Degrees of Living

My Inevitable Birthday & The 26 List

2010-07-20T13:25:00.000+08:00

Below is a piece I wrote and never put up. My apologies to Russ. You should apologize to him, too. He'll appreciate it. While my experience did not include trick candles, similar positive sentiments were enjoyed. Yea, we embraced even far more mature (insert 'trivial' here) matters than that party. Balloons, pinatas and birthday crowns to be exact.

Many thanks to friends and family who helped make closing out another year one of the best exists yet. Here, are my thoughts on turning 26.

The 26 List

I knew watching Russ blow out his 26 candles would be like watching him extinguish one more ray of hope leading toward his marriageability. I knew it. But this time, something was different.

By the grace of science, one of the candles came back on. And then another and another. Everyone in the (tiny) front room roared with laughter as the big bad wolf huffed and puffed but couldn't blow the flames out. Listening to everyone's excitement and seeing the grin worn by our birthday boy (man), I knew it wasn't going to be all glum and frowns heading into his next year. I knew this time was very different because, unlike my buddy's seventh birthday, no one was crying for fear their wish wouldn't be granted.

He never did get his pony.

Then it hit me: There are a lot of cool things about getting older which drown out the sound of the death bells which line the path leading toward graduating from the singles ward sans honors. While some of you reading this may only have a few more years with which the Church will continue to grant you the title of young single adults, there are some things that get better with age. And while I don't know if it's true with wine, I'm beginning to realize some of the "can do's" that help off-set the "haven't done's" in our lives.

Here, my fellow sojourners, is a “Things That Don't Bite About Being 26” list. Go ahead, let's count those blessings like our friend The Count taught us:

Number One: Not getting in trouble for putting trick candles on the birthday cake. No pouting. No wondering if it's going to ruin the party! It just is. And they except it. The birthday 'kid' would be excited if the candle's didn't have to burn out.

Two: Knees. Do you remember how horrible it was when you skimmed your knee at 6? Even 7? Even if you do end up roughing up your knees a little, we now have enough control not to make that awful face we made way back when. You know what I'm talking about. It's the one that looks like your face might squeeze in on itself and accidentally implode. If closing my eyes that hard would have solved the problem, I would still play pic-a-boo until the cows come home.

Three: Knowing what 'implode' means without having to look at an older brother or sister for direction.

Four: Apples. It doesn't take me ten nibbles to clear out the side of an apple.

Five (and a big one!): When I walk down the cereal aisle, I don't fiendishly wait while hoping my mom will pass up the two-scoops of raisiny goodness (as moms like to call it) so that I can get my morning sugar fix. No. I go straight for the boxes of both fruity and choco pebbles without regret. And once I get them home, I know I can eat them w-h-e-n-e-v-e-r I want. And when one of the boxes is gone in three days, I'll gladly go get some more.

Six: Enjoying N-A-P-S. That's right. I spelled it out for two reasons. A) You can read my spelling for dramatic affect. B) As a reminder: Have ever you seen our happily married friends accidentally slip and say the "nap" in front of their two year old?! My attitude towards naps is much, much more nap friendly. And while I don't get a nap in as often as I'd like, I thoroughly enjoy them when I do. What I wouldn't give if my boss came into my office in the early afternoon and 'forced' me to take a nap. Imagine yourself screaming at them, "I DON'T WANT TO NAAA-AAA-AAAA--P!"

The list may only be a start, but hopefully the above items help me and you remember some of the sugar accompanying the spice. Mainly, I don't want any of you old people changing your gchat emoticons to this :'-(. The darkening of each candle on a birthday cake might signify to our parents the loss of yet another ray of hope leading to our fleeting celestial bliss. But you don't have to embrace that. You can embrace unhealthy cereal, naps and trick candles. Here's to being 26 (or more)!

What other things rock about being a menace to society at 26? Leave a comment here.

Welcome to my job

2009-02-11T07:57:00.003+08:00

This is way fun! Keep in mind where I work and now remember that offices still have a fair amount of videos that get rolled around the floor. I had to share this as a testament of what I've been surrounded with for the past month.

http://www.oldtestamentmovies.wordpress.com

There ya go.

I have a job when I come home!

2008-12-02T01:08:00.003+08:00

When I hit Utah, I'll have less than 48 hours to move into a place and make it to my job in downtown Salt Lake City.

It's an internship with the New Era from January to April. I'm not complaining. Downright grateful, actually.

P.S.

2008-12-02T01:06:00.002+08:00

Shortest blog post ever.

