The Musician

This post poses a much greater risk of revealing my identity than any posted previously on my blog. I'm aware of that. But the story has to be told.

Since 2003, Microsoft has run an annual international competition known as the Imagine Cup. It was initially a software design competition, but has expanded each year such that there are now nine events. A friend of mine heard about their short film competition and decided that he wanted to enter. He's been making movies for years now and does some pretty impressive work.

My friend the "Sea Colonel" (a blatantly false name, I assure you) approached me a few months ago and asked me to write the music for his entry. The Imagine Cup competition rules prohibit the use of copyrighted material without express written permission, which includes all that wonderful music by John Williams, Hans Zimmer, Alan Menken, Howard Shore, etc. If the competitors want to have a soundtrack to their movie, they have to create it themselves. He came up with a few themes and had some ideas for how to use them, but it was up to me to turn those few ideas into a full piano score.

The first round of the competition involved the creation of a storyboard, laying out in quasi-comic-book style the story our team's idea. Of the 365 teams that signed up for the competition, the top thirty storyboards were selected to progress to round two. Our team came out in 12th place worldwide. Round two involves the actual creation of the movie, and as the filming progressed, I began working on the music. A lot of my work couldn't be done until I knew how long each scene would be, so I ended up cramming much of the work into the last two weeks. It's amazing how long it can take to write and transcribe music; one 45-second segment took me two hours from start to finish.

Writing the music was fun. Creating music that matches the mood, story, and timing of the video is a challenge I'd not yet experienced. I felt confident about the music I had written, and was only more so when we arranged for a well-known composer (a relation of the Sea Colonel's) to orchestrate my piano score. The plan was to get a local high school orchestra to record it for us, adding that epic feel to our story. Imagine my excitement when the BYU String Orchestra agreed to perform and record for us. The recording took place about a week ago, and our film has been submitted online. We feel very confident that we'll be selected to progress to the final round.

That, of course, is the coolest part of all. You see, the top six teams get an all-expenses-paid week-long trip to Seoul, South Korea. Wouldn't that be amazing? And yeah, there are some decent cash prizes for the winners, but... South Korea! I might get to go to South Korea just because I wrote some music!

I am so excited.

'Twas the night before Christmas, by Dr. Seuss

As I was packing my things up to move, I ran across some work from my freshman Honors 200 writing class. I'm exceedingly pleased by it. Enjoy!

'Twas the Night Before Christmas


There once was a night
in the house of McGrath
in the land of Gazoogle-Hamona-Gamath.

The night was so quiet,
the clock held its breath
and even the father stopped brushing his teth.

The socks by the fireplace,
hung for St. Nick,
were waiting for presents like Gobbles and Blix.

Children all drembling
asleep in their beds
had large purple fruit fairies inside their heads.

When BLAM! the lawn shouted
and BOOM! the snow roared,
and I jumped up to check that it wasn't a snore.

The white snow was shining
but out on the grax
was a little fat man and nine grumbling Lorax.

Their names he was shouting
and as they were called,
I saw each turn around and flip off the wall.

Flip Bonzer, flip Gooble,
Flip Jangleby-Schnoozle,
Flip Yoddleba-reedlebee-plankavanoozle,

Flip Toral, Flip Quazzit,
Flip Habble-galabble,
Flip Thoble and Ungle, now get yourselves at it!

Then all of them flipped,
and each gave a shout,
and they all flew away with nary a pout.

Tell me you're not smiling. I dare you.

Words

Have you ever noticed that certain words always seem to go with other words? Despite the fact that a word has its own independent meaning, some words seem to be inextricably attached to others.

For example, I challenge you to use the word 'fraught' without continuing on to say 'with danger' or 'with peril'. Do it without sounding awkward or forced. Once you've done that, try 'Duly' without 'noted'. I can't think of a common usage, thought the dictionary suggests some that I've never heard.

A recent home teaching visit brought to light another one. This young lady is getting married shortly, and as we left my companion said "Good luck with finals. Oh, and good luck with the impending marriage." Impending marriage? Doesn't the word 'impending' usually bring along words like 'doom' or 'destruction'?

Heh. I like it.

