a friend named Chris Boland. He invited me to his birthday party at Chuckie Cheese's... I accidentally got too excited and blew out his birthday candles right before he was going to... then, at the same party, I vomited all over the place as a result of eating some nasty corn dogs. No wonder I don't like corn dogs or Chuckie Cheese.
13. When living in Paris with my family, some retard blew up a firecracker on my sister's leg while on the metro. My dad literally kicked him in the butt and then we all left.
14. I really don't like candy. The only "candy" I'll really eat is chocolate. But it can't be that nasty crap that is loaded up with all kinds of gooey crap. It needs to be straight up milk chocolate. Otherwise, leave me alone.
15. I hate stickers. I also hate band-aids and stamps. Wal-Mart greeters and Doctors learned to leave me alone when I was a kid because I got P.I.S.S.E.D. if they ever stamped me, or gave me anything other than a normal brown band-aid. I hate it when people write on their hands etc. 16. I've gambled a total of 23 dollars in my whole life and lost it all.
17. I listen to all sorts of music, but my staple is rock. The scene in School of Rock where Jack Black has all those genres and bands listed on the chalk board... yeah. I could easily duplicate that and teach you about the beauty of rock.
18. I used to be way into art. I once won 3rd place in an art contest involving several hundred youth.
19. My first crush ever was named Rachel Lampa. I liked her from 2nd through 5th grade. Now she has like 5 CD's out. I guess that means that when I saw her sing in 4th grade (she was already ridiculously amazing) that was me attending my first concert. 20. Having been born in the '80's... the first several years of my life were spent sporting the most awesome-est of flat tops. Sometimes I even had lightning strikes shaved into the sides. Then I had a bowl cut FOREVER until 9th grade. Now I just dry my hair off with a towel and it sits how it wants. I tell barbers and hair people, "Just make it shorter and do whatever you want..."
21. I once swallowed a piece of gum when I was about 8. Since then, I've had no desire to pointlessly chew on little stick of pointless, unprofessional nastiness.
22. I've been to Canada, Mexico, England, Italy, Switzerland, Greece, France, Cyprus, Turkey, the US and British Virgin Islands, and to Puerto Rico. I've also been to almost 40 states including Hawaii several times.
23. While living in Athens, a rather patriotic Greek man once told me that God only speaks Greek and He doesn't understand any other languages. He said that God, therefore, does not hear anyone's prayers unless they are said in Greek. I asked the man how this could be true, considering God is all knowing and has no respect of persons, but he didn't really have an answer. Either way, I speak Greek so I'm all set. haha
24. I've broken one bone in my life. It was my left thumb and it happened at 4:00 in the morning while sledding at Point of the Mountain on Penrose's birthday. The powder sucked my arm under the sled right as I went over a rock. It hurt.
25. I crashed on my motorcycle once. I gashed my knee up really bad (among other cuts and scrapes). Rather than go to the hospital, I chose to clean my wounds with liquid soap in the sink of a gas station bathroom down the road from where I crashed. Then I climbed back on my motorcycle and rode home. That night, I went camping in the mountains with some friends. After returning, I finally chose to go to the emergency room where they told me, "You did an EXCELLENT job cleaning your wound."
While I don't claim to have had any extensive interaction with her, Heather Christensen was an acquaintance of mine, and we did communicate due to our common interest in maintaining successful educational music programs in Utah. The purpose of this note is to record my memories of this woman who passed on so unexpectedly.
In every circumstance where I interacted with her (although it was only a few), Heather was an example to me. I remember that she was the person who was selected to represent the Utah Winter Guard Association at a meeting made up of drum instructors and band directors who were clearly not happy with the way the UWGA had organized the participation of drumlines for that year's winter season. At the meeting, she was cooperative, and open. She listened, and helped to create solutions to the problems that existed. For the rest of the season, she went beyond the call of duty, performing tasks that were well outside the scope of her job description. She acted as a communication center for the organization, enabling voices to be heard which had before been ignored. She did all of this with a smile, and a calm, efficient professionalism that I admire.
