Start Your Monday Off Right....

....by being in the know with what's going on in my world! When you realize what kinds of mundane things I find exciting and consider "newsworthy" you can look at you own life with a new found excitement and vigor! So here is a recap of the "exciting" events that I like to call LIFE:

1. Got bit/stung by a baby dragon/bee. See pix below and story a bit below...er, for proof.

2. Remembered that I can't shave more often than every three days w/o consequence.

3. Entered the upper echelons of White Trashdom and simultaneously blended more effortlessly with my Springville, Utah neighborhood by purchasing a 1981 Suzuki GS1000L motorcycle and then promptly parking it on my patio next to the grill and mismatched camp chairs.

4. I found 2 plastic forks at work that came from the factory with 2 prongs shorter than the rest. I know it's not as cool as seeing the image of Jesus in the wings of a moth, but I found it noteworthy.

5. And last but not least, my friends Nate and Ruth had a baby. As usual, Ruth did pretty much all of the work after the initial conception part, but I guess that's what happens when you're the only one with a womb. Thanks you two. Not that she ever forgot, but now my wife remembers how much she wants a baby.

Remember that time I almost died?

Yeah, it was just last week and here are the dragon bite/bee sting photos I should have given you when it happened. It's proof. Now don't "bee" thrown off by the general chunkiness of my other, un-stung fingers. I know they look like they've all been party to a massive swelling as well, but that's just how they look. Don't think that means my pinky is any less swollen. Actually, after subsiding on the day of the attack, it actually swelled back up (about as bad or slightly worse than pictured here) and has only started to loosen up and become flexible today (Sunday.) Cheers to that because it was really starting to become a nusence.

This photo was taken just moments after the attack.


These were taken throughout the day as it got bigger, redder and more annoying.
You can see it getting progressively redder and fatter.

How I Almost Lost My Favorite Finger

I was stung by a bee today. Well that's what everyone else said it was. I'm pretty confident that it was either a Brazilian Wandering Spider that caught a gust of wind, or more likely a small baby dragon. No seriously. If you felt the pain that I felt and cried the way I cried, you would have finished screaming profanities and started looking for baby dragons too.
When I got bit/stung, I turned into that guy; you know, that guy that you see from a distance, screaming and flailing his arms. But seriously, I almost died; what would you expect considering the dire circumstances?
I was walking to go fix a projection system in an adjacent building when I got hit and the first thing I did was call my office and tell the receptionist thank you for sending to me death (she took the call that made me have to go outside.) I told her that I had collapsed in the road on the crosswalk and would possibly need EMS assistance. Thankfully though, I was able to bring it together and finish the job like a brave firefighter or fearless peace officer.
Within seconds of dragging my dying body off the pavement, my finger was so swollen I couldn't bend it. I was afraid of where to carry my hand geographically. Would the dragon/spider/bee venom travel to my heart quicker for a speedier death if I put it above my head? It made my boo-boo feel better when I put it up there, but I didn't want to risk death, so I put it low to ensure a more difficult journey for the poisonous venom.
Job complete, there was nothing more I could do but complain about it and drown my finger in a bowl of cold water. It helped. It really helped. And after four hours, I had beaten death. The swelling and redness began to subside. The numbness and stuffiness dissipated and coworkers stopped complaining about my childish whining. I was cured! Bless the heavens for saving my hand, my life and teaching me a lesson I will never forget: It's dangerous outside. Stay indoors where it's safe.