A thank you note

Sometimes it's really hard to do the right thing, even when you know without any doubt that it's what you need to do.

Sometimes you're really grateful for people who help make it easier.

Thanks.


I'm aware that 99% of my readers won't know what I'm talking about here. If you don't already know, don't bother asking; I'm not going to elaborate any more than this..

Words of the Day update

In an effort to increase perspicaciousness and obfuscation, I have updated my Summer '06 Words of the Day post to include definitions for each.

Go read them, or I'll call you a termagant.

On Buckets

I was talking to Krebscout the other night about relationships. I told her that I really want someone. Krebscout responded that she didn’t really understand that line of thinking:

“[I just don’t understand the idea of wanting] someone, as opposed to wanting a specific someone. To me, that means wanting someone for the wrong reasons. Wanting someone to fill a void or for action or something. I don't like the idea of seeking a boyfriend. I like the idea of going through life making friends until I fall in love with one of them, and then seeking that person, because of the qualities they have.”

I agreed, but I’m not just looking for “action.” It’s something apart from that. I want someone I can love. I want someone I can be with, someone to walk along the path of life with me. I want to be able to give the best of myself wholeheartedly and know that she’ll be happier for it.

It’s like I’ve been carrying around a heavy bucket of love for a year and a half. It’s filled with something wonderful, but I need to share it. Carrying it alone, it’s too much. It weighs on me. I feel it. I need relief. Man and woman are meant to be together, and I’m alone.

I’m trying, though. I’m trying to find my someone. In the past three months, I’ve tried to share that bucket with two different girls. One of them discovered that she’s holding on to another bucket much more tightly than she’d thought, and one of them is wary of bucket-sharing after being hurt by another shared bucket not too long ago. I’ve considered others: one girl has sworn off buckets for the present time, another would have to have very long arms to be able to share my bucket when she goes to Europe this summer, even if she were willing. If I’ve already found my someone, she’s doing a pretty good job of hiding the fact.

I’m not asking for a pity party here. Anyone who knows me in person knows that I’m a happy person. I shocked Lavish to the core the other day when I intimated that I wasn’t having the greatest of days. That’s a rare occurrence. Generally, I’m bounce-off-the-walls happy and optimistic beyond all reason. I’m happy with the way my life’s going. (How could I not be? I write for the Board, I have billions-plus-or-minus-a-few friends, I just got a new job, I’ll see my brother for the first time in four years two months from now, I may win a trip to Korea this summer, and spring is here with its attendant Frisbees and barbecues.)

I just want to share my bucket.

Materialism at its finest

So it's my birthday. Today. While I don't really expect anything for my birthday, I've been thinking that if I were to make a list of things I wanted for my birthday, you could all get a feel for how nerdy I truly am. So, without further ado, I present my birthday list, in order of approximately decreasing likelihood that anyone will actually give it to me.

Coldplay's A Rush of Blood to the Head (Optimistic. won't be giving me this one.) Coldplay's Parachutes (Optimistic. objects only slightly less to this one.)

This really nerdy shirt from xkcd.com

Any of the following Rubik's Cubes: (They're available at the Bookstore)

This LED binary clock from ThinkGeek.

Any of the Star Wars prequel movies on DVD, just to round out my collection. (Widescreen, please.) Any of the Lord of the Rings movies on DVD. (Extended edition and widescreen, please.)

A couple Gamecube controllers for my newly acquired Gamecube.

A television for use with the Gamecube.

An iPod of any variety. I kinda like the green ones, if you're buying.

A tuning for the upright piano in my apartment.

A voucher for a new MacBook once OS X Leopard comes out.

Yep, I think that ought to do. That should fill my materialistic quota for the next century.
Of course, if you're actually considering buying me any of these things, I'm perfectly willing to extend the deadline well beyond the 8th. Just so you know.

Accidentally getting a new job

For the past year and a half or so, I've had a certain on-campus job. It's been a great fit, as I've been paid to do what I've been doing my whole life anyway. I've had great co-workers, (including bismark and Wally III,) great clients, a fun work environment, periodic raises, and pretty much anything I could ask for.