The Depth of Proposition 8's Impact on Religious Identity

2008-11-25T01:20:00.015+08:00

Dear World,

Hi, it's Jake. You may not know me, but some of you have been claiming so in very recent weeks. You see, I am a Mormon - an ardent follower of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

No, seriously, all play aside, my common associates and I have been getting a pretty hard rap from some folk (more so than usual). I understand why, or at least...I think I understand why. Better yet, I really try to understand why. Do I know the feelings of being told the love I hold for another human being is not respected by my government as is the love of another couple? I'm no fool. I know I can't claim it, nor would I want to give you the disservice of doing so.

However, let me launch into the initial purpose of this post. I hope to stay on task. I invite all to be gentle, as this is my goal as well. Let me ask, do you know the feeling of what I committed to in my sacraments processed within the LDS Church?

As so much emotion passes between groups and individuals, here is why I believe the hierarchy of our church encouraged individual church members to act as they did and why some members of my church may have responded to their askance.

Members of the church I belong to (I'll refrain from using the common slang Mormon and use Saints or fellow Saints in referring to them - I will not recognize the slang term in this discussion). When we covenant to be followers of Christ, we worship our Heavenly Father as both a kind and loving God but also a being who understands and follows the laws of the Universe as He understands them. Considering the common belief that God understands everything, we may share an understanding as to why anyone would want to follow heavenly advice. He knows everything, right? If we believe he wants us to end up in heaven, then it may pay to ask for and follow such concepts.

For Saints, the idea of coming in line with both God's doctrine and covenants goes deep ... very deep. We actually believe God has a plan of happiness for all of his children, you and me, her and him. We want to follow this plan like directions to any desired destination. In this plan, we believe the classic nuclear family is central to his purposes of rearing children in righteousness and making the world a better place. In fact, we hope and believe that our families can be perpetuated beyond the grave, or, as we even sing in a children's song, that families can be together forever. Mothers and fathers continuing in such familial roles for eternity, like Him. This can be reached if we are willing to operate under the same laws which God goes by. We often rudimentarily call these laws commandments.

I won't attempt to smooth coat such laws as of now. The temptation for proper p.r. urges me to do so, but, rather, I whole heartedly admit that living the commandments can be viewed as difficult, demanding or restricting. I do not feel they are restricting, just as I don't feel the laws of science are restricting. Rather, I feel that by understanding the laws God gives through his spokesperson, I can more readily conduct my daily affairs. Gravity is not a restriction to me. It is something I strive to understand, work within its consequences or use as a tool towards enjoyment.

Saints supporting the campaign of Proposition 8 did so of their own free will, what e'er you may claim of the LDS Church's administrative system. You may say they blindly obeyed (oh, how the suggestion of such insults the intelligence I've been blessed with). You may do so. But they were merely holding with their well-thought out commitment to support and build up the Kingdom of God, as we see it.

So, in keeping with following the counsel of our Church leaders, we actively believe we are following the counsel of our Heavenly Father. He ultimately and intimately understands the roads we all travel on, through and around. Why not trust His driving directions? He does this in much the same way your parents told you not to stick your finger in the electricity outlet.

In striving to follow the guidance of our Father in Heaven, you may say the Saints active campaign for Proposition 8 took away someone else's rights. And I see where you're coming from. Rights on both sides of the aisle were at stake. Supporters of the proposition were trying to protect a right they thought they possessed from a previously population majority backed law from eight years ago. That law was very recently repealed by a very small number of judges who overruled that law as unconstitutional. Prop 8'ers vigorously went about to support a (thus far ruled) constitutionally enabled change to the constitution. There are currently those who support the notion that the protesting, ridicule and abasement my church and some members are receiving is fair 'up-and-comin's' for what we peacefully did. I read one blogger's remark about how saying 'pretty please' never got any movement anywhere and so the few radically acting individuals (I believe it is a minority) against this legislation are justified in their actions. Saying pretty please seemed to work OK for us. You may also try it.

When it comes down to it, there are really two major points as to my approval of a policy that myself and 94 percent of Latter-day Saints are geographically ineligible to even vote for. I make these statements knowing it could alienate myself from good friends.

The first is, as previously explained, we promise to follow the counsel of a prophet we know receives the word of God from God himself, not only previously recorded messages saved for our time. He makes a connection with him the likes of which is not matched since the days of Moses, Peter and Joseph Smith. My good friends, I want you to know I take no partiality about my religious beliefs. I am far from perfect. Who isn't? But I do believe my Church is true. I force no one into doing what I do or believing what I do. I'm glad I'm incapable of doing that. And though there appears conflict in that and denying marriage terms to kind homosexual couples, I believe Thomas Monson's (The LDS Church President) designated teachings, when he claims it so, are the mind and will of God. And so, I accept it as the morally right thing to do.