My only other association with Heather was through e-mail, but I recall seeing her from a distance occasionally. The last time I saw her was about two weeks before she died, at a band competition. She was standing about 50 feet from me with the rest of the staff from American Fork HS's Marching Band. I was impressed to see that as other bands won awards, she clapped, and made a point to genuinely congratulate students from other schools for their hard work and accomplishments. The fact that her band is the best in the state of Utah and has been for 20 years didn't affect her tone, or delivery of congratulations; there was no haughtiness, or arrogance - just excited encouragement.
So, I respect and remember this woman for her respect towards her opponents, her consistency in calm professionalism, her friendly mediation, and her uplifting, humble behavior towards everyone with whom she associated. The fact that she died trying to protect her students is a tribute to her love for those students, and her love for music.
Learning of her passing sort of struck me differently than it might the average news reader - not necessarily because I knew her, but more because she and I share a common interest. I too am a music instructor for a high school marching band. I too ride the bus with my students. For this reason, I feel motivated to follow Heather's example of sportsmanship as it pertains to marching band competitiveness; something in which she was a great example to me, seeming to have mastered these ethics, even without knowledge that her time would soon be up. She seemed to quietly live extraordinarily, completely avoiding any sort of need of death-bed repentance. Such seemed unnecessary for her, and while I'm sure she had faults (I didn't know her well enough to discover them), I am grateful for her positive example in my life, and in the lives of her students. Way to go, Heather.
I saw this on a friend's blog and thought it was fun. Bold the ones you've done.
1. Started your own blog 2. Slept under the stars 3. Played in a band 4. Visited Hawaii 5. Watched a meteor shower 6. Given more than you can afford to charity 7. Been to Disneyland or Disneyworld 8. Climbed a mountain 9. Held a praying mantis 10. Sang a solo 11. Bungee jumped 12. Visited Paris 13. Watched a lightning storm at sea 14. Taught yourself an art from scratch 15. Adopted a child 16. Had food poisoning 17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty 18. Grown your own vegetables 19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France 20. Slept on an overnight train 21. Had a pillow fight 22. Hitch hiked 23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill 24. Built a snow fort 25. Held a lamb 26. Gone skinny dipping 27. Run a Marathon 28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice 29. Seen a total eclipse 30. Watched a sunrise or sunset 31. Hit a home run 32. Been on a cruise 33. Seen Niagara Falls in person 34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors 35. Seen an Amish community 36. Taught yourself a new language 37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied 38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person 39. Gone rock climbing 40. Seen Michelangelo’s David 41. Sung karaoke 42. Seen Olde Faithful Geyser Erupt 43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant 44. Visited Africa 45. Walked on a beach by moonlight 46. Been transported in an ambulance 47. Had your portrait painted 48. Gone deep sea fishing 49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person 50. Been to the Eiffel Tower in Paris 51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling 52. Kissed in the rain 53. Played in the mud 54. Gone to a drive-in theater 55. Been in a movie or on a TV show 56. Visited the Great Wall of China 57. Started a business 58. Had an encounter with a wild animal 59. Visited Russia 60. Served at a soup kitchen 61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies 62. Gone whale watching 63. Got flowers for no reason 64. Donated blood, platelets, or plasma 65. Gone sky diving 66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp 67. Bounced a check 68. Flown in a helicopter 69. Saved a favorite childhood toy 70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial 71. Eaten Caviar 72. Pieced a quilt 73. Stood in Times Square 74. Toured the Everglades 75. Been fired from a job 76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London 77. Broken a bone 78. Been on a speeding motorcycle 79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person 80. Published a book 81. Visited the Vatican 82. Bought a brand new car 83. Walked in Jerusalem 84. Had your picture in the newspaper 85. Read the entire Bible 86. Visited the White House 87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating 88. Had chickenpox 89. Saved someone’s life 90. Sat on a Jury 91. Met someone famous 92. Joined a book club 93. Lost a loved one 94. Had a baby 95. Seen the Alamo in person 96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake 97. Been involved in a law suit 98. Owned a cell phone 99. Been stung by a bee 100. Taken a martial arts class
Whilst conversing with my friend Marie this evening, a light bulb turned on in my head regarding my work style. I am someone who hates group projects. Back in 6th grade, I pretty much did the whole Biospace project that I was assigned to do with my classmate John. I saw early on that he wasn't going to contribute very much, so I just took the initiative to do the whole project... and it didn't really bother me that he was going to get a good grade for having not done any work; I was satisfied with the fact that I had done good work. When I am left to do a project alone, it becomes my baby, and I can give it the royal treatment, magnifying my performance to a personal expression of excellence, which in turn brings me great satisfaction.
