Movie List: Fo All Y'all

Here is my movie list to fit certain genres. Several of the movies leak into multiple genres, that is intentional. Please note that some of the movies may need to be seen slightly edited (See Last Post). Also, I apologize I haven't seen many movies. If you want to suggest any movies please add them to the comments, and I will try to see them.

Classic:
Arsenic and Old Lace
Casablanca
Psycho
Strangers on a Train
Rear Window
The Birds
North by Northwest
Notorious
Charade
Roman Holiday
How to Steal a Million
Sabrina
Singin in the Rain
Court Jester
Knock on Wood
Inspector General
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
Wonderman
White Christmas
Some Like it Hot
12 Angry Men
Scarlet and the Black
Sound of Music
Duck Soup
Abott and Costello Meet Frankenstein
Dracula: Bela Lugosi
Frankenstein: Boris Karloff
M
Metropolis
To Kill a Mockingbird
Citizen Kane
Nosferatu: Max Schreck
The General
The Phantom Carraige: Basically A Christmas Carol, but better.
The Invisible Man
The Maltese Falcon


Action and Adventure:
Frequency
Italian Job
Inception
Star Wars
Lord of the Rings
War of the Worlds
A Knights Tale
Warrior
Sherlock Holmes: Robert Downey Jr.
Avengers
Spiderman: Andrew Garfield
Iron Man
X-Men
Mission Impossible
Jason Bourne series
Star Trek
Batman: Christian Bale
Saints and Soldiers
True Grit
Pirates of the Caribbean
Jurassic Park
Hunt for Red October
The Great Escape
Scarlet and the Black
Return of the Dragon: Bruce Lee
League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
Vantage Point
James Bond Movies: Daniel Craig
Willow
The Princess Bride
Oceans 11, 12, 13

Comedy:
Raising Arizona
Duck Soup
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Moonrise Kingdom
Monty Python and Search for Holy Grail
Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
Complete Works of Shakespeare Abridged
Better Off Dead
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
O Brother Where Art Thou
Galaxy Quest
The Muppets: Movie
Treasure Island
in Space
Christmas Carol
Mrs. Doubtfire
It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World
Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein
What's up Doc
Clue
White on Rice
The Ghost and Mr. Chicken
Nacho Libre
Napoleon Dynamite
Hitch
Warm Bodies
The Brothers Bloom
The Ringer
Three Amigos

Witty:
The Princess Bride
Fantastic Mr. Fox
Moonrise Kingdom
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail
Complete Works of Shakespeare Abridged
Sherlock Holmes: Downey Jr.
The Brothers Bloom
O Brother Where Art Thou
Clue
Oceans 11, 12, 13

Thought Provoking:
V for Vendetta
Rosencratz and Gildenstern are Dead
M
Metropolis
Big Fish
Star Wars
To Kill a Mockingbird
Frequency
Inception
The Prestige
Life of Pi
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
The Wave
The Brothers Bloom
The Village
The Sixth Sense
Signs
Cyrano De Bergerac: French version
Wild Strawberries
Forrest Gump

Drama:
Hunt for Red October
Rebel Without a Cause
4 Minutes
Star Wars
To Kill a Mockingbird
Warrior
True Grit
Count of Monte Christo
Forever Strong
Remember the Titans
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Valkyrie
Hans and Sophie Scholl: The Final Days
The Wave
Kinamand
The King's Speech
Forrest Gump
Runaway Jury
42

Visually Appealing:
Tron
Star Wars
Lord of the Rings
Sherlock Holmes: Downey Jr.
Les Miserables: Hugh Jackman
Nightmare Before Christmas
War of the Worlds
Moulin Rouge
Big Fish
Pirates of the Caribbean
9

Silent:
The Artist
Nosferatu: Max Schreck
Metropolis
Call of Cthulhu
The General
The Phantom Carraige
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: Picture The Scream as a film

So Bad It's Good:
Troll 2
Twilight: I haven't seen all of them
Condorman
1966 Batman

Scary:
Sixth Sense
Signs
War of the Worlds
Nosferatu
Dracula: Bela Lugosi
Frankenstein: Boris Karloff
The Village
Warm Bodies
The Invisible Man
Psycho
Rear Window
Strangers on a Train
Wait Until Dark

80's:
Better Off Dead
Ferris Bueller's Day Off
The Karate Kid
Footloose

Music/Dance:
Dr. Horribles Sing Along Blog
Footloose: 80's
Les Miserables: Both Reunions and Hugh Jackman
Phantom of the Opera
Singin in the Rain
Sound of Music
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
The Wizard of Oz
The Wiz: Black version of Wizard of Oz, it has young Michael Jackson
Moulin Rouge

