on a sunday evening

i liked this article.

and this blog post.

good sabbath to you all.

reality tv

life on tv is so interesting.  even mundane life is fascinating.  if it wasn't, it wouldn't be on tv (granted, there is plenty of evidence to the contrary on that point, but now is not the time).  

tim is a big fan of scrubs, and since he watches it a lot, i tend to see it, too.  the show does an excellent job of looking at the challenges each of us face, be it difficulties of work, the quest for love and the ensuing paradoxical relationships, loneliness, or just finding our place in our own lives.  the caveat is that, despite dealing with essentially real problems, because the people in the hospital have both writers and an audience, their struggles seem so much more interesting, exciting, and noble.  seeing zac braff get chewed out by dr. cox is very funny; watching him and his best friend celebrate their minor successes is cool; and his narrations over the pains of loneliness seem so profound, while our own lives look bland by comparison.  their trials look fun. ours, not so much.
so easy it is to get caught up in it, wishing that our lives were exciting like that.   but not even exciting because we're hunting down terrorists by ourselves, or becoming the next media pop sensation; tv can polish even everyday life just enough to make us wonder why our lives don't glisten like that.  it's easy to get caught by the sparkle.
if fabrications can be this interesting, then what about the original? our joys are true; our loneliness is sincere; our stories continue on.  if it's ok for our tv friend to fall short, to feel lost, then so much the more for us and our friends.
what i do love about scrubs, and what i think gives it its strength and reason to keep watching it is not the comedy (although it has given me more moments of genuine out-loud laughter than any show in a long time) but their honest admission that all of us are, so very often, just barely making it through each day.  and that the only reason we haven't collapsed in on ourselves is because of the people around us.  no matter how together some of us may seem, there probably isn't as much as strength as is displayed, and the stability that we do have comes from the people standing on either side of us, in front of us and behind us.  that's really cool.
but now it's time to turn off the tv.

see caspian

i was surprised at how much i enjoyed the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe a few years ago.  in fact, it tied with millions for my favorite film of 2005.  this was nice, because after three years of getting a great lord of the rings movie for Christmas every year, 2004 felt empty without any swords or wizards.  narnia successfully filled the void.

i didn't grow up on the books (i read it just a few days before i saw the movie), so i held no nostalgic bias.  but i loved everything about the first narnia movie: the casting all around, the battle at the end, aslan, santa claus, and the beavers.  especially the beavers, although i'm not fully sure why. 

last night we were at the midnight:05 showing for prince caspian, the second entry in the filmic series.  it's been one of the movies i'm most looking forward to this summer, since the first was so darn good and last night did not disappoint.  it was everything i wanted it to be and then some: as good as the first, and sometimes better.  

and it seems that everyone felt it was as good as the first, although bear in mind that everyone has differing opinions about just how good the first movie is.

this morning i perused the review websites, hoping to see praises galore for the movie.  i was a little disappointed to see moderately positive reviews, citing the films flaws but saying it's generally pretty good.  as i read them, i usually agreed with the stated weaknesses (it doesn't have the character depth of lord of the rings).   nevertheless, for me, i dare say it will be on my top 5 movies of 2008.

go check it out.  it's oh so good.

and if you have young ones, keep in mind that it's got some pretty hefty fight scenes.  like the first movie, the battles aren't bloody, but they're tough enough to make you feel that it's a dangerous place.

perfecto

the chris was once meeting the family of a girl he was dating.  as they were talking with him, they became impressed with his interests and accomplishments. "is there anything wrong with you?" they asked.
"well," chris admitted, "i don't like sports very much."
"even better!" said the family.

everyone is looking for a perfect match, but everyone's "perfect match" is different.

someone like you

i was once lamenting to a friend about a girl whom i liked but didn't like me back.
"why would you want to be with someone who didn't like you?" he asked.

that question is either ironic or irrelevant, depending on how you take it. one could argue that, "well, i wish she would like me." otherwise, it makes its swift point, leaving you with no option but to concede they're right.

at church today, i was looking around and saw several girls i think are pretty. "i'd be nice if she had a crush on me" is an easy thought to nurse. yes, it would be nice to have one of the pretty girls from church interested in me. but when i imagine that, i also imagine that her interests are the same as mine.  i want to her like me and to like coming to classic movie night and to sing with me in the car and to read my blog with the same rapt attention that you have right now. i don't just want her to like me, i want her to change to be everything i want, and automatically include that when i imagine if she liked me.

how often does this happen even in relationships where people do like each other? that, even when there is a mutual attraction, we want more than them to like us: we want them to like all that we like, and to be all that we imagine could or should be.  it's hard to step back and remember that we liked them they way they were, and need to continue to like them for them, not for us.

in reality, i really don't have any serious interest in anyone at church; i just got thinking about the whole thing.