Now that I am a police dispatcher, I sometimes find it challenging to commit myself to the tasks I'm assigned, whether it be answering phones, or radios, or doing data entry etc. I think the source of this lack in motivation may be a subconscious knowledge that even if I don't do my part, the work will still get done. You might say that this is John syndrome. In other words, I've become the John not working on the Biospace project, and someone else is doing it for me. Perhaps. But I think my situation varies slightly from John's. I actually want to do work, and master techniques and processes required for doing good work, whereas John was just plain lazy. I want to take projects and make them my own, and if I am forced to do them with other people, then there remain wholes in my understanding. Take for example an engineering project where I have to design, mix, and cast a concrete cylinder, which I will subsequently put under compressive testing. I LOVE working with my hands, so I will actively take charge of the mixing, casting, and compressing processes... but when it comes to designing and analyzing the shear modulus of elasticity of the sample, I am hardly as interested. So, it would be easy for me to let a co-worker do it, leaving me uneducated on that aspect of the project while still having done equal or more work. Unfortunately, in CE EN 305B Materials, our tests were computational based... not hands on testing. Hence, I struggled, even though I had done more engineering than the others. If I had been forced to do the whole labratory experiment alone, I'd have a perfect understanding of all elements, and I'd be a better engineer. Perhaps working as a group requires sharing information with each other more effectively than we did in my group, but still... I learn best by doing, NOT by hearing a peer briefly relive a frustrating computational process that they suffered through.
Right now, I am sitting in Dispatch alone. Any 911 call that comes in is entirely my responsibility. I am 100% responsible for my officers activity and safety right now. How do I feel? Intimidated? NOT AT ALL. On the contrary, I feel empowered, and excited. I feel liberated and I feel a sense of control over my work, such that I can dispatch to the best of my ability. Bring it on medical calls. Come what may 911. I am ready for you. I am waiting.
I think I'm a little messed up chronologically. When I was in high school, I remember being attracted to women that were a couple years older than me. At the time, I was also rather unimpressed by some of the immature antics taking place around me (not that I didn't participate in my own immature antics). I just remember feeling that maybe I was living in the wrong generation. Now that I'm a senior in college, I spend most of my free time hanging out with a bunch of high school kids in South Jordan. Yesterday, we went to the Gateway mall in Salt Lake, and we messed around, running through the fountains etc. When I'm at school, walking around campus, I find myself being attracted to girls who are all 18 or 19, rather than the 22 and 23 year old women who surround me.
Why am I like this? Why do I not find myself most comfortable around those in my own generation? Am I like this because my ego needs an opportunity to be a leader, and the most effective way for me to accomplish this is by surrounding myself by people who are at least 6 years younger than me? Do I create opportunities to be with younger people because I am weary of my responsibilities as an adult, and by messing around with kids, I give myself some kind of relief? On the other hand, do I long to be with people who are older than me, because I subconsciously want something more, something bigger than what I have now? Do I seek to hang out with people who are older than me, who are married, who've graduated, and who have landed careers because I, myself, want those very things for myself? No wonder I get along with married girls better than I do with single ladies.