Romance:
Casablanca
The Brothers Bloom
How to Steal a Million
Sabrina
Breakfast at Tiffany's
Charade
Cyrano De Bergerac: French version
Hitch: For your own romace advice
Phantom of the Opera
Moulin Rouge
Kate and Leopold
Dan in Real Life
What's up Doc
The Terminal

Inspirational or Feel-Good:
Four Minutes
The King's
Warrior
Life is Beautiful
Radio
Les Miserables: Jackman
The Great Escape
Big Fish
Valkyrie
Hans and Sophie Scholl: The Last Days
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Cyrano De Bergerac: French version
Second Hand Lions
Wild Strawberries
42
Forrest Gump

Art With All Its Lights and Darks

I am currently in a German and Scandinavian Cinema class. Scoff if you will, but it is my favorite class so far. It is taught on Mondays and Wednesdays from 3:00 to 6:00. The first hour of class is spent in lecture, and the last two hours we watch a movie. The movies are, of course, German or Scandinavian; however, there are subtitles so that no knowledge of the language is required.

The first three classes have been spent discussing a single topic. This topic applies to everyone, and especially those within Utah Valley. This topic is one that deserves to be shared, and more broadly accepted. This topic is finding the good in art, but not just the good. It also includes finding the good despite, and even as a result of the bad.

 This is a touchy subject, and one that will take a while to cover. I mean a really long time. So where to start?

A few years ago the American Fork High School Drama Department, or the AFHSDD for short (pronounced: Half-as-Didi), put on the performance of Damn Yankees. As you can guess there were many who were in ignorant outrage. They called up Half-as-Didi and  told them that they could not perform Damn Yankees. A town that had one semester before praised the Didis for performing The Wizard of Oz was now  condoning them for a musical they had never heard of before.They are unknowing that the whole point of the musical is that a man has a chance to live his dreams as a baseball star, but instead he chooses to stay with his wife. A theme focusing on the importance of family and fidelity.   I can imagine many of these people would unknowingly go to see Book of Mormon: The Musical and get quite a shock when Nephi doesn't come out and begin singing.

People are so quick to condone forms of art that are good despite all the bad. People expect art to be only good, and with any sign of bad people with disregard the whole piece for naught. Such a mentality is often damaging, and I hope to address this issue now.

Genesis 37 through 39 is one of the most interesting non-linear segments of the Bible. I will post the chapter headings for your convenience.

Chapter 37

Jacob loves and favors Joseph, who is hated by his brothers—Joseph dreams that his parents and brothers make obeisance to him—His brothers sell him into Egypt.

Chapter 38

Judah has three sons by a Canaanite woman—Er and Onan are slain by the Lord—Tamar, disguised as a harlot, bears twins by Judah.

Chapter 39

Joseph, prospered by the Lord, becomes ruler of Potiphar’s house—He resists the advances of Potiphar’s wife, is falsely accused, and is cast into prison—The keeper of the prison commits the prison’s affairs into Joseph’s hands.

Why on earth is chapter 38, a story of lust, incest, and immorality, included right before the story of Joseph resisting the advances of Potiphar's wife. I'LL TELL YOU WHY...tell you why. It is because the Bible understands the importance of contrast in communicating a message. All through the scripture are acts of horror and acts of love.Try to remember the scene in the original Footloose where the town people are burning books with any offensive content. The reverend is outraged and holds up the Bible and claims that they will have to burn the Bible too. If the scriptures only included happiness what would it be missing, and vice versa. 

2 Ne 2 11: For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so, my first-born in the wilderness, righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad. Wherefore, all things must needs be a compound in one; wherefore, if it should be one body it must needs remain as dead, having no life neither death, nor corruption nor incorruption, happiness nor misery, neither sense nor insensibility. 

Can we truly appreciate the warmth of summers without the bitter cold we have now? Which, by the way, good heavens it is freezing. If I felt pain this winter would be intolerable. Back to point.

As a previous art student I can give you a brief lesson in contrast. One of the major flaws of beginning art students is that they don't separate their lights and darks enough, and they opt instead for a muted gray. Below are two pictures of Billy Joel, which of the two are better?

The answer is the one on the left.

Why is that?

The answer is due to the contrast  of the two pictures. Contrast is how to make darks darker and lights lighter. Notice how the further left you go on the scale the easier it becomes to see the difference.









Now you can understand why this is a terrible picture of MacGyver. Besides the fact that they are missing his impressive abdominals and quirky 80's style charisma.

Good music will do this. To become more powerful it will swell. It will go from a quiet unaccompanied melody of a flute to the unbridled pounding of an orchestra.  An example of this is In the Hall of the Mountain King by Peter Gynt.

I recently read an article by Travis T. Anderson, written for BYU, that is titled Seeking after the Good in Art, Drama, Film, and Literature. I will quote this article several times throughout my post. He recounts a story of Spencer W.  Kimball at BYU.

