A Home Song

This past week, I had a very unique experience. For the first time in my life, my home was shared with no one. Ever since my birth, the houses that I lived in always contained more than merely myself. For the first 19 years of my life, I lived with my family. After that, I spent two years in different houses throughout the northeast of Brasil. Following that, I spent eight months living with various roommates who all became good friends. Finally, I have spent the last glorious 15 months living with a woman. Not just any woman, but my wife. My beautiful, lovely, artistic, and wonderful wife.

However, her artistic nature sent her off to New York to meet with artists, studios, guilds, museums, and anything else associated with her chosen interest. Naturally, my intentions were to be with her, yet my interests left me here. Her trip to NY left me with the opportunity to live alone. Never before have I spent evenings by myself or slept under a private rooftop. 


What makes a home anyway? Do construction workers take into account the inhabitants of their creations? Does anybody think of the perfect mix to solidify a home? I have a theory:

First, home is a place where you expect to feel wanted. Take the young university student for example: he/she anticipates that, once past the front door, the feeling of received will be love and desire. 

When I went to Brasil, I wondered how I was supposed to make it home. Here is a great example of the places that I assumed to call home:

The Yellow one is mine, the rest of the street follows.  We basically share walls.

I wasn't entirely sure how I was supposed to make a glorified shed (with no ceiling and empty inside areas) a home. Little did I know in six months time I would be used to the environment. I anticipated coming here each night to relax and sleep.

While there, I encountered people who spent time around my home city (Orem). My greatest query, left unanswered since I didn't have the nerve to ask the question, was this: Did you enjoy coming back home (to Brasil from Orem)? In my mind, I somehow contrived that living in Orem, UT was infinitely better than living in a place similar to the picture above. However, I overlooked the quality of life that the family and friends can bring to someone. If I had asked the question, I'm sure the answer would been in the affirmative. Anyone would choose this^ over somewhere else if it meant feeling wanted.

Second, home is a place of familiarity. Take a lesson from my cat. Her name is Willow: 

When she first came to our home, she would not come out of her pet carrier. She was extremely timid. Her mom passed away soon after she was born, so she wasn't sure exactly what to expect with life. For the first couple days, she found hiding spaces under the cabinets where we couldn't reach her. She would never emerge, even with toy and tuna offerings. We grew worried...

However, with cats, they need to become familiar with a new place before they can be themselves. They need to associate their smell with their surroundings, and they need to associate humans with food, care, and affection. After the two nights under the cabinets, Willow reappeared. Nowadays, she can't spend five minutes away from us. Even as I write this blog, she sleeps under my chair. If I were to move to the bed, she would most likely follow. Willow, just like us all, need familiarity to call a place a home. I feel that for us non-felines, familiarity comes much more from other people and much less from surrounding circumstances. 

Lastly, home needs to be a creation. Wherever people decide to live, whether alone or together, they need to feel a personal investment in that place. This could be pictures of those whom we are most familiar with. The personal investment could also be as simple as personally choosing a place to live. 

Take this for example: this is a picture of our bar. We barely finished re-panelling the back of it with a white bead board. We are both have no experience in home improvement, but we still were able to make it look nice! It's our own personal touch to the place we call home!

So, if I had any advice for anyone who is searching for someone to share their home with, it would probably be something like this: Seek out those who you miss in their absence. Chances are, if you are excited when they come home after a week or more away, you'll probably be just as excited to see them  after being apart for any incremental amount of time. 

I conclude with the words of Henry Van Dyke: emphasis added

"I read within a poet's book 
A word that starred the page:
"Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage!" 

Yes, that is true; and something more
You'll find, where'er you roam,
That marble floors and gilded walls
Can never make a home. 

But every house where Love abides,
And Friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:
For there the heart can rest."

Moments musicaux

I barely came home from another jazz concert that I attended, this time at BYU. At this particular concert, much of the charts they selected weren't my taste (which is okay). I was listening with disdain, wondering when the intermission would come. 

