Describe your most embarrassing moment.
Not surprisingly, the first one that comes to mind involves my bowels. It's not having doctors put cameras up there, or nurses telling me I need to fart after having my colonoscopy (they inflate your bowels using air, and you can get air embolisms (I think that's the issue?) if you don't get it all out, so they stand there and wait until you unleash the beast.
Those don't embarrass me, because they're medical people, and they get paid significant amounts of money to deal with my poop factory and associated gas plant. That's their bad.
I wouldn't really call this my most embarrassing moment (as Jes pointed out as I told her today's topic, I don't really embarrass easily), just the one that jumped immediately to mind:
Every year, my Dad's extended family takes a vacation to Aspen Grove, a family camp up past Sundance in Utah. It's got a lot going for it; there are hikes (if you're into that), child care is provided (assuming you have them, and they're not actively vomiting on other children ((which is actually a pretty common occurrence, given how many kids they have running around in those gulags))), lots of family to visit, tons of activities, brief classes in things like pen turning, pottery, art, religion, boondoggles, etc.
One thing Aspen Grove does not do well is food. Now, I can understand this, because they're catering to hundreds of people at a time, and you can't make really high quality food for that many people. It would be a logistical nightmare, as well as expensive. And this is a BYU affiliated camp. BYU does some things incredibly well. Cost/Value for education, it's essentially impossible to beat if you're Mormon. Providing jobs for students, they're right there (even if it's mostly minimum wage, they still give students the opportunity to work, which is fairly uncommon in a lot of universities). Cooking some delicious food, well that's a swing and a miss. It's palatable, but as ABC points out, there are rocks that are palatable under certain circumstances.
The food BYU (and by extension, Aspen Grove) makes isn't great. It's not going to kill you, but if you're looking for flavor, it's not really the place to go.
For whatever reason, when we go to Aspen Grove usually coincides with when I decide I'm going to start eating salads. One particular year, I think I was 13 or 14, I had eaten probably a little too much salad, and it had probably been touched by one too many a sick child in the buffet line ahead of me, and it was not sitting well. I was talking with some new-made friends (other teenagers I'd met that week and had been bonding with), some of them of the attractive female persuasion, when I thought I'd surreptitiously pass the gas that the salad was churning out in me.
It was not gas.
If you don't like fecal descriptions, I'm not sure why you're still reading this blog, but you've been warned. Maybe skip the next paragraph.
The main problem was that my underwear was not being as absorbent as I would hope it would be in this situation. Lines of brown liquid (it was basically brown water) began running down my leg, and, of course, I was wearing shorts. Luckily, we were standing about 10 feet away from one of the three public restrooms in the camp, and I very awkwardly, and squishily made my way to the bathroom, removed my clothing and proceeded to clean myself as well as I could.
I don't know if those women-folk saw me, I don't remember if anyone commenting on it, or mentioning it, but then again, you probably wouldn't talk to the kid who pooped his pants about pooping his pants.
That was pretty embarrassing.
I'm not sure it's the most embarrassing thing I've ever experienced, but it's the one my brain remembers most clearly, so...hope you enjoyed hearing more about my bowels?
Stay tuned for more?
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Day 9
Welcome to Day 9! The last of the single digit days, which means I can finally start typing with more than one finger. No wonder it takes me so long to get these up.
What defines you?
Well that's an unusually broad question. I feel like all the others have been 'name 3 occasions in which you were sitting around the table and your dad looked at you questioningly, but really it was just a misunderstanding'.
I'm not really sure how to start answering this question. I guess I'm defined by what I do, who I view myself as, and how other people view me? Or maybe it's asking for a signature move?
In that case it's probably something like me shaking ma booty while making beat boxing noises.
If that's not the case, I guess what defines me is my desire to...maybe it's my ability to...
I have no idea.
I feel malleable enough to do whatever needs to be done? Usually?
What defines me is my ability to avoid being defined! That sounds suitably like something a moody 15 year old says. Apparently, my lack of maturity defines me?
Gas. Gas defines me. Or defies me, and gets heard in spite of my best efforts?
Jes can totally vouch for that one.
Honestly, I think my only really defining characteristic is that I like to make other people happy. I like telling stories, sharing things I think they'll like, I like entertaining them, or puzzling them; I just love interacting with others.
Which is interesting, because I wouldn't really consider myself extroverted. At least, not under the definition that I heard someone use once, which I can't find again. An extrovert is someone who recharges their batteries, who finds their drive to keep living from their interaction with others.
Example: It's been a rough day at work in the office/salt mines/vacuum of space, and you get home feeling a little drained. An extrovert in this situation might invite a friend over to talk, have a movie night with a few others, or throw a party. An introvert would not do those things. And I would not do those things.
Social interactions with others tend to be very enjoyable for me, don't get me wrong, and I receive a great deal of satisfaction or contentment or whatever being around others (I'm talking about non-family members, which is pretty unusual for my family, I think). But it's not what I do to relieve stress.
I'm not sure how I got onto that, but there you go.
I totally didn't answer the question, so maybe it's my mystique that defines me.
What defines you?
Well that's an unusually broad question. I feel like all the others have been 'name 3 occasions in which you were sitting around the table and your dad looked at you questioningly, but really it was just a misunderstanding'.
I'm not really sure how to start answering this question. I guess I'm defined by what I do, who I view myself as, and how other people view me? Or maybe it's asking for a signature move?
In that case it's probably something like me shaking ma booty while making beat boxing noises.
If that's not the case, I guess what defines me is my desire to...maybe it's my ability to...
I have no idea.
I feel malleable enough to do whatever needs to be done? Usually?
What defines me is my ability to avoid being defined! That sounds suitably like something a moody 15 year old says. Apparently, my lack of maturity defines me?
Gas. Gas defines me. Or defies me, and gets heard in spite of my best efforts?
Jes can totally vouch for that one.
Honestly, I think my only really defining characteristic is that I like to make other people happy. I like telling stories, sharing things I think they'll like, I like entertaining them, or puzzling them; I just love interacting with others.
Which is interesting, because I wouldn't really consider myself extroverted. At least, not under the definition that I heard someone use once, which I can't find again. An extrovert is someone who recharges their batteries, who finds their drive to keep living from their interaction with others.
Example: It's been a rough day at work in the office/salt mines/vacuum of space, and you get home feeling a little drained. An extrovert in this situation might invite a friend over to talk, have a movie night with a few others, or throw a party. An introvert would not do those things. And I would not do those things.
Social interactions with others tend to be very enjoyable for me, don't get me wrong, and I receive a great deal of satisfaction or contentment or whatever being around others (I'm talking about non-family members, which is pretty unusual for my family, I think). But it's not what I do to relieve stress.
I'm not sure how I got onto that, but there you go.
I totally didn't answer the question, so maybe it's my mystique that defines me.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
My Painting Final! And day 8
More apologies for not posting every day, a combination of finals (All 2 of them. One of them was painting. Time management fail), laziness and probably something else (Borg invasion?) has kept me from posting.
Before we get into 'Day 8: What are 3 passions you have?', I'd like to share with you the culmination of my one semester of oil painting. I'll probably show you my other favorite painting too. And maybe another one. Or two.
Shut up. I loved painting. And this is my blog (well, I guess Jes and I have joint custody. It's a complicated arrangement, weekends only, pending my ability to hold down a steady job).
In another blog post I'll show the step-by-step of my final, because I think it's interesting, and shut up, see the above paragraph if you don't want to see it.
A couple of things to keep in mind as I show this: 1) I've never painted using an implement that was not my finger, 2) I've NEVER art-ed someone's face before, 3) I'm still very much in the process of learning how to not make oil paint look like butts.
So here's my grisaille. Grisaille is Italian for 'Only use black and white and be incapable of mixing those colors into the gray that you want".
What are 3 passions you have?
1) Well, obviously I've picked up a little bit of a painting bug, so once my back stops hurting from being hunched over a table to paint a much-too-large striped suit, I'm sure I'll get back into that.
2) Golf. I freaking love golf, and I'm only marginally terrible at it (unlike most of my other hobbies, where I'm decidedly terrible at them). Being up on the Waterton Lakes Golf Course is basically my constant 'something' in the "Man I wish I could be doing something else".
3) Space. If my post about how space is the coolest thing ever, and NASA should have a budget much larger than it currently does didn't tip you off, I love, love, love, LOVE space. The coolest thing I've seen recently is this video from the International Space Station. Seriously. Click that link if you haven't seen it.
