Run for Fun?

I warn all who know me very well, you will be shocked by this post. But don’t worry, I think you will recognize that I am still in my “right mind” as it all unfolds. Firstly, it seems as though I love fast food a little too much lately. I’m not one to usually care much about how unhealthy that is, or to mention anything about “watching my weight.” But I have definitely gained some weight lately, and I don’t like the fact. So, I’ve thought a lot more about…exercising. What?? Yes, you all know I generally hate that idea. I am the kind of person who has always loathed running, even as a kid.

Back in school, the mile run was essentially torture, but most asthmatic weaklings would agree. I remember that I skipped gym class during a mile run at least once in high school. Heck, I even lied to my teacher in elementary school about having an orthodontist appointment to get out of playing kick ball. Kick ball! Pretty pathetic, but I hate being forced to run or play sports when I don’t want to. And wanting to was…pretty rare. Still is, and today is officially a rarity.

Coincidently, my brother is also feeling the need to start exercising. Though, clearly, something needs to be done when you no longer have the energy to hop a low fence to retrieve a frisbee.

Though, the giant chopstick-like contraption is an interesting alternative. It’s certainly more fun than going around the fence. I can’t hop that fence successfully either, it’s true.

As luck would have it, Matt decided to get a treadmill for the extra bedroom.

Great, I don’t have to go to the gym. This has several advantages. You see, it has always been the case that when I want to do something that I find fairly distasteful, I require a novelty. So, I’ve thought about some things I can do that will psych me up while I run the treadmill to make the experience less torturous.

First of all, no run is complete without some great music to pump you up. In this case, I might choose Virgin Steele’s Invictus. Truly epic stuff.

If that doesn’t work I can always move onto reading "The Daring Girls Guide to Danger."

Number eight on the list actually suggests dying your hair purple! I haven’t tried that yet, but I did co-author a song called “Purple-haired Freedom” at one time.

If reading about how to be more dangerous doesn’t psych me up for a good run, I can always conjure some aggression by playing some Street Fighter II.

Such a classic!

Yes, the controller will reach. It’s a great idea! But I guess it could potentially be a little too dangerous to run on a treadmill and play Nintendo at the same time. Well, there’s always magnet poetry. Can’t get any safer than that.

Though, it might be pretty hard to place the words into properly aligned sentences like that. Drat.

I’ve got it! I know an activity that can be both safe and thrilling. I could set up some kind of virtual fantasy world where I am the super hero, and am running intently to capture some bad guys. Seriously, it’s not too high tech. of an operation. I’ve got all I would need already. The zany super hero glasses:

and the world (3D dvd) of choice.

Now, I can totally see myself doing that! Once all these novelties wear off, though, I could potentially be screwed. Let’s hope for the present that I can effectively brainwash myself into disregarding the truth behind these words from Back to the Future III, which have become like a motto to me, “Run for fun? What the **** kind of fun is that?”

Art Appreciation

Some time ago, while I was messing around on Facebook with this application where you pick your top five choices for various catergories, I realized that I have an insufficient knowledge of many subjects. While it is easy for me to pick favorite bands, books, and tv shows, there are other things that I haven't explored enough to distinguish my favorites. The main subject that caught my attention was the fact that I can't name my five favorite artists. I guess I just haven't been that into art. So, I've decided to finally establish some favorites!

I began the search by trying to find the artist who painted this picture I have on my wall of two girls in a rowboat with a lantern:

I really love this picture! The lantern really just seems so beautiful and special to these girls. It reminds me of a line from a Rush song that mentions wanting to be "Lit up like a firefly, just to feel the living light."

Sadly, I couldn't find this picture on the internet. But, I found this other one called Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent which I think I may like even more:

Apparently, to get the effect of the light and colors of lanterns at dusk just right, he only painted at this time for about ten minutes a day, and it took him years to do it. I applaud his dedication, but I kinda feel bad for the girls having to put on those dresses every night.

Another picture that I had on my wall that I really enjoy got me interested in Edgar Degas (Dancers, Pink and Green):

I got a book of his work at the library, and enjoyed these paintings as well.

Singer in Green:

Four Dancers:

Singer with a Glove:

and Before the Curtain Call:

While I'm on the subject of art, I also had the opportunity to see two 1980s themed art shows this month. One of the shows specifically had a 1982 theme, and one of the artists showing her work was my sister's good friend Gentry Blackburn. I forgot to take pictures of her paintings, but I've attempted to recreate one of them for you:

Arguably, Khan is one of the sexiest older men in the history of cinema (especially against a backdrop of neon lasers!)

