blah, blah, blah

So, I've been a bit burnt out lately on ideas for my blog. I have a few things simmering at the back of my mind to write about, but they might end up being projects that require a little research, and I'm not ready to do that yet. If you have any ideas or suggestions on something I should write about, please let me know. I am very opinionated, so if you bring up a subject or attack my stances on something, I'm sure I'll have plenty to say.

On the same token, I'm not quite sure how many people are actually reading this blog; it seems to me that I am just whispering into the wind. So, if you are reading this blog, even occasionally, let me know (make a comment, shake my hand when you see me on the street, or just flatter my ego a bit--which you should do anyway).

Now onto a few random thoughts/rants.

Rain is bad. It's been raining waaaaaaaaaaaay too much for me this summer. This is slightly depressing, and certainly not the summer I wanted--especially since my work requires me to camp outside for eight days on end. Go away gray skies! I never even saw the sun last week. Come back global warming!

I am really coming to like 2Pac. If you don't know, he's a rapper from back when I was in high school. Supposedly he died, but miraculously his albums are still coming out. I don't know all the details, and I'm a bit too lazy too look them up right now. Anyway, he was way ahead of his time. Good stuff, if you're into that sort of thing.

Erm. . .

I should probably be working on my book right now. Peace!

Good Music People

A lot of people have asked me where I download music from. There's a pretty good site called mp3fiesta.com. It's much cheaper than iTunes and they have a pretty good selection. I'll post a link at the end here.

Obviously, there is a perk in this for me---if you sign up through this link I get $50 worth of free music. So, sign up and buy music!

http://www.mp3fiesta.com/?user=3493015

Summer of Love?!?

What is going on here? Seriously, I leave college for a few short months, and all of the sudden I get on facebook, or whatever, and everybody is getting married. I'm getting bombarded by invitations! By the time I get back to BYU, all of the single women are going to be gone. It's like something out of a nightmare. . . I feel like Will Smith in I am Legend, but instead, I am the last single man alive, there are no unmarried ladies, and, married people are the zombies.

Bah! Humbug!

Sometimes the Magic Works

I stole that title, I think from Terry Brooks, but I'm not sure. Suffice it to say, that I am "borrowing" from somebody else, hehehe.

I've been writing since I was in junior high. I'd like to think that it was because I was a highly intelligent and introspective young man, but it probably comes down more to the fact that I was pretty much a loser, without any sort of social life, and the only way I could get one was to invent one. It worked for me, and I turned out normal. Somewhat.

My first "book" was pretty much a failure. A story with no real purpose, a meandering plot line, a couple cool ideas, and an uncommon similarity to the Dragonlance books---which is what I was reading at the time. I'm not sure if that story ever got finished; I have a few of the original chapters, but somehow the first three and the last ??? have vanished. Oh well, it's no great loss. Perhaps one day I'll pull out what I have, dust it off, and re-energize that which is worth saving.

My second attempt at a novel has consumed my life. As near as I can figure, I began writing it sometime around my freshman year of high school---while burrowing into my segment of our one room, ten person cabin, and listening to Alien by the British grunge band, Bush. The work continued slowly throughout high school and beyond, and the story grew, matured, and evolved. I typed the final page the summer before I left on my mission. I had been writing it for almost five years. Of course, the story had changed so much, that nothing matched all the way through. The story was even more convoluted and warped than the story that I had written in my early teens!

Fortunately, I then had a two year reprieve from the tedious writing process. Two years for me to wander the mazes of my story in my mind's eye, to analyze the weaknesses, the strengths, everything. . . and the story began to evolve even more. It became harder, darker, more relevant, and brighter, and more inspiring.

A funny side note: During this time, my finished manuscript was lost/stolen by a woman who had convinced me to let her read it. I still haven't figured out exactly how I let that happen, dumbness I guess. Luckily, the story is nothing like it was before. It has evolved into something completely different from what I wrote before my mission. So the chances of plagiarism, from the original manuscript, are zero.

When I came home, I tried to start writing again, but after a couple attempts at rewriting, I could get no further than 24 pages. I was stuck on the same beginning for three years, and it was so frustrating. To view the myriads of thoughts, ideas, and visions in my mind, but not to be able to capture them on paper. Now, I think I know why. The story was not complete.

