Today, I heard an interesting conversation. I walked up to my first class of the day and started waiting for it to start (side note: I'd like you all to think about the phrase "started waiting for it to start. . ."). As I was standing in the hallway outside the classroom I noticed a guy talking about how he had apparently just got kicked out of his apartment and his mom was going to come to Utah in early April to pick him up and take him back to California. Actually he didn't say a word about California until about halfway through his rant, but I surmised that California was where he was from early on. "But how did you know he was from California?" you ask, wondering if I have psychic powers. Don't worry, your plans for world domination are safe from me, for I have no psychic powers, only my awesome powers of deductive reasoning. See, this guy said, "man, I hate Utah so much." To which his friend replied, "So, your going to move from one place you absolutely hate to another place you absolutely hate?" Mover responded, "Oh, I'm not gonna live with my mom, I've already been paying rent on a place for the last couple of months." You see, this is how I learned he was from California.
As I've learned in life, There are some Californians have about as much pride in their state as Texans, but those Californians also have a massive disdain for any state that isn't California. Apparently this guy, though readily telling his friend about how much he hated living at home, was quick to point out that it would still be better than living on his own in Utah. Maybe this is just a think against Utah though, maybe he was all angry that there are so many Mormons in Utah. I don't know. Anyway, that's been my experience with some Californians. I guess people can be like that no matter where they're from. So a word of advice to you, No matter where you're from, have respect for the place you are in. It's amazing the kinds of things you'll enjoy when you stop whining about how much better your hometown is.
Oh, and happy birthday to Alex, Dan, and Sean. Yeah, I remember all of those and Facebook didn't have to tell me.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
I am still alive
So, I haven't written anything here for awhile. Sorry. I know that some of you have been sitting by your computer, constantly refreshing my blog to see if I wrote something new. And I'm sure some even said "Oh, how sad, he's probably dead." Well guess what! I'm NOT dead. But you know who is? Billy Mays.
Yes, that's right, I'm sure at least one person will say, "Who the crap is Billy Mays?" I'll tell you who the crap is Billy Mays. Billy Mays (or B-money as his "homies" called him) was a TV advertisement personality. He's famous for shouting about the wonders of OxiClean. He had a beard that was thick enough to rival that of the internet's most famous superhero, Chuck Norris (of course B-money's beard was sans fist). On June 28, 2009 B-money was found dead by his wife, Deborah "Deb-Mash" Mays.
So why did I decide to rant about this man that many people hate because he's either a) loud b) annoying c) a Republican or d) any combination of the above. Because somebody else died 3 days before B-money and completely overshadowed Billy's story. That man is Michael Jackson, who I have my own opinions on but won't say them for fear of being lynched by the girls that have a crush on him. As a side note, most of those girls fit into the age 12-50 demographic.
There is a real reason however, for this rant. The news will only report on what they think will bring them viewers, and at that time for some reason the news decided that every day we needed to know that Michael Jackson was still dead. Why do we care so much? My uncle died and we spent about two or three days planning for a funeral and after the funeral we moved on. We miss him. My grandma has put pictures of him up in her house with little quotes nearby (i.e. "When you have someone you love in heaven, you have a little bit of heaven in your home"). I have no problem with remembering those who are dead, it's the fixation. We fixate so much on some celebrities that we think we know everything about their lives. We might even feel like we are part of their family. But we don't know everything and we aren't members of their families.
My suggestion to you guys is, if you are so fixated on one person that you know things about that person that other people generally don't know, (i.e. Birth date, birth time, the hospital they were born in, the hospital they stayed in for rehab, the other hospital they stayed in for the other rehab, etc.) try getting a new hobby. Maybe something useful, like cooking, woodworking, breathing, having a life, dating, raising your children, etc. Just a little suggestion.
Oh and to a certain 15 year old sister of mine. . . This one's for you.
Yes, that's right, I'm sure at least one person will say, "Who the crap is Billy Mays?" I'll tell you who the crap is Billy Mays. Billy Mays (or B-money as his "homies" called him) was a TV advertisement personality. He's famous for shouting about the wonders of OxiClean. He had a beard that was thick enough to rival that of the internet's most famous superhero, Chuck Norris (of course B-money's beard was sans fist). On June 28, 2009 B-money was found dead by his wife, Deborah "Deb-Mash" Mays.
So why did I decide to rant about this man that many people hate because he's either a) loud b) annoying c) a Republican or d) any combination of the above. Because somebody else died 3 days before B-money and completely overshadowed Billy's story. That man is Michael Jackson, who I have my own opinions on but won't say them for fear of being lynched by the girls that have a crush on him. As a side note, most of those girls fit into the age 12-50 demographic.