Last summer, I took a break from that job to accept an amazing summer internship in Albuquerque, NM. I lived with my cousins down there, and had a great time. I made some good friends, I made a fair bit of money, and added some very nice-looking lines to my résumé. In all, it was a Good Thing.

A few weeks ago, I decided that I should start looking for an internship for this upcoming summer. My family has a bunch of stuff happening this summer, so I wanted to find something more local. In my searchings, I found a post on the Computer Science department job board for an internship at a very well-known company with an office in Provo. I had actually applied at this company last year, so I knew I was interested. The deadline to apply was that Sunday, so on Saturday morning I polished up my résumé and sent in a copy.

Remember, now, this is all on a Saturday.

Within two hours, I received a phone call from a lady in their HR department:

HR Lady: "I just received your application, and I noticed that you wrote on your résumé that you're looking for a summer internship."
Yellow: Yes, that's right.
HR Lady: Well, this position isn't actually for a summer internship; we're looking to fill the position immediately. Would you still be interested?

My initial reaction was to say no. After all, my on-campus job was much more convenient, they treated me well, and they'd even given me a raise just earlier that week. I wasn't out looking for a new job; I liked the one I had. In the end, though, I decided that it wouldn't hurt to apply for the position, so I told her I was still possibly interested, on the condition that they would be willing to work around my class schedule. I could make the final decision later.

About three hours later, I received another call. Again, this is Saturday. Who works on Saturday?

HR Lady: I've just talked to the manager for this internship, and he says he'd be willing to work around your schedule.
Yellow: Oh really? Great!
HR Lady: He'd like to meet with you; do you have time Monday at 10, 11, 2, or 3, or Tuesday at 11, 12, or 1. Would any of those work for you?

I told her I could meet with him on Tuesday at 11. (Yes, I skipped devotional, people. I'm a horrible, wicked person. I know.) I went in, interviewed with a couple different people, and by the end of Tuesday, I had a new job. And I started looking by accident.

Life's just crazy.

Excitement

Dear world,

I love the snow. As I wandered out to my kitchen at 7:55 AM today, I glanced out the window. It's been so bitterly cold without any fun weather for much too long, so when I saw snow falling from the sky in a veritable snow shower, I was really excited. As in, I did a little dance of joy right there in my kitchen.

I am so excited.

-Yellow

Why my brother is awesome

My brother is, without question, the most amazingly cool kid on the face of the planet. He's currently serving a mission in southern Brazil and, like most missionary families, we receive e-mails from him more or less weekly. Usually they're quite focused on the missionary work, but this last week's e-mail also included a brief look into P-Day life. I quote:

And now for a P-day report. Well, they dont have legos down here in Brazil so I am out of luck. At least I thought so. Then I found a flashlight that uses a solar panel to charge the battery and two broken cellphones in the office. I cut the phones up today and got the little vibrating motors out. Then I broke the flashlight in half to get the solar panel out. And after a couple of hours cutting up erasers for wheels and wiring everything together, I made a solar hotwheels car that really works. I put it out in the sun and the two wheels in the front just start to turn. When the sun goes behind a cloud and the car doesnt have power, I just pull out a mirror and shine more sun on it to go faster. Isnt that awesome. Its almost better than legos. And it doesnt use any batteries. Anyways, I thought that you guys might think that was pretty cool.

That is why my brother is awesome.

Love, or something like it

Are you ready for it? For the story? This isn't just any story you're about to hear. This story is a bit like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir weekly broadcast; it started a long, long time ago, and there is no end in sight. Or at least, there wasn't.

On the first day of 2nd grade, my teacher told us that 2nd grade was the year of "puppy love." She prophesied that each of us, at some time during the year, would find ourselves in this "puppy love." We all laughed, of course, at such a ridiculous proposition. She was right. Halfway through the year, I sat at a table with Amy.* Amy was an actress. A good one, at that. When combined with her natural smile, that was enough to hook me. I was, as predicted, in puppy love.

It didn't end in 2nd grade, though. In fact, it didn't end in 3rd grade either. Nor in 4th, 5th, or 6th. This may have been puppy love, but it sure was a persistent puppy love. And, while in 7th and 8th grade I also had a bit of a crush on Julie*, Amy was still high on the list.