I remember hearing or reading some years ago of an experience involving Spencer W. Kimball during a visit he reportedly made to BYU while he was President of the Church. According to the story, as he walked

across campus one of his hosts noticed some students who were inappropriately dressed, at least in the opinion of this particular person. The host accordingly said to President Kimball, in a disapproving tone, “Will you just look at those girls?” assuming, as the story goes, that President Kimball would justify his taking offense and endorse his implicit criticism. Instead, President Kimball responded, “Yes, aren’t they beautiful?”

Travis T. Anderson follows this article with this amazing quote.

We should not refuse an occasion to praise simply because there may also be some reason to condemn, as if something is worthy of appreciation or capable of edification if and only if it is completely incapable of causing any offense whatsoever.

The main theme of the article is based around the abuse of the word "wholesome" in describing entertainment. People will describe a movie as "wholesome" because there is no material that is offensive to any person whatsoever, but that doesn't mean that there is any good either. Compare that to food. Food that is wholesome is enriching, and while the taste may be vile, it is still good for you. Oftentimes these foods will take a while to digest. The purely sweet foods will often go straight through you and attach to your hips. Notice, your hips, not mine sucker face. A person can't spend their whole life eating food that is void of anything unhealthy. They must also consume that which is good for them, and will make them a better person. This being said, many things in movies are like vitamins. Vitamins in small doses are marvelous for you. Though hard to swallow and sometimes bitter it will add to your person. However drinking pure vitamins is lethal. 

Some of the best movies and books that I've ever read have had some of the worst content. They were hard to swallow, and they took a while to digest. They tasted bitter and I wanted to spit them out, but doing so would have caused me to miss all the good that cam from it. Movies like the Avengers are sweet in the moment, and then are done the second the movie ends. Compare that to a movie like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which I saw edited, or V for Vendetta, which I also saw edited. Another great movie had some very very disturbing content, yet it is the most talked about movie currently. This movie is Les Miserables. Everyone who has seen it can agree that it is hard to swallow, but so worth it. That is the point I'm trying to make. The horror of  art can offer a contrast that makes it so much better than before. 

My favorite book is The Picture of Dorian Gray. I highly suggest this book to everyone. It is witty, disturbing, and beautiful. One person, upon reading this book, complained to me that it was hard for them. They stated it would have been much better if Dorian Gray changed in the end. As it stands Dorian Gray dies in his sin, and the book is a classic. If Dorian Gray had changed and lived the book would have been set down and forgotten a long time ago. It stings a little because the sting is what you remember. It's only when a child burns his hand on the stove that he or she truly understands the dangers of playing around the stove. If Dr. Jekyll had lived then the point of the book would be invalid. The point of the book is that man cannot serve two masters. That is why Hyde eventually consumed Dr. Jekyll. That is why you all hate The Great Gatsby, My Name is Asher Lev, and Julius Caesar. The books hurt, and you remember them so much more. There is no growing in comfort, and there is no comfort in growing. And let's be honest, The Great Gatsby preview is quite painful also. It plays So Happy Together in a horrendous screamo version. I felt as if someone attempted to make Laffy Taffy jokes hardcore by yelling them at me. The overall effect was a mixture of hilarity and disgust. Back to point.

Another example is when I went to a book club with Girlfriend. The book was called 13 Reasons Why. This is a very sad book about the suicide of a girl and the 13 reasons why she did it. Immediately complaints arose about why she had to kill herself. The answer is because death is a literary tool. Death, lust, Satanism, suicide, sin, greed, betrayal, adultery, envy, roll tide, and every other sin are literary tools. They are strong enough to convince a person of a beautiful point. Would A Tale of Two Cities be remembered if not for the Christ-like sacrifice of Sydney Carton?

While on this subject Charles Dickens once said, "I have yet to learn that something of the purest good may not be drawn from the vilest evil." Is it possible for a person to lean about bravery when reading about cowardice? It is possible for a person to learn about virtue when reading about immorality?

Now just how much can something sting before it becomes more damaging than good? The brethren have stated that we shouldn't watch rated R movies, but you would be a fool if you were okay with every PG-13 movie to hit theaters. It is important to live the spirit of this law instead of just the word of the law. But what is okay for me may not be okay for you. Travis T. Anderson wrote about this also. (Feel free to skip this next paragraph. I felt that if I didn't have enough quotes that I might have failed my blog test.)

Like Socrates and Plato before him, Aristotle knew that whether something is harmful or beneficial frequently depends both on the amount of the thing itself, and on its relative proportion to other things. Socrates

advised moderation in all things. But Aristotle recognized that moderation is a slippery standard—differing not only from activity to activity and person to person, but from moment to moment. In addition, moderation

in one thing can be judged accurately only when it is decided relative to other things. For instance, whether or not the amount of food we eat is moderate depends not only on the food in question, but on one’s age,

one’s health, one’s physical condition, one’s environment, the amount of energy one expends exercising, and a host of other factors. What is moderate under one set of circumstances for one person at one time will not necessarily be moderate when any of those variables change. Hence,almost anything can be either harmful or beneficial.

