Matt: Writing

Havasupai

2011-08-26T03:47:00.002-05:00

Took a trip to the Havasupai Indian Reservation in the Grand Canyon last weekend with a couple friends. A camera obviously can't do the place justice, but hopefully you get an idea for how incredibly unique and beautiful this place is.

Hobby #1

2011-06-30T16:21:00.004-05:00

Maybe it's not so much a hobby as it is a necessary natural bodily function. If you know me well you know I can't burp. I just can't. Semi-annually a mini burp sneaks up on me; it's a big deal celebrated with a mass text to friends, a call to my mom, a redbox movie, and a steak dinner.

This, I've decided, is my summer. My summer to unite myself with the other 7 billion humans on Earth, and learn to burp.

But I can't go it alone. I'll need your support, some guidance, and maybe a prayer.

now and future

2011-06-29T04:47:00.007-05:00

I admitted my graduation. Now a follow up confession: I miss school. I know, I'm sick. It's just that grad school overwhelmed my life for two years unlike anything else--'cept my mission--and I've realized I'm not over it. Though I was stressed, sleep deprived, without friends, and conscious thanks only to a steady diet of fast food and Diet Coke, I feel like I actually miss the insane amount of reading and writing. I plan to apply for a PhD program within the year.

The crazy thing is that a PhD in anthropology takes an average of seven+ years.

Meanwhile, I have a job. I conduct research, evaluating a statewide initiative that involves school readiness for young kids. I travel throughout Northern Arizona and interview stakeholders and parents. I analyze what they tell me and help compose reports and provide suggestions to the state. I am an applied anthropologist and feel lucky to have a job in my field, but frankly, I'm bored. I'm not motivated by educational anthropology and selfishly can't wait to get back to researching topics directly in line with my interests and curiosities.

Which are what? Food and... well, mostly just food. Producing it, processing it, distributing it, and of course, eating it.

Most of the last year was spent developing my thesis, which focused primarily on the relationship between food and cultural identification. My work was based on insights from an internship I conducted last summer at an urban farm for migrants and refugees in San Diego. I would like to continue similar work and eventually teach anthropology at a university.

Arizona has been good to me and I'll enjoy another year here. Come Fall 2012 though, I'll happily move on. Oregon, Hawaii, Indiana? Shoot, I'll join any program that wants me! (hopefully some program out there will...). Until then I plan to fill my free time with a pile of new hobbies that I haven't thought of yet. Suggestions?

return

2011-06-18T12:33:00.004-05:00

I think I'm ready to emerge from retirement. But only to report two things: 1) I graduated (please call me "master" from here on out); and 2) I impulsively bought a ticket to Bangkok last night. I leave October 12 for three weeks and tentatively plan to wander around Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. And I haven't told my boss.

omg lol

2011-02-12T19:51:00.005-06:00

My brother in-law Josh, generously gifted me a Blackberry Pearl for Christmas. Even though I am still deconstructing its complexities I have not slowed my texting habit. This past week alone I sent the following (inappropriate) text messages to the wrong people:

1. "I am still so grossed out that Dougie sampled your lady milk." (sorry emily w.)

2. "ROADTRIP!" (sorry nikki s.)

3. "I wish you were a treasure troll too." (sorry matt m.)

4. "Oh heeeey boo." (sorry bishop walton)

Love?

2011-02-08T23:44:00.007-06:00

The following scene occurred last Sunday at an after-church activity at the bishop's house:

I am eating and half zoned out but catch a girl staring at me. We do the awkward "look-away-and-pretend-it-never-happened" routine, but it happens several more times. Some time passes, I finish a conversation with a friend, and StareGirl approaches me.

Me: Hey

StareGirl: Okay. I don't really know how to talk to people. Well, about anything other than books. So, do you like to read?

Me: Uh?..

Looks like I found a Valentine's date! jk.

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

2011-01-16T20:10:00.001-06:00

Sir, You Left Something in the Pool

2010-11-17T20:39:00.005-06:00

It's a cold night in Flagstaff, and I'm in the library dreaming of a sunny beach. I am reminded of a tale. It's no mystery that I enjoy a tan. Before you snarl and cast me aside like some orange, sun (bed) worshiping cast member of the Jersey Shore, keep in mind that even though I may lay in the (real) sun from time to time I do so safely (if there's such a thing). The day I'm about to tell you about is when my love affair with sunscreen began.

After a trip through Sonora, Mexico, a group of friends and I ended up in Phoenix for a couple days of R&R at one of their apartments. One afternoon, relaxed and reading by the pool, we were joined by a feeble old man with a wobbly gait. To our fright the old man disrobed revealing an itty bitty black Speedo and bones draped in paper thin skin; skin draped in shoddily placed Band-Aids; Band-Aids almost hiding open, oozing sores.

"No problem," I thought, "I can handle this." Right? Sure I might be a borderline gerontaphobe, germaphobe, agoraphobe, agliophobe, opensoreaphobe, and publicpoolaphobe but I remained composed. Until, that is, he jumped in the pool and at least one Band-Aid crept its way from the old man's hyde into the water. There in the pool bathed the old man, publicly cleansing the ooze from his mystery wounds. And there poolside, me, cringing, sweating, panicking.

Satisfied, the old man retired. Walking toward his lounge chair, he crossed in front of me, stopped, took note of my UV overdose, reattached a loose Band-Aid, and said, "You'd better be careful or you'll end up looking like me."

Terrified and speechless, I stole Kimmy's bottle of CopperTone SPF 70 and finished the thing off.

ZOMBIE USA

2010-10-31T16:17:00.000-05:00

A peak at the First Annual Flagstaff Zombie Flesh Crawl:

Zombie business

2010-10-13T01:05:00.005-05:00

Looking for the undead details and updates? Here's the new Flagstaff thread on the official site.

Read Me:

2010-10-11T17:28:00.006-05:00

In need of a mind blow? Here it is. Fadiman's ethnographic, historical, and journalistic combo will leave you questioning biomedical practitioners, the significance of ethnomedicine and alternative methods of healing, non-western concepts of health and illness, and the history of the Hmong and their contributions to America. "The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down" is disturbing, enlightening, and unforgettable. I love medical anthropology.

Flagstaff Zombie Flesh Crawl

2010-10-08T21:30:00.007-05:00

EVERY cool city has an annual zombie walk/fest/march/crawl event around Halloween time. To my knowledge Flagstaff is the exception. Until 2010, that is.

Ladies, gentlemen, and zombies,
Let it be know that today marks the birth of the Annual Flagstaff Zombie Flesh Crawl.

WHAT: Zombie walk through Downtown, followed by Zombie Ball in the square/food drive for St. Mary's Food Bank
WHEN: Friday, October 29, 2010 @ 5:00 p.m.
WHERE: Heritage Square, Downtown Flagstaff
WHO: All living dead and fans thereof. Individuals, friends, children, families, grandparents, dogs, etc.
WHY: Because Halloween in Flag needs a jump start, everyone needs an excuse to get their zombie on, Flag food banks need community support, and Zombies make life worth living, or not.

If you have any advice, concerns, etc., PLEASE let me know! I need your help.
See you in the square!

Part II

2010-09-27T18:23:00.004-05:00

Here they are folks. I apologize for leaving you so long without so much as a glimpse of Trish's beflared orange Crocs. Now you can bask in their glory. You're welcome.

Summer Affair

2010-09-05T21:12:00.006-05:00

There is no way I will be able to capture the treasure trough that is my dear friend *Trish, but I simply cannot keep her to myself any longer. I met her in San Diego at the New Roots Farm. Trish lives across the street, has a plot at the farm, and grows a very handsome carrot. Within a week of meeting her I knew we had something special and I told her so. She proposed that we get to know each other on a more intimate level, and I consented. It all happened so fast; butterflies were swarming in my gut when she invited me over to her place, I hopped into bed, took a few deep breaths, and she whispered, "Are you ready?" "Yes", I responded, "I think I am." And so it happened, there was no turning back, my mind was made up. Trish reached her hand under the sheet, tickled me, rubbed me just right, then bluntly asked, "Do you have diarrhea?"

I guess those weren't butterflies.

Never have I revealed the inner workings of my mind and soul and er, bowels so quickly. With Trish however, it all flowed like clockwork, via my feet. You see, Trish is no ordinary woman, she is my foot reflexologist.

It started as an orange glow slowly creeping toward me. The glow steadily took shape and I could see that it wasn't a hovering orb, rather a woman. No, not just any old woman, a rosy-cheeked, stocky, 40-something woman dressed in an orange shirt, orange fleece vest, orange hat, and best of all, bright orange Crocs. She greeted me, I said, "Good morning", she said, "Well it's okay, but I just found out I'm allergic to red and yellow food dyes so I can't eat any of my favorite foods anymore. Isn't it ironic how red and yellow make orange. That means I can't eat cheese or Cheetos. And I am STARVING." From that moment on our relationship blossomed.

During my first foot reflexology session my feet revealed to Trish that I have persistent neck and shoulder pains, childhood trauma, an irritable bowel, anxiety being alone, sinus congestion, a fever, a severe learning disability, and my most favorite ailment of all, an itchy anus. I disagreed to most of what she read but I was constantly reminded that, "Feet don't lie." Lying or not, my feet were definitely talking. So much in fact that my energy was finding its way into Trish's body and releasing itself in the form of burps, sneezes, and "toots." Classy, Trish.

My problems might sound drastic but at least I'm not Trish who confessed to having an even more severe learning disability, stubborn yeast infections, lines consistent with homosexuality, anxiety, rheumatoid arthritis, back, shoulder, neck and hip pain, teeth and gums "issues", etc., etc.

Speaking of those lines, Trish is "not gay", in fact she recently subscribed to a dating website in hopes of finding Mr. Right. Fair enough, but "feet don't lie", right? Besides, "What's so wrong with taking a bath with your best friend. It'd be a shame to run a whole bath for just one body." Said she. Trust me, I didn't let this one slip by. Forgive my prudence and possible naivete, but bathing with one's bf is not normal, is it?

Trish is one of my favorite people from summer 2010. She knows more about me than I'm comfortable with, but somehow her incessant talking and offering of TMI without any probing on my end is what makes her so darned likable.

*name has been changed

How To Be Alone

2010-08-20T01:32:00.000-05:00

Roomie knows I like to see the occasional movie alone so she sent me the link to this video. I like it.

New Roots

2010-08-04T03:23:00.008-05:00

Friends and food at the farm:

Click on collage to enlarge

*Note the photo of the couple sitting on the ground was taken by my friend Ellie Jeffers. She knows what's up in the photo world.

"Man, I Haven't Written in Forever!"

