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2011-10-29T00:15:00.000-06:00

It occurs to me that I should probably document this in some form.

I am currently attending the 2011 Blackfriars Conference, put on by the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, VA. You may remember that I nearly decided to spend three years of my life here, in their MLitt/MFA program. Although I eventually chose Exeter instead, I still deeply admire the work they do here, so much so that I co-founded the Grassroots Shakespeare Company in direct response to their inspiring productions.

And that's how I came to be here, as a presenter, at one of the most legit Shakespeare conferences in existence. They were keen to hear more about Grassroots - our processes, our challenges, our successes - and we were really keen to come out and see their current season, and learn new stuff from brilliant Shakespeare scholars. Thankfully, UVU was keen to foot the bill.

The conference has been illuminating, intimidating, expansive, and so very rewarding. I have such respect for the ASC actors. Their performances are almost impossibly detailed. The texture and nuance involved in their approach to the language of Shakespeare's plays brings layers of meaning to the surface in a way that seems almost effortless. They make the plays extraordinarily accessible, not by dumbing them down, but by dexterously uncovering their inherent rhetorical richness. It's been a joy to see a different show each night. The Tempest, Hamlet, and Henry V were each strong, unique, and surprising. How this company achieves such a genuinely fun sense of play, while so closely attending to the demands of the text, is magical to behold.

Coming back here has reminded me what a debt of gratitude Grassroots owes to the ASC's inspirational productions. We have so much work ahead of us if we're going to bring our shows up to scratch in terms of textual detail, but I think we often achieve an atmosphere of vibrant anarchic play in our productions that somehow evokes the experience of seeing the ASC in action.

I have just one more day here before heading back to Utah, where I'll see the final evening of Grassroots' latest production, Macbeth. As I stand at the edge of our renaissance touring stage, and hear some of Shakespeare's most chilling verse cut through the frosty Autumn air, I expect I'll be thinking how lucky we've been to share this idea with an ever-expanding audience, and how thankful I am for the pioneering work of the American Shakespeare Center, breathing new life into some of the best plays ever written.

It's been a great ride so far, and we're just getting started.

Westward, Ho!

2011-09-13T03:47:00.001-06:00

Yesterday afternoon, at 2:23 PM (a whopping hour and a half ahead of the deadline), I handed over my final MFA portfolio, completing my two years as a student at the University of Exeter. Although I had expected jubilation, I mostly felt sad, and a little lost. But also relieved.

There isn't much to say about this experience, at least not now. It has been challenging, and incredibly rewarding. I have loved it, especially this second year, and I am going to miss it.

Now, onward.

Next month, if I have enough people sign up, I'll be teaching a couple of weekly Shakespeare classes at Davis High. One of them will focus on the literary aspect, and the other will be an acting class. Having never really taught before, I'm both terrified and excited to get started!

Also next month, I'll be heading out to the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, VA, to give a presentation at the Blackfriars Conference. This is a biannual event featuring research from some of the top Shakespeare scholars from around the world, and we have been invited to present on the Grassroots Shakespeare Company! I am thrilled at the opportunity!

After that, I'll be working on developing the Grassroots Shakespeare Company in Utah, in preparation for next year's season. I'm hoping to start getting into schools and rural communities, and to produce more educational content such as workshops, symposia, and hopefully a few more adaptation events! Keep following our progress on facebook! ;)

Of course, I'll also be looking for gainful employment (oh yes, that) so if you happen to hear of any Adjunct Faculty positions in Drama or English, send them my way! I'm not picky!

Best to Worst - Best Pic Nominees of 2010 (I know I'm late to this party)

2011-08-03T08:00:00.001-06:00

It's no secret that I like films. I don't obsess over them very often, but I do like to think and write about them, which I recognize goes a few steps beyond the usual behavior of just renting and watching them.

I appreciate that some people watch movies purely for entertainment. That's fine. I do that sometimes. Other times, I watch movies to be challenged, devastated, perplexed, uplifted, shocked, inspired, etc.

A lot of the best movies contain adult content, and are therefore rated R. Most of my family and friends don't watch R-rated movies on principle. That's fine. I do watch R-rated movies. I also read banned books.

Anyway, I digress. Here, in a very particular order (best to worst) are the Best Picture nominees from last year. I feel like I've finally seen enough of them to make an informed (albeit personal) ranking. You should see the ones at the top - although I warn you, they are not for kids.

127 Hours

I have written a bit about this film already. Suffice it to say, this was my favorite film of 2010, and is probably up there with Apollo 13 in terms of movies that make me proud to be a human being. As with Black Swan, I initially avoided this film because I was afraid the content would be too disturbing. Instead, I found it enlightening and uplifting in ways that few other works of art have matched for me.

This adventure/drama/thriller has some ingenious cinematography, astonishing acting from James Franco, a brilliant score, and an absolutely thrilling message. Everyone should see this movie.

True Grit

I will never understand the ratings system. How can an innocent little film like The King's Speech be restricted to viewers over the age of 17, while the intensely violent and harrowing western True Grit is deemed suitable for kids? Granted, I think it's a remarkable film. The Cohen brothers are geniuses when it comes to constructing a scene. The characters are delightful, the plot is satisfying, the filming is gorgeous, and the writing is hilarious and touching. But its violent content is far more disturbing than a few F-words in a speech therapy session, and it should have been rated R.

The King's Speech

This biopic is an utter delight from beginning to end. I disagree with those who call it tepid, made-for-TV drama. It's a brilliant character study, well-written and superbly acted, and makes a relatively simple story crackle with texture and urgency.

I found a few things to nit-pick, however. The cinematography was distracting, particularly in the early therapy scenes. Perhaps this was for a reason - to put the audience on edge? - but all it did was annoy me. Also, I felt like Helena Bonham Carter's character was flat as a pancake. I mean, her husband is suddenly the King of England, and she has a chance to buoy him up. What does she say? I was afraid to marry you because I thought this would happen, and now it's happening. How she delivers this without a hint of irony is beyond me.

But, despite a few minor distractions, the film tells a great story in a really endearing, low-key kind of British way. It's definitely worthy of its Oscar wins, though I would have picked a different Best Pic.

Black Swan

As with Pan's Labyrinth, and a precious few other films, I have been obsessively terrified of Black Swan ever since seeing the trailer in cinemas. It got right under my skin and stayed there. Something about the twirling ballerina leg in the music box. Yikes. But when I heard about 'the scene,' and remembered that it was a Darren Aronofski film, I kind of decided not to see it. I knew the film would go places I wasn't totally comfortable with. But, eventually, curiosity got the best of me and I rented it.

Black Swan is an exploration of themes that are very close to me. Almost too close for comfort. No, I'm not an obsessive ballerina striving for perfection, and no I don't have psychotic breaks from reality, and no I don't compulsively scratch myself. But the part of me that is a performer, the part of me that feels lonely and claustrophobic, the part of me that desperately wants to excel, the part of me that fears my own demons... they all found a lot to relate to in this film.

Of course, Black Swan takes these themes to their darkest, most troubling extremes. There's something cathartic in that. And something dangerously seductive. But it isn't simply dark for the sake of being dark. It tells a story that undermines your grasp on reality, and sanity. I squirmed, I jumped, I gasped, at times I turned away, but I was completely enthralled. Gripping performances, merciless direction, and a shocking script make this brave film well worth watching.

The Social Network

I suppose this film is perfect. I can't think of a single flaw (apart from Rashida Jones's awful last line), and it's certainly relevant, epochal, the stuff of myth. But... despite its super-smart dialogue and slick cinematography, I just don't find myself empathizing with the characters. A bunch of rich kids arguing over who came up with what idea first... Yeah, I'm simplifying, but... it just doesn't have the urgency, the immediacy, the universality of some of the other Best Pic contenders - at least I didn't feel it.

Toy Story 3

This one was actually a bit of a disappointment for me. I felt like it was emotionally manipulative, inappropriately scary, and generally pretty gloomy. That being said, it was also genuinely funny, moving, and nostalgic. I enjoyed it, but I didn't love it. I think it was superior to How to Train Your Dragon in terms of animation quality, but Dragon's story was infinitely better. Sad as it makes me to say it, I feel like Disney·Pixar may have peaked with Wall·E and UP.

The Fighter

I don't think I would have seen this gritty drama on my own. I don't much care for boxing films, as I tend to find them more formulaic than perhaps any other genre. But, as it happened, I went to see The Fighter in London with a few friends, one of whom actually had a small speaking part in the movie! I loved the cracking dialogue and the sublime acting (particularly from Melissa Leo). I felt very empathetic with the characters, agonizing over their alienating, dysfunctional behavior. In the end, though, I have to say this film left little of a lasting impression. It was engrossing, but perhaps too loose and rambling to make a major impact.

Inception

Although I love this flick, its director, its cast, and especially its originality, I have to say I left the theatre feeling a bit let down. I had spent the whole film waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me - waiting for reality to shift, for the stakes to jump, for the game to change - but it didn't happen. The conceit was explained, ad nauseam, and then it was deployed. Simple.

Again, I love this film. Seriously, I do. But, these are DREAMS! Anything is possible! ANYTHING! Why oh why does the dream world need to be so rigidly naturalistic? And why oh why is Cobb's subconscious city so bland? He and his wife spent a lifetime building... identical gray high-rises?

What I resent about this film is that it could have taken the Memento-style destabilization of reality to a whole new level. Instead, it took a step back, and catered to a summer audience who could hardly be bothered to put two and two together on their own. As a result, it was a linear crowd pleasing action flick, disguised as a psychological thriller. Still, I love this film.

Winter's Bone

This quiet Sundance flick is impressive, but ultimately uninspired. Its disturbing heart of darkness is nearly rendered believable by solid performances, but even good acting cannot completely redeem its loose, sometimes incoherent script.

The Kids Are All Right

I haven't seen this one, and haven't had any desire to. Is it any good?

To Do in America:

2011-07-24T08:00:00.000-06:00

Steph and I have been brainstorming things we can't wait to do when we get back to the States. This is purely a peremptory measure, designed to soften the blow. So, when we're sitting around in Kaysville wishing that we could just hop on a train and be in London two hours later, we'll pull out this list and do something we couldn't (or haven't) do(ne) in England.

Go to Grandma's house; eat fudge, watch the Jazz lose, see her new basement, etc.
Watch American football, with American commentary, and American commercials (legally).
Go to Pace's Dairy Ann.
Have a barbecue at Daniel's.
See a Grassroots show.
See Kelsey skate.
Watch fireworks on the fourth of July.
Spend Thanksgiving with family, eating food and watching American football.
Drive up the nearest canyon in Autumn.
Hike.
See the Grand Canyon.
Visit Amy and Vaughn in Washington.
Drink a Lime Rickey at Arctic Circle.
Eat a Frosty.
Eat at Cafe Rio, Los Hermanos, Betos, etc.
Watch cheap movies at Kaysville Theater.
Swim in an alpine lake.
Go to a natural hot spring.
Hike the Narrows at Zion National Park.
Work at Sundance.
Listen to Pandora.
Watch Hulu.
Spontaneously visit family (and beg food).
Play in the back yard.
Golf at Davis Park.
Admire screens in windows, basements in homes, and central heating.
Eat Cap'n Crunch, Marshmallow Mateys, Nilla Wafers, and Skippy Peanut Butter.
Play our piano.
Eat bagels with strawberry cream cheese.
Go to a baseball game.
Visit New York, San Francisco, D.C., and Boston.
Play basketball in the driveway.
Learn to ski.
Eat yogurt with a fork.
Admire the mountains.
Buy cheap clothes.
Take you out to lunch.

What are we missing?

An excuse to share some funny town names

2011-07-23T08:00:00.003-06:00

This weekend we are performing Twelfth Night in the tiny village of Otterton, which is just outside of Budleigh Salterton (or past Newton Poppleford if you're driving in from Exeter). It's a quaint little place, consisting of a pub, a church, and some houses. Also a mill. The village has no mobile phone signal, no shops, and no internet.

My question: if it doesn't have the internet, how/why does it have a website?

UVU peeps!

2011-07-22T08:00:00.018-06:00

Yesterday I woke up in a hostel (by far the best I've stayed in) and, after breakfast, headed out toward Whitehall to pick up a ticket for Being Shakespeare. On the way, I decided to grab a bike from Barclay's cycle hire, because it's only £1 per day, and who wouldn't want to ride a bike through Hyde Park, Green Park, and St. James's Park, heading right past Buckingham Palace and off to Trafalgar Square in the morning?

I got the ticket, then headed over to Gloucester Road to meet up with some of my absolute favorite people in the world for lunch. We ate at Nando's, which is one of the few popular restaurant chains in Britain whose products actually look and taste like food. Chris, Daniel, and Heather were kind enough to brief me on all the scandalous goings-on that I've missed, and let me tell you, some awkward stuff has gone down at UVU! (Don't tell.)

I told them everything I knew about Sir Ian McKellen's serendipitous brush with the Grassroots Shakespeare Company (he made one of our new London cast members an omelet), and explained to them that we are moving back to Utah in October, and could they have some work lined up for me, pleaseandthankyou.

We went to see Simon Callow in Being Shakespeare, and it was just okay. I felt like it was basically a really engaging lecture on Shakespeare's life, with a few memorable speeches woven in. He looked and sounded professorial. From what I could tell, the audience demographic consisted of old ladies, and a theatre group from UVU.

We were greeted after the show by buckets of rain, so I made my way to the shelter of Paddington Station to await my quick train back to Exeter. Of course, the weather was great out here in the Southwest, and I biked home past the cathedral (and the 1,000-year-old church on High Street) without incident.

Are we all met?

2011-07-21T08:00:00.001-06:00

One of my favorite parts of the Grassroots Shakespeare experience is the first cast meeting. We had ours last night on the top floor of a Starbucks in Knightsbridge, and it was divine.

The enthusiasm, the goodwill, the unbridled optimism... It's just such a refreshing experience. What kind of gift is this, to get together with a fun group of like-minded people, and start to create a totally collaborative work of art.

I can't wait to get started on the rehearsal process.

Good flick

2011-07-20T08:00:00.009-06:00

I have mentioned my sincere love for the film 127 Hours. Sadly, I avoided seeing this movie in the cinema, because I was afraid that it would be too harrowing to handle. I had heard about the moment when, as in the true story, Aron Ralston has to cut off his own arm with a dull multi-tool in order to save his life. Knowing Danny Boyle to be a pretty visceral, uncompromising director, I imagined this moment would be excruciating. I was right. But in the context of the film, it is absolutely pitch-perfect. Yes, it's a challenge to watch, but it is such a profound expression of some deep human experiences that are common to a lot of us, and so true to the actual event, that I recommend this film to any adult who craves a great story.

Then again, 'a great story' is probably not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of this film. I mean, a guy goes hiking, gets his arm trapped under a huge boulder, and slowly wastes away in a desolate canyon before finally cutting off his own arm and somehow surviving the ordeal. It's not exactly a plot-driven narrative. So what makes it a great story?

Three things come immediately to mind. One, the way it expresses the delicate balance between the individual and the community is sublime. Two, the way it subtly weaves spirituality into the harsh physical reality of the situation is brilliant. Third, the way it retells the classic narrative of death and rebirth is simply beautiful.

1) Aron is an individualist. He ventures out into the wild for the purpose of finding solitude. He feels alive when he is completely self-reliant. But his solitude becomes isolation, and his self-reliance becomes survival. For me, the most poignant shot in the film comes near the end when a small family of foreign hikers spot Ralston in the distance, obviously in distress, and immediately run to him. They give him all they have - water and a few Oreos - and help him survive until he can be air-lifted out of the canyon. In the best moments of human interaction, our religious, social, ethnic, and ideological differences melt away, leaving only the compassionate core that I believe exists within each of us. I love that part of our nature. It's what makes community possible.

2) Call his visions what you will, but Ralston's hallucinations in the canyon provide hope and meaning in an otherwise hopeless and absurd situation. His darkest moments are made bearable by these prescient visions, which eventually inspire him to take the action necessary to save his life. Perhaps these phantoms were signs of a deteriorating mind, and perhaps it is only by chance that he did give birth to the son, years later, whom he had seen in the canyon the night before his escape. Perhaps the flight of the raven was a coincidental accident. Or perhaps something greater was involved.

3) As in Harry Potter, the Lord of the Rings, the New Testament, and other great stories, 127 Hours involves the struggle, the death, and the rebirth of its hero. Just as Gandalf must struggle with the Balrog, and even lose his life in the process, before being reborn and forever changed by the encounter, Aron Ralston's battle with his personal demons brings him to the point of accepting death, and leaves him permanently altered. He escapes the canyon as a different man. A new man. In the same way, many of us have our own personal battles, our epic internal struggles which can, though not without sacrifice, be overcome. We may be scarred, but we are better for having plumbed the depths of our experience and taken ownership of our destiny.

The MFA.

2011-07-19T08:00:00.003-06:00

As it turns out, time passes. Things have changed over the past two years. Both of my grandfathers have passed away. Stephanie and I have grown closer as a couple. I have learned some things about Shakespeare, she has learned some things about England, and we have both learned a lot about each other. It's been a massive growing experience, and we anticipate that moving back to Utah will feel like leaving home as much as going home.

