Being a dad

Earlier this week I found myself in the backyard with my daughter.  We have a toddler slide on the grass that she loves.  She climbs up, slides down, climbs up, slides down and I never get sick of watching.  I picked her up and threw her in the air several times while she screamed and laughed.  It felt like I was in one of those slow-motion, dramatic videos of a father and daughter playing with each other.  Those videos are no longer cheesy to me.

I cannot get enough of watching her discover things, even when that thing is dirt and she is dumping it on her head.

She discovered dancing.  One day I peek over the couch and watch her spin, arms flailing, around and around like no one was watching.  That will brighten my life no matter what else has happened that day.

One of the things I love most about my daughter is her total innocence.  She's not out to impress anyone.  When she smiles I know she's happy.  When she cries I know she's upset.  She'll even stare at me straight in the eyes while she's messing her diaper without feeling ashamed.  I get the whole package: the raw, real personality.  And she's got a personality.  She's one of the loudest babies I've ever heard.

She knows Patty Cake, Itsy Bitsy Spider, what a dog says and what a cat says.  We're working on what a cow says, but she can point one out in a book every time.  She loves the outdoors.  She doesn't hesitate to go downstairs one step per step.  She loves bathes, and loved being naked.  Pictures of herself are among her favorite things.  She can talk, just not in English yet.

Above all, she loves her mom.

Funny how I'm discovering the joy of being a parent while watching my daughter discover life.

There is nothing quite like being a father.

Life's Hardest Decisions

The hardest decisions I have ever had to make were when there was no clear answer.  No right, no wrong.  Just a choice.

We learn that we fought over the freedom to choose before we came to this earth.  Free agency was a huge victory for us, and we rejoiced when it was clear that we would have that blessing.

So it's funny that sometimes we want decisions to be made for us.  Who do I marry?  Where do I work?  When do I have a baby?  What do I order for dinner?  Some decisions are plain and simple.  The choice is obvious.  Others, not so much.

I have been plagued with indecisiveness my entire life.  I enjoy company dinners when there is one, maybe two, options for dinner.  The fewer choices the better.  Opening a menu at a restaurant causes me much unnecessary stress.  My wife is often the same.

What do you get with two indecisive people?  I can't decide.

"Reading" audiobooks

Throughout college I almost exclusively listened to KSL Newsradio, who was my employer at the time.  I couldn't listen to music anymore.  I craved news, and I think that personally knowing the radio hosts made my listening experience even more enjoyable.  I loved everything about the radio world and was sad to leave the industry upon graduating.  If I could make a living as a promotions assistant I probably would (that may be an exaggeration, but I really did love the job).

Now, being a few years removed from that world, my aversion to music radio still lives.  However, my listening preference has transitioned from newsradio to audiobooks.  I peruse through the county library in search of the next interesting book.  I've listened to everything from fantasy (Ender's Game) to classics (Catch-22) to history (1776).  Completing these books gives me something to talk about other than work.  I usually read or watch the news throughout the day anyway, so listening to it on the radio becomes redundant.  Also, the commute to Ogden is always peachy so the constant traffic updates are totally irrelevant to me.

I have some friends who are fully entrenched in the audiobook world.  We often ask each other for recommendations and reviews of the books we currently have.  It was not long after these discussions began that I noticed how we differently we described our experiences, and the difference was how we finished a book.  I listened to audiobooks.  My friends read audiobooks.

Big difference, in my opinion.

Someone saying they read, say, The Count of Monte Cristo, is a huge accomplishment.  It's several hundred pages long.  Can I say I read The Count of Monte Cristo if I watched a movie based on the novel?  No.  Of course, movies rarely follow a book word for word.  But what if a movie does?

Take, for example, Hamlet.  Or Much Ado About Nothing.  I know there are movies out there that have followed the books nearly (if not exactly) word for word.  So can I watch one of these and say that I read the book of the same title?  I don't think so.

I have never been a big reader myself.  But if I can include all the movies and audiobooks I've completed, I've got a pretty lengthy "Books I've Read" list.

Thoughts?

Rededication

My last post was in October 2012.  It was my solicitation for help with my personal statement.  Those darn personal statements.

