On September 26 I predicted that The Curious Case of Benjamin Button would win Best Picture without even having seen it yet. After you follow film long enough, you can just tell from the trailers which pieces will be magical and which will fall short.

Having seen the trailer for Revolutionary Road, I'm tempted to revise my statement about Button and possibly suggest that Revolutionary Road will win. At the very least, I expect both to be nominated.

We're getting down to the end of the year here. All of the nominated films will come out between now and the end of the year. It's almost my favorite time of the year for going to the movies!

Oh, I think Baz Luhrmann's Australia will also be nominated.

Ben & Jerry's:

I salute you. You've gone and done it again. Your magic knows no boundary. Your ingenuity is without measure. Your generosity is unmatched. I thank you from every portion of my body, from the crown of my head on down to my toes, for producing the special edition "Pumpkin Cheesecake" pints. It's the best flavor you've ever made.

Your friend,
Tim

And don't get me started on Sedaris' "Stadium Pal" routine -- I could laugh at that for hours.

I quote an editorial that appeared in Sunday's edition of the Salt Lake Tribune, written by Jim McMahon's father to Tom Holmoe, BYU's Athletic Director. I assume Mr. McMahon also sent his letter to the two major newspapers in Utah. The letter:

   Mr. Tom Holmoe,

   I am writing this letter to you because it has been bugging me for over 25 years that my son Jim is not in the BYU Hall of Fame and that his jersey has not been retired. I am now 72 years old and I do not have much time left, so I am putting in writing what has been in my heart for the last 27 years.

   If Jim had gone to any other university in the United States, his jersey would have been retired and he would have been in their Hall of Fame in 1982. Jim was without a doubt the greatest quarterback ever to wear a BYU jersey. In fact, he was the best quarterback in the history of college football. He set 57 NCAA records, the most records ever set by anyone who ever played the game. This is a feat that was never done before or after him. He has the best winning percentage of any quarterback in the history of BYU. He led BYU to its first bowl win and also its second bowl win. He is the only quarterback with two bowl wins to this day.

   Jim was a consensus All-American for two years. Jim was the recipient of the Davey O'Brien award, given to the most outstanding quarterback in the country. Jim was first-team All-WAC for three years. Jim was the most valuable player in the WAC for three years. Jim was named first-team quarterback for the WAC's 25th anniversary team.

   Jim was also inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame the first year he was eligible.

   But! He is not in the BYU Hall?

   How can you explain that? Oh! I know, he did not graduate, and that is one of your requirements. In that case, you will need to take out about 60 percent of the people in your Hall, as they did not all graduate.

   If you will take the time to take a poll of all Division I schools and ask them if graduation is a requirement to get into their hall of fame, you would find out that 99.9 percent of them would say it is not. After all, the Hall should be based on their athletic ability, not scholastic ability.

   If you go back to see when this rule was put in place, you will find it was put in 1980 or 1981 and is known secretly as the Jim McMahon rule. It was put in as the only way to keep him out of the Hall. To make sure he did not graduate and mess you up, he was suspended from school right after his last game with only nine credits left to graduate.

   When he was recruited, the coaching staff assured me and my family that even though he was not a Mormon, he would be treated fairly. Obviously, that was a lie. The university and the Mormon church should be ashamed of themselves for allowing this miscarriage of justice to my son Jim. I can only hope that before I die this miscarriage of justice is corrected and Jim's jersey is retired and he is inducted into your Hall and his name is placed on the ring of honor on your stadium. If this is not done, then you should rename your Hall of Fame the Hall of Shame.

   Very Truly Yours,
   James F. McMahon

I agree with Mr. McMahon. His son does belong in the BYU Hall of Fame. Jim McMahon is indeed one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game of college football. BYU should make an exception to the graduation rule and place Jim McMahon's name and jersey where they belong: hanging from the stadium and shrouded in football glory. He earned it and he deserves it.

OK, this year I told myself I would employ restraint and composure when attending the State Fair. Last year I enjoyed a sausage sandwich and a deep-fried Twinkie. This year I planned to limit myself to one or two items............ and completely failed at that plan. OK, feel free to call me a fatty; go ahead and call me a pig. Call me a tubbo if you want -- this is your one chance to do so. You won't offend me, I promise. I deserve it! Here's what I ate:

* Sausage sandwich
* Fried dough with Bavarian cream (thank you, Milletts, for the recommendation)
* Fried mac & cheese -- light (ish) and delicious
* Hand-dipped corn dog (thanks for calling me when you found the place, Trevor)
* Gyro (to go)

I'm ashamed of myself! But I LOVE the fair!

I love the sound of rain hitting the roof as I lay in bed at night. It soothes my mind. And if there's wind blowing in the trees, bonus.

I remember being a young boy and camping with my family next to a river in Oregon on one of our family vacations. The sound of the river brought me peace.

Yesterday I got the new Annuals album, Such Fun. My first inclination after listening to it once was to ping Joel and Mac, two gentlemen with a deep appreciation for the band. I need to check up with them to hear their final thoughts after listening to it for a day. My thoughts, though:



I love the more mature sound. Be He Me was a majestic wind of horns and strings and pianos and layered vocals, and it represented the piece of my soul that dreams of the grandiose explosion, a mighty fountain of colors, the party where everyone is invited. Such Fun is more of a prayer, a more refined and mature story. The quiet moments stand up on their own, and the big sounds, while not as big as before, are still joyful.

And while it may seem obvious (since the band is from Raleigh and Chapel Hill), the new album also strikes me as a very "North Carolina" sound, more so than the first album. That makes me happy.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button will win Best Picture this year. I haven't even seen it yet, but just from what I've read about it over the past few months, I have no doubt that it has all the makings of a Best Picture. I read Fitzgerald's short story and I'm totally hooked. I can't wait to see the film.

I've wanted to post about this since Monday afternoon. My car stereo is generally tuned to the local NPR affiliate, and on Monday I caught about 15 minutes of that day's edition of The Story with Dick Gordon. The topic was "God and War," and the guest/interviewee was Joshua Casteel, a young man who had served as an interrogator in the Iraq War, only to become a conscientious objector after several of his experiences with interrogation changed his view on the principle of war. He had a Christian upbringing and had believed he was doing the right thing by fighting our country's enemies, but as he moved through the war he saw more and more the contradictions that so many have talked about as they've returned from Iraq.

The part that really hit both my mind and my heart was when he explained that his final decision to file as a conscientious objector was made immediately after he was convinced by a self-proclaimed jihadist that while he (Casteel) claimed to be a Christian, his very presence in Iraq indicated that he obviously wasn't putting Christ's teachings into practice. He was asked why he would claim to believe in Christ, but then stop short of turning the other cheek and forgiving. Hearing him tell this story truly touched me and gave me even more confidence in what I believe. I was able to hear the interview again late that night, and I even called a friend to ask him if he had heard it. It really is a great interview, and I would invite everyone to listen to it. I have no desire to change anyone, nor to try and persuade any of my friends or loved ones to see things my way. I only wish to say that I found this interview to be not only genuine, but well-balanced and inspiring.

To download the interview, visit the following site, then click "Listen Here" to the right of the title, "God and War."

http://thestory.org/archive/the_story_609_God_and_War.mp3/view

Landmark Resolution in Local Family's BMW Hullabaloo
by Hugh G. Eegoh

RIDGECREST, CALIFORNIA (AP) - Two local brothers have settled a potential legal nightmare just hours before a contract is set to be signed. Frank Boisvert and Tim Boisvert, known to family members as the greatest participants in the Boisvert/Brownlee family's perpetual "pissing contest," have agreed to a settlement, the terms of which are detailed as follows:

• Frank Boisvert agrees to go on record that Tim Boisvert was the first owner of a BMW in the Boisvert/Brownlee family.
• Subsequent purchases of any vehicle made under any marque owned/engineered/designed by BMW (including Rover, Mini, and BMW proper) shall result in a 3-year "quiet period," during which time neither Frank nor Tim shall have claim to question the motives by which either of them has purchased the vehicle.