The first year here was somewhat difficult; we encountered culture shock, personality clashes in the MFA, and feelings of disillusionment and isolation. We tried to keep a positive attitude, we traveled and took pictures, and even in the toughest moments we still had each other. But, to be completely honest, it was a disappointing year.

The second year could not have been more different. We grew to love and feel comfortable in England, we got into a much more comfortable flat in a nice neighborhood, and we made some very good friends. My MFA colleagues were a kinder, more diverse bunch (at least from my perspective), and I felt freer to express myself around them. As a result, everything seemed sunnier. And now I don't ever want to leave Exeter!

As I haven't blogged much over the past couple of years, I thought I should write up a quick list of some of the high points and low points out here, mainly to remind myself of just how many amazing opportunities I've had, and also to assuage my horror at seeing all my student loans piled on top of each other.

September 2009: Stephanie and I fly to Exeter. I lose my most important piece of luggage. We await its return while spending a couple of days living in Alex and Anna-liisa's spare room (thanks again). We sleep a lot, and feel guilty about being lousy house guests.

October: The MFA program kicks off with a mind-numbing two-day research seminar. Stephanie begins a dispiriting, but ultimately successful job search. We move into our flat, and very shortly get used to the sound of passing trains.

November: Emma Thompson visits Exeter, and gives us a two-hour masterclass. The weeks leading up to her visit are fraught with bitter arguments about what she wants to see from us. They are a taste of things to come.

December: The first of many month-long academic breaks, and the first Christmas away from home for Steph. We live on Skype. On Boxing Day, some new friends take us on an epic romp across Dartmoor, and for a whole day we don't miss our families one bit.

January 2010: We ring in the new decade in London, just across the Thames from the London Eye. It starts to snow lightly just after midnight, as we make our way home alongside 300,000 other crazy people.

February: I spend two glorious weeks at Shakespeare's Globe in London, learning voice, movement, and acting from some inspiring professionals. This is everything I had imagined and more. It is also a huge boost to my self-confidence, which helps me get through the rest of the academic year.

March: We perform a touring production of The Tempest, loosely directed by Prof. Chris McCullough, in which I play Ariel. Driving to tiny towns in Devon to perform Shakespeare feels like my calling. My mom's Father passes away from natural causes, and I long to be home with family.

April: Another month-long break, during which I ponder getting a job. We go canoeing in Exeter, and spend a great weekend in St. Ives, Cornwall. I am lucky to have Stephanie.

May: We begin working on our final projects for the academic year. I co-create a piece about death and the soul with some wonderful colleagues. All is right with the world.

June: We perform Swift as a Shadow, and my Dad is in attendance. A couple of days later, his father passes away. We contemplate his memory as we sit in front of the Colosseum in Rome, while his funeral takes place across the sea.

July: Grassroots Shakespeare comes to Exeter, performing Romeo and Juliet and All's Well that Ends Well. I learn it's not easy to run a theatre company on your own in a foreign country with few local actors and no money. My Mother-in-law visits, attends my show, and gives me a guitar for my birthday!

August: Stephanie finds a new job (thanks again Anna-liisa), and we spend a couple great days touring Devon and Cornwall with Alex and Daniel. The Red Shoes by Kneehigh Theatre Company becomes the single most exciting piece of theatre I've ever seen. Also, I fall irrevocably in love with Edinburgh.

September: Bike rides, visits to the beach, and some writing. We move into a much better flat. We haven't been home for a year, and we miss it. Stephanie crawls through muddy tunnels with her coworkers in an incredible 5K race for charity, called the Commando Challenge.

October: Year two of the MFA gets underway, and I completely space the pre-sessional talk-fest. I feel bad about missing my colleagues' amazing show, but not so bad about missing academic pontification.

November: We almost die in Ottery St. Mary, during the annual Guy Fawkes Day celebrations.

December: The first term of year two finishes (with no assessed work to speak of) and we finally head home, luckily flying out of Heathrow one day after a cataclysmic snow storm.

January 2011: Disneyland with the Richardson fam. I was skeptical, and I stand corrected. It is the most magical place on earth. I love my nephews and they love me. (Niece Zoe is proving more difficult to win over.) Also, Grassroots Adapt-in-a-Day festival goes off without a hitch. Huzzah.

February: Two more weeks at Shakespeare's Globe. I feel totally at home on the stage. It's warmer than last year, I get to see an incredibly moving production of King Lear starring Derek Jacobi, and I visit Steph on the weekend. Oh, and the Green Bay Packers win the Super Bowl. Go Pack Go.

March: I perform in jeggings - let that image sink in if you dare - as Slender in Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor. The cast is really good, cooperative, and fun. Touring is charming and quirky, with the seaside town of Beer being my favorite stop this year. Chris's driving makes the most of my car-sickness.

April: Another break. Ten days in France that Steph and I will never forget. Cycling the Loire, looking for chateaux, eating delicious food, and watching the sunset from the top of the Eiffel Tower as it sparkles. Steph plans the whole trip, and it is brilliant.

May: One week in Stratford-upon-Avon, doing archival research at the RSC. About as interesting and esoteric as it sounds. Also, saw a thoroughly disturbing production of Macbeth, and began rehearsals for Pericles.

June: Co-directed a community production of Pericles with my colleague and friend, Evelyn. Fell in love with our hilarious, diverse, and enthusiastic cast.

July: Performed in a dream role (Sir Andrew Aguecheek), got Grassroots London rolling, bought plane tickets home, and began the messy business of saying goodbye to England. It's going to hold a place in my heart forever. Even as manly as I am, it's getting me all choked up just writing about it.

Well, now you're up-to-date. Anything in there you'd like to hear more about?

Love vomit, part two!

2011-07-18T06:00:00.000-06:00

I love my wife, Stephanie. I cannot tell you how much. When I think about her, I get a warm sensation in my middle. She is the sweetest, the most thoughtful, the most compassionate person I know. For the past two years, she has worked full time to support me while I do my MFA. Two years of tedious administrative labor, day in and day out, so that I can play around with Shakespeare. I realize that I am lucky, and I truly can't wait to repay her for this sacrifice.

I love riding my bike on the streets of Exeter. The drivers are so polite and courteous and aware. It's incredible. And I love zipping through traffic, practically for free, creating virtually no pollution, while getting exercise. Ah, cycling, you are good.

I love good movies. Seriously, I love them. 127 Hours, you were amazing. I wept at the end of that film, called my mom and told her I loved her, gave Stephanie an extra hug, and for a while everything in my life was perfect. Good art has such enormous power. I am only beginning to realize my responsibility as an artist.

I love making plays. I love rehearsing in parks, performing under trees, and watching kids become entranced by Shakespeare's fantastic characters.

I love learning about the cosmos. Sometimes I think about the size of the universe, about how much space there is between galaxies, and about the fact that there are footprints on the Moon. It fills me with reverent awe. Sometimes I try to comprehend the reality of a black hole, and it deeply disturbs me. The universe is incredible, and fragile.

I love this precarious planet, and all the beautiful diversity it offers. I love the way children appreciate the world, and I yearn for their idealism to infect me again.

I love my family and friends, I love reading a good book, I love familiar songs and I love encountering surprising new music for the first time. I love laughter, and sometimes feel I could do more to add laughter to the world.

I love feeling acceptance and support from people who believe differently than I do. I would love to be able to express my own beliefs more freely, but I fear my most valued relationships would suffer. I wish to do more to combat intolerance and divisiveness.

I love living in England, and I am desperately torn between staying here and heading back to be closer to my family. I love the friendships I have made here, and am so very grateful to the people who have given me the time I needed to open up and be myself around them.

I love writing my way out of a slump. I love coming back from self-doubt and worry; regaining a fuller perspective. I love a bright red moonrise over dark green fields and rolling hills. I love life, with all its uncertainty and beauty.

I love you. I will try to be better at showing it. Because, really, I do.

at the globe

2010-04-03T06:26:00.002-06:00

In February, I spent two weeks at the Globe Theatre.

We practiced Voice, Movement, and Acting with some awesome instructors.

I also took some pictures, and these are a few of my favorites.

The Globe is cool.

cloudy with a chance of shakespeare

2010-04-02T16:54:00.002-06:00

Last month, we did a small touring production of The Tempest. I was Ariel, and I got to spit a lot of water on stage. It was fun! But kind of looooong... I took very few pictures. Here are four of them.

Shadow puppet from behind.

Shadow puppets from the front.

The Sea.

The End.

Those clouds - I cut them out. Not the ones with the face... the other ones. I cut them out while watching Remember the Titans. So, for the whole tour, every time I saw those clouds I thought "attitude reflect leadership, cap'n" and "we gonna change the way we run - we gonna change the way we block - we gonna change the way we tackle - we gonna change the way we win!" Love that movie. I hear the Blind Side is good. Some people though Sandra Bullock didn't deserve the Oscar, but she gave a really good speech, so whatever.

bang!

2010-01-15T18:11:00.002-07:00

a year of status updates

2010-01-03T17:39:00.001-07:00

These are some of my facebook status updates from 2009.

Mark Oram used the extra second to kiss his wife!

Mark Oram can't believe it!!! Utah is the best team in the Nation.

Mark Oram "We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness."

Mark Oram just made two hundred junior high kids watch the inauguration.

Mark Oram finds himself surrounded by Shakespeare freaks!

Mark Oram wonders how lobsters factor in to all of this.

Mark Oram just survived his first Thrillionaires show. First time doing improv since 2003, and I didn't even wet myself that much.

Mark Oram 's grandpa has been a Cardinals fan for 40 years. This is a good day.

Mark Oram is peeling glue from his eyebrows again. I am SO over this.

Mark Oram is a linguistic construct and so are you.

Mark Oram watched UVU's vindication tonight, and it was sweet.

Mark Oram needs a Speedo and some tear-away pants.

Mark Oram hopes you're listening to President Obama.

Mark Oram is Touchstone!

Mark Oram finally owns cloth grocery bags. Go Earth.

Mark Oram has been accepted to grad school and offered a scholarship. Go UVU.

Mark Oram is swearing off Facebook for Lent. Yeah, I know, I'm starting late.

Mark Oram is breaking his Lent-inspired abstinence from Facebook to announce that he's been accepted to the Staging Shakespeare MFA at the University of Exeter!

Mark Oram freely admits his obsession with 24. Go ahead, judge me.

Mark Oram is writing about Peter Pan, Pan's Labyrinth, Alice in Wonderland, and Coraline. Delightful.

Mark Oram found a rogue bag of Cheetos!

Mark Oram is exhausted. Also, Tony Almeida is a douche.

Mark Oram graduated!

Mark Oram is getting really excited for Grassroots Shakespeare...

Mark Oram loves his Grassroots friends, the UVU library, and that surprised little custodian.

Mark Oram 's boss: "You're just a great vision of loveliness."

Mark Oram Combine Toy Story's genius, Wall-E's heart, and The Incredibles' adventure. Then, add one cute chubby kid, two curmudgeonly old men, a hundred talking dogs, and about six million balloons. Make it 3-D.

Mark Oram Just another day in the park, gluing the front page to Jason's face and watching a crazed pinata-smasher stumble blindfolded into an empty field, coming perilously close to stepping on the frenzied little dog running figure-eights between his feet.

Mark Oram Live music, sword fighting, handmade masks, swearing, kissing, evil laughter, true love, and a frog puppet wearing a tuxedo. Don't miss it.

Mark Oram Kelly Clarkson is "pretty frickin' cool." She told me herself!

Mark Oram is so proud of the little kid who parted with his pocket change to support our show. Thank you, whoever you are.

Mark Oram Carbonated Water, High Fructose Corn Syrup, Caramel Color, Phosphoric Acid, Natural and Artificial Flavors, Sodium Benzoate, Caffeine. Ice cold.

Mark Oram THAT JUST HAPPENED.

Mark Oram can no longer say that he's never thrown a swing set over a fence.

Mark Oram really wants to watch a movie in which giant fake robots break each other.

Mark Oram wants to punch that frosty in the face!

Mark Oram floated down the Provo River on a pool toy yesterday.

Mark Oram just purchased a one-way ticket to England!!!

Mark Oram is amazed at what his grassroots friends accomplished. I love you all!

Mark Oram Yowza! Toothpaste in the eye. That's a first.

Mark Oram ate cherries and blew stuff up.

Mark Oram fantastic morning, grassy afternoon, and thrilling evening...

Mark Oram has a headache! I wish someone holding a giant bottle of Ibuprofen would just randomly show up. Wait for it... okay, yeah, that just happened. Thanks, universe.

Mark Oram is beyond frustrated. UHEAA can suck whatever vile thing crawls out of the jaws of hell next.

Mark Oram Die again, Mortimer! Die again!

Mark Oram had a Fantastick birthday. Shot, stabbed, drowned, poisoned, hanged, dismembered, and disemboweled! Can't beat that.

Mark Oram Closing Night of the Fantasticks at Sundance tonight! Come or you're a horrible person!

Mark Oram You know that weird feeling you get when you accidentally type your password in as your username, and you see it written, and you delete it really fast before anyone sees? Yeah, weird.

Mark Oram Well, there's nothing to see really... we're inside a Chinese dragon.

Mark Oram Two weeks notice, b*tches!

Mark Oram I still remember what I felt - how angry I was - when the world changed on 9/11. It was a defining personal moment, in which I realized the acute need for unity, faith, and forgiveness in a world filled with violence and injustice. May we all replace anger with compassion, put aside petty differences, and trust each-other. God bless the whole world.

Mark Oram Our Student Visas have been approved! Also, I have less than 1 hour left at this job, and I just pulled a train of coworkers through the halls of UVU on their office chairs - with a scooter.

Mark Oram Don't be a jerk like Kanye. Sign up for the Grassroots workshop this Saturday! Email grassrootsshakespeare@gmail.com by midnight, and you're IN!

Mark Oram thanks family and friends for a great workshop, and some amazing barbecues! What a great way to spend my last weekend in the States.

Mark Oram Well, I suppose today's as good a day as any to expatriate. Exeter or bust!

Mark Oram is in Dublin!

Mark Oram I've been planning this for so long, it feels like I'm living in the future.

Mark Oram 8 hours of a research conference, followed by 4 hours of a church conference, to be followed by 6 more hours of a church conference... Must we all confer at once?

Mark Oram had his first class, his first English scone, and his first cup of cream tea.

Mark Oram had a great day. Running down the river Exe as the sun rose over cathedral spires, reading some Shakespeare in the afternoon, and "dancing" with the other MFA's this evening... Lovely.

Mark Oram had a dream about Pericles last night. We tried to remount the show without ANY rehearsal, and without Duardo. :)

Mark Oram 's youngest brother is going on an LDS mission to Taiwan!

Mark Oram is conflicted. Do I go ahead and BRAG about the fact that I'm getting a master class from Emma Thompson in 45 minutes, or do I make a sandwich?

Mark Oram 's cell phone passed away in its sleep last night, at the age of two. It will be sorely missed.

Mark Oram Chris Martin is from Exeter.

Mark Oram wishes to thank Zach and Kelly for the most wonderfully multicultural Thanksgiving of all time!

Mark Oram "We spend far too much time meaninglessly documenting our lives," thought Mark, as he updated his facebook status.

Mark Oram Oh, Grassroots peeps. You make my heart happy. I would stay up all night for you anytime.

Mark Oram Boxing Day on Dartmoor. Epic.

Mark Oram 's brother gets married today!

the river exe

2009-12-25T18:55:00.003-07:00

The River Exe is a short walk from our flat, and we often walk down its banks on our way down to the quay. These are a few pictures of the river from December. Also, there's a picture of our Basil plant.

Hopefully tomorrow, Boxing Day, we'll be heading out to Dartmoor to do some hiking. If so, I'll have more pictures to upload.

Christmas was lovely! Looking forward to our London New Year's Eve!

now i get it

2009-12-18T18:07:00.006-07:00

I inadvertently became more British today.

Walking home from a party with my wife, I found myself noting pubs as landmarks. You know, just up past the Rusty Bike1, then turn when you see the Impy2.

What seemed strange to me at first - the idea that pub names are more helpful than street names in giving directions - suddenly entered my own sense of orientation without the slightest warning. Fun!

Coolest website ever!

2009-12-06T04:08:00.003-07:00

In ninth grade, I made a web page for my teacher. It was awesome, but he didn't end up using it. Until yesterday, that basically summed up my web design experience.

With occasional help from Stephanie, I made a basic website for the Grassroots Shakespeare Company, and put it online yesterday. It's at a temporary URL so that people can see it and make suggestions. If you'd like to help me out, please spend some time there, and then tell me if it's interesting, boring, insightful, lame, etc. I have a lot of work left to do on it, I just need some inspiration. So inspire me!

Check out my new website, and give me feedback! Woot!

Some favorites so far

2009-12-02T16:32:00.002-07:00

Three of these pictures are from a Saturday afternoon trip to Exmouth. We walked down to Exeter St. Davids station after lunch and took the train in to Exmouth. We walked around on the beach until sunset, and then happened to experience a rather bizarre electric light parade, or "carnival," which happens once a year in this seaside town.

This picture was taken in a park near Exeter Central Station. It is completely untouched.

No, I wouldn't call it 'culture shock.'

2009-12-01T16:58:00.005-07:00

I have moved to England to study Shakespeare.

Blogging has not been a priority.

In fact, it has been avoided.

