Never going to fake another day.

I need to learn to let go of things. Maybe I am just too slow emotionally. I have had a good many blogs on this topic, so I won't delve into that stuff here. I just feel like I am the slowest person in the world to be able to move on. and it hurts. I feel like I am running in one direction (be it the right or wrong, i don't think it matters, or if there even is a right or wrong direction in life) but i feel like i am running, but my heart is stuck in one place. And as it is stuck, it is slowing the rest of me down. Sometimes even pulling me back. I can't wait to go on a mission because I get to completely forget about EVERYTHING outside of the Fresno area and just focus on the Lord, who is far better to focus on than anyone or anything else. Sometimes, I really get turned on by that idea, but others, like now, for instance, I find myself not wanting to let go, not wanting to forget. I suppose that is why I keep so many things from my past, I bound up everything I have ever written (except essays and things) since I was in 5th grade. It fills 6 volumes. And I can't let go of it. I guess it's because I treasure the past, and those memories are my only way to travel back to re-visit them. I try to re-visit them all again, but it never does justice. I feel heart-sick. I have never used that word before, but it was the one that came to my mind. I am heartsick and immature. I mean, intellectually, I'd say I'm rather mature, definitely. But emotionally, I think I have a huge way to go. I mean, I understand my emotions, but I am not mature enough to let go of them. I know I can, it's not that I don't have the ability to let go, it's just that I choose not to. I feel safer with those memories, regardless of how painful they may be to remember.

I always feel like I am heading in the wrong direction, no matter which way I am going. So I change direction in my life, and I feel like I am heading the wrong direction again, and want to go back to how I was before. But of course I never can. And really, I shouldn't want to. People who can talk about how openly they love and mean it. people who can speak about it with the highest amount of truth and happiness, completely blow my mind. I respect them so much. I have only know a few in my life, but I have learned so much from them. They are not afraid to love. They are not afraid to open the deepest parts of themselves up to anyone and everyone, despite the heartache and immense pain it may perhaps momentarily bring. They live life with so much enthusiasm. I want to be like that some day. I don't want to be a curmudgeon. I don't want to be an overly sarcastic person who hides their feelings away from everyone except those who they really trust. I mean, I will always be sarcastic, and I will always be more open with those I know. But I don't want to take it to an extreme. I want people to see how happy I am about life. I want people to be able to see a picture of me smiling and then smile themselves because they can see how true that smile actually is. I never want to emotionally fake my way through another day of my life. Ever. I want to be honest and happy. I want to let go and not be afraid to tell people what I feel. Tell people how much they have impacted me. Not be afraid to sound silly for saying things. Not let rejection of my open-ness close me off to the world again. I don't want to live inside my head. I want to live inside the world. I want to live with the world. I want to LOVE. I want to be truly happy. I want to feel complete happiness at least once a day. I am tired of living afraid, you know? I'm sick of it. I am tired of staying up all night, literally, thinking about past decisions, whether they were right or not, or how they affected people, or how they could have gone differently, or how I can re-live them, or how to feel what I felt again. I have felt what I felt, And i will feel it all again. But only if I live in the now. Only if i stop living through my past. I can never feel anything new if my heart is stuck in one place, because then, when it finally springs back to me, it will speed past all the emotions I could have had between where it was stuck and where I am now.

No decision in life is a bad decision. I don't mean that in a religious sense, or in a legal sense, because obviously... but I mean that in the sense that every decision I have made has been right. And if I hadn't made that specific decision, but had in fact gone a different way, that also would have been right. I learn from people I interact with. I will always be me. No-one can ever ever change that. And I will learn what I need to learn no matter what I do or where I go. If I am supposed to learn a lesson, I will learn it through someone, wherever I am in my life. And I need to realize that there are lots more people in my life I need to learn from. Lots more people that need to learn from me, and there is lots more world to love and to open up to.

It's an easy thing to say, though, or to write, rather. Writing has always been my main way of communicating my emotions. It's when I'm actually in real life that this philosophy actually comes into practice. I cannot just let myself get on a momentary emotional high, and then go to sleep and forget about it when I wake up.

I miss people., I really really do. And that isn't a bad thing. I loved those people. but I also love people now, and I cannot neglect those I love now for people who have, more-or-less left my life. I hate the term, even the idea or leaving someones life. It makes me heart-sick. The idea that someone I get to know so well can suddenly be gone, and I will never have anything to do with them again really hurts. And i think that will always hurt me because deep down I have always had a deep love for people, somewhere inside me it is there, strong. I just cannot express it in any way. Which is why I think it manifests itself so powerfully now, because I never gave myself a chance to show my love for those people I loved when they were in my life. So I have to lament their loss and remember all my love for them after they are gone, instead of showing it to them throughout my life. I don't regret having done anything I have done. I have grown from all of it. I do, however, regret how I have acted while doing those things. And that, along with showing my love openly, all the time, is what I plan to change.

