Teaching Sean

Day 43 without seeing a deer (or How I'm spending my lent)

2011-03-15T22:41:00.000-07:00

When we first moved into our new place, we were told that deer sometimes come down off the hill and eat the plants on the property. Since then, we have only seen a deer once, way up on the hill. On Sunday we saw a coyote up on the crest of the hill, but it disappeared behind the hill before we could spend a lot of time watching it. More than anything, I wanted to see if it had a deer leg dangling in it's mouth.

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I have time to notice these things since Lent started. For Lent this year, I gave up Facebook Monday through Friday (I need FB on the sabbath to do my calling at church) and Amy and I attempted to give up sugar. Facebook is turning out to be the simpler of the two. Each day I find myself getting more and more stuff done and having less and less drama in my life as I spend less time with Facebook.

For sure, sugar is my hardest challenge. All day Monday my mind flashed back to our honeymoon and the time we were at Guiradelli Square in San Fran. There we had a Vanilla Sunday with chocolate and caramel; warm chocolate and warm caramel. The type that has a base of toppings, the ice cream, and then more topping drizzled on... You get the idea. As Monday passed by, my mind flashed upon that image and my mouth watered. Today as I was leaving work, my mind flashed back to Sunday as a girl sat next to me in Sunday School. She unwrapped three bite size Snickers and then ate them as the class proceeded - savoring every bite. Suddenly today, I too wanted to unwrap a whole bag of Snickers and devour them, bite by bite. To help cure some of these cravings, I've tried to fill my boy with healthy choices: fruits, vegetables, and yogurt. the first two, great choices. I actually read the ingredients on the yogurt container today: 4th one listed is Sugar. Now I have to decide whether or not I'm giving up 95% of sugar for Lent or if I'm giving up yogurt for lent as well.

This year's lent is definitely being a bit more of a change than past years. Good thing I can distract my self by looking for deer on the horizon.

A photo a day day

2010-04-06T22:19:00.000-07:00

Some days I miss doing a daily photo. Today would have been a great day. For almost a year now, my stomach and throat have been having spasms when I eat bread, meats or if I eat rice too fast. I keep forgetting to see a doctor about it. Well today at work, the problem took an unfortunate turn. Evidently my esophagus has a shrinking problem when it comes to certain foods. Today it shrunk around a piece of chicken and blocked the passage. Nothing went down, including my saliva. I kept vomiting my saliva. So I was rushed to the ER. I first got a medicine to relax my esophagus, but that only lessened the problem. Eventually I got to go to surgery. I was sedated and had a camera shoved down my throat and had the piece of food removed. Then I woke up and was told I was on a 72 hour liquid diet.

And of course all I can think about is how cool a photo a day shot this would have made.

I want to fly

2010-03-28T20:25:00.000-07:00

In December I saw Avatar and it had a guy who jumps on the back of a bird and flies around. This past weekend, Amy and I saw "How to train your Dragon." During the movie, a boy (with his girlfriend later on) mounts on the shoulders of a dragon. In both instances I watched in envy. I have been able to defy gravity several times. I've stripped down to my underwear and had a TSA agent approve me to board a huge metal tunnel and fly. But that flying isn't the same as the joy I watched those little cartoon faces. As I watched, I felt a need to fly. The closest feeling I can think of is riding roller coasters. But even that is attached to a track. I wonder how it would feel to just fly. I think I would love that feeling.

(Both movies also had a person or two a with a disability. Thanks be to the movie world for realizing that these are real people and can do more than they were previously given credit for.)

Pondering upon girlfriends past

2010-03-25T10:26:00.001-07:00

Last Monday, Amy came over to the house to pick up some work related items from Dave. While there she gave me a hug. It wasn't a quick hug but one of those hugs that tells you "I will hug you for as long as you need this hug. I am your friend, I love you and I want you to feel loved and comforted." I did linger in my hug, because on that day, I could have used a hug.

After Amy left, I got to thinking about the qualities of girlfriends past. Five girlfriends come to mind (Disclaimer 1): Amy, Nina, Melinda, B'Shaun and KNJ-P. For various reasons, I miss a piece of each one of these girls.

Amy was always free with her affection. I have met girls that only give affection when they want it, but not Amy. If I wanted a hug or a kiss, she was glad to oblige, with no alternative motive. Additionally she used to hold me. I know it is the strong guy that is supposed to hold the girl as she is comforted through her life, but sometimes I just want to be held. She would curl up with me and wrap her arms around me and make me feel safe. Because of past experiences, I have a real hard time feeling safe, but with her, I was safe.
Anoter great aspect about Amy is her ability to see the world through a much simpler way. She enjoys the simple things in life and doesn't require a lot of complication to be happy or satisfied. Since dating her,I tend to look morefor the positive in people, seek out happy moments and enjoy more of the sun on my face than curse it.

Nina has several redeeming qualities. To start out with, she is super smart. She studies hard and knows her material well. I can ask her a slew of questons and she often knows the answer and is able to teach it to me. Another great quality of Nina is her ability to call me on my crap. I make a lot of excuses for myself and Nina has the ability to call me onmy excuses and get me to admit I'm putting out a line of bull. In other words, she knocks down my pride and humbles me. No matter how smart other people think I am, she is able to point out to me the things I'm really smart about and the things I'm just making up as I go along. Furthermore, she inspires me to go and learn more about the things I know crap about because I hate being called out on it. Lastly, Nina has taught me to love animals more. As I learn to love animals more, especially dogs, I find myself becoming more social. Just last weekend, I went hiking at a place that had maybe 60 dogs scattered through out the park. I got to meet several owners and talk to them about the park, their dogs, and other topics.

Melinda gave me a greater appreciation for the outdoors. While she still can't convince me that camping is "fun," I love going out hiking and seeing new things in nature. When we were dating in Rexburg, we went out almost every night on a walk. I learned the streets of Rexburg well and had some great adventures that I still refer to today. I learned about plants and nature and national parks and all sorts of things. In addition to the walks, Melinda gave me the gift of learning about the world I live in. Both of us actively read the National Geographic magazine and discuss the contents. Though I loved learning before, Melinda really helped me focus my learning. Melinda's enthusiasm for the National Parks System helps fuel my enthusiasm for the Parks system and my desire to wander through it. In addition to nature, Melinda keeps my passions alive in helping people with disabilities. Part of her extra ciricular activities at BYUI is to keep Adaptive Activities alive and well. Just this past weekend Melinda helped host a Goalball event. Melinda is not blind or in a wheelchair, but her continued desire to help those that are and teach those that aren't reminds me of my desire to do the same.

B'Sean has an enthusiasm for life like nothing else. This girl is excited For pretty much anything. She can go up to complete strangers and talk to them like they were in the war together. I'm a bit anti-social, but B'Sean taught me to be a little more open. She helped me figure out that I'm anti-social to groups, but that small groups or one on one is fine for me. She got me to try new things and be willing to leave my comfort zones. B'Sean is always a good ear as well. She (and the three previously mentioned) is more than willing to sit there and listen during those times when I just need someone to hear me.

KNJ-P had the ability to instill self confidence and the ability to do the one thing no one else has been able to do: teach me about me. Sure she was able to do a lot more and taught me to hold myself to a higher standard, but the one thing I always think about when it comes to her was her ability to teach me about meShe had this strange ability to look into me and interpet my actions, my words, and my past in a way that brought sanity to me. I have never felt as safe or as understood by someone as much as she did and then taught me to do. Because of her, I believed I could do so much. I took on a lot of fears head on because she told me I could handle it and then was to help support me when I faltered (it turned out she was often right too. I could handle those fears.). Another great redeeming quality was her loyalty. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer, I very plainly told KNJ that we should break up. She calmy told me that she loves me and that she will be with me through good and bad. And until it became very clear 18 months later that our relationship had run its course, KNJ stuck to that. She was firecly loyal to me and to our relationship. The last thing I really liked about KNJ was that she was constantly thinking and constantly planning. She probably had ten projects going on in her head at a time. One time I heart attacked her room (took construction paper,cut it up into heart shapes, tossed them around her room and on her bed.). She thought it was cute, said thank you, and I thought that was it. Two months later, she got a friend and not only heart attacked my room but put 15 different oragamy figurines through out my room with little quotes attatched to them. She was planning it the whole time, while also carrying a full load of classes and designing a 20 foot Chineese dragon puppet. Little things like that continued through our relationship as she was constantly thinking about other things to add to our relationship. It was creatively nice.

As I ponder about these past girlfriends, I'm reminded that I trully am blessed. I'm still close friends with four of them. And I have these great gifts that I have been given from dating these wonderful women. I love animals, people, nature and life. I've learned about the world I live in, new activities and about myself. 4.5 (disclaimer #2) of these women tell me that they too were given a lot through our dating and that they were blessed because of the experience and enjoy being near me.

As I look though the girls on Plentyoffish.com (rant #1), I am sadly disapointed because of the standard these previous women have given.

Disclaimer 1: Melinda and B'Shaun have never been an offical "Girlfriend of Sean" but both have been dated more times than some ex-girlfriends I have had.

Disclaimer 2: KNJ-P and I have a civil relationship now. The other four women get along fine with me. KNJ-P has said in the past that dating me was a great experience but she has no desire to be close now. I'm okay with that.

Rant 1: Okay, I realize that, to most people, getting a little buzzed sounds fun, but come on. Seriously is there that few number of people who don't smoke and don't drink alcohol that they just don't show up on online dating sites?

When Social Networking becomes Social Narcissim

2010-03-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I made a deal with a friend: We are both giving up Facebook for the week. So, since Sunday I have not seen the familiar blue background and nor have I been reading up and keeping up on the lives of about 300 friends. I have been coming home, checking my e-mail and watching tv or doing homework.

After just three days I find myself struggling. I'm not struggling with not knowing what's going on in other people's lives. I'm not struggling not being able to comment on the mundane in the world. I don't miss clicking the "like" button. However there is one thing I really do miss: Updating others on my status.

I use my status update both as a way to try to be creative and also a way to gather comments from friends - usually in a jealous way. Tuesday it was 70 degrees and so I bought a chocolate shake. As I was sucking it, I was really tempted to log onto Facebook and announce it. Monday night when we were moving the "new" fridge into the house, both Dave and I missed a step. He had the whole fridge fall on his leg, while I only had a corner of it fall on my knee (which still hurts today).

In addition to get sympathy or create jealousy, I use it as a way to create quick creative posts. A few weeks ago, it was "Trap set, cage built, now all I need is a purple person and I'll be able to catch my very own one eyed one horned flying purple people eater." Another week it was "Three steps to becoming a hero: 1. Live in the west. 2. Work in the east. 3. Drive off into the sunset every day. Bonus if you can tilt your hat to all of the women and children." After a week of lacking sleep and early mornings I wrote that I was "still a little punchy and feeling like taking over a small country or an ant hill."

Other days, I use my status as a way to make declarative statements. "Sean knows it is going to be a good day when it starts with Oingo Boingo." "Sean feels happy and safe here [in Vallejo]. "The radio Gods have been nice to Sean giving him Queen three times this week."

However, all of these status updates are just the beginning. What I really miss is the response. There is something cool about logging into Facebook and seeing that 4 people liked your status and 3-4 people commented on your status. It helps reinforce a personal feeling that at times - I'm awesome. No where else in life do you get that (I used to get a lot of that with the Photo A Day blog, but that died off over time which helped lead to my boredom with that project). No where else does it happen regularily that you type something that is less than 200 characters or you publish a picture or you post a link - that people decide they like it and think is cool. And that is sadly what I have been missing most this week. I got a little bit of praise this week (My friend Jill keeps telling me what a hard worker I am because of the amount of work I do at home after I get home from work) - but one voice isn't enough. Social Networking has turned me into a social narcisist and a whore for praise.

Service is rarely fit to your schedule

2010-03-09T00:01:00.000-08:00

It's 12:01 in the morning and I am no where near the bed that was beckoning me just 60 minutes prior. I am instead sitting in an ER waiting room, laptop open and fingers typing. Service never seems to come calling at 10 in the morning after a good night's rest.

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On Sunday, during a testimony meeting, a friend got up and talked about learning to let himself go. He talked about the importance of that scripture "Whosoever will save his life shall lose it; and whosoever will lose his life for My Sake shall find it." and the other "When you are in the service of your fellow being you are only in the service of your God." My friend was talking about giving service to me.

I live at a house that was a foreclosure and bought as an investment. The owner of the house then got transferred out to Indiana. In able to keep renters in the house, the owner is charging a very low rate, but with that low rate comes the responsibility of taking care of the house. A shed in the back yard had started to lean and was in danger of taking out the back fence if the shed leaned any more. So I sent out a desperate plea for help with the shed on Facebook. There were many conflicts for the time I chose. One big conflict for my friend was a desire to see a girl he is courting. He had commitments in the afternoon that he couldn't get out of so it was a very simple choice of seeing her or helping tearing down the shed. He read that scripture earlier in the week and felt impressed to come to my place.

My friend testified on Sunday about the joy and peace that entered him as he worked on the shed. Some things that had been frustrating him disappeared as the shed took on his anxious energy. His mind cleared as he focused on the shed and its ultimate demise.

As he left he was invigorated and felt energized. He was better at ease and was asking if there was more work to be done. His afternoon went well and he even got to see that cute girl.

The core of his testimony was how he went to provide service for me and yet when he left - he felt the service had been done to him. For the most part - I think that is how service works. I've never walked away from a service activity that I said to myself "Gosh that was a waste."

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In a few minutes I will post this and start reading a new book I got in the mail today. Just in the nick of time, a book a friend recommended arrived today in the mail. A service by a friend to keep me entertained while I provide service to a friend. What a nice circle.

making it through the storm

2010-03-08T17:03:00.000-08:00

As I sat in my office the last 2 hours of the day, it was unavoidable to hear the wind picking up the pace outside. Each time the automatic door opened bigger and bigger gusts of wind were able to force there way into the building. Whether it was predicted or not, we had a cold front and a rain storm on its way.

At 3:30 I adventured out to my truck and saw on my western horizon a dark line forming in the sky. There were no individual clouds, only a thick grey cloud. I drove west, heading right for it.

As I got closer to the dark horizon, I noticed to my right the Delta already engulfed in the suffocating clouds. Around me the wind increased and knocked my light truck bed around like I was a pinata at an Oakland Athletics' batting practice. Shortly before the hill that arose in front of me, the sky began to open up, first my spitting on my windshield, but eventually it came down in sheets and decreased the visibility of the other motorists in front of me. By the time I reached the crest of the hill, little white beads started to pepper the hood of my truck. Hail is not common in California, but this little storm didn't let that deter it. My truck's hood turned from bright red to speckled white.

I pressed on.

By the time I reached the bridge, I was on the other side. The only visibility problem I faced now was the bright sun cascading down from the baby blue sky. The wet pavement reflected the shine up, filled the truck cab with warmth and a little bit of glare. As I looked back over the darkened Delta, I thought of the near ending of the Truman Show. Truman, in the midst of his own storm, shouts up at the sky and screams "Is that the best you can do?" I too felt that way as a smile settled on my face and I thought about the other storms in my life. They might seem dark and able to toss me around. But waiting on just the other side is sunshine and an attitude of "Is that the best you can do? Because that trial - that storm - wasn't nearly enough to knock me off course.

Being an Eagle Scout

2010-03-01T07:34:00.000-08:00

On Sunday night I returned to my homeland to watch a young man I have known for the last 14 years accomplish something not a lot of men are able to do. My friend got his Eagle Scout. He and I share something in common - we both made it to the ripe old age of 16, got a vehicle, met girls and sort of forgot about going to Eagle. Both of us, as time drew closer to age 18, felt impressed to revisit the goal and to achieve it. (My friend finished his 3 weeks prior to his 18th birthday. I finished mine 3 HOURS prior to my 18th Birthday.)

Since being awarded my Eagle, I have only seen it used once in my life directly - and that was for a job interview at a grocery store in Idaho (Literally three questions in the Interview: Are you really an Eagle Scout? Can you start at 6 AM? When can you start?). For the most part, I have worked for women owned or women ran companies. On more than one occasion I have had to explain what an Eagle Scout Rank is and what it took to obtain it. Often people don't care.

So it might seem, at times that what I did, 14 years ago, was a waste. It was something that has little meaning if those who you show it to have no understanding what it is. (almost like when one of my roommates shows me how he beat this certain hard level at his video game. I don't play video games so the concept is lost on me).

It would seem like it was a waste - that is until you start listening to the Scout Oath and Scout Law and think about what Boy Scouts gave me. One of the comments several current and past employers have said is that I tend to over think the job. I tend to look at different potential problems from all angles and so when a problem occurs, I usually have a solution for it. Sometimes I have more than one. I think comes from many trips with young men who don't plan ahead. As much as I hate camping - I think camping is vital to learning how to function in the world. No where else can you really learn to plan ahead. If you go camping and there is a chance of rain and you don't bring your rain jacket - you learn rather quickly that you just can't run inside and get it. If you are out hiking and someone trips and gets bruised up - you figure out that the only bandages you have are the ones with you and that you can't call 911 to rescue you or look up on google how to survive.
I look at the fact that at work I am often given assignments and I complete them quickly and efficiently. One way I was taught this as a boy was by having merit badge requirements. Merit badges teach a skill and have requirements for practicing and reviewing that skill. A boy must present a goal, go do the goal and return and report to their merit badge counselor. This is much like getting an assignment at work, figuring out how you are going to do it, doing it, and then returning to your boss.
In each troop and patrol, a boy is given a job or an assignment. This chore or assignment is usually something that is beneficial to everyone in the group. (like who is bringing treats each week) By having a little assignment and completing it, a boy learns to be responsible and to be accountable for their actions. One thing that people often say is that they can count on me. If I say I'm going to do something - I do it. By being a boy scout - the boy learns to accept assignments and fulfill them. As he fulfills assignments, people begin to rely on him and trust him.

So in summary - I don't know if the actual award has done me any good, but the way I was shaped and molded as I reached toward that rank has greatly benefited me in life as I think it does every boy that succeeds at scouting.

When you think in pictures - some images never leave you

2010-02-25T21:43:00.000-08:00

Tonight in class my professor mentioned he felt there might be a disturbance in the force. He felt that way on Tuesday but tonight he really noticed that I was down. He is right. This week has been rough.

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On Monday night I was having a conversation with a friend about being a worthy priesthood holder and how me not being one was a unattractive quality of me. Her comments triggered my mind to remember why I am I am an unworthy priesthood holder.

My mind almost always goes to a day in August, during my 13th year. I woke in the morning to find my mother on the floor in the kitchen, a pool of blood soaking into her clothes and mixing with a scattering of vomit. Because I have and always will be a photographer, my mind has in it an abundant still shots from that morning. During weeks like this, my mind puts those slides into a Kodak Carousel and the images get projected before my eyes. I see each aspect of the scene like it was happening before me. My mind spares no detail.
Later that day I would read a letter that was written just for me, a letter that proclaimed love and released me from blame. I still remember parts of that letter and parts of the other two that I would read in the next six years of my life. Even later that day, a man would come to our house with a sheriff and inform us that it was no longer our house. A few weeks later my family would move to a new house - the house I would live in until I moved to Idaho - and life would never be the same again.
However, the letter, the man and the new home have little bearing on my life on weeks like this. When I am reminded of my lack of worthy priesthood power, I am reminded of that warm August morning and the blood and the vomit and my mother lying on the kitchen floor, wrists with fresh wounds that would forever be a scar and a constant reminder of that day.

I have found very few ways to escape those images. They follow me in my sleep, the quiet moments of my day and in drive time when the background noise of the radio becomes a low hum. Even as I type this, I break for a moment, close my eyes and there in my mind are contrasting colors of deep dark red blood clashing on the white floor and mixing with the half digested Tylenol tablets. My mind is always open and willing to flip on the projector one more time for a private screening.

My only escape for several years has been an activity that uses endorphins to dim the light on the projector. This activity is considered a sin in the Mormon church and therefore is the reason I am an unworthy priesthood holder. I have tried life without it, only to find myself seeking out more self destructive activities with more lasting results. Without this activity, I slip into a state of undenialble depression. One friend once told me I was too smart for suicide, but on the months where I try hard to not do this unpriesthood like activity, my mind reaches for solutions like that (though not nearly as drastic) to ease the pain and reduce the constant replay of the slide show.

My constant companion is a day in August nearly two decades ago. When dear friends point out that my unworthy state is unattractive, I am reminded in greater detail of that day and am reminded that that one unattractive quality is more attractive than the alternative of brightly beaming the images of my childhood and a day in august when I was 13. I would rather be happy and slightly unworthy than in a constant state of detailed instant replay. At least as an unattractive priesthood holder, most people don't see sorrow in my face and sense a disturbance in my force.

Quick write for a friend

2010-02-23T11:54:00.000-08:00

Today I got a text from a friend asking me to do a small favor. She wants me to write a paragraph on anythng I want, but to write it twice - once on lined paper and once on unlined paper. The following was the first paragraph that popped into my head. I thought I'd share.

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One other unique feature of the one eyed one horned flying purple people eater is its ability to see into the inner layers of people and search out their purpleness. Most purple people have evolved to the point where they blendin with most other people, and therefore only have purple on the inside. Much like a hawk scouring for prey from above, the one eyed one horned flying purple people eater hovers in the sky scanning people down below. "Their eye has a special filter on it that makes the Purple People glow purple, eventhough to us humans we don't see the glow." says Dr. Melinda Tennessee, who has been studying the rare species for some time. "Once they see a glowing purple person, they will often stalk it from the air until the purple person is alone." Continues Dr. Tennessee. According to Tennessee, the one eyed one horn flying purple people eater then swoops down and eats the purple person. If it wasn't for the specialized eye, the one eyed one horned flying purple people eater would not be able to eat as easily as it does.

"Sean Read, Sean Do" or "Can I lent you some Coke?"

2010-02-18T11:15:00.000-08:00

Wednesday was Ash Wednesday. It is the starting day for Lent. Now, I'm not Catholic, but I like the idea of giving up something for 40 days as a sacrafice for your God and for yourself. Especially if that something is bad for you - like Coke. I LOVE Coke. I love the taste. I love the texture. I love the feel of the carbonation and caffine surging through my body. But as a person with a hiatel hernia and as a person with a rather large belly, Coke isn't all that rewarding for the body in the long run.

So as Cindy gives up Sugar (an impossible task for me) for her Lent offering, I am going to give up Soda - all of it. I do have one exception, though. If we have a natural disaster (hurricane, tornado, earthquake, blizzard, typhoon, tsunamia, flood, Republican control of the Senate, etc.), then I'm dipping into my food storage which has in it - Coke Classic.

the trouble with eating a meatball sandwich

2010-02-04T14:00:00.000-08:00

I had a gift certificate to Lumpy's that I was saving for today. Today's special is the Meatball Sandwich. This sandwich is tied for first as my favorite thing to get at Lumpy's (it's tied with the Meatloaf) (Second would be the Garlic Caesar Salad Sandwich, third the Bacon Cheeseburger Sandwich with fourth rounded out by Lumpy Stub). The Meatball Sandwich has a foundation on of a hogie roll, with two, three or four meatballs thrown on followed by a healthy helping of spaghetti noodles that are covered in sauce and smothered in cheese. When it arrives I am always in a quandary of how to proceed to maximize the parts of the meal. Before I get to the heart of this post, let me start out by saying that I eat meals in departmentalized way. For instance, if I'm at McDonald's, I eat my sandwich first then my fries. At Olive Garden, I eat my salad and soup then my main course - I do not keep the salad or soup on the table because I'm done with it. After the main course I eat my bread sticks and use them to clean the plate.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Let me further explain that for the most part, Lumpy's allows me to do exactly this. When I get the meatloaf, with each slice of my fork or knife, I can take in the bread, meat and gravy. Then I can go after the mash potatoes. With the Bacon Cheeseburger, I can take in a mouthful and chomp and chew from every member of the sandwich at one time.

However, the meatball sandwich presents a problem. With one slice of the knife or one mouth full of the sandwich - you could be not getting all of that the sandwich has to offer. The meatball ratio compared to the rest of the sandwich is drastically different. You can go several bites without getting any morsel of meatball. It's almost like you are eating two different sandwiches. One is a spaghetti sandwich and one is a meatball spaghetti sandwich. Two sandwiches at once is not very compartmentalized.

I have been searching my brain for solutions. I can only come up with three:
1. smash the meatballs up into little pieces and scatter them around the plate hoping to cover the whole sandwich.
2. pull the meatballs out and have them after the rest of the sandwich - sort of like a dessert of rolled beef.
3. Stop ordering the meatball sandwich.

Do you have any additional insights?

waiting

2010-01-26T15:36:00.000-08:00

i sing the songs of my heart
as i think of yours

i look forward to having yours
encased in your little body
nestled in my arms

i think often of your smiling eyes
as they would glimmer up at mine
so please come quickly
that mine might glimmer back at you,
smiling and looking so precious below me.

PSA Driving fast

2010-01-13T23:35:00.000-08:00

On Monday I was on 780 heading East. Suddenly a car got on the freeway, cut over to my lane and flicked his lights at me. There was a car directly next to me. I sped up. The person next to me sped up. I slowed down (to get behind the guy next to me). The guy behind me turned on his high beams and left them on for the next two miles. His high beams encompassed all mirrors I had. I could not look into my two side mirrors, my two blind spot mirrors nor my rear view mirror without seeing his high beams. At that point I knew not where the car on the side of me was. Was it next to me or far behind me? I just didn't know. So I didn't know if I needed to go faster or slow down to get out of the lane I was in. Eventually it became clear that the car next to me had reduced its speed. The guy behind me turned off his high beams, got over and passed me. As he passed me, he rolled down his window and shoved his middle finger out at me. Then he promptly got off three miles after he had gotten on.

For this Public Service Announcement - I would like to help out this guy and future drivers. If you need to go three miles in a hurry on highway 780 might I suggest the following:

1. Leave Earlier
2. Grow wings and fly there
3. Buy a Helicopter
4. Rent a Dragon
5. Or you could just be patient

One thing I'd like to suggest you don't do is blind the person in front of you. This will only make you be late to whatever activity you were running late for.

Dealing with Character

2010-01-05T13:07:00.000-08:00

In the recent weeks, Amy and I have been discussing character. She is a novelist and I am a short story writer. I don't get attached to my characters enough to deal much with their current character much less the character they might get in the future (i.e. Character Development).

This gap between us has left us to discuss characters as we see or interpret them.

For example, we saw a boat while we were in Crescent City. It was way out at sea and it was traveling North, toward Canada. As we discussed the ship, I decided that it was a drug running boat that transported cargo size shipments of Mexican marijuana to Canada. Aboard the Boat was Jack, a Canadian by birth, who found drug running to be a way to make good money for his mother who was suffering from various disabilities. Not only that but the money allowed him to use his boating skills to provide a natural substance opposed to being a whaler - a job that goes against his moral code because of the innocent slaughter of mating whales. However, on this particular trip, Jack was overly concerned about his chosen business. Jack's brother, Thomas, had recently died at the old ancient age of 16 - to a drug over dose. Jack was concerned about if he was doing the right thing....And that is as far as I have gotten. Amy and I occassionaly talk about Jack - but for the most part he is just on the boat because I don't know how to move his character along.