However, right after the intermission, the lead tenor came out on stage. With the spotlight on him, and no one in the background, he started to play a simple bluesy rift. Bop-bop-baaaaa....over and over again. 

Pretty soon this simple rift became a maelstrom of notes. He was playing bass for himself, melody, and even high color notes. All single handedly.Mind you, there were some parts where he wasn't even playing notes. He was merely tapping keys and breathing air through his instrument and it was still musical. 

The band meandered out after five minutes and complemented his solo. He then went off: up and down, up and down, playing two notes at a time (which is nie impossible on a saxophone). Oh my goodness, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. 

The piano had a solo about halfway through the song, but he had to wait for about one minute for all the applause to die down from the tenor solo. He then plinked out a few notes, but the audience wasn't listening. We were still in shock from the tenor player. Luckily, he got back up to finish of the song.

Now, I'm not a big fan of standing ovations. I feel like many people give them out of sympathy, rather than actual musical genius (and especially in the Utah area...we give them out like free samples). I especially am not a fan of it in the middle of a concert. But, when this tenor was done with his song, I was up (luckily with the rest of the crowd) because I had experienced what I considered to be one of those profound "musical moments" that only happen in life a few times. 

These "musical moments" occur when something you just witnessed and heard shot through your body and made you gasp in awe. Every time you experience them, they make you feel like your life had just changed in some awesome crazy way, merely by listening to sound. A beautiful, ravaging, phenomenal sound. 

I can name only a couple of other "musical moments" (i.e. singing beautiful choral tunes in a NY cathedral, witnessing Sissel sing an absolutely piercing (in a good way) european christmas carol, being blown away from the first hearing of First Circle by Pat Metheny).

A couple summers ago, I was working in landscaping mowing lawns. I was listening to a new live album from John Mayer. He covered a song called "I don't need no doctor." My goodness, I stopped mowing and stood still with a shocked look on my face. Like "did I seriously just hear what I think I did?"

Anyways, musical moments! Look for them, appreciate them!

And as an anecdote, Thank you SO MUCH to all the musicians who have put on a performance. Thanks for sacrificing other things to be a part of a group that creates music. Thank you for promoting music in school and in other places where we can grow to appreciate and cherish it. 

Secrets of the soul

In honor of New York's Fashion week which occurred last week (#NYFW), I thought it would be appropriate to share some thoughts and history about my take on fashion. 

First, a background:

I was a wal-mart clothing shopper until the summer of 8th grade. What can I say? When your parents pay for your clothes, you go where they take you. My dad loves the old jeans and free-company polo, so that was about as much fashion as I'd ever know until I was 15. 
My friends and I made a daring escape to the mall to purchase clothes that we thought were cool. For the first time in my life, I was able to purchase clothes that I actually liked. During that time until the beginning of high school, I bought clothes that I thought looked good on other people. 

Pretty soon I began to buy dress shirts and ties and other such articles of clothing (at age 16!). The things I bought looked so nice, I didn't take any of them with me on the mission (two years in the hot sun of the equator would demolish them). I'd keep up with the stores and find screaming deals everywhere. It's probably the most feminine that I'd ever be.

One of the sad moments from growing up was watching a friend of mine win the "best dressed" category in the senior yearbook. He liked to wear sweats to high school....almost all the time. I was a bit indignant about this, since I 'carefully' (I use this in the male sense...carefully means 'gave 1-2 minutes of consideration') chose most of the outfits that I purchased and wore. 

Fast forward to today, and back to that feminine thing: When I started to date the woman that would become my wife, I started to find clothes for her. We'd go shopping constantly on my invitation. I know this is rare, because I see all the other men at the store whose wives dragged them there to replace the clothes they bought years before. I introduced her to Banana, Nordstrom, J. Crew, Kate Spade (more on this brand later), Saks, Bloomingdales, Calvin Klein, and all the outlet stores and brands that go with them.