2010-08-04T01:36:00.010-05:00

Finding motivation to blog post-India has proved difficult. I don't keep a journal. I'm terrible at it; an unfortunate flaw in an aspiring anthropologist. On a recent trip to visit family and friends in Oregon, I looked through a series of journals that I filled about an eighth of each. It was difficult to read past the first sentence of most entries, they all began the same way: "Man, I haven't written in forever!" or, "I'm sorry I haven't written in so long, I'll try harder!" Sick. My collection of mostly empty lackluster journals make me out to be something comparable to a chronic New Year's resolution failure. Basically I do not want to be remembered by what I unfortunately chose to write-- or didn't. Anyway, this isn't the topic I want to write about tonight, I just want to apologize 'cause, man, I haven't written in forever!

But I do have excuses! I've been busy. And I have had a mostly interesting and somewhat fun summer. I feel like serving you an update in one of those drawn-out Christmas card style lists. Merry Christmas!

-I currently live in San Diego, CA
-Intern at a nonprofit refugee aid organization called the International Rescue Committee
-Work in Food Security and Community Health Department, spend most of my time at an urban farm where 80 refugee families have taken charge of their own food systems
-Though they have taught me everything I know about farming, I get to "help" the farmers care for, harvest, package, market, and sell produce
-Conducting research on food security, diet change, and refugee identity
-Work Monday through Friday 8 to 8
-Growing my own garden with the help of good friend Shelleybot
-I love farming and think my destined route involves the anthropology of food and nutrition
-Discovered my inner carnie while working at the San Diego County Fair selling Mexican food over July 4th weekend, plus a few other days. Nutrition, I learned, does not exist at county fairs. Deep fried butter anyone (yes, the photo is real)? How about chocolate covered bacon?
-Three Disneyland trips
-Two Huntington Beach trips. One to reunite with my long lost baby brother
-A new love for wakeboarding
-Ocean kayaking
-Went home to Oregon for a few days: hiked, ate, saw fam and friends, biked, attended a fantastic wedding and boogied into the night
-Undergoing foot reflexology: "Feet DON'T Lie." Awkward, hilarious, and not life changing (a cache of details to come. Eventually.)
-Bikram Yoga: Life changing. Seriously

Not Possible

2010-06-11T01:22:00.002-05:00

Taj Mania

2010-06-08T01:48:00.002-05:00

Changes colors throughout the day:

Bollywood Train

2010-06-07T10:00:00.002-05:00

Place: Goa Express train. Hour: 19. Hours remaining: 29. Final destination: Agra.

India, a country one-third the size of the United States is home to 1.5 BILLION people. Although we chose the hottest month to visit, a month that sees very few tourists, we failed to realize that May is also India's holiday month. 1.5 billion people very easily fill all of the country's trains and buses every day, let alone during Indian holiday. We very quickly learned an important lesson about domestic travel in India: book ahead.

Even though we were sold tickets aboard the Goa Express, we were not sold confirmed seats. No seats. 48 hours. At this particular hour we were seated--me on a stack of sheets and Kimmy on her backpack--in the toilet compartment between train cars.

Temperature: approximately 115 Fahrenheit. Kimmy: confused and sweaty. Me: tired and sweatier. The smell: dehydrated curry-laced urine. The surroundings: a mustachioed rail employee is shoved and screamed at by a younger, louder, angrier, passenger.

When chaos erupted we played it cool and casually observed the drama, as if it were just another scene from a typical 19-hour Bollywood film. Though I secretly feared for our lives (especially once I noticed that the younger man was packin' heat), I desperately wished I could understand Hindi to follow the juicy details. Unfortunately, the fight did not conclude with a song and dance number, instead the younger man forced his papers into Mustache's face and forced him to look through them and acknowledge his person. The younger man stormed out of the compartment, bags in tote, and that was that. Or so we thought.

Not five minutes had passed when our cozy toilet compartment door swung open and the the same young man burst through. He went for Kimmy first; speaking English he demanded that she get up and follow him. She hesitantly stood, I shot her a worried look and I could sense the desperation and raw fear burning her soul. He opened the compartment door and led her to a bed she could share with another girl. They disappeared into the cool air-conditioned car and I wriggled upon the sheet stack I claimed as my own, sculpting myself some comfort in preparation for the long night ahead. Again however, the door shot open and I was confronted with the young man. He told me to get up, I did. Assured me my "wife" was comfortable on a bed, then told me to follow him back. Reluctantly I grabbed my backpack, and dragging it behind me, I followed the young man. My fuzzy, sleep-deprived mind thought for a moment that I too might be offered a bed, shared or not, it didn't matter, and I was momentarily ecstatic.

The young man came to an abrupt stop and explained that I could share a bed with him, I was his "special guest." He shook my hand and introduced himself as a "very important man", and a "captain in the Indian Army." Then he showed me the bed. It was in a triple-tiered sleeper unit and "his" bed was on top. He took my backpack from me, threw it in the middle of the unit, yelled at a couple other passengers, told me how "ignorant" they were, and hopped up to the top bunk. Then he told me to follow suit. Slightly afraid of El Capitan and in no mood to be fondled on the top bunk of an Indian train at 3:00 a.m. I quickly weighed my options and decided that some sleep on a bed with a strange, obviously unstable man, in an A/C car, and with the possibility of a groping would be better than none behind a squat toilet with an ever-present symphony of flatulence at 115 degrees. So I hopped up.

"Regret" doesn't quite capture my immediate feelings. The bed, approximately 16 inches wide wasn't nearly as bad as its proximity to the train ceiling; I'd say 12 inches at most, and it couldn't have been more than 5 feet long. And Captain didn't hesitate to sprawl out. I might have been his "special guest" but it was his bed and he was set on sleeping. I, at his bare feet, sat hunched, neck bent, hugging my legs, and compacted to the point of cramping. Captain saw this as an opportune time for some pillow talk. I died, more from his B.O. than anything. I was upset about having to talk to him only because it prevented me from attempting a self-induced coma. His topic of choice? Girls. At least I was safe from any fondling.

After a few minutes of chit-chat and giggles his phone rang. His girlfriend (at 3:30 a.m. Curious, I know). My peaceful coma was nearing and he must have been gabbing away for at least 20 minutes before the old lady on the bottom bunk shrieked something that was probably similar to "shut up." And that's how showdown number 2 began.

Old lady's boldness didn't make Captain one bit happy. He jumped down from his bed, she stood up from hers and a yell war erupted. Blessed momentarily with the gift of tongues I was able to decipher that Captain's bed actually belonged to the old lady, and she was fed up. In the midst of the commotion an old man, also in our unit tapped my toe and asked to see my ticket. I handed it over, he gazed at it for a moment then declared, "NOT CONFIRMED", the line we had heard countless times throughout the journey. He shoved my ticket in Captain's face, showed the old lady and the other passengers around us; they were all staring at me. I unfolded my numb body and jumped down from the bed, grabbed my ticket, shook Captain's hand, thanked him for his generosity, claimed my backpack, and booked it back to my toilet compartment for some peace and quiet.

Hours remaining: 27.

Tomb

2010-06-04T19:59:00.003-05:00

The Taj Mahal was breathtaking. There's not much else I can say.

Faces

2010-06-01T02:57:00.004-05:00

India was fantastic. It feels like a dream. I'm almost convinced it didn't really happen. I guess though the proof is in the pictures. Here's a sprinkle of some faces we came across while there. I'll likely be writing about and showing photos of this trip for months to come, be patient with me.

Taj

2010-06-01T02:19:00.002-05:00

Watch this video of me and Kimmybot2000 atop a roof in Agra gazing at the Taj Mahal and discussing the important things in life.

भारत

2010-05-03T13:23:00.002-05:00

Oh. Did I mention I'm leaving for India in four days? भारत!!

Belles in my Future

2010-04-14T00:26:00.007-05:00

During my senior year of college I participated with a string quartet in a Christmas performance at the Laie, Hawaii LDS Temple Vistor's Center. We were just one of several acts. My favorite act by a mile however, was the Laie Belles, a group of 12 or so decrepit Mormon women. Despite their many stops and starts and inability to actually create music I felt an urge to learn the bells. Needless to say I asked them if there was any chance they'd let a 20-something man join the group, even just unofficially as an honorary member. I recall suggesting they call themselves the Laie Belles and a Gentleman (Ugh. I'll understand if you choose to disown me).

The head Belle laughed at my idea, she clearly didn't take me seriously. My will to learn the bells however, pressed on, an inescapable desire. Not a month later, to my delight a spritely senior missionary couple, the Farley's, who also happened to be former members of the famed Mormon Tabernacle Choir, were assigned to work with my congregation. Naturally, they worked especially close with our own choir and eventually sweet Sister Farley unveiled what might as well have been the holy grail: a box of shining, crisp, seductive bells. Bells fit for a king.

I immediately claimed stake to at least one bell, demanding of course, that it be the bell with charismatic solos; a bell allowing me to perform the bell-playing abilities that I knew I innately possessed. My demand was met and, more carefully than a surgeon, I gloved my hands and took to learning my part. If I couldn't be the Belle's star gentleman I sure as heck would make sure the spotlight found me in this new church choir.

I learned my part and could make my bell sing the sweetest melody. It possessed a timbre so moving it could make even Kate Gosselin cry. My part? One note, one solid ring of the low F#. So maybe I wasn't the star I envisioned, but my note was important. It came on a loud, intense downbeat after a long silent pause.

The big day arrived. I polished my bell and practiced my counts and the big ring. Our group took our places on the risers in front of the entire university and began. The singers and bells blended beautifully. My ring approached and the song became slow motion. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. I felt woozy, nervous, anxious. I forgot the lyrics, stopped singing and lost count. The pause, my cue, came too quickly and I panicked. I gritted my teeth, swallowed hard. Slow motion turned to warp speed but I shook my nerves and managed to completely recompose myself and find my place in the music. Then, with every bit of confidence in the world and with all my strength I lifted the bell over my head, pulled it back for increased momentum and GONNNNnnG!!! I rang that sweet, shining bell. Not one, but two counts too early.

I ruined the choir number and managed to do it in front of my whole school. Better yet, my big moment was captured in the BYU-Hawaii newspaper.

That image is below. I guess I'll never be an honorary Belle.

Dearest Housewives:

2010-03-29T23:28:00.012-05:00

I washed and dried this pair of red wax lips with my clothes. Fail.

Why couldn't it have been the 'stache of wonders?

Roomie swore up and down that her natural stain remover stick would do the trick. Fail.

After three hot cycles and four days, this morning my laundry sat in the washing machine sad, bestained, and sour.

I got to thinking. Recently I participated in a greasy service project. So greasy in fact, that we relied on a mechanic's orange and pumice hand cleaner to do the trick. Grease on hands? Why not greasy/red wax stains on clothing? BINGO. Success. Thank you Fast Orange with pumice for restoring my clothing to its natural state. Housewives? Get on it, you can thank me later.

jet

2010-03-28T01:44:00.003-05:00

I'm going on a trip and it's almost all I can think about. Also, I am wicked into classic movies right now.

Me Being Serious.

