Blogspot has me FOF'd

I told a couple of people today that I was about ready to post again. For the record, I worked on a post for about an hour and half, only to have it deleted by blogspot when I hit the "undo" button. BEWARE of the 'undo' button! The moral is, I am working to re-create, but it might be a while. My apologies if that disappoints anyone, but I would be surprised if it did.

Hop onto the Bandwagon!

I'm not entirely sure how prevalent it is throughout the rest of the country, but in my circle of friends, the youtube craze for videos on "Stuff (that would be my substitute for an expletive) _____ (Insert your stereotype here)____ say" has not gone unnoticed. An example of such a video, and one that is personally my favorite:

Today I figured that I'd get up onto that bandwagon. Without further ado:

Stuff Boys from 177 Carroll Hall Say

"Dirty"-- Used to express confusion or bewilderment. Most commonly heard while watching a roommate play Skyrim: "What the dirty is that thing?", "You just died? What the dirty? How did that happen?"

"It's chill"-- The new way to say 'no thanks'. Most commonly heard when trying to get someone to buy milk. As in "Hey, will you go buy some milk?" "Nah dog, it's chill."

"F-O-F" (A shoutout to any Carliles reading this)-- Standing for 'Full of Frustration', FOF is only used the rarest of circumstances. Most commonly heard when discussing September 10th, 2011, which is the day that BYU football fell apart against Texas, only to be followed by a heartbreaking overtime loss in girl's soccer. And it was the day we discovered Carly Payne had a boyfriend. "That day was so FOF'd!"

"LTTB"-- An acronym for the worst punishment known to us. (Lick the toilet bowl) Most commonly heard in the following exchange: "Alright, it's monday night, time for you to clean the bathroom." "Nah dog, it's chill." "Oh no, you better get in there NOW or you'll be LTTBing by tonight." (Don't worry, it's never actually been sentenced on anyone).

The Streets of Wilsonville Will Never Be the Same...

My first impression of the bronze, 2004 Honda Civic when it was driven into our driveway the first time was very positive. Being young, a complete stranger to the world of cars, and inheriting my parents’ utter lack of care for the “image” of a car, I only had eyes for the open sunroof on top of the car. To me, any car with a sunroof was just as cool as the latest Ferrari. Then of course, I got inside the car, and soon realized that sometimes, length in a car does matter. (Those of you who have gotten into the backseat of a civic or any other miniature-sized car understand). I came to dislike having to get into the backseat of the Civic, and I admit that for a while I hated the car. Thankfully, I eventually graduated to the front seat on sibling trips when my older sister Emma jetted off to college, and my memories of belting out songs on the way to seminary with Isaac behind the wheel turned my feelings towards the car around, as I made more and more memories with it.

And then I actually started driving. Overnight, my feelings towards the vehicle took a dramatic shift. No longer was the Civic a burden to be borne, but it became a dear friend. Critics made fun of the complete lack of power (my mother called it “the moped”) and lack of space, but I was always quick to point out the bass, which was half-decent, and the sunroof. Throughout my driving years, the Civic was almost exclusively my car, and together “The Golden Bullet” and I made tons of memories.

Last week, my parents sold the car, and it has now moved on to a new owner heading to San Francisco. This is not meant to be a sad post however. While The Golden Bullet has moved on, so has much in my life recently, and by now I can accept change with a minimal amount of mourning. The key, as I find it, is simply to focus on the positives. And with The Golden Bullet, there were a ton of positive experiences.

Some of the most memorable for me were as follows, in no particular order:

·         The moment during the drive back from Oregon this past January, wherein both Emma and I were simultaneously trying to explain to Emma’s friend Mindy that no, she really had to COMPLETELY floor it in order to get up to freeway speeds.

·         Belting out along with the Backstreet Boys in the complete 5 am darkness on an empty 1-5 while heading to work last summer.

·         The many drives back from playing basketball at church, windows rolled down and sunroof open, despite freezing temperatures.

·         The classic bumper stickers during the 2008 election. They read; “Brandon and Greg. More Basketball, Less Politics”. (It still has been my regret that I never bought matching Blazer symbols to compliment the ever-present BYU “Y” on the rear bumper.)

·         Getting lost on the “wrong side of Burnside” in Portland with Kelsey on a Saturday morning, and driving around the same  block 3 times before we realized that the signs to I-5 really were going to lead us across the river 3 or 4 times before we saw any freeways.  

·         All of the many drives to piano lessons.

·         Isaac and I shamelessly trying to out-do each other in terms of volume while hitting the high note in Jesse McCartney’s “Beautiful Soul”. (Which is at approximately 3:32 in this clip) I pretty loosely use the term “hitting the high note”, as I don’t recall either of us actually getting halfway up to the lofty height that Jesse does. But what we lacked in pitch we definitely made up in volume.

·         The one time when my knowledge of Wilsonville’s roads finally paid off: I absolutely burned speed-demon Jake Dickson off the line at a red light without even reaching the speed limit, forcing him to get up to 60 in a 35 zone in order to beat me to seminary.