Local resident Steve McGee reacts
with surprise as he hears the news
of the agreement.
• Tim Boisvert will go on record that Frank Boisvert is a superior driver of vehicles of all type, with the exception of sailboats (Tim has the Boy Scouts of America's "Small-boat Sailing" Merit Badge)
• An independent panel has recommended that a de-militarized zone be set up in the front driveway of the Boisvert/Brownlee estate in Ridgecrest, California. Both Frank Boisvert and Tim Boisvert shall stipulate to said request.

"All of the interested parties have been working overtime to conclude this deal and I'm delighted that an agreement has been reached," noted Frank Boisvert as he walked out of Bud Eyre Toyota on N. China Lake Boulevard. Tim Boisvert agreed: "The past is water under the bridge at this point. All that mattered to both of us was that we resolve this now before our future children end up hating each other."

Robert Boisvert, the father of the two gentlemen and proud owner of a penis truck, was not available for comment.

A signing ceremony is scheduled for late December, to be held in conjunction with the opening of the de-militarized zone in the front driveway. A VIP-only party is to be held afterward.

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/09/2008_summer_paralympic_games.html

Only 10 hours and 26 minutes until we meet again! Blessed moment!

Truly, though, coming to visit Provo is like going on a cruise: all I do is eat! Every meal while I'm here is booked with a different friend or group of friends. Tomorrow I have breakfast at Kneaders, lunch at Cafe Rio, and dinner somewhere with Andy and Laurie. Today it was lunch with two professors and dinner with the Lindon crew. All I do when I come here is eat.

http://picasaweb.google.com/boisvert/2008AugustSeptemberJapan

Complete with captions!

So I'm taking a Japanese class. I missed the first few sessions while I was in Japan, but it felt like I was able to get caught up really quickly. We learned a lot of basic phrases, including saying what we do for a living.

Me: "Business Analyst" (pronounced bee-zee-ness ah-nah-rist-uh)

Some other guy: "Computer Programmer" (pronounced kahm-pee-oo-tah poo-ro-goo-rahm-oo-ruh)

Some girl: "Volunteer" (pronounced "bo-rahn-tee-ah")

It's such a great language. You can write (phonetically) any word from other languages. I've got about 100 words under my belt after my trip to Japan and my class tonight, and I want to first memorize the (from my count) 104 Hiragana symbols. After that I will memorize the Katakana symbols. Then I could at least read quite a bit of Japanese texts. It'll take me much longer to figure out what those texts actually say, and I'll still be lacking the Kanji symbols (I think there are 2100 of them), but it's a start.

We've all known for years now that my step-brother Glenn has been a beacon of Scandinavian shorts fashion since virtually the day he was born. Now we've got photo proof! I give you the following:

This is the baby-blue plaid shirt-and-short-shorts combo that started it all! Note the matching socks.


The shin guards really hide the fact that the inseam on these shorts appears to be less than 3 centimeters.


The way you want to compliment the short shorts is to tuck your polo shirt in. Also, note that the gentleman to Glenn's left appeared to be wearing a white brief on the outside of his shorts. Talk about daring!


What in the Baywatch was going on here? Actually, if I remember correctly (ha!), there was a shark problem on the Danish coast that summer, and the authorities had advised taking precautionary measures. Glenn brazenly laughed in the face of every shark that came near him, undoubtedly scaring them all away at the mere sight of these shorts.


(Love you, Glenn! Can't wait to see you this weekend!)

Good flights. The seats next to me were open on both flights, so I had a bit of space to spread out a bit and sleep for a while. I'm glad to be home. I would've been happy to stay, too, but I'm glad to be home.

My luggage is packed and I'm heading to the airport soon. I'm bummed to be leaving Japan. It'll be nice to get home, but I've loved this trip more than any trip I've ever taken. It's been productive, refreshing, and absolutely fascinating at times. I will miss the friends I've made at the office here. I can only hope that I will be able to return again some time soon.

First I fly to Minneapolis, then to Raleigh. It looks like I should be safe from the storm. It will have passed a few hours before my arrival.

and having gone on a half-dozen shopping trips to look at electronics, gadgets, and fashions, plus all of my time walking around the VERY crowded streets of Shibuya, Shinjuku, and Ebisu, these are the things that are big here right now, the things that I see everywhere:

• Small laptops. 6 to 8 inch screens and no track pad. Bluetooth mouse.


• TV on the phone. This is EVERYWHERE.. Almost every phone being sold here has Digital TV over-the-air capability, and everyone on the Subway/trains is either reading a book or watching TV. There are two reasons why this works for Japan but wouldn't work for the U.S.: 1) The land area is so much smaller here that Digital TV over-the-air is practical here, but with the large dispersement of people in America, cable and satellite will continue to be the preferred mechanisms for TV content. 2) People here generally work from 9 AM until 7 or 8 PM, and then they take the train home, generally up to 30-60 minutes to get home. Lots of time to watch TV on the train, and not much time to watch TV at home. It's an entirely different market here than in the U.S.


• In about 75% of the restaurants, the waiters have hand-held computers that they use to enter your order.


• No bluetooth earpieces. I can't think of a single time that I've seen anyone with an earpiece.


• The Washlet. It's more popular than ever. I love the thing. Bidet built into the toilet seat. So dang refreshing.


• Lomo-style cheap-o film cameras. Non-digital. Good for taking grainy images on the spot. I even bought a tiny camera here for $10. Everyone here has a digital camera, of course, but many people also have cheap-o plastic film cameras. The really leaky kind that take awesome washed-out stylized photos.


• Briefcases. EVERY guy carries a nice briefcase. Not a backpack, a briefcase. And not the retro-style hardcase, but nice leather attaches. I felt so out of place walking around with a backpack. Oh, and most of the men dress up for work. Not just at Red Hat, but EVERYWHERE. Walking down the street is like wading through a sea of white shirts.

Fanboy moment for yours truly... I just had a 10-minute conversation with Elliot Yamin. I saw him in the hotel yesterday, and wondered if it was him. Tonight on my way back in from dinner I walked past him on my way to the elevator, and I smiled and did the upwards-head-nod thing, and he totally smiled and stopped and said hi to me! I asked him, "what are you doing here?" He just got done with a tour here, and he's staying over to do the Japanese equivalent of a "Good Morning, America" tomorrow morning. Totally down-to-earth guy! Asked me what I'm doing here, what Red Hat does, etc. Asked if I had tried the noodle shop next door. Asked me my name, offered a hand shake, etc. Such a nice guy.

Regardless of the fact that he was my favorite Idol of Season 5 (and perhaps of all the seasons), it was nice to have a normal conversation with a countryman who enjoys Japan as much as I do.

The people here in the Japan office know of my love for Pocari Sweat, a delicious Gatorade-like beverage. My friend Kimura-san emailed me yesterday to tell me that they now make it in a powdered form that you can pour into a liter bottle. I almost broke into child-like tears at the thought of taking my precious Pocari back to the U.S. with me.

Kimura-san referred me to the Donkihote (Don Quijote) store in Shibuya, not too far my hotel, so I walked down there last night. [Side note: I also went to Loft and bought a $10 camera that takes 110 film. I figured I'd do a little lomography while I'm here.] I bought a 5-pack of Pocari powder packets. Somehow I don't think that will be enough, though, so I'm going back tonight to buy some more.

I just did an image search for Pocari Sweat, and this is what I found:

Check out the way it's tracking:



It looks like the tail end of the storm will slide into North Carolina on Saturday morning. My flight from Minneapolis to Raleigh is scheduled for Saturday afternoon. I hope I don't get stuck in Minneapolis! Although I've never been to Minnesota, so perhaps a night there would be fun!

Nevertheless, I have deeper hopes not for my personal itinerary, but that Hanna's terror is spared, and that a minimum number of lives are taken. The same can be said for Gustav.

And he knew, also, what the old man was thinking as his tears flowed, and he, Rieux, thought it too: that a loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart.

