Thanksgibbying 2013

                November has been my least favorite month for some time now.  Classes come to a culmination during this time with the end not yet in sight, and the late nights feel later as sunlight becomes scarcer.  Cold weather takes root for winter and for some reason my love life always seems to as bare as the trees (I partially want to get married in November just to send a royal gesture to the pagan god of November, who requires a sacrifice of my romantic interests before entering every year).  Thanksgiving has always been a welcome respite as my least favorite month comes to an end.

                This year however, the pattern seemed to be reversed.  The first week started out poorly but suffice it to say that things were not headed in the proper direction, and I felt cornered.  I have learned recently that we are rarely as victimized as we believe and I was able to maneuver into a better place than I likely was even in the golden month of September.  That turnaround is still being written I feel, but I’ll update you on it as I can.  November wasn’t everything I wanted but there was plenty of goodness to be had.  The vigor of the week made the days long, tiring, and rewarding. My only hard moments would come during the weekends when I often found myself alone.  There was of course ward activities and basketball games and plenty of fun opportunities to be had, but I still felt alone, especially on quiet Sundays.

                Along with the reversal of November fortunes, there came a strange dread of the Thanksgiving holiday.  I love where I work and my co-workers and classmates.  I love the projects I am working on and the new experiences I have near-daily.  I didn’t want to have a holiday.  I didn’t want to feel alone.  This dread built as the holiday got closer, and in the end I decided to do what all of us want to do when confronted by something difficult.  I decided to run away.

                As if to throw any ghosts that might trail me off track, I posted on facebook earlier in the week that I would be going on a trip to the Carolina Coast over the holiday and would love any suggestions.  I had full intention of going to the Coast at the time but the night before I heard a voice telling me “Go West, Young Man”.  Thursday morning I packed three sandwiches, one ham, one pb&j, and one more containing the only turkey that this Thanksgiving would offer.  I got in the 4Runner and armed with an iphone and desire to unturn a few rocks I headed off.

                I had previously googled hiking trails near Asheville and Grandfather Mountain popped up.  I thought I had heard of that before so I typed that in my GPS and was off.  After listening to the radio and a normal Simmons/Kerr NBA podcast I soon found something that was perfect for the spirit of distraction and randomness that I hoped would pervade the trip, a two part podcast by Bill Simmons and friends discussing conspiracy theories in honor of the 50^th anniversary of the JFK assassination.  I learned so much that I immediately forgot with the exception of the fact that we live in a strange, strange, world.

                I approached Boone NC, home of Appalachian State University, and turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway because I had heard of that before and it was in the general direction I wanted to go.  I soon found a winding mountain road with a light dusting of snow just worrisome enough to make me switch into four-wheel drive.  I travelled along this mountain highway and came on my first stop because it was there:

The fire hydrant is a case of anachronism but the Western Carolina mountains were the Loire Valley of the early 20^th century American elites.  Houses such as this one with their own private lakes

Dot the mountain roads, some are maintained by the families and some are maintained by the state.  Others simply fall into disarray as I witnessed as well, fragile and firm reminders that all that is wealth passes on.

                Not much further down the road the parkway was closed due to weather.  This forced me to improvise I travelled in a generally eastward direction with the intention of making it to grandfather mountain but in no particular hurry.  I found myself driving along a river and decided it was worth getting out and admiring.

The river was cool enough but there were some particularly cool icicles that formed from water dripping off of low lying branches and forming broad frozen surfaces across the slow moving water along the banks.  Here is a branch I broke off,

And here is one of those icicles that I decided would make a good first Christmas ornament for a nearby fir tree.

After this carefree diversion I decided it was best to get on the road again.  I drove past dozens of mountain homes with smoke exiting from the chimneys and what I presume were family members entering into warm Thanksgiving dinners.  It looked very nice and desirable, but was not what fate had allotted me this year.  Fate had brought me something different.

No not that. (The sign was referring to ski rentals fyi)

That.  It turns out that my destination based on some vague recollection of something I had heard about once upon a time was THE top scenic destination for the Carolinas.  Don’t you just love the quotation marks?  How did I ever get to be so lucky?  Who needs turkey when you can BE the turkey?  I pulled up to the mountain and it was closed.  How you close a mountain is beyond me but they did it.  Normally one needs to pay at the entrance and then is able to drive up this mountain and see a view and a few other manmade attractions.  Normally this would pose a moral quandary for me, do I support the dilution of natural beauty by inappropriate commercialism, or deprive myself of what could otherwise be neat experience?  (For the record, I only pretend to be this opinionated.  Maybe this would have been a dilemma in the past but now it is just a fun act, kind of like hating Nickleback.)  For future travelers, there are trailheads that go to the same locations that are part of the state park service and free, but they are accessible by the Blue Ridge Parkway as far as I could tell, which, as aforementioned, was closed in this area due to weather.