Seems pretty backwards unless you have a grounded trust in the heavenly calling of the Church's leader. He's human and is not authoritatively representing the Lord of the world with every breath; just as a hospital CEO is not running his organization when he is with his family. We, not the Saints but you and I, can hardly blame a people for doing to the best of their knowledge what they believe is their Makers, and should He choose it, their Destroyer's, belief is best for all humanity, His children.

And at the best of humanity is our families. Governments have come and gone; many are likely to follow suit. But, so long as there is a son and a mother, a daughter and a father, there is guaranteed to be the ingredients of a family on the earth. One of the church's leaders, Jeffery Holland, teaches, "Of all the titles He has chosen for Himself, Father is the one that He declares, and creation is His watchword. Especially human creation, creation in His image." And so it is that I believe every child deserves to be raised in a family following the commandments of our Maker as closely as can be arranged. This includes a kind mother and father whose roles are neither confused or substituted for nontraditional options.

Which brings me to my final point and then I shall recall my fingertips. The family is also central to the goals of God in bringing about our mortal living and eternal joy. What child does not ask the attention of their parent in times of need, of which there are many? Our God, my god and your god, has given us advice through His church leaders on how we may follow a path in regards to our families that leads to eternal joy and thanksgiving. The church long ago issued a statement on God's concern for the entire worlds families. We call it A Proclamation to the World and it is available in the link provided. Those words say much of what I hope to embody in my (yet) future family. Yup - single boy pinch hitting for the family's team here.

I guess, to answer the question as to why I, a politically involved and religiously dedicated 'Mormon,' am bothering to offer a potential explanation of Church members' actions, is that I understand and appreciate that my personal beliefs are deeply rooted in the foundation of my faith. That foundation is built upon what I feel is the Church of Christ. There is no other name by which it should be called because it is His church.

I want to protect marriage as God sees it and I see it. My homosexual friends and acquaintances may not agree with me. I respect their right of non-concurrence. But I will endeavor to explain my views in a manner so that like believing individuals may think, "Now that is why I act." I ask you to try to see it as I see it: The great task I am in charge of, and as I am under my word to follow the Prophet.

Until more, here is my belief.

Pick up your pen

2008-11-11T02:41:00.002+08:00

My belief is their comes a point when you need to stop reading and watching the events of life unfold all around you. Pick up your pen. Write.

How quaint it might be to float on like the wind; or, worse, a leaf carried along in dancing motions. Though your ineptitude may prove the fascination and joy of a child, only the sage knows you are forever pushed along by another power.

Pick up your stem, plant it if you must, but grow your own roots and suck in the life.

Or, run on as the river - forever stemmed and banked. Run on and carry with you the dreams of a woman carried out to sea, never to return. Marry yourself to the woods, the skies and eventually become one with the masses. Be water. Run over the mountains and never pool unless told. You may, as you know, not worry about a thing. Norms, culture and history have provided a path but does not have to be your path.

Rush on, wishing for higher ground and fear not the silt, for it enriches your lives.

If you must, be rather a Man or a Woman bent on destruction. For there, you may Straighten yourself and run free. No more hobble after the lonely lusts of life un-lived. The feast is prepared for all that will pay their price. You set the fee. No one will cater to you. Orders should be directed inward, not out, only seen by other eyes as requests through actions.

One approaches who knows the way, lean on Him. Be carried if you must. His marked hands heal and His feet have walked over every thorn.

Once strong, or weakness acknowledged, run. Run through hill to vale, mountain to plain, over stream and river - never taking light of the soil and rain coloring your feet. Take nothing for granted, still watch and soak in the changing color of your skin. For bare you came into this world, and you choose your marks. Fear not the marks of a fighter discharged from a world of honorable triumph.

Thorns you will find, and thistle can be removed. But only you may seek them out, crush them with your heel, raise your head beyond the scope of modern man (a pitiful glance that rarely moves) and be on a path of your choice. Mountains are there. Select your Vista! Only your eyes will see for you, open them. Only your heart will feel, open it.

Pick up your pen. Write.

Bai-Bai and breakfast

2008-10-08T10:08:00.010+08:00

After a hike in some increasingly familiar mountains, I stopped off at my favorite breakfast shop with a book and an hour to spare.

