World's Easiest Job

Okay...it's official. I've decided on the career for me. There isn't a job in the world that could possibly be easier or pay as much money for little work as one of the silent actors in historical documentaries. Seriously! I was watching a documentary on the History Channel today, and I saw that the most these actors had to do for a day's work was show up, get in makeup and costumes and then stand in front of a camera, moving about in slow motion until the director says cut. In fact, the people portraying these historical figures rarely even have to look good. Have you ever seen pictures of the old Tsars of Russia and their families? Many look hideously ugly, most have not even seen a bathtub in their lives, and all of them can be played by those of us who look...a little less like Brad Pitt in Ocean's 11 and more like Mr. Pitt from Seinfeld. Take this lady for instance: Tsarevna Sophia Alekseyevna, half sister and regent of Peter the Great. She looks quite similar to one of those dogs that everyone says is cute so they don't offend the owner, but really looks like a giant rat with a nose bigger than the rest of its entire body. What do you think about these? I actually think the dog has a much better-looking face. I can think of a few people that would be great at playing Sophia.

WOW! Look at those eyebrows! 

What is the most dangerous workplace hazard to these silent actors and models? Well, it's either contracting carpal tunnel from lifting up the same pen and signing a character's name for hours at a time, or it's suffering some kind of acute respiratory disease from inhaling too much powder from the white wigs. I'm definitely willing to take these chances for a day's pay that's definitely better than working the same amount of time at McDonald's. And there's very little risk of splashing hot oil on yourself. Plus, you'd receive the satisfaction of watching your documentary on television and bragging to all of your friends, "See that guy playing George Washington? That's me! You may not be able to tell because of the wig, the clothes, or the makeup, but it's definitely me!"

Today's documentary also showed about ten minutes of a man playing Tsar Nicholas II of Russia toying with the idea of signing his throne over to his son, his brother, and eventually revolutionaries. I'm serious folks; for ten minutes, I saw video of a man sitting at a table with an oil lamp, picking up a pen, bringing himself to sign the documents, and then chickening out at the last minute and placing the pen back on the table. He did this about twenty thousand times while the narrator said all of the important things. Want to know the best part? All that was shown was his forearms and his hands! This actor/model could have been sitting on the set all day, filming variations of his mock-signing, dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt with pretend Tsar shirt sleeves. Oh, and I could have done a much better job than our pal dressed in gym clothes, because my fingernails are actually clean. He looked as though he had not washed his hands in the last week at least.

Plus, think of the job security! There are always people creating documentaries of the past that have absolutely no historical video (after all...the video camera is a very recent invention). They have to keep the high school students watching entertained, so they don't use their pencils to gouge out their eyes after seeing nothing but those ugly historians with teeth protruding out of their faces that can only come from one of those British dentists that don't actually know how to take care of teeth. Overall, I see no downside to choosing this as a career. I think I'll go up to school tomorrow and withdraw because I don't need to learn how to pretend to write with a pen...I did that during our multiplication timed-tests in third grade!

Snow Snow Snow SNOW!!!!

Well, it must officially be Christmas Time, because I spent the dreaded time out in that white flaky stuff blowing the snow off the driveway today. I have to say, however, that despite coming in the house soaking wet and smelling like the inside of a gas tank, I somewhat enjoyed my time outside pushing the snow around. There's nothing like being outside with white all around, listening to nothing but the sound of the shovel against the driveway, and just appreciating the beauty that is winter (don't quote me on that in a month or so when I'm complaining about the cold, dark season though). 

The first part of winter is one of my favorite times of the year. I think that's mostly because the snow is accompanied by Christmas carols, brightly colored lights, and stories of people helping one another. Last Monday, I had the opportunity to perform in and help out a little with a benefit concert for the Christmas Box House (for those of you that don't know, the Christmas Box House is a sort of safe haven for abused and abandoned children). It really touched me to see the generosity of people! All of the performers paid a fee to help pay for the facility, so most of the ticket sales went to CBH. We sold $400 in tickets at the door (in addition to all of the kids' pre-sold tickets), and then we stood outside the doors after the concert with tins, where we collected another $1000!!! In fact, one man plopped two folded fifties into my tin!

My Singles' Ward has a tradition of adopting a family or two for a Sub-For-Santa. This year, despite all of the economic hardships and everything, my ward (that is made mostly of students) raised almost $5,000 for two families! I haven't had the chance to participate in the shopping and wrapping, but I'm SO excited to help deliver the presents to these families that are in need of a Christmas. I'm so happy to see all of this generosity all around me; it's been such a great example. THIS is what Christmas is all about!

Now, what would your mother say, or, when you think no one is watching...

