Let's Go Back to Neptune

I love TV. A great, great deal. And I watch a lot of shows. Some are fun, but come and go. And some are the Great Ones. Those TV shows that change the TV landscape and that you think about for years to come: Friday Night Lights, Felicity, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The West Wing, and Veronica Mars.

That's right, Veronica Mars. In case you missed the news today, this canceled TV show that went off the air 7 years ago just made over $2 million dollars in less than 8 hours all from fans. Let me break it down for you:

• Veronica Mars was a TV show on the CW that lasted 3 seasons and then was unjustly and untimely-ly canceled.
• There was talk of making a movie but of course it didn't happen, because it NEVER happens (Serenity being the one exception.) 
• We moved on with our lives.
• Today, Rob Thomas, the shows creator launched a Kickstarter campaign. Essentially, he had gotten the major stars to agree to the movie but lacked the funding because big movie studios don't typically want to put the money down for a movie based on a TV show that had low ratings and was canceled.
• The fan's, excited by the prospect of not only a movie, but cool swag like signed posters and t-shirts, rallied and the movie met it's funding goal of $2 million in about 8 hours. (And the money is rolling in.) 
• Next year, there will be a Veronica Mars movie, and I am thrilled.

Here's the Kickstarter video and if you are a VM fan you will be filled with glee. (Warning: Adult language. Don't watch withe the kiddies!)

Not only is this amazing because I get to see all my old friends from Neptune, California again. (Veronica! Logan! Keith Mars! The Piz! Dick! Weevil! Wallace!! Mac!!) but it kinda might change the face of the TV/ Movie industry.

Whenever a culty TV show gets the can, the fans panic and there is always talk of the show being made into a movie or moving to another network. And it almost never happens. When Buffy the Vampire Slayerwas canceled there was talk of a movie, even though that TV show was based on a movie. And no one backed it.

But a few years ago when NBC canceled Friday Night Lights it was picked up by DirectTV and lasted another couple of seasons. And the fans rejoiced. But it seemed like kind of a weird fluke. And then Arrested Development was canceled far too soon. And suddenly Netflix stepped in and it is coming back. Soon. And now this - a show that ended 7 years ago still resonates with fans enough that it raised $2 million in less time than it takes me to work a shift at Old Navy.

I think my friend Daryn (who is a filmmaker) said it best:

This is kind of genius. Made a show with devoted fans? Get the fans to pay for the movie by giving them fan stuff. Unlike investors, who would expect to make money on the money they invest in the movie, the fans get the movie and the geek stuff. The filmmakers get paid and keep all the profits. Everybody wins. Especially the filmmakers. 

 And it feel like this is changing in a lot of creative endeavors. While the studios (and the publishers and the music moguls) still have most of the power, that power is shifting slightly. If you want to make a movie, get your fans to pay for it. If you want to release an album, put it online. If you write a book, self-publish. We are taking the power away from the gatekeepers and putting it in the hands of the artists and creators. And I think it is pretty awesome. And I hope you all do too when I am begging you to buy my self-published novel or back Patrick's Kickstarter to get his play produced. If Veronica Mars can do it, why can't we?

top of the mornin'

St. Patrick's Day is coming up, and it begs the question. How much do you know about the Irish? No - but how much do you really know about the Irish? I thought maybe I'd take a minute and tell you a little about our magical friends across the pond. Clear up some misconceptions. So listen up: you just might learn something!

1. The Irish love Lucky Charms. I'm serious about this! All they think about is oat flour with corn starch and marshmallow bits. They are obsessed! They will steal your Lucky Charms if you don't watch it. That's another thing about the Irish: they love to steal!

2. The Irish ride around on donkeys and live in thatched cottages. They are very quaint, and everything is very green in Ireland. Even their clothes (including pork pie hats.) They love to have visitors come pay 'em a call. Their door is always open, except when they are busy growing shamrocks.