I can barely speak any Chinese, and I certainly read even less. My character count only rounds out to around 20 or so right now. So, my 'ordering' breakfast is a stretch of the term's definition, to be sure.

But with the help of a few familiar pictures, I'm able to order a chicken burger and a bacon cookie. Don't fret. Cookie is the word we use for many things that are small, round and - cooked. This one is bacon slices inside an egg-wrap. The owners know me, and know I'm an American. I could wait to pay until they give me the food, and despite the quaint trust this shows as part of Taiwanese culture, I still sometimes feel as though I'm being dishonest and pay before sitting down to read and wait for my food.

I'm reading a book called The Christ Commission. I thought about bringing my scriptures along but I wanted to read those in private today. So, a fictional story in a familiar setting seemed good enough. After my food arrived, I'm half-way through struggling with myself on how to pick up that to-large-to-let-go piece of egg that fell out of my sandwich (Do I use my fingers or the chop sticks so conveniently provided?) when a girl sits down just through the other side of the open sliding-glass door.

She's pretty. I wonder if she speaks English. A little. But she's not interested in using it right now.

I determined to finish my food and be on my way when a familiar thing happens to the right in this unfamiliar country: She bows her head, holds her hands in a surprisingly Christian way instead of the bai-bai seen at colorful corner temples here and prays over the food she's about to eat.

How strange. Here I want to hold my sacred moments for myself out of public view , to which I still feel there is great value, but right next to me is a girl of er-shi san (23) years willing to offer her oblations to her God in any place, in any time. I sit in awe - not reading, not eating.

Finally, I get up the courage to ask if she's Christian. She doesn't understand my Chinese. Then, she doesn't understand my English. Finally, I make a gesture as if praying and simply ask, "Why?"

"I believe," is all she needs to know in English and more than enough to bear her testimony of the Living Christ who she honors in a country where His name is not fully understood.

And then, I think about all the times in my own country where I was was too tired to show heavenly affection or I hesitated for respect of social norms because I was too afraid of offending someone else by saying I believe. Why, in a country where Christians are so rare and so often misunderstood, can she pray in solemn solitude without social concern for the community she is completely unaware she's affecting? And affecting for good.

No one seems to notice her. They may not even understand the belief system. Why, in our country, do those who know the meaning of two simple syllables -"Amen" - are often the most offended at their silent pronunciation. Lips softened in silent prayer are often the sweetest to see.

It was then, I resolved never again to be embarrassed for my own beliefs. Whether minority, or otherwise.

It made me want to believe a little more. And still feeling that makes this place all the more familiar.

-Jake

Typhoon day from a few weeks back...

2008-09-28T16:29:00.006+08:00

'Nuff explained. Go ahead and watch...instead of read. I know it's a change but go on and do it. I dare you to.

...and we DID end up working the next morning. But tomorrow we don't have to! Thank heavens for the cautious, people loving/teacher serving government of Taiwan.

Typhoon Jangmi - Sep 28, the video has the date wrong

2008-09-28T16:03:00.011+08:00

Hi. My name is Typhoon Jangmi. Welcome to my blog entry.

We had this great video of me introducing the typhoon, grabbing the camera and running across the roof - then I slipped. It popped out the battery and erased that video. So you get the moment after the fall.

Home, sweet home. It's there. Under the white monster.

Just another view

2008-09-25T13:22:00.001+08:00

Oh kids...and their teachers

2008-09-25T11:24:00.001+08:00

And turn your head sideways and squint.

Anyone know how to get this upright?

An exodus of my own

2008-09-20T23:27:00.014+08:00

The early Saints moved towards Utah. I was headed a little closer ... from here, not necessarily there.

In brief, after three months of waiting: I FINALLY FOUND A ROCK WALL NEARBY!

Every climbing community has its own set of verbal commands. Some say slack and some say slake, tack and take. But one thing we all share is the love of chalk underneath our fingernails, the thrill of cheering on a friend as they conquer the hardest problem to date or the sheer joy of finally topping out over the final move.

Jess peeking through a problem.

But what happens when the lingo isn't the problem but a language? Well, as I found out: You make a fool of yourself pointing and making a lot of gestures. Then, after you give it a try, you forget the word in Chinese for 'rent' and, oh - I don't know, maybe even HARNESS??? Yea, we didn't cover that in 'class,' did we?