Don't worry... I'm not wandering lonely through the streets of Tokyo wishing I was home or something -- quite the opposite, actually! I'm loving my time here. Yesterday (Sunday) after church I went to the Meiji Shrine and then up to Shinjuku and walked around the whole area.

It was just a passage that I saw while reading "The Plague" on my trip here, and I dog-eared the page and told myself to post it as soon as I remembered. It struck me as pertinent to my life, though. I do enjoy my work, my duty, my job, my travels, but through it all there is still nothing that takes away from the craving for "a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart."

For the second straight day it's rained for hours on end. The streets around Shibuya were all flowing with at least an inch of water all the way across tonight. Rather than get soaked like last night, tonight I borrowed an umbrella from the hotel and walked to an Italian restaurant for dinner... now, you may ask, "what is Tim doing eating Italian in Japan?" When I went to India last December I ate Indian food three meals a day for a week, and it burned me out so badly that I haven't eaten Indian food ONCE since then. Even though I love Japanese food MUCH more than I loved Indian food before I went to India, I still decided after my first day here that I would only eat one Japanese meal per day during my time here, and for the other meals I would enjoy some of the vast variety of international cuisine available here in Tokyo. Here's the Japanese meal roster so far:

Wednesday lunch: Sushi
Wednesday dinner: Tempura
Thursday lunch: Katsu
Friday lunch: Ramen (And oh, it was soooooo good. REAL ramen, not like a cheap-o Cup o'Noodles)

So tonight I had a margharita pizza at a decent little Italian place on the north side of Shibuya. By the time I left the restaurant the rain had tripled and it was absolutely POURING down. So I umbrellad up (I made that word up right then) and walked across the street to a hip-looking CD and DVD shop. Fished around for a while... new Beck album, new Verve album... checked out some Japanese architecture magazines... then decided I was tired of waiting for the rain to stop, so I just headed back for the hotel. Made it back with soaked shoes and a soaked left arm -- the umbrellas here reflect the smaller stature of the people, clearly.

Let me just say this: I don't know of a more beautiful people in the world than the Japanese. Yes, I'm speaking in general terms, and no, I'm not just referring to the way they look. I'm not super into Asian women, but the women here are pretty. That wasn't my point, though. The people themselves are beautiful to the core. The people are intelligent, interesting, interested (in others), and supremely kind. Perhaps any friends of mine who have been on missions here will disagree about that last part, that perhaps they don't see the Japanese as kind because they had doors slammed in their face for a couple of years, but I will argue that the topic of religion tends to bring out strange emotions in people. I left my mission loving the Spanish people, but still convinced that they were rude, rude, rude. On subsequent visits to Spain (five trips there now), I've realized that it must have just been the name tag they had a problem with, because they're always way nice to me now. They care about what I have to say now. It's probably the same with the Japanese.

As a visitor to the country, I feel welcome. It's like they go out of their way to recognize that their service of you, or their conversations with you at work, or their kindness to you, is truly going to be a representation in your mind and memories of their culture and society as a whole. It doesn't seem fake! The smiles, the "thank you, sirs," the "good morning, sirs," the "how are you today, Timmy?" at the office, the host at the restaurant tonight who asked my name when I came in (Tim-san, I told him) and then said "Goodnight, Tim-san!" as I walked out... it's a sign of a people who have simply mastered the art of customer service. Well, not just customer service, but also the art of being a "host." The people at work are tremendously kind: "What are you doing this weekend, Timmy?" Me: "I think I'm going to take a Shinkansen (bullet train) to Kyoto." Them: "Oh, let me write down for you the name of a wonderful temple you must see there." Then they scribble it down on a paper.

[Side note: I've canceled my trip to Kyoto, sadly, because I have no desire to walk around a far-away city in the rain all day. I'll just have to pray that I'm given another opportunity to come to Japan in the future. I'll sleep in tomorrow instead and try and kill the last of my jet lag.]

So that's that. They're simply wonderful here. I feel a desire for my co-workers at Red Hat Japan to succeed. They're so kind and so focused and devoted and hard-working that I simply want them to succeed. That emotion is driving me on this project I'm managing.

OK, bed time for me.

In Japan there's a gadget for everything, and just like during my first trip here last December, I continue to be amazed by two gadgets in particular: the Washlet and the public vending machine.

The Washlet: I won't go into too much detail about my fascination with the Washlet, because I already bored you with it during my last trip here. I've publicly stated since my mission to Spain that I'm a vocal fan of the bidet, and the Washlet's bidet-like features really make my bum happy.

Japanese vending machines: According to Wikipedia, there is one vending machine for every 23 people in Japan. I love that I can get a hot chocolate beverage and a Pocari Sweat from the same machine, perfectly temperature-controlled.

Anyhow, I'm staying in Shibuya. Our corporate deal with the hotel got me upgraded to a 32nd-floor room with an amazing view looking south. It's absolutely breathtaking. I had a great day at the office in my first day of meetings today... very productive. I had sushi for lunch and tempura for dinner. Hopefully I don't burn myself out on the Japanese food. I do love it, though! I went book shopping with my co-worker Mori-san after work... Of course I don't understand anything on any of the pages, but it was fun to look at book covers.

I discovered today that the LDS Temple here is only about a kilometer from our office. I was going to wait to go check it out until later, but seeing that it's so close, I might walk over there tomorrow at lunch to see it. And I think the local chapel is only a block from my hotel. That should be nice come Sunday morning!

OK, I'm way tired. Jet lag is a drag and always will be. Last night (Tuesday night), my first night here, I crashed at 9:30 PM and woke up this morning at 4:30 AM. The sun was up by 5 AM, and I ended up going to swim laps in the pool since I was awake that early. Plus I hit the sauna. Tonight, though, I'm forcing myself to stay up later (it's 11:19 PM right now) so I can get up a little later in the morning. The sooner I can get onto a regular schedule here, the better.

It's 7:00 AM on Monday, and I'm waiting for my taxi to arrive. Since I'll be gone 12 days, it was cheaper to take a taxi to the airport than to leave my car there... and I didn't want to ask anyone to get up this early to take me to the airport.

I'm flying Northwest Airlines, first to Detroit and then to Tokyo Narita. From there I'll take the hour-long "airport limousine," which is actually just a bus system, to my hotel in the Shibuya area. Then I'll sleep and make an attempt at being refreshed for work on Wednesday. More than likely, though, I won't be able to sleep at first, so I'll end up walking around the streets like a zombie on holiday. Hopefully this time I can make some more reports about wonderful gadgets and devices that only seem to be gound in Japan.

UPDATE: I discovered today that Cuba has an Olympic freestyle wrestler named Disney Rodriguez.

This one's simple: Ricky Rubio from the Spanish basketball team.

I mentioned to Courtney at church today that I find it interesting that when the logo for the London 2012 Summer Olympics was first introduced last year, I (and most of the world) though it was absolutely repulsive, and yet now when I look at it I find it to be an exciting and innovative design.



Millions of words have been written about the concept of innovation, but I feel like it's important to note that the true value (or brilliance/luster/necessity) of an innovation often isn't seen until much time has passed. Think of the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright, the electrical work of Nikola Tesla, the writing of Charles Bukowski, or even more recent items like Weezer's Pinkerton album. It's almost as if the innovator has an uncanny -- and often inexplicable -- ability to look into the future and solve problems that don't really even exist yet, or speak to an emotion that isn't felt yet.

And for every unheralded invention or creation, every piece of true innovation that could indeed stand the test of time, there are just as many innovations celebrated (and over-celebrated) in their own time, but whose long-term value starts to taper off within the first years, even sometimes within months. Think of the Segway, the El Camino, that TV show "Dinosaurs" (remember that?), and every piece of exercise equipment now collecting dust in the rafters of your parents' garage. Don't ever discount the value (or lack of value) of an innovation simply because it isn't popular in its own time.

I wouldn't be surprised if by 2012 we see much, much more design like the London 2012 Summer Olympics logo, perhaps to the point that it may not even be deemed too "special" anymore.