·         The 45-second drive across the high school parking lot to get my car over to tennis practices on sunny spring days that only Oregon can produce. That was one of my favorite drives.

·         Absolutely freaking out the first time I got pulled over, and then learning that the only reason was because one of the headlights was out.

·         Killing an hour by getting myself intentionally lost in Beaverton, and then proceeding to attempt to find my way out. 

·         The Reunion between the Civic and I after my first semester of college, where just the sound of The Golden Bullet coughing to life made me so inexpressibly happy that I laughed to myself for a solid 3 minutes.

Goodbye to the best first car one could ever wish for! I hope the new owners treasure you as much as I have!     

Overheard in Provo...

A couple of days ago, I had the opportunity to go play tennis. Due to the fact that BYU’s courts are closed, I went and played at Timpview High School nearby, located in the middle of a neighborhood. The tennis was surprisingly pretty high-quality and I had a fun time, but the best moment came when I overheard two young girls talking. They had been riding around on scooters by the courts, and they had stopped to watch for a minute when this priceless talk happened:

Girl #1: “I want to play tennis!”

Friend: “Me too… Except we don’t have any tennis balls. And I don’t know how to play.”

Girl #1: “Yeah. I would’ve learned how to play tennis, but last time I was going to learn, I peed my pants.”

Oh to be young and innocent again!

The Joys of Education...

I am a weird kid. That much is obvious to me, and anyways who knows me. I've always been just a little quirky. There are times, however, when I feel like the college experience has made me just a little bit more random. Today, that became very apparent to me in a conversation I had with a friend over text.

As far as background goes, besides the fact that we are both conservatives, I think that the only thing that you need to know over winter break, I found out via a huge genealogical book that I was a descendant of King Duncan I of Scotland (Who features as the first victim in Shakespeare's Macbeth), and when I shared this with my friend, he claimed that he was actually a descendant of Macbeth. Needless to say, we haven't communicated since that information came up.

Anyways, the conversation went something like this:

Aaron: Did you hear about Scotland?

(This is a reference to the referendum declared yesterday)

Friend: Free at last, free at last! Thanks God Almighty, they may be free at last! Though I wouldn't want to live there because the economy would collapse. But you know. Wales next!

Aaron: That's what I was getting to. We talked about it today in class. It's all about the national pride though- forget the economy and defense and all that stuff. Alaska is totally going to be next! AIP (Alaskan Independence Party) all the way! Sarah Palin as the first president!

Friend: I had forgotten about that! Alaska's economy would be fine, oil and all, and as for defense... grizzly bears and wolves would have to do. I think the best move for Scotland, because of the cultural connection and similarity to the USA, is to apply for statehood!

Aaron: Agreed. Let's finally get this nation across the pond once and for all. We all can clearly see that Europe could use a bit more of America's conservatism-- you just can't leave the liberals alone for too long. Annexing Scotland is a great way to give our ideas a foothold on the continent.

Friend: Exactly. And it would give the US economy the boost in exports that it needs by doubling the wool production and giving the US the rights to the distinguished title of Scotch Whiskey for Whiskey produced on the isle!

Aaron: Genius! Let's do it. Sell Texas to pay off the debt once and for all and then annex Scotland and use the whiskey to solve all of our economic problems!

Friend: I can't really see the sale the Texas. But what I can see is the USA adopting more liberal economic and social policies looking to appear more attractive to Scottish Nationals. This leads to many conservative Americans to become upset and when the inevitable war breaks out between the US and the UK the southern states realize that the US is weak and decide to once again secede. The South would win that war pleasing the angry states rights southerner, the US would beat the UK, and Scotland, whiskey and all, would be a territory, and the huge wars would give the economy the WWII treatment resulting in another 1950's economy with a large middle class. Everyone is happy. Well, except the UK... but who cares?

Aaron: Dang right! The Brit's had their chance. I vote that you and I go over there, and on the graves our ancestors, bury the hatchet once and for all, uniting the power of both Macbeth and Duncan to usher in a new chapter of Scottish History--a chapter ruled not by the upstarts in London, but by the free kilt-wearing peoples of the highlands. We won't stop until we have a kilt in the White House, and the world knows and fears the power of the caber-tossers!

Anyways, that's me. If you followed that, or thought that was amusing, I will pray for your soul.

Disclaimer: I don't believe most of that stuff. I am not a liberal-hater nor do I blame them for Europe's debt crisis, I like Texas (After all, my roommate is from the Lone Star State), I think the United Kingdom is an invaluable ally for the US, nor am I actually in favor of Scottish independence.

Alaska however... Well to be honest, I would be highly entertained to watch them try to secede. No apology there.

