Lucky.

    Do you believe in fate? I only ask this because I don't. I don't believe that no matter what happens, you will end up in the same place. I don't believe that you're just destined to end up somewhere and that you have no say in the matter. I do, however, believe in luck. 
    I believe that there are two kinds of luck, essentially. First, there is situational luck, and second, there is inherited luck. Situational luck occurs when something favorable happens by chance rather than your actions. I'm writing this post to talk about the second kind of luck, inherited luck.
    Every day we are playing the odds. Every day we take a chance that we will be late for work, that we will get sick, that we will get in a car accident, ect. Now there are measures we can take to turn the odds in our favor, such as setting alarms to ensure we make it to work, washing our hands and eating healthy to keep from getting sick, and using safe driving practices to avoid accidents. But essentially, when it comes to something unfavorable happening to you sometime throughout your day, the odds are stacked against you. 
    I was born lucky. Unfortunate things rarely, if ever, happen to me. I was born with amazing parents and siblings, so I have no family issues. I have lived in a town with an incredibly low crime rate. I'm talented. I've gotten pulled over 13 times and only received 1 ticket. I've kissed two girls. I've gone my entire life only breaking one bone. I'm coordinated. I'm not shy. Only two things legitimately scare me. I'm marginally attractive. I'm laid back. I know what I want to do for a career. I have friends. I failed a vital class and still graduated high school. I got fired and had a new job the very next week. I totaled my car and drove a different one to school the next day. I'm not addicted to anything. and the list goes on and on.
     I often hear of people say "He's had a hard life." Well, fortunately for me, I'll probably never be that guy. I was born lucky. I don't know if I just consistently end up in the right place at the right time, or if there are just very few roadblocks in my way.  Now I'm not writing all this to brag about myself. I'm writing this to tell you about the one thing in my life that makes me feel the most lucky. The fact that I have had the gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints for my entire life. 
     I've definitely taken this one for granted. I've had the opportunity to be blessed beyond all imagination. I am blessed with the knowledge of where I came from, why I'm here, and where I'm going. I know that Jesus Christ took upon himself my sicknesses, my pains, and my sins all so that I can have the opportunity to live with God again. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and translated the Book of Mormon. I love this book! I'm so lucky that I have the opportunity to go out and serve a full 2 year mission to teach the People of Salta, Argentina. I get to share with others all the joy and blessings that I've received from the knowledge that I have.
    As you can see, I'm quite lucky indeed.

Put Another 'X' On The Calender

    They said "If you don't let it out, you're gonna let it eat you away." I'd rather be a cannibal, baby, animals like me don't talk anyway. ...Put another 'X' on the calender, summer's on its deathbed, there is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends. 

    Well, the semester has come to an end, as all good things do. In a few days I will box up all my belongings, pack my car, and leave this place behind. St. George is like living in a semi-permanent summer holiday; the pants stay shorts, the water still feels sometimes swimmable, and the weather is still fair. Except in this summer holiday, there's more sleepless nights staring at a blank 'Microsoft Word' document with two empty Red Bulls next to your computer, there's more interesting people, there's more time spent riding down hills on a longboard than you spend in class, and there's many more stories to be made and shared. 

      I'm gonna miss the times that I could leave my apt. at 3 a.m., not come back until 6 a.m. and no one even questioned it. I'm gonna miss the view from my 3rd story balcony. I'm gonna miss sitting on the edge of that balcony, playing guitar so that my roommates didn't get annoyed by me. I'm gonna miss all the new friends that I've made; Brandon, Hogan, Kolton, Morgan, Taylor, Allie (maybe), and I might even miss Tyrel and Enoch. I'm gonna miss my singles ward bishop, Bishop McMullin. I'm gonna the hot tub and the pool. I'm gonna miss the constant stream of people flooding my apartment. I'm gonna miss the weather like crazy.