Umm...moving on. The other art show, at Signed and Numbered, was displaying and selling prints of paintings inspired by quotes from 80s movies. The movies included: The Goonies ("Hey, you guys!"), The Three Amigos ("You sons of a motherless goat!"), The Princess Bride ("Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!"), Labyrinth ("Smell bad!), and many more. They were so awesome, and certainly fed my nostalgia cravings for that day. I even bought some for my room. This one shows John Cusack from Say Anything:

The quote on there is, "I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."

I also got one with a quote from The Outsiders, but I still need to get it framed:

It says, "Stay gold, Ponyboy."

I specifically wanted these pictures because they depict young characters who are making decisions to live their lives authentically and optimistically. That's a decision that I feel is always good to remember. However, I actually entertained the idea of getting a picture of Bluto saying, "Smell bad!" for the bathroom, but I'd hate to start off my venture in the art world with such distasteful instincts. Though, it still makes me smile a bit. As does that sinister picture of President James Buchanan I considered buying (don't worry, this picture had nothing to do with an 80s movie). So, that covers the beginning stages of my explorations with appreciating art more. I've offically begun forcing more "culture" into my life. Yay for me!

Langoliers are Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Sometimes I think that I should just let my childhood nostalgia live on strong, in memory, rather than to seek to revive it. It is always disappointing. A lot of the time, especially with this day and age, you can easily track down virtually any movie, tv show, or book that you loved as a kid. It’s almost too easy. Part of me is thrilled at the thought, and the other part of me knows that the best part of nostalgic back-flashes is the flash, and nothing more. Then again, the moment when you get your hands on something again that you’ve lost, the moment when you are sure you’ll get the chance to find out all over again exactly what compelled you so much when you were younger, is really a pretty exciting moment. That must be why the end result is so disappointing.

Regardless, I certainly am the sort of person who is much more given to exploring childhood interests than most people. In fact, Brady, you’ll actually have to comment this time, because I want you to remind me of the name of that Mexican punch that you and Dave used to like so much. I remember that I kept tasting it, trying to decide whether or not I liked it, and I had a sort of epiphany that the drink was like Nostalgia. And I suppose, I could call the punch by that name instead, but I want to track it down is the angle. It tasted familiar, but long-away so…and I simply could not tell if I liked it for its taste, or for its familiarity. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was drugged!

Speaking of your brother though, I’ll never forget the time he indulged one of my nostalgic cravings. I told him that I loved The Chipmunk Adventure movie as a kid, and one day he pulls out an old VHS tape with it on there for me to borrow. I’m pretty sure I snatched it, and literally jumped up and down, with a smile from ear to ear. It was probably about two in the morning when I got home with it, but I started watching it the second I got there, and loudly enough that I woke some roommates up, as I recall. Actually, when they asked me to turn it down, I pretty much didn’t. You must be excited about something to justify listening to it as loudly as you want in the middle of the night, right? Indeed!

Some things I revisit are much better than others (My Little Pony: The Movie). But it really is interesting to see how much of my heart is in silly little things like that. The best way I can conceive to keep these memories at their best would be to treat them like the memory of my cousins’ secret room. This room could probably be accessed by a door (somewhere), but I never knew of one. I only went in there once, and it was through a secret passageway underneath the bathroom sink. It opened up into this huge room with steps that led up to a reading area with soft pillows, and a wall painted with a giant rainbow. That’s pretty much the brightest rainbow in my memory. However, another came close a month ago. I actually saw it on the day I was leaving Logan. It was the first full rainbow I think I have ever seen, and it was so incredibly bright, that I had to pull over on the side of the highway to get a better look. It was a nice way to leave the valley.

Though, what I was getting at is that my childhood ought to be considered like that secret room, with a passageway I must concede that I simply can’t fit through anymore. Sure there’s probably a door I could go through to get in, but it wouldn’t be the same experience. The ceilings wouldn’t look so high on the way in, for one thing. And the rainbow wouldn’t be as bright, like Dorothy stepping into Oz for the first time. That’s corny to say, put that’s really the best comparison I have for it.

Although, next to the memory of the secret room, I’m embarrassed to mention the object of my latest childhood memory revival. I recently rented the movie The Langoliers, based on the book by Stephen King, from the library. It was mostly horrible. However, I could recognize a bit of what struck me with the storyline as a kid (not too young a kid at this point). Anyway, this plane flies through some rip in the fabric of time into the past. Although, the past is really not some awesome adventure like Back to the Future. It is completely empty, without people, smells, tastes, and sounds, except for a mysterious and foreboding noise that keeps getting closer. This noise is the Langoliers, who are described by one of the characters as creatures consisting of only hair and teeth, which come after all the lazy and unproductive children in the world, and eat them. His father had told him about them when he was a boy, to torment him into being an overachiever. Now they were real. And they were devouring the world, and the past. I guess the past is as useless as those lazy boys and girls. But anyway, the passengers must escape the Langoliers, and get back into the present.