Adventures in the Kitchen: Pork Chop Edition

When selecting housing at BYU, one has two options: Helaman Halls or Heritage Halls. Helaman offers the timeless two-roommates and a cafeteria option, while Heritage groups it's residents in apartments of 6 that share a kitchen and a bathroom. Under parental pressure, and with a misguided opinion that I could just get a meal plan that sponsored me at the cafeteria anyways, I chose Heritage. I have not regretted that decision, as the apartment style living has fit very well with me.

Well, with one major exception: food. As anyone who knows me can attest, few people look as out of place anywhere as I do in the kitchen whilst attempting to cook. President Obama would be more comfortable at a Tea Party rally than I am when confronted with any kind of ingredient and a recipe. Last semester, I managed to overcome my inexperience by becoming rather adept at cooking frozen pizza's and ordering subway, and buying Frosted Flakes by the pound. No I'm serious--literally by the pound. It was during winter break that I realized that probably shouldn't be the long-term solution. So along with the New Year and the new semester came a resolution to attempt to cook for myself much more.

It's a great concept that I'm thrilled over. However, execution becomes a real problem for that goal, because intentions mean nothing to a burner. I found that out today with an experiment in Pork Chops. Pork Chops and mashed potatoes was my favorite food growing up, and recently Emma attempted to show me how to make it. The way she said it, it seemed foolproof. Full of innocence, I decided to attempt the dish tonight for dinner, but whatever my expectations, the curse of the kitchen found me tonight: the pork chops were burned, the sauce was overcooked as well, and I did not find the right consistency for the gravy. After my fortieth question to them, my roommates were outright chuckling at my misfortune.

Thankfully, they turned out decent. The kitchen might have had it's victories tonight, but I think that in the end the two of us ended up in a draw. I'll be back next week to tackle some a new dish, and then the never-ending struggle between me and the kitchen will resume in earnest.

In Defense of Brock Zylstra

This is not going to be a sports blog, but rather just the random thoughts from the mind of Aaron. Today’s thought just so happens to revolve around one thing which I love.

Brigham Young University Basketball.

I love just about everything about basketball, including watching a good game. I very much enjoyed supporting my high school basketball team, but the environment in the Marriott Center blows the high school experience out of the water. The student section is always packed with students eager to support the team, and who aren’t afraid to be loud in that support. It’s always fun to be hooting and hollering with random strangers as we cheer on the cougars. Occasionally though, you get stuck around people who rather than support the team, start tearing down our players. Such was the case with me yesterday afternoon as the fans behind me started heckling one of our players, Brock Zylstra. This is no new concept, as I’ve heard the crowd pick on him multiple times in my experiences with the cougar basketball this year. Yesterday, the fans were more murmuring than anything else, but made several comments in the first few minutes about how Zylstra needed to get out of the game and go back to the bench.

This has me puzzled, since Brock is one of my favorite players on the team. I can hardly claim to be an expert in all things basketball, but I do have a decent feel for the game—after all, it is my family’s sport, and I’ve played it for as long as I can remember. So I am left wondering what the students see that I don’t. When I look at Zylstra play, I see someone who resembles my brother, Isaac. To me, Brock plays like someone who knows his role on the team. He is a 6’6 small forward on a team with two very good posts (Noah Hartsock and Brandon Davies) and a lot of great three-point shooters. In essence, it’s a team with a lot of scorers, and it’s fairly obvious that the team doesn’t need to have Brock score a lot. Rather, they need his defensive prowess and they need his hustle. He gives 110% of his effort in both of those categories. He averages a decent 4 rebounds, 2 assists, and a steal in every game. And yet his major contribution on the floor is completely absent on the stat sheet; his defense. I watched him closely in the BYU-Baylor game, and he anchored the top of the 2-3 zone. His combination of length, speed, and effort disrupt the flow of his opponents’ offenses and cause them a lot of problems on the perimeter. When I see Zylstra play, I see the epitome of a role player. Here is a skilled player who understands that he has a limited role on the team, and acts accordingly (He averages only 6 shots a game, the lowest of the starters). Without getting the glory that comes from being a prolific scorer, Brock does his limited jobs to the best of his ability, night in and night out, and he does them well. I see that as the reason why Coach Rose has him starting every game. Much like a lineman in football, Zylstra does the dirty work on the court, yet the work that is crucial for the team’s success. A player who puts the team before himself is someone who I will always respect and admire, and I believe that Brock Zylstra does just that.

And thankfully, sometimes he gets a chance to prove his worth to those in the crowd who don’t always believe in him. Yesterday, Brock scored 22 points by shooting 100% of the field, including six three pointers. Later in the game, I thought I heard the familiar voice of that same heckler shout out:

“Give the ball to Zylstra!”

The Blog Life

Around comes a new year, a new semester, and of course, many new changes. I've decided to get back into the swing of things and join the wave of the future with this blog. After all, writing has always been something I've enjoyed, and what better way to practice writing while I don't have an English class than to fire up the ol' blog and see what comes of it. So here it is:

Cool Air From A.C.

It's official.

It's the real deal.

Enjoy!