Not because I haven't had things to talk about, oh no, I've had plenty. It's just that, for some reason, this whole moving to another country thing has taken serious time getting used to.

Strangely, it's not the food or the dialects or the culture, particularly, that have made the adjustment to life in England a bit difficult. Nor is it the MFA program, or the anxieties and trepidation that come with a new school and new classmates. It isn't the quirky ward or the cramped grocery stores. It's not all the things I anticipated.

The difficulty, for me, in moving to a different country, has been in allowing time and space for my mind to pause and acknowledge the present moment.

So much of this experience has been planned out in my head for months; now that I'm living it, I notice an acute sense of self-awareness. Am I making the most of every day, can I really afford this, how many times did we go over the numbers, what is this going to mean for my future, for the future of my family, my career, am I really meant to be a theater person, why am I not taking more pictures, and so on.

On top of the immense, unceasing barrage of unfamiliar stimuli reminding me of my foreignness, I've had a constant urge to analyze my own reaction and adaptation to this new environment, partly to understand it myself, and partly to be able to describe it to others.

And it has taken a full two months for my mind to calm down to the point at which I can recognize my own actual reaction to the move. I can now recognize the point at which my mindset shifted into this hyper-self-awareness (the day before we moved to Kaysville), and am finally able to look at it from the other end.

This was strange. This was unexpected. This was not fun.

It all makes sense now, though. Why I wasn't excited, really, to leave the states. Why I was literally more excited for Where the Wild Things Are (which I still haven't seen). Why I couldn't really feel how much I loved seeing the ruins of a Roman wall across the cobblestone street from a wine- and cheese-filled deli, and why I was unable to really feel how elated I was at the opportunity to be directed and taught by Emma Thompson, and why I didn't seem to really feel like this was right.

It is right, I was elated, and I do love Exeter. I was just spending so much time thinking about it that I couldn't take a mental breath and feel it.

It's weird. Some of you probably think I'm nuts. Some of you might think I've read your own mind. I guess its a sensation that everyone articulates in their own way, and a sensation that nothing can quite prepare you for.

I wouldn't call it 'culture shock.' I think, if I had to name it something, it would be mental constipation.

I'm glad 'culture shock' caught on.

because i felt like it

2009-06-25T00:17:00.004-06:00

I love me a good chocolate Frosty. I usually get a medium, with value fries. The fries, of course, are used to scoop the Frosty into my mouth, where they are then chewed and swallowed along with the Frosty, creating a perfect mixture of saltiness and sweetness, heat and coolness. Then, when the fries are gone, I use the less environmentally-friendly spoon to finish the Frosty.

I also love me some grassroots. We meet up at whatever park or amphitheater we've selected for that evening, and set up our funny little set that we built ourselves. Sometimes we warm up by playing "WAH," which we actually kind of suck at, but enjoy anyway. At around 7:29, an audience always seems to materialize, and then we start the show. It's unique every time - especially when it rains, or when the set gets blown over.

I love biking to work. I hope I can bike to work every day for the rest of my life. Its an invigorating way to start the day, feeling the sun on my skin and the cool morning wind in my face. Yesterday, I pulled a leaf off a tree as I rode past it, and it smelled sweet and fresh like summer. I held it to my nose and breathed it in for a good five minutes while I biked.

I also love running red lights when there's obviously no one coming.

I love watching a refreshing, original, insightful film for the first time.

I love staying up late, and rehearsals, and foot-lights, and masks, and making people laugh at work. I also love scaring the crap out of Rachel at work, but she hates it, so I only take the absolutely un-missable opportunities. And I love it when Jentrie falls through the door like Kramer with no explanation. Or when Trevor tells her to hold her cereal bowl level, because she keeps spilling milk all over everything.

I love the fact that I won a game of Werwolf last week, because it totally made up for the time that I tried to lie to a librarian and blew it. It started innocently enough when I couldn't remember my old address - the one on my driver's license - but it ended in a tangled web of lies that left me looking and feeling like a complete idiot. I laugh about it now, but it was not pleasant. So I'm glad I can at least lie to my friends.

I love drawing a deep breath, especially now that my allergy season seems to be over.

I really love taking a great picture, and making it even better in photoshop.

I love it when people comment on my status updates, and blog posts, and photos, because I like to know what they're thinking.

I also love throwing disc. If all sports were banned from the earth but one, I would want that one sport to be Ultimate Frisbee. It brings out the best in me. And, I once knocked Jyllian out of a tree with a frisbee from halfway across the park, so I'm apparently a pretty good aim. I laugh out loud every time I think of that.

I love sleep. The relief of surrender. The old-fashioned magic of dreams.

I love the feeling of being the one. The one whose little idea brought all these people together, on this night, in this place, to share this moment.

I really love meditation.

I should do this more often.

grassroots is my life

2009-05-31T10:51:00.003-06:00

Check out our progress with the Grassroots Shakespeare Company! It's basically all I think about these days.

Hey, you know what, you should come see it! And become a fan on facebook to get our updates about venues and stuff.

You'll love this show!

FAQ

2009-05-15T18:06:00.002-06:00

When are you moving to England?
September.

Are you excited?
Yes.

What is your wife going to do?
Whatever she wants.

go grassroots shakespeare company!

2009-05-12T08:31:00.003-06:00

Sometime in January, I decided I wanted to put up a show--kind of a student project sort of thing. Being an English major, I hadn't really had time or means to do my own project before, so I was excited and nervous. I wanted to do The Revenger's Tragedy.

In February, I met with my good friend and colleague Alex Ungerman, and explained my idea. I told him I wanted to do an original practice show - no director, no full scripts, no designers, etc. Basically, a bunch of great actors throwing a show together for dirt cheap. And then, we could perform it... somewhere.

Of course he was intrigued and excited, so we became co-producers of some play (we eventually chose Much Ado About Nothing), and wrote up a short list of people we wanted to play with.

Then, this month, we decided to get people together for an audition. Somehow, we were able to convince twelve amazing actors and one great stage manager to join us. Now, the show is cast and rehearsals begin on the 25th!

If you'd like to read more about what we're doing, check out our blog, and become a fan of us on Facebook!

The awesome cast:

Joel Petrie
Don John
Jason Sullivan
Claudio
Jyllian Petrie
Beatrice
Alex Ungerman
Benedick
Becca Ingram
Hero
Mark Oram
Don Pedro
Bianca Dillard
Margaret/Verges
Davey Morrison
Dogberry
Kacey Keith Spadafora
Borachio
Kevin O'Keefe
Friar Francis/Balthazar
Daniel Joseph Anderson
Leonato
Maelyn Gandola
Ursula/ Sexton
Jordan Vance
Conrade
Tyler Harris
Antonio

Let the craziness begin!

cheap skates

2009-04-21T13:43:00.005-06:00

"If the good Lord had intended us to walk, he wouldn't have invented roller skates."

-Mark Twain...or Gene Wilder...or Roald Dahl. Take your pick, they're all awesome.

Strap these babies to your toddler's feet and watch him or her experience the freedom of low-friction mobility. Also, keep the emergency room on speed dial.

When I put the words "cheap skates" into google's image search, these came up first. I can't imagine why. They look classy to me. Like, Classic Skating classy.

Apparently people have been obsessed with attaching wheels to their feet since well before the 1980s. Of course, this was widely seen as immoral, since it gave people social and physical mobility, and a very good excuse to skip church.

But if hooking your feet to a set of wheels doesn't thrill you, try strapping a couple of cleavers on and see what happens!

And if you, like me, thought that skates had already reached their full potential, think again. There are always going to be new and ingenious methods of ankle-breaking joy.

cheapskates

2009-04-20T11:04:00.001-06:00

uncle walt

2009-04-06T10:12:00.006-06:00

I celebrate myself and sing myself
Or, rather, I celebrate and sing you
For in you I see myself reflected, the part of myself that longs to know you,
That longs to remember you when time and space dissolve our chance encounter.

The part I see reflecting joy, discovery, and smiles;
Where jumping, exalting, clapping, laughing in the puddles and rain
The echoes of memory reverberate and live.

I thank the atoms to oblige my soul
With their precarious alignments,
Providing structure for the light within me
To inhabit and to run from; to shine on; to bend; cast shadows;
To reveal and invent and revise; to realign.

Shade means tree leaves,
Concrete walls,
The sides of buildings letting sunshine play its game of misdirection:
Feeling through cracks and peeking around edges
To conclude the journey of a billion miles in an instant on my face.

Rain means window panes,
Concrete walls,
Rivers of sky water tickling rain gutters,
Carrying leaves past sidewalks and stop signs,
My soul kneels in the puddles of this rain and feels the cool touch of ancestors.

You are in me and you are me,
You are my great, great grandfather, whose soul has found expression
On the wind,
And in the rain,
And in me.
And every supernova is a trillion souls expressing their last gasp of light,
Before concluding the journey of a billion light-years in an instant on my retina.

How full of light is the universe!
How full of hope!
How full of truth!
How full of birth!
How full of death!
How full of rebirth!

The light of a dying star touches every soul under its glow
And every soul touches it;
And when this world and all its life collapse into the Sun
There will be no place in the universe that cannot see the brilliant bursting of light
Expanding and stretching out into the kosmos,
Sending my light and your being into infinite points of life and light
Far beyond the fringes of imagination.

And you will remember me when I am across the universe,
And I hope to remember you,
But I can make no promises.

-Mark Oram

preoccupations

2009-04-03T14:03:00.001-06:00

freckles

2009-03-30T10:58:00.003-06:00

One time, a particular aunt of mine said I looked like the redhead on October Sky:

I prefer it when people say I look like Paul Bettany:

Even though he looks a bit confused here.

here goes

2009-03-18T11:00:00.000-06:00

these two grad schools exist

2009-01-28T09:33:00.006-07:00

"These two facts do exist, that there are two grad schools, one being more intelligent than the other; there shall be another more intelligent than they; I am trying to pick one, I am less intelligent than they all."

Yes, it's the time in my life when the future looms brightly on the horizon, and I must make a decision between an awesome Shakespeare MFA in England, and an amazing Shakespeare MFA in the States. On the surface, the decision seems simple: who wouldn't go to England to study Shakespeare? But as I have investigated and weighed the two programs, the complexities of the decision at hand have deepened and multiplied.

Obviously, studying in England would be a dream. The countryside surrounding Exeter is idyllic, and living a two-hour train ride away from London (the greatest city on this planet) is a deeply appealing perk. Students in this program work occasionally with RSC and Globe people in Stratford and London, as they work on a two-year MFA that stresses audience interaction as the main focus of original practice Shakespeare. The English system of education is much more relaxed, and much more research-based than lecture-based. Also, the faculty is famously dubious when it comes to putting up full productions. But the campus is, I believe, the actual Garden of Eden, and the opportunity to live and study abroad for two years is so enticing that I'm about to stop writing now and make a decision!

But I can't. I have to give this program in Virginia a fair shot. So, the weekend before last, I flew out there and gave the campus a good visit, like I had in Exeter over the summer, just to make sure I was covering my bases.

You guys, the M.Litt/MFA at Mary Baldwin College is incredible. Students live and work in the Shenandoah valley--one of the most beautiful places in America. The program is rigorous, blending scholarship with stagecraft in a unique symbiosis that reflects what I've been trying to accomplish in my undergrad at UVU. They, like Exeter, focus on original practice Shakespeare, and offer unique internships with the American Shakespeare Center. They pull in top Shakespeare scholars and practitioners from the Shakespeare Institute, the RSC, and the Globe for their Blackfriar's conference, and boast an incredible faculty including Ralph Cohen and Jacquelyn Bessell. In short, their level of scholarship seems more extensive, and the level of student collaboration is much more evident. The myriad of acting and directing opportunities at the Blackfriars, in the community, and in traveling companies is too extensive to list, but trust me: there are more performance opportunities here than there will ever be in Exeter. Most importantly, though, are the teaching opportunities. The program is designed not only to hone the skills of Shakespeare performance and directing, but pedagogy as well. As a result, there are teaching assistantships available, unlike the Exeter program, which allow students to gain valuable teaching experience before they try to enter academia as a professor (which is my goal). So, more acting, more teaching, more directing, and more learning. Less England.

Less England. Aye, there's the rub. So... wtf?

Ultimately, unless someone or something reveals the Right Choice to me, this is going to be a question of money. The English Pound plummeted to a ridiculously low 1.35 per US Dollar earlier this month (thus lowering the cost of the program by a whopping $10,000 dollars), but it's on the rise. In the meantime, MBC is putting together a scholarship package for me, which they will announce in mid-March. At which point, theoretically, we will sit down and crunch the numbers, weigh the pros and cons once more, and make a final decision.

Scary. But so exciting. Because, when it comes right down to it, I can't make a wrong choice here. It's not like I can just defer to Stephanie on this one; she's as conflicted about it as I am. So, here goes. Exeter/Staunton. London/Washington DC. Devon/Virginia. England/America.

And, if I may, let me throw in a word here for UVU. There are those who smirk at the idea of UVU being a "real University." To the naysayers, the doubters, and the simple minds who scoff at my school's credibility, I would like to shove in your face the fact that I can write circles around you, I can outperform you on the stage, and I can walk into the grad school of my choice after deciding which scholarship to reject. If that sounds obscenely boastful to you, congratulations, you caught on. Yes, I am bragging. I am bragging because Utah Valley University has helped transform me into a well-read, well-spoken, diverse, intelligent individual with the background and skills to do exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life.

And one more thing: when I interviewed with these schools, nobody cared where I did my undergrad. They cared about whether or not I could write well, whether or not I could attend to the nuances of a text and apply post-structuralist thinking in innovative ways, and whether or not I had a dynamic portfolio of acting and directing experience. UVU has been instrumental in giving me access to these skills and opportunities. Because the outstanding faculty are so feverishly engaged in helping individual students reach their potential, anything is possible for students who engage themselves with tenacity equal to the challenge.

So, nothing personal, but you are misinformed if you think UVU is anything other than a real, relevant, and richly rewarding University. Either misinformed, or stupid.

sunsets

2009-01-02T09:43:00.003-07:00

One of my most important New Year's Resolutions, apart from graduating from UVU with a Bachelor's Degree in English and starting an MFA program in Directing at the University of Exeter, is to take better pictures this year than I did last year. See, we got this fancy-schmancy camera for Christmas, but there are a lot of buttons on it... like, a lot. And I don't know what they do. So, on the first day of the year, we went out to lovely Antelope Island on the Great Salt Lake to learn what some of the buttons on that camera do.

Of course my 18-year-old brother Jud (see figure 1) was dragged along, bereft of his cell phone and functioning on 2 hours of sleep. His interest in the expedition, from beginning to glorious end, can be summed up in one word: absent.

My dad, seen below in his most typical configuration, brought said brother on the trip in hopes that some fresh air and a short severance from his social umbilical device would make some sort of impression on him.

And Stephanie, apart from looking cute, was there to learn some of the ins and outs of photography as well. Also, this visit was her first to Antelope Island, that magical land of Buffalo and salt water. She shot with the D300, my dad shot his new D700, and I was on our recent Yule-tide acquisition, the Nikon D80.

Our primary subject of the journey was the sunset from Buffalo Point, which is rumored to attract "sunset-baggers" from around the world. Seriously, people literally fly here from China to see the sunset. So, we figured it would be an ideal location for our first photographic expedition of the new year. We were worried, however, that the oppressively overcast sky would stifle the brilliant colors we anticipated, and leave us with a pretty monochrome shoot.

Luckily, though, the sun dipped below the thick cloud cover in just the right spot on the horizon, and the lake turned to gold as the sky exploded in a burst of yellow light.

Shortly, the clouds became tinged with pink, and each nuance of color and shape was reflected in the glassy lake below. Incredibly, we were there for an absolutely breathtaking event, which moments earlier had looked like just another murky winter day.

Stephanie actually bagged the best shot of the night with the wide-angle lens on her D300. We submitted that photo to KSL, but they MUST have missed it because it wasn't on the evening news.

And this picture, one of the last as we were dragged away from the dying sunset by Jud, whose anxiousness to get back to the civilized world was by this time totally inconsolable, seemed to me to be a pretty fortuitous mistake. So, if I do end up taking some good pictures this year, it's likely that most of them will be a product of some kind of error. That's basically what I learned.

When I look at this picture, I consider the events of my life that occurred during 2008, and I'm filled with absolute gratitude. Our marriage in January, Midsummer at Sundance in August, Nosferatu in October, and of course Pericles always... The trips to California, Washington, and England... The time with family, the association of friends, the cushy job from which I'm writing this post, and all the precious moments spent with Stephanie; this has unquestionably been the most fulfilling year of my life.

To each of you whose light has shone on my life this year, may your sunshine never set on me. But if it does, let it be a sunset well worth spending 5 frigid hours on a god-forsaken speck of dirt in the middle of a stagnant, salty swamp.

Happy New Year!

sweet dreams

2008-12-05T08:31:00.005-07:00

Usually I'm quite the morning person. Really! As long as I've had 8 hours of sleep or more, and don't have anything like work or school going on later in the day, I jump right out of bed and hit the ground running. But, when I do have work or school or something weighing over my head in the morning, it's impossible for me to wake up! That's one of the main reasons I got married, besides the living arrangements.

So, this morning, like every morning in recent memory, began with the snooze button. Several times. And every time I woke up to hit snooze, I thought to my self, why isn't Stephanie getting up? Doesn't she know we have to go to school?

