Part Inspiration...Part Perspiration

I was inspired by the wonderfully worded blog I read on a friends blog today.

I have also heard a scary rumor that if you stop posting your blog may be deleted.

So here is a placeholder blog just to keep my options open for the future.

Life Is...

I’ve always heard many sayings about life. They include:

Life is a sport
Life is a sonnet
Life is a journey
Life is a test
Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans

I’ve decided my life is an outtake. It’s like the director just kept rolling no matter how bad I mess up my lines. You ever wish you could claim an outtake and re-shoot something. Just think of a time you put you’re foot in your mouth or a really awkward doorstep scene at the end of a date. That’s pretty much what my life is. It’s one really long awkward scene. Fortunately for me I enjoy laughing at outtakes because c’mon they're absurdly funny. Sure sometimes you feel bad for the actor and wonder if he’ll ever get it right, but then another outtake happens and you find yourself laughing so hard that you cry.

Sometimes pondering my life
causes me to shoot milk out my nose.

Sometimes pondering my life causes me to shoot milk out my nose. Shakespeare once said that all the world’s a stage. He could have added, “and some guys have alotta outtakes.” I’m just glad I’m not in a tragedy.

Test 1...2...Test...1...2

This is a test. This is only a test, had this been a real blog posting you would have experienced laughter, tears, or uncontrollable giggling.

Most likely you would have read something deeply poignant which would forever alter the course of your life. Or, if you were a beautiful single girl, you would have instantly found yourself irresistibly attracted to the author of this blog.

My Mission Pres Part 2

At the funeral I discovered that my Mission President had been fighting cancer for the last 5 years. I was not aware of this even though I had seen him less than a year ago. I’m grateful that last Fall I was able to attend the “unofficial missionary reunion” at his house. At that time I was able to visit and laugh with him. I had always regretted not getting to know him well on the mission; however, on this occasion I learned that he had really gotten to know me while I was a missionary and that made us closer than I had realized. I shook his hand, and he gave me a hug and a warm smile. I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I would see him alive.

          At the funeral I saw many photos of him at various ages and locations. Suddenly, one particular photo literally stopped me in my tracks and gripped my interest. For some, this photo would simply appear to be Michael and his wife bundled up and smiling on the edge of a cold coast somewhere. Others might recognize the cloth cap and venture a guess as to the location. For me, the photo was an instant window to my former forgotten home of England. Emotion swept over me like a crashing tide. For a brief moment my memories felt tangible. I felt the familiar embrace of the cold misty air of England. I could feel it on my face, smell it in the air, and taste it on my lips. I couldn’t help but smile. It was real again. I did not dream my experiences their, but shared them with real people. We had all been part of something special. As the misty memories began to dispel, I held on to keep a few for myself. Who can blame me for trying to trap some of the precious mist in my eyes?

Although I rarely speak of England anymore, it still speaks to me. There’s no real way I could explain all that I experienced there, but I will try to explain a part of it with the following quote:

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the self-same well from which your laughter rises was often-times filled with your tears.”                                                                                            --Kahlil Gibran                                  

Remembering My Mission President part 1

Normally my blog consists of random thoughts that occur to me during my life. While all of these posts are a valid part of who I am they are usually light hearted and seldom delve into serious matters. So this is a warning to my regular readers (both of you) that the next two posts will be uncharacteristically serious. I’m serious.

On July 12^th I attended the funeral services of my 2^nd Mission President. This post contains a few highlights from an entry I made in my journal following this experience. I just wanted to publicly express my gratitude for President Michael R. Hinckley and my mission to England.

          I remember finding out who are next mission president was going to be long before the other church members. When asked by members, I would often tease them by simply saying, “Haven’t you heard? It will be President Hinckley. He’s coming here.” If any of you are wondering, the answer is yes. He is a cousin to the former Prophet and was a pal bearer at the funeral of President Gordon B. Hinckley. He is also the grandfather of Kirsten Hinckley who was one of the victims in the 2007 Trolley square shooting. For the rest of this post I shall only be referring to my mission president in order to avoid confusion

          President Hinckley was my mission president for about 3/4’s of my mission. Prior to this, he had served a mission in England as a young man. When speaking of it he would often say this, “When I came on my mission we took the boat here to England, but at the end of my mission we took the plane home.” I still remember his sense of humor when he spoke to us in zone conference about grooming standards. He said, “Elders, there’s a little thing called shoe polish…and it would look a whole lot better on your shoes then on your heads. That’s all I have to say about that.” He then proceeded to give a great talk on missionary work. Another favorite thing he always said was, “Work works, hard work works better, and work is fun.” I cannot recall many of his words, but I easily remember how I felt in those meetings. I’m sure most missionaries can recall the powerful spirit that attends missionary meetings.