News hit last night that North Korea's Kim Jong Su has been stripped of his silver and bronze medals after failing a doping test. What sport do you think this cheating dynamo participated in? Was he a weightlifter? A runner? A swimmer? No, my friends, he was a rifle shooter. That's right: a rifle shooter has been banned for using steroids.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/olympics/2008114967_olynews15.html

Sarcasm: I've been rifle shooting quite a few times in my life, so I understand how the need to bulk up that ever-so-important index finger would give me a competitive advantage while pulling the trigger.

In all truth, though, it looks like he tested positive for a banned muscle relaxer that aids in preventing trembling. I just don't understand why some people think they're going to get away with this stuff. They've *GOT* to know that strong anti-doping measures are followed in every single Olympics sport. Who do these people think they're going to fool? Science? Not a chance.

Rather than leaving on August 18th, I'm going on the 25th instead. Arriving in Tokyo on the 26th. Working the 27-29 in our Tokyo office, then spending the weekend relaxing or maybe taking a trip somewhere on a bullet train. Then working again in the Tokyo office from September 1-5. I'll fly home on the 6th of September. Should be a really productive work trip.

Vegan Week was dead by 10:30 this morning. It's now Vegetarian Week. Evan McNabb and I are doing the challenge together. The minimum challenge was to go Vegetarian for the week. I took an extra challenge and was going to try Veganism for a week. This morning I decided that since I'm leaving the country next Monday, this is not really the best week to try something extreme like being a Vegan. So I'm falling back to the original challenge, which is to go Vegetarian for the week. I'm also adding a "but still attempting to cut back my dairy usage for the week" component. So far, so good.

I'm going to Japan for two weeks, leaving on the 18th. I have a work project that will be taking me there. I've been putting in nights and weekends, but it's still not enough to make up the time difference. So I'm going over there and working hand-in-hand with my team-mates there.

Problem #1: I lost my passport. Well, indirectly. I lost the fire box that I keep it in. It's like a little fire safe that purports to protect documents and belongings from a fire. I've looked everywhere in our apartment for it, but it's nowhere to be found. I've spent all day today chasing it down, though, and it turns out that I left the box in the Hillsborough St. apartment when I moved out three months ago. So I talked to the new tenant (my old neighbor Tom -- he moved into my place when I moved out) and he said he never saw it. So then I called the super of the apartment building and he said he had seen the fire box, but that he threw it out after I didn't come back for it within a month. I didn't realize it was missing until yesterday. So I'm choosing to not get upset about it -- I'll just have to roll with the punches and get a new passport.

Problem #2: My birth certificate was in the same fire box. So now I have no way of proving my citizenship, which is a vital part of getting a passport. I'll get on the phone with Charleston, SC on Monday morning and order rush service of a new birth certificate. No problem.

Problem #3: Even if I *can* get my birth certificate, this isn't the first time I've lost my passport. I'm horribly ashamed to admit it, but it's actually the third time. I had my mission passport, but I lost it some time between May and December of 2000. I went to L.A. to get a new passport that month, though, so I could go to Norway to meet my new step-family (before they moved to California). With all of my college apartment moves, though, I lost that passport by November of 2004. I got a new one then, and I've been keeping it in the fire box ever since. So now I've lost my passport for the third time, and I fear that they won't give me another one. I know they put limits on the number of passports they'll give someone in a period of time, so they may choose to make me wait. If they don't give me another passport, I'll have to cancel my trip. If they *do* give me another one, however, I fully commit to retaining the services of a bank safety deposit box.

I haven't posted much about the lead-up to my personal week-long vegan challenge, but I'm writing now to announce that it's postponed for a week. Evan McNabb and I have been coordinating that we would both challenge ourselves during the same week: I would go vegan, and he would go vegetarian. But we spoke on the phone tonight and he thought we were doing it NEXT week, not this week. So it's delayed for 7 more days!

[My readers would've likely found this tip useful two weeks ago, but I just got around to writing it.]

When watching ESPN -- specifically SportsCenter -- always keep another channel available so that you can switch to either easily with your "Last" or "Recall" button. That way when Brett Favre is mentioned you can quickly escape the continued (and neverendingly stupid) turmoil with nothing but the press of a button.

[end of tip]

Seriously, though, last weekend I was watching the Yankees/Sox game on ESPNHD, and I noticed that the ticker had the bottom had a special section just for Brett Favre news. I have no idea why his news wasn't placed in the "NFL" section. The ticker seriously looked like this:

MLB NFL NBA Golf Tennis Favre Olympics NASCAR

It was so ridiculous that it made me giggle.

My friend Tyler is a modern genius. We spent a couple of years talking about filmmaking, then we actually got together and started making our own films. I was proud of our work. There were scripts and cameras and equipment, we had a crew of people to help us. It was a fun time.

In the middle of that period of time, Tyler and his brothers went out one weekend and made a simple video, and it ended up trumping any of the more "serious" work we ever did otherwise. This one's for you, Tyler! You're a great friend.

Mac will tell you all that I once embarked on a text-only format for this site. He shook me out of it when he told me that all of my readers had enjoyed my "spartan" phase, but that it was time to bring some life back to the site. I've gone through a few iterations since then, and this current template seems to be the opposite of my black-on-white text phase. Both sides of that spectrum, however, have been based on text. In this case the text is more stylized and bold, whereas the "spartan" template encouraged the reader to find meaning in the actual words, not in the way they were presented.

I love text. Plain text. It is perhaps more difficult to convey a mood with nothing but text, but when it's done correctly, it's... it's beautiful! One of my favorite uses of simple text is found here: Seed Conference. Nothing but text, and see how bold and strong the message is.

Today I was browsing NorthTemple.com, the web site for the design department at the LDS Church, and they linked to this web site: The Girl Effect, which has a brilliant text-based promotional video. Just watch it and pay attention to how your senses respond to the simple text.

I've been working a TON lately. Really burning the candle at both ends. 12, 14, 15 hours a day. Just trying to do my best at work. Anyhow, I've noticed that since I gave up soda I have MORE energy to work as much as I've been working. In the past, these kinds of hours would drain me. Now I feel energized! It just shows that soda is a false hope. It's a quick blast of unfocused energy followed by a long period of lethargy.

Now just wait until I do my vegan experiment starting in about 10 days. I'll post more about that one later.

(I actually wrote this while I was on my way to Vegas on Friday, but never got a chance to post it once I got there. Here it is in its entirety.)

I'm writing this from 35,000 feet up, somewhere between Cincinnati and Las Vegas. I've got my iPod Touch set up to email blog entries to my blog, so I'll write this now and send it when I next find a connection.

So I made a change two weeks ago and haven't gotten around to writing about it until now. I'm on day 14 without carbonation. I've gone through no-soda phases a few times before, but never with any real conviction. I remember when I switched to diet sodas -- that was a worthy step. I meet so many people that tell me they could never move away from "fully leaded" sodas because they don't like the taste of diet sweeteners. I maintain that my personal experience with switching to diet was painful to the taste buds, but that after about four weeks my taste buds grew accustomed to the taste of diet soda. That was five years ago and I really am glad I made the change.

My next problem, however, was that I had simply turned my dependency on sugared sodas into a dependency on their diet siblings. The caffeine issue still held me captive. As time went by, I began to experience odd phases of poor sleep, energy spikes, and lethargy. When I moved to Raleigh and started working later, I made a rule that I wouldn't drink caffeinated beverages at night. That led to improved night-time sleep and a decrease in my overall caffeine intake, which worked for a time. Over the past few months, however, I began to notice that I was consuming more and more caffeinated soda during the day, my body's way of compensating for the sudden decrease in caffeine intake due my nighttime ban. So I was really right back to where I had started: being convinced by my body to take in more and more caffeine.

And that brings me to the real reason that I gave up soda altogether two weeks ago: not only did my body deal with regular cravings for soda, but the emotional dependency had come into play more in recent history. And as a result of that emotional dependency I've increasingly felt like I was losing control over myself in some small manner. At Red Hat we get all sorts of wonderful treats for free at any time: chips, cookies, candy, apples, oranges, oatmeal, soda, juice, bagels, doughnuts, and so forth. All through my day I'm drinking soda. I drink a juice every now and then, but usually it's my trusty Diet Coke. Eating a bagel? Gotta have a Diet Coke with it. Heading to a meeting? Let me swing by the fridge on the way. Getting a sandwich at lunch? I'll have a Diet Coke with that, please. And on it went.

