Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain

I went to my first Board party last night, from an undisclosed location somewhere in the greater Provo area. I was kind of nervous, it's not everyday that you get to mingle with an ultra-secret society, and I always hate being the NKOTB. I'm not the socialite that makes everyone werf's friend instantly. It was a really good time, though. Everyone was really nice and even talked to me. It was a lot of fun, and I got to know everyone so much better. A. A. and Katya gave me the run-down on triangles and colors (I'm apparently a Green) and it was just neat to actually SEE everyone.

About seeing, let me tell you how weird it is to see people that you only hear and read their writing. You have this mental picture of what they look like, how they talk, and then you see them in person. It's not a BAD thing, just different. It's like when you see radio DJ's in person (but the Board is a lot more better looking, I'd say). It was a good time, though, and I got to eat way too many Peanut Butter M&M's, which is always a plus. Thanks to all y'all for being so nice. You Rock.

Justice and Mercy

Ok, so I am mad. Extremely torqued. Who knew that tennis class could be so exasperating? This post definatly goes down in the "Rant" column. I warn the faint of heart and the faint of butt to turn back now.

So this is now my 5th tennis class. Everyday, Monday through Thursday, from 6-7. The first 4 classes went just fine, no problems, learning a lot, having a good time, etc. Today, however, I came home with cold and sore feet. Why, you might ask? Xanadu, were you stupid enough to not wear shoes? No, you were stupid to not realize that the evil reaches of BYUSSR extend beyond the Board, beyond the Honor Code Office, and beyond longboarding on campus. It even reaches to the tennis courts and one very extremely anal physical facilities goon who will hereafter be known as "Adolf".

So after playing for 4 classes in my New Balance "running" shoes (remember that, it will be important later), we are warming up, getting ready for a new class. Along ambles up Adolf, who's physical appearance denotes that he's probably never actually used a tennis court, except for Mario Tennis on his Nintendo 64. Alone. On a Friday night. (Ok, that is a low blow, but I'm mad. I'm sorry). He comes up to me and asks to see the soles of my shoes. I show him, and he asks me what they are designed for. "Uh, sports and stuff?" Sorry, mein Fuhrer, I don't work at Foot Locker. He then informs me that they are "running" shoes, and therefore not acceptable for the courts. Ok, great. He says something about damage to the court, harder rubber, blah blah blah. So at this point, I am slightly annoyed, but if that's the rule, then I guess that's the rule. I'll go to DI and figure something out for tomorrow.

"So, you're going to have to play in your socks or feet until you can get some shoes."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? My mind is screaming at the injustice and the sheer stupidity/anality (I don't know if that's a word or not) of this suggestion.

"Um, I have a class right now. Couldn't I just wear my shoes for one more day? I'll get them changed out tomorrow."

"No, because it's like one more day of damage on the courts."

OK, you are offically a moron. 1) I've been on these freaking courts for 4 days. Great, one more day. 2) Are you so naive as to believe that every other person on this court at any other time of the day is wearing "tennis" or "basketball" shoes? I almost want to go back at midnight and just run around, "damaging" the courts beyond repair. I hope worrying about his precious courts keeps him up awake at night. 3) We don't even play for an hour, and much of that time is spent in simple drills and listening to instructions. It would have been a sacrifice of probably 40 minutes of "damage," and he would have kept me as, if not a friend, at least a neutral party. But it's on now, Adolf.

"Don't worry, you won't be alone. There's a few of your classmates in the same situation." Oh WOW. What a relief. I'm glad to know you're an equal opportunity control-freak.

So I played in my bare feet for those 40 minutes. That was fun. I wasn't incredibly sore, but it was cold, and tennis courts aren't exactly polished hardwood. That, combined with my rage, made the entire lesson practically worthless. To add to the situation, our coach didn't even directly acknowledge the situation. Want to hear something even better? Last week, I overheard when Adolf came up to him and asked him if he had discussed with us the proper footwear to have. Our coach said "yeah, sure" and that was it. So after a week of personal attention, I figured that my shoes were OK. Nope. And the only thing he says today is "try to bring court shoes, blah blah blah." Well, I'd better not just TRY, genius, because obviously that isn't good enough. But thanks for the tip. I had to ask him what court shoes were before he would tell us what was acceptable. Thanks a lot, coach. Hope you like your teacher evaluation.

