Liberation

Sometimes I let my imagination get the better of me. I sit and daydream of a day when I won't be in school. A day that leads to the nutrition of my actual desires. No longer will I be liable for busy work assigned to me in a class that I don't want to attend. I'll finally have the freedom to choose what I want to do. My research, my writing, my peace of mind will be my own. Then the ticking of a clock wakes me from my dreams. Liberation will have to wait for another day. All I can do until that day is to doggy paddle along, hoping that a wave doesn't come along to submerge my hopes.

A life more ordinary

For weeks now I have been wondering how to escape the regularity of everyday life. It has really been weighing me down. The last thing I wanted was to give in to the ordinary. I wanted to make my life different. Aware of the worry that I cause my family, I can't help but to scheme ways to achieve my goals. I even got to the point that I wanted to drop out of school, buy a dog, name it Biskut, and then roam North America on a motorcycle. Although it would lead to acheivement of some goals such as: getting a dog and a motorcycle. I realized that doing something like that isn't what I am looking for. It wouldn't lead to the freedom that I seek. Unfortunately most of my other plans followed suit, they never quite seemed to satisfy my desires. I was at a loss (and still am). As hard as I tried I couldn't find or even create "my neverland". Through my pursuit of irregularity I have learned a few things:
5 month old neices are great listeners.
It is harder than it seems to become a gypsie.
Life as a pirate is great, but short lived.
Television is the nemesis of creativity.
Pie is sweeter than cake.
A dead mouse is an unhappy mouse.
As my life has moved on, slowly, ever so slowly. I go to college, I date periodically, I go to church, I sleep in church, I play, I work, my life it has seemed extremely ordinary. It is filled with a regularity I have been trying to avoid. I don't own a motorcycle, and I don't have a dog named Biskut. Although my life is ordinary I've realized something important about ordinary lives. They aren't always ideal, but they are real. For now all I can do is to dream of "my neverland". I know dreams never achieved anything, but It is those dreams that keep me going in a life that is filled with regularity. As long as I have dreams there is hope of finding the freedom that I seek.

Robots in Disguise

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

Level sixty one is incomplete. Please do not repeat. Level nine is galactical and sublime. Prepare to tear your mind, level 29 is one of a kind.

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOND TO THIS MESSAGE, as it will not be seen nor read by a human.

Clearance

I was shopping with my family. We were in some sort of clothing store. All the clothes had ridiculous prices. There was no way I could afford anything. Then I saw the clearance section. It was filled with warm weather clothes for girls. I was getting very frustrated. I just wanted some shorts. Then suddenly, right before my eyes was a beautiful winter jacket. It had a tan linen outside, with a hood. It was almost rustic looking, but obviously new. I tried it on. The inside was lined with fleece. I had never before found a jacket so marvelous, so comfortable, and in clearance. There was no price on the jacket. Obviously someone had misplaced it in the clearance section. Deciding not to give up I found a store clerk and asked her how much the jacket was.
She said, "Oi, that beautiful thing is $9".
I couldn't believe it. I decided to try it on again to make sure that I wanted to buy it.
The store clerk said, "that is one fine jacket sir. It really fits you great".
I looked around for my family, but they couldn't be found. Again I noticed how the clearance section was mostly women's summer clothing.
Feeling slightly curious about the jacket I asked, " why is this jacket on clearance?"
The clerk replied, " the airbags are malfunctioning".
I made the mistake of laughing. She punched my arm. POOF!

Pancake Zac

The hot summer days seemed to be evaporating before my eyes. There was change in the air. Autumn was nearly here. My favorite way to spend the evenings was to doze in a rocking chair. Back and forth I'd rock, remembering the good ol'days when Apple Beer cost only a nickel. The sound of two boys wrestling around in the dirt waffled through the air, breaking my sweet remembrance,
"CHEATER!" yelled one.
"AM NOT!" yelled the other.
Around and around they rolled, punching, clawing, biting, spitting, doing anything young boys could think of.
"HOLD UP THERE", I roared.
Neither one payed notice. Trying again I said, "Stop this bickering boys".
They continued rolling around like wild animals.
"Hey I'll give you both five dollars if you stop", I said.
Their scuffle paused momentarily.
"Really?" they asked in unison.
"No, I just wanted to see if you could hear me", I replied.
They began fighting again. Realizing that they weren't listening to words, I decided to try a different tactic. Lifting my old body out of my rocker I reached over and grabbed my cane. I used it to hobble over to the occupied boys. When I got close enough I began whacking. "Take that, and that, and this," I said as I smacked them with my cane.
"Ouch!" Said one.
"Ouch!" Said the other.
"Stop!" they said together.
I just kept whacking away.
"Why, OUCH! Why are you, OUCH! doing this, OUCH! too us?" asked one of the boys.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me", I replied with a chuckle.
"What?" Screamed the other boy.
"My words didn't work so I figured I'd use sticks and stones. Hopefully my stick works, if it doesn't I'm going to start using stones", I cackled.
"We'll stop!" they yelled,"please just don't hit us with your cane any more!"
"Alright", I said, as I whacked them again for good measure.
I stood eyeing them as they caught their breath. Both boys looked to be about 11 years old. They were covered in so much dirt you could hardly tell they were humans.
"So what type of argument could make creatures like yourselves roll around in the dirt?" I asked.
"He called me a cheat!" one said, pointing to the other.
"He is a cheat!" Said the other, pointing to the one.
Before they could begin fighting again I whacked them on their heads.
"OUCH!" They yelped.
"Well did you cheat?" I asked the boy with that label.
"Just a little bit!" he replied.
"How about you?" I asked, pointing at the other. "Did you cheat too?"
"Not as much as he did", he replied.
"Hmmm, so you both cheated? but neither of you wants to be called a cheater? Is that correct?", I asked.
"Yes sir", they replied.
Trying not to smile at their serious response I said, "Why don't both of you climb up onto my porch here, and I'll give you an apple beer and tell you a story about cheaters".
Realizing there was no way out of listening to an old timer like myself, they answered, "yes sir". I knew they didn't really want to listen, but it gave me someone to talk to, so I ushered them onto my creaky old porch and gave them a cold apple beer.