Fortunately the park was completely closed for Thanksgiving and in the Pilgrim spirit I decided to forge ahead into lands that I probably didn’t belong in.  The gates were locked to cars but I was able to walk around the gates.  Shortly after entering I encountered a sign that said “No Walking”.  I decided that they were right.  I had spent a lot of in the car and it was probably best that I get a little exercise.  I ran up to the top of the hill.  Along the way I passed a sign that said elevation 5000 ft.  I almost decided to take a picture and send it to my family with the emotional caption, “I’m making my way home one vertical foot at a time!” My phone was almost dead however so I decided to hold off on pictures until I made it down again safely.  I got to the top of the parking lot where there was a lovely view of the mountain, the “World’s Largest Swing Bridge!” and the start of the trail head.  There were several signs that warned how difficult the trail was.  I pshhed them off.  I am an experienced hiker and no liability deferring sign was going to tell me otherwise.

I made my way along the trail moving slowly over icy boulders in traction-worn running shoes when I came upon a sign telling me I had gone a whopping 0.4 miles along the trail.  Not deterred I moved forward until the trail became a solid sheet of ice going over rolling terrain.  I used my last bit of battery to record this picture so that people would understand that this was not a case of me being a pansy but a deliberately calculated assessment of the risks involving no phone, little food, limited clothing, and the fact that I probably wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.  I turned around and my difficulty moving back up the icy slope confirmed that I had indeed made the correct decision.

I reentered the parking lot with the intention of going and checking out the swinging bridge when to my chagrin I saw a car idling in the corner of the parking lot.  I turned immediately downhill and just started walking.  As soon as I left the line of vision of the car I started to run.  Partially for fun and partially because I was afraid my car would be towed at the bottom.  People who make a living off of attractions are understandably very protective of their property.  On the way down I passed an overlook that was fittingly named “Forrest Gump Overlook”.  I also passed by a rock that a sign said was 640 million years old!  According to the first google hit that is perhaps as old as animal life itself!  I decided that I needed to take a break from my run in order to leave my mark.  I mean I don’t want some future species thinking that dinosaurs had the last say!

I got back down to my car and headed on out.  I decided I needed to find a power outlet before I could continue on my journey so I headed to the nearest town which was named Blowing Rock.  It was a nice tourist stop with a well gardened city hall, a nice park full of families taking a traditional Thanksgiving stroll, and shops closed for the holiday.  I was strolling through and noticed that the city hall had some Christmas lights, and where there are lights there is…

An outlet! We are back in business!  I let my phone charge here for a little while and wandered, within eyesight of my phone which was hidden in the tree, looking at the shops.  I soon discovered to my surprise that one shop was open!  I soon found myself sitting in a candy store with my phone plugged into the wall greeting customers as they perused the novelty sodas I was sitting directly in front of. 

As one could imagine business was a little slow and one of the workers started making conversation with me.  Turns out this was a family business and they were keeping the doors open until 5pm before having their Thanksgiving dinner.  I told her where I was from and she responded, “That explains your accent!” In want I would describe as a Georgia drawl.  This caught me off guard despite the fact that it makes perfect sense that I would be the one with an accent in these parts.  We talked about life and her family and a little bit of nothing.  I enjoyed the company but after a while started to feel as if I ought to move on.  Of course it would have been rude for me to simply get up and leave after the hospitality so I bought some malt balls.  I kind of like malt balls, they are delicious at first the flavor gets overwhelming a little fast in my opinion.  My mother really likes malt.  I guess it made me feel just a little bit closer to home to have some malt balls.

The plan was to head to Asheville, catch a movie since there wasn’t much else to do in the dark anyways, and spend the night.  I got to the theatre in time to buy a single ticket to Catching Fire and promptly turned around in search of Thanksgiving dinner.  I had already eaten my sandwiches and packed items and needed something more.  I ventured into Wal-Mart which was boiling in Black Friday excitement and had a McDonald’s open.  I ordered a chicken wrap and sandwich as those seemed closer to turkey than anything else and left the hectic mess to make it back to the movie just in time.

                I enjoyed Catching Fire.  There are plenty of good reviews online by people much more film savvy and intelligent than I so I won’t say much about that and no plot spoilers.  In the beginning of the movie however, I couldn’t help but watch Petah and wonder what he was doing.  Yes Katniss is awesome, but well just let by gones be by gones. I mean you don’t have to be rude to her, but really why should you care what her favorite color is? (Weird thing about that scene is my two favorite colors are sunset orange and forest green, and I always describe them with those noun modifiers.  I guess I’m just a cliché.) Petah you are an awesome guy and you should just accept that, as outwardly cool as Katniss is, and as cute as she looks in those braids, she is the one missing out, not you and if she doesn't want to be with you it just isn’t worth all this stress.   Somewhere through this internal dialogue I reached in my pocket and pulled out a malt ball and cursed the god of November under my breath.

My night ended in the Econolodge not far from the Biltmore estate.  I don’t have much tradition attached to Thanksgiving, but pumpkin pie is one of them.  I wasn’t especially hungry but tradition is tradition, so I ended my day by sticking a couple of fingers in a store bought pie before collapsing into a deep nonfood-induced thanksgiving slumber.