too much or not enough

in seventh grade our school play was "backstage broadway revue," a hodgepodge of short scenes, songs, and monologues. my shining moment was playing a "baby" with mary soumala, in which we sang a song about it being ok to be who you are. i was proud of it, as it was one of the few roles in the play that wasn't a large ensemble piece. my best friend jon, however, had a monologue scene that was actually rather good. he talked about the literal out-of-place physicality of the junior high years, being too tall for some things, yet too small for others. jon was often short for our grade (while i was tall for the times), so this made him an ideal choice for the role (he was also a good actor, a rarity especially then). "too old to go trick-or-treating, too young to drive," he lamented. "too tall to play on the playground, too small to ride the rollercoasters."

a decade and a half later, it's easy to feel the same way about dating.

reading and writing... for kids!

i'm helping cheryl out at her elementary school.  it's wednesday night, shortly after 9 pm.  taking a break from organizing pictures from a field trip on iphoto, i glance over at the book order and see a book entitled "the cat-- you go, graduate!" it looks like something that may appeal to children, but all in all, it looks rather silly.  further inspection reveals that this is a sticker book.  even in elementary school, i had no interest in those; still, kids in my class did order them, leaving not the question of who buys this, but, rather, who makes this?  were they proud of it, or is it a sort of embarassing job, and do they really want to do graphic design for a high class ad agency, or write for time magazine?  is the photographer, using an extreme-wide angle lens to photograph a cat in a graduation cap, hiding this in their resume, or is this a marketable style, off which one can live well?

scanning the rest of the book order cover, it's easy to look over it and think that these are written by writers who never achieved their dreams, and to feel the tragedy with that.  perhaps they dreamt of being a new york times bestseller, and yet have produced nothing more than a short series of paperbacks featured in an elementary school book order.  and while not everyone's life success is based on their professional accomplishments (i've been working with adam baldwin the past few days; on his imdb page, he says that acting is not his life's work; his family is. that's oh so cool), professional success is not determined by the most glamorous or critically acclaimed, either.  there's a good chance many of these people are doing what they enjoy: writing for children.  

when i was in fifth grade, the robert asp middle school had a book fair.  the lunchroom-gymnasium was filled with wheeled bookshelves that could be folded shut and rolled away, off to the next school.  near the back corner of the room, close to the right side of the school stage, i saw a book entitled, my teacher is an alien.  i generally liked school, and never suspected my teachers as being anything more than good people, but this title was still too much to resist.  i loved the story, and it turned out to be by the same author as monster of the year, another book i'd picked up earlier.  the author was bruce coville, a name i didn't need to look up or struggle to remember.

throughout my middle school years, i loved bruce coville's books.  jeremy thatcher, dragon hatcher; the monster's ring; stories about boys my age but where my imagination wanted to go, where the fantastic was allowed to mingle.

of all of his books, the my teacher is an alien series was the best.  the first three books were each written from the perspective of a different student, all introduced in the first, providing not only wonderful viewpoints of mutual events (although the stories were largely separate from one another), but also three very distinct narrators, allowing a middle school mind to experience varying characters and backgrounds.  of that series, the third book has always been my favorite (it was also the last one i acquired, if i remember correctly).  my teacher glows in the dark picked up where the first book ended, with the nerdy kid choosing to leave with the eponymous teacher-alien.  what was so enthralling about the story was that the boundaries of imagination seemed to have been taken down.  mr. coville created an alien spaceship and culture that, even now, seems as realistic as anything i've heard of, provided we let ourselves believe in an alien superculture.

unlike the aliens in the majority of sci-fi, be it the hallowed "star wars" trilogy or "aliens" or whatever you like, the creatures are just scary, goofy, furry, slimy, or different creatures.  but they're still creatures--like something we might find in a cave in the himalayas or the yucatan.  the captain of the spaceship put it best, bemoaning, "you carbon-based life forms are so molecular-centric.  until you meet another form of life, you seem convinced that carbon is the only way to grow." (p.30)  the reasoning behind this is clarified when you know that the ship's captain was best described as a large tank with crystals floating inside.

and that is what i loved about the story.  aliens who created with smells, others who were seemingly little more than a shadow, communicating through flickering; explanations on how language translation works amongst a multitude of races; descriptions of how a ship moves across intergalactic distances, and even transportation within a spaceship the size of new jersey (incidentally, the ship is named, "the new jersey" for that reason).

and when they discuss the issue of humans developing interplanetary travel (which leads to the thesis of the whole series, one that gets overly preachy yet still raises good questions for young readers), the captain explaining they "don't mind you exploring your own solar system; there's not much there anyway.  but if we cannot allow you to carry this sickness, whatever it is, into the galaxy at large," well, things like that just let my mind wander.  (page 32)

"i nodded to him, and he made a gesture which translated into, 'i salute your sinus cavities'--something i'm sure had more meaning for him than it did for me." (p.88) 

for writing children's books, for making them available in scholastic book orders, for letting my imagination roam when i was 12, and for sustaining the wonder a decade and a half later, mr. coville, i salute your sinus cavities.