Such is the difference between art and pornography. Some see a naked guy throwing a discus, while others see a masterpiece. It is all in the eye of the beholder. Too often I am incapable of seeing the art. This isn't wrong, no, it's just my limit. And once it becomes pornography it becomes sinful. Your purpose in life should be to seek out that which makes you better. Pornography doesn't make you better, and you shouldn't herald it as art if it really is just smut.  

Some movies and books are just plain garbage and should be avoided. Such as Fifty Shades of Grey, and Saw 1-276. Other movies are wonderful but just have too much. As beautiful as they may be I will never see unedited Schindler's List, Saving Private Ryan, Shawshank Redemption, or The Godfather. There is content in these movies that would hurt me more than I could handle. Yet I know of people who have see those movies and have benefited from them greatly. Movies like Batman: The Dark Knight. May be far too much for many people. Others may not be able to handle The Sixth Sense. This movie is excellent at using the scariness as a tool, and it is one of my favorite movies. Heck, Enchanted may be too much for some people. Tooooo much Amy Adams. I can't take it any longerrr...

Now this being said art should be constantly sought after. Books and movies are great at offering growth that you otherwise could not experience. How can you understand the pain one might feel upon losing their spouse without watching a movie like Charly (I'm just kidding about that one. But man, that movie is tough stuff). How can you understand the joy of freedom unless you watch movies like Braveheart. In school you are taught about abuse, but reading A Child Called It can help you truly understand. In a confined Utah bubble it is very important to understand the world. Such understanding can be terrible but altogether necessary.

Dieter F. Uchtdorf recently talked about the seeking of truth at  CES devotional. He counseled that it is an obligation to acquire truth. D&C 109:7 And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom.

Truth can often hurt a little, and in this world we were meant to be hurt. This world is a test, and it is the hardest test that you or I will ever take. It is because of the hurting that we can be made better. In a way pain is weakness leaving the body.

You can no longer survive off of watching My Little Pony or Veggie Tales. Interestingly enough I just found out that there are grown  men who watch My Little Pony, and not because their sister is watching it, because they want to watch it. They call themselves "Bronies" or something like that. That's messed up. 

Back to point. Don't use this as an excuse to watch stuff that is going to hurt you. Never waste your time in seeking out that which is evil. There is that which is right, and that which is true, and rationales made for the evil we do. But understand that occasionally there is dark in life, and by understanding the dark we can truly appreciate just how brilliant the light is.

Irrational Fears, and by Irrational I Mean COMPLETELY RATIONAL!!!

Let me explain my fears. Needles. That's pretty much all of them. Syringes specifically.

I also really despise hospitals in general.

I have a reoccurring nightmare where I'm trapped in a hospital and there is a serial killer trying to find me, and the lights go out. I am trying to hide while all of my friends are being strategically picked off. I'm alone and I go into a room where I hear noises in the closet. It's pitch black and the noises get closer. I run outside and the hallways are filled with zombies.

Okay, zombies make it to the list of fears.

Back to needles. 

When I was in sixth grade I learned mental toughness. I remember distinctly when I was getting stitches in the side of my head. Don't ask. As I was riding in the car to go to the doctor I thought about pain. I realized that pain is just a stimulus given to the brain. It's nothing more than receiving annoying emails, or updates about how your body is doing. Pain is all in the mind I thought. As I got my stitches I was completely calm. Since that point in time I have learned to separate myself from pain. This is, of course, to an extent.

That being said I am a baby when it comes to shots. They  really don't even hurt. It's comical how I will tense up and be terrified to get a little flu shot. I've gotten shots before where I'm so worried about the shot that I will begin sweating. I will turn away from the needle and prepare for the worst. Only to be informed that the nurse already gave it to me. The fear of needles is all in the mind. So much for my mental toughness.

Fear are often associated with bad experiences. There is a quote by Jack Handy.  "To me, clowns aren't funny. In fact, they're kind of scary. I've wondered where this started and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus, and a clown killed my dad."

There have been experiments where heartless scientists lined a group of children up to give them the seasonal flu shots. All the kids go in with their parents. As the first kids go through it is a simple procedure. The child is unsure about the shot but will take it anyway. As time goes on there will be one child who whines a little, followed by one who cries a little, followed by one who tugs and pulls away. By the time the last children are getting their shots they are bawling and struggling. They try with all their might to break free, but they never do. The children have learned to fear the shot based on the reaction of the children before them. On a side note, can you believe that this was happening in America? We talk of preventing child abuse then impale with syringes them anyway. Let the kids just be sick. Being sick was one of the greatest things that could happen during the school year. Drink sprite and watch movies in pajamas all day long. It couldn't get better.