                I’ll finish off this by backtracking a little.  Most the time it is useful to live in the present, but there are times when it is best to live beyond the present. Thanksgiving is usually about family and I have to say it was a little hard to be out there on my own, but towards the end of the day I was able to transcend that. The day had been wonderful and the only way it could have been better would have been to share it with someone that I have a family and grow old with.  I know it’ll come, and I’m in no rush but the eventuality is comforting.  Maybe next year, or the year after that, but for sure someday, I’ll have someone in the passenger seat (Or she can drive if she wants) belting out the words along to some song with me, or just laughing at me as I turn up the music to cover up my utter disregard for harmony.  And knowing that moment exists at some point in time was enough to make this moment,

be a taste of that moment.

La vie est DURham!

                So I feel like I have been living in Durham long enough to talk about it now.  Durham is most definitely a new chapter in my life and, like any new chapter, I was skeptical at first. But things are falling into place and I feel like I can give a more accurate picture of life.  So for those of you who don’t know I started a PhD program at Duke University a few weeks ago in Biochemistry.  Specifically I was accepted into the school through the Structural Biology and Biophysics program.  Structural Biology is essentially studying how all the molecular components of the body (Protein, lipids, DNA, etc.) are formed, shaped and how they operate to preform there tasks within (or sometimes outside) a cell.  Examples include how does a protein help a certain reaction along, or how do cells contract or move.
                This all sounds incredibly interesting in the abstract, and it is, but there are a lot of things that go wrong along the way and to actually observe us in the lab would be a tedious task.  Science is the pursuit of the fascinating through the mundane.  It is necessary to be able to keep a long term perspective and not get discouraged by the fact that most the day may be spent moving liquid A into liquid B, and including powder C in hopes that effect D is observed and recorded by flashing machine E, which most the time it won’t be.  So far I have been able to keep a resolute vision fixed on long-term and unsure achievement for these whole past three weeks.  Only a few years left to go! (I actually am very much enjoying my work; I just want to give an accurate representation of research.  I feel like most people don’t really know what working in a lab is like and have illusions somewhere between Back to the Future’s Doc and the Muppet’s scientist Beaker.)

                Classes are nice and uneventful.  We don’t have any tests as far as I can tell which is nice, just projects and unfortunately I still have homework.  I only have this and next semester where I am required to take classes.  We’ll see how I feel when I get there but the thought of not doing class work is appealing to me.  Most of my degree is based on my research.  For the moment I am doing three rotations of 10 weeks each in three labs before choosing a lab to work in for the rest of my time at Duke.  It is a big commitment that requires the meshing not only scientific interests, but personalities as well with the principal investigator (PI) and the rest of the lab.  I am currently rotating in Pei Zhou’s lab and studying an enzyme that helps make the cell wall of many bacteria.  It could potentially lead to antibiotics or other practical use, but this is basic research.  I am not going to create a wonder-drug or do anything like that in my time at Duke.  In fact many PIs seem almost insulted by the idea that their academic research could have practical implications, unless they are writing grant proposals, but that is another story…

                Myself, long-term I hope to be able to work in “industry” meaning that I would do research for a pharmaceutical company helping them build the next Death Star making millions in the process design new drugs.  I am a long way off and who knows if I will end up on that exact path, but for the moment that is what I sincerely would like to do and will tell my future Father-in-law if I meet him in the next few years.

                As long as we are on the subject, I am enjoying my personal life here.  Grad school has not of yet become all-consuming and for the moment has actually been really nice.  I am enjoying where I live and my roommates are very nice people.  As I plan on posting this online it would be very unwise of me to say otherwise but I do say it with a certain degree of honesty.  The people I work with and go to church with are quite nice as well.  Life is pretty different for me now.  I am living in a town-house about three miles from campus and while there are plenty of students around, there is also families and people from other walks of life.  I feel more settled and less like I’m living in a temporary situation.  My ward (people I go to church with) is very nice.  We have several classes throughout the week that we can attend if we so choose and there are a lot of very neat and rich personalities, which is the case in most wards but is different from my more recent BYU wards.  There are about 100 of us I would guess that come to church.  They are a really welcome and accepting group, which has made my move so much easier.  Thanks to any of them who may read this.

                One last thing of note that I did last weekend was the graduate school campout for basketball tickets.  Basically graduate students hung out in a parking lot from Friday night to Sunday morning to get entered in a lottery to win graduate student tickets to the basketball games (Right under both the baskets).  About 1,200 people did the whole campout and there are 750 tickets so you had a decent shot of winning.  There was a ton more people than that though at the campout however as both nights turned into parties.  It was funny to see those going for the tickets the last night, usually exhausted and not in great shape, and contrast them with those who simply came out for the party and were dressed to impress or drink or whatever they were looking for.  By the end I was pretty out of it.  I didn’t get tickets myself but fortunately the people I was hanging out with from my department did and as they were there just for the experience, they gave me the tickets they won.  Super nice of them and I will have to repay them sometime and somehow.

                That is about it for the first intro to Durham.  Next up I need to actually explore the town a little.  For campout we were actually allowed to leave the parking lot to go do community service and there is a charter school where I went to work that I will try to start volunteering at.   I want to reach out to the community and give back and all those things, it would look great on grant applications.  Hopefully I don’t get too drowned in graduate work in the near future.  But until then best wishes to everyone reading and know that I’m doing great!

