Day 4

Day 4 - A picture of your favorite night.

My favorite night was probably the night I came home from my mission to Brazil.


Don't get me wrong- it was a very hard night. I had been in Brazil for 2 years. I made a lot of friends and had learned so much about Brazil, how to live with other people, and most of all how to be who I know I need to be. I was with people I had learned to love more than myself. My two years were two years of selfless service, and through that service I came to love people that had moments before been completely strangers. I spoke with murderers, homeless, politicians, and I felt the love for them that comes through service. With so much that I had learned, my two years ended, and I started the first day of the rest of my life.


I was so happy to see my family again. The long night of flying to the United States brought me back to the U.S. slowly. At the São Paulo airport I started hearing English spoken among the public for the first time in years. On the airplane I saw american TV again. As I landed in the Dallas/Fort Worth Texas airport I heard a hearty Texan-accented man bellow "Welcome back to the United States, son!"


I saw this sign and nearly cried with emotion:

Then I saw THIS picture and I knew I was home:

I'll never forget the friends and amazing people I left in Brazil. I'm still excited for the rest of my life that I'm now living, which started the 23rd of July, 2009.

If you know me, you knew this already.

Day 03 - A picture of the cast from your favorite show.

PSYCH

I love this show! It's the only show I've ever kept up with since the previews announcing its pilot. I can watch any episode over and over again, and still laugh at what's going on. Some of my favorite quotes:

• "Gus, don't be exactly half of an 11 pound Black Forrest ham!"
• "Gus, don't be a silly goose!"
• "Gus, don't be the American adaptation of the British Gus."
• "Gus, don't be this crevice in my arm!"
• "Gus, don't be Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Marzipan!" "...that's 'Azkaban'." "I've heard it both ways."
• "Mr. Guster? There's a Lt. Crunch here to see you." "...actually, I've just been promoted. Now it's 'Capitan Crunch'."
• "Oh, you mean my pilot's license? That's out back in the Cessna. Or perhaps you're referring to my license to kill. Revoked. Trouble at the Kazakhstan border. I could give you the details but then I'd have to kill you, which I can't do because my license to kill has been revoked."
• (After drinking scalding hot coffee) "...It's not to hot for me."
• Karen Vick: It goes without saying, Mr. Spencer, that your father is in no way to participate in this investigation. He's no longer on the force, and his meddling could compromise the case in court. Do I make myself clear?
  Shawn Spencer: Yes, you do, Chief. What isn't clear is why people always say "goes without saying," yet still feel compelled to say the thing that was supposed to go without saying. Doesn't that bother you?
  Karen Vick: No, and frankly, I could care less.
  Burton 'Gus' Guster: Now, that's the one that bothers me. Why do people say, 'I could care less' when they really mean, 'I couldn't care less?'
  Karen Vick: Well, why don't you tell me how to properly say this? If you share any official information about this case with your father, or let him anywhere near any new evidence, then the two of you will have to find another police department to work for, and I will personally see to it that each of you is charged with obstruction of justice.
  Burton 'Gus' Guster: You split an infinitive.
  Shawn Spencer: Good catch, Gus!
  Karen Vick: You two realize I carry a gun, right?
  Burton 'Gus' Guster: That was perfectly elocuted.
• "It doesn't matter- all my plans stank." "Stunk." "Stank!" "STUNK!" "...Stinkited?"

If I'm ever in a bad mood- sit me down and make me watch psych. I will get better, I promise.

Saudades...

Day 02 - A picture of you and someone you used to be close with.

This is Bruno Monteiro and me (not in that order). He was one of my companions when I was a missionary down in Brazil. He lives in Belo Horizonte now. We were THIS awesome: 

He was funny, helped me with my Portuguese, really patient, and always willing to try new things. He's one of the reasons I miss Brazil. Here's to you, Bruno! Beijo na bunda!

I apologize. Oh wait- no I don't. Day 1.

New fad- I have no idea where it comes from. Everyone is doing something different every day on their blog. I saw it and at first thought "I'll never do that! I'm not that self-centered- I would never expect people to care about how I view myself." but then I remembered- That's actually the whole purpose for having a blog. It's like Myspace, minus the whiny 13 year olds and the pedophiles (....hopefully...).

Anyway, here comes the band-wagon!

Day 1

A picture of yourself with fifteen facts.