I knew someone once. That's such a sad phrase, to say I knew someone once. They are now gone from my life I sadly admit. But I knew this person and when this person smiled, and actually meant it (which was 99% of the time) it just glowed. Their eyes were so pure and radiated such extreme happiness, love and Honesty. Most importantly and noticeably, honesty. Their smile just kept going and going. And I can't even think about it without smiling myself. I want to be like that person. I regret losing them from my life, but I have learned so much from them, and I knew them a relatively short amount of time. There have been a few people like this in my life, not many, but a few. And most of them I have gotten the privilege of getting to know very well. Which is why I know I want to be like them so much. It is because I have seen how happy they are and they have tried to help me be that way too. I never took the opportunity to do so when they were there helping me, but I know now that it is because I wasn't supposed to do it then. I know now that this is a lesson i needed to learn through personal pain and sorrow and by those others example, but not under their tutelage.

Like I said earlier, I just want to be that person whose smile and eyes emanate happiness, love and honesty, and who, when people think of me, they smile. So help me out. I love you.

Pre-Raphaelite

This was going to be my new blog title banner, but then I realized I have absolutely NO idea how to code... If anyone does, and could show me how to make it my new banner, I'd greatly appreciate it.

I re-realized how much I love Pre-Raphaelite paintings. a brief overview: It was an artistic movement started in the late 1840's by a group of English painters and poets initially known as the pre-raphaelite brotherhood. this initial brotherhood consisted of William Holman Hunt, John Everett-Millais and Dante Gabriel Rosetti. Four more members quickly joined, making a seven member 'brotherhood' or club i guess. Their initial intention was to re-form art by rejecting the techniques they considered machinistic and "cliche" and bad art. They blamed in particular Raphael for they believed that " classical poses and elegant compositions of Raphael in particular had been a corrupting influence on the academic teaching of art." (whatever exactly that means) SO: they started painting using 'abundant' detail bold colours and complex compsition.

They are believed by some to be the first real avant-garde movement in art, although that title is dispute by many, "because they continued to accept both the concepts of history painting and of mimesis, or imitation of nature, as central to the purpose of art"

Anyway, here are some of my favorite paintings of theirs. I know many true art scholars will say that their art is frou-frou, soul-less and lacks a depth, but i really like it. Many of their subjects are taken from stories faerie tales and myths, as well as Shakespeare plays. (and by the way, you can click on the pictures to enlarge them. Also, the titles are below each picture, not above))

Windflowers - Waterhouse

The Shrine - Waterhouse

Princess tied to a tree - Edward Burne-Jones

The Lady Of Shallot - Waterhouse
Probably the most well-known painting by a pre-raphaelite. although, Waterhouse began painting after several of the founding members had already died. he was one of the last, if not the last painters of this era. some don't even consider him strictly classified as such. Ive noticed that the earlier his paintings are, the more detail they have. And as they get older chronologically, they become less detailed. this one was done very early, 1888, compared with others from 1910.

Juliet - John William Waterhouse

John Everett Millais: The Black Brunswicker. (ENLARGE this one by clicking on it. it looks stunning)

Gathering Flowers in a Devonshire Garden - John William Waterhouse

The Enchanted Garden - Waterhouse
ENLARGE this one too

The Lady of Clare

Mariana 1850 - John Everett Milais

Also ENLARGE this one

Spring - Waterhouse

Ophelia - Milias

Ophelia 02 - Waterhouse

Cinderella - John Everett Milais

Mariana in the South - Watherhouse

Beguiling of Merlin - Edward Burne-Jones
ENLARGE this one

ENLARGE this one, please. It's gorgeous

Head of a Young Girl - William Adolphe-Bouguereau

Now, William Adolphe-Bouguereau wasn't a pre-raphaelite. In fact, he was opposed to the pre-raphaelites. But this painting is still gorgeous. It is probably my favorite one...

Thank you for reading, and comment if you please.

From an interview on NPR

“...My grandmother is ninety four years old is having a gallbladder operation in Chicago. I talked to her last night and I asked her how she was doing, which is not what you should do to a ninety four year old woman going in for an operation. ‘I’m not doing very well Brian... is this Brian? Mike? Is this Mike?’ ‘No grandma, this is Brian’ ‘I love you Brian’ she said to me ‘How’s your girlfriend doing?’ Well, I didn’t really want to tell her that I hadn’t seen her in a while and that she was living with a twenty five year old blonde surfer auto mechanic graffiti artist in downtown L.A. Having her bottom tattooed with three black cats knocking over a bottle of milk. So I said ‘Fine Grandma, she’s, she's doing fine. And she asks about you and hopes that you’re alright.’ I told her I loved her and she said ‘I love you Michael... Brian.’”

-Brian Brophy, from an interview on NPR’s Hearing Voices June 21 2009.

the URL for the interview is HERE, you can also access it by clicking on the title of this blogpost.

I just found this particular part of the interview incredible. I don't know why. The whole thing was great, but this particular part was particularly notable to me. Read it Over

Rice Crackers

The thing is, with rice crackers: They are really really tasty when they first go into your mouth, but then after you bite, they start to progressively suck more. They are all dry and they taste like rice. But the first part is really good, So I eat more, but it is never quite as good as the first time.