ctr

i've been thinking about what it means to choose the right.  it is easy to think that when we make the right choice, that things will get easier, that our struggles will lessen.  it really sounds like that's what should happen when we do the right thing.

in the end, it always will.  choosing the right will bring us the rewards we really want, the deeper happiness, the greater security.  in the end.

but the end rarely comes right after we make our decisions.  very often, choosing the right means following the road less traveled.  things get harder.    we don't see the results we were seemingly told would come when we chose the better part.  we think that choosing the right will bring ease, comfort, immediate happiness, and/or a clear and obvious success.  it's then that we begin to wonder, "did i make the right choice?"  "did i do good?"  "does it matter?"

the answer is a resounding, YES!  and after the choice has been chosen, after we have made our selection because we saw it as the better half, the nobler part, the wiser path, we then step into shadows.  this is the exciting time, when we can hold on to what we believed, remembering that we did, indeed, choose the right.  often, this is a battle within the quiet walls of our hearts, fields where no one else knows of our struggles.  yet these silent choices are what shape us into who we become. 

wait for the reward; it may tarry, but it will come. 

as if once wasn't wonderful enough

OHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY!!!!

jaime just told me that tally hall is coming to provo again.  may 24th.  just over a month away.

oh wow.  i spread the word to the local hall fans.

this is the best thing in the world.

the illustrated trip to vegas

every year in april las vegas hosts one of its largest conventions, the national association of broadcasters.  a lot of it is actually broadcasting related, with nerds showing what looks to be a metal box and touting that they can transmit my hd radio signal with clarity.  it's so expansive that there are just enough film-related companies and products to justify me taking a trip down for a three hour stop at the convention center and then enjoying an evening in vegas.  i've gone four of the past five years, and this time i invited mark and tim.

and we took a small camera.

pretty much every time i've ever gone to vegas, i've been the one driving.  this time, mark offered to take his car.  tim called shotgun and i was more than happy to have the whole back seat to myself, although i had to avoid the right-side seatbelt, as it still had purple corn starch on it from the festival of colors (another post i need to write).  

i told mark i wanted to leave at 8.  we left at 8:45.  i was ok with that, because i know that's how trip-leavings go in my family, and was expecting it.

you know how the seat belts sometimes go tight, to protect you from being flung around in case of a car accident?

and sometimes they do that even when you're nowhere near any sort of a situation resembling a car accident (or "collision")?

yeah.

we stopped at a little town for some lunch and somehow we declared lunch would be 'kfc or nowhere'.  we cheered as we saw the smiling colonel down the street, and then took our turns in the restroom.  i thought it was cool that they had a sort of "science in action" toilet, where you could see how it works.  (one has to wonder, how does a kfc toilet get broken like that?  i like to imagine it was an A&W root beer fueled brawl over the last drumstick)

every time i've seen patton oswalt (the voice of remi the rat from "ratatouille") on conan o'brien, he's always raving about the "kfc bowl", which he (aptly) describes as "the entire left side of the menu pushed into a bowl; it's what frankenstein would order."  that sold me on it.

and while i was crushed to find that the root beer tap wasn't working--a frosty mug just isn't the same with sierra mist--the bowl was all that i hoped it would be and more.  corn, gravy, mashed potatoes, and chicken, all together.  i highly recommend it.

tim's ipod provided musical entertainment the whole way down and back.  i got laughed at for not knowing the backup chorus to an offspring song, we belted weezer's 'buddy holly' glorious, and sang 'bohemian rhapsody' in a way that would have made my dad proud.

(at the bottom of the sign, tim's thumb is covering up "goats".  honest)

(editor's note: i just found out tim did that intentionally)

this is not the first time that i've driven through southern utah and the conversation has produced geology questions.  i've wondered how "mesas" are different from "plateaus" (a mesa is a free-standing flat-topped mountain, while a plateau is the flat outcropping of a mountain, i believe).  this time we wondered how mesas are formed.  scott "the scort" himes has always been my go-to man for all things geology, and even though his life goes forward like a locomotive and i haven't talked with him in a while, i decided it was time to chat; he told me that mesas are formed when the softer rock is eroded away from the harder rock, leaving the mesa to stand alone.

i really should note that mark gave this exact answer before i called scott.  it's just that the scort's always been my source for geology questions, and there's inherent security in that.  and i hadn't talked with him in way too long.

mountains always make me think of the scort.  mountains and trebuchets.

what about joshua trees?  are they actually trees, or are they cacti?  on the way home, i decided to cast my vote for "actual trees."

i registered mark and tim for the convention, too, so they would be able to come in with me (we got name badges and everything!)  mark decided that he was my "vp of acquisitions" while tim was the "productions manager."  i think they tried to pretend like they knew what people were talking about, with varying results.

panasonic is usually a good place to start, but they didn't have anything especially notable (although there is a new camera of note coming in the fall), but arri is always fun to check out--they actually make movie cameras.  i really wanted to check out their new digital D21, but it was getting hogged the whole time by some pretentious l.a. wannabe commercial director who knew nothing about cameras.

but i got to check out the 416 instead; i saw it last year, but it's still a brilliant little camera.

that's my account acquisitions manager; he's usually in the office or on the road, so he doesn't get to see the cameras very often.