The same goes for another Jack. (Can you tell I like the name) I wrote about Jack the anti-hero a few months ago. Since then I have struggled to find ways to develop his character. I have more adventures in my head (Jack buys a rope to hang himself and instead lassoses a bank robber), but I am struggling to develop his character - why he is depressed? What will bring him out of his depression or dive him deeper? Why does he have such luck in not succeeding at such a simple task of ending his life? I don't know - mainly because I can't find it inmyself to develop Jack beyond that point.

Another Character I struggle with is the Amazing Drooling Boy. This is a name I have for one of my clients who constantly drools. On everything. I keep thinking I should develop an alter ego super hero for him but the more and more I try the more and more I'm stuck. So instead all I see is in my head - the amazing drooling boy.

Does anyone have any suggestions for developing characters?

2009 Year in Review

2009-12-28T16:07:00.000-08:00

This year has been a rather nice year. Despite the bad economy and some serious world events - life for me wasn't all that bad. As I have done in previous years (2007 top ten and Resolutions), at this time I will take a look back and see about the top ten items of the year.

Amy. I really love this girl. She makes life for me rather simple and easy going. She doesn't care that I'm a photo guy. She doesn't mind it when I get too over whelmed with big families or big gatherings and is okay with us just going for a drive. It amazes me that I'm so lucky to have her in my life. We can spend hours talking, cuddling, giggling and teaching each other. It is so very refreshing and has been a great three months. I look forward to many more.

Vacationing. I mentioned to Amy I wish I'd vacation more and then it dawned on me what this year has entailed - a trip to Oregon, a trip to Utah that included a trip to Idaho and Nevada, a trip to Crescent City, a trip to Wisconsin. In addition to that I've had several day trips with my Dad to SF, Travis Air Force Museum, and going hiking. I have taken day trips to the city and to the beaches. I've enjoyed various hiking trails with friends and family this year. This year has been full of adventures, new discoveries and vacations both of the physical kind and just a day filled with mental health and happiness.

Biking/BORP Revolution. In August I was approached by a friend. "Last year you sponsored us as we rode in the fundraiser. How about this year you ride and raise funds for our team?" So I did. I raised $535 for BORP and I rode my bike on the day of the event. In addtion to helping BORP, an organization that creates recreational and competative sports activities for people with disabilities, this event also helped me. I started riding my bike, some times 3 times a week and for 30 miles a week. After each ride I felt more awake and more alive. I lost 20 pounds and started seeing my pants fit differently. My eating habits improved. All in all, I will end 2009 healthier because of the ride I participated in to help others. It was a really great experience.

Moving. Because the top ten is not nessesarily the top ten good or the top ten bad, you get kind of a mixed bag including this negative one. I hate moving. For the three years I lived in Rexburg I had the same address. I would occassionally switch rooms, but I never left that apartment. Since graduating from college I've moved like 10 times. Each time it gets a little more annoying and I am reminded that I just own too much stuff. This year has been filled with various moves and I look forward to the time where I move no more. Or grad school where I'll move less.

Lumpy's. Do you remember watching Cheers? When ever Gearge Wendt walked in the whole bar would cheer "Norm!" Lumpy's this year became my Cheers. Everyone is happy to see me. They care about my opinion on food and Antioch. One time I could only afford a bacon burger but a waitress (Geana) wanted me to try the special. She pooled money with others to cover the cost, because, as she put it, I'm not just a random customer. After 2008, where I struggled to fit in, I liked going somewhere where I felt like I was liked.

Negativity. This year had its large share of negativity. I had friends that chose to dwell on the negative. The pundits chose to dwell on the bad economy and all that is going wrong in the world. One friend actually sought out things that she felt were negatively written about this person - only to find out the negative comments had nothing to do with this person. It was sad to watch this person fight to confirm that she was the victim of these negative comments - instead of being happy these comments weren't directed at her. It reminded of me in the past. I used to play a game with friends - who had the more F'ed up life. I always thought I was the winner, yet really the winner of most F'ed up life is really the loser. In 2009 I tried to steer away from people consumed by negativity. I steered away from friends who focused on their failings, their destructive family history, their need to get into pissing matches, nd any other friends beset by a need to be negative. I'm not saying I'm all good or that I'm putting on my blinders when the negative happens, but this year I really saw the difference when I didn't dwell on the negative.

Dogs. Through the course of this year I have found that I am a dog person. I once feared those 4 legged friends but now - I'm in love with them.

Job. I really like my job. I like going to work every day and generally enjoy working with my clients and co-workers. Several months ago I had a poll about what future career people feel I should go into. Rehabilitation Counseling or Occupational Therapist or Social Work. No one voted for Social work and the other two were in a dead tie at the end of the polling period. The more and more I consider it, the more and more my heart leans to Occupational Therapy, despit the additional 18 months of pre reqs I would need to take to get to the point of even qualifying for Grad school. Working with my clients, though, really solidifies my desire to continue in this field.

Photography. This year I continued with Photo a Day. Additionally, I spent the last 4 months of the year learning the art of film photography. After spending this past weekend with a boy who wants nothing more than to spend his whole life playing video games, I am so grateful for the gift of photography that i have been granted. It keeps me active. I'm more observant to my surroundings (because you never known where the next great shot will be). Additionally, I'm able to produce something that other can enjoy. If I killed 3000 zombies in one 5 hour period of time, I'm not sure how that can be enjoyed by others. But with photography I am able to have a digital journal for my kids, a bunch of great photographs that capture a moment in time, and, lastly, the ability to share with others places they may never go to. Photography has been a blessing this year and one I look forward to in years to come.

Resolutions:

I think this is a great place to also write down my resolutions for the coming year. I resolve to continue to eat healthier, exercise more, and spend less time with my computer. Additionally, this year I resolve to going camping* at least once, pay off my credit card, and continue doing well in school.

*I do consider using one of these as camping

I'm not the only one

2009-12-23T08:34:00.000-08:00

Last year about this time I wrote that Santa was bad for children. His growing obesity was a cause for concern and that it sat a bad example for our youth. Evidently, I'm not the only one that feels that way. Recently a Australian scientist wrote a satirical piece about Santa's bad image. However, this scientist was much better at writing his piece and therefore has gotten a lot of press. I find two things rather interesting about this. 1. He thought up some things that I didn't. I really like some of his add ins (such as drunk driving Santa). 2. I like how the media has latched on to this and some are questioning our use of Santa as a "hero" to our children.

Recently Target has been running a series of commercials that deal with Santa. My favorite has got to be this one that bad mouths Santa's Elves.

It's no secret that I'm anti Santa (It is so hard gaining the trust of children that it bothers me that I have to lie to children daily this time of the year. I'd rather be honest with kids than lie to them over trivial things like Santa). It is nice to have company who are now getting their digs in on santa as well.

Failing all of the people some of the times

2009-12-21T15:50:00.000-08:00

In May of 2008, John and I were sitting around our apartment talking about another friend Robin. We hadn't seen robin for a rather long time and thought it would be nice to have dinner with her. So John, Robin, Jeremy (Robin's son) and I found a night when we were all available and met in Concord at an Italian resteraunt John and I both love. Things went well so we made a plan to do it again in June. This time we met at a pace called the Front Room. Things once again went well. In July we met as a group for the last time. Jeremy was moving out of state and John and I had a strained relationship after we were evicted from our apartment. In August Robin and I met for dinner. This time she brought two other friends: Amy and Shell. As the months progressed and word of our "dinner group" got out, various people rotated into the group.

Our dinner group now has a standard eight with four more that show up as time permits. In the group is friends and friends of friends. From the dinner group at least two relationships have started and one relationship was started but couldn't get off the ground.

Now the Dinner group is progressing toward the 19th month mark and it seems to have become filled with drama. There are bad feelings that are interchanged between group members. There are people in the group that RSVP and then bail at the last moment. There are members of the group that never come but get offended if they aren't invited.

I feel the group has gotten too big and that limits my ability to have close relationships with all people in the group - and to remedy that I have tried meeting with individuals. However if I meet with person A and person B finds out they are sometimes hurt that they weren't invited. If I set up to do something with person C and have to cancel, they tell me it is because I spend all my time with person A and they are getting shafted on their Sean time.

Beyond eating together, the group has also morphed into an activities group. Once again, if I want to go on an activity with Person A, Person D gets offended they weren't invited. If Person D organizes an event I'm just not that interested in and so therefore decline - Person D gets offended that I'm not going and not supporting her activity. (even though she supports mine - like it is some sort of contest that we are keeping score at)
--
This month was particularily rough. I planned an Activity on the 11th. One person was offended that she wasn't invited. One person RSVP'd and didn't show up. One person was mad at me because I had done something to tick her off.

On Saturday, I was having a special day with Person A. We decided to invite two other people to spend time with us to go see a movie. That person then invited one other person. We built our movie time schedule around that 5th person. They RSVP and then bailed 30 minutes before the movie started.

After the movie on Saturday, I checked my e-mail to see if any one had solidified plans for Sunday. No one had. So I made plans for a dinner of 6 people. I was BBQing and I was buying the meat. I purposely only invited 6 people. Other members of the big group got invited by those I had invited. I wasn't sure we would have enough meat and it being the sabbath I didn't want to promote making a purchase (we did anyway). But instead of seeing it from that perspective - the people who invited others accused me of shunning the others in the group. I tried to protest this idea but I was out ruled. The person that I didn't invite that others invited - came, made a big deal out of what there was to do and how she had to wash dishes to help, and then left without eating anything after we had gone out and bought extra meat for her.

On alternating Mondays for the last 8 weeks, I have had some one on one time with Person Z. We get together, eat cookies, and watch TV - all the while complaining about school. I had to cancel for tonight because I'm running out of clean clothes and because I'm packing to move on the 31st. However, Person Z automatically blamed the time I spent with Person A over the weekend as the reason I had to cancel with Person Z. In fact she said that friends in relationships always become unreliable.
---
This being a rant I guess I should rant and not just state facts in evidence. I'm annoyed at my group of friends. I'm tired of planning events and being bailed on or yelled at about not inviting certain people. I'm tired of people hi-jacking events and adding others who I didn't invite because i was trying to keep the group small. I'm tired of all of the drama that comes with trying to organize events. I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired.

and now I'm done ranting. Have a great rest of the day.

from smaller eyes

2009-12-16T16:08:00.000-08:00

mamma is gettin bigger and i'm scared.

at first i thought she swallowed a basketball but now i'm sure it was more. she has been so hungary lately that she eats everything and gets bigger and bigger. i'm scared.

mamma and daddy took away my bed last week and moved it into the room they just painted PINK! i was mad until that night when i saw in my room a big boy's bed where my old bed had been.

i thought maybe once my old bed was eaten mamma wouldn't be so hugary but she keeps getting bigger.

despite the smiles on their faces, i don't think mamma and daddy are tellin the truth. daddy says not to worry - mammas not going to eat me. but she keeps gettin bigger what will be left to eat but me. then mamma tells me that soon their will be a new child in the house. i guess that means after she eats me they will get nother child to fatten up for her belly to eat.

everytime we go to the park people ask her if she has names picked out and they point to her belly. mamma's going to name it Krista, Amy or Melinda after she eats me. i am scared to get a girl's name after i'm eaten. i like being kyle.

so i'm scared. mammas gettin bigger and i'm scared i'm next to eat.

Possible Date Activities

2009-12-14T14:23:00.000-08:00

Now that I am dating steady with Amy, people randomly come up to me and offer date ideas. I'm starting to forget them so I thought I would just keep a running list on my blog. If you have suggestions for dates that are either inexpensive or unique to the San Fransico Bay Area Experience, please feel free to add them.

Sandhil Crane Wetland Tour
Rainforest Cafe
Monarch gathering
Marine Mammal Center
Walking on that path Matt told us about in Napa
Robert Luis Stevenson Museum
Tour the Caldacott Tunnel
Hiking or biking the Golden Gate
Hiking Muir Woods to Stinson Beach (put a car at either end)
Hiking the back of Mt. Diablo from Clayton to see the waterfalls
Hiking Little Yosemite to see the waterfalls.
California Academy of Science.
Golden Gate Park.
SFMOMA.
Asian Art Museum.
Santa Rosa Safari.

breathe

2009-12-09T15:09:00.000-08:00

I watch each breath like it was a hike up a steep incline. Each time she inhales I imagine heavy feet trudging up some hillside desperately hoping to land further up the hill than when they left mother earth. Each time she exhales I can feel the relief in those troubled lungs - just as I imagine the relief of those spasming calf muscles on a hiker after reaching the next foot hole on the hill.

Each breath adds to the many we have shared over the years together. Breathes playing Frisbee at the beach; breathes inhaling the smell of hickory as the bonfires in the sand burned low and embers warmed our toes as we nestled to the sounds of the crackling fire and waves smothering the shore before us.
We shared breathes as we kissed each other and caressed each other both in moments of comfort and in moments of passions run rapid. Each night we shared our breathes as we laid in bed, face to face whispering stories from the day and telling each other about our dreams, hopes and plans. I loved those shared breathes.
We shared breathes as we screamed at each other in frustration, heartache, stress and argument. Those were moments when it would have been better for me to hold my breathe than to exhale it with miscommunicated misunderstandings, but at the time I couldn't see what a few wasted breathes would mean when all I saw was me winning the argument. Those were prideful breathes we both shared.
Later we would share breathes chasing the two little ones around our tiny little piece of land - a castle for our kids. Breathes blowing out birthday candles and breathes inhaling the sweet scents of Easter dinners; Quickened breathes when a child was 30 minutes late for curfew on a snowy night; Calm relaxed breathes once the family was all home again, safe in the beds we built for them.
So many breathes, I should be grateful for each one, but now as I watch her rest all I can do is plead for more. Soon we will share breathes no more and I will be forced to breathe alone. But for now, I will simply enjoy the breathes we are sharing and have always shared.

The Planner, The Girlfriend and The Miracle of Service

2009-12-02T15:38:00.000-08:00

I am a planner.

I have always been very good at seeing a project or a problem, organizing a plan and executing it to work through the project and the plan. I have had several tech directors in several theatres that have kept me around not because of my lighting or sound skills but my way of seeing the project or event from the beginning, middle and end, and then creating a plan that would work well for that. One time, at church, I was given (and set apart) for the Activities Committee. My specific calling was Activities Think and Plan Committee Member. I was to think up ideas for activities, plan them and then give them to someone else to carry out.

Another thing I have always planned well are dates. If right now someone was to wander up to me and ask me for a date idea for tonight, I could plan one of 20 dates that ranged in price from FREE to rather expensive. This is really great for everyone but those that are dating me. The person dating me gets to experience a lot of the things I like to do and gets to pretty much not have to worry about the coming date beyond showing up and looking beautiful (which shouldn't be too hard because I don't date ugly people). However, if our relationship is going to grow, dates can't just come from me. I need to learn what my date wants to do - what brings her excitement and gets her going. The only way for that to happen is by having her plan dates.

Amy is not a planner.

She has loved having me to just plan and go.

For our two month Anni I asked her to plan a date for that Saturday. She was rater annoyed at me. How was she to know what to plan that would interest me. What would keep my interest and not make me run screaming from her yelling "Really? You want me to go with you to do THAT? Do you hate me?" Amy tried desperately to find something to do but plans kept falling through (We were supposed to go to the Robert Luis Stevenson Museum but they were closed that weekend. We were supposed to go for a hike but it was supposed to rain. Etc). Then on Thursday Evening I got a call. Harold needed me to come in on that Saturday and build a set. So, to the relief of Amy, I had a plan for Saturday and Amy was off the hook. We did Service instead.

I told Amy that she could plan a date for December 12th. That gave her 3 weeks to plan something. She started working on it. Since then, Amy's Grandma fell and broke her leg. Later this week, Grandma gets released from the hospital and will be in a wheelchair at home. Now, on December 12th, Amy is saved again. On that day, Amy and I are building a ramp for Grandma to get in and out of the house. This means that Amy gets out of planning a date until December 31.

My first thought for Amy is to tell her to plan a service project - that seems to be how her dates end up going.

The awkward month known as November (and a little bit of December)

2009-11-24T16:31:00.000-08:00

First, the players:
Sean - me
Amy - Sean't current girlfriend
Nina - Sean's ex-girlfriend who he dated from July 2007 - December 2007, now Sean's best friend
KNJ-P - Sean's ex-girlfriend/ex-fiance (no ring, no proposal, but there was a date set and reception and honeymoon plans being made)
Tina - Sean's former freinds with benefits from Decmber 2007 - February 2008
Melinda - Sean's close personal friend who has been away on a mission for the past 17 1/2 months. Wants to marry Sean. Returns home December 15.
Jenny - Sean's ex-girlfriend who plays for a rival Power wheelchair soccer team.
NAN - Sean's Dad's girlfriend who Sean hasn't spent more than an hour with at a time
Dad - Sean's Dad for neary 31 years

I used to have a rule that I purposely dated women in different towns so that when we broke up, I didn't have to worry about running into them again. That plan worked rather well for several years until I joined the ranks of the Oakland Temple Hill Technical staff. Now, I can break up with a girl, and still run across her on The Hill or at Crew related events. Running across ex's can be a little awkward at times.

For example, a few weeks ago, I took Amy to a congregation in Pleasant Hill to see a friend's, and fellow crew member's, missionary farewell speach. While there we ran into Tina. It was rather awkward as I tried to pay attention to Amy yet Tina and I tried to catch up on where our lives had gone in the last year or so.

Another example could be last Saturday. Amy and I went up to Temple Hill to help build a set for a coming Christmas program. After about 4 hours there KNJ-P showed up. Even though several people in the upper crew management knew she was coming - no one had told me. I went through 2 years of therapy over this girl. So I was quite shocked over this girl's attendance. We haven't spoken face to face in 5 years. It was a very tramatic experience as at one time I tried to stay close to Amy and yet was kind of curious about the last 5 years or so. One of the things that always interested me about KNJ-P was her ability to teach me things. On Saturday she taught me a few painting and theatre techniques that I had never learned before. It was interesting, while at the same time a horrifying experience. I have long held the belief that my life is a failure because of not being able to marry this girl. She is now married and 4 months along with her first child. She's living the dream I had for us, but without me. As i spent Saturday comparing our lives and where the two of us had ended up, Amy would later say she felt like she was losing me. It was a very awkward situation for Amy and I and for our relationship. I doubt KNJ-P even caught wind of it.

Tomorrow, my best friend Nina flies into to CA. Nina is 4 weeks into a new relationship with a boy in Oregon and Today marks my 2 month anniversary with Amy. Nina's trp was planned prior to either of those events happening. To say that all four of us are a little worried about this weekend would be an understatement. Amy has had to explain to her family that I would not be joining them for the Holiday because I was goingto be with my ex-girlfriend. Nina has had to explain to her new boyfriend that she can't spend Turkey Day with him due to her being in another state. There is a lot of confussion and concern and some awkward feelings.

To add to that already awkward situation, Nina and I will be spending the holiday with my Dad and his girlfriend NAN. Nina has never met either of these people. She has communicated with my father through e-mail but that is it. NAN and Dad are both computer people. Nina and I are both "work with people with issues" people.

After Nina heads home (maybe or maybe not meeting Amy), I will take Amy on another adventure into ex-girlfriend land. On Saturday December 5, Amy and I are going to go volunteer at a Power Wheelchair Soccer tournament and provide service (I'm reffing, Amy's keeping score). At that tournament will be Jenny, my ex-girlfriend from last year. We dated for several months and were official for a little less than 24 hours. She's still pretty bitter about the 24 hour relationship. She will have to interact with both Amy and I. I'm willing to bet that will be rather awkward as well.

Lastly, on December 15th, Melinda comes home from her mission. Because of the depression I have been going through, I haven't been able to write to her for several months (when you write missionaries you are supposed to sound uplifting. Being depressed and having self destructive tendencies - not all that uplifting). She knows nothing about Amy. (I hope to get a letter off this week to her updating her on my life.) But even if she does find out about Amy - I doubt that will change the strong friendship we share. It will however effect Melinda's plans to have my last name by mid next year. I'm pretty sure December 16 is going to be an awkward conversation day.

But after what I've experienced so far...it will just be par for the the course. 6 weeks of rather awkward situations.

BLUE

2009-11-17T15:52:00.000-08:00

Today at work there was a client who was sucking on his blue blow pop sucker. He was sucking on it for about an hour. Through that amount of time, he wettened the stick enough that it was pretty pliable. Then his mom did something that made him mad and he bit down on the stick. When he bit down the stick snapped off and the sucker got stuck in his mouth. The mom and I shoved our hands into his mouth a pried the candy from his mouth. The client was in no real danger (though he did cough a little bit as we all do when there are 3 hands in our mouths). At one point I noticed that because of the sucker, the boy was turning a different color. I wanted to shout 'HE'S TURNING BLUE!' but I refrained because I'm not sure the mom would have found the humor in my comment at that particular moment.

Gratitude November 12 2009

2009-11-12T11:19:00.000-08:00

I am grateful for Irony.

I am grateful for none needy girlfriends. I had a needy girlfriend once and it was rough. Amy is not needy and that is a blessing I'm really enjoying.

On a similar note, I'm grateful to be out of the general dating pool. Emily reminds me of this point from her recent post.

I am grateful for new music: Bela Fleck.

I am grateful to my mother for teaching me patience. There are some things I want from different people that really I'm in no place to demand. I do not hold the market on their time. So I can either rant and rave about their time and how it is not used on me or I can do as my mother taught and be patient. I'm choosing the latter.

I am grateful to have veterans day parades. They are great places to get pictures of different performers, but also they are great places to go up to a Vet, shake their hand and say, "Thank you." It's a much better setting than doing it in the men's room at a fast food place.

I am grateful for the two years at BYUI that I got to wear a red poppy on November 11 and remember my Canadian history.

I am grateful for Fences.

I am grateful for Mahonri and his Brother Jared.

I am grateful for everyone that took the poll this week.

I am grateful for kisses from Collies and nose rubs with Burmese Mountain Dogs.

I am grateful for brakes on my truck and Antioch Muffler.

I am grateful for professional journalist that write stuff that makes me seem educated:
"Authorities said the driver had just refueled his rig filled with pears before entering the bridge."

I am grateful for humor. I had several good laughs this week with people who had nothing else in common but an understanding in the humor in life.

Mahon's Journey to Faith

2009-11-09T23:00:00.000-08:00

(The scene opens with two men sitting in beach chairs, their backs toward the audience with a beach table between them. Up stage is an ocean/beach scene with bright sunlight and a big blue sky. Waves crashing can be heard in the back. A sucking sound from some one's straw can be heard and the audience can see Jared replacing his drink on the beach table between them)

Jared - Man, Mahon, this is the life. Four years ago today I was so terrified we were going be separated. I thought when the towers tumbled and the language barrier suddenly appeared and we couldn't get everyone to work through the language barrier to rebuild the towers - man I thought that was just going to be the end. All happiness was going to be gone. (He stands up and faces the audience - pointing) But this, this is great. We got a bunch of fruits and vegetables. Our women and children are well fed. The cattle are fat every year. And you and I get to hang out on the beach every day. Mahon, my brother. This is the life.

Mahon - Yup, we got it pretty good. It is amazing what we can do. Hey while you're standing, do you mind getting me a refill?

Jared - Not a problem, bro.

(exit Jared. Suddenly a burst of light shines on the stage and a cloud appears. Booming from the cloud is a voice)

Voice of God - Mahon, my child, I have missed you. I have missed our conversations. Do you feel you no longer need Me? I did not bring you from the towers to the beach just for you to sit around and drink fruit punch. There is a land of great promise across these waters - waiting for you and your families. I have prepared the land for them and it is a choice piece of land. But you will need me if you are to get there and you will need me if you are to tame it. Do you no longer want this blessing? Mahon, my child - speak unto me.

Mahon - Dear Lord, I am but a weak man and have been neglectful in my duties to call upon you. I have forgotten all that you did for me and my family and Jared and his family. How can I repent? How can I return to you and get my family to this choice land you have prepared for us? How can I be forgiven? How Lord? How is it done?

Voice of God - Your sins are forgiven you. However, fail me not again, I plead. (pause) Your future land awaits you, but you must build some boats to get there. I will place in your mind the directions for the boats you are to build. They will be small and light. If you are confused on the design, seek me out and I will come again. Pray unto me constantly and you will be filled. The time to get off this beach is at hand.

(Another Burst of light on stage and the cloud disappears and the scene is set back to previously. Enter Jared)

Jared - Dude, brother, I am so sorry. When I got back to the house and to the fridge I was just so tired. I took a three hour nap - which was probably the best nap of my life - and so I forgot to ge----. (pause) Is something wrong Mahon? You look pail, and confused. Did I miss something? Are you mad that I forgot the fruit punch? Mahon?

Mahon - We need to start building some barges. The voice of the Lord has spoken to me and we need to build some boats.

Jared - When?

Mahon - Right now.

(Mahon grabs his towel and runs off stage. Jared takes a sip of his drink and then follows Mahon off stage. Black out. Clear the stage. From the back of the House we hear men grunting and house lights come up to 50% to see men carrying the hull of a small boat through the center isle up to the stage. Stage lights come up on a very dirty tired looking Jared and Mahon. House lights fail once the boat reaches five feet from the stage)

Jared - That's right brethren - bring it all the way to the see shore. Before we put the final top on and it becomes too hard to carry. A little further. That's right, just a little further.

(all the while Mahon is pacing on the beach muttering to himself. As the boys who carried in the boat leave Jared turns to his brother...)

Jared - What seems to be bothering you? What's wrong. We built the boats exactly as you stated. The boats are no longer than the size of a tree. When the door is closed the boats as are tight as a dish. I don't think any water is getting into these girls. So what has you worried?

Mahon - I'm troubled by that last part. There is no way to see where we are going - How will we steer? If they are as tight on the water as they are on land, how will we breathe? Are we to hold our breath for a really long time? It just doesn't make sense.

Jared - Go and inquire of the Lord. He told you how to build them. Surely he knows how to solve the problems that you see.

Mahon - Maybe you are right Jared. Just like at the time of the fallen towers, your suggestion is well.

Jared - I will go with the other boys and go get another boat. Pray while we are gone and if I see you are still praying when we arrive I'll stall them with stories of how I met my wife. Who would have thought her and I would end up together.

Mahon - Very well.

(exit Jared through the house. Mahon kneels)

Mahon - Dear Lord. I have done as thou has directed. We have built these eight boats. They are according to your measurements and according the detail plans you have placed in my head. I don't mean to question your plan but I am concerned about the boats. They are tight like a dish. How are we to breathe? There are no rudders; How are we to steer?

Voice of God (off stage) - Mahon, my faithful servant, put a hole in the top and one in the bottom. When thou suffers for air, simply unstop the hole. However, when water comes in, plug the hole again. I do not wish for you to drown in a flood in the boat. As for the steering, you will be as a whale in the midst of the sea. The waves shall dash upon you and I will bring you back up. The winds have gone forth out of my mouth and shall send your boats to the promised land.

Mahon - I have one other concern. Will thou suffer us to cross these great waters in darkness or will you give us light?

Voice of God - You can have no windows because the waves will destroy them. You can't have fire because the smoke will suffocate you. I have prepared the waves and the wind. What can you prepare to light the way in your boats to the promise land? What, Mahon, will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the see? What will ye?

(black out. Clear stage of boats. Next scene starts with Mahon sitting [and only lighted] SR at a desk. Scattered on the floor are various crumpled up papers and a wastebasket over flowing.)

Mahon - Maybe that would work.

