Complete Moron

Today whilst riding the bus to school, I observed a man executing deplorable behavior. I looked over to see him unwrapping a Hershey's Kiss chocolate candy. "Oh, that's nice," I thought, "A little pre-class sugar boost to help him through the pursuit of knowledge." Then he crumpled the tin wrapper into a little ball (along with the 97.6% of Americans who do the same when they enjoy a Hershey's Kiss) and threw it on the ground with complete disregard for his surroundings. He threw it as if it was a piece of corn husk being tossed into the compost. I looked at him with disgust but he looked forward completely oblivious to the fact that someone had seen his egregious act. As I was giving him the stink eye he pulled another one out of his pocket, unwrapped it, placed the morsel in his mouth, crumpled the tinfoil, and discarded his waste right on to the bus floor. He is blatantly littering right before my eyes. I can not believe that there are people in this world with such wanton disregard for their environment. I'm sure this person has thrown many sausage mcmuffin wrappers to the ground after he enjoyed a nice heavy breakfast. I'm sure the roads are littered with his receipts. I'm sure his house is perfectly clean.

What makes a person so unaware of their impact on their environment? What gives them the amount of entitlement it takes to be so utterly selfish as to make them think that they can just throw waste wherever they want? Did you know that early humans (homo erectus) had certain areas of their caves for animal wastes and broken tools and such? This person on the bus was exhibiting features of life not akin to humans, but more akin to a hyena who picks off what he wants and then moves on, leaving the remains for others to deal with.

How can anyone not be self conscious about littering? I mean if you drop something while you are walking and it blows far away and you are unable to retrieve it, that is one thing, but if you willfully and consciously throw a piece of trash onto the ground, you are making up your mind to do something completely anti-social. The pre-conceived act of littering is the first step to pre-conceived murder. You know littering is bad (or do you?), you know it will just hang out on the earth, cluttering our waterways and fields (no, maybe you don't. I think you are full of complete ignorance), you know stabbing someone in the throat is not very nice (I think), yet you choose to ignore the consequences. Perhaps an exaggeration, yes, but, I don't think by too large a degree. You have to admit there are some narcissistic, ant-social, mass murderer type traits being exhibited here. Most individuals with even the slightest regard for their surroundings see littering as the nuisance it is. Even children know not to litter.

Toblog's photo is something that brings me joy in times of extreme frustration with the world. I love the desert. I love summer.

Forced out of retirement

No, I wasn't really in retirement, more like a sabbatical. Whenever school comes around I 'think' I lose interest in blogging, when in actuality I yearn for it as a creative escape to keep my essay skills pumping. For some reason, the procrastination bug hits hard when school starts. This is the opposite of quality genetic cognitive evolution; I should be thwarting the procrastination bug during the school year rather than nurturing it. So here I am to start the blogging year off. I was going to start with something else that has been burning a hole in my brain, but I will save it for later so as to provide incentive to continue on the consistent post schedule.

I've been tagged

I generally don't give this type of internet social game passing stuff the time of day, but it originated from a long time good friend and was passed on to me by another long time good friend. I am supposed to reveal 6 things about me for some reason. So I am going to pour my concentric circle shaped soul out and reveal a thing or two for the WHOLE WORLD to see. People say the internet has stolen privacy. The thing with that is someone has to actually read this blog to find anything out. On to the list.

1. I really enjoy the following television programs - Project Runway and America's Next Top Model. I can't explain it. I have all of these opinions and worries and cares for these unknown people. I can watch multiple episode marathons without even a second thought.

2. I have always hated going to church, yet for some reason I am still compelled to go. Don't ask me why on either count because I can't give you an answer.

3. I am not afraid of dying - at all. In fact I look forward to it quite a bit.

4. I have always wanted to see the US South. Associated with that, I also will not rest until I see fireflies in real life and catch some in a glass jar and look at them wistfully as a dream of a time when I can move to the city.

5. I cried when I watched Cool Runnings. I cry at a lot of movies and at silly times too.

6. I used to be an incredibly lazy kid. Those of you who see my current activity strewn lifestyle may find this odd. Indeed I love nothing better than being outside doing something - whether it be climbing, biking, hiking, writing, or balancing - but as an elementary school kid I was 100% stereotype american. 1 such case study. I was enrolled in this after school science class where we dissected animals and learned about biology. Well, one day I sluffed class because I really wanted some tortilla chips with melted cheese on top and a coke in a glass bottle (yes, this was when glass bottles were still de rigeur). So I sluffed class to go eat chips and watch TV. I am not proud of my excesses. Perhaps that is why I am so invigorated by physical activity (activities of the brain count as well as I led a sedentary brain life as a kid as well) and it may also explain number 1 above.