3. Looking for a pot of gold? Look no further than the hills of Ireland, where pots of gold are about as commonplace as strip malls are in Orem. I mean, you don't even have to follow a rainbow or anything! Even though I have never been to Ireland, that's what I have heard from reliable sources. You can pick up a pot of gold and then do a dance through the heather on the hills. Watch out, though, you may have to duel it out with a leprechaun! (J/K, leprechauns don't exist! LOL)

4. Irish people love potatoes. Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew...no one knows potatoes like the Irish do! And nobody grows 'em like the Irish. Often they will eat potatoes cold - like apples - and then chase 'em down with a pint of beer. It's really great to watch (I'm told.) Then they will take sticks and scare away snakes. (Whatever!)

5. The Irish people are violent and potentially dangerous. Sadly, nobody is perfect. Sometimes the Irish people put bombs in pubs and blow people up. But that doesn't happen very often. You shouldn't worry about it if you go there, unless you go to Belfast. Then you shouldn't go around talking about pots of gold and Bono. And don't stay at youth hostels. Those are always a disaster. So gross.

6. Irish people make fishing hats out of lambswool. This is true! I have one. A leprechaun gave it to me.

7. Irish people sometimes eat their babies. They have potato famines there, so can you blame them?

8. If you live in Ireland and your name is Patrick, they will call you Paddy. If your name is Michael, they will call you Mick. If your name is Daniel, they'll call you Danny. If your name is Tricia, they will call you Shelby. (because they are drunk.)

9. Irish people are extraordinarily lucky! Have you heard of the Luck of the Irish? Well, that little saying really sums it all up. If their luck runs out, they die. And then they "keen," which is where people cry over dead bodies and sing "Danny Boy".

10. Famous Irish people include: Liam Neeson, Daniel Day-Lewis, Bono, Fiona Shaw, Ewan McGregor, and Sean Connery!

I'm about to submit this article to Wikipedia. Let me know if you have anything you would like to add to my list of fascinating things about Irish people. I pretty much know everything, but I'm not too proud to accept additional info!

Which Kid Am I Raising?

So my friends little boy...ok he's twelve, broke his nose wrestling.  At first I was not sympathetic, you put you son in a girls swimsuit and make him fight other one-pieced boys getting his nose smashed in is a pretty reasonable result.  But then he had to get surgery and they had to re-break the nose and set it delicately back into place.  He makes it through the surgery just fine and gets home nice and drugged up and the next day he is feeling good and wants to go over to his friends house, which he does and in the first 3 mintes of being there another twelve year old walks up to him and asks, "What happened here?" and slaps his nose. It should have fallen off.  It was only held on by a small bandage and the Dr told him not to do anything to it for a week so it will set back into place.  Then Eddy Haskel comes over and pushes it to the left.  Obviously it was so painful but he was in front of his friends so he fights off tears and calmly calls his mom and says, "I'm done here, could you come pick me up?" Of course he doesn't tell his mother, because she will be mad, either at the friend or him or both (turns out Moms just get mad at themselves for not saying, "No, you just had surgery and your friends are idiots, stay home.") so she finds out when the kids mom texts her this huge apology and offers to pay for any damage done.

So here we are:  On the one hand twelve year olds are dumb and we should know they are dumb and we should put them in boxes with holes until they are...what am I now, 34? Yeah, 34. I should not have to be in a box but they should.

On the other hand, let's imagine the other kids mother.  Twelve years in and she realizes she raised, that kid.  The kid who has such a lack of awareness to walk up to another human being who is bandaged in the face and think, "That's my joke!  I'll swat the freshly BER-OKEN appendage and everyone will think I'm hilarious."

The trouble is... it could have been me.  It could have been anyone of us at that age.  Your desire to be liked far out weighs your desire to be reasonable.

When I was 15 I had a saying, if someone said something or did something that put me down in anyway, I would just shrug it off and say, "Oh, yeah?  Well, you're fat."  Easy. Clear. Final. I would say it to anyone, guys, girls, teachers, strangers. (I had a lot of teacher and strangers putting me down I guess) Well, then I was sitting in English next to Brenda, another 15 year old and she helped me out with my grammer.  I had made such a simple mistake that I thought it was funny.  She wasn't mean in correcting me, on the contrary, she was always real nice to me, which is why I thought it would be real clever if I gave her my signature line.  "Yeah well...you're fat."  And I went back to my paper.  Like, 10 minutes later I notice Brenda quietly shaking in her seat, her wrists limp in her lap, tears sneaking down her face, which was red trying to hold them in.  It actually took me a moment to figure out what had happened, it wasn't until she gently corrected me again, "That was the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me." she said with zero emotion, just as a matter of fact.  I remember trying to explain that I called everyone fat and that I did it all the time...this did not help my case, in fact it made me meaner that I did it all the time and to lots of people. Even as I said it I could hear that I was that kid.  Dumb. And I couldn't take it back.