1. I grew up in a town of about 400 people in Oregon.
2. My name comes from some guy my Mom went on at least one date with. I've never met him, but I think it'd be interesting to shake the guy's hand and tell him that I'm named after him.
3. I am the proud owner of a 3-ring-binder that once belonged to Martin Short's nephew's best friend.
4. I've flown and landed airplanes, and got within 5 points of getting a scholarship that would get me my training for my pilot's license- for free.
5. I stopped trying to get my pilot's license after my flight instructor died in a plan crash. (R.I.P. Paul Linck)
6. I can do this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKpBfZE9oXQ
7. I served a two-year mission in São Paulo, São Paulo Brazil.
8. I speak 4 languages- English, Spanish, Portuguese, and ASL
9. I'm annoyed by people who say "I'm just sayin'"
10. I once fainted while driving. No one was hurt.
11. I was born in Atlanta, GA
12. I once won a contest from Lego to win a $100 Lego set.
13. I once totaled a car without being inside of it- I drained the oil without putting any back in.
14. Sometimes I just crave pickles- dill or bread and butter; it doesn't matter which.
15. I can flip my pen around my fingers. I do it when I'm bored.

Frankenfood?

Some things really confuse me.

For example, Platypuses.

But something far more important: beefsteak.

I know what steak is. It is delicious.

Steak

I know what beef is. Also delicious.

Beef

But not everything that is delicious is beef or steak. They are kinds of meat with their own subcategories: you have sirloin steak, and ground beef- not sirloin beef and ground steak. But apparently you can put both together to make beefsteak?

Beefsteak

Is it actually a blend of beef meat and steak meat? Is it beef cut to look like beef, or beef cut to look like steak? Does it come from the part of the cow that borders the beef cut and the steak cut? WHAT IS IT???

But then it goes on. I found a curious object in my girlfriend's apartment.

NOTHING MAKES ANY SENSE ANYMORE!!!!!

The most famous I've ever been!!!

I still consider myself a novice when it comes to this whole blogging thing. I mean, I love writing and all, but my girlfriends blog is WAY cooler (if you don't believe me, check it out at nrcolfer.blogspot.com).

But I consider the what the stats of my site to be a good thing. Check it out- according to the stats on my blog, I've had 103 people from the U.S. look at my site, 11 people from Peru, 1 from France, 1 from Slovenia, and one person from Thailand.

Now, forgive me for not being so excited about the 103 from the U.S. See, the thing is that I think the blogging thing counts each visit from anyone, anywhere. What I mean is that the exact same person can open and close my site 20 times, and it will count as 20 hits. I know this works, because I'm a very insecure person and I did exactly that when I first started my blog just so it could look like 20 different people were interested in my random babbling. And then maybe there's just one other good Samaritan out there who likes making my self-esteem go up who has upon chance found my blog and opened it up 80 times. There- there's 100 hits among only 2 people. The other 3 were probably lost on the Internet, and are just lucky they didn't stumble upon a pornographic site instead with the mindless clicking about around cyberspace.

No, I'm much more excited about the INTERNATIONAL HITS! Check it out- 11 from Peru! From France, Slovenia- and THAILAND! I feel like I've become an international diplomat overnight. These people from these other countries, and may have never been to the U.S. before. That means that the only taste they have of true American culture is through none other than me. So then, I need to roll out the welcome mat and welcome them!

AHEM- Hello people of other countries that are not the U.S.- Welcome! I am an American in the heart of the U.S.A. I am dating a girl from Peru. I have served a religious mission in Brazil. I have visited Spain, Germany, Canada and Texas, so I would like to think that I am internationally educated. I have eaten your food, spoken your languages, and met your people. Let me say that on behalf of all Americans, that we are NOT all like this:

I mean, sure, it happens, but it's NOT ME. In fact, none of my friends are like this. My girlfriend once even told me that she would not be my friend if I was fat, so the pressure's on to keep skinny! I'm 5'10" (1.78 meters) tall, and about 150 pounds (about 68 kg). Most of the people I see are about as skinny as I am, or maybe as far as "overweight" according to the BMI (which sucks, another idea for another post). Where I live there are very few people that are obese, and I promise we're NOT always in McDonald's wasting food. Well, actually- that part I agree. No, not the McDonald's part, the wasteful part. I can't even remember the last time I went to McDonald's. Wait, yes I do!

Side note- last time I went to McDonald's. I asked for "2 double Cheeseburgers and 2 apple pies". They charged me much more money than I thought I should pay, and they ended up giving me "2 double cheeseburgers and 