I was looking through post on this blog and realized the big smile I had on my face.  So many good memories!  Between races, DC, Jordan, Ragnars, and other random things, I have had some great experiences.  I think it's about time I resurrect this blog.

Updates coming.

The Personal Statement

Attempting to write a personal statement is quite possibly the most arduous thing I have encountered in all my years.  It is the most unique assignment I have ever had to complete, and possibly the most important.  It's sad that I cannot seem to write a captivating few pages about my life's history and what makes me unique.  I'm surprised anyone applying to graduate school ever completes this assignment.

While not the most interesting man alive, I have had several experiences that seem to set me apart.  Some came as I lived in Portugal for two years as a missionary for the LDS Church.  (This is common among Utah students, especially males, but I believe very unique to the rest of the country.)  Even more unique is learning a language to fluency, a skill that I cherish and hope to expand.  Consider living in a different country speaking a foreign language with only one arm.  That is how I spent a few months in Portugal after severing some tendons in my left wrist.  How many people can say that they have ridden in a Portuguese ambulance for an injury caused by shattering the glass panels on an apartment building door?  Few.

Other experiences came during college.  Though not the first and certainly not the last, I was an intern in the United States Congress for a semester.  Not only did I have the daily duties of answering phone calls, guiding tours through the Capitol, writing letters and attending meetings, I also had to write a 25 page research paper.  What else made that unique?  I was there for "the Blizzard of 2012" - a snow storm that rendered the city inoperable for a solid week or two.  I saw President Obama board Marine One from the White House lawn and shook the hand of legendary new anchor Dan Rather.

Another college experience was completing an internship in Amman, Jordan.  I went there on a whim, to be honest.  After being told that the Brazil internships were canceled, I looked to go somewhere else.  Browsing through the list of internships I found "Ministry of Social Development" in Jordan.  My initial response was to quickly turn the page - there was no way I was going to the Middle East.  I knew very little about the Middle East.  I knew Osama Bin Laden was hiding there, riots were happening there, and Jesus walked there.  Beyond that, I knew nothing about that region of the Earth.  Yet somehow I kept turning to that page to read more about the internship.  Then, out of curiosity I talked to an academic counselor about it.  Not only did I find myself turning in an application and resume, but I actually wanted to go.  I couldn't explain it.  I still can't.  But I am extremely glad that I went through with it.

I first found myself in the Middle East without a plan.  I knew I was going to be an intern, but that was it.  I had no home, no phone, no friend, and no ability to communicate.  Although I knew I should be panicking as I sat in the airport at 8 p.m. with nothing but my bags, I was totally calm.  My mom had told me before I boarded the plane that everything was going to be fine, so everything was going to be fine.  I bought a phone, met Vladimir from Russia, and together we split a cab to the city.  I spent two nights at a local church building before I was able to find an apartment.

It took me a month or so to really feel comfortable and safe.  Just when things were going great someone stole my bag containing everything important to me: passport, wallet, phone, camera, favorite hat.  Gone.  Being an American in a foreign land is one thing.  Being unidentifiable is another.  Fortunately I was able to replace the passport for a successful trip home, but it wasn't without hardship.

My trip to the Middle East was enlightening on several fronts.  I learned a lot about the world, especially Arabs, that I never can fully express through words.  To understand a people you must live among them.  I learned that I can do things for myself, but you must be able to work with others.  I learned that there are many different views in the world, and it is possible to respect each other.  I could go on.

That was much more about Jordan than I had expected to write.  I was just going to mention that I feel like a fairly dynamic person.  My resume attests to that.  I have worked at a radio station, car dealership, congressman's office, Middle Eastern office, and in the IT department of Utah's biggest car dealer.  Outside of work is no different.  I have run in dozens of races, weight lifted, played sports, acted, sung, danced, volunteered, and served - a lot of which was done while I was completing my bachelor's in Information Systems and a minor in Political Science.  I don't know why I have done many of the things above, but I don't regret it.

I guess the big question is: can I use any of that on my personal statement?

And the Celtics go down.

I like LeBron James.

There.  I said it.

In fact, I hope he wins an NBA Championship.  This year, even.  I could not have been more pleased that the Heat finally put the aging Celtics to rest last week.  Any Celtics-lover or LeBron-hater is probably wondering what could possibly make me say these things.  Where do I begin?

