Utah Drivers

I've heard a lot of people talking about "Utah Drivers" lately, and this doesn't seem to be the type of laudatory title one would wish upon one's own fellow Utahns.  In an effort to determine if the title is deserved, I've been listening closely.  I found some rather disturbing evidence that suggests that nobody actually knows what a good driver is.  Allow me to present a few quotes:

• "So I was driving along University Avenue in the right lane, late for work, and of course there was this slow Utah Driver in front of me..."
• "Utah Drivers are always going too fast..."
• "it seems like drivers near byu campus (from any state) don't feel the need to use the turn signal. ... Living the laws of the land is part of the the honor code. thus these people are honor code violators"
• "In Boston, you don't even have to use your turn signal.  You can just merge in and everyone will make room for you.  You couldn't even try that here in Utah."

Does anyone see a problem here?  You're a bad driver if you don't use your turn signal.  No, wait.  You're a bad driver if you have to use your turn signal.  Utah drivers always drive slow.  No wait.  They always drive fast.  Hello?  Doesn't anybody notice this?  I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!

Honestly, I think that much of the "Utah Driver" reputation present in Utah Valley comes not from Utahns driving their cars, but rather the broad mix of drivers converging on Provo from all over the place.  I'm currently working on a research project involving the navigation abilities of hundreds of mini "walking" agents, all attempting to reach their destination without running into anyone else.  One of the theories I'm hoping to test is that there are cultural navigation rules that develop within a group over time, and when an individual is transplanted from one culture to another, they see everyone else as breaking the clearly-established rules when in reality, everyone is only breaking that individual's assumptions.  

This was made very apparent to me a few years ago when I visited Australia for two weeks.  The first few days we were there, we had such a hard time getting around on the sidewalks.  It seemed that everyone was always in our way, and we couldn't figure out why.  Then one day I tried walking on the left side of the sidewalk, and suddenly everything fell into place.  I had been basing my navigation on the assumption that you're always supposed to pass to the right when walking.  Obviously they drive on the left in Australia, but it had never occurred to me that that legal regulation would carry over into a cultural norm for non-vehicular navigation.  I wasn't a bad walker because of this; I just hadn't yet acclimated to the new cultural rules.

So anyway.  There's my defense of Utahns.

Merry Christmas!

Dear diary,

Today:

• Was reminded that I'm still very, very far from perfection
  
• Got 54% on a physics test
• Went rock climbing
  
• Was invited to a baby blessing, where I got to see my family and some good friends.
  
• Was invited to a metaphorical party, and when I decided to join the fun, the party was metaphorically canceled
• Ate homemade pizza by Claudio
• Got a turkey in the final frame of Wii Bowling, thereby taking first place
• Worked on lesson for Priesthood tomorrow
  

I can't decide if today was a good day or bad day. Everything that had a reasonable chance of going wrong did so, and I was disappointed on more than one occasion, but I'm still smiling, and it's not getting me down, so I guess that's a good thing.

Sometimes you wish things would go better. When they don't, though, you just keep going.

The sun'll come out tomorrow.

In which I demonstrate my amazing strength

Last night I was over at Dragon Lady's house when one of their sinks clogged up.  Having seen a few clogged drains in my time, I figured that the problem was likely in the J-trap underneath the sink.  While clearing out a J-trap is a messy operation, it's not all that difficult, so I figured I'd try my hand.

We looked around for a bit until we found a wrench and a large mop bucket to catch the falling water, and went to work.  It was quickly apparent to me that the nuts under this particular sink hadn't been loosened in a very long time, so I tried to apply slow, constant pressure in order to break the rust-lock.  After about a minute of working on it, the wrench moved slightly and a little bit of water started leaking out.  Taking this as a good sign, I continued pulling gently but firmly in that direction.  A second shift, and more water leaked out.

It was after the third shift that I took a closer look at what was happening.  I was actually twisting the pipe in half.  Yes, that's right.  Last night, I twisted a metal pipe in half with only my bare hands and a small wrench.

Who knew I had such strength?

I'm sure it had nothing to do with the age of the pipe.  Nothing at all.  Let me assure you.

The Three Degrees of Hand-Holding

The following comes from an e-mail I wrote to my cousin just after I had applied to join the Board.  I've had occasion to share it twice in the last couple days, so I figured I might as well let everyone else in on the fun.