2010-03-24T18:15:00.010-05:00

Every now and again I get the urge to be nice. I am a family home evening coordinator at church, (a job, I never realized until now, that takes a lot of time!) and stumbled upon a webite full of ideas. I haven't dissected the site yet, I actually didn't need to because the first idea it led me to was perfect for Monday's lesson. The topic was service, and I wanted to incorporate a quick and easy project into the lesson. The perfect solution? Make A Child Smile, a nonprofit organization that spotlights several terminally ill kids at a time, providing their bios and contact info. and the opportunity to write them a letter. I love this concept.

Our small group wrote and mailed about 10 letters. These kids are living through horrible circumstances, difficult to think about, but hopefully a couple kids will feel better for a minute or two and smile. Take five minutes and try it out for yourself, it feels kind of good.

All the Apparatus

2010-03-05T12:39:00.008-06:00

A few of my friends from the BYU-Hawaii days are in this band, All the Apparatus. It may be a biased mild obesssion, but it's a mild obsession nonethless, I really enjoy their stuff. Love this song and its accompanying music video as much as I do, and if you're in Portland go find them on the streets somewhere downtown and hear it live.

Support the cause and buy their album here

Sundayches

2010-01-31T19:29:00.004-06:00

I suffer from the Sunday Headache. Right now I have a headache. It has always been a little bit of a joke and I haven't given it much thought until recently. While visiting my family over the break I confessed to my mom one rainy Sunday afternoon that I had an epic head splitting Sundayche. She shot back, "What! Your dad has a headache every Sunday too." "No!" I shrieked. Total truth. This, along with an allergy to the beach, is my all-time favorite genetic inheritance (disorder).

Today I am in Phoenix defrosting and delaying my homework, and finally Googled "I have a headache every sunday". Though I could not find an official medical response I discovered that the Sundayche is not so uncommon. The answer? Precisely what my dear friend Kimmybot hypothesized, weekly shock to my biological clock. I am busy, not overwhelmingly so, but my plate is considerably full Monday through Saturday and when I finally settle down for a day and sleep later than is probably healthy, my mind and body panic.

I like this answer and I'm sticking with it, but a few gaps remain; why did I have a Sundayche while visiting my family in Oregon and far from busy? Am I crazy? Did I expect the pain and bring it upon myself? Do I have any brain doctor friends who might provide me a logical answer? Preferably one living in Reykjavik who also has connections to national tourism councils? Thanks.

2010

2010-01-07T04:04:00.003-06:00

I have a busy year ahead of me. School is set to challenge me even more than it has the last few months, I hope to find a museum internship, and I've decided that I will go to Antarctica.

I am absolutely in love with the beach and I've seen my fair share of them, but my trip to the desert last March gave me a taste of something new. It is well known that Iceland needs me and will eventually come beckoning, but until then I'm taking matters into my own hands and proving that I can handle some cold air.

In other news I have been at my parent's home in Oregon for the last two and a half weeks and weighed in tonight at a staggering 193, exactly 14 pounds heavier than when I arrived. And I can't get my mind off of the seared ahi burger from Bricktops restaurant in Nashville. Salivating at 2:15 in the morning.

Greatest Job in the World II

2010-01-07T03:52:00.002-06:00

I'm still waiting for Iceland to contact me...

It's a Sign!

2010-01-04T03:16:00.005-06:00

I have been obsessed with visiting Iceland for decades (well half of one, at least) and even more so in the last few months. Today I realized that I got my first hit from Reykjavik(!), a possible coincidence but complete sign. Do you remember a year ago when the Queensland, Australia tourism bureau created such a worldwide frenzy that its "Greatest Job in the World" website and videos went viral and literally shutdown for a while?

Iceland, do you remember? If you don't I'm happy to remind you.

In early 2009 Tourism Queensland, in an effort to promote tourism of the islands in the Great Barrier Reef, had an open call for their the newly created "Island Caretaker" position. Candidates were required to submit 60-second videos about their qualifications and interests. 34,000 videos were submitted but it came down to one fella from England who landed the job that required daily blogging, surfing, diving, snorkeling, "testing" resorts, island hopping, and eating. I can't say I followed his blog regularly, but every now and then over the last year I enviously skimmed through some writings and photos. The result? People around the globe realize that those islands exist; I'd call it a success.

Now, Iceland, I can't imagine your tourism is as bumpin' as it could be or you'd like it to be, despite frequent surprisingly affordable flights from the U.S. You have lots to share with the world, imagine the impact that a "contest" using borrowed ideas from the "Greatest Job in the World" would have. It would excite me, at least. In my humble opinion rigging the gig wouldn't be a terrible idea (I would be honored, thanks!) Also, if you you're not too keen on the contest idea but somewhat interested in increasing visits from the U.S. I am quite willing to negotiate a deal. I would love to spend time in Iceland and blog my heart out about your amazing-ness. Capiche?

Call me.

a farewell

2009-12-07T16:39:00.003-06:00

Goodbye cruel world. I find myself, without friends in Flagstaff, much too reliant on Facebook. Not a terrible thing to stay connected, right? Well it is during finals week when I find myself looking at friend's photos every time I'm stumped coming up with the next sentence. For at least the next few days, with the help of Kimmy, I will be locked out of my profile.

Looks like I'm just gonna have to turn to Youtube...

$3

2009-12-04T18:57:00.005-06:00

My siblings love being cheap this year for Christmas. Normally we draw names and buy one semi-pricey (my poor mans idea of semi-pricey) gift, and something less expensive for everyone else. Well this year the rules have changed. The sisters have decided that we will each buy a gift for everyone with a $3.00 limit. THREE DOLLARS! I know, right. What can a person get for three measly bucks these days? Am I going to have to go the homemade route? Ugh.

The purpose for my blogging today is more an S.O.S. message than anything. To anyone who might read this, wherever you are: what might I buy for four sisters and a brother in-law at $3.00 each? Any suggestion will be considered.

Maybe I'll just shoot for sibling points and secretly stick with the old Christmas gift model.

A Wal-Mart State of Mind

2009-11-20T23:08:00.000-06:00

I found this unposted post begging to finally make it on the blog. It was written in Nashville- rest assured that I'm no longer there, but that doesn't mean my transformation has stopped.

A childhood in Troutdale, Oregon isn't exactly the foreshadow of a classy adulthood. Understand that my parents are in no way trailer folk, however, I've often assumed the town that assisted in my rearing heavily attributed to my own future as a sort of potential bumpkin. It's true, Troutdale is a beautiful place near breathtaking scenery and minutes away from downtown Portland, however, it's known fact that any small American town on a river that boasts first class cabbage and strawberry crops isn't quite the recipe for prestige.

I suppose what I'm getting at is my sudden realization that I've actually become what I always feared. Being a Troutdalian was, I believe, just a seed. A small but potentially powerful seed that sat idle for a time but suddenly sprouted wildly out of control upon my arrival in the South. At this time I'm all too conscious and unable to deny my societal role. I am a little bit white trash.

Phase I: In the mid-1980s an unusual circumstance occurred in the very town I have already introduced. I was born. "Say Matt, that's not such an unusual thing, is it?" you're probably thinking. Right, you are. Birth, though a miracle, is far from unusual. Just keep in mind that Troutdale, though complete with an outlet mall and a Dairy Queen (icons of luxury, right?) today, lacked one very important city element back then, a hospital. "Hospital Shmoshpital" say I. Who needs one when you have a kitchen floor perfectly suitable for giving birth?

Phase II: By the mid-90s I was attending Reynolds Middle School, which would be fine if it were not located in Fairview, OR. Period. Enough said. Look it up and you'll quickly sympathize. I can't say much more about those years, they are a bit fuzzy, a side effect most certainly related to the amount of asbestos I inhaled. I probably shouldn't even mention my baggy pipe leg jeans coupled with a too-tight undershirt (worn as a regular shirt. Everyday.) and topped off with a slick pair of white Fila sneakers.

Phase III: High school came and went. I went to the river often. And I landed my first real job. "Where?" you ask? Why, at the Bugle Boy Outlet, just one of many fine shops at the Troutdale outlet mall. I was fired four days later. After high school the dough really started to pour in from my full-time gig at the old folks home. It was there that I developed a deep and abiding love for Bingo. Do you need more than that?

Phase IV: College rolled around and so did my affinity for not wearing deodorant. Or underwear. I went on a mission to the Dominican Republic and that, if anything, worsened the situation; infrequent showers and permissible wearing the same thing everyday. A total dream come true. After college- jobless, poor, and desperate- I returned to where this whole vicious downward spiral began and sought refuge at my parents home. 24 and living at home. Fortunately it didn't last too long and I hit to road for Phoenix. Along the way however, I stopped at Arches National Park and for the first time pulled a Jewel; I slept in my car. And I loved it. I eventually arrived in Phoenix with the plan to start afresh, meaning that I was still jobless and penniless. Selling my plasma became a career and the other donors my family and confidants. In time it seemed a ray of sunshine shone down on my desperation and I landed some work. Lots of it. During a six-month period I managed to begin and end the following jobs: sales rep at Ralph Lauren Polo OUTLET, sales rep at 24-Hour Fitness, "ramp" crew at Sky Harbor Airport- loading/unloading baggage and tugging/towing the billion-dollar aircraft, and finally as a promotional rep for Wrigley's gum, the NBA, the Army, Lucky Brand Jeans, Camel tobacco, and several others.
The promo gigs were my favorite by far. The Army one in particular tickled my fancy as it was held at drag racing events and Camel sent me to NASCAR. Today I love both.

Phase V: Realizing what I am wasn't an overnight epiphany. Naturally, I gradually allowed new ideas and activities into my life but kept those that I was able to recognize as potentially trashy to what I considered, a minimum. for over two decades I practically shunned country music, refused to even acknowledge televised fighting/wrestling events, tried to avoid shopping at Wal-Mart, and most importantly stayed good and far from the South. It's now mid-2009 and what happened next I suppose, was inevitable. I agreed to work in Washington DC for the summer, and as fate would have it the best route from Phoenix passed straight through the southern epicenter: Texas, Oklahoma ARKANSAS and Tennessee. Like a bug is drawn toward a light in the dark, it is nearly impossible for white trash to stay away from the South. I stopped in Tennessee. I loved Tennessee. I stayed in Tennessee. Now I live in Tennessee and I work in Tennessee. Country music enlivens my soul, I look forward to UFC fights, and just the slightest smell of BBQ numbs all other senses and sends my mind down a one-lane highway.

There you have it. I've recognized, dealt, and accepted who I am and what norms I'm to live by from this point on. And you? Who are you?

(But lets be real. I never, ever tried to avoid Wal-Mart.)

Inna Illa Rabbikar Rujaa

2009-11-06T14:56:00.007-06:00

My 2009 Halloween costume has been added to the archives. I believe it went swimmingly.

Tis the season. Happy Halloween!
سعيد عيد القديسين! أتمنى لكم اليوم كان ممتعا
بقدر الألغام. يحب والقبلات.