Here's a guy who was drafted out of high school  Eventually he became the franchise player and the league MVP.  He decided to leave his rookie team in search of a championship.  He landed on a team where he would be sharing the spotlight with two other "superstars."

That's right.  I'm talking about Kevin Garnett

LeBron James was also drafted out of high school.  He also became the franchise player for the Cavs and the league MVP.  He also left his rookie team in search of a championship.  And yes, he landed on a team where he would be sharing the spotlight with two other "superstars."

People love KG.  People hate LJ.  I don't understand it.

"It's not what LeBron did.  It's how he did it."  Yes, I've heard this line of reasoning from, well, everyone.  I'm not saying that The Decision was a good idea.  In fact, I thought it was rather cheesy.  But imagine being the best player in the world, having had "the next Michael Jordan" thrown at you since early high school.  You aren't winning in Cleveland.  You need something else.

Didn't Kevin Garnett do the same thing?  

You then have this opportunity presented to you saying that you can raise millions of dollars for a charity by broadcasting your decision on television.

No, it was not a good idea.  At least the charity got a bunch of money.

So he made a bad decision.  In 2010.  A full two years ago.  Isn't it time to get over it?

The reaction to The Decision was ridiculous.  Sure, Cleveland fans deserved to be bothered.  But burning his jersey in the streets?  That's a bit extreme.  And Dan Gilbert's letter to the fans?  Absurd.

Like I said, The Decision was just bad.  We all know it.  But it's time to move on.  It's time to let go.

Predictive text victim

I'm no stranger to texts-gone-wrong.  Several times I have sent a text to the wrong person at the wrong time. But I've been pretty good about predictive texting.  I usually make sure my text says what I intend it to say, and I'm pretty particular about my grammar.

Not today.

My mother and two of my younger siblings traveled down to New Mexico to visit my sister.  Apparently my brother didn't bring any shoes.  (They left very early one morning so he claims to have simply forgotten to bring them.)

So I received this text from him this morning: "Don't be mad but I got new shoes."

Why would I be mad?*  Because this 14 year old boy has more shoes than any woman I know.  Nike survives off him.  He's got an obsession with shoes and socks that is unmatched.

I replied to his text: "You spoiled bum."

He jabbed: "Don't be jealous."

Sarcastically I responded with this: "Oh, Mommy, I accidentally forgot to bring my whore.  Could you go buy me some nice ones to hold me over?"

I received a call from my mother about 30 seconds after I pressed Send.

She told me I should apologize to my brother for what I had said.  I didn't get it.  Then she chastised me for my inappropriate text.


Inappropriate?  What was she talking about?

I sent "whore."  Not "shoes" like I had intended.  "Whore."  Just imagine the face of a teenage boy receiving those words from his older and (supposedly) more mature brother.  Not only did I accuse him of forgetting his whore (not shoes), but I suggested that his mother go buy him some nice ones to hold him over.

I hate texting.

*I wasn't really angry.  Simply dumbfounded.

Public image.

I use Facebook, Twitter, Blogspot, LinkedIn, and maybe another social networking site or two.  There are so many nowadays that I can never remember where I have accounts.  The point is that I'm out there for the world to see.  I choose to be involved in such sites because I enjoy being connected to people.  Many times have I considered deleting certain accounts, but I never do because of the relationships that would be lost.  Social networks are powerful tools.  But like actual power tools, social networks can do more bad than good if put into the wrong hands.

A recent article in the Deseret News reminds us that employers often seek information about applicants using social networking sites.  It is surprising to discover that one third of hiring mangers reported not hiring someone because of their online profiles.  One third?  Why, then, do people consistently post things about themselves that would drive employers away?  It is mind-boggling to me.

The opposite can also be true, according to the report.  Some employers are pleased to find that an applicant is well-rounded with a healthy personal life.  Social networks can show someone's creativity and character as well.

The lesson: think before you post.

Rings and things

A lot has happened since my last post, and the things that have happened are significantly more important than student protests at Utah State.

I got engaged.

Strange, I know.  Me.  Engaged.

While it is true that I am engaged in many good causes, I am speaking of my engagement to a wonderful woman named Blair.  At the time of my previous post, Blair and I had gone on one date.  Now, a mere 4 months later, we are so official that even Facebook can confirm our engagement.