(Mahon reaches for the bottom drawer of his desk and grabs some tools. As soon as he has what he needs Mahon springs up from his desk. The lights fade as he crosses the stage and the lights come up on him ascending a hillside. When he reaches the top there is a sign with the name Shelem and an elevation marker. Mahon works quickly to "molten" 16 stones out of the hillside. Grunting and other signs of exhaustion can be heard. After the 16 have been "molted" Mahon carefully carries them down the hill to the beach. Mahon lines them up 16 in a row, kneels and prays.)

Mahon - Lord, I call upon you today, humbled by my task. I know we are to be encompassed by floods as we journey to the promise land. Please be not angry with me because of my weakness. I know I m unworthy before you. I know we came to the beach and settled without continuing inquiring of you. I know because of our fallen state that we are not as holy as you, for thou dwellest in heaven. But thou has commanded us to call upon you, so I do. For these many years, despite our sins, thou has been merciful unto us. As we traveled from the fallen towers to this beach though has looked with pity upon us. Please at this time, continue to look upon us with pity and suffer not that we should travel the raging waters in darkness.

Voice of God - What would thou have me do?

Mahon - Touch these stones with your finger and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness.

(a sudden flash of white light and then other white lights from various sides of the stage and the black out. The next scene starts with Jared and a few of the families on SL near one of the boats. Mahon runs in from SR)

Mahon - We have light! We have light!

(Mahon spills out his backpack and 16 stones filled with bright light tumble out onto the stage.)

Mahon (looking at Jared) - All we had to do was have faith, and He gave us light. He gave us His light!

(the stage dims but the 16 stones continue to shine for two seconds after black out and then they are gone as well. The curtain closes and house lights come up.)

The End

This play was inspired by these scriptures
found in the Book of Mormon.

This interpretation is my sole content and does not
reflect the opinions or doctrine of the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Furthermore, this story was not inspired by this person
though he does light up Cindy's eyes
when he enters a room

Gratitude November 5 2009 -Post Edit**

2009-11-05T15:41:00.000-08:00

First off. I'm conducting a poll ----------->

I am grateful for opportunities to fast and pray for a purpose - and then see the results.

I am grateful for home cooked meals.

I am grateful for volleyball.

I am grateful for all of the things I learned at BYUI that weren't in the actual classroom.

I am grateful for all of my friends.

I am grateful for spell checker.

I continue to be grateful for music, though I don't have any new bands to tell you about today.

I am grateful for photography.

I am grateful for this great time of year to go hiking - when all the bears and snakes are in hiding.

I am grateful for the legacy of my parents - a legacy that inspires me to create and to share those creations with others.

I am grateful for dental trips that come in under budget, under pain, and without a lecture. I am also grateful to have a dentist finally say "It actually doesn't look that bad."

Post Edit**
I do have music to share: Kenny Chesney, The Boston Typewriter Orchestra, eighth blackbird.

I am grateful for Twitter occasionally. I wasn't able to be at a friend's funeral today but I was able to follow it on Twitter.

Conducting a Poll

2009-11-04T13:16:00.000-08:00

Hi. I am conducting a poll --------->

As the new meds take effect, I'm finding my head clearing a little and am now seeing that I could probably handle grad school (as long as I remain on this medication). My problem is deciding on a grad school option.

Rehabilitation Counseling: Helping people work through their new or life long disabilities. Most Rehab Counselors work in Education or for the Government. Those in education help counsel students with disabilities with education goals and assist in making accommodations for students in the classroom (some of this involves the use of assitive communication devices such as a Dynavox. Some of this involves allowing students to turn in assignments from their CF hospital room instead of in class). Working for the government is more vocational based. A rehab counselor would, for example, help a returning soldier who is missing a member of it's body to assess their skills and see what occupations would work with the skill sets that soldier had acquired prior to the amputation or brain injury.

Social Worker: This is a rather broad field. Drug and alcohol counseling, vocational training, case managing, clinical psychology, juvenile therapy, Child Protective Services, Adoption, Public Policy, treating for PTSD, and the list goes on.

Occupational Therapy: Helping children, the elderly and returning veterans with their fine motor skills used for activities for daily living: tying shoes, buttoning shirts or pants, grasping a pencil, typing at a computer, picking your nose, grasping items, brushing teeth, operating a car, taking a picture, underwater basket weaving, using a cell phone, and the list goes on and on.
The big negative of OT is the requirement to take classes in Anatomy/Physiology and chemistry - classes I've never excelled at.

For those of you that don't know - My history:

2007 - Present: I work as a Therapy Aide helping children with disabilities to receive Occupational and Physical Therapy. I also manage the office and do data entry for our "billing."
2007 - 2008: Assistant Coach to a Power Wheelchair Soccer Team (I also did some refereeing)
2006 - 2007: Disability Advocate - I worked as a liaison between students with disabilities and administration to ensure proper parking and ramps were available during construction projects
2005 - 2007: Student Director of Adaptive Activities - I started and ran the wheelchair Basketball program and expanded the adaptive cycling and bowling programs. I also created several websites and created policies (that are still used today).
2002 - 2004: Special Education Assistant: I taught students who were severely emotionally disturbed for 6 months. I spent 10 months being a 1:1 to a boy with Asperger Syndrome and I spent 8 months being a 1:1 to a boy with autism
2000 - 2002: Crossing Guard - I stood out in the street and asked drivers to try to hit me instead of the kids.
1999 and summer of 2001: Special Education Assistant - Once again I was a 1:1 with Autism and a boy with severe Cerebral Palsy
1997 - 1999: Market Research Interviewer: Would you like to take a survey?
1997 - 1998: Assistant Teacher to a rehabilitation counselor who was also the Adaptive PE teacher for a Junior College. I worked 1:1 in a gym and a pool with an elderly man who had had a stroke. I also worked in the office
1995 - 1997: Teachers Assistant: Learning Disability class where I tutored students.

Knowing all this - please vote (or you can vote and comment if you'd like)

Becoming Provident Providers Temporally and Spiritually

2009-11-01T21:44:00.000-08:00

This week I have been studying the words of Elder Robert D Hales and the talk he gave in April 2009. He spoke on "Becoming a Provident Providers both Temporally and Spiritually." The first line that caught my attention was:

Today I speak to all whose freedom to choose has been diminished by the effects of ill-advised choices of the past. I speak specifically of choices that have led to... thought and action that diminish one’s sense of self-worth.

I don't know anyone whose choices haven't diminished their freedom to choose. Furthermore, I don't think I know anyone who hasn't had some experience in their life where their choices have always led to exactly perfect self worth. So in other words - he is talking to me...and everyone I know.

A little further on Elder Hales testifies not only to our trials but to the help those trials can have.

Our challenges, including those we create by our own decisions, are part of our test in mortality. Let me assure you that your situation is not beyond the reach of our Savior.

I struggle not with His reach but the reach of me. Some times, one of those decisions I seem to make is to step outside His firm grasp or I get into a hole and I don't reach up to his waiting lifeline to pull me out of the hole. I don't seem to be able to reach back. In other words, sometimes I choose to diminish my freedom that much more by making this test of mortality harder. Not in math or science or even in my photo class do I ask for harder tests. I wonder why I do that here. Maybe it's because of the next part...

We must remember that the adversary knows us extremely well. He knows where, when, and how to tempt us... we can learn to recognize the adversary’s enticements.

Every day I wonder how is it he can know me so well when I don't know myself so well. I think it is impart because I don't take the time to really research myself. I remember when I was in anger management, it was suggested I take notes. I was to write down every time I got angry and take note of what the triggers were. I did that for several months and discovered all sorts of things. When Cat and KNJ-P broke up with me, both of them sent me an e-mail (for better or worse) that pointed out somethings they had noticed about me. (quirks along with happy things right next to the things that drove us apart). My best friend and I are really good (spectacular at times) about pointing out each other's lasting qualities (both good and bad). If I spent a fraction of the time the devil does on me - well then I bet I could learn to recognize both my temptations a little better and why his enticements were so inviting when usually the end results of those enticings aren't.

I add this next part as a reminder and a reassurance:

Our success is never measured by how strongly we are tempted but by how faithfully we respond. We must ask for help from our Heavenly Father and seek strength through the Atonement of His Son, Jesus Christ. In both temporal and spiritual things, obtaining this divine assistance enables us to become provident providers for ourselves and others.

My faith is the question - not the hugeness or littleness of the temptation. I think that is good to remember. I have a friend in the hospital this week. She has incredible faith, though, that if she turns to the Lord it will all work out. I, along with her family, spent this Sunday fasting for her and her doctors. We too believe that our faith in this trial with be of more worth than the trial.

Elder Hales now turns to the meat of his talk. (I'm going to slim out the stories and just give the big points)

All of us are responsible to provide for ourselves and our families in both temporal and spiritual ways. To provide providently, we must practice the principles of provident living: joyfully living within our means, being content with what we have, avoiding excessive debt, and diligently saving and preparing for rainy-day emergencies. When we live providently, we can provide for ourselves and our families and also follow the Savior’s example to serve and bless others.

Being provident providers, we must keep that most basic commandment, “Thou shalt not covet” (Exodus 20:17). Our world is fraught with feelings of entitlement ... As a result, we go into debt to buy things we can’t afford—and things we do not really need. Whenever we do this, we become poor temporally and spiritually ... Living at the subsistence level, we become depressed, our self-worth is affected, and our relationships with family, friends, neighbors, and the Lord are weakened. We do not have the time, energy, or interest to seek spiritual things....I have learned that the three most loving words are “I love you,” and the four most caring words for those we love are “We can’t afford it.”

The first thought I have to this is a comedy show. In it is a guy who is a ventriloquist. One of the characters he uses is a really old really cranky man named Walter. During one part of the sketch the audience is allowed to ask questions.
One question: "Walter what was your favorite toy as a kid?"
Walter: "Dirt (where in the audience laughs) and we were happy."
I think about that response from time to time. Has PSP or Wii or TV or iPods or anything made us happier. I remember as a kid we used to go outside and play games with our neighbors. I live in some pretty kid populated areas but I never see them outside playing. I rarely see kids crossing the street to go to a friend's place. Instead I hear kids in the store telling their parents that so-and-so has this and therefore they need one too. It scares me at times. Is my need to own destroying my desires or opportunities to serve, bless or seek spiritual guidance? Some days I think so.

Elder Hales continues:
When faced with the choice to buy, consume, or engage in worldly things and activities, we all need to learn to say to one another, “We can’t afford it, even though we want it!” or “We can afford it, but we don’t need it—and we really don’t even want it!”

Whenever we want to experience or possess something that will impact us and our resources, we may want to ask ourselves, “Is the benefit temporary, or will it have eternal value and significance?” Truthfully answering these questions may help us avoid excessive debt and other addictive behavior.

In seeking to overcome debt and addictive behaviors, we should remember that addiction is the craving of the natural man, and it can never be satisfied. It is an insatiable appetite.

It's true if you think about it. Craving more is an insatiable appetite. Where does it end?

Elder Hales concludes with:

With all the love I have in me and with the Savior’s love through me, I invite you to come unto Him and hear His words: “Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy. Hearken diligently unto me, and remember the words which I have spoken; and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted” (2 Nephi 9:51).

I testify that the appetite to possess worldly things can only be overcome by turning to the Lord. The hunger of addiction can only be replaced by our love for Him. He stands ready to help each one of us. “Fear not,” He said, “for you are mine, and I have overcome the world” (D&C 50:41).

All week long as I have been reading this that section from Second Nephi has really spoke to me the most. Don't spend your labors for that which cannot satisfy. I wondered and continue to wonder in what areas of my life are my labors worth my devotion and what labors do I do that just don't satisfy. I think I have areas to improve on.

Gratitude October 29

2009-10-29T20:57:00.000-07:00

I am grateful for nicotine gum.

I am grateful for Heroes. This week my heroes include my siblings, my father and Mahon.

I am grateful for Stephanie Meyer and her ability to communicate to me on behalf of my best friend.

I am grateful for new music and the change it brings to my life. For example: sigur ros or David Grisman.

our hero jack: episode one

2009-10-05T21:25:00.000-07:00

Jack did not intend to be a hero. In fact, on the day when this all started, Jack was actually planning on doing the most unheroic thing he could. He had been planning it for weeks and was sure that his plan was the best it was going to be. Plans had been checked twice. Three times. Some days even saw four checks. Every aspect of his plan had been scrutinized and developed. It was not going to get any better than this plan.

On the day chosen, Jack went down to the pawn shop. He sorted through the options of knives that were available. Each blade was tested for sharpness, easy of opening and difficulty in closing. Some knives were as dull as butter knives. Other knives were a struggle to get open. Many of the knives sprung close with the least amount of effort. Eventually Jack settled on a knife that was sharp, the size of his palm, that came with a black handle and a locking blade. On the blade was a little nub that Jack could flip the blade open with little care. After haggling with the pawn shop owner, Jack forked over the last few dollars to his name and left the store.

Jack stuck the new to him knife in his pocket and was running his finger along the closed blade's ridge that bounced against his leg as he walked along the sidewalk. He was only a few blocks from his destination and was anxious to put his plan into place. If everything went according to the plan, money would never be a problem for him again. The excitement and nervousness ran through his body. It was such a distracted feeling he almost did not hear the screeching tires. Just in time, he not only heard the tires, but he saw the car slam into the side of the building.

Somewhere in the course of veering off of the road and colliding with red brick, the car snapped a fire hydrant off of its mount and a close resemblance of Old Faithful was now spewing from the pipes below. The water reunited with gravity and began fill the car through the windshield.

Jack could see at least two occupants fighting ferociously against seat belts and other restraints holding them to the metal coffin. Jack ran over. Quickly he propped the driver door open. The woman was shouting and flaying around. Jack grabbed his knife from his pocket, flipped it open and cut away the safety restraints and pulled the woman from her Venus fly trap of a seat. As he dragged her to a safer, dryer location, the woman screamed in his water soaked ears, "My baby! Save my baby!"

Jack left her with some people who had also stopped to help. He rushed back to the car that now resembled a water slide with water pouring out of every window but the one where the car seat was located. Jack inhaled a short breath and dove into the cascade. He found that the baby seat, too, had stopped releasing the restraints on its tiny occupant. Using the knife still in his hand, Jack carefully cut away the tiny straps and attempted to grab the child. But the child proved too much to handle and Jack had to drop his prize knife.

Now gliding with the exiting current, Jack floated out to the waiting audience. As they reached the mother, the baby let out a scream - with a gathered crowd cheering with joy. Within moments emergency and news crews arrived to mop up and report. Pictures from cameras and cell phones were swapped with reporters and at least one person had video taped the daring rescue.

Jack was taken to the hospital with the family from the car. Because of the amount of water he had swallowed, Jack was kept for over night watch. His hotel filled quickly with cards and flowers from well wishers thankful for his heroic act.

Meanwhile, Jack lamented the loss of his knife and the fact that tonight he would not be able to slit his wrists.

From the last few weeks

2009-09-16T14:41:00.000-07:00

"Uncle Sean, She's a medium teacher." - My niece after I asked her if her new Kindergarden teacher was short or tall.

"You guys really jumped the gun. I'm not sure what I'm doing for the rest of the week, let alone for Thanksgiving." - my father in response to his girlfriend and I hammering out the plans for Thanksgiving.

"I used to live in Oakland, so I know what it sounded like." A student at Deer Valley explaining why she was a good witness to the high school shooting. Evidently being a former resident of Oakland is all the training you need.

"Duh Uncle Sean. I'm wearing an A's shirt right now." - My niece in response to my question if she still liked the Oakland A's. This conversation occured while talking on the phone - me in CA her in Wisconsin.

"As we crossed this time I still was curious but I didn't ask outloud." - John after returning from a trip to Utah from CA. Several years ago John and I crossed and as we were between Winnemucca and Battle Mountain John saw a trailer park/farm community. He asked me how they survived without a grocery store. I tried to explain that the farm was the grocery store.

"Do you think you can play with Barbies and fill out your time sheet at the same time?" - my boss. She walked into the therapy unit to me making the voice of one Barbie to the Barbie of one of our clients.

"Hey Pitcher - we're talking about beer here." One of the people in the stands at the ball game on Saturday. Each game there is a "beer batter" on the opposing team. If that batter strikes out - beer is half price for the next 15 minutes. The fan was trying to convince the pitcher to stop throwing balls. Evidently the pitcher heard. The stands were practically empty for the next 20 minutes.

Thinking outloud

2009-09-11T13:34:00.000-07:00

In the course of any given week there are a million things that float through my head. A lot of it just comes and goes and so I don't worry too much about it. As this week concludes, though, there are about 5 things still floating through my head.

1. In Pirates of the Caribbean (the first and best one), was Elizabeth Swan immortal from the time she met Will Turner on the crossing from England up until the time the gold medallion is taken from her? According to the rules that were established in the movie - those that posses the stolen Aztec gold are incapable of dying.
1B. How did Boostrap die if he was also immortal (being a member of the original crew)?

2. I wonder if it is possible to have more filtered stories of heroic acts. Firefighters, police officers, and soldiers doing heroic things - with a filter that didn't dive into their personal lives. One of the things that annoys me about professional sports and dramatic TV (i.e. Rescue Me or ER or Third Watch) is that we know so much about the players and performers. (Plus, of course there is so little heroism showed in modern day sports.). I would just like to read and see often in the news or on TV the heroic acts of those we walk the streets with.

3. The Bible Dictionary states: "Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves and others blessings that God is already willing to grant, but are made conditional on us asking for them. Blessings require some work or effort on our part before we can obtain them."
On the one hand I look to God as being the great Santa. For several months i write letters to Santa asking for the new Star Wars Lego set. I tell him every time I see him at the mall (I even yell it from the second story out side Macy's "Hey Santa! It's Sean - we talked last week! Just wanted to remind you that I wanted the Millennium Falcon!")
However, come Christmas Morning I would get socks. Come January I would need the new warmer socks so I could play outside. His blessings were there despite my pleadings.
On the other hand I struggle with the point of prayer. If my will will never be granted and it is only His will that will be granted on his timeline - what is the point of me pleading with the Lord. If all I'm ever going to ask for is the things He won't give me and He won't give me things that I don't ask for - then really I'm never going to get out of this hole. The best way I can think of this is that He has Coke sitting there waiting for me - but if the only things I ever ask for is Pepsi, Rootbeer, Sprite or water - nothing will happen. He won't bless me with Coke because I didn't ask for it. He won't bless me with the others because that is not His will. And if it never occurs to me to ask for Coke we will never have a meeting of wills. Then what is the point to prayer but to guess what His will is?

4. What do you do with friends that aren't accepting to change? After 3 years of being apart from John, I returned to discover I had changed a lot, and so had he. We were different people - but we tried to keep the friendship going despite some glaring differences. One day while we were out grocery shopping I suggested Savemart and he was shocked. "I thought you said you would never shop there again." I asked when I said that. "5 years ago." was the response. I tried to relate that in that amount of time I have learned what is good and can get from Savemart. However, that experience has stood as an example of how people can change over time.
The reason this particular question has been in my head is because I'm in similar situation. Over the past 4 months I have grown closer to a friend. While I'm not the dog for her and she isn't the owner for me, right now we are good for each other. Over the last four months, a different friend has been away on an internship. She has not been around to watch as me and this other girl have grown tighter. At a recent event I was massaging the feet of the girl I've grown tighter with. Suddenly the girl who recently returned from her internship shouted out, "I thought you didn't massage feet! You told me you didn't massage feet!" Which is true. And 6 months earlier I didn't. But on that night, with that young lady, I did.
Since that time I've been worried about my friendship with my recently returned friend. In what other ways have I changed in the last 4 months that will cause discord in our friendship? Do I try to be the person I was 4 - 6 months ago or do I expect the friend to be adaptable.
With John it became clear that 3 years was just too long. We are still friends but much less than the friends we were when we were friends prior to my departure to the Lord's University in Idaho. I'm not sure I'm ready to see my friend of 4 months ago go the same way.

5. Josh just celebrated his 5 years of Photo A Day. On March 4th (or somewhere around there - never been all that good at math) I will celebrate my 1000th picture. I wonder if that is enough. In a recent post by Cindy about violin neglect, Cindy's Mom commented that there is a time and a season for all things. I wonder if 1000 pictures is a decent season.

Making me smile

2009-08-31T22:08:00.000-07:00

There is a blog I used to read where once a week she would recap the things that brought a smile to her face. I would like to start something similar. In the past 5 days, these are four written things that have caught my eye and made me smile.

"The Vest inflates around me and vibrates at varying frequencies, which helps stimulate the cilia in my lungs to release the mucus and "shake" it out. Then I get to cough it up and spit it into tissues. It's awesome." - a friend describing life with cystic fibrosis.

"Day 1 with the kids and we've already got an ER visit under our belts."- a friend who is taking over the custody of her sister's kids.

"I am getting ready to help my wife get ready to help our daughter get ready for her first day of kindergarten." - my brother.

"I just finished getting ready for school dry run. Not going to cry, okay maybe a little, by myself, locked in the bathroom." My sister in law regarding the same situation.

A dog's healer

2009-08-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

Once there was this dog. He was a beautiful golden lab that glistened in the sun as it ran and played. He was discovered at the pound by this beautiful woman who thought he was perfect for her and so she took him home. This woman loved this dog. She took him to the park, and on walks and fed him all of the right treats. He loved this woman and did as much as he could to make her happy. He thought he was being the best dog for her. One day this woman decided she wanted a different dog. She took a knife and cut the dog's stomach open and put it outside.

Surprisingly, the dog didn't die. It limped away wounded. Over time, this dog started to heal. He was able to walk normally, bark normally and give kisses only a dog could give. And even though the dog had a wound on its belly, it resembled a dog you would want to take home - and various owners did just that.

However, it never worked out.

Some of the dog owners want the dog to bark more. Some wanted him to bark less. Some wanted less slobbery kisses. Some wanted slobbery kisses all the time. One owner already had a dog, and so a that owner had a hard time balancing her feelings between the two dogs. (She was a one dog owner at heart.) And even if all of the playtime, cuddling, and dog kisses were worked out, eventually the dog would cuddle enough up with his new owner for the new owner to see that jagged scar. Some found it disgusting and too difficult to deal with. Some saw that it was healing, but not the way they thought it should heal - so some owners would cut open his belly again.

As other owners were cutting up, shunning and discarding this dog, one beautiful black haired woman watched from a distance. She had never owned a dog before and wasn't quite sure how to handle him. Not only that, but she wasn't looking for that type of dog. She had always wanted a Jack Russel Terrier. However, that aside, she watched this dog from a distance.

One day, after his last owner had thrown him out and moved far away from him, this beautiful black haired woman came to the dog and sat near him. Eventually the golden yellow lab came and sat next to her. Feeling courageous, the dog gave the woman a soft puppy kiss. She didn't reject him or tell him he was a bad dog, nor did she demand more from him. She merely looked and him and smiled. She patted his head and stroked his side.

The lab scampered off, but came back later. Each time the lab came, the woman welcomed him with open arms. Each time he scampered off she would not worry. He wasn't really the dog she was looking for. Then one weekend the dog came and stayed by her side all weekend long. She petted his head and sides and stroked her his belly. When she got to the scar she wasn't put off. She didn't try to recut it so it would heal differently. She didn't try to ignore it and pretend it wasn't there. She merely just worked around it. And the dog loved her for it.

As the weekend drew to the close, she took the lab in her lap. She scratched it a little more. She turned down to it and said, "You're not the dog I'm looking for and I know I'm not the owner you are looking for, but you are welcome to stay as long as you need. I will tend to you just as you are tending to me." At that point she pulled up her shirt a bit and revealed a scar across her belly that was jagged and healing. And then the dog realized how lucky he was. This new owner won't cut him for she knew the pain that came from the cut. And so the dog remained, for as long as he needed, with this new woman. He wasn't the dog she was searching for and she wasn't the owner he wanted to be leashed to for eternity. But for now they were perfect for each other as they healed one another.

The Kingdom process

2009-08-26T16:30:00.000-07:00

My mind, for the last several weeks, has been wrapping around the idea of Building the Kingdom. There are several blogs that I read that ask the question: What am I doing today to build the Kingdom of God? For several weeks, I've been asking the simpler question - how are kingdoms built?

It may surprise you to know that there aren't a whole lot of websites dedicated to building a kingdom. There isn't a "Building Kingdoms for Dummies" book I could borrow from the library. There is much in the history books that talk of kingdoms of past and present, but each article or book refers to kingdoms as they are and not as they became.

For example, the Kingdom of Scotland was united by King Cinead I in 843 (according to wiki). Who made him king is a little fuzzy and how he came to create the Kingdom of Scotland, which in turn became the United Kingdom, also is very hard to understand. However, for the purposes of this discussion, King Cinead I did not leave behind any details of his kingdom. He merely created the dynasty that ruled that island.

This trip into history lead me very uninformed. I still don't understand how kingdoms are created. However, in the course of this research I discovered what some of the parts of the kingdom are and how some people went about expanding their kingdoms.

Components:
One of the first mentioned components of a kingdom was a king. There is a man leading the way. Occasionally there were queens leading the way where I think it was then called a Queendom (but I couldn't confirm that. I did however read reports that if a King fell by way of violent defeat, the queen was either killed as well or forced into a new marriage with the person that just stained his sword with her deceased husband's blood). Once the king was in place he made assignments to those in his kingdom. (Interesting to me, there was no one that placed themselves in an honorable position. Those positions were appointed by the king. It reminded me of Hebrews 5:4.) Rules were established and ways to enforce them were created. Al of this was done as the king oversaw.
The next component was minions or peons. What good is being king if there is no one is below you. So the next component of being king was to have people to rule over. Kingdoms I assume started with a base group of people. For the purposes of this post - let's say it was 12 families. These 12 families listened intently to what the king proclaimed and went about trying to do it. Some did this out of fear but others did this out of love for the king. The king was someone most believed was leading them with their best intentions at heart (if he wasn't he might have to deal with a revolution and those were never fun). We'll talk about expansion in a second, but it is safe to say that as those in the kingdom grew, the role of the king grew and the duties and responsibilities grew for those who were on the counsel of the king.
The last component I found that commonly ran through the Kingdoms I read about was having buildings. The King had his place - often a castle with a throne. The people immediately below the king had their places - the west wing of the kingdom occasionally. Then those below had shacks, small homes, tents and caves. The Kingdom encompassed these smaller establishments. Unless you include the farm land, most of these encampments were included within a castle wall or at least somewhere that was protected from an enemy. At the center of these castle enclosures was a place for the king to meet with the people. It was a place for entertainment, instruction, and enlightenment. It was a place to come and be instructed by the king and to laugh with him as well (usually at the expense of a prisoner and some wild underfed animal). There could be one or several castles within a kingdom.

Expansion:
There seemed to be a lot of reasons for expansion. Some times there would be a group of smaller Kingdoms that would group up to fight off a larger kingdom. There was some kings that measured their success by the size of their kingdoms (which I'm sure is where the comment "It's not the size but what you do with it" comes from - as some kings had huge kingdoms that turned into empires that are now just a footnote in a history book), and so those kings would invade other places, slaughter those that resisted and expand the borders. (according to Malcomb Reynolds it isn't always a good idea to fight against those trying to form an alliance or those expanding their borders)
Another reason for expansion was immigration. And this really has been where my mind has been at for the last few weeks. People came to a kingdom because they liked what it had to offer. the kings rules were fair, just, and merciful. The people liked each other and cared for their neighbors. They were people you wanted to live near. Throngs of people would leave an oppressed place, land or kingdom and give everything they had to be somewhere where they felt they belonged - somewhere inviting. Somewhere that brought peace to their souls and hearts.