That is my soul as of 11:27, January 27 2008.

Toblog's photo is a picture that I took of a down cluster that got me 50% off of a certain brand of outdoor equipment.

An Internal Educational Dilemma

I have an internal dilemma/anxiety.

The semester is over for me; I turned in my paper and washed my hands of the stress. Stress is where the dilemma arises. Education is supposed to be a grand enlightening experience that will mold my mind into a master of eloquence and sophistication. I have spent the last 3 or 4 years trying to get excited about school, learning, and the experience, and it has worked for the most part. And really, it isn't totally talking myself into it, it is more keeping myself as into it during the latter half of the semester as I was at the beginning. The thought of school excites me and I love going to school and discovering new ideas that were never apparent to me before or read a book that was never on my radar; and that is exciting. I love that, I really do. The dilemma comes from the stresses of HAVING to complete all of the homework, performing for the professor, and completing the homework and the free time it takes up. I like going to school and learning, but I don't like being forced to work outside of school. I like continuing the learning at home, but I don't like having the looming deadlines of homework and obligatory reading. The quest for knowledge is truly exciting, but having someone poke you in the bum the whole time is not so fun. I am loosing my mental fortitude for keeping myself interested in school and the associated work. How do you maintain interest throughout the semester? Am I really burning out or am I Just lazy? Am I becoming one of those fluff ball students that complains about how stupid a class is? Is this the end of zombie Greg?

I don't think I am one of those kids who complains about being in school and how lame this class is because I generally really love my classes (as stated above). The problem is the deadlines.

My load at school this semester was relatively light yet I still felt like I was about to loose my mind by the end of the semester. There is something about knowing that you have to write a paper on a subject that you are only mildly interested in and that will count for 40% percent of your grade that makes my mind reel. I a good at writing papers; I have written a lot of them and I get fairly good grades with little effort. For some reason however, I feel like I can't write or that I won't be able to write a good paper. I feel the looming ax whenever I have a paper due. It sucks. I am done thinking/rambling about this. I really need to find a way to make it through another year of school.

Toblog's photo is of my brother Dan C. being a goof ball for the camera. He brings me great joy.

Pain/Gender Equivalencies

I wonder if there is a pain for women that is equivalent to the pain of a male getting one in the groin? Is there some instance in female life that causes them the same dull, all encompassing, indescribable and very debilitating pain that comes from a blow to the testicles. Judging by what research data I have gathered through casual discourse throughout my life, there is no equivalent; it appears to be uniquely male. Sure sure there will always the girl in gym class who gets hit in the breast by a volleyball and says it hurts just as bad, but the mere fact that she is coherent enough to make an argument like that spoils her little ruse. If that were a boy who got hit in the child factory with the same ball at the same force, there would be no sounds other than faint moans, and certainly no coherent thought processes traveling across the synapses.

There is also the school of thought that likes to compare childbirth pain to the aforementioned boy pain. I guess they don't necessarily compare it in exact likeness, more they say, "well, that may hurt, but what about having a baby? That hurts." I bet it does hurt. I bet it hurts more than any pain I will ever feel in my entire life (barring any run ins with a gun and my knee caps), but I doubt it offers the same sensation of having Burt and Ernie smashed on a bicycle top tube.

Maybe this is where I am wrong and the pain of child birth is in fact an extremely intense version of the male pain. Perhaps women really are experiencing this pain but in such a different environment and circumstance that it renders the feeling in a different psychological light that gives the woman more strength to maintain a certain amount of composure so that the duty of childbirth can still be accomplished. I still tend to think that the pain from childbirth is different (although unfathomable) and that it is an issue of apples and oranges; they are two different flavors of pain.

One conclusion I can extrapolate from this thought experiment is that women and men are very different in both physiology and psychology. Well, I guess this isn't the end all confirmation. I should say it is yet another confirmation that women and men really are assembled differently. I also know that even though I sometimes wish a girl could feel that same feeling of the worst diarrhea of your life mixed with the worst stomach ache of your life mixed with the worst genital pain in your life mixed with all of that all over your whole body, I realize how mean that is to wish such an awkward pain on someone else. I certainly don't want to experience the pains of childbirth so I guess that is where the fair trade is: both sexes don't want to experience the unique pain of the other sex.

Toblogs picture is a picture to remind me of the good times of summer: Yet another Joshua Tree Picture.

I Am a Geek, But So Are You.