     Basically, St. George has been a wonderful place to live. I've learned a lot about people, music, computers, and even more about myself. I've dealt a couple tragedies and I've made even more amazing memories. I'm gonna miss the crap out of this place, but I'm excited to start a new chapter in my life. I've been called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ in the Argentina, Salta mission. I'm moving home on Saturday and I will remain in Delta until March 13th, when I will report to the MTC. 

 When one door closes, even for a couple years, another one opens.

     I'm excited to serve the people Argentina and the Lord. I'm excited to move home to my best friends Mick, Lexi, and Chance until my mission. I'm excited to go to the temple, I'm excited to learn the Spanish language, and I'm especially excited to share with Argentinians all the joy and all the knowledge that the gospel has given me.

What Makes You an Adult?

What makes you an adult? This is the question that was asked to me recently and I've been thinking a lot about it. 

       Legally, I'm an adult. The law specifies that a person becomes an adult when the reach 'the age of majority,' the age of majority (in most States) being 18 years old. This means that my parents can't tell me what to do, that I can vote, and that I can be charged as an adult (therefore, I'd go straight to a federal penitentiary and orange really isn't my color.) But in reality, I've learned (here in college) that many of my fellow co-eds are not adults, that even acting like children would be a step up from some of the behavior that I've seen.

        I think being an adult has a lot more than surviving for 18 years. I believe that being an adult has more to do with how you act, how you carry yourself, how you speak, how you handle the unexpected, how you deal with loss, rejection, and happiness, and how you treat others around you.
  
        I have a friend, Taylor (shown below in post entitled "Switzerland, The Paradox."), Taylor is a very cute girl and often flirts with anyone with perfect (or even less than perfect) abs and stubble. Alex is the stoner next door. He's obnoxious and often won't leave any of us alone. He has a particular (almost creepy) fondness of Taylor. The worst part? HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND!!! Becca, now there's a catch, this (very nasty, scratch that, very very nasty) girl is a couple years older than Taylor and I, and a few STD's short of Ke$ha. 
      Last week, Alex gave Taylor a back massage. That must have really really upset Becca, because when Taylor was walking up the stairs and Becca was walking down Becca said "Oh look, it's the b***." (or something to the equivilant).
Taylor calmly passed by her, walked straight up to our apartment, and told us what happened calmly and with a smile on her face. She said, "It's okay, I'm used to being called a whore since high school, just because I have a lot of friends." (Messed up, right!?) 
      Taylor was the adult in this situation, sure, maybe she shouldn't have let him give her a back massage, but that was in the past. She didn't let Becca's very rude (very uncalled for) comment get the best of her! She was in control of her actions and her mouth, and she's definitely on the moral high road in this situation. And she's definitely not a whore, or a b***. (Okay? Stupid, disease ridden Becca.)
       
      I believe that an adult is someone with self control, even in front of his/her enemies. An adult is someone who learns from their mistakes. He/she is someone who can make educated, long-term decisions. An adult carries themselves with dignity and self respect. An adult learns how to deal with rejection, unhappiness, and loss.

      Today marks 2 months exactly since The Boy committed suicide. It still hurts when I think about it, it hurts bad. I cried by myself for a while today. Then I put on a happy face, because that's what he'd want, because that's who he was, he was happy. The Boy was more of an adult than I was, most of the time. He gave me great advice, often. 

     I'm trying to become an adult, I'm trying to look at others' examples and learn how I should act. I'm always learning about myself, about how I deal with happiness, rejection and loss. I try to treat others respectfully, and I try to carry myself with self respect. 
     I think there will always be a child inside each of us, one that gets really excited Christmas morning, one that doesn't want to calm down, and one that will want to act selfish on our birthday. 

Just because we will all still be young at heart, doesn't mean that we should act like children.

The Entities of My Irrational Hatreds

        Hatred - a deep and emotional extreme dislike that can be directed against individuals, entities, objects, or ideas.

