Oops, missed last week

So, some of you may know that or car died a few weeks ago. Others of you know that we just got a new one. Heck, most of you reading this probably knew both, or if you didn't, now your do. Either way, what you probably don't know is the story of death and divine intervention that is:
The Epic of the Prius!
(part 1)
It began long ago, back in the early summer of 2012. I had gotten an interpreting assignment up in Heber, and the car we were using at the time threatened suicide whenever we went over 50, meaning making it up the canyon would be impossible. And so, a new car was necessitated. Long story short, We ended up getting a '97 Mazda 626 which we named Gilgamesh.
Ol'Gil served us well, apart from crappy alignment which made our tires wear out wicked fast, as well as suffering from poor compression, which made it seem like he was constantly running low on oil. Because of this, when he really was low, we figured he was crying wolf. That is, until the tapping started. It took us a while to get some oil to put in (details of which I'll spare you) but eventually, on the morning when we had that freezing rain storm, I dutifully went out and put oil in before I went to school. If the sounds that came from the engine after that were any indicator, that was a terrible idea. As soon as I started it up, it sounded like I had put a handful of gravel, an angry wasps nest, and a small but very aggressive honey badger inside the engine, and the gravel was winning. You know that face you make when you see a really fat person rolling out of McDonalds with a quarter pounder in each hand and 20 more hanging off the back of each arm? And then they get mauled by a tiger? You know, something so horrifically gruesome that you just can't get yourself to stop watching? That is the face I was making the entire drive. I mean, it literally sounded like there was a big toothy monster attempting to claw its way through my car.
Anyway, I made it pretty much the whole way to school, was ready to get off the exit, and Gilgamesh have one last shuddering, painful breath, and stalled for the third and final time. After calling assorted family members and none of them answering, my dad was eventually able to come pick me up, after, of course, a cop helped push me off the road with his car.
My brother called me back a little later and, after I explained the symptoms and described what happened, he said that we had, almost without a doubt, thrown a rod. For those of you who are vehicularly un-savvy, like me, throwing a rod means basically that a piston in the engine busts, locking up everything and ding a bunch of damage on the way. According to wikipedia, it's classified as a "catastrophic engine failure" and your car is pretty much done. We were able to go back later that night and tow it to my parents house, and there it sat for a week or so till we could figure out what to do with it.
What did we do? Well, tune in this Friday for the next installment of:
The Epic of the Prius!
(part 2)

Week Two. Ummm...

     The trouble with writing a blog every week is that sometimes, you just don't have anything you really feel impressed to write about.  I mean, stuff happened, don't get me wrong, but not really anything to monumental or impactful.  Then again, if monumental things happened every week, pretty soon monumental things wouldn't be very monumental.  Extraordinary depends entirely on context, so if extraordinary happens often enough it becomes ordinary.  It's like in The Incredibles - Syndrome's plan is to give everyone super-powers, so "if everyone's special, no one will be."  Kinda makes you appreciate the down times in life, in my opinion.
     I'm reminded of a conversation I had with a shadowy figure in the past; shadowing because of a poor memory, not because we talked in a dark alleyway.  Anyway, I was complaining about how depressing watching the news can be, seeing all the horrible things happening in the world like wars and murders and natural disasters and the economy plummeting and society going to pot, et cetera.  They said "I'm grateful that the news shows all the bad stuff going on."
Wait, what?  You like watching awful things happen to random people?  You sadist.
"No seriously, think about it.  If all the news reported was the good things, like some guy picking up a check for someone or little Timmy walking his grandma across the street, that would mean that those acts of kindness had become exceptional while rape and murder turned commonplace.  The very fact that disasters are reported on the news shows the rarity of them, as well as the fact that we as humans are still compassionate beings."
     While I don't think there's going to be a shift to entirely optimistic reporting, much less any slowing in the amount of awful events occurring around the globe, I do think it's a good point.  Focus on the positive, surely, but be a source of it as well.  That way, when things to take a turn for the worse (or keep turning, as the case may be) good things will still be the norm, and kindness will be a daily occurrence.
     Hey, not a bad post after all :)

Resolution...a little late.

