Four!

I just found this in my drafts. It's from March, 2010. He's 9 now. (You can check my math, you'll find my calculations are accurate.) When they say time flies, holy crap do they mean it. I don't know what else I had been planning to say, but it was fun to relive this much.

It's quite unbelievable, but another year has passed in the life of young Mogli. They just grow up so fast!
Mrs and I filled two packages of balloons during the night so he would wake to find them. He enjoyed that.





We did whatever he wanted all day. That meant playing the Wii, watching Phineas and Ferb, and playing ball in the basement. Then he and Mommy baked the cake at Grammy's house. For dinner we went to Chuck E. Cheese's, where a kid can be a kid! And that's just what my kid did!



After spending 100 or so tokens and earning 757 tickets, which we trading for a collection of cheap toys (in less than an hour he brought two of them to me to fix), we hurried home to meet Grandparents for cake and ice cream and presents. He got lots of fun stuff, but most important of all was a new big kid bike! He rode around and round in the basement, and that's all he wanted to do the rest of the night and the next day.

Reliving the Simple Joy of a CD Case

Thinking back to my teenage years, there are basically 3 things that made me feel independent:

1. Driving
2. Buying my own food (usually at Wendy's)
3. My CD collection

Yeah, that's kind of a weird thing to tie to independence. Or maybe it isn't. A lot of people use music to define them, to set them apart from their parent's generation or whatever. For me it was that, but also more than that. Music was definitely definitive for me. And it definitely set me apart from my parents. But it also set me apart from my siblings, which in a lot of ways was more important to me; I was the 7th child after all. 

My CD collection was basically my escape. I would go hide in my room and put in a CD when too many people came over. Headphones were often my saving grace (at least until I lost the hearing in my left ear. It wasn't due to loud music, if that's what you are thinking. But that's a story for another post.) Even if I was going camping, my CD collection came along in one of those big CD cases. 

For a long time I had it all laid out so the front of the page had the little booklet, with the actual CD on the back side. Even with over 100 discs, I knew that thing so well I could open up right to the page with the CD I wanted, almost without fail. Eventually I realized the books were getting ruined (and also I needed more room) so I switched to just CDs. Those CDs went everywhere with me. 

One of these babies

Then the iPod came along. I remember the first time I heard of them in one of those VW New Beetle commercials. I thought it sounded like a terrible idea. "But what about all my CDs?" I naively bemoaned. Obviously, it didn't take all that long for me to come around to the idea, and my CD case became less and less critical, and more and more often left at home like Buzz and Woody wishing I'd come back and play again. Then came smartphones, and eventually Google Play All Access, and my wonderful CD collection became completely irrelevant. 

Then last weekend I went on a camping trip. I didn't plan ahead very well, and so I didn't get music downloaded on my phone. At the last minute I decided to grab the old CD binder. That ended up being the best thing I could have done.

I had forgotten about the added pleasure of the artwork on the CD. Albums like Beck's Odelay with artwork but no words were still instantly recognizable, and seeing them like that brought back tons of memories. Flipping through the pages reminded me of all the time I spent lovingly organizing the collection into just the right order. (Always Zeppelin first, of course.)

So I've been carrying my CD case around in my car for the last week. The one I have now only fits a fraction of my collection, but it's kind of refreshing to be limited to just that. Most of them are my absolute favorites. Although, since the CD collection was also a status symbol for the music crowd I ran with, I had to sprinkle in some of the more obscure selections. For street cred. 

I didn't actually understand this album until years later

Like a Flock of Birds Evading a Predator

I watched Jurassic Park last night for the first time since the 90s. I'd like to share a few thoughts:

• It has aged incredibly well. The only real indications that it came out in 1993 were the colors of the jeeps and overall presence of Jeff Goldblum. 