So what was my bad experience with needles? Let me tell you.

I burst a blood vessel in my knee in 8th grade. I played football. There's something comical about a bunch of midgets running about in pads, trying to push each other over. I'm surprised this isn't on TV on a national level. It might rekindle my love of sports. I was playing against a bunch of kids who were already hitting puberty. Let me show you what it was like.

I'm the one on the left. Notice how I'm classier. Also understand I will look like the one on the right when I return from my mission. Mark my words I will have the same mustache...I will also have larger traps.

There we go. 

Back to point. I was playing football with these pubescent giants when I went for a tackle. Do remember that I am still mentally tough. I tackled this colossus among 8th graders and bonked my knee on the way down. That's part one of the story. 

Part two begins as I was goofing around with my friends at Birk Gundersen's house. We decided to play football in his backyard. Tackle, of course. As I went to tackle Birk, who was also endowed with testosterone that exceeded my own, I bonked my knee in the same place. For real? I soon noticed that my left knee was twice as large as it should be. No joke, it was as if a baseball were strapped to my knee. To spare you mental trauma I will forget to include a picture.

It didn't hurt at all, mental toughness, so I rejoined my family later that day and began going about my usual schedule. My family decided to treat us to Smart Cookie after dinner. As I went to Smart Cookie I could feel my knee beginning to hurt. As I began to eat my chocolate chip cookie the pain climaxed and I was driven directly to the hospital. To keep me from walking around I was given a wheelchair. It was a one size fits all wheelchair made for pregnant woman. I couldn't pop any wheelies, or else I totally would have! I sat around for about an infinity years until my problem was deemed worthy of their time. I was pushed down to a public room divided by a curtain. I think the person next to me was getting a cast removed because I heard a saw blaring in the next room. Nothing is quite so comforting. I also saw a guy being pushed down the hallway on a gurney as blood poured out of where his toe should have been.

Again my problem was not a priority and I waited. I soon had to go to the bathroom and so I was pushed to a wheelchair accessible restroom. For the fist and only time in my life I actually had to use the handicap bathroom. Calling upon the powers of chimpanzees I hoisted myself out of the wheelchair and onto the toilet seat. I think that handicapped people must have practice because it took me a few tries. As I returned to my public half-room I was informed that a nurse came while I was gone, so now I had to wait for her to return. Finally the nurse came back and began asking questions. "What happened?" "Rate your pain?" "Are you okay?" She then wheeled me down to an x-ray. I laid on the cold hard table as my knee was contorted into the angles that would result in a better picture. "Can you bend your knee this way?" "No, no I can't." Injured knees just aren't that photogenic. I was wheeled back to my room and laid down only to resume the waiting process. This is why I hate hospitals. I also hate how cold and open it is, how I'm surrounded by all sorts of chrome tools, and how the walls and bedding are all an eerie off-white color.

I waited almost into oblivion when finally in comes a doctor to inform me that I had no broken bones and I had a burst blood vessel. "Thank you," I responded. He explained that it needed to be drained of excess blood. "No thank you," I responded. He left to prepare for operation. I waited. I think part of the point of hospitals is that you must convince yourself to get better or else you will spend the rest of your life waiting.

He returned wielding 2 giant syringes. I prepared for the worst. It was worse than that.

In order to numb the knee he pumped more liquid into my already maxed out knee. I could feel the knee inflating. He then carefully gored my inhuman knee with syringe #2. I felt the needle enter. The doctor then moved the needle back and forth while in my knee. I could feel the cold needle scraping against the bare kneecap. Instead of just drawing blood the doctor kept moving back and forth as blood began pouring out against the edges of the needles. The blood stained the bed. Red on pistachio. The doctor would draw a bit of blood and then shoot it back in. Two steps forward one step back. A whole two minutes later the needle was withdrawn. I was just about going to pass out. The doctor looked at how pale I was and offered me a sprite. I declined. It just wasn't one of those sick days. 

It's important to note that the knee was still about two sizes too large. I was also given a leg brace that prevented my knee from bending. I hobbled around for 3 days afterwards like a cripple. I missed out on a few days of football. A week later the swelling was gone. I still have a scar on my knee from the needle, and the mental scars have never gone away.

So now you can understand why I don't plan to ever donate blood.

The Work Situation

I have the same job that my father had when he was at BYU 17 years ago. I work at the BYU paint shop. All repairs to the walls of BYU are as a result of the paint shop. I have worked on the floor of the Marriot Center, the halls of the MTC, the walls of the Museum of Art, and most of BYU campus.