We will be married on July 19th in the St. George temple.  We are both very excited, and hope you can join us when we get hitched!  Details pending.

Angry Aggies: Retraction

This is my formal apology to any who participated in the silent protest in a recent Utah State game.

In my previous post I employed no restraint as I criticized Aggie basketball fans.  I went so far as to call them "classless" and their actions "ridiculous."  My words were premature and founded on a single article, cited in the scathing post.  Any who took offense at my article were victims of my failure to further investigate the incident.  I am sorry.

The Salt Lake Tribune article specifically stated that the three minutes of silence came because the students were "angered by a formal letter of apology from USU President Stan Albrecht."  It has been brought to my attention that the silence came about for a different reason.

I was misled by the Tribune.

The Herald Journal was cited on ESPN.com as saying that "Utah State students remained silent during the first three minutes of the game in protest of an usher [who] had told them before the game that cursing and pointing at opposing players was not allowed (emphasis added)."

That changes everything.

What would sports be without trash-talk, yelling, or taunting?  Sports can be an outlet for what can't be done elsewhere.  While tackling someone to the ground accompanied by a triumphant chest-slap is perfectly acceptable in a football game, doing so in a Dick's Market bread aisle would merit some jail time.  Imagine boxing someone out for a position at the drinking fountain.  Without this outlet for both players and fans, the world would be a much crueler and violent place.

As it turns out, it was an usher who prompted the silent protest.  And, admittedly, I probably would have participated.  Although I still think that Aggies went too far with Brandon Davies, I agree that sports would not be the same without passionate fans who do whatever they can to help their teams win.  That's why home-court advantage is so vital.  All courts are the same: 94 x 50 ft, 10 ft high rims, and 15 ft free throw lines.  The key difference is the atmosphere created by the fans.

Aggies, I beg your forgiveness.  Please understand that I was misled by the Salt Lake Tribune.  I should have researched first through ESPN, the source of everything sports.

Angry Aggies

Classless.

Such a belittling word.  The most famous usage of the adjective in recent Utah history was made in 2009 by BYU Quarterback Max Hall.  After squeezing out a 26-23 victory in the once hostile rivalry, Hall rattled, "I don't like Utah.  In fact, I hate them.  I hate everything about them...I think the whole university, their fans and their organization, is classless (emphasis added)."

Although Hall issued an apology note, those lines will never be forgotten by Cougs and Utes.  What a pity it is that Hall decided to end his (somewhat) successful college career on such a negative note.  As a Ute alumnus myself, I initially was angered by Hall's words.  Over time I have chosen to believe that Max was "in the heat of the moment" and extremely exaggerated his emotions.  He knew nothing about the University outside the realm of football.  That's what I choose to believe.

However, classless is the one word that came to mind when I heard this story on the news last night:

"Angered by a formal letter of apology from USU President Stan Albrecht to BYU for the students' treatment of Brandon Davies during a season-opening win over the Cougars, the Aggie students sat and watched in retaliation.  They started cheering as usual at the 17-minute mark of the first half, but even then the atmosphere was quiet, lackluster and not anywhere close to its usual noise level."

(You can read the rest of the article here.)

That is a classless act.

I understand freedom of speech and the right to express your opinion.  I understand (and am even guilty of) taunting opposing players.  However, there is definitely a point past which the taunts are too personal, too degrading, and downright too much.

My dad once told me about a college basketball game in which the students were holding up posters that read, "Are you making daddy proud?" and the like.  The posters were directed at an opposing player whose father had passed away the previous week.  That is going too far.

Yes, Brandon Davies broke the honor code.  True, he was suspended from BYU.  We don't know all the details, nor do we need to know the details.  What we do know is that Davies faced this ugly situation like a man and is back on the court.

Utah State Aggies apparently don't care.

Students made posters with humiliating phrases (that I dare not repeat to keep this blog family-friendly), chanted, and yelled things at Davies all night.  The Aggies came away with a win over the in-state rival, even if it was in poor fashion.

I'm not referring to the posters nor the chants.  Those are to be expected, even though I like to think that I wouldn't participate in something so petty.  I'm sure Davies goes into every Away game expecting the shallow signs and chants, but remember that it was Davies who overcame humiliation and fought to become eligible again.