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As congregations in the US shrink, I wonder about the building up of Christ's Kingdom. There is a King. There are places to go for safety. There are chapels and temples that are available to sit at our one Instructor's Feet and be taught. There are wholesome recreational activities within the kingdom walls (roadshows, choirs, pageants, and even beaches and mountains near by). We have the components for the building of His Kingdom. So my thought are with the reasons why people are immigrating away from this Kingdom and to another or others.

Personal Ministry

2009-08-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

I was looking for something else on Cindy's blog today when I came upon this post. In it she references a talk by Bonnie D. Parkin. Bonnie D. Parkin discusses the role of Personal Ministry in our lives. (well technically she was discussing the idea in the lives of women...but I'm going to include myself for now.)

Parkin's definition is important, so I'll start there:

“The work of the ministry is to do the work of the Lord on the earth—to represent the Lord among the people . . . The chosen servants and appointed officers in the Church of Jesus Christ are put on earth by him to conduct the work necessary for the salvation of mankind.”Clearly, ministering is a holy, even sacred word. When priesthood leaders speak of personal ministry, they often refer to the ministry of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and the miraculous things He did in our behalf."

Furthermore she states:

"Now, let’s think for a minute about why we minister to one another. One of the reasons is because we have made covenants to do so. Alma taught us that we entered into a covenant with the Lord at the time of our baptism. We specifically committed 'to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light . . . and . . . mourn with those that mourn . . . and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.'”

I am especially drawn to that last part as it pertains to my personal ministry. I'm a regular Jekyll and Hyde when it comes to this. An example - There is a dear friend I have that lives near me. Often when we are out driving I will ask her what she is thinking or how she feels. Some days I really do mean it and look for ways to lighten her load or comfort her if she stands in need of comfort. However, some days I'm just asking because there is nothing on the radio and I'm trying to break up the silence.

During this past week, Melinda's sister posted a blog about how their other sister is having family problems and is in need of someone to carry the burden of the children. In the past, I have been totally supportive of this sister and Melinda and I even discussed her delaying her mission to help this sister with her kids. This week, however, I was combative - suggesting the sister stop burdening her family with her kids. It wasn't my place - but I did it anyway. And I felt sorry later.

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In case you haven't noticed - I haven't written for about 6 weeks. I haven't felt like writing but more appropriately, I haven't felt like much of anything. Several of my friends say I'm depressed. Maybe. But I think I'm more off my path. Prior to Idaho, I was in tune to either the spirit or to Karma. I knew when to ask if others needed help and I knew to act. Except for about a year of Idaho, I resembled that say pre-Idaho person. (I went on a date with a girl in 2005. She couldn't get away fast enough. In 2006, when I broke my wrist, she was one of the first in to offer help. She explained to a roommate the change "He's not the same angry Sean in 2005. This year he cares.")
Since being back from Idaho, though, I have increasingly been not caring about others. In moments of quiet reflection it saddens me. It saddens me that I'm not in a place to feel those promptings and it saddens me that I'm not willing to act even if I do feel those promptings. I'm afraid I may have put my personal ministry on vacation.

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Cindy's blog comments on

"And suddenly, I knew exactly what it is that I need to be doing right now, at this singular time in my life - while I do not yet have the commitment of husband, family, or even boyfriend or fiancé, and therefore have more time to work on myself. The ark that I need to build is this: Discovering, and fulfilling, my personal ministry."

I too am not committed to a wife, girlfriend, fiance or family. I have some time to rediscover my personal ministry and fulfill it. I hope I can become better at comforting those that stand in need of comfort and mourning with those that mourn. I hope I can do better at not burdening those who are not in need of burdens.

a day of dumb sean stuff

2009-07-10T11:32:00.000-07:00

Tuesday at work we had some youths that decided it would be fun to skateboard across the roof of my office building. I helped discover them and then watched them flee. For the life of me – I can’t understand skateboarding on the roof of a building. However, I too have done some pretty dumb things in my life so today you get memories from being dumb.

One family I grew up in had 10 kids. Brian and Alan were close to my age and so we occasionally hung out. One day we got the bright idea that I owned a truck that had ropes attached. They owned roller blades. In what seemed like an ingenious plan, they held onto the ropes while I drove around the block going 25 or 30 MPH. This was okay, but the rope allowed for too much sway. (I could be done with the turn, but they could still be going the other way and then the rope would tighten and they would get snapped in line with the truck.) So we decided to forgo the ropes and they just held onto the back of the truck. Things were going fine until two of the wheels on Brian’s right skate started to chip. He tried yelling at us to tell us to slow down, but we were too busy laughing and playing the radio loud to hear him. Brian let go and glided into a parked car. He ended up hurting his legs (bruises and cuts). Of greater importance was we now needed to find a reason for Brian’s chipped wheels because Brian’s dad wouldn’t have liked the idea of us taking him out at 30 MPH holding onto the back of the truck.

My brother and I swam on the same swim team in high school. One time after practice, he loaded my bike into the truck and we went to his work (a donut store). The parking lot of the shopping complex had raised pedestrian parkways. “I bet you I could jump those,” Chad said. “That would be cool,” I responded. So Chad gunned the engine. The first raised walkway was exciting but nothing compared to the second one. Chad swears only two wheels left the road at one time but I swear all four were off. Either way, the truck bucked enough that the bicycle flew out the back. It was so cool. In fact it was so cool that I tried repeating it several times when Chad moved away and I got the truck.

I was a senior in high school when I was in choir (yippee for fluff classes your senior year. I was in Beginning Choir). In my choir was Josh. Josh owned a huge dually 1-ton truck. Near his home was a girl I enjoyed spending time with. I would often go pick her up to go do things. If we had some spare time, I would go by Josh’s house and flip him off. One day he thought we should have some fun and so he got in his truck and gave us chase. Scattered through Fremont are speed bumps. In theory, they are there to slow you down, unless of course you are in a truck, at which point they become ramps to adventure. As Josh “chased” us, I took him through all the neighborhoods I knew had speed bumps. We both did fairly well on them and had a good 45 minutes of fun speeding through the streets of Fremont. I lost him twice before we eventually called it off. The next day in choir he commented on how fun it was but how hard it would have been if either of us were in cars or if either of us cared about the suspensions of our trucks.

In August 2006, on the Saturday before finals, Adaptive Services sponsored one last Adaptive Cycling ride for the semester. We loaded all of the bikes into the back of my truck and headed over to Smith Park in Rexburg. This park is small but has a paved path that runs in a square around the park. On the southern end there is a slight hill. On the last run of the day, I was riding a hankcrank cycle. The way to steer this cycle was to lean left to go left and lean right to go right. This trike did not do sharp turns well. As I came down off of that southern hill, I was going rather fast and I took the right turn. As I came out of the turn, my right back wheel left the ground. Then I started to fishtail. Instead of doing the smart thing and applying the breaks, I chose to try to lean out of the fish tail. I was still going pretty fast as I did the leaning. After the third time of my tires leaving the ground, all of the tires left the ground and I flipped the trike. I landed on my wrist first, breaking it, and then I used my face to slow down. There is a lot more stupidity that goes with this story, but I’ll save that for next week or later than that.

Princess Olivia

2009-07-07T13:47:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I was at the Milwaukee Children’s museum. My niece pulled us over to the small stage and asked me to narrate a story for her. It is what follows.

--
Once there lived a beautiful princess named Olivia. Olivia’s castle was on a hill not far from a little valley. When the weather was nice, Olivia liked to go down into the valley and dance, ballet and interruptive style.

One day a big growling monster named Chad came to the valley. Monster Chad was mad and he growled at everything and everyone. He even growled at princess Olivia. Olivia was scared.

Olivia called for her mother, Queen Liz. Queen Liz arrived in the valley and immediately went to the Monster Chad. Queen Liz was able to calm Monster Chad, who turned out to be King Chad but just in a very bad mood.

Once everyone was calm and happy, Princess Olivia was free to dance in the valley again. And so she did. She danced and danced and danced and everyone lived happily ever after.

The End.

waiting

2009-06-30T09:13:00.000-07:00

I watch him as he sleeps. As he slumbers I entertain myself by running my fingers through his hair and lightly running my nails up and down his arms. I try to wait patiently.

When he awakes, he will want to satisfy me. He’ll roll over on top of me and kiss my lips. I will feel him as he kisses my neck and my ears and whispers “I love you” in my ears.

He will hold me down by entwining his fingers in a basket weave with my fingers, stretching my arms above my head and then he will continue to attack my face and neck with his kisses. His warm breath on my soft lips, breathing me in with every movement. His aftershave will fill my nose as he kisses the tip of it before sweetly kissing each closed eye.

Eventually he will release me and I will roll on top of him and I will feel his hands as they massage my back and hold me securely in place. His head will bounce up into my approach, stealing kisses before I was planning on bestowing them. I will feel his arms as he grasps me and presses my body onto his. My hair will fly as he sinks those rough hands deep into my curly brown hair and string himself through out each last strand. My mouth will water with anticipation knowing that soon he will roll me back over and ravish my mouth. He will be between me, on me and making me wish we were married so that we could be one completely.
But until then, I just watch him sleep – content with the knowledge of what will come when he awakes from his slumber.

rescued

2009-06-26T11:31:00.000-07:00

I grew up on what is now called a cul-de-sac. (We called them courts when I was a kid). When you got to a certain age (still in elementary school but not sure how old I was in Elem), you were allowed to ride your bike out of the court and around the block. As neighborhood kids go, we usually traveled clockwise around the block. It was two houses to the end of the block, make a right where it was eight more houses along a “straight away” (that had a slight curve to it), followed by a sharp right and five houses to the next corner and you were half way around. Two more houses and you came upon another court. The court had nine houses whose driveways poured into the court. As far as any of us knew, there were no children in this court. After this court there was nine more houses, a right turn, one more house and then you were back in the court (At this time I would like to thank google maps for their help in this description.)

One summertime joy was to race around the block. I had this sweet banana seat bike that I was able to go pretty fast on and was able to rival most of the other kids in my court. (Oh, I should mention it was blue.) So any day, I was up to the challenge of a race around the block. On this particular day, I was raising Melissa, who was probably 5 years younger than me. I was winning just fine, despite my asthma. However, when we got to the half way mark, Melissa started to pull ahead. I stepped it up a notch to compensate and was leading again when we made it to the second court. In between the fourth and fifth house someone had put down some fresh gravel. I was leaning into the curve of the court when I hit that gravel patch. The wheels of both tires went out from under me and I slid to the ground and slid along the gravel, arm first and then with my face.

Melissa jumped into the street with her bike and passed by me. I didn’t care that she was going to win this one. I was now struck with my bike on top of me. I laid there for what felt like a long time. Suddenly I heard a familiar voice. My brother had come for me.

Chad came and wrestled the bike off of me. He helped me up and helped half carry me home. When we got home, mom was waiting for me and my brother helped carry me into the bathroom where I was put on the closed toilet seat. My mother took her nursing skills and went to work on me. My brother left me and went out to work on my bike. (Which is amazing in and of it’s self as Chad is not all that mechanically inclined.)
I still have a scar on my left elbow from that day – the day Chad came and rescued me.

the sumo wrestler

2009-06-23T16:38:00.000-07:00

I knew someday, somewhere, someone would come along and beat me. I have known for some time that I was not unique – just very very lucky. In fact, some days I prayed to be honestly beaten. Maybe then the cameras, with their crushingly loud flashbulbs, and the reporters, each talking at their cameras as I tried to concentrate on the match, - maybe they would all go away once I was soundly beaten. I was tired of being their frog in a jar. Especially because this is not what I wanted to do.

I had started out with a stirring desire to go into fencing. I loved the sound of the sword as it swished through the air. I loved the feel of the impact when your sword made contact with the shoulder of your opponent. I loved, more than anything, the reaction of my muscles as my sword and my opponent’s sword would meet and the opponent would attempt to strong arm my sword out of the way, my wrist trying to spring one way as my arm fought to keep the direction of the sword moving in an opposite direction of the where the other sword was sending it.

But just like why I can’t enjoy Wednesday night Country Dancing in town, I could never get my feet work down. Every instructor I knew told me it was just a count. You count in and you count out. Each step, each lunge, each retreat was a count. Just like every step at country – slow slow fast fast. How ever was I going to enjoy the girl I was with if the whole time I was in my head counting. How ever was I to know what my fencing opponent was going to do next if the whole time I was counting in and counting out. For a lunge I had to count three, but if at two I heard my opponent breathe in sharply, I knew I had to be defending, not attacking, so I would count out, but only to the point that I was sure I was clear of the opponent’s lunge. Then I would need to start again. But I often forgot where I was in my counts and so I would misstep and down I went.

Each time my feet would lose me a match, I would get depressed. Each time I got depressed I would eat. With the added food, came added weights and my fencing game slowed down. Eventually, I was too fat to fence. So my thoughts turned to the question “What do fat people play?” One day the thought occurred to me – Fat people sumo wrestle. So I started researching Sumo wrestling. It is played in a circle and the circle is raised up some how so you always knew where it was. There was a white line on the ground where you stanced as you prepared to throw the other fat guy out of the ring, but beyond that the rules were pretty simple. So I put my shift that way. Every day I ate and I trained. Some days I trained and I ate. But either route was a way to prepare for the first time I stepped into the ring.

Because I was not a Japan raised sumo wrestler, and because my training was not done in one of the Japanese stables, I was ignored by the international sumo wrestling championship. The media referred to me as the “Sumo Cowboy” or as “Sueme Sumo.” (Evidently America’s lust for lawsuits had been picked up on by the foreign media as well.) For my first match – I was on the losing end. The guy moved so quickly and just tossed me out of the ring like I was a rag doll. I was shocked.

But I also learned. I learned to pick up the clues. As I replayed the tossing in my head over and over again, I tried to focus on what sounds my opponent made right before he attacked. I listened for the point that his hands touched the mat and the point the ringmaster commenced the attack. I listened for the tightening of his muscles or the grunt as he projected his one ton weight toward me.

Much to the annoyance of my trainer, I refused to step into the ring again for months. Instead I had him gather up all of the videos of sumo matches he could find and we sat and studied them together. And I learned, and I learned and I learned.

The next time I was in a ring was 9 months after that first match. As the ringmaster commenced, I focused on all of the clues. As this opponent attacked I could tell he was heading to the left. I moved right, grabbed him by the arm and threw him as much as I could over my left shoulder. Before I could turn around to make a second attempt – the crowd erupted with applause. The ringmaster grabbed my hand, flung it in the air, and announced me the winner.

And that was the first of a long winning streak. Each time the opponent was bigger or stronger and each time I crouched before him in my sumo stance, closed my eyes and focused on the sounds that clued me in to this man before me. I knew how to stand up tall and then quickly drop on an opponent that did a full on attack. I knew how to move from one side to the other if the opponent tried to lean and get around me (For some reason they all thought they could sneak past me when my eyes were closed). After six months of winning, rumors started to pour in of other sumo wrestlers trying my technique – closing their eyes for the match. No one could duplicate it though because they were only closing their eyes and not widening their ears.

After 9 months of wins, The Cowboy Sumo was the main attraction. People in the U.S. put aside their basketball, baseball or football to make sure they got a chance to watch me. And I never disappointed. I was also doing cereal ads, car commercials (where I was allowed to stand by the car or ride in the bed of the truck, but never drive the vehicle), and other product endorsements (of course – as a sumo wrestler – restaurants were always trying to get me to promote their food). I was riding the wave. So I of course was not expecting last night.

Last night seemed like every other night. I never paid attention to the hype and my trainer was really strict about me not doing interviews in the weeks coming up to a match. All I knew about this opponent was that he was virtually unheard of and that he had challenged me on his online blog. His cult following of loyal readers promoted it and it got scheduled. I figured I was better because no one had ever heard of this guy. I was wrong.

As we got into stance I quickly realized this was going to be different. Other opponents were breathing through their noses like they were hyperventilating. Not this guy. He was relaxed. His muscles weren’t cracking or pooping with building tension. No – instead he was just relaxed. I made the wrong assumption that he was unprepared and would be an easy take, but when the ringmaster granted us on, I got taken.

Unlike others, I was the first off my mat and at him. Every other had attacked first and I had defended. He waited for my attack and then he defended. I found out quickly that I didn’t know how to attack – I only knew how to defend. He used this to his advantage and tossed me out of the ring. I was shocked, and devastated.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that the match loss really took on much meaning. I knew he was like me, but to the extent that he was like me was amazing. It turns out – the only way to beat a blind wrestler was with a man as blind as I am.

plight of the homeless cart

2009-06-19T15:14:00.000-07:00

The trip from Katie’s house to Yosemite was about 3 hours. During that time we talked about all sorts of things, including my pondering the plight of the homeless. For some reason this intrigued Katie and so she allowed me to continue in discussing the homeless.

A few months ago, we had 90 degree weather for two weeks followed by 4 days of rain and cold. In fact, this late spring has been unseasonably cold and wetter than normal. It makes it hard to know what type of clothing you will need.

As the pioneers came across the trails from the east to Utah and Oregon, they would start with many possessions and arrive with few. Over the course of 4-8 months, they would get to the point where they just couldn’t hall that dresser - or china set, or bed frame, or what ever – one more step. Wagon and handcart companies would come along furniture out on the prairies just sitting along the trails. Only so much could fit in the hand cart and they only had so much energy to pull or push those hand carts.

Fast forward a hundred years. The problems are still the same except the travelers don’t have as far to go. For a few months now, I’ve been pondering how to make a better homeless shopping cart. First I guess we should discuss the problems with the current shopping cart.

Homeless use their shopping cart to store their clothes, their bedding, their shelter, and any business they are involved in. The main compartment should be used for carrying the anything business related – whether that is collecting cans, or material used for making jewelry, or whatever. This means that the clothing, shelter and bedding need to be stored somewhere else.

Before coming to a working conclusion on the clothing, shelter and bedding problem, I feel it is important to also discuss types of shopping carts. For several years, shopping carts came in one form – metal. Now there is a new generation of shopping carts out there: Plastic. Both carts have homeless benefits and homeless negatives. A plastic cart will never rust, but they are more brittle and can only carry so much weight. A metal cart can handle more weight but rust out easier. I tend to side with the metal cart when pondering the homeless. It therefore means I assume the homeless people are borrowing their shopping carts from a grocery store and not from Best Buy, Target, Home Depot or any other place that considers themselves hip enough to use plastic.

Going with that assumption, I have been studying the features of a metal shopping cart and trying to figure out which one works best to borrow from a neighborhood grocer. I have looked at a few shopping cart websites and have decided that the homeless need to borrow shopping carts with a big main compartment, a solid bar that is extended between the two back wheels (to push down on with a foot to get the cart over curbs or dead homeless people laying in the alley with them), and a bottom rack under the main compartment. This last item is critical to the storage of clothing.

Now, the challenges that come with modifying a shopping cart are the same challenges that apply to any item mass-produced or mass modified. The modification must be easy to do, they must be easy to maintain, and they must not be too hard to operate. Additionally, the modifications must not do any permanent damage to the borrowed shopping carts. (On the off chance that the borrower ever wants the cart back.)

Of the three areas I figure we’ll start with clothing first. Rarely does Bruce Wayne approach a homeless person and hand over his coat in the middle of fall. Instead, most homeless have a set collection of clothing that must help them get through all seasons. This is where the bottom shelf of the shopping cart comes in. That bottom shelf should have a waterproof container attached to the bottom. I have considered using a Tupperware container (which can be purchased in mass and at a discount rate) but am fearful that over repeated use the plastic would become brittle and chip. So I’m kind of lost on this one. I haven’t figured out an alternative though.

For bedding and shelter I’m thinking of using the same tool. I have decided that the sides of the shopping cart are a great place to attach items. I’ve decided that using 3 inch PVC sched 40 tubes would work best. What you do is buy it in 3 foot sections and put a cap on one end (glued on). Lines up the tubes with the open pipe being near the top of the back of the exterior side of the basket and the bottom (capped end) being at the bottom of the front part of the basket. This allows the tubes to be at an angle on cart. I had pondered drilling holes, 2 inches apart, on one side of the tube and stringing zip ties through it to attach it to the cart, but Katie had two points: (1) most homeless don’t have back up zip ties and so they can’t replace one if it snags or breaks off. (2) If by chance the borrowed from returns to demand their cart be reunited with the store it came from – the zip ties are a one time use and then would need to be removed and the homeless person would have no way of attaching it again. Instead Katie suggested Velcro. If you use self adhesive Velcro – I think that just might work. Once you wrap the pipes with the hook part (the soft side) and then use the loop part of Velcro to connect to the cart, you can place and remove the tubes as the homeless person’s carts change. I envision using the tubes to store rolled up blankets and a rolled up tarp. I envision another tube to be used for tent poles or to carry the rope used to string between two trees to throw the tarp over.

As I’ve been writing this at work on my laptop, one co-worker had another suggestion. She suggested that the shopping cart should have a feature where the front of the basket had a way to hold a cardboard box. I think this is interesting. I’ve thought about this and have decided that the box should not be attached to the cart permanently, but should instead just reside there when not in use. I’m going to make some assumptions about the homeless at this point and state that they are probably able to fold a cardboard box up better than I am able to fold the map I got from Yosemite last week. If my assumption is correct, I see a need for a shelf and bungee cords. The shelf should be bolted on (therefore I am adding the cost of 2 U-bolts, 4 lock washers and 4 wing nuts, along with the cost of a “L” shaped 2 inch – one inch on each part of the “L” – metal piece that will act as the shelf. I’m adding this to the costs already there for the pvc pipe, the Velcro and what ever we decide to use as the bottom drawer.), being bolted onto the lower part of the front of the shopping cart. The cardboard would then rest of the shelf and by using the two bungee cords, the homeless person can then bungee on the cardboard.

Does anyone have any suggestions for the waterproof box on the bottom? It has to be cheap and reliable are the only two criteria I’ve got (besides being waterproof)?

Memories from the MTC

2009-06-19T08:01:00.000-07:00

The MTC is an acronym for the Mission Training Center. The MTC is where you go prior to going to the destination of your mission. For example, I went to the Arizona Tucson Mission. I entered the MTC on the 22 of September but didn’t make it out to AZ until October 13. Those three short weeks is a time to hone (or for some – learn) teaching skills. It is a time to finish up any undone tasks that would be necessary to share a message about the Mormon church. (For example, I had a companion who had not read the Book of Mormon the whole way through. He had a lot of reading to do while we were there.) I needed the time to have some unique experiences. Today’s memories come from the MTC.

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I had a total of 6 companions in the three weeks I was there. To protect their identities, I offer them to you in fruit form.

The first companion, Elder Raisin, never made it to the MTC. I was assigned to him for a whole day and thus walked around the MTC by myself. In the MTC you are expected to be with your companion all the time. If he leaves class to go to the bathroom – you leave class to go to the bathroom. In fact, there are special phones stationed all around the campus that are for you to pick up and call the “Lost Companion” center (I don’t think that is the technical name, but oh well – you get the point.). If you go more than 10 minutes without seeing your companion, you are supposed to rush to the blue phone and report your vanishing companion. You are then supposed to stay by the phone and wait until either your companion is found or a replacement companion can be brought to you.

As I went to the bookstore or to dinner or to the restroom, though, I traveled alone. I did not stay by he blue phone and wait. It was my first day and I didn’t understand this principle quite yet. Instead, after dinner, I took Elders Grapefruit and Elder Plum up with me to the info desk at which point it was discovered that Elder Raisin had broke his arm the day before and I was being reassigned to the two Elders I was already with.

After a few days with those two, who I liked very much, I got a new companion: Elder Banana. Prior to Elder Banana coming into our district, we had ten missionaries who I had given symbolic reference to. Elder Grapefruit was the foundation – his testimony was a testimony one could build on. Sister Apple was the plumbing pipes – she let the spirit flow in. Elder Pear was the studs – the person we could all go to for support. When Elder Banana came into the district, one sister referred to him as the termite.

Elder Banana was going to Sao Paulo Brasil. However, he had decided that the members of the 12 apostles and the president of the church had gotten his call wrong. They must have meant a different Elder Banana – not this Elder Banana from Idaho Falls. He requested a new call. While his new call was pending – he was assigned to be with me. On the first night he was with us, he left the room at 2 AM. I am a light sleeper, so I woke up and followed him. He did not appreciate this and wanted to be left alone. I started walking toward one of the blue phones when he decided he would return to the room and let me sleep.

The next morning, Elder Banana attended district meeting. Upon seeing Sister Apple, he felt it was appropriate to point out that she was way hotter than any of the sisters in his last district. He then took some time to tell the elders that Sister Watermelon was larger than any sister in his last district. Needless to say, he was not well liked by the sisters.

The next day he found out that if he got in a fight he could get sent home. So he tried unsuccessfully to pick a fight with Elder Grapefruit and I. (Elder Grapefruit was a Police Explorer in Martinez prior to coming to the MTC. I had fought to hard to get on a mission to give it up to give Elder Banana a much-deserved beating.) Eventually, on the fourth day, Elder Banana got the courage to tell his father that he was coming home not because of wrong mission calls or destinations, but because of he simply couldn’t cut it. So on a General Conference Saturday, Elder Banana’s father drove down from Idaho Falls to Provo Utah to pick up his son and I’m sure the two enjoyed a very quiet ride back home.

I went back to being with Elder Grapefruit and Elder Plum.

The next week, I was assigned yet another random missionary. Elder Mango had done his three weeks in the MTC and then had to go home “to work out some issues there.” Mango returned for two days of recapping what he had learned – to make sure he hadn’t forgotten. Once his two days were up – I returned to Grapefruit and Plum.

Our district was made up of Elders going to Tucson, AZ and Jacksonville, FL. All three sisters and 3 of the Elders were going to Florida, and they left 24 hours prior to the departure for us going to AZ. Elder Cucumber would be my last companion. We were companions for 24 hours.

The second of three memories I want to share involves making friends. I don’t make friends with people my own age easily. At this time in the MTC, family members could e-mail you, but you couldn’t e-mail them. The e-mails were printed off and put in your mailbox. As district leader it was my job to get the mail (and to choose who gave opening and closing prayers in class). I would get the mail right before dinner.

In the MTC – mail is your only outlet to the outside world. (There are no TVs there) To help me make friends easier, my mother sent me mail every Monday with all of the scores from the previous day’s football and she would send me the Major League Baseball scores and standings.

As we stood in line for our meal, Elder Grapefruit and I would discuss, rather loudly the scores that were published. I met several new people this way and was able to make some new friends. Of course others scoffed at us for our inability to let go of the world – but I just wouldn’t tell those people the scores.

--
The third MTC memory I choose to share today comes from study time.

In the MTC, you spend like 10 hours in class for those three weeks. It’s rather grueling. After dinner the third night we had a 20 minute study session prior to class. We were instructed to study a topic of choice individually. I’m not really a study kind of guy so I went to the index at the back of my scriptures and chose a topic. After 20 minutes of study time, our teacher came in and asked us to share what we learned from our study. Elder Cucumber went first. He was studying the atonement of Jesus Christ. Next was Sister Apple – The Apostasy. Sister Watermelon – The restoration. Elder Coconut – Humility. Sister Cherry – Christlike attributes.