So I confessed to Marcela that I have not only played an RPG (role playing game) but that I enjoyed it immensely. I enjoyed it enough to do two things which brought down more ridicule upon my head - a) I purchased my own set of various sided dice and b) researched a Matrix based D6 Legend game and printed out all the rules of game play and assembled them into a three ringed binder with tabs to organize various aspects of the game. She really laughed when I showed her my little binder (I didn't dare show her my dice). She said she has a certain image of the types of people that play RPGs (a gross and harmful stereotypical image I am sure) and she said that she couldn't accept that I played an RPG. I told her that she shouldn't knock it until she tried it. She still laughs at me and brings it up in a hurtful joking way. It doesn't phase me because I am confident in who I am and I am going to elaborate on why RPGs are fun and not just for basement bound geeks.

RPGs allow a person to create a character that the player gets to act out - an alternate personality if you wish to go that far. This is no different than good old Johnny Depp or Marlon Brando acting in your favorite Hollywood hit. Score 1 for the geeks.

Before game play can even begin, one must create their character, but also understand a vast lexicon of rules and terms so they can be able to create a character within the bounds of the physics of the world in which your character must live and thrive. This calls for extreme mental capacity and fortitude in order to keep track of not only your own attributes (strength, weapon skills, magic if you have it etc) but you need to be aware of the attributes of those around you so you know who you can call on if you need help. You also need to know how to increase your attribute strengths so that you can progress and become a better player in the game. Great care must be taken so that you nurture a good character and if you are lucky, this character can be with you for a long long time to help you through your various quests.

During game play, one must maintain strict attention to the proceedings as the game master reads the scenario and dictates the various problems, needs and desires of the various characters of the game. The quests are laied out and one must be mindful of how to best accomplish these tasks so as to benefit not only him/herself, but also the other players. It is really a community battle against the giant ogres or whatever terror is running amok in Maroox.

Finally, what is the difference between running around a little guy named Mario, or being the controller for a Halo III character, or Gathering Pokemon characters and categorizing them and learning all there is to know. I submit to the reader that these endeavors, while more accepted in society are in fact baser pursuits in gaming. Those who tackle the vast challenge that is organized RPG play commit themselves to a true mental challenge that invigorates the imagination as well as the quantitative segments of the brain. Should one study up on all of the Red Sox player stats or the latest Pokemon character traits, or should one create their own character with unique personality and traits which mirror their creator and take on battles more complex than any computer could preconfigure. I believe I have answered that question.

Good Night.
p.s. I still have never actually played the Matrix D6 Legend RPG. It looks great, but frankly, I only have one person who I could get to help me organize game play.

Toblog's photo is of the girl that made fun of me. That's what she gets for making fun of me; she gets her face plastered to my blog (though it is an adorable picture wouldn't you say?)

Why I Like Thanksgiving: A Theme By Greg Corey

I like Thanksgiving. I am not going to go into all of the things that I am thankful for in some bland, dry as overcooked turkey list, I am going to discuss why I actually like the day of Thanksgiving and maybe some of that stuff will come out.

Food. Food is of course the main focus on Thanksgiving. No matter what anybody says, food is the main focus on everyone's mind. I am not going to talk about food right now.

Thanksgiving eve is a lot like Christmas eve, expect unlike Christmas eve (as a child) I don't loose sleep because of excitement. On the contrary, I sleep better than any other day of the year. Deep down I know that I will have all day (until 4 o'clock) to do whatever I please and that homework, or other chores of that nature are not allowed. It is a completely free day to stay at home, chat with family, get ready for the meal and subsequent socializing, and doing fun projects that I want to do.

I don't feel rushed in anything I do. This year, I decided to work on my brother and nephew's bikes. They had been sitting in my basement for about a month waiting to be worked on and I just kept putting it off. I decided that thanksgiving day, because it is such a low obligation day, would be the perfect day to take care of this. I also cleaned my room and organized photos while I was at it today. It is like all pains of procrastination are gone on Thanksgiving. I feel no anxiety over completing any 'tasks'; I just do what I feel like doing in the time I have to do stuff.