I remember this story crystal clear and, no doubt, that nose whacking kid will remember that moment for the rest of his.  He thought he would be the hero and instead had to sit there while his mother, humiliated texted a stranger his apologies.

I was going to blog about how we text things that are too uncomfortable to talk about, but then I remembered Brenda and being that age and that boy and remembered I have little boy, who already thinks he shows his love by slapping other babies in the face (he's 9 months! Come on!) and realized I didn't have a leg to stand on, but then I realized, none of us do.

I am so glad that I finally finished with that phase.  And too bad for Milo...it's a comin'.

If You Like Movies, You'll Love Moving Furniture

Get ready for the game sensation that is sweeping the nation!*

(*Please note, this game has yet to sweep this or any nation. But when it does, I would like full copyright benefits. Also, I would like it to be called Ken’s Movie Game. Catchy, right? Well, I got my degree in advertising – so yep, I know some things.)

Back in 1996, my friend Steve and I were coerced by our wives into attending some sort of “party.” (Some multi-level-marketing shtick, featuring beauty products.) I don’t remember the entire theme, but I do remember at one point both of us soaking our fingers in adjoining bowls, in preparation for manicures. I can’t say it was my proudest moment, but Steve and I had been friends since before puberty, so it wasn’t the first time we’d found ourselves in a situation that would never be discussed afterwards. (Like the time we decidedly kicked a fellow Scouter out of our tentat Scout Camp, so a younger Scouter with a much more attractive sister could stay in our tent and tell us what she might be looking for in a rugged, almost-Eagle Scout. That was probably the least talked about incident, pre-manicure.)

Anyway, we started talking about movie previews. And then we started talking about how often you see a tag line on a poster or preview that says:

If you liked _____, you’ll love ______.

You’ve seen them.

“If you liked Rocky, you’ll love Hoosiers…”

“If you liked Pretty Woman, you’ll love Green Card…”

“If you liked The Godfather, you’ll love Goodfellas…”

And so forth.

So out of an awkward moment of pampering, and all in the name of comedy, a game was created where we would try to come up with movie tag lines that connected two movies in name only (or a nebulous association), but not really in any other similarities. In other words, the movies had to have a similar word in the title, but would actually be almost polar opposite in subject.

Steve had the first one:

If you liked Dirty Dancing, you’ll love Dances with Wolves. 

It took off from there.

If you liked Sleepless in Seattle, you'll love Sleeping with the Enemy.

If you liked Fight Club, you'll love The Joy Luck Club.

If you liked Lilo & Stitch, you’ll love Thelma & Louise!

If you liked Polar Express, you’ll love Pineapple Express!

 

Now, player beware. Sometimes you will think of titles that actually are similar in name as well as subject, and I won’t be there to referee in person, but you should know that that just doesn't work. Example: If you liked Superman Returns, you’ll love Batman Returns. (If you actually liked one of these movies, you would probably like the other. So it’s true, not funny. Thus, no points. More appropriately would be: If you liked Superman Returns, you’ll love Max Dugan Returns. I think we've all learned a very valuable lesson here. Way to dodge that bullet!)

Now, once you are comfortable at this level, you are ready to introduce a new rule. That of the connection being more imprecise. Instead of just sharing a word in the title, it might be a shared syllable only. Or a shared theme.

If you liked Dumbo, you’ll love Rambo.

 

If you liked Philadelphia, you'll love Fargo.

If you liked The Postman, you'll love The Cable Guy.

If you liked The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, you'll love The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

If you liked You've Got Mail, you'll love You Got Served.

One final note, when you are playing this verbally, you have to say it with as much conviction and excitement as a movie announcer would. Like you are just SO SURE that If you liked Mystic River, you’ll love Mystic Pizza!