"steadicam" is the industry-standard of camera stabilizers.  at byu, we had a "glidecam", the poor-man competitor.  it worked well for us and our films, but as i've worked with steadicam operators, i've blushed at our clunky student tools.  i got to play with glidecam's new rigs they were pretty darn impressive (and LOT less pricey).  this is the kind of stuff we come to find out about.

i'm not sure what company this thing was for, or why it was even here, but it was really, really weird.

i mean this would have given me nightmares when i was twelve.

after a good talk with a guy about sony's new f23 camera, i told tim and mark that we were on the return; we'd start heading back toward the exit and stop anywhere we missed. i knew that most of this stuff wasn't that interesting to them and they had been good about not getting bored, but they were starting to act kind of strange. the kind of strange when, in high school, jon and jamie had some inside joke that i wasn't in on. mark assured me they'd explain when we got to the car. whatever.
i stopped at the store and picked up a book i saw almost bought last year, a study on the use of color in film entitled, "if it's purple, someone's gonna die." (the title alone is worth it, and when the lady at the register told me it was 40%, i hardly cared why my friends were acting oddly)
nevertheless, when we found our car again in the massive parking lot and got in the car, mark turned to tim and said, "fine, here's your $3."

it turned out that while i was talking with the sony camera guy, they made a bet about how much longer it'd be until we got to the car; if it was less than 45 minutes, mark owed tim $3.  if it was more, tim gave mark his $5 starbucks gift card he'd won.  neither of them could influence me in anyway to get me to hurry up or take my time, which explains why mark would start to say something and then suddenly stop and say "nevermind."

i thought that was clever.

we had a room at the venetian.  someday i'll stay at the bellagio, but it didn't work out this time.  ...and it's not like the venetian is a second-rate place anyway.

driving into the parking garage, mark noted that the cars in front and behind were quite expensive compared with his car (which is nice and new already).  this comment had me watching people as were entering this italian palace; was i suddenly a comparative lower-class, carrying my backpack of clothes to check in?

i visually perused the line as we waited by amid the velvet ropes: yes, the hotel looks like it was built for the medici, but the patrons looked like me.  the couple at the front were in shorts and sandals and had probably backpacked europe; the man directly ahead of us was dressed like a mid-level business man, probably in town for the same reason we were; behind us was a lady in dark hair and dark sunglasses whose luggage looked comparable to a louis vuitton.  in short, were belonged here as well as anyone.  this was my kind of place.

standing in line, my astute younger brother noted that you can often get an upgraded room when you check in, since they will most likely not all be taken and the hotel wants to make some money on them.  so we asked the nice man.

we were currently in a 650 sq. ft. room (and one king bed--that was the only option when i reserved the room); for $100 more we could get a 1100 sq. ft. suite (with two queen beds) (editor's note: that's more footage than my townhome).  normally it'd be a $150 for the upgrade, but because we booked on vegas.com, we got the discount.  write that one down, folks.

$100 divided by 3 = $33 each.

oh yeah.

we flashed our cards to the security guard outside the elevators.

we scanned our cards to operate the elevators.

we pushed the button for the 18th floor.

we found suite 306.

it had double doors.

this was seriously dang awesome.

i loved that i could run into the room and not stop for 3 seconds (that doesn't sound like much, but try it in your own house and see how far you get).

mark and tim modeled the bathrobes (which could be ours for only $79).  

whenever you travel with my or my brother or sister, you have to be quick about the complimentaries, especially if it's a nice place.  as we were admiring the room, tim was already cleaning out the bathroom and loading shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and even the extra roll of toilet paper into his bag (mark harassed him about this until he felt the roll; then he understood.)

if you or someone you know works for the venetian hotel, please let this be our little secret.

later that evening, when tim and mark were at the club lounge, i would discover the joy of moving back and forth between a hot bath and a cold shower.

that is not the tv remote that tim is modeling.

no, that remote controls the curtains!

but speaking of tvs, we have a nice one in our suite.

and a second one opposite the beds.

and a third one in the bathroom.

(tim said he watched "will and grace" in there that evening.)

but after all this ooohing and aaaahing of our palace for the evening, we remembered that we had been hungry since three hours ago (when we didn't feel like spending $8.50 for a slice of pizza), and we pulled out the house dining directory.

this is vegas.  this is one of the nicest hotels in vegas.  there are some serious restaurants here.  i read that mario batali has a restaurant here, and, since i've heard of him, i wanted to check it out.

all of the restaurants are on "restaurant row", beginning with the grand lux cafe--essentially the cheesecake factory but a fancier name.  we continued on, checking out the menus as we walked down the lane, where the prices climbed with each step, culminating at mr. batali's, where there weren't evening prices listed.  

