Rehearsal

There's always so very much to learn but so little time to practice it...

I'm down to two weeks.  I can hardly believe it--can you believe it? Only TWO weeks!!!  Then I'm off to the MTC for a couple months and then the remainder of my two years in The Land Down Under.  I won't say I'm far from prepared, but there's so much I think I could have done to be even more ready.  On top of that, it doesn't help at all that this all seems so far off.  I mean, 14 days is no time at all, but for some reason I still don't believe that I'm ever going to enter the MTC.  It's surreal almost...

I juste hope I'm not in denial.

But as of right now I'm in rehearsal mode.  That is, I'm trying my best to live by missionary schedule.  My honest to goodness reaction?  I already love it. Getting up at 6:30 makes me feel productive, and starting the day with a half-hour of exercises wakes me up so I'm brighter than a light-bulb.  Then I get breakfast followed by an hour of personal study time.

A WHOLE HOUR!!!  It's great!

Before I leave I want to finish the Book of Mormon again, and also Preach My Gospel.  I have grown to love these two works so much in the past months and I'm stoked to have the opportunity to continue discovering the principles and lessons that I've yet to recognize within their pages.

I think everyone should live by rehearsal schedule.  It's super-duper easy and makes your day so much better.  It's listed right in Preach My Gospel on page viii--and the best part is you don't hafta follow the whole thing to a T.  I just follow the schedule up to 9:00 a.m. and then the rest of the day is mine to do as I please.  The only stipulation is that I have to be in bed by 10:30.

Easy Peasy.

And like the old saying goes:

Early to bed and early to rise makes a Mike healthy, wealthy, and wise.  And you too!

So let's all get started.  Especially you prospective missionaries.  Everyone gets up at 6:30, works out, showers, prepares for the day, eats breakfast, and then studies for an hour.

It's only every morning.  That's not too hard, is it?

And I mess up and sleep in a half hour or hour at least two times a week, but hey! Life is all about improvement, no?  So who cares if I sleep in today, I can always do better tomorrow!

Here is hoping I've rehearsed enough to be as prepared as I can.  Like I said before: I find it hard to believe this thing's coming, but I'm rehearsing anyways.

Mad Dog

jumper alternates the direction he or she faces by making 180° clockwise and counter-clockwise turns, jumping over the rope forwards and backwards as the rope continually spins in the same direction.

Yesterday started as one of the best days ever...

...because someone sat by me on the bus.

And it wasn't one of those "Wow! That person just sat by me and we had this awesome conversation that inspired me to be a better person and yada yada yada..."

Nope.  All this person really did was sit down.

You see, nobody has ever sat by me all semester.  It's been really strange—all throughout school I'd always thought I was a "people person" and I've always had someone to sit by or a buddy to talk with.  This semester I only had one class with someone I previously knew.  But that doesn't explain the whole problem either.

Last semester I also had classes with no recognizable faces, but I was able to make a new friend in every class I had.  I could count on sitting by that person each class and we'd talk and and chat and it was great!  But this semester no one had wanted to sit by me and I was becoming a little bit of a mad dog.

I'm a friendly guy, but when no one sits by you it's hard to make friends.  And they can't just sit near you... Sitting across the aisle and talking is way different from sitting right next to someone and talking.

Way. Different.

So to try making new friends I would sit in different seats to see if someone would sit in their "regular seat" next to me.  Yeah, I was that annoying kid who randomly took that seat that you always sat in.  (But that was only like the third week of school. I don't do that anymore)  Yet, when I sat in a new seat I noticed that people still avoided sitting by me.

Okay not really "avoided."  More likely they were just unconsciously uncomfortable with siting by someone they didn't know. Understandable.  But for all six of my classes? Possible...but not probable.  Especially since I'd sometimes succeed in sitting next to someone one day but then they'd not ever sit by me again.  I was getting just a titch grumpy.

And then yesterday.

I was on the bus, just minding my own business, playing some Sudoku on my phone.  (I do love Sudoku!)  Then all the sudden, out of the blue—like a flash of lightning—a girl!  And she sits down next to yours truly!! 