 

So please enjoy this new game! If you are playing with a fellow movie aficionado, the two of you will have a great time. I've played this with many, many, many of my friends; none of whom are as famous or easy to name drop as Chris Clark. And Chris is spectacular at it. 

If you liked The Godfather, you’ll love Father of the Bride!

If you liked Slumdog Millionaire, you’ll love Brewster’s Millions!

If you liked Return to Witch Mountain, you’ll love Brokeback Mountain!

If you liked Saving Private Ryan, you’ll love Save the Last Dance!

If you liked Sense and Sensibility, you’ll love Dumb and Dumber!

If you liked Schindler’s List, you’ll love The Bucket List!

 

Play along, won’t you?  

Jack of All Trades ... Master of One?

It's fitting that the theme of the posts this week have surrounded work in some way. Ken's new job, Patrick's wife's project, Josh's expert dress-to-impress advice, and Chris' BEARD working as a movie star. As it turns out, I've been wanting to write about this topic for a long time.

I have a job. It provides for my family. It's something I'm glad I have and something I feel blessed to have gotten. Landing the job I have now was definitely something God had a hand in, and he continues to help me each day. I'm thankful.

I'm good at my job. Truth is, since I hit my teens I've been OK to good at everything I've ever tried in my life. Everything I can think of anyway.

But I'm not great at my job. I'm not an expert in the strict sense of the word. Truth is, I'm not great at anything. I haven't attained mastery in any facet of my life.

It's the old saying: "Jack of all trades, master of none." Which I think was coined by Moses. (I'm only OK at history.) So, being fine has gotten me through my life pretty well. It worked for a really long time. Sometimes I'd get an A, and sometimes I'd get a C+. Sometimes I'd hit 15 three-pointers in a row and then I'd miss a lay up. Sometimes a girl would say yes. I also got frequent nos. What I hadn't thought about is that, at some point, being simply OK meant that there would always be someone better than you at everything. Someone who decided to take the time to master something.

This is a problem for me. Being good or OK isn't great. I want to be amazing. And, I know the blame falls on me. It's my life, after all. I made choices to get me here. I look around and I am surrounded by greatness. By genius. By mastery. I see spiritual greatness, creative genius, musical proficiency, parenting greatness, and acting, improvising, writing mastery. I am so proud to know all the wonderfully talented people I know who are or who are close to being the very best at what they do. They are friends, they are relatives, they are acquaintances, and they are even married to me. I'm happy for the success of others. I'm happy that so many people I know get to do what they love, what they're great at, and still provide for their families doing it.

What to do? I've decided it matters so I can't just accept being OK. I guess I need to try harder at being an expert at something.

I think the closest thing I have is my acting. It's the thing in my life that I enjoy doing more than anything else. It's the thing I get the most validation doing. Contrary to what you may have heard or believe, good acting is hard. Film, theater, improv, all of it. It's difficult to become an expert at it. But that's doable. It's even more hard to earn a living at it. This is why I think I've plateaued at good and not great. I think if I really believed in my heart that, at 42 years old, I could make a run at professional acting, then I could see myself spending the remaining hours of the 10,000 needed to become an expert. But then there's that voice that says, "Acting is great but you have a good job and a family to support." My brain cannot justify working at it more since there can be little return on the investment. See? I sure am good at talking myself out of that one. I have to keep telling myself that retirement and college funds will thank me.

The other thing is writing. That could be something. I like to do it most of the time. I could even make the effort needed to get good at it. I don't thoroughly enjoy it as much as performing. It's sort of how I already make my living. The tough part about this one is that I really love writing poems, sketches, and scripts. I don't always like marketing writing. This creates a conundrum. I could spend the time needed to get great at marketing writing but could I learn to love it and be fulfilled by it? And, after spending most of my day writing about products, do I want to come home and squeeze a few more writing hours out of myself to write a novella? The evidence against me is that I prefer watching TV to unwind rather than writing to unwind. I'll forgo TV to study for an acting audition but not for writing. Huh.

For the record, I have implemented plans to both of the above more. Maybe I will become great at them if I stick with it. It's possible.

