Yes, Rachel wrote true. I love the Jazz (I'm writing this after the Jazz even their series with the Lakers 2-2 so that I'm in a good mood while writing. Otherwise, the title would be "Hate the Jazz!")
What is not to like about the Jazz? They are so freaking awesome! I love pretty much all Jazz players, even ex-Jazz players as long as they left under good terms (Read: I hate Mark Jackson and I'm VERY suspicious of Derek Fisher).
My favorite game ever? February 3rd, 1992. Triple overtime game over the bulls. Pippen was ejected, Jordan fouled out. Last game I watched with my dad before he died 3 days later. 2nd favorite, last year's game 7 win over Houston on the road. Watched the game over at Ben's house with everybody. I've never screamed so loud about hating AK47 right as he launched yet another ill-advised 3, only to never proclaim my love so loudly seconds later after he made the 3 which tied the game.
Favorite player? All-time, Malone. How can you not love Karl Malone? I will never understand how lots of Utah people don't really like Malone and profess their undying love for Stockton. You know, you can like BOTH of them! It's ok I promise. Lots of people say Malone wouldn't be the player he was without Stockton. I think that's crap. They were both incredible players who would've been awesome even if they didn't play together. Anyways, I loved watching Malone play. Back in 7th or 8th grade, I went to a game with Jacob against the Warriors and saw Malone score 51 points. Awesome game. We were on the 20th row or so, the bear kicked the actual game ball into the stands right up to us. It landed in some unsuspecting lady's lap right in the row in front of us. Figures.
Favorite current player: Paul Millsap. Of course I love Dwill and Booz (I will never hate Booz becuase he was the first big-time player to come to Utah as a free agent, so he gets a pass on any permanent dislike). I've loved Millsap since we drafted him. He is a perfect Jazz system player and I hope he never leaves. I just love Millsap and I basically have a mancrush on him because he's so freaking awesome.
Favorite opponent memory: I had a great run in high school of going to a lot of games in the lower bowl becuase of some opportune friendships with Nate Hull and Kyle Butterfield. They both took me to quite a few games and those were the highlights of my attendance at Jazz games. One game in particular, I was with Butterfield on the 3rd row across from the Jazz bench playing the Mavericks. The Mavs weren't great, but they had Michael Finley who was an all-star. The kid in the row behind us would yell in earnest to Finley, "Shoot it Finley! Shoot it!" every time down the court. Finally one time down, Finley pulls a sick spin move on Hornacek, drains the turn-around jumper, and then turns around, points at the kid behind us, and says, "That was for you kid!" The whole rest of the game every shot he made he would point over to the kid. The kid was beaming all night. I've loved Finley ever since.
Rachel always gets mad at me for getting so worked up about the games. People will say, "It's just a game!" What they don't realize is that it is more than a game, this team represent us! They represent our city, our state, and to some minimal extent our religion (those vicious mormon fans!). Beating the hated Lakers or Spurs is more than just beating them on the court, it's saying "Utah is better than California or Texas!" and seriously, you know you're thinking that and wanting that every time they play!
Anyways, I could go on forever, just wanted to validate Rachel's post that yes, I love the Jazz. Especially tonight after they beat the Lakers in OT. Just don't ask me after they lose a game. Then, it's "Hate the Jazz!"
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The Deodorant Classic of '95
My mom watched Cannon for us today so I took him over to her house early on my way to work. Being my usual non-observant self, I backed out of her driveway without even looking. By the time I was in the road and looked over a car was basically about to t-bone my car; luckily the person saw me in time and had slowed down. I pulled out and saw that it was Brandon Clough, one of my best friends during my middle school years and who lived just two doors down from me growing up.
I called Brandon right then and we chatted for a second, nothing big. Funny how you stay in great touch with some friends and lose touch with others. Anyways (I'm rambling), the whole way to work I was thinking about some of our classic times in the early teen years.
During my middle school years Brandon and I hung out a lot with Shawn Olsen, Gerry, and DJ McCarty. Mostly all I can remember now is that we played basketball during the day and either Risk or Monopoly at night (Gerry usually won at risk, as anybody can tell you he is a conniving sucker when it comes to that game). Anyways, we all slept over at each other's houses frequently since we'd be up late playing the video games or the games mentioned above. One other common theme of us hanging out was somehow Brandon and I would always get into these wrestling/fighting matches, sometimes pretty heated. To be clear, these fights would end and we'd be cool with each other again pretty much immediately. I never remember fighting with him when just the two of hung out (well, ok, once he shot me in the leg point blank with a bb-gun, so I wasn't too happy about that), it was more of a result of Gerry or Shawn somehow getting into our heads that we were aginst each other, and egging it on until we finally went to blows. I remember frequent battles both outside on one of our courts or late at night inside, roughing up somebody's house.