An old church talk... Overcoming the natural man by natural means

My whole college career can be summed up in that I’m trying to understand what nature is.  The basis of all the work I do for courses and research has an implied underlying belief that there is a set of inalterable laws that govern the universe, which we call nature.  Of course our imperfect comprehension and models of nature often fail to fully explain what is happening, but that is a failure due to our misunderstanding of nature, and not a failure of nature itself.  The laws of nature are impossible to defy.

Of course this understanding of nature doesn’t correspond very well with our idea of overcoming the natural man.  Overcoming nature by simply bypassing laws is about as absurd as jumping and refusing to come down.  However, the same laws that pull us down are the laws that allow us to fly an airplane.  This can be seen as overcoming nature and though laws have not been defied, they are manipulated to our benefit.  I believe the same principle applies to our overcoming the natural man.

Naturally, an object cannot act upon itself.  Even in taking a step, I’m not acting on myself but I’m actually pushing the earth, which then pushes me back.  This is a natural law that governs not only literal movement but spiritual movement as well.  Though God has commanded us to be proactive and prepared temporally and spiritually he has never asked us to lift ourselves up.  In fact he strongly declares on several occasions that the first shall be last and the last shall be first.  My personal favorite is in Luke 9:46-48.

Then there arose a reasoning among them, which of them should be greatest.  And Jesus, perceiving the thought of their heart, took a child, and set him by him.  And said unto them, whosoever shall receive this child in my name receiveth me: For he that is the least among you all, the same shall be great.

Among other things, a child is perfectly dependent on others.  The same ought to be true of ourselves.  In Abraham chapter 5 verse 14, in speaking of creation, God declares, “It is not good that the man should be alone, therefore we will from an help meet for him.” Eve is of course the help meet to Adam but it is clear today that it is not good that we should be alone either.  Even the achievements of great men, though impressive and even admirable, are mere illusions if channeled towards self-grandeur.  Moses declared after seeing the glory of God “for this cause I know that man is nothing” (Moses 1:10).  By natural spiritual law, one cannot raise his or herself by any individual means.  True he may seem to gain the world in personal pursuits but as Jesus declared “what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” (Matt. 16)  The answer is sharp and clear, nothing. 

However, though we cannot act on ourselves, the Lord does expect us to act.  In the scriptures we learn that men must be “anxiously engaged in a good cause and  do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness” (DC 58:27).  Often in describing the Laminates the authors of the Book of Mormon calls them indolent and comments on their tendency to plunder rather than work.  The gospel of Jesus Christ requires us to become more than we are, but how can this be done if we cannot act on ourselves.

The answer lies in the exploitation of another physical law that every action brings about an opposite and equal reaction.  Spiritually that means that it is in helping others we can elevate ourselves.  Returning to the previous quote, Christ taught that whosoever receiveth a little child receives Christ.  There is a beautiful paradox when a mother bends over to pick up her child and is simultaneously raised towards heaven.  We personally can only have an influence on others, but there is an equal and opposite reaction that they will necessarily have on us.  In our humble and sincere actions towards the low and insignificant of this life, we are simultaneously turning in the opposite direction towards the greatest and most significant of all, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Elder Alonso of the Seventy recently taught in the Saturday morning session (October 2012) this principle. Speaking of the Lord’s divine example,

His was a life of service.  When we serve our neighbor, we help those who are in need.  In the process we may find solutions to our own difficulties.  As we emulate the Savior, we show our love to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and we become more like Them.

This is the means by which we can overcome the natural man.  It is not coincidence that King Benjamin speaks so much of service in his discourse (Mosiah 2-5), warning his people of the dangers of the natural man.  I am a far from perfect person but I will live and hold to the belief that service in one form or another is the only way that we can achieve anything worthwhile in our life. 

I would like to give one particular example.  During my (LDS) mission in Southern France the second city in which I served was the city of Toulon.  The area covered some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.  My companions and I would joke about the fact that if Johnny Depp or Brad and Angelina ever became interested in the gospel, it would be us that would teach them.  It was rare that we saw that side of the world however, and we spent most our time in the dirty port city, with all that that entails, where there were people to teach.  On occasion however, we would venture out along the coast line or inland through lush mountains.  In my first letter home, I described the natural landscape as taking the Wasatch Front and moving it to San Diego beaches.  It was incredible.

As my time in Toulon was clearly coming to an end, there was a particular point on our large map that I wanted to visit.  It was as far as our bus pass could take us ending at a sharp point along the coast line which I was sure was a result of the rocky limestone ocean precipices characteristic of the region.  We never had a reason to go out that far, but for my last preparation day, my companion and I planned to go.  As we were studying however we received a phone call from a brother in the ward.  This man was quite poor and lived alone in a poorly lit shack not far from the most dangerous slums of the area.  Grass didn’t even grow in there and the tall brown buildings, scarred with broken and boarded windows, stood on desert dirt littered with burnt cars.  The scene screamed more Baghdad than Cote D’Azur, and the sometimes hostile, always rude, immigrant gangs only cemented the image.