So I quit! I broke the chain. When I got back from my two-week trip, I had one Coke Zero in my fridge (see how I had even started to break my "no caffeine at home" rule?), and while I was drinking it I just decided that enough was enough. I was going shopping that afternoon and wouldn't by amy more soda. And when I was at work I'd switch to water (with the occasional juice), and at lunch and at restaurants I'd do water. That was two weeks ago and I've stuck with it. I'm sure I'll have another soda at some point in the foreseeable future, but first I need to break it out of my system. I need to go to lunch and be fine with water. I need to regain that control that I was slowly allowing to leak out. Once that's done I'll enjoy the occasional Diet Coke, maybe. For now, though, I have to let it go.

I'm going to Las Vegas tomorrow. Leaving after work, arriving at 10 PM. Coming back about 24 hours later. My good old friends Jeremy and Jenny are getting married! I'm way happy!

When I lived downtown I'd take Western to Nazareth, then enter the Centennial Campus through the north entrance. I drove on Nazareth twice a day for a year, basically, unless I had something to do directly after work. A few weeks before I moved from downtown, this monument was put up, and I've been meaning to go snap a photo of it since then. I finally got around to it on Saturday, specifically for my web site, even. I was thinking of something to post about, and the thought hit me: "why not go take a picture of that bicycle?"



The bike marks the location of Nancy Antoine Leidy's death (NewsObserver.com, WRAL). She was struck on April 23rd by a drunk driver who was out celebrating his 21st birthday. How's that for an eye-opener? His life is likely ruined because of his inability to control himself. I hope he's got the courage to change while he's incarcerated. My heart goes out to this woman's family.

A couple years after my mom died, my dad and I talked about painting a 4x4 wooden post pink (her favorite color) and putting it at the location of her death (a two-lane desert highway between California City and Tehachapi). We procrastinated it, however, and after a few more years that stretch of the highway was closed and replaced with the newly re-routed (and now safer) four-lane Highway 58. I don't know if I could even pick out the place where she died anymore, to be honest. I'm sure my dad knows exactly where it is.

Anyhow, I wanted to share that beautiful reminder of how precious life is.

The latest (and I believe third) edition of "Where The Hell Is Matt?" came out while I was on my trip. It's simply beautiful. Matt has turned his little toy project into a social experiment that hits me on a number of different levels, one of them being that he's created a small piece of video proof that WE ARE ALL THE SAME in this world. We just want to dance and sing and work and take care of our families and watch our children grow. We want peace and prosperity and happiness. We want to play and run and jump and dance. And I absolutely commend Mr. Harding for continuing down this path.

I find that many of these telling social statements we see today are unintended. I've told some of you that I appreciate The Amazing Race more for the inintended social statements it makes (eg. Goth couple is sweet and tender with each other while traditional "normal" couple argues all the time) than for the competition. I feel much of that same social appreciation when watching Where The Hell Is Matt?

Tomorrow morning (Friday) I'm heading home. I take a Chinatown bus from here to DC, then I'll see some friends, pick up my car, and head home to NC at night. It's been a great trip. Better than I expected. Very refreshing and purifying on a personal level. Lots of time to just relax and think. I got to see some great friends, meet some new people, see some beautiful sights, go to some great games, sit on lots of park benches and people-watch, stay in some super-cool places and some shady places, and generally just enjoy myself on a daily basis.

On the subway yesterday I saw a great quote by E.B. White in his essay Here is New York:

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something...

Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.

I love this city. Growing up in California my eyes always faced east. I can't isolate the point where I realized that I held New York on a pedestal -- perhaps it was in my youthful reading of Dodgers history books -- but by the time I left home at 18 I knew I would eventually make my way here to New York.

Living in North Carolina is great, but I know in my heart that I'll eventually live here. Not forever, but for a while. It's not that I think that New York will solve all of my problems (which are few) or give me some mystical life improvement (which I can get anywhere), but simply that living here would allow me to achieve a goal I've had for some time. I want to live in New York!

I'm patient, though, and I'm not in any hurry to up and move soon. I know that I'll eventually move here, and that thought fills me with joy and anticipation, and perhaps some of that passion that White spoke of.

After watching the wonderful musical-ish film "Once" roughly ten times in the past half-year, I realized this morning that I'm totally in love with Marketa Irglova. She's beautiful! And talented. Not really the greatest actress in the world, but I just don't care... I love her! I'll give any of my readers ten bucks ($10!!!) if they can get me a date with her.

So tonight I figured I'd go to downtown Boston to see what was going on there, but as soon as I walked out of the T, I was surrounded by tourists. And there's nothing I hate more than tourists!!! So I high-tailed it out if there as quickly as I could and came over to Fenway. I knew the Sox were out of town, but I also remembered that there were some sports bars around here. So now I'm sitting at a table at a mostly-empty sports bar next to Fenway, watching the Sox play on TV. It rained a bit today so the air is nice and cool. Basically, it's perfect.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm heading back to New York.

Geographically, that is. I'm in Manhattan now. I stayed with my friend Karlos last night at his place in the Upper East Side. Later this afternoon I go to Boston for two days.

Philadelphia was cool. I had a problem with my reservation and ended up staying in a hotel out by the airport. It worked out fine, though, because they had an shuttle that dropped me off near the train so I could go into the city. Once on the subway I saw a woman get her bag stolen. It was quite the hubbub.

One of the subway lines in Philly is an underground trolley. It's like a light rail, but there's only one car! So it ends up looking like it's just a bus driving underground. Very "Total Recall," if you ask me. And the trolley takes really tight turns and pulls in to really small stations without turnstiles. A very unique rail system. I liked it.

When it was time to come to New York, I took a SEPTA R7 train to Trenton, then an NJ Transit train to NY Penn Station. And now I'm here. Well, since last night. My bus to Boston is at 6 PM today. I specifically chose a "later" bus so that I could watch the Spain vs. Russia match this afternoon. Go Spain!

I've spent the last 24 hours in DC, which, as you well know by now, is our nation's capital. It's been a pleasant trip. I took in a nice dinner and a Nationals game with my dear friend Allison, then met up for a late night dessert with my best friend Mac, who's at Howard for 6 weeks attending a conference on the literature of Equitoreal Guinea (no, I'm not making that up). Stayed at a good hostel called the Gallery Inn. Now I'm sitting on a bus waiting to leave Chinatown, heading to Philadelphia for the night. Gotta love cheap buses with onboard wi-fi. I could do important things like sketch some web sites or read a book, but I think I'll just watch "The Hunt For Red October" instead.

I dare any of my readers to find three adjacent cities or towns with as cool of names as Nags Head, Kill Devil Hills, and Kitty Hawk. All three are great city names on their own, and together they're a force to be acknowledged. Truly, is there another trio of neighboring cities with as wonderful of names?

I'm leaving on Sunday for two weeks. I'll still be connected via the slew of communication devices that I carry with me, but I'll be gone from Raleigh for about two weeks. The trip can be divided into three parts:

Part I:
My dad is flying into Raleigh this evening. He has a conference in Annapolis on Tuesday and came out a few days early to hang out with me. After church tomorrow we'll leave for the Outer Banks, where we'll stay in Kitty Hawk for the night. Then Monday we'll drive up the DelMarVa Peninsula, stopping in Newport News so he can show me the house we lived in when I was a baby. Side story: I was born in Charleston, SC, where my dad was stationed in the Navy. After I was born he got out of the Navy and went to work for a company in Newport News, wherein he traveled all around the Mid-Atlantic region fixing EKG machines. It was one of my dad's rare soirees into the private sector, as since and before then he has worked only for the Navy or Navy contractors. After a couple years in Newport News, we moved back to my parents' home, the L.A. area, so my dad could tend to his mother, sick with cancer and a widow.