Songbird

2009-10-30T00:57:00.006-05:00

Introduced to me just this afternoon by my good friend, Mandie Jean Reichmann, I feel it's high the time rest of the world met the internet's latest and most soulful songbird, Nichole. Nichole will be performing "Should've Said No" by Taylor Swift. Experience the same nostalgia I did and please don't turn her off until she has finished; like a fine wine, she only gets better with time.

A quick blurb from her youtube channel: "So I'm 19. My favorite animal is a lobster. I like hanging out having fun going to concerts listening to music and singing. I sing for a hobby NOT a career."

Beaver

2009-10-07T23:05:00.010-05:00

I spent last weekend in Salt Lake City. The eight hour drive took me through Beaver, Utah, a town that welcomes you with a large billboard that reads, "Beaver, Mountains of Fun". This was great but even more exciting to me was what was written below, "Best Tasting Water in the U.S." Could it be?

The mountainous fun claims were enticing but I didn't exactly encounter anything particularly fun on my drive-through, call me a skeptic, I know. But as for the water, supposedly it is true and Beaver residents are taking this honor quite seriously. I Googled "Beaver, Utah water" and apparently Beaver, eternally proud of their blessed water supply, entered the National Rural Water Nationwide Taste Test (yes, there is such a thing) in Washington D.C. and took top honors. This is real. This happened and will probably continue to happen forever. Our great nation, the land of the free and home of the brave is so free and so brave and quite obviously so bored that it established said National Rural Water Nationwide Taste Test.

Anyhow, the almighty Google led me to a great article from the Salt Lake Tribune. It's so great that I will include the link but for those of you who still need a little convincing, here's a quick snippet:

"Patricia Baker, who grew up in Beaver, heard about the news of Beaver's water win on television.

'I was shocked,' she said. 'My husband was in Salt Lake City and I called him and said, "'Guess what we have in Beaver? The best water.'"

Baker, who lived in Pittsburgh, Pa., for three years before returning to reside in Beaver, knows what water in other areas tastes like.
'I think the water [in Beaver] is good,' she said. '...It's just clear water that you don't feel like you're getting chemicals. And it's cold.'"

We thank you Patty Baker. For your insights and your wisdom and your knowledge of what water in those dreaded "other areas" tastes like. As for you Pittsburgh, you should be ashamed.

In short, today I'm kicking myself for not stopping in Beaver. Does anyone have a Beaver connection that could send me sample (a la National Rural Water Nationwide Taste Test) OR do you think I could maybe buy a bottle of Beaver water online?

Who Will Save Our Souls?

2009-09-29T15:11:00.005-05:00

A couple months back, living in Nashville, I was YouTubing. You know how YouTube suggests similar videos "you might also enjoy" after each video you watch? The following is one of those and it is so deliciously disturbing and obnoxious that I've shared it with more than a few friends over the months and now it's time to go public with it. Well it already has about a million views but you get the point, and if you are one of the unfortunate/fortunate few still missing out, please enjoy and don't stop before the rapturous 60 second note hold near the end.

Read

2009-09-15T17:25:00.005-05:00

It has been brought to my attention that I attempted to start a book club, suggested one book and never brought it up again. I quickly realized that I'm no Oprah, I guess. Anyhow, forget the whole "club" thing, instead from time to time I'll just suggest a good read, probably something I've already started and enjoy. Feel free to read along and comment as you go (a la club of yesteryear).

I've mentioned before that one of my favorite books is "Bridge to Terabithia" by Katherine Paterson and it turns out she's got a pretty full resume of other short books, several of which are award winners. If you'd like to join me in reading "Linguistic Anthropology" I'd be happy as a clam, but if you're looking for something a bit lighter I recommend "Jacob Have I Loved", yet another Newberry Award winner by Katherine Paterson.

Risk

2009-09-14T20:36:00.004-05:00

Three weeks ago I went to church for the first time in Flagstaff. During the Elder's quorum class one kid particularly stood out. I can't remember his name but as this story unravels imagine the love child of Mr. Burns (with hair) from the Simpson's and Gollum from Lord of the Rings. OK, not that awkward, but really quite hunched and bony for an 18 year-old. He introduced himself as an incoming freshman from Phoenix then quickly sat down, only to stand right back up and add that if anyone in the congregation was interested and had "about six or seven hours free one day" he would love to host a hearty game of Risk. My soul dwindled a little bit in that moment mostly because I knew there were probably a fair amount of guys in the room looking forward to taking him up on such a generous offer.

Yesterday I went to church again. The third hour class arrived and I took a seat in the middle row. Just after sitting that same boy was the next to walk in and sit almost right in front of me. He turned around to face me and the following conversation erupted:

Boy: Did you shave your head so we wouldn't know that you're balding? You are balding, right?

Me: (completely thrown off and a bit shocked) I, uh. ha.

Boy: I'm glad I don't have that problem.

Me: I like to cut it (unable to fully explain the haircut I had given myself the night before) sho(rt)....

Boy: (talking over me) My grandpa started losing his hair at 26 and it never came back. He's completely bald now. I don't know what I'll do if I have that same problem. How old are you? How old were you when you started balding?

Me: (staying calm and nervously laughing. completely aware that the room was near full and all ears were listening in on the conversation I was pitifully losing) I'm obviously balding and I like to cut it short because I think it looks better like this. I've accepted my baldness, it doesn't bother me too much.

Boy: (shaking his head sympathetically for my unfortunate condition) Man, that sucks! I just don't know what I would do. That would be so hard (leaning in to inspect my scalp).

Me: (leaning away. red-faced and panicky, looking around for some quick support. Locating the other bald guy in the room whose eyes quickly avoided mine) It's not a big deal, really. Everyone loses their hair eventually. It doesn't bother me.

Boy: I just really hope I never go bald.

Me: I kind of hope you do. Now.

First Day of School Blues

2009-08-25T19:47:00.007-05:00

In the middle of my first day at NAU I took a short break and ordered a smoothie from the Jamba Juice in the student center. While waiting for my order the following conversation took place:

Boy: (in a somewhat creepy melodic whisper) Would you mind if I took a seat at your table?

Me: (most likely glaring at his spiked hair and black cape, but keeping it cool) Of course. How's you're day going?

Boy: (still whisper-singing) Well today is Tuesday, my hardest day of the week. If I make it through today I should be fine.

Me: Oh, good luck then. What are you studying?

Boy: Elementary education.

Me: (concerned for the well-being of my future children) Oh yeah? Sounds tough. How far along are you in the program?

Boy: I'm in my second year. How long have you been here?

Me: Today is my first day ever!

Boy: Really? You look WAY, WAY older than that.

Me: I think they just called my order number. See ya.

2009-08-13T22:34:00.001-05:00

found this saved on my desktop. amen.

Wy 'n Me

2009-08-04T22:35:00.003-05:00

Oh, did I forget to mention that Wynonna and I have sort of become inseparable?

Scallywag

2009-07-17T22:43:00.006-05:00

I'm a big believer in signs. Some are straightforward, others not so much. Tell me please, why, when I've probably seen no more than one person donning an eye patch in the last three years, have I seen three in the last three days?

The Iron Butterfly

2009-07-11T19:25:00.010-05:00

If I had known she was only going to sign 150 autographs I most certainly, not to mention eagerly, would have left my house at 5:00 a.m. instead of at 6:00. Dolly wasn't set to appear until 10:00 which left me at my approximated 205th spot in line with no less than 600 other ecstatic, bejeweled, costumed, tired, hungry, sweating, and possibly rabid Dolly Parton fanatics. With records, posters, t-shirts, and dolls in tote for the country music legend to sign we stood united, knowing that our chances of meeting her were slim, but continuously hoping and praying to the God that is so good that we might catch even the slightest glimpse of that puffy surgical masterpiece we still call a face.

With angst swelling within, minutes were like days and hours felt like years as we stood. The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in downtown Nashville had become our fortress that held within its confines security, peace, and most importantly, a wig-wearing seven-time Grammy winning phenomenon. 8:00 trotted by and a commotion suddenly erupted from the masses. There was a noise coming from the Hall of Fame entrance, the door rattled. "Could it be?" we couldn't help but wonder. Would La Partón dare emerge from her cocoon of safety to quench our craze and curiosity?

The doors flew open and a disappointed gasp revealed that She Who Must Not Be Named, though generous enough to distribute 2.5 million books annually to underprivileged children around the world, was not crazy enough to throw herself to a starved pack of wolves. It was, in fact, a representative from the Museum informing us that the 150 tickets had been distributed to the lucky early birds BUT there was a slight chance a few more would be handed out "based on several possible circumstances." Circumstances came, four additional individuals were invited to join the elite inside the building while the rest of us, unsatisfied, refused to leave.

By 8:45 I had developed at least two Facebook friend-worthy camaraderies with two girls who had come to Nashville from San Francisco for a music festival that had ended the previous night and caught wind of the appearance. And a couple, dedicated lifelong fans, who moved to Music City to get closer to the sultry Smoky Mountain Songbird. Together we reminisced; discussing our favorite Parton-composed songs, the moment we became fans, her positive influence on the world, her infectious sense of humor and her giant plastic face. One of the girls pointed out, "She's such a role model for strong independent women." amen. Caught in a moment of agreement our attention suddenly shifted to the newly flared commotion behind us. A woman screamed. Then a small crowd sprinted to the window and unable to restrain myself I joined them. It was finally happening. She had arrived. Mercilessly I shoved my way to a prime spot on the window. I found her and gasped. I knocked. She turned her huge face and looked me in the eyes. Instantly I began to sweat. The Backwoods Barbie herself and I were separated by one inch of glass and a bookcase.

Dizzy, I scrambled to find my "friends" and spot in line just in time for a second museum rep. to make a final announcement that we would all get to enter the museum in groups of five, to take a photo. Suddenly feeling out of place and unworthy of her presence without so much as a "Dolly Forever" t-shirt, I momentarily panicked and considered making a mad dash for my car. After all, I had seen her already. I took a deep breath however, collected my emotions and waited in silence for the next 15 minutes until I was finally ushered in.

Like cattle to the slaughter we were placed in a steadily and quickly moving line that wove between bookshelves. We were told to have cameras ready as stopping would not be an option. I neared the desk where she sat upon her throne, the Queen of Nashville, graciously signing autographs and exchanging laughs with the beaming 154. My camera in hand, I was ferociously snapping, struggling to capture every intimate moment with the Iron Butterfly. And then it was over.

Mission Nashville: Complete

2009-06-15T10:54:00.003-05:00

Persistence pays off. One month and 11 days after having arrived in the Volunteer State this is what happened with a little hard work, lots of dedication and several hours in an early morning line.

Details to come. Trust me, you want these details.

a little bit of chicken fry

2009-06-12T22:05:00.003-05:00

Dear friends,

Dreams do come true. Soon I'll show and tell you why.