But hold on ... I just thought of this. Maybe the answer is to become great at the things that will make me a better human. Practicing to master the non-career related things. I should spend more time becoming an expert at marriage, fatherhood, friendship, service, listening, humility, positivity, encouraging, supporting, and caring.

I bet I could be great at a couple of those. With a little expert help. Who's in?

Fashion Man-Date

Southwest tie. T-shirt cardy. 

As Ken mentioned, he started a new job this week. Yeah, Ken!! And since he also implied that for the last 6 months he has been walking around the house in t-shirts, a beard and no pants (and believe me - I've been to Ken's house and I cannot un-see the things that I have seen!!!) as he prepared to reenter the work force he needed to spruce up the wardrobe. So natch, he called me and Patrick. Patrick and I both work in retail and both have worked in retail for the last 100 years and basically we are a little mini Clinton and Stacey (I'm Clinton) or Trinny and Susanna (I'm Trinny.) We spend time professionally helping people pick outfits.

So the three of us went on a little Man-Date to the Banana Republic in the City Creek to update Ken's look. And as we shopped, I came up with a few fashion mandates (see what I did there?) that you can use in your life (if you are one of the 7 men who read this blog about fatherhood) or your husband's life (for the other 93% of our female readers.)

Patrick thinks about how long until the return of pleats.

Mandate 1: Before the shopping trip, Ken and Katie (his wife) took stock of his current wardrobe. He relayed the following conversation:

Ken: I have those blue pants still that are pretty nice.

Katie: Don't those pants have pleats?

Ken: Yeah...but that is OK, right?

Katie: Um...you better clear that with Patrick and Josh.

Katie's right. Pleats are no good. (Now, right now Patrick is saying that pleats are making a comeback. Because literally everything in fashion makes a comeback at some point. And pleats probably will be mainstream someday. But it's like 10 years off. So if you want to wear pleats now, that's what I called "Advanced Fashion." And it's not for the faint of heart.) So please don't buy or wear pleats. They make you look fat and dumpy. And old. And like you shop at JC Penny. With your mom. Picking your clothes.

This scarf is clearly too big. 

Mandate 2: As Patrick and I were shopping, not consulting Ken (who was standing in the middle of the store texting) I said to Patrick, "What size top do you think Ken is?" Patrick replied, "I don't know - a medium?" Me: "You're right. For sure he is a medium. But he probably thinks he is a large." Sure enough, when we consulted Ken, he said he was a large. Ken is not a large. He's tall, but he is a racquetball player and he is fit and he is a medium. Please, for the love of Mizrahi, wear clothes that fit you well. Here is a tip for shirts: Look at the seam on top of the shoulder. It should run parallel to the ground and lay flat. If the end of the seam rolls over the edge of your shoulder and points towards the ground, the shirt is too big. And for pants, don't get a loose fit or relaxed fit. That is retailer code for clothes that make you look fat. I'm not saying everyone needs to wear a skinny jean. But get a straight leg jean. It is like a loose fit jean, but just slightly narrower. 

I wasn't able to convince Ken to buy that cardigan. I may never forgive myself. 

Mandate 3. The funnest part of shopping with Ken, is that he literally had no opinions. He trusted Patrick and I completely. So when I hesitantly asked if he would try red pants, he said "Sure!" And look how great he looks!! Look, I'm not saying everyone needs red pants. But don't be scared to try new things. Just because you have always bought loose fit jeans and Big Dawg t-shirts, doesn't mean you have to only buy those things for the rest of your life. OK...hold on. Let's go back a bit. The mandate stands, but I really do think that everyone needs red pants. Colored pants have been pretty on trend for 3 or 4 seasons now, which I think means they have officially crossed into the mainstream. I don't think I currently own pants that aren't jeans, colored pants, or colored jeans. Don't be scared. Go buy some. And because I know you are going to ask, they are a neutral and match almost anything.

Not a bad haul! And Patch even got himself a new fedora!