One particular night will never be forgotten. I'm sure if Shawn, Gerry, or DJ read the title of this post they would know immediately what I'm referring to. I'm pretty sure they were all there but I know for sure that they know the title of this epic battle. We were sleeping over at Gerry's house like any other random night and they were egging us on to start fighting as usual. Obviously this was great entertainment for them, but it's quite clear now that it was amusing for the two of us as well as we were always suckered into it. For some reason Brandon had brought his own pillow up to Gerry's to sleep on, and at some point during the evening he moved it and a stick of deodorant fell out of it. I took the bait immediately, jabbing something to the effect of, "What type of fairy brings deodorant to a sleepover?!" We all got a good laugh out of it, except Brandon of course. No more encouragement was needed from the other boys, the fight was on.
I can't remember a more intense fight than this one. You would have to be able to visualize Gerry's family room but we wrestled around and punched each other for quite a while. Somehow we moved over to a corner beneath a little table where the phone was and Brandon started banging my head into the wall. There was also a little office chair in this corner, which he proceeded to bang against my head as well. I scrapped for a minute and flipped over onto my stomach trying to get out of this corner, when suddenly out of nowhere Brandon whips out his deodorant and screams, "YOU WANNA MAKE FUN OF MY DEODORANT!!!!!" and started hammering me in the back with his deodorant! I was laughing so hard I couldn't even feel him hitting me, which only infuriated him more. You can imagine the other boys eating up the high comedy.
Somehow the fight ended and we went to sleep, but it was big news the next day for any friends who weren't there to be eye witnesses. It was soon to be immortalized as the "Deodorant Classic of '95", the most epic of our many battles that year. Good times with the Clough.
I called Brandon right then and we chatted for a second, nothing big. Funny how you stay in great touch with some friends and lose touch with others. Anyways (I'm rambling), the whole way to work I was thinking about some of our classic times in the early teen years.
During my middle school years Brandon and I hung out a lot with Shawn Olsen, Gerry, and DJ McCarty. Mostly all I can remember now is that we played basketball during the day and either Risk or Monopoly at night (Gerry usually won at risk, as anybody can tell you he is a conniving sucker when it comes to that game). Anyways, we all slept over at each other's houses frequently since we'd be up late playing the video games or the games mentioned above. One other common theme of us hanging out was somehow Brandon and I would always get into these wrestling/fighting matches, sometimes pretty heated. To be clear, these fights would end and we'd be cool with each other again pretty much immediately. I never remember fighting with him when just the two of hung out (well, ok, once he shot me in the leg point blank with a bb-gun, so I wasn't too happy about that), it was more of a result of Gerry or Shawn somehow getting into our heads that we were aginst each other, and egging it on until we finally went to blows. I remember frequent battles both outside on one of our courts or late at night inside, roughing up somebody's house.
One particular night will never be forgotten. I'm sure if Shawn, Gerry, or DJ read the title of this post they would know immediately what I'm referring to. I'm pretty sure they were all there but I know for sure that they know the title of this epic battle. We were sleeping over at Gerry's house like any other random night and they were egging us on to start fighting as usual. Obviously this was great entertainment for them, but it's quite clear now that it was amusing for the two of us as well as we were always suckered into it. For some reason Brandon had brought his own pillow up to Gerry's to sleep on, and at some point during the evening he moved it and a stick of deodorant fell out of it. I took the bait immediately, jabbing something to the effect of, "What type of fairy brings deodorant to a sleepover?!" We all got a good laugh out of it, except Brandon of course. No more encouragement was needed from the other boys, the fight was on.
I can't remember a more intense fight than this one. You would have to be able to visualize Gerry's family room but we wrestled around and punched each other for quite a while. Somehow we moved over to a corner beneath a little table where the phone was and Brandon started banging my head into the wall. There was also a little office chair in this corner, which he proceeded to bang against my head as well. I scrapped for a minute and flipped over onto my stomach trying to get out of this corner, when suddenly out of nowhere Brandon whips out his deodorant and screams, "YOU WANNA MAKE FUN OF MY DEODORANT!!!!!" and started hammering me in the back with his deodorant! I was laughing so hard I couldn't even feel him hitting me, which only infuriated him more. You can imagine the other boys eating up the high comedy.
Somehow the fight ended and we went to sleep, but it was big news the next day for any friends who weren't there to be eye witnesses. It was soon to be immortalized as the "Deodorant Classic of '95", the most epic of our many battles that year. Good times with the Clough.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Gullible is on the Ceiling!
I am the worst! Seriously I totally suck I can't even believe what a moron I am. I believe everything, always, never doubting. Maybe I can just say I have incredible faith, right? I'm really embarassed to even write this but I need to so I can remember it in the future.
