WALK IN THE RAIN

Holy smokes, it smells so good outside. You have no idea. I live in a sagebrush juniper desert, and it poured rain last night in the Storm of the Century, and now it smells heavenly. Yes, that's right. Heavenly. I've been to Heaven a couple times, and this is what it smells like. "If there is a hell I'm sure this is how it smells Wish this were a dream, but no, it isn't" Those lyrics just popped into my head from the hit series COWBOY BEBOP. No, this is not how hell smells! THIS IS HOW HEAVEN SMELLS. KNOCK IT OFF YOU.

Somewhere but not here

Does anybody else have this feeling of dread looking at weather forecasts these days? I do. It's stupid. But there's something unsettling about looking at the weather for the entire next week and a half, and just seeing sun and moderate temps (moderate for northern Utah anyway). This is too weird. Maybe it's not that weird. Maybe this happens every few years. Does it? I don't remember. Did we skip winter this year? I should be happy about it. I hate winter. But all the birds are probably hella confused. Especially this little Black-and-White Warbler that's just been hanging out in the yard for the last month.

"I need that money!"

For the record, even if Democrats were wanting healthcare subsidies to cover illegal aliens (which they're not, because illegals can't apply for federal benefits of anything), I would prefer my hard-earned tax dollars to go to people who need food and healthcare rather than flushing it all down the crapper on $50 million military parades and $300 million White House ballroom renovations.

YO MAURICE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rv5vXFaKkIg&list=RDrv5vXFaKkIg&start_radio=1 This has got to be one of the most beautiful pieces of music. THAT HARP. The harpist looks like an angel, who's about to just fly away. Have fun.

The Bee

My mind is full of stupid dates. Like October 6, 2005. On this day, a bee stung me outside some high school in Utah County. I don't remember what high school. Timp View? Lone Peak? Who knows. Who cares! So every October 6, I gleefully point out my bee sting scar to passersby (like my wife and inlaws, as they're passing by), and say, "NIGH UNTO 20 YEARS AGO, I RECEIVED THIS SCAR." And they all think I've lost it. No. They KNOW I've lost it. Good for them. The other thing that reminds me of my bee scar is listening to Rachmaninoff's Vespers (a beautiful choral work). Why? Because one of the pieces of music we sang for All State Choir 2005 was one of those pieces. And I was at that high school (Timp View? Lone Peak?) for All State Choir 2005. So Rachmaninoff and the bee attack are inseparably connected, in my mind, for all eternity.

The Cheese

I'm doing this again. One dumb post every day. I rifled through the fridge and decided to snack on... a slice of asiago cheese. Boy, this thing smells awful. Not like, spoiled or anything. Just the cheese itself. It smells like death. But I'm just eating it. Why am I eating it? Perhaps you can solve this mystery!

Thrushing Water

There are a lot of dumb things in my personality I'd like to work on. But I've tried over and over and over again in my life, to no avail. A new thing to work on, I decided today, is to realize that I'm discovering things for myself. For example, I found a Northern Waterthrush (a rare-ish warbler bird) at one of my local birding spots last week. Of course, in the world of birding, finding rare stuff is cool. Depending on how rare it actually is (maybe it's a first state record, maybe it's a first county record, maybe it's neither of those, but maybe it's only been seen a few times in your area) will drive a certain amount of attention your way. Over the course of the next day or two, you'll see reported on eBird other people going to that same spot to find the bird. Again, rarity level matters. If it's a first state record, probably between 50-100 people (at least) will come to that spot and attempt to find it. If it was the first sighting ever in North America, hundreds of people would come. My point being, when you find a rare bird, it feels cool. But a lot of that is, hey, look how cool I am to everyone. It sounds stupid to anybody who has no idea the level of obsession that birders have. So of course, I find this Waterthrush, and sure, it's awesome. I've only seen one once before (in Indiana, where they're far more common). But a lot of it is, boy, I hope a lot of people come to look for it. I hope people try and contact me to ask me about where it is and how to find it. I want to feel cool about this. That's just human nature I think. But I still hate it. I want to just find something cool, and say, "Wow, that's an awesome bird, I'm so glad I found it" and not worry about the amount of other people that may try to find it, as some sort of reflector on my own birding awesomeness. The fact of the matter is, I'm a jealous person by nature. It's gotta be one of the worst traits in a personality. So when other people find cool stuff, rather than just being excited for their awesome achievements, I automatically feel bitter. When I see that friends hang out together without so much as inviting me, I automatically feel bitter. When I see birding friends going out birding together frequently, I automatically feel bitter. When does it end?

Close and then nothing

Listening to Debussy music as a I work- What would you like me to be as I write this? Funny? Now is not the time for funny. Debussy music, without fail, brings images to my mind of southern Utah. I don't know why. I think his music reminds me of summer. It seems like Debussy music was always on at our house in the summertime, in my mom's living room stereo system with the 5-CD changer. And I guess summertime has something to do with being outside in the St. George area, cooking in the sun's death rays, frolicking in a lake or a pool somewhere. Go find yourself some Debussy tunes.

What the West Wind Has Seen

I'm reading a book about the months leading up to the Civil War. I'm intrigued by how much southerners loved slavery. Just loved it so much. I always knew they liked it, but not like this. I never knew that the core belief among the south's elite was "Some people are born to be slaves. Other people are born to own them." It is obvious who was in the wrong in this war. Maybe not as much back then. But looking back, it's like... wow. Who's in the wrong today? What social issues today are analagous in some way to what was going on back then? Who is right? Who is wrong? Everyone thinks that they're right. But somebody has to be wrong. We can't all be right. In 50 years, will we look back and say, "Wow -- those guys sure were idiots"? But WHICH GUYS WERE THE IDIOTS?! FUTURE PEOPLE, LEND ME YOUR POWER. TELL ME WHO THE IDIOTS ARE. I DON'T WANT TO BE THEM.

journaling

I'm weird. I've written in a journal for eons. I have several volumes. 10+ years ago, while employed at CaptionCall, I had a lot of downtime, so I typed up all my journals on Google Drive (what I had written anyway, up to ~ 2013 at that time). So I have Journals 1 through 6, but 6 never got finished. Plus 2 mission journals. The reason this is so handy is because I can pull up something on a moment's notice if it's written in there. Earlier, I was trying to remember the ice cream place in Provo/Orem that I went to a couple times growing up that was yummy. I thought it was Magleby's. But that's an entirely different eatery. So I whipped out Google Drive, went to Journal V, searched for "ice cream," and was immediately whisked to April 4, 2005, where Alyssa, my brother's fiance at the time (now they're married), took us all to LEATHERBY'S Family Creamery. This was also the place, 2 months later, I went, and some kid told me to place my right hand on the keyhole of the Area 51 video game, and my left hand on the Attack from Mars pinball game next to it, and then it SHOCKED ME. Heh!

So we just all makin stuff up now?

This is my description of everything related to politics and current culture wars in America.