Dumbing it Down

For what seems like the umpteenth time in my college career (I mostly just wanted to use the word umpteenth, it was really more like 3rd or 4th) I was told this week to dumb down something I wrote for school. Heaven forbid we use words with more than five letters. I should note that this one actually had a little more of a point than some of the other ones. The other ones didn't have much of an argument at all.
The first time, I was told by an economics major (which leaves some question about his english skills) that my paper was too complex. Before I handed it in, I had asked a couple high school english teacher, who I respect as being very knowledgeable, to look over my paper. The made a few edits, but really liked it. Maybe I should have talked about stocks a little more.
The second time was with a writing fellow. I had to write a paper about philosophy (Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica to be exact) for a humanities class. I was required to look over it with a writing fellow who told me that it was too wordy and complex. I tried to explain to her that I understood the concept of writing for a specific audience, and that my audience was a man who never used a small word if he knew a big one for it. I also had to explain what it was even about since she didn't really follow any philosophy, and then I tried to explain to her that the people we respect as really good writers (I used Ralph Waldo Emerson as an example) used big words, so if we want good writers, maybe we should use good words. She said, "Yeah, but that's poetry." I had to point out that Emerson wrote many things besides poetry. I gave up trying to convince her, but didn't take her advice.
This time, I wrote a news article about venture capitalism, and was told that I needed to dumb it down. I'll cut her a break and say that there was some clarification I needed to do, but if you want a good newspaper, shouldn't you have good words and sentences? If we're concerned people won't understand something, I say that's a valid concern, but if it's a word like "capital," and they don't know what it is, perhaps we should leave it in, and let them go look it up.

LIfe is the funniest thing in the world: Part 2

As I'm sure you know, BYU's football team recently defeated number three Oklahoma in a very fun game, and made some big noise for the first game of the season. I watched the game away from my apartment but drove back to Provo later that night. I was surprised at how alive Provo was. I had only seen such celebrating after Spain beat France in the world cup tournament in 2008. People were honking their horns, and marching down the middle of the street waving BYU flags. People were staying up late and it was just really alive. There was a large gathering at the stadium, and then about 1000 people greeted the team at the airport at 1:30 in the morning. I understand that it was an exciting victory, and that's great that they were celebrating, but I couldn't understand the boys. The ones I saw marching down University Avenue in large groups with their shirts off waving flags. Why on earth did they have their shirts off? I've thought about it and I can't derive any logical connection between winning/celebrating the football game and marching down the street with your shirt off. We'll just assume they're freshmen and let it slide.
The other thing that happened that demonstrated the humor in life was when I got a text last night at 1 a.m. and thought it was my alarm. I half consciously got in the shower, took a shower and came out. When I came out, my roommate Jordan woke up enough to say, "It's 1:00 a.m." I just stood there for a second, not really knowing how to react. I got back in my pj's and fell back asleep. Just one of those moments where you either laugh or you cry. SInce "you make for yourself one of two realities," I've found it's better to laugh.

Life is the funniest thing in the world

I realized yesterday that the reason I've been lacking on posts was because I've been lacking on things that I have a lot to say about. I figure that in order to write something interesting, you have to have a strong opinion about it. I just haven't had time to have strong opinions about trivial things for my blog. I have, however, had some funny stories, thoughts and experiences brought to me by life, so I thought I'd share a couple of those.

Automatic Hand Dryers. The other day I stopped at a gas station to fill up my car, and I had to go to the bathroom. So, I went and took care of that. I was washing my hands afterwards, and went to get a paper towel out of the paper towel dispenser. I read, like an intelligent person, that it was motion activated; So, I waved my hand in front of it. Nothing happened. I did it again. Again, nothing happened. I started waving both hands around every side of the thing and at every angle/distance in order to illicit a response from the thing, but alas, it was broken. Thankfully it was in a private setting, but what an easy way to make yourself look like a fool-waving your hands around a box that might as well be laughing at you.
Baby Pictures. No, I don't have a baby, but my supervisor does. My supervisor Nathan was telling me about his little girl going in to get pictures taken. She, Isabel (one or two years old), started crying the minute they walked in, and she absolutely would not cooperate. They ended up with two pictures that they could deal with. After 40-60 minutes of stress and crying and tantrums, they started walking out the door. All of a sudden, Isabel stopped crying, perked up and, with a smile waved to the people in the studio and happily said, "Bye!" Nathan's wife said that made her more mad than the whole 40-60 minutes of crying.
My brain. I understand that this could go a number of different ways, but let me explain what I'm talking about. I went boating with some friends and hurt my thumb while tubing. I thought I just jammed it, but thought it could be broken too. I was just going to wait and see. A week later I was sitting in Gandolfo's eating some dinner before filming a show and my thumb got a weird feeling inside it like something was out of place. That was all it took. The blood drained from my head, I blacked out and started sweating a lot. Because I didn't know what else to do, I laid my head on the table and called my Mom. She answered and had a hard time understanding me, but told me to go to the instacare to get it taken care of. When I felt like I could stand up, I went and got it looked at. It wasn't broken. Earlier today, I went to get a filling at the dentist. They gave me a shot to numb it and asked if I wanted to stay down or sit up while it kicked in. I said sit up. Mistake. I knew perfectly well that I was fine, and the shot was over, but I had the same experience as Gandolfos. My body just thinks it is funny. They came after a while and noticed that I was struggling to stay conscious and they laid me back down. Turns out they didn't give me enough stuff, and they had to give me another couple of shots.
Tooth mark on my head. Yesterday some friends from the ward invited me to a makeshift FHE since our ward wasn't having one. It was a great time, but when we were all done and people almost all gone, there were still brownies left. In an effort to get them gone, we agreed to each eat part of the left overs. Kristina, who was cutting them, decided to stuff each portion into its respective mouth. Luckily I had already eaten my portion and didn't have to worry about that. I was wrong. She tried to force more into my mouth and my reaction was to swing my head away. Unfortunately, her head was in the way and my forehead hit her mouth. Now I have a nice tooth wide cut above one eyebrow, and she luckily didn't lose any teeth, although I think it shook her up more than me.
I hope you've enjoyed these episodes from life. I'm sure there'll be more.