So why am I mad in all of this? Power. Adolf gets just a tinny little smidgon of power and goes to town with it. Was it "right" for me to wear my shoes today? No. Would it have caused someone irreprable pain and personal harm to do so? No. Would it have damaged the courts beyond repair? No. Why do people have to be so anal about some things? If is 12:01 and there's some madman out lurking around our apartment building, am I going to send girls home because it's after curfew? If I'm dying of thirst and a Coke is all that is available, and I just going to leave it and die? I think Christ had a name for people like Adolf. They were Pharisees. Hypocrites. Justice will be served if he's running his wife to have a baby, and while speeding picks up a ticket. I know if I was that cop, I'd let him have it.

"Do unto others as you would have done unto you."

Remember that one, Adolf? Glad that you are SOOOOO powerful in your BYU jacket and with your little two-way radio. Look at you. You've saved that 40 minutes of excessive wear and tear on your precious tennis courts, but you've lost me a bit more faith in humanity. I hope that helps you to sleep at night.

A Rush of Euphoria, Followed by a Sense of Dread

This has been an amazing week. Funny how things can change so fast and in so many good ways. At the same time, awesome changes can lead to awesome responsibility, and even downright scariness.

Example 1: I am sitting on my bed between classes on Wednesday and I am just falling asleep to a nice nap when my computer does that "Ding-You've-Got-Email" thing. And I see that it's the Main Writer for the 100 Hour Board informing me that my application has been accepted and now I have been chosen as a writer. Whoa. It seems like I sent in my application ages ago, but there it was. My nap shattered, I jumped back onto the Board (ironically, I had finished reading the posts for the day right before my nap) and started perusing the new things. As I did this and read the Writer Guide, my principle joy and giddiness shifted to pressure and worry. This is it, I'm going to start DOING something now. How in the world can I write well enough? How can I keep writing at that elusive level of 'good'? Will the other writers like me? Hate me? Be mildly amused and put up with me? (Update: I was so happy with the warm welcome I received, and that helped to quell my worries, thanks a lot!) It wasn't too bad of a sense of dread, I guess just more pressure and expectation that I expected.

Example 2: I had an interview for a TA job that I have really wanted on Thursday. I had been really worried and hoping that I would do well. I did well enough in my interview, and apparently good enough that she hired me on the spot. Again, a quick hit of excitement followed by the realization that now I would have a CLASS. Students (unruly freshmen at that) would be MY responsibility. When my interviewer mentioned grading, it freaked me out. I would be holding the grades of these kids in my hands. Scary.

So why am I writing all this? I've just come to realize yet again that the biggest and most adventurous events in our lives are not always easy. The only ways in which we grow are by trial and experience. I'm just glad that I haven't backed down and that I'm trying these new experiences. Isn't it funny that the most exciting parts of life are the most scariest? It makes things a lot more interesting.

Moron Night in the Library

I have a few tests coming up and right now I really should be studying. I am in the library, so you would think that I would be doing that. Funny, can't seem to concentrate. Is it the material I'm trying to master? While difficult, it's not horrible. Am I tired/hungry/sick? Physically, I'm doing ok. So, what in the world could be causing me this problem of concentration?

CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH "Wait, is it B-C equals A+C?" CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH

"Hey yeah, I'm in the library. My phone battery is about to die. What did you get for #24?"

"Tee hee hee, and I think he likes me and tee hee hee!"

Oh wait, I'm in the library. Of course! Who studies in the library? Apparently these people do. Unfortunatly, from their own little worlds of inconsideracy and idiocy comes the noise and stupidity pollution that I can't seem to escape. I'm diagonally away from the gigglers, two tables away from The Cell Hellion, and Cap'n Crunch is right behind me. I don't even know where to begin. Common decency? Whatever. Love for fellow man? Nevermind. I'm really torn between the PDA library couples who practically only need one seat and all these Inconsiderate Dolts. At least the PDA'ers don't make any noise.