I love messing around with my drumline kids, but I also love being required to address adults professionally, organizing events etc. Why don't I just chill, and get used to my own generation. It's like I'm not really living in the present, but in the future and the past at the same time... it's messed up... I'm messed up.
I don't know why this happens to me sometimes, but occasionally the most random things start to have significance for me, and my mind breaks into a fervor. Everything is business as usual in my life lately... I mean, things seem to be on the upswing, but nevertheless, there I was at work when the most random thing started my brain churning. A lot of my co-workers sign off their emails with their name, and then all sorts of fancy logos followed by work titles, phone numbers and other cool stuff underneath. In all honesty, I think that's kinda nifty, but I'm too apathetic to bother making a name stamp for my work email since everyone I email from work already knows that yes, I work for BYU, in dispatch, and the number there is 422-2222. It's not hard to remember... So, I just put my name and click send. I mean, I guess I could put my weight, and hourly wage, but I don't think that's necessary. :P What struck me though, is that my name gets attached to a lot of things. Every email I send. Every assignment I turn in. My name is listed on work schedules. It's listed as a composer and instructor in musical event programs. It's listed on rosters for classes, membership records for church, academic achievement societies, etc. When I see a name, it means more to me than just whatever letters are printed there. When I see the name "Andreas," for example, I see so much more than just seven letters. I see a person who gives of himself without reservation. I see someone who works hard, who has a sense of humor, who's courageous, and friendly. It makes me wonder what people think when they see my name. Does my boss see my name on the work schedule and think, "Aric... the scruffy bum who's always late!"? Do girls I've dated look at my name and say, "I'm sure glad that's over!"? Do my professors see it on their records and say, "I wish he would work harder..."? The thought scares me.
I've heard people talk about pondering the idea of how they'd like to be remembered when they die. Why wait until you're dead? I want people to think good of me now, not just when I'm gone! I want them to think "Aric. Now there's someone who knows a lot about engineering!" I want them to see my name and immediately think of traits like humility, charity, discipline, effort, humorous, fun, comforting, helpful, intelligent, wise. I want my name to hold the same integrity that it holds when my dad signs his name. It's a sobering thought to look back and think of all the moments where I may've tarnished that integrity. On the other hand, it's encouraging to look to the future and imagine all the good that can take place through me. Oh, how I'd love to put my name stamp on that good. Better get to work...
Yesterday was the Salt Lake High School Dance Team Regional Competition. The drumline I teach was asked to perform as the intermission exhibition entertainment. Due to the absence of one of my snare drummers, and my desire to always have a full sound coming from my drumline, I chose to fill in for said absentee and play snare drum with my kids.
I love being a drumline instructor because I get to write music and then watch my kids play it. For our show, we decided to play "Chicks," "Dispatch," "Spanky's," "Sandstorm," and "Triple Cheer." I wrote Dispatch a while ago while I was at work (hence the name), and I wrote Spanky's when we showed up at Riverton High School yesterday at 5:30 pm. Spanky's is a groove based song that rocks out for 4 measures, and then leaves space for solos on the tenors, snares, and basses individually. My intention was to let each of my section leaders show off and have a moment to shine in the spot light in front of this sold out crowd of Dance enthusiasts... particularly so that they could work it in front of over a thousand rather attractive women in their age bracket. However, due to a great deal of petitions from my students, I ended up playing the snare solo in the performance. The performance itself went very well. CJ did excellent and awed the crowd with some intense cross overs on his tenor solo. Then, for my solo, I did my best to wow them with some crazy stick visuals and intense flamadiddles. The crowd went wild and it became all the more apparent how awesome the Bingham High School drumline is.
After the show, we had tons of girls coming up to us saying things like, "Wow, you guys did awesome! I love drumline!" I took the opportunity to advertise for my drumline saying, "Yeah, you liked that? Well, then you'd LOVE coming to one of our competitions! It's only fair too seeing how we came to yours!" This same conversation went down with about 10 different sets of dance chicks. At first they agreed...