Mandate 4: When first started in retail, we had a saying when we were working in the men's department. "If you only knew what we knew." See, we retail kids spend hundreds of hours a week dealing with clothes. We watch training videos and read product knowledge guides and peruse fashion magazines. The people who work in those stores know how to dress you! So ask for help. What we meant by "If you only knew what we knew" was that if a guy would only come in and say "I've got $100 bucks and I need to look great for a date and I am in your hands" we would move heaven and earth to make sure that you did indeed look great and that you felt great too. Because then you come back and spend more money. We're not going to send you out of the store looking like a fool. Because then you don't come back and you tell your friends. We want you to look amazing. So let us do it.

We happened to be shopping the night of the Mad Men Collection launch and they had appetizers! FTW!!

That's it. That's not to hard right? I'm not giving you specific fashions or styles (OK, other than red pants. Go get some.) I'm just giving you some guard rails. So your mandates are:

1. Pleats are not good.
2. Wear clothes that fit well.
3. Don't be scared to try new things. 
4. Ask for help.

You can do that, right? And if you can't, Patrick and I are available for a small (enormous) consultation fee. And you'll probably leave the store owning red pants. Don't be scared. It's better than the no-pants you've been wearing for the last six months. 

au naturale

 

I only have ten minutes to write this blog so I'm going to focus on the one thing that is always on my mind: MY BEARD. Apparently it's on everybody else's mind as well. That's all anyone ever wants to talk about. It's a lot of work explaining it. It's pretty massive, this beard. When I walk down the street, people notice BEARD and if they are brave enough to talk to me, they talk about BEARD.

The reason why I have a beard is because I was cast to play the Apostle Paul in the LDS Church's New Testament film. I'm super excited about it and I get to go to Sicily, so I'm not going to be all whiny about that. But it does come with the caveat that I have to grow a beard, and this beard has been happening since November. And it will continue to happen until June. So it's just going to get worse.

If you are in my ward, you should know all this by now. Why do we need to talk about my beard every Sunday? Yes, it's getting longer! Now, share your testimony or go back to complaining about your calling. I enjoy those conversations. My beard doesn't do anything magical and it has no opinions. No need to discuss it!

If you are a friend, and you are hungry, feel free to search through my beard for a morsel or two. They're in there! There's enough for everyone. I ate lunch at J Dawgs yesterday for lunch and I got solid lick of BBQ sauce at about 8 pm last night! Remarkable! It tasted like it was straight from the bottle!

If you are my wife, keep pretending you think it's sexy. You are doing an amazing job. You scruff it with your fingers and still make-out with me, and it does wonders for my fragile self-esteem. I don't mind if you pull on it! A baby would. It doesn't hurt at all! I like it.

That's all I have to say, and anyway I have to go to a boring training meeting. I will listen to the lady talking and she will occasionally look at me and she will think BEARD and I will think CLOCK ON THE WALL and the other people at the meeting will be thinking BEARD and then it will be over and we will all get on with the rest of our day.

PHEEEEW!

So, last week, as I'm sure you remember I posted about the most amazing play ever written and how my wife devised this play and how everyone should see it cause it's super good and ground breaking and something that you won't see around here any time soon.

Well, here's the thing:  I lied.

It's horrible.

no, just kidding, but could you imagine?!  I'm on my blog all like, "My wife's play sucks eggs! DON'T SEE IT!"  That would be super 'kward.

But here's the thing: I lied...or rather, I didn't know.  You see, when I posted last week, well, I hadn't seen it. How could I?!  It opened on Wednesday, I'm not magic! And so when I was pitching that YOU should see it, well, I was just being supportive, ya know, but I had no idea if this experimental, student written, high risk, wildly expensive (not Phantom expensive, but it blew the budget for my last ward road-show out of the water...'course that was 15 years ago and with the economy what it is...) play would be good, bad, fine, adequate, reasonable, turbulent, riveting, or dumb...I just had no idea.   But that didn't stop me.

I saw it this week.

Lisa Clark can tell you, as the spouse of a Director, you sorta only hear how things are crazy and what's hard and what's not working.  And Lisa Clark can tell you, any supportive spouse smiles and says, "That's just theater, honey.  It's always wild and scary and then, it's wonderful...or at least, fine."