i was ok spending the money for dinner at a serious venetian restaurant, but not when considering the portion size to cost ratio; last week in san francisco, the company dropped $450 for six of us.  true, it was the best sushi i've ever had, but i was barely full then.  i didn't want to leave mario's b+b restaurante still hungry.

we sprung for the grand lux cafe--a cheesecake factory by any 

other name is still a cheesecake factory.  i've eaten there a few times before and have been happy.  but, best of all, they have a seriously good sugar-rimmed strawberry lemonade, something i could never find in san francisco.

on the strip, there's only so much to do if you don't a) gamble or b) go to a show, but the bellagio fountains are always worth it.  i also wanted to visit the wynn hotel; i'll heard enough hullabaloo about it but only stopped in once briefly.  inside, it's pretty much like the bellagio; a little nicer, maybe, but the bellagio did it first.  walking up to the entrance, we saw a ferrari showroom,

 advertising cars for rent.  i commented that it was probably $30/hour to rent a ferrari (aren't

 most cars about $30/day?) and mark and tim

 laughed at me.  this being vegas, we made a sort of bet, though nothing was ever wagered: i had $0-100/hour, tim had $200+, and i guess mark was had the middle area.  whoever was right was... right.  

outside the showroom was a sign: $10 just to come in and look at the ferraris.  that was enough for me; i was off on that one.

as we were in the gathering throng at the bellagio, the nice pre-recorded lady voice told us that due to high winds, the fountain show would be cancelled until 9:30.  this same thing happened when kirk and i were down here for nab last year.  he and i waited for an hour and didn't see a single show.  rather than wait an hour in this dusty, windy, yet cultured environment, i proposed we do something else i haven't done in vegas for a while.

across the street from the bellagio is "paris", wherein they have little parisian cafes that sell simply delightful confectionaries.  when my mom and i were down here three years ago we discovered a little chocolate something called a "millennium."  it's $5, but 1) this is vegas, 2) it's pretty much worth that anyway, and 3) it's much better than the $5 brownie sold as the bellagio across the street.

a millennium is a small angelfood cake slice with a small bit of pistachio pudding.  upon and around this is built a hearty cylinder of chocolate mousse.  over that is a soft and gooey layer of rich, dark chocolate.  if you have the means, i highly recommend picking one up.  it is so choice.

tim really wanted to go to the venetian's nightclub, but seeing as monday really isn't much of a party-night (everyone's having family home evening, i presume) the club was closed but the lounge was open.  he and mark chilled there while i enjoy the luxury of our room and worked on my sunday school lesson.

it's a very lovely room.  it was pretty dang awesome getting to stay in a place like this, and even when i opened the cupboard door and it fell right off, the front desk was happy to send a repairman up, assuring me it wasn't my fault.

the morning brought a dilemma of where to eat: do we feast at the grand lux breakfast buffet (i've eaten there before; it's very good) or do we go to in-n-out burger?

in the end, is there really a choice?  when i'm in vegas, i don't care what fancy restaurants i go to, as long as i get my fresh-cut fries, animal style burger, and (really good) chocolate shake.  tim went with a 3x3 burger, while mark got his fries animal style.

and it seemed a chinese tour bus must have stopped there right before we walked in.  at the time, i wished the lines weren't so long.  looking back, i'm glad they got to have some of america at its best.

in nephi, we found the loneliest "taco time" in the whole country.

mark stopped at the gas station across the street to get something to drink.  as i was browsing the aisles for nothing, a man came in and asked the gathered locals for directions to "big rock candy mountain."  i was sure i misheard him, but as the old cowboys were giving directions, it was confirmed; somewhere down here there is a "big rock candy mountain."  is the song true?  are all the boxcars empty?  is there a lake of stew?  do you never have to change your socks?

as i pondered this at the counter, i saw they were selling thin mints girl scout cookies.  this was something i did need.

back in the car, i realized that girl scout season comes only once a year and, as no one has come to my door, this is probably my sole opportunity.  thus, i seized it and ran back inside to get another box.

yesterday it was 90 degrees in las vegas.

this morning, tim was swimming outside on the roof of the venetian.

and yet we somehow came home to a snowstorm.

further, we came home to our house being decorated, with nothing more than a vague "welcome home" written on the microwave.

(we have a short list of suspects.)

it was pretty much the best trip ever.

pa rum pa pum pum

i really love hometeaching.  until there is a girl other than my sister in my life, hometeaching is my favorite way to spend a sunday.

couple that with a good day at church, and an afternoon with all the people who are either my sister, my brother, or brother-in-law, it's been a nice and dang sunday.

which is good.  sundays are that time when you get to recharge and prepare to go forth to wherever you go once again.

i miss blogging on sundays--it was such a great time to get caught up.  but not today.  and not for a few more days, either.  i spent this past week in san francisco (and fell in love with it), am going to vegas tomorrow for a few days, and my room looks like a teenager's (even though my room as a teenager was generally pretty clean).  i spent last night deep cleaning our kitchen--emptying out cupboards and drawers and discovering various items that i didn't even know i owned (and most of them i don't own anymore), and helping my brother get his robust supply of kitchen items assimilated in.  it doesn't look much different from the outside, but the inner makeup of the room has changed.  i also built some new dvd shelves, deciding to make the upgrade from wal-mart furniture to ikea furniture.  i like to think i'm support some distant relative that way.  