Dance Chicks: "Oh yeah! I'd love to come. When are they?" Me: "Our first one is on Valentine's day." DC: "Mm. Probably not then..." Me: "At 9:00 in the morning." DC: "Definitely not coming." Me: "At Payson HS." DC: "Oooh! That's right by my house!" Me: "Dude, you should totally come! Seriously, cuz if you do, and you don't already have a date for Valentine's day, you could go out with one of the dudes in the line cuz they don't have dates either!" DC: "What do you mean 'they'?" Me: "Well, I'm their instructor so..." DC: "Are you serious?!" Me: "Uh.. yeah. Senior in college. 23 years old. Staff at BHS." DC: "Oh my gosh! I totally thought you were a student! You could totally pass for a high school student!" Me: "(Thinking 'Wow! Thanks!) Yeah, I know. I get it all the time. Every time I walk into the front office at the school to make copies of music I've written for these guys, the secretaries in there tell me the same thing. I'm all 'Hey, I need to make some copies.' and they respond, 'I'm sorry, students aren't allowed to use this copier!'"
So, I guess I've maintained my child-like image. Back in Greece, people used to ask me and my companion why children like us were doing this work. When asked how old they thought we were, they mostly said 14 and 15 yrs old. I guess that's good... I mean, a lot of adults wish they looked younger than they do... Apparently though, my appearance combined with my 23 year old collection of experiences makes me into a pretty awesome potential date for 16 year olds, because there were quite a few enthusiastically complimentary young women who talked with me yesterday. Too bad there's that whole law thing that makes it illegal... and stuff... and too bad that I'm just not really interested in dating people in high school. I mean, I've been drumming since before some of these people were born! But still, I can't help but wish I had this kind of luck with college girls. If only I had been this popular with high school girls when I was in high school.
I've recently been informed that the image I maintain scares people who don't know me.
Situation #1: After playing a gig with my drumline yesterday, I went to get some food at Cafe Rio with my students. For some reason, a student named Rex decided to pretend like he was cool enough to be in drumline and come along with us. Over the course of our meal, my students explained to me that Rex is a Student Body Officer (SBO) at the high school where I teach, and actually a friend of theirs. Despite being on good, friendly terms with all my students, their friend Rex apparently sees me in an entirely different way. One student expressed it like this: "Dude. I don't get it, but sometimes when we're hanging out after school, Rex is in the band room with us, and he always asks us to tell him when you get here so that he can leave without you seeing him, cuz... he said you scare him!" Before yesterday, I was unaware of this Rex's existence. Evidently, however, I scare people that I don't even know.
Situation #2: On my way to work this afternoon, I was stopped by two dudes from some Summer Sales company. They wanted to spam me and what have you by taking my phone number and inviting me to free dinners where they would surely spam me more in an effort to convince me to sell my soul to door to door satellite or security system sales. Upon stopping me, they expressed their surprise by the size of headphones I was wearing. I was admittedly wearing my Sony DJ headphones that I've had since I was 16. Then, they commented on my aviator sunglasses... Then they commented on my leather jacket, and my Adidas Sambas shoes. I didn't know I was going to be scrutinized about my wardrobe by street contacting hooligans. Regardless, one of these dudes said something very interesting to me. "The DJ headphones and the aviators with the leather jacket, I was like, 'Do I really want to stop this guy? I'm afraid he might pound me!'" This guy was much bigger than me, and thus had nothing to worry about. But once again I find it interesting that I conveyed this image of intimidation once again to people whom I've never met. Am I really that scary? It's not like I'm Elder Bosco, the Italian body builder from my mission, knocking on Grandma Roula's door at 9:00 at night, unable to express my message due to the impression made by my rippling muscles. It's not like I'm Neo, heavy laden with weapons of all kinds ready to shoot the place up. What is so scary?! Is it my firm grip on styles from other eras? Just what is it?