Nowadays, I get more excited to find more clothes for her than myself. This is due to the fact that women have much more of a diverse style than men. I enjoy finding new outfits and unique looks in women's clothing. There is more to explore in the women's fashion than men, and since my wife is so nice, I am allowed to see the different outfits on an actual being and not just a model (actual beings are much prettier than models).
We've moved on from brands like american eagle, levis, and aeropostale (no offense to the brands) and now we dream of Burberry, Vera Wang, Badgley Mischka, and other designers. We wonder, "If we had the money, would we honestly have the guts to buy some of this stuff?" Sometimes yes. 

This brings me to Kate Spade. As a man, I love this brand. I think it has an awesome style for women. I follow them on twitter and send things to my wife about new styles they create. If I could get her anything, it'd probably be a bag or heels from this designer. 

Even as I describe this, it sounds very strange to me. But what the heck, I enjoy fashion. Consider it a guilty pleasure; in this case, the guilty part being when I feel like less of a man looking at designer dresses.

New place in P.G.

This last week I went to a new ward (for those of who you aren't familiar with the mormon church, a ward is a congregation of people who attend church, usually contained within a certain geographic location). Hopefully, no one in that ward follows me yet... because one of the funnest things about a new wards is the opportunity to meet (and profile) some of the personalities one meets in the first couple weeks. For example:

Bone-crusher: You meet him with a handshake. However, his vice-grip gives you the impression that: his life really depends on the power of his grip, or he works with crabs and lobsters. Within 1-2 minutes, you already know his calling in the ward, and you can't help but notice the Christmas ties still being worn at the end of January.

Up at the front of the congregation, you meet Squidfingers. He directs the music with as much enthusiasm as the conductor of the Boston Pops. Usually, the conductor uses his/her right hand, doing a small triangular motion in front of their body. But not squidfinger: He keeps two arms above his head and shoulders, creating complete circular motions with his hands while directing every beat and subbeat to every hymn. Even though you might sing with as much energy as squidfinger gives, you notice everyone around you with their nose in the hymnal, already accustomed to the arm-waving and finger-flailing.

Then, with greeting in the hall, you meet cardboard-tote lady. She carries a handle which is connected to something that resembles a cardboard briefcase. This caught me by surprise, because I had not seen a cardboard tote since the early nineties (when I was in the kid-section of the church called Primary). Her personality is very frivolous, jumpy, and social, rather like the person in line at the grocery store that shows you the wallet-size pictures of their kids or the girl you never want to meet at parties. I immediately predicted that she worked with the Primary kids. Yup- hole in one. She is in charge of the primary.



I started this blog last month. Now I've been fully integrated in the new ward and teaching the youngest class in primary (more formally known as "sunbeams"). I've met more people, played basketball with the guys, and helped create strawberry shortcake for over 200 single members of the church who are ages 30-80; that's another story in of itself.

My favorite part about premature profiling comes when you get to know the people you profile. They are always so much cooler when you get to know them for real! It's a fun way to remember names, hobbies, personalities, and situations. This also makes journals and memories way more enticing to read over again!

College life

I recall seeing a video about how our educational system is based on 18/19th century principles such as memorizing and test taking. This (and other experiences that I have had on campus) gave me the desire to write about all my negative and unfortunate experiences dealing with the college life due to the system and bubble (I bet a handful of you understood that). However, I decided to go an opposite route and narrate the wonderful things about going to college. 

First off, I have had the unique opportunity to work for the grounds administration. I do lots of special projects that have taken me to almost every foot of campus (I do wish that I could take a tour of the utility tunnels someday...). College campuses everywhere are so beautiful and unique. I can only find a handful of pictures from BYU, and even they don't do it justice. Some interesting facts i've learned-

• The grass is always green and weedless because BYU takes great care in making the soil that goes under the grass. They also do a great job spreading fertilizer.
• There are hundreds of employees  that work year round to maintain everything. They replace thousands of bulbs each year and tens of thousands of flowers. I think Disneyland is the only comparable landscaping atmosphere. 
• Most of the buildings at BYU are heated and cooled by hot and cold water. The system uses the temperature of the water to blow into the buildings. I've had the opportunity to walk into these heating/cooling units. Its pretty awesome and extremely efficient.