For an hour, I wondered this. I also wondered how I slept the whole night in the Freefaller position (see Fig. 1). More on that later.

Well, pretty soon it was 7:30. Definitely time to get up. Appropriately, this is usually the time that we start kicking each other. You know, playful wake up! kicks. Sometimes we poke or scratch backs or just start babbling. Whatever it takes to make sure the other person wakes up and gets out of bed already!

This morning, none of that worked! In fact, instead of getting up, Stephie started tickling me. Right!? I mean, here I am doing everything in my somnambulant power to help her wake up and get going, and she's tickling me! Then she starts babbling, as follows: "I'm trying to decide whether I'll be more effective at home or at school... It's cold out there..."

Needless to say, I got up. Yep, I was the martyr this morning. It was tough, and yeah there were times when I thought I might fail, but as I stumbled into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from my weary eyes, I admit I felt pretty proud of myself. Still do.

Anyway, did you know that the way you sleep says a lot about you? Well, it does. It's pretty much like a horoscope in your own bed! So I like to guess how my friends and family sleep based on their personalities, as follows:

Foetus Those who curl up in the foetus position are described as tough on the outside but sensitive at heart. They may be shy when they first meet somebody, but soon relax. This is the most common sleeping position, adopted by 41% of the 1,000 people who took part in the survey. More than twice as many women as men tend to adopt this position.

Foetus's: Sara Preston, Duardo Perez, My Mom.

Log Lying on your side with both arms down by your side. These sleepers are easy going, social people who like being part of the in-crowd, and who are trusting of strangers. However, they may be gullible.

Logs: Rachel Kitto, Jentrie Darling, Chris Nelson, Jalise Hinton.

Yearner People who sleep on their side with both arms out in front are said to have an open nature, but can be suspicious, cynical. They are slow to make up their minds, but once they have taken a decision, they are unlikely ever to change it.

Yearners: Ashleigh Lutes, Chris Clark, Joel Petire, Kacey Spadafora.

Soldier Lying on your back with both arms pinned to your sides. People who sleep in this position are generally quiet and reserved. They don't like a fuss, but set themselves and others high standards.

Soldiers: I don't know anybody like this.

Freefall Lying on your front with your hands around the pillow, and your head turned to one side. Often gregarious and brash people, but can be nervy and thin-skinned underneath, and don't like criticism, or extreme situations.

Freefallers: Emily Dabczynski, Amy Nelson.

Starfish Lying on your back with both arms up around the pillow. These sleepers make good friends because they are always ready to listen to others, and offer help when needed. They generally don't like to be the center of attention.

Starfishes: Alex Ungerman, Carson McFarland, My Dad.

Well, there are my guesses. Was I right???

Also, here's the big question: How does Mark Oram sleep? Stephanie, you can't answer this. And the prize is a fabulous Snickers Bar! And not a cheap-O "Fun-Size" either. So, get guessing!

HINT: I don't think I've ever slept as a Freefaller until last night. So, the answer is NOT Freefaller.

the human spray-bottle, the final encounter

2008-11-22T10:44:00.002-07:00

And here it is. The long-anticipated third book in the saga of The Human Spray-bottle. Enjoy.

Epilogue: I never intended for these books to remain unpublished for all these years. As you can tell, they were written when I was in elementary school, and reflect an actual event - that is, the first sentence of the first book reflects an actual event: Angie did, in fact, sneeze on me. And from that moment on, she has been known as the Human Spray-bottle.

You will also notice that I could not contain my passion for sequels. The third book was intended to conclude the series, and I loved the title so much that I couldn't let it go, even after writing the (dare I say, brilliant) teaser at the end of book three. Sadly, however, The Human Spray-bottle, Angie's Curse, was never written.

Furthermore, I realize that the illustrations which were such a vital part of the first two books are missing in the third. I have come to believe that this reflects my metamorphosis as an author from the 4th to the 6th grade, as there was approximately a 2-year gap between the writing of books two and three.

I would like to acknowledge that all of the characters in this three-part epic are real people, with the exception of Dr. Perry and his nurse, and that the names of actual persons have not been changed (though some may be misspelled.)

I would also like to acknowledge that Mrs. Bartley, from book two, is actually Hawaiian, or of Pacific Islander decent, and so the illustrations of her are inaccurate. I believe I either did not wish to appear racist, or couldn't locate a brown crayon before the book went to print.

In addition, I would also like to acknowledge that I did, in fact, vote for Barack Obama last month, and that I asked my wife to stand on my shoulders yesterday to install a UVU flag above our stairs: a spot which a poster of the aforementioned first black president of the United States used to occupy.

Furthermore, and finally, I wish to thank Alex Lang, even though I'm pretty sure it was his fault that the first two books were stapled backwards, and Apple computers, because the final book was written on a vintage Mac at my grandma's house. I apologize for the font.

the return of the human spray-bottle

2008-11-19T17:46:00.000-07:00

the human spray-bottle

2008-11-11T19:00:00.002-07:00

Click images to enlarge...

political advice

2008-11-07T17:56:00.000-07:00

I'm an English major. This means I love language enough to devote 4 years of my life to studying words and meaning. Part of my love for language comes from a sincere appreciation for argument. I love arguments. Not fights, mind you, but arguments: reasonable discussions in which opposing viewpoints are presented, refuted, revised, clarified, considered. And I love election season, because people get into some phenomenal arguments.

Sometimes arguments go bad, and become fights. People call each other names, they get really upset, and it bothers them for several days or weeks afterward. That's why you don't talk politics or religion among friends - you might get into a fight!

Over the past several weeks, I've been involved in some really enlightening arguments, as well as a few fights. I've been called names, I've been accused of all sorts of silly things, and I've even meted out a few comebacks. But, the majority of my arguments during this election season have been controlled, reasonable, and respectful.

So, to help you and your friends have positive, reasonable, uplifting arguments, I've designed this list of suggestions! Keep in mind, these may not all work for you. But try them out! I think you'll like them.

1. If you're going to argue on the internet, be careful! Sometimes people you don't even know will step in to the conversation, and since they don't know what an awesome person you are deep down inside, they might call you names! This is usually the first step to fighting, so try and avoid it.

2. Practice arguing both sides of an issue! If you're talking casually with a friend who you know holds political views that differ from yours, pretend to agree with them for a while. Argue their side. You'll sense that it's not much of an argument, but trust me, it will help you see the complexity of a given issue in a whole new way!

3. Don't be afraid to reconcile your differences. This may mean saying something like, "let's agree to disagree," or "I'm sorry that I called you a baby-killing terrorist." Who knows - a few simple words of kindness may work to your advantage!

4. Look your best! No argument will end in your favor unless you brush your teeth, comb your hair, and put on a nice clean shirt.

5. Try to understand key assumptions that your friend-with-an-opposing-but-not-necessarily-evil-viewpoint may have. For example, if your friend is a Liberal, he/she may assume that your views are entirely informed by Rush Limbaugh or Sean Hannity. If your friend is a Conservative, he/she may assume that you don't already know about the media's Liberal bias, or that you hate God.

6. If you sense that the argument is getting out of hand, take a breather. You could segue into it with something like "would you look at the time," or, "I think I left something in the oven!" These alibis will give you a chance to collect your thoughts before returning to the argument. And they may even take the wind out of your opponent's sails!

7. Find somebody with whom you agree, and talk with them often. This will help you to remember that your views are not necessarily irreligious or unfounded. It will also remind you that your opponent is stupid.

8. Before the argument, make some time to read a religious text and pray to a deity. Take what you read with a grain of salt, and don't use it in your argument. Scriptures are not rational.

9. When your opponent gets sassy or sarcastic, hurry and hit them with your last jab and then walk away. They stepped over the line, and they deserve to feel like an idiot.

10. If you are ever, at any point, swayed or intrigued by the opponent's viewpoint, (as when they present a piece of the puzzle you hadn't considered but immediately agree with) the argument is "out of hand." (See item 6.)

Well, I hope a few of my suggestions helped you! Of course, I guess they'll be more handy in 4 years when people start arguing again. So, just hang on to them until then.

no walking!

2008-11-02T09:22:00.000-07:00

Something happened to me this week that really got me thinking. See, I always understood that streets were for cars, and sidewalks were for people. I think we can all agree that, except in rare circumstances like "crosswalks," drivers belong on the road and people do not. But, what about parking lots?

I've always seen parking lots as sort of a nebulous area in transportation. I mean, you can drive, park, and walk in them, right? But, what about parking lots with crosswalks in them - isn't that kind of confusing?

Well, apparently I'm not the only person out there who is confused about this! See, on Thursday afternoon on my way to Pericles, I took my usual route from the bus stop to the meeting point. Admittedly, my usual route takes me across a really busy street with no crosswalk! So that part is always kind of scary, but I look both ways and everything, so it's no big deal.

So on Thursday, after I got across the busy street, I walked through the parking lot by Shopko in Provo. By this point, I was feeling pretty good. I mean, I made it across the street by myself! The parking lot should be no big thang!

But, as I was walking, this guy in a shiny black two-door Honda Civic got confused and tried to run me over! Luckily he missed, but I could tell it was a close one! He must have been thinking that parking lots are only for driving, not for walking (which is what I was doing, remember). So he pretended like he didn't see me, and that's when I almost got run over! I was really surprised that somebody would do this in a parking lot, so I was like, "excuse me!" in a really sassy voice.

I'm so glad it was a nice day, because his window was halfway down, and I know he heard me because right after that happened, he turned around and maneuvered through the parking lot until he was right next to me again! Then he leaned out his now-fully-rolled-down window and asked the question on everyone's mind: "are you supposed to be walking here?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly, "do you see any sidewalks around that I could use?" I knew this was a zinger of a question, because there aren't any sidewalks in that parking lot! Hence the nebulousness!

So the jerk responds, "You tell me!" in his snide little way, as if to say you're the one who's walking, instead of driving a tricked-out black Civic like me. Why should I be responsible for knowing where sidewalks are? Isn't that your job - pedestrian!?

To which I replied, "No, I don't think there are any around, but thanks..." The "thanks" was really sarcastic and biting. In case you haven't gotten a sense of things yet, this was a really tense confrontation by now! We were really fighting!

So, off he went, all snooty with nothing else to say, but having made his point very clear. And just before he was out of earshot, I told him what I really thought of his advice.

Red taillights flashed. The black Civic turned again, and I planted my feet. It was at this moment that I thought to myself, maybe the parking lot really is for cars. What if he decides to try and hit me again? I can't outrun that snazzy car!

So I put on my most intimidating MarkOram persona and said "do you really want to fight right here in a parking lot? Just drive away. Drive away! Bye!" And I waved.

He waved back with a nervous smile.

I watched him turn, drive to a nearby parking spot, and park.

I started to walk away. And as I did, casually glancing over my shoulder to make sure he was finished attacking me, I wondered what does he imagine he's going to do next? Get out of his car and walk?

the other zoe!

2008-10-27T22:14:00.000-06:00

I would apologize to both of my regular readers for the long break between posts, but they know that, when I have had a spare moment to blog, it's been on the Nosferatu blog.

And while I'm on the topic - Nosferatu is amazing! Absolutely the best show I've ever been involved in. I'm seriously so blessed to be a part of it. And Chris was so kind to give me the role of Knock - a freakin crowd-pleaser.

In other news, I signed Zoe's playbill tonight. Zoe is in first grade, she likes her teacher, and she's not playing as much Animal Crossing as she did during Midsummer Night's Dream. She waited for 15 minutes after the show got out just to say hi and get my signature. Pretty much, she's my number-1 fan under the age of nine.

childhood gold

2008-10-05T23:36:00.000-06:00

I'm borrowing Volume 1 of the Animaniacs complete series from my brother-in-law. This series, along with Power Rangers, Batman, and Dexter's Laboratory, was religiously watched by the child version of me whenever it was on. I can still sing the entire "nations of the world" song - from memory.

Also, the volume contains some "Pinky and the Brain" episodes, which I always thought was a completely different show for some inexplicable reason... But, it makes me happy to hear Pinky shouting his nonsense words, and "pondering what I'm pondering."

So how nostalgic, right? I mean, watching these things is bringing back all sorts of childhood memories - memories of me... well, sitting in front of the TV. In these memories, I don't even get a sense that I'm watching them with my brothers - it's just me and the tube. Hm. So, the more I consider it, the more it seems accurate to say that my childhood memories are largely constructed by the television shows I watched as a kid. Sitting in front of the television for hours on end, I let Fox and Warner Brothers inform my formative years, developing in me a sincere nostalgia for what? - a TV show.

Where are the memories of digging up worms, flying kites, and catching frogs? Well, I don't think I ever caught frogs, but I did do those other things, and I remember them. No, I don't believe television has a monopoly on my childhood memories. I just think it's got a much bigger slice than it deserves.

While I'm on the subject of childhood memories, I'll relate a favorite:

Just one block down the street from our split-entry suburban starter-home, on the same corner where I waited for the school bus each morning, there was a "mansion," surrounded by tall hedges and a wrought iron fence. The place intrigued us, because it was so clearly off limits, and none of our friends lived there. In fact, as I later discovered, no one lived there anymore. In fact, the "mansion" was now home to some sort of geological survey office, which meant to me that they collected rocks.

Having been assigned to bring samples of a rock to school, and explain its origin to my 3rd or 4th grade class, I mustered the courage necessary to approach the "mansion," intending to inquire about their collection of rocks. Immediately I was ushered in by a nice man, whose face I do not remember at all, probably because I was afraid to look at him. He showed me a bar of solid gold, and let me pick it up. It was heavy! And, in response to my explanation of the assignment I'd been given, the man handed me three different samples of rock, and told me about each one.

The first was "fool's gold," which didn't look anything like the gold bar, and that made me chuckle. Who could be so stupid to think that this was gold?

The second, I cannot recall.

But the third was a thick slab of slick, black, brittle obsidian. The rock was shiny, and deep black, with hard edges where it had apparently been broken free from its original home. Obsidian, the man explained, was a volcanic rock, created when the lava from a volcano cools. Some unique properties of obsidian: it could easily be broken into several pieces, and most interestingly, it would explode when microwaved.

Within thirty minutes of this discovery, all thoughts of my class assignment had vanished. I had found a small hammer in the garage, broken the obsidian into small, retail-sized chunks and, using a large blue cooler as a table, set up a rock stand in my front yard.

Exploding Rocks! 25 cents!

The venture was an instant success. Because our home was stationed across the street from a cul-de-sac, where kids were always riding their bikes, playing street football, or charging their Power Wheels, my front yard was a prime location for sales. Soon, there was a small crowd of curious investors, considering my claim about the "exploding rocks." I had the upper hand, first because I had obtained the rocks from the mysterious "mansion," and this seemed to hold a lot of weight with the neighbor kids, who were just as awed by that strange place as I was, and second, because the rocks weren't going to explode until they were purchased and microwaved.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of my customers, and I made a haul before they scurried off to their nearby houses, exploding rocks in hand.

Moments later, before I had even had time to dismantle my stand and hide the remaining fragments of obsidian, a furious mother stormed over from the house next door, demanding to know what I had done to get such a ridiculous notion into her son's head. I remember she was worried about something - maybe the damage it could have caused to the microwave... I could've cared less, though. I already had a pocket full of quarters.

And of course I wasn't stupid enough to try blowing one up in my own microwave. So, to this day, I have no idea what obsidian does when it's microwaved. Probably nothing. But I got to do business with the Ice Cream Man that week, and such a rare event was certainly worth selling a little fool's gold.

buncha pilches

2008-10-01T23:38:00.000-06:00

Performing with the BYU Young Company Shakespeare Troupe has been an absolutely rewarding, positive experience so far! Granted, I'm throwing myself a party to celebrate the end of its dreadfully ill-timed evening performances at the Nelke this Friday, but I couldn't be more pleased with the touring experience itself, or with the hilarious cast.

Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, we haphazardly meet at any of 3 or 4 locations across Provo, load a 10-passenger van with about 1,000lbs. of props, set, and costumes, and drive to a new and exciting elementary school to perform our show. Our drives include reading, playing iPod karaoke, singing "Taco on Fire," complaining about the A/C, and "warming up" our voices by meshing consonants and vowels together to say swear words (but not really - we're representing the Lord).

This Tuesday we performed to an appreciative audience of about 600 kids. Their principal was really scary. Sometimes we get older kids - 5th and 6th graders - and other times we get really young ones. I like the younger kids better, because they're not ashamed to yell "fishies!!!" when our Tempest fish come swimming out, or scream "eeeeeewwww!!!" when we announce that the show may contain some "true love."

Also, it's a blast to be able to see an entire audience immediately "check out" when they decide the show has become utterly boring. It's like a wave of irreverence washes over them, and they're all thinking, where are the pirates?

My favorite part of the experience, of course, has been the cast itself. Since my schedule is literally packed to the breaking point this semester, they've been so kind to drop me off by UVU on their way back to the Y. This does mean that I skip out on a bunch of the unloading (which is great for my back), but after I learned to ignore the sinking feeling of guilt that hits me as they drive off to finish their afternoon's work without me, I really began to appreciate their considerateness! (And that is a word - maybe not a good one, but it's a word.)