So I'm going to share two gullible stories, and let me just point out that if I want to believe something, I make the connections in my head all the way down to the bitter end.
Let's begin.
Thursday at work I got an email from my buddy Jared Selman. It was a cnn.com article from Tuesday that somebody else had sent him. The topic of the article? Snoop Dogg converted to mormonism! I clicked the link, read the article, and was in hook, line, and sinker. I totally believed it. It said he met up with Gladys Knight and loved the Book of Mormon. I made all these connections in my head like, "This totally works! Gladys is LDS, Snoop is trying to be a better family man, etc! Never mind that his latest hit is "Sensual Seduction" and that's the edited title." I forwarded the link to my hotmail account and I was literally seconds away from forwarding it to my entire contact list with some type of pumped up message (that is significant because I have never forwarded an email to anyone). Luckily (or unluckily depending on your point of view) I texted Rachel first and told her the awesome news. She didn't even have to go to the cnn website; she immediately texted me back, "You idiot! Tuesday was April Fool's Day!" I literally let out a cry of anguish as I got the text back. I knew that it was true, indeed I was an idiot. I had got SO PUMPED about this too that it just dragged me down for hours. Rachel kept texting me to make fun of me. All I could respond was, "I suck! I know I suck bad!" And three days later. . . I still suck!
The experience reminded me of one of the worst "gullible" moments I've ever had. . .
First, some background: A reminder that I make connections and pretty much convince myself when I want to believe something. This experience happened in the MTC. Key points to know is that Tommy (one of my best friends) was in the MTC with me, roomed around the corner from me, all of the guys in my "district" knew him well and knew that we were friends, and Tommy loves to lie. Another key point is that I know two Stephanies in this world: my sister Stephanie and Stephanie Stevens; also, I only know of one Jodie from my high school, Jodie McIntyre. Last, I received a letter a few days before from Mark Stubler without the post office stamping the postage (that is relevant as well). On to the embarassment:
So in the MTC we checked the mail like 5 times a day. I received a letter one morning from "Jodie". I noticed that the stamp wasn't postmarked but as I noted above I had received a legit letter from Mark only a few days earlier that wasn't postmarked--so no big deal there, right? Anyways, the letter was from Jodie something (I don't remember the last name) and the address was somewhere in West Jordan. She wrote that she was so sad she couldn't make it to my farewell because she was at some cheer camp (me thinking, "hmm, she must be hot if she was a cheerleader; but she must have been a JV cheerleader because I knew all the varsity from the previous year. But it was October and football season so she must have had something!), she had always had a huge crush on me, and that Stephanie had given her my address and she wanted to come see me in the airport when I left for Paraguay.
Words cannot describe how pumped I was to get this mystery love letter from this mystery girl. Jodie? I only know a Jodie McIntyre but I know this isn't her. Stephanie? It must be Stephanie Stevens! I don't know any other Stephanies that went to Copper Hills! I needed to ask Tommy if he knew who this mystery girl was so I could know if she was hot or not!
I spent all day on cloud nine, telling all the other elders about this random additional hot chick that was coming to the airport to see me. Of course they were all jealous of me, right?
I found Tommy in the afternoon and asked if he knew who Jodie was. His reply, "Yeah, she was pretty cute, don't you remember her? " Me, "No, who did she hang out with? " Tommy, "You know Sara Jacobs and Natalie? Their crowd of girls." (Interestingly enough, Tommy is now married to Sara!). The plot was perfect. I knew Sara and Natalie but I didn't really know any of their other friends, so it was easy for me to believe this mystery Jodie girl ran around with them. "Well," I thought, " this is going to work out great for me." You could've told me I had just contracted gonorrhea and the smile wouldn't have been wiped off my face.
But still, I needed to find out more about this Jodie girl. How exciting! I announced that I would write my buddy Jeff Davis (who was still at home at the time) and he would give me the goods on this Jodie girl so I could be prepared for our airport encounter (which, if this were real, would have been a nice handshake so I don't know why I was pumped). I sat down and started writing frantically; this letter had to be mailed out first thing in the morning! I didn't even notice that my entire district and all of Tommy's district had gathered in my small room. Suddenly I feel Elder Keaton put his hands on my shoulders and shamefully announce, "Elder Ball, I wrote that letter."
I will never forget neither the eruption of laughter that bellowed down those halls nor the vomit taste in my mouth as my stomach tried to reject my heart that had just sunk down into it. Immediately I knew I was the fool. I had made 20 different connections that day making this whole story work in my mind. How could I be so stupid! (I'm sitting here 7 1/2 years later embarassed right now!) I relieve the entire shame every time I think of the experience. Damn Snoop Dogg brought it all back again.