What really bothered me was this retaliation effort in the game immediately following the university-issued apology to BYU.  The usually loud and riotous crowd sat silently for a whopping three minutes to prove...what exactly?  To prove how childish college students can be?  To prove that they really meant every demeaning word they directed toward Davies, as if he had personally offended them?  I struggle to find the purpose in this little protest they pursued.

Like with Max Hall, I'll choose to believe that the ridicule towards Davies was carried out "in the heat of the moment."  Utah State students are passionate about basketball, the only athletic program that puts several W's on their schedule each year.  But the in-game protest was too much for me to accept as "ok."

To put it kindly, I am disappointed with the Utah State students who organized and participated in the three minutes of silence.

If I were to be mean about it, I would tell the student body (at least those at the game) to get over themselves.  Your president did the right thing by issuing an apology.  Your temper tantrum was a little ridiculous.

Again, that's what I would say if I were a mean person.

Book Review: The Holy Temple

Two months ago I began a new job.  On the morning of my first day, I remember thinking, "I should take a book with me - you know, to read during lunch or something."  Quickly scanning the bookshelf, I grabbed an older looking book called The Holy Temple by Boyd K. Packer.  The lessons taught from that old book would soon surprise me.

The book has been republished several times.  My book was from the first printing in 1980, a hard-cover book with a grey cover and an image of a handle that can be found on the doors of the Salt Lake Temple. Inside the front cover is an inscription to my parents.  "Dear Brent and Ginger," it reads.  "On this important event, we wish you all the choicest blessings of the Lord as you begin another eternal family."  After a few more words, it was signed by my parents then-bishopric.

Reading that inscription made the book much more important to me.  I imagined my 31-years-younger and unmarried parents.  They had no idea what lay ahead.  How can a young couple prepare for seven children and all that accompanies them?  Very carefully indeed.  I'm not certain, but I feel confident in saying that my parents read this book together as they began their vicious and vivacious voyage known as 'marriage.'

A better part of the book addresses the doctrine behind temples: why we have them, what is done in them, what their role is in the eternities.  I can't tell you how many times "turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers" appeared on the pages.  Elder Packer outlines the origin of temple ordinances, the role of Elijah, and the restoration in the Latter days.  He also explains the importance of making and keeping the covenants made within the holy walls of the temple.  The chapters are truly a textual feast, requiring a vigilant eye for complete comprehension.

Admittedly, this portion of the book was somewhat difficult for me to enjoy.  Not that I found its teaching unimportant, because I do, but because I was not giving the information its due attention.  In retrospect I wish I would have a notepad and pen with my scriptures nearby.  So much information is fascinating during the moments of reading, but I find it hard to reproduce.  "I read the most amazing chapter today, but I can't tell you what it was about."  Internalizing the information was difficult for me.

The last section of the book fortified the link between temples and family history.  They are one and the same, actually.  Elder Packer expounded on the extreme importance for each member of the church to discover their family story.  It is not enough to go to the temple to perform ordinances for names that have been found.  Good, yes.  Best?  No.  As I finished the final page of the book I felt a new vigor for family history.  It is the most important work we can do on Earth and in heaven.

Why is it so important?  Read the book.  You'll understand why.  I always considered family history to be something we can do on the side if we have time when we're older.  Only now do I realize that this is to be a priority in my life.

But how to begin....

Calories from Technology: 4G

I saw a commercial tonight.  It was an advertisement for a bank - I can't remember which.  It showed a man, well-groomed, sitting in a chair.  He stands, puts on a jacket, a hat, a scarf.  Then he just stands there, ready to go.  He then takes the smart phone from his pocket, taps it several times, removes his scarf, his hat, his jacket, and sits back down.  The ad effectively showed the foolishness of actually going to your bank to do banking.  Why drive to the bank to make a deposit when you can do so from your home, car, or seat during a football game?  Get it done now, from anywhere, because you deserve it.

As the commercial ended, I couldn't help but feel angry.  "What a lazy dope," I thought.  Instead of marveling at the ease of online banking, my catalog of memories brought forth images of fat people in suits of red and blue sailing around in hoverchairs.