• Holy crap, those effects are awesome! If they could do dinosaurs that well in 93, the Star Wars prequels really have no excuse! 
• I was 8 when that came out. Mogli is 9 now. I get why my mom didn't want me to watch it.
• For all that talk about an extreme tropical storm that mandated evacuating the island, it sure seemed weak. It only rained long enough for Newman to slip in the river and get slimed by that cute little dinosaur. Then suddenly everything was fine, and Grant and the kids went to sleep in a nice dry tree.
• How does Grant know so much about dinosaur behavior just from the bones? T-Rex can only see you if you move, the skeleton proves it? Am I just ignorant?
• Wait a second, that guy is pre-Pulp Fiction Samuel L Jackson! I had no idea he was in this!

• I can't separate Richard Attenborogh's John Hammond from Miracle on 34th Street. So basically, during the summer months Santa Claus creates theme parks with dinosaurs.
• This:

You're welcome.

Parents Are Liars

I learned where all those myths your parents told you come from today. (Go read that article, it's pretty good)

Mogli didn't want to take a bath. While he was procrastinating, he hit his head somehow. He has a special talent for causing himself injury. He, of course, was making a much bigger deal of it than it deserved and telling me he couldn't possibly take a bath now because he needed to go lay on the couch and watch Phineas and Ferb so his head could heal. I told him that getting in the bath will be a much better way to make him feel better because the warm water will help the blood flow so it won't get as swollen.

I totally made that up.

He believed me though. He got right into the bath, and reported that his head was much better when he was done. In twenty years or so, he will be telling a child to get in the bath because it reduces swelling, and he'll be sure it's true, when really it is just something I invented because he was dirty. The wisdom of our parents is a marvelous thing, but when I realize that I am the parent who is meant to be wise... I'm a little bit scared, and suddenly a bit more skeptical.

Parentally Devious

This time of year brings out a lot of memories. Every Thanksgiving I think about the year we ate at a cousin's still partly unfinished house. I don't remember many details, except that they had a lot more snow than had fallen at home, and the unfinished portion upstairs seemed much larger than it actually was, and full of potential. I have a permanent image in my mind of my uncle emerging from some mysterious place behind a wall (and by wall I mean frame without drywall). I'm sure it was actually quite ordinary, but in my mind I am still in awe of whatever went on there.

Some of the fondest memories involve decorations. For three months, our house was adorned with all sorts of extra holiday novelties. Among the October knicknacks were a wax ghost-in-a-pumpkin that smelled like happiness, and a spider that I can only describe as sharp. November included a pair of squirrels dressed as pilgrims and a cornucopia. December, of course was the most ornate month of all, with trees and lights and candles. Putting up decorations--especially Christmas decorations--was always the greatest thing imaginable. Once I came home from a friend's house to find all the Thanksgiving trinkets already in place because someone important (probably grandparents) was on their way. I still feel the heartbreak some 2 decades later.

There was one thing I never understood about the decorating process however: my mom always made us clean the house first.

Why, if we are putting a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, do we have to clean the kitchen? It was a baffling riddle. Nevertheless, it happened pretty much every time. Today, at last, I fully realized the beauty of that arrangement.

Mogli was (is)  desperate to get Christmas underway. He began begging to get the tree out before he had even had breakfast. I explained to him that we needed to clean the family room so we had a place to put everything while we rearranged furniture and sorted through lights and decorations. About 5 minutes later it was done. Not wanting to lose any momentum, I told him he needed to get his room clean before we could do anything fun (standard practice). He went right to it without so much as a "whyyyy-uh?" (anything but standard).

In fact, he barely complained all day. I just had to find some way to connect a request to the prospect of a Christmas tree, and he couldn't get it done fast enough. He vacuumed Captain Hook's mess of muffin crumbs three times, the second and third without even being asked.

I shamelessly exploited that kid's desire to have a Christmas tree all day long. As a result, there is a tree in my house almost a week early. And I'm okay with both of those facts.

Politics

I used to be way into political debate and stuff. I was also very certain I was right. I've come to realize though that "right" is a relative term, and quite subject to change. I still like a debate, at least in some contexts. As long as it is friendly, and constructive. As long as the participants are there to learn and further understand the issue, and enhance their beliefs, not prove them. As long as it doesn't get in the way of our relationship.