Witches in May

2009-05-30T19:10:00.009-05:00

This house wasn't like most. From afar it appeared normal but as I closed in on it I realized that instead of the common "Welcome" decal on the door this one read, "Leave your brooms at the door". Additionally, the ever present floral wreath hanging on the door hugged within its hole a five point star creating a pentagram. No doubt about it, I was at the home of a real life witch. Eureka! Believe it or not I'm no stranger to witchery, in fact while working the graveyard shift at an old folks home after high school I was often on shift with a practicing Wiccan called Janessa, who made a constant effort at converting me (hence my aforementioned pentagram realization). I knew only one thing, I HAD to knock on her door.

I made my way up the walkway, through weeds, past potted herbs, overflowing ashtrays, past a broom and by porcelain frogs. I knocked and a gaggle of dogs let loose on the other side of the door howling, barking, snarling and scratching. Someone was coming, shrieking at the dogs to shut up and move out of the way. And then she opened the door, but just a crack. I said the only thing I could think to say in my moment of panic and excitement, "How many you got back there?" (dogs, that is) To which she responded, "Five." "Oh." I said. I surprised myself next when from my mouth spilled, "So are you a witch, or what?" In her smoky bark she replied, "Some people call me that," "Oh, that's cool," I squeaked. She questioned, "Do you need something?" Do I need something? DO I NEED SOMETHING? My mind let loose imagining the precious treasures a witch could possibly offer; potions, spells, herbs, frog eyes, Hansel and/or Gretal with or without a side of gingerbread, tiger tears, ghouls, cauldrons, invisibility cloaks, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, black flame candles, fairy dust and the likes, the options are virtually endless. Keeping cool nonchalantly said I to her, "No. Just curious is all." Without so much as a thought she slammed what little crack of door she opened for me and I went on my merry way satisfied with having met a real life, genuine, first class, primetime, grade-A witch (for the second time, I guess). At least I know where to go next time I'm in the market for some witching goods.

Later on my drive home I passed a farm where I spotted grazing in its fields at least three buffalo. REAL LIFE BUFFALO and a REAL LIFE WITCH! What a day.

Arkansas

2009-05-19T22:00:00.006-05:00

Another noteworthy discovery from my southern adventure travel log:

"I have officially driven through Arkansas and found that people actually live here! It's a place where people live and eat and *thrive just like they do everywhere else in the country. Besides and in addition to my own observations, according to the East Indian man working at the EconoLodge it's 'a very nice place.' Weird, huh? Who would've thought, certainly not I."

*debatable.

Tennessean Tales

2009-05-14T00:08:00.005-05:00

I met a woman the other day called Frankie. She lost 98 pounds and won the Biggest Loser competition at her local gym in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. I told her about my plans to attend graduate school in Arizona this fall, she became excited and told me that I absolutely had to meet her daughter. To my delight her daughter, Tina, shortly thereafter arrived and Frankie yelled, "Tina, get over here! This here is Matt, he's buyin' up some property in Arizona." I shot a confused look at Frankie and apparently impressed by my sudden status as a soon-to-be land owner Tina licked her lips and questioned, "Oh, really? Is it oceanfront? I love the beach"

Why?

2009-05-09T16:47:00.003-05:00

"Why Nashville?" you ask. Well, how else am I supposed to break into the country music scene and become the next big superstar? Riddle me this. Haters.

Nashville: day 2

2009-05-05T00:00:00.002-05:00

The Request:
(Posted on craigslist Nashville)

Seeking: 1 Stuffed ARMADILLO - $25

Dear Tennessee,

I just moved to Nashville from Phoenix and was amazed by the amount of armadillos (live and dead) I passed driving through Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Tennessee. It kind of blew my mind. Is there anybody who catches these little guys or collects roadkill to stuff (the more intact ones of course)? I've done a little Googling and found they're quite expensive to buy from a professional taxidermist and they're completely unavailable on craigslist and ebay. I need your help, maybe you received one as a gag gift years ago and are looking to get rid of it, well then I'm your guy. Perhaps you're looking to consolidate your belongings, I'll help you out. Or is there some sort of coloring contest or raffle I can enter to perhaps try my luck at winning one? You could even be a taxidermist in need a little help with odd jobs around the shop in exchange for one, the options are endless. I just want a stuffed armadillo to display in my house. Actually, I need one. I'm being 100% serious so please let me know thanks.

Love,
Matt

The Response:
(Received via email)

Matt,
I actually do have an old stuffed armadillo. The tip of its tail is broken, but is still attached & could be fixed.
You didn't say where in/around Nashville you live. I'm in West Meade.
If this isn't a joke & you really want this armadillo, email me back & we can make arrangements.
Peggy

The Result:
(Received as a gift from generous Nashville native, Peggy)

"Dolly"

Southern Comfort: More From Craigslist

2009-05-04T23:20:00.009-05:00

The south has been a constant treat and I've only just arrived. I've come to learn that no matter the city, craigslist is sure to entertain, Tennessee is no exception. I found this today:

Hunter/gatherer/fisherman from the Northern woods, now living in the big city of Nashville with nowhere to hunt besides WMA's and can't afford the extra permits this year. This is how I get almost ALL my meat (and most of my other food as well).

In exchange for letting me hunt, fish, or gather edible wild plants/mushrooms on your land within the prescribed seasons, I'll hook you up with up to half the meat (or other food products) I take, and if interested, you can cherry pick the hides or other animal parts. I'll leave alone anything you ask me to (as in "You can hunt squirrel but not quail" or "Go ahead and take the chicken mushrooms but leave the morels alone").

I'm also an unapologetic redneck so if it's coyotes, groundhogs, beaver, rattlesnakes, or any other "unwanted vermin" you have on your farm or other land and want taken care of, I'll be able to get PLENTY of use out of it if you don't want em.

Email me if you're interested; Lord knows I am.

How incredible is this, really? Before finding it I did a little Nashville craigslisting of my own and came out anything but empty handed. A personal southern style encounter awaits you...(ok, let's be real, I'm gonna post it in the next hour or so. I have nothing to do.)

on the road again

2009-05-03T16:51:00.004-05:00

I'm in Nashville. Maybe to stay for the summer. A total dream.

(she's my neighbor)

Johnny!

2009-04-30T01:44:00.000-05:00

we like this at my house right now.

BOOK CLUB

2009-04-29T13:20:00.008-05:00

Attention all book club members:

It's true, I know Oprah added it to her club first, but book number one on our (still empty) list is The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I started it a couple days ago before I was a member of any such club, however, from this moment on I plan to slow down and let you all catch up to about the 150s. So get to your local library right quick and dive on in.

I don't exactly know how book clubs work still so you'll have to lend some suggestions. Sarah from Canada pointed me to a book club she was (is?) a member of and their basic format seems pretty legit. For now we will read one book a month, it will be chosen from suggestions offered by the group (all three of us!) and we'll discuss it toward the end of the month most likely on a new blog site. At this point get reading, comment as you go, add some book suggestions and enjoy. TPB is a sweet read thus far.

Bottle Hunting

2009-04-26T23:47:00.007-05:00

For nearly a year I've been dreaming of going on an antique bottle hunt. Weird, of course, but fascinating too. The idea is to locate the site of an old privy or outhouse, probe it for glass and if you're lucky enough to find some, dig.

Apparently before indoor plumbing and garbage service most waste was thrown down the privy hole in the backyard. Digging around in them has become a sort of phenom for urban archaeologists and antique collectors. And I have to do it. Now. I received some good leads on my book club post so I'm throwing this one out now. Does anyone know where I can join a dig or find info. about one, preferably in Arizona? Does anyone want to start an antique bottle digging team? Please?

Sexy People

2009-04-19T23:52:00.004-05:00

This blog, "A celebration of the perfect portrait", is perfection.

Want

2009-04-19T18:05:00.003-05:00

I want to join a book club. Can anyone point me the way?

Paula Fuga

2009-04-13T13:56:00.006-05:00

I love most of Paula Fuga's songs but at the moment I can't get enough of "Country Road", a duet she does with Jack Johnson. Nobody whistles better than Paula, have a listen.

really uncool favorite things

2009-04-13T03:48:00.003-05:00

one of my really uncool favorite things to do is buy holiday candy as soon as a holiday is over at midnight. i must confess, it's 12:30 and i definitely just got home from wal-mart with $8 worth of of 50% off treats. enough reese's eggs until next year, or maybe next tuesday. i could die happy.

Grad School

2009-04-09T00:39:00.005-05:00

I only applied to one graduate school because it's the only one I could really see myself attending. It was a huge blow to my dreams and plans when I received notice from the anthropology department at Northern Arizona University that I had been placed on the wait list. But I hadn't exactly been rejected so I was able to maintain a sliver of confidence that there was still a chance. NAU is well known for their anthropology programs, it's location is ideal for studies revolving around the southwest, the programs are small and the faculty is topnotch. I had to get in.

To find out more information about my standing on the wait list I was directed to speak with the head of the anthropology department, Cathy Small, who also happens to be the author of a few books used by my professors at BYU-Hawaii. Talking with her was insightful and especially uplifting when she told me that I was third on the list and typically three accepted applicants defer. She told me to call back on April 6 -nearly a month later- to receive the final word.

Two days ago, Monday, April 6, I called and called but could not reach Dr. Small at her office. I left her a message and could do nothing more than hope that she would call back with some good news. Disappointed that my wait would continue another day I went to bed frustrated and worried. Around 1:00 p.m. on Tuesday she called. She said, "I'm afraid I don't have good news for you..." and the rest was a blur until she told me to call again in another month for the ultimate word. Sad and disappointed don't begin to describe my emotions, I was so confident (perhaps overly so) and reliant on believing that it would happen (The "Secret" strikes again!) that the rejection sort of came as a shock. The next hour was terrible. I couldn't even finish my bean and cheese chimichanga from Los Cerritos and slipped into a mad cleaning frenzy. I called home, told the news to my sister and hoped that the word would spread from there so that I wouldn't have to do it.

Throwing clothes into heaping dirty laundry piles in my room I contemplated my new future. Joining the Army had never sounded so appealing and the Peace Corps, finally a logical option. In the middle of a sickening thought of living off of minimum wage for the rest of my life my phone began to ring. It was Cathy Small calling. Again. I frantically began to wonder, and sweat. Could she have made a mistake, was I actually in? "Hello?" I said into the receiver. She said, "Hi Matt, it's Cathy again. You must be doing something right because in the last hour three people deferred and I'd like to offer you a seat in the program."

Pinching myself just to make sure it wasn't a dream, I quickly thanked her, hung up, did a series of victory dances, then looked around my room and laughed at how clean it was! 15 people were admitted to the program and by some crazy miracle I'm one of them. I couldn't be more excited and anxious to begin. I look forward to moving to Flagstaff in northern Arizona and starting over again. I'm certain this is why I felt like I should move to Arizona in the first place, I think just being here motivated me to get busy and do something about continuing my education.