---

I once observed someone explaining to a friend that there are three levels of holding hands. (I contend that there are many more than 3 ways, but the levels idea probably works.)

The simplest, or lowest, form is with no interlocking of fingers. Basically, you're just holding their hand. This is great for preventing tickling and such, but generally doesn't imply serious romantic interest. (It probably does imply at least a friendship, though.)

The second form is holding hands with fingers interlocked. It provides a much closer connection between two people, and usually indicates romantic interest. This happened with [name removed] about a week before we actually started dating.

The highest, or most serious, form of holding hands begins as an extension of the second. It starts with interlocked hands, but adds playing-with/rubbing/caressing/pick-a-word the other's hand with your free thumb. This is where the explanation I heard left off. However, creative minds will discover that the idea of playing with the other's hand can be expanded much beyond interlocking fingers. It includes tickling their palm, tickling the inside "edges" of their fingers by half-interlocking the fingers and slowly moving them up and down, and holding the other's closed fist inside yours (works better if your hands are significantly bigger than yours). Generalizing, you could say this is non-static holding hands. If you're doing this with a girl, you're probably already dating her. If a girl starts doing this to you and you're not dating her, then that should be a big hint: she's interested.

So there you have it. My treatise on the emotional commitment involved with hand-holding. If they decide to let me on as a writer on that BYU 100 Hour Board, I hope someone asks a question about holding hands. I would probably just copy-paste what I just wrote. :)

Note to readers: There is no need to submit this question now.  I've already answered it.

Hymns: An exploration

I've mentioned previously that I've played the piano for a number of years.  When I went on my mission, I assumed (correctly) that I'd be playing the piano a lot.  In one of my branches, I was the first pianist they'd had in nearly two years.  I felt a bit like a musical "prophet of the restoration," correcting apostasy in the melody and rhythm of our beloved hymns.  I was happy to share my talents, as having a pianist made the meetings much more reverent and conducive to the Spirit.

My mission president likewise encouraged me to share my musical talents, but he encouraged me to limit my playing to spiritual music.  I once got called out for playing Debussy's Claire de Lune before Zone Conference, so it wasn't just Billy Joel that was banned either.  The hymns are great and all, but after a while they can be a bit musically uninteresting, so I started experimenting.  One of my favorite games was to accept nominations for three random hymns and create a medley from them.  (It always impressed people, which was fun.)

After a while, though, even that wasn't enough, so I started making my own arrangements.  I quickly discovered that playing a normally-trite song in a minor key can produce some unexpectedly poignant musical moments.  It's something that you'll hear occasionally in arrangements of A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief, for example, and it really turns out well.

The point of all this is that when I was leaving the Talmage building the other night at about 9:00, I passed someone who was whistling Come, Come Ye Saints in a minor key.

I was so pleased.

Records

Today I spent 16 hours on campus. 8:00 AM to 12:00 AM. I think that's a new record for me.

And yet, somehow I feel more invigorated and productive today than I have for weeks.

Hopefully it carries through.

Advice to CS Majors

Dear C.S. majors of the BYU,

If you don't know how to use a debugger, please learn. I promise you'll be glad you did.

Please.

-Yellow

Thoughts

Things I dislike:
Having my heart broken preemptively.

Things I can't blame her for:
This particular incidence.

Things I wish were different:
Lots.

By the way, if you aren't sure you know what I'm talking about, then you probably don't. I don't want to inadvertently defame a good friend here.

The solution

Okay, so I got some interesting guesses, but nobody correctly guessed the answer to my riddle.

I woke him up when September ended! Green Day style!

It was so cool.

A riddle

On October 1, 2007 at 12:00 AM, I called my brother's cell phone. In return, he gave me "mad props" and said I "totally made his day."

The first person (who wasn't present) to guess why gets mad props.
And maybe free creamery ice cream, if I happen to know you.

Hint: I expected that he'd be asleep.
Hint #2: This was the only time this year that this would have worked.

The License Plate game

I've come up with a new game for all you lexiphiles.

In years past, I've found a need to recognize cars by their license plate. Since strings of letters are especially difficult to remember, I've taken to assigning a word to each license plate as a sort of mnemonic device. For example, MNG becomes mango, RST becomes wrist, and ILR becomes pillar. They don't always sound the same, but the key point is that each letter in the license plate is present in the correct order in the associated mnemonic word.