CLICK IT NOW.
You're welcome.
Before we get into 'Day 8: What are 3 passions you have?', I'd like to share with you the culmination of my one semester of oil painting. I'll probably show you my other favorite painting too. And maybe another one. Or two.
Shut up. I loved painting. And this is my blog (well, I guess Jes and I have joint custody. It's a complicated arrangement, weekends only, pending my ability to hold down a steady job).
In another blog post I'll show the step-by-step of my final, because I think it's interesting, and shut up, see the above paragraph if you don't want to see it.
A couple of things to keep in mind as I show this: 1) I've never painted using an implement that was not my finger, 2) I've NEVER art-ed someone's face before, 3) I'm still very much in the process of learning how to not make oil paint look like butts.
So here's my grisaille. Grisaille is Italian for 'Only use black and white and be incapable of mixing those colors into the gray that you want".
.JPG) |
| About 1 1/2' x 2' |
It was (obviously) based on a bust that I was looking at, and it was pretty fun to do. I actually had it exactly the way I wanted, and asked my teacher Jean what she thought. She told me to add another layer of paint. In theory that doesn't sound that hard, just add the same colors over top of what you already have.
The trouble, however, stems from the very nature of paint mixing. It's hard. Well not physically, obviously, it's just little blobs of color, although my wrist did get kinda tired sometimes. I was just incapable of creating the same grays, so as I started to cover the parts that needed more paint, they were VERY obviously not the same hue (temperature was the word used by Jean, although that's just asinine, because as a science minded individual I constantly wanted to tell her that they were both, in fact, room temperature). So I basically had to redo the entire painting and I wasn't nearly as pleased with the end result.
That said, I still think it looks pretty good.
Up next is actually my favorite, it was for the patterns and layers assignment, and I think it turned out really well. The colors look a little muted in the picture, so it looks a little more impressive in real life, but I still really like it.
.JPG) |
| About 1' x' |
The simplicity and clean nature of it just made me really happy. It was at this point that many people (including Jean) told me I should go into graphic design. Which was both cool because it was accompanied with praise, but at the same time it was like "Hey interesting painting, you should go do graphic design."
That's a little like saying "You made a decent steak, you'd be a great rancher".
And while, yeah, I'd probably be a great rancher, that doesn't say much for my steak.
Mmmm, steak.
It was also my lowest grade out of all the painting assignments I did, which is funny because I feel like it's easily my best piece. Not the most complicated, or even difficult, but definitely the best executed.
Anyways, our final project was a self portrait, so I decided to co-opt Vault Boy from the Fallout series with a few changes to make it more like me.
.JPG) |
| It's about 2' x 3' |
It's not quite done (I need to add some black lines to the tie, shirt collar, his face, etc) but I thought I'd show you what I have so far. I used quite a bit of linseed oil, so it's take forever to dry, so I haven't been able to finish it yet. I spent like 13 hours straight one day on it, and another 5 or so the next (that last day may or may not have been the day it was supposed to be presented...), so I kinda painted myself out for a little bit.
Anyways, hope you liked those. I sure enjoyed making them.
Onto day 8!
What are 3 passions you have?
1) Well, obviously I've picked up a little bit of a painting bug, so once my back stops hurting from being hunched over a table to paint a much-too-large striped suit, I'm sure I'll get back into that.
2) Golf. I freaking love golf, and I'm only marginally terrible at it (unlike most of my other hobbies, where I'm decidedly terrible at them). Being up on the Waterton Lakes Golf Course is basically my constant 'something' in the "Man I wish I could be doing something else".
3) Space. If my post about how space is the coolest thing ever, and NASA should have a budget much larger than it currently does didn't tip you off, I love, love, love, LOVE space. The coolest thing I've seen recently is this video from the International Space Station. Seriously. Click that link if you haven't seen it.
CLICK IT NOW.
You're welcome.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Day 7
If you're just checking in today (April 20th) I wrote Day 6 a little while ago, and will be writing Day 8 today as well, so you may have missed my last post. I broke them up so you wouldn't have to digest 3 days worth of writing in one mega post.
What is your dream job and why?
Honestly, like just about everything else in my life, I'm kinda torn. My dream job would definitely be one of two things:
1) Author
This is something that I feel like I'm pretty decent at. Writing that is. Authoring may not be the same thing, since I've never actually tried to write a full book, so I might not be any good at it. I'd like to suppose that I am, in the same way that I suppose that I'd be a terrific astronaut if I ever had to be. I'd rock. I'd probably puke like crazy at first, and then I'd be awesome at it anyways. Maybe that's why I don't write a book. I'm afraid of all the vomit I'd vomit.
I'd really like to be an author because of my imagination, really. It's kinda why I took a painting class this semester, to be honest. Every so often, I have an idea that just really wants to be expressed. It has it's own desires to be told, and I feel like I'm the portal to its existence. I'd be lying if I didn't say I didn't want to be recognized for what I put out, get some recognition for how awesome whatever I've created is, but a larger facet is that I want to be able to see the finished product. I want to take this idea, this embryonic universe that exists only in my head and turn it into a world other people can get lost in. I want to ignite the imagination of others the way R.A. Salvatore, George Lucas, and more recently Patrick Rothfuss and David Weber sparked mine.
I want something that is wholly mine.
I also wouldn't mind making money doing all that.
2) Voice Actor
This one's a little more far fetched, because I feel like it's even more of a niche market than writing. It's far more of a pipe-dream than one I think I'd actually be able to accomplish. But I love talking, making voices, and narrating in general. I took some classes a while back from a private instructor, and I loved it, but it was a little expensive to keep up and actually get really good at. It's definitely filed away in my "someday" category.
Which brings me to the practical aspect of my life, and the way my parents raised me. I was never told I could be an astronaut, because let's be honest, as awesome as I would be, I could never do it. Mom and Dad knew that, and they wanted us to be realistic. It may have been a little bit of a dreamkiller of them, but I grew up knowing that if I wanted to more or less have a comfortable life, I'd have to work hard and plan on it.
Dad was always full of tidbits like "There are thousands of talented artists that are starving, but not very many starving doctors."
Which is why I'm trying to get into medicine, so that I can establish myself and be comfortable, and then pursue my dreams as hobbies. And hey, if my writing or whatever takes off afterwards, I can always be like Chang from Community.
I'm sure that's every parent's dream, to have their children emulate Chang.
Words: 605
What is your dream job and why?
Honestly, like just about everything else in my life, I'm kinda torn. My dream job would definitely be one of two things:
1) Author
This is something that I feel like I'm pretty decent at. Writing that is. Authoring may not be the same thing, since I've never actually tried to write a full book, so I might not be any good at it. I'd like to suppose that I am, in the same way that I suppose that I'd be a terrific astronaut if I ever had to be. I'd rock. I'd probably puke like crazy at first, and then I'd be awesome at it anyways. Maybe that's why I don't write a book. I'm afraid of all the vomit I'd vomit.
I'd really like to be an author because of my imagination, really. It's kinda why I took a painting class this semester, to be honest. Every so often, I have an idea that just really wants to be expressed. It has it's own desires to be told, and I feel like I'm the portal to its existence. I'd be lying if I didn't say I didn't want to be recognized for what I put out, get some recognition for how awesome whatever I've created is, but a larger facet is that I want to be able to see the finished product. I want to take this idea, this embryonic universe that exists only in my head and turn it into a world other people can get lost in. I want to ignite the imagination of others the way R.A. Salvatore, George Lucas, and more recently Patrick Rothfuss and David Weber sparked mine.
I want something that is wholly mine.
I also wouldn't mind making money doing all that.
2) Voice Actor
This one's a little more far fetched, because I feel like it's even more of a niche market than writing. It's far more of a pipe-dream than one I think I'd actually be able to accomplish. But I love talking, making voices, and narrating in general. I took some classes a while back from a private instructor, and I loved it, but it was a little expensive to keep up and actually get really good at. It's definitely filed away in my "someday" category.
Which brings me to the practical aspect of my life, and the way my parents raised me. I was never told I could be an astronaut, because let's be honest, as awesome as I would be, I could never do it. Mom and Dad knew that, and they wanted us to be realistic. It may have been a little bit of a dreamkiller of them, but I grew up knowing that if I wanted to more or less have a comfortable life, I'd have to work hard and plan on it.
Dad was always full of tidbits like "There are thousands of talented artists that are starving, but not very many starving doctors."
