This one goes out to the one I love.

I just have to say something to my dad. I can't help it. I am compelled. Compelled, I say! At this point, you may be thinking that someone is standing here with a gun to my head or something, but that's not it at all. I am not even being coerced by method of food depravation. I've already had dinner. In fact I am quite full. My grand-mother-in-law took us out to Golden Corral, a local all you can eat place.

This starts me on the topic of 'all you can eat' restaraunts. They are evil. Wait, what am I saying. That is basically what any restaraunt is. Restaraunts just go about it in a different way.

For instance: If I go to Burger King and buy $6.99 worth of food, it is likely all that I can eat. If I go to Golden Corral then the same amount of money buys me all sorts of mass produced food that I can stuff into my body until there is no longer any room. They just have to make sure that I don't eat $6.99 worth of food. That's easy. At the rate they are getting food, only the heartiest of speed eating proffesionals (and here I refer to people such as our little oriental friend who ate about a billion hot dogs) would be able to come out costing the restaraunt more than they ate. Of course, there is all of the other overhead, but I'm sure it works because there are so many around.

Lastly I would like to point out a fairly popular alternative method to filling you up on the money you pay. This one is a little more expensive, at least for us. Take a high end restaraunt who charges upwards of fifty dollars for a plate. They make a killing in both ways. First, they charge an exorbitant price, and then they are assured that you have all that you can eat because, let's face it. Every one feels a little less like eating when they just forked out Seventy five bucks for the appetizer platter.

Of course, you could say that these last restaraunts charge for the ambience, and you may very well be right, but my point still stands. Even if you are comfortable dishing out (ha, I said dishing in a conversation about serving food(Ha I said conversation when I am really just typing and you have no way to initiate dialogue)) large amouts of cash for small amounts of food, you are most likely in a situation that is not conducive to eating (e.g. a date, a business meeting, or worse a proposal).

So, as I was saying. Happy birthday DAD! You have been a great father, and because you were born into your family, you provided me with a great heritage. I am thankful for all that you have done for me, and I am sure that I don't even know the half of it. Thank you.

I am also sure that at this point you would be greatful if I just stopped. Well, ok.

What does a blind man see in his dreams?

I have to tell you. I read textbooks onto tapes for the visually impaired, and I love it. I get to study all this stuff and I get paid for it. It's great.

I also noticed recently that I have comments on my blog. This presents somewhat of a problem. Of course immediately the problem is not appearent. You might think to yourself, "What? he's crazy. Isn't that the point of blogging, getting responses, eliciting feedback on your thoughts, participating in the larger world!"

Well, you may be right. And even I must admit, at least initially, that I do like the idea of comments. But I'm almost afraid to look. What if they disagree with me, or worse, what if they agree. They might bring up good points. These commentators on my simple rantings might even find something interesting to say. In fact, that is usually the case. And what do I do about that? Well naturally, society dictates that I respond. Even if I wasn't the type of guy who likes to get in the last word, I would feel compelled to respond to my readers. (I prefer to think of them as adoring fans, but that may not be quite accurate.) And then what? Do they respond to my responses?

It is an ongoing cycle of madness. Where once I was a simple man trying to just leak my mind into the internet, now I am involved in discussions. DISCUSSIONS! I would never have the time to just write anymore. I would be obliged to just respond to every notice. I wouldn't get any sleep. I would be constantly hounded by thoughts of response.

"Did I say something appropriate?" "Is there something there for me to read today?" "What do I do if nobody commented today?" "Is anybody listening!?"

It all becomes a practice in futility...So the question is; Should I even answer the comments at all? But what if I don't? Then my blog becomes moot. It is completely unknown, and undiscussed. I would never know that someone thinks my babblings are, "trite drivel." And that's important.

What I really need is a large group of people who sit around all day and comment on my blogs. This would incite new readers to come, and the conversations could grow and influence people all over the world, and all I would have to do is write. Hmmmmm. But on the other hand, I would become disconnected from popular opinion and current social trends. I wouldn't know how to interact any more, and my writing would suffer. Slowly my blogs would deteriorate until they were nothing but odd ramblings of a detatched individual.

Boy, I'm sure glad that hasn't happened yet. I guess I'd better answer my comments...the alternative would be unbearable.

The life at the end of the tunnel

I have to tell you, I don't get excited all that often. Truly, I'm a stoic kind of guy. Okay, maybe I'm not, but I can play at it to make a point. The point is that I am excited now. "Why?" You may ask. Well I may answer.

I wrote a script one day a few years ago. In fact, that's what made me realize that writing isn't the terrible burden placed upon us by English teachers. Writing can be fun...it can also be terrible agony. Most often it is a mix of the two. But English teachers insist on perpetuating the pain side of writing so that they can keep us from realizing the great joy called creativity in writing. I think that they want to keep it to themselves. It's a great conspiracy really.

Maybe there is even a negative correlation as shown by the graph that is now not appearing on your screen. In fact, I may or may not have done complex and completely accurate statistical studies, analysis, and computations that support this logical and irrefutable conclusion qua a real statistician: The more people that hate writing, the more joy is available to the individuals that know how to derive joy from it.