3rd Wheel for Life

I was taking an alternative route to work this morning, seeing if I could shave time off my standard route without adding too much additional stress because of congestion or traffic lights. I was trying to integrate as much freeway driving as possible because I drop my wife off at work right by the freeway everyday and then usually backtrack towards the mountains before cutting back up towards work. Well today, Im pretty sure I found the perfect route that combines speed, convenience and traffic free back roads driving.
My route today took me through the west Provo neighborhoods, just east of the freeway. As I speedily meandered through these back roads, plotting my route as I went, I realized I recognized where I was and a flood of memories came pouring in from my old high school days. But before the joy of those bygone days could lift my groggy morning spirits (it was 10am), the recollection of my third-wheel childhood status took over all happy memories.
The memory I had was of Quinn from the band The Used. I went to high school with his girlfriend and even took her to prom one year when he was on tour in Europe. But Quinn had it rather rough before The Used hit it big. He lived in a rented bedroom in the garage of a house in Provo. It was literally a bedroom in the garage with a dresser and a bed and unfortunately for me, the only reason I know this is because I was the third-wheel in that memory as Cheryl and Quinn cuddled and talked in his "apartment." Why was I there? How did I not realize I was intruding. Why was I lingering?
Then it got worse. I realized the radio was giving me messages. The radio speaks to me you know. I receive revelations through the radio. The song that was playing was, "Do You Have to Let it Linger," by the Cranberries....a band big in high school....being played on KOHS....Orem High's radio station. Wow, I am pathetic. At that precise moment, I realized I am A Third Theel with a capitol A because I am the noun of Thrid Wheels. The radio just had to be playing that song, on that station. How sad.
I guess its better than listening to Dianne Rehm on NPR public radio though.

Compli...whaaat?

So my wife called someone "sturdy" last night. Yeah, sturdy. We were talking about someone we know that is kinda dumb (if you're reading this, it's not you) and she says, "You know though, she's a pretty sturdy girl."
"What?" I said. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Sure," my wife replies, "it means...it means she's got a good head on her shoulders. Ya know, sturdy."
So I asked her, "If I looked at you and said, 'Gosh Kristen, you sure are a sturdy girl,' would you take that as a compliment?"
Her reply, "Yes."

So, next time you're fishing for that solid, but original compliment, throw out "sturdy" and see where it gets you.

The World After Blogging

In a world where people can hide their insecurities behind the polished sheen and splendor of their online facade, what will society be like when the blog bubble bursts? If everything is a fad, everything is a trend, then what will happen when the trend ends? An even more insecure society struggling with intimate social interactions and relationship development? A society fearful to come out from behind their virtual world and show their real selves? Seems dangerous to cultivate a lifestyle that thrives thanks only to a keyboard and mouse.
But let's be honest, that day is long off. I can hide my fat, sweaty, balding carcass behind this clever blog for a long time to come. Now if only I could go to my 5 year high school reunion as my charming little blog, then I wouldn't have to worry about saying hi to everyone I used to know.

UPDATE:
Thanks to an an anonymous commenter, I was informed that I have already missed my 5 year reunion...2 years ago. Thanks for catching that. I'll bust out the ol' TI-83 next time I try put numbers in my blog.

The Hills, Or How I Learned About Real Life

The Hills. What a show. Kind of the Laurence of Arabia of modern television. Really award winning material. I know in previous posts, I've mentioned that I don't like MTV anymore and I don't relate to MTV anymore, but the fact of the matter is, I catch myself watching it more than I'd like to admit. It's kind of a guilty pleasure. I mean between My Super Sweet 16 and The Hills, I have a hard time breaking away to find time for other quality programing like Keeping Up With The Kardashians, Clean House and Split Ends.
But it's really the life lessons I am learning from MTV's programming that makes breaking away so difficult. I mean they are really putting out programming that helps kids understand what the real world is like and how it will be when they finally get out into the world. Lavish fashion parties, high end boutique shopping, boyfriends with two first names (Justin Bobby) and entertaining life-drama that makes you just want to run to your black Mercedes and speed away in tears.
I for one see The Hills as a parable for life. I'm not going to go through the specifics of my personal adaptation, but if you take all of the characters and put someone else you know in their place, The Hills basically plays out like real life. We all know a Lo or a Spencer. It's amazing how well it applies to real life! And once you start applying it to real life, then you can watch The Hills every week and stay ahead of your own personal life curve.
Now as fun and beneficial as this application might be, there are some down sides when you discover you are the back-stabbing Heidi, the cheating Justin Bobby or the flesh-bearded Spencer Prick, er Pratt.

Update: If you've read the comments on this post, you may have already found this, but my cousin Jen thought this post on NY Magazine's The Cut was applicable to my reflection on The Hills.

Why Did No One Tell Me?