Which is why I'm trying to get into medicine, so that I can establish myself and be comfortable, and then pursue my dreams as hobbies. And hey, if my writing or whatever takes off afterwards, I can always be like Chang from Community.
I'm sure that's every parent's dream, to have their children emulate Chang.
Words: 605
Day 6
Sorry about the delay in getting these posts up. I forgot/was too busy to do them the last couple of days, what with work, finals, and baby preparation.
But apologies are for stupid people, so I take it back, I'm not sorry about the delay. To make up for it (my not apologizing?), I'm going to do each of the 3 days that I missed, ALL IN A ROW.
Hopefully I actually get it up today, or this is going to turn into a vicious cycle of me not finishing and having to add more days, which in turn prevents me from finishing. It's like racism in that way, I guess.
Anywho, onto Day 6!
What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?
Diamonds. Next question.
Day 7
Just kidding. Although technically speaking, diamonds are indeed the hardest things I've ever experienced. Initially, I thought it would have to be what I'm going through now, what with waiting to find out if I'm getting into a medical school, or if I'm going to be stuck in Utah with nothing to do for the next year, and how to provide for a baby if Jes doesn't work etc. The mental stress of that has been pretty killer, and I'm basically going to have to sit here and make plans that I really don't want to use until I found out one way or the other.
I also realized that I'll probably have to start turning in applications for the Fall 2014 class before I know if I get in off the wait list at USF. Blerg. That's not a pleasant prospect.
That said, it's really not the hardest thing I've experienced (diamonds!). That was back when I was in high school.
And no, this isn't another Crohn's story, so if you're worried about detailed descriptions of Crohn's-poo, you can stick around (although I recommend skipping Day 12, "Describe a Typical Day in Your Life", because that's going to have a crap-ton of poo descriptions).
Mom and Dad always restricted the amount of time Andrew and I spent playing video games, be they on the computer or some console or another. Well, they tried anyways, and usually they were quite successful. We did cheat quite a bit, often resetting the egg timer on the oven to give us a few more minutes (although, it did legitimately get stuck a few times, so we weren't always lying) of play. The amount of time we got to play was directly proportional to the amount of time we played piano (we also got several hours for each completed merit badge, so there was incentive to get our Eagle Scout awards right there).
Almost every Friday night, though, Mom and Dad would go out on a date, and it was basically a free pass to play as much as we wanted. Not that we were supposed to, mind you, but I'm pretty sure they knew what we were doing. There was one particular Friday where Mom and Dad were headed out a bit farther than they usually went, which meant that I got to play even more than I usually did. I can remember how it felt playing those games, although I don't remember what I was playing specifically. It was lots of fun.
There came a point, however, where I felt like I'd been playing a little too long. I checked the clock, and it was late. Far later than they'd ever been home. I actually stopped playing, because I started getting a little worried. I don't remember why I didn't call their cell phones, but I didn't, I just sat on the couch and waited for them to call. Maybe they'd decided to stay the night down in L.A., or maybe they'd had to wait a while to get seated, or something, but honestly, it just didn't feel right.
Mom called at some point, I think it was around 10:30 or 11 and told me that they'd been hit by someone on the freeway and had rolled over multiple times. They were air-lifting Dad to some hospital, it might've been Cedar-Sinai, but it looked like everything was going to be fine. Initially it was a hit-and-run, but he pulled over a mile or two down the road. He was 20, drunk, and stoned.
When they got to the hospital, it turned out Dad's neck had broken in 4 places, and scraped off a lot of the skin on the right side of his face. It was basically a miracle he hadn't been paralyzed, among many other things as he sat in the helicopter. Mom had gotten off with essentially a seat belt bruise, physically at least. We've never really talked about how psychologically terrifying that must've been, but I imagine it was pretty horrible.
Sitting at home was pretty awful. I remember going to bed that night, and sleeping surprisingly well. I woke up early, but I don't remember tossing or turning. I remember getting a call from the Stake President giving me a little bit of an update on how Dad was doing, and he was pretty grim. Dad was in bad shape.
Seeing Dad when he got home was terrible. He was going to be fine, at least as fine as you could expect. But those first few days, it was hard to see. Not because he was terrifying to look at, but it was a reminder about how incredibly awful things can happen to amazing people. No reason, no purpose, it's just because that's the way life is.
It's been a good reminder to me throughout my life, and has also helped me form my views on God. I don't think He has His hand in every aspect of life, I don't think He controls every minute detail of our existence, and not everything that happens is in accord with His "divine will". Not that I don't believe He could if He wanted to (I'm not interested in making assumptions about what God can and can not do), but I think the random acts of living, of existing in this world where everyone has the freedom to choose to do as much good, evil, or anything in between as they want, and our response to those stimuli make up a very large part of God's plan. I can't imagine God wanted Dad's neck to get broken any more than He wants people to war, or sickness, or any of the bad things people so often use to disprove the idea of a loving God. Nor do I think it was part of a grand plan. It just happened. What we choose to do with that knowledge can reinforce our belief in God, weaken our belief in God, or whatever we choose.
I didn't mean to wax philosophical there, or try to convince you of my beliefs or anything, but yeah.
That was probably the hardest thing I've ever experienced. And honestly, most of the hard stuff, I didn't even experience personally. But, there it is.
I'm going to be writing Day 7 and Day 8 today as well, so stay tuned!
Words: 1,191 (yay I'm making up for my shorter posts!)
But apologies are for stupid people, so I take it back, I'm not sorry about the delay. To make up for it (my not apologizing?), I'm going to do each of the 3 days that I missed, ALL IN A ROW.
Hopefully I actually get it up today, or this is going to turn into a vicious cycle of me not finishing and having to add more days, which in turn prevents me from finishing. It's like racism in that way, I guess.
Anywho, onto Day 6!
What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?
Diamonds. Next question.
Day 7
Just kidding. Although technically speaking, diamonds are indeed the hardest things I've ever experienced. Initially, I thought it would have to be what I'm going through now, what with waiting to find out if I'm getting into a medical school, or if I'm going to be stuck in Utah with nothing to do for the next year, and how to provide for a baby if Jes doesn't work etc. The mental stress of that has been pretty killer, and I'm basically going to have to sit here and make plans that I really don't want to use until I found out one way or the other.
I also realized that I'll probably have to start turning in applications for the Fall 2014 class before I know if I get in off the wait list at USF. Blerg. That's not a pleasant prospect.
That said, it's really not the hardest thing I've experienced (diamonds!). That was back when I was in high school.
And no, this isn't another Crohn's story, so if you're worried about detailed descriptions of Crohn's-poo, you can stick around (although I recommend skipping Day 12, "Describe a Typical Day in Your Life", because that's going to have a crap-ton of poo descriptions).
Mom and Dad always restricted the amount of time Andrew and I spent playing video games, be they on the computer or some console or another. Well, they tried anyways, and usually they were quite successful. We did cheat quite a bit, often resetting the egg timer on the oven to give us a few more minutes (although, it did legitimately get stuck a few times, so we weren't always lying) of play. The amount of time we got to play was directly proportional to the amount of time we played piano (we also got several hours for each completed merit badge, so there was incentive to get our Eagle Scout awards right there).
Almost every Friday night, though, Mom and Dad would go out on a date, and it was basically a free pass to play as much as we wanted. Not that we were supposed to, mind you, but I'm pretty sure they knew what we were doing. There was one particular Friday where Mom and Dad were headed out a bit farther than they usually went, which meant that I got to play even more than I usually did. I can remember how it felt playing those games, although I don't remember what I was playing specifically. It was lots of fun.
There came a point, however, where I felt like I'd been playing a little too long. I checked the clock, and it was late. Far later than they'd ever been home. I actually stopped playing, because I started getting a little worried. I don't remember why I didn't call their cell phones, but I didn't, I just sat on the couch and waited for them to call. Maybe they'd decided to stay the night down in L.A., or maybe they'd had to wait a while to get seated, or something, but honestly, it just didn't feel right.
Mom called at some point, I think it was around 10:30 or 11 and told me that they'd been hit by someone on the freeway and had rolled over multiple times. They were air-lifting Dad to some hospital, it might've been Cedar-Sinai, but it looked like everything was going to be fine. Initially it was a hit-and-run, but he pulled over a mile or two down the road. He was 20, drunk, and stoned.