Stop.  Just stop what you're doing for a minute.

Feel that?  Those sparks going off inside your head?

Those are your thoughts.  

You might be thinking "this is weird, I wonder where he goes with this."  Maybe you're pondering about whether continuing to read this post is worth the time it's taking you away from facebook.  Heck, you might even just be scanning this entire paragraph looking for a 144 character text-bite to repost.  Either way, there are electrical impulses shooting through your brain, passing through floods of chemicals, and landing somewhere in your consciousness.

Don't do anything yet.

Do you feel something else?

There's a muted throbbing coming from your chest.

That's your heart.

The traditional center of your emotions, protected in its bony, fleshy prison, 

beating 

and beating 

and beating itself to keep you alive, trying to squeeze out the emotions, as colorful as blood and permeating, that rush to be expressed.  You might now feel amused, confused, or intrigued.  Maybe you're just plain bored.  Either way, there are feelings in your heart that yearn for expression and release.

I know these things are happening to you, because I am experiencing them too.  Every day I go through life, seeing different things, learning different things, and my perspective changes continually.  Every day I seek to connect with people, but usually just end up connecting to the internet and putting on a front for all my "friends" and followers.  And recently, I've realized that it doesn't do any good for anyone.  Because it's not real.

So here's my resolution for 2013, coming after a month of thought and procrastination.

I'm going to post on this blog every week, typically before the end of every Friday.  I'm going to share my thoughts, feelings, and experiences with those who care to pay attention.  I'm not going to guarantee any great philosophical musings, new and original comedy, or heart-wrenching drama, but it might show up.  What I will promise you is honesty.  These are going to be my real feelings, and I'll do my best not to sugar coat.  I'm not seeking for any specific audience, just casting my thoughts out there, trying to see how many ripples I can make.  (See what I did there?)

Comfortable Ruts

One of the most comfortable emotions I've ever felt is the bittersweet feeling you getting remembering the past.  I say it's comfortable because it doesn't require any work to do nor does it give the expectation for more work.  I think about what was, what could have been, what I would have changed and how that might have affected those around me.  At times I get a little sad thinking about the past and I don't really understand why.  My life is great as it is.  I have an amazing wife.  I've got a good job.  I enjoy where I'm headed.  But there are still those occasional nagging thoughts that push through my present from the past, like flowers squeezing between cracks in the sidewalk.  If I had been better to this person, would they be where they are now?  They once said this to me, did they mean it?  Does anyone else think about those experiences or am I the only one who hasn't seemed to move on?  How much of an impact did I have on their life?  When we knew eachother, was I important to them?  Did they value my friendship?  What changed?  Pestering, nagging thoughts that I'll never be able to answer, partly because I'm afraid of the answer.  If I really am the only one who has these thoughts, who remembers how friendships used to be and longs for that connection, coming to that realization would be crushing. And isolating.  The past is static and I know I cannot change it, but I, like a wool sock, seem doomed to cling to it.

Wish List

I wish...
-I was more sincere
-I could remember peoples' names
-I took more/better pictures
-I exercised more
-I was more thoughtful
-I served more people more often
-I was more friendly and welcoming
-I was more cheerful
-I made people feel important
-I was more consistent
-I was more positive
-I was more aware
-I was more spiritual
-I hung out with more people more often
-I thought better of myself

Best part of this wishlist: I can get everything on it.  I just need to work.

Chapter 9, # 46.

This was my response to a question on a take-home essay test for one of my communication classes.  If you can't tell, I had a bit of fun with it.

In his famous song “Ice Ice Baby,” rap artist Vanilla Ice tells his audience: “If you got a problem, yo, I'll solve it. Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it.” I'm not sure what that second sentence means, but in order to make the first claim, Mr. Ice surely must have mastered the steps in the Problem-Solving Agenda, which are: 1) Define and delineate the problem; 2) Analyze the problem; 3) Identify alternative solutions; 4) Evaluate proposed solutions; 5) Choose the best solution.