The Compilation

So it hit me today, about an hour ago, as I was reading in Mormon, the first couple of chapters, that it is so frustrating how little of all that is out there that we actually have. I was confused by it as well, and luckily for me, my dad, who is really smart about this kind of stuff, was in his chair right by me (I was laying on the couch) and so I asked him and we talked about it, and it took us quite a while to find even a partial answer. Why do we have so little of the records that were made? I mean, there are the large plates of Nephi, which contain all the records of wars and kings and things of that nature, and then the small plates of Nephi, which contain the spiritual things. But there are still the brass plates, which were records made long before Nephi was around. And then the book of Lehi. But also all the records of the lost tribes of Israel, which Jesus said he also visited. And there are records of the Jaredites. And we have so, SO little of it.

I was trying to figure out what was contained in the Gold Plates. I explained it to my dad this way: So Nephi wrote two records, the Large and the Small Plates of Nephi. The small plates containing a spiritual record of the people, and the Large plates containing a physical record of the people. Thier kings and wars and stuff. Do the Gold Plates contain both records, and the large plates, which aren't included in the Book of Mormon, were they just the sealed part that Joseph Smith couldn't access? or was the sealed part of the Gold Plates simply more of the small plates we aren't allowed to see. My dad thought maybe some of the sealed portions contained Nephi's visions that he had, but wasn't allowed to write. But we were not sure. I had no idea what was going on. There was also the book of Lehi. Was that contained in the Gold Plates as well, or was the only part of the book of Lehi that was in the Gold Plates the Mormon's abridgemt of the book of Lehi. (The abridgement of the Book of Lehi that Mormon made was the manuscript that was lost.) Did the sealed portion of the Gold Plates contain the original book of Lehi as well, or does that only exsist seperatley somewhere? The more we thought about it, the more it stood to reason that the Large plates of Nephi were a seperate record, and the only part of them that existed in the Gold Plates was the abridgement of the Large Plates that Mormon did (Mosiah - 4 Nephi)... I was lost. And frankly, a little frustrated at how little information we have. not about the compilation of the plates, but because out of all the vast ammounts of information there is out there, we have such a tiny, tiny fraction of it.

My Dad and I did some sleuthing on the internet and found out from the Lightplanet.com/somestuff that "Joseph Smith was commanded not to translate the sealed vision of the Brother of Jared, which apparently made up a substantial portion of the gold plates (Ludlow, p. 320). Although Joseph Smith translated only from the gold plates, he and his associates saw many other records (JD 19:38; Millennial Star 40 [1878]:771-72)." So!!! i found out that there were lots more plates Jooseph Smith saw, that he Couldn't Translate! It frustrated me so SO much.

My dad and I also talked about what was in the hill along with the gold plates. if the brass plates were there, which I believe i heard they were, along with the sword of Laban. and I guess now we know there were lots of plates there.

This is so frustrating because we have so little of what is out there. Although, I know it is the right thing to have happen because what we have is the most important to us, right now. And all the prophets have seen that, and I trust them. It's just... when will the new records come forth? during the Millenium? when Christ is ruling? If that's the case, why? we will be completely happy and righteous and so what will we have to learn from the new records? we could just ask Jesus, he'll be right there. I dunno. I know I need to focus less on this and more on what is actually in what we have. It was just such a strong urge i felt to recieve that extra revelation.

there are, in existence:
-Small plates of Nephi -- recieved
-Large plates of Nephi -- abridged
-Book of Lehi --abridged and lost
-Brass plates --abridged
-visions of the Brother of Jared -- sealed in Gold plates
-Records of the Jaredites (Plates of Ether) -- not recieved
-Records of other Lost Tribes -- Not Recieved
-visions of Nephi --not recieved / sealed
-other, un-known records --not recieved
-records of Zenos and Zenock --abridged

So really, we have so very, very little. I just want to read it all, but i really should just focus on what we have. In case anyone is interested, there is a link to a very good article about the contents of the Book of Mormon and the plates here: http://www.lightplanet.com/mormons/book_of_mormon/plates.html

and here is an image from the aforlinked site.



Anyway, thank you for reading. please comment. Discussion is welcomed.

...a life I never really lived.

Today I had another one of those horrendously awful / surreally wonderful days which was full of melancholy and remorse, brought about by a sudden bout of nostalgia and reminiscence. I hate it when that happens because I cannot focus on anything else. The whole day I am eternally stuck in the past, reliving moments, and wishing things had gone differently. Or foolishly hoping there is something I can do to fix whatever I may have done, or get back the emotions I had at whatever time, or struggling to find some way to re-live these certain events or periods in my life. But it is also a beautiful time because I get to truly peer at myself in the past and deeply analyze why I did things, and what has come from those decisions. Be it good or bad, or whatever I may term "good" or "bad" at this point. I get to see that I am stuck with the decisions I made, no matter how much they may hurt me, no matter how much I may regret some, or wish some had never happened. Or despite how much I may have hurt other people, I am stuck living with what I made.