But I gotta tell you, I was sacred.  This was a huge HUGE project and all that stuff I said about it being "experimental, student written, high risk" that's not me being funny...that's the real story, and what's worse my wife willingly laid her delicate neck on the chopping block in taking on this albatros and there were nights we both were lying in bed in the dark with four wide eyes playing out the flopping of this play.  SO OF COURSE I WAS SUPPORTIVE! What else was I going to be?!

I saw it this week.

I had a sick feeling in my stomach, I mean, at this point what was I going to do?!  I suppose I knew the songs, if things got real bad I guess I could jump up and lend my silky tenor to the cause, but even then what would it help?  Sure, people's lives would be changed by the gorgeous sound coming from my throat, but the real problem would be the same; I can't be there every night.  And so I hunkered down in my seat determined not to jump in unless a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y necessary.

When I was younger it was my greatest fear that I would marry a girl who thought she could sing.  I could just picture her enthusiasm and always trying to get us "gigs" to sing together and I would have to stand next to her and watch her with her eyes closed leaning right up against the pitch but never quite getting there.  And what could I do?!  I would have to love that tone deaf dope and so I would stand next to her and a try not to make eye contact with the grimacing faces in the audience.

However, my real wife does not want to sing duets with me.  She'll sing in church and has sung in a choir or two and, best of all, she sings to our kids, but she has a reasonable awareness to her vocal talent, just as I do...now where was I...oh yes, I was tamping down my golden godly voice to support the play...

The play... It was spell binding.  It was captivating.  I was both spellbound and captivated. The show is so good! It's all just storytelling, different people, different stories, spell binding, captivating, good.

But that's not what I want to write about (though you should click here and get yourself tickets before they are all gone...it closes and is gone forever on Saturday) what I want to write about is how hard it is to be married.  At first it's not hard, at first it is wonderful and easy and then after the 'at first' part, you move to the next part...what is that? And how long does that last? Until the 'last part', I guess.  So somewhere in that not beginning and not the ending you start to forget that this person sleeping next to you is this amazing creature, who is filled with hopes and aspirations and you start to see them as the person who forgot to throw your underwear in the dryer.  I know, I know, you still know that they are amazing, but you make them amazing for stuff they do around the house or their smile or how after all these years they still like you, and that IS amazing.  But you forget about the time before when you were two separate people and wanted to take on the whole world and you were pretty sure you would be done with that by 30 then you could retire and live off your interest because, really, that's all you need, you've never been greedy.

Anyways...I guess what I saying is that this week I got to see my wife accomplish something amazing and hard and thought provoking and new and it bubbled into this world through her brain and I was so proud and it reminded me of what an amazing person as a person she is and not just as my wife or the mother of my kids or housekeeper or science teacher or moral compass or pageant winner or party hostess or costume designer or sex goddess or short order cook or doctor MD or doctor PhD or pep talker or protector or comedian or Scattergories player or or or or...

Turns out, even with out my help, she is still amazing.

And I was amazed.  

     

The Slump

Five months ago I moved my family from Las Vegas, Nevada to Orem, Utah. (There we are, in Utah.) There were several reasons we did this. Some of those reasons were super clear to me, and some were not. Some were public, and some were personal. Some I’m still not sure of yet. But the path was illuminated and we felt an internal nudge to walk that path. So we did.  

This move included the process of finding a new job. And...everybody relax...I finally found The One. In fact, I start today, and I am really, really excited!

If you've never been out of work for longer than two weeks, please allow me to share just a few personal observations:

1.  It is the easiest thing in the world to “feel busy.” You will sometimes wonder how you ever found time to have a full-time career and do everything else. Your wife will ask you to go to the grocery store, and your response will be, “WHAT? That’s, like, my entire afternoon!” And then when she asks you what you’re so busy with…the only thing you’ll be able to think of is that all five seasons of Alias are now on Netflix, and those episodes aren't going to watch themselves!

2. Up to now, you have been unable to fully fathom both the glory and hazard that is Netflix Streaming.

3. There will come a day when you are standing in front of the bathroom mirror, and you have the razor in your hand, and the thought will come to you, “Who am I shaving for? Seriously, WHO cares if I’m clean shaven?” And with a smirk on your face, you’ll put the razor away. Then you’ll be surprised to notice that you’re wearing jeans…the same pair of jeans you've been wearing for four days. And they do nothing for your figure. And you’ll be disgusted with yourself. So you’ll throw those jeans in a dirty clothes pile, and you’ll go the entire morning pants-less. There will be whispered concerns between family members, but nobody will actually confront you; because clearly, you have only one marble left rolling around in that noggin of yours.