Just as 8th grade was ending, my family moved away from that area, and Amy's father was called to be a mission president in Europe. It was pretty apparent that we wouldn't be seeing much of each other for the next few years. I'd liked her for quite a while, and though I don't know that I was ever her biggest crush, I'm pretty sure she'd at least somewhat liked me too. I was sad to see her go. Over time, though, I moved on. I met a couple girls at my new school that I really liked, and slowly stopped thinking much about Amy.

Or so I thought. Just when Amy was just about gone from my mind, I had a dream that I was at my brother's track meet (none of my brothers were in track at the time) in the bleachers. In my dream, I turned around and saw Amy there. I was excited to see her in my dream, and I went to talk to her for a few minutes. When I woke up, I was back in love (or something like it).

A few months passed, and had again basically moved on. I went to Seminary one day, where we were talking about the importance of prophets. The teacher showed a brief video, and one of the principal characters in the video was played by Amy. I walked out of class back in love.

Another time, the local newspaper ran an article in the Arts section featuring Amy. I was back in love. Another time I met someone who had met Amy while on his European mission. I was back in love. It just didn't stop. Every time I had just about forgotten all about her, something random would happen to remind me of her, and I was back in love (or something like it). When Amy's family returned home from Europe, I called her up and asked her on a date. We honestly had a wonderful time together; it was one of the most enjoyable dates of my life to that point. However, when we both came to BYU, she started dating another guy, and we had a slightly hurtful (to me) exchange, so I tried to move on. But it still didn't stop.

And let me be clear. It really didn't stop. I went on my mission, and one in one of the first Sunday School lessons I attended, the seminary video was shown. That threw me way out of whack. There's a full two-and-a-half pages in my journal about my feelings that day. It really affected me. But that wasn't the end. A few months later, I moved to a new area and lived with a missionary who had known Amy while living in Europe. A few months later, I moved to another new area and picked up a month-old copy of the Church News (which we received periodically). Inside was a story about a new play they were doing in Nauvoo for younger children. The star? Amy.

This last summer I lived in Albuquerque with my cousins. I hadn't thought of Amy in nearly 7 months, when I had a dream about her. In my dream, we crossed paths at a BYU event, I offered to walk her home, and somehow we ended up on a double date to a play at Abravanel Hall. And we were having a food fight. I woke up thoroughly in love. It. Just. Never. Stops. It's been so persistent that I've on occasion wondered if there were some divine purpose behind it. It's just uncanny. The Amy saga has been one of the defining plot lines of my life. Which is why what you're about to read is so momentous.

A few weeks back, I took one of the female writers out to Cafe Rio. This was our first date, and I was anxious for everything to go well, since I'd been interested in her for a number of months, and arranging a date with her had been a complex affair. We were standing in line, laughing and generally enjoying ourselves, when I turned to see Amy walk in with a date and get in line not far from us. I hadn't seen Amy in nearly four years, and our last actual exchange had been a bit unpleasant, to be honest. I had an idealized version of her living in my head, and I knew it. The meeting of the idealized and the real was about to take place, an event worthy of intense music and hushed silence, and I was on a date I'd been anticipating for weeks. Could things be any worse?

"Amy!" I said, as the line wrapped us around next to them.
"Yellow? How are you?"
"I'm doing well. How are you? I haven't seen you in forever!"

As we continued with the usual "hi, how are you" talk, I realized something. I was over her. It didn't affect me in the least to see her there. My date and I continued our way through line, have a great meal, and a wonderful evening. We've gone on other dates since then, and things seem to be going well.

Amy, I'm glad you're back. I hope to see you around. But, at last, I'm fallen out of love, or something like it.

* Names have been changed to protect privacy.

Words of the Day, Summer '06

Over the summer I worked as an intern at an engineering firm. I had my own little cubicle with a phone, drawers, and a whiteboard. Unfortunately, I really had almost no use for any of the above, as I spent most of my time on the computer helping on others' projects. Deciding to break up the monotony, my fellow intern cube-neighbor and I decided to implement a Word of the Day, which was proudly displayed on both whiteboards for all to see. Now, you get to read them too.