Many, many years ago there was a young man. His name was Zachary, but most people just called him Pancake, or Pancake Zac. You see, ever since Pancake could remember, pancakes were his specialty. He could make blueberry, craisinberry, chocolate, whole wheat, half wheat, no wheat, sweet, not sweet, or just plain'ol pancakes. You name it and he could make it with a pancake. For miles around everybody knew Pancake could make the best darn pancakes there ever were. Well one day Pancake found himself in a game of Texas Hold'em. Boy oh boy was it a game to remember. This game had begun in a tournament of cards. Everybody and their dogs had started, but now there were only four people left. Wiley Cry, a Native American brave, Susie Mcdougal the local inn keeper, Smelly Tom the barber, and Pancake himself. Oh and also Smart Henries dog. (I said four people, Henries dog was still in). Needless to say, everyone of those people (and the dog) were incredibly handy when it came to card playing. There were bluffs, calling bluffs, Straights, full houses, Royal Straights, you name it they played it. The game went on and on, nobody gaining ground on the other competitors. The night came and went, morning arrived, then left, then the day passed on by, Still they played, and played and played. Nobody was going to give in. Well Pancake being an intelligent young man, knew he could only take so much more. So he hatched a plan, so devious and sly he couldn't believe Wiley handn't thought of it before him. Yet again the night went by and morning arrived.
"Hey there Susie", Pancaked said. "If you give in now I'll make you pancakes for a month". And he really would, he kind of liked Susie, she was an awefully nice critter for those parts.
Susie gave Pancake one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen and replied, "Those darn pancakes you concoct aren't worth the tail of a door mouse". Everyone nearby gasped. Nobody had ever passed up Pancake's pancakes.
"Dang Susie you must never have had my Royal raspberry pancakes before!" Pancake replied in mock surprise. "I like to go pick some fresh raspberries, then I sprinkle them into the batter. After I fry them up I sprinkle a little bit of powdered sugar on top. OH! I almost forgot, after the light sprinkle of powdered sugar I add some of my mama's special buttermilk syrup. Hmmm it's making my mouth water just thinking of it."
"This is no card game, this is torture! Pancake if you make me half a dozen of those special Raspberry pancakes I'll quit now!" Wiley yelled as he stuck out his hand for Pancake to shake.
"Deal", Pancake yelled back, grabbing Wiley's hand before he could take it back.
Because of Pancakes cunning there were now only four participants left, Pancake of course, Susie Mcdougal, Smart Henries dog, and Smelly Tom.

-------To be continued---------

Cornbread?

This last week I have had a wonderful experience. I've been a building supervisor for education week at BYU. At the beginning of the week I was a little nervous about all the responsibility that I would be facing. But one day away from the end, everything has been magical. I use the word magical because it seems to be a teenager kind of word. The building I've been supervising is the Smith Field House. All the classes in there are youth classes. Ages 14-18. Needless to say there is a lot of awkwardness and flirting. But there is a magical quality that lingers.

Tonight as part of my responsibilities as a building supervisor I had the opportunity to chaperon the Youth dance. At first I was at the gate making sure people had passes. After a little while I was allowed into the dance. (I don't know what they were thinking letting me in, but I didn't dance, I controlled myself). Here are a list of things I had to inforce:
1. NO moshing. (jumping up and down was okay, but they weren't allowed to run into each other)
2. Ties had to be tied, shirts had to be tucked in, and shoes had to be worn. Oddly enough I spent a lot of time asking young men to tie their ties and tuck in their shirts.
3. I was an inforcer when it came to couples dancing too close together. When I witnessed episodes of dancing too close I would walk up, tap them on the shoulder and tell them they had to spread apart and dance like so, I would then precede to lift my left hand to eye level and my right hand to waist level. (A little cheesy, but they got the picture).
4. No standing on benches. For some reason people enjoyed dancing on top of the benches.
5. No kissing. Luckily I didn't deal with any kissers.

While the youth danced, my job was to patrol the perimeters and the dance floor checking for the above mentioned taboos. That was when it got really interesting. Numerous girls flirted with me, (my favorite was when a young lady told me she liked my hair). I also had a bundle of girls ask me to dance. Seeing as I was working and about 6 years older then some of them I apolegetically declined.

All in all it was a good dance. But it sure was hard not to bust a move.

Ode to Nutella

This was a poem written by Kpup and myself.

Ode to Nutella

Creamy brown, sufficient to turn my frown upside down.
Thou art a divine creation, not subject to my malignation.
Oh how my addiction howls for consumption of your quintessence.
Oh nutella
Oh nutella
I need you nutella
When your jar is empty, my upside down frown turns back around.
Without Your sugars my jowls recede, leaving me quite healthy.
I come to indulge my palatial desires, upon thy Heavenly substance.
I peak in the cupboard hoping to find thee, but thou art gone! On the counter I search, on the floor, in the fridge, but you have evaded me. Eventually I find thee, Open and scrapped bare next to a pair of dirty underwear, in the garbage.
Nutella!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!