but in the midst of all of this, my beloved blog has been neglected; i have pages of notes written from working on 'hatching pete' (my most recent disney movie), other events that dim a little each day they aren't recorded (most notably, the tally hall concert), and half-composed posts that, when finished, may suffer from a sudden shift in mood and tone part-way through, as it can be difficult to resume the original flow at times (regarding our outing to see buster keaton's 'the general'), and even some posts that have lost any sort of relevancy (a brief idea for an april 1 post).

shoot, i even have a real letter--written on paper--that i haven't finished, and another that i really ought to start.

i do miss those times when i would write every day or so.

i did take time tonight to go through and get caught up on the 8 or 10 friends' blogs that i follow, silently thanking them for not writing much in the week and a half since i have surf the blog-o-tubes (allison, if you read this, you are still under condemnation), although i did not have the gusto to read laurie jayne's opus on her trip to japan, although i most assuredly will at a later date.

and so, like the little drummer boy, i have no cleverity, no w;t, no musings to offer at this time but a poor little post to prove i am not dead.

i'm back

i'm not dead.
i guess i'm back, although i'm not really sure where i'm back from.
perhaps i'm back from the fires of hades, the murky depths, and the sleep from which no traveler returns.

the difficulty in being 'back' (if that is indeed the case) is that there is then the need to have a triumphal return, be it a great post or, preferably, an arch.
lacking either time and/or masonry, i have postponed posting hoping to compose a grand return. those are all half-written while time continues to fly like an arrow, the wind causing the pages of posts to blow away.

so this is the grand return.

i'm back.

now that the fanfare has subsided, i can get back to writing posts like regular people do.

as a bonus, here are my top 25 most played songs, according to itunes this evening:

1. brian wilson by the barenaked ladies 82 times
2. tuesday morning by the pogues 70 times
3. last stop: this town by the eels 62 times
4. dragostea din tei by o-zone 57 times
5. ruler of everything by tally hall 51 times
6. good day by tally hall 48 times
7. spiralling shape by they might be giants 47 times
8. battle without honor or humanity by tomoyasu hotei 47 times
9. should i stay or should i go by the clash 44 times
10. spring and a storm by tally hall 44 times
11. the whole world and you by tally hall 44 times
12. white shadows by coldplay 43 times
13. losing streak by the eels 43 times
14. greener by tally hall 43 times
15. 3 speed by the eels 42 times
16. not my slave by oingo boingo 42 times
17. can't see (useless) by oingo boingo 42 times
18. welcome to tally hall by tally hall 42 times
19. two wuv by tally hall 41 times
20. 13 by tally hall 41 times
21. we close our eyes by oingo boingo 40 times
22. the universal by blur 39 times
23. read my mind by the killers 39 times
24. standing outside a broken phonebooth (with money in my hand) by primitive radio gods  39 times
25. just apathy by tally hall 39 times

with my ipod selection and the ice's reflection i'll be running with myself

for Christmas i got a little nike ipod thinger.  one part i stick on my shoe and the other piece connects onto my ipod.  being that this was one of the first mornings without a snowfall, i ventured forth to give it a whirl (thus determining if i was wise to keep it instead of returning it for some underarmour).

this thing is really cool!  i can choose if i want to run for a certain distance, a set period of time, or if i want to burn a certain number of calories.  i typically like to run for distance, an imprint left from the traumatic years of the 'mile run' in grade school.  since it's been a while, i went with 3K.  i flipped through my 'nrg shuffle' playlist until i found my current favorite song ('shipping out to boston'; it used to be 'living on a prayer', but i'm a sucker for the irish accordion rock) and took off.  what makes this especially rad is that a nice lady notifies me of every .5K, which not just a helpful gauge of how to pace myself, but it's also a morale boost ('i've gone 1K already?')

the 'calorie-roasting' option is intriguing to me, due in part to my fascination with the mcdonald's nutrition facts.  i really can't think of a better scale.  for example, knowing that i burned 193 calories doesn't mean much; knowing that i burned over a third of a big mac, that's something i can understand.

my next goal is to burn a full cheeseburger.

about nothing and everything all at once

I. a few days ago i was in the hbll studying for the gmat.  my laptop is from the turn of the millennium and, unlike modern-day laptops, does not have the fan and disc drive silencer; it sounds akin to a jet engine.  on the ultra-quiet fifth floor, this can seem almost deafening, and i opted to move down to the 'no shhh' zone on the main floor.  (i have since decided 'to heck with this' and can again be found on my favorite level; someone has yet to complain)

i found an open table and revved up my kaplan cd.  as i was doing my darnedest to master the 'data sufficiency' section, a couple of guys sat down across from me.  i snuck a look and saw that one of them was reading a speech called 'the seven deadly heresies', by a man named bruce r. mcconkie.  i'm a fan of the talk and was mildly curious what class this was for.