• Defenestrate: To throw out a window
• Antidisestablishmentarianism: Commonly, the state of being against the separation of church and state
• Juxtaposition: Placing two things in close proximity for contrasting effect
  
• Postprandial: Relating to the time after a meal
• Ennui: A long-lasting boredom and dissatisfaction
  
• Thaumaturge: A magician
  
• Deflagrate: To burn with intense heat and sparks
• Stultiloquy: Silly babbling
  
• Ephemeron: Something that exists only for a brief moment
  
• Mugwump: Someone who remains aloof on important issues
  
• Venal: Susceptible to bribery
  
• Flagitious: Criminal or villainous
  
• Numismatic: Relating to money, especially metallic currency
  
• Cachinnatory: Characterized by loud laughter
  
• Paronomasia: A play on words; a pun
  
• Termagant: A harsh-tempered or overbearing woman
  
• Obfuscate: To render unintelligible or difficult to understand
  
• Boondoggle: A pointless task that falsely appears to be of some value
  
• Yegg: A safecracker. (You know, like in The Italian Job.)
  
• Bloviate: To speak pompously.
  
• Festinate: To hurry or rush
  
• Mattoid: A borderline psychopath
  
• Oppugn: To question the validity of
  
• Hirsute: Hairy
  
• Multifarious: Of many varied types
  
• Hebetude: The state of being dull or lethargic
  
• Nescience: Lack of knowledge
  
• Nefarious: Wicked or criminal, usually referring to an action
  
• Plebian: Commonplace; of the common people
  
• Fustigate: To beat or punish severely
• Conurbation: An area in which numerous cities run together without any clear boundaries between them
  
• Deray: Disorder; merriment
  
• Germane: Relevant, pertinent
  
• Obnubilate: To cloud over; to becloud
  
• Blithe: Showing a cheerful indifference considered to be improper or inappropriate
  
• Skullduggery: unscrupulous behavior; trickery
  
• Supercilious: Haughtily disdainful or contemptuous
  
• Surreptitious: Done or made by stealth
  
• Mellifluous: Sweetly or smoothly flowing
  
• Peremptory: Leaving no opportunity for denial or refusal; imperative
  
• Inveigh: To protest strongly or attack vehemently with words
  
• Fatuous: Foolish or inane; silly
  
• Arrogate: To claim without proper warrant
  
• Perspicacious: Having keen mental perception and understanding
  
• Supposititious: Fraudulently substituted or pretended; spurious
  

And if, by any chance, you find this a supercilious attempt to bring peremptory attention to my striking supposititious lack of hebetude and nescience, I suggest you find yourself some skullduggery, you mulifarious bloviating yegg.

A question

Have you ever really hurt someone emotionally through carelessness, and then felt absolutely sick over it?

Have you ever worried you would lose a friend because of something you did, even though you still really treasure the friendship?

Have you ever wished you could go back and undo what you did?

I have.

Welcome to the Magical Kingdom

Friday night, (well, it was Friday night when I started this post, so now that's about three weeks ago,) Laser Jock and I took dates to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas concert, featuring Norwegian singer Sissel. The music was absolutely incredible, and I highly recommend everyone find a copy of Sissel's "Like an Angel Passing Through My Room." It's breathtakingly beautiful. Really. Search for Sissel listen on Google, and click the first link. It's right there. Go. You won't regret it.

As we made our way toward the exits of the Conference Center after the concert, I looked outside and saw that it was snowing. I was happy. Very happy. Inordinately happy, in fact. You might not believe how excited I get about snow. Fortunately for you, I'm going to tell you all about it.

There’s something magical about looking out the window and seeing thousands of snowflakes falling from the sky. Looking outside and seeing the world transform right in front of your eyes is a bit like watching Tinkerbell sprinkle pixie dust over the ship and seeing it fly away. It’s the same old ship underneath, but suddenly it’s so much more.

When I was back in Elementary School, snow meant snowmen, snowball fights, and sledding in our own front yard. Just looking outside and seeing the world turn white gave me a thrill, and I still haven’t lost that feeling. There are things you just can’t do without snow, things that I love. Have you ever skied down a mountain covered in fresh powder and laughed for joy at the rush? Have you ever snowmobiled to the top of a peak and marveled at the view? Have you ever noticed how beautiful a girl can be when little snowflakes lie nestled in her hair? Have you ever made a snow angel just for the fun of it, even though it never ends up looking anything like an angel? Have you ever tried to catch snowflakes on your tongue, even though they’re so small that you usually can’t tell when you’ve caught one? There are so many simple pleasures of life in the winter to enjoy that I hardly know where to begin.