This brother was broken.  He was in his fifties and alone.  He loved the church and the missionaries were his best friends.  Recently he had broken up with is girlfriend, who was ugly as sin in multiple ways.  He was low.  He was remodeling his shack and gave us a call informing us that he needed the hand of “manual” people.  I am the son of an investment portfolio manager and my companion was a tap dancer.  We were not manual.  But we knew he needed us.  Of course we bagged our plans and went to help, ironically taking the same route we had planned to take, only getting off much sooner, and of course despite our efforts, we contributed very little to his construction efforts.  We were closer to heaven there than we could have been anywhere else in the natural world.

Other examples of spiritual teachings found in the natural world abound.  The existence of natural law does not mean that we should succumb to its most base manifestation.  Survival of the fittest is a law that causes a reaction of greed, lust and competition in the world.  The law that the fittest survive is true, but through a better understanding of inalterable laws we can use this law to our advantage.  In Section 121 we learn that the powers of heaven can only be exercised in righteousness and having bowels filled with charity we can understand the priesthood power of God.  This law allows us to not only survive in this world but help those who don’t think they can.  We ought to manipulate the evolutionary law of the fittest so that we not only, by the power of God, are fit enough to survive, but also to, full of charity, aid others, and with them stand in the presence of God.

A soul headed in a poor direction may declare that his fate is fixed appealing to another natural law that an object in motion stays in motion.  The overcoming of this law comes from being acted upon by an outside influence, or in Benjamin’s words by yielding, “To the enticings of the Holy Spirit, [and putting] off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord.” (Mosiah 3:19) A natural law does not require us to be natural men.  Let us all heed the spirit and use the atonement, allowing both to redirect the misbearings in our life.  In the same breath I hope that we can also be the outside influence at times on those would otherwise be forever in a misguided motion.

One of the most depressing natural laws is that amount of useable energy in the universe is constantly decreasing as entropy increases.  In short, the universe is falling apart.  Even the scriptures tell us that all things are to pass.  There is a way to overcome this and create something that lasts.  Jesus taught in John 12:24, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” I hope that we can all bring forth fruit in others and be willing to give our lives in the building of something that can never erode away. 

I know that we have a loving Heavenly Father who cares for us deeply.  I know he has created an amazing universe and the plan of salvation with the intent of bringing us happiness and joy.  I know that the way to achieve this joy is through service towards others.  Our Savior Jesus Christ gave the ultimate example, clearly showing that our relationships with our fellow man are of most consequence.  He has promised peace in this world and a fullness of his joy in the world to come, if we place our relationships with God and man in the forefront.  Natural laws govern this world, which can often leave us hurt, but there is a better way.  “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace.  In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

I'm on a FLOAT

The fourth of the July is easily one of the best holidays. Christmas, as everyone knows, is untouchable; the highest in the pantheon of holidays. Easter is another great holiday and while I appreciate more what is being celebrated, when it comes to celebrating, pagans do it best. And we really haven’t improved on the formula. Slaughter the fattened calf, stick him on a grill, make some burgers, jump in the river (pool), and then burn up the sky. The fourth is the most organic holiday we have.

In Provo there is one element however that has always been hard for me to appreciate, the parade. It’s not that a grand procession doesn’t have its place in a patriotic holiday; I just don’t understand how it is so integral that people will be camping over twenty-four hours in advance. My earliest memories of the parade were, as a seven-year-old, thinking, “It is hot, things are moving way too slowly, and frankly this is not that interesting.”

This year, very possibly my last fourth in Provo, I was determined to understand this ritual so foreign to me. So when my friend Erick was asking for volunteers to help with the parade, there was only one response. I had to confront the unknown and wade right into that knee-deep parade horse (refuse). 

Literally that was not necessary, Erick was in charge of the balloons, but I was ready for anything.

 I was told to be at the staging area in the parking lot near the BYU indoor practice facility for the parade by 7:00. I dutifully set my alarm to 6:30, hoping to have time for a nice breakfast. I need a good breakfast. I had trouble sleeping the whole night excited for the following day’s excitement but I eventually fell asleep with my head cranked in some awful position. I woke up with a kink in my neck and considered rolling back asleep when I looked at the window realizing that it was way too light to be 6:30 am. I bolted out of bed and my instincts were right, 6:53. I picked out some blue shorts and a red shirt, ran to the kitchen, smeared some peanut butter on an untoasted English muffin and ate it as I was walking out the door invariably ending up with some peanut butter on my shirt. Here I was about to parade around town with peanut butter on my shirt.

On the way to the parking lot I see participants for the freedom run 5k that precedes the race. I assumed that I was near the end of the race as many people were walking slowly and jogging, then I heard the DJ at the start of the race, “C’mon everyone! You can make it! We will be shutting down the start of the race in 10 minutes. You can make it to the starting line!” One man in particular caught my eye. He was a little over middle-aged and warming up as if he were running Boston. At the last moment he bursts across the line at a pace that I would be proud to keep. He then flew by all the mom’s pushing strollers. I guess some people just like to pass others.