The mood on Thanksgiving day is really peaceful and calm for me. Now is a good time to talk of food because it is probably the most stressful aspect of Thanksgiving. This stress comes in two forms for me: 1) How do I prepare for the large meal? Do I skip all meals and risk stomach shrinkage or do I eat a little and risk being too full? Do I load up on liquids to stretch my stomach like hot dog eating champions? This is a serious issue concerning maximum pleasure from eating. This year I went with a skip breakfast, largeish salad for lunch, and lots of liquids routine. I think it went well. I felt very satisified but not ill. It was a thanksgiving miracle. 2) Food preparation. I feel bad making my mom do all of the food prep, but I think she really likes it. She bakes, mashes, whips, boils, browns, roasts, and peels to her hearts content. I noticed that she rarely seems stressed out when it comes to the food on Thanksgiving. I think she is so well practiced that it is like any other meal for a large bunch of kids. So this only offeres mild anxiety mostly in the form of I have the responsibility of carving the turkey and my carving consistency is in the 'needs improvement' category. But it usually tastes good even though the breast might not be perfectly sliced.

Anxieties aside, I love food. I love eating slow and steady. I love chewing my food until it is well mashed and all the flavor has had an opportunity to escape into my mouth and tantalize my tastebuds. I love eating turkey with an 80%/20% Cranberry sauce to Turkey ratio. I love Stovetop Stuffing. I love the muted yet exciting flavor of candied yams. I love well made rolls. I love the combination of these foods and the general smooth yet powerful flavor the extol upon my whole masticative soul. I love pumpkin pie with Cool Whip (not whipped cream, name brand Cool Whip). I love the slightly hard and chewy texture of the pumpkin filling. Food is good. Food is more than nutrition. Food is an incredibly pleasurable experience.

Then comes the after party. This is when the kids run around naked (yes that happened this year) and we sit around and talk, laugh, play games, waddle around, and listen to Donna Summer. This part of Thanksgiving varies quite a bit. Sometimes it is quiet with board games and small conversation. Sometimes it is loud, raucous, full of nudity and mayhem. Both are nice. Both have pluses and minus. I like the variety.

Then comes the clean up. Things usually died between 8 and 9 o'clock. Spending time with my mom and cleaning up is rather relaxing and rewarding. It is a time to just be together for a little while. We don't necessarily talk (we are generally not extremely verbose with each other) but when we do it is nice. Otherwise it is nice to just help her out a bit and just be in her presence. I get the vibe that she feels the same way. That makes me a little soft in the heart.

Thanksgiving provides probably one of the only 'real' vacations I get all year. Christmas is close, but that has other demons attached to it that I will perhaps discuss in 1 month. This day has been good and tomorrow may end up being a wonderful day as well. Could it be another Thanksgiving miracle that the day after could be nearly as enjoyable as the Day of?

Toblog's photo is of my crazy nephew. I tried to take a bunch of pictures of the food but due to wrong ISO settings and frenzied eating nothing turned out. So here is my nephew. Enjoy his bright shining face of mischief (He makes Dennis the Menace look like the Charlie Brown).

Mistaken Identity

There are a couple names that I consistently get mistaken for; George and Tim. George is understandable to some degree. While not phonetically dissimilar, if you rearrange the letters you get Grego which is pretty damn near close to Greg, AND if add another r and a y you get yourself Gregory which is my full given Christian FBI record Witness Relocation Program name. This I can live with to some extent, other than the fact that I don't think I am a George in any way and I always get brief twinges and premonitions of what my life would have been like if I were a George.

This brings us to Tim. That one is a mystery, but I kid you not, Tim is probably the most often misspoken name for me. I don't know what it is. Is there a vast pool of redheads out there that are named Tim and are very sociable and therefore have a far reaching fan base who moves all over the country and invariably a few from said fan base end up in SLC and end up meeting me because they themselves are very sociable and are often in social party situations which I have found myself being dragged to on an ever increasing scale and they see me and are introduced and hear my name but as psychology goes they forget it the second they turn their head and so through association with this incredibly popular and influential and life changing Tim they project the Tim personality on me and assume my name is Tim just like their good friend back home or is Tim just some social construction default for people of my likeness? I figure people don't remember my name because I am particularly unremarkable in most aspects of the group socializing point scale so I don't mind being forgotten, but guessing at my name and then consistently coming up with George or Tim is just not right. I would rather they just say "what was your name again?" just so I don't have to have visions of what life would be like as Tim or George.

Toblogs Photo is one of the said parties that I have been increasingly dragged to, not that this is a bad thing really.

Juarez: The Real Comeback Kid

So yes, I got of to a rocky comeback start. So, here is a post that is worth coming back for. I am now the proud of of the above turtle whose name is Juarez. Juarez is an illegal immigrant from Mexico. He was smuggled over in a Pepsi cup, a water bottle, a hand and a pocket by my dearest friend Marcela who was hanging out/visiting some relatives in Guadalajara. She knew that I had always wanted a turtle and she saw some at a market and decided it was a good idea to get me one. I was so shocked to see a turtle when she came home. My very own turtle, what a dream come true.