       I have an extreme hatred for only a few things in life, and lately, I've been thinking about how irrational these hatreds actually are! I've compiled a list of 5 things that I actually "hate." Most of us can say that we hate something or someone and not really mean it. Well, that is NOT how I feel about these 5 things.

Well, here it goes:

Meet Jayden. This kid is the biggest prick I've ever met in my life. (and the most rational of all 5 entities of hatred)
        In The Dark Knight, Alfred tells a story about a man who was robbing caravans in the Amazon, and he ends with this phrase, "He was throwing the precious gems away." "Why?" "Well because it was good sport! Because some men can't be persuaded or reasoned with, some men just want to watch the world burn." 
        That is Jayden in a nutshell. He roamed the halls of Delta High with one goal in mind, to ruin everyone's day for his own enjoyment. He didn't play any sports (or at least the ones that he did play, he quit). He had the mouth of a sailor and a temper to match. He thought he was God's gift to earth thanks to a psychotic mother who convinced him that he was. He drove a p.o.c. (peice of crap) Pontiac Firebird. I brushed shoulders in the hall with him one day and he turns around and yells, "Watch it a**hole!" He was loud, extremely cocky, and very very obnoxious. To this day, I can't say I've ever had a good experience with Jayden. I'm almost positive that he's not worthy to serve a mission, but he's going anyway. 

Meet Mitchell. Volunteering at animal shelters, attending every farewell in Delta and Fillmore, my hate for him may be the most irrational, unexplainable concept I've ever encountered. But it's still there.
        Ever since the first time I met him, I've never liked him. He seems way too fake, way too cheerful, and the kind of kid who would kiss with a girl and never talk to her again. But much to my surprise and yours, I've never actually had a hard fact to prove any of these gut feelings. Although this kid caused a break up between his friend and me. Ultimately it wasn't his fault but it's so much easier to blame him on him. I told her that I didn't like him, and then I couldn't come up with a solid reason and she never dated me again. In hindsight, I'd keep my opinions about him to myself.
         

NO I DON'T. I know what you're thinking, is it possible to hate an entire decade, even if that decade was influencial, even if that decade was when your parents got married? I say yes. I HATE THE 80's.
         Think about all the terrible things that happened in the 1980's! In 1980 John Lennon was shot and killed outside his hotel in New York City, this should be the first indicator of a slippery slope. Next they discovered the effects pedal, a grungy satanic version of the effects pedal. Next came Metalica, *shudders*  fast guitar rhythms and too many drums can't disguise the awful, tasteless, excuse for music. Then came disdainfully damaged hair, thanks to hairspray and perms. Then the "King of Pop" Micheal Jackson, the skin bleached, nose-job bearing, child molesting (allegedly), millionaire. Only two good things came out the 80's, The Breakfast Club and Ronald Reagan. 

 I hate Beatboxing with a burning passion of a thousand hot tamales. It is a lousy excuse for any music at all. Any tard in his basement can click his tongue and try to make drum noises. It is the most pathetic facade of the tallentless ever created. 

My last unexplainable, irrational hate is that of Christmas. 
         Don't pull out the "You hate Christ's Birthday!!!" because that's not the Christmas that I hate. Christmas doesn't even seem to be anything about Christ anymore :(. I hate the the constant Christmas music blaring in my ears. I hate the constant TV adds encouraging you and me to buy way too much crap. I hate the weather and all the cold that it brings. I'm not a particular fan of my little brother waking me up at 4 a.m. to open presents. I do love the joy that it brings and enlightens in people, but I wish there was no commercial aspect to it at all!