It is at this point when I try to think of things I can do to re-connect myself with my past and get the emotions I had been remembering back at their full. It's like Heroine, I guess. People say that it is never as strong as the first time you take it, but people are so addicted to it anyway that they keep trying, knowing, somewhere inside of them, that it won't be as good. But they try anyway. I'm like that with emotions. I'm addicted to emotions, I'm an emotion junkie (if not emotional massochist) and I do whatever I can to feel strong emotions. And when I do, I remember them. And then, on days like today, I go back to them I try to get as high by remembering them as I did the first time when I actually lived them. The weird thing is though, for me, the times I get the highest are when I do remember them. The remembering is always the highest. I never feel very strongly about emotions until they are already in the past. I live emotionally in the past, no matter how hard I try. So day-to-day, I live almost numb, I mean, I feel things, it's just... you know. And then, when an important or emotionally strong event happens, I live through it, and feel the emotion very muted at the time. Like i'm living everything through seven layers of Kleenex. Then months, even years later the emotions reverberate and I feel them at their fullest. At which point I go on and dwell with them all day, living with them, loving them, embracing them, because the old emotions are all I have of a life I never really lived.

Also, Mission Update, for anyone who was keeping track (which is, I think, four people, all of which already know...) I was supposed to leave last Wednesday, the tenth of June, but my surgery happened the day before that, Tuesday the ninth. And then my throat-tube surgery is the nineteenth, so I couldn't go in until both of those were over. And it turns out that the missionaries go into Fresno in 6 week increments, so I have to wait until July twenty second to go in... poo. It's harder now to get as excited about it. I was all pumped up and ready to go, but now my excitement has deflated and my energy has dropped. I need to find things to occupy my time. Luckily, I have had no desire to go back to school or do any theatre productions at all these past couple of weeks... which is very odd for me, seeing as those are the two things I really need to do to feel fulfilled. The two things that i can actually feel at a full emotional level. Theatre sends me emotion through an amp set to 11. So it's very strange i have no desire to do it... but it's a blessing. Now it won't be a problem, getting caught up in school, or some productions or something and then not go, or have it be harder for me to go. Anyways, thanks, you guys, for reading.

And also, please comment on the post below. I know people read it, but no-one said anything... why?

Happening:

Hiya all. Over the past couple of weeks I have started two blog posts, neither of which came to fruition. The first was gonna be a couple of short plays parodying famous plays, namely Waiting for Godot, Whos Afraid of Virginia Woolf and Rhinoceros. But then I dind't bother. The next was gonna be a post while I was on Lortab cause the doctor cut half my toenail off, but that wasn't interesting or funny or clever, plus my attention span wasn't that great, so I didn't bother. And now I was gonna post a four hour long blog about my four day trip to Denver, but no one likes to read detailed accounts of exactly what I did, every hour, for four days, So i'm not going to.

I'm gonna talk a bit about Denver, probaly, I'm also gonna talk about other stuff, I'm not sure what yet though. We call all find out together! Come along with me, and lets go on a journey. We'll discover things about orselves that we didn't know before, and we figure out where Ethan is going wth this post. Come! I'll lead you through the wild, woody wood that is the polluted, congested confused mind of his, giving helpful and humourous narration along the way. Lets all join hands and walk single file, the sun will be fast setting an we wouldn't want things to get weird. Open your eyes, smile, say hello to the person next to you, shake hands, high five, twirl around if you please, and we will depart. Step into the cars provided for you and shut the doors, wear your seatbelts if you wish, and put on the special glasses when instructed. Don't be afraid, feeling queasy is normal, we will soon be departing! But before we do, I must tell you, please don't pick anything up on the way. Also, in regard to the shining happy people you may see, floating about the trees, please don't grab at them, grope at them, or anything of the sort. Now, we will be leaving soon, so please touch yourself somewhere safe and make sure you're all still around. Touch the person next to you somewhere safe and make sure they too are still around, where they are supposed to be, make sure they haven't drifted off into some other stream of conciousness or into someone elses Guided Mind tour, for this is one adventure you all would want to be a part of. Now please, put on the special glasses provided you and we will get on our way. We will go on this adventure together, holding hands, walking single file, in the cars provided us, holding hands and twirling if we please, wearing seatbelts if we wish and not groping the shining happy people. Now, if we are all ready, let us depart. Depart from this place we all seem to be stuck in, and lets move. move on to bigger, things, better things, happier things, to more exciting things, more elaborate things, less congested things, less confusing things, more sedated things, less elated things. Lets all close our minds to the far away fires and focus solely on how the ripped plastic seat feels on our thighs. do you smell the aroma of Neo-daoism? if not, please try harder. rub your feet sideways across the ribbed rubber floormat and feel the vibrations through your body. Feel them entering your bloodlines, feel the powerlines. Now take the complimentary scissors provided you and snip a sensible sized piece of hair from the head or body of the person next to you. Let their essence dissolve into you. Absorb them. Become them. wear their clothes. Date their girlfirends, kiss thier kids and feel them. Above each of you hangs a small glowing orb, do not touch it. Smile and wave, try to behave. Lets all now remove our glasses and step out of the cars, please put your pants back on, and don't look at your neighbor. Hold the velvet rope ahead of you and follow the line to the twinkling stars. Please don't spin, don't twirl, don't shake, don't hold. If you will, just walk silently, in a disjointed line, back to civilization. Beware of low-hanging branches. And I appreciate your time accompanying me on this discovery. I hope you all have enjoyed the trip and please don't forget to sign the gestbook thats sitting in the tin box at the end of the trail.