When they got to the hospital, it turned out Dad's neck had broken in 4 places, and scraped off a lot of the skin on the right side of his face. It was basically a miracle he hadn't been paralyzed, among many other things as he sat in the helicopter. Mom had gotten off with essentially a seat belt bruise, physically at least. We've never really talked about how psychologically terrifying that must've been, but I imagine it was pretty horrible.
Sitting at home was pretty awful. I remember going to bed that night, and sleeping surprisingly well. I woke up early, but I don't remember tossing or turning. I remember getting a call from the Stake President giving me a little bit of an update on how Dad was doing, and he was pretty grim. Dad was in bad shape.
Seeing Dad when he got home was terrible. He was going to be fine, at least as fine as you could expect. But those first few days, it was hard to see. Not because he was terrifying to look at, but it was a reminder about how incredibly awful things can happen to amazing people. No reason, no purpose, it's just because that's the way life is.
It's been a good reminder to me throughout my life, and has also helped me form my views on God. I don't think He has His hand in every aspect of life, I don't think He controls every minute detail of our existence, and not everything that happens is in accord with His "divine will". Not that I don't believe He could if He wanted to (I'm not interested in making assumptions about what God can and can not do), but I think the random acts of living, of existing in this world where everyone has the freedom to choose to do as much good, evil, or anything in between as they want, and our response to those stimuli make up a very large part of God's plan. I can't imagine God wanted Dad's neck to get broken any more than He wants people to war, or sickness, or any of the bad things people so often use to disprove the idea of a loving God. Nor do I think it was part of a grand plan. It just happened. What we choose to do with that knowledge can reinforce our belief in God, weaken our belief in God, or whatever we choose.
I didn't mean to wax philosophical there, or try to convince you of my beliefs or anything, but yeah.
That was probably the hardest thing I've ever experienced. And honestly, most of the hard stuff, I didn't even experience personally. But, there it is.
I'm going to be writing Day 7 and Day 8 today as well, so stay tuned!
Words: 1,191 (yay I'm making up for my shorter posts!)
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Day 5
Today's selection: What are the five things that make you happiest right now?
1) In the very short term, tomorrow is a Thursday, and that makes me very happy. I don't have work on Thursdays, and classes are out, so tomorrow I get to sit down and paint as much as I want. I'm incredibly excited about that because it usually takes a while to get all my paint stuff put up and then cleaned up, so the actual time in the middle (where I, you know, paint) is shortened by maybe an hour.
2) Honestly, writing, and the prospect of continuing to write for the next 25 days. It's fun to do, and I look forward to doing it. Also, the fact that I take hallucinogenics while writing makes it exciting.
I don't really do that.
But these answers don't really lend themselves to being fun, interesting, or funny. So I apologize. But this is really for me, not you. Stop being so selfish.
3) Snuggling with Jes while feeling Autry try to punch me. Although usually Jes tells me things like "She's moving around a ton! Come feel quick!" so I run over and put my hand on the baby sac and... nothing. It's like a hush falls over the uterus and Autry starts playing the "I'm a statue" game. Which I find kind of lame. You hear that in there Autry!? LAME.
I need to teach her English so she'll know how lame that is.
4) Getting a full night's sleep. I know I'm not going to be enjoying this one much longer, but to be honest, I haven't had many of them for quite some time. Baylee, in keeping with the tiny motif she's got going on, also contains a thimble sized bladder. So usually around 2:30 in the morning, Baylee insists on going outside. Since I'm the member of the family that has the least amount of difficulty rolling off of beds, I'm the one who takes her out. Baylee's been good practice for sleepless nights.
5) Eating really good food. We had Indian food this week, and Dad took us out to the Melting Pot while he was here a few weeks ago. It's probably one of my favorite things ever. I don't actually like eating all that much, what with the Crohn's thing, but man, when food is amazing, it can't help but make me smile.
And when it's Indian food, I know I'll have plenty of time to do my reading in the bathroom.
1) In the very short term, tomorrow is a Thursday, and that makes me very happy. I don't have work on Thursdays, and classes are out, so tomorrow I get to sit down and paint as much as I want. I'm incredibly excited about that because it usually takes a while to get all my paint stuff put up and then cleaned up, so the actual time in the middle (where I, you know, paint) is shortened by maybe an hour.
2) Honestly, writing, and the prospect of continuing to write for the next 25 days. It's fun to do, and I look forward to doing it. Also, the fact that I take hallucinogenics while writing makes it exciting.
I don't really do that.
But these answers don't really lend themselves to being fun, interesting, or funny. So I apologize. But this is really for me, not you. Stop being so selfish.
3) Snuggling with Jes while feeling Autry try to punch me. Although usually Jes tells me things like "She's moving around a ton! Come feel quick!" so I run over and put my hand on the baby sac and... nothing. It's like a hush falls over the uterus and Autry starts playing the "I'm a statue" game. Which I find kind of lame. You hear that in there Autry!? LAME.
I need to teach her English so she'll know how lame that is.
4) Getting a full night's sleep. I know I'm not going to be enjoying this one much longer, but to be honest, I haven't had many of them for quite some time. Baylee, in keeping with the tiny motif she's got going on, also contains a thimble sized bladder. So usually around 2:30 in the morning, Baylee insists on going outside. Since I'm the member of the family that has the least amount of difficulty rolling off of beds, I'm the one who takes her out. Baylee's been good practice for sleepless nights.
5) Eating really good food. We had Indian food this week, and Dad took us out to the Melting Pot while he was here a few weeks ago. It's probably one of my favorite things ever. I don't actually like eating all that much, what with the Crohn's thing, but man, when food is amazing, it can't help but make me smile.
And when it's Indian food, I know I'll have plenty of time to do my reading in the bathroom.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Day 4
I'm typing this from upstairs in bed at 11:05 PM which means that I only have 55 minutes to actually write this. Otherwise my arbitrary time limit I placed on myself will be totally violated.
And that would result in... I dunno, ninja assassins or something.
Plus, it's pretty hard to type on an iPad. The keys aren't quite big enough, or something. I don't like it. *hisses like a cat*
Anyways? Today's topic is 5 things you would tell your 16 year old self. In no particular order, they are:
1) This incredible pain you're feeling is not normal. I mean, have you even been looking at your bowel movements? They shouldn't...exist in that way. They are an affront to nature. Go see a doctor. And get ready for a BUNCH of doctors sticking CCTV wands up into your colon and beyond. Don't be fooled by the "Golitely" brand of laxatives they'll give you. They are poorly named.
2) Grow your hair out. You'll be grateful, and the archaic policies of BYU will force you to look like a military man for the next decade or so. So love it. Embrace it. Dad had long hair in high school too, so he can't say anything.
3) You're going to want to study a lot harder in college than you did in high school. It's going to save you a lot of sleepless nights later. Also, maybe play less World of Warcraft. They're going to screw it all up after the first expansion anyways.
4) It's totally cool to not date someone that you don't really like. Just because other people say you'd make a great couple doesn't mean you will. You're going ti be a TERRIBLE couple. Also, don't buy a swimsuit that thinks that replacing laces with elastic will keep those shorts on when diving into a pool. You will be disrobed very quickly.
5) Here's a list of every stock to buy, when to sell, winning lotto numbers, and winning horses for the next 9 years. Go nuts. Go get a submarine.
I don't know how many words this is, I'll check tomorrow. Also, I don't recommend the iPad for long posts or book writing. It hurts quite a bit. Maybe a detachable keyboard would help, but dang. I'm pretty surenI have a Repetitive Stress injury now. See you tomorrow!
And that would result in... I dunno, ninja assassins or something.
Plus, it's pretty hard to type on an iPad. The keys aren't quite big enough, or something. I don't like it. *hisses like a cat*
Anyways? Today's topic is 5 things you would tell your 16 year old self. In no particular order, they are:
1) This incredible pain you're feeling is not normal. I mean, have you even been looking at your bowel movements? They shouldn't...exist in that way. They are an affront to nature. Go see a doctor. And get ready for a BUNCH of doctors sticking CCTV wands up into your colon and beyond. Don't be fooled by the "Golitely" brand of laxatives they'll give you. They are poorly named.
2) Grow your hair out. You'll be grateful, and the archaic policies of BYU will force you to look like a military man for the next decade or so. So love it. Embrace it. Dad had long hair in high school too, so he can't say anything.
3) You're going to want to study a lot harder in college than you did in high school. It's going to save you a lot of sleepless nights later. Also, maybe play less World of Warcraft. They're going to screw it all up after the first expansion anyways.