I get to the parking lot at about 7:20 and make my way over to the balloons. Helium is at an ever-growing premium price. It’s actually quite the crises in the scientific world. So I was quite glad to hear that our floats were not being filled with helium but rather inflated by an air pump and generator. I was a little less happy when the generator was on and buzzing in my ear for the next three hours, but all in the name of science.

There I see a man that could pass as the real slim shady and who had let himself go.  His name was Chuck. I don’t mean to single out anyone or be judgmental; I only mention it as stark contrast to pretty much everything one would expect to find in small local parade in Utah marching inflatable characters through the roads. It took me a while to convince myself he was actually wearing a doo-rag on BYU property before I started to pay attention to what he was saying. He was basically telling us that we were to pull the balloons in a forward direction. I can handle that. He then explained that at some low-lying power lines it might be necessary to unplug the float so the balloon deflates enough to get under the lines, and then plug the balloon back in once past. I was slightly intimidated by that job description.

After the explanation I learned that the balloons weren’t supposed to leave until 9:20. It was 7:30. To all volunteer organizations, I don’t know why the fact that I am willing to give some of my time causes you to believe that you can make me sit around for hours before doing anything, give me an XL shirt because for some reason you decided to make more of that size than any other, listen to exaggerated explanations about how your organization is changing America, or give me a cold donut and tell me it is breakfast. I just want to get in, do good, and get out, and unless it’s court or American-Heritage ordered, I imagine most the world feels the same way.

I spent the first few minutes sitting under a tree.  My self-conscious fears of wearing a shirt with trace amounts of peanut butter on it were only fueled by the ants that started climbing on me.  I obviously had gotten the peanut butter off and maybe I just accidentally sat on an ant pile, but I needed to change shirts and fast.  Luckily they had volunteer shirts. Of course the only size left was XL and 5XL.  That is not a misprint.  We skipped to not double, not triple, not quadruple, but went straight to quintuple extra-large.  I tried it on.  

I’m pretty sure three people my size could have worn that shirt.  I settled on an extra-large.

With the plethora of time available I decided to go check out the other floats. The first thing I noticed was, of course, the tank.  How could I not?

The second was how many miss-small town girls there were. What are the rules of location in beauty pageantism? Do you have to be from the actual town or can you move in? How much competition is there? I feel like I would be capable to finish in the top-five in some of these smaller towns. What compels a person to enter a contest of beauty, are there golden apples? I thought Homer made it very clear that such things do not end well.

My attention was soon drawn to another float and more questions. Why does the U of U decide to parade a float every year in Provo? Is this meant to make the parade awkward? What school administrator thought this was a good idea? Does he/she still have a job? I’m not one to get ruffled up over a rivalry in which both teams usually finish outside the AP poll (There I said it! Neither one of us is that good. That goes for you too Utah State!), but why is their float always better than ours? 

I am so glad to be going to a real rivalry for graduate school (I am sure to eat those words).

Fortunately my mind was relieved of these questions of the soul by the arrival of my Chinese friends Roger and Judy who had volunteered as well.  The same way that I am my worst critic, many Americans, including myself, are America’s worst critics, much worse than even the French in my opinion.  Yet nothing melts my heart like when a foreigner shows patriotism towards our country. They don’t have to, and yet they still give love. We are far from perfect, but we must be doing something right.  What’s more I left home without my wallet, asked Roger if he could loan me some money to buy some oatmeal at Burger King.  I’m sure someday my kids will have to pay for that oatmeal but until then I’ll just keep living the American dream.  I’ll celebrate the fourth with the Chinese any day.  (I’m kidding Roger I have the cash and will pay you next time I see you.  Thanks I was starving!)

The parade was to be started by a host of emergency vehicles.  While they were waiting for the start I couldn’t help but notice that a fire truck was sitting unattended door wide open.  I couldn’t resist.  

I climbed up on in and sat at the steering wheel for exactly 1.8 seconds before I scampered on down, but my inner-child had time to let out a sigh of contentment.

Finally it was game time.  The balloons were to be inflated.  One was clearly Fred Flintstone, the other was an Uncle Sam, (Judy explained to use that Uncle Sam came from U.S.A.M. Once again, the Fourth with the Chinese is great) but the final balloon was a mystery until it was inflated, but when it stood it was all too perfect, Felix the cat.

As one of the few members of my generation who has any idea who Felix is, allow me to explain.  Felix is a cartoon cat with a magical bag that he can pull anything out of. I have an aunt who has excellent taste in collectibles and for a period she collected Felix the Cat paraphernalia. Felix was a childhood manifestation of that part of us that loves a band simply because nobody else has heard of them.  Felix was hipster for Saturday morning cartoons.  More importantly Felix will forever be associated with family for me.  Felix will always have a special place in my heart.

I was in charge of Felix and I was ready.  We started to move into the parade line ready to roll.  At this point Roger’s roommate (American) Michael had showed up and we got in our positions.  I took my position at the front of the float when the attendant in charge of our float, an employee named Jamari, tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I would be willing to stand in the back and pull the plug to deflate the balloon under the power lines as needed.  Was I scared? Yes, but I was ready.  I circled up the crew, Judy, Michael, Roger, put out our hands and led a “1, 2, 3, Team!” To my pleasure Jamari joined between 2 and 3. 