The work schedule goes like this:
5:00- Alarm goes off. I wake up and stare at the ceiling
5:05- Alarm becomes so annoying I make Bruce turn it off
5:10- My body is now out of bed and en route to the shower
5:11- Shower
5:20- Put on whatever work clothes I can find.(I'll talk about this later)
5:25- Eat and pack lunch
5:45- Leave for work
6:00- Work begins
10:00- 30 min. break. (More on this later)
12:00- 30 min. lunch break
2:30- Work ends.

The workers are separated by full-time and part-time workers. Students are only part-time workers.

My fellow employees include: (names altered for security reasons)
Robby: Boss of the whole paintshop. Age: 40's
Matthais: Lead of my paint crew. Bishop of his home ward. Age 50's
Bob: Full-time worker. Elder's Quorum President of home ward. Age 40's.
Chan: Full-time worker. High Councilman of home ward. Age 40's
Philly: Full-time worker. Has a mustache. Age 60's.
Gareth: Full-time worker. Constantly telling jokes. Age 50's.
Deverral: Full time worker. Taught my father how to paint. Age 60's.
Tyler: Part-time worker. BYU Cross-Country runner. Age 20's
Brucito: Part-time worker. My roommate. Age teens.

Considering the assemblage of pious and aged individuals you might expect a certain maturity. Nope. Kendall Orton might define us as raucous roustabouts. Immaturity reigns abundantly. We are generally found goofing around. We are occasionally serious, for example when staining a $20,000 table. Seriously a $20,000 table for the Eyring Science Center! They just have that kind of money?!?

But I regress.

Philly speaks Navajo and will often mutter to himself in Navajo. I have occasionally come across him drumming on a 5-gallon paint bucket and chanting in Navajo. He also used the roller extensions to have a sword-fight with Gareth. They will then come tell Brucito and I jokes as we are trying to work.
Brucito and I watched Can't Touch This and other video's on Chan's iphone whilst in the MTC.
Matthais made Bruce run up and down the halls of the MTC holding streamers and yelling HAPPY CHINESE CHRISTMAS
Tyler began a game of baseball using a tube of caulk and a ball made of paint.
Deverral will sporadically disappear only to be found later in his corner carving horses.
Robby will show up with cinnamon rolls and we will stop working to hang out and talk about weirdos that used to work in the paint shop.

You get the picture.

What most people don't realize about painting is that most of the work doesn't actually involve painting. In order to paint one must mud, sand, caulk, spackle, prime, re-sand, clean, and texture. Did I mention sanding. The most used tools for painting would be a putty knife and sanding blocks. As most of this work is undesirable the least fun work will be past to the lowest ranking individual. The totem pole goes as follows.

Grunt: Basic work. Sands the most.
Patchboy: Extension of grunt. Includes more spackling.
Gopher: Has to go for supplies. Drives Stella, the van, to grab supplies.
Semi-Competent: Begins the more technical things under supervision.
Competent: Can take care of almost anything by himself.

As a painter ascends the ranks he still maintains the duties of his previous title. Even a competent must sand occasionally. It's also important to note the even among the ranks are different classifications. They include Shabby and Not-too-Shabby.

A goal for the paint shop is to get t-shirts that state "Not-too-Shabby" on the back of them. Nothing could build more confidence in our work than "Not-too-Shabby" While on the subject of clothing it is important to know that Jones Paint and Glass is the sole supplier of the BYU paintshop. As such, trips will often be taken to Jones to pick up supplies. Jones will also provide the painters with doughnuts and free apparel. Between Bruce and I  we have around 10 free t-shirts, 1 free hoodie, 2 free hats, and 1 long sleeve t-shirt. This is enough to make many of the unnamed student workers quite envious.

Another tendency we have is to go every day to the breadstore. Great Harvest Bread Company that is. Bob has gone there every day for 10:00 break without fail. He will buy a slice of bread. As Bob is a regular he has become acquainted with all of the workers at Great Harvest. They recognize him and give a slice of bread approximately 1/4 of a loaf for the same price of 75 cents.

Now on to a story.

One day Brucito, Matthais, Tyler, and I had to take painters scaffolding down to Springville for storage. As much scaffolding had to be moved, and as it was snowing, we enlisted the Moving Shop at BYU. The Moving Shop is primarily Polynesian and they have a giant trailer on which to load all of our scaffolding. As the scaffolding got loaded it was taken out of a shelving unit and moved to the trailer. I didn't think too much about the shelving unit at the time. We moved all the scaffolding down to Springville in a peaceful relaxing drive. I took a nap on the backseat of Stella completely unaware of the impending dilemma. The scaffolding was unloaded in Springville, after we set the alarm off, and we broke for lunch.

After lunch Matthais took us back to the location of the shelving unit and told us to disassemble the thing and load it in the back of the van. This would take over an hour and we only had 1 half-dead drill to do the whole thing with. Stella has a rack on top where we stick ladders as we drive. Tyler suggested that the whole huge unit just be stuck on top of the van as we drive to Springville.  Being sensible and cautious individuals we immediately took him seriously and, through no small effort, hoisted the huge shelf on top of Stella.