Those devious English teachers. But they didn't get me. No sir. I found out. I wrote that play, and now I write more. But I digress. That's not so impressive though. A lot of people digress. What makes my digression really impressive is that I digressed from my digression. I could say that I am a master digression. But I won't. I'll just tell you why I am excited.

This little play that I wrote has attracted the attention of a producer. I don't know exactly how since it hasn't been "Around", but I'll accept it. (note: I actually do know how. My friend who is an actor knows the producer and pitched it to them on a whim. however In order to keep the nature of this blog mystical, dramatic, and obscure, I will not include this note except in note form.) So I need to copyright, revise, and reformat my play into a screenplay so that I can jump on this opportunity.

The downside is that I must realize what is really happening. This particular producer is just beginning a production company and is willing to look at any script that comes her way. Little does she know that she will be getting a script of high caliber. I just have to write a new one quickly or she will just get my old script instead.

So, even though I don't (wink, wink) get excited often, I will let myself indulge in the dreaming that inevitably foreshadows huge success and fame. You can't trick me into thinking that the producer will realize the drivelesque quality of my writing. She will see it for what it is not. A masterpiece. I know this because I have seen it happen time and again on my favorite device for completely accurate tutelage, the movie screen.

We'll see if anything comes of it. Until then...or until my next post, whichever comes first, I bid you adieu.

Who ever heard of tchotchke?

Today I had a little insight. And this may be the most sexist thing ever, but I figured out why I must have the final say in my home.

I have a duty to provide for my family. Some people view that as a simple, "I must bring home the bacon." I just realized that it is a little different. I have a home, and with my wife we have a set of values that we want our family to learn. We are a religious family, even LDS, so we have a strong view of the after life and God's relationship to us.

As I said, I have a duty to provide. I don't just provide food and shelter, although that is a very important part of my duties. I need to provide an environment where we as a family can reach our full potential. In my belief, God will ask me at the judgement day if I have done this or not. For this reason, I am the one who must have the final say. Because I will be held responsible. Not my wife, not my kids. Me. That means that I have a duty to make sure everything is done, and done right.

That having been said. I don't begin to think that I need to be an evil dictator. I believe heavily in consulting with my wife. In fact, I know that she knows a lot of things that I don't know so I must rely heavily on her. Especially when it comes to raising our kids, since she has a degree in early childhood education and development.

My children also have the freedom to choose their life's direction. I feel that each of us made a promise to God when he sent us here, and we are the only ones who can keep that promise. But I will be held completely responible if I don't provide them with every opportunity to fulfill their commitment to God and live up to their potential.

I may be a dictator, It's my job. I am responible, and though I could not do a good job without the help of my wife and children, it is ultimately up to me. I give my life meaning by serving others, and my family must come first. In this way I fulfill my promise with God. If I leave everything up to my wife then I am not doing my job, even if it is done well.

And that is that.

Gifts

I recently took up drawing again. When I was younger I loved to draw. I loved my art classes, but we just never had enough....drive? Yeah, I'm one of those gifted people. So I get the basics of just about anything I study fairly quickly. I say gifted, but I might as well say challenged.
Yeah, drawing is fun. I recently drew a self portrait. I celebrated because it looked like a person, and it almost looked like me. I drew it when I was sitting under the stage during a presentation of the play, "The importance of being Earnest." Now there is a discussion just waiting to happen.
Theatre, like art, seems to draw me. But there is always the question. How do I earn a living? Well by hard work of course. How many of you have seen the movie...never mind, I forgot the title.
Starving artists. Hmmmm. Would you rather be rich and happy, or starving and happy? Most people would have written Rich and miserable, or starving and happy, but I just don't think that there's a real choice there. I would much rather be rich and happy, or starving and happy. Actually, I don't want to be starving, but if the happy is there I could bear it. Same with the rich thing. I just don't think I could hande being rich and miserable. I would much rather be rich and happy.
Have you ever read the book Les Miserables? I haven't, but that word miserable is in the title, so maybe I will. I hear it is a good one.
Speaking of books, I am listening to Isaac Asimov's Foundation on tape. It is pretty good so far. But it begs the question, "Is listening to books on tape really reading?" I am here once and for all to answer that with a firm maybe. I think that we should all read books. I just re-discovered that I like reading. I had forgotten. Did you know that you can be just as happy doing a job that you hate as when you are reading a book that you love? It's true. I won't go into just how it is done, but it has to do with breathing and living and that sort of thing. But back to Foundation. It is a good book so far.
The main character is a man named...I forgot, but he is a mathematician. In fact, the whole premise is that mathemeticians and statisticians are able to predict the future. And I guess that it is possible. They calculate what is possible and then act on it. I admit, I am oversimplifying, but the other things just seem extraneous.
Now that's a fun word. I can also use it another way. If you are my little sister and you want to squirt your sqirt gun at me you can safely do so from the house because I can't shoot you. My extraneous source of water would get all over the interior of the house and then you could yell, "Don't get water in the house!"
In fact, if you are my younger sister you have already done this. Thanks for providing the example Sis.