That's right...me!

I was so happy inside.

It started a little awkward because we were complete strangers. (Actually even more so awkward was the fact that I knew her name already, but that's a long story so we won't go into details.  Let it just suffice that I knew her name and she didn't know mine.)  But we got talking, and we laughed and and shared stories and it was great! Then she even caught me off guard by asking me about my preparation for my mission—I guess she knew more about me than I thought, even if she didn't know my name.

And BTW: She was married.  So, Twinner, don't you get thinking that anything is gonna come of this.

I was just so happy to have been sat by.

And so I learned a great lesson.  After this girl sat by me on the bus, I slowly started remembering that I did have friends in most of my classes.  They weren't the sit-right-by-you-every-day-in-class friendships I had hoped for, but I've gotten to know new people nonetheless, so I'm not even a mad dog in the slightest anymore.  I just need to remember that I have been blessed with such great friends already and if I don't make new ones, then I'm glad for the ones I've already got.

This mad dog is now a happy one. :)

Revolution

One rotation of a rope around a jumper.  Or in this case, a war against the editors of Vogue Magazine.

In the sixteenth century, a group of inspired revolutionaries declared independence from the tyranny of their king.  They declared the right to one's "Pursuit of Happiness," as long as one person's pursuit would not infringe on another's rights.

Therefore, in the pursuit of my personal happiness, I request an amendment be made to the current standards of fashion.

Let.
Me.
Have.
My.
Bell-bottoms.

The current tastes in fashion are like sour milk poured over a bowl of Golden Puffs.  Disgusting.

But bell-bottoms will prove to be a cinnamon roll topped with cream cheese frosting, eaten and enjoyed as the sun rises following a miserable snow storm.

That's how tasty it will be when I finally get my bell-bottoms.

I detest straight leg jeans.  My calves and ankles have no breathing room!  I also prefer to maintain the blood flow to my heart, so I abhor the skinny jeans.  And hipster pants?  Puh-Leez.  In my day we referred to the visibility of one's ankles as "preparing for the floods."

No, thank you.  I prefer to maintain my standards of breathe-ability, circulation, and comfort.

Have you ever heard of "pulling out all the stops?"  It is a term from organ performance that means to open all the valves to the pipes to give the loudest and biggest sound possible.

So here's my proposal for Vogue.  Ditch the skinny jeans.  Burn the hipster pants.

Let's pull out all the stops and give the loudest fashion statement with the biggest flares possible.

When I tell people I want bell-bottoms they laugh.  They actually laugh!  And then they tell me that it is "unfashionable" for a person to wear bell-bottoms (but they give no reasonable explanation for why it is unfashionable).  And these are the people who simultaneously allow others to wear leggings or tights as pants.  I say that is what is truly laughable.

I believe if we left all fears aside we'd see that boot-cut jeans (the most comfortable jeans around) are just a tamed version of the bell-bottom.  Thus, by facing our fears and pulling out all the stops, we can create the jeans that everyone actually can be comfortable and fashionable wearing.

In all honesty, I really don't know what it is about bell-bottoms.  It might be the love, peace, and happiness, but there's definitely something about them that makes me go "GAAAAAAAAH!!! I FREAKING LOVE YOU!!!" every time I see a good looking pair of 30-inch flares.

And there is the qualifier.  Good Looking.

I agree, there is nothing attractive, nor fashionable, about those horrendous snow-pea green corduroy disco pants.

But a nice pair of white disco flares?  Or some dark bell-bottom jeans?

There is nothing wrong.

Therefore, I end with my own declaration:


I hereby propose an amendment to the current concepts of so-called fashion.

I hereby declare that I, as an individual, should not be denied the right to dress as I please so long as I look good.

I hereby declare a promise to continue looking good.

I hereby declare that you allow me to wear my bell-bottoms and be fashionable.  You'll thank me.

Because should you refuse to meet these terms, I will resort to warfare and buy my bell-bottoms anyways.  This will cause others to realize the prestige of bell-bottoms and all so-called "fashion advice" will be left behind to wither away to nothingness.