There’s a peaceful feeling that comes with a new snowfall. Suddenly, everything is calm and silent. The world is hushed, almost in reverence. The first lasting snowfall usually comes right around Christmas, and I find that taking a long walk in falling or freshly fallen snow draws my mind to pondering. I begin to marvel at the Creation brought about by our Father and his Son. The delicate snowflakes and exquisite crystalline icicles humble me. Here am I, a student at a well-respected school of higher learning, and I can’t even draw a decent snowflake, much less create one. The intricacies involved in the world around us fascinate me, and I feel greater love for my Father in Heaven.

Welcome to the Magical Kingdom. I hope you all enjoy it.

The Impossible Dream

Get ready for a long one, folks.

There are some books, plays, and movies that, I might say, "redefine" my view of the world. When I first see / read them they don't seem to apply much to my life. They often are interesting or entertaining, but I just don't see much of myself in any of the characters. However, in the days afterwards, I begin to see things in a new light that I had never before considered.

I just added a play to this category today. Over Thanksgiving break I saw "The Man of La Mancha" at Hale Center Theater in West Valley City with my family. I enjoyed it, and especially liked the Spanish guitar that intermittently accompanied the actors. I didn't, however, really see how the ideals presented had application to my life. Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Don Quixote is the deranged but optimistic alter ego of Spanish gentleman Alonso Quijana, who has gone mad. Championing virtues of chivalry, courage, bravery, and honor, Quixote gallantly attacks giants, seeks proper knighting, and courts the high lady Dulcinea. (In reality, he charges against a windmill, is knighted by the local tavern keeper, and "courts" the local wench Audanza.) Near the end of the play, Quijana comes to his senses and forsakes the idealistic views of Don Quixote. We then see, however, that Quixote's idealistic views, (which have nothing to do with reality,) have actually inspired hope and happiness in the lives of those formerly hopeless.

The main anthem from the play is "The Impossible Dream." Many have heard the song, but few actually understand the phrase. Many use it to describe perfectly possible things, such as better technology or an underdog sports team hoping to take the championship. Dale Wasserman, the writer of the play, said the following:

When I see these references – and I see them every day – my impulse is to holler, “Pay attention, ...the operative word is not ‘dream,’ the operative word is ‘impossible!’”

Of course no one listens. But “impossible” is exactly what I meant: the dream, to be valid, must be impossible. Not just difficult. Impossible. Which implies an ideal never attainable but nevertheless stubbornly to be pursued. A striving for what cannot be achieved but still is worth the effort. As, for instance, peace on earth. Or a gentleness for all who breathe, and breathing, suffer. Or a hope that we may mitigate the horrors paraded for us on the news every hour of every day of every week. That we may reduce the tidal surge of wars, crimes, cruelties to humans and to animals, and the orgies of atrocities that sicken the earth.

These are impossible dreams. Still, quixotically, they must be dreamed.

The impossible dream. The things we hope and strive and fight for, no matter how impossible they are. As I was watching the play, I couldn't identify any truly impossible dreams in my life. I have my pursuits, but they're usually quite achievable. So the play, I thought, was good but just didn't really speak to me.

Then I started seeing with new eyes. A (quite pleasant) conversation with a certain girl heretofore known as M finally put an end to my above-average interest in her. Though I was a bit disappointed, closure on the issue is nice. I've been holding out hope for a while, but I think it's time to move on, and now that I know how she feels, it's easier to do so.

There's only one problem, though. I find myself not wanting to let go. I know she's not interested. I know I need to concentrate elsewhere and not be stuck in the past. But I don't want to. It's like my own impossible dream. In fact, as I look back on my life, I realize that somewhere inside of me is a need to have an impossible dream. I like having something I can't reach, but hope for nonetheless. This quixotic optimism has defined a lot of my life. In 8th grade, back when I sat at the very bottom of the social totem pole, I had a major crush on one of the cutest girls in the school, Jenny. In high school, I had impossible dreams named Kati, Michelle, Jenna, and others. There were girls that liked me back then, and some I even liked in return. One I dated for a time. But overall, I couldn't stop myself from striving after the unachievable. And now I'm doing it again. I need to find a few dreams that are a bit more "possible."