I was second from the last in line. I listened intently to all of the others, secretly dreading my turn. When it came to my turn, the teacher said “And Elder [Sean], what were you studying?”

“Um. I was studying Birth Control.”

“You were studying what?”

“Birth Control. It’s right here in the Topical Guide.”

“Alright. Moving on. Elder Grapefruit?”

Elder Grapefruit was laughing too hard, as were the other young men in the room. The sisters weren’t as entertained. So the teacher turned back to me, “What inspired you to study about birth control Elder [Sean]?”

“Well, I started in the topical guide until I found something I had ever really studied in the scriptures before. This topic sort of jumped out at me.”

She then went on to lecture me about me being on the Lord’s time and blah blah blah. The only other memory I have attached to this evening was each of the Elders trying to imitate the expression on the teacher’s face. I don’t think any of them got it right.

Finding Tuesday's Fiction

2009-06-16T00:01:00.000-07:00

I posted today's fiction (the conclusion to last week's story) with the rest of the story. You can either read the story in the entirety starting here (Introduction, Character, Part 1) or you can jump to the Part 2 here.

Enjoy. Or don't. Which ever.

Un Stucking the Butt

2009-06-12T22:23:00.000-07:00

Before discussing today’s memory, I feel I need to create some background. The LDS church has created Pageants (or musical plays) for the purpose of telling their story to the masses. There are pageants in New York, Utah and various other locations. Nearly 50 years ago, The Oakland Temple Pageant, “And it Came to Pass,” was created. The performances were presented in the Inter Stake Center in Oakland and were performed in the month of July. There was a 500-person balcony chorus, a 100-person ensemble/main actors, 30 dancers, and the most amazing Technical Staff, with a crew of 20-50, the volunteer theatre world has ever known. Or the universe.

For the first 35 years, the play was locally owned and operated. It was written by two local Bay Area playwrights. All money used for the pageant came from local budgets, and from the donated gifts, talents, and resources of local LDS members. It was a trial for some stakes and some people’s time, but they were rewarded greatly because of their sacrifices.

The play ran on a 3-year rotation. This meant that for two summers, pageant participants could go out and learn their craft in other theatres and return ready to share their new developed talents as they bore testimony of the LDS church in song, acting, dancing and by far the most amazing technical skills in the galaxy.

In 1998, the church head quarters in Salt Lake City and the Missionary Department decided that the pageant needed to be every year and that it needed to be better funded. Part of that new funding was to replace the existing wooden stage that for the most part – was the original stage from 40 years previously.

A set designer, who was a professor at BYU Provo, designed the new set. Local tech directors were not permitted to contribute to the design process. In 2003, a new medal set was delivered. Despite being big, loud, and heavy – the new set came with a lot of new moving parts.

Different theatres use different techniques for scene changes. Some theatres will do a complete black out. Some will have awesome people in black outfits move scenery in and out. Sometimes the performers are responsible for moving scenery around. An ideal way is to have continuous dialogue that takes place on different parts of the stage, which lights up the part of stage where the person is yet darkens the stage where the people in black are setting up for another scene. One way we used to redirect audience attention was to have activity on the downstage area (closest to the audience). Upstage we would “fly” in a black drape, to cover the activities we were doing backstage. With the new set, came a 6 panel “curtain” that would open and close on a pull rope. The panels were square steel tube lined with plywood, with dark blue carpet attached to the plywood, covering the panel. They were ugly to look at. The lighting designer hated them. The tech Director and assistant tech director (me) hated them. Almost everyone on crew hated them. The panel system got known as the “Big Ugly Thing.” Later on it got named the “Big Ugly Terrible Thing.” One delightful crewmember figured out that an appropriate acronym for this panel thing was BUTT.

There were three panels on each side of the stage that would fall into place next to the other as they were pulled closed. When pulled open, the middle two would slide behind the next two and then those four (two on each side of the stage) would slide behind the third and sixth stationary panels. Or at least that was how it was supposed to happen.

Final Dress Rehearsal was considered opening night because it was the night that 200+ missionaries sat out in the audience, to see the play she would be inviting those investigating the church to. On this particular DR, my tech director was absent. I was in charge.

During the show there are about 10 people on an intercom headset. The purpose is to have communication about problems or to relate cues to the crew. There are three people out in the balcony on headset who are running the lights and the sound. There are three people up on the pin rail (a place where pulleys are used with a counter weight system to bring in scenery) and then there are four people down on the stage floor (Tech director, Assistant Tech Director, Floor Manager, Head Medical Person), all on intercom headset.

On this evening, during the middle of the second act, a frantic voice is heard on the intercom. The conversation went like this:

Katie – We have a problem.
Me – What?
Katie – Butt Stuck.
Me – What was that?
Katie – Butt Stuck.
Me – Butt stuck open or closed?
Katie – Butt stuck closed.

I quickly figured out where we were at in the play. I realized that there was a large number of people that were going to be using the stairs at the back of the stage to get to the next scene. These stairs were now blocked by 6 steel panels.

Me – Can anyone see where the problem is?
Paul – This is Paul. The center panels seem to have slid in next to the next panels over. I’m trying to unstuck the butt now.
Me – Anyone else?
Mike – I’m climbing up to pin rail to see if I can get out to it from the catwalk.

For the next several minutes, blue-gelled flash lights swarmed the two center panels of the butt to see if anyone could pry it loose. Reading from left to right, the 3rd panel was our problem panel.

Mike – I can’t reach the panel. Katie is going out on the ledge. Please stand by.
Katie – This is Katie. I’m at the third butt cheek now. The panels are stuck pretty tight.
Me – Can any one get a pry tool to Katie to help pry even just a crack open?
Person I can’t remember – I have the tool and am going up to pin now to get it to Katie.
Me – Paul, how is it on the bottom?
Paul – I think it’s just stuck on the top.
Me – Okay – when this scene ends we’ll have one opportunity to unstuck the butt. Katie – Applying pry to cheek three.

Suddenly, we, and I think the whole audience, hear a pop.

Me – Okay, stay in place incase we need it to be pried open again. The scene is ending. Is everyone ready?
Mike, Paul, Katie – Ready!

As the scene ended, Mike pulled the 6 cheeks of the BUTT open and the panels slid perfectly. However, the next thing we hear is the voice of Julie, the director.

Julie – I hate to interrupt – but what is the butt?
Me – It is that big ugly terrible panel thing in the back. Why?
Julie, just wanted to know. I wanted to make sure you guys weren’t playing with each other’s butts back there.

(I had totally forgot she was listening in)
--
Each year the set gets taken down and stored. Because this was the first year with this set, each part had to be labeled. Salt Lake sent out a member of the 70 to observe. (a member of the 70 is like the assistant to the vice president in a company) I cannot tell this next part as a memory, because my mom died 4 days after closing night and so I was not there for take down. However, as it has been told to me:

Marc is labeling parts of the set. He labels the BUTT pieces Butt 1, Butt 2, Butt 3, etc. As Marc is labeling, Harold (one of the assistant Tech Directors) wonders over with the member of the 70. In the Mormon Church, things purchased with tithing money are considered sacred and are to be cared for with the best regard. The 70,was aghast that parts of “the Lord’s stage” were being labeled Butt 1 and so forth. He asked Harold and, according to what I’ve heard, just stood there, unsure how to answer. Evidently Harold had quite the array of faces he tried using before just convincing the member of the 70 to move along.

Sara's Choice - The Introduction

2009-06-09T23:47:00.000-07:00

The day Kyle Murphy Fuller stabbed Gerald Smith, and shot Carrie Smith killing her and her unborn child – that was the day Fuller envisioned his perceived tragedy was extinguished, but it was a catalyst for a day that no one really saw coming and a day that would end bad for Fuller, his lover and every one who professed any type of desire to live that lifestyle. Gerald Smith had been the mayor of San Francisco at the time of his murder. For eight years, Smith had fought for the right of people in California to get married – whether they are gay or they are straight. Twice the people of California had voted that marriage was between a man and a woman. After the last loss, Smith drove his argument to the steps of the State Supreme Court. There he was given a definitive answer: No, not in California.

Many, including Fuller, looked to Smith as the reason why they would never get married in their home state. Every few years the number of registered voters that feel gay marriage is not a bad thing grows. If Smith had been more patient, some speculated, then the law wouldn’t have been so definitive. But Smith, and his damn political aspirations damaged the whole process. However, in death, Smith eventually went from Traditional Marriage foe to their hero. Old Fashioners (as they soon became known as) propped Smith up on a stick and used him as a poster of what gays are “really are like.” Old Fashioners, who had lied about a need to keep gay marriage out of the schools, now had a reason why gay marriage needed to be kept away from their children. Bumper stickers began to plaster cars “When a Old Fashioner wakes up on the Sabbath they go to church. When a gay wakes up – they destroy the mayor’s family.”

Using the death of Smith as the best example of what was wrong with the Gay community, being anti-gay took on a life of its own. Soon there were protests outside gay owned businesses and “straight sit-ins,” which was really just a place for straight couples to go and make out in front of news cameras. Straight people that helped out a gay were called “Straight Betrayers.” As this polarized both sides, Gays that helped a straight person became known as a “Gay Traitor.” It became socially acceptable again to single out gays. Billboards started to show up around the state with catchy slogans such as “Fear Queer,” “Man on Man be Damned,” “Girl on Girl make you hurl,” and “Choose Straight Every Time.” The billboards often showed what ever the undesirable activity was with a circle around it and a hash through it, like being gay was as bad as smoking in your hotel room or in a bar.

Politicians who were liberal began to fear for their lives after Kyle Murphy Fuller exterminated Smith. More and more conservative came out of the woodwork and took over the process of writing laws. Rather quickly, different aspects of homosexuality were outlawed. The first to go were gay kissing and sex. This was followed by new rules about only mixed gender massages. As the conservatives grew more powerful, their laws grew that much more stringent. Patting a ball player on his butt after a great play was gay. Dressing men in pink was gay. Guys going shopping for anything but power tools were gay. Women who hugged each other for longer than four seconds were lesbians. Women who bought power tools were lesbians. Some senators proposed women were only allowed to wear dresses, but their wives banded together and refused to give them sex, and that law never made it to fruition.

With each new law, homosexuality activities was driven deeper and deeper underground. Men were never gay in public. To convince anyone who might get suspicious, these men went through elaborate rituals to prove they weren’t. Surfing for straight porn on their work computers, spanking the fannies of the ladies at work (and then going and washing their hands afterwards), or (worse of all) telling a gay joke during a staff meeting – all of these were done to prevent people getting any other ideas.

The final act of injustice came on the eve of Kyle Murphy Fuller’s state ordered execution. Signed into law, while standing in front of a San Francisco Catholic Cathedral, the local congressmen inked an extermination order on all gays and lesbians. Just like when the Mormons were victims of an extermination order in Missouri a hundred years ago, it became legal to shoot a gay onsite with no prosecution. However, unlike the Mormons who ran to Utah, the gays turned to the days of alcohol prohibition to give them clues for their future. Instead of speakeasies, they created Slys. Slys were in a different place and only those who were told, word of mouth, knew where they were. A password was required to get in and one usually had to appear with someone of the opposite gender to get into the building but then had to touch someone of the same gender to get pass the sentinel guarding the door.

A group of people who hunted down these palaces of pleasure became known as Homo Hunters. It was the one profession that allowed for both genders to be in a police state. “Guarding our virtues and our children” was their motto, though really they were just marshaled hate groups bent on the destruction of every last gay in California.

Sara's Choice - The Character

2009-06-09T23:45:00.000-07:00

Sara had never meant to become a Homo Hunter. It was a job that she sort of just stumbled into. The economy was stumbling at the time all of this was going on. Sara was laid off of her job as a wedding cake designer, and needed a way to pay the bills. She took the required training and passed the tests. The hardest part for her was the kiss test, not because she had a problem kissing boys but because she had never had the chance in high school. She wasn’t popular and never really dated. Growing up it didn’t really matter, but when she applied for the academy, she was grueled relentlessly about if she liked boys or girls. She really wanted the job, so she made sure she left no doubt in anyone’s mind. She practiced over and over again with her pillow (kissing a mirror was considered kissing the same gender and was outlawed) and evidentially did well enough at the test sight to get they guy’s number offered and a chance to wear the Homo Hunter Badge.

The work wasn’t easy. Sara found the work to be pretty miserable actually. They were responsible for working undercover and trying to get gays to come to them by walking the line of what was acceptable and wasn’t. Sara had a truck with a screwdriver and a saw in it and would often go to housewives homes offering to help with household honey do lists. Depending on the responses of the housewife, Sara’s crew might come back later, bust down the door and haul the woman away for being “Gay.” Often these actions were done in front of neighbors, children and husbands. If that man wanted to keep his job and his kids, he had to either disown his wife or present undisputable evidence that his wife was indeed straight. This was often a hard thing to prove. Sara was constantly being hounded by those with higher ranks to produce numbers. But Sara really struggled with the idea of breaking up families. Her mother had died when she was ten and she knew what these children faced without their mothers. Sara’s mother was drunk and hit a tree. The shame was comparable to that of having a lesbian mother.

However, Sara needed to pay the bills, so she did what she was asked. That is, she did what she was asked until that first day when she saw Krista.

Sara's choice - The Story Part 1

2009-06-09T23:42:00.000-07:00

Sara was running with a group of men, who she flirted shamelessly with and who all thought they would get a chance to bed her someday, one day when they found out that there was a confirmed Sly in The Presidio in Northern San Francisco. They gathered up the forces and headed out. Armed with Gay Dars and tazers they approached the suspected place. Sara was assigned to go around back and watch for those trying to make a quick escape. Suddenly there was a loud crash as Sara could here the battering ram knocking down the door. There were screams, yelling and the sounds of brut force being used to knock those homos into submission. Sara heard the noise ever so quietly. On the north side of the house there was a cellar door opening up. Emerging was the most beautiful woman Sara had ever seen. This woman had brown curly hair and green eyes, her face was perfectly shaped and her lips looked like they could seduce even the most hardened asocial person. Sara took note of this woman’s average waist size and short-mounded bottom. Sara was also in shock over her immediate lust for this woman. She had never had these feelings before, but there she was wetting her lips in anticipation of a kiss or even just a peck on the cheek of this woman.

Over her ear piece, interrupting her outlawed thoughts Sara heard her commander. “Do you have any one back there? Are there any of those politician murdering homos that got away?” Sara paused. First the first time in taking over this job, she paused. She had never paused before. That was why she was allowed to go to Slys with the men – she knew she was the best at catching “these” people as any of them. But that day, as she stood there watching this woman, she paused in her response.

She wondered who this woman was? Beyond loving another woman, what had this woman done wrong? Just like how not every Muslim has flown airplanes into buildings, not all gays are the people at Gay Pride Parades of the past and nor is every lesbian to be equated with that monster, Kyle Fuller. This woman might be of some value beyond just being straight or gay. So Sara paused.

He squawked again at her and threatened to come back there to check on her. Sara responded this time “Nothing I can’t handle.” With that Sara rushed to this woman’s side. Sara inquired of a name and the name Krista Waters was revealed. Krista pleaded for her freedom, and again, Sara paused. Should she help this woman who looked so normal or should she turn her in?

I will answer next week on Tuesday Fiction.

Sara's Choice Part 2

2009-06-09T21:42:00.000-07:00

Sara admired the jade green eyes that sparkled in the sunset. Her mind flashed images of those same eyes shining forth in horror as the people at the Straight Realign Center beat the gay out of this Krista. Krista’s brown hair glistened in the sun and reflected bright beams of sunlight, and Sara saw the images of the same brown hair being pulled while they raped the gay out of Krista at the SRC. (That’s not what a bottom like that should have done to it.) The lips of Krista drew Sara in momentarily before the violent kisses Krista would have to endure from old men, “expert kissers” as they were called, flashed across the cortex of Sara’s mind.

Sara had watched Sly detainees be put through the courses, their needed reformations to help them get back on a straight path. Sara herself had gone to the stocks and forced her lips onto Gay Men, in an effort to help them change their ways. She knew the violence those men faced day in and day out as the Medical staff of the SRC gave beatings and medications “necessary” for the convincing of these Sly participants to choose straight. For the hardest hearted, the last course of action before being banished to Arkansas, some were given Electro Convulsive Therapy. Electrodes were attached to each side of the brain causing the brain to have a seizure. It was called rebooting, when really Sara just saw it as reprogramming. The seizures caused the brain to have an amnesia state. During that amnesia state, the “patient” was told over and over again the joys of being straight over the horrors of being gay.

For some reason she couldn’t state clearly – she didn’t want this for Krista. She didn’t want to arrest Krista to have her beaten, raped or electrocuted. Suddenly these actions at the SRC didn’t seem like the humane sensible thing but instead the cruel thing to do. Instantly Sara’s mind flashed the idea that gays and lesbians were people first and inappropriate lovers second, and Sara wasn’t even sure that they were inappropriate when all they were trying to do was love.

Sara knew what she had to do. “Krista. Go hide behind that trash can. Right now.” Krista hurried off, quickly, although a bit confused of what was going on. To her surprise she saw Sara upholster her taser. Sara turned it on herself and fired. Instantly two electrodes shot out and attached to Sara’s chest. Within mere half seconds she was on the ground.

Any time a taser goes off, the taser emits a siren. Running from the house came all of the guys in Sara’s crew. “What happened? Are you Okay? What is going on?” The questions flew at her as the remnants of electricity drained from her heart and body.

Sara started, “I thought I had him. I thought… I thought…didn’t see him grab for me…damn fag!…” It turned out she had to act through this pain – her chest was on fire and she was actually struggling to get the words out. “He has ran off…over there…” she said as she pointed in the opposite direction of Krista. Several members of the crew jumped to there feet and were off. No one tazed one of their own and got away. Sara’s captain remained.

“Let me help you up Sara.” He gave her his hand and helped her to sit up. He squawked into his radio calling for all available Homo Hunters to seek out a gay on the run. “Sara, do you need anything?”

“A hug?” Sara responded.

“Sure Sara.” As Sara was being hugged, she motioned to Krista to run. And like that Krista bolted from behind the garbage cans and as far away as possible.

--

Eventually the search for the gay was called off. The captured Sly participants were gathered up and taken to the SRC. After being treated in the Ambulance, Sara’s Captain offered a ride home.

“You know Sara, I used to worry about you,” he started, “but after today I don’t worry any more.” Sara was so sore she was barely listening. He continued, “I saw you taze yourself.” Sara instantly shot up in her seat. “I’ve seen the way you force yourself on the gays in the stocks. I’ve seen you beat and mercilessly taze those that step just a bit out of line. I thought maybe you were completely heartless, but today you proved me wrong.”

Sara was suddenly shocked and frozen. She didn’t know what to say or do. Having sympathy for a gay was as bad as being gay and was punished the same way. Was her captain to take her somewhere and beat her or rape her? Was she going to have to be electrocuted too? It would be with in his rights to do what ever with her. So she sat frozen.

He finished up, “I saw how you looked at that Lesbo. I know those eyes. I know them because occasionally I see them in my own mirrors at home. I know you aren’t a lesbo and I know this won’t happen again. I figured you went through enough, tazing yourself, so I won’t even report you. More than anything I’m just grateful to see those eyes of yours today. We need more compassionate people like you.”
And with that her captain patted her leg and she felt finally at ease. Sara never saw Krista again. 8 months later she quit her job so she could marry her captain. Their first child was a girl who Sara insisted be named Krista – to help remind Sara to always have a heart.

My Master Plan

2009-06-09T14:39:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm entering for the chance to win this dress. If I win, I will trade it with some lucky girl (probably this one) for pictures of LDS temples east of the Mississippi River. I will do so, so I can add them to the temple blog I help manage. You are welcome to enter too, but please remember that if you get the dress, you should wear it and go take pictures of LDS temple with it.

Links

2009-06-06T14:59:00.000-07:00

I'm really horrible about finding something interesting on the internet, making note of the link and then not doing anything with it. So as I clean out my inbox and bookmarks I'll just post them here.

Puppies behind bars
Evidently there is a program where in prisoners train dogs for the disabled.

Storage Drawers
In case you are considering building drawers on a carpenter's cart - this is a good resource.

Newsweek
Doing crunches is bad for you.

Marine Mammal Center
Opens on June 15.

Old Faithful
In case you once lived in Idaho but now live California, you can watch Old Faithful live with a new web cam. You can also watch soon-to-be-fired park workers pee into the active volcano.

Boxers
When you are fighting a war, it is good to not wear bright pink boxers.

Hiking in the Bay Area
This site is great for seeing details about hiking in the Bay Area.

Black Diamond Lines
A model railroad group near my home.

Epi-pens emerging
Interesting article.

OT Schools
For future reference.

The Shoe Pencil

2009-06-05T10:00:00.000-07:00

(Gasp - A picture on Teaching Sean. Don't we have another blog for that!)

In 4th grade I had a problem. (And before Katie beats me to it...this is what I look like when I have a problem in 4th grade) I had resource right before recess. The resource room was on one side of campus and Mr. D's classroom was on the other side. (In fact, when I was first told I was going to be in Mr. D's class I told my parents it was surely too far to walk and I needed an electric truck to get me from the house to class and then home again. They thought I could just leave home earlier.)

When I went to resource I took a pencil with me and when I returned to class I carried the same pencil back. However, like I said, I did that reverse trek during recess. In my school we had a game called 9 square - It was like the two and four square games I've seen at the schools I've taught at, but instead - we had nine. Who got into those first nine squares was determined by who got there first. Being in Mr. D's class created a huge disadvantage to all of us compared the rest of the 4th grade because we were so far away. But being in recourse, all I had to do was step out the door. Only one problem - what did I do with my pencil.

Sometimes I would put my pencil in my pocket, only to have the lead poke me as I played (where in I was bleeding and had to leave my square) or the eraser would rub up against me and slow my play (where in I'd lose and had to leave my square). Sometimes I would put my pencil on the ground near where the line started, but this resulted in the pencil getting stolen or stepped on (which in my mind meant I now had two pencils but my resource teacher told me I needed the one long and not the two shorts). I struggled with this for some time.

About half way through the year, Mr. Y (who was one of the coolest science teachers I know) announced we were having an invention fair and that each person needed to think hard about their invention. After some time I decided that having a place to put your pencil was a darn hard thing that needed an invention for it. With my dad we talked about it. We discussed where you could put a pencil and be safe. If it was on your belt you may brush up against it during 9 square. Taping it to your shirt kind of required you having tape readily available.

One day I came home and told my dad we should attach the pencil to your shoe. If it was on the outside of the shoe it wouldn't brush up against anything, it wouldn't poke you, it wouldn't make you bleed (and thus not require any medivac time). It would be on your shoe. So him and I worked together to attach the pencil to the shoe. Having helped my dad around the house, I knew he had tubing we could use. He melted the ends and stuffed some material down either end (He thought it would prevent the pencil from breaking in the tube - it turns out he was right). We used a rubber band to keep the cap in place and to force the pencil into the tube.

Once it was all done, we made our tri-fold display and took it to the fair. I got an A in science because of this project, but more importantly - I got Honorable Mention (4th place), my shoe in the paper, and my name in the paper. I was over joyed. Sadly we did not get any contract deals out of it (as far as I know) and it did not become a world wide sensation, but I am still proud of my little Shoe Pencil.

no fiction

2009-06-02T22:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Reader:

I have a 4 chapter story outlined in my head, but I can't get the paragraphs out, so there is no fiction today.

However I'd like to add some non-fiction to your life. I found out today that I got an A in Abnormal Psych. I figured out that takes my GPA from 2.77 (that I graduated BYUI with) to a 2.88. Oh, and I lost five pounds in the last three months. All true - not fiction. I'll try to upload fiction as soon as my head, my fingers and the voices inside come together.

Sincerely,

Sean

lip balm and enemas

2009-05-29T00:25:00.000-07:00

Because I was out on the road last Friday, I’ll share with you two memories today.

There are two things I adore in life. One is kissing the girl you love and the other is food. The girl I have enjoyed kissing the most was KNJ-P. She was a natural at kissing. There had only been one other guy before me, and he had only kissed her once. She was really good and knew how to anticipate the desires of the guy she was with. She had a level of moisture to her lips that felt just right – not to much like kissing the Sahara yet at the same time not like kissing a camel or Niagara Falls. It was a passionate kiss – one that kept you coming back for more, took your breathe away, and meant something to you every time. Whether it was a “make-out session” or a simple kiss hello, KNJ-P made every moment worth being there to kiss her.

But it wasn’t good enough for her to be a good kisser; she took it one step further.

I am 20 to 30 pounds over weight depending on what scales I’m straddling. I love food. There is one type of food I love more than any other – cinnamon. Cinnamon bread, cinnamon cookies, cinnamon cake, cinnamon pull-a-parts, and, best of all, cinnamon rolls.

About 5 months into my relationship with KNJ-P, John and I moved into the house in Antioch. I loved living there. While we were living there, KNJ-P would come over often. One night I saw her putting on some Chap Stick. I hate the taste of Chap Stick. It’s waxy and tastes like you are licking the inside of a Vaseline container. It’s almost as bad as kissing a girl who smokes.

I saw her slather it on and saw that as a sign that our night was going to be very sterile. A few moments later she beckoned me on to come give her a kiss. I loved her so I obliged despite the taste I knew was coming. Or at least I thought was coming.

Somewhere along the line she had discovered a store that sold lip balm that tasted like Cinnabon Cinnamon Rolls. Her lips were like the taste you get in your mouth as you near the store in the mall. It was every bit as that good.

We kissed plenty that night.

I share this because I think back on that occasionally. Every so often, a freshman return missionary at BYUI would ask me how to tell if a girl loves you. I think I’ve ruined a few boys with my counter question: “What type of lip balm does she wear?”

---

As a child I spent quite a bit of time in and out of hospitals. One of the reasons for this was because I had tumors growing in my digestive tract. After the tumors were removed, my digestive tract still had problems processing waste. Every week or two my mother had to drive me out to Stanford Medical Facilities. This next memory isn’t a personal memory, as much as it is a story my mother loved telling about me.

My parents were big on talking to me like I was an adult. So if I was having XYZ procedure, they told me I was having XYZ procedure and they did not telling me that I was going to get sleepy and then the magic tumor fairies were going to come and remove my tumors and feed them to their little fairy children to help the tumor fairies grow up nice and strong. I was having XYZ procedure.

My doctors often talked to me in medical terms as well. I knew the ins and outs of most of the procedures being done to me. I knew what the medications were and what they were used for. I knew how much Slobid to take, and at which times and for what reasons.

One day, when I was 5, I was taken to Stanford to have a liquid enema put in to help soften my stool. I was stripped down and put into a hospital gown. My mother used dice to teach me how to count, so I was playing with my dice when in walked a resident.

Immediately he started talking to me like I was 2 (I was 5 for crying out loud!). I was ignoring him for the most part when he said something that caught my attention. I asked him to repeat it.

“I said we are going to put this strawberry milkshake up your butt to help you go poo poo better.” I freaked.

“No you aren’t! You ain’t touchin me with no strawberry milkshake up my butt!” I exclaimed. “Who are you and what did you do with my Doctor? I’m here for me enntena.” And with that I bolted.