There is a real reason however, for this rant. The news will only report on what they think will bring them viewers, and at that time for some reason the news decided that every day we needed to know that Michael Jackson was still dead. Why do we care so much? My uncle died and we spent about two or three days planning for a funeral and after the funeral we moved on. We miss him. My grandma has put pictures of him up in her house with little quotes nearby (i.e. "When you have someone you love in heaven, you have a little bit of heaven in your home"). I have no problem with remembering those who are dead, it's the fixation. We fixate so much on some celebrities that we think we know everything about their lives. We might even feel like we are part of their family. But we don't know everything and we aren't members of their families.
My suggestion to you guys is, if you are so fixated on one person that you know things about that person that other people generally don't know, (i.e. Birth date, birth time, the hospital they were born in, the hospital they stayed in for rehab, the other hospital they stayed in for the other rehab, etc.) try getting a new hobby. Maybe something useful, like cooking, woodworking, breathing, having a life, dating, raising your children, etc. Just a little suggestion.
Oh and to a certain 15 year old sister of mine. . . This one's for you.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
LOUD PEOPLE
So, here's the deal, I decided a few days ago to write about those people I like to call "loud people." One might assume, "But, for someone to be a loud person don't they just have to be, y'know, loud? I can do that, AHHHHHH!" Okay, shut up, yes. Yes, that can be a loud person, but that's not what I mean. "Loud people" comes from a conversation I had with my wife when I said something to the effect of, "There are so many pretentious people at college, well maybe not that many, but they just happen to be the loudest." What do I mean by that?
Okay, to illustrate my point, have you ever been in a class that you hated because the students keep sidetracking the teacher, you can't learn anything because people keep asking dumb questions or making stupid comments? I have. I had it in a Western religions class of mine last year. I noticed something however, the comments in the class did not come from a large majority of the class. To be honest, they didn't come from even a large minority, only a paltry 2 students. One student seemed to constantly be trying to prove (in what was essentially a history class about Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) that God did not exist, while the other seem to think that we didn't know enough about the predominant religion in our area, which I am a member of and I'd imagine at least half the class as well. On both ends each thought that they were right and each thought that we should all know that they were right.
The problem I had with these two students is that they thought that their opinion/belief mattered more to the professor/students/me. I'm going to tell them this, even though they won't be reading and even if they are, won't know who they are. First, if you feel compelled to speak in class ask yourself, "Does this comment help me understand what the teacher is saying or does it try to show people how smart I am?" If your answer is the latter, shut up. Second, Remember that you DO NOT know everything, so stop trying to pretend that you do. Thank you.
Okay, to illustrate my point, have you ever been in a class that you hated because the students keep sidetracking the teacher, you can't learn anything because people keep asking dumb questions or making stupid comments? I have. I had it in a Western religions class of mine last year. I noticed something however, the comments in the class did not come from a large majority of the class. To be honest, they didn't come from even a large minority, only a paltry 2 students. One student seemed to constantly be trying to prove (in what was essentially a history class about Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) that God did not exist, while the other seem to think that we didn't know enough about the predominant religion in our area, which I am a member of and I'd imagine at least half the class as well. On both ends each thought that they were right and each thought that we should all know that they were right.
The problem I had with these two students is that they thought that their opinion/belief mattered more to the professor/students/me. I'm going to tell them this, even though they won't be reading and even if they are, won't know who they are. First, if you feel compelled to speak in class ask yourself, "Does this comment help me understand what the teacher is saying or does it try to show people how smart I am?" If your answer is the latter, shut up. Second, Remember that you DO NOT know everything, so stop trying to pretend that you do. Thank you.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
My life ISN'T a meaningless sequence of moments!
You heard right every person. Me writing in this blog has actually amounted to one (1) person following me. So happy I-just-realized-that-I-have-one-follower Day, what is it, January 4th? Okay, so from now on, January 4th is I-just-realized-that-I-have-one-follower Day. Anyway, no need to disappoint any of my one (1) follower(s). So what to rant about today? I say time travel!
So, here's the deal, for Christmas I received a book. A book written by a favorite author of mine, Orson Scott Card. And before you are all, "I love Ender's Game" shut up, Ender's Game is a good book yes, but it is not Orson Scott Card's only book, so read more of his books, in a series other than the Ender series, you might actually enjoy them. Anyway, back to the point. The book, Pathfinder, deals with something that's a little confusing to me, Time Travel.