We really do have a lot of fun. It's especially entertaining to try and gauge the general mood of the group when we first get together on a given day. Sometimes we're all ready to "walk it out," and other times we all just want to die on the freeway. It's like we're on the same cycle. Of touring.

Anyway, that's Pericles so far. Nosferatu is also going really well - partly because the show is going to be insanely amazing, and partly because I haven't yet been to a full rehearsal. If you want to read more about that show, check out this blog, on which I'm a contributor. It really is going to be the theater event of the decade.

god save the queen

2008-09-17T08:41:00.000-06:00

Seeing as how my wife and I went to England this summer, I think it's about time I posted a few pictures of the trip.

Best seats in the house at Shakespeare's Globe Theater

Sunset over the Irish Sea

Stephanie locked in the White Tower at the Tower of London

Millennium Bridge and St. Paul's

St. James's Park, near Buckingham Palace

Kensington Gardens

Monument to William Shakespeare, inside Westminster Abbey

Bus outside St. Paul's

Imperial Rose Gardens in Regent's Park

fall

2008-09-12T08:44:00.000-06:00

Fall has always been a big favorite as far as seasons go. It's not too hot, not too cold, and has that unique quality of the beauty that comes with age. Although the leaves on the trees are vibrant, they are dying. Although the sunsets are gorgeous, they presage a longer night ahead than the one before. There is something inspiring in the way summer refuses to go quietly, yielding its warmth to the frosty winter only after a display of stunning color and grace. Each breath of warm air breathes comfort, each blade of green grass seems indignantly brighter. The swan song of summer is a long, unrelenting crescendo into the magic of winter's first dusting of white snow.

what ho, pilch!

2008-09-09T10:10:00.000-06:00

Today begins an epic journey for the cast of BYU Young Company's Pericles, Prince of Tyre. For the next four months, we will be touring the Salt Lake and Utah Valleys, performing our 50-minute adaptation of Shakespeare's wild adventure story. The following production photos should give you a sense of the energy and creativity that's gone into the show already. It's going to be phenomenal!!

sun dance

2008-08-24T21:26:00.000-06:00

As weeds crept upward through the weathered benches of the old alpine amphitheater, wasps threatened our invading presence from stage left. We were strangers there, like children peering into a dusty library, both awed and daunted by the potential that lay before us.

The dirt and pine needles were swept away as paint and sawdust and electricity met in a flurry of creativity, breathing renewed life into the hallowed space. We began, in what way we could, to make it our own. Fascinations became familiarities, but the haunting majesty of our forest home refused to surrender its intoxicating wonder.

We danced out our dreams upon that spectacular stage, treading carefully amid ghosts and memories. Each fragrant breath of mountain air drew us closer to the curtain, and before a hundredth of a second had passed, our old alpine amphitheater was again abandoned.

We left hardly a shadow, hardly a whisper behind to guard our sacred moment, entrusting its memory to the mountain breeze, to tell our frolic until all other recollections vanish, and the weeds at last retake their alpine amphitheater.

more mirth!

2008-08-14T11:20:00.000-06:00

For those of you who still love me, there are only 7 performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream left. If you need some convincing, here are a few random bloggers who found the show memorable enough to merit a post.

spetersonfamily.blogspot.com
snydfam.blogspot.com
leftyfifty.blogspot.com
kosterklan.blogspot.com
horspool.blogspot.com

the new facebook

2008-08-07T09:46:00.000-06:00

If you're on facebook, you know that things have changed this week. The new re-design of the popular social networking site has caused quite a stir among users of the website. So, in an effort to introduce some healthy sarcasm into the debate, I posted the following note on my page:

"I have been with this social networking site through thick and thin, but this latest overhaul is just too much! What these people at Facebook clearly don't understand is that my profile is a reflection of my SELF - and when they brazenly sweep aside my cherished settings and layout for their own purposes, they are tarnishing my SOUL!!

Seriously, what is their deal? It used to be that all my Facebook crap - vampires, super wall, books iread, and what-harry-potter-character-are-you - were located conveniently on my lovely, scrollable profile page. This page was a window into my world, through which my adoring entourage of friends glimpsed the deepest recesses of my personality. But what have they done? They have SUCKED the personality out of my profile page, and introduced tabs - TABS!? - which people must CLICK in order to see.

I have nothing to hide from my friends, but with this confounded tabbing, I have no choice. My favorite movies, my collection of groups, even my effing map of places I've been - all are hidden from immediate view, and stuffed under ridiculously un-usable "tabs." F-that.

And what the hell - ads are now on the RIGHT instead of the LEFT!? That's a low blow - it really is. I mean, we all know that people read from right to left, so the first thing I always see now are the stupid ads! With the old facebook, I didn't even notice they were there! Now I'm going to have to download an ad-blocking software, and you know that isn't going to be pretty.

I could go on. Suffice it to say, I'm outta here. Facebook, you have betrayed my loyalty for the last time. I don't just fill your site with scads of my personal information just to watch you turn around and mutilate it like this. We are THROUGH!!"

A bit melodramatic, no? I thought so. In fact, I thought this note was so outlandish and overblown that people would recognize it as sarcasm, and maybe realize that changes to a social networking site are NOT a cataclysmic event.

Unfortunately, people didn't get it. I started getting posts saying "I agree! The new Facebook sucks! I'll never be separated from the old layout!!" Ugh!

The next day, I wrote this note, hopefully clearer:

When facebook made the current changes to its layout, users all over the place were plunged into depression. It was as if, over night, people everywhere had suddenly lost a loved one and weren't quite sure how to cope with it. Some denied the changes had been made, sticking to the "old facebook" like dry chewing gum. Others, in a panic, began frantically organizing themselves into enraged facebook groups, in vehement protest of the new layout. And many, I've noticed, walked around for several days with a chip on their shoulder, complaining about everything else in the world in an effort to assuage their feelings of loss and regret.

I am here to say, SHUT UP! Get over it! Good grief, people, this is not the end of the world! So the feed has been combined with the Wall. It's a big step, I know. Let's just breathe and think about it for a second. Okay, first of all, you have control over what shows up on your feed. See that little link up at the top right of this page called "Settings?" It is your friend! So, you don't have to read a "story" about every time an application sends invites to 20 of your unsuspecting friends. You can just keep it down to wall posts, status updates, and photos if you want, and really, are we going to die if we have to glance over those things a few times a day?

Also, yes, it's buggy. It's a brand new release. It will be fixed. Deal with it.

Furthermore, what is the deal with all the people whining about how "ugly" it looks now? It's been cleaned up!! We don't have to scroll through pages of stupid, brainless, time-wasting applications to write on a friend's wall or find their latest photo upload - it's all right there at the top! And if you want to poke around in their personal information, or look at their stupid conglomeration of applications, it takes a whopping nanosecond to click on the tab at the top of the page, and there you are.

The ads are on the right, where the eye looks last, not first, because if you haven't noticed as you've been perusing this note, you are reading it from left to right. The profile pages are still very reconfigurable, so if you really, really want that ridiculous pirate app on your front page, you can do that. It's not difficult.

Anyway, the long and short of this is - get the hell over it. Seriously. This is a website, not a mirror to your soul. Grow up, have some patience, try something new, and for crying out loud, find something interesting to read because this note is ridiculous.

longboard lane

2008-07-29T12:09:00.000-06:00

As I've already mentioned, I work with a few gems over here in Prospective Student Services. Today, we reached a new low.

While at my desk, doing important research, I got a phone call from a coworker whose friend had been in a longboarding accident. She asked for me, specifically, to come out to her car in front of campus and help carry a backpack. Naturally, I became curious, and ventured outside to see what was going on.

As I approached, the obviously injured friend was being supported by my brilliant coworker, who then handed the longboard off to me so she could lock the car. They then commenced the long walk across campus to the Student Health Center. Nevermind the parking lot right next to the Health Center. Maybe the cross-campus jaunt will be good for the sprained ankle.

When the invalid arrived at our office, my incredible coworker decided it would be prudent to get some wheels under the injured boarder. There were a few options that I considered - our golf kart, our boss's scooter, going back out to the car and driving - but what came out of my mouth? "Why don't you just use the longboard?" It's got wheels, after all.

And with that, my intelligent coworker lovingly assisted her incapacitated friend onto the longboard, and commenced to push her carefully down the hall of flags, towards the Student Center, and out of sight.

propaganda

2008-07-29T10:57:00.000-06:00

Yes, it's finally back! Sundance Summer Theater, in partnership with Utah Valley University, presents William Shakespeare's grossly overdone comedy, A Midsummer Night's Dream!

It's theater in the woods, so even if they play is horrible, you won't feel ripped off!

The shown runs on Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights from August 2nd to the 23rd. Tickets are $15, general admission, and the house opens at 7:00pm.

See you at Sundance!

866.551.4485 or email boxoffice@sundance-utah.com

this is a rant

2008-07-28T12:47:00.000-06:00

It's been a good month for blogging. I've posted lots and lots of phenomenal content, of which I am rather proud. But, as I think about the things that have happened this month, it makes me wonder why I haven't spent the last 30 days ranting and raving. The more I think about it, the more I realize, I have been living on the verge of catastrophe!

Earlier this month, random people in Mexico started using my checking account. And no, I don't know how they got my information - if I knew that, they wouldn't have gotten it! But, thankfully, the $900 and $600 dollar transactions they attempted were rejected, but that didn't stop them from taking a $50 dollar trip to McDonald's. Nothing says identity theft like a free BigMac!

Also, about 10 days before opening night of Midsummer Night's Dream, I finally got the accordion that I'll be playing during the final scene. Funny thing, I've never played the accordion. So, I have a whopping week to learn that instrument, and perform with it. Also, our director and good friend John has been diagnosed with cancer.

I'd probably be better able to spend time playing the accordion if I hadn't had to suddenly uproot my life and move across town last week. Wishful thinking. On Tuesday, our landlord informed us that to accommodate his Mother-in-law, we had to vacate the premises as soon as possible. We found a new apartment on Thursday, signed on Friday, and moved on Saturday, Between dress and tech rehearsals for Midsummer, and after a frantic search, during which I've had limited access to my bank account.

Now, we need to cancel the Comcast that we just set up two weeks ago, and try to get some of that money back. Also, we have a long list of things to buy and/or fix for the new apartment. Someday we need to unpack. And, of course, I still have to learn the accordion by Saturday, because there will be an audience by then.

But Stephanie and the rest of my family have been so incredibly supportive and helpful... in fact, that's probably why I haven't ranted about any of this stuff. Hm, thanks Steph!

i am batman

2008-07-22T09:19:00.000-06:00

On a far less profound note, I saw The Dark Knight yesterday. Now, I'll assume you've already heard the gushing reviews from the army of teenagers who saw the movie last weekend, and I'll also assume that you, like myself, didn't believe them. How could a Batman movie jump to the top of IMDb's top 250 of all-time in a single weekend? The hype is obscene!

So, to combat this hype, intelligent moviegoers are voraciously picking away at The Dark Knight's flaws, trying desperately to prove that they are not being swept along in a pop-culture tidal wave of Bat-worship.

Now I know what you're thinking - who's right? Who's telling the truth about this movie!? The answer, of course, is me. And so, since my opinion is the only one that matters in this case, I will commence to explain exactly why The Dark Knight is every bit as praiseworthy as it's loyal fans believe.

As a kid, one of my absolute favorite cartoons was "Batman: The Animated Series." This Emmy-winning series was dark, often scary, and psychologically intense. Its characters had tragic, horrifying pasts, which influenced their violent, usually psychotic behavior. Most of the villains were deep, conflicted, and sympathetic, even as they were ruthless and despicable. Even Batman himself was enigmatic and tormented. Some characters, however, were just plain evil.

It was this richness of conflict and complexity, layered over a very dark Gotham, that made the Animated Series so successful, and so enthralling to watch. And "The Dark Knight," like it or not, channels the same chaotic moral landscape.

Although much of hype surrounds the character of the Joker, the story is really about new District Attorney Harvey Dent, who Batman fans will immediately recognize as the chilling character known as Two-Face. The journey of this immensely intriguing character, played admirably by Aaron Eckhart, gives a human core to the film, centering its themes in reality while the chaos escalates.

And let's talk about chaos. Much has been said about Heath Ledger's performance, and deservedly so. He is horrifying. And his character explains exactly why we're so creeped out by his energetic penchant for menace - "I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one. I just do things." He's in the business of creating chaos, not out of revenge or a twisted sense of justice, but merely for the pleasure of watching what happens when the best laid plans fall apart. He's no longer a man, he's a symbol, and represents the anarchy and masochism which mankind keeps below the surface. He's terrifying because he is the worst in each of us, and he likes it.

That's a villain. And his opponent must learn to become as formidable by embracing his own character's symbolic potential. In the end, (without giving everything away), Batman has finally made the transformation which began in the first movie - he has become the "dark knight," and it's oddly satisfying. Batman is not a moral imperative, he is whatever Gotham needs him to be. It's an interesting take on the way signification can shift in order to restructure the surrounding landscape. But I wax theoretical.

In short, the movie rocks. People who complain about Maggie Gyllenhall as Rachel are shallow. People who complain that the film is "too dark" are ignorant. And people who complain about the movie's length have small bladders. It's a brilliant film, absolutely deserving of praise, and more than anything else, it's fun to watch. I felt the same suspense, the same revulsion, and the same intrigue that drew me in to the Animated Series years ago.

no wealth but this

2008-07-21T09:42:00.001-06:00

In some ways, the ideology of capitalism seeks to replace genuine human relationships with constructed systems of power. Let me explain.

Money is a socially constructed system of exchange, in which particular symbols are understood to represent material wealth. Money itself, although merely a symbol, bestows power upon the bearer, making him or her "wealthy." Notice, for example, that when someone wants to express a particularly sincere emotion such as love or gratitude to a person, the impulse is to purchase them something "special," after either working extra hours to pay for it, or racking up some kind of debt. In essence, money replaces more organic expressions of love, as we rely on quantities of a socially constructed symbol to communicate our feelings.

I mention this because last night, at my grandpa Reid's 80th birthday celebration, he said something rather profound. After eating and celebrating, singing "happy birthday" twice, and watching a slideshow depicting significant events in our grandpa's life, we all fell silent to hear what he had to say. Struggling with his emotions, he said "There is a truth: there is no weath but this."

I've been thinking about the definition of weath for quite some time now. I'm a "poor" married college student in a struggling economy, and I can't afford to purchase the status symbols which capitalism teaches me to strive for. So, to hear grandpa, after 80 years of life, having seen all kinds of material riches, declare that the only genuine wealth in life is the association of loving, organic, family relationships - it made me feel rich.

patriotic super soakers

2008-07-08T11:08:00.000-06:00

I'm not really that patriotic. I mean, I'm an Obama supporter for crying out loud. I don't have a flag lapel pin, I don't always hold my hand over my heart when photographers are nearby, and I certainly don't like John McCain. That's why, when the John McCain car drove by last weekend in the Kaysville Parade, I dumped a 5-gallon bucket of water right at the driver's window! Ha! Stupid Republican.

Anyway, I mention this un-Patriotic act because it happened at my favorite event of the year: Kaysville's 4th of July Parade. Every year, 15,000 people line Main Street in K-town to witness the most wasteful, dangerous, and indulgent spectacle imaginable - a city-wide Water Fight.

It's really the most exciting thing that happens in Utah, I think. Well, Hannah Montana and Glenn Beck excluded, of course. Picture it: everyday citizens of Kaysville take arms against the Fire Department, using nothing but hoses, water balloons, and buckets! Fire trucks douse the croud, pickup trucks lined with tarps deliver a deluge of cool blasts, and huge 5,000-gallon water trucks open up their valves on unsuspecting victims. It's 45 minutes of absolute anarchy. What a way to celebrate the 4th, right?

Unfortunately, this year there was a little accident. Two, actually. One kid got his foot run over by a trailer carrying buckets of water, and another kid got his poor little tummy run over! The parade was derailed, the hoses were shut off, and Kaysville returned to the normal, quiet, conservative little town that it always is. The same day, both kids were released from the hospital.

Tomorrow, the Kaysville City Council will discuss what to do with the Kaysville Parade's future. Certainly safety is a big issue - imagine if one of those little kids had been seriously hurt, all for a water fight. But, at this crucial juncture in the history of K-town, I ask the City Council to consider what might happen if this annual ritual ceases to be.

For me, this yearly display of utter negligence and wastefulness represents the repressed instincts of an entire year, finally released for a few brief moments of squirt-gunning freedom! What if 15,000 people are denied this moment of freedom - freedom to hurl water at a stingy neighbor, freedom to hold a hose to a teacher's head and let loose, freedom to get wet and wild with 15,000 instant family members? The answer: anarchy. And not just 45 minutes of it.

So, if you love your country, please do the Patriotic thing, and allow this spectacle of splashing to continue. By all means, do what you must to make it safer - but please, don't discontinue the one event that puts Kaysville on the map. Or I'll get you with my Super Soaker any day of the week!

be true to your school

2008-07-03T12:33:00.000-06:00

In keeping with the political vein of the last post, I submit my response to this Editorial in the Salt Lake Tribune. Enjoy:

Mission creep: UVU should remember those who need it most
Tribune Editorial

"Mission creep." The term, defined as what happens when a community college changes its status to a university, has an ominous tone. It sounds like a bacteria that slowly devours the original grass-roots mission being well-served by an efficiently run institution.