Although the movie is mostly pretty awful in parts, I really love the idea behind it. For me, it explores the feelings and fears of not having a purpose. Although, maybe when I was younger it was the idea of loneliness or being unimportant that got to me. Don't ask why I like to reflect on my creepier childhood memories as well, I'm not sure about that. Anyhow, this story paints a picture that is maddeningly empty, with creatures that embody “the vast beast-whistle of space,” high on your tail to clear you out too. With a world full of Langoliers, you are always on the run. "And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking, and racing around to come up behind you again." Sorry, I started quoting Pink Floyd.

Anyway, it is evident that the procrastinating reminiscent types wouldn't stand a chance against these Langoliers. Gee, with me not having a job right now and all, maybe I ought to watch my back. Though, I'm pretty sure that if a Langolier tried to gobble me up, it'd burst in a painful shower of nostalgia rainbows. But as of now, I think I'm safe anyway. I am not entirely unproductive. According to a recent email, I made a couple bucks in royalties with this t-shirt I made a long time ago. That’s right, I have officially sold two of them. I think I made more money at work while I was killing the time making that shirt than I've gotten from selling it. On the bright side, though, at least a couple bucks will buy me 10 lbs. of potatoes.

I Don't Want to Live in a Wigwam

So, get this, the place that I moved into this summer has a movie rack with 18 seasons of Star Trek (all of the original series, including the animated series, the Next Generation series, and the Deep Space Nine series). It also has both the theatrical and extended versions of The Lord of the Rings movies, all three Tolkien cartoons (with custom covers and internet downloads to replace various atrocities), every Star Wars dvd (yes, the kind where you can view the original along with the pointless George Lucas reboots that came out about 12 years ago), and…need I go on? This person is obviously a hardcore nerd, right? Yeah, kinda, but more accurately, he’s my brother.

Matt shares a duplex in Salt Lake with my sister Ali and her husband. And, he's good enough to let me live here too until I graduate. So, really, we are once again a bunch of Dukes under the same roof. And already, it feels a bit like I’m reliving some of my childhood summers. I currently don’t have a job yet, so it especially feels that way. One of my favorite things about this location is that there is a park right on the other side of the fence in our back yard.



So it is fun to go for walks on the trails, and I am fully intending to get some yard games to play out there (croquet, all the way!). We also all want to start playing some tennis in the courts that are there in the park. I'm considering getting a retro bike for the trails, as well. I also love to go hang out there at night.

My sister and I actually played Dead Poets Society there one night. We snuck out with flashlights, and I read her what I consider the coolest thing ever to read aloud, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” It was actually a lot of fun, especially since my brother’s cute little kitties actually followed us, and started frolicking around during the reading. I love reading at night in the park! I read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at night in a park in my neighborhood in Logan, and it set the mood so perfectly. So, we are certainly planning to try more Dead Poets nights again. My sis wants me to read her “something Greek” next time :)

Apparently, though, you aren’t supposed to be in any public parks around here at night. Ali actually showed me the sign that said it was closed from 10 pm to 6 am. Nuts to that! I don’t see the problem. On the plus side, it will make those Dead Poets nights more exciting, keeping in mind that we are truly doing something we aren’t supposed to be :>

I really love being here with my family! And think my brother is the best despite my cracks about his nerdish…leanings. Love ya, Matt! Also, my sister’s been wanting me to move out here for years, but I certainly have been taking my time getting through college. Now I’ve just got a Distance Ed. independent study class left to do this summer, and then I’m on to student teaching in the fall at (a lavish Neil Peart drum roll, please)…Northwest Middle School. Yes, I’ve decided to try my hand at a middle school. More details to come, but it should be exciting. I fully expect some tips from you sometime, Amanda.

I also recently had a birthday on Saturday. That's 25! It is a time of transition, I suppose. I was about to get all reflective about where I am in life, and where I want to be going, and what state of mind I have, and ought to, but now I am reminded of my first experience with a Yoga class (which I tried for kicks on my birthday). I was compelled by some of the things the instructor was asking us to think about through the exercises. It came as quite a surprise, actually. I’m at least a moderate skeptic about the point of New Age trends. Anyway, some of the ideas behind it really advocate a sense of self-awareness and acceptance of your current state of mind and body, with its strengths and limitations. I think that seems to be a pretty valuable concept however you go about exploring it. Also, it’s nice to clear time in your schedule for quiet reflection. Looks like for the moment, I have a bit of an abundance of free time. So, maybe I'll add Yoga to the list of things to try this summer. Most likely, I'll be spending more time than I want to doing homework. Blah.

Well, there’s the update. Thanks to those who got me a present/made me dinner, and such. Give yourselves a good pat on the back, from me (vicarious-like). No hugs, though.