And now, here I am, writing about writing, because I want to say that writing is good. And a good story creates itself. It may take 10 years or more, but eventually all the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. The history, the people, the magic, everything, all come together to make something magnificent; something that is beyond a man but ever so much a part of it's creator.

Ah, the feeling of satisfaction that comes as I visit the world that his sprung into existence in the pages of my mind. It is complete, and all the questions that I have so long pondered provide answers to themselves.

Sometimes, my friends, the magic works.

Quote for the Day/Week/Month

I don't only read Louis L'Amour, he just has a lot of good quotes. . .

If we sit secure this hour, this day, it is because the thin walls of the law stand between us and evil. A jolt of the earth, a revolution, an invasion or even a violent upset in our own government can reduce all to chaos, leaving civilized man naked and exposed.
-Louis L'Amour
Fair Blows the Wind

Eulogy

I knew it was a desperate cause in the beginning, but after five encouraging days I thought things might turn out to be OK. I got my hopes up. Then I went to work for eight days. All week long I was looking forward to seeing those five little bunnies when I got home. But in this I was sorely disappointed. Every one had died within 24 hours of my departure.

I must confess that I was pretty tore up about this and might have been a little grumpy and depressed the day that I got home.

It's strange what an experience like this does to you. I thought I was prepared for the worst case scenario. In fact, I fully expected it. If those bunnies had died on the first or second day, it could have been acceptable. But by the third day, those little hares would fight to pile into my hand when I reached into their box, they would constantly struggle to climb out (two little rascals actually found the weak point and exploited it to escape) and then promptly settle down and go to sleep when picked up. They were gaining weight and energy, they were inquisitive and trusting, and then they died. And I found out that I had not steeled myself enough. After five days of feeding them, after checking on them constantly, after holding them, after watching them learn how to hop . . . I guess I started to love them. Curse my soft heart!

It turns out that any sort of cow's milk product will kill rabbits. I discovered this on the third or forth day, but there was no way to change what I was feeding them (a weak mixture of powdered milk and a little sugar). There isn't a pet store anywhere nearby (Anchorage=4 hours), and no way to get the product that they needed (KMR-kitty milk replacement, or the puppy version . . . for future reference). So they died because of my ignorance and isolation, which is what I was most afraid of.

Snowshoe Hares

In the village where my father works, a crew was building a fire line when they discovered these little guys hiding underneath a brush pile (The brush had been piled there for less than four days, so these five snowshoe hares were certainly younger than that. My guess is they were either one or two days old when they were discovered). So my dad calls me up--it's my week off--and volunteers me to take care of them.

My family has often undertaken mercy missions like this in the past (ducks, hares, swallows, woodpeckers, and other birds), but none has ever been successful. The problem here is that we're too (soft/dumb/stubborn. . .your pick) to just let them die in the wild. . . we have to do everything we can to save them.

So I have a huge burden on my shoulders, as I am the latest in a long series of futile efforts to save wild animals. I don't want to fail.

When these guys were placed in my care, the first order of business was to get some food into them. I mixed some powdered milk and a little sugar and heated it over the oven so that it was warm, and then soaked a towel for them to suck on. . . didn't work. I raided my mom's vanity and nicked an eye-dropper, which worked somewhat better, but they still barely ate. I was very worried, because all they were doing was piling in the corner of the little box they were in and sleeping. Sometimes they looked dead.

Fortunately, I live in the Internet generation, so I did some research to figure out what these guys eat. I didn't find anything that I didn't already know, but I did stumble across a recording of a showshoe hare on the National Geographic website, which I played (If you don't know already, the main sound that these little bunnies make is a horrible screaming cry when they are in mortal danger). I was hoping for something a little different, but no, it was a rabbit screaming. My new little charges panicked, and I felt horrible, but it did demonstrate that they were still alive.

I did learn that they do most of their eating at night, so I left them alone for the rest of the day and tried to feed them later at night. I can't say that I was much more successful, but I did get them to eat a little.


They next couple days went a bit better. I've gotten them to eat more when I feed them, about as much as an eyedropper can suck up in one dip. Hopefully, they are getting the nutrients that growing bunnies need. I've tried boiling plants and bark to add to their milk, but I don't know if that is working or not.