Yes, my impossible dreams are all female. Do you have a problem with that?

A can of alphabet soup

The semester before my mission, I began to realize that I'm a bit of a human dictionary. I can't always define a word, but if I've ever heard a word chances are pretty good that I can spell it. It's not really a conscious thing, though. If I try to think about how a word is spelled, I'll have trouble with it. However, if I just turn off my brain and rattle off a series of letters, chances are very good that it will be correct.

A few weeks ago, I began seeing posters around campus for a BYU Spelling Bee. Having fond memories of elementary school spelling bees, I decided to sign up. In fact, I got really excited about it. All my co-workers and friends knew where I would be that night.

As the night of the Spelling Bee arrived, myself and ten other contestants showed up. After a few rounds spelling words such as "dog" and "kaleidescope", the contestants were narrowed down to two. I and one girl remained. We were very equally matched, sparring back and forth for a number of rounds.

The rules declared that in order be declared champion, the winner had to both win the final round and correctly spell one last championship word. Both of us had reached the championship word a few times, only to misspell by one letter. I was especially disappointed to misspell "ursprache", since I had run across it in my perusals of spelling bee lists just earlier that day. ("Ersprache" is not correct, in case you were wondering.)

Finally, the judges declared the elimination of the championship word in order to finish the spelling bee at a reasonable hour. My opponent, (whose name I would give if I could remember it,) managed to best me the next round, and was thus declared the winner.

This was actually okay, though. The first prize was a factory-sealed game of Scrabble. Second place received a can of alphabet soup. I already have Scrabble. I did not, however, have a single can of alphabet soup. So in the end, things all worked out for the best. Congratulations to whatever-her-name-is that won. You did great.

It must be time to find some new writers.

P.S. To the girl whose name I can't remember: Congratulations. You did great, and it was a lot of fun. I look forward to a rematch next year.

Christmas in November

Santa Claus came to town last week. I hope none of you missed him.

I was over at Optimistic.'s apartment a couple weeks ago and started playing on his roommate's very nice electric piano. As a life-long pianist and near-miss Piano Performance major, I like to play the piano just about any chance I get. After playing some great William Joseph music that Optimistic.'s roommate had for a while, I was thoroughly in love with pianos again.

So I did what any self-respecting kid would do. I called up Santa Claus (aka Dad) in a nearby Utah town and asked if I could have the now-unused piano at their place moved down here for the year. I even offered to help pay for the moving. It was an offer that Santa simply couldn't refuse.

So now I have a piano in my apartment. A real, live*, Steinway and Sons upright piano. And I love it. Honestly, I've been bouncing around like a little kid on December 25th at about 6:58 AM. It's great. The first day I had it, Uffish Thought and Novel Concept came over to enjoy. I pulled out my Billy Joel piano book and started playing. Before long, we were all singing along, and Novel Concept was draped along the top of the piano like you'd expect to see in a Jazz bar.

Jingle Bells... Jingle Bells...

*Well, not really live...

GoogleFest

Last night Brooklyn, Dimmi, and I went up to Park City to watch The Trials of Darryl Hunt, part of the Sundance Documentary series. Dimmi already wrote a great summary of the experience, so I won't bother reviewing that. Suffice it to say that we had a great time and that it was a very eye-opening experience to racism, unfairness, and prejudice in the US today, both in North Carolina (the locale of the film) and in our own lives. But that's not the point of this post.

On the way up, we were trying to contact someone that could give us exact directions to the Park City Library when Dimmi mentioned that you can send a text to GOOGL (46645) and get driving directions to any destination, along with lots of other information. We ended up getting hold of one of Brooklyn's friends, so we didn't have to use Google, but we were still impressed that it was possible.