My mother says I left behind my gown and I raced down the hallway yelling for my doctor. My mother said I ducked into rooms and yelled for my doctor before ducking out and moving to another. Chasing me was the resident, and a few nurses, but no one could catch the 5 year-old naked boy running down the halls of Stanford away from the bad man with the butt milkshake. Eventually I found my doctor and grasped a hold of him. He brought me back to my room and had the resident watch as the doctor explained to me that the strawberry milkshake was gone and that he had brought a fresh enema for me. I told him that the other man scared me and the doctor went step by step with the resident “teaching” him how to administer an enema to a very medically smart 5 year-old boy.

My mother’s favorite part to tell was the part where I was running naked into various people’s rooms and shouting about the butt milkshake. She said there were some very confused people in that hall that day.

not vomitingthis time

2009-05-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Today should be marked in the history books. I am what is called a “sympathy vomiter.” When other people are losing their lunch or blowing chunks – I feel it is the responsible thing to barf along with them. And actually – it’s not just people. It could be cats, cartoon characters or little green men (which sucks for them because it gets all over their space helmets). As soon as I see vomit I’m ready to spew. (Thankfully I’ve never had a wife with morning sickness.)

That is, I did until today. Today, while working with a client the client went into his defense mode and vomited all over the unit. Not only did I not get nauseous but also I managed to keep to what I was doing. As he continued to vomit we discussed my trip to Oregon and it totally distracted me from the cocktail of stomach acid and formula splattered at my feet and on my shoes. This is a day for the history books.

Bob and Fred at 4th of July

2009-05-19T00:01:00.000-07:00

I’d like to dedicate today’s Fiction Tuesday to Cindy. She helped inspired the following.
--
There once lived some guys named Bob and Fred. Bob and Fred were from Idaho and they loved to show their patriotism by blowing things up on the 4^th of July. For one Independence Day, Bob and Fred were in California. California has very strict rules against fireworks. This saddened Bob and Fred. They had brought all of their explosives with them for their stay in California.

One night at the bar Ted suggested to Bob and Fred that if they really wanted to use those fireworks in July, they should rent a boat and go out into the ocean a few miles. They thought this was a great idea.

On the Fourth of July, Bob and Fred rented a yacht and loaded it up with all of their fireworks. They took the boat out into the Pacific Ocean a few miles and waited for night to come. While they waited, they drank a good portion of alcohol. Before Dusk was upon them they decided they couldn’t wait any longer. They lined up the first round of bottle rockets and shot them up into the air. This was really cool to watch. For the next 20 minutes Bob’s and Fred’s eyes were directed toward the sky and not toward the ocean below them. So what happened next really surprised them.

Suddenly, as Bob was trying to hold his beer in one hand and try to light the second line of fireworks with his other, a shark jumped into the boat. Immediately it went after Bob and started biting his foot. With every bite the shark was moving up his leg. Bob dropped his lighter in his hair accidentally as he tried to get away from the shark, which lit his hair on fire. Then Bob got really scared and dropped his beer as well.

Behind Bob was Fred, who was really freaking out. He wanted to help his friend Bob but was very scared of the shark. Fred grabbed the flare gun and fired it at the shark, but he missed and instead hit the crate with all of the left over fireworks in it. Suddenly the back of the boat lit up as an amazing show filled the rudder and stern area. One benefit of this show was various embers burst onto the shark. This brought the shark’s feast to an abrupt end as the shark tried to get away from the fire on its belly. The shark flopped around until it eventually was able to flop out of the boat and away from that firestorm. While the shark was making its escape, Fred was attacking Bob’s other crisis. Fred took the fire extinguisher and started spraying Bob’s head and shoulders (as the fire had spread to Bob’s t-shirt as well.).

The second benefit of the fireworks show was a passing Coast Guard helicopter had seen the boat and come to the rescue of Bob and Fred. The Yacht was too far-gone and was left to burn and then eventually sink. Bob was taken to the hospital where he had the rest of his leg amputated.

Fred and Bob (once he was all better) returned to Idaho. For the next 4^th of July they were invited by some friends to return to California, but after the previous year when Bob had been being eaten by a shark and was on fire at the same time – Bob and Fred decided to stay in Idaho and drink beer and light off fireworks. This year went much better – until they got eaten by a bear. Oh well.

The End

Take your bike to work day

2009-05-16T12:57:00.000-07:00

I work for the health services department at a county. For some reason - they are always promoting good health. This week has been "Healthy Biking" week. Even though every where else Friday was TYBTWD, my county decided Thursday was going to be Take Your Bike to Work Day. They said in the flier it would make us healthier.

So on Thursday morning I woke up a little earlier than usual. I got ready for work and then I went out to the back yard. The last time I rode my bike was in January. So I dusted it off, grabbed my helmet and left for the day. As soon as I got out to the parking lot near my place, I picked up my bike and placed it in my truck bed. I secured it down and drove to work. Once at work I got the bike out, took it into the therapy unit and locked it in the closet. When the day was over, I unlocked the closet, took it out and moved it back into my truck.

I really feel lied to. I didn't feel a bit healthier. In fact, if any thing, my arms hurt from lugging that thing around on Thursday.

3rd grade

2009-05-15T00:24:00.000-07:00

I was in Mrs. H’s class when I was in third grade. I remember the year for two reasons: 1. I was in the play Annie and on a certain day all of us in the play wore these shirts advertising the play. Mrs. H had all of us stand in front of the class and tell them. It was bad enough I had to be on stage getting slapped by ‘Annie’ every night, I now had to stand in front of my friends and tell them to come see me get hit by a girl.

The other reason I remember that year was because of the time I almost got medivac’d from campus. For those of you unfamiliar with the 80s, during that decade children had flat desks that on top had pencil boxes. The pencil boxes were at least 8 inches long and had everything but a kitchen sink in them. In them were pencils, crayons, colored pencils, highlighters, tacks, tissue paper, a small ruler, duct tape, a spare wrench, a map to the buried treasure in your parents’ back yard, stickers, a spare change of Batman printed underwear, lollipops, and that white putty stuff that can stick to anything. (Okay – so maybe not all of that. Most kids didn’t have lollipops in theirs.)

On one day, Mrs. H was gone and Mrs. W was there (who also happened to be my den leader and Sunday school teacher – just couldn’t get away from that woman.). As we were preparing to understand the rise and fall of economical cycles – or was it fractions – Danielle knocked Meagan’s pencil box over. It crashed to the floor and the contents scattered. I thought (and still do) that Meagan was nice so I bent down to help pick up the stuff. As my hand came down it landed right on a tack. I managed to not scream, but I did rush up to Mrs. W and show her. I was sent to the office to have it removed. (I think I should mention right now that prior to this event I had had 4 tumors, 7 surgeries and was on a weekly blood test schedule where I got poked and forced to bleed my own blood every week. I’m not diabetic but that would have been an easier explanation to people)

In the office I was escorted back to see the nurse. She tried to get me to let her pull it out. I refused. I knew it was going to hurt. She brought in others and they tried to convince me it wasn’t going to hurt and that it should just come out. What type of idiot did they take me for? David E had a nail go through his foot earlier in the year and they had to operate and put him in a cast. And that was only a nail. This was a TACK!! There was no way I was letting any one but a trained medical official pull this out and I wanted the helicopter on stand by.

It just happened to be that day was the day the fire department came to inspect the buildings. In walked the same fire fighters that Mrs. W had had us meet on the firehouse tour the previous week. I felt they were qualified enough. So in came the nurse, to hold my hand and I let the firefighters remove the tack. Much to my surprise, it didn’t hurt a bit. However, they decided they needed to make it bleed and that part hurt. I cried.
After a brief pep talk from the firefighters I was sent back to class. During the pep talk they told me that they had the helicopter warming up and it turned out that we just didn’t need it this time.

of whoppers and runners

2009-05-13T21:06:00.000-07:00

Sean eyed the runners as other men eyed power tools or nice cars and big trucks. Instead of oohing and ahhing over torque, attachments or versatility or instead of paying attention to the details in the signature fender or custom interior or even the 72-point surround sound system – Sean watched those people run. Each step coming down just in front of the other; the calf muscles flexing and then relaxing; every inch of fabric in those short shorts and skin tight shirts moving in sync with the body of the runner. While other men listened to the revving engine of the 8 cylinders rotating in order and humming a symphony of metal on metal, Sean listened to them panting, breathing in short quick breathes and yet never to be seeming out of breath.

Sean took another bite of his double Whopper with cheese as he watched the pack of them start to turn the corner. As he squeezed the cheese between his teeth and his molars obliterated any form that beef had to being at one point a living creature, Sean contemplated the diet of a runner – yogurt, berries and granola. Sucking on the straw of his extra large Pepsi, he admired the physique of those rushing by the window: Arms up and half fisted swinging back and forth against those shirts, rotating at the shoulder cuff. Stomachs flat and trimmed, with the breasts of the women runners strapped close to the body. Sean looked down at his physique and noticed a bit of ketchup his belly had caught as it had drooled out of his burger. Using his index finger, he wiped it up and then licked it off his finger.

As his gaze left his belly he found himself watching their shoes. Scientifically designed to be light, airy, aerodynamic and comfortable. Each step coming after that shoe had glided through the air with the most advanced technology moving it along. Each shoe breathing out the sweat, heat, and exhaustion. Every step proving the rise of greatness is in simple leather and laces.

And that’s when it suddenly dawned on Sean. Like all of those men before that have lied to themselves about how one more sub woofer or a new attachment for their less than adequate drill win bring them from the world of admiration to the world of being admired – Sean told himself that he needed new shoes. And he promised himself that after he finished his fries and fresh hand scooped vanilla ice cream shake, if there was time left in the lunch break, he would go to a shoe place. And when he is there he will ask the sales person for the best, top of the line quality running shoe. He promised himself he would slip them on in the store and use them right away – running out to his car. And he promised himself he would run every day and he promised and he promised and he promised. And he spent so much time promising, that he ran out of time and went back to work without the shoes that were going to project him into greatness. Because surely it was in the shoes that that group out the fast food restaurant window that made them who they were. What else could it be?

training

2009-05-12T22:18:00.000-07:00

“In the mornings as a youth I would get up with Mama and get the day going for the boys and my papa. There would be eggs to gather, hens to let out for the day and cows to milk. I wasn’t supposed to be out milkin ‘til I was 10, but when we lost my brother to the tractor, well then they needed me out milkin’ more that they needed my braided head in the house scurrying under mother’s feet getting the coffee on.

“Truth be told, milkin was my favorite part. It was always cold as I walked from the house to the barn but the barn was warm inside. And milkin for me wasn’t as hard as milking for daddy or grand daddy. Theys told me they had to actually grab the cow and squeeze. Then they had to grab again and squeeze. It sounds awfully disgustin and yucky to me.

“I just have to go into the barn and turn on the sucker. And then I have to run as fast as I can. The better I run, the better it sucks, the more milk we be getting. That’s what papa is always telling me. So I run and I run and I run. Some times my legs would start to hurt and the treadmill would slow down and the sucker would slow its suckin. That hurt the cow pretty awful and it would cry out in loud moo. If papa be near by, he’d rush in and start yelling at me. “Stacy what are you doing?? You better get running girl. We need that milk and you need to get it for us.” Some times he’d threaten to whip my butt and other times he’d threaten to not give me any milk, but either way I was off and goin again.

“When I was 12 papa won another cow in a poker game. He woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to get plenty of rest because in the morning I’d be runnin twice as much. And he was right. First I’d hook up the sucker to our first cow and then to the other. I ran all morning long.

“By the time I made it to high school, I was the fastest girl in school and I was only a freshman. I nice man in town offered to buy my papa a sun powered sucker macheen if papa would keep me in school and let me run. I miss the cows, but I loved having people cheerin for me when I ran. The cows only moaned and never cheered. When I turned 18 last year a big man from the city told my papa that I could make him big money. So now I’m here.”

“That is an amazing story. Thank you for joining us. We have just heard from Stacy Watson, who last night won her first gold medal in the 10K long distance race. This is Sean O’hara reporting. Back to you in the studio.”

the day the crawdads were banned.

2009-05-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

I think for the next 4 months I’m going to have two days you can look forward to on Teaching Sean. Tuesdays I think will be story day and Fridays will be the day I add to my memoirs. Today is Friday.
--
When I was in the 6th grade I was part of a club called the Stormin’ Mormons. There were five of us n the group: Ryan, David (Ryan’s little brother), Ben, Matt and I. I have no clue where any of these people are today, but during the summers of 5th and 6th we were inseparable. We were often found on Blacow Elementary’s campus chasing each other and play a form of cops and robbers. Occasionally our mother would let us go on a bike ride to Lake Elizabeth. (about 2 miles away) With us we would take poles, string, and hot dogs.

Just past Lake Elizabeth are two sets of train tracks. Both tracks have bridges that go over a creek. (Though looking at google maps today – one bridge seems to be missing.) Under those bridges was prime crawdad land. Four of us would fish while one guy got to be look out. The look out was usually there to watch for coming trains. If we were smart we would get out from under the train, but actually what we were waiting for was to run up and put pennies on the tracks. I say if we were smart because if you have ever been under a bridge when a train rolls over 5 feet above your head it is the loudest thing you will ever experience. It is an all-consuming roar.

One day we decided that instead of catching and releasing them, we were going to see how many we could catch and we would bring them home to my house. There was a sleepover at my house that night. So as dusk neared we gathered up our haul from the day and biked home. Mom was doing something at the time, so she didn’t see us bring them in. We took them to my room where I had a working fish aquarium. We watched them for a while before Mom called us to dinner. We washed up, went to dinner and generally forgot about them.

The night was spent talking and telling stories and telling jokes. We gathered in the back room and eventually invited sleep to over take us.

The next thing we all experienced was my mother screaming. We awoke to her screaming in the hallway a few rooms over. We scrambled out of our sleeping bags and rushed through the dining room and kitchen to the hallway. In the hallway was my mother, but between her and us was also a 5-inch crawdad snapping its claws at her. Mother did not look happy. Matt grabbed the escapee as the rest of us brushed past my mother and went to my room. Once there we discovered a prison break in the act. The bigger crawdads were stepping on the smaller ones and escaping out of the aquarium.
Mother ordered their immediate departure. So prior to breakfast, the crawdads were gathered up and taken back to the lake. When we returned we were told that we weren’t allowed to have crawdads in the house ever again. And we never did.

eggstatic

2009-05-05T15:33:00.001-07:00

“Carton eight eight five seven is now departing. Eight eight five seven is now departing”

Ted settles into his carton and looks over. “Well hello there Bob. How have you been?”

“I have been doing great. What life are you on now days?”

Ted thinks in his head and figures out, “10 I think. How about you?”

“I always lose track; probably the same number. Are you getting better or are you in a slump?” Bob asked.

“I was in a cake yesterday. Prior to that I was a scrambled egg. Did you hear about Fred? He came out of the Mother Ship, but just then a family dog came and scared the Mother Ship and he got stepped on. So far he has been reincarnated as a rotten egg and as an egg with a cracked shell. He is not getting any better in his reincarnations. I feel so bad for the guy.”

“Oh man that is horrible! Did he take up a plea to The Rooster?”

“He did, but The Rooster told him he should have rolled out of the way.”

“Ha Ha. That’s funny. Rolled out of the way. Man that Rooster has the greatest sense of humor. So Federation of Destination is just screwing with him at this point…?”

“Yeah. Fred has one more reincarn before he will go back to making it up the progress ladder. He gets to be a green egg first though.”

“Too Funny!” Ted remarked.

Suddenly there was a shake of the carton, the lid appeared open and a man’s head hovered over. The man checked each one of the 18 passengers before closing the lid and giving the carton the first flight, presuming into the shopping cart. A few moments later more shaking, followed by more before finally hearing the start of an engine and the feel of continued drive.

“With a guy you never can tell.” Ted whispered to Bob. “We could end up as a cake, or scrambled or something else.”

“I hope we aren’t scrambled. That would be a step down the reincarn ladder that’s for sure.”

Suddenly the car stopped, but the engine kept running. Aggressively the carton was grasped and the lid flung open.

“No way! Can it be? We have reached the top rung??”

“This is so exciting!” Ted yelled back. “If it is what I think it is we’ll be in egg heaven in moments.”

“It is. It is. We’re egging a car! We’re going to Heaven Ted! Yippee! Yipp---“ and suddenly Bob was grasped and thrown at a big truck with the license plate saying “Captain Bolton.”

drawing in church

2009-05-03T15:29:00.000-07:00

When I was 14 or 15 I attended a youth conference. On one evening, we gathered at a ranch near Mission Peak owned by a member of the church. I was smitten with this one particular young lady and when she suggested we go on the hayride, I was suddenly an expert Hay Rider. Hay Rider was my middle name, at that point.

After a rather bumpy ride (there wasn’t actually any hay on the trailer) we came to rest just shy of the crest of a hill. We got out (about 10 of us) and followed the ranch owner to the crest. Up top was this big beautiful tree and a little bench that had been carved out of some previous tree.

The ranch owner had us kneel on the ground and watch as the sun slowly slipped away. As we sat there (I was trying to put my arm around the girl but was still a little shy), the ranch owner said that if us young men served honorable missions we could bring our sweet hearts back to here and picnic on this hill over looking this valley (and the SF bay). As the sun kissed the earth we could turn to our sweet hearts and propose. Often in church I can be seen drawing these pictures. I don’t know how to draw the sun setting so I draw it in the right corner.

Several years ago, Lifesaver Candies had a commercial where a father and daughter sit under a tree and watch the sun set. So occasionally I’ll draw the picture with my son. But if you ever see me in church drawing this (which is really the only thing I draw at church), just smile and know – it’s just me looking forward to a day of picnic and a sunset.

living today

2009-05-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

I don't blog as much any more. There are words in my head but I'm not quite sure how to organize them or put them on paper. It's a frustrating process. However, today intrigued me. After going to the dump I returned home and did my chores, did some laundry and puttered around the house. At one point the 7 year-old came in with his playmate and asked his 13 year-old sister to come out and push them on the tire swing. She refused. She was watching a movie and couldn't be disturbed. The playmate pleaded and still there was no action on the 13 year-old's part. Then they approached me and I said it would be my honor. It took ten minutes to satisfy their desires and we were back inside.

--
My mother died when I was 24. For the last 10 years of her life she struggled with disabilities, illness, and an endless amount of pain. Every few months she would have the energy to leave the house and walk around the block. (On those special days I would carry a chair with us and if she got too tired I would set up the chair and she would sit while I went to go get the car.) As soon as she left a hospital her first request was to just go for a drive. If it was a warm day we would roll down the windows and cruise the streets of Fremont. The days rendering her bound to the house or to a hospital far out numbered the days riding in cars, but it was those days we talked about.

--
During the past week, my father got into an argument with one of my facebook friends. It wasn't pretty and it really wasn't needed. For the last 24 hours I've exchanged e-mails with my father about how my friends are bad people and how he is right. The whole thing, along with the 13 year-old today, just makes me sick.

--
On Thursday we got work that another one of my clients had died. That makes three in two weeks. I don't know how old or what was the cause of the first, but the second was 16 and died on an operating table. The one on thursday was 20 and just stopped breathing.

--
I am not sure how to teach this to others. "Yesterday is the past. Tomorrow is the future. Today is a gift from God. That's why it is called the present." The movie will wait but those ten minutes with your brother giggling with him and his playmate on the swing - those should be cherished. Saving the world from your percieved dangers and causing strife with your son can wait - when moments of love can be cherished.
In the county that I live in 5 schools have been shut down do to the Swine Flu Pandemic. I really doubt we will reach the pandemic stage, but what if we did - did we live today or did we waste the swing opportunities and the car rides on other pursuits? I hope we are living our days.

Getting to the sunrise

2009-04-26T21:53:00.000-07:00

“One foot in and then the other.” Jim thought. He hated this part. He proceeded anyway, slipping the shorts onto one leg and then onto the other. He rocked back and forth and inched his the shorts over his calves and eventually let the waistband snap onto his hips.

He looked over at his chair. He growled in his head. He didn’t enjoy this part.

Once transferred to the chair he unlocked the brakes and rolled out to the garage. “How many people are going to ask me questions today?” He pondered. It never ceased to stop. He has lived in this neighborhood for going on three years now. He thought he could have told at least every person by now.

Down the ramp he slid, steering and sliding up next to the trike. Jim locked his breaks. “One more transfer.” He slid out of the chair and got onto his knees and crawled over. He got situated on the trike and backed it up. On the back seat of the trike’s chair was the garage door opener and with one click the world opened up to him.

He started cranking. With each crank he felt the muscles in his arm scream out in complaint. He always felt like a Texas oil rig as he brought the pedals around pushing the crank down. As Jim took the corner he felt the right back wheel pop up. “Need to slow down.” He thought. He hurried down the block. “Oh Crap!” he mumbled. The light turned red at the block’s end. Waiting at the corner was a family out for a morning walk. Let the interrogation begin.

“Whoa Kids, check out that cool bike!” The father starts. The children all turn and look. “That’s right – start the freak show,” Jim thinks.

“How fast do you get on that buddy?”

Jim assumes he’s talking to someone else. This guy ain’t no buddy of his.

“Maybe he can’t hear honey. Maybe he lost that when he lost his leg.” His wife says quietly into the husband’s ear – but still loud enough for Jim to hear. It’s not bad enough he’s the crippled on the cycle – now he’s the deaf. “I hope I don’t become a mute as well.” Jim thinks.

“I say there Buddy, how fast do ya get on that thing?” The husband says louder. If you talk louder to a deaf person that doesn’t make them any more hearing – not any more than buying a pair of socks for him brings his leg back. But to play along “I can get up to about 60 miles per hour on a good day,” Jim yelled back at him, as if he was riding a hog and not a tricycle.

“Do you hear that kids? He can get as fast as your momma on a freeway.”

“And they call me disabled.” Jim thought. He was going to respond, but gosh darn it, the lights green. Jim drops the pedals down and puts the trike back in motion. The next two intersections are green and he whizzes through. The bike path is on the right halfway down the last block. As he took the corner and this time the left wheel picked up. “Need to slow down.” He reminded himself one last time.

About a quarter of a mile in he noticed a woman running from the parking lot right for him. “Not that woman! She always tries to talk to me. Pedal faster Jim,” he told himself.

All of a sudden she is standing right in front of him and he is slamming on the breaks to avoid taking out her legs. He would find the irony in that if he wasn’t so angry at her jumping in front of him.

“What are you doing lady? I could have killed you!” He shouts a her.

“I …needed…to ask… you a … question.” He tells him as she tries to catch her breath and talk at the same time. Between her pants she’s trying to get her words out.

“What do you want to ask? Do you want to know how I lost my leg? Do you want to see the scars where they sawed the rest of my leg off? Do you want to know how I do it? How I get up each morning, slide on these damn shorts and eat? Do you want to see if I need help? Or do you want to try to carry on small talk while you try to catch glimpses of my legs, my fake leg and the one the damn Iraqi’s didn’t get to? Or maybe you thought it was a drunk driver and you want me to join MADD. Well? Well? What is it woman? What did you want to ask?”

He fires questions at her as he releases it all on her. He tried not to but he just couldn’t hold back this time. Every morning she watches him. Every morning her accusing eyes follow him as he attempts the trail. And surely she’s just like everyone else. They all want to know how it happened. Then they want to tell him how grateful they are that he served. He didn’t go for them. He didn’t pick up arms and try to kill insurgents because he wanted them to pat him on his head and say thanks. And he sure as hell didn’t want this – the crippled in the special tricycle getting a million questions when all he wanted to do was ride.

“Actually none of that,” she started, “I wanted to know if my daughter could ride with you.” She points over to the parking lot where he sees a beautiful brunette sitting on a similar trike putting on her gloves and helmet. “She doesn’t like to ride next to me because I’m on a bicycle. She says she feels like I talk down to her. Anyway – she’s tried to stop you a few times but usually by the time I see you to try to stop you you’re going so fast I just watch you go by.”

Jim hadn’t taken his eyes off of the brunette. She was the most stunning girl he had seen since he got home.

In the background he could vaguely hear her mother carrying on about Afghanistan and both - right above the knee, - but he wasn’t listening. He was just watching the beauty oilrigging her bike closer to his, as each stroke was taken in slow motion and he could just capture each snapshot image in a carousel of slides to be recalled later. In not enough time she slid up next to his trike and came to a stop.

“Hello Captain. I’m First Lieutenant Susan Watson. He began to question her but then he realized his shirt said “Army Captain.” "Do you mind if I ride with you this morning?” She continued.

Jim didn’t know what to say and simply nodded. She took the lead and started pedaling away. He followed, as a voice in his head screamed at him “Marry her.” That’s not a bad idea” He said as he followed her, the sun rising higher and brighter over that once dark park. As the sun shone so did a smile that most thought was cut off in Iraq with Jim’s leg. And it was a good day.

dipping sauce

2009-04-24T09:30:00.001-07:00

On Fridays there is a woman that usually brings in donuts. I am on a two week yogurt challenge where I am committed to not buying donuts. This morning I walked into the kitchen looking for donuts, though.

Jan asks, “Aren't you on a 2 week yogurt challenge?”

"Yes, but I need something to dip in the yogurt, don’t I?”

Crawdad memories

2009-04-21T15:59:00.001-07:00

In less than a month I will be on the road again. It has been over 18 months since my last road trip and the trip involved seeing the same girl that I saw in September 07. The weekend of my departure will be Memorial Day weekend. This is customarily my weekend for adventure. Last year I adventured to Utah to say good-bye to a dear friend as she left for a mission. The year prior to that I was in Boise for a friend’s wedding. However, as this coming holiday is almost upon me I’m reminded of time in high school and the Memorial Day traditions of then.

I do not come from a family of campers, but when invited, Chad and I would go. Members of my church often went to a favorite campground in Central CA called Turlock. Barbara and her family were there. Alan and his family (which consisted of 7 kids at the time but eventually ballooned up to ten kids. Kenny and his family were there (This is who we often traveled with.) There were other but I don’t remember who except one. Katie and her family were there. This last family is important to my memory.

The memory I have is a day spent walking the river. There was Kenny, Chad, Matt, myself and then about 4 or 5 other people. We had a little raft with us that each person towed in turn as we traveled down the river. At times it was 4 feet deep and at others it was only a foot. The rocks below your feet were slippery with algae. There were large forests of “sea weed” that you had to jump over or swim over (or convince your brother Chad to pull the raft over with you in the raft).

At some point Kenny (who had wooed us with his cup burning/water boiling show the night before) figured out that in those “forests” there were crawdads. So we started collecting them. If you were younger (cough cough me cough matt cough) you pointed them out to Chad and Kenny and they would pick them up for you. By the time we got back to camp, the raft was nearly full. There were 20 or 30 in the raft. Most of us had no clue what we were going to do with them. Kenny had a plan though. He towed the raft ashore and Chad and him carried the raft over to Katie’s Dad. Katie’s dad pulled one out of the raft and proceeded to show Chad and Kenny how to prepare and where it would taste good to eat.

Soon a big pot was found, filled with clean water and put on a stove for boiling. In case you have never boiled crawdads, this next part might interest you. The first one out of the raft went quite easily. When dropped in a pot of boiling water the crawdad goes from a dark red to a light red color. After listening to 25 fellow crawdads sizzle the last few did not go so easily. All the time Chad and Kenny were sizzling the crawdads, Katie’s dad (who is Hawaiian and has a name I can’t spell right now) whipped up a dipping sauce from scratch. Chad and Kenny feasted well that night.