So here's how it happened. Elder Keaton wanted to play a joke on somebody and they picked me. They made up the name Jodi, thinkingly used my sister Stephanie's name as a reference (they didn't know that she didn't go to Copper Hills), and made sure they got hold of Tommy before I got to him--and he was definitely in for the ride. Elder Keaton's only hangup was the fact that the letter would arrive without being postmarked. If I noticed that, his jig was up. Incredibly, like I said above, I received a legit letter from Stubler just a few days before that for some reason wasn't postmarked. I haven't seen Elder Kenny Keaton in years (he went to Uruguay not Paraguay), but I'm sure he would confirm that the joke worked out beyond perfection.
I suck. . . bad!
So I'm going to share two gullible stories, and let me just point out that if I want to believe something, I make the connections in my head all the way down to the bitter end.
Let's begin.
Thursday at work I got an email from my buddy Jared Selman. It was a cnn.com article from Tuesday that somebody else had sent him. The topic of the article? Snoop Dogg converted to mormonism! I clicked the link, read the article, and was in hook, line, and sinker. I totally believed it. It said he met up with Gladys Knight and loved the Book of Mormon. I made all these connections in my head like, "This totally works! Gladys is LDS, Snoop is trying to be a better family man, etc! Never mind that his latest hit is "Sensual Seduction" and that's the edited title." I forwarded the link to my hotmail account and I was literally seconds away from forwarding it to my entire contact list with some type of pumped up message (that is significant because I have never forwarded an email to anyone). Luckily (or unluckily depending on your point of view) I texted Rachel first and told her the awesome news. She didn't even have to go to the cnn website; she immediately texted me back, "You idiot! Tuesday was April Fool's Day!" I literally let out a cry of anguish as I got the text back. I knew that it was true, indeed I was an idiot. I had got SO PUMPED about this too that it just dragged me down for hours. Rachel kept texting me to make fun of me. All I could respond was, "I suck! I know I suck bad!" And three days later. . . I still suck!
The experience reminded me of one of the worst "gullible" moments I've ever had. . .
First, some background: A reminder that I make connections and pretty much convince myself when I want to believe something. This experience happened in the MTC. Key points to know is that Tommy (one of my best friends) was in the MTC with me, roomed around the corner from me, all of the guys in my "district" knew him well and knew that we were friends, and Tommy loves to lie. Another key point is that I know two Stephanies in this world: my sister Stephanie and Stephanie Stevens; also, I only know of one Jodie from my high school, Jodie McIntyre. Last, I received a letter a few days before from Mark Stubler without the post office stamping the postage (that is relevant as well). On to the embarassment:
So in the MTC we checked the mail like 5 times a day. I received a letter one morning from "Jodie". I noticed that the stamp wasn't postmarked but as I noted above I had received a legit letter from Mark only a few days earlier that wasn't postmarked--so no big deal there, right? Anyways, the letter was from Jodie something (I don't remember the last name) and the address was somewhere in West Jordan. She wrote that she was so sad she couldn't make it to my farewell because she was at some cheer camp (me thinking, "hmm, she must be hot if she was a cheerleader; but she must have been a JV cheerleader because I knew all the varsity from the previous year. But it was October and football season so she must have had something!), she had always had a huge crush on me, and that Stephanie had given her my address and she wanted to come see me in the airport when I left for Paraguay.
Words cannot describe how pumped I was to get this mystery love letter from this mystery girl. Jodie? I only know a Jodie McIntyre but I know this isn't her. Stephanie? It must be Stephanie Stevens! I don't know any other Stephanies that went to Copper Hills! I needed to ask Tommy if he knew who this mystery girl was so I could know if she was hot or not!
I spent all day on cloud nine, telling all the other elders about this random additional hot chick that was coming to the airport to see me. Of course they were all jealous of me, right?
I found Tommy in the afternoon and asked if he knew who Jodie was. His reply, "Yeah, she was pretty cute, don't you remember her? " Me, "No, who did she hang out with? " Tommy, "You know Sara Jacobs and Natalie? Their crowd of girls." (Interestingly enough, Tommy is now married to Sara!). The plot was perfect. I knew Sara and Natalie but I didn't really know any of their other friends, so it was easy for me to believe this mystery Jodie girl ran around with them. "Well," I thought, " this is going to work out great for me." You could've told me I had just contracted gonorrhea and the smile wouldn't have been wiped off my face.