Yes.  I thought of WALL-E.

I remember watching this Disney delight for the first time and thinking, "Wow.  We read your message loud and clear, Disney."  The film's charming robots disguise to children what can be a fear for adults: we're losing ourselves.

Is technology making us more lazy?  Or is it freeing up more time so we can do other things?

Although I think technology is great, I have my reservations about it.  Yes, it's wonderful that we can text.  It's very appropriate in some cases.  Not so in others.  It definitely takes away human element and can be very misleading.  I remember when someone would actually care enough about me to make a personal invitation over the phone - with their voice - to a party rather than a thoughtless mass text.

There are two kinds of Bluetooth users: those who understand the purpose of Bluetooth, and those who don't.  I giggle inside when I see someone holding their phone in front of their face while wearing a Bluetooth receiver.  The whole point of Bluetooth is to be "hands free."  Is it really easier to have the phone a few inches away from your face?  Why not go a few inches more, remove the Bluetooth, and use it like a normal phone?  Apparently some people don't understand that you can leave your phone in your pocket and talk.

Another technology I find amusing: electric staplers.  Electric pencil sharpeners is something I can get behind.  They're fast and can get your pencil as pointed as a needle.  (I hated those sharpeners fastened to the wall.  You change the angle of your pencil by a few degrees and you had to start all over again.)  But staplers are hard to use incorrectly.  You hit the top part hard enough to put the staple through the paper.  I witnessed a man who would was using an electric stapler to attach two sheets of paper to each other and remember thinking how pathetic it was.

The point is that technology goes too far in some cases.  Here I am criticizing technology when I saw a commercial over the internet on my laptop, which I am now using to type this outrageously long blog post about nothing.

Why me?

All active Facebookers will remember a time not too long ago that I like to call the "doppelgänger era."  Officially, a doppelgänger is "an apparition or double of a living person."  So someone in the facebook realm decided to popularize that word by encouraging people to search out their celebrity double.

It was my favorite facebook period ever.  I usually don't spend too much time perusing through profile pics, but some were just too precious to pass up.  Very average to below-average looking friends of mine would choose the most gorgeous/handsome celebrity to be their look-alike.  All the sudden girls realized (more like hoped) that they looked like Carrie Underwood.  Dudes would put up shirtless pictures of Matthew McConaughey or some other hunky male.  And the best thing was that we, the Facebook public, were supposed to buy it.  It pleased me to know that some people think so highly of themselves.

As for me, I never posted a doppelgänger.  Why?  Because up to that point I was just Brady Barrett, an individual without a look-alike.  I wasn't about to post a Bradley Cooper or Brad Pitt mostly because I look nothing like them.  But within the last year, I have been getting "You look like..." comments.  I'm not flattered by them, either.

Seth Green.  I've gotten this one several times.  For some reason being compared to Dr. Evil's outcast son doesn't tickle my fancy.

Seth Rogen.  Can't say I'm hot on this one either.  And why "Seth?"  Two Seth's?  

I'm extremely upSeth about this.

Perspectives

It's amazing how we all have different perspectives.

I roll my eyes when I see hipsters with their weird clothes and music because I feel like it's all an act.

I question heavy metal "musicians" with their screaming and guitar shredding because I find them to be completely nuts.

I finally look up Pinterest to see what the big deal was and found it to be boring and rather worldly.

Don't even get me started with women and their obsession with "Twilight."  I have even more to say about BYU fans with their fight song, Davis High with their mascot, and why people think gift cards are better than cash.

My curse

A curse is "a solemn utterance to invoke a supernatural power to inflict harm or punishment on someone or something."  Sounds about right.

I am 100% serious in saying that a curse besets me.  I believe in supernatural powers.  How else would you explain this?

You would not believe how many times in a week I see this time.  11:34.  Before lunch.  Before bed.  It doesn't matter.  It's the most mind-numbing thing I've ever witnessed.  Often I see this time twice in a single day.  Absurd.

Normally I wouldn't care much about something so trivial as this.  In fact, I would almost welcome it in most cases.  But not this.  Everything was groovy in life until I realized what I was seeing.  You see 11:34.  I see this:

hEll.  I see hEll, and I see it a lot.  It's been disturbing me since I laughed at some kid's solo tryout in choir.