My hair is gone? Let me rephrase that: My hair is gone.
See the difference? The first one was with a question mark, the second one was with a period. My hair is gone, PERIOD.
"Logan, how did we all see it and you didn't? It's been that way for a while."
Ok well fine. Sure I noticed, but I was kind of in denial. Kinda like when my mom used to say I was husky. I gained 40lbs and she still thought I was husky. At what point am I fat? At what point is the thinning hair on my head as thin as the thickening hair on my back? At what point does thinning become balding and where can I curl up and cry?

I Saw Saddam Husein

I saw him jogging in Springville today on the road to Provo. Yeah, that's right, I saw the executed former dictator of Iraq posthumously jogging on a rural Utah highway. He was dressed to the nines and looked absolutely fabulous. Neon, micro-jogging shorts, white long sleeved shirt tied around the waist, no shirt and a strange little dictator jogging hat. He looked grrrreat! Quiet the impressive physique for a man who spent his last days underground. Just in case he was meeting Osama Bin Laden for a sprint, I'm gonna drive through the same area around 4:45 again tomorrow afternoon.

The Many Periods of Logan

SPOILER ALERT:
THIS POST IS EXTREMELY LONG AND MILDLY BORING.

I've been watching many hours of Travels in Europe with Rick Steves and Smart Travels with Rudy Maxa these days. I have many, many hours of said PBS shows recorded on my DVR and I am working diligently to watch them into oblivion. I think this might be related in some way to my problem of listening to NPR on my morning drive (see two posts below.)
Regardless of my pathetic entertainment sources, I have learned a lot about the art and periods of art displayed around the world. Mr. Steves loves to visit the major museums in the cities he visits and Rudy likes to expand his visitations to museums of both major and minor esteem, featuring both classical and modern art.
I slept through an entire semester of History of Creativity, riding the genius of my little sister and younger cousin to get by. But if there is one thing I snatched in the dream catcher of my brain, it is that the world has gone through many periods in art history. Rennaisance, Neoclassical, Impressionistic and Modern to name just a few, artists have never been able to maintain an aimiable relationship with their predicessors artistic style. They always have to go changing things, pretending like their way is better.
Enough of the obnoxiously long art lesson build up. I have discovered many a period in my life as well, and as you all surely care, I thought I would share them all with you; at least the ones I have been able recognize. So, if you can think of some others you have seen in my ever changing life, let me know. And no, homosexual cannot be one of them.

1. Scientist: As a kid I had an isatiable desire for science, learning and discovery. I wanted to be an astronaut, paleantologist, archeologist and invertor. I excelled in school in science and arts and didn't see this as being too far fetched of a dream.

2. Artsy: Jr. High and High School brought my artistic period. Art of every medium needed to be consumed and cataloged. Tratitional canvas and sculpted art in the museum was ravenously consumed and mentally digested. Theatre and film though were my real passions and eventually became the direction of focus in my life. I was in drama/theatre for 4 years and film all through the rest of high school and the first year of college. I had to watch every artsy or award winning film and dissect it. I was awesomely passe in my un-originality.

3. Granola/Green: I hit this crazy phase in high school where I was obsessed with the outdoors and its majesty. I still am, but this period was all consuming. I hiked, biked, camped, climbed, snowboarded and explored every chance I got. I loved it and I loved the peace that it brought. In parallel with this movement was my fight to save nature. I use to collect garbage I found in the great out doors, compiling it and trashing it appropriately (as Utah was/is not very accommodating to the recycler.) I never littered. I never off-roaded on unmarked trails. I never left hiking trails and I practiced no trace camping. All of this at the expense of comfort and convenience. I loved it.

4. Hippy/Eastern: I had this weird hippy/Eastern thought phase right up until my mission (and a bit on my mission) where I was obsessed with eastern thought and meditation. I used to read books on and practice different forms of meditation, trying them out on an almost daily basis. I finally settled on a mix of transcendental and zen meditation. Those were good times and kind of coincided with my Granola phase. I remember I actually taught some of the missionaries in the MTC how to meditate. They thought it was strange and silly til they tried it, then they loved it. I guided a whole district through meditation in the dark. Funny business in the MTC.

Well this is getting long and I would say those are the main periods of me. Kind of a strange one I was. This probably isn't even remotely interesting to any of you and if you are still reading this, then stop. Please stop. Why are you still reading? I told you to stop.

