U.S. Santa Supremacy

Santa has had to deal with something new this year: Lobbyists
A common phenomenon in governments around the world, Santa would have to have been foolish to believe that they would never make it to Shanghai (see previous post).
Of course, kids have been lobbying to get on the nice list and add to their Christmas day loot, but as always, actions speak louder than words. When Santa gets letters from little kids, it can be informative, but the entertainment value is much higher.
The kind of lobbyists Santa has encountered lately is government officials from around the world. In the continual struggle for power and dominance, countries have at last resorted to proving supremacy by proving the accuracy of their version of Santa Clause. Some countries are upset at the shift to Christmas as an international issue because they just can't compete. For example, the netherlands has a Santa that lives in Spain most of the year, has 6 to 8 black men to help him (they used to be slaves, now they're just "good friends") and he beats kids if they're bad. David Sedaris effectively proves this theory wrong by pointing out that Santa doesn't know Spanish. Sorry Netherlands, you're out. (for more on the netherlands' santa clause see "6-8 black men" on youtube.)
I'm proud to live in the U.S where Santa Clause flies in a sleigh all over the world in a night and lives with Elves in the North Pole. Call me ethno-centric, but how could you think anything else? Our Lobbyists to Shanghai have it easy.

Christmas Issues

We all know that the north pole has been evacuated due to global warming. As a result, Santa and company have moved to Shanghai. Shanghai may seem a little counter intuitive, but Santa's allergic to penguins, so the south pole wouldn't have worked.
As a result of the worldwide economic decline Santa has decided to partner with Dubai and give the really good kids islands. Not enough islands you say? Thanks to Santa's new Indian Giver Policy, he has begun taking from bad boys and girls so the availability of islands has increased. A recent press release from Shanghai stated that the Indian Giver Policy will help with Obama's redistribution of wealth and will also help the factory be more enviornmentally friendly.
Concerns about lead paint and other harmful substances affecting the factory were also adressed in the press release: "Santa will not be drinking any milk with the cookies left for him in China. Further, the materials used in toy making were never supplied by China, and will not begin to be. Labels on toys saying 'made in China' were merely to test the children's belief." Such tests are also economical since, with less kids believing in him and being naughty, Santa can cut back on production costs. At some point he hopes to be able to cut back to 4 reindeer as a result of lower demand.
One issue still under examination by top executelves in Shanghai is whether or not coal should continue to be given to naughty lads and lassies (not just referring to Scots). Recent accidents in coal mines have made Santa wonder if he really wants to support such an industry as much as he does. Further, coal is heavy (more reindeer miles per Christmas) and its useful for naughty people; thus it could be used as a reward for the naughty and an unnessecary expense for himself. Alternatives being considered are Chinese manufactured toys or Chinese milk.

Exercise

This a request from the Wanamakers:

I've only heard of one or two instances in which my roommate was stumped. One of those times was when he was talking to someone at his work about exercise and his coworker said, "I don't like exercise because it makes me tired and sore." He had a point.
I personally am an advocate of sporadic exercising. I love to be tired and sore because I got kicked with the spur of the moment. My rationalization is psychological. If you only exercise once in a while and you do it without any warning to your body, you don't dread it. It's kind of like the opposite of anticipation for Christmas for your body. Fortunately, in contrast to Christmas, exercise hopefully comes more than once a year. It also helps to be as huge as I am so that you don't feel like you need to exercise, it's just more of a pastime.
The other key to exercise is having good company. Some people have told me that they don't like to exercise with other people. I understand that people get sweaty and scrubby (good adjective) when they exercise but if you're worried about that you're not doing it right. There's two things that overcome such worries: doing some sort of exercise that takes the focus off of each other (most sport activities do that) and choosing someone that loves you beyond your hygiene and with whom you can engage in some conversation that takes your mind off of the torture you're undergoing. The perfect candidate? Man's best friend. That's right, a dog will love you beyond your hygiene and if you can't talk to that good of a listener, then you need to ask yourself who's colloquially handicapped. And don't try to tell me you can't talk because you're breathing too hard; everybody can talk and breath at the same time.