4. There will be moments where you absolutely do not feel like talking to anyone. Because even when they are genuinely concerned about your well being, you have to give them a lame update. And you start to feel that, in addition to being a disappointment to yourself, now you’re letting them down as well.  

5. You will appreciate the vulnerability of others like never before. 

6. You'll develop a deepened repugnance for Know-It-Alls. 

7. You will have conversations with your spouse that goes a little something like this:

Or something like this:

You: I’m sorry.

Spouse: For what?

You: For failing.

Spouse: Failing at what?

You: You name it.

Or maybe even something like this:

You: “The problem is I’m not qualified to do anything.”

Spouse: “You are qualified to do everything!”

You: “I've never done anything great.”

Spouse: “Everything you do is great!”

You: “Just saying the opposite of what I’m saying doesn't build confidence in me.”

Spouse: “So you want me to stop?”

You: “…Not really.”

8. You will watch clips like this, and you’ll wish that in all this "down time" you could have dinner with Elder Holland.

9.  People will ask you if you are enjoying some “down time” to do whatever it is you have always wanted to do. Write, sculpt, paint, lose weight, master the art of kung fu, create an app, become a stunt driver, start your midwifery practice…whatever. (They mean well, so don’t punch them in the throat.)  You have to remember that when you’re in the World of the Employed, having “free time” seems like the ultimate gift. But when you are in the World of the Unemployed, that “free time” and "energy to be creative" and "desire to develop new passions" and "need to wear pants" is completely choked out by the daily anxiety that despite no money coming through your door, it continues to fly out your windows.

10.  If you are blessed to be married to Katie then you will take profound comfort in her unparalleled level of confidence that all things will work together for your good, that you will be blessed to come off the conqueror and that somehow you have the abilities to provide for your family. And that she will be crazy about you, come what may.

11. You will read scriptures and your Patriarchal Blessing and remember other priesthood blessings and counsel you've received and you will be reassured and have fresh hope and courage fill your soul. Then it will be after lunch that same day, and your surroundings aren't any different than they've been for days. And you will conclude, “I know that if I am worthy of these blessings then the Lord will make good on all His promises. So…since the Lord cannot lie, and these blessings are eluding me…I must not be worthy of them. What am I doing wrong?” And so you’ll take it to the Lord over and over, and ask Him what you’re doing wrong. And the only clear answer will be, “We’re not working on your timetable. Have faith. Carry on.” And you’re kind of comforted by that, even though things are not working out when you think they should.

12. There are generous people everywhere; and sometimes even the smallest gestures of love or kindness will make you weep. It can truly be overwhelming. Whether you receive of somebody’s money or time or words of confidence, you feel known. And you wish you could adequately express your love and gratitude to these individuals, who have fast become your favorite people ever.

13. When you least expect it, you will receive clarity. For example, maybe you’re in the temple. And maybe there’s a man in front of you who has cerebral palsy and it takes his every painstaking effort to move ever so slowly, with the help of a walker. And you notice the grimace in his face, and the slowness of his breath. And it surprises you to see he’s younger than you. And a temple worker looks to you, wondering if you have come with this man to the temple today in order to assist him. And you haven’t, but you find yourself placing your hand on this stranger’s back and asking if he needs any help. And his grimace turns into a wide and warm smile, and he chuckles and responds, “Oh…I need every kind of help.” And as you are drawn into his disarming laughter, you marvel at his disposition and his faith and optimism. And you are embarrassed at how whiny you've been about your own temporary struggles. And you feel a voice patiently whispering to you, gently reminding you, “Your trial is a moment. Endure it well.”

One of My Favorite Poems Ever: "If" by Rudyard Kipling

I read this often to remind myself how I can be a little bit better each day. I want to be a Man and this is a pretty great instruction manual. 

“If”

By: Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,

If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

---

Enjoy your Friday.