Home for the holidays - such a wonderful place to be. It's so obvious to me why I love coming back here. I mean, not only do I get to drive around in my mom's Lexus, but I even get to sleep in a bed that's low to the ground, rather than being so tall that I'm required to get a running start to jump up into to it. Street names have character! Instead of driving from 500 E to 900 N, I get to drive from McCaslin Blvd. to Dillon Road, then onto Majestic View Dr., Via Appia, and Table Mesa. I get to live in a house where my cohabitants (parents) are okay with living at a decently warm temperature during the winter, rather than opening their windows and turning on the AC despite it being only 5 degrees outside. I get to watch hockey at any time of day! I turn on the radio and I hear rock instead of country! People who smoke aren't cast out from society. People stop for red lights, and slow down for yellow ones! Facial hair isn't satanic! The sun sets on the mountains instead of the plains. Drum shops have what I need. I have a drumset in my basement!!!! I have a basement! Ah, Colorado. :) Don't let me leave you again.
Here are quotes from 15 different movies. Name that film, if you can, and your stocking just might stretch more than usual this year. Rules: no searching for the answers or anything of the sort. You must produce your answers from the knowledge and memory that you now hold. Best of luck.
1. Or like the great falls, is the bedrock of my life eroding beneath me?! 2. At last! My arm is complete again! 3. I'll tell you what: I will speak slow so that those of you with Ph.D's in the room can understand. Here, look. Here's a monitor, right?... Now the monitor is broken. It's dead. It's not temporarily transitioned to another state of entropy, it's *dead*. Right. Now is *she* alive or is she *dead*? 4. If you're going to kill me, you better do it the first time. You better kill me dead! 5. I don't know why they'd drop a bomb on this place, be a heck of a waste of a bomb. 6. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. 7. I have been touched by your kids... and I'm pretty sure that I've touched them. 8. I've fought in two World Wars and countless smaller ones on three continents. I led thousands of men into battle with everything from horses and swords to artillery and tanks. I've seen the headwaters of the Nile, and tribes of natives no white man had ever seen before. I've won and lost a dozen fortunes, KILLED MANY MEN and loved only one woman with a passion a FLEA like you could never begin to understand. That's who I am. NOW, GO HOME, BOY! 9. You who murdered a hundred thousand Iraqis to save a nickel on a gallon of gas are going to lecture me on the rules of war? DON'T! 10. I find you very attractive. Your aggressive moves toward me indicate that you feel the same way. But still, ritual requires that we go through a number of platonic activities before we have sex. I'm simply proceeding with those activities. But in point of actual fact, all I really want to do is have intercourse with you as soon as possible. You're gonna slap me now. 11. It just stood up? Wow. That's really neat. Okay, chiefie. Time to fill her up and no drippy-drippy. What are you rolling? Whippets? Goof balls? A little wowie sauce with the boys? 12. You know, these exercises are fantastic. When the day comes that we have to go to war against Utah, we're really gonna kick ass, y'know? 13. You're not a eunuch are you? 14. I swear on my dead relatives - and even on the ones who are not feeling too good - I am your man forever! 15. You bring the crowns and heads of conquered kings to my city steps. You insult my queen. You threaten my people with slavery and death! Oh, I've chosen my words carefully. Perhaps you should have done the same!
So, there I was... sitting in dispatch on a cold, winter Sunday afternoon, facebooking, daydreaming of what life will be like when going home from work means relaxation instead of facing the stress of upcoming math exams. I was just about to bust out some Ritz crackers and a chocolate milk when suddenly the phone rang. "Ugh, I'm on phones today," I thought regretfully, sensing inside me that this particular call was going to open a can of worms that I just didn't want to mess with.
"University Police. How can I help you?"
"Hello, this is Sister Johnson calling from California. I'm trying to watch the First Presidency Christmas Devotional with my family, but the BYU network is broadcasting it in Spanish!" (long pause)
"Oh... well, uh... I will try to get a hold of the right people for you and work out a solution."