In the book the main characters have the ability to travel back in time and do things in the past to change the present. the problem is when they should or should not go into the past and do such things. It's terribly confusing. In some cases the character Umbo will get a warning from himself about some danger. Originally, the characters believe that Umbo has to go back and warn himself at a later time, because he was just warned by himself, but they conclude that since the warning was already delivered and the flow of time has been altered, that Umbo now does not have to go back. However, in another situation, Umbo decides that he will take a jewel from their own pouch, at which point, the jewel disappears. Because the jewel disappeared, Umbo has to go back later and steal the jewel, which he eventually does. So the question is, when we as humans learn the secrets of time travel, are there times where it will be necessary and unnecessary to travel through time, or does Orson Scott Card have his ideas of time travel messed up? Discuss.
So, here's the deal, for Christmas I received a book. A book written by a favorite author of mine, Orson Scott Card. And before you are all, "I love Ender's Game" shut up, Ender's Game is a good book yes, but it is not Orson Scott Card's only book, so read more of his books, in a series other than the Ender series, you might actually enjoy them. Anyway, back to the point. The book, Pathfinder, deals with something that's a little confusing to me, Time Travel.
In the book the main characters have the ability to travel back in time and do things in the past to change the present. the problem is when they should or should not go into the past and do such things. It's terribly confusing. In some cases the character Umbo will get a warning from himself about some danger. Originally, the characters believe that Umbo has to go back and warn himself at a later time, because he was just warned by himself, but they conclude that since the warning was already delivered and the flow of time has been altered, that Umbo now does not have to go back. However, in another situation, Umbo decides that he will take a jewel from their own pouch, at which point, the jewel disappears. Because the jewel disappeared, Umbo has to go back later and steal the jewel, which he eventually does. So the question is, when we as humans learn the secrets of time travel, are there times where it will be necessary and unnecessary to travel through time, or does Orson Scott Card have his ideas of time travel messed up? Discuss.
Friday, December 31, 2010
"I know you, you know me, one thing I can tell you is you gotta be free
Come together, right now, over me." Ah, what a glorious song. In my opinion, it is one of the most confusing Beatles' songs, right after "I am the Walrus." Shall we take a dance back in time a see the lyrics. I say yes.
Here come old flattop he come grooving up slowly
He got joo-joo eyeball he one holy roller
He got hair down to his knee
Got to be a joker he just do what he please
He wear no shoeshine he got toe-jam football
He got monkey finger he shoot coca-cola
He say "I know you, you know me"
One thing I can tell you is you got to be free
Come together right now over me
He bag production he got walrus gumboot
He got Ono sideboard he one spinal cracker
He got feet down below his knee
Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease
Come together right now over me
He roller-coaster he got early warning
He got muddy water he one mojo filter
He say "One and one and one is three"
Got to be good-looking 'cause he's so hard to see
Come together right now over me
Ah what a fun song that I don't understand. And let me tell you, the little beginning thing (that I imagine if I wrote out would look like "Shhhhum-dum dugga-duuuummmm dummmm, Shhhhum-dum dugga-duuuummmm dummmm") Is terribly catchy, don't get me started on the guitar solo. Ah John, Paul, George, and Ringo, how you have done the world good. Imagine the things we wouldn't have without the Beatles. I'd give you examples but I'm too lazy to think of them so how about you just imagine them yourselves. Anyway, that's not what I came here to talk to you about, That's just the song that happened to be playing when I started writing. I actually have no idea what I was going to write about, so instead, I give you an assignment to listen to "Come Together" by the Beatles, not by Aerosmith, although that one's good too, I prefer the Beatles. So go, listen, wonder, and enjoy.