But still, I needed to find out more about this Jodie girl. How exciting! I announced that I would write my buddy Jeff Davis (who was still at home at the time) and he would give me the goods on this Jodie girl so I could be prepared for our airport encounter (which, if this were real, would have been a nice handshake so I don't know why I was pumped). I sat down and started writing frantically; this letter had to be mailed out first thing in the morning! I didn't even notice that my entire district and all of Tommy's district had gathered in my small room. Suddenly I feel Elder Keaton put his hands on my shoulders and shamefully announce, "Elder Ball, I wrote that letter."
I will never forget neither the eruption of laughter that bellowed down those halls nor the vomit taste in my mouth as my stomach tried to reject my heart that had just sunk down into it. Immediately I knew I was the fool. I had made 20 different connections that day making this whole story work in my mind. How could I be so stupid! (I'm sitting here 7 1/2 years later embarassed right now!) I relieve the entire shame every time I think of the experience. Damn Snoop Dogg brought it all back again.
So here's how it happened. Elder Keaton wanted to play a joke on somebody and they picked me. They made up the name Jodi, thinkingly used my sister Stephanie's name as a reference (they didn't know that she didn't go to Copper Hills), and made sure they got hold of Tommy before I got to him--and he was definitely in for the ride. Elder Keaton's only hangup was the fact that the letter would arrive without being postmarked. If I noticed that, his jig was up. Incredibly, like I said above, I received a legit letter from Stubler just a few days before that for some reason wasn't postmarked. I haven't seen Elder Kenny Keaton in years (he went to Uruguay not Paraguay), but I'm sure he would confirm that the joke worked out beyond perfection.
I suck. . . bad!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Free Lunch
So I made a new friend at work the past few weeks, but I think the main reason he might be a friend is because he enjoys taking my money from me so much. (Sidenote: Rachel also enjoys him taking money from me because whenever I make a stupid bet and lose--which is always--she gets to spend an equal amount of money on herself!)
So we were talking golf and we decided we were going to sneak out for a long "lunch" and do a quick nine holes. I must talk a good game because he wanted to play the nine holes straight up for the wager. Knowing that I couldn't touch him straight up, I managed to adjust the wager to the point that if I beat his score on one of the nine holes or tied his score twice, I would win the wager. From the way he talked I figured he was in the Mike Davis-range of golfers (which is pretty good for those who don't know Mike). I dialed Mike up to see if he thought I could possible beat him on one of nine holes. Alas, no answer (when I later did talk to Mike and ask him that question, he had himself quite a laugh). So out I go feeling confident that my lunch would be paid for. It was the first time out this year for both of us. I had to have one lucky hole, right?
Curses! (Seriously, you know what I mean when I say curses!) I lost bad. In fact, I only had one hole where I was close to tying, but he nailed a 25-foot putt to win the hole outright. He told me he knew after my first tee shot (a duff that went about 10 feet to the left into the bushes) that it was in the bag. I pretty much knew the same.
Unfortunately, due to my utter lack of self-doubt (which is to say my extreme level of overconfidence in my worthless abilities), I did not take my loss and move on, I simply moved to another sport. Basketball! Yes, I wagered on a one-on-one game. I showed up at his early morning ball game, played a couple hours, then faced him one-on-one. Since we all know how fat and out of shape I am, let me just say I was begging him to end it (I will add, however, that he was gassed too, as he couldn't hit a wide open layup for his life to end the game). It was a sorry showing, but I was so gassed after the regular ball I had nothing left in the tank for when it counted.
My saving grace is that I pay up. Words can't describe the grin on a man's face as he sees another man pay for his lunch, involuntarily. Logic would say that I've learned my lesson and I'll stop trash talking. The sad reality is that I'm most definitely NOT ready to do that. Tennis anyone?
So we were talking golf and we decided we were going to sneak out for a long "lunch" and do a quick nine holes. I must talk a good game because he wanted to play the nine holes straight up for the wager. Knowing that I couldn't touch him straight up, I managed to adjust the wager to the point that if I beat his score on one of the nine holes or tied his score twice, I would win the wager. From the way he talked I figured he was in the Mike Davis-range of golfers (which is pretty good for those who don't know Mike). I dialed Mike up to see if he thought I could possible beat him on one of nine holes. Alas, no answer (when I later did talk to Mike and ask him that question, he had himself quite a laugh). So out I go feeling confident that my lunch would be paid for. It was the first time out this year for both of us. I had to have one lucky hole, right?
Curses! (Seriously, you know what I mean when I say curses!) I lost bad. In fact, I only had one hole where I was close to tying, but he nailed a 25-foot putt to win the hole outright. He told me he knew after my first tee shot (a duff that went about 10 feet to the left into the bushes) that it was in the bag. I pretty much knew the same.