So we'll go through Newport News so I can see the house we lived in, then we'll hit the DelMarVa Peninsula, then we'll head up to DC via that direction. My dad's conference starts Tuesday in Annapolis, and we'll separate on Monday with him driving my car to a parking lot where I can retrieve it at the end of the trip.

Part II:
I'll be in DC Monday night, Philadelphia Tuesday night, New York City Wednesday night, Boston Thursday and Friday nights, then back to New York City. I'm taking buses/trains and staying in hostels. Should be a lot of fun. A little travel, a little baseball, a little food. I'm looking forward to it.

Part III:
After I get back to New York, I'll spend the week working remotely from Red Hat's office downtown, staying with my buddy Karlos for a few days. On Thursday the 3rd or Friday the 4th, I'll head back to DC, pick up my car, and likely stay another night before heading home on the 5th. I figure that DC on the 4th could be cool.

So that's my trip. I'll have my phone and email and blogging capabilities, and I'll also have my video camera. My buddy Andy and I are working on a cool little film project that we should be able to talk more about in a couple of weeks. I need some more time to ponder it before I tell you about it.

Anyone care to join me in a life of petty crime?

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/news/article-2349...icle.do

Well, more appropriately, it's an avulsion fracture. Can I still say it's "broken," or am I required to use the more precise descriptor, "fractured?" According to the doctor (and the interwebs), an avulsion fracture occurs when the tendon connected to the bone "rips" a piece of the bone off of the rest of the bone due to a tremendous force. That would describe it well, I think. So that's that. No treatment needed since it's almost completely healed. The swelling has gone down a lot, and the pain decreases daily.

Funny story, though: When the doctor walked in, the first thing he said was "What happened to the rest of your fingers?" This man is a orthopaedist, mind you, so he's seen his fair share of freaky-deaky bones. But many of you will have noticed that I have extremely flexible joints in my fingers. They generally look like they're hyperextended. I told the doc that my fingers had always been that way, and he said "You have Swan Neck deformity." He sat there and fiddled around with my fingers for a while and said that it's generally a remnant of arthritis, but also can simply be caused by over-stretching of the tendons at some point in the developmental stage. Very interesting. So now I know what's wrong with my fingers.

Overall, it's good to know that my finger will be fine. Hopefully the pain will continue to diminish. Although it doesn't hurt when I'm sitting around, only when I mash or pull back (more than a little) on the finger. So hopefully I don't mash it anymore.

A deep search in the annals of this web site will reveal a post about Godwin's Law. It would've been a few years ago -- I know I posted about it. At least I think I did. Maybe it was Mac that posted about it. I think I told him about it, though. Regardless, whether he posted it or not, I've been keen on Godwin's Law for a number of years now, and I continue to be amused when it gets applied in a conversation. It's one of those little things that makes me laugh while making everyone else wonder what I'm laughing about:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Godwin%27s_Law

The law is simple:

As a Usenet discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches one.

In other words: "Keep debating and surely someone will eventually make a comparison to Hitler." It can be applied to any conversation, not just those taking place in a Usenet thread. And it really applies to any type of irrational comparison to extreme political or historical figures/ideologies, not just Hitler or the Nazis. There is even a logical fallacy built around this concept, known as Reductio ad Hitlerum. The Wikipedia page refers to it as "playing the Nazi card."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reductio_ad_Hitlerum

Frankly, it's a sign of immaturity. Now, I'm not the greatest debater in the world. I've never actually even done formal debate. But my personal experience over years of casual political discussion with people that I largely disagree with (Utah Mormon Uber-conservatives) has shown me that far too many people lose control of their argument earlier than expected, and in doing so they often grasp for any argument they can muster. In those moments, Godwin's Law is regularly proven.

Four weeks ago yesterday I was playing goalkeeper in our indoor soccer game when I got kicked in the right hand while going after a ball. All four of my fingers were jammed, but all but the ring finger were fine by that night or the next day. The ring finger, however, got really messed up. I'm talking about swelling, pain, inflexibility, etc. By that weekend it was black and blue all through the finger and into the palm of my hand. Ask anyone in our house at Duck... it was gross.

So now four weeks later the finger is still messed up. It's still swollen, but not black or blue or anything. Flexibility is limited. And it hurts. I don't think it's "broken," necessarily, but something is WRONG in there. I've resisted going to the doctor, thinking it was just a bad jam. But it hasn't improved in over two weeks, so I've decided to just shut up and see a physician about it. Even if all they do is tell me to splint it, at least I'll have the right diagnosis.

My favorite word that I like to say incorrectly is "subpoena." I prefer to pronounce it sub-po-EEN-a. Anyone else?

I also like to pronounce the word "problem" as if I were Cuban or Puerto Rican: PRO-len. "Joo gotta prolen?"

In May of 2000 I finished my two-year mission to Barcelona, Spain. My parents flew over to Spain to meet up with me and travel a bit around western Europe. We stayed in Barcelona for a day or two, then went down to Tarragona and Valencia before returning to Barcelona and then heading up to France. We took a train to Paris via Avignon and Lyon, then stayed a few days in Paris. Of course we did the normal "first time in Paris" touristy bit: museums, monuments, walk to the top of Notre Dame, etc. The usual stuff. One highlight was a late-night trip to the top deck of the Eiffel Tower.

The tower was closing soon, and we were pushing the clock as it was, but as soon as we got there, rather than go straight to the top, my dad headed off to a restroom to take care of some business. My mom and I took the elevator to the top and told my dad to meet us up there when he was done. Five minutes went by, then ten. Fifteen minutes past and my mom started to cry a little. Where was he?

My mother Connie was a romantic. She loved Michael Landon, for example, and she openly wept during particularly tender commercials. She loved carnations and kisses. She had dreamed her whole life, surely, of that moment, of being on top of the Eiffel Tower and sharing a moment with my dad. But we waited and waited for him, and finally the deck was starting to clear out. Closing time. When we were almost ready to leave, Dad walked through the door. He had been held up below and was only allowed up because we were already up there. He may have been the last person allowed up that night. It was like some kind of Sleepless in Seattle scene.

He held my mom and they kissed. I walked around to the other side of the deck so they could have their special time. It was beautiful, there's no doubt of that. And she was so happy. She died soon after we arrived home from the trip, and I've felt since then that perhaps her departure was a tad less painful knowing that she had checked off a few of her life's goals in the time shortly before her death.

I know I'll never forget it.

I was never good at cursive. Like, really not good. In fact, quite bad. I have shaky penmanship and always have. I blame my skipping of kindergarten for it (as well as my inability to color in between the lines -- I'm terrible with crayons). Don't ever skip your children through kindergarten if you're not willing to accept the trade-off of a lifetime of a terrible writing craft.

But where has cursive gone? Has it gone the way of the Dodo? Do they still teach it? Any elementary school teachers care to inform us? I'd be hard-pressed to believe that it's still being taught. Even if it were being taught, it's completely worthless come adulthood. I mean, how many normal-functioning adults do you know that still write in cursive? What would happen if you tried to use cursive in a corporate communication? That should be a terminable offense!

I did find this CRUCIAL font last month (I totally just stole that adjective from Sean Steinhauser. I think it means something like "rad" or "cool" or "bootsy" or something), however. Check it:


Truly, I don't know if cursive is still being taught. I don't know anyone that uses it. I'm leafing through a few birthday cards here on my desk, and none of them were written in cursive. From this blogger's view, there appear to be only three ways of writing:

• Handwriting in the "printed" style.
• Typing.
• Chiseling glyphs into rock.

I want to bring this ancient artform back, though, yo! Who's with me? I think I may incorporate a "Cursive" unit into my Sunday School lesson next week. Everyone bring a feather pen and some parchment. Can the ward provide the ink? Bill, do you know if the ward has ink? Can you ask your dad? If we can't get ink from the ward, someone let me know and I'll swing by Office Depot (or as I prefer to call it: "The Office Despot," like this mean old guy I worked with at Novell named Dennis. He was a total despot! He was mean!).