I've spent the last month accumulating knowledge and supplies and think I have a pretty good handle on the situation. I thought he was sick yesterday, but it turns out the UVB lamp was too close and it was causing inflammation of the eyes. I was scared sick that he was going to die or something. I am still scared sick that he will die. Apparently the Red Ear Slider variety of turtle is particularly finicky when it comes to captive survival. But so far he seems ok and is even shedding which is a good sign of growth. He is so handsome and terribly fun to watch swim around. His little legs propelling him through the water is just about the most adorable thing in the world.

You'll notice that the picture is of Juarez's hind quarters. This is because he is one jumpy fellow. When I enter my room he will jump off of his basking rock and swim to "safety" (little does he know that I can grab him at any time. Mwa ha ha). So I snuck up on him while he was stretching out his hind quarters. Cute.

So that is that. I am through with this post and I hope it was enjoyable in all its shortness. I will return with more news from afar and beyond.

I Return

So...yeah...it's been a while. Sorry about that to both of my faithful readers. I decided to put the blog on the back burner for a while because "I was too busy" or "I have enough to worry about" or "I write enough in school". All lame excuses. I have been feeling stagnant lately. I feel like my mind hasn't been working towards what it wants to be working towards. Yes I got a job reviewing albums for The Silent Ballet which provides an opportunity to not only listen to neato bands, but also to write weekly. Yes I have an English/Philosophy class that is quite invigorating and requires a weekly paper, but I feel like my essay skill are suffering. I feel like my ability to really explicate my ideas is dwindling with lack of use. It really isn't, but I feel that way. I want to keep my mind sharp. My idle mind drives me crazy and I can't get into a habit of letting myself wallow the hours away doing mindless tasks. I must write my ideas. I must tell stories. I must blog.

So consider this my official coming out of retirement speech, that is if anyone every sees this again. Oh well, it really is just for my well being.

Rock and Roll Tour

So the tour went well and the band (Theta Naught) is doing well. We traveled from San Fransisco (quick, who was born there?) to San Diego then to Vegas. One of the finer shows involved a business space that was used for a church on Saturday and Sunday and shows on Friday. It was an all ages show which turned out to be quite fun. Ryan met some kids, Alex and Josh, on myspace and invited them to play with us. They did. They were pretty good. They were 16. It was a real joy listening to them talk about school, SATs, teachers, college plans etc. So bright eyed and hopeful. Then we met some 14 year old kids who were waiting out front for the next band to start because the current band "Cursed" and "there's no need for that". What fascinating kids. However, talking to these kids gave me my first ever hint and guttural feeling that I am in fact OLD. I'm only 25, but frankly, that is relatively old, especially in the eyes of these whipper snappers. It kind of hurt. "I'm in to classic rock like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Def Leopard". Def Leopard? Holy Hell, Oldies are now of my generation.

In spite of this moment of age realization, I had a wonderful tour. It was a treat to hang with Pete and large with child Sheri. Those two just might make good parents.

Vegas was a fun show as always. Black Camaro was a gracious host as per usual and the show was well attended and well rocked. If you haven't listened to Black Camaro you should. They are surprisingly good and Brian Garth is a really good songwriter. I still hate the Vegas Strip.

That about sums it up except for the '89 Dodge Caravan report. It was a total Champion. It got relatively good mileage for the weight we were pulling, we added a fuzzy steering wheel cover (see photo), it was comfortable, trouble free, spacious and amenity packed. I love that van.

See you at the arts festival and CO.

Toblog's Photos: (bottom up) Peter stretching after Croquet, Venue 2, Venue 6, Darren-Cassie-Alex's girl friend (I forgot your name, sorry)-Alex-Josh-Me-Ryan, Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas, The Van, The Crew.

Joshua Tree 07 Revisited

Well, it's time to recount the magical week that was Joshua Tree. Because there is so much I want to say and tell, I am going to practice my short succinct paragraphs so as not to create a blog novel and bore everyone to death.

The wildlife was abundant. We had three rabbits that came every day around dinner time to vacuum our crumbs. They were adorable little bunnies and made an excellent meal on Friday night. Just kidding, but one did come so close to me I could have cuddled with it. Highlight: A bobcat decided to take respite from the sun under a tree a mere meters from our campsite. We naturally quietly sprang into action with cameras of all sorts. Many good pics were taken and fun was had by all in this zoological observation.