Like Utah Valley State College, now Utah Valley University.

Those who pushed for the status change for the Utah County college said the community would benefit by having access to master-degree programs in education, nursing and business. And that is probably true. But if this benefit comes at the expense of students who were able to get college training only because of the remedial and English-as-a-second-language classes and low tuition at UVSC, then the university name and three graduate degrees are not worth the loss.

To be honest, university-status proponents would have to admit that gaining prestige and credibility for the faculty, administrators and donors at UVSC was at least as important as serving the needs of Utah County residents.

But, whatever the motivation, the deed has been done. UVU celebrated its new name and status Monday with a country-Western music concert, tuition for the coming school year promptly jumped by nearly $200, and Utah taxpayers began shelling out $10 million more per year, minimum.

University spokespeople say UVU will continue to serve low-income and underprepared freshmen students and will not forget its original purpose. No "mission creep" here, they promise.

We hope they are sincere and that their promise will not be forgotten. But we hear from some experts that, sincerity aside, those promises are nearly always forgotten once a new university hires a lot of new full-time faculty with doctorates who may be less inclined to have their students' needs at heart than their own career advancement.

Because teaching students who have a difficult time with English and who did not excel in Advanced Placement classes and college-prep courses in high school just isn't fulfilling to some professors who have spent many years bolstering their own academic credentials.

So, now that the deal has been signed and delivered, we hope UVU officials will do all they can to guard against "mission creep" and remember whom they are meant to serve.

My Response:

As a current student at Utah Valley University, I could not disagree more strongly with the negative attacks against our institutional growth. Although the genuine concerns regarding the role which UVU will play in the future are valid, it is critical to note that these concerns are not limited to angry, misinformed citizens.

The administration and legislature, while forward-thinking with regard to the scope of educational opportunities which UVU will afford its students, has shown sincere and diligent focus in maintaining technical and vocational certificates and degrees, tailoring our Masters programs to the most pressing needs of our community, and maintaining a timely, relevant, student-focused mission statement. Tuition at UVU will not rise as a result of its new status, nor will our open-enrollment policy change. On the contrary, we continue to offer some of the most affordable, accessible, and highest quality education in the country, as evidenced by our successful graduates, burgeoning community involvement, and meteoric growth (8th in the U.S.)

Those who denigrate the progress of institutions of higher learning fail to see all the marvelous opportunities that await UVU's present and future students, and usually do so with either political or religious agendas. In reality, it is the students who most directly suffer from such negativity. At a time when the student body of UVU can hold their heads high, and celebrate their increasingly influential University, it is disappointing that so many seek to undermine that celebration.

As students and faculty know, there's never been a better time to be a student at this institution. We are proud of our campus, our professionals, and our future. All of which are brighter than ever.

the delusional universe

2008-07-02T12:54:00.000-06:00

My wife's friend is a student at BYU, who loves to read the editorial section of the Daily Universe. Her zeal for this hilariously pretentious and misinformed section of "news" has inspired me to do a little editorializing myself. Here is an article from a particularly thick-headed student, with my corrections in green.

Standing Up for Bush: He Gives More Than Just Hope
By Natali Wyson - 10 Jun 2008

The media sometimes has a reputation for being liberal. Many attribute this to the idea that liberals just have bigger mouths. Well, as a big-mouthed conservative, I thought I would share a couple thoughts about the elections and the Bush Administration in response to some recent opinion letters to the editor and articles circulating in other media.

If you scrape away all the hype, it turns out our country has done quite well under George Bush. The current unemployment rate in Utah happens to be 3.1 percent - tell me the last time a Democratic president saw that number. Try never. Actually, during Clinton’s presidency, Utah’s unemployment rate reached 3.0 percent.

Our economy was sliding into recession as Bill Clinton left office, the market crash of 2000 being a sign of the overindulgence of his economic legacy. Actually, the market crash of 2000-02 was caused by the unforeseen bursting of the tech bubble, and the terrorist attacks of 2001, not Clinton. Yet with quick and carefully placed tax cuts (for the richest 2% of America’s citizens), Bush managed to pull us out of the slide and gave us six strong years followed by the last year - which has been normal - not strong but not recession, either. Actually, markets just faced the worst June since the Great Depression.

Barack Obama has what to offer us? Hope? Oh yeah, I forgot - hope in what? Hope that he can do something. He has never done anything (actually, he has severed as a US Senator, and on the following:

-Health, Education, Labor and Pensions Committee
- Foreign Relations Committee
- Veterans Affairs Committee
- 2005 and 2006: served on the Environment and Public Works Committee),

so all we have to hang on to is hope. OK, I get it now; let's hope then.

Remember, he was only elected to the Senate in 2004 and his last two years have been spent running for the presidency. He will bring a lot of hope that is for sure - hope that even though he hasn't done anything of note in 44 years (besides publish 3 books, clean up the streets of Chicago, raise a family, and beat Hillary Clinton in an historic primary), somehow he will do something now. Sure, let's all hope. Because with Obama, hope is all you will have. While doing it, let's hope BYU wins the national championship next year in football, baseball and basketball - the trifecta. Hey, they've never done it before, but it's all about hope, isn't it? (Actually, it really is all about hope, but I'll spare you the pretentious scriptural reference.)

Let's analyze the intelligence of college America: the Republicans provide college students with an economy full of jobs with the lowest unemployment in decades. Don't college kids want jobs? Oh no, they don't want jobs, they just want hope. Sorry, but I prefer something more substantial. Actually, although economic policies differ, Democrats also advocate employment as means of procuring growth and prosperity (see 2nd paragraph). One would think this goes without saying.

It is strange that if you listen to the Obama supporters you realize something right away: They only like Obama because he isn't George Bush. Actually, while that is certainly a valid reason to like someone, there are other reasons, enumerated daily by millions of supporters. Maybe they hope that Barack-Robin Hood-Obama will steal from all the evil rich people and give it to the poor. Sounds good, I guess, unless you are in the middle of 4-7 grueling years in college so that you can become one of those rich people. Actually, most college students outside of your bubble identify as liberals or moderates, indicating that they are more interested in a fair distribution of wealth than obscene personal fortunes.

We could just get a head start on this process here at BYU. I propose all of those who have a perfect 4.0 because of long hours of late night studying stop being so selfish with their GPAs. Why can't we just spread them around a little bit so all of us can have a decent 3.0? Come on, straight-A-people; don't you care about the other students who don't have time to study because they are trying to have a social life? Wow, what a heartless bunch of students we have here. Actually, GPA is not a form of currency. Sorry, but that idea is stupid. Fair distribution of wealth, however, is a good idea. It puts money into the pockets of middle-class, hard-working Americans - the ones who are really putting in the hours at two or three jobs to pay for exploding energy and food prices, for which we have the current administration to thank.

The Bush Administration has not been perfect by any means, but they do understand one simple concept: There is evil in the world and you must confront it. Obama would like us to believe that only America is evil and if America would just love everyone they would all love us back. Let's just all hold hands and be friends. Actually, Obama has an aggressive plan to identify and disarm actual terrorists, rather than continuing the fruitless foreign policies of the current administration, which have led us into the disastrous and seemingly endless Iraq War.

Remember, the terrorists do not ever say if we would be nice to them they would be nice back; they make it very clear that Israel must be wiped off the map and that the U.S. must be brought down and made to do things their way. Terrorists - the ones Obama wants to love into the fold of peace (actually, he wants to destroy them – “the United States must forcefully pursue radical Islamic terrorists who are intent on launching an attack on America”) - never say they are willing to live in peace with us. Search and you will find this is true. They only say we have two choices: to join them or to die. That is the only offer. Obama and his ilk are too blind to see this. George Bush recognizes that evil exists and he faces it. (Yes, he faces it, as a bungling idiot, whose recklessness has diminished our great nation’s reputation at home and abroad, and led to the unnecessary deaths of thousands of precious American sons and daughters. Barack Obama offers a clear departure from the violent, fear-mongering, and misinformed administration under which we now suffer.)

Natali Wyson is a reporter for The Daily Universe. And a fool.

pilotwings

2008-07-02T10:43:00.001-06:00

My job, the one where I brag and give out free stuff, is pretty sweet. I mean, I love it. Here I am, blogging about it, and getting paid. Beat that. But, one of the downsides to this job is the nasty habit I get into because of it. I brag. A lot. So, I'm sorry about that oranges post. I'm really not that good at acting yet. And, I don't even know Jenna Fischer. Not even on MySpace. I deleted my MySpace account a long time ago.

But this next thing, I really am amazingly good at, and I'm not just saying that. I am a fabulous pilot.

See, flight has been on my mind lately. I think it all started with that dream I had, the night before we flew back from London. I dreamed that I was watching a commercial jet flying pretty low, when suddenly its left jet engine exploded, compromising the wing, and sending the aircraft into a violent spiral to the ground. It hit the ground in the distance behind some trees, but I saw the explosion and heard people screaming. Needless to say, the dream made for an white-knuckle flight back to Salt Lake City.

Strangely, this creepy dream awakened in me an abiding interest in everything flight-related, but especially air-accidents, and me getting a Private Pilot's License. So, I've been doing my homework, and getting plenty of practice on Pilotwings, which is pretty much exactly like the real thing. And Google Earth, which is the real thing:

The other day, I discovered (to my wife's everlasting chagrin) a secret Flight Simulator hidden within Google Earth. Ever since, this thing has occupied my every spare moment. I've flown through the Swiss Alps, the Caribbean, London, Paris, Rome, and especially the Wasatch Front. And let me tell you, there are a lot of airports around here! You'd be surprised, being a land-dweller.

So, after only about 20 hours of photo-realistic flight experience, I'd consider myself an expert pilot. I flew through the middle part of the Eiffel Tower, I successfully landed the F-16, and even remembered to extend the landing gear (which is really hard to remember!)

Anyway, as I've been acquiring my google pilot's license, I've also been revisiting the friendly skies of Pilotwings 64, the incredible 1996 game for Nintendo 64.

Let me tell you, I rock this game. I have a perfect score on almost every level, and that is no easy feat! The hang-glider levels are especially difficult, especially the ones where you have to take aerial photography of all kinds of ridiculous moving targets like sea monsters, oil rigs, and the space shuttle.

But, I just do the hang-glider levels for fun. I do the gyrocopter levels for practice. A gyrocopter is pretty much like an airplane, but it's also got unlimited missiles, which is a really awesome bonus. So, that's what I'm really doing with my time these days, when I'm not at rehearsal. I know you're super jealous, but come on.

the new library!

2008-07-02T09:20:00.000-06:00

Yesterday - you know, the day President Monson shook my head - was the first official day of Utah Valley University. It was also the ribbon-cutting for the new Library, and since lots of people at a certain other school in the valley are still snickering about our University standing, I decided to post a couple of the photos I snapped at the grand opening.

Artwork commissioned for the new library, suspended from the ceiling above the cafe.

"Light shelves," which diffuse large amounts of natural light into the building, while providing shade and blocking heat.

This new courtyard in front of the Library will be the center of the northern part of campus. The parking lot will eventually make way for a new Performing Arts Center. This shot is from the 3rd floor of this 5-story building.

The vision.

The reality!

So, it's a really exciting time to be at UVU. Our library is the most energy-efficient building in the state, and it's flooded with natural light, which means a happier, healthier experience for all. If you have a chance to stop by and see it, I'll give you a great tour.

battered about the head by a prophet, seer, and revelator

2008-07-01T11:56:00.000-06:00

The last time I met a General Authority, he grabbed me by the neck in a loving headlock and shook vigorously. His name was Rolfe Kerr, and I think it was quite fitting that he was there today, seated behind President Monson at the Dedication of Utah Valley University. Fitting, because from my early perch, strategically located between the parking lot and the podium, I was perfectly poised to meet the prophet upon his arrival. So, when I walked up to him and shook his hand, it was just me and him.

And wouldn't you know it - his hand came down and clasped my neck in the same authoritative grasp, and he shook me. "Why don't you stand up on that thing and shout hallelujah." That's what he said to me, pointing to the concrete step on which I'd been sitting.

Now, Dave, my brilliant coworker (I have several), was there with our office's Nikon D-60. Standing right in front of us. So, pretty much in perfect photo op range. I'd love to show you the pictures he took, but the didn't bother to take any!

So, instead, here are some stock photo files:

Elder Rolfe Kerr

President Tommy Monson

Nobody Mark Oram, who was battered about the head by these great men.

oranges

2008-06-30T10:53:00.000-06:00

If you're reading this, you're probably related to me. And if you're related to me, you already know that I'm a great actor. Really, I'm so good. I mean, who else do you know who's in both Sundance Summer Theater's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and BYU Young Shakespeare Company's production of Pericles, Prince of Tyre? That's right, I'm the only one. So, yeah, I'm pretty good at acting. You might point to the fact that I got small roles in these plays, and say something like "yeah, you're not that good," but trust me, that's just because the directors want to give other people a chance.

Anyway, my good MySpace friend Jenna Fischer wrote a blog recently, giving advice to aspiring actors. It got me thinking - what if I actually worked on my audition pieces - took acting "seriously," as she says... So, I'm chewing on that idea.

Also, my good MySpace friend Jenna Fischer recently appeared on the Late Show, and told a story about how she picks oranges from the tree of Steve Carell's neighbor when she goes running. This is awesome, for two reasons.

1 - I also recently took up running in the morning. Actually, my wife gets the credit for the idea, and the motivation, and the actual running. But I'm super supportive, so it's like I run too. So, me and Jenna Fischer have two things in common - we are both great actors, and we both just took up running.

2 - I also eat oranges. In fact, I don't just eat them, I suck the juices out of them! Or, out of the pitcher. See, I actually drink orange juice from concentrate, which is pretty much the same thing as eating an orange. And I even put it in my smoothies! So, me and Jenna Fischer have three things in common - we are both great actors, we both just took up running, and we both eat oranges.

You know, famous people are just like the rest of you. We eat the same oranges, we run on the same roads, and we act in the same TV shows.

trying my hand

2008-06-24T09:11:00.000-06:00

Last weekend my grandparents hosted a wedding in their back yard, and because I happen to be borrowing my dad's Nikon D80, I became the official wedding photographer. Out of the 475 pictures I took, these are the few that turned out.

The Blackpool Chronicles

2008-06-16T13:35:00.000-06:00

The following is an exhaustive diary of our recent trip to Blackpool, England for the Open British Championship of Ballroom Dance. When I say exhaustive, I mean LONG... So, pace yourself. I'll add photos later, maybe.

Day 1 - Sunday (Arrival in Blackpool, and someone thinks we're Polish.)

In spite of Scott Asbell, we arrived safely in Blackpool on Sunday afternoon. The town seems like a big, grungy carnival town - there's a pier with cheap rides, a fake eiffel tower, and a bunch of tourists from within the U.K. There are also LOTS of ballroom dancers everywhere. We walked down to the venue, called Winter Gardens, and Steph got outfitted with the shoes she needs for the competition. On the walk we discovered all sorts of cheap fish and chips joints, as well as several arcades, vendors, and a few sex shops. The breeze coming in off the ocean is fast and cold - it even blew my hat off once - but it's great to smell the sea over the faint scent of sewage along the seaside promenade. The place, or at least the touristy part we've seen so far, reminds me of a larger, cheaper version of Lagoon, and it certainly draws an inexplicable local crowd, like Lagoon. There are Brits from every corner of Briton here.

Later this afternoon, we walked out to grab something to eat. Out B&B owner from South Wales recommended a pizza place just a few blocks south, so we poked around town until we found it. Inside, I ordered in my best fake British accent, and the girl asked me if I was from Poland! Poland? Do I really sound like I'm from Poland? I didn't know where to go with it from there, so I admitted (in a normal accent) that we were from Utah, here for a week from the United States. She was much more impressed by that.

She said she was from Preston, and that she hates it here in Blackpool. She wondered why on earth we would spend £1000 each to come all the way out here, and telling her about the dance festival did little to answer that. Suddenly a tiny blue car pulled up onto the sidewalk next to the pizza shop, and a guy ran in just long enough to grab a to-go order (called a take-away) before jumping back into the car, music blasting and tires screeching.

As we ate our pizza, which was very tasty and only £6, another customer came in and ordered. When we told him we were from Utah, he responded excitedly that he had been to Salt Lake City on a rather youthful bus trip across the United States. When he arrived in Salt Lake he decided he'd seen enough, and turned around there. It was fun talking with him, listening to him explain what a mess America's made of the English language, and how we sound just like Canadians.

Later, a group of us went out together to take some pictures. Scott, noticing the cameras, asked if he could tag along, no doubt to show us a thing or two about photography. His Nikon D3 is certainly impressive, but his advices is less so. At the beach, he started talking about America's dependence on Canadian oil, and that was the last we saw of Scott. We walked south along the beach, taking pictures as the sun slowly lowered, finally dipping into the Irish Sea as it lit the blue sky with deep shades of pink. The wind was calm and the lights from the south pier flashed and sparkled with that strange carnival atmosphere that permeates everything around here. We walked home past the McDonalds where Scott had eaten dinner. It was full.