My Experiences With The Performing Arts

       Flashback time! In 6th grade, my mom signed me up for piano lessons and I had the option of entering one of three musical programs, Band, Orchestra, and Choir. I weighed each of the options heavily. My older sister Brooke played the violin. Brooke was ALWAYS the perfect child and probably always will be. Needless to say, I was never going to achieve "Brooke Status" in my parents' eyes. So why even try to follow in her footsteps? Choir seemed borderline homosexual, so I fell into place with the Band. Of all the instruments available to play, I chose the Oboe. I don't know if you know anything about that awful, squeaky, double-reeded, satanic creation called the Oboe; But it should suffice to say that it was loud, and I loved it (at the time). My teacher was Mr. David Andrade, a Spongebob obsessed, very loud, very stout man. He quickly became my favorite teacher. 
       The Christmas of my 6th grade year, my dad bought my siblings and I a guitar to share. A "Fender Starcaster," my siblings enjoyed playing the (ever so cliche) classic "Smoke On The Water." But unlike them, I stuck with it. I wanted to play every Rise Against Song ever written.

         8th grade rolled around faster than I thought, and I took up the Trombone and I loved it. It was A LOT easier than the Oboe had EVER been. So by this time I could play 4 instruments; the Trombone, the Piano, the Guitar, and the Oboe. I could play every "Pirates of the Caribbean" song in the book on piano! I could play 4 or 5 green day songs on that old Fender. I finally (sorta) got the hang of the Oboe! But the Trombone was my favorite, it was loud, we had the funnest melodies of the entire band. Meanwhile, every guy my age was growing, and growing fast! Meanwhile, I remained short. I tried out for Advanced Jazz Band and I made it! I was the only 8th grader who made it!

        9th grade: 4'10". I had a big crush on one of the tallest girls on the volleyball team! I attended my first day of class for A.J.B. and that's the first day that I saw what Satan looks like. Her name was Karen Chandler. She was evil. "Does anyone play the Tuba?" was the first question she asked the class. .....nobody raised their hands; and of course I raised my hand and said "I'd love to learn." That day I brought home a behemoth instrument that was twice as big as I was! But a future band teacher should learn the Tuba sometime, right? 
        The year progressed, and I continue to practice all 5 of the instruments. I fell in love with the guitar and piano. Then all-state choir arrived. They needed an Oboe soloist, the piece was given to yours truly, and I was incredibly stoked. I practiced the crap out of that solo. 20 minutes before I was supposed to go onstage, I broke my reed. (this started a cataclysmic degradation of any courage I'd ever had, since I'd never played a solo before.) I had two options, first, I could attempt to play on a broken reed. Second, I could run to the nearby store and purchase a new one. (both of these were bad choices) If I played on a broken reed, the high notes wouldn't sound at all. If I played on a new reed, any note would sound squeaky and awful. 
        New reed. That was my choice. I walked on stage slowly, the crowd applauded. The conductor motioned for the All-State Choir (basically the best singers and musicians in the state on one stage, and then me.) to rise. The piano started playing, The flute next to me started playing; my palms were failing me. I was sweating. A very long story cut very short, I squeaked the heck out of that entire solo. and I never picked up an Oboe again (those evil creations of Satan can all burn).

        Sophomore year, I got my first acoustic, another "Fender Stratocaster." I loved that guitar so dang much. I quit piano lessons. I stopped playing Tuba. I started a band. I grew 7 inches! I had the opportunity of playing piano in the pit orchestra of the musical. I loved it! 

       Junior year, I decided that maybe I could try to sing. I tried out for advanced choir and narrowly made it. I met some of my greatest friends in that class. I played guitar most days instead of paying attention.
       Jimi Baker. 4'9". Pregnant. Demented. This woman had to deal with more crap (from my comrades and I) than I've ever cared to know. I enjoyed my time in choir and treated it as a free period. In a nutshell, our relationship was a rough one.
       There was one great anomaly of choir. It always seemed that the people who had the worst singing voices (that Delta had to offer) would always do exactly what Mrs. Baker said, they'd sing loud, they'd have perfect posture and she'd use them as examples for the guys like me. There were very few of the tenors that could hit the notes that Joseph and I could hit. We used this to our advantage. She needed us much much more than we needed her, and we didn't hesitate point it out if a grade or attendance was on the line.


