Sensitivity

Today's Best Quote:
Please don't make fun of monkeys.

My sincerest apologies to all my simian friends-- I did not intend to offend you. My ignorant and insensitive comment was not meant to injure monkey-kind. I implore you not to shower me with your own feces.

Rain Dance

Amid all the talk of super-powers (last night, for example, Tyler and I argued over the right to claim super-sleeping powers--the ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, in any position), I was forcibly reminded of one of my greatest supernatural abilities-- the power to control the weather. Not in all situations, mind you, nor in very many. In fact, my ability to control the weather extends only to one facet of the atmosphere: I can make it rain.

Now this will not come as a surprise to those of you who are familiar with my Native-American heritage (1/32 Blackfoot baby!!). For many moons have my people summoned Brother Rain to their side, bringing with him life-giving water, allowing us to track the wild buffalo and scalp the white man (for proof, see Bryant "The Last Mohawkian" Casteel's latest hairstyle). Back when the prairie sage-grass still waved like um... waves... across the I-15 corridor, my people needed only to importune Tess, the rain god, with the Rain Dance. I would descibe the details to you, but our medicine man forbids it. He says too much rain would be disasterous for our people, meaning that not as many of the white-haired grandmothers would be able to make it to the casino. Perhaps one day they will teach it in 2nd grade rather than square dancing. For now, however, the Rain Dance remains a family recipe.

Sadly, the great buffalo herds have now moved on, and many of the old ways have been forgotten. And yet there remains some of the ancient magic pulsing in my veins. I can still make it rain. No longer must I dance as we once did, nor must my war-whoop raise high towards the stars. All I need to do is wash my car. No joke. I can't remember the last time that I washed my car that it did not rain within 48 hours. A year ago, I personally held the state of Utah in an extended drought becuase I was even too lazy to take my car to the Sonic Car-Wash. I'm not proud of it, but it's true.

Take today, for example. It started out as a normal summer day, 90+ degrees and not a cloud in the sky. No sooner did I take my car to a Self-Wash than the clouds began to roll in like an Indian raiding party. The only thing preventing a flash flood was that I parked underground so as to avoid the inevitable downpour. So for those of you who were looking forward to a nice clear evening for "star-gazing", as I know most of y'all were, sorry about the weather--my car needed the wash and we need Brother Rain to pay a visit.

Back to my fire-water.

Muck-Ra, the Evil Twin

So if you havn't noticed by now, the person who gets the most "air-time" in my blog is my twin brother, Marshall. Sometimes I'm not too kind to him in my posts (prior comments about study habits/Blockbuster), but it's all in good fun. He just left my apartment after an evening spent "working on our paper." Yes, I fully admit that my prior doubts about his assistance have proven to be completely unfounded, if not unreasonable. Anyway, just to give y'all a little insight into our unique relationship, here's what we did tonight. Marsh ate Dan's spaghetti, mocked my pain (again, a topic for another post), drew a person showering on our whiteboard (from behind, all in 'good taste'), beat me at Smash Brothers, soaked all three of my roommates with a squirtgun (one of whom was sleeping), made wookie noises, and nearly broke my neck wrestling (literally). I, on the other hand, listened to my favorite AI songs, played Bart vs. the Space Mutants on our apartment's new prized possession (the classic Nintendo!!!!), attempted to throw a controller into the wall (I was stopped because the cord was too short), and laughed at Marshall's exploits. Oh yeah, we worked on our paper, too. (Please see previous post about the Andrews twins as BYU's worst students, athletes excluded.)

Love ya bro!!

Back by Popular Demand

So I took a small hiatus from blogging because, well, I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because I've done nothing for the past few weeks except complain, about school, girls, life in general, pretty much anything and everything. I think my roommates, family, and perfect strangers are beginning to get a little annoyed with my constant diatribe, so I thought that I'd resort to a more silent soapbox (although you have to admit, hearing people vent is a lot more entertaining than hearing about days that are "just okay" or "fine"-- Give me a raving lunatic over a hyper-content bore anyday. Except if it's my sister-in-law at a restaurant.) So I'm back, and more neurotic than ever.
If you're like me (and I think it's fairly safe to say that you are), then every once in a while little nagging thoughts pop into your head. Not in a serial killer-esque, Shining sort of way; I said thoughts, not voices. That happened to me earlier this week, as I was putting off writing yet another essay, chock-full of the mind-numbing intellectual jargon (not an oxymoron) of academia. (In fact, that's what I should be doing now, but since it's for a religion class, instead of of M-NIJOA, it's crammed with P-DRBBOSR-- pseudo-doctrinal ramblings backed by obscure scriptural references. Actually it's supposed to be a group paper, with the group consisting of myself and the only other person I know who is a worse student than me, my brother. **This includes Bryant, who easily places third from bottom.** Note to self: Partnering with family for schoolwork is a bad idea.)
Anyway, back to my previous point. I was putting off writing my 30th paper that week when I suddenly realized that I was not getting anything out of my education. While I now realize that it's because I'm not putting anything into it, that thought did not occur to me at that time. Now, I am a fairly confident guy (except for a short period after being completely rejected by a girl-- a topic for some other post), and so I honestly think that I can succeed at whatever career that I'm ultimately going into- right now it's teaching high school... and marketing disposable BBQ's. I am just having a hard time making the connection between my current classes and my eventual career. I guess I just don't think that I'm any better prepared to teach now than I was at the beginning of this semester. I really just want to start teaching right now; it's just that this whole degree thing gets in the way. As if you need to know something about what you're supposed to be teaching.
This thought struck me pretty hard; hard enough to actually prompt me to look for options outside of going to school this summer. I started looking for service opportunities, particularly for volun-teering for some Microcredit nonprofit. In fact. I even visited the Peace Corps website, which was enough to shock back into reality. As my brother says, the Peace Corps is perhaps the only organization less effective than his current job at Blockbuster. Ouch. Anyway, I guess I'm getting over this little funk that I've been going through, but I am still struggling to see the relevance of school. Maybe just because I'm staring the aforementioned "group" essay in the face.
Sorry for the long-winded whining. Peace out, Napoleon.

P.S. Double Bubble gum tastes like Pepto-Bismol. Luckily, the taste onlt lasts for 0.3 seconds. Thanks Jason.