In order to get it to stay up top I quickly took a role of duct tape, and I taped it to the top of the rack. Not-too-Shabby.

We then hit the road.

The second we were about to enter the major road. We saw three police cars lights flashing only 30 feet away from us. They were on the scene of a car accident and we waited next to these police cars for several minutes until finally we could merge onto the major road. All the while we were laughing so hard that we all almost threw up. Luckily for us none of the police spotted us. How on earth? After we passed that obstacle we took our 15 minute drive traveling at 45 mph with a shelving  unit duct taped to the top of Stella. Believe it or not we made it to Springville without a problem. We unloaded the unit and brought it inside only to realize that it was a horrible shelving unit. Being the quality individuals that we are we proceeded to dismantle the shelving unit regardless of our effort to save it.

That is work for you.

That is why I can honestly say that I really enjoy waking up at 5 in the morning to go to work for 8 and a half hours.

Lack of Wisdom and the Cheeks of a Hamster.

What evolutionary function do wisdom teeth serve? It is believed that due to the diet of our early ancestors that wisdom teeth served to help tear apart foods. But in a day of utensils, chicken nuggets, and jell-0 the need for wisdom teeth has become obsolete. But not only are they obsolete, they also serve to induce a plethora of oral catastrophes if they are not forcefully ripped from you maw.

Recently I underwent through the joy of having my wisdom teeth, 4 of them, cut out from beneath my gums, and then pried out. It was really a coming of age ceremony -- one of the few left. And, with the intent of vacating the state for two years, it was deemed necessary. My wisdom teeth had not yet crowned, this is what is called impacted. The top two teeth were not so hard to remove, however the bottom two required the oral surgeon to slice open my gum, shave through my jaw bone, cut the teeth in half, and yank them out.

Let me describe the whole ceremony from my point of view. I missed classes on Thursday to go to the oral surgeon. I arrived in style: sweat pants and a ratty t-shirt, with my mother. Upon entering I began to shuffle through the magazine collection. I would be willing to bet that the only people that still subscribe to magazines are dentists and doctors offices, all with the hope that people will be overcome with the desire to read about K-Stew and Rob-Pat, before being sliced open and impaled with needles bearing chemicals.

Shortly thereafter I was called back to get an x-ray and to verify my ability to pay for the procedure. The secretary directed me to a tall white machine. I was directed to bite down on a piece of metal as the machine sent invisible waves bounding through my skull. How fitting that the machine sounded exactly like an orchestra from hell tuning their instruments. RRREWWWRREEEY.

The secretary, I liked her by the way, then led me to a room where I was to meet the surgeon. Besides my mother my only company was a plastic skull covered in metal and screws. Apparently Dr. Vhiewig, my surgeon, also specializes in facial reconstruction surgery. Upon questioning him he described that he has had to lift up the peoples eyeballs and screw in metal plates to the surrounding bone structure. The Dr. then proceeded to tell me everything that could go wrong in removing my wisdom teeth.

Following this I was led down a hallway to the operating room. Adorning the hallway was every certificate that the Dr. has ever received; at least I know that he's qualified. I sat down in my first class seat and was given some laughing gas by a short female operating assistant. "Quick," I exclaimed, "Tell me a Laffy Taffy joke so that we can prove once and for all that they are not funny under any circumstance." "What's a Laffy Taffy joke," she inquired.

I sat around breathing in laughing gas until the Dr. stuck me with an I.V. and injected the drugs that knocked me out. I'm  not sure how high I counted to because all I remember was something like this.

I'd much have preferred just blacking out.

Waking up began in segments. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. "That wasn't so bad," I thought, "Well, time for me to wake up. Why are the nurses laughing at me."

"That wasn't so bad," I thought, "Well, time for me to wake up.Why am I in a wheelchair?"

"That wasn't so bad," I thought, "Well, time for me to wake up. Am I in my car?"

"That wasn't so bad," I thought, "Well, time for me to wake up. Look I'm walking to my doorway." I then saw my body grab onto things for support, and inch towards the doorway. Proceeded by the only sensible thing to do: spit out my gauze and throw up all over the entry way. "That's weird," I thought, "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

That really woke me up for a time. So I laid down on the couch. "Mom," I informed her, "Drugs are soooooo bad for you, they're just so bad."

And there I stayed icing my face. I'd like to say that I was loopy but that I felt fine. The truth was quite opposite. I was perfectly coherent but my body functioned the same way that a deep-fried Twinkie would. Nausea would be an understatement.

So I slept until the drugs wore off. Took more drugs and drank some ginger ale. Then I slept again.