Speaking of science, Braden and Taylor decided to pass the hot hours by performing various camp challenges. One of these challenges was to distill their own urine to get clean drinking water using only a black garbage bag, two ziplock baggies, 2 feet of duct tape and any natural items found in the desert. Neither of them were terribly successful, but many, many wonderful things were learned.

Speaking of learning we are no closer to the problem of whether or not you can move a sphere of water while suspended inside.

Speaking of being suspended, the climbing was stellar as always. It was hot hot hot so we only climbed like 3 or so routes in the mornings and then ran to our shade structure for relief and food. Nothing really out of the ordinary here just good old Joshua Tree Climbing.

Speaking of good, the food was excellent. If I may toot my own horn, the pizza I made was completely above average. It was rich and delicious with a crust able to lube a car. Other highlights included a French Bread pasta bake thing, a soup full of everything, vegetarian tacos (insert dirty joke here), an extremely large cookie, and premade curry.

I think that's good enough for now.

Looking Up Every Once In A While

I was downtown tonight at the Library watching a movie with a friend. She works downtown and walked to the library and I was on my bike so we walked to her work and she gave me a ride home. We were walking at a rather casual pace, really in no hurry to be anywhere, and I took the time to notice my City. The most shocking - in terms of beauty, awe, and what the heck was I thinking not doing this before - was standing at the base of a large building and looking up. I had never in my life looked at a building in that perspective before and it took me aback. Some were virtuosoily symmetrical, while others had interesting variances and bisecting lines and designs. The really high ones blew me away. You could look up and see a base too big to absorb and above you could see the tip vanishing to a pinky. This is the first time I have truly grasped the giganticness of my hometown skyscrapers.

Toblogs photo - Joshua Tree. Three Days and still no Peter. It is so so sad. One of the saddest situations in my life.

My Hero The Shadow

I fullfilled one of my musical life goals on May 1st 2007. I saw DJ Shadow perform live. It was a real treat, not only because the music was completely mind blowingly wonderful, but it turns out that DJ Shadow (aka Josh Davis) is a really cool, down to earth fellow. Allow me to elaborate.

He walks on stage with the lights still high, house music still pumping. He walks over to his turntables, opens his blue protective case for his cartridges, puts them on the arm himself, and kind of mills around a bit getting things organized. When he came on stage people cheered and cheered and he kept his head down in a shy-like manner and had just an adorable little smile that was as ubiquitous throughout the show as amazing beats and melodies. There was no hype with him. Just before he started playing he had a little heart to heart with the audience about his regrets for not playing SLC earlier, as well as some of his future show plans etc; real personal seeming stuff. He didn't come out with epic intro music; no smoke preceded his entrance, he just walked out, said "hi", and rocked us as best he could, and his best is pretty darn good. It honestly looked like he was having fun - like he was doing this because he really enjoys doing it, not because of image, or money, or fame. I think kids would do well to use Shadow as a role model over, say, Jay-Z.

Devil Went Down To SLC

I went climbing last weekend up in Little Cottonwood Canyon in Salt Lake City. I was atop the first pitch of our climb belaying the second when I heard a faint fiddle coming down the canyon road. I looked to the West to see what it was. The make of car was unclear from 1,000 ft up, but I am betting on a convertible Chrysler LeBaron, but it was screaming down the canyon blasting The Devil Went Down To Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band. If you haven't heard this track I highly recommend that you download or at least sample it. It is a classic in wild and crazy fiddle playing. It was totally awesome to hear this obscure beauty go screaming by.

Toblog's photo: 2.5 weeks to Joshua Tree '07 - Peter, Please!!!!

Something Interesting?

We’ve been talking about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in my Lit Hist class. We came to the scene where the monster kills Elizabeth, Frankenstein’s wife to be, in her bedroom where she and Frankenstein were meant to consummate their marriage. Our professor was fishing for an analysis that was of a sexual nature, which was fairly interesting. There’s this girl, this girl who says stuff just to say stuff, I mean real off the subject, personal experience type stuff that is just diarrhea of the mouth. The professor is searching for some connection between the ways Frankenstein describes how he felt when he heard Elizabeth scream and, basically, an orgasm. This girl raises her hand and goes on this rant about how Frankenstein was happy that she was dead and that he was more obsessed with his pistol yadda yadda. The jewel is that everyone was thinking of innuendo at the moment, except her, and she kept saying how Frankenstein was more interested in grabbing his pistol or stroking his pistol rather than saving Elizabeth. Well, a few others and I lost it. We just started cracking up as she kept saying how the big monster was able to penetrate Elizabeth’s safety zone and Frankenstein was more interested in his pistol. Good grief she was clueless, but it added hilarity to my day.