مغامرة عبر مص

2009-04-07T02:29:00.004-05:00

I get it, you've had enough of my trip. But I haven't! Here's just one more collage of a few photos taken in Egypt. Because of our epic delay on the ferry from Jordan to Egypt, time was of the essence and many of our plans were scratched. We had a great time nonetheless and I wouldn't hesitate to return to Nuweiba, a coastal town in the Sinai region. The snorkeling was incomparable, our couchsurfing contact was helpful and friendly, the falafel was as good as ever and the tiny beach hut we stayed in was cozy and fun. We had just a night and a morning in Cairo before we departed but we covered the basics while there, seeing a belly dancing show in the grittiest of downtown bars and the Pyramids of Giza. Too special for the collage (or words), I've also included some full size belly dancing photos.

Because 4WD is Overrated

2009-03-27T01:10:00.011-05:00

It's overwhelming to even begin writing about the incredible time we had in Jordan. So I won't yet. Kiffen let me have a copy of all her photos and videos from the trip; the photos are great but the videos, priceless! Our third night in Jordan was spent under the stars in the middle of the Wadi Araba desert in a hole between two sand dunes. We slept peacefully and then spent much of the next morning riding around the dunes in Gassam's (our amazing Bedouin host/friend) truck. Sand + 2 wheel drive, we quickly found out, are NOT friends. This video is just a glimpse of the time we had while Audrey (our couchsurfing/backpacker friend) was given partial control of the vehicle.

Desert

2009-03-22T20:46:00.002-05:00

click me

Israel

2009-03-21T23:17:00.006-05:00

Israel was fun, intense, fast paced, refreshing, busy, breathtaking, beautiful. I am so happy to have traveled to the Middle East, It opened up a new part of the world that made me a little nervous before and made me realize that really the people there are just as friendly and inviting as they are anywhere. Upon our arrival in Israel we immediately took a sherut, shared taxi van, directly from the Tel Aviv airport to Jerusalem where we were dropped off at our first "Couchsurfing" hosts apartment right outside the old city walls. Our hosts, a young couple, she=Norwegian, he=Israeli, met a year ago when she surfed his couch and never seemed to leave. They took us out that first night to a Bohemia meets Cave of Wonders underground cavern restaurant that was totally brill. Kiffen ate "curry pot" and I had an artichoke pie. It was snowing that night. I know, I naively thought the Middle East was like perma hot. Wrong. Completely freezing in Jerusalem (and luckily only Jerusalem). We spent the entire next day exploring the innards of the old city as well as the incredible sites right outside of it. We started at the top of the Mt. of Olives, and marveled at the view of old Jerusalem. I took approximately 200 cityscape photos and don't regret a single one! From there we descended down a narrow path that goes along several points of interest; the Tomb of the Virgin Mary (who knew?), the Orson Hyde memorial park (also a pleasant surprise), the Russian church of the Virgin Mary (a golden delight), the Church of Dominus Flevit (ideal viewpoint), the Church of All Nations (beautiful mosaics and other artwork. And as a bonus we sat in on a service) and the Garden of Gethsemane (what can I say? A complete highlight, quaint and perfect.)

After finding the Orson Hyde park we knew that BYU-Jerusalem couldn't be far. Turns out it wasn't but the hills are steep in that town and it's a total maze for a newcomer. We must've searched an hour and a half to find it- and that's with constant directions (Kiffen never hesitated to ask, thankfully). We eventually found the campus complete with a posted sign out front that read, "No Visitors Today." Brokenhearted and tired we rested a bit then continued on satisfied enough that we actually found the place. We finally entered the old city walls and first visited the Western Wall. But not without embarrassment. Without realizing that men and women are separated I casually jaunted into the women's side. Jews everywhere hate me now. We touched the wall, left a little prayer in it then entered the Jewish Quarter. It was clean and pleasant. We stayed for a falafel and refreshing Coca Cola.

Other big stops of the day included the Upper Room, site of the Last Supper which was fairly nondescript, but it was the Upper Room! Also The Church of the Holy Sepulcher, built by the Catholic Church, a huge cathedral where most of Christianity believes is the site of Golgotha where Christ was crucified, laid to rest and resurrected. We stayed for a bit, prayed to the stone slab, and Kiffen kissed it, everyone was doing it. Let's face it, Christians probably hate us too now. Across the street was the Jerusalem Holocaust Museum, a must visit. After having visited the Holy Sepulcher we were determined to find the Garden Tomb, the other supposed Golgotha. The Garden Tomb was a breath of fresh air, clean, quiet, peaceful. Like the scriptures say it's on a hill outside the city walls. What's more, the place has been called Golgotha for hundreds of years, even before the tomb was discovered, and the image of a skull is evident on the cliff side, like a natural carving. Along with the Garden of Gethsemane, the Tomb was a highlight an incredibly uplifting visit.

We were pretty much done for the day when I suddenly got the urge to go to Bethlehem. We walked by an Arab bus hub (Beth. is in Palestinian territory aka Arab land hated by and separated from Israel), jumped on and rode to the border. Got through the intense border control situation, took a taxi to the "spot" which is of course another Catholic church, it was closed, rode back to the border, crossed back into Irael and went home! Totally pointless, but now we've been to Palestine.

We stopped by a number of other sites but you're over this, I know it... on to the Dead Sea:

We bussed from Jerusalem to the En Gedi oasis on the edge of the Dead Sea. Once there entered the nature reserve and hiked in the mountains overlooking the sea, not far from the place where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. It was beautiful and since it's so far below sea level it was pleasantly warm and relieving. We felt comfortable again, my old bones couldn't take the cold of the old city. The hike went along waterfalls and pools where we swam, ancient ruins from something like 3000 b.c. and a picturesque cave that I want to live in. There were animals too; dozens of fluffy giant hamster creatures. After a few hours we hiked down and headed to the Dead Sea beach. Swimming in the sea is up there with the weirdest things I've done. You can't not float and/or roll on top of the water. I loved just sitting there reading my book while bobbing up and down. The sea is for some reason evaporating pretty quickly and mega misty all the time. Along with that there's something like 20 times more bromine in the water which is a major element in most sedatives, so swimming and breathing in all that misty goodness is quite a pleasurable time.

Stay tuned for tales of cave parties and Petra.

Holy

2009-03-19T22:06:00.005-05:00

Israel was incredible. Its endless sites, beauty, history and culture are enough to keep a visitor busy for months. We stayed just a few days and moved nonstop through Jerusalem and along the Dead Sea. Details to follow.

summary

2009-03-13T00:01:00.006-05:00

A one-hour ferry ride across the Red Sea from Jordan to Egypt somehow morphed itself into a 36-hour epic. Just when we were about to jump ship at hour 30 things started to pick up and Kiffen was thrown an Egyptian surprise party. This quick video accurately sums it up and quite nicely introduces our little romp around the Middle East.

Trip

2009-02-26T11:25:00.005-06:00

It's high time I come out with the details of my trip (well what I know of them anyway). I leave this Saturday from Phoenix and will travel all the way to...Tel Aviv, Israel. When we get to Israel we plan to take a bus right away to Jerusalem where we will stay for a few days visiting the holy sites and touring the Dead Sea. It's hard to imagine that the places of the Bible are still around, and that I'll be seeing them. I know it's a short trip but from there it gets even better as we travel from Israel to Jordan. We plan to spend most of our time in Jordan at the ancient carved city of Petra with a side trip to the Wadi Rum desert and a visit with some Bedouins. But why visit just two countries when we could throw in a third? That's exactly what we had in mind when we added Egypt to the trip. From Aqaba, Jordan we will board a ferry and spend the last few days of our trip in Sinai and Cairo.

I can't wait to report on the real details of the trip and share some photos. It's going to be an amazing adventure and I guarantee a few great stories.

Couch Surfing

2009-02-25T15:47:00.005-06:00

I heard something about couch surfing a long time ago but never looked into it. Working this past week at a drag racing event (yes, you read that correctly. Drag race!) however, I got to know a few people who, like myself, are going on trips soon and plan to surf along the way. I immediately became interested and looked further into it. The concept is to basically shrink the world a little and open your couch to a stranger looking to explore your city. The official mission is as follows: "CouchSurfing seeks to internationally network people and places, create educational exchanges, raise collective consciousness, spread tolerance, and facilitate cultural understanding." Cool huh?

This is the new plan, if we have to we will stay in hostels, but if we are able to find hosts in the cities we have planned we will definitely take them up on the offer. Sure it could be a little sketchy but I'm willing to take a risk and will hopefully meet some interesting people in doing so.

Check it out for yourself. www.couchsurfing.com

Leaving!

2009-02-23T12:24:00.003-06:00

I'm going on a trip! I leave in five days. I'll be gone for 11. Guess where.

Breathe

2009-02-11T12:08:00.003-06:00

The professional marathon pictures are up and I was dying laughing when I saw them. I look decent at the beginning of the race, cruising along, but a few miles down the road I've undergone a big change...

Newberry

2009-02-11T11:27:00.004-06:00

Another goal I set for 2009 is to read all the Newberry Medal winning books for children, or at least get a good start on them - it might be a shame to go through them so fast. I've read so far in the past couple months, "Island of the Blue Dolphins" (adventurous), "The Giver" (amaaazing), "Out of the Dust" (tragic), "Kira, Kira" (sad) and "Bridge to Terabithia" (inspiring), as well as a few Newberry Honors books. I love them all. What should I read next?

Listen

2009-02-10T02:16:00.005-06:00

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil-hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars-must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation."

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

While hiking the other day a giant owl popped out from under a desert shrub. A friend tells me this is a bad omen according to some Native American groups but I think it was magic.

Survival

2009-02-09T00:06:00.010-06:00

I camped in Cottonwood, about 25 minutes outside of Sedona, the night before the race. It was cold, I think I slept for an hour, I woke up at 1:30 with a sore throat and coyote's sniffed at our heads and ate some of our food. It didn't seem like I was off to a good start but I was optimistic and eager to get out of my tiny sleeping bag at 5:05 a.m. I ate oatmeal and a banana with peanut butter by the fire and downed more water than has fallen in Arizona since I've been here. We left camp and headed to Sedona. Still cold, even more anxious. Rain was predicted but we were happy to find it sunny and slightly breezy. The race began at 8:05, I hesitantly stripped out of my sweats and squeezed into the intimidating herd of runners at the start line and off we went. The air was noticeably thinner at the high elevation but I felt strong and quite possibly even smirked a little as I passed a few people. The smirk didn't last long. After feebly scaling the first ungodly hill (perhaps mountain better describes it) I could have sworn that I was near the halfway mark. At this point gray-haired grandmothers were passing me, steadily trotting by, making sure the smirk I wore earlier was replaced by the look of torture and defeat, and then I saw the mileage sign proudly announcing the three mile mark, 10.1 to go. I could have died. I wanted to die. I think a part of me did. But I kept running. Hill after hill I kept running and running.