Sorry team, there really isn't much going on in my/our world these days. Sure Russia is invading Georgia and Darfur is still a mess; but my life is pretty much going the same. I really need to get some pics and/or video up of our new place in Springville, but we can't ever seem to finish getting it cleaned up. We unpacked and got almost everything put away and looking clean, then we just collapsed from all the effort we put in to the ordeal and just let it dip to shambles. So when I can get Kristen to clean up after me, or I do it myself, I'll show you how life is in down here in So. Utah County. We actually like Springville a lot more than we expected so the pictures should be rather cheery. Also, need to post some pictures up of the Oregon trip, which could prove rather difficult seeing as I really don't remember taking many any.

Note: I was going to post a picture of the Georgian-Russian war or Darfur related, but they were all just too disturbing. Let's all do something about this crazy world we live in. Do good, then pay it forward.

Robbing the Cradle

What do me and Diane Rehm have in common? We are both old and we both sound like we've had a stroke. Well actually the stroke part is just her and she is a national radio personality on NPR, so I suppose there really isn't much to have in common other than the old part.
"But Logan, you're not old. You're but 25 years young."
I know! I know! That's what I said. But something happened this morning that changed my life forever. And here is the yarn.

I was driving to work today, 44oz Super Big Gulp under the watchful care of one hand and the steering wheel/blinker/finger/radio dial under the care of the other. As I rolled away from dropping my wife off at work, I figured I could use some tunes to keep me company on my 11 minute drive. I flicked on the radio knob and was comforted by the sweet sounds of today's hottest hits. But then I wasn't feeling it, so I rolled it back a couple notches to an alternative rock morning show, but I was sawing logs within seconds. Boring. No, what I needed was some National Public Radio, NPR, to get my morning going. Nothing like talk radio with the news of the world and featurettes on slices of life around the nation to get my brain a buzzin'. But it was at that moment that the fan hit the shazzam...big time.
I was stopped at a light and I looked back in my rear view mirror to see some young, happy college student literally spazing out in her car to some music she was listing to. The vertebrae and muscles in my neck started to hurt just watching her bust a move. I got a good chuckle out of it and wondered how loud she was actually singing in there 'cause it looked like she was screaming for help to get out of a sweaty mosh pit. I thought to myself, "Ah, kids these days. What a loser. Does she know how silly she looks?"
Then I was stricken with a panic likened only to the fear a mother could feel upon realizing she's left one of her children at the park. This panic swelled into a pathetic and sad realization that I was driving a white Buick Regal Custom with Dynaglide, listening to Diane Rehm on NPR radio. It was then that I wondered what the girl behind me was thinking.
"What's up with this guy zooming around in a Buick trying to look cool? He's probably listening to talk radio."
...and I was.
When I ripped open my shorts on the inflatable slide at the Senior Overnighter Party in high school I didn't feel this ashamed.
When I walked into a brick wall on accident and smashed my braces into my soft, fleshy lips, I didn't feel this stupid.
When I lied to Britney Greenland when she asked me if I liked Samantha Zaugg in 6th grade and I said I didn't, I didn't feel this sad.

What is happening to me? I'll need to call Diane and see what she would do.

It's Not An Excuse, It's A Reason...Gosh

I used to say that to my mum back in Oxfordshore Shireton-Upon Avon when I was late for tea. That twas the tiny village I grew up in as a lad.
Sorry, don't know where that came from. I've been watching lots of British programming lately. I actually have a framed photo of BBC's Jeremy Clarkson on my desk at work. A right proper chap.
Nevermind that, back to my reason for not posting as of late: Other than returning from a 5 day trip to Oregon and beginning a massive move from Orem to Springville immediately upon return, I've actually gone and cut my thumb nails too short. Bollocks. You know, when you over clip and then they hurt when you do stuff with them, like tap out blog posts on your tiny smartphone (as I am doing now, ouch, ouch, ouch.)
It bloody kills mate and I'd rather not do it. So until work tomorrow, or until Comcast comes and pulls me away from work to hook up my interweb ("sometime between 8-noon"), let's keep the Twitter-tweeting, Facebook-phrasing and Blog...b..writing to a minimum, no? Now bugger off.