And having forgotten that one word, the woman who is not the boss of the only climbing store I've seen in three months (Now I've seen two. We located the other later in the day.) doesn't feel she has the 'power' to let us use the ropes at the top of the wall clearly accessible through a set of inside stairs. She used the word 'power' but maybe we can say authority or permission, instead. You decide. My English is failing after so much Chinglish immersion. In any case as to translation, we had already called the guy I expect is the boss (who happens to speak English) and, like her, I didn't want to have to call 'the man' again and explain, "我們很抱歉。我們忘記要求。。。.

But this much I know... I remember why I love chalk.

A bit over dramatic for the occasion, it may seem, but I promise the the heel hook really was requisite (having loaned my shoes to Jess at the moment).

I'm finally blogging instead of writing columns!

2008-09-18T23:11:00.008+08:00

A college buddy showed me his professional website the other day. I showed him my blog. Ha, sucker. He pays eighty bucks every year for the benefit of showing people an attempt of a professional view of his work. I pay nothing and have something just like everyone else. Who's getting the short end of the stick?

This guy did. That's for sure. He got the short end of the ... door jam. Se la vi? (Said with a Mandarin-English accent attempting to pronounce Latin.)

Speaking of speaking in different languages with people held by unexpected or potentially audio-logically unaccepted accents: One of my best friends/co-workers here, Gloria, is a killer example of a Taiwanese citizen. Here's some background information:

ATTENTION: SKIP THIS GRAPH UNLESS YOU CAN HANDLE MIND NUMBING DETAILS

Taiwan families value education almost more than they value the blood pumping through their veins. Many children will learn (portions of) three languages and two alphabets by the far reaching age of five. That's right. Three and two my friends. Count 'em. A local dialect known as Taiwanese from their grandparents. Think about one generation ago when some American's still learned bits of Polish or German from their grandparents. Then they pick up Mandarin Chinese, also sometimes called Taiwanese with a bit of pride, from television (the electric-view, translated directly from Mandari...Taiwane....that one language) and at school. To help in the learning of a plethora of written characters known only in this region, Taiwan is the only Chinese speaking country with an alphabet all their own, called bo-po-mo-fo (I haven't found an English or Pinyin spelling of this). Children's books and some newspapers are written in this alphabet. They'll work on the main characters later but, hey, it's like they don't have enough to worry about. Let's throw another language at them. Many well to do families are able to send their young children, toddler aged, to places affectionally and appropriately known as 'cram schools' in English. At first, it appears the 3, 4 and 5 year olds are really getting pawned off at a super expensive day care but then their 20 something year old little white girl English teacher has realized she has both purposefully and, now, (dare I say it) appollegetically crammed certain phrases into their precious little noggins: Teacher, I want... Teacher, can I.... Teacher, I need... Ohhhh - does the madness never end?

My head hurts...

Back to Gloria - So, Gloria speaks and reads three languages: Taiwanese, Mandarin (the alphabet and the characters) and English. She's energect and persistent in the manner she approaches English. But is that enough for this linguistic wonder? Just when the average person of accustomed to any dialect or background would be putting up the audio CD's or language textbooks from their last forgotten conquest, Gloria is grabbing bits of Spanish where ever she can.

Where is she going to be able to use Spanish? She'll find a use somewhere. I'm sure.

And this brings us to the end of my rant, where at the end of the evening I'm practicing words like cansado and macadamia nut with someone bound and determined to accomplish learning another language...or, two.

This thought started with a photo - as do many posts...

2008-09-08T01:17:00.014+08:00

Wo da jie jie (My sister) and I

This post starts with a picture, as many posts do.

The reality of a picture has come to mean a lot of things in the past few generations of popular cutlure and, even, that black alley area keen on preserving photos known only to Mormons and a few other eclectic historians (cough, genealogy).

Whether the term "thousand words" jumps off your tongue like a nasty piece of jalapeno flavored Mexican candy, both of which shouldn't have been in your mouth in the first place, or if your eyes grow misty in the dark as you flip through old photo albums, the capability of pictures to produce a memory long lost to the annals of hopes for longevity in living but reality in remembering is striking.

But then, of course, there is certainly the current trend of taking pictures only worthy to be called "Facebook-able." And that's where this photo starts. At the taking of it. But, please, enjoy a little background information.

I live in Taiwan. My family lives in Maeguo (Beatiful Country = America). But both my older sister and my little brother served missions on this small island with in the past three years and one year, respectively.

Through the course of few miraculous events, Jason was going to be able to come stay with me for a month while I work here as an English teacher. Or, on second thought, no...he wasn't. Then he was. But as the following image (again, them silly things adding new meaning to writing) attests, we were blessed to meet up here.