Anyways, take a look around next time you're on a campus somewhere. Breathe in deeply, and enjoy the atmosphere you are in. Chances are, its a whole lot nicer than most other places you could be.

Second, There is something so invigorating about being in a learning atmosphere. All campuses are created as centers of learning, research, and development. It seems like any random week can contain lecture from professors at Oxford, Harvard, and the other prestigious universities. The faculty members are connected with the rest of the world and many are willing to give you a 'leg-up' into it. Think about this: why do successful tech companies call their headquarters 'campuses'? Its because they recognize the power of having a learning, growing, and empowering atmosphere. 

In the past, I have been frustrated about the competitive nature of some college campuses. People can get self-absorbed in what they are doing, and one can feel completely lost around a campus. However, I now recognize the importance of the competitive atmosphere. It helps me to push myself and meet the level of others. I hope that we all get the feeling of rising together, even though we never talk to one another.

The lessons that one can learn by 'living' the college life reach way beyond academia. Here are some life's lessons that money cannot buy.

• How to function on 4 hours of sleep...for consecutive nights
• How to sneak food without anyone noticing
• Betcha didn't think you could finish that 8 page paper in 4 hours; Well, now you know that you can
• Can you imagine how many lessons you have learned by people-watching around campus (especially at a place like BYU)? There are so many things that one ought not to do out in the open...or what not to do or say to others
•  You can do better than ramen and boxed dinners
• You will never choose to live without a washer and dryer in your home somewhere
• Getting a degree is important so that you don't end up working as parking enforcement anywhere

I feel really honored and blessed to be in a college atmosphere. I'm glad that we accept the importance of these campuses and support them through private or public means. 

Owls

Due to a popular fantasy book about a teenage wizard (ok, I'll stop sounding politically correct, I worshipped the Harry Potter series about as much as the Islamic religion studies the Qur'an), many may think that this blog has something to do with that. However, my affinity for a certain creature in this series has come from personal interest and emotional response from seeing such majestic creatures. No, it doesn't have to do with dragons or hippogriffs.

Yes, I did take this picture. Unfortunately, I have so far become acquainted with owls only during bird shows.

In Brasil, I lived in a small home that bordered a large field. At night, we saw silent, dark, almost ghost-like creators flying over this field back and forth in search of small prey. One of them decided to fly right over my head and into the back of the house. As it flew over, I could clearly see its face and dark, beady eyes for a split second. I couldn't believe such a beautiful and majestic creature could come so close to me. Until that moment, I had never seen an owl (I'm sure I did at the zoo, but I never have any memories of seeing one until that point). A few months later in a completely different city and state, I saw a different owl fly overhead, again making a split-second eye contact. It gave me the chills seeing such a beautiful bird flying silently over my head.

Turns out, I could (and hope) to take care of one someday. Most people start out by doing falconry, then they can expand and specialize in hawks, eagles, or even owls. If anyone has ever become familiar with any birds of prey, they know how amazing it is to see them and learn how they live,  and how amazing they are at flying.

Again, I got the picture from a bird show I attended.

The owl above is a barn owl. Out of all the owls, this one's flight is the most silent. It may seem like he doesn't have ears; however, he can hear best out of all the owl family. He is rare in Utah, but much more common up north. I hope someday I can have one living at or near my house. Some are bred in captivity, but most farmers up north can build a box for the owls to roost in and wait for the owl to come.

Anyways, I thought I'd share that life goal with you! If you ever see an owl near UT county, let me know. I'd love to learn how to see them around here.

Criticism

Yesterday I had a sad moment of irony. I was at a college up on Salt Lake shooting a promo for their new academic program (ps...It sounds cool, but I am totally not an actor; I'm merely an extra who looks college-aged). The building in Salt Lake was 10 floors, minus the parking structure. On our way down in the elevator from 9 to L, we stopped at almost every floor. Toward the bottom, the elevator was full. To all of us, it felt quite ridiculous when we stopped on floors 6, 5, 4...etc.