The songs in my head.

My little brother was watching Spongebob Squarepants when I walked into the living room on Sunday morning.  After pouring myself a bowl of granola, I sat next to him, took hold of the remote (we call it "channel changer") and said, "Really, Ben?  Spongebob?"  Noticing my determination to change the channel, Ben simply said, "Just watch this one episode, Brady.  You'll like it."

I watched it.  And I liked it.

In this particular episode, Spongebob finds himself smitten with song: one song.  "Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doodle.  Listen again to my musical doodle..."  Over and over he sings, whistles, and hums this tune.  In the beginning he loves the song, but he slowly realizes that it's plaguing every aspect of his life.  He can't sleep.  He can't work.  That darn musical melody encumbers his entire existence.  In the end, Spongebob finally rids himself of the tune and can return to normal life.  It was actually pretty hilarious, and I thank my brother for introducing me to the humor under the sea.


I find I have a similar problem.

I'm not an iPod junkie.  Yes, I own a 2nd generation 4G nano that holds a small assortment of Michael Jackson, Boston, Journey, and just a pinch of Empire of the Sun that I occasionally use on runs.  But I find no satisfaction in seeking out the no-name bands to make myself "unique" and "cultured" so that I can say, "Well, I liked [enter band here] before they were popular."  I know some people (self-proclaimed 'hipsters') think that saying this is impressive or cool, when it is, in fact, plain annoying.  So you found music that everyone likes before everyone liked it.  Great job.

Back to Spongebob: I've gone through my share of song-stuck-in-my-head phases.  Throughout high school when I felt the desire to sing, the only tune in my head was "Goin' Courtin'" from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  For some reason that was my go-to song going through puberty.  After that it was "And I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.  It wasn't my fault.  When I get a song in my head, it stays there for a long time.

I have occasional relapses, but for the most part I sing a song to a gruesome death and move on, never looking back.  You're wondering what my current song is, aren't you?  "Play that Funky Music" recorded by Wild Cherry.  At least this tune is somewhat hip rather than a song from a musical or a song about love.

My hobby.

Google defines "hobby" in this way:

1. An activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure.
2. A migratory Old World falcon (genus Falco) with long narrow wings, catching dragonflies and birds on the wing.

While the second definition is certainly intriguing, as I had never heard of a hobby in this sense, I wish to discuss how the first definition applies to me.  I have thought much about hobbies during my lifetime.  I see others who read, bake, craft, build, hunt, game, work, watch, and date for their hobby.  Often I find myself upset that I don't seem to have that one thing that defines who I am.

 I suppose I run.  Running is definitely an activity done regularly in my leisure time for pleasure.  I guess you can call it "pleasure," anyway.  It's something that's been a part of my life since my early teens.  I have my older sister to thank for that.  When she was in high school/early college she would invite me to join her on her jogs.  I found myself enjoying it so much that I became the first Barrett to join the cross country team.  Three years of running with the Viking produced some of my best memories and friends from high school.  And the legacy continues today.

My older brother joined the team the same year I did.  One of my sisters ran all three years of high school, and another sister is just finishing her second year.  I've been more than proud of them and have been privileged to run with them in other events.  We've run several 5k races together and even a half marathon or two.  My brother and I even competed in a triathlon which turned into quite the running event when the swim was replaced with another 5k.  Run, bike, run.  We did well and had a blast doing it.

I've decided recently that running without an iPod can be quite soothing.  Maybe I feel that way because it's easier to keep a steady pace when you listen to yourself breathing rather than the beat of the radio.  I find myself speeding up and slowing down according to the rhythm of songs.  Lately I have been running with a buddy and we sparsely chat throughout our miles.  Yesterday, due to my friend's sprained ankle, I ran by myself.  Without music.  And it was one of the fastest runs I've ever done for that distance.  My testimony of music-less running was strengthened when I exercised confidence in silence.

So, running is my hobby.  It's what I do regularly for pleasure.

Politcally incorrect

I recently graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in Business Information Systems and Political Science.  Thankfully I was able to find employment that will use, and expand, my technical knowledge and skills.  What a blessing and relief it was to find a good job amid such economic lulls.  In the first few weeks of my job I have faced satisfaction and frustration, with glimpses of greatness and even bigger glimpses of failure.  But that's how a new job is, I suppose.