Wo da didi and I

We ate rice and noodles together, he introduced me to a smorgasbord (who knew? my dictionary recognized the word) of mostly amazing eats and treats, but mostly he showed me around his mission: Something I was remiss to not be able to experience with him side by side.

I loved it.

One of the best shots from our time: He ransacked the missionaries living at one of his old apartments and they let him borrow a bike to visit members one evening.

But then he left and life returned to normal. Or, so I thought.

Through another set of remarkable happenstances, my sister caught a flight with a friend who had personal business on her old island home. With a brother here (to boot!), people to eat and food to meet, she was one her way (You've got to understand the food here. It really will make your average pallet owner crazy).

(insert photo here from Chi - yea, you. Get me a photo from your camera)

And there comes the message from my weekend excursion, my sister was asked to use her language and speak at a small business convention in behalf of her friend. After a brief introduction in English, she stepped front and center while a series of surprised exclamations splurged from the mouths of more than a few audience members when that pregnant little foreigner opened her mouth speaking all four tones of their Eastern language perfectly. (Except 'crab.' You did forget that word and asked over 100 people at once, right?)

At an exciting highlight of her simple three and one-half minute speech, I found myself feeling a need to tell everyone around me: I know her. That's MY sister. There seemed to be some unexplainable connection in my head saying that I would somehow be worth more if I were connected to the face way up on the screen. Deciding it would be innapropriate for that public announcement to take place, I opted for a picture of her mug on the jumbotrons providing the backdrop for a picture of me. It's always about me...(sadly.)

Why? For Facebook, of course. Silly for you to wonder.

Right after the red eye flash, the thought occurred: Why do I want people to know I'm associated with her? It won't make me more of a memorable character or even a character worth remembering.

A tinge of guilt hit my heart and spread through my upper body. It was only because people were staring at her. Because she was on stage. They would clap for her and somehow, I supposed, I would be able to share in that clapping if the world were to know that I knew her. What a worse than worthless bit of information to use in my mental checklist of why I'm pleased to be associated with my sister.

Why, of all the things would I be pleased about that? Why is that braggable? There are so many things in my sister's character worthy of admiration and appreciation. When she was sharing her testimony amid a flurry of tears and smiles earlier that day, why didn't I think to grab that moment and proclaim it to the world? When she bares and raises an adorable child to be smart, kind and righteous, why not value those pictures even more? Those shots of her for what she's given to mankind and...me.

There is so much more worth sharing because she's been willing to share with me.

I then thought: I am glad to be associated with her and her husband. And my brother. And my Mother and Father, our other brother and his wife. I'm so fortunate to even share the same name, let alone some of the same blood traits and characteristics.

Those things are worth valuing. Not the glam, the clamor or the verbose - those are diamonds found from the ground and willingly swallowed by their first home at first chance. And while the body may fall and be devoured by its relative dust of the earth for a precocious time, my relationships (the truly valuable ones) will rise with me.

And to think: It started with a picture...

Sub this!

2008-07-28T02:28:00.004+08:00

There is a whole world of teaching children you never read about in the papers. No one ever tells you about it because it's much to terrible. This is the world of subbing. This is torture.

No, but in reality, taking a teacher's place for the day can be a bit daunting because these are kids completely accustomed to their teacher and they may not like you. In this case, it's kids who don't understand you when you speak. Not because they're choosing not to listen but, seriously folks, they literally don't understand the words.

In this video, I had to sub for one of our teachers off to Taiwan to re-obtain a landing visa. *You can't apply for a visa inside of the country itself. So, her and my roommate, Dustin, had to head to the mainland.

Subbing went well, but, as you may or may not notice, I didn't know the same actions to the songs that all of the kids did. Any ways, enjoy:

The little one jumping around in front is likely my favorite from the day. His name is Rex and it's a good thing the ceiling fan wasn't on or else he would have been staring straight up at that whirling wonder!

Now and forever -

2008-07-24T03:02:00.006+08:00

What is so promising about the future that we forget about today?

What is so haunting about the past that today is swallowed up in remembrance.

Oh, how I wish I could breathe, kiss, and feel the moment that is now! Why are we cursed to remember but never be able to forget ourselves in a moment? Precise measurements of time mean nothing to the human metabolism - it keeps digesting at it's own pace, turning water into wine and drunkening ourselves with our ambition, hopes or fears.

What a sweet taste it is. Forget that I've never crushed a grape off a vine from the ground. I've sprung from the ground long ago and continue to become as one that is drunk - close my eyes, pack my bags; I'm already on a trip.