         Looking Back, I wouldn't trade any of my experiences that I learned in Band or choir. I loved the people I met, the laughs I had, and the music we played (usually). I wouldn't trade skipping choir, getting yelled at by the principle and having to go to the crossroads for 2 days for anything.
        

       Today, I only play one instrument. Guitar. 

         Music has taught me so much. I have 2500 songs on my ipod and I love every one of them. I play guitar for hours a day. When you listen to a song, you listen to the words. When I listen to a song (no matter the genre) I think, "How could I play this?" 

"Music can change the world, because music can change people." 
                          -George Harrison

          Music has the power to turn a bad day good, your favorite song can put a smile on your face when the world wants you to frown. It can comfort, it can bring tears to eyes, it can pump you up, it can calm you down, and it consists entirely of 12 tones! That's it! 
        My MUSIC 1010 teacher too often says, "If you ever get a chance to hear this live, I recommend that you do it." Music has the power to move people. If you EVER get the chance to learn how to play it, I recommend you take that chance. Pick up that old guitar, dust off the old piano, maybe bring your trumpet out of the back of the closet. 
        Music is one of the greatest, most unexplainable phenomena that we have in our life. Let's appreciate it. 

The (Much Overlooked) Things That I'M Thankful For.

What am I thankful for?

      The easy answers would be the ones like "I'm thankful for my family, friends, and dog." Don't get me wrong, I AM thankful for these things, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about the things that people overlook in their thankful prayers and posts.

My list of thankful things goes a little bit deeper. 

      I'll start with my family. I'm thankful for my mom, for great lady that she is. I'm thankful that she is a great secret-keeper and an even better listener. I'm thankful for her righteousness in the church. I'm grateful that she is a wonderful cook. I'm so happy that she acts like more of a friend than a parent (now that I'm out of high school). 

      Next is my dad. My dad is one of the greatest men that I've ever met in my entire life. He's not a member of the church (or at least he's severely inactive) but he is still twice the guy that any active church member is. He doesn't say a lot, so I'm grateful that when he talks, I listen. I'm so thankful that he is so forgiving, saying things like "s*** happens," after I totaled my third car. He's never cared what I do, but whatever I have done, I really appreciate the fact that he's supported me in it.

      Third is my older sister, Brooke. I'm really thankful that she lives only 30 minutes from me, and I wish I could see her more. She's always been "the perfect child" and I've always aspired to do the things that she's been able to accomplish. She has a wonderful (completely unshakable) testimony. and I'm always happy to see her.

      Fourth in line is my little sister, Lexi. I'm so thankful for my best friend, my partner in crime. She's always been there to talk to me. She pretty much taught me how to flirt with girls. We both have the exact same love for indie-rock that my other siblings really hate. We're comedians, pure and simple. I'm so thankful for all the good times that we two have shared.

       Finally, I'm thankful for my little brother. He's also one of my best friends. He's one of the most loyal people I've ever met. I can trust him with anything because he does things like sit outside my door guarding it as I would sneak out to go with my friends.

That's that. Now let's get a little deeper.

       I'm thankful for all the inventors, philosophers, and geeks that have made living the life (the way that I do) possible. I'm grateful for all the people like Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, Steve Jobs, Andrew Carnegie, Bill Gates, Philip Voughan, John V. Atanasoff, ect ...