What ever happened to whispering? Is it a grand fau paux? If you want to group study, Cap'n, go downstairs or to some study room. I'm all down for socializing in the library (all work and no play makes everyone more self-righteous) but didn't your mothers teach you any type of manners? Maybe there's some disease that makes it so you can only talk and not whisper. The Gigglers are prone to the same mistakes, but alas, it took the three of them 2 hours to figure out that they weren't studying and that they should probably leave. Maybe they just don't have the capacity to study and so they come to the library to fake it.

Cell phones: a blessing and a curse. I am seriously considering investing in a cell phone signal jammer. Sure, they're illegal in the US, but I really think I would take that risk. How nice would it be to walk into a class or the library or a concert and with a flick of a switch, send everyone back to the stone age? I too would be hindered, but I have half a brain in my head and wouldn't be using my phone anyway. I love these morons that talk in the library, though. Everyone is deathly quiet (thank you, everyone) and these people are yammering on and letting the world in on their conversation. I heard one girl talk to both of her grandparents and begin to talk to them about college finances (prefaced by her with the comment: "Um, this might be kind of awkward. . .") before someone "Shhhhhhhh'd" her loud enough that she got the hint and went to a study room. I hope there is a very hot (and loud) corner of hell reserved for the cell phone abusers.

I'm probably preaching to the choir. Oh well. Interestingly enough, I think I can concentrate a bit better now. Nothing like a mindless rant into the Blogosphere to help get your head back on straight. Now I can get back to my studies. . .

Studies of Chimpanzees in the African Wild

Fitting.

Home Sweet Freakin' Home

So, being a three day weekend and all, myself and a few of my roomies/chums decided to kick it somewhere. Sometimes you just have to get away. So we did. Plan A was a jaunt down to the Grand Canyon, but after checking our funds, it was much more economical to go back to my hometown of Boise, Idaho.

Now, for those of you snickering right now, lay off. So it isn't Vegas, LA, or the greater Milwalkee area. Big deal. It's home, and it's pimp. And plus, we weren't going to be entertained. The beauty of home is that you don't have to do anything. My parents are awesome and just spoiled us rotten all weekend. It rained, but we didn't care. We bummed around, and it was quite possibly the best weekend I've had in a while. We got into playing Settlers of Zarahemla (Mormon ripoff of Settlers of Catan), Risk, Boggle and Foozball, which created just the right mix of trash talking and strategy. We ate like kings at home and we even did a late night run to Merritt's 24 Hour Diner (Home of the Scone). Those of you from Boise/Eagle know the place, one of the most white trash yet loveable places for late night dining. We hiked a bit, went to the home ward, woke up late, we did it all while doing nothing at all.

I love going home. My parents and I have always been close, and it's fun to have my friends around and to do stuff with all of them and talk about dumb things. It's nice to be in a nice, comfortable place, to sleep in your own bed in your own room, to forget about homework and just take a vacation from the norm. As we drove home, the sun finally came out and we drove home in perfect weather, but I didn't care. I don't think I would have changed a minute.

Adventures in Home Teaching

I try to be a good home teacher. I feel it's important to be somewhat more than a narrated Ensign article at the end of the month. It's kind of hard sometimes, because sometimes it's hard to connect with people that you might not choose to be with anyway. And you're always offering help but sometimes there's not all that much that you can do. But I feel that it is an important calling, because sometimes people need some help. And sometimes in the most interesting ways.

This morning, I am sitting alone in my apartment doing some studying when the land line rings. I answer it, and a voice that I halfway recognize asks for myself or Hulk. I ask what she needs, and she identifies herself as one of my ex-home teachees (we changed at semester), and that she needs some help. Apparently, the night before, her roommates were playing around and a shoe got put in the trash. This trash was then taken to the dumpster, and well. . . I think we can see where the home teacher comes into the picture. Luckily, the dumpster was fairly empty, and the shoe was visable and reachable. After a good laugh, and using a ski pole to retrieve the broom used to fish out the shoe, we succeeded. Having a tall, lanky home teacher might have its advantages.

Who says that home teachers only show up at the end of the month?

The Dominoes

Being the day after Valentine's (or SAD, applicable to your personal situation), there is an interesting phenomenon that is occuring within the Autonomous Collective. It has to do with those in like with those of the opposite gender, and those who are not. Sensing the strong feelings throughout campus and society on this matter, it serves as a microcasm of this conflict.