Join, or Die.

Floor Routine: The Waiting Game

Before every performance you always have to hurry up and wait.

I'll just say it flat out right now.

I don't like the waiting game.

When I was in the high school orchestra, my teacher always told us to expect to do "a lot of hurry up and wait."  Performances and festivals were rarely on schedule, but we always had to be ready as if they were--just in case.  So we would rush to the hall.  And stand.  Then to the warm-up room. And sit.  Then back to the hall.  And stand.  "No talking, please!"  Then around the corner into a new hall.  And stand some more. "Quiet, children!"  Then on stage.  And sit. "psst...someone should yell BOO!" And more sitting.  Perform.  Back to the hall.  Stand.  "Pay attention!!"  Pictures.  Stand.  Load the bus.  Sit.

See? The whole hurry up and wait thing gets a little boring.  Every action is preceded and followed by a large waste of time.  Things should just GO!

But then I guess we would have missed out on all the fun we had together as friends.  For example, "psst...someone should yell BOO!" was a suggestion from my good friend that I believe we laughed over for a good ten minutes.  Oh, how we laughed at performances!  Particularly those of us fortunate enough to sit in the viola section!

So I guess as long as my friends were around it wasn't so bad.

But jump-rope performances? Oh dear, those bring with them the worst waiting game ever!

I don't do anxiety.  Actually, in all honesty, does anyone do anxiety?  I guess not.  But from my viewpoint, I do it especially terribly.

As I stand and wait for a jump-roping performance I get all jittery.  And I get nervous.  Then I'm excited, then tense, then thirsty so I get a drink.  Then I pace.

Back and forth.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.

Naturally this makes me more thirsty, so I get another drink.  More pacing.  Talk with one friend.  Another drink.  See a different friend.  "Hey! Good luck, man!" "Thanks!"

Pace pace pace pace pace pacepacepacepacepacepace.............

"Hey Mike!"

GAAAAAAAHHHH!!! It's time already!?!?!

"Hey Mike! You're gonna wear a hole through the floor!"

...Darn it.  You really shouldn't scare people like that!  More waiting.  Another drink (At least I won't be dehydrated...).

So you see, the waiting game can be tiresome and quite stressful.

Waiting for a mission call is tiresome.  And stressful.

They've always come on Wednesdays, yes?  At least, for the past six years I believe they have.  So why should they now suddenly not come on a Wednesday?! The suspense just might kill me!!!

So please Mr. Mailman or Mrs. Mailwoman, please come soon with a big white envelope? Okay?

Boxer Step, Bell, Scissors...

The easiest "tricks" of all time.  Jumper simply hops backwards and forwards, side to side, or crosses and uncrosses legs as the torso and head stay in a relatively stationary position.  These can become incredibly boring... (click here for a visual of the "boxer step")

This semester so far has been a little bit of a boxer step.

As in, if things don't start picking up in levels of difficulty then I might be just a little bit bored.

Last semester kept me pleasantly busy.  Not too stressful and not too easy.  I spent plenty of time working on assignments, yet I still had time for a Jamba Juice run every now and again AND I still had a social life.

Okay, okay, maybe I lacked a little bit in the social life.  You'd have to check with my best buds on that one, but I did make sure I had time for Jamba!  And in my defense, the fourth floor of the library is a great place and it kept me out of trouble!  I loved studying up there; I was basking in the wonderful feeling of accomplishment!

Speaking of the library...I sincerely miss that place.  I've only been there twice this semester, hence the boring part of this semester.  My classes have limited assigned readings and they are short when they do get assigned.  Nor have I had tons of papers due.  (I'm beginning to hope that I'm not jinxing myself by writing this post and dooming myself to the hardest semester ever beginning next week) So because I haven't been up to the fourth floor I'm really starting to miss the spinney chairs and big windows.  The fourth floor is almost like a big party room for us students.

WAIT! I take that back 'cause it is not actually a big party room!!! I'm telling you, the people up there on the fourth floor are study-sticklers.  I would know cause I was one of them up there last semester.  If you do so much as whisper you'll get a death glare that'll put you six-feet-under-and-pushing-daisies.