After several hours like this I was able to function. Pain was not severe, cheeks were slightly swollen, thinking normal, body felt like crap.

I spent the rest of the day eating soft foods and watching TV (Phineas and Ferb and  Warrior).

I slept in my sisters bed upstairs.It took a while to get to sleep, but finally I drifted off. The next day was fine, my cheeks continued to swell, but I was otherwise fine.

The whole process wasn't very memorable. I still don't remember how long I counted before I was knocked out, or why I threw up. But I do remember that Warrior is a fantastic movie.

Gratitude vs. Consumerism.

Okay, here I go. I want to warn you upfront that I just needed a place to rant uninterrupted. I figured cheaper than a therapist would be a blog. Really though, a lot of this blog will be written for me. So do tread carefully. Also don't judge my grammar, for I'm an illiterate swine compared to the most of you.

I would like now to reiterate and adapt The Twighlight Zone intro.

You're about to enter another dimension (or just another blog). A dimension not only of sight (kind of) and sound (not  really, unless you're reading aloud), but of mind (TJ's mind to be exact. Not exactly a place most people would like to be). A wondrous (mildly disturbing) journey into a land (internet site) whose boundaries are that of imagination (the twisted imagination of a argumentative and thoroughly reprobate pre-adult). You're next stop the Twighlight Zone (or my blog).

Now down to the nitty gritty. Christmas, or more specifically, Thanksgiving as it relates to Christmas.



I like Christmas, I really do. Unfortunately my affinity lies buried under layers of malice and a general "bah-humbug" attitude. So if you really love Christmas feel free to leave and to mark down another day in the time standing between you and lots of shiny, neat, and (soon thereafter) neglected wrapping paper.

When does Christmas begin? The answer is the 24th of December. It's a two day Holiday. But let's be honest here; when does Christmas really begin? For those of you who put the day after; and/or, it never ends, then you are correct. Raise your hand if you feel the countdown to Christmas begins the day after Christmas, and that those days in between are just times when we pretend that we aren't constantly enthralled by the idea of more packages.

"But wait TJ", you may be thinking, "Christmas isn't about the gifts." The Grinch pondered at the same thing. "It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes, or bags." And so it does. But if we just had a holiday where we just celebrated the Birth of the Savior without presents then Christmas would be more forgotten than Easter.

Now the timing gets me. Christmas is placed a month after the holiday of gratitude. Yet could someone name for me a Thanksgiving song? Christ was actually born around April, which by the way is when I'll be giving you your presents. Christmas was popularized because of a certain Pagan holiday that took place at the same time, and that the church wanted to undermine.

Yet Thanksgiving has become practically absolute. A chance for us to gorge ourselves on turkey before we start in on the Christmas ham. Christmas has become a material holiday and the pinnacle of consumerism.  This holiday of consumerism deteriorates  time, money, and common sense. Saint Nicholas has become a big fat sign of material wealth. Santa Claus is the most used figure in all of advertising across the world. When you see Santa Claus you have been conditioned to have "sugarplums dance through you're heads." How many children can sing all of Jingle Bells, and again how many can recite the tale of Squanto and the Pilgrims. And Thanksgiving night begins the ultimate sign of  greed and ill will to fellow man: Black Friday. A black day indeed. Can't we wait 24 to be grateful for what we have before we trample over everyone else to get a great deal on extra and unneeded Lego sets.

But the crowning achievement of a corrupted Christmas is the Music. Today we were going to sing a hymn for a church meeting and it was suggested we sing a Christmas hymn. This girl whined, "we don't get enough of an opportunity to sing the Christmas music." I countered, "have you ever sung O Savior thou who Wearest a Crown but I don't hear you complaining. We could at least sing Count Your Blessings in preparation for a holiday of thankfulness." "Scrooge," she kindly retorted. I would even argue that it has reached a point where songs like Santa Claus is coming to Town, Deck the Halls, and O Christmas Tree  actually succeed in driving the spirit away. As well as every rock version of what used to be a Christmas hymn. It's almost as bad as Christian Rock (vomit). And I'll be darned if there isn't a performing artist who hasn't come out with his own Christmas Album. But Christmas music starts on the radio the day after Halloween, and worse than that, people actually choose to listen to it. Plus I'd appreciate to listen to real Christmas music like O Come Emmanuel rather than Bruce Springsteen wailing Santa Claus is Coming to Town. 

Christmas has been thoroughly tainted by the world. I love when I go to church and get to hear about the essential nature of the atonement. I love the nativity set that the Timpanogos Temple put up facing the road. I love going to temple square. I love joining up with my relatives to be together. And I love sitting with my family as we sing hymns to rejoice in the birth of Christ. If that was all that happened then Christmas would be my favorite holiday. But please, go out and brave your shopping malls, sacrifice your finances, and check your calender because Christmas indeed is coming.