I Heart:

Please Watch This Video, or listen to the video, as you read this. It's a beautiful video, taken from Heima: a film by Sigur Ros. It's a song called Vaka, and they are playing it acoustically, in the middle of a plain in Iceland.

I HEART:

Aesthetics

Music

Love

The Rain

Late Night Drives by Myself to Nowhere

Frost on the Ground

Sigur Ros

Old, Rusty Farm Equipment

Black and White Pictures

Intellectual Discussions

Summer Nights with the Windows Open

The Mountains

High-Contrast Pictures

The Smell of Rain

Soft Music

Being Lonely

Being Together

Running Through Fields in the Rain

The Smell Of Laundry Detergent

Memories

Laying in the Grass at Night

Saying My Mind

Learning About People

Discovering What I Love

Seeing My Breath

Naked Trees

Old, Grainy Photographs

Silence in the Morning Outside

Cherry Blossoms

Closing My Eyes

Wanting Something So Much I Can Actually Feel It

Melancholy

Moss Growing On Trees

Cracked Statuettes

Longing

The Idea of Watching Childrens Movies as Adults

Bicycling in the Rain

Holding Hands

Honesty

Beauty

Remembering

The Video Heima

Making Others Feel

Rusty Metal

The Idea of Romantic Poetry

Old, Broken Houses

Abandoned Places

Thinking

The Water

Growth

The Smell Of Asphalt Right After Rain

State Street in Madison

Candles

The Ocean

White

Old Trains

Train Tracks

Creating

Feeling

Being Sad

Cloudy Skies

Looking at the Fallen Leaves as They Rest in a Puddle on the Ground

Wood

The Silhouettes of Trees Against The Sunset

Needing A Blanket

Missing Old Friends

Remembering Old Friends and Hurting

New Post

So Monday, I started writing a post that detailed the events of The 81st Oscars. Blueh. Boring. I never finished. Basically I talked about how sexy the host Hugh Jackman was, a posted a link to THIS PICTURE and how he was Australian and how the other sexy Australian actor Russel Crowe apparently wasn't sexy anymore. Then I posted a link to THIS PICTURE in regard to russel crowe. It was supposed to be funny. it wasn't. Then i went on very long-windedly about the oscar nominees and winners and some such. basically the highlights of that were... um... I talked about how Penelope Cruz wasn't written off of 30 rock before her Oscar Nomination, which is good because Amy Adams was written off The Office a week before her Oscar Nomination last year and the The Office folks felt like sheep. SO: there is a huge blog condensed and highlighted in a paragraph. if anyone who didn't see the Oscars actually cares about the Oscars, there is infinitely better coverage ANYWHERE ELSE online. So go anywhere else.

The much more elegant, enlightened, thoughtful topic I want to talk about now is how weird I feel in the handicapped Bathroom stall. I went in one of those today, that what got me thinking. Every time I use one of them, I always wonder "what if a handicapped man actually needed to use the restroom while I was in it? He would think I was Politically incorrect. Or that I had no respect for his situation" He'd get pissed. When I'm in the stall, enjoyaing all the luxuries and open space, I always think about what i would say if I walked out of the stall and there was a man in a wheelchair just sitting and waiting, staring up at me with one of those faces. You know the ones! I also always imagined him tapping his foot, but that's probably unrealistic. I also always thingk he's gonna like, punch me, or beat me up, or axe me. But really, I obsess over it the whole time. It almost makes me want to use a differnt stall, and on occasion it has, but for the most part, if i see an open, large, luxurious, handicapped stall, I use it. With the other stalls, I feel so cramped (no pun intended) and also my knees hit both walls. I also feel like if there si some sort of disaster or some deranged post office worker comes with a gun, I will have a much lower chance of escaping if I'm in a cramped stall. I don't know why, but you can't honestly tell me you've never thought the same thing.
But anyway, I get out of the stall and the upset handicapped man is staring at me, tapping his foot or some such, and he says "So..." and I say " um, I'm sorry, I never thought I would actually meet you" and then he says "why not? there are plenty of us around"
ME: No! thats not it, I just...
HIM: you think they make those stall just so people like you can use them without hitting both your knees on the walls?
ME: no, sir, i just-
HIM: or maybe you think that we can fit just fine in the other stalls, hmm?
ME: well, no.. it's just, all the other stalls were full...

This would probably be my first excuse. But in actuality, it's a weak one, because odds are, the stalls weren't all full, and odds are he came in and saw that and knew full well they weren't full. And odds are that if I start off telling a lie, then he will never trust me.

HIM: No they weren't full. I came in just now and saw you shut the door-
ME: well, not full per-sey, but I feel weird sitting in a stall next to someone...
HIM: There was no-one else in here.