Here, I'll go first:


I should point out that I scanned that handwriting sample with my new HP Photosmart 4280. I got it free when I bought my Mac! It's my first printer ever! It does so much, too! It prints, it copies, it scans, it faxes, it cooks, it cleans, and it prays.

My world was thrown upside down this morning, friends, and I call upon you for your assistance. An eBuddy of mine (mpfunk over on CougarBoard) posted a link to a video, and I have to say that it's shaken me to the very core. Sometimes religious folk lose their witness of their beliefs after something comes along to shake up their faith. Maybe an unkind word is said or an unjust accusation is made. Perhaps a point of doctrine is found to be unimaginable or unbearable. We all know people who've questioned their testimony at various times.

This morning I questioned my testimony. Not of my religion (of which I proudly puff my chest out), but of my deep and spiritual affiliation with the Los Angeles Dodgers. Most of you will recall that my love for the Dodgers resides in the deepest crevices of my soul, nestled within the symbolic valves of my symbolic heart. I love the Dodgers like a man loves his wife: through years of devotion I've remained with them. Thick and thin, my friends. That's how I describe it. My relationship with the Dodgers is like a marriage (although I've never been married. Maybe John Younce can tell me if this is true about a marriage or not). I'm not always happy, but I ride through life with the Dodgers, traveling over hills and through valleys. It's a type of devotion, really.

So this morning I was given reason to call upon a doubt in regard to my passionate love for the Los Angeles Dodgers. I don't know if I should thank mpfunk for posting this, or if I should hate him for it. I just don't know what to do, though. How will I make it through this? How can I look at my beloved Dodgers organization without recalling these fateful images? I'm at a loss.



This video is the most embarrassing thing I've ever been associated with in all of my life. Look at Orel Hershiser! Look at Pedro Guerrero! Look at Rick Honeycutt! What are those moves?! Who told them that this would be a good idea? That's what I really want to know: what advisor told them, "Gentlemen, I think this Boogie idea is a winner!" That person should find rest in a Hall of Shame somewhere. He should be given the Pete Rose treatment. They should Shoeless Joe that guy, whomever he is. We can only pray that his fingers are no longer touching our beloved pastime.

Where do I go from here? How do I patch this one up? Do I move on? Do I divorce myself from these 29 years of commitment? As always, your opinions are welcome and even encouraged.

I really am grateful for the people who've quietly prodded me back into a daily blogging routine. I blogged for years, but after I moved to Raleigh it turned more into a travelogue. But I miss expressing myself. My web site used to be a haven for my creative endeavors. You can still see some of those experiments laced throughout this site. Hopefully I'll get the motor going again and get back to what I was once doing.

As a first step, I changed the design of my site last night. I've wanted to do something retro (aka EXTREME!!!) for some time now. When I started designing a new site last month, though, I went with something conservative. I kept the same palette and was more focused on moving to WordPress on my server than switching up the design too drastically. Last week I decided to abandon the move to WordPress. I should say, however, that WordPress really has come a long way, and I'd be happy to make the switch, but I simply chose simplicity of administration over the customization and control of running it on my own server. So I'm still with Blogger, still using custom templates, and still pushing to my own FTP server. That at least gives me SOME control over my site, and that's fine for now.

So the site looks different. I wanted to do a retro theme, like I mentioned. I played with eight different backgrounds before arriving at this one. I wanted to separate the posts somehow, but I didn't want to use a horizontal rule (in non-web-development speak, that's known as a "line"), so I thought I'd experiment with a color behind the title of the post. I really like the way that came out. It separates the posts without requiring too much spacing nor a horizontal rule. I was going to try it with a lime green and an orange, but the pink gave me exactly what I wanted on my first try.

You may hate the look and feel of the site. That's fine with me. I wanted to make a bold design statement, and I feel like that's been accomplished. My only question is this: If you don't like the look, will that keep you from visiting regularly?

I came home from the Far East in December with a new view of what it means to truly treat your customers well. I had dozens of great customer service experiences on that trip, and since then I've been pondering American customer service. One of the internal blogs here at Red Hat had a link today to an interesting article in the Harvard Business Review on Zappos' culture of excellence in the customer service realm:

http://discussionleader.hbsp.com/taylor/2008/05/wy_zappos_pays_new_employees_t.html

Inside the article there's a link to one customer's telling of a surprising exchange with Zappos Customer Service:

http://www.zazlamarr.com/blog/?p=240

My minor shoe obsession may have found a new distributor!

The astute observer will note that we're just 70 days from the opening of the XXIX Olympiad. In my own mind I claim to be the biggest fan of the Olympics in the world. Will I be there this year? No. Will I watch every single event on TV? Count on it. Except while I'm at work, of course. And church. And on dates. And when I'm bathing myself. Or sleeping at night.

I do love the Olympics, though. This year's Summer Games brings the addition of a few items to the traditional Olympic presentation. The major addition this year is smog. The games are being played in China, home address for most of the world's pollution. The city of Beijing is taking measures to clean up the air this summer, but the risk to the athletes' health is still very real. Other additions to this year's set of events include the following (not kidding):

• BMX Racing
  
• Long-distance Swimming
  
• 3000m Women's Steeplechase
  
• Team Table Tennis
  
• A few new women's Fencing events
  

This year will mark the last Olympiad featuring a Baseball competition. Fortunately the World Baseball Classic will be held again next year. The WBC really is a much better set of circumstances for producing a true world champion baseball team than the Olympics have been able to be. The schedule works much better, and it allows each team to put forth its best roster. I'll be sad to see Baseball go from the Olympics, but the WBC more than consoles that sadness.

Let's just get one thing out of the way: China doesn't deserve to host the Olympics. The laundry list of human rights violations carried forth and endorsed by the central Chinese government hasn't earned it the right to host an event like the Olympics. But that is the last I will say of that. Whether we like it or not, the Olympics are going forward in Beijing. So I will let that lie. I want to enjoy the sport of it all. I want to see the countries compete and race, cycle and swim. I will rest my protests and simply hope that China changes.

Allow me to show you all some of my favorite Olympic memories:

Derek Redmond pulling up with a torn hammy in Barcelona
I remember watching it live. I was 13 years old and truly felt touched in my heart at Redmond's determination, and by his father's love and support. It was perhaps one of the earliest points in my life where I recognized true Christ-like compassion in my heart. It is a beautiful Olympic moment:



Michael Johnson's 200m in 1996
He's the greatest American runner of my generation. Look at those golden shoes! Note that the Namibian Frankie Fredericks was a runner at BYU back in the day. Neat little factoid.



50km Speed Walk in the 2004 Athens games
Fine, this isn't the actual video of that event (as if something like archived Olympic walking races would really be on YouTube), but it was SOMETHING like this. Only if my memory serves me correctly there was a dead heat between an Ecuadorian and a Peruvian. I watched it at roughly 2:00 AM one night. We had the living room in the Brown House (on 9th East in Provo) set up stadium-style and positioned someone at the TV for virtually every event -- there was 24-hour coverage during the Athens games -- oh, where have you gone, Kent Freeze?! So the 50km speedwalk captivated me and carried me through the next day. Note that the participants wear beepers or lasers or something on their feet to ensure that at least one foot is planted at all times. And look at those hips!



Two words: Kerri Strug
Who can forget sweet little Kerri Strug? I certainly can't! 1996 in Atlanta! She jacked up her ankle on a vault, then came back and fought through the pain to score a 9.712 on her final vault, winning the Gold for Uncle Sam. I'm not the most traditionally-patriotic American you'll ever meet. I generally don't fly flags and I only sing our National Anthem when I'm so full of love for my country that I feel like singing out, (although: who could forget that U.S. vs. Costa Rica World Cup Qualifier back in 2005 when I wrote "First On The Moon" on my face and hung Old Glory around my neck? Pictures here) but still, seeing her bring it home for our country still makes me want to beat my chest once out of pride. But only once. And only when no one else is doing it.