Toblog's picture: I am waxing sentimental about Joshua Tree. It might not be the same this year (hint hint Peter).

Who do you think is supreme?

It's been a while. Sorry.


Today at work there was a heated debate over which superhero deserves the title of "Best Superhero". I felt the choice was obvious with Batman. One group felt that Spiderman was to reign supreme. Yet another felt Superman was indeed "THE" Super Hero. There was a small contingency rooting for Green Lantern, but their power was weak, much like Green Lantern (ooohhh Burn!). Most everyone was arguing against my claim that Batman is the best. I got arguments like "He's just an angst ridden guy with no superpowers" and "If it wasn't for Alfred he would be nothing." Well - Yeah. That's the point of Batman; he is a normal guy who decided to change his life in a drastic way because of the circumstances of his life. He is angst ridden to be sure. That is what makes him a morally compelling superhero. He is constantly battling choosing and bending the lines between what is good and bad, moral and immoral. Superman is always flying straight as an arrow, except in superman III when personality, as it were, is split in two. But even then, he is all bad and all good, no moral gray area.

If it weren't for Alfred, of course he would be nothing. Batman is about the importance of a good friend. Most superheros are alienated in some way; some more than others. Wolverine is a good example of a truly alienated hero. His powers have made him an outcast which in turn makes him angry at the world and disallows him the ability to make good friends. He has been betrayed so many times, it is hard for him to commit to a friendship. What about Spiderman. This superhero has it pretty sweet. Sure "With great power come great responsibility," but if you are looking at the comic books, he eventually marries Mary Jane, he makes pretty good money shooting photos, everything is turning up Peter Parker. He may have his problems here and there, but nothing like Bruce Wayne. He is angry, confused and mostly friendless, except for Alfred, his long-time, loyal friend. This friend is what helps Batman and Bruce Wayne find some sort of balance in life.

Now let's not overlook the awesomeness of Batman being able to beat any bad guy out there with his own, human powered brawn and brain. He doesn't need the Earth's yellow sun to give him power. He worked hard for his strength and agility and studied hard to be smart enough to outsmart the trickiest villain of all - The Riddler.

Superman's powers are cool, Spiderman's powers are cool, but I find the psychological and moral aspects of Batman's character far more compelling. Superman and Spiderman seem so lightweight in comparison to the emotional and mental weight of Batman's story.

Toblog's picture: I was tried to find a picture of my Halloween homage costume to Batman but I don't seem to have a copy. So instead is a nice bum shot of me acting like Batman.

A Day Full of Fun Violence

I remember in elementary school being very aware of St. Patrick's day. Not only was the one day a year when I was allowed to drink whiskey, but it was a day to wear my best green outfit to avoid being pinched or worse. St. Patty's day was more salient on my mind then was perhaps healthy for a 8-15 year old. I have distinct memories of looking at clothes during the annual school clothes purchase and thinking, "I could use this for St. Patrick's day." This is in August mind you, a good 7 months before the weird day. It was so salient to me that I would make sure I slept with some sort of green whether it was my undies or jammies I made sure I had something green on so I would be immune to pinches the day of. My brothers were terribly ruthless. If you didn't have green on for a second, you were tweaked.

In my later years I got a little bit sassy I suppose. I started wearing green boxer shorts and no visible green on my outer layers. This way, people would pinch me and then I would show them my hidden green and, due to local custom, I would pinch them back-hard.

Now I could care less about St. Patrick's Day. I don't think I wore a single pigment of green today. I don't think grocery stores even care about this fine holiday anymore. I don't remember any special candies or decorations. There might have been some colored projects from elementary students but that is about it.

Next year I'm bringing it back. I am going on a pinching rampage and I am wearing green undies to bed.

Toblog's picture could be Ireland, but is is only the backside of Grandeur Peak in UT.

Balboa 4 Life

I saw Rocky Balboa tonight with my brother Dan. I thought it was an excellent film, way better than what people gave it credit for. I would like to offer a slight critical analysis if I may so you may see why I think it was so good. It might not be "A" material but hopefully it gets a quick point across.

Sylvester Stallone was honored with an Academy Award for his hand in the creation of Rocky The Motion Picture. This film garnered praise from critics and audiences alike and rightly so. It was a tale of conquering fears, overcoming obstacles and other sports clichés. However there was a human depth that went way beyond boxing. Rocky's character is a little awkward. He seems like an outspoken cool dude, when in fact he is rather clumsy around women and authority. His love interest with Adrian begins rather shakily as rocky is a rather imposing man, but he is just trying to do what is right for her. He asks her to trust him, she does and as a result she becomes Rocky's muse. Everything he does he does it for Adrian; even when he gets a little prideful and blows all his money, (in subsequent films) he does it thinking he is helping Adrian. He is always reminded of his humble beginnings and ends up humbling himself.