The ego is an interesting thing. Willing to pick up its own skirts to trudge through any degree of living we throw at it, as long as it grows in the process. But ask our egos to roll up a sleeve or two and be put to work? And we know the outcome. And if we haven't been given the silent treatment by your ego for a while, ask who is doing the talking lately.

Living for the next moment the next phase ... WHY?

Be grateful for the breath you breathe right now because it will soon course from your heart, through your temple and into your head help operate the brain that just forgot it was programmed to exhale. Isn't it ironic? The moment we aren't giving head to from a few moments ago is the one allowing this one, right now.

I'm always living for the next phase. The next moment of my life where I forget what this one was really like and see it through rose colored glasses. I want to reach forward just far enough to where struggle becomes sentimentality, trial becomes trust in one's self and one's God. But, I'm stuck in the now. Damming. If we allow it. (With or without the 'n,' depending on how your faith goes.)

If I lived forever, there would be no break, no death bed repentance to rely on, no next thing and (certainly) no ending. I would be forced to live no once and, literally, for all. Everything would be cast onto this one sailing thought: What are you going to do about now? How are you going to make now the epitome of living? If called to live, not only die, in this one moment...

It's a good thing I've been told we do live forever. Hopefully, I can muster the faith to believe in life Eternal. If I finally get around to it, I might start enjoying where I am: Now.

Up on the roof.

2008-07-12T18:27:00.002+08:00

I still can't believe I almost didn't bring it along.

The Fourth or Fifth of July, whenever you can take it.

2008-07-05T22:53:00.008+08:00

What says you're a Great American like fried chicken and...egg tarts?

Well happy fourth of July everyone. In Taiwan, it's just another day.

I did have an interesting conversation with a local last night when it was actually the fourth both here and in MST in the US of A! For the illiterate international historians like me, Taiwan is not its own country. At least so says our friends across the Taiwanese Straight (CHINA). All of Taiwan is still (depending on who you ask) a member of the R.O.C. : The Republic of China. I had been told that all Taiwanese select their own nationality as their identity but a woman told me, irdonically on my favorite flag bearing nation's Independence Day, that she thinks Taiwan shouldn't relinquish their tie to the communistic leaning mother country because China is going to be a world power in the future, so they might as well keep the providential tie. (She even alluded to the idea that they will usurp the U.S. for power in the international world.)

So, my Independence Day was part intriguing, part restful and part arterial hardening because of KFC. Happy Independence Day everyone (on a more sober note) for those who appreciate what such a day opened up for the world and eras, past and present. What an amazing work.

We went and saw "Hancock" with Will Smith in it. He's a main stay of an American Fourth of July celebration, right? At last for the southeastern Idaho Fullmer family. When we walked out of the 5 story, one viewing room movie theatre, we were pleasently surprised with one of the more gorgeous city sunsets I have ever felt stuck between two buildings.

"Dad, how can you hate the Colonel?" "Because he puts an addictive chemical in his chicken to make you crave it nightly!!!" -from SIMAAM

Beginnings in pictures

2008-07-02T23:23:00.005+08:00

I'm sorry but look at this bus. And, yes, the exterior matched the interior. Really, now...

Look at all these scooters!

Yoga in the park.