Let's suppose that Mr. Ice is called upon to solve a problem in the produce department of a grocery store. “Vanilla,” the manager says, “we just don't know how to best organize our vegetables.” Mr. Ice then would (1) check everyone else's understanding by defining and delineating the problem, making sure all members of the group viewed the same issue as the problem. Then Mr. Ice might (2) analyze the problem by leading the produce department in a discussion about the importance of foodstuff organization, who will be affected and various limitations of size, counter-space and refrigeration. Next, discussion would continue with (3) members of the group brainstorming to identify possible solutions such as organization by color, size, scientific classification, storage capacity, popularity, number of syllables, etc. These solutions would be recorded and and then (4) evaluated based on appeal and feasibility. Perhaps placing pumpkins parallel to prunes would put-off potential patrons, but bananas by blueberries might bring big buyers. Upon evaluation of the proposed solutions, the (5) best solution is then chosen, with everyone lending their support in the carrying out of the decision

While the scenario may be fictitious and even a little ridiculous, the process remains true. In following the Problem-Solving Agenda, groups can creatively, effectively and efficiently resolve whatever problems may arise. If these steps are taken, not only will important issues be taken care of, but the group will become more cohesive through the process. Maybe that's the “hook” Vanilla told us to check out.

Lives changed by blueberry donuts

For anyone who rides the bus, has ridden the bus or ever will ride the bus (or any form of public or group transportation), you know/will know that it's typically a pretty silent experience.  It's almost as if people fear to interact with eachother nowadays.  No one talks to anyone else, unless they know them, and if anyone catches you looking at them, even if it's just a glance, you both look away immediately as if the other person has a disease that can be spread through eye contact.  The seats on a bus can be exactly half full with every other seat available, and yet there will still be people standing because they don't want to sit by anyone they don't know.  I think that might be why all the lifeboats from the Titanic were only half full; I can just imagine these people standing knee deep in water on the deck of the sinking ship cursing themselves for choosing hypothermia over social awkwardness.  But anyway, back to my story.
Last week, coming home from school, the bus was moderately full, full enough that about every other seat was taken (yes, people were standing).  I chose to sit down next to a kid I had seen on the bus several times before, whom I really enjoyed watching.  (Yes, I watch people.)  This kid, in some aspects, reminded me of me.  He had what seemed like a direct connection between his brain and his face (ok, looking back at that sentence it sounds really dumb.  And obvious.  Of course he has a connection between his brain and his face!  That's how people move their faces!  But that's not what I meant.  Let me explain...).  He would do what I know for a fact what I do when I need something to amuse myself: I think, and that will show on my face.  I look around, I furrow my brow, I chuckle at something funny to myself, I'll even sometimes shake or nod my head to emphasize a point in the private discussion happening within my mind.  And he does the same thing, so it's really fun to watch.  But anyway, back to my story.
I sit down next to this kid and introduce myself, we get to talking and having a grand ol' time.  Today, basically the same scenario occurred.  Get on the bus, mostly full, seat next to Mike (the kid) is open, so I sit down.  I had just been to Wal-Mart with my friend Laura and purchased an 8-count box of blueberry cake donuts for only $1.50, which was $1 off the original price, so naturally I offer one to Mike, who accepts.  Then, another girl I had conversed with in the past whom I hadn't noticed was on the bus asked if she could have one.  Certainly!  This leads me to explain the phenomenal value of the box of donuts, which starts a bus-wide discussion on the merits of blueberry donuts.  One girl (K...ylie?  I think) even calculated that it came out to $.18 a donut, which lead to another conversation about typical donut pricing, etc.  By the time I got off the bus, everyone was talking to everyone else, having a positive social experience on a bus ride instead of individual silent brooding sessions.
Every interaction we have with other people has an impact on our lives.  A smile from a stranger can make someone's day, kind words in passing could brighten a spirit, a small act of service can have a large impact.  Today on the bus, people communicated with eachother because of a tiny social stimulus.  In short, lives were changed by blueberry donuts.