4) It's totally cool to not date someone that you don't really like. Just because other people say you'd make a great couple doesn't mean you will. You're going ti be a TERRIBLE couple. Also, don't buy a swimsuit that thinks that replacing laces with elastic will keep those shorts on when diving into a pool. You will be disrobed very quickly.
5) Here's a list of every stock to buy, when to sell, winning lotto numbers, and winning horses for the next 9 years. Go nuts. Go get a submarine.
I don't know how many words this is, I'll check tomorrow. Also, I don't recommend the iPad for long posts or book writing. It hurts quite a bit. Maybe a detachable keyboard would help, but dang. I'm pretty surenI have a Repetitive Stress injury now. See you tomorrow!
Monday, April 15, 2013
Day 3
Day 3: What is the greatest amount of physical pain you have ever endured?
This one's actually pretty easy.
I've hurt myself a lot over the years; skateboarding was particularly bad for my body's well-being, resulting in my head hitting asphalt a half-dozen times, several twisted ankles, and a severely sprained wrist (I was trying to clear a 7-stair, which I totally did, but the cushions weren't thick enough to stop the board from touching the wheels when I landed, which stopped the wheels, which stopped the board, which, unfortunately, did not stop me. After eating it really bad the first time, I did what any sensible person would, and tried again. I kept my face from smashing into the concrete by absorbing all my momentum in my right wrist only).
My brief stunt with bikes resulted in me not quite landing several jumps of a dirt kicker some friends and I made out in the desert. My not-landing-it was mostly the result of the bike I was using. I purchased the frame from a friend, the wheels were possibly different sizes, and the chain was actually hobbled together from 3 different chains, and if I petaled too fast, it would break apart. That didn't last long, and my shins have several scars from that.
But by a large margin, my Crohn's Disease has caused the greatest total pain, and the greatest single-experience pain in my life. Thankfully, with Remicade and the Azathioprine I take, I usually range from a 0 on the pain scale to a "I shouldn't have eaten at Taco Bell twice today" level of discomfort. Every so often there'll be some stomach cramping, or a flare up and my guts will be kind of uncomfortable but it's much better than it was before.
But I can remember the Dark Days before Remicade, when it felt like there were daggers inside my intestines trying to stab their way out, as well as daggers outside my stomach trying to poke their way in. Sometimes it was simultaneous. There was one time I couldn't do anything but lay on my bed in the fetal position and cry. I'm not terribly prone to crying (which isn't to say I never do, but it takes some doing), but there was nothing I could do. No pain pills helped, no pressure helped, I just had to ride the stabbings like some sort of...guy...who...gets stabbed. From the inside. That guy's life sucks.
Like I said, that sucked, but it's a lot better now.
Hooray for Crohn's, for making an easy decision for a blog post I guess? Silver linings, right guys?
Words: 424, which means I need to write a bit in my book-book!
This one's actually pretty easy.
I've hurt myself a lot over the years; skateboarding was particularly bad for my body's well-being, resulting in my head hitting asphalt a half-dozen times, several twisted ankles, and a severely sprained wrist (I was trying to clear a 7-stair, which I totally did, but the cushions weren't thick enough to stop the board from touching the wheels when I landed, which stopped the wheels, which stopped the board, which, unfortunately, did not stop me. After eating it really bad the first time, I did what any sensible person would, and tried again. I kept my face from smashing into the concrete by absorbing all my momentum in my right wrist only).
My brief stunt with bikes resulted in me not quite landing several jumps of a dirt kicker some friends and I made out in the desert. My not-landing-it was mostly the result of the bike I was using. I purchased the frame from a friend, the wheels were possibly different sizes, and the chain was actually hobbled together from 3 different chains, and if I petaled too fast, it would break apart. That didn't last long, and my shins have several scars from that.
But by a large margin, my Crohn's Disease has caused the greatest total pain, and the greatest single-experience pain in my life. Thankfully, with Remicade and the Azathioprine I take, I usually range from a 0 on the pain scale to a "I shouldn't have eaten at Taco Bell twice today" level of discomfort. Every so often there'll be some stomach cramping, or a flare up and my guts will be kind of uncomfortable but it's much better than it was before.
But I can remember the Dark Days before Remicade, when it felt like there were daggers inside my intestines trying to stab their way out, as well as daggers outside my stomach trying to poke their way in. Sometimes it was simultaneous. There was one time I couldn't do anything but lay on my bed in the fetal position and cry. I'm not terribly prone to crying (which isn't to say I never do, but it takes some doing), but there was nothing I could do. No pain pills helped, no pressure helped, I just had to ride the stabbings like some sort of...guy...who...gets stabbed. From the inside. That guy's life sucks.
Like I said, that sucked, but it's a lot better now.
Hooray for Crohn's, for making an easy decision for a blog post I guess? Silver linings, right guys?
Words: 424, which means I need to write a bit in my book-book!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Day 2
Day 2: Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and describe how they became fears.
I'm calling into question the definition of 'legitimate'. Any fear I have is technically a legitimate fear, because it's apparently real enough for me to fear it. I think the very soul of this question is asking about a 'logical' fears, which makes more sense.
So I'm going to ignore what I just said and talk about my most illogical, but totally legitimate fears.
1) Every time I have to throw away trash in a public trash receptacle, such as a dumpster, I have to force myself to not just leave my trash laying next to it. I am wholly terrified that I'm going to open the lid and out jumps a ferocious rabid badger who's so pissed about being trapped in there he's going to rip out the eyes of whatever he sees first. Which is me.
This actually gets worse when we vacation in Canada, because they have grizzly bears there. Can you imagine how livid a grizzly bear would be after being trapped in a dumpster?
I can.
And I do. Every time I take out the trash.
This became a fear mostly because I have to take out the trash at night, and like most humans, I have pretty bad night vision that doesn't really adjust in the time it takes me to walk from the bright kitchen to the always-in-some-seedy-poorly-lit-corner dumpster.So I'm almost literally opening that dumpster blind. Plus, as a Boy Scout, I always heard that animals love eating trash, so it's not too much of a stretch to think of one falling in and getting trapped.
2) Getting my junk bitten by a spider while using the restroom at a campsite. There's no delicate way to put that. When I was at Scout camp (hmm, Scouts was bad for my emotional well-being I think), I remember my scoutmaster asking the collected group of 12-14 year olds who would be more likely to be bitten while using the bathroom while camping. We all said girls because girls have to sit every time they use the restroom. He laughed at us. He said the answer was boys, because our anatomy hangs down into the toilet, which is where the spider is more likely to be hidden. I'm pretty sure the conversation quickly turned to the types of spiders and the results of their bites. Black Widows and Brown Recluses in particular.
Now, for those of you who don't have an intimate knowledge of my bathroom habits, allow me to rectify that situation. I always sit. Partially because I like to read when I'm in the bathroom, and it's particularly difficult to pee standing up, read, and not get urine all over everything. Mostly, however, because I don't like cleaning up the results of peeing standing up. It makes toilet maintenance less involved, is what I'm saying.
Now for someone like me, who always uses the commode sitting down and has spider bait anatomy, this was a particularly chilling thing to hear. As a result, I try to avoid using campsite toilets by any means necessary. I will wait days to poo if I have to.
3) Doing nothing with my life. This one's a little more serious (not that those last two weren't serious, because I would almost rather die than have my junk bitten by a brown recluse), or at least a little more mature (haha, junk being bitten by spider. Mature, I am not). I look at some of the amazing accomplishments made by those around me. I've got a brother who's just got into his residency as an anesthesiologist. He's going to be a DOCTOR. I have a brother-in-law who's a lawyer, another brother-in-law who's getting a PhD in (oh crap, I hope this is right) Chemistry, my sisters are both far cleverer, creative, and harder working than I am, my Mom's ten times smarter than me, my wife's family are all crazy hardworking and dedicated, my best friend is one year from becoming a Psychologist, and I'm not even going to begin listing the incredible stuff Dad does. And I'm... well, a lot of the time it feels like I'm nowhere.
Don't get me wrong, it could be a lot worse. I could be getting attacked by a rabid badger covered in brown recluses while sitting on the toilet WITH NO BOOK TO READ. And I understand that I'm not an idiot surrounded by geniuses. But what if I don't get into medical school this year? And what if I don't get in next year? Or the year after that? At what point to I change my life plans? I took a grand total of 4 classes this entire year so that I could graduate, and worked at Taco Bell to fill time. I don't want my life to be full of Taco Bell. The food, or the labor. Ugh, particularly the food.