Dream Vacation

If you were to find a list of all of the dream vacations in the world, you'd most likely find quite a variety of destinations. Obvious ones might include Hawaii, Europe, Disneyland and the like. Last weekend I was introduced to a new idea in that category. I was introduced to the Misty River Resort. I'll be honest, I had to do a double take when I saw the word resort on the sign at the entrance because I couldn't see anything but weeds as we drove through the gate. I should have realized, though, that they weren't just whistlin' dixie down there when I saw the quality hand-painted sign on the finest grade of plywood around. So, we made our way through a jungle of texas-size weeds until we came to an oasis of lean-to's complimented by a full-service facility that included a store and big bathrooms. When the lights worked and when you could justify flushing the toilet (they were on a septic system) the full-service facility was pretty nice. Well, I forgot about the fact that you couldn't close the door to one of the bathrooms, but hey, a what's a dream vacation without a little entertainment? It turns out that there was a natural lazy river that circled through the campsite and the lean-to's were really high quality.
Alright, I'll take my tongue out of my cheek and quit wasting your time. I just really want to know why they chose the word "resort." It's a campground in the middle of nowhere.

Sometimes, you just can't win...

Last week, I went with my family to Cedar City to enjoy some theatre (I must be sophisticated if I switched up the "er"). It was a splendid experience, and so refreshing to take in some entertainment that was uplifting, witty, intelligent and thought provoking. I don't think any of those four things occur in our regular diet of entertainment on a regular basis. But I'm not here to write about that...
One morning, holding to our Shakespeare Festival tradition, we went to Denny's for breakfast. I've heard the gag about how President Obama went to Denny's and, upon coming out, lowered his goals for the American people, but I don't have a problem with it. I rather enjoy the food, and don't have anything against it or the people who go there... especially since I'm one of them. But again, I digress.
The waitress, who was married (I have to check those things because I have to be ready to point out her ring when my parents jokingly suggest I should get her number) told us of a special where if you get a juice, you get a ticket and you scratch off the little thing, and you're guaranteed to win something. I was down for that because I never win anything, and I thought it would be fun, even though I understood that it would undoubtedly be something small. So, we all got juices, and all got tickets. When we were done with the meal, the waitress brought out our tickets. Gradually everyone scratched theirs off, all winning something like pancake puppies (they look like doughnut holes) or a free drink or something like that. I was one a free cup of coffee... I was the only one in the family to win a free cup of coffee. At least I won something, right? No. That's dumb.

Dependent

I had a rude awakening this week. I found out that I am dependent on a dumb little piece of plastic. My cell phone stopped working yesterday after I got done with my first job. It stayed on to let me know that I had four messages, but it wouldn't function at all, so I had no idea what they were. Anyway, I was thoroughly disappointed in myself. I found stuff to do, but the whole day, I had that impatient feeling in my gut like I wanted to hurry somewhere or get something done, but I couldn't do anything about it. Needless to say, my second job made almost no progress for the day.
I went and got it taken care of that night. The old phone was hopeless so I got a new one. Now I can function again. I just lost some self-respect given the fact that it affected me that much. I would love to always be a person that is patient and can deal with the flow. I usually am, maybe that's why it upset me so much. I really like a quote from Elder Maxwell when he teaches that patience is trusting in the Lord's timing, and pride is essentially the opposite. Oops. Note to Shawn: chillax.

Running Dead

So I had an interesting experience the other day. I went running... but that's not the interesting part. On my run, I ran on a sidewalk that had powerlines above it. That's also not the interesting part. Both times I ran that stretch of road, the birds on the power line were making fun of me (this is the interesting part). Really, they were laughing at me. It wasn't audible, they were mocking me. I wasn't sure the first time I ran that stretch, but there was no mistaking it on the way back. They would be perched on the power line, and then as I ran by, they would, one at a time (not joking), swoop down at me, swoop back up, and then repeat. The reason I became sure on the way back was because they were getting so close that I thought they were going to get me. Not only were they swooping me, but they were following me. There were only two or three of them, and they would swoop progressively the whole way down the power line. I must've looked like a fool on the side of the road because when I realized what was going on, I would sideways, while running, to meet them and throw my hands in the air trying to scare them off. If you're wondering why I know they were making fun of me, here's my theory: They weren't vultures, but they were swooping over me like they were, as if to say, "you look like a dead person." I don't claim to be a good-looking runner, but I don't think I look dead when I run. Sheesh. I'm trying to not be offended, but when someone or something, like a baby or an animal, which shouldn't be able to make fun of you, does, it hurts a little more. I'm trying to convince myself that I was running so fast that they were simply seeing if they could keep up.