The third floor came up and all of us felt the familiar stopping sensation in our stomach. Under my breath, I exclaimed, "Now really, who needs to use the elevator for two floors! Wouldn't the stairs be better at this point?" Only three people closest to me heard. Luckily, they knew me, because what happened next painted me in a terrible light. Because, of course, who would try to enter the elevator so close to the lobby level? A skinny-legged college kid who's only mode of transportation was two 24' wheels attached to the side of his chair. He rolled toward the elevator, noticed how full it was, then slowly rolled backward to catch the next elevator. We watched the door close and continued on our way down, feeling that my prior comment was both unwarranted and grossly ironic.

I honestly think most inspirational speakers are in wheelchairs. They don't need to mention how hard life can be because we already imagine it ourselves when we see someone in that situation. However, they are inspirational because most don't curse their fate. Who could they criticize? All the people who park in their parking spots? Those who use the larger restroom/dressing room at the mall?

It seems like there are plenty of healthy, normal people who feel criticized and abused in the most minute ways (e.g. the media's coverage of certain events). They create criticisms and prejudices for themselves and their community/family/race/religion/anything really. We probably all fall into this category sometime in our lives.

Mark A. Hicks, illustrator

Fireworks (the non-romantic kind)

Yesterday my wife and I had a "fun" experience. An aerial firework went awry. Not like a dud, but like an aerial pointed the wrong direction. I guess that one of them, the first one, ignited before it could leave the chamber. The rest of them (I counted 6) shot directly toward my wife and her family.


One of the shells hit her knee. She described it as a rock hitting her, which seemed appropriate given that her little nephew was tossing rocks. However, the tirade of sparks that exploded to the left of us solved the mystery. We then proceeded to see colors explode all around us. There was at least one funny moment as I reminisce: one of the girls that was with us tried to run in the opposite direction, with her purse held behind her rear as she squatted over to protect herself. Imagine the mental image of a girl trying to defend herself from an onslaught of bombs with her purse.


 My reaction surprised even me. I just sat in the chair calmly, not reacting to what was going on. I wasn't sure what to think at the time, because my first thought was, "Oh, its just this one that mis-fired." As more and more shot out, I didn't know whether to run or stand still. I didn't start to worry till after the firework was done. I wish that somehow, the back of my mind, I had thought to dive behind the chairs and protect myself and the others. I'm too calm; I don't react really rashly to anything. 

My wife's knee had a massive red spot where the firework singed her, but she healed just fine. 


 Fireworks can be fun, but I never thought that I would feel the fear of a mortar barrage while watching them.

The Trouble with Tradition

Recently in the state of Utah, the republican primary was held. In this primary, the same state senator that has been in office 36 years was voted through. In my own humble opinion (I like to think that it is open-minded and learned), I believe that anyone who researched any further into the matter would find him to be an unsuitable candidate. The man is 78 years old! His opponent was a freshman in politics and probably could have brought much to the table; his only downfall was support from the tea party. However, I feel the bulk of the win in this ancient senator's life is due to tradition. If anyone cared about more than tradition (i.e., the state of the country, the interests of the people) they would not have voted him in again.


Tradition can be a wonderful thing. As Tevye once put it, "Tradition helps us to keep our balance."  If anybody has ever been to Utah, especially the Utah County part, you will notice how much we resemble Tevye and the rest of his community. 


Nowadays, tradition seems like it ought to be something of the past (no pun intended). Take these examples:


(Disclaimer) This is not to fault anyone in particular. I place no blame or hard feelings on the people who might be mentioned here. These merely reflect my view on the downside of tradition.