Whatever the case, they seem to be perking up. A couple seem to have plenty of energy, and all of them can move fairly well (when I got them they were so weak/young/both that they trembled when they moved, but now they hop pretty nicely). One of them does seem a little weaker, but I still have hope for him. Two have one eye closed, I don't know why, snowshoe hares are born with fur and open eyes. . .


Anyway, if you have any experience or advise let me know. These bunnies need all the help they can get!

Liberty

Americans are the luckiest people in the world.

Sure, we may whine and complain about our politicians, the price of gas, the price of food, how much we hate the Yankees/Lakers (insert least favorite sports team here), or whatever else it is that we dislike at any given time, but in truth, we have so much to be thankful for.

Freedom for one.

Our society gained, through the wisdom of our founding fathers and the Revolutionary War, a society that has been dreamed of by all men since the beginning of recorded history. A place where all men and women have the potential to be free; a place where, by the sweat of our brow, we can achieve a life that is good.

Name another society that had as much potential for individual freedom, where an individual can receive as much reward for their work ethic. This IS the land of opportunity. We can have what we want, all it takes is a little determination, a little elbow grease, and sometimes a little bit of luck. As Ayn Rand says (and I'm loosely quoting here), "Americans are the first people to use the phrase 'to make money.'" Basically, she says that we are the first people who realized that we build our own fortune, we forge our own path. And that has been the American way since the very beginning.

Sure, I'll grant that America has problems. Some people will say we have racial/minority issues. And I suppose that is true, but it's nothing close to what is going on in the middle east. Compared to what goes on in the rest of the world, American racial issues are on the level of squabbling children. Others despair because of the American political situation, but once again, we're pretty stable compared to the rest of the world (I think Zimbabwe is a mess right now). And others say that we are destroying the environment, to them I say, "your mom. . . already did it." Oh, my mom (who is AWESOME) pointed out poverty, but I have to say that our poor are rich compared to the rest of the world (My family for instance is pretty "poor," but with five cars (three iffy), two houses (unfinished), three TVs, two pianos, running water, indoor plumbing, a billion books, like eight computers, and other typical family junk, we don't sound bad off at all, we live the American dream).

We have much to be thankful for.

The problem that this creates is that we become victims of our success. Today's America is much softer/weaker than the America of 100 or even 50 years ago. We become apathetic to the cause for which our ancestors sacrificed so much. As John C. Calhoun said, "It is harder to preserve than obtain liberty."

And this is the stage that we are at today. Today, the 4th of July, the day where we gained our independence from the English crown, we must remember that it is our job to not squander away this marvelous gift that we have been given. Our love of freedom must not die.

Things I would change

The mind wanders to strange things out in the mountains, when the crisp cold air wakes you at night, and you lie awake listening to the sounds of the river, or birds singing to greet the dawn at 3am on the high tundra. . .

Me? I've spent a lot of time wondering about where I am at in life right now, and I must say that, for the most part, I am quite content with myself right now. But here are a few things that I wish I could change.

I wish I could have discovered Ballroom Dance while I was still in my teens. I would be light years ahead of myself right now, and would have a much, much better chance of making the BYU BDC Touring Team before I graduate from college.

I wish I had been more confident and aggressive in High School, mainly regarding the four years I spent playing basketball. . . I love basketball, and I had all the tools to be a good high school player, except for that athletic killer instinct. . . I wish I could have discovered it when I was much younger (and in better physical condition).

I wish I had known the secret of missionary work when I left on my mission, rather than when I was coming home. But it is so true. . . by the time you figure out missionary work, you are packing your bags.

I wish I was able to write like my sister. She can actually finish the stories that she starts, while I spend all my time in contemplation, wondering what the next line is going to be.

I wish I was more eloquent with the spoken word.

I wish I had bigger pectoral muscles.

I wish that I could recognize the ever so subtle signs of women, that I could distinguish between real flirtation and just being nice. On the same token, there are a few girls that I let slip through my fingers because I don't know how to initiate the dating process. . . that was dumb. . . I guess you just have to ask.

I wish I had TV right now so I could watch this season of SYTYCD.

Don't get the idea that I have a lot of regrets. I just have an awareness of how things could have been different, and maybe better. But you never know the paths that you might take in life, so, sometimes I wonder. . . especially when I lie awake at night, in the mountains.