Unfortunately, due to my utter lack of self-doubt (which is to say my extreme level of overconfidence in my worthless abilities), I did not take my loss and move on, I simply moved to another sport. Basketball! Yes, I wagered on a one-on-one game. I showed up at his early morning ball game, played a couple hours, then faced him one-on-one. Since we all know how fat and out of shape I am, let me just say I was begging him to end it (I will add, however, that he was gassed too, as he couldn't hit a wide open layup for his life to end the game). It was a sorry showing, but I was so gassed after the regular ball I had nothing left in the tank for when it counted.
My saving grace is that I pay up. Words can't describe the grin on a man's face as he sees another man pay for his lunch, involuntarily. Logic would say that I've learned my lesson and I'll stop trash talking. The sad reality is that I'm most definitely NOT ready to do that. Tennis anyone?
Work-Life Balance
So before I even write about this topic can I just say that I've had like 3 DOMINANT posts lately that I've wanted to post but I've been struck down by the powers that be from fear of offending people. So it's not that I haven't written in forever; it's more that I've written "secret posts" that are now stored away in my heart forever. Ah, the internet, where whatever you write is permanently posted somewhere.
So I'm nearing the end of my first "busy season" as we call it in accounting. This week I worked until 3 am on monday night and 1 am wednesday night. My usual night ends with me getting home post-10 pm. I'm pretty sure if I break down this salary thing into an hourly wage I'm making somewhere in the minimum wage range. This accounting profession has it figured out! Take educated people right out of school, work them a ton, and pay "salary" so you don't have to pay any overtime! I will say I haven't really worked any weekends, which are now pretty much "Dad's time to see Cannon awake", so that's been good.
I'm writing a lot of gripes, when in truth I actually enjoy what I'm doing a ton. I'm learning a ton and I like the people I work with (a key for enjoying any job). I'm not saying that I'd prefer to be at work rather than at home all night; what I'm trying to say is that I'm enjoying it despite some long nights. I'm actually excited for some of my future prospects later this year. Things should mellow out for me sometime in the next few weeks and that's when this "life" side of things hopefully will be able to kick into gear.
So I'm about 3 months in to this accounting thing, and I still feel like it's brand new. This is definitely a major tranistional period for Rachel and me. I'm thinking this entire year might be a transitional period because so much has changed for us in the past 8 months or so and we still aren't sure how to react to it all. We always had "just get through school" in our minds as kind of an "ending point" to our early years of marriage. Now that we've started a family and essentially started what the rest of our lives together will be like (for the most part. Rachel won't work forever. I included this side comment specifically for her so she knows that :) ) I think we are both caught off-guard as to how fast this all snuck up on us.
Anyways, I'm rambling. Basically if anybody's up past midnight and needs somebody to talk to, I'm most assuredly awake and most likely at work so feel free to call for a chat! Careful, though, I might lure you into some boring accounting talk. One positive is that if Rachel is having any trouble sleeping at all, she only has to tell me, "Brandon, tell me about your work" and she's out like a light within minutes.
So I'm nearing the end of my first "busy season" as we call it in accounting. This week I worked until 3 am on monday night and 1 am wednesday night. My usual night ends with me getting home post-10 pm. I'm pretty sure if I break down this salary thing into an hourly wage I'm making somewhere in the minimum wage range. This accounting profession has it figured out! Take educated people right out of school, work them a ton, and pay "salary" so you don't have to pay any overtime! I will say I haven't really worked any weekends, which are now pretty much "Dad's time to see Cannon awake", so that's been good.
I'm writing a lot of gripes, when in truth I actually enjoy what I'm doing a ton. I'm learning a ton and I like the people I work with (a key for enjoying any job). I'm not saying that I'd prefer to be at work rather than at home all night; what I'm trying to say is that I'm enjoying it despite some long nights. I'm actually excited for some of my future prospects later this year. Things should mellow out for me sometime in the next few weeks and that's when this "life" side of things hopefully will be able to kick into gear.
So I'm about 3 months in to this accounting thing, and I still feel like it's brand new. This is definitely a major tranistional period for Rachel and me. I'm thinking this entire year might be a transitional period because so much has changed for us in the past 8 months or so and we still aren't sure how to react to it all. We always had "just get through school" in our minds as kind of an "ending point" to our early years of marriage. Now that we've started a family and essentially started what the rest of our lives together will be like (for the most part. Rachel won't work forever. I included this side comment specifically for her so she knows that :) ) I think we are both caught off-guard as to how fast this all snuck up on us.
Anyways, I'm rambling. Basically if anybody's up past midnight and needs somebody to talk to, I'm most assuredly awake and most likely at work so feel free to call for a chat! Careful, though, I might lure you into some boring accounting talk. One positive is that if Rachel is having any trouble sleeping at all, she only has to tell me, "Brandon, tell me about your work" and she's out like a light within minutes.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Live With Your Parents!