Day 2 - Monday (Deciding not to accompany Scott on his impromptu trip to Scotland)

Today, Monday, we had a yummy Engish breakfast - sausage, scrambled eggs, ham, potatoes, toast, and beans, and Scott announced a side trip to Scotland - leaving in 20 minutes and lasting all day, costing an unknown amount of money (at least £35). Times that by four, add Scott, and subtract a shower. No, thanks.

We stayed in Blackpool, opting to discover more of the city on foot over traveling 6 hours by train to see what Mr. Asbell considers to be the highlights of Scotland. Although we tried our own smaller side trip to Preston, a young boy at the train station informed us we'd just missed the train, and would have to wait an hour for the next one. Instead, we walked through a lovely park, and back out to the beach, this time walking further south, to a much more impressive area of town. Blackpool seems to have grown southward, away from the tower, and this area is evidently newer and cleaner than the boarded-up shops scattered throughout the northern part of the town.

The wind was deadly, so Steph stopped in to a surprisingly large store and purchased a hat, which has only blown off once today, as we raced across a busy seaside street. The beach, which has a famously quick tide, is filled with pools and rivulets of tide water, so it was a relatively treacherous walk out to the water. There were small families with dogs, people building sand castles, and even a Donkey charter, which apparently takes children on donkey rides across the beach front. That explains all the poop that we were carefully dodging.

And now we're relaxing in the hotel before heading back out to see what else there is to see here. It's a Bank Holiday today, which means Blackpool is a bit more crowded and expensive than usual, but we're really enjoying the warm (albeit windy) weather.

Part of the deal here at our Bed and Breakfast, located just one block east of the Irish Sea cost, is full English breakfasts and dinners. The proprietors, a kind but rather shy couple from Wales, are quite proud of their cooking, and rightly so. We haven't eaten this good in a long time. To save up for the trip, our diet over the past several months consisted mainly of pasta, bread, and cereal. So, sitting down every morning to a meaty breakfast, and every evening to a hearty dinner, has more than satisfied our desire for yummy English eats. Last night's meal of turkey, fried potatoes, and cooked veg was delightful.

Since Scott neglected to mention that the students traveling to Scotland would not be back for dinner, there was far too much food for the four of us to eat. After a tasty cheesecake dessert and all the meat and potatoes we could eat, our hosts invited their neighbors over to enjoy some of the leftovers.

The couple, hotel owners from a few doors down the road, brought their son over with them. The three of them were all interested in asking questions, especially about Mormonism, and when the father learned that I, a 23-year-old male, had never had a drink, he was astonished. We laughed and talked for a while, learning that he was also a mortician, and that although he was a very loud, funny man to talk to, he had an ironically serious job. He had recently failed in teaching his son that the slot machine always wins, because in the middle of just such a speech, his 13-year-old son won £20 off just a few pence. Their interest in us lasted about as long as it took to warm up dinner, and when it was time to eat, they were all business.

We walked out to the end of the south pier, taking in the carnival atmosphere yet again, even throwing a few pence into a game. The wind continued to blow, cold off the sea, bringing in a small storm from the south. Much of the night life of Blackpool revolves around clubbing, and since we had neither the funds nor the inclination, we turned in a bit early. After watching the first semifinal of Britain's Got Talent, we were more than ready for bed.

Day 3 - Tuesday (The better side of Blackpool)

The dancers had their one and only rehearsal on Tuesday morning, while I finally got some sleep, and Stephanie said it went fine. She woke me for breakfast - another meal complete with concentrated juice, sausage, and fry-bread with jam. Afterwards, we got some much-needed sleep, then took a walk towards Winter Gardens under an oppressively overcast sky. Our walk brought us to a large shopping center, located at the foot of the Blackpool tower, and it was there that we finally realized why Blackpool still draws a crowd.

The shopping malls are huge, labyrinthine, and modern. We felt very much at home, looking at rows and rows of chocolate and candy from Europe, DVD's and video games from the States, and every conceivable toiletry but Antiperspirant. There were stores and shops for everything, and people everywhere. As grungy as the promenade storefronts are, this area of town is clean and shining. And, the more we've walked around town, the more improvements we've seen.

The government is clearly interested in maintaining and modernizing Blackpool's appeal, as evidenced by large signs and banners surrounding construction sights of future improvements, including larger shopping centers, a beautiful seaside walk, and even improved flood walls. Without a continued influx of tourists, though, this town would probably have a difficult time surviving at all. Nearly every side street we've traversed has been a double-sided row of nothing but hotels. There are hotels in literally every corner of the city - stacks of them. Besides lodgings and tourist attractions, Blackpool has little other apparent industries.

Our walk took us from the center of the shopping district up random streets to the Blackpool library, where we took a short break. Then, through more narrow roads, past a pram-fore-hire shop and at least a hundred small B&B's, and suddenly back to our hotel.

At the hotel, I had a break with the other red-headed Scott-hating husband Ian, while Steph and the other dancers tried on their dresses for tomorrow's competition. We ate another delicious dinner, this time pork, mashed potatoes, and the best green beans I've ever had. The coffee cake wasn't too strong, and the portions were just perfect. The dancers continued to prepare for their big day, tanning and gossiping, so I had a chance to skip out on my own for a short walk on the beach.

Out in the damp, chilly air, there were few people interested in walking. I was one of three people on the beach, and the only one without a dog. Dark grey clouds covered the sky, and were reflected in the choppy Irish Sea. I took a careful walk out to the shore, across the long moist sandbank, to a small place with nice skipping rocks and a few seagulls. I threw a few into the ocean, and gazed across towards Ireland, hoping Scott wouldn't ever be able to tell a true story about a student being struck by lightning. Small waves broke quietly against the sand, and the seagulls stood patiently, seemingly waiting for something. The wind picked up a bit, but it didn't get nearly as chilly as it had been the day before. And shortly, after a few minutes of quietly watching the water, I made my way back to the hotel.

We sat up with some of the dancers, anxious for the competition tomorrow. But soon we were ready for bed, hoping to get a better night's sleep, and awaiting what's supposed to be a fairly rainy day tomorrow.

Day 4 - Wednesday (Standard Medley)

The rain blew in at some point during the night. We were lucky enough to be sleeping when it happened. I awoke when Stephanie, energized from her morning rehearsal, burst into the room yelling "wakie wakie eggs and bakie!" and grinning from ear to ear. She competes in the Standard Medley today, and she clearly can't wait. So I dressed myself in a daze and stumbled downstairs for another delicious breakfast. There's little variation from morning to morning as far as the food is concerned. And every morning, we eat until we can't fit anymore in, just to save money on lunch. It's worked wonderfully so far.

Breakfast ended, and Steph went up for a bit more sleep, while I took a rainy walk down to the beach. My cheap umbrella kept most of the rain off, but the humid air was cold and dense, and soon little water droplets were forming all over my covered jacket. A few cars passed, but there were no pedestrians. The only other people outside were there for a smoke, huddling just ouside the doors of their hotels. The cold started its way into my skin, and as the wind picked up, I made my way quickly back to the hotel. The storm had muffled the horizon anyway, and there wasn't much open on the promenade either.

After a lay-in, we awoke and scrambled out to the cabs which were waiting to take the dancers to Band Call - what we in theater would call Tech. The cab eased deftly between traffic, squeezing through impossibly narrow passes and dodging pedestrians. Before long we were there for real, at Winter Gardens with £25 tickets in our hands for the day's events. The dancers were electrified with anticipation as they approached the heart of their competitive world - the Blackpool floor. It's certainly the most impressive sight so far, and for most of these dancers, stepping out onto this floor is the pinnacle of their aspirations.

They wasted no time in doing so, quickly spreading out across the polished hardwood to soak in the atmosphere of dancesport's Mecca. The ornate, vaulted ceiling seems almost luminous, and the floor reflects the chandelier light with a shimmering radiance that makes the dancers seem for a moment almost transparent. The deep wooden pillars supporting the balcony are solid, massive, and elegant, and the space as a whole feels almost like the nave of a brightly lit cathedral. As the dancers' dreams begin to tease reality, their faces light up, their bodies become giddy and weightless, and for a moment the pressure of the competition melts into childlike wonder.

Shortly, the intimidation games begin. Scott Asbell tells the other coaches that his team is young, inexperienced, and sloppy, then tells his dancers to scare the pants off of everyone. The German team spends its time on the floor, dancing through their medley twice, while UVU dancers roll their eyes discreetly. Apparently, we're confident. And soon, that confidence makes its way out onto the stage. They take the floor and dance through the medley twice, many of them clearly nervous as they realize that this is their last moment of rehearsal before the final competition. After several minutes of final rehearsing, during which Scott fixes lines and otherwise reigns in the troops, we were done. I took at least a hundred pictures, but in the dim light only four or five of them turned out.

Whatever sport you engage in, you're likely to experience some sort of physical transformation. Broken bones for football players, injured knees for runners, maybe a few lost teeth for hockey players. But I don't think any other sport can rival Formation Ballroom Dance when it comes to the incredible physical transformation which each dancer must undergo to become absolutely cosmetic, obscenely glamorous, and utterly identical.

With a needle and thread, Monica sewed a $150 wig securely onto Stephanie's head. After the hairpiece was fused to her scalp, a small army of girls commenced to flatten, shape, and style the wig into a stunning work of art, complete with an arsenal of bobby pins and a handful of glued-on rhinestones. When nine girls had taken on this mantle, the facial make-up began. They layered it on thick, and heavy, and without mercy. And after a fortune had been applied to each dancer's face, both male and female, and the dresses and tail suits were on, fitted, and concealed, it was time to take the cabs across town to Winter Gardens for the really, really big show.

I had the blessing and curse of using Scott's Nikon D3 (arguably the best digital SLR on earth) to shoot the 6-minute routine. While the giddy performers made final preparations, I scuttled up toward the balcony to vie for a decent perch. After a couple of blindingly fast and inconceivably precise rounds of professional Latin dancing, it was time for the Formation teams to take the Blackpool floor. Several in the audience saw this amateur performance as a chance to take a restroom break, so I was able to steal a very good, center balcony seat.

The German team stepped out first, and delivered a nearly flawless performance. Their precision was military, which gave them a very polished show. Utah Valley University was next, and although they had much better music, far more interesting and difficult choreography, and a blast of energy that garnered a healthy applause from the quiet audience, they simply couldn't beat the German's rigid precision.

Of course, I didn't really get to see any of this, as I was feverishly framing shot after high-speed shot, trying desperately to take at least one or two keepers. The severe amount of mental focus, combined with sitting forward in my stolen seat and holding a very heavy camera in front of my face, caused me to work up a sweat, and my tense back started to hurt. It was a marathon of photography, and I just hope Scott eventually gives me the files so I can sift through them and find the good ones.

After six intense minutes of gorgeous dancing, UVU's Standard Medley was finished. The dancers gracefully left the stage, and I found my way back to their waiting area. The results were to be announced shortly after the last team danced, and they were on the floor now. Just a few minutes, and we would know. I found Steph (after a moment of difficulty singling her out) and as we squeezed each other she told me that her dad was there. She could feel his presence very strongly. She was on the verge of tears, and so was I.

After a few minutes of deliberation, the judges announced the teams in order, from 1st place to 3rd place. They began with the German team, and my framed shot of our team's reaction was never taken. We were deflated. Shortly, UVU walked out onto the floor to accept 2nd place honors. Second place Standard Medley in the world.

After a private word with the dancers, Scott let us go our separate ways. Stephanie and I stayed at the event for a while, watching the professional Jive competition. Their dancing and costumes were astonishingly vibrant and eye-catching. We both stood open-mouthed watching the best dancers in the world, dancing on the ultimate stage. This was the world cup of ballroom dance.

Afterwards, we walked through the deserted streets in a light drizzle, eventually taking a traditional English cab back to the hotel. We arrived to a delicious, rowdy after-party - the team was eating away its sorrows, sharing a pile of cheesy pizza from an Indian restaurant down the street, and playing UNO. Stephanie had her wig surgically removed from her head in a 10-minute outpatient operation. Both her head and the wig remained intact, and we ate pizza and laughed until well after midnight, when the team finally quieted down and headed up for bed.

Day 5 - Thursday (The Blackpool Tower)

Early the next morning, Thursday, they were up for the Latin Medley rehearsal. I took advantage of the quiet time, and slept. Soon, Steph woke me with all the energy of a morning full of dancing, and we had waffles, meat, and hash browns for breakfast. Starting every morning with a fat sausage link and a bunch of bacon is a major departure from my diet, but I think after four days I'm starting to get used to it.

Steph was exhausted after breakfast, as were the rest of the dancers, so I took a lie-in with everyone else after reading a bit. Early in the afternoon, we got ready for the day. Our bathroom, which we're lucky enough to have all to ourselves in our tiny suite, has a strange apparatus in the shower that I've never seen. On the day we arrived, It took about 10 minutes for us to arrange the dials and knobs into an arbitrary configuration that produced a high-pressure flow of warm water. Now, we have it down to a science. There's nothing for the sink, though. The hot water comes out of one faucet, the cold out of the other. The only way to wash with warm water is to mix the two in the basin and then drain it when you're finished. The toilet also has some differences, but thankfully it's the most intuitive of the three bathroom features.

Anyway, we went out with a large group, walking down to the promenade for a light lunch. Since Monday, we'd been saving money by stuffing ourselves silly at breakfast and dinner, but today we decided to sample some more local cuisine. Steph and I shared some fish and chips - her first experience with that particular dish. It was no Fryer's Delight, but it was very yummy. When I asked the middle-eastern cashier for a £1 water bottle, he grabbed two from the fridge, popped one open for himself, and handed me one free of charge - all without a word.

After lunch, Steph and I walked up the promenade, toward Blackpool Tower. Our chocolate stash had run out, and we were in the perfect place to re-fill it. In the Woolworth's, there was an entire section of the store dedicated to chocolate, and from there we picked out a variety package of Toblerones and a few Galaxy bars. We munched on the chocolate for a while as we window shopped. One glass-blowing shop caught our attention, in which an incredibly intricate glass ship in a bottle, all formed from the same piece of glass, was going for £24.

After 4:30, or "half four" as the English say, tickets into the Blackpool Tower drop significantly - from £16.50 per person to only £7. We entered with the discounted tickets, passing a creepy aquarium and rooms full of arcade and carnival games as we ascended the complex building at the foot of the tower. On the third level we encountered the Tower Ballroom, a huge, stunning room with a live organist and a small gathering of recreational adult dancers who were casually drinking and dancing on the gorgeous ballroom floor. The mood was pleasant and lofty, but inviting as well, and soon Steph and I were doing my version of Rumba out on the floor. We sat and watched for a while, soaking in the subtle beauty of the moment, before making our way up to the lift at the 5th floor, which was to take us to the top of the tower.

In our hurry to make it back for dinner at half five, we missed much of the history of the tower, which is posted along the empty queue to the lift. The ride itself is only a minute long, and at the top of the elevator there are a few more levels of wrought iron spiral staircases to ascend before you can stand at the top. The day was quite clear for the season, and we could see for miles in all four directions. Blackpool looks a bit cleaner from 400 ft, but still has that strange carnival-town feeling.

As old and rickety as the tower is, it's certainly a lot of fun. Up at the top, there's a large pane of 2-inch thick glass in the floor, which tourists are encouraged to stand on - if they dare. Supposedly it supports up to 2 tons, but Steph was still pretty sheepish when it came to stepping out onto the glass ceiling, looking straight down at a deadly drop. The large yellow signs that surround the "Walk Of Faith" read: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY DO NOT BREAK GLASS!

At 5:20 we were at the top of the tower. At 5:35 we were across town, eating dinner. A delicious meal of roast potatoes, roast beef, and cherry pie with custard. Then, the tanning ordeal began again, this time for tomorrow's Latin Medley. I ate more chocolate, wrote this entry, and listened to another episode of Britain's Got Talent going on in the next room.

Day 6 - Friday (The Latin Medley)

Friday, the day of the Latin Medley competition, began the same as any other day this week - with a quick rehearsal and a long breakfast. Then the day-long process of preparation began, starting with Band Call. Wednesday's competition had only three entries, but today there were no less than eight teams in the running, and consequently the rehearsal process took much longer. Scott grinned as he told the team the results of a drawing for order of dance - UVU was to rehearse and perform last.

One by one, the latin teams from England, Germany, China, Austria, Idaho and others took the floor. Some were terribly impressive, others less so. But speaking of impressive, when UVU finally took their time on the floor, 2 hours after Band Call had begun, they ran the entire Medley in silence. No music, no counts. The room was glued to them. It was a truly intimidating. Their second run-through was even better, and then it was time for the hair and make-up. Or, for me, time to read a book.

Hours later, after a surprisingly good dinner of lamb and white cabbage, the dancers were ready. Their hair was dyed black, pushed up on the top of their heads and flattened on the sides, then fused into long pony tails in the back. The pony tails were then sewn to the backs of the dresses, to keep them from taking off the men's heads. After make-up was applied and dresses were ready, the team was off to Winter Gardens for its last big show.

First crisis - The dresses had been left in the cab. They could have traversed the entire city of Blackpool by the time we found out. Getting a hold of the cabbie took the immediate attention of the entire team. Mercifully, the suitcase full of dresses arrived intact and with enough time to change.

