GET OFF MY TRAMPOLINE

I've discovered something! It is literally impossible to suck air up through your nose (otherwise known as sniffing) while you are swallowing. And for the first time, I was unable to find a similar question from other people when I googled this phenomenon. I think I'm the first one. Go me!

"Walter Was Here"

Admitting that we don't know something is the first step in seeking knowledge.

This is old news, I'm pretty sure, but I think it's profound.

One of the things, I believe, that separates us from animals is our vast potential, for good or for bad. Anybody can truly learn anything and be anything they want to if they want it badly enough, and that quest begins with admitting, as did Socrates, "I know that I know nothing."

While he didn't aspire to be anything greater than a philosopher who went around and proved to everyone that they didn't know what they claimed to, I think the statement is still relevant to the topic at hand. The end.

I think I'll stick it out through biology, I decided. Thanks for your helpful advice, people. This is a hard decision, but it'll make for a more secure future, I hope.

Groceries with Grandma

George C. Scott came to my work in Washington the other day and climbed the wall with his kids. I'm pretty sure it was George C. Scott. Wait, is he dead? I don't care if he's dead, it was him. If you don't know who George C. Scott is, well, he played Ebenezer Scrooge is one of the Christmas Carol movies. That's all I know. The end. 

Felipe beat me in foosball again. I just can't win. 

The reason this blog post is named what it is is because if I had a grandma, I would probably, at some point in my life, go get groceries with her. 

Lucid Dreaming

So I had what I THINK was a lucid dream last night. The reason I say "I think" is because I'm starting to wonder if the various lucid dreams I've had lately are all just part of the randomness of the dreams, in regards to the weird and non-sensical way in which I realize that I'm dreaming. For example, last night (and I believe this was a dream within a dream), I was standing in front of my parents house. Something looked off (what we would call a "dreamsign," or a sign that points to the fact that it's a dream). I don't know if it was where the sun was in the sky, or one of the houses on the street was out of place. In any case, I realized it, and yelled, "HEY, I'M DREAMING!" And then I just started running around. And since my first inclination, every time I come to this realization, is to fly, I started jumping around, trying to fly. Eventually, it worked, and I found myself high above St. George. And then for some odd reason, I decided I wanted to go to Dixie Nutrition, so I started swooping down towards it. The end.

Does anyone else have lucid dreams sometimes? I remember thinking to myself in the dream about how real it felt, despite the fact that I knew I was dreaming. It was odd.

I'm pretty sure Vince Vaughn just walked into the library. He was wearing scrubs. I guess he works at the hospital? He must have a lot of abilities.

I snapped a photo of this guy as he walked into the library. He seems surprised, and possibly upset, that I would snap this photo without even asking him.

So back to my story...oh wait, it was over.

Foosball with Felipe

I've decided I really like alliteration; it makes good band names and blog post names.

I played several short matches of foosball last night at work. First I played foosball with Neal, the husband of one of my co-workers. He has only the use of one hand, so to make things relatively even, I played with one hand too. AND I STILL BEAT HIM. EAT THAT. Just kidding, he's really cool, and he probably would've beat me if he was able to use both hands.

Several minutes later, I engaged in a foosball battle with Felipe, a hispanic gentleman that works at the Community Center and who is one of the nicest guys I've ever met. And man is he good at foosball. Holy crap. He beat me two games in a row. It hurt my pride a lot, especially since I remember boasting in my own foosball strength in my last blog post.

What's the point of this blog? (Here comes the moral of the story! Wait for it! WAIT FOR IT!)

Sometimes in life, we feel like those little men on the great foosball field of life. We feel like we have no arms, that we only have the use of our feet, that our faces looks like everyone else's, and we're always kicking soccer balls around. We don't go after the afore-mentioned soccer ball, but we'll kick it, maybe, if it comes to us. And we can only move laterally. And if we do a kick, we can do a complete flip through the air, and maybe even just hang there in the air forever. And in place of our arms, there's a giant steel rod that penetrates through our sides and connects all of our similar positioned teammates together. Do you feel like this sometimes? HUH? DO YA? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE YOUR ARMS RIPPED OFF AND HAVE A GIANT ROD IMPALED THROUGH YOUR ABDOMINAL AREA? ALL SO YOU CAN PLAY SOCCER? ALL DAY LONG? EVERY DAY? HUH?!

No. You don't. You have no idea what it's like.

Next time you play a round of table foosball, and you score that final winning goal that causes so much joy in your hearts, I want you to look down at your little men, little men with little smiles painted on their faces, and I want you to notice something. I want you to notice the single teardrops running down their cheeks.

You will never comprehend the misery that this man is going through.

No, my friend, they're not tears of joy. They're tears of regret, of sorrow, tears of unspeakable agony as their little plastic bodies are twisted to-and-fro against their will. If those little men could talk (and they can't, because their real mouths have been sealed shut and painted over with a grin), we would probably hear them crying, screaming out, and shouting, "WHY?! WHY DID I EVER DECIDE TO DEDICATE MY ENTIRE LIFE TO SOCCER?! WHY?!"

So anyway, I should probably go study for a very important test now.

Lobsters and Lollipops

1) Apparently, being able to climb the rockwall, and not just climb it, but climb it very HARDCORE-LIKE, and using your own gear, makes you the coolest and most hardcore person in the world, and anybody not as cool and hardcore as you sucks and should be shunned forever.

UH OH! Holden is generalizing again. Heh Heh! I guess if I was super good at something, I would feel the same way to my inferiors. Oh wait, I already feel like that when I beat up on people playing table foosball. Man I am just a jerk.

2) Funny story, because I know how much you love a funny story. Emily and I were laying in bed the other night, both very tired from a long day. We were discussing pressure canners and how much she wants one. At some point, I closed my eyes, and instantly fell into a dream where I was in biology class learning about some particular organism. I then asked a question, curious about this creature: "Does it reproduce?" As I said this, I remember waking at that very moment (which was probably 10 or so seconds after the last thing Emily said about the pressure canner), and realizing that I had spoken that question out loud. "Huh???" Emily said, confused out of her mind. And then we giggled a lot, since asking if a pressure canner reproduces is somewhat out of the ordinary. HEH!

On a sidenote, does anybody know why I went into REM sleep in a matter of seconds rather than the usual 90 minutes? Any sleep experts out there?

3) I was complaining to my wife the other night about how sick I was of children at the rockwall, always whining and asking questions and asking for help with something or another. "But isn't that your job?" she asked. In a fit of rage, I grabbed the dinner table and overturned it, then threw the TV remote through the screen of the TV, which exploded in an orgy of fire and glass. Then I grabbed my dog Frankie and shook him. Just shook him and shook him. Until he died. My rage knew no bounds. All of this is true, up to the point where Emily reminded me of what my job was. I thought about her question and laughed, since that is my job. I appreciate the down times at the wall where I can just sit and relax, or climb leisurely, but apparently I had forgotten what I'm actually supposed to be doing. Maybe I'm sick of that job. Maybe that's the answer to everything.

4) Kobe.

5) (witty political statements to round out my well rounded blog.)

6) There is no end to being. There is no death above.

Darts through their livers?

Apparently, God hates you. So give up.

The Supreme Court just ruled in favor of these morons. Booo, I say. Booo. Oh well, guess I'll have to find something else to hate and destroy. ^o^