After the show, Brooklyn saw a couple of her friends, so we met up with them. We eventually made our way outside and talked for a bit. Brooklyn remembered what Dimmi had showed us about Google and started telling her friends about it. We all ended up talking about the amazing things that Google does for about ten minutes. The producer of the movie walked past us on her way out and probably felt like she'd been a total failure; ten minutes after the show we're not even thinking about it.

Then it hit us. There we were, a group of five college students standing in the cold Park City air at 10:00 PM raving about Google for minutes on end.

What more could they ask for?

Intuation

Dear Readers,

As recompense for your patience in waiting for an update, I have a marvelous story for you all. Seriously. It's wonderful. It might even make up for the delay.

A couple days before Halloween, I received a phone call from a couple girls in my FHE group last year. Instead of starting off with the usual "Hello, how are you," she sang the following á la Chicago:

You're the meaning in my life
You're my intuation...

I immediately broke out in laughter. There's a whole story behind that inside joke.

Last year, I had a friend from Salt Lake down at my apartment. We were just about to begin a game of Rummikub when my cell phone rang. Looking at my phone, I saw an (801) number that I didn't recognize. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Hello?
Girl with fake, breathy accent: Is Brant there?
Me: Brant? Do you mean [insert Yellow's proper first name here, which is vaguely similar to Brant, but not terribly so.]
Girl with fake accent: No. Is Brant there?
Me: Umm... If you don't mean [insert Yellow's name], then I don't know who you're looking for. Are you sure you have the right number?
Girl with fake accent: [Insistently] Is Brant there?
Me: Umm... No.
Girl with fake accent: Can you take a message?
Me: [Figuring that something weird is going on] ...Sure.
Girl with fake accent: Good. Do you have a pen?
Me: Sure.
Girl with fake accent: All right. It's a singing message.
Me: A singing message?
Girl with fake accent: Yes. Here it is. [Hands phone to friend.]
Singing Girl: [Singing to the tune of Chicago's "You're my Inspiration"]

You're the meaning in my life,
You're the inspiration.
You bring feeling to my life,
You're the inspiration.

Me: Okay...
Girl with fake accent: Did you get it?
Me: I think so, yes.
Girl with fake accent: Sing it back to me.
Me: What???
Girl with fake accent: Sing it back to me!

(I should mention at this point that my friend was looking on very curiously, being able to hear bits of the conversation due to the phone's volume.)

Me: I don't think I can. I don't think I can get the accent right.
Girl with fake accent: Would you like to hear it again?
Me: Umm... sure.
Girl with fake accent: Okay. [Hands phone to Singing Girl, who repeats her performance]
Girl with fake accent: Did you get it?
Me: I think so.
Girl with fake accent: Well, then read it back to me.
Me: ...Okay. [Reads the lyrics back]
Girl with fake accent: No, no, no. Listen carefully. [Passes the phone to Singing Girl again]
Singing Girl:

You're the meaning in my life,
You're my intuation...

Me: Intuation???
Girl with fake accent: Yes. It's a Slavic word. I am from Slovakia.
Me: [Seriously doubting that Girl is from Slovakia] Oh. I see.
Girl with fake accent: Did you get the rest of it?
Me: [Giving up on trying to make any sense of this phone call] Nope. I guess you'd better sing it again.
Singing Girl:

You're the meaning in my life,
You're my intuation.
You're the meaning in my life,
You're my dispensation.

Me: You're my dispensation???
Girl with fake accent: Yes. Are you LDS?
Me: [What in the world???] Yes.......
Girl with fake accent: I am LDS too. Thanks for asking.

After the call was over, I pulled out my laptop to do a reverse phone lookup on the phone number. Unfortunately, I was only able to discover that it was a Provo-based cell phone provided by Sprint. I looked through our ward directory and was likewise frustrated. I have no idea who called me.

The following Monday, I told my FHE group the story. They all laughed about it, and a couple of the girls even volunteered to call the number and try to figure out who it was. They tried, but we were never able to figure it out. It remains a mystery to this day. A hilarious mystery.

Dear Girl with Fake Accent,

If you're reading this, thank you. You have no idea how many scores of people have laughed because of your phone call that night.

-Yellow

Be not faithless, but be believing

Dear readers,

Have faith. An update is coming soon.

-Yellow