Here's the thing:  I don't care who you voted for today. Whether or not our ideologies match all the time (hint: they probably don't), I still want to be your friend. If that means we only talk about bands or science, that's cool. Bands and science happen to be two of my favorite things to talk about. If, at some point, you'd like to talk about politics, I'm cool with that too; as long as you know that I value your opinion, and you value mine as well.

At some point I realized that my relationships with certain people who I respect a great deal were strained. It took me a while to figure it out, but in the end I realized it was all politics. Their beliefs were different than mine, and as a result, there was this friction all the time. It may have just been me. I really hope it was. I hope that if I asked them, they would wonder what I was talking about. But I suspect they felt it too, even if I was the only one generating it. If you have ever felt that way with me, please accept my apology.

Finally, if I ever say something you hate, know that it's not personal. We may have to agree to disagree sometimes, but I'd like to disagree with you in a friendly, informed manner.

Aura

Today I had my aura read. (Is "read" the right way to say that?) I am a red amber with amber overlay. Red amber is a mental/emotional combination, and amber is very analytical. Overlay means I am both at the same time or switch between them or something.

The process used muscle testing, which I've seen work in the past, but I can only trust so far. I purposely kept myself ignorant about what the colors mean, because I didn't want to subconsciously rig the test, which I think is sort of common with muscle testing. It's easy enough for your subconscious mind to manipulate you without giving it such an easy opportunity.

I was actually a bit surprised how well the descriptions fit me. I think I was expecting more platitudes and broad, all encompassing statements. I'd like to investigate the psychology associated with the whole thing. Because I'm an analytical amber.

Daylight Saving

I hate daylight saving time. It's an archaic system that doesn't really do any good. Making all those adjustments to my bio clock twice a year is just a pain. It's really only good for one day in the entire year.

Fortunately, that day was today. And I loved that hour this morning.

NaBloPoMo

This morning I read something about NaNoWriMo. I don't wri nos, but it reminded me of something I do like to do: po blos.

So I decided that, despite the fact that I already missed the first day, I'm going to participate in NaBloPoMo.
My sister does it every year. At least she did for several years. I think she still does. I just realized it has been several weeks since I've visited her online domain, so for all I know she has abandoned the entire institution.

Regardless, I'm going to say something every day for the rest of the month. It will likely be a lot of complaining about homework and other such trivialities, but I'll try to find something interesting to say, for Cassie's sake, and in case anyone else happens to stop by.

So go ahead and stop by.

P.S. For those of you who were concerned, I stopped by my sister's blog to optain the URL for that link up there. She's still there, but she NaBloPoMo'd early this year.

Break

It's fall break. You'd think that would mean I have a bunch of spare time to do things like write blog posts. I feel like I have even less time than usual. My fall break to do list is about as long as my arm. But at least I'm saying this much. Who knows, maybe it will be the start of a new era of blogging.

We'll see.

Bad Bosses

College is great for people watching. I've made an effort not to let all the stupid kids get under my skin, and found that there is an endless supply of humor in their stupidity.

It can be very entertaining to watch the twenty year old smoke his tobacco pipe pretentiously outside the student building, feeling smugly confident that everyone who passes by wishes they could be him.

Another good one is the dude trying to get to know the girl who is doing everything short of slapping him to let him know she isn't interested. He takes a step closer, she takes two steps back. He asks her what classes she has, she answers with a non sequitur about how she really needs to get going to meet someone for lunch.

Sometimes though, it still just drives me crazy. Just now, I overheard a girl telling her friends how dumb her boss is. She asked for time off to go to a job interview. His totally inappropriate response was "do you really think its a good idea to ask for that?" This brought on a series of exclamations from her friends: "WTF!?" "Of course, it's totally worth it!" "That's a way better job!" Not one of them seemed to realize the problem. The story ended with the protagonist putting in her two week notice.

You go girl, that idiot boss will think twice before questioning your commitment to your job again!