Once I accidentally dropped my phone.  I promise, it was a complete accident!  Problem was, it wasn't just a "clunk" onto the floor.  I dropped it right square onto the metal stand of the table.  You almost wouldn't believe it, but a small plastic phone dropped on a  circular piece of metal sounds like a Japanese gong.  And not a little cymbal-sized gong, this was like the huge Japanese gong from Cars 2.  I'm pretty sure it was loud enough to create an echo.

Loud enough to make me laugh actually, which, now that I think of it, may have had more to do with the death glares than the dropping of the cellular device.

But I digress.  Back to the subject at hand.

Thus far, this semester has been pretty chill.  I maybe read 20 pages on any given day from all my texts combined and then prep for a quiz.   As a comparison, last semester I had at least 30 pages of daily reading for History plus a chapter for Biology every now and again.  AND for English I always had a paper to work on...Plus Dance class and Health and Institute.  Yep, I kept pretty busy.

Though I guess I shouldn't be complaining.  Like I said above, this bad attitude might come back and give me a good swift kick at the beginning of next week.

I guess I should just be grateful for the way it's been thus far.  If it stays like this I'll have tons of time to study my scriptures, read Preach My Gospel and True to the Faith, and maybe still even get to bed on time!

Here's to the most boxer-stepping semester ever.

Tornado

jumper spins in a squatting position as jump-rope alternates spinning above and going around the jumper’s body.

 So I had this whole blog post written ‘cause I knew something was coming.  I worked hard to get all these crafty sentences and things written into it and I was all pumped to put it up.

And then something happened. It wasn't a bad something, but none the less I have delayed posting that particular post that I had worked so hard on.

Actually, the something that happened was great.  It was Spectacular! Amazing! Awesome!  I never expected it to feel Wonderful!  You know?!?!  Like, it was so awesome that I just couldn't believe it!  I can't even hold in my excitement any longer!

[:  (:   My mission application has been submitted to Church HQ!!!   :)  :]

I’m pumped.  Absolutely thrilled.  And I can hardly wait for these next two weeks to go by and have my call come back in the mail.

It reminds me of the first time I aced a tornado.

Both things were just a little bit hard.  As in oh-my-heck-I've-never-done-this-before-how-am-I-ever-going-to-figure-out-what-I’m-supposed-to-do?

Ya know?  That type of hard.

And when something is that type of hard it feels so good to finally figure it out, go for it, and freaking ace it.  There’s this feeling that comes with accomplishment that is one of those unexplainable, you-have-to-feel-it-to-understand-it experiences.

The first time I aced a tornado was in fifth grade.  We were doing two plays based on books by Dr. Seuss.  One was “Horton Hears a Who” and the other “The Star-Bellied Sneetches.”  We rehearsed in class and memorized our lines and practiced in dress rehearsals.

As part of class at that time we were also learning about advertising and persuasive writing.  So, as part of the plays, we got to make up our own commercial breaks.  Everyone had to be in a commercial.  I decided to make up my own commercial for “Mike’s Jump-Rope Gym.”  Basically I wanted to show everyone in my home town how jump-roping is the coolest thing ever.

Our first performance was for the students at our school.  My commercial was right before “Horton Hears a Who” and I had only one small little problem.  I was nearly petrified.  Why?

Because I had never actually done the tornado before and it just happened to be the perfect Grand Finale for my commercial.

I had practiced and practiced but never gotten it.  This was the hardest trick I had tried to do up to that point and I had never figured it out. So there I was, standing on the stage, just hoping it would work out.

I did the little commercial thing, said my lines, did a couple tricks, and then got to the end when I was supposed to do the tornado.

I took a breath.  Got down.  Spun the rope...

FAIL.

I didn't even go through one full rotation!!!

But I guess it wasn't so bad because, for some reason unbeknownst to me, the other students thought it was pretty cool despite my epic fail.  I still felt pretty lame though.

But then there was still the performance for our parents.  And I was gonna be ready.