Sedona is magical, it's red rocks are sweeping, deserving of the "most beautiful destination in the country" title it has proudly adopted. It's a shame I hardly cared to even glance at the scenery as I was too busy trying not to keel over. I peed at mile nine, swallowed some gel chews at 10 and tackled Big Bertha, the steepest and longest hill of them all at 10.5. The run was difficult but I eventually made it to the finish line, one step closer to completing my goal of 2009! My hips may have felt shattered and my lungs burnt up (and still do), but I made it up all those hills and it was worth it, every step.

Luckily I was able to drive the course afterward and appreciate how incredible a place I was in. I recharged with some pizza, hobbled about town for a couple hours, headed back to Cottonwood to pack up camp, then drove back to Phoenix, happy as a clam and sorer than imaginable!

I finished the run and that's all I really care about but if you must know my official time was 2 hours 25 seconds, a pace of 9:12/mile. Overall I finished 140th out of 573 participants.

Sedona 1/2 Marathon

2009-02-07T23:12:00.000-06:00

more to come on the hell that it was.

Sedona Marathon

2009-02-04T02:59:00.006-06:00

You may recall that my fitness goal of the year includes two half marathons and one full. This Saturday I am registered and set to run the Sedona, AZ Half Marathon. I'm nervous, anxious and hopefully ready! Sedona has been called the most beautiful spot in the United States, it should be pleasant to run through and I'll let you know if the sights stand up to their title. Wish me luck.

Nest bed

2009-01-28T15:42:00.006-06:00

When I was in high school I moved with my family to a new house about a mile away from the old one. Each of my siblings and I were getting our own bedrooms and we really didn't have much say on the furniture or features but we did get to choose the wall colors. I chose red. The red walls were great and exactly what I envisioned but what I really remember wanting in that bedroom was a nest. A NEST. If it were up to me my bed would have been a giant, cushy bird nest. I don't remember why. Thank the heavens for moms.

PDX/PHX Treasures

2009-01-23T19:15:00.008-06:00

My roommate introduced me to a new addiction: the best of craigslist. I'm not sure who sifts through every ad posted on the site, but somehow the best of them are saved and added to the "best of" folder. It's totally brill and I've wasted more than a couple hours laughing, blushing, pondering and/or gasping. I've found posts on both the Portland and Phoenix pages that I'd like to share with you.

1. From Phoenix:

WANTED: free ox
Date: 2004-10-29, 10:39AM MST

Hello. I would like an ox. I need a pet to keep away burglars and to keep the neighborhood kids off my lawn. I figure an ox should do the trick. If anyone has an extra ox please let me know. Preferably one that looks like this:

2. From Portland

Slugs for lease
Date: 2008-05-29, 8:52PM PDT

I have some banana slugs I will lease out for $1.00 per day.
You just come catch them, and keep sliding dollar bills under my front door.
I also have some worms availabe for .50 daily, and a few spiders as well.
I am trying to save up for a flat screen TV.
Thank you so much in advance.

3. Another from Portland

Clean Out My Mini-Fridge for $25
Date: 2007-10-12, 9:39PM PDT

Some mystery sauce spilled in my fridge one day, and I didn't feel like cleaning it up. Several hours later, I went on vacation for a couple weeks, giving the sauce time to ferment and congeal into a colorful, ominously pulsating substance with an odor I won't attempt to describe here.

This was half a year ago. The sauce is still there, and the intensity of its fragrance is almost overpowering. When I absolutely have to retrieve something from the fridge, I do it as quickly as possible, lest the sauce begin growling at me, or worse.

Please. Help me. I can't deal with this alone.

The fridge isn't big- 3.5'x2.5'x2.5', at most. It will probably take less than 45 minutes to clean.

Anyone?

Medical Career

2009-01-20T21:22:00.009-06:00

I've found a new career and it's high time I let you all in on the fun.

As I sat alone in the chaotic waiting area as much as I wanted to I couldn't ignore the thick irony stink that filled the plasma bank. Squeezed between two large individuals (one who was reading Soap Opera Digest) I became a sponge and let the sights and sounds (and smells) sink in. All I really should have to write about the first couple that stood out is "K Swiss." Says plenty, right? Not when they are worn by an obese woman with a black eye and bruised arms sitting next her skinny redhead boyfriend wearing a professional wrestling t-shirt, it doesn't. I was completely enthralled by the abusive body language they used toward one another when all of a sudden the technician in room four yelled for "Reuben." A long-haired man unfortunately resembling Creed lead singer, Scott Stapp, stood and my world fell apart. Tumor. The largest protruding tumor extended from the underside of his right arm; it might as well have had a mouth, eyes and a nose, come to think of it, maybe it did. I was in the middle of estimating that it was about the size of a large grapefruit when I heard a lady behind me talking about a potato diet she was on. Naturally, my ears perked. She explained to a friend on the phone that she tried the fruit and vegetable diet, eating nothing but Popeye's red beans and rice and collard greens (fruit and veggie diet?), but didn't see any results (shocking). The potato diet however, was her new beginning; potatoes three times a day, cooked any way she liked, and she had already lost four pounds in one week.

After hours of waiting for a background check, a physical exam and blood tests I at last was taken to the actual plasma collection section. I joined dozens of people sitting in reclined chairs and staring blankly up at television screens. To close one's eyes is prohibited as are hoods, sunglasses and using a cellphone in the plasma zone. This wasn't a problem for me, the tall plastic containers filling with the yellow to amber plasma proved entertainment enough for me. Today I observed that Native American plasma often has a greenish hue and Mexican plasma yellow. My fellow Caucasians and I boast a pinkish plasma. Today mine looked like a Big Stick Popsicle, fading from amber to pink to yellow; delighted was I.

The plasma bank is located in a strip business/shopping development in Tempe. To get a feel for it I should tell you that it's surrounded by a Check into Cash, Labor Ready, Los Favoritos Taco Shop and an armed forces recruiting center.

Since my initial visit I've gone back two additional times. I've been preached at and yelled at, but mostly, eye contact and verbal communication are completely avoided. I'm sure it's best that way.

Lately

2009-01-16T01:09:00.000-06:00

Fresh

2009-01-15T03:13:00.005-06:00

I love this wispy cover of "Please Don't Stop the Music" by The Bird and the Bee. Click the link, press play and have a listen.

The Bird & The Bee - Please Don’t Stop The Music (Rihanna Cover)

Posted using ShareThis

Landlocked

2009-01-14T02:52:00.011-06:00

I'm sure you've all heard about "The Best Job In The World" by now. It's a dream gig provided by the tourism council of Queensland hiring one person to be caretaker of the islands of the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. The incredibly lucky (and probably beautiful) person will live there for six months, visit the islands, snorkel, scuba dive and explore resorts. He or she will be required to blog about their adventures and will get paid an insane amount on top of it all. I MUST HAVE IT. My only problem is that it's currently being advertised in 18 countries including the United States and, gulp, China (not to mention the whole beautiful part). The selection process is very reality show, requiring a video application and some mega charisma. Please don't worry, I have a game plan: first, I've got to find someone with a video camera, second, I will have to drink six Rock Stars (you know, just to create a little extra excitement), and third, I will have to get my sexy on. I've got a handle on step two, however, steps one and three are still a little iffy. At least I've thought about it, right?

Wait and see. You'll all be jealous once I'm there. You should all apply too (or not so I have a better shot). http://www.islandreefjob.com/

My other obsession of the moment involves another island: Palau. My friend Kiffen travels the world as a flight attendant and recently heard about a place in the Pacific, a salt water lake filled with millions of non-stinging jellyfish. I couldn't stop thinking about it so did a little research of my own. The island is Palau in Micronesia and the place is called Jellyfish Lake. Apparently there are dozens of lakes just like Jellyfish Lake all but it however, are protected. The lake is isolated but once had an outlet to the ocean. Before the outlet was sealed a number of jellyfish were trapped and over time their natural defenses evolved. The jellies do have stinging cells but luckily and strangely most humans are unaffected by them; with no natural predators they have no reason to sting, I guess (thanks Wikipedia). This is incredible to me, and of course it has skyrocketed to the top of my must visit list. Take a look at this phenomenon for yourself:

Bloody Advice

2009-01-10T12:38:00.007-06:00

I did some grocery shopping the other morning and while inspecting my usual carton of $2.09 brown eggs I was interrupted by a miniature elderly gremlin-like woman who, calling me "Sonny," advised me to go with the carton of white Lucern eggs for $1.89. She went on to tell me that she had been a grocery shopper for more than 75 years and could always spot a bargain. I was hesitant to leave my brown eggs behind but even after explaining to Gremlin Lady that I had been quite content with them she wouldn't have it. She forced those white eggs into my basket and I reluctantly went on my way. I usually do my grocery shopping late at night so as to avoid interaction, but I had a days worth of plans so went during the morning rush hour. Gremmy didn't just advise me on eggs, she also didn't see it fit to buy perfectly ripe yellow bananas; if I bought them green they'd last longer. "Obviously Gremsky, but I want to eat them today," thought I. Of course I ended up buying the green ones. And later she counseled me through the bulk foods section, dishing recipes and ways to spice up dehydrated bean soups. My regular 20-minute shopping time ended up taking an hour. Understand that I do respect the elderly, enjoy their stories and acknowledge their wisdom but when my brown eggs are compromised I'm not a happy camper. I even tried once to escape her death gaze and switch the whites for the browns but somehow she beat me to the aisle.

This little story brings me to the real issue of the moment. I woke up this morning, it's a lovely sunny Saturday and I decided to cook some eggs and toast. With a chip on my shoulder I opened the carton of white Lucern eggs, five had been used, seven to go before I had an excuse to buy my brown ones. I cracked the first into the frying pan and watched it sizzle for a moment before cracking the second. Number two was in my hand, I pounded it twice on the edge of the counter, split it in half and shrieked. BLOOD. My egg was full of blood. I didn't even allow time to inspect, without thinking I threw it down the garbage disposal, but I'm sure there was at least a beak and a feather or two floating in the pool of blood and yoke. Needless to say, a small portion of my soul withered in that moment.

I considered not eating breakfast after the bloody egg, not unfathomable, but my stomach told me not to. What's worse is I went for another egg (I'm sick, I know) instead of swearing them off for life. I cracked egg number three. Blood. Vomit. Went for egg number four. Blood.

No more eggs for me. At least no more $1.89 white Lucern eggs cursed by old gremlins at Safeway.

Reasonably Pensive

2009-01-05T03:06:00.002-06:00

Seriously though, does a game get any better than Bingo? You wish.

Hello 2009!

2008-12-16T19:28:00.005-06:00

New year, new goals:

run at least one full and two half marathons

leave the country at least once (an Asian country preferably)

begin grad school

successfully visit the Grand Canyon during daylight hours and an open front entrance rangers post

acquire zero overdraft fees

Quiz Time

2008-12-15T00:25:00.007-06:00

I'm a little embarrassed to include these quiz's on the blog, I mean my blog is a place for valuable and resourceful information meant to uplift and inspire the masses. HOWEVER, months ago Shelley Watts actually emailed one to me (it was almost shocking, I don't I had received one for probably seven or eight years) and I promised her I would fill it out in due time, she keeps me young. Well, due is the time. Here you go Shelley (sorry everyone else) and as a little bonus treat I'm filling out Meagan soon-to-be-Flake's quiz too (sorry everyone again).