I got 6 similar calls within the span of 2 minutes. Yes, I am the person to call in case of emergencies, accidents, or if you want to file a police report. I am the person to call if you want to get in touch with Emergency Maintenance, or the On-Call Counselors. Arguably, I can get you in touch with almost anyone that is connected to BYU, the church, or who has contact information posted on the internet... But anything beyond the first five cases I mentioned really isn't my job. They pay other people to do that. It's called BYU Information (801-422-INFO). Really, out of respect for the economy, you should call them with any questions you have regarding things other than your welfare and safety. This however, is not my topic.
I just want to know what is going on in someone's brain when they call me in this sort of situation...
"Alright kids, there's no reason to panic!... Honey, the TV is broadcasting in Spanish. Please do something!"
"Oh no! Okay, I'll call a police department 700 miles away. Not my cable provider. Not Bonneville Communications. Not BYU Broadcasting. Not Church Headquarters. The Police! Maybe they can send paramedics or something..."
You might be saying to yourself, "Hm. Farnsaki often gets over-enthusiastic about things that he likes: rock music, gyros, hockey, etc. Psh, of course he likes rock music, but he could surely live without it." Au contraire, monsieur! I must have rock music in my life, for its timbre resonates through my soul unlike any other form of music.
That being said, the reader must recognize that the author is an advocate of almost all types of music. My collection ranges from aboriginal didgeridoos and Scottish bagpipes all the way to screaming electric guitars, making pit stops at every instrument along the way. Even the title of this blog is a reference to an a cappella song... But still, rock just seems to have so much more to offer than any other genre; it even has like 80 subgenres... Hard Rock, Metal, Grunge, the ever-popular Pop Punk, Soft Rock, Oldies Rock, Classic Rock, Alternative Rock, Progressive Rock, New Age Rock, Gothic Rock, Indie Rock, etc!!!
Perhaps you've never heard of all these genres. Then again, perhaps you have... it's just that most of the people I encounter don't recognize that rock is a full-sized, living, fighting, growing, expanding, dynamic organism of magic and beauty that is just waiting to grace your ears with some listening pleasure.
I've been told before that rock is a less desirable genre of music because the lyrics are "always about people breaking up and being sore about it." This is often true in the pop culture subgenre of rock (Pop Punk)... but I would argue that most music genres can be simplified in such a way.
Country: I'm hopelessly in love, and my voice cracks a lot, but at least I have a cowboy hat. Trance: I'm in love and I like dancing to work out. Jazz: I love you, but only if we can pretend like we live in the '20's. Rap: I don't love anyone, but I've got a lot of hoes. Check out my bling! Funk: We love funky music more than anything else.
~<@>~
This project is called "Rock Band." I'm talking about bands that rock! Led Zeppelin... Don't tell me you guys have never gotten the lead out. Jimmy Page, Robert Plant? Ring any bells?! What about Sabbath? AC/DC? Motorhead? OH! What do they teach in this place?! Summer, you're the class whatever, go to the board.
Factotum.
Factotor... New schedule. 8:15 to 10:00 - Rock History. 10:00 to 11:00 - Rock Appreciation & Theory. Then Band Practice to the end of the day.
What about math?
No. Not important.
Farnsaki's Recommendations: Dream Theater, Linkin Park, Hoobastank, Third Eye Blind, Cartel, Trapt, Hinder, Avenged Sevenfold, Relient K, Panima, Creed, Jimmy Eat World, Nickelback, Paramore, Limp Bizkit, Sum 41, John Mayer, Bare Naked Ladies, Yellowcard, Europe, AC/DC, Guns 'N Roses, Rage Against The Machine, Europe, Tool, Ataris, Ozzy, Metallica, Green Day, Evanescense...