Okay not really.  I didn't even practice after the first performance and thus I still had no idea if I could do it.  But the performance came and once again I found myself on the stage.

I did the little commercial thing, said my lines, did a couple tricks, and then got to the end when I was supposed to do the tornado.

I took a breath.  Got down.  Spun the rope...

AND FREAKING ACED IT!!! I went around a whole seven times (if I remember correctly), which was seven whole more times than I had ever dreamed to achieve!

And it felt soooooooooooo good.  I had one of those can't-wipe-this-smile-off-my-face looks.

Mission papers, then?

Yep! They're in!

Though it wasn't exactly the same as acing the the tornado.  There weren't the whole couldn't-figure-out-what-I-was-doing-no-matter-how-hard-I-tried or the I-tried-to-do-it-and-epically-failed aspects.

But the can't-wipe-this-smile-off-my-face look?

Yeah, I had that.

And it still feels so good. :D

m&m

jump-roper doubles over, swinging both hands and rope between legs.  Hands go out to the sides to allow the rope to make a full turn around the jumper, who jumps over the rope once.  Jumper exits by pulling rope out backwards, standing upright, and beginning a backwards jump.

While primarily being a jump-rope trick, m&m's also happen to be a candy!  Who knew?!?!

Also, Christmas is coming! Did you know that either?

But any-who, what's really important, and what I'm trying to get around to talking about here, is what you get when you put candy and Christmas together. Do you know what that is?

Gingerbread houses.

I love gingerbread houses.  They are the second best Christmas invention-decorations on the face of planet earth. (Of course, the nativity sets are the best Christmas decorations)

This year my loving mother let me decorate my own gingerbread house.  All.  By.  My.  Self.  I was so super-duper excited. More excited than words can even express.

Have you ever decorated a gingerbread house?  Not like the pile-on-the-candy-and-make-it-as-fast-as-possible kind of decorating.  I mean REALLY decorated one.  This means planning out each step and deliberately placing every gumdrop, m&m, licorice strand, pretzel, candy cane, marshmallow, and hard candy.  It takes patience to decorate a gingerbread house like that.  Mine, pictured below, took three hours to decorate.

Got that?  Three hours.

Front

Back

The Snowball Fort

There are many wonderful things about gingerbread houses.  First, the smell.  The molassesy-sugary-goodness makes for one of the best Christmas smells ever, right up there next to oranges, cinnamon, sugar cookies, and peppermint.

The second great part of gingerbread houses is the decorating and creativity.  I love to decorate for the holidays and to show my artistic side.  Gingerbread houses present the perfect opportunity for artistic liberties--especially in the details.  My house, for example, has four hand-crafted licorice bows; the snowman in the front yard has a modified-gumdrop face; a pile of snowballs in the fort were made from quartered mini-marshmallows; and each flower in the flower garden uses Mike-and-Ike's for the stem and leaves and a gumdrop for the petals.

Finally, each gingerbread house comes with its own epic story.  The gingerbread house below, at the Festival of Trees, was built and decorated by six women at the Utah State Prison over a period of 4 months.  They could only work on the house from 2am-6am and were only allowed to work on the house one person at a time.  They did the whole project without physically talking to or working with each other.  And the house was simply amazing. I think it's based on a lighthouse somewhere on the east coast. The detail on this thing was insane--the boat had little words piped on it with frosting and the boat dock was built from tiny pieces of gingerbread.

Some other gingerbread house stories might explain why there is an upside-down cinnamon Santa Clause in the front yard, or why there are only 6 & 3/4 reindeer pulling the sleigh.  These stories are highly entertaining and just as creative as the houses themselves.  My gingerbread house's story recounts the tale of an epic snowball fight that took place outside at the snowball fort.  As you might see, there's a snowball stuck on the wall between the windows, one on the striped corner piece, and, if you can see them, there's another three stuck to the front side of the fort.

The time spent on each gingerbread house is definitely worth it. Each of you guys should go make your own and see what amazing things you can come up with!

Oh Snap! I just realized something...

...I didn't use a single m&m on my gingerbread house.