I guess I'm scared of accomplishing nothing, being no one, looking back at my life when I'm dying of some horrible rabies related dumpster incident and thinking that I got absolutely nothing of value done. I was the black mark on this generation of Beesleys.
I don't think that's likely. Things will probably work out, and I'll probably be happy and successful. But sometimes I wouldn't mind just leaving my trash next to the dumpster, because I really don't want to get mauled by Hoser, the angry Canadian grizzly.
915 words. Yay me!
I'm calling into question the definition of 'legitimate'. Any fear I have is technically a legitimate fear, because it's apparently real enough for me to fear it. I think the very soul of this question is asking about a 'logical' fears, which makes more sense.
So I'm going to ignore what I just said and talk about my most illogical, but totally legitimate fears.
1) Every time I have to throw away trash in a public trash receptacle, such as a dumpster, I have to force myself to not just leave my trash laying next to it. I am wholly terrified that I'm going to open the lid and out jumps a ferocious rabid badger who's so pissed about being trapped in there he's going to rip out the eyes of whatever he sees first. Which is me.
This actually gets worse when we vacation in Canada, because they have grizzly bears there. Can you imagine how livid a grizzly bear would be after being trapped in a dumpster?
I can.
And I do. Every time I take out the trash.
This became a fear mostly because I have to take out the trash at night, and like most humans, I have pretty bad night vision that doesn't really adjust in the time it takes me to walk from the bright kitchen to the always-in-some-seedy-poorly-lit-corner dumpster.So I'm almost literally opening that dumpster blind. Plus, as a Boy Scout, I always heard that animals love eating trash, so it's not too much of a stretch to think of one falling in and getting trapped.
2) Getting my junk bitten by a spider while using the restroom at a campsite. There's no delicate way to put that. When I was at Scout camp (hmm, Scouts was bad for my emotional well-being I think), I remember my scoutmaster asking the collected group of 12-14 year olds who would be more likely to be bitten while using the bathroom while camping. We all said girls because girls have to sit every time they use the restroom. He laughed at us. He said the answer was boys, because our anatomy hangs down into the toilet, which is where the spider is more likely to be hidden. I'm pretty sure the conversation quickly turned to the types of spiders and the results of their bites. Black Widows and Brown Recluses in particular.
Now, for those of you who don't have an intimate knowledge of my bathroom habits, allow me to rectify that situation. I always sit. Partially because I like to read when I'm in the bathroom, and it's particularly difficult to pee standing up, read, and not get urine all over everything. Mostly, however, because I don't like cleaning up the results of peeing standing up. It makes toilet maintenance less involved, is what I'm saying.
Now for someone like me, who always uses the commode sitting down and has spider bait anatomy, this was a particularly chilling thing to hear. As a result, I try to avoid using campsite toilets by any means necessary. I will wait days to poo if I have to.
3) Doing nothing with my life. This one's a little more serious (not that those last two weren't serious, because I would almost rather die than have my junk bitten by a brown recluse), or at least a little more mature (haha, junk being bitten by spider. Mature, I am not). I look at some of the amazing accomplishments made by those around me. I've got a brother who's just got into his residency as an anesthesiologist. He's going to be a DOCTOR. I have a brother-in-law who's a lawyer, another brother-in-law who's getting a PhD in (oh crap, I hope this is right) Chemistry, my sisters are both far cleverer, creative, and harder working than I am, my Mom's ten times smarter than me, my wife's family are all crazy hardworking and dedicated, my best friend is one year from becoming a Psychologist, and I'm not even going to begin listing the incredible stuff Dad does. And I'm... well, a lot of the time it feels like I'm nowhere.
Don't get me wrong, it could be a lot worse. I could be getting attacked by a rabid badger covered in brown recluses while sitting on the toilet WITH NO BOOK TO READ. And I understand that I'm not an idiot surrounded by geniuses. But what if I don't get into medical school this year? And what if I don't get in next year? Or the year after that? At what point to I change my life plans? I took a grand total of 4 classes this entire year so that I could graduate, and worked at Taco Bell to fill time. I don't want my life to be full of Taco Bell. The food, or the labor. Ugh, particularly the food.
I guess I'm scared of accomplishing nothing, being no one, looking back at my life when I'm dying of some horrible rabies related dumpster incident and thinking that I got absolutely nothing of value done. I was the black mark on this generation of Beesleys.
I don't think that's likely. Things will probably work out, and I'll probably be happy and successful. But sometimes I wouldn't mind just leaving my trash next to the dumpster, because I really don't want to get mauled by Hoser, the angry Canadian grizzly.
915 words. Yay me!
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Day 1, and drawings!
So I was sitting here trying to decide which video game I wanted to play when I realized I didn't really want to play any of them. This is not a common problem I have.
I also recently decided that I want to start writing at least 500 words a day. I've always had a dream about publishing a novel. Or becoming the next J.K. Rowling. Not literally.
Actually maybe literally. Hmmm.
I've always had a problem though, what I'm sure some expert somewhere (Hollywood Upstairs Medical School?) would call inertial paralysis. I am almost always an object a rest. The impetus required to get me to commence a project is usually quite large, and honestly it's a lot easier to just keep sitting here. Plus the idea of writing an entire novel is exhausting. Since the mere idea of writing tens of thousands of words is daunting, then actually writing them has yielded exactly what you'd expect. About 60 words in the form of an unfinished outline.
Anyways, so I decided I'd follow in Julia's footsteps and do that 30 day writing challenge thing, complete with my own embarrassing answers. I'm hoping that if I can write consistently for that long, I'll be able to use my momentum to actually keep writing.
It's unlikely, but hey, maybe you'll get some entertainment out of it.
So without further ado, here's number 1:
List 10 random facts about yourself.
1) I cut off the tip of my left middle finger when I was a smaller human and had it surgically reattached. The nail grows funny now.
 |
| The keyboard is in focus for whatever reason. That's why I'm not a professional photographer. |
2) I didn't realize how hard listing random facts about myself would be. It turns out it's pretty difficult to say something that isn't trite, or boring. I spent about 5 minutes thinking before I wrote that.
3) That last fact was boring. I want to own a motorcycle mostly for the gas mileage, but also because I would look awesome riding this Honda Shadow Phantom. Please donate now.
4) I can only sleep on my right side. At least, I can't fall asleep on my back, stomach, or left side (and I assume I can't fall asleep standing up or doing a handstand, although I've never tried. It's that lazy part of me again, I guess?). Because I sleep of the left side of the bed, this means I always fall asleep with my back to Jes, which usually evokes a "Yoooou haaaaate meeeeee!" as I try to get comfortable.
5) Speaking of sleep apparently I thrash a bit sometimes, and that's resulted in me punching/elbowing/love tapping Jes. In the face. At least a half dozen times (according to her). I guess I sleep-abuse?
6) I have a recurring nightmare (all of the details are exactly the same, every single time) that started when I was maybe 7 or 8. I'm walking through a meadow (first problem, why couldn't I be walking somewhere manly, like a castle, or maybe an airship)
when I come a cross a very small stone well. And by come across, I mean that I see it, walk up to it, and inevitably fall in.
The well is dome shaped, and instead of it being a regular well full of water, it is instead full of lava.
I somehow manage to fall onto a small outcropping that keeps me from, you know, becoming my constituent atoms.
I gaze into the lava, and as I stare into the bubbling surface, when what other than a crocodile jumps out to try and bite my face off.
I leap back and realize that the small outcropping I'm on is actually just an entrance to a cave.
I head to the cave entrance, and it is blocked. By what you ask? By a caveman of course.
Only he's not a regular caveman.
No.
He's got a revolver.
Gun-caveman (or the cave-gunman?) beckons me into the dark cave, and I begin to follow, and then
I wake up.
I've had this dream dozens of times (most recently about 3 months ago), and it always ends right there. The details are all always exactly the same (although rendered a bit more realistically than I can mange with my Wacom and Sketchpad).
7) I shave using double edge razors. Jared Klundt got me into this, and I've finally reached the point where I'm not constantly destroying my face from being too rushed, or not holding the razor right. And now that I've gotten here, I actually really enjoy it.
8) The closest I've ever been to a true celebrity was filming an athletics project with Steve Young for BYU. My then-roommate Jon Howe was making movies for in between the 3rd and 4th quarters at BYU football games, and Mr. Young came for an afternoon to film with us. Yes, I spoke with him. It was super classy and we were all playing it cool until a guy who decided to show up that day to film some behind the scenes stuff pulled out like 3 footballs and a jersey to get signed. Lame. We beat him up.