The importance of this step was reiterated by announcement that these were $30,000 balloons. Had I stopped and thought about this figure I probably would have realized how ridiculous it was.  I mean you are essentially choosing between investing in the down payment towards a $150,000 home or an inflatable comic character from the twenties.  In fact a Google search right now reveals that an inflatable balloon costs no more than $450. Yet in the moment I was willing to put life and limb between harm and Felix.

As we were about to leave Jamari gave me the stern reminder, “You know you have the most important job.” I gave no words but nodded slowly.  I must have expressed weakness in some way however, as Chuck saw some inherent flaw in my composition and decided to delegate my duties to another.  Who am I to complain? This was Chuck’s world.  I graciously retook my spot in the gallows as a simple puller of the float.

We got in line but were still waiting.  What does one do when one has way too much excitement and energy?  Why Tecktoniks of course! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbzYXWLVU3o.  I’d give an explanation but that would just ruin it.  Just know I didn’t initiate it.

Soon we were off.  No sooner had the parade route started than people started yelling at us to spin the balloon.  Jamari told us that the float could come undone if we were to do so and the unspoken havoc that this would cause was left unsaid.  Yet like a child determined to play with the electrical socket the crowd demanded over and over again that we spin the balloon.  I tried every parenting technique I knew to abate the crowd.  I tried reasoning with them, explaining how dangerous it could be.  I tried to pass the blame, pointing the finger at Jamari.  I tried to divert their attention, explaining to them that it really isn’t that cool to see a balloon turn.  And like any parent we eventually caved and spun the balloon just in front of the Provo Library. However, it is never enough. Immediately exiting the spin a particularly vocal man demanded we do another.  I explained that we just had to which he responded, “Why do you hate America?” Let this be a lesson though to all you future balloon pullers out there. If you give a mouse a cookie, he will tell you that you hate America. 

All of this was a small grain amidst the smiles of and waves from children and other caring individuals.  In particular one lady standing at 100 S giving us a strong steady clap with a proud face as if to tell us, “I don’t know who you are or where you are going, but today you are a balloon puller and I salute you.” It’s moments like that which make it all worth it.

Along the way MC’s gave tidbits of history to the crowd who clearly had no idea who this floating cat was.  I learned that Felix debuted in 1919 on the silver screen.  He was also the first giant balloon ever, participating in the 1927 Macy’s day parade.  One MC even went as far as to say “He has been adored by millions and is America’s favorite cat.”  You hear that Garfield, the Aristocats, and Grumpy Cat? King Felix has not yet given up his throne.

We finished the route and took the balloon to its de-staging area.  As we were entering Jamari told us that the parade was a walk to remember. I answered that I would never look at life the same.  We enjoyed our last moments pulling a balloon and approaching Chuck and the other floats.  At this point Chuck had taken off his shirt only to expose several tatoos adding to the overall effect.  We thanked the crew and asked where they would go next.  Chuck told us that they travelled “The world, Japan, Argentina, France, Europe,” participating in parades.  I briefly imagined how disappointed a parade planner in Japan would be to fly in this crew, before I decided just to be like the balloon and go with the flow.  This is their world and I am but a grateful transient observer.

As we were walking away leaving Jamari asked if we would be back next year.  It was with a twinge of regret that I realized I had come to “get” the parade and surprise of all surprises, would miss it.  I told him that I was moving away and likely not.

“Where to?”

“Durham, North Carolina,”

“Oh you’ll love it there.  You have to go to Bojangles!”

http://www.bojangles.com/locations/us/nc Consider it done Jamari.  Consider it done.

It's short, but I also think it's sweet. To Garrett and Taylor getting married

       A year ago today I was somewhere in the greatest city in the world, living the greatest life that I can imagine.  We were popping delicacies the way one pops a peanut, and then we topped it off with some peanuts for good measure.  We were living in real estate I will probably never be able to pay rent on in some of the most chic corners of American society.  We were checking off art, monuments, events, whole cities as if they were on a shopping list stopping only for the crème de la crème that each had to offer.  Of course it was unsustainable but for two weeks we lived off the generosity of others and were intoxicated with the euphoria of youth.

       If I were to relive one experience for one brief moment of time it would have to be those moments.  From the thirty dollar plates to the skyline chili, from our forefathers to Ke$ha, from the heart of Mid-town to the White House, I relished every experience, even conked out in the car as we drove through the night.  I can’t imagine life ever being better.

       Here I am a year later sitting quietly outside my apartment.  Most people have been forced out or are leaving soon.  It’s a quiet Sunday that is pleasant, yet pales to the ecstasy of where I was a year ago.  Yet for half of those who experienced the ECBBT this week will result in more joy, more memories, and more meaning than anything we lived together for those two weeks.