Girl's Shoes

Here's another shot at a request:

Last Sunday at ward prayer, an apartment of girls was being spotlighted. At the end of each blurb about the individual girls, the intoducer would say, "... and if she were a shoe, she would be..."
...?
Is this comparison common among women? I've never considered that someone would purchase a pair of shoes because they have a personal comparison with them.
This is great. This could become a branch of psychology. I always thought that shoes were something you put on your feet to protect your feet from the ground. Silly me. Shoes are an expression of self.
I understand that people have different sides to them, but if someone has hundreds of pairs of shoes, does that mean they're schitzophrenic? Or are you just schitzophrenic if you keep changing your shoes unexpectedly?
I think this concept can help us appreciate people better. Think about good old Mr. Rogers, and the shoes he wore. Apparently he only had two sides to him: outside and inside. If you are not yet convinced of the amazing revelations available through shoe comparisons, just think about the number of people who come home, take their shoes off, and put on another pair of shoes for the house. Nobody does that. This guy is obviously one of a kind.
So, next time you turn to personalities or something ridiculous in order to get to know somebody, stop yourself and examine their shoes.
By the way, if I had to choose a shoe to represent myself and I chose a flip-flop, would that put me in the same boat as John Kerry?

Toaster Ovens

Here's a shot at request #1:

Many of you have probably heard of the Happy Little Toaster Oven. What on earth were those writers thinking? On one hand you have the Pixar people who sit around and come up with creative plots and perspectives, and they turn them into fabulous movies. On the other hand, you have the people who thought of the Happy Little Toaster Oven, who is joined by other household appliances on a grand adventure. Apparently no one told those writers that one key to having an adventure is mobility. The Pixar people obviously understood this concept; Buzz Lightyear could go to infinity and beyond, and I don't even know where infinity is. The biggest adventure any of my appliances have had was when someone put metal in the microwave. Maybe my next project will be to write a movie about that. I can call it The Messed Up Little Microwave and he can be joined by all the other little messed up appliances that can be found in college housing. Tangent: My roommate Jeff told me that at his last apartment they opened the microwave one time and it didn't stop... we're glad he's still with us. Returning from tangent: I just realized that it's not the Happy Little Toaster Oven, it's the Brave Little Toaster. My bad everyone, toasters are much more reasonable protagonists. So, if you're looking for a good flick, you might want to consider what appliance you'll be joining on their wild rides.

Requests

So here's the deal. I had an idea of a new thing for this blog. You comment and pick a topic, and I will make a blog entry about it. That way, you can read about what you want, and I can use the writing/creative practice. Who knows what we'll end up with. So please give me some requests.

Morning Moment

The leaves were on the tail end of the death process. Those that had fallen lie en masse, and as a car brushed by their place of rest, they came to life and chased it like dogs. Something about the morning air said that death holds no wieght -- even in winter. The breath of life seemed to rush into me; breathing was like drinking. I looked to the side, and light shown through the gate to paradise, and the extra color it produced was evidence that rebirth is a daily event.

Of Men

I received after one of the previous posts, a request for some of my thoughts on men. In general there is one rule: the two kinds of people on the earth are (1) smart people, who are eccentric, and (2) boys, who are stupid.
Unfortunately, starting at a young age, boys compete for stupidity rights. Ever heard of a dare? Do you ever hear girls daring each other to sip something through their noses? It doesn't happen.
Some have commented on the fact that boys get over stuff quicker than girls do. Want to know why? Boys can't remember what they ate for breakfast let alone a contentious conversation from the day before.
The logic of nature is really screwed up. As one lady put it, men come out of the womb wanting to be the ones to carry the club and go slay the dinosaurs. Why are the clubs in the hands of the stupid people?
Ever wondered why girls plan weddings? From a young age I was told that when I'm engaged and planning a wedding, I can give my opinion, but the girl has the final say. Isn't that nice of them to let me give my opinion? I've figured out why boys don't make those decisions, they can't handle making something as nice of a wedding materialize. Take decorating for an example. Boys use all these posters and stuff they think are cool, and then they put it all together, and it always turns out poorly.
In closing, I offer thanks to women for making something nice out of what us men have to offer. To use a traditional and maybe stereotypical example, men bring home a dead animal, and women somehow know how to make it into something nice. We offer them our rough unfinished selves, and they help us become something presentable. Thank heaven for women.

Observations of an almost only boy

This entry is an explanation by my roommate who claims to have women's communication all figured out.
Note: This is not a reflection of the host's opinions or viewpoints.

It's easier to talk about how women don't communicate, than to talk about how they do communicate. The rule of thumb is: Do everything but say what you mean. They get frustrated when, after giving hints to a guy, the guy won't leave them alone. When they do say something it's usually not what they mean. That's true pretty much true across the board. I guess there's some exceptions but the readers should not consider themselves those. Females dig circumlocution. It's so "cloak and dagger." They might say to someone "oh, you look so cute today" but that actually means, "your actually not cute" "I'm jealous" "I'm saying that because you are cute, but I'm still cuter than you are", or they say it because they don't know what to say, or sometimes it is sincere. So when someone says that there is a 25% chance of it being genuine. Another rule of thumb: If you can't say it in the superlative, don't say it. There is a specific list of vocab. words and phrases that you need to know because they mean the opposite of what Webster says. Examples: "fine" "I'll take 5 minutes""Nothing" (always means something) "that's okay" "whatever" (is an insult). Talking is cathartic. There is rarely a logical justification to talk. When a girl asks a question, she doesn't want an answer, she wants you to ask it back, viz. "How are you?" "How was your day?" "How are you feeling"
Jordan admits that these are generalizations, but he says not really.