around question three of the practice quiz, the guy tossed down the booklet and, in an air of frustration, declared, 'he's wrong'.

that caught my attention.

it was the speech's stance on evolution that sparked a strong debate between these two friends.  while i futilely concentrated on whether statement a) was alone sufficient to determent whether y was greater than the negative square root of x, claims of misinterpreting scripture and the vast amounts of concrete, irrefutable scientific evidence versus faith, scripture, and words of church leaders were strongly exchanged like a wimbledon tennis ball.  several times i wanted to step and straighten out these two undergraduates, but neither side was going to move.

when the pragmatist had to leave for his class, i was finishing the last question on my quiz.  6 out of 20.

II.  mark and some friends  went to san francisco for the weekend.  i came home on friday night, looking forward to a few pleasant days with the house to myself.  

last night the kitchen was clean, but i wanted my roommate back.

III. i like roses.  i also like lotuses and lilacs, but that's another story.  i once bought my sister a pink rose; the experience eventually helped her get a good grade in her freshman english class and you can ask her about it sometime.  i've learned that different rose colors mean different things; red is love/affection, obviously, while yellow is friendship.  but those were the only two colors i knew.  for all i knew, pink could be for celebration of your cat having kittens.  here's what i found:

• red: love/affection/romance
  
• dark pink: thankfulness, gratitude
  
• regular pink: happiness
  
• light pink: sympathy
  
• white: innocence, purity (i've often given white for a generic celebration; i was relieved to find out i wasn't offering to be someone's godfather or something)
  
• yellow: friendship
  
• lavender: enchantment, falling in love (i like that)
  
• orange: fascination 
  
• coral: desire, be it 'i desire you' or 'i desire to get to know you better'
  
• black: typically connotating death, it's generally not good to give these to a girl.  
  
• blue: mystery or achieving the impossible.  very hard to find, i think this is pretty cool.
  

IV. having the weekend to myself, i stopped by the orem library, hoping to get 'berlin alexanderplatz'.  it hadn't been cataloged yet, so i put in a request to speed up the process and instead grabbed 'ali: fear eats the soul', as well as 'au hasard balthazar' and 'pickpocket', deciding to introduce myself to robert bresson.

i remember thinking in film history that the 'new german expressionism' was, unquestionably, the most boring and esoteric movement i had ever seen.  given that fassbinder was the center of the movement, i'm not sure what made me think i'd like it.  simply put, me and him aren't going to become friends anytime soon.

i've never felt more empty after watching a movie.  i just wanted to hug someone.  even the 'happy' characters are sad in his world.  he was certainly influenced by bertolt brecht, who thought that theatre/cinema shouldn't try to hide that it's a movie, and nothing is glossy or polished here.  still, there were some very interesting and powerful shots, and i liked how he did convey so much with so little in terms of location and production value.

i watched an interview on the bonus disc, talking about his style and theories.  fassbinder felt that if the 'revolution' occurred within the movie, then the real world would remain unaffected.  'ali' was about prejudice and racism, as we saw the two main characters stared at, outcast, and avoided by their former friends.  at the end of the movie, nothing was solved.  the idea was that a happy ending would have left the viewer feeling the problem had been fixed.  but if the movie ends without any resolution, then we are left with the responsibility and will go out and make the changes in our own lives.  it's an interesting theory, but i don't know how practical it is.

i was recently thinking why i prefer 'fanny and alexander' over 'the rules of the game'.  in 'rules', renoir keeps us at a distance; we are in the middle of these characters and all their antics and skewed world, but we never develop an emotional attachment to them.  bergman, on the other hand, let's us become friends with the ekdahl children.  we come to know everyone in their large extended family, so as tragedy strikes, we fall from the nurtured highs to the abandoned lows with them, and are rescued when they are.  we experience the wonderment and imagination with alexander.

fassbinder leaves us in the middle of the characters with an emotional straightjacket.  their world is so closed, we can't develop a connection with them; we just watch.

i'm still curious to see 'berlin alexanderplatz', but if it's like 'ali', i'll be done with it after the first hour.

V.  i don't much care for baseball caps as casual fashion.

VI. the concept of choice has been coming up in a lot of conversations today.  what's stood out most to me is the concept that by small and simple things are great things brought about.

i've rewritten an expansion on this three times and it never sounded good.  so you're on your own.

VII.  busy sundays are seriously awesome.

VIII.  most week's i have a good idea of what i'm going to show for tuesday's 'classic movie' night.  last week i showed 'lost in translation', which had a good discussion afterward about what choices were good and what weren't.  and that's what i was hoping for. we've recently watched 'rashomon' and '32 short films about glenn gould', which were generally well-received.  

this week i'm thinking about the marx brothers' 'duck soup', buster keaton's 'sherlock jr.'  i'm also considering 'fanny and alexander' (the theatrical version), but nothing is really standing out right now.