Family: My parents always tried to instill in me the importance of household chores (hereafter referred to as 'jobs'). I remember never being able to go outside of the house to do anything until my jobs were done. As I grew older, I would watch my younger brothers and sisters learn the hard lesson that I learned from my parents, that is: doing your jobs is the most important thing on earth (P.S., doing your jobs is not the most important thing on earth). My favorite memory is my coming home to my youngest brother shrieking in the kitchen because my mom duct-taped him to the stool in front of the silverware basket. This forced him to precariously sit with no leg movement and unload the silverware, hoping that he wouldn't wiggle the stool and fall over. 


If I acted the same way as my parents, I might teach my children the same lessons that I don't feel are as important as others. I'd probably do my own thing and expect my kids to clean without me helping or setting an example (and all you parents know how well it works to throw your kid in a room and yell "Dont come out till its clean!"). But, because I recognize that teaching hard work by cooperation and trust works better than expectation and duct tape. The tradition stopped and changed into something better.


Business: Any business that has been around for years and years (and hasn't failed) knows this simple truth. To stay in business, you need to keep up with trends and innovation. To be fair, I have to agree that there are traditional lessons such as treating your customers well, but the bulk of failing companies lack innovation.

Government:.....I dont need to say much with government, but their old fashioned partisan arguments are bothering much of the silent majority. The tradition of politics keep things from working.

Whenever I personally hear someone say that I should do something because they have done it 'for years' or because they 'grew up doing it that way', I immediately become skeptical. Traditions should be kept due to their principles and benefits and not their common occurrences. Too commonly we look forward to the false sense of security that comes from tradition. Would that we could all "think differently."

I decided that I should start to keep my blog up again. I have read so many interesting articles and blogs lately, and it has inspired me to keep up on my own. Some of the best and objective news I see comes from blogs and NPR; they really connect people to other people. Most of the media really see the world in a pessimistic spectrum. There is a lot to be sad about, but because humans are inherently good, we can all still find interesting and wonderful things to learn. My title that I created as a 16 year-old will stay as I continue my posts: Always Look Up.


To reintroduce myself, I am now a legal adult attending college pursuing an economics degree. I plan to work my way into business sooner or later. I attend Brigham Young University for college which naturally designates me as a "mormon." I guess I'm more formally a "member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." I have to laugh every time I see a performance of "The Book of Mormon" on broadway or any other mormon parody. Let's face it, there are lots of fun idiosyncrasies about mormons, and bravo to all those who found the market and made money off of it.
I consider myself independent but I tend to favor the more conservative base. However, there are plenty on both sides who both get it right, and more who get it completely wrong. 


I like soccer, tennis, frisbee, Jazz music, and reading non-fiction. I have a bad tv watching habit as of late, and I think I could go back to more outdoor activities. Any questions?




Jeff, a character from Community (NBC) said ,"Helping ourselves is bad, and helping each other is good...just stop thinking about whats good for you and start thinking about what's good for someone else." Now, I think its great that we can still watch TV every once in awhile and see a worthwhile message such as Jeff's. The message itself is important, but I think the greater lesson we can take from it is this: Anything can be good and worthwhile as long as we look hard and not give up.


These words are very cliché and deserve to be written on the tab of a fortune cookie. However, the inherent message is true. In TV, the fictitious and unrealistic world of TV, there is still some good life lessons that we should all take to heart. I remember my parents and relatives talking about how innocent the world of TV was. We would watch some of the old black and white shows of the 50's (think "Leave it to Beaver" and "I Love Lucy") and hear about how wonderful the lessons they taught. 


I was born in the 90's and have seen the content on TV change since then. I feel like TV has evolved to take on all of the problems of today. Whether they control today's content or merely cover it, I don't know. However, the unrealistic worlds that were created back in the 50's were about as unrealistic as the sitcoms created today. I hope we recognize that we have to decide what we learn from any TV shows, experiences, or situations. Our personal philosophies are important. However, they are becoming mere whispers in a world where only certain messages are getting louder.

That's why I feel like its important to have blogs, journals, and other personal ways of expressing our views. It keeps from conformity and allows us all to continue to see personal good in the world around us.