I'll "Get" You, My Pretty, and Your Little Blog Too...

As much as I wanted to resist the trend of blogging when it was surfacing a few years ago, I think I can now admit that I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing them. I was just resistant because it was popular. I think that’s the same reason I avoided reading any Harry Potter books until about after the third film was made (even when my mom gave one to me for Christmas). In fact, I got an unwanted Harry Potter book on two separate Christmases. I came to find out later that the second incident was just a chance for someone to get rid of his ex-wife’s book. “Great…thanks…” But now, I honestly can say they are entertaining enough, but not my thing.

Oh, yes, so, what I was getting at with the fact that I like reading blogs is that I was the sort of child that practically coveted the idea of journal reading. It was honestly difficult for me to not read my family members' journals. Sad, I know. What’s worse is that I remember the time I cracked. I enjoyed learning that my brother had a crush on the star of the high school musical, yet, I also felt rightfully guilty. Now with people writing blogs, there is no more guilt to be had. The people that write them WANT readers, and comments, and…heck, maybe some of them want web-browsing strangers reading their blogs too (never saw the point of that personally, though). So, that curiosity I had as a child is now somewhat catered. Unfortunately, not enough people I know (care about) write one, and apparently not enough of my good friends and family share my curiosity, and want to read mine.

I was babysitting for my brother Scott the other day, and happened to mention something about my blog. He asked, “So, essentially, it’s a journal?” I hesitated for a sec, and essentially agreed. He seemed uninterested in the idea. Okay, so, that’s fine that he doesn’t care to hear about the life and thoughts of some stranger, but I think something that gets close to the journal of a family member sounds very interesting to read. In fact, at one time I thought it would be cool to be an English teacher, because they get to read so much of their students’ work, and thus get to know them better than the teachers of the other subjects, I would wager. I think that was the case for me. My English teachers seemed to know me pretty well. At least, they seemed to like me pretty well. Anyhow, I’m guessing there must be some people like me, or else there would be no need for those little diaries with the locks on them. I never had one of those. I guess I didn’t mind if someone read what I had to say.

This reminds me of a writing group I was involved with a few years back called Literary Den. I used to spend some time on the Bebo social network, as this is where a good friend (Beanbag Skratchbob) advertised and posted his music. We both ended up posting some of the chapters from books we were working on there as well. By way of that, I joined a small writers group that eventually evolved into Literary Den. As I came to find out, it was mostly a bunch of teenagers. But surprisingly, I enjoyed being a part of it despite the fact. I honestly found it fulfilling to learn about these kids from the UK. I read their stories, gave them feedback, and participated as a moderator for their website. I actually also found myself praying for personal concerns I knew that they were facing. I shared an email with my testimony to one of them, and shared the LDS.org website with another. It was an experience that I would say is completely the opposite of times on Facebook where you make “friends” with a bunch of people you know, but never talk to them.

My Beanbag Skratchbob friend (aka Dave), told me it was a neat service I was giving, reading these kids’ stories while I was at work (some being incredibly long), and getting back to them within a couple days. It didn’t seem that way to me at all. I enjoyed it. I felt that their work deserved some attention and praise after all the time they put into it. They deserved to know that the world was a little bit more aware of them. If that was service, I hope that the many other service opportunities I will have down the line will be so easy and enjoyable.

I admit, I’m not the most charitable person in the world. I am usually fully aware when I am doing service for people. I'm pretty sure there is something about that awareness and the spirit of the act that are incongruous. I need some practice with willingly (and unconciously) extending more service. How do you practice something that you hope to do unconciously? Yes, I ask more questions to avoid doing things...

I guess there is that one strength I may have regarding the matter, that I love getting to know people better. To this aim, it's really pretty fun and enlightening not only to read various writings, but to also inquire after the meaning behind music compositions, and works of art. My nephew Brandon is a pretty amazing artist, and was showing me a notebook full of his drawings. I asked about some of the creatures he had drawn, saying that they reminded me of C.S. Lewis's childhood drawings, as well as old Genesis album covers. Turns out, the creatures were the imagimary friends that he and his brother had as little kids. Honestly, what's more interesting than learning about childhood imaginary friends? Especially when they looked like satyrs and foxes?

I always wanted to have had an imaginary friend! I feel like I wasn't as creative or delightfully crazy (as kids are allowed to be) as I would have liked to be. So, looking at the sketchbook was truly the highlight of that day. Hmm, but perhaps the fact that I actually enjoy that sort of thing makes it, in fact, selfish. Lousy Immanuel Kant! No one is ever good enough according to him!

...well, thanks for reading. I actually started out with something more relevant in mind to say, but ended up with this. This. For your sakes, though, at least you know I like to read your blogs :)