So, about 2 months ago, I fell in like with a certain lovely lady from my ward, who shall hereby be known as Linky. This was accompanied by the usual groanings and needlings from the roommates. Long before, in a post-midnight conversation, that the first one of us to fall would be harshly ridiculed by the others, mainly from jealousy than from anything else. So, I'm in like with said girl, and the predictable buggings happened. They like her, though, so it wasn't so bad. It wasn't a "Your Girlfriend is Monopolizing Your Life" situation, and we weren't smoochy or lovey-dovey in public presense. I think that's dumb. Yeah, we would hold hands and cuddle during movies, but we have never been the couple on the couch, gazing into each others eyes, whilst the world and our friends bustle around us, trying not to gag and having to blow an airhorn to get our attention. So the conflict was just them giving me a hard time, and since I have been known to give others an equally hard time about such things, I wasn't annoyed.

But then, the unthinkable happened. About a month ago, Piano Man (roommate) started flirting a lot with Diva (girl who liked Piano Man a lot). That then led to long conversations and mall excursions, and the next thing I know, I had a cohort in likeishness. Then, another series of events occured and another roommate, Nemesis, fell in like with a friend of his cousin, who had liked him for quite sometime. I couldn't believe it. One of our more astute FHE sisters coined the events as "The Domino Effect," which they made into a pretty good short film. I'm the president, of course. Now this is where things get interesting.

It's now three on three, Dominoes vs. Bachelors. Needless to say, the needling and joke making have taken on a whole new level. Valentine's Day was the perfect opportunity to judge the volitility of said situation. It's not violent or vicious, but there obviously is a bit of contention. It's an odd situation, and there isn't much we can do about it. We're not jerks about our girlfriends, and we don't spend every waking moment with them, but all of us dealt with frustrations with girls over the year (and I'm sure we've caused some, as well), and so for some of us to be doing ok and the others not so much doesn't always bode well. Last night, we triple dated and went to dinner, came back to the apartment to frost some cookies and watch The Italian Job. During movies. . .well. . .you can't just SIT there, so we were all cuddling with our SO's, and making commentaries and having a good time.

As we are watching the movie, the other three kept coming in at various times to get things, to eat something, etc. They were all at other apartments. The most comical (and this has happened a number of times) is that Hulk will open the door, look in, then shut the door like he had just walked in on someone in the shower. Then Da Vinci will come in and make some kind of joking commentary about how we're breaking the law of chastity or something. Then Kiwi will come in and probably go and gossip to the other girls about what he sees. All these are fine and dandy, but sometimes I wonder how much bite is meant in their actions. Probably a lot, knowing these guys. That's the hardest thing to judge, because I don't want them to be mad or annoyed, but at the same time, I can't read their minds or not do anything with a girl that I really like just so that they don't get offended. I respect their wishes, and like I said, I hope I'm not being one of those obnoxious couples that makes everyone want to vomit. I don't like it when people are annoyed with me, or when I'm bothering them. I'm sorry that not everyone has found someone that they're in like with, but I don't try and rub it in anyone's face.

I guess this is just hard for me because it's scary. These are my BOYS. All 5 of them are awesome and we probably have more fun than we should. We look out for each other, we help each other, and at the end of the day, we can all hop on the Interrogation Couch and talk for hours about all kinds of crazy stuff. We're our own MST3K Show with every movie we watch (which is frighening in itself). I don't like it when we're divided, even just superfically. And there's always that scary "M" word somewhere floating around. I'm sure THAT would help the situation. I'm not asking for total freedom from the jokes and the needling, but I just want to know how deep the root of it is. There's that point where the joking gets too personal, and someone gets hurt. That line has already been crossed a few times, and it just makes things all too awkward. Is there anyway that the Dominoes and the Bachelors can peacefully co-exist? I sure hope so.

An Open Letter to iPod Detractors

"I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their headphone wires but by the content of their character."

Ok, so maybe it wasn't exactly like that. But does anyone else feel my pain here? Does anyone else feel that freedom and personal choice is being assaulted on our campus? Have you noticed the animosity in the air? It's not about race, religion, or even caffinated drinks. What is with the discrimination of iPod users?