9) If I had an incredibly large sum of money (I guess this is a continuation of that "if I were J.K. Rowling" fantasy I have?), I would donate lots and lots of it to NASA. They do such amazing things with the paltry budget they have, imagine what they could do, what we would find if it was higher. *steps on soapbox* In 1966, NASA received 4.41% of the national budget, the highest percentage wise in their history. If we were to give them 4.41% of our budget now (about 168 billion dollars) instead of the .5% they get now, we would get a lot more of this:
So. Freaking. Cool. Go look up the wikipedia article on this photo, Pillars of Creation. *steps off soapbox*
10) I'm not a huge fan on pot roast. Everyone else in the world seems to love it, but it has always tasted dry to me. Don't get me wrong, I'll eat it when someone I love makes it, but it's not my favorite food.
So there you go. That took a lot longer than I thought it would. Thanks to Julia for both the idea to get me writing, and for allowing me to steal (I didn't ask, but I assume she would've said yes, so that's basically the same thing, right?) the idea of drawing stuff in the midst of my blog posts.
And for those of you keeping track (which is only me, let's be honest), I wrote just over 1,100 words.
Go me!
Sunday, April 7, 2013
A Reminder: Part 3
My apologies for the several month delay. I wish I had a good reason, but I don't. I'll say that I wanted to be able to do this post justice, to have the capacity to describe Paris as perfectly as possible. But mostly it was just laziness.
Also, this is an incredibly photo heavy post, so be prepared for a long load.
Also also, I heartily recommend clicking through the photos, as again, I took some panoramic pictures and they're much more impressive full screen.
Our first evening was spent mostly walking up and down the Seine, being awed by the beautiful architecture and landmarks.
The next morning we decided to go be awestruck at the Musee D'Orsay, which houses a lot of the incredible impressionist paintings that I really wanted to see. Mostly Monet, but it was pretty much non-stop famous artist after famous artist.
Because the Tuileries is large and in need of constant maintenance, the French decided they should go with something a little more permanent and requiring a little less supervision.
After the visual overstimulation of the Musee D'Orsay, we decided to go to one of the other major Parisian landmarks, Notre Dame de Paris. It was beautiful as we walked there.
We thought it'd be a great idea to walk back to our apartment from Notre Dame, and it rained. Like crazy. It POURED, and we were all very wet. And very sad. But mostly wet. Dad was very stoic, and the rest of us were all very vocal about our misery and need for hot chocolate and crepes.
The next morning, we decided to visit some more architectural beauties. Feast your eyes on this dome.
Have you looked at that? Like really looked at it?
What Cathedral or palace holds has that, you ask?
None.
It's in a department store.
It's a very high class store, called Printemps, and we were looking for some clothes for our (at the time) gender-unknown baby. Much like Harrod's in the UK, there wasn't a thing in that store we could even come close to purchasing, but it was very...interesting to see what people who have too much money choose to spend it on.
Afterwards, we headed to Monoprix. Monoprix is to Printemps as Target is to Sak's Fifth Avenue, and Jes got a sweater.
On a little bit of a whim, Dad suggested we head to Sainte-Chapelle, which was the king's private church. And he LOVED stained glass. Apparently, the glass was neglected for a very very long time, which allows it to get very dark. The French recently decided that this would not do, and have been systematically removing, cleaning and re-awesome-ifying the stained glass.
Sainte-Chapelle is wall to wall stained glass. It was absolutely breathtaking. I tried to get about 10 panoramas to get the walls to line up straight, but it turns out you can't show 4 square walls in a straight line. Cursed...physics?
After our little jaunt through 85% of the world's stained glass reserves (it was seriously so, so gorgeous), we decided we'd go see the Louvre. I knew the Louvre was pretty big. I was wrong. The Louvre is enormous. It's beyond enormous, it would honestly require YEARS of 8 hour visits to really see everything we wanted to see, and to spend more than just a few seconds or minutes looking at things.
You have to see the Mona Lisa. I don't think it's physically possible to go the Louvre and not see the Mona Lisa. Yeah, very tourist-y. And guess what? We were tourists! They let you take pictures of it now, and we're standing as close as they let you get, which is about 12 feet away. Dad told me it used to be sequestered basically in a dark corner and no photos were allowed, so apparently we're awesome enough to warrant a change in the rules. What follows are a few pretty pictures I like, probably with some captions to describe them if I feel like it.
The Opera National de Paris has had quite a few interesting things come through it. For example:
For those of you less Gaston Leroux inclined (or even Andrew Lloyd Webber inclined), the Palais Garnier is where the Phantom of the Opera takes place. And here's terrible pictures I took of Jes in front of the Phantom's private box.
The entirety of the Opera House is gorgeous. Very classically styled, beautiful portraits, busts, many of them painted by the masters.
Then, for whatever reason, back in 1964, They (whoever they are) decided it would be a good idea to allow Ms. Stevenson's kindergarten class to come fingerpaint on the ceiling.
It's actually by Marc Chagall, but you can tell how I feel about it. If you poke around on the internets you can find what it looked like before.
When you've done that, try and justify what you see up there.
They allow you to get on top of L'arc, but you have to pay like 20 Euro per person, stand in an enormous line, and then walk the 8.3 miles to the top. We elected to just enjoy it from the ground. Next, we headed back to the Metro (which is far less intuitive to me than London's by the way, but that might be because, you know, everything's in French) to get to the Eiffel Tower
As is true of everything you see in movies, it was incredible. What they don't show you in the movies is that there are about a hundred million people lined up to get to the top. It was a very pretty day when we got in line, and raining by the time we got to the first observation deck. You then have to wait in another line (which is exposed to that rain) for a few hours if you want to get to the actual top-top of the Eiffel Tower. The view was quite amazing from the first level, and we decided that that was enough for us.
We decided to spend our last day in France at Versailles. I thought it was going to be spectacular. It was even better. The train ride to get out there was beautiful, and even though it was a little rainy, Versailles is breathtaking. And, like every other landmark in France, about 5 times bigger than enormous.
Interestingly, Versailles had fallen into a bit of disrepair in years past, and most of it's furnishings were sold to collectors and museums. Recently, Versailles has taken it upon themselves (or the workers there, I guess?) to try and restore Versailles to its former beauty and re-purchase all of the Sun King's goodies.
We wandered the grounds for some time, looking for all the fountains, and realizing that we should've brought more comfortable shoes.
Many of us know the story of Marie Antoinette partially because of how outrageously she lived. Well, I guess occasionally the stress of having absolutely everything provided for you in all ways at all times can be a little too much, so Marie wanted a village built where she and her friends could go play dress up and pretend to be peasants. She didn't like the smelly animals though, so they were covered in perfume. Not kidding. I only had to decent pictures of the Hameau de la Reine (The Queen's Village?), but there's probably a good dozen or so buildings out there, and it really was a little village and was completely functional. It still is, as a matter of fact.
Those are indeed Nintendo DS games called "Marie-Antoinette and the Disciples of Loki" and "Marie-Antoinette and the War of American Independence" She was quite busy when she wasn't herding sheep.
As we were on the train back to Paris, we decided we'd go out and eat one more time (except Mom, who was tired after our excursion through the expansive Versailles wilderness), and I wanted to try a French delicacy.
I can not even begin to tell you how delicious those snails were. It was heaven.
Also, this is an incredibly photo heavy post, so be prepared for a long load.
Also also, I heartily recommend clicking through the photos, as again, I took some panoramic pictures and they're much more impressive full screen.
Our first evening was spent mostly walking up and down the Seine, being awed by the beautiful architecture and landmarks.
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| A blurry view of the Eiffel Tower, as I zoomed quite a bit. It turns out they light it at night and it twinkles for about five minutes at the top of every hour. It was pretty breathtaking. |
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| On the Seine |
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| One of many gorgeous government buildings. I couldn't keep track of which was which. |
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| It might be the National Academy, where they decide which words can and can not exist in French. I want that power. |
The next morning we decided to go be awestruck at the Musee D'Orsay, which houses a lot of the incredible impressionist paintings that I really wanted to see. Mostly Monet, but it was pretty much non-stop famous artist after famous artist.
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| Standing in front of the Louvre in the Tuileries. Which is the massive garden outside the Louvre. |
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| Apparently M d'O wasn't artisty enough? |
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| Looking out over the Seine from the M 'O. |
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| The French idea of a landscaping crew. |
After the visual overstimulation of the Musee D'Orsay, we decided to go to one of the other major Parisian landmarks, Notre Dame de Paris. It was beautiful as we walked there.