There are a million other memories that relate to that place, but the crawdad cook off is the most prominent.

gateway Yogurt

2009-04-21T15:25:00.000-07:00

Recently Alyssa has been talking on Facebook about how much fun she is having running. At school last night Amanda talked about the joy she was having now that she was eating right and lost some poundage. A few other friends have also been commenting to me about their new found healthy lifestyle. Then in class last night, right before I learned that female humans are the only female mammals that have orgasms, our teacher talked about the three best ways to reduce stress: sleep, exercise, and good diet. Okay. I get the message. I should be eating better.

So this morning I skipped the donuts and the sugar laced cereal. Instead I bought a yogurt. I took it to work and started shoving it down my throat. Maureen looked at me in shock and Celeste simply said “You know Sean, Yogurt is the gateway drug of eating healthier.”

Great. I’m getting the gateway drug of good eats. What’s next?

Those BYUI Guys

2009-04-20T12:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I forget about the sense of humor that the BYUI Tech guys have.

This morning I was looking at the BYUI Web Cameras when I noticed the Temple camera was only showing the top 5 feet of the temple which was pretty much the Captain Moroni capstone. I wrote to the IT guys with the following:

Hi:
I was just looking at the camera shots and the temple camera looks like it got moved. Will it be move back at some point or is this the new angle?
Thanks,
Sean

BYUI responded:

Hi Sean,

While it may be appropriate for the Temple to cause us to look towards the Heavens, this was not our desire here. Apparently it got bumped while someone was cleaning the windows. We should have it refocused before the end of the day. Thanks for taking time to write to us. We appreciate the reminders and hearing from our Web cam viewers.

Thanks again,
Bob

Only you can prevent forest fires and my hungry dad

2009-04-17T15:16:00.001-07:00

My father is going camping for the first time in 15 years on Saturday. If you do pray please pray he doesn't get mauled by nature. I'm really fearful of the shock he is going to experience when he finds out that the sun doesn't have an alarm clock and there are no donut stores open in the woods. I guess you could pray for donut stores for him too.

Feeling irresponsible

2009-04-17T15:11:00.000-07:00

For the last several days I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to be irresponsible. I’m trying to determine if it is a good feeling or a bad feeling. I tend to err on the side of being responsible. I always have. I’ve long thought that my word and a handshake should be as good as a contract. For the most part it is and that has lead to a very responsible life.

Tomorrow I really would like to go hiking or go to the beach (or both), but it doesn’t look like it is going to happen. My list for tomorrow is as follows: clean rabbit cage, build better rabbit pen, fix broken rabbit hutch, build compost bin, level garden, pull weeds, hoe rows, connect water to garden, return stuff to Lowe’s, finish up at Brian’s place, write up bills, do laundry, clean room, clean bathroom and go hiking. Because these are all things that either need to get done or I said will get done – I need to do them. What I wish I had the ability to do though was to say – Screw it, I’m going to Angel Island.

And that’s really what I’ve been thinking about – why can’t I do that? Why can’t I let go of the consequences and just do? I don’t drink alcohol or date girls that drink because I may be allergic. I don’t smoke because it will probably cause lung cancer. I don’t drive fast, switch lanes erratically or blow past red lights because I might lose control and I might hurt someone or myself. If I say I’m going to do something I do because if I don’t I might leave someone in a bind. In high school Lanae and I used at least one if not two forms of birth control because otherwise we might get her pregnant. I don’t pick up girls at bars and sleep with them because they might have a disease that I would then give to my future wife. I don’t screw around with married girls because it might cause a divorce that would affect the children or I might get her knocked up and then what would we do? I obey the posted speed limit in residential because there might be a kid and, as much as I like having new clients, I do want to hurt a kid. I think it’s really unfair that while I’ve always paid my bill on time and never missed a payment, my credit card company keeps raising my interest rates to help offset all of those people that are defaulting on their credit cards. But do I keep paying – heck yeah. Why? Because I might buy a house or go to grad school some day in the future and I don’t want my credit score screwed with. Also, they agreed to loan me the money and so I agree to pay it back on the crappy terms we agreed to at the time of the loan.

Why can’t I just say screw it and walk away? When others seem to be able to do it so easily – what is it about the maybe’s, the might’s and the possibly’s that have such a hold on me.

Last night I was talking to a friend about God. She was talking about her desire to give up on God. What has He done for her lately that she should trust Him to do anything for her? Knowing the house I grew up in, she asked me why I never gave up. I told her that I had thought about it. I’ve weighed the options: Do I get home safely because in every closing prayer of every meeting I go to someone says “and please bless we all get home safely” or have I gotten home safely because I’m a good driver, my parents taught me how to drive defensively and I obey most traffic signs? When I pray for His spirit (Christlike persona) to be with me and then on some weeks I don’t pray at all and I for the most part feel no different – then why not just forget about Him and go on living my life as I want to? All I could tell her was that there is a God and He probably is in charge and if He is and I give up on Him – then that wouldn’t be very responsible of me. So for now – I put some of my trust in Him on some things and others not so much. Because I said I would (to my mom) and because it is the responsible thing to do. But that doesn’t stop me from wondering what it would feel like to say Screw it and not care if there is or is not a God. I wonder if it would feel anything like it would to say screw it to my credit card, or my reluctance to pick up girls in the bar or my reluctance to blow off my household responsibilities and go to the beach.

the week of terrorists

2009-04-16T16:08:00.000-07:00

Each year I feel a need to repost this because every few years it grows.
--

This week has been filled with tragedy. Not just in 2007, but for several years. It amazing how two single events have led to a whole bunch of events.

Adolf Hitler was Born April 20, 1939. Several years later he managed to orchestrate the killing of 6 million Jewish people. (Of note - Hitler was Married on April 29 and died on April 30.) (Hitler's friend Benito Mussolini died on April 28)

This event led to 12 students, 1 teacher and 2 terrorists being killed on April 20, 1999 in Columbine, Colorado as the terrorists celebrated Hitler's birthday.

This tragic event led to a psychotic killer killing 32 people in Virgina.

That alone would be a very bloody week in April. But this week is also sees the anniversary of two other horrific events. Sadly they were on the same day.

On April 19 1993 86 people in Waco, Texas were killed during an exchange with federal agents. Their leader, David Koresh, had a warrant out for his arrest at the beginning of the experience, 51 days prior to the April 19th blood bath.

2 years later, on April 19th 1995, Timothy McVeigh used the Waco Texas events as an excuse to kill 168 people in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. He then waited 4 days and celebrated his 27th birthday on April 23.

This really is a bad week in history.

**As someone pointed out last year, A lot of people commit suicide over drepression related to taxes. April 15th is Tax Day so this could almost be called the 15 days of bad history making.

Trying to get dating again

2009-04-15T17:27:00.000-07:00

After seeing my father have a successful experience, I recently adventured onto a dating site called Plenty of Fish. I’m not a big fan of dating sites but I’m not having a whole lot of other successes. When KNJ-P left 5 years ago, I took the advice of several people and strived to be happy by myself. I developed hobbies that I could do by myself (photography, gardening & hiking – though my father would prefer I didn’t do that last one by my self). Now that I’m pretty happy being independent, suddenly meeting girls has come to a collective stand still – and so it is into the world of internet dating I proceed.

Internet dating is weird. I’m not sure I fully understand it. For instance, there was a girl who was e-mailing me constantly for about three days with all sorts of questions about me and insights into her and then she was gone…never to be heard from again. Then there was a girl who told me she liked this picture of me with a dog. I sent her to this picture of the dog that has better lighting because she seemed really interesting in the dog. Haven’t heard from her since. One girl told me ten minutes from her house was too far even though I was really cute.

Another weird thing is the intro. I’m never quite sure how to start a conversation. For example, I always feel weird suggesting that in their posed and photo shopped picture they look hot when they probably look totally different in person. I don’t want them to think I’m only interested in the pictured (albeit photoshopped) girl. As a former English major, I try to read each profile carefully to find a way to start a conversation, but some girls rely so heavily on their photo shopped image that they don’t even really include a profile paragraph and so you are stuck trying to figure out if there is something to them beyond looking hot on the internet. Also, how do you come off charming, none stalkerish, goal orientated, laid back, intelligent, interested and everything they described in their “About my date” section?
As a final nail in my coffin I’m sure there is a set of rules that no one has told me. How long do you talk through the world wide web before you meet in person and talk? Me personally, I’d rather just get to the date. Talking through a computer is mind blowingly boring and time consuming. I miss the days in my life where I could meet a girl in the Galley at BYUI, have a bite to eat with her, ask her out to a hike, drive (dorm girls without cars always loved going for drives), or even another meal. That’s how Sara and I happened. We met in the galley. I ask her out. She said sure. We went to a Jazz thing, then two other dates and then on a bowling date and then we were “dating.” There was no lengthy interview process through e-mail and instant message. How long do you have to do the e-mail thing when it comes to Internet dating?

Learning the hard way with mole crickets and sprinklers

2009-04-14T22:02:00.000-07:00

I'm not a quick learner most of the time. Despite Nina's claims that I am brilliant, at times I'm rather dumb. Yesterday and today has been spent fixing a sprinkler Valve system for a customer. Before I go any further I should probably describe a "customer."

I used to own a landscape company where in I charged people large sums of money to pull their weeds, mow their lawns, trim their trees and work on installing or modifying sprinkler systems. I loved every aspect of it but that first part. I don't really like telling people what I'm worth. I would rather have people tell me what I'm worth to them. This is one of the big reasons I don't work in sales. Some people treasure their lawns and so they pay handsomely. Other people see their lawns as a burden and only want to pay me what they absolutely have to to get the job done. I really don't care either way.

Now that I have a full time job that I love, I usually tell my customers to pay me with food. I HATE grocery shopping, meal planning and cooking (yet I love baking). So in barter I work, and I get fed. I have several vegetarian customers that are opening me up to a world without meat (I never really knew it existed).

Because I don't charge customers, I often tell them the truth. I am self and father taught. I don't guarentee my work and there is a strong chance that I might be wrong. (Though I never am.) (Usually). If you want a professional trades person or a college landscape person - go hire them.

That said - I still try to provide the best work I can.
--
On Saturday, after the game, I was telling my father of my plans. I told him I had a hard sprinkler job coming up. Knowing how much Icharge customers, my father asked me if I needed the job and if they were going to feed me or pay me. If they weren't paying me, why do the job. I told him I needed to do this job to learn. Eight months ago I had the same customer and I did the job and I screwed up. I needed to do this job to teach me about my last screw up.

--
In October of 1999 I met a man who had just talked in General Conference a few weeks before. This man left such a huge impression on me in October conference that year that I remember the talk today. Then a member of the Seventy, Elder Niel L Andersen related the following story.

Let me illustrate with an experience. Our family lived for many years in the state of Florida. Because Florida has a high concentration of sand, lawns there are planted with a large broadleaf grass we call Saint Augustine. A formidable enemy of a Florida lawn is a small, brown insect called a mole cricket.

One evening as my neighbor and I stood on the front steps, he noticed a little bug crossing my sidewalk. “You better spray your lawn,” he warned. “There goes a mole cricket.” I had sprayed the lawn with insecticide not too many weeks previously, and I hardly felt that I had the time or money to do it again so soon.

In the light of the next morning, I examined my lawn closely. It was lush and beautifully green. I looked down into the grass to see if I could see any of the little bugs. I could see none. I remember thinking, “Well, maybe that little mole cricket was just passing through my yard on the way to my neighbor’s yard.”

I watched my lawn for more than a week, looking for signs of invaders, but none was evident. I congratulated myself that I had not overreacted to my neighbor’s warning.

The story, however, has a sad ending. I came out the front door one morning, about 10 days after the conversation with my neighbor. Shockingly, as if it had happened overnight, brown spots covered my lawn. I ran to the garden store, bought the insecticide, and sprayed immediately, but it was too late. The lawn was ruined, and to return it to its former state required a new crop of sod, long hours of work, and large expense.

My neighbor’s warning was central to my lawn’s welfare. He saw things I could not see. He knew something I did not know. He knew that mole crickets live underground and are active only at night, making my daytime examinations ineffective. He knew that mole crickets did not eat the leaves of the grass but rather found nourishment in the roots. He knew that these little inch-long creatures could eat a lot of roots before I would ever see the effect above the ground. I paid a dear price for my smug independence.
--
Yesterday I spent 2.5 hours digging up old pipes and valves in wet rotting sand. Tonight I spent 3 hours building a new manifold and installing as much as I can. I didn't get done and will have to come back on Saturday to finish the job. I was planning on going hiking on Saturday. I was planning on working in my garden on Saturday. I was planning on sleeping in on Saturday. Instead I will wake up and go fix my customers' valve system.

I should have listened to the lessons of old bosses, my father, and my own past experiences. But I didn't. I didn't do any of that 8 months ago and now I get to do it all over again. Hopefully, after Saturday is over I will have learned.
--
Elder Andersen continues:
We live in a wonderful day. The blessings of our generation are lush and beautifully green. With faith in the Savior and obedience to the commandments, our lives can be full of satisfaction and joy.

Yet in these days of much beauty, our challenges in choosing to serve the Lord are more subtle than those of former days, but without question they are as spiritually pervasive. There are spiritual mole crickets that burrow under our protective walls and invade our delicate roots. Many of these insects of wickedness appear small, at times almost invisible. Yet if we do not combat them, they will do damage and attempt to destroy that which is most precious to us.

The warnings of the Prophets and Apostles lead them ever and always to speak of the home and family. Let me demonstrate the warning voice of the Prophets. On February 11 of this year, the First Presidency, with the support of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, sent to every member of the Church a letter of counsel concerning our families. Let me read you just two sentences from this letter:

“We counsel parents and children to give highest priority to family prayer, family home evening, gospel study and instruction, and wholesome family activities. However worthy and appropriate other demands or activities may be, they must not be permitted to displace the divinely appointed duties that only parents and families can adequately perform” (“Policies, Announcements, and Appointments,” Ensign, June 1999, 80).

What is our reaction to this prophetic counsel? What has been my response and your response to this First Presidency letter of nearly eight months ago?
--
The cost to my customers will be more of an annoyance than an abundance (About $75). However, there are lessons to be learned that are more costly when not learned. I haven't been myself lately. I've been sad, depressed and overly not enthused. This time last year I was excited about putting in the garden, taking great pictures and being generally happy. This year, I'm not. One big difference is my lack of tithing payments, scripture study and personal prayer. These are tiny things. It doesn't take more than 10 minutes in the morning to read a few verses and say a prayer. It doesn't take much to write a check on Sundays or to read a chapter of scripture at night. But I still don't. And being not myself is the lesson I am learning. This is a lesson 25 years in the making. There are some things in particular (thorns in my flesh really) that the Lord has been trying to teach me since I was 14. But I listen not. I ignore His advice and His counsel and lean on to my own understanding. And just like the sprinklers, I'm constantly having to come in, repair some damage, and make a new attempt.
One of my good friends has been doing the same. She too has been leaning unto her own understanding and not the Lord's counsel. I often wonder when she will start listening and stop letting her own actions destroy her life.
--
Experiences like today can be of great value or they can be worthless. Only when I learn can they be of value - and they will be a value beyond measure. But if I allow myself to forget about the hassle of this job, well then it will be for nothing and that - that would be really sad.

from my life.

2009-04-14T14:57:00.000-07:00

I have a five year-old client I see regularly. Today we were working on getting his heels to do something when suddenly he looks up and says “Mr. Sean. I have big heals. They are almost as big as your hands.”

“Is there anything else they are almost as big as?” I asked.

“They are as big as – oh wait no – your belly is bigger.”

The lesson of today: My hands are big but not as big as my belly.

--
Yesterday I was at a customer’s house fixing their water manifold. A neighbor was over catching up on all the gossip. Evidently Neighbor A (let’s name her Joan) was having and affair with neighbor B (Let’s name him John). John’s wife got pregnant and so Joan decided that she didn’t think John should be double dipping and so Joan cut John off. This did not make John happy and he took the skills he learned in Iraq to bust down Joan’s door (during her family dinner, with her kids and husband) and try to kill her.

As I listened to my customers and their friend I listened to the morals of the story suggested (Don’t make John mad. Buy heavier doors. Get to know your neighbors better.) After a while I couldn’t resist offering up my suggestion of a lesson to learn. “Don’t have affairs.” They responded “Oh yeah – good idea. We should avoid having affairs too.”

--
Over Dinner on Sunday we were discussing temple worship. One of the children talked about doing Baptisms for the Dead. I mentioned that I hate that term and wished we would call it Baptisms for the previously living. “Baptisms for the Dead” make it sound like we are digging up graves to do the baptism. Jim (the dad of the family I was with) chimed in and said, “Yes, that would be like baptizing Zombies.” I couldn’t resist “Yes and you know the hardest part about baptizing zombies – getting their arms underwater.”

--
In May I’m going up to see Nina in Oregon. We dated for 6 months a few years ago. We’ve remained friends over time. I told my father I was going and he asked if he could come. When I asked him why he said he wanted to drop some stuff off at one ex-girlfriend’s place and have lunch with another ex-girlfriend. “Isn’t this the ‘ex-girlfriend trip’?” I told him it wasn’t. Oh, he responded. Evidently he’s been craving a road trip and thought that this would kill two birds with one stone: see the open road and unload stuff on ex-girlfriends.

writings

2009-04-11T01:28:00.000-07:00

Over dinner tonight, a friend who I have been friends with for well over 15 years commented on how she missed reading some of my old poetry. The other friend at the table didn't think I really wrote poetry all that much. The truth of the matter I used to own a publishing company for young authors called The Bob & Fred Poetic Association (or BFPA for short). Tonight I dug up some of the stuff published under that company and bring it to you. I hope you enjoy it.

Poor Boy - Story
Lanae Verse Four - Poem
Flower - Poem (My father's personal favorite)
Die - Poem (One of the poems that led my parent to believe I needed therapy)
The Bean - Poem
Angel Baby - Poem

Angel Baby

2009-04-11T01:06:00.000-07:00

Rocking my baby
Back and forth
Back and forth

You sleep so quietly
Not a word exits
Not a worry enters

Your blond hair rests on he head
Shortly above your scrunched up face
And closed eyes

If only you knew what stood before you
You would stop sleeping to start crying
For this shall be a bad life

Born to a dead father
Who died as he jumped from a bridge
Upon learning of her becoming of birth

Next, my angel baby, you lost your mother
Who had lived with me
After her shameful parents gave her a box

But this is history
For now my baby is at a lost
Since I watched your mother pass away

This, only moments after giving birth
To you, angel in my arms,
Fighting to keep you, angel baby, alive only to die herself

Now angel, you are mine
For this your mother requested
If, by chance, all went wrong

Which by my shear sorrow
This has happened
And now you, Angel baby, sleeps

You sleep not knowing of your future
Not a word
Not a worry

For you know not
This life will be hard
Hard as a rock

You only feel warmth in this white blanket
As your body shifts positions
And my hand-made blanket turns

Oh you're so lucky
While most teens abort
Here you are in my arms

We rock some more
Back and forth
Back and forth

I hold you tighter
Softly singing many lullabies
That tell of a perfect world that shall not exist

How lucky not to realize
How bad your life will be
Not good as in my notes of song
You do not know
That you are poor
Or that you are rich

This matters not to you
All you feel is the fabric
Of your soft blanket

Tomorrow you will see
As your dear mother's coffin
Kisses the ground

And, my poor Angel,
You shall feel nothing
Only the rough wood of the black box

You will never understand
The love you were washed in
By just that one person-being your mother

You are still washed, though
This love flows all over you
This comes from me

But who am I
Only a 17 year-old boy
Without a future

Not a plan to my name
No ideas of fatherhood
Only a roof to put over your head

How lucky I'm to have my wonderful parents
To keep me
And allow your mother

Now they say they'll help me
With what ever I need
To keep you, my beautiful baby,

But this won't last long
With my parents money spread thin
We'll soon be poor

No matter what
I'll always love you, Angel,
No matter what

We continue to rock
Not a worry enters
Not a word exits

Now I cry for I know
I know that you are my baby
And I cry for I know nothing about being a parent

I never learned which was which
Between Gerber
And the Pampers

How am I to know
Where ever do I place them
Where from your head to toe

So now you sleep
Both hungary
And also unclothed

Oh my Angel
I'm so sorry
Please forgive me

Your mother loved you so much
I shall never be able to show you
How much I love, too

I'll never be home
I'll have food on the table
At the cost of love

But believe me
I love you, Angel
I'm so very sorry

You were and are loved so much
You deserve better
You have rights to so much more

You've lost so much
Not even the true parents of your mom
Are willing to partake of your beauty

"Not a child of teen pregnancy!"
They shouted as your mother came to them
Only to be casted out with sure hate in their taste.

Never again did they allow her near them
So I found her in the rain
Asleep in her "Toys-R-Us" box

She slept cautiously
Not more than eight feet near her
Before she awoke with club in hand

She cried when my face became clear
She knew I came in peace
For she had heard that her sister had broken off with me

She knew I had come for her
She knew I had come to help
She was pregnant with you for two months

Your new grandparents gave her love
She too was washed
She was washed 'till the day of her pass

Her joy was high
We gave her your new room
Which she decorated blue

She never thought you,
My Angel,
Would be a girl

You were to be Bob
Maybe Fred
Timmy or Tommy

Now as you sleep in your warm blanket
You sleep silently
You sleep a girl

You are just an Angel
Angel Baby
My baby of no name

Rocking in our chair
Back and forth
Back and forth

Not a worry
Not a word
Silently sleeping

Do you realize that this is it
I can offer no more
This is all I have

Your crib is a donation from my parents
Not a "daddy" made as I wanted too
Which I sweat with pain making

The only cloths are for your older years
All to wear now is a half knitted sock
Which your mother tried at

This is all you'll ever have
Only donations
Others used stuff

Just this
For my sleeping Angel of no name
Nothing more

No stuffed animals that didn't come in covered wagons
All from others
All donations

I'm so sorry baby
I'm so sad for you
You'll never have what I had

So lets rock some more
Lets not worry
Lets not release our words

We'll feed you later
Maybe even a diaper, too
But sleep now, Angel

Rock
Back and forth
Back and forth

-- written 1995

The BEAN

2009-04-11T01:04:00.001-07:00

" May the world have his peace!
The world and peace..."
The little boy's mother asked
As birth begun

While far far away
The peace had ceased
And a war had begun
Over a missing bean

It seems that a bean was missing
And caused a quarrel
Between two governing countries

This was first cease for both
The tearing had just begun
At the hearts of man
Over a bean.
A missing bean

So all the soldiers got in their tanks
Armed themselves,
Ready to fight
They started their charge

When they stopped to admire
An infant boy who crawled out in front
Of that on coming pain
To end the day

He carried with him a seed and flowery things
He dug up this ground
And deposited the seed
He then planted his flowery things.

All the soldiers were amazed with this
That they ended their day on a joyful note
By leaving the metal beasts
And leading the way to the supper games

Hands shook hand in hand
In amazement of how a child could end
That amazing day
Which could have died
Because of a single bean.

Many years passed
And died the flowery things
And seed grew until its bloody end
When the soldiers chopped down the tree

On this day the peace once again ceased
The war had begun
Over a bean
One single bean

It seams another bean was missing
And caused an argument
Between two great presidents

Round two for both
The tearing had begun again
Mans' heart on a silver platter
Over a bean
A missing bean

The presidents sent the soldiers to their tanks
Now armed with A.K. 40-7's
All ready to act out a bloody fight

They began their religious throng
When they suddenly stopped to notice
A 15 year old

A boy who stumbled into their way
Stopping that horrible day
Blocking their rage
Blocking their hate.

The boy carried with him a small brown seed
And many pretty flowery things
And he dropped to his knees
And planted his seed and flowery things

The soldiers gazed
And when finally done he got up
And was quickly gone again

At this the soldiers finished the day
Going to feed
In a happy mood for which could have ended
Deadly

Then it happened it again
After many nonviolent years
The peace was ceased
As died the flowery things
And lightning hit the tree to kill

Quickly was a bean missing
Getting many upset
Making a new argument

This time a day was waited
Before starting a war
To see if the bean
Chose to return

And one day later
No bean did appear
So off to the tanks
To make the enemy disappear like the bean

And once they arrived
In this place to die
They halted and stared
At a dead body which chose this place to rest

Which was a old man
With all grey hair
And a wrinkly body
So fragile and frail

Here he laid dead
With flowery things
And hands clasping a precious seed
Which resembled the bean

The soldiers in awe
They didn't see the enemy's bullets
Forth coming
To start a war that day

Killing millions
And striking fear
This war traveled on
For many years

With the warriors dropping left and right
And bones of the old man
Crunching at the end

When suddenly all the men
Stopped the world
And a mothers plea
Was finally given

For all of man was destroyed
And with them went the animals
And ended the blood shed
And earth beheld her peace
As plants grew endlessly

Never arguing
Never killing
Only ever lasting growth
As peace showed itself in everything

And all this happened because of
You and me
And a bean

-Written 1995

die

2009-04-11T01:01:00.000-07:00

Screw today
Let me die
Forget you all

--written 1994

Flower

2009-04-11T01:00:00.000-07:00

A flower
Be a flower
Bloom flower

Oh flower
Oh flower
How can I be thee

Let me frolic like thee
Let me fly like thee
Let me "pollinate"

Thy beauty
Over come all
Wrap me in it

Nah! Forget it
I'll be a rock
Yeah- a rock

- Written 1995

Lanae Verse Four: Maybe

2009-04-11T00:56:00.000-07:00

If she told me were through
I swear I'd die
Couldn't live without her
That's for sure

Or maybe

If she told me it was over
I'd go climb in a hole
And cover up with a rock
Yeah; a rock

Or maybe

If she told me to forget it
I'd cry the night on
I'd become dehydrated
Shrivel up like a prune

Or maybe

If she said that she wished we never had happened
I'd tell her she was wrong
And go and date
Possibly her best friend

Or maybe

If she broke all the promises
I'd lose all sanity
Ride the padded wall
And screw society

Or maybe

If she returned the ring
I'd recycle it
Forget her
And live on

But screw the maybe's
I'm always hers
Or maybe

--written 1996

Poor Boy

2009-04-11T00:21:00.000-07:00

They lowered the casket into the ground ever so slowly, careful not to drop it. The wet eyes and endless sobs echoed throughout the cemetery. How had he been led to his eternal resting place? Why had the gates of heaven swung open so eagerly? His friends sat silently reminiscing about how great he was. They remembered the calls to service he had more than filled. He was always there to help them with their chores and activities. He loved this service. He was so unselfish, they reminisced. He was their tutor when they needed help or their ride to the weekly dance when no one else would drive them. He had been their friend and they loved him. What had happened?
The casket gently rested on the dirt beneath it. The Pall Bearers backed away from this sacred ground to go stand with their families. Over four-hundred people had come to see the boy go to his final resting place. The local flower shops were all out of flowers. These flowers covered the grounds of the cemetary like a colorful carpet. The bulk of them were roses, his favorite to give to others. So many people he had lifted from sadness with those, they couldn't be counted.
His brother sat by the hole gazing down. This would be the last of his immediate family he would bury. His parents had died in a hit-and-run two years earlier. He had kissed his brother good bye moments before he was lowered down. He was alone now; very alone.
This tragedy came unexpectedly. No one had been able to foresee this. It just happened. He was doing a service, pulling weeds the day before and was found dead the next day. It just happened in a flash, then he was gone. Many began to wonder why it had happened to such a boy as he. This boy had good grades, a blessed heart, and a spirit of love for others. To many he was the ideal boy. He tried to never say a cruel word to people, though he did slip once in a while. He never cursed and was always one to open the door for the women of all ages. Few got the opportunity to go on a date with him, but those that did would say that he was a perfect gentleman. Never a better boy, many said.
The Pastor began his words of peace for the ground that this boy would rest in. Many drifted back, remembering what a great speaker the boy was. They remembered the talk he had given the week before, during church. He had talked about how much everyone should remember to always cherish life, because one never knows when it will end. Never was any part of America cherishing what they had had, more than this group today. The fall leaves had never looked so great nor the air smell so good. Many were inhaling deeper than usual.
Many students from his school had attended out of respect for him, because of the respect he had always shown for them. He was always willing to share his worldly possessions with them, such as binders, pencils, pens, his locker and other things. In fact at one time he had seven different occupants in his locker because the school was out of lockers. He also almost always gave smiles to strangers in the halls if they looked weary or sad. For these rare acts of kindness from others, these students came.
His swim team also came to see him buried. He had never won a race, but he never stopped cheering for his teammates. He was always there when they lost, with a good word to keep them from getting down. He was always the first one at the meets and the last to leave, once everyone had gotten safely home. After training all Summer, he was a contender for the championships this year. Oh how they would miss him!
The Pastor finished his remarks, followed by a moment of silence. Many of his friends thought back to a time when the boy's turtle had died. This turtle was his favorite among all his others. The friends began to giggle as the silence lingered. When the turtle had died, a ceremony was held. At the end the boy had asked for a moment of silence. The boy was the first to burst laughter, followed by his friends. The thought of looking down at a pile of bricks that covered the final resting spot of a turtle had seemed somewhat funny. Who would ever pay tribute to a rock that moves? The "moving rock" was becoming fertilizer. As the friends giggled about a last moment of silence for fertilizer, they noticed the disapproving looks of those around them. They quickly hushed themselves.
When the seemingly long moment of silence was over, the Pastor walked over to the open hole and threw his own flowers in on the casket. The Pastor remembered how great the boy was. He thought about how the boy would come to church early just so he could sit by the door to welcome the crowd. He would offer to help the elderly with their wheelchairs so that they didn't need to use up their scarce energy. He remembered the boy, also, saving seats for the elderly and the disabled so that they could see and hear the speakers during church.
The Pastor asked his brother to talk. The deceased's brother stumbled to the microphone and opened up a book. He flipped it to an already marked page. He began in a quiet, calm, mourning voice, "I was reading my brother's journal last night, looking for a reason for his death. I found this page:

'I woke up today still crying. I miss Mom and Dad. They seem so far away now. I try to feel them near me, but all I feel is pain. I watched the old video tapes last night. I looked at the old photos last night. I saw how much they loved my brother and me. Oh how I miss them!
'I miss the nights of games and mom-made dinners. My brother tries to cook but is constantly messing up. I wish that alcohol would have never been invented. That way I could still be with my parents. I miss their love. I don't feel very much love, now, except from my brother. I go to church early so I can meet new friends and grow new love. I try to help the elderly so that they might love me. In both situations, I feel that I come up short. Most of the elderly are too old to remember me; just a boy who pushes their wheelchair and gets them good seats. I yell and scream for swim team, but it seems like when I enter the waters the yelling comes to a close. I try to help them feel better when they lose, but I only do this so my tears of failure don't show. I don't feel the love even from my friends. I give them rides places and when they're at their destination, I'm lucky to get a thank you. I'm going to take one last effort to find love.'