As a disclaimer, I will admit to being one of "those," yes, I own an iPod and I use it frequently on my walks to, around, and from campus. Can you blame me? I like music (strike one). I like technology (strike two). I like smart design, effciency and quality (strike three). I also like to punch puppies and think I'm better than most everyone I meet. But that's another topic for another day.

What set me off was a letter to the editor of the "Daily Universe" (which of course is the realm of the irrational and the pious) decrying the use of iPods. One of many. Apparently, this specific person was walking to campus, revelling in the glories of nature around him, having some spiritual epiphany or some such. As he looked around to see who else was on his spiritual plain to celebrate with him, all he saw were mindless iPodians with their hands in their pockets and their eyes to the ground. What horror! iPods are taking over the minds and souls of all they touch! Call the police! Call your senator! Write a letter to the editor!

There are so many holes in this letter that it isn't even funny. First of all, what's it to you? Are you so worried about these people? Are they shooting up heroin? Are they lighting kittens on fire? Are they drinking Coke? You might personally not enjoying listening to music on your walk to class, but someone might. God bless America, where you can do what you want. Personally, I have issues with Abercrombie and Fitch clothing. Notice the use of the word "personally." Does that mean that I have some sort of right to judge those who wear it? Not really. What made you, Mr. Writer, so incensed that you felt that you should write about it? Oh wait, this is BYU home of self-righteousness and the judging of others.

Second of all (and this is what really gets me going), is the singling out of one group. iPods. Somehow those white wires make you socially isolated and snobby, but having a Rio with black headphones is acceptable. If you want to moan about people hypnotized by personal music players (which isn't really your business anyway, as previously established) why attack iPods? CD players are that much better? Is it because it's "trendy"? So a lot people have iPods. Big deal. Do you only buy an iPod because you saw it on The OC? No. Do those people exist? Of course. Does even that make them bad people? No. If you can find a better MP3 player with the same features and abilites, let me know. Because I sure can't.

I can see your point, though. Technology and the abuse of technology are rapidly becoming issues for public debate. Cell phone and personal music ettiqute is important, and not realized nearly often enough. Take the headphones out when you're talking to someone. Don't use them in class when someone is presenting. Don't have them up so loud that you can't hear when a friend yells a "hello" from across the street. Anything to an extreme is not a good thing. However, if technology abuse is really your problem, then write about that. That's a reasonable debate. If your problem is with iPods and the people who love them, then just keep your judgments to yourself. And don't ever try one out. You might just end up liking it and boy, would that be some tough stuff to swallow.

Ummm, hello? Is this thing on? 1...2...3...4...

So, blogging. Cool. I've heard a lot about this, and read a bunch of other blogs, and for some reason, at this juncture in my life, I feel that I should get on the blogwagon and see how it treats me. I guess I was pushed to this by a desire to make myself heard in a way that was anonymous, yet at the same time public. It stems from a letter to the editor that I read yesterday in the Universe that was the breaking point in my "Dealing with Self-Rightousness" ablities (specific blog to follow) and I wanted so badly to reply. But, it WAS a letter to the editor. I could write one back, but that would just be sinking to his level. Writing a letter to the editor is like wrestling with a pig: you both get dirty, but in the end you were still just fighting some stubborn animal in the mud. So I considered my options to get my opinion heard, and in the end came to blogging. At first I planned to just have this page for tirades and manefestos of various sorts, but I was amazed at the other ideas that came to me. My apartment (hereafter known as "The Autonomous Collective" or TAC) is a hive of interesting ideas and conversations and I think the world needs to hear some of those, even if it means we lose our standing as BYU students. Seriously, it's never bad. But when you get 6 guys making commentaries on life at 2 AM. . . man I wish I had a tape recorder sometimes. This blogging stuff could be pretty sweet. At least for me and the 1-2 other people I pay to read it and make commentaries.

I would like to thank the Duchess (without a T) for kind of inspiring me to start this up. She knows our connection, but until further legal obligations permit, I'm not at liberty to explain why. Like anyone else is even reading this. Yet. . .