Notre Dame is still used as a functioning Catholic Cathedral and they were having Mass when we were visiting. They didn't mind pictures, just no flash. Which was ignored by basically everyone. I've never been to Mass, but the music we heard was beautiful.
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| Even the BACK SIDE of cathedrals are amazing. |
We thought it'd be a great idea to walk back to our apartment from Notre Dame, and it rained. Like crazy. It POURED, and we were all very wet. And very sad. But mostly wet. Dad was very stoic, and the rest of us were all very vocal about our misery and need for hot chocolate and crepes.
The next morning, we decided to visit some more architectural beauties. Feast your eyes on this dome.
Have you looked at that? Like really looked at it?
What Cathedral or palace holds has that, you ask?
None.
It's in a department store.
It's a very high class store, called Printemps, and we were looking for some clothes for our (at the time) gender-unknown baby. Much like Harrod's in the UK, there wasn't a thing in that store we could even come close to purchasing, but it was very...interesting to see what people who have too much money choose to spend it on.
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| This is all in Printemps. |
On a little bit of a whim, Dad suggested we head to Sainte-Chapelle, which was the king's private church. And he LOVED stained glass. Apparently, the glass was neglected for a very very long time, which allows it to get very dark. The French recently decided that this would not do, and have been systematically removing, cleaning and re-awesome-ifying the stained glass.
Sainte-Chapelle is wall to wall stained glass. It was absolutely breathtaking. I tried to get about 10 panoramas to get the walls to line up straight, but it turns out you can't show 4 square walls in a straight line. Cursed...physics?
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| This housed a very important relic at one point. So important it didn't stick with my brain apparently. And important enough that Mom and Dad aren't looking at it. |
After our little jaunt through 85% of the world's stained glass reserves (it was seriously so, so gorgeous), we decided we'd go see the Louvre. I knew the Louvre was pretty big. I was wrong. The Louvre is enormous. It's beyond enormous, it would honestly require YEARS of 8 hour visits to really see everything we wanted to see, and to spend more than just a few seconds or minutes looking at things.
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| Me doing my best serial killer impression I guess? |
You have to see the Mona Lisa. I don't think it's physically possible to go the Louvre and not see the Mona Lisa. Yeah, very tourist-y. And guess what? We were tourists! They let you take pictures of it now, and we're standing as close as they let you get, which is about 12 feet away. Dad told me it used to be sequestered basically in a dark corner and no photos were allowed, so apparently we're awesome enough to warrant a change in the rules. What follows are a few pretty pictures I like, probably with some captions to describe them if I feel like it.
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| Mona Lisa. Surprise! Jes looks like she's pointing at herself. "Check out how awesome *I* am!" |
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| The Louvre is a pretty place. |
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| This is the Hammurabi Code. Jes was super giddy to see it. |
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| Close up on the Hammurabi Code. It's covered from top to bottom in what I think is cuneiform? |
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| The Louvre was a private palace for royalty back in the day. This is a restored section made to look like a waiting room for the King's apartment. |
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| Great minds of the past. If I remember correctly, it's: Me, Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates. |
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| We accidentally stumbled upon the Venus de Milo. Seriously. |
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| This was a Phamous Pharaoh. Jes and I can't remember if it was Ramses II, or someone else. Google just confirmed to me it was indeed Ramses II. |
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| The Winged Victory |
There are about 50 more photos I have of the Louvre, but I think we hit a lot of the big things. There were absolutely incredible paintings (the Coronation of Emperor Napoleon was particularly awe inspiring), and it's seriously history overload. We went home exhausted.
The next morning, Jes wanted to take a tour of the Palais Garnier - National Opera of Paris.
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| So here we are! |
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| Well, actually here *we* are. We weren't in that last one. |
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| I can't explain this picture. But yeah. I agree. |
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| Jes loves this picture. |
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| It looks like the Hall of Mirrors, but is in fact, another part of the Opera House. |
For those of you less Gaston Leroux inclined (or even Andrew Lloyd Webber inclined), the Palais Garnier is where the Phantom of the Opera takes place. And here's terrible pictures I took of Jes in front of the Phantom's private box.
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| The little plaque lets you know it's his. |
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| He'll kill you if you try and get in there. |
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| From the front, looking to the crowd. This is what the performers see. Hopefully they also see people. |
Then, for whatever reason, back in 1964, They (whoever they are) decided it would be a good idea to allow Ms. Stevenson's kindergarten class to come fingerpaint on the ceiling.
It's actually by Marc Chagall, but you can tell how I feel about it. If you poke around on the internets you can find what it looked like before.
When you've done that, try and justify what you see up there.
After the Palais Garnier, we headed off to L'arc de Triumph, which you can't really get a sense of the scale until you've been there. It is, in fact, enormous. Seriously, I know it looks big, but multiply it by about 5, and that's how big it really is.
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| Our family, and someone enjoying the national pastime of France, smoking. |
They allow you to get on top of L'arc, but you have to pay like 20 Euro per person, stand in an enormous line, and then walk the 8.3 miles to the top. We elected to just enjoy it from the ground. Next, we headed back to the Metro (which is far less intuitive to me than London's by the way, but that might be because, you know, everything's in French) to get to the Eiffel Tower
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| Thar she blows! |
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| The "pretty" side of Paris. Directly opposite this, all the buildings look like they were made in the 60s. In the historic districts of Paris, there's a height limit on the buildings, which is one of the things that helps it look so beautiful. And it totally works. |
We decided to spend our last day in France at Versailles. I thought it was going to be spectacular. It was even better. The train ride to get out there was beautiful, and even though it was a little rainy, Versailles is breathtaking. And, like every other landmark in France, about 5 times bigger than enormous.
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| The private chapel, which was pretty gorgeous. Also full of subtle alterations to make it a little blasphemous. The King had Mass altered so that instead of kneeling to the priest who acts as God's representative, everyone bowed to him. Even the paintings of God. Seriously. (I'm pretty sure that was here, anyways. I do remember hearing that at one point) |
Interestingly, Versailles had fallen into a bit of disrepair in years past, and most of it's furnishings were sold to collectors and museums. Recently, Versailles has taken it upon themselves (or the workers there, I guess?) to try and restore Versailles to its former beauty and re-purchase all of the Sun King's goodies.
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| The famed Hall of Mirrors. Absolutely incredible. Also lots of people. |
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| An exterior shot of us waiting to get into the palace. It was raining, and apparently the pictures didn't upload in order. Ah well. |
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| So much gold! |
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| The backside of Versailles. Also looks amazing. |
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| I believe this is on the walkway up to the Gran Trianon, the larger of the additional homes (read: palaces) the kings built for themselves when the wanted to get away from the Versailles Palace. |
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| Me kissing Jes awkwardly in front of the Temple of Love. |
While trying to find our way back to Versailles from the Queen's little village we got quite lost. And I mean quite lost. We wandered for the better part of an hour looking for buildings on our map and we honestly couldn't find anything. We came across a few other people who were out strolling through the endless grounds who gave us vague directions, but that's really what cemented in my mind that Versailles' grounds are enormous. We walked in a more or less a straight line for an hour and hadn't gotten to any of the side gates or seen a building. We eventually did find our way back to the Versailles and the train station, but it was after another hour of walking.
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| On our way out, one last photo of Versailles' beauty. |
Oh, I just found these pictures. In Versailles' gift shop, I found two of the most incredible video games I've ever wanted to purchase.
Those are indeed Nintendo DS games called "Marie-Antoinette and the Disciples of Loki" and "Marie-Antoinette and the War of American Independence" She was quite busy when she wasn't herding sheep.
As we were on the train back to Paris, we decided we'd go out and eat one more time (except Mom, who was tired after our excursion through the expansive Versailles wilderness), and I wanted to try a French delicacy.
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| Snails! |
I can not even begin to tell you how delicious those snails were. It was heaven.
The next morning we packed everything up and took a taxi to the airport. While at the airport I somehow managed to take a bite of chocolate croissant and get a large flake in my eye. I was looking down at my food, wearing glasses and still got flakey goodness in my eye. It's a talent I guess.
The flight home was a bit of a nightmare, having to go through customs in both England and the United States, and getting a bit of of cabin fever on the plane, but in all honesty, it was totally worth it, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
And that is why my parents are cooler than yours.
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