This would also probably be true because I spend most of my time in obscure parts of the
Gunther Trades building at night during rehearsals, so there probably would be no-one else there... including that stupid handicapped man (not stupid because he's handicapped, but just.. you know!)

ME: well, I mean, it's just really roomy in there, you know?
HIM: No, I don't, I spend all the extra room in there getting out of my wheelchair *cough* and taking off my leg braces *wheeze* and then remembering my dead puppy
ME:...oh, oops.
HIM: oops won't cut it buddy, I'm gonna axe you so good.
ME: oh... ummm... *runs away*

At this point I realize I can just run away and he can't catch me because he is in a wheelchair and he needs to go to the bathroom.

DeVotchKa, and The Car (OR The Ethan Williams, Hannah Hillam and Erika Eddington Experience Featuring The Salt Lake Trip)

Hiya.

Yesterday, I drove to Salt Lake to see DeVotchKa play a concert at In The Venue. A band called Crooked Fingers opened for them. Crooked Fingers were really good. We all thought they were Irish because not only did the guy look like Glen Hansard, that other broken hearted Irish singin- songwriting kinda guy. But the man talked with an Irish accent. So naturally, we jumped to the conclusion that he was Irish. He wasn't. He's from North Carolina and lives in Seattle and Denver. Embarrassing. But he really does look like Glen Hansard though, Right? Granted, Eric Bachmann (from crooked fingers, Mr. Faux Irish) has about fifteen extra pounds and one fewer Oscars, but still, you can see my confusion.Eric Bachmann, Faux Irish.

Glen Hansard, Real Irish.

Again, Fake Irish
And Real Irish

Anyway, Confusion to say the Least. But, I really liked Crooked Fingers. I also liked Devotchka Quite a bit.

-5:30-
We (Erika, Hannah and myself) left from Provo with Erika's mom's car at 5:30. we were going to stop and get something to eat in Salt Lake, but when we were on the freeway, 30 minutes on the road, We realized we didn't have the tickets, so we turned back and got them. Luckily enough, we still had plenty of time to make it to the concert because we had the foresight to allot ourself time to eat. Well, needless to say, we didn't eat. we went straight to the concert because the time that we were going to spend eating was spent getting tickets from back in Provo instead. But we were all okay with that. After a bit of backtracking and driving around in search of the address, we arrived, healthy and hopeful.

-7:40-
As I entered the In The Venue, there were only about fifty people there, granted it was only seven forty, but still, I was surprised. So the three of us weaseled our way to the very very front of the space and never left.(CLICK on the picture, it makes it bigger and readable)

The time seven forty is significant because usually the band is said to play at eight. but of course that means at eight thirty. and this was no exception. Crooked Fingers got on at 8:30, introduced themselves briefly in an Irish accent and played about seven or eight songs. There was someone next to us who was singing along with them. Apparently, he didn't come to see DeVotchKa, but Crooked Fingers. good for him. he was so happy and jumpy aroundy. anyway. In the band there was a very ugly woman playing the bass. I thought that the ugliest woman in the music business was Jenny Conlee of the band the Decemberists, who happens to look just like Josh Brown, from several Local Bands.... but this girl was also very ugly. Here are their pictures.
Ugly but extremely talented Jenny Conlee of the Decemberists
Equally (and Identically) Ugly Josh Brown, of Several Local Provo, UT Bands. it really is scary how simmilar Josh Brown and Jenny Conlee look. I might even put up more pictures to prove the point... later. Right now I'm just happy I found a picture of Josh Brown in a dress.
And the Crooked Fingers Bassist, Miranda Brown. Wow, what a group of lookers.

anyway, as we were waiting for DeVotchKa to come on stage, a group of sweaty kids shoved their way up to me and started yelling a lot and talking really loud. they were anxious to see the band and also mildy-moderately drunk. The main yell-er of this group was this high school aged boy. He had a greasy indie-mullet, which is a mullet that comes to a point, apparently. His voice was so grating and high pitched it really could have broken something if there hadn't been so much other ambient noise around. This boy would yell everything. and make words much longer than they had to be so he could end up yelling in his grating voice for longer. He and his drunk friends thought this was the funniest thing they had ever seen and laughed and shook their heads alot. This, needless to say, encouraged the drunk boy. and so for the forty five minutes until DeVotchKa came on, they did this, and he yelled in the bar none most annoying voice I had ever heard.(There actually is, coincidentally, a picture of one of the drunk boys behind me in a picture Erika took of me, so i'll put it up right here. he looks a lot like Eli Bendowski...)


During the course of this, they began to encroach on our space, so I made a box out of my back and shoulders and grabbed a hold of the railing, one hand on either side of erika, so they wouldn't bump into her, and to make sure they didn't push her away and make us lose our space, (which i'm sure they were trying to do. there was no one in front of us.) and I didn't let go the rest of the night.