Marriage. Isn't it about... time? I guess there's something about being a 23 year old college senior that makes people want to push you to get married. I'd love to just find that someone, date like we were meant for each other, and then eventually get married once the time was right - being free of any drama or stress, just basking in the beauty that is our deadline-free life of love and carefree excitement. Well, whoever that person is with whom I'm supposed to live this fairytale, has thus far evaded my non-desperate patrol of local women. Perhaps I haven't found her because while it's true that I am single and available, somehow I'm unavailable as well. Why am I unavailable? The answer is simple: I'm incapable of being idle. Apparently, if I can find space in my life for another activity or obligation, then I will most definitely fit it in because my brain does not believe in relaxation. Currently, I have three jobs and I'm a full time engineering student who tries to make time for the friends he's already got. What little free time I have gets used up by strange things like spending 9 hours in a high school band room fixing drums without even getting paid for it. I guess I would've rather done that than sit in my apartment being bored, but uh, dude... You can't meet girls in high school band rooms on Saturdays... at least not legal ones.
My parents were here this week. Amidst prompts by my dad trying to get me to ask out "Restaurant Girl" or "Concert Girl," my mom concocted a plan. According to her, I need to find, get to know, date, and engage the correct woman all within the next 12 months so that next year when my immediate family will gather for Christmas, I can have someone to hold onto in our family portrait rather than be told to kneel down with the nieces and nephews in front like last time! I am not opposed to this plan. However, I might have to adjust my lifestyle in order to make myself more available for the "huge possy of beautiful, righteous women out there who are just itching to get at [me]," (according to my sister). This could be hard for me.
I've received advice from multiple individuals of the female persuasion lately regarding my situation. With the options of suicide and turning gay put aside, I'm left to the following advice.
Farnsaki:"I'm friends with a lot of girls, but good dates seem to evade me somehow." C:"Well, maybe you shouldn't put yourself in the friend category. Stop being friends with so many girls. If they think of you like a friend they start to think of you like a bro."
Farnsaki: "I think if I were to find a girl who doesn't text during our date, and who will unlock my car door for me after I've let her in, then I might just propose right there." M:"Girls text during their dates with you? If they did that to me, I'd just text them saying, 'You've got the check, right?'"
This is good advice. A lot better than the 'encouragement' I receive from the dudes in my study group...
J:"Dude... does it suck knowing that girls don't find you attractive?"
D:"Dude, I swear there must be a huge underground gay population at BYU. Something like 50%... Rockwell, Neal, and I all have girlfriends, wives, or fiancees... Farnsaki... are you gay, man?"
"I guess I'll just keep doing what I do until John and Jane Q. Viewer decide that they would prefer watching commentators who don't 'pop their whiteheads with a compass they used in high school,' and who don't 'frighten children'..." - Chris Farley (Update: Bennett Brauer)
Note: Do not interpret this blog as an expression of eager desperation to get married! Freak! It's not like that! I'm just being facetious!!!
This combination of verses brings two points to my mind. First, there must be a LOT of scripture out there. I, like many of my friends, keep a journal for documenting spiritual promptings and doctrines which are revealed to me when I study the scriptures or otherwise pursue gospel knowledge. The D&C states that the writings of the Lord's servants are scripture whenever they are prompted by the Spirit. I don't know what the bounds are for the meaning of "servants" here, but I know it includes missionaries. Does it also include counselors in the Elder's Quorum, home teachers, or even just members of the church? As members of the church, we each serve in the capacity of standing as witnesses of God at all times, in all things, and in all places. If so, then like I said, there is a TON of scripture out there. 2000 lbs at least. This brings me to my second point.
writing habits have been more destructive than anything else, and I don't think it's a healthy practice to clobber oneself, even in thought, let alone in writing making it possible for later review. With this knowledge, it becomes apparent why I am so sporadic on my blog: If I don't have something uplifting to say, then I just don't say anything. This doesn't mean that I am primarily a negative person. It's just like I said; I'm just pretty hard on myself when I'm in these contemplative writing moods. Anyway, that's my thought process here at 4:39 in the morning after having a pretty crappy day. Here's to a better day tomorrow.