Only got 4 minutes to save the World?

So Madonna and Just Timberlake combined their powers to make a song just interesting enough for me to stop and think about it. So here was my thought:

If I only had four minutes to save the world, I would relax and take it easy for the first three minutes

(I work best under pressure)

Nerdom Issue #1 (Collectable)

So I proudly initiated a nerd conversation with my friend the other day. For those who are new to “Nerd Conversations” I will explain. Nerd conversations are usually devoid of sports, current events, or feelings. They usually delve into nerd philosophies of imaginary things (Basically, things that don’t really matter or make sense). For example, a topic might be “If Superman fought Batman who would win?” I derived this example from witnessing a real life discussion between a BYU student and a professor. Here are some highlights from the conversation:

Professor X: “Superman would totally win! He could see Batman from outer space and even through planets. Then he would just fry batman with beams from his eyes. Zap! Batman’s dead.”

Boy Wonder: “Batman has Kryptonite which is Superman’s weakness. Batman’s super smart and as far as we know doesn’t really have a weakness.”

Professor X: “In the Batman movie Michael Keaton didn’t even have a neck. He had to turn his whole body just to turn his head.”

Boy Wonder: “OH so you wanna bring movies into it huh? What about Superman fathering an illegitimate child in Superman Returns. Where’s your role model now man!”

(The names have been changed to keep the nerd identities secret. Like Spiderman, nerds believe secret identities keep their loved ones safe from their enemies. And nerds will always have enemies…Always.)

Wow this blog is all full up with extreme nerdness. I’ll paraphrase my nerd conversation in my next blog. Tune in next blog, same nerd time same nerd channel. Seriously I don’t think it can contain…much more… social life… slowly dying …force be with…Comicon…beam me up...autobots rollout...

This is just a Tribute

This is not the greatest blog of this week. This is just a Tribute.

I have a friend.
He started blogging.
I like his banner along the top.

Here's the link:

http://marcusbowers.wordpress.com/

The Hogwarts Fine Art Center

It’s interesting that a large percentage of BYU bachelor’s are banished to the Clyde and crab tree buildings. By the same token a lot of marriage hungry girls (aka MFHD majors) spend all their time in the JFSB. I think if BYU somehow made them inhabit the same building than an unprecedented number of engagements would occur. Not at first of course; because both genders would have to get used to seeing the opposite sex on a daily basis.

I think the one place on campus that has the most balanced ratio of genders would have to be the HFAC. Now before you change majors or start hanging out in there, I must warn you. The HFAC is a very strange place! Every time I walk in there I feel like I’m visiting Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. First off, there are always people wearing strange robes, hats, and scarves. Some of these scarves even say Hogwarts or display the various colors of the different “Hogwarts Houses”. These odd people always seem to be muttering to themselves or vocalizing strange incantations with great volume and determination. Many of them are even holding wands whether they are conducting music, painting pictures, or perhaps just dueling.

And what sort of Hogwarts School would it be if I didn’t often hear ghostly singing howl its way through the corridors from some unseen place. The HFAC is complete with very unusual staircases, eccentric individuals, and classrooms that are so difficult to find they seem to vanish and reappear as if by some spell. P.S. if you have trouble with the stairs just remember that in order to move upwards you must often step down a few steps proceeding up.

At this point I will caution you again__not to get distracted by all the paintings on the walls or you may find you have wandered up into dark towers or down to the creepy dungeon. Once on the lowest level, your chances of finding your way back out becomes difficult as you will be wandering through a virtual labyrinth of passageways, doors, and individuals that are so strange they rarely venture up to the service. I am convinced that some of these “basement dwellers” were once like you and me. Sadly, they have played so many roles in so many basement plays that they have lost all touch with reality. These disoriented souls hardly know who they are anymore or what their original hair color was.

Lastly, if you find yourself doubting my comparison between Hogwarts and the HFAC, simply walk into the HFAC and ask someone about a boy named “Harry Potter.” In this world he is extremely famous and all you encounter will be able to tell you about “The boy who lived” and all of his adventurous exploits. Many of them (girls) will even have posters of him and giggle if you point this out. And so I will leave you with this parting wisdom, do not venture into the enchanted halls of the HFAC lightly, unless you wish to die a most tragic social death.