Originally I only used such devices to recognize my family's cars, but on a recent trip to Salt Lake, I began extending it to a more general scope. I was trying to trace the flow of traffic between the various lanes, so I'd pick a certain car and assign it a mnemonic name. Then, if I saw that car again, I could assume that his lane was going at least as fast as mine.

Coming up with the words was interesting, so before long, my goal was to "name" as many cars as possible on the trip. That's the game. Obviously some are more difficult than others, so it becomes a competition with my traveling companions to mnemonicize each car first. I don't have a scoring structure set up yet, but I'm not sure it needs it. Simply coming up with the words is fun in and of itself.

Enjoy!

As a side note, occasionally I'll run across an exceptionally difficult one, so on Wednesday I finished up a program which searches a dictionary of 293,000 words for me. I'd offer to e-mail it to anyone who's interested, but it only works on OS X and gMail hasn't been cooperating when I've tried to send it previously. Sorry.

When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

I have a history of liking girls who don't return the favor. I'm sure that most of you have had that experience, but let me be clear. I'm not saying "Whenever I liked a girl, she didn't like me back." I'm saying "Always I liked a girl who didn't like me back." I mean it. I'm not the type to say "Oh, I'm not really interested in anyone right now." I'm always interested, and they historically haven't reciprocated. This started when I was 8 and lasted until about a year ago, with only two brief exceptions, so some simple math leads to the conclusion that for 14 years I grew up with constant emotional tension.

I learned to deal with it well, though. I wasn't an angsty, overwrought, emotionally-unstable teenager. I learned to smile at the tension, to laugh at the tragedies, and though I probably created a couple of awkward moments on my more poignant days, I think that overall I was (and am) very pleasant to be around. Though my relationships weren't always what I wanted them to be, I always had hope for better days, and hoping, despaired not. I excelled in my musical and academic pursuits, and I didn't have a sense of low self-worth. I just grew accustomed to the drama and learned to get on with things.

I didn't realize, though, that I had grown dependent on it. Relationship drama usually brings with it an acute emotional response. Excitement, longing, rejection, disappointment, hope, and anticipation all run wild in such situations, and I grew to feed off of these emotions. The excitement and energy I had often pulled from this fount, while the longing and disappointment led me to value my loved ones even more. Odd as it seems, this constant emotional tension served as a sort of anchor for me. It was a steady, sure part of my life. It also served as a barometer to my inter-personal feelings. I knew I still cared about someone so long as these emotions existed, and thus knew I had something to fight for.

Sometime in the last couple years, I figured a few things out socially. I no longer pine for the unattainable. I no longer hope and wish and pray after something, just to have it taken away despite my best efforts. My hopes and desires are acheivable. Things have been going well, and now I'm dating a girl that I really care about. We're so similar that it's uncanny. We get along excellently, and though no relationship is without a bump or two, the gates are open and the road is clear.

I'm lost, though. I don't have my anchor. The emotional tension I grew to expect is gone. I feel a bit like Joseph Smith when he said "I should feel a bit like a fish out of water, if I were out of persecutions." I'm not sure which way is up anymore. I've found myself reluctant to move on, searching for anything to recreate those acute emotions I've grown to expect. I've got what I always hoped for, and now that I'm here, I don't know where to go. My anchor is lost and my barometer is broken.

My impossible dream has been attainable after all, and now I have no stars to follow, no hell to march into for a heavenly cause. I'm just not sure where I'm going anymore.

And so it goes

I now present you with a collection of brief thoughts, events, or points of interest from my life. I didn't really feel that any deserved a post on its own, but together they're fun.

While entering Dragon Lady's house a couple weeks ago, I opened the storm door door. Or rather, I attempted to open the door. I immediately pulled my hand back when I felt a sharp prick and saw a bee fly out of the handle. I'm cautious every time now, but apparently it's earned me the title of "Gallant Knight" who protects the inhabitants from guerrilla bee stakeouts.

If you lay your hand flat on a table and close the thumb in toward the rest of the hand, you'll see a small area of skin poke up near the base of your thumb. That area of skin contains almost no nerves, and somewhere along the way I developed the habit of biting it when I'm thinking. Did you know you can bite hard enough to leave significant teeth marks without much pain? Yep, it's pretty fun. (Make sure to just get the skin, and not the veins, arteries, tendons, or muscles underneath. Also, I take no responsibility for any personal harm caused by your own experimentation. Don't be stupid, okay?)