Rocky Balboa received mild critical praise, although many laughed it off as a has been actor/director wanting to have one last chance to redeem himself and make a little extra dough. I agree wholeheartedly with this notion, but not the justification; yes a man wanted another chance, but the reasons are different. Rockys II through V were not stellar pictures. They were excellent boxing films and sports films in general, but they lacked a human element that was really crucial to the first film. There was definite examination of the human psyche, especially with the death of Mick, and the battle with Drago the Russian, but there was something missing but that is for a later date.

What was Sylvester Stallone thinking when he made a new Rocky? He is old, he is not a very good actor (so they say), Rocky is of the past; these are all valid to some extent considering his track record. However, Rocky Balboa is about a boxer who is looking for one last chance, not to prove to everyone that he is still the best, but to prove to himself that he is who he is. He needs to release some demons, some unfinished business, in order to let his life be at rest. His muse, Adrian, is dead by the time we catch up with Rocky in this film. He has a successful restaurant, but a kid that feels buried under his Dad's large (figuratively and literally) shadow. He feels mixed up and can't figure out what it is that is making him uneasy. He blames the loss of Adrian for his uneasiness and tries to cope with it by commemorating her at every turn. He then realizes that losing Adrian is not his problem, he has a boxing demon that needs to come out and prove not that he is the greatest, but that he has a true soul, a soul that respects itself. Rocky choosing to fight Dixon is not to prove to anyone he is the greatest, choosing to make this film is not to show that Stallone is the greatest film maker, it is to show that they have a demon, a drive within that needs to be expressed.

Perhaps the reason this film is better than the previous four is because Stallone didn't feel like he had to prove anything this time. He took a more true to self approach, basing everything in the slums of Philly, he wrote it about himself therefore making acting much easier. The introspection into loneliness, anxiety of loosing a legacy and fear of defeat is much more powerful than in the previous movies because the previous movies were made to be James Brown, Hulk Hogan, Mr. T cameoing powerhouse "action" films. This is a drama, much like the first Rocky and because of this, the final boxing match is not an action packed boxing match (although still gripping), it is more of a dramatic, intense battle of humans.

On a personal note, I love all the Rocky's to various degrees for various reasons. This one is going high on the list, but I am not sure how high yet. It was just so full of interesting satires about boxing, pride vs. humility, and modern life that I don't feel like getting into right now because the oven just dinged and I'm wildly excited for my frozen pizza.

One note of importance: I honestly had no idea who was going to win the fight even up to the very end. If that doesn't beat the old Rocky cookie cutter I don't know what does.

Tangy Breads of the World Unite!

I am going to call a rally for Rye and Pumpernickel Bread. These breads are oft overlooked but provide and exciting and robust alternative to your whites and wheats and even the clichéd sourdough. Give these dark breads a chance. Accept the dark, sour tangy bite of Pumpernickel. Throw some provolone, salami and spicy mustard on there and have yourself a fine sandwich. Rye? Of course there is the classic Reuben, a favorite of Italian Americans the world round. A surprising success however is Swiss cheese piled high, lettuce, tomato, guacamole (that's right), mushrooms, green peppers, pickles and cucumbers with a dash of salt & pepper and oil & balsamic vinegar. This makes for a delightful sandwich.

So lets hear it for the obscure breads. When asked at a restaurant "what kind of bread?" I say break their habits, prompt them to reach for the dark breads of flavor. Better yet, find those sharp yet smooth mustards, those various pickled vegetables, those tart hard cheeses and make yourself a sandwich that will be so robust with flavor, it will end up on your shorts.

A Day of Events

Today was full of little things that were just not regular things. Started off with a nice slider while riding my bike to school. I ended up spending the rest of the day with muddy pants and jacket (teach me to forgo bringing a change of clothes). After class I went to the Union for food where a homeless man was having a 100% psychotic episode. It was a little on the scary side because I didn't really know what was going to happen next. In spite of that the next irregularity happened when I was able to complete the first bit of dialog for a new project I am working on, again in spite of a girl sitting next to me who was wearing a skirt that barely contained her bosoms. Following that I went to class that was pleasantly redirected to spending the hour in the Museum of Fine Arts. That about sums up the irregularities

Toblog's photo: "Crossroads Mall"