Tonight, I was riding a Trax train in Downtown Salt Lake City, staring out the window and contemplating the meaning of life and various other items needless to be mentioned, I saw the reflection in the glass of the twenty-something man sitting just down from me. Oh, but this man wasn't simply sitting. As I saw him, he had no idea I was watching, so he buried his face in a bent arm and committed the most horrific faux pas known to man; he shoved his unoccupied pointer finger up his nostril to relieve his schnoz of some built up mucus. In layman's terms, he picked his nose. But wait; he didn't stop there. Instead of removing his finger from his nose and wiping the residue on a gently used tissue or handkerchief, the man turned his hand palm-side-up, made a fist with all his fingers but the offending forefinger and proceeded to examine his findings. Apparently, there was something extremely fascinating with this projectile of the proboscis, because he stared at it. He stared at the booger for what seemed to be at least twenty-seven seconds or so. After he seemingly found no more interest in the mucus flicked his fingers, sending the offending object flying through the car like a rocket until it made a crash landing on the window across from him. Since I wasn't about to get up with a tissue and clean it off, it hung there, dangling in all its glory, for the duration of our trip. We both exited the train at the same stop, so I made sure that I stayed as far away from him as humanly possible so that A) I wouldn't become infected by whatever bacteria were now thriving on the man's hand and B) I wouldn't look the man in the face and let out the great guffaw that I had been holding in. Normally, I wouldn't even think twice about someone picking his or her nose in public. In fact, it's quite a natural occurrence. However, the lingering desire this man had to examine the particulate matter in great detail disgusted me to the core. Isn't it amazing what we'll do when we think people aren't looking?

I proceeded from the Trax train to the FrontRunner to return to Ogden, hoping to have a nice relaxing ride full of quite solitude in which I could read my book. Of course, something entirely different was in store for me. It just so happened that the car with the most room, which I chose for obvious reasons, also contained an annoying throng of teenagers who shattered all social norms by yelling at the top of their lungs and being, as teenagers usually are, exceptionally annoying. These young whippersnappers spent the entire trip fighting over who ate the last M&M and participating in barbaric teenage rituals such as flirting neanderthalically with girls who couldn't be less interested and asking for their phone numbers. I had the worst time concentrating on my book, and I had to read most pages at least twice. It was a battle of wills. My will was to be the socially acceptable person who sits and endures the bedlam erupting in the train, and theirs was to be as obtusely disturbing to those around them as humanly possible. In the end, my will won, because they got off in Roy; I had one entire leg of the trip to travel quietly: what great victory.

But seriously...did these kids think that they were the only people on the train, or do they just consider themselves to be the most important life forms in the universe? One man was there, chaperoning them all, and he did absolutely nothing to thwart their narcissistic efforts. I want to know if their mothers know they act as immature as they did this evening. What would your mother say if she knew you acted like that? I urge you all to eliminate this social faux pas from your life. Conform! Be the one that talks to no one on the train, making sure not to sit too close to another human being. Keep to yourselves so I can read my book, sleep, or whatever else I choose to do in the 54 minutes we share together while learning nothing more about you, as a polite member of society should do!

Santa: CTU

Okay...so I may be a little obsessed with 24, but I found this great video on Hulu today! Check it out!!!

Good Tidings of Great Joy!

Well, it's December 1st and therefore the official beginning of Christmas. Christmas is such a great time of the year...in fact, it's my favorite! I love the sights and sounds, the feelings, and the meaning. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, was born. Heavenly angels bore witness that He would truly be the one to save us; to redeem us from the world. This little baby that was born over 2000 years ago in the most humble of conditions means that we can live with our Father in Heaven again. In Luke 2:10, the Angel said to the shepherds, "Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." The Doctrine & Covenants gives us a little more insight into that historic phrase. In Section 76 verses 40-42, we read:

"And this is the gospel, the glad tidings, which the voice of the heavens bore record unto us—That he came into the world, even Jesus, to be crucified for the world and to bear the sins of the world, and to sanctify the world, and to cleanse it from all unrighteousness; That through him all might be saved..."

Isn't that amazing? The little baby that was born grew up to be the Savior of all the world. He felt every pain, every disappointment, every sin that each and every one of us has felt, feels now, and will feel in the future. He has made it possible for us to have eternal life with our loved ones in the presence of God. Concerning those that will become exalted, verse 69 of Section 76 says, "These are they who are just men made perfect through Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, who wrought out this perfect atonement through the shedding of his own blood." We don't have to do it alone; we can be made perfect through Jesus Christ, who has borne our sins through that perfect atonement. These inspired words from Prophets of God give me such great comfort, and especially in this Christmas season, I know that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. He suffered that we might not suffer. He died that we may have eternal life. I urge you all to remember this throughout the Christmas season. Act a little more Christlike toward your fellow men. Be generous. Help those that are less fortunate than you...there are a lot of them out there. Most of all, have a Merry Christmas!