So the whole night people were pushing up against us, but I held strong. Later, another crowd of drunk friends pushed their way to the front. They started arguing with the annoying kid behind us. and eventually the annoying kid got separated from his friends. To which the leader of the new drunk group (and her shaggy haired boyfriend) told them not to worry about, and that they can make it one night away from their friends. I was happy because I thought someone would finally make this annoying boy shut up. Nope. After a while, they actually all started playing together and yelling together and pushing together. Their favorite hobby was to either 1) grab strangers and rub their hands over their arms and backs , or B) swaying and rubbing into people and full body dancing on strangers. Well, in most cased, due to my proximity to them, I was the stranger at the butt of all their drunken fun. But I held strong to the railing and kept Erika from being danced on and pushed out of the way. I was constantly being pushed against and grabbed and rubbed and trying to be pushed and moved out of the way. And because I didn't smile and laugh at their games, they attempted, very poorly, to make fun of me.


-9:20-
at about 9:20, 40 minutes after Crooked Fingers stopped playing, and 40 minutes after the most annoying group of people EVER started to push and bump-n-grind and yell on me, DeVotchKa finally came on. They had a Sousaphone (Marching Band Tuba) with blue Christmas lights stung around it and an accordian player. Later in the show, they also had an acrobat come on for a song and dance on a curtain. it was cool. Here are some pictures.




She also plays the Sousaphone.

The Blue-lit Sousaphone
The Gymnast, high above the ground... looking like a butterfly


right here, she's about 25-30 feet off the ground
And here, she is actually in the middle of a 10 foot free-fall.
a guest trumpet player who looked a lot like Ethan VanDer Ryn.




Anyhow, that was good. and it ended. But as it turns out, Hannah had hit her head a couple of days before hand, and just realized she probably had a concussion. her head hurt, she was dizzy, and nauseous. And the smoke and heat wasn't helping. Neither was the fact that we hadn't eaten since before three that afternoon. So we left during the encore songs and went out to the car, Erika's Mom's car, two blocks away.

-10:45-
It was unlocked... but nothing was stolen. So we hopped inside, already making plans on where to go to eat, and what we were going to get. I turned it on... and nothing happened. I tried again: nothing. No lights, the engine wasn't even turning over. I said "uh-oh" and then hopped the H on out of there. Erika was slightly distraught on account of this being her mom's car. I popped the trunk and got out the jumper cables. I then proceeded to walk out into the road and wave a car over to pull in to help us. Luckily, and nicely, the first car I waved pulled in. He was a nice, stout, mid thirty year old man with long hair. we tried a couple of times to jump it, it didn't work. he suggested we try to put the black cable on to a ground. We tried that, it didn't work. so we let him go after he helped us for ten minutes or so.

I called my dad. Erika Simultaneously called her mom. I had to use Hannah's telephone because mine was dead. Hannah's phone was to die soon as well. Erika's phone had one bar of power left. I got off the phone with my dad. He said sometimes one needs to let the battery charge for a few minutes, the car with power just running it's engine with the jumper cables attached to the 'dead' battery. And Erika's mom said that sometimes cars need to have oil in them in order to start. I recalled that on the way up a "you need oil" sign popped on up. so that seemed like a logical reason. But with a significant lack of oil (none) i stopped another car. The man was reluctant, and said he had no bumper cables. i told him we did. So he was nice enough to help us out. He sat and revved up his engine. we sat there "charging the battery" for about seven minutes. then we tried to start it, nothing happened. so he too suggested putting the black wire to a "ground" so we did and revved the engine for a few more minutes, at which point he told us he needed to leave. I thanked him and said that if it would ever work, it would have worked by now. So we tried it and ... It didn't work. We were stuck

-11:30-
Long Story Short (too late) we called my dad. he agreed to drive up to Salt Lake, 45 minutes away, at 11:30 at night to help us out. In the mean time, freezing-their-butts-off Erika and Hannah, needed someplace warm to be, and someplace to eat. So we made the communal decision to walk someplace warm and eat. we asked a man outside of In The Venue where the closest eatery was. He told us some directions, and pointed easte-west when talking about north-south directions, and visa versa, i think he was confused. so that didn't help terribly much. We talked on the way about how we had all had feelings to charge our phones (Hannah's and mine were both dead, with Erika's jsut hanging on) and to buy oil on the way up and Erika had actually thought of bringing blankets. all of the feelings we dismissed. stupidly. Eventually, we ended up at a Marriot Hotel. there was a Wendy's next door, but all except the drive through was closed. so no food yet. but there was warm. we waited inside about 20 minutes, then my dad called. He was here. So i left with him to fix the car while the girls stayed in the hotel till we were done.

-12:30-
Another long story short: it's 12:30 now. We put 2 quarts of oil in the car, and we can't get the car to jump no matter how long we charge it for. We can't even get the dashboard lights to light up more than a flicker. And even then, it's only two or three of the lights. So in a last ditch attempt, through inspiration, my dad decides to try OUR jumper cables. the minute we attach them the car jumps to life. all the dashboard lights light right up and the car purrs to life immediately.
(Erika's cables were pathetic, almost dollar-store versions of the manly, buff cables we have. so it should go without saying that the cables held the problem. oh well. Erika's mom said they'd buy new ones.) So, I take Erika's mom's car and my dad agrees to follow behind us, but, what else could really happen right?