IX. today is my half birthday.  i'm halfway to 57.

X.  i wanted to find a picture of mr. dufayel on the television at the end of 'amelie', but couldn't find one anywhere.

taken for a ride

i saw this in my into to film class and really liked it.  i'd forgotten about it until tonight.  it's simple and neat.  if you have 10 minutes, please enjoy.  (obviously, the only source i was able to find has timecode burned into it; it seems to be a demo for an aspiring film scorer.  it sounds good.)

amative me

in first grade,i liked katie.

in second grade, i liked abby lein.

i didn't like anybody in third grade.

in fourth grade, i liked heidi hennegar.

in fifth grade, i liked erin swetland.

in sixth grade, i liked alisha johnson.

in seventh grade, i liked sarah brant.

in eighth grade, i liked tami niswander.

in ninth grade, i think i still liked tami.

in tenth grade i liked karen bresee.

in eleventh grade i liked marissa maritato.

in twelfth grade i liked brittany coverstone.

at byu, i liked renee elmer.

then i liked sariah devard.

after that, it gets kind of fuzzy.

and if we don't try too hard, we might start falling in love.

the appropriately floating standard

i was reading a book of essays a few months ago.  it was very well written, but occasionally had stronger profanity than i care for (when i comes down to it, i don't care for any profanity--  language is an immensely effective meta-medium, but that's another post for another day), and i'm working to be more discerning about what i accept.  

as i thought about the book, i thought of how i wouldn't watch a movie, or, perhaps even moreso, listen to a cd with similar language.  language and lyrics are more acute in music than in film because that is the only road of communication available.  watching a movie, we spread our perception between aural and visual means; in music, out attention is focused solely in listening, be it beautiful or coarse.

the byu bookstore does not sell any r-rated movies (or several pg-13 movies) or cds with a 'parental advisory' sticker on them.  i've never heard a complaint against that, as i would guess those are critical standards similar to most of their patrons.  and, i would venture to guess that if they ever did carry an r-rated movie, there would be an outcry from a vocal percentage of the student population.

yet, up on the main floor, one could find a book with r-rated language within minutes.  heck, the book i was reading was, at one time, on their 'recommended' shelf.  further, i have been flipping through movie books and seen nude stills from movies that the bookstore would not sell.  i haven't spent much time in the photography section, but i presume it is similar.

(i should acknowledge something here, and that is the prominence of the item.  when the daily show's 'america: the book' was on the byu shelves, it wasn't long before a student loudly protested it and it was soon taken off for it's profanity and nudity.)

is this a hypocrisy on byu?  is it careless management?

it is neither.

consider the art history section.  better, consider an art history class, at byu or any college or high school.  from classical greek sculpture through the renaissance and classical eras, up into the nineteenth century, nude figures are abundantly represented.  sometimes it's accurate of the event, such as the greek olympians.  later, the nude form represented a sort of immortality in history, such as statues of david, either by michelangelo or donatello.  nude subjects in the were often representative of the muses, naked women enjoying a nice day in the park with fully-clothed men.  edward manet's painting of 'olympia' was a bold statement on sexuality of the famous prostitute, comfortably disrobed and posing for the artist.

all of these were discussed in my art classes at byu and i don't know of anyone who ever complained about what we were seeing [some guys behind me complained about the rothkos during the 'modernism' section, but that's a different story].

in the nineteenth century painting began to face severe competition and potential extinction: photography was invented.

while its initial impression was a sort of 'painting perfected' (thus forcing painting to express visuals in a way that photography could not), people immediately sensed that something was different about it.

a very early photograph featured a nude woman, although her back was turned to the camera and a blanket was loosely draped around her waist in an attempt at modesty.  the relationship between the photographer and the model was no different than with a painter, yet there was something about the medium that had changed: photography was a little closer to reality.  

this sort of thinking is essentially a universal observation that holds true across art forms.

few people would have issues with a nude painting (within reason).  a nude photograph would be more divisive, though black and white would not be as problematic as color.  a movie is a motion picture, even closer to reality, and people are more sensitive to what is shown.  further still, while the majority of the public has little issue with nudity in a movie, similar content in live theatre is rarely seen in 'mainstream' works; the person is actually in the same room now.

i've heard of similar reactions to language; coarse and crude language in a movie is sadly abundant and common, almost to the extant that its absence is more noticeable.  but theatrical productions with can cause more agitation because, again, we are less removed from the offensive source.

bringing this back around, i think the byu bookstore has, for the most part, struck a good balance of what they will carry and what they will not.  while there is need to keep with the standards of school, an overly-sanitized criteria to the point that none could be offended with the content would reduce any sort of choice.  further, complete avoidance of such work does not equal righteousness but rather ignorance of the world around.  there is a line that each of us need to choose about what what is good and what is not.  fortunately, there are many helpful sources and guidelines helping us choose, but ultimately we choose who we want to be.

nice work, byu bookstore.