That's all for now. Let's get up for the Olympics, friends! Who's ready? Who's excited? Who'll be joining me 'round the clock? Anyone? Any takers? Let's coordinate your favorite events and watch some together. Let me know.

http://www.dwell.com/daily/blog/19099469.html



In light of my recent downsize from the two-bedroom downtowner with high ceilings and 1930s wood floors to the cell-like confines of my rented bedroom (which is wonderful -- don't get me wrong -- I totally love it. But it is indeed a downshift in living space), the thought of this apartment in Brooklyn is utterly refreshing. I can't say that I would enjoy the trip up and down the stairs (look, I have a small bladder and I frequently get up in the middle of the night to relieve myself), but this apartment looks to be as near to perfect as I've ever imagined: Great living space, plenty of shelving, a nice, quiet study, a kitchen with plenty of natural light, beautiful flooring, high walls... it's simply perfect.

I'll take it!

I called 2007 my "Year of the Beard." I suppose it was a reaction to having lived in Utah for those years, where beards are esteemed to be the official facial hair configuration of non-Mormons, jack-Mormons, and people who don't love God. So when I moved here and was free of that whispered tyranny, I finally let loose on my life-long desire to sport a beard. I had worn scruff while in Utah, but never a real beard.

My first experiment was the June/July 6-week full beard that centered around my trip to Norway. This photo here was taken on the banks of the Drammen fjord:


I shaved it soon after returning from Norway, but the experiment was a clear success. I had proven that I could wear a full beard and not look TOO bad (although "how it looks" is clearly a debatable topic -- be sure to leave a comment with your opinion). The corners of my chin clearly grew the fastest, and the front of my chin takes its time, but there weren't really any patchy areas that were too stubborn to grow. So I definitely claimed victory in the June/July Norway beard experiment.

Growing a beard is a milestone that should be paired with something else happening in life. Are you a law school graduate preparing to take the bar exam? Why not grow a beard until the test is done? In the middle of your last semester of school? How about a beard to go along with it? Growing a beard can be a sign of continued commitment to an upcoming event: Building up to a marathon? Why not grow a runner's beard? It worked for Forrest Gump!

With the success of the Norway beard in my personal accomplishment portfolio, I set off to find something new and exciting that would warrant another beard. I shaved regularly throughout the late summer and early fall, mostly with the aid of a new shave cream (Anthony Logistics For Men Shave Cream) and a new step-by-step shave strategy:

1. Hot water (or a hot wet towel) across the face.
   
2. Cream up, then shave WITH THE GRAIN.
   
3. Rinse with hot water.
   
4. Cream up again, then shave AGAINST THE GRAIN.
   
5. Rinse well with cold water.
   
6. Apply post-shave product (I use Burberry Brit After-shave Lotion -- but don't go buy it, because it's MINE).
   

In the middle of Autumn I found out that I would be going on a big trip for work throughout the first three weeks of December, then would roll that trip right in to my Christmas trip home to California. I had found what I was looking for: a big reason to wear another beard!

I started that same day with a fresh shave, then committed to not shave until New Year's. "But why?," people would ask me. I couldn't really give a reason, only that I knew I was committed to it. I would be going (as I've previously reported) to countries on two continents, and that seemed like a reason to celebrate with a beard!

On and on it grew. Come December 1 I was asked if I would shave for the trip, and I declined to do so. I went to Germany, Austria, the UK, Japan, Singapore, Malaysia, and India, at each place proudly wearing it. (Courtney, if you read this: Again, I apologize!)


I even started "primping" it regularly. By Christmas it was unwieldly, and my parents sighed and shook their heads. We were having family portraits taken, and I volunteered to shave it, but was told by both my dad and step-mom that I could wear it in the pictures if I wanted to, so I kept it. (Side note: I should point out that they later were mildly agitated when I shaved it a few days after the pictures were taken... I promise I'll get a new photo for your wall soon, Dad!)

New Year's approached, though, and I really wanted to make my goal, but at the same time I had grown EXTREMELY tired of the shag. Glenn and I decided to get rid of it the night before I flew home. I shaved while he took pictures (for a stop-motion video -- it's posted on my facebook) Here are the last pictures of that majestic creation, taken just before its death:







I wanted to make it to January 1, but I made it to December 30... Does that count? Can I "round up" and say that I accomplished the goal? I think the spirit of the law would say that the beard served its purpose, so the end date was decidedly arbitrary.

Now I'm back to regular cycles of scruff and small beards. I can't say that I'll ever give the huge beard another try. Discuss, please.

My new residence has brought with it a new drive to work. I used to approach Red Hat from the northeast, and now I come at it straight from the west. Rather than staying on Western all the way to Avent Ferry, I choose to cut through the side streets: from Western to Gorman to Marcom to Varsity, then straight on over to Red Hat.

Along the way, though, I've discovered a slight corridor that I've deemed "The Forgotten Avenue." Whatever city organization (Public Works? Police? Local chapter of the Rotary organization?) that cleans the road of carrions is clearly unaware that this area exists. It starts on the south side of the Marcom/Varsity intersection, and continues down Varsity for a block and a half. I've illustrated the area here:



In the past three weeks, I've come across the following, all dead in the road: a raccoon, two squirrels, four little birds, and what I think was a possum. That's eight carcasses. None of them get cleaned up. Usually they're in the same place the next day, only a bit more run over and torn up. I suppose some of them could be getting cleaned up, but I haven't seen any evidence of that. I've only seen dead animals rotting away in the middle of the road.

In no uncertain terms, I say here and now that driving down The Forgotten Avenue can be an exercise in controlling the gag reflex. I should call Public Works. In the meantime, be advised.

As my readers have noted over the years, I go through phases on occasion where I post less or more than in other times. Lately I had started picking the pace up again after a slower time, but I decided it was time for a new template. I've decided to move to WordPress and base my new design on the Cutline theme (created by Chris Pearson at Pearsonified), and I've been working on that here and there for the past week or so. My redesign isn't quite done yet, though, so I'll need to maybe put a bit of time into it this weekend to get it where I want it to be.

In the meantime, I've also been working on some other things: Revising some sections of the HPSI web site (that's my regular consulting gig), working on a site for Angela's homestaging project, creating a site for the party Janelle and Sunni and I are throwing next weekend, and starting a few other pet projects here and there.

I didn't want to lose my momentum, though, and that warranted a post today. My cousin Amy and I went to DC a few weeks ago. She came out and visited me for 5 days, and for 2.5 of those days we went to DC. We stayed at the relatively-new Courtyard Washington Capitol Hill/Navy Yard. I had previously stayed in the Bethesda Marriott and the Renaissance M Street last summer, and I was planning on staying at the JW Marriott for this trip with Amy, but we got a great deal at this Courtyard and decided to stay there. And it was simply perfect. We parked the car there and took the Metro everywhere. The Navy Yard stop is literally like 100 yards from the Courtyard. It's perfect. I'd recommend it for a trip to DC. Nice, clean room, good security for the car, etc. The Navy Yard is obviously enjoying quite the resurgence of late, the centerpiece being the new Nationals Park. The Nats were out of town, though, so we didn't get to go to a game.

On Sunday we hit up some of the monuments, since Amy hadn't been in DC since she was young. While walking from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial, the sprinkles got a bit heavier, then the clouds opened up and poured on us. We were in the middle of the Mall, next to the Reflecting Pool (right here), and we had nowhere to go that would provide us shelter from the rain... so we just kept going! By the time we got to the Lincoln Memorial we were soaked to the core. Every ounce of every piece of clothing on my body was soaked all the way through. After relaxing (that term really is relative, isn't it?) at the feet of Honest Abe for about a half hour, we decided to go try and fetch a cab. We got one relatively easy, then went back to the hotel, dried off, changed, etc., then decided to get the car out of the garage and drive it the rest of the way.

It was a good trip. I loved having my cousin Amy out here in Raleigh. Since then I've moved to a new apartment and I've been getting used to that. Also, I went down to Fayetteville last Thursday to see Allen get home from the war. That was a supreme treat. My dad and step-mom and my younger brother