Why the combo of information systems and political science?  Because I found myself in the business school disliking accounting, which led me to do an internship in DC where I became interested in politics.  I enjoyed being in the political world, especially the nation's capital.  Since then I have followed political activity, though somewhat casually.

Maybe I didn't take the right courses.  Maybe I didn't pay attention in class.  And maybe I just don't care that much about politics, but I think it gets so silly.

I like the political process.  I think it is good that laws cannot be passed all willy-nilly.

What I do not appreciate, however, is the childish bickering that we see every day.  I don't like the personal attacks on personality, religion, family, or anything else of that matter.  America is like a business, in my opinion, so the person in power should be qualified.  Besides that, especially in this time of crisis, little else matters.

Why does it matter if the president is man or woman?  Black or white?  Muslim, Christian, or Jew?  I spent my summer in Jordan and have seen incredible Muslim people.  I've seen horrible Muslim people (who steal backpacks that contain everything necessary to live in the Middle East).  I know excellent Latter-day Saints and pathetic Latter-day Saints.  You'll find what you are looking for in any religion, or atheism for that matter, so I don't understand how that matters in any way.

I get confused about the stark divide between Republicans and Democrats.  Once, while discussing politics with some friends, I was told that "people who say they're Independent are ignorant and don't understand politics at all.  They're stupid."

What's more stupid than refusing to budge on some issue because of political parties?  From what I know, Independents consider themselves to be in the middle, willing to work with either side.  And the problem with that is....?

Some bosses are jerks.  I dare say that most bosses are jerks.  But why are they the bosses?  Because they do things.  They finish things.  They delegate things.  No one cares about their personal life.

I realize there is much to consider when talking about politics.  America isn't a business.  America is not a religion.  But seeing what happens every day in the political world is sickening to me.  Never would I ever consider running for political office.  I wouldn't want to give anyone the opportunity to write about how incapable I am of running a town because I eat at a certain restaurant or read the wrong newspaper.

For fear of sounding anti-American, I end my rant here.  I love America.  I cherish America.

(Cue Neil Diamond's "They're Coming to America.")

It's all about the execution.

I like to watch sports.  Basketball, soccer, football, tennis, and most other sports.  I even remember watching Olympic Power-Walking and enjoying it very much.  It was very weird, though, especially during the slow-motion replays.  Seriously, does Power-Walking need slow-motion?

The commentary during sporting events is 100% necessary.  Watching a game with no volume is bothersome because there is so much to learn.  Rules that need explaining.  Inspiring stories that need to be told.  And those magical moments just wouldn't be the same without a good scream of excitement.  Imagine watching the Jazz vs. Houston without someone yelling, "John Stockton sends the Utah Jazz to the NBA Finals!"  How was it?  Thought so.

Commentating is great.  But what really is beginning to irk me more and more are the post-game/post-match interviews.  While I enjoy listening to others giving their educated opinion about the game, I find no reason to question the coaches, whether they won or lost.  They all give the same darn reason for the outcome of the game: execution.

"Coach Mendenhall, why did you lose so badly to the Utes?"

"Because we didn't execute our plays."

(I think he is the coach that is most guilty of using the word "execute."  I like Bronco as a man and coach, but my goodness, choose another word.)

If a team won a game, it's because they "executed" their plays.  If a team lost a game, it's because they "didn't execute" their plays.

Are we stupid?  Is there really nothing else to be said about a game?  "We didn't execute our plays, so we lost."  "They executed and ended up winning the game."

I feel like executing the next person who talks about the game's execution.

And what does "execute" even mean?

Think of a complicated basketball play: Stockton at the top of the key.  Malone and Ostertag underneath.  Hornacek and Anderson on the elbows.  Malone steps up, sets the screen on Kevin Johnson, then rolls toward the basket.  Stockton lobs the ball to Malone, who attempts a lay-up.  He misses.  Bulls rebound and gain possession of the ball.

Was the play "executed?"  Is a play only "executed" when it puts points on the board?  Maybe.  But people (Bronco), please find a different word!  Or a different excuse.  Or just something better to say.  Using "execute" over and over to explain both wins and losses is getting super old.