Concinnity \Kuhn-SIN-uh-tee\

For all you who wonder what the title of this blog means, it seems to be the opposite of what my blog is all about. This blog page lacks concinnity. That is, it lacks internal harmony. I guess that's not quite true. So far my postings (all two) have been completely random. In that sense, there is definitely concinnity in my work. However, I don't plan on it being ever thus. Sometimes I may actually write something depressing, or even something topical or useful.
You may wonder at the title, and especially the pronunciation guide next to it. Well, let me esplain. I am a current subscriber to the Dictionary.com word of the day mailing list. I get numerous words mailed directly to me; definitions and all. It is really a great way to increase vocabulary. I currently have a total of fifty six words in my gmail account. I can keep them all because gmail offers a large amount of storage space, and any of you who wish to utilize the wonders of said email service, let me know and I will happily invite you.
Now where was I? Oh, yes. Concinnity. I currently have a big number of words with definitions sitting in my email account. Sans usefulness. Most of you know that when we go to school we generally retain about twenty percent of what is taught. Unless of course you love the subject, and then you will take lots of classes and your twenty percent will be bigger than my current twenty percent of all the math classes that I have taken. This leads me to question the ultimate purpose of our public education system.
If we are bound to forget eighty percent of what we are taught, why do we force students to struggle for so long with information that they will never remember? Schools tend to lean toward shaping children into citizens that can function within our narrow view of society. Fit us in the cubicle and we won't know that there is anything beyond it. It seems to me that schools should focus on teaching children how to learn, thus increasing the retention rate, and then helping expose students to a wide array of knowledge that they can pick through and assimilate into their desired focus. Admittedly younger students won't know right off what their focus is, and it is our duty to help them find it. But the process of learning anything, when we understand the true purpose of learning, expands our mind and allows us to apply ourselves and our unique schema to whatever task we put ourselves to.
I will most likely never create a new form of protien that helps us to strengthen our natural immune system. But I don't feel like my time studying biology is a waste. However I must admit that I have retained little of the acutal knowledge, and only remember the theories that excited my interest heavily.
Ah, where was I? Oh, yes. I subscribe to the word of the day email list from dictionary.com. But without using the words that I find there, I will lose them from my memory. Probably faster than the rate of students in our public schools.
Now, I don't mean to use these words helter skelter.

Me- "Concinnity. Concinnity is the word that you want me to use in a sentence. Concinnity."
Judge- "Very good. That is the best use of this particular word that I could think of."

No. That would leave me feeling completely out of harmony with the intent of reading these words. Concinnityless if you will. Of course that leads me to making up words which only our dear friend Billiam Shakespeare could accomplish with impunity.
On that note, and with that literary faux pas, I leave you today. Adieu.

LOAD"blog",7,8

This is my first blog. In it, I pay homage to the commodore 64 that I first typed on. Actually, I never really typed on it. Most of the time I watched my older siblings play games. And usually, I was looking through a crack in the door, or from somewhere they couldn't see.
Yeah, I hid. And I learned how to start a program. And then when they were bored I actually got to touch the computer. Amazed by the incredible graphics, I was immediately trapped by the wide world of computer gaming. I didn't realize that computers were for storing data or for writing. I only thought about the cool, and in depth games that my brothers seemed to get from everywhere. And I never wrote more than the required number of words in an assignment. Writing was boring.
Now I don't play games, I write. Wait, let me rephrase that. Now I play less games, and write more. In fact, I hope someday to become a published writer. And when that day comes around, no one will know that this blog is connected in any way to me, or to my writing. In all reality, I don't think that anyone reading this blog will care enough to even think about it....come to think of it, maybe no one is reading this blog.
No matter. I write for the love of writing....But when I do become a published writer I will publish a reference to my blog in one of my obscure novels and all my fans will rush to their computer screens, or lap-pads, or whatever they happen to use in that far future day.
Band width won't matter, because no matter how big I get, no one ever gets that big by writing...unless your name is Joanne Rowling. Then you will have billions of dollars, seven books, and seven movies, and so you could buy all the bandwidth your heart desires. And really you won't have to worry about it because all the information that you want to get to the public has already been leaked out and the million fansites distribute the information for you. (Not to knock on J.K. she has a pretty good website herself.)
But, I am not J.K. Rowling. My name isn't even Joanne. First of all, that is a girl's name. And even if it were a boys name I wouldn't go by J.K. That's just something they did in the U.S. so that people would read the book and think it was from someone like C.S. Lewis, or J.R.R. Tolkein, or P,D, Evenston....ok, I made the last one up. Imagine the look on all of our faces when we found out that J.K. Rowling was really a girl. Really we live in a sexist society.
In closing I would like to say,"I like to eat Zuppe Toscana. The Olive Garden makes it, and makes it well, but I will always be partial to my wife's cooking, and that is all I have to say about that." But instead of saying something so trite I will merely say. Hope you enjoyed. See you next time.