The competition in the first round was startling - nothing like Wednesday. The German and Chinese teams particularly NAILED it. They were absolutely spellbinding to watch, and garnered huge responses from the audience. Their costumes were phenomenal, their dancing was difficult, and their precision was stunning. Stiff competition. Very, very stiff. But UVU took the floor with pride, and danced their hearts out, hoping to make the final round, after a cut of three teams. Shortly after dancing, they got the news - they were in.

Second crisis - Joe, one of the latin medley dancers, was down. On the floor, eyes dilated, his breathing shallow and sporadic. I threw a folded towel under his head as a pillow, and gently eased some water into his mouth while we tried to get him to say something. About 20 minutes later, he was conscious enough to dance the next round, luckily.

The final round was INSANELY competitive, and my eyes were on a front-row seat that I was planning to steal for UVU's final performance. After incredible German and Chinese showings, our team took the stage. Steph and the rest of the female dancers showed up right behind me, and I was able to wish them good luck just before they went on. Perhaps I should have knocked on wood.

Third crisis - the music track was messed up. It started about 16 seconds into the track, and the dancers froze. This had happened before, and the event operators stopped the music, allowing the dancers to re-set themselves. The second time was just as bad. David and Gizelle tried to cover, but it was impossible for the whole team to just jump up and start formation dancing without anything to visually orient themselves. Well, on the third and final allowed attempt, they did the impossible, because the music was still screwed up. In fact, it started skipping after a few more seconds, and everyone in the ballroom cringed for us. But, they were also quite supportive.

Finally, the planets aligned. The first dreadful minute of the Medley was over, and the rest of it was danced on pure adrenaline. It ROCKED, and I had the absolute BEST seat in the house - front and center. I took some great pictures, the dancers were incredible, and the audience cheered.

Unfortunately, the team placed fourth, behind Austria, China, and Germany. No one could dispute the first two places. Germany was simply un-beatable, and China was dazzling. But if in weren't for the music glitch and the difficulty in recovering, we would have taken the Austrians. And they knew it - their breathless anticipation and exultant cheer betrayed their anxiety. But we took the 4th place honors with dignity, and came home to a pizza party just the same.

The remainder of our trip to England was spent exploring Warwick, Exeter, and London. We were quite too busy to write, but you can see our Facebook photo albums below:

London
Exeter

campus photoshoot

2008-05-22T12:09:00.000-06:00

We got a new camera at work today. A delicious Nikon D60. So, being the dutiful employee that I always am, I took the camera around campus for a little practice.

rodeo people

2008-05-06T07:25:00.000-06:00

I've been playing a lot more Ben Folds lately. In the last few days I've been learning how to play Landed, which is of course awesome for me because I get to listen to it a million times, but then so does Stephanie. So, last night she pulled me away from the piano so we could drive to Heber for no less than a rodeo. Clearly she's desperate.

Well, this being our first rodeo, we admittedly didn't know quite what to expect. I imagined bucking broncos, barrel racing, what have you - and we got all that. As well as actual bull riding, which was intense, and some super boring dancing horses. The craziest part though was the "candy chase," in which about 100 little kids swarmed onto a candy-filled tarp in the middle of the stadium like flies to poop, and the "money chase" after that.

Here's my problem with rodeo people. The "money chase" consisted of $100 dollars in $1's and $5's, taped onto the horns of a loose steer, which was then chased around the stadium by every 9- and 10-year-old kid in the audience. These are responsible adults, right? Wrong! These people are freaking crazy!

As the little kids swarmed around this 300-lb steer, it reacted just as you or I would react to being attacked by a mob of money-hungry children - it bucked, hard. It was knocking kids over, popping them in the face, gouging them with its horns, stomping on them... And the audience reacts like its some gladiatorial combat - a little girl gets a kick to the teeth and falls to the ground: "ooooooooh!" and keep watching. Maybe there'll be blood!

By the time several kids have made off with bits and pieces of dollar bills, and while others are staggering off the dirt nursing various injuries, a man on a horse shows up and ropes the steer, dragging it violently out of the stadium to thunderous applause.

Now, I realize that the thrilling violence of a rodeo is part of the culture, and that the people getting up on a bronc know what they're doing. But, really people, the "money chase" has got to go.

the family pizza stone

2008-05-05T09:20:00.000-06:00

I'd like to take a second to thank UVU for the $12,000 dollars they've put up to educate me. It's been five semesters now, and the cash just keeps coming. For one reason or another, people in power seem convinced that I deserve a free ride. Far be it from me to ask questions.

Also, on an unrelated and equally uninteresting note, we've decided we like pizza stones. It's funny what people think will be a unique, practical wedding gift. Empty gift cards, for example. What am I going to do with an empty gift card? I mean, sure, the puppy is cute, and the mag stripe on the back looks pretty official. I guess I could call it a pretend credit card and put it inside a pretend wallet, but since I don't have a pretend cash register (which actually was on our registry), the empty card is really no use to me at all. And at first we weren't too sold on the pizza stones either. We got two of them, which surprised both of us, as neither of us had ever seen one before.

The idea of a pizza stone is this: nobody makes their own pizza at home anymore. So, in an effort to revive the art of family home pizza, Apple developed the pizza stone. It's a heavy round stone which you season with corn meal, preheat, and then bake a pizza on top of. Supposedly this device makes the pizza taste better. Really, though, it just makes you think the pizza tastes better, thus forcing the consumer to stay home and rent movies on iTunes rather than at the Blockbuster next to Little Caesar's.

ben folds

2008-04-24T11:00:00.000-06:00

I am very good at keeping secrets. So the other night when I finally decided to reveal Stephanie's belated birthday present - tickets to Ben Folds - she was very surprised. Yes, in spite of my nightly Ben Folds jam sessions, my ecstatic little brother, and my all-caps BEN FOLDS CONCERT! event on our google calendar, Steph was still shocked when she found out that she was going to her FIRST CONCERT!

We got to celebrate the END OF FINALS by rocking out to the greatest piano-rocker ever! Of course we had to deal with the pot-smokers to our right, the gay guys to our left, and the idiots moshing to "One Angry Dwarf," but for where we were standing (front and center), the crowd was surprisingly interested in the music.

Ben Lee had some guitar trouble, but made up for it by playing and singing into the same microphone, which was pretty awesome. Steph liked him. Mr. Folds didn't come out until about 9:30, which was a ridiculously long time to wait, but he made it so worth it. His played some stuff from his new album, to be released in September (backing vocals by Regina Spektor!!), and also threw down a bunch of classics, as follows:

Gone
Annie Waits
Lullabye
Landed
Still Fighting It
Kate
Narcolepsy (Incredible synth solo!!)
Fred Jones, Pt. 2
Battle of Who Could Care Less
Jesusland
The Luckiest
Bastard
Underground
Army (Yeah, with the audience singing the saxophone parts....)
Rockin' The Suburbs
Not The Same (He taught the audience parts and then conducted us like a symphony. As soon as he had us all in the grip of his ridiculous awesomeness, he walked off stage.)
One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces

His encore absolutely rocked, and he even threw the piano bench at the piano before saying good night. Ah, priceless Folds.

there will be blog

2008-04-14T16:16:00.000-06:00

Let's face it, my blog is less important than certain things. Things like sleep, my wife, my scholarship... you know, real life. Hence, the protracted pause in writing. This semester has nearly drained my resources, or in other words, it just about drank my milkshake.

But, luckily for me, I'm stuck backstage for 5 hours every night, pushing blocks around for SAST, so over the weekend I finally took some time to redbox a movie that simply had to be seen.

There Will Be Blood is a perfect example of why great movies exist. They exist for people who love to explore the intricacies of life while being delighted by the craft of the artists who portray them. In other words, they exist for me. Like books, movies offer glimpses into the multiplicity of experiences and perspectives that characterize humanity. Sometimes this glimpse is awe-inspiring, sometimes it's repulsive, but as long as it's relevant, honest, or at least meaningful, it's a valid part of the human landscape.

I happen to be a fan of that landscape. So when a film like There Will Be Blood surfaces, I drink it up.

Now, I'll spare you the essay on themes of capitalism, family, and religion that resonate throughout the film, because I doubt that would inspire you to see the movie. It might be more effective, instead, to tell you that there's surprisingly very little blood in the film, no profanity or nudity, and it could easily pull off a PG-13. But I digress.

The point is, I finally saw one of the 2007 movies I missed, and it was AWESOME.

This scene depicts the "baptism" of Daniel Plainview, the eccentric oil driller whose presence at this meeting represents a deal with the church to lay an oil pipeline. The scene reflects some of the major themes of the film, and shows the incredible acting of Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Dano.

it's official!

2008-01-23T08:13:00.001-07:00

On January 18th, Stephanie and I officially left the ranks of the Orem/Provo singles population, and entered that blissfully naive category: newlyweds. There was a dense layer of fog hovering over the Mount Timpanogos Temple as we arrived, and soon family and friends were gathered together inside to celebrate our marriage. As several attendees would later remark, the ceremony was "a good one," and "better than usual." We both thought so as well.

When we left the Temple to begin an 8-hour photographic ordeal, the fog had lifted, the clouds had parted, and the sun shimmered on a blinding layer of snow, leaving nary a dry eye among us. We enjoyed a luncheon, reception, and dancing before making our beautiful, albeit fleeting escape to warmer weather, missing a foot of snow for the warm red rock of Snow Canyon.

It was perfect. So, if we seem a bit distant this semester, we're probably still honeymooning.

it's my job

2008-01-07T22:38:00.000-07:00

It seems like almost everyone has to experience the abhorrent lines at UVU's One-Stop this time of year. Sometimes I intentionally avoid passing the Administration Building just to spare myself the sinking feeling that comes when I consider: I could just as easily be standing in that hopelessly stagnant line. But today, instead of avoiding the line, I made a breakthrough. I embraced the line - with love. Or, more accurately, with cookies.

Yes, I walked up and down that forsaken line of tired bodies, all the while pushing holocaust images from my mind, and gave cookies, candy, and (you may want to sit down for this) even apples to anyone sentient enough to accept. In what seemed to be a gesture of pure, Ghandi-esque compassion for my fellow humans, I brightened their terminally paused day with copious amounts of glucose, sucrose, and yes, even cellulose.

The obvious question, and I will ask it for you, is "Why? Why such generosity? Why such pure and unrestrained love? What profound spiritual or gastric event has generated such empathy?" The answer is simpler than you may think. It isn't love, religion, or indigestion.

It's my job.

No, really. I get paid. I have a schedule, a boss, and an office. It's my job.

It is my job to give people sugar. It is my job to talk to people while I walk around campus and brag. It is my job to listen to iTunes and watch webisodes of The Office and eat the leftovers. Yes, it is my job to eat free ice cream, get free UVU apparel, and spend hours of free time facebooking, youtubing, and homestarrunnering. I am a Recruitment Ambassador.

In other words, I'm like a walking advertisement for UVU.

And I love my job.

Doing movies solo.

2007-12-20T23:58:00.000-07:00

Don't they always tell you to find someone that brings out the best in you? You know, makes you want to be a better person or whatever. Well, I think that's good advice, for the most part.

And I think my fiancee fits this description admirably. She's a good, clean, straight-laced girl who reminds me to pray, read my scriptures, brush my teeth - all those things that sort of slip your mind from time to time. And I suppose that's the point of marrying someone who has that effect on you: it makes you better.

All well and good, until Oscar season. There are movies out there that I need to see. And not just Oscar contenders, everything... I simply need to see them.

Unfortunately, my fiancee does not. In fact, quite the opposite is true. And you see my predicament.

Several films have eluded me this year for whatever reason, and now that we're coming down to the end of 2007, I realize just how deficient I really am.

I have missed so many movies that I'd feel daunted even without the threat of a guilty conscience, unintentionally created by the most wonderful girl in my life.

But the fact of the matter is that not only must I endure the sinful experience of watching these and other incredible films - I must do so alone.

So, the next time you simply write off a movie because of its rating, think of me. Remember my plight.

And know that I couldn't be more grateful for the predicament my lovely and amazing fiancee has created. She does, after all, make me want to be a better person.

Engagement Photos

2007-12-11T01:04:00.000-07:00

Yes, we're probably going to have red-headed children. Thank you, one and all, for the observation. What you continually fail to recognize, however, is the evident fact that our children will be not only red-headed, but also hot.

Notice, for example, our gorgeously stunning profiles. Now, I don't intend to shock you, but these pictures have not been enhanced. You are looking at actual, untouched digital photographs, and yes, we really are that stunning.

To avoid jealousy, we have decided to send copies of one or more of these pictures, chosen at our exclusive discretion, to each and every person we have ever known. We feel confident that this magnanimous gesture will warm your hearts this holiday season, and assuage your feelings of inferiority upon seeing these transcendent photographs.

Happy Holidays!

Marriage Benefits

2007-10-30T22:49:00.000-06:00

I can't wait to get married. Really, I'm so excited that I'm already starting to loose sleep, and I still have 2 months and 18 days. And, yes, I'm excited for all the aspects of marriage which are typically at the forefront of an engaged couple's minds. But really, what I can't wait for, and what I lose sleep over, is the fact that I will no longer live in an apartment complex.

Living in an apartment complex is kind of like living inside a pyramid scheme. When you move in, you are a peon. Lost in the myriad of transient tenants, your identity takes a hit. Instead of being who you think you are, you become a name on several lists (often associated with a number). You sense some sort of promise - that something good is bound to happen because you're living on your own (sort of) and supporting yourself financially (maybe) - but really you're being leeched. Sucked dry by the money-makers at the top. Bastards.

So you make ends meet, you contribute to society, you eat Wendy's and you shop at Wal-Mart and you save your pennies. You work at whatever job you can get your hands on, letting the monotony of daily life as a capitalist tool lull you into a sense of security or maybe even prosperity. You run on your exercise wheel and nibble on your water tank and put posters on the side of you cage to make it feel more yours.

Maybe you wake up and wonder where you are, you look around and realize you're in a white box. Maybe you get home from work and realize that several hours of your life just became collateral for your white box. And maybe, as you fall asleep, it hits you.

Or, maybe not.

my life as a dark comedy

2007-09-29T23:44:00.000-06:00

Good morning. You're hungry and have nothing to eat.

Hmmm, maybe your girlfriend has some food...

Soon you're at her apartment, watching her screensaver, eating her oatmeal, and having a fairly pleasant saturday morning. Then it hits you. In waves. The pictures of her ex-boyfriend are still there on the effing screensaver.

Ouch.

But you recover. Take your mind off it by accomplishing something of importance - Safety & Emissions inspection is due... So you drive to the nearest Jiffy Lube. (Nevermind the jerkoff in the Lexus who pulled out in front of you only to slam his breaks, open his door, and swear at you several times both verbally and otherwise for not recognizing the red light, which is actually green, idiot).

Ah, safe arrival at Jiffy Lube, but what's this? It'll be about a two hour wait. F-this. And, girlfriend at your heels, you head home to regroup.

Reading, venting, make out, and you're feeling a hundred times better about life in general. Maybe you should go shopping? A nice activity for a rainy day.

Yeah, except for the fact that you utterly loathe shopping: tired, bored, hungry, poor, no fashion sense, and nothing to show but some receipts for buyer's remorse. Oh, and it's crowded as Hell because of the rain.

Bleh. Even the pizza at the food court is apathetic. Not good, not bad, just pizza. And you're staring to wonder if you need an attitude adjustment.

Or maybe you just need to see a good Shakespeare play. Yes! That's the ticket! A good Shakespearean tragedy for kids. BYU, here we come. Date night #2 for the weekend. This show opened Thursday night, and runs through next Saturday. Chris Clark - great director. You're excited.

But what's this? An empty theater? Holy living crap, Saturday's performance was an effing 2:00 matinée, not the usual 7:30. What, prey tell, did you do to deserve this!?

And you're back to the do something constructive to take your mind off misery idea. Hmmm, you need gas! Yes, ypu'll run to Costco, fill up, then drink hot chocolate and eat Stauffer's and cuddle up in front of a movie.

Of course that would have worked marvelously if Costco hadn't closed it's pumps about 30 seconds prior to your sad, uninspired arrival. The orange cones blocking the pumps were the fricking cherries atop a most deliciously ironic day.

And you're trying to remember what it is about dark comedy that you find so amusing.

the last book in the universe

2007-09-27T08:23:00.001-06:00

My favorite class this semseter is Young-Adult Literature. It's a class with 26 girls and 3 boys, and all we do is read easy books and talk about them. No tests, quizzes, or papers. Just reading and talking. And so far the reading list has been incredible. So if you're looking for some light reading, try out Crank, The Giver, The Watsons Go to Birmingham, The Last Book in the Universe, Ender's Game, or Harry Potter. They're all pretty good.

And if you've got the time, take this class.

too much thinking

2007-09-25T15:59:00.000-06:00

As I'm getting closer to finishing my English undergrad, it's getting increasingly difficult to differentiate between classes. Especially when two of them are english theory-based and nearly impossible to understand separately anyway. So, when I read what little I can stay awake for in Contemporary Criticism, and then glean bits and pieces from lecture in my Structuralism-based Script and Text Analysis class, they blend quite nicely in my brain.

In fact, my brain is very much like a blender. Maybe it's because I drank so much Jamba Juice over the summer. During Kiss Me Kate, my veins flowed with Jamba. The garbage cans at the Scera overflowed with empty Power-sized styrofoam cups. And evidently my brain took the hint, and restructured itself to the shape and functionality of a blender.