This is Shawn speaking again. I take no responsibility for what Jordan said. I only hope it was humorous for you to some degree because it was humorous listening to him tell me how the world works.

Up next (by request) observations concerning men

OOAOB 2 (Observations of an only boy)

Different people get excited about different things. I understand that. I admittedly am one of simple pleasures. However, I've noticed a consistency in the oddity of things that excite females. My discovery budded as a young boy at a family gathering surrounded by my mother, sisters and aunts who were having the most animated discussion about... eye lashes. I understand and acknowledge the fact that conversations can take unexpected turns and lead you into strange place, but it usually leads to a dead end. As I sat there amid increasing volume and speed of speach, I realized why all the men were in the other room. On one hand there's no way they could have contributed to the conversation, and on the other hand... eye lashes?!

Observations of an Only Boy

I have talked in the past about writing a book that is based on my observations as an Only Boy. I don't have sufficient time or memory to put down everything at once, so I've decided my blog is the perfect place to put down pieces of it. Here is the first one:

There’s many possible variations in life: curled, crimped, straight, wavy, etc, not to mention bangs, no bangs, pulled back, put up, done up, or let down. Anybody who has had the blessing of an education understands what it’s like to memorize lists, which become useful in future conversations. That’s what I thought as far as being somewhat knowledgeable about girls, until I was rudely awakened to the hard truths of reality. Most men will never get it. I’m not sure I’m all the way there, but let me relate an experience that could shed some light on the subject for some confused soul. There I sat talking with some of my family, when the sister just younger than me announced that she still had to straighten her hair because it needed to be curled. It sounded so commonplace by the sound of her voice that I tried desperately to not look as dumbfounded as I felt. Straighten to curl? That’s like a man saying he’s got to shave so he can grow facial hair!

My Status Quo

So, I decided that in order for my posts to have any sort of thematic or entertaining element, you would have to start with my status quo. Here it is:
I attend BYU and am in the first have of my junior year. I am doing the pre-requisites to get into the Public Relations emphasis of a communications degree.
I work at the media relations office on campus, and enjoy a wonderfully wide range of personalities that exist there. I have learned that you can have various senses of humor that are all dry, and yet very different. I have also seen styles of inter-personal communications that range from almost no words, to repeating ones' self multiple times and thanking everyone else for breathing (that hyperbole is not very extreme).
I live with 3 other guys. One I have to constantly remind to dumb down his register for me because he's stuck in his world of biochemistry and quantum mechanics. Another one I have seen awake twice in the morning before I leave, and the last enjoys his floral design class as well as his fake teeth that he works on in preparation for dental school.
My church callings include teaching Elder's Quorum, which has given me an appreciation for females in a teaching situation, and FHE dad where I have decided that if I ever adopt, I will not adopt people who are my own age.

The Graveyard Shift

The lights from the stores and signs resembled celestial bodies in the midst of an invasive outer space that had become immediate. Darkness had crept in, as is the usual mode of entrance for darkness. And I saw myself in one of those celestial bodies. I saw light surrounded by darkness. I saw a world that was in the process of falling asleep, and then I saw those that work the graveyard shift. Someone had volunteered to stay the night, and thanks to them, work was still performed. And the light came strongest from those places that stayed in operation. The night seemed to push upon them, and the light and darkness struggled for space. Sharing is not an option. But those workers had promised. They had told their Employer, that they would stay the night, and in turn, He provided them with light. That light would not leave. Surely there was someone who was annoyed from their room that the lights persisted through the night. Darkness maybe pervasive, but light is penetrating. Some don’t want the light; it makes it harder to sleep. But even in the night, weary travelers see it as a welcoming boon. So the man working the graveyard shift must persist. He must not listen to the night, for it distracts and detracts. It is not a glamorous job. Not many people want it. But those who see its necessity must keep on in their noble endeavor.

By the way...

Sometimes posts will be random stuff I thought up, and sometimes they will be updates on life and stuff like that. I just thought I'd mention that in case any of you saw stuff like the next post and thought I was really weird.

Welcome

This whole idea of blogging is very new for me, but I liked the idea of having a place where I could post whatever I wanted and whoever wanted to could look at it. It's kind of like an outlet for creativity and personal news that does not subject people involuntarily to it, but it's there if they want it. I hope if you're taking the time to read this that you enjoy it.