Here come old flattop he come grooving up slowly
He got joo-joo eyeball he one holy roller
He got hair down to his knee
Got to be a joker he just do what he please
He wear no shoeshine he got toe-jam football
He got monkey finger he shoot coca-cola
He say "I know you, you know me"
One thing I can tell you is you got to be free
Come together right now over me
He bag production he got walrus gumboot
He got Ono sideboard he one spinal cracker
He got feet down below his knee
Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease
Come together right now over me
He roller-coaster he got early warning
He got muddy water he one mojo filter
He say "One and one and one is three"
Got to be good-looking 'cause he's so hard to see
Come together right now over me
Ah what a fun song that I don't understand. And let me tell you, the little beginning thing (that I imagine if I wrote out would look like "Shhhhum-dum dugga-duuuummmm dummmm, Shhhhum-dum dugga-duuuummmm dummmm") Is terribly catchy, don't get me started on the guitar solo. Ah John, Paul, George, and Ringo, how you have done the world good. Imagine the things we wouldn't have without the Beatles. I'd give you examples but I'm too lazy to think of them so how about you just imagine them yourselves. Anyway, that's not what I came here to talk to you about, That's just the song that happened to be playing when I started writing. I actually have no idea what I was going to write about, so instead, I give you an assignment to listen to "Come Together" by the Beatles, not by Aerosmith, although that one's good too, I prefer the Beatles. So go, listen, wonder, and enjoy.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Not a lot of time
So, as Mr. Title is fond of telling us, I don't have a lot of time. That is because I have to be at work at 4:00 PM and as of right now it is 3:14 PM, and I'm at the library(oop, libary) again, with my wife, whom I will have to drive home after we are done at said libary. Anyway, In my complaint of the post, I will speak of the joys of having a projector. My father works for a school district and as such has access to much equipment that the school does not need but is not entirely useless. Because of this my wife and I received a projector for Christmas. We got home, I set it up, I figured out haw to make it not think it was upside down on a ceiling anymore, and we watched a few movies. I've also had a few occasions to play some games on it. Alas, however, here is my problem. Our apartment comes with cable, which we have heartily used on my old tiny 2" TV (Okay, so it's not 2 inches, but it's still pretty small). After we received this projector we had to point it at the only wall in our apartment which is not made of cinderblock. This wall unfortunately is also the wall that the coaxial cord for our cable comes through, and that cable is not long enough to reach, in anyway (believe me, I've tried) our projector. This saddens me, because I want to watch regular TV on our projector, but I have to use our tiny TV to watch it. It's difficult, but I think I'll pull through. Anyway, it is now 3:21 and we things to do. Please talk at me. . . please.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
What's going on, Man?
I'll tell you what's going on, title. I'm using the internet at a libary (yes, I wrote libary, not library, because I say libary). Why are you using the internet at a libary? Well, random interjected question, it's because I'm a terrible person that steals internets from my neighbor. However, Comcast, my neighbor's internet provider, has decided that to use the internet, I need to verify that the account is mine, which it is not, so I can't use the internet. So I come to the libary. There are many interesting things about using the internet at the libary.
First thing about libary internets, it's quiet here, which isn't to say it's any different from when I use the internet at home, it just means that as I type the spacebar makes a lot of sound, as well as a few other keys on the keyboard. That makes me feel awkward. Second because I'm in an area with lots of people, I feel like my ridiculously loud clattering on the keyboard is drawing their attention so I constantly have to look to make sure that no one is watching me. Finally, I only have 90 minutes of libary internets time, which, after I check e-mail, Facebook, and take care of other business, means that I only have 60 minutes left to work on things such as this. Which means I'm constantly afraid that as I type this some message will pop up saying, "YOU FOOL, YOU HAVE USED ALL YOUR LIBARY INTERNETS TIME AND YOU MUST PAY FOR EVEN THINKING YOU COULD DO ALL YOU NEEDED IN TIME! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" And then I would cry myself home like the beaten man I would be. . . ooh an ellipsis.
Anyway, in the end the internet at the libary isn't all that bad, I mean, it's free, so I can't really complain that much. And I suppose I might someday get used to the weird kid that walks just a little too close to me as he checks to see how much more time I have to do all that I'm doing so he can swoop in like a vulture and rip apart the zebra carcass that is his own internet time. Yeah, I can get used to that.
So, with that I leave all those who have their own internets with my warmest envy. Enjoy your home internets, enjoy that you don't have to rely on a libary to check e-mail or Facebook or whatever you do. I wish I was you, or at least, that I had my own internets.
First thing about libary internets, it's quiet here, which isn't to say it's any different from when I use the internet at home, it just means that as I type the spacebar makes a lot of sound, as well as a few other keys on the keyboard. That makes me feel awkward. Second because I'm in an area with lots of people, I feel like my ridiculously loud clattering on the keyboard is drawing their attention so I constantly have to look to make sure that no one is watching me. Finally, I only have 90 minutes of libary internets time, which, after I check e-mail, Facebook, and take care of other business, means that I only have 60 minutes left to work on things such as this. Which means I'm constantly afraid that as I type this some message will pop up saying, "YOU FOOL, YOU HAVE USED ALL YOUR LIBARY INTERNETS TIME AND YOU MUST PAY FOR EVEN THINKING YOU COULD DO ALL YOU NEEDED IN TIME! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" And then I would cry myself home like the beaten man I would be. . . ooh an ellipsis.
Anyway, in the end the internet at the libary isn't all that bad, I mean, it's free, so I can't really complain that much. And I suppose I might someday get used to the weird kid that walks just a little too close to me as he checks to see how much more time I have to do all that I'm doing so he can swoop in like a vulture and rip apart the zebra carcass that is his own internet time. Yeah, I can get used to that.
So, with that I leave all those who have their own internets with my warmest envy. Enjoy your home internets, enjoy that you don't have to rely on a libary to check e-mail or Facebook or whatever you do. I wish I was you, or at least, that I had my own internets.
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