In a recent move to secure control, China has declared it illegal to reincarnate within their borders without express government approval. This caused me to laugh for hours.

I recently finished my internship at a local software company. As I rode the elevator the seven floors down to the main entrance for the last time, I couldn't help but hum the theme from Europe's "The Final Countdown." Optimistic. would have been proud of me.

And so it goes, and so it goes, and you're the only one who knows.

The research interests of grown men

The other day I was at work at my rather technical job. During a bit of down-time, I started on some research for a question and before long found myself reading the Wikipedia page on the Teletubbies.

Sometimes I wonder at the things we do.

Colors

I was talking with a friend today and the name "Amber" was mentioned. I decided that I think it's a pretty name, and if I were the type to keep a notebook of potential names for children, I'd write it in there. I'm not that type, but it dawned on me that the name would be quite appropriate, since it's also a color. It then became my quest to find other colors that could also be used as real names. I figure if I'm going to have children, I might as well continue the family tradition.

So far, I've got:

• Amber
• Violet
• Lavender

If we include fictional characters, we can add

• Peach (As in "Princess")
• Scarlet (As in "Miss")

These are all female names. So either I need some male names, or I'm only allowed to have female children. Any suggestions?

In Memoriam

One year ago today I was accepted as a probational writer for the 100 Hour Board. I suppose that makes today my "Boardiversary," so Happy Boardiversary to me. For curiosity's sake, my first answer ever appears on a question about our appearance in the Spirit World. My favorite answer so far is still one I answered in my first week about GatoRain, but I'm also very happy with the following:

• that one about refilling Lake Bonneville
• my recent one about solar shades
• the question about a secret room in the Maeser Building. (I ended up with a bunch of cool pictures I couldn't publish, but I really liked doing the research.)
• this one about priesthood authority and the restoration
• any question in which I can link to Calvin and Hobbes
• my personal analysis of the entire Myst series
• a question in which I found a map depicting the use of the Spanish word "regordo" to mean "very fat"
• the best dating advice I ever gave
• that na counting question
  
• the question about tacos and bells. My answer wasn't actually that amazing; I just enjoyed the pun.
• this one about genetics, inbreeding, and Adam and Eve

Things have changed a bit in the year I've been a writer. Back then I was the very newest of writers. I'm now the 9th most senior, and a few of those above me haven't been writing much lately. We may see them disappear before long. I'm exactly tied for 5th place for the number of questions answered by a current writer. I'm also heavily involved with the day-to-day operations of the Board; far more than I ever expected I would be.

I've made a lot of friends through the Board. I shared a ward last year with Uffish Thought and Novel Concept, I'm currently living in Optimistic.'s apartment, and I recently bought a toy weasel for Lavish's cat. I introduced both bismark and Wally III to the board, back when we were all working in the same place. I've been in group photos with a bag over my head, I've asked awkward questions over the phone, and I've received no less than 12 dating applcations over this last year. It's been quite a ride. It's not always easy, but I wouldn't give any of it up.

In unwitting celebration of my Boardiversary, my friend up in Salt Lake invited me to attend the recent concert by The Fray at the USANA Amphitheater. It was a great show, the lighting effects were fun, and I heard a lot of new songs. My favorite by far, though, when they mixed Look After You with Oasis' Wonderwall as the final song of the encore. You should be able see it here. (I haven't listened to this version as I'm at work right now, so let me know if it's not working.) It was really cool, and made for nearly a perfect Boardiversary. The only thing missing was female company, but I can't complain too much, now can I?

Thanks for a great year, everyone.
Oh, and by the way, this is being published two days late. I got distracted. My Boardiversary was the 31st.

NEWSFLASH: Harry Potter invades everyday life

The other day while I was feeling gross and sick and unwell, I decided that fruit juice of some kind would be a good idea. Vitamin C is supposed to be good for your immune system or something, right? So I opened up the freezer and found a can of frozen "Dole Orange Strawberry Banana" juice concentrate.

In my mind, I immediately saw Hermione Granger swishing her wand toward an empty glass and chanting Orangius Strawberius Bananum.*

It didn't work.

*Yes, I'm quite aware that magically creating food is one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration and as such is quite impossible. I still thought it.

Not accident prone, but accident... vulnerable?

I'm not an accident-prone type of guy. I've never broken a bone, I've never been at the wheel during a car accident, I don't drop things all over the floor on a regular basis, and I rarely get sick. Lately, though, I've been wondering if the universe isn't trying to balance things out a bit.
I'll use an example.