Torture

Captain Hook got this toy for Christmas:

He likes to keep the animals safely behind (under?) closed doors. Actually, a more apt description would be he needs to close them. It is an intense, driving need. Even now he is hurtling across the room at top crawl because he heard me open them up to take a picture. Sometimes he'll notice it during his play, and drop everything to ensure proper closure.

We like to play a game with him. He closes the doors and we pop them back open. He will play this game as long as it takes for us to get tired of it and leave them closed in peace. Quite the opposite of how most games with him end.

One of my favorite variations is when I let him get them all closed. He will look suspiciously at the toy and at me for a moment or two, then proceed to another toy. Just as he gets there I pop one open again.

I almost feel guilty, but so far he's always met the challenge with a smile.

Psychosomatic

I'm currently working on a site for a zinc medicated soap company. Each of the skin diseases it is meant to treat has a section of the site, and today I'm writing the content for those pages. As I've been researching the symptoms of these various conditions, I've become very aware of a dreadful itch. All over. It has been a rather uncomfortable day.

The Art of Pictures

So I really love art. Creating things gives me a particular thrill I can't compare to anything else. Most of my creativity through the years has been focused on music. I've pretty much always been doing something musical, and it's got me through the years quite nicely. My desire to create (along with my love of food) has also led me to cooking and baking (bread just came out of the oven!) and gardening. I've never been great at drawing, painting, or any of that, although I think I could be if I gave it adequate attention and practice, and it's one of the many things on my eventual to do list.

Recently I've rediscovered a love that I had only the briefest affair with: photography. I dabbled a little a few years ago, but never got much into it, mostly due to lack of equipment. The Mrs got me a much nicer camera a few months ago, and I immediately dove back in. Then I discovered Trey Ratcliff on Google+. It's amazing how seeing someone with passion and talent can inspire you to do more.

I have neither the time nor funds to make what I want of it (yet),but in my spare moments I've been experimenting, learning theory, and playing with free software. Those of you who are experienced, any recommendations for free software, tutorials, etc?

Here is a small sample of some of the stuff I've done. Hopefully I'll have more to share before long. Maybe even some music to go with it!



Addendum:
Eric Reeder just liked this on Facebook, calling to my attention that both times I have become involved with photography, he was part of the inspiration. The first time he had a picture of the old Kennecott refinery (or whatever it was) in Copperton, the subject of a recurring childhood nightmare, which is a story I'll tell another time. Here is Eric's website.

Worst Dressed Cities

This week GQ.com released "The 40 Worst Dressed Cities in America." Being from Utah, I was amused by the presence of both Salt Lake(8) and Provo(15) on the list. As I suspected, they were over-generalized and religiously insensitive, but not entirely inaccurate. But while most of the article's sizable readership were busy being either offended or delighted by their city's ranking, it was the marketing aspect of the article that had me mesmerized. 

First off, it's a great title. Sure it's not even the slightest bit creative, but it piques curiosity and has successfully collected countless clicks and links. Why? Because people love lists. They're easy to swallow, and face it, "The 10 Most Amazing Marsupials" sounds a lot more interesting than "About Australian Wildlife." Lists are so effective, sites like Cracked.com peddle them almost exclusively.

The other thing about a list like this is that it generally doesn't need to be supported by things like facts. They are often really op-ed pieces disguised as studies or polls. Such is the case with this one. They claim (most likely tongue in cheek) a "deeply scientific, irrefutable poll," but that is clearly not the case. It appears they just took a bunch of the biggest cities and found a trend they could generalize, then filled it in with a few smaller places containing an easy target. It's very likely in fact that a list of the best dressed cities would have looked largely the same. 

For me, the credibility of the list was blown entirely by number 22: Wasilla, AK. Wasilla is undoubtedly dressed no better or worse than any of the thousands of other obscure small towns scattered across the country. The crucial difference is that their obscurity was lifted when Sarah Palin entered the political scene a few years back. Like  the Provo section, it was all too transparent that this was a case of an easy target. In fact, the article didn't even try hide it: "Regardless of how you approach the style of the now-infamous Alaskan town of Wasilla, all you'll ever think about is Sarah and Todd and the whole Palin gang. And they are terrible."