I pick up Hannah and Erika from the Marriot. Hannah, who is getting weird, and sick, and delirious and quite hungry, what with a concussion is shivering and singing strange olde-english tunes. We decide to go to a Village in if we can find one in SLC, if not we'd just hit the Denny's in Provo on the way back... HA!

We don't find one in SLC. so we begin to drive home, Hopeful of what the near future will bring. namely, a full belly and warm feet. But oh how wrong we were:

-1:15 a.m.-
Point of the Mountain, UT. the car stops responding to the accelerator. I pull over. My dad is right behind me. We communicate in the cold for a few minutes, eventually, we decide to try it again. I make it about 10 ish more miles, then it happens again.

-1:45 a.m.-
10 ish miles after Point of the Mountain, UT. the car stops responding to the accelerator...again. I pull over. Erika calls her mom and explains the situation. My dad is concerned that we will ruin her car if we keep trying. she says to keep trying for right now but if it still doesn't work, push it as far onto the edge as we can. So, with a few attempts to start the car, one finally works and we take off again.

-2:00 a.m.-
we are about two and a half miles away form the 1600 North Orem exit. and the car starts sputtering, then banging then if made a big puffy of smoke out the back and then I pulled over. Hannah is in the back seat curled up in the fetal position with ablanket covering her, still singing her Olde-Englishian ditties. The concensus between everyone is this is probably a fluke and we are probably pretty close to some exit or another, so we'll try one more time. i mean it 2:00 in the morning for heavens sake. so we try one more time

-2:05 a.m.-
It bumps and patters and sputter again and stops reacting to the accelerator. this time, we agree not to drive it. we are right past a sign that says 1/2mile till 1600 north exit. We are about to push it to the side of the road whan my dad remembers he has a tow strap in the back of his car. so he gets it and he and i (mostly him though...) attacht the two cars together via this tow rope. then we get on our phones and call eachother in order to talk ourselves through this procedure. so we begin to drive, him towing, and both talking on the phone to one another. Hannah needing food, Erika needing food, myself needing food, my dad needing sleep, we manage to drag ourselves and this car...

-2:11 a.m.-
...another 1/4 mile before the rope breaks. well, not breaks, thank goodness, just comes untied. so we pull over again. Hannah, deleriously asks for food. my dad taking it in stride knowing that she has a concussion and offering her coke, and stuff like that. He also ties the rope back on the car and we manage to pull it up the final hill and coast it into a parking lot right off the exit!

-2:25 a.m.-
Erika takes the drivers seat after we have found a spot to park in and cleared that spot out. My dad and I push as erika steers the car into the parking space. hooray. Then we all pile in my dads Nissan Sentra, and head to food. Hannah is hungry, tired, nauseas, delirious, and has a migrane, plus some other stuff too that i can't exactly remember, she needs to eat more than any of us. that's not to say we weren't all hungry, i mean, we hadn't eaten since three that afternoon,a dn had had kind of a rough night. So, we drive to IHOP, because it is much closer than the Denny's in orem.
God Bless America. and IHOP, for being open so kindly 24/7.

-2:45 a.m.-
We all arrived at IHOP,and we waited momentarily to be seated. we all got in and got comfortable and ordered waters. then i left to take my dad home and then to return to IHOP for the rest of the folks.

-3:00-
I arrive home with my dad, who stumbles to the door in his sweat pants and says good night. Thanks dad. Thank you dad, I really, truly appreciate that.

-3:20 a.m.-
I arrive back at IHOP to find a water waiting for me and a Hannah who is slightly more with it after having had some water. Long story short, our food arrives and I have honestly, truley, never seen anyone eat so much food so fast. And i'm a college-age male. It was probably the most appreciated food this side of the Atlantic since 193?. plus, I didn't know IHOP could make food that delicious. Erika ordered for me while i was away. it was a chicken sandwich. the waitress geve it to us then left. She came back to check on us the first time, to ask "is everything tasting alright?" but when she did, I merely looked up at her, with the last bit of my burger/sandwich being shoved in between my teeth and she just laughed and walked away. saying as she left "well i guess so."

-4:00 a.m.-
we arrive at a much renewed and revigorated hannah's house, having decided that if she wakes up feeling sick and concussed tomorrow, she should go see a doctor. (we had been prodding her all night to see one, she refused.) She also realized she didn't have her keys and her door was locked. but decided to just wake ehr roomate up and make her let her in.

-4:15 a.m.-
I drop Erika off, and tell her mother "i'm sorry" and write down the address of where the car is.

-4:25 a.m.- I arrive home just as my mom is waking up. She askes a vague question like "how was your night?" ... she had no idea.

It turns out my dad left after she was asleep and got home just before she woke up. so I told her I'd be writing a blog about it and was too tired to explain it tonight. And so now, here I am, writing a blog about it.

That is the story. Thanks for bearing with it all the way through. I tried to keep it interesting through the use of pictures and a link to see who Ethan Van Der Ryn is, but it's hard to keep this exciting.

Thanks for reading.