       I'm thankful for this wonderful country. I have the opportunity to be a part of the most influencial, advanced, innovative and economic superpower that this world has ever seen. Even those that are the furthest in poverty here in the U.S. are still better off than the entire middle class of India! We have the freedom to say anything, do anything, and be anthing that we want! I have the right to own the 40+ guns in my basement. I have the right to have a trial, and I have the right to post anything I want on the internet. :)

       Finally, I feel like I'm the luckiest person alive to be a part of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints. I am so lucky to know where I came from, where I'm going, and why I'm here. I'm so happy for the testimony that I have. Because I've tried and tested the truths of the church for myself, I don't have to say "I believe in God and his Son Jesus." Because instead, I can say "I know that there is a living God above us and that his son, Jesus Christ came to this earth to die for our sins that we may live with God again. I know that the Holy Ghost testifies and that they are three separate and essential beings. I know that The Book of Mormon is a true book that testifies of Christ and his power and that it contains an ancient record of the early American People. I know that Thomas S. Monson is a prophet of God and receives revelation every day." I'm so excited to find out where the Lord will have me serve on my mission. I'm greatful for the opportunity that will have to attend a mission. To put my entire life on the back-burner for two years and put the Lord first will be the greatest blessing and opportunity that I will ever have.

Me, The Breakfast Club, and A New Revolution.

Today I watched "The Breakfast Club." My first time! Talk about a great allegory about defining and breaking through our stereotypes.

So what is as stereotype? 
      A stereotype is a thought that may be adopted about specific types of individuals or certain ways of doing things, but that belief may or may not accurately reflect reality. 

       At a very very basic level, everyone has a stereotype. Women and Asians are bad drivers, black people can jump higher, white people can't dance, teenagers are reckless, Italians all say "Mario Time!", everyone can sing, Jamaicans all smoke weed, all police officers are d-burgers, French people don't shave, beautiful girls are stuck up, city-folk don't own guns, tennis players are gay, and those living in small towns are all cowboys.

Some of My Stereotypes

     I'm an 18-year-old teenage guy, I play guitar about 3 hours a day, I longboard EVERYWHERE, I have spikey brownish-black hair and a weird shaped nose. The only shoes I own are TOMS and my only jeans are True Religion. I've kissed two girls, and I've only had one girlfriend. I attend Church every week and I love every minute of it. I'm a Computer Science Major at Dixie State College. I'm obsessed with Programming and I'm working to be a computer programmer when I grow up. I have a family who loves the crap out of me. I have two best friends; one with a giant, blond afro and the other is my little sister. I have every Beatles song ever written, and a few of them in German and French. I have 5 roommates and I love every one of them. I love all dogs. I come from a small town called Delta, Utah (I always call it God's Country :) ). I live in sunny St. George! I hate Christmas, mostly because of the music. I love everything about summer (the swimming, the carefree feeling, and most of all the 110 degree temperature) I love the heat. One of my deepest desires is to be an artist, or at least attribute some artistic achievement to society; I'm completely artistically challenged. The one thing that I wish I could change? Well that's simple; I wish that I cared less about the approval of others.

      Stereotypically, if you looked at me from across a room, you would see a (maybe) marginally attractive young man, earphones in, carrying a longboard, backpack on, True Religion Jeans, and zebra-striped TOMS shoes. You would conclude one of three things. First option: He's a punk kid because he longboards, he's probably bad news. Second option: he's probably gay. Those are nice pants and only gay guys wear TOMS. Third option: he's got to be completely unfriendly. He doesn't talk much and he's wearing earphones, this probably means that he doesn't want anyone approaching him.

THESE CONCLUSIONS ARE WRONG!!!! 
   

      I'm a very friendly person! I longboard because it's a cheap, environmentally friendly, and very enjoyable means of transportation. I listen to music wherever I go! I have over 3,000 songs! If you see me with my earphones out, then it's a rarity, my friends. I wear True Religion because they're very comfortable (and the ladies love 'em ;) ) I wear TOMS because of comfort, and because I know I helped someone out by buying them. 

     I've never believed I could judge someone by what they look like or by what they wear. Not because beauty is only skin deep (which it is), but because I've always thought there was more to me than what I look like. So if it was this way for me, why would it be any different for anyone else?

Stereotypes. Look past them. 

The stereotypical labels placed on you are wrong. So don't busy yourself placing them on others.