I don't mean this as a defense of the Palins' style (I'm certainly not qualified as a fashion critic; just ask my wife) nor anything else about them. My only point here is that good marketing and good journalism aren't always the same thing. This piece of questionable journalism is also a piece of excellent marketing. What were they looking for? Readers. What did they get? Lots and lots of readers. As a bonus, many of those readers added comments or links from their own site. (There are four links there in this blog alone.) It was a perfectly executed marketing campaign, designed as a critique of America's style.   

Sometimes the best way to attract attention is to break the rules. How else would Provo end up in a prestigious fashion magazine?

So I just set up text message blogging. This could revolutionize my writing habits!

Paid for What?

Let me tell you a little bit about my job.

I work in SEO. Search Engine Optimization. As simply as I can describe it, we help our client's sites appear higher in the search results, thus increasing their web traffic, and by extension their sales.

My office has 8 regular employees, and a number of intermittent visitors. There is never a dull moment. (Except that time when the other 7 of the 8 either took the day off or went to meetings and lunch.) We have a lot of fun. Need proof?





How's that for proof?

A few weeks ago one of the owners showed up with 8 NERF guns. We had a war.

As if my job wasn't cool enough already, now they are paying me extra to write articles for one of the clients. I almost don't believe it. It's almost as good as being paid to have a NERF war.

Then today a friend called and told me he's been offered a regular paying gig, and wondered if I'd like to join him from time to time and make a few extra bucks. It's like my whole life is being monetized, and all I have to do is everything I like.

I should also mention that for the first time in memory, I like every class I'm taking. Homework is actually pleasant. It's as though the universe itself is turning in on itself. Can it last? Only time will tell. For right now, I'm going to keep loving life.

Here's the thing....

...I hate those obligatory "I haven't posted in a long time so here is my oath of renewed regular postage" posts. First of all, they are usually lies. It sometimes lasts a little while, but be honest, you're going to find yourself writing another one in a few months. Second of all, they are always lame. It's a sorry excuse for a post. Sure you get the variation "recap of the last 6 months," and that's a little better, but really it's still a cop out.

So this is not one of those posts. I make no promises. I may or may not write again soon.

Let me tell you about this:

I saw The Social Network today. It's the movie about Facebook. I really liked it. It actually inspired me. I came home with a hankerin' to do some math and programming. I decided that it was time I really get serious about life. I don't want to be an average guy any longer. I want to be really good at whatever it is I do. If that means extra math work, then I'ma do it. If it means filling in the many gaps in my C++ class on my own time, I'ma do that too. I may not have my billion dollar idea yet, but you can bet I'll be ready for it when it comes.

If you're nice to me, I may even share the wealth.

float like a feather

It all started with the trailer for the new Facebook movie "The Social Network."

If you've seen it there is no way you didn't notice the amazing choir rendition of "Creep." It is at once moving and disturbing, something few can accomplish, but Thom Yorke has mastered in his songwriting, and this choir has magnified. In all the countless versions of Creep that I've heard, none but maybe Damien Rice have done it justice. Now there is another.

I began looking into it and found that the performers are a Belgian women's choir, Scala and Kolacny Brothers. I too, thought it odd that a women's choir has the word Brothers in it's title, but a little looking told me that Scala is the choir and the Kolacny Brothers are the conductor and pianist. They have a number of rock and pop songs they have covered, and every one of them is fantastic. Here are a few.

Escape

Sometimes I need a break from analytical thinking. From worrying. From regular concerns. Today was one of those days. Most of the day was physical labor, some for exercise, some for sport, some chores, and some to help a neighbor in need. Then I read a good book. Finally I made my retreat to the ultimate refuge: music. Tomorrow I will attend church services and will feel whole. Just in time for school to start again next week.