"It goes on." His brother said. He flipped the page. Then he flipped another. The whole cemetery remained silent. Almost all the four-hundred people were examining their shoes and the leaves on the ground below them. It began to sprinkle, but not one person's thought went toward the umbrellas next to them. His brother began again, "This next entry is from a few days later and also a few days ago:"

'The day has once again come to end. I went up to at least twenty people the past two days, asking for a date for this weekend. Not one said yes. It's amazing how many people wash their hair on Friday nights. I never realized a date was so much to ask for. This was my last-ditch effort to find love. There is none. The world is lost. I doubt they'll miss me. My brother is the only last love. God bless him. I hope he may live, still loving, without me. This world will need him if it is to survive. I don't think it will. I only hope that people have enough love that the few that come to my funeral will remember my request to have Amazing Grace hummed as they leave. Where I'm going, I think that will be the only thing I'll be able to smile at. Dearest journal, I love you for listening to me as I complained and now I must leave you. I have some bullets to load and fire.'

His brother closed the book and set it on the pulpit. He walked over to his chair, picked up a single white carnation and threw it on the casket. He then started to his car. As he walked, the crowd at first hummed, then sang, "Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now I'm found...". It was heard through out the town and for about three-hundred miles around.
Never, was another act of kindness forgotten or unnoticed.

thoughts and feelings

2009-04-08T15:03:00.000-07:00

One of my "friends" runs a blog where she dscusses things that have been on her mind lately. Please indulge me with the same topic.

Last night I saw "Bolt" on DVD. I was supposed to see that movie with a friend six months ago, but she got sick. It being as long as it has I'm going to assume most of you that wanted to see it, have. During the course of the movie, Penny is watched over by her mother. Where is her father in all this? The place they are living at the end of the movie...how can they afford the property tax?

Recently I also saw "Taken." At the end of the movie - who is driving the boat? How long does it take to have the electricity turned off if it runs constantly and no one pays the bill?

A few days ago, Nina said I was a brilliant man. Why didn't I believe it until she said it? Why does her saying it both make me giddy and surprised?

My SIL recently talked on her blog about what she would do with three hours in her day that were uninterupted. She mentions that she wonders what each of us would do? I think I would nap or go take pictures.

On a blog that I read (it's a chick blog, I know), today they are discussing what being a single chick in the church means. I wonder why as a church we choose to see ourselves through the labels others create for us and not the labels God creates. I like "son" or "daughter" over "single" or "menace to society" or "convert." Because no matter what someone else's label says about us - I think our own real label should be "Child of our Heavenly Father working hard to see Him again." I wonder why we need any other labels.

Another Anni

2009-03-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

Today marks the 4th year since I started blogging. Wow has a lot happened since then. In the first year there was a lot of posting about KNJ and EVO - Grills. Since I have started blogging I have graduated from college, started a wheelchair basketball program at BYUI and traveled much of the western and mid-western United States. From that single blog, several other blogs have launched successfully. In fact, I'm not even sure this is a accurate list, because from my blog, other have started blogging which resulted in even other blogging.

1. Bob and Fred's Blog - killed thanks to stalker Tom
2. Rexburg sled report - killed after three weeks of no snow
3. Rexburg Gossip - killed because I ran out of gossip until today - Craigos is moving and becoming a full Italian resteraunt.
4. Sean's Dating life - killed because of stalker Tom and Sean was dating Erika for a while.
5. I know Harold King - killed because I have writer's block, but used to show the humor in knowing my friend Harold and the influence he has.
6. Sean's Spiritual blog - Killed because of stalker Tom.
7. Southern Idaho Spirit
8. Life in Idaho
9. John's blog
10. Katie's blog
11. Jenni's blog
12. ~Gu's~ blog (Formerly am)
13. Dun's Blog (Formerly AM and ProvoPRguy)
14. Sean's attempt at fiction writing
15. Photo a Day - which in turn has created PADs by Bonnie, John, Jenn, Melinda, Gu, Dun, Tric and Nina
16. Lake Affected
17. Melinda
18. Mama in Beta
19. And there were all of those blogs created for Adaptive Services at BYUI that have since been destroyed per the request of the school's new Activities website (that sucks).
20. Beyond the Cut
21. Dear Missionary
Plus others I'm too tired to remember or link to.

I'm sure there are others and even more that I will create, but just can't remember them all. Needless to say - it has been a great, funny & therapeutic 4 years an I look forward to more.

Rexburg Temple fly over

2009-03-22T16:48:00.000-07:00

I'm not one for a lot of youTube, but I was looking for something else when I found this. I LOVE this video. Especially the down shots. I can't imagine standing out in the cold flying an RC plane to get this video, which makes me even more grateful for this guy.

I am reminded of a kite photographer who flew a kite in Oakland until Temple security told him to stop. However - he did get this shot first.

tried the gift

2009-03-14T22:47:00.000-07:00

Are trials a gift from God?

co-pilot

2009-03-12T21:39:00.001-07:00

I was recently reviewing Craigslist looking for a rototiller. I found one for $30 in Willis CA. I quickly went over to google maps and figured out the distance and was instantly excited. I really like to drive. I love being on an open road and just driving. While some people are all about the destination, I really enjoy the journey. But this drive wouldn't be complete without a co-pilot. Preferably a co-pilot of the female persuasion and my best friend.

There was a time in my life where I had such a co-pilot. She fit in my truck right next to me (I have a bench seat). and we went all over. We stopped when we wanted to and drove for the rest. We had picnics and went to stores and even libraries in little towns and communities in California, Idaho and Utah. It was really nice. And I miss it.
--
18 months is a really long time. It is enough time for one and even two people to change, gain focuss, find new perspectives. 10 months is actually just enough time to do that. Another 8 months is there to reconcile what happened in 10 months. Those 18 months can be a little challenging when a conversation can take 2 - 4 weeks to happen. And if those conversations are sensitive...sometimes they don't even occur.
--
There is potential for co-pilots, but not the same co-pilots as I had before. And I'm not sure how to reconcile that in my head. Do I take on the potential co-pilots even thoughI know it won't be the same - or do I just drive it alone for now and hope that some day I will have a best friend again? One that likes the drive, the journey, and the ride next to me. One that can accept my fears, my struggles and my joys. One that can be patient with me if I sometimes get lost or if I jump in reverse from time to time. One that can both figuratively and literally help me fix my broken tires. I wonder if there are co-pilots like that out there still.
--
I may not get the rototiller this weekend, but I look forward to a drive anyway.

Advertising that scent of urine and Cheerios

2009-03-10T20:31:00.000-07:00

25. Sometimes I think pee smells like Cheerios. - Time Magazine

About 6 weeks ago, Time published an article where the author shared some of the things he had learned about his friends from their lists of "25 things" on Facebook. The last one was the above fact.
Ever since that day I have been trying to figure out a way to help Cheerios use this in a marketing campaign. Every time I thought of one, I would write it down. I think I finally have the time to combine my lists.

"Cheerios and Urine - same great scent, just one tastes better."

"In considering where to get your scent from, remember that of Cheerios and Urine - only one doesn't require you to dig a whole and squat in the forest."

"Cheerios - same great scent as Urine without the need to hold yourself."

"To achieve that great scent of Urine and Cheerios, use Cheerios. A bowl of cereal takes less effort than a big brother holding your child down or having your child watch a scary movie near bed time. "

"Cheerios and Urine - both can be done at a ballpark to get a great smell, but only one do you have to share with a bunch of icky men in a trough."

"Childhood Cheerios Cereal - Brought to you by EPT. The scent on our sticks will lead to the scent your toddler will be clamoring for."

"Cheerios and Urine - Same great scent both only one bowl away."

the 13 year-old speaks

2009-03-08T23:50:00.000-07:00

The 13 year-old talks a lot.

13 - Is that your loose tooth? (pointing to the tooth in his mouth)
7 - Yup. It just keeps wiggling. It hurts to wiggle though.
13 - Has it come out yet?
9 year-old - Yup and we pushed it back in.

--
13 - I wonder if Bunnies have pornography.
me - Yup - it's called the Discovery Channel.
--
13 - What is so special about this cake?
me - It will turn your poo green.
13 - but it is already green.
me - Yes but this will be green like Kermit. Basically you'll be pooing out Kermit.

(two days later while we have guests over)
me - Does anyone want this last piece of cake?
13 - No it turned my poo really green.
me - {13 year-old} Why are you looking at your poo?
13 - I wanted to see what Kermit looked like.

--
(After blowing air through an envelope and making a high pitched squeal)

13 - One time I was in the bedroom and I had to fart but I was trying to hold it in so I squeezed my butt cheeks. It came out anyway and it went up my butt crack and squealed just like that. Before I could undo my cheeks I did it again and it tickled my back and made a high pitched squeal again.

---
(While talking about people that move out when they are 17)

me - I think Catherine will move out on June 18th but won't turn 18 until October. She can't stand her step-mother.
13 - How old is she now?

Katie talks

2009-03-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

In case you miss it, see here.

The new girl

2009-03-03T21:08:00.000-08:00

18 months after my mother died I came home for Christmas. 2 months prior, just before Halloween, I slipped into a major depression brought on "delayed grieving" syndrome and a fiance leaving me. The Delayed grieving crippled me and I was unable to deal with school and work and just needed some place to feel safe and to return to some usual settings. I figured Christmas with my dad might help.
On Christmas morning, my father and I sat down and had our traditional Christmas breakfast of a Sugar Plum Ring. This is a tradition my mother started and was a tradition that we never went without (even with my mother and I's numerous hospital Christmas stay overs). We gathered the night before and made this master piece and awaited the morning for the feast.
Just a few bites into the meal there was a knock at the door. "Jimmy! Jimmy! Merry Christmas! Here I brought you a gift."
My dad's new girlfriend had arrived. She insisted on my dad opening her gift, right there in front of me and as we feasted over my mother's traditional breakfast. Inside was a pair of boxers. I was shocked. And embarrassed. And angry. and a whole other slew of emotions.
I tried to laugh it off. "I thought you were a briefs kind of guy, dad."
"But wouldn't he look cuter in Boxers." Was her response.

My father, in my mind, had only ever slept with my mother. I don't know how often or for how long and I was just fine not knowing whether my dad was getting any. I think what goes on in the privacy of your own bedroom is your own business. Furthermore, I would have rather not known as I was eating my mother's Sugar Plum Ring that my father was getting some again. I found her act to be really disrespectful to me and to my mother. Each time over the next three years when she would offer advice, I always had a hard time taking it because it usually contradicted with my thought process and I usually didn't want to listen to her motherly advice after she had been so disrespectful to my mother the first time around.

--
On Saturday I attended a symphony. In the crowd was my dad with his new girlfriend. I was late (a fateful run in with the Utah Wheelin Jazz players) and so I had to sit in the balcony. Below me was my father and this new woman. Through the course of the first "act" I observed them cuddling and holding hands. During intermission we met. She was conservatively dressed. She talked to me as an adult. She wanted to know more about me and to share interesting things about herself. At no point did she try to give advice or to point out that her and my father were affectionately involved. In fact, as we stood there they didn't even hold hands (though they did do plenty of that during the second "act"). After the show, she went back to trying to ask me questions and try to get to know my father and I better (and get to know our relationship better). She never at any point went out of her way to embarrass me. It was nice.
--

In no way is my dad needing my approval for who he dates. For the most part - he lives his life and I live mine. But I must admit it was so nice to leave the symphony on Saturday with my guard down. It was a great feeling.

The Battle Within

2009-02-27T16:49:00.000-08:00

Peon – Captain we are under attack!
Captain – Where?
Peon – In the throat. A patrol group first discovered red and white mines this morning and now we are getting reports of other occurrences.
Captain – Immediately deploy a battalion of whites and reds to the battlefront. I’ll see if I can get a message to Central Intelligence to bring in the Fly Fighters.
Peon – Right away Sir.

(a little later)

Captain – Peon what’s there to report?
Peon – The Battalions of White and Red are on their way. The Flyer Fighters have yet to arrive, but we have new a new problem.
Captain – What now?
Peon – The throat has received new damage. Overnight a group of their fighters flew in and laid a stretch of mucus just like pilots in Viet Nam with Napalm. The mucus is everywhere. It’s turning into a slippery situation.
Captain – Right. Get on the horn to CI and tell them we need immediate action. Have them send in bombers with Vitamin C and Sudafed. Have the White Cell Troop send up flares for drops and have them start dropping, Tell CI to get those bombers in there every four hours until I tell them otherwise.
Peon – Yes Sir. Right away Sir!
Captain – What is the status with the white and red celled troops?
Peon – They arrived late last night but they were fatigued. So they rested this morning and are on the attack. It is a hard battle. There seems to be a lot of cell to spot combat. The air war is helping but this is a hard fight.
Captain – Well give them time. Have them work in shifts so that no group gets too tired. And then -----

(All of a sudden the grown beneath them begins to shake and they hear the noise of a wounded duck quack.)

Captain – Oh crap! A Cough! A cough! We are in trouble now. Ignore everything else. Get ahold of CI and get the cough syrup dispensing fighters in the air now. Now!!!

(Later)

Captain – Report?
Peon – We are taxing the carrier but we are getting much done. The Syrup Dispensers went on full alert a few hours ago and are flying hourly drops into the mouth and throat. Additionally, The bombers are making 4-hour rotating flights into the throat. Lastly, the Flyer Fighters are dropping soup and water whenever they can get a flight in (and not get in a mid air crash with the Bombers or the Dispensers). The white and Red cell troops are still battling it out on the ground level and are making process. The mucus is breaking up and our troops are getting a stronger hold. They are still running into the occasional mine and we have lost many, especially from the white celled troops. But we are seeing progress.
Captain – Good. Very Good. Keep me informed.

(A Voice comes over the PA)
This is the Central Intelligence. We are declaring Victory at this time. Good work to all our troops and air force. We fought a hard fight but we won and are better for it. We mourn those red and white celled troops that perished in the fight, but we will continue to live and go out as a way to honor their memory. A very much thank you to our Captain and his Peon. We have been victorious.

Facts of Frank

2009-02-24T18:29:00.000-08:00

Frank the flying firefighter flew fast to every fire. Frank flew fearlessly to fields of fire with never a frown on his face, unless it was foggy. When the firefighting was fought, Frank would stop for food. However Frank wasn’t a friend of healthy eating so instead he would feast on fried fast food. Fast food makes Frank fat, which made flying ferociously difficult. When Frank the flying fat firefighter wasn’t flying, he would be getting friendly with his four square dance group or his connect five Sequence group. Frank thought both were fun. He always had a fantastic time forming five dot sequences. On Friday, Frank picks up Fredalina in his Ferrari for a night of frights and fairies at the fair grounds haunted house. Because he can fly, Frank and Fredalina get in for free. Even though Fredalina is very flexible, Frank is very respectful of her and there will be no Frenching or mating. Fredalina is Frank’s biggest fan because he is so faithful to her. He brings her flowers and tells her she’s super fine (even though she thinks she could have a flatter fanny). Fredalina is fraught with fear that her flying boyfriend frank might one day have a fatal run in with a flock of foul. She fears he will quickly figure out that the laws of physics apply to even him as he is falling out of the sky the flat earth below. However Frank finds comfort in a fatal fall if it allows him to have a freaking awesome funeral like this one. That would be fabulous. Frank doesn’t feel his final feat is soon though. Or maybe it is – Look! A flock of forty-five flamingos. In February? What a freak of nature! Flapping feathers finished Frank.

Institutionalized rabbits

2009-02-20T18:27:00.000-08:00

I've never owned rabbits before. In fact, beyond turtles I've never really had pets. The rabbits I own sort of fell into my lap which is the only reason I own them. You see, I was working on a fence in October when a very pregnant rabbit snuck onto the property and had a litter. The owner of the house didn't want to kill them, but he also couldn't keep them because of his wife's allergy. I told him if he'd help pay for a hutch, I'd take them off his hands. I bought a hutch and a book on raising rabbits and now I'm raising rabbits. However, the book on raising rabbits doesn't talk about the psychology of rabbits and it is in this that I think I might have done some harm.

Because the 4 full size rabbits are currently in one hutch (That will change on the 28th), the kids let the rabbits out each day into a caged area for grazing or eating. On Saturday evening the rabbits were out front and I was in the house washing dishes. Suddenly I see in the back yard a white fluff advancing along. It was Momma Rabbit (or Supper as the kids call her). I called to the other kids to let them know we had escapees. We all rushed out front only to discover one escapee. The boys were all near the opening in the fence, looking at it but not running. I don't think they knew what to do.

Supper has known a life outside the cage, but Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner know nothing of that life. They have been caged their whole lives. Without trying to do it, I think I institutionalized them. They are now caged animals and would prefer to live that way.

I'm trying to figure out if I can do this to mom or if I should undo this with the boys. I'm not sure which but I find it very interesting that those three boys didn't run.

what good photography can do

2009-02-07T21:00:00.000-08:00

If you have ever wondered if photography ever did any good, I ran across this article in Newsweek this week (PDF). "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" is an organization on photographers that help families with stillborn grieve. These volunteer photographers sacrifice their time and talents to give photos to people who have lost everything else. If you ever think your photo skills aren't worth developing, read this article. Good photography can heal.

read there

2009-02-05T19:59:00.000-08:00

I already put the link up on my 25 things, but I just want to make sure this get's some notice. There is a funny article from Time on Facebook's 25 things phenomenon. Worth the read.

for the fences

2009-02-03T22:25:00.000-08:00

Olivia struggled off the bench; shoulders slumped as she walked down the concrete executioner’s path, passing others due to walk the same path after her. At the end she turned to the left and studied the options. Size, length, and weight all had to be processed in her little mind. Olivia made her choice and turned back onto her disheartening path. She climbed up the two steps and placed her feet on the earth’s solid dirt. Olivia mustered all of the saliva she could, pulling from the corners behind her gums, and spit down onto the red dirt. “Traditions! Might as well.” Olivia thought.

As her turn came, Olivia walked out of the warm up circle. Slowly she took each agonizing step. Put her out in the outfield and she would run out there, but this fate was worse than anything she could think of.

Eventually she makes it to her assigned place. She places her feet as she was instructed, beating her weapon against each cleat before placement. She crouched down, bending her knees slightly. In no time at all the pitcher released the ball and Olivia swung as hard as she could, hoping to murder that pitch on the first try.

“Strike!” the man with the black grilled face shouted.

Olivia’s confidence, already lacking, sunk.

She positioned herself again. Again the pitcher hurled the red stitches toward her. Again the man with the grille face called out the obvious as the momentum of her swing brought Olivia to the ground.

As she lifted herself off the ground and dusted herself off, Chad comes running from the bleachers, calling Olivia over to the backstop.

“Olivia, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“Daddy, I just can’t seem to hit a home run.”

Chad smiles,”Honey, you have no control over that. If that ball is meant to soar, it will soar. If that ball is meant to skip across the dirt and come to rest in the tall green grass, it will skip. But you are not responsible for that. You are just required to make contact.”

Chad smiled once more and suggested she return to the plate.

Being a little more hopefull, Olivia turned back and returned to the white box. She dug in her cleats. Turning to the pitcher, she watched as the man on the mound went into his wind up. She watched eagerly as his arm swung around and that ball flew out of his hand, on a direct path to her.

As the ball neared, the umpire prepared his well rehearsed shout. Before he could proclaim his words, though, he and everyone else heard an unfamiliar and unexpected sound.

“Crack!”

Olivia dropped her bat and ran, all the while watching the ball do what it was meant to do.

25 random things

2009-02-02T14:05:00.000-08:00

This list has been floating around Facebook for sometime and is now starting to show up on blogs. I tend to avoid list chain mailings, but I’m willing to do this one and then be done. I’ll add this one to the other shorter one I did in 2007. That will be 32 random things about me.

I took Tap Dancing for 4 years.
I took Piano lessons for 2 years.
I haven’t shot a weapon since I was 14 but my favorite weapon that I’ve shot was a German Luger Pistol.
I have had 41 roommates/housemates/flat mates not including missionary or family experiences.
I’ve had four tumors.
I hate flying. If I can’t get there in my truck I don’t see the point in going.
I caught a foul ball at a baseball game in Oakland in 2008.
I started a wheelchair basketball program at my University in Idaho that is now an official school sport. I also helped design the wheelchairs that are currently used.
I have long since thought I would end up as an amputee in this life and state that as the reason I’ve never learned to drive a manual transmission.
I often narrate my own life in my head.
I am a news junkie and a random trivia seeker.
The best birthday gift I ever received from a non-family member was a USA Today Snapshots daily desk calendar. I learned so much that year.
I hate grocery shopping.
I owned and operated three business – all started accidentally (“Bob and Fred Poetic Association,” “The Garden Club,” and “John and Sean Technical.” The first two were very successful. The third not so much.)
My father has taught me most of what I know about irrigation, construction and working.
I tend to date girls for either a really long time or a relative short time. I have three ex-girlfriends that I dated for at least 14 months and some two years. I have a plethora of girls I dated for less than a month. I can only think of one girl I dated for more than one month and less than six. We should have gone longer but I broke up with her for stupid reasons.
I am allergic to bees, beer, wasps, wine, hornets and morphine.
I love going to Laundromats to do my laundry.
My favorite song is “Abide with me tis eventide.”
I favorite books are “Snowmen at night,” “Charlie’s Monument,” “The Book of Mormon,” and “the five people you meet in heaven.” I have several other books I enjoy, but I can read these four books over and over again.
Most of my psych and sociology friends would say that I am best described as a functionalist.
I’m horrible at studying effectively.
I am not really a competitive person and I don’t usually seek out competition. The only times I’m competitive is when playing wheelchair basketball or when around John.
I struggle to make friends. This is due in part to my desire to have structured social activities. I crave structure so much that hanging out playing video games has no appeal to me.
I love able-bodied baseball and football. I love wheelchair basketball. I can’t stand to watch the opposite of those.

(Though TIME says this is a waste of time)

Teaching Sean

Day 43 without seeing a deer (or How I'm spending my lent)

A photo a day day

I want to fly

Pondering upon girlfriends past

When Social Networking becomes Social Narcissim

Service is rarely fit to your schedule

making it through the storm

Being an Eagle Scout

When you think in pictures - some images never leave you

Quick write for a friend

"Sean Read, Sean Do" or "Can I lent you some Coke?"

the trouble with eating a meatball sandwich

waiting

PSA Driving fast

Dealing with Character

2009 Year in Review

I'm not the only one

Failing all of the people some of the times

from smaller eyes

Possible Date Activities

breathe

The Planner, The Girlfriend and The Miracle of Service

The awkward month known as November (and a little bit of December)

BLUE

Gratitude November 12 2009

Mahon's Journey to Faith

Gratitude November 5 2009 -Post Edit**

Conducting a Poll

Becoming Provident Providers Temporally and Spiritually

Gratitude October 29

our hero jack: episode one

From the last few weeks

Thinking outloud

Making me smile

A dog's healer

The Kingdom process

Personal Ministry

a day of dumb sean stuff

Princess Olivia

waiting

rescued

the sumo wrestler

plight of the homeless cart

Memories from the MTC

Finding Tuesday's Fiction

Un Stucking the Butt

Sara's Choice - The Introduction

Sara's Choice - The Character

Sara's choice - The Story Part 1

Sara's Choice Part 2

My Master Plan

Links

The Shoe Pencil

no fiction

lip balm and enemas

not vomitingthis time

Bob and Fred at 4th of July

Take your bike to work day

3rd grade

of whoppers and runners

training

the day the crawdads were banned.

eggstatic

drawing in church

living today

Getting to the sunrise

dipping sauce

more camping stories

Crawdad memories

gateway Yogurt

Those BYUI Guys

Only you can prevent forest fires and my hungry dad

Feeling irresponsible

the week of terrorists

Trying to get dating again

Learning the hard way with mole crickets and sprinklers

from my life.

writings

Angel Baby