Anarchy!

As I was waiting in line at the grocery store a few days ago (no, I wasn't distracted by the usual items placed at the register to prod impulse buying, which is a major feat), I found myself contemplating just why—in our liberal, narcissistic, all-about-me society—people actually wait in line to pay for their groceries. It seems to me that in the past decade or so, the majority of the population has become increasingly self-centered and discourteous. I can barely travel five miles-per-hour above the speed limit without one or two drivers anxiously riding my tail and then whizzing past me at the earliest possible convenience. An old man can no longer stand at the register of a convenience store, counting out pennies to buy a pack of gum, without a soccer mom behind him disgustingly tapping her foot, rolling her eyes and sighing with abhorrence as she remarks to her friend on her Blackberry how long it is taking to pay for her morning Coke. In this day of vanity, how is it that a queue can still form and people still wait in line? Wouldn't pure anarchy please the masses today?

As I was contemplating the answer to this perplexing question, other infractions upon my personal "bubble" came to mind. Walking from class to class on campus, so much is forced upon me. Just the other day, I followed two girls (sisters, I assume) who spent the entire length of our walk cursing at each other, throwing their shoulders back and their heads toward the sky, and huffing about like little children. The only way for me to completely avoid the deplorable language that was so rudely used would be to put my headphones in my ears and concentrate on the music on my iPod, but then, no doubt, someone would scowl at me because I didn't hear them behind me and therefore couldn't get out of his or her way soon enough. Almost daily, I am obliged to walk through a cloud of nicotine-laced smoke while walking in the doors of the business building on campus because the "no smoking within 25 feet of a public building" law evidently does not apply to the smokers at universities. The time of good manners has so obviously passed, so why do we even try at all?

Well, I believe I've come up with a half-way decent answer. Most of us live in fear of one another, and those of us who don't genuinely want to make the world at least a little bit happier. The majority of people form themselves into lines out of dread for what may happen if we "butt" in front of someone else. Pick the wrong person to put off, and they'll tell you to "F-off," follow you out to your car and slash your tires while you're putting the groceries in your trunk, and then proceed to ram your compact-sized car with their giant new truck with spinners on the wheels and blaring rap music—sending you directly to the emergency room. For those of you, however, who truly try to be polite, I commend you for bringing a little bit of happiness to the rest of us. You are the one that single-handedly makes the world a better place. I admire you. I want to be like you, but for now I'll keep cowering like a sissy with the other eighty percent of us that are afraid of confrontation.

For those of you that don't appreciate cynicism, I apologize to you for ranting so much in this post. Please come back to my blog tomorrow to see the newest update, because I'll try to write something a little more up-beat.

Toilet Paper and a various sundry of other blather...

I've come to notice one of the little annoying things in life over the past little while. It seems like every time I go into the bathroom to...finish my digestion...I look over to wipe and there is about a half a sheet of toilet paper left! It must just be me, because I seem to have to replace the toilet paper every time I go into the commode, which means that my family must always have a plentiful supply. They must git a great kick out of picturing me stranded on the toilet, with pants down to my ankles, worrying about how I'm going to find the next square of TP without flashing the world. Oh, but don't you worry...I've come up with a system to thwart their evil little plans. I keep a spare 4-pack of toilet paper in the cabinet next to the John so that all I have to do is reach over and grab a new roll. HA! Their plot has been discovered and I am victorious!

Want to know what else has been bothering me about good ol' bathroom tissue? The rolls seem to get smaller and smaller each time we get a new pack! Have you noticed that? Well here's my theory. Companies like Charmin and Quilted Northern and conspiring against the everyday consumer. Every week, the rolls of TP come with one less square. Over the years it hasn't been a problem, but as the rolls get smaller, one notices the seemingly insignificant portion of tissue missing on the roll because we're used to the bigger, plushier rolls of days past. They think that we haven't caught on, but I definitely have. They're charging us more for less...and now I have to look over my shoulder because the toilet paper companies' minions are coming to force gag me. But I won't give up! I won't!!! Tell all the world!

In other news, I have an assignment for my Exploring Multimedia class to play five video games over the Thanksgiving holiday. We get to pick any games we want, but they eventually have to hit every category given to us (New, Old, Computer, Console, Violent, Girly, etc.). So, I've had to ask my brother to teach me how to play video games...this should be an adventure. Last night I downloaded the World of Warcraft trial, and it's actually fun! I'm glad the trial only lasts ten days, because I just might be getting addicted already. Any other suggestions for games I should play?

Well, I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. Right now, I have to get off the "throne" to find some more wiping supplies without being seen, because I forgot to re-stock my secret stash...wish me luck!