Interesting article in the desnews today about the growing number of adults moving back in with their parents. The article cited a 50-year old moving back in with her 80-year old parents. She acknowledged it was quite the humbling experience, but she needed somewhere to get back on her feet.
(Can I just make a quick note completely off topic? I'm sure everybody has noticed that my spelling has been quite off on most of my recent posts and I blame the keyboard on our new desktop. It's a piece and it doesn't pick up my keystrokes. I've had to fix like 30 words already! Anyways, whatever I can do to shift the blame off of my noticeably bad spelling.)
Back to living with the parents. Somebody posted an interesting comment after the article, noting that our capitalist society is what dictates that everybody live in their own house, even though our houses are huge. I kind of agree with that comment. I know in Latin cultures it is not uncommon for multiple generations to live together in the same home.
I guess I'm writing about this because I know if I was still single I'd probably live at home and I'd want to somehow justify myself for being an at-home adult.
I keep wanting to write that I don't see any problem with somebody living at home after they've fallen on hard times, but I guess the reason for the "hard times" would potentially be a problem. Got laid off from your job in a rough economy? No problem. Don't have a job because you're lazy? Problem. Have a job but you're just stupid with your money? Problem.
Other examples of problems: One idiot comment tried to turn it into a rivalry thing, saying it was stupid Utah fans who live at home. BIG MISTAKE-especially since the spineless loser posted as "anonymous". Even being the BYU homer that I am, it is clearly the kids "down south" who pump out 3 kids on the government dime (which equals my dime) while still in school and then move into the parents house for a couple years of "transitioning" period once schools out. Good call.
I have to say, I started this post with the intention to say it was okay to live with the parents after I felt so bad for the lady in the article who had to move back home for a while after getting laid off; however, I've clearly noted points against living with the parents as well. It's also worth noting that the "problem" points are much stronger than the "no problem" points. Hmmm. . . note to Cannon: You cannot move back in with us when you're 50. Sorry!
(Can I just make a quick note completely off topic? I'm sure everybody has noticed that my spelling has been quite off on most of my recent posts and I blame the keyboard on our new desktop. It's a piece and it doesn't pick up my keystrokes. I've had to fix like 30 words already! Anyways, whatever I can do to shift the blame off of my noticeably bad spelling.)
Back to living with the parents. Somebody posted an interesting comment after the article, noting that our capitalist society is what dictates that everybody live in their own house, even though our houses are huge. I kind of agree with that comment. I know in Latin cultures it is not uncommon for multiple generations to live together in the same home.
I guess I'm writing about this because I know if I was still single I'd probably live at home and I'd want to somehow justify myself for being an at-home adult.
I keep wanting to write that I don't see any problem with somebody living at home after they've fallen on hard times, but I guess the reason for the "hard times" would potentially be a problem. Got laid off from your job in a rough economy? No problem. Don't have a job because you're lazy? Problem. Have a job but you're just stupid with your money? Problem.
Other examples of problems: One idiot comment tried to turn it into a rivalry thing, saying it was stupid Utah fans who live at home. BIG MISTAKE-especially since the spineless loser posted as "anonymous". Even being the BYU homer that I am, it is clearly the kids "down south" who pump out 3 kids on the government dime (which equals my dime) while still in school and then move into the parents house for a couple years of "transitioning" period once schools out. Good call.
I have to say, I started this post with the intention to say it was okay to live with the parents after I felt so bad for the lady in the article who had to move back home for a while after getting laid off; however, I've clearly noted points against living with the parents as well. It's also worth noting that the "problem" points are much stronger than the "no problem" points. Hmmm. . . note to Cannon: You cannot move back in with us when you're 50. Sorry!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Mind of a Teenager
Rachel and I were cleaning our basement yesterday and I came across a notebook that had a journal I wrote all of my senior year of high school. Wondering what's on the mind of a teenage boy? Pretty much one thing. . . Kissing Girls!!! Yeeeah!!!! Well, then we called it "getting action" so pretty much if any of the boys got so much as even a little peck from a girl they "got action."
Unfortunately, most of my entries talk about my plan to "get action" instead of my experiences "getting action." I'm pretty sure that was the case for most of my friends as well, even though they might tell you differently.
I'm pretty sure I need to throw it away because it has quite the amount of self-incriminating entries. Rachel read it and laughed her head off all night long. She thinks I should post the whole thing on here. I'm tempted, but no. I can't imagine even my kids reading what was going on through my 18-year old mind, let alone anybody else. Luckily after Rachel took me to the dance at the end of my senior year I wrote that it turned out awesome instead of writing something like, "My date with that Rachel girl totally sucked." I probably would've landed in the doghouse for the night with something like that!