Beyond your Porch 1 - Staying instead of Travelling

2008-07-01T08:52:00.004+08:00

Traveling is expensive. Traveling right, is not.
I'm reporting to Utah from Taiwan.
I'm always thrilled and a tad nervous whenever I get an opportunity to travel somewhere that is foreign (to me). I'm learning, however, that no matter how far from your front porch you get -nothing changes.
The people are always the same: Different from you.
I'm not the heaviest world traveler, that's for sure. And I'm a little glad I'm not. I've been out and about some but I have noticed something about those people who consider themselves 'travelers.' The ever excited, constantly searching traveler begins to lose something that makes up who they are. Those with frequent flier miles coming out their ears begin to conform to a prefabricated identity. You see, they begin to look and sound like 'travelers.'
The Travel Channel was built just for them.
At best, their point of view as a 'traveling expert' begins to taint how they really see the sky. Hues of blue available just over their own mountains are never quite as radiant as the skies over foreign landscapes. They see the world how people like me write it. They're constantly looking for the next post card moment or slide show bragging right.
They hear the beach boys on the sands of California's or see the burning desert of Western America teaming with ghosts of cowboys and wild horses roaming the range. Or, whatever poignant pun has been thrown at a particular place.
What they really miss, is seeing themselves in the picture. Where were they when the rain touched their eyes? Do you only see yourself in those pictures of Newport or the Grand Canyon? What is really going on in the portrait framed on your wall?
Imagine yourself in the lives' of those people you asked to take the photo. Who did you buy water or gasoline from? Why do they stay there instead of travel?
I believe it is because they have learned the joy of staying where they are and drinking the best of life from any glass handed to them.
I'm not a traveler. I'm a stayer and that's what this page will be about for the next six months. Staying where we are wherever it is.
And though I'm writing from a place where the streets don't echo with English or the mountain view is unblocked by buildings, I'm staying here for a qualified amount of time. I've visited other places, even for as long as one month or more (there goes the traveler in me bragging). But I've missed some key portions of living in all of my traveling.
In my stays, short and long, in different locations, I found the Arizona desert but I only heard about the beauty of it flowering in the wet winter of 2004. I felt the waves crash onto me in Huntington but never had enough experience to know how to predict them. I missed those and will continue to long for some of them until I feel I have experienced them.
But, this time, I'm filling my cup every time it gets empty. And when the waiter asks me if I want something more, I refuse to take something I already know.
Here's to staying beyond your front porch.
--
Interested in a certain aspect of Taiwanese life? Keep me posted - I'll do the same.

2008-05-17T08:40:00.001+08:00

Well - the experiment has failed.

Let me read to you some of the comments because of such failure:

"I was soo worried!"

"Oh good, I'm glad you're off the street."

"You didn't make it that long."

It's sad but happy. Long story short, there were enough people whose concern just got to me. The camping certainly had ups and downs but I'm plain amazed at how the majority of people found it more than a little strange I wanted to live without paying rent for the entire month of May. Really, now, who appreciates paying rent for something they will never get to own or get money out of? I don't...But it was also pretty humorous, and a touch inspiring. Shows someone how much their friends really care. Even if they don't care quite like you do. In the course of ONE WEEK I obtained:

Two completely free places to stay for the entire summer, at least three couches I could swing to and from on a nightly or (heck) bi-nightly basis, a host of free meal offers and more sympathy than I knew what to do with. Two, maybe three, persons were supportive of the event. Props out to Dalan for not appearing to care either way but loaning me his shower for Sunday mornings.

I forgot to post earlier about my best night under the stars: I spent one evening in a spacious field close to the university frats. It may or may not have been the HPER field, next to where I still frequently shower. I parked my car, grabbed my pad, sleeping bag, headlamp and a few other amenities (I was not entirely homeless, just less of a home). Once, when I went back to my car for something, I almost couldn't find my spot for want of light.

The night was clear and although there were a few scattered showers, I felt nothing more than one or two instances of a mere sprinkling.

At any rate, owing to my mother transferring minute levels of her paranoia and a natural ability to keep aware of my surroundings, at or around 4 a.m. I heard someone walking near me. He obviously couldn't see me, for want of light or liquor I'm not entirely sure. I bolted straight upright which emitted a spicing of explicative(s) from the over partied fella and all I could do was ask what time it was before rolling back over for sleep. Fun stuff.

The worst night was a powerful rainstorm spent inside my parked car just around the corner from the Logan Temple. I relearned why mummy bags are much preferred to blankets. Even those wonderful fleece ones. I swear it wasn't that cold when I went to bed...to car. Whatever.

So, I'm now living with my friends the Smiths. Good folks. Amazed how willing they are to take in a mostly strange person.

2008-05-08T23:56:00.001+08:00

Understanding where we come from can be....blog blog blog BLOG!

We all know we don't exactly want another deep and potentially depressing blog out there in the world. Admittedly, I'm sure we all have those 'deeper thoughts of the soul' but most of those thoughts should be taken special care to be left in the soul for the sole reason the rest of us just don't get it. That's why your soul felt it, because your soul could understand it.

The purpose of this blog will unfortunately lead in that direction one time or another but for now it's really just an opportunity for me to document living homeless for a month. You see, I am am a college graduate. And I am homeless. Should I not be able to cowboy up and get the full month of roaming in without breaking down and renting an apartment, this blog will be deleted and hopefully forgotten. But IF I can keep my goal of homelessness for the month of May amidst rainy nights, drunken frat boys stepping over me in the middle of the night and the inevitable concern of my dear mother, THEN it'll be a really peculiar documented memory. (I learned about those If - THEN statements long ago.)

So sit back, take a break from your degree of living and see how it is for me to live off my own degree. And very little else.