       Being in the other half I can only imagine.  Actually I can’t even do that.  I can smile though, as both Garrett and Taylor take another step in a journey that lasts much longer than the two weeks of the ECBBT.  And while this trip will continually be a cause for champagne, often there will be just Kool-Aid.  There will be more nights at the HoJo than Mid-Town.  It will certainly be a journey that has much more lunch meat than lobster, and the lobster that does come will not be shelled.  It makes zero sense that you would take this life over the freedom and fun we lived.  It makes even less sense when you factor in that I’m a little jealous.

       I have no words to say on marriage or love or anything related.  That’s okay I’m sure there are plenty who are more capable and even more who are willing to give you that.  All that I have to offer is the memories that I have and the friend that I am.  For me, the greatest life I have ever lived was this week last year.  But for you two I know the greatest life you will ever be able to live starts this week and lasts for years to come.

Peace, Love and Best Wishes from That Guy

The Daily Starting Line

Let's just run with it and see where it goes.  First time on the grind since the marathon.  It's funny how much I need it in my life.  I haven't felt myself since the last race.  I often have the feeling as my black i-pod carrier straps around my right arm that it is a surgical tubing isolating my arm as I plug my music in just above the main vein inside the elbow.  The music pulses into my brain creating an artificial stimulus to heighten the natural one that is to come.

My legs, otherwise sore, my eyes otherwise heavy, my brain otherwise tied in calculations, all perk at the anticipation. They are still run down, but they know that the stimulation to come will transcend them above the ho-hum comforts of the couch.  Whatever pain they will feel after is the price to dance with the heights they will try to obtain.  The soaring heights.  These heights are the response to the question, "How far will the human mind and body go?"  "When against the wall what limits will he break?"  The body, ready to run, submits itself to these questions to the spirit eager to pursue them.

But it is not only the heights that inspire but the ever menacing fall.  The free fall that comes whenever the pace pushes me towards a crash, the survivalist urge that evolution instills deep in our soul.  I don't want to swallow failure but I want to taste it.  Run it across my teeth like the tongue runs across an bloodied lip from a well connected blow.  Feed off of it and face the fears and destruction within.  That instinctual urge that is so often repressed and restricted, yet still exists in us, a trace of our inner monster.  The chance to dance with our demons without indulging in their destructive games.  To dance them into the ground and laugh over them holding a cadence their bestial yet weak compositions can't support.  If you see me about to leave on a run, look in my eyes and you can see these highs and lows play out, before I take a slight hop, shrug, smile and start.

Tired Stream of Consciousness

So yesterday I was up for 20 hours, ran a marathon, saw a movie (Dark Knight Rises), and still feeding of endorphins decided to go on a hike.  Today I have to hobble down stairs and feel like I'm 82.  It's only 9 but it feels really late.  I will talk about the marathon and my thoughts on batman and whatever else I retain later, but I doubt I can write more than an paragraph within out making a fool out of me.  (Yes that last sentence was intentional)

But what I can do is semistream of consciousness!  I'm going to make a list of things I like with each thing preceded by the thing that made me think of it.  The thought is if I'm tired I will either be brutally honest or insane, both of which are fun.  I say semi however. because I think it is for the best if I edit out the uninteresting things that pop up, or the repeats.  I don't want to creep anyone out... like Nate Billings for example.  I will also stop and decide whether I really like something before putting it on the list.  Here weeeeeeeeeee go:

1. Baseball
2. Cincinatti's mayor's first pitch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5DwLQoGfDI
3. Chinese food
4. Oakland A's
5. Jeter's Diary http://www.grantland.com/blog/the-triangle/post/_/id/33046/derek-jeters-diary-voodooball
6. Grantland in general
7. Ice Cream
8. Good Salads
9. Sean Connery
10. Kanye West (Old for his music, new for his antics)
11. Coldplay
12. French History
13. Batman
14. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ
15. Getting rick rolled
16. Turtles
17. Youtube
18. The NBA Playoffs
19. Cereal
20. Life
22. Skipping Numbers
23. Chocolate.
24. Clean things
25. Outkast
26. 90's rap in general
27. Cookies!!!
28. Good cheese
29. Funny animals
30. Especially monkeys
31. Pirates but only the fictional ones
32. Singing awfully in a car, the more people and the more cliche the song the better
33. Blueberries
34. Being happy tired
35. Girls that don't wear too much makeup
36. I suppose that goes for guys too
37. Beautiful Scenery
38. Hiking
39. Biking
39.5 Skiing (I thought of it here but didn't write it right away and moved on)
40. That out of body experience when you get in running zone
41. Sunsets
42. Phoenix, the band
43. The French
44. Modern Literature
45. Monty Python
46. Mitchell and Webb http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsYoeoEE3ww
47. Physics
48. Alright I'll put down running.  It's like the 3rd time I thought it but I wasn't sure if I liked it enough to make the list.  I think I take it for granted though since it is sometimes omnipresent.
49. That moment when you and a girl both laugh at something and your eyes meet
50. Lists

Well that ought to do for the moment.  Good luck wondering how I got from one to another.

Peace, Love, and 51. People who read my nonsense.

(Even if blogspot tells me a good chunk are Russians.  How do Russians end up on my blog?)