Also, it appears that I had quite the amount of really self-incriminating entries because as I thumbed through the notebook I noticed I had lots of pages half torn out. Obviously I went back at some point and tore out entries that I thought were bad or something. Man, if I thought they were bad then, then I'm sure they would be crazy now because I was embarrassed at the entries that I left!
Anyways, Rachel has convinced me to post some entries but I must notify in advance for any who don't know (which is very few people) that my language in high school was very R-rated. If I post any further entries I'll be sure to give a rating up front as a warning. This one is PG-13, with apologies to Mark Stubler (I know Lindsey reads my blog so hopefully she won't be mad either:)). The entry is verbatim with my new thoughts in parenthesis.
12-12-1999
Friday we played Jordan in b-ball. We lost in double overtime (No worries, we won state that year!). After the game I was yelling (in the parking lot) "let's go" to Mark. Some Jordan drill-team chic sarcastically yelled, "Yeah, let's go!" I screamed back, "Hey! You're Ugly!" Her friend yelled "Hey! Show some respect!" Jeff Davis started arguing with them then one said "Why don't you apologize?" I yelled, "Why don't you burn in hell!" She yelled, "Why are you guys such dicks?!" Mark Stubler jumped in right as the Jordan Principle came up behind me and Ms. Garret (Copper Hills VP) pulled up behind him, and yelled, "Why are you girls such sluts!" They yelled back, "Hey! Apologize!" He said, "I'll apologize right after I show you my ass!" Then Ms. Garret jumped in. It was pretty funny, but she was pretty pissed. But we talked to her at the Christmas stomp last night and she said it was funny, too. So it's all right.
I've read this post like 10 times in the past 24 hours and I break out laughing every time. Very uncharacteristic of me to lash out like that at a random girl. Even Rachel commented, "I never have known you to be mean like that." That' s probably why such a menial interchange is so memorable. I'm sure the girl thought she could say something since her team just won. Obviously she had no idea we would bring it so strong! I'm still laughing. I should've been meaner in high school. I would have more funny memories like this.
Unfortunately, most of my entries talk about my plan to "get action" instead of my experiences "getting action." I'm pretty sure that was the case for most of my friends as well, even though they might tell you differently.
I'm pretty sure I need to throw it away because it has quite the amount of self-incriminating entries. Rachel read it and laughed her head off all night long. She thinks I should post the whole thing on here. I'm tempted, but no. I can't imagine even my kids reading what was going on through my 18-year old mind, let alone anybody else. Luckily after Rachel took me to the dance at the end of my senior year I wrote that it turned out awesome instead of writing something like, "My date with that Rachel girl totally sucked." I probably would've landed in the doghouse for the night with something like that!
Also, it appears that I had quite the amount of really self-incriminating entries because as I thumbed through the notebook I noticed I had lots of pages half torn out. Obviously I went back at some point and tore out entries that I thought were bad or something. Man, if I thought they were bad then, then I'm sure they would be crazy now because I was embarrassed at the entries that I left!
Anyways, Rachel has convinced me to post some entries but I must notify in advance for any who don't know (which is very few people) that my language in high school was very R-rated. If I post any further entries I'll be sure to give a rating up front as a warning. This one is PG-13, with apologies to Mark Stubler (I know Lindsey reads my blog so hopefully she won't be mad either:)). The entry is verbatim with my new thoughts in parenthesis.
12-12-1999
Friday we played Jordan in b-ball. We lost in double overtime (No worries, we won state that year!). After the game I was yelling (in the parking lot) "let's go" to Mark. Some Jordan drill-team chic sarcastically yelled, "Yeah, let's go!" I screamed back, "Hey! You're Ugly!" Her friend yelled "Hey! Show some respect!" Jeff Davis started arguing with them then one said "Why don't you apologize?" I yelled, "Why don't you burn in hell!" She yelled, "Why are you guys such dicks?!" Mark Stubler jumped in right as the Jordan Principle came up behind me and Ms. Garret (Copper Hills VP) pulled up behind him, and yelled, "Why are you girls such sluts!" They yelled back, "Hey! Apologize!" He said, "I'll apologize right after I show you my ass!" Then Ms. Garret jumped in. It was pretty funny, but she was pretty pissed. But we talked to her at the Christmas stomp last night and she said it was funny, too. So it's all right.
I've read this post like 10 times in the past 24 hours and I break out laughing every time. Very uncharacteristic of me to lash out like that at a random girl. Even Rachel commented, "I never have known you to be mean like that." That' s probably why such a menial interchange is so memorable. I'm sure the girl thought she could say something since her team just won. Obviously she had no idea we would bring it so strong! I'm still laughing. I should've been meaner in high school. I would have more funny memories like this.
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