SHELLEY'S:

4 places that I go to over and over:
1) Safeway
2) The Red Box machine at Walgreen's

3) 24 Hour Fitness on 32nd and Camelback

4) Phoenix Mountains Park

4 of my favorite places to eat:
1) Thai Basil
2) Pita Jungle
3) 7-11 (nachos and Coke Zero anyone?)
4) and if I were in Hawaii I'd go for some Food For Thought and/or Haleiwa Eats

4 places I would rather be right now:
1) Hawaii
2) Skiing
3) The Grand Canyon
4) Thai Basil

MEAGAN'S:

This one was originally "My 8 Favorite..." And that's just a little overwhelming so I'm shortening it to my Favorite 3. Thanks for understanding.

3 Fave TV shows: This one's tough, I enjoy an occasional show but don't have any regulars. Some that I don't change the channel on are:
1: Family Guy
2: Late Night with Conan O'brien
3: Wheel of Fortune (because I'm secretly 80)

3 Favorite Restaurants Ever:
1. VietThai (Hole in the wall Kaneohe restaurant that serves the best pho I've ever had)
2. Haleiwa Eats (It's just a Thai treasure in Hawaii. A BYUH student chiche, but such a good one)
3. Riverview Restaurant (I had my best ever meal out here. It's in Troutdale. Holler)

3 Things to Look Forward to:

1. Going home for Christmas. i.e. family, skiing, snow (hopefully), food, friends, warm house, big bed.

2. Getting a job that I enjoy

3. Kaitlyn getting her mission call
and a bonus: Grad school hopefully at Northern Arizona University

3 Things I Love about Winter:

1. Christmas

2. Skiing- mostly downhill, but I have got to get a move on with my cross country 2010 Olympics training.

3. Christmas music.

3 Things on my wish list:

1. A Job not at a gym

2. A white Christmas

3. Winning millions from the Publisher's Clearing House

Official Latter-day Saint

2008-12-13T02:31:00.004-06:00

I am officially Mormon as of today. I may be in my mid-twenties and born into the religion but it wasn't until this evening I felt that I truly belonged after attending and semi-hosting my first ever Ugly Christmas Sweater Party. Pictures to come, but for now you'll just have to imagine the luxurious red woolen sweater I picked up at the D.I. store this afternoon. Imagine the central feature is a bedazzled Christmas tree with teddy bears and gifts sitting under it. Attached to each little gift/teddy is a quaint bow. Additionally, as if that isn't enough, there are little embroidered stars, hearts, glitter puffs, and jewels. It's a sweater you won't soon forget and I won't soon part with. It's a keeper that I'm sure has family heirloom potential. Time will tell.

I want a job in the airlines.

Baby care tips of the day

2008-12-07T00:54:00.004-06:00

I totally pirated this from a friend of a friend who took it from http://listoftheday.blogspot.com/ Good thing it's hilarious. My favorite is "Feeding Baby". Check out the "list" blog and find yourself hooked. Cheers.

splinter

2008-12-05T22:56:00.003-06:00

I looked down at the palms of my hands this afternoon wondering if I had removed the several splinters I somehow obtained, realizing however, that I only dreamed of having them I wondered, "Why this one? What could it mean?" I rarely remember my dreams.

STOMP it out

2008-12-02T14:02:00.006-06:00

Forget krumping, popping and locking, there's a new street dance on the block: the tranny stomp.

I went out the other night with my roommates (me going out, weird I know) to what Kolin described as the freshest club in town. He claimed it played the best music and everyone was there to dance, have fun and be free, or something like that. Oh, and the club was called Ohm, as in peace and meditation. I was hesitant but agreed to go, it sounded like an alright place after all.

We pulled up to the spot and found a small crowd of decent looking 20-somethings gathered in front, a fair sign. Confused after not finding a sign reading "Ohm" however, I turned to Kolin and asked if we were at the right place. We definitely were, and to avoid making a short story long it turned out Ohm was actually Homme as in man in French. Yep, it was a gay club. Kolin swore he had no idea, as if the multiple rainbow flags proudly hung in every window weren't a clue.

There was actually a good mix of people, the music was something new and there were a few precious treasures on the dance floor. At the beginning of the night we spotted a broad-shouldered babe at the bar, the true definition of a hot tranny mess. I'm talking off-centered 80% off clearance Halloween wig from Wal-mart, bifocal glasses, potbelly, smeared makeup, the works. She stuck to one corner and danced her signature three steps forward, three steps back for an hour or so. Then like a flash she darted from the club. Luckily however, a new tranny entered the scene and stomped her way into our lives. Especially Kolins, perhaps because she was his tranny doppleganger. Stompy ungracefully made her way to our circle, hoping to dance with us, so we let her and boy, did she stomp. Pounding those big feet of hers to the floor as if killing a giant cockroach. Subtle moves that we all caught on to. I would sure feel bad if she were actually a woman.

Meanwhile Tranny #1 made her second appearance of the night, only this time she changed from her slinky black number into a pair of white capri pants and shoes with straps up to the knees. Same wig, same bifocals, same potbelly, same tragic mess. Sadly she was still alone and in the corner. We thought she came up with a new dance move but turned out the constant wall lean and toe touch was just her adjusting the shoes and straps.

We had a fun evening dancing but more than anything it was a people watching feast.

Note to self: if we ever go back to Ohm/Homme do not wear flannel shirt. Lesbians will constantly confuse you for one of them.

out with the old...

2008-11-30T19:55:00.006-06:00

I kind of quit my job. I have had some bad jobs in my life but managed to love just about all of them, but I just couldn't manage to love 24 Hour Fitness. I'm once again jobless; free and happy, but jobless nonetheless. Oh, I also might've pulled the ol' "family emergency" trick to get out. Oops.

I planned to ask all of you the best way to quit but lying and turning off my phone was way too easy and I was much too antsy to wait another moment. Anyway, where should I work this month? I've always wanted to work at a restaurant or an ice cream shop- maybe I'll try one of the two. It sure is nice using my university degree.

On another note I finally made my way over to Squaw Peak this afternoon. I had heard that it was a nice easy stroll but I think there must be a few different trails in the same Phoenix Mountains area because I actually ended up hiking the steep trail to the actual peak. The views were great, the weather was perfect and the trail is only a couple miles from my house. Can't I just hike for a living?

Vagabond Dreams

2008-11-28T02:00:00.003-06:00

Remind me again why I don't live in Fiji.

I think that maybe one day I will.

Home Sweet Home

2008-11-21T00:06:00.003-06:00

A few of you have asked about my living sitch. Here's the house complete with a small orange tree in the front and a quaint fireplace in the back. I have loved it so far, we have nice neighbors. One, an older lady, Olive, even left cookies on our doorstep the other day. I guess our house would be considered a condo. luckily though the complex, Williamsburg Square, comes with an authentic neighborhood feel; one that's really quite different from most everything else in the Phoenix area. We live across the street from a restaurant/gelateria/grocery market called La Grande Orange, AKA a paradise for the urban elite. LGO has a good vibe and good food (priced for their main customer unfortunately), and the gelato is succulent. There's also several other hipster hot spots in the area but we're not too far from the real world either.
LGO reviews: http://phoenix.citysearch.com/review/36557999

*
These pics were taken with terrible light. I'll make sure and post some updates soon.

*Our back door is straight from Leave it to Beaver. I have high hopes that one day I'll be busy out back and June Cleaver will shout from the kitchen, "The pie is ready," I'll then turn around to find it ready and steaming on the half door.

A Plea

2008-11-19T00:32:00.006-06:00

I need to travel. Will someone please sponsor me for a visit to Iceland? Please? Everything about the place seems beautiful, it has held my number one most desired destination to visit for years and years now, and even though I abstain from consuming flesh I would most certainly love to eat one of Iceland's national dishes, smoked puffin. I know, they are kind of cute but according to my favorite TV show host, Andrew Zimmern, and the nation of Iceland, they're also delicious with a slice of melon.

And I haven't even mentioned the vikings yet.

I'm not picky, anyone can sponsor this trip, I'll give you the photos when I get back. Or would like to travel with me? Your choice.

As a side note, NPR is my new obsession, I've decided that it would tough to live without.

A Longing for Açaí

2008-11-18T00:29:00.005-06:00

Why hasn't the mainland U.S. caught the acai berry craze yet? I've actually received all sorts of spam e-mails lately reporting that Oprah drinks an acai body flush; truthfully though, I try not to look too deeply into Oprah's digestive habits, but if the big O knows about it, surely the world she seems to rule knows too. Rather than in juice form Hawaii has adopted and so perfectly fanangled the acai berry into sweet frozen smoothie perfection that is eaten from a bowl with a spoon. This (almost) famed antioxidant-packed acai bowl perfectly topped off with granola and bananas has deservedly secured a spot near the top of my "Things I Miss Most About Hawaii" list. Research this little Amazonian berry for yourself and prepare to be awed.

Phoenix

2008-11-17T23:28:00.005-06:00

I live in Phoenix. I work at 24 Hour Fitness (I know right, gross). In honor of my move to this desert valley I've decided to immortalize my awesome new life and awesome new job by so appropriately getting a tattoo of a phoenix, the bird.

Check out this link: http://www.rankmytattoos.com/picture-gallery/mythical-tattoo/phoenix-tattoo/

A second ago my quasi-roommate Kolin suggested that the tattoo include a small burning "Oregon" and rising up from the flames will appear the born again phoenix.

Any other suggestions?

Don't worry Mom, I'm not really getting this tattoo. But maybe.

Horse Girl

2008-11-09T11:42:00.005-06:00

Everyone knows a Horse Girl. She's the one who obsessed over horses since kindergarten and made sure all the way through high school to tie horses into every class project. Horse t-shirts, horse notebooks, horse figurines, you name it, if a horse was involved Horse Girl was too. Horse Girls are a unique breed who in my opinion make this world a more interesting place.

Every now and then I receive a voicemail message that makes my day. Yesterday was my birthday and Alisha won with the most pleasant message- though Dallin singing into the phone and running around the house while everyone chased him to keep up wasn't bad! Leeshy and I have for many years pondered over, researched and studied the characteristics of the Horse Girl; so in thinking like a true Horse Girl she left me this message:

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Matty, happy birthday to you. Yay. I hope you're doing something exciting and wonderful today like riding a horse, or reading a horse book, or renting a horse dvd like that one 'Horseland' I belive it was called, or taking pictures of horses, or going to a weird Chinese restaurant and eating horse, or just having an all around horsey happy birthday. Give me a call, buh-bye."

What a friend.