A few months ago, my friend dimmi got run over by a motorcycle. Yes, that's right. A motorcycle. (A few of you probably remember this.) We kept hoping for a nice bruise on her leg, since with a story like that you've earned the right to have something to show for it, but nothing really ever showed up. Sure, she was sore for a bit, but looking at her you never would have known it.

By contrast, a week or so later, I was in the front yard at home tossing a frisbee around with my sister just before dinner, one of those Aerobie Superdiscs with the soft plastic edge. Mind, now, this wasn't a grueling game of Ultimate, just an easy game of catch at a distance of no more than 20 feet. We'd been playing for maybe ten minutes when one of her throws was a bit weak and hit my right shin just above the ankle. I thought nothing of it until we went inside 20 minutes later when I discovered a swollen deep-purple bruise the size of my palm spreading up my leg.

Another example. A few nights ago I was having a lot of trouble sleeping. I'd been feeling fine when I sent to bed, but at about 3:00 AM, I decided I'd had enough of not sleeping and got up to get up and get a drink. Before I ever got to the kitchen, my legs gave out on me and I hit the ground. Hard. I caught myself mostly with my head and got an ugly carpet burn all around my right eye.

Has anybody noticed something here? I get monstrous bruises from soft-edged frisbees and get car-crash-worthy head wounds from an attempt to get a glass of water, while dimmi gets run over by a motorcylce and gets nothing to show for it. Is that normal?

I think someone's after me.

The Preposition Game

I've discovered recently that you can find immense fun in prepositions. It's an easy game; simply replace one preposition with another in any common phrase. A few examples follow, but please read aloud. They're about fifteen times funnier that way.

Mike Tyson's Punch-out:

• Mike Tyson's Punch-in
• Mike Tyson's Punch-around
• Mike Tyson's Punch-within
• Mike Tyson's Punch-along

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix:

• Harry Potter and the Order within the Phoenix
• Harry Potter and the Order nearby the Phoenix
• Harry Potter and the Order concerning the Phoenix
• Harry Potter and the Order underneath the Phoenix

Singing in the Rain:

• Singing despite the Rain
• Singing opposite the Rain
• Singing amid the Rain
• Singing to the Rain

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

• The Hitchhiker's Guide onto the Galaxy
• The Hitchhiker's Guide up the Galaxy
• The Hitchhiker's Guide over the Galaxy
• The Hitchhiker's Guide aboard the Galaxy

I invite all my readers to play along. Just click amid the button below.

Note to self: Don't be dumb

I'm realizing that sometimes I have really strong urges do really stupid things. It's the kind of stuff where you know it's not a good idea. There's no question. But something inside me just craves it.

Every day at work, I walk by a certain fire alarm box. I pass it coming from the elevator. I pass it going to the bathroom. I pass it on the way to lunch, and again on the way back. I pass it on the way to the stairs that take me to the vending machine, and on the way back, and when I'm leaving for the day, and at least two other times in the day. And every single time, I want to pull it. A lot. It almost seems like the natural thing to do, just like you flip a light switch when you enter a room. Every time I walk by, I can envision myself reaching out, pulling it down, and continuing on my merry way. It's not that I have a desire to create chaos and havoc; I'm generally a very peaceful, orderly kind of guy. I've never even been toilet-papering. But there something about that fire alarm that tempts me. I constantly have to remind myself that it's not a good idea, that the company would lose tens of thousands of dollars in productivity, and that they'd probably not be too happy with me for it.

Maybe it's just my desire to know what it feels like. How stiff is the spring? At what point does the alarm go off? Is the handle textured so that sweaty hands don't slip? What about after you pull it? Does the lever reset itself? Could it immediately be pulled again, or is there something that physically breaks in order to set off the alarm? All these mysteries are wrapped in a little red box mounted on a wall.

This isn't the only time it happens. Ever since seventh grade, I've had a nagging desire to stick my tongue an electric socket. Just to see what it feels like. I think this started about the same time that I realized you could lick a 9V battery. I know it's a bad idea; one electronics teacher told us that a janitor he knew had lost all use of his arm after a loose staple had short-circuited an outlet when he was trying to remove it. I imagine that licking an electric socket would probably kill me, or at least place me in the hospital for a couple years. But despite it all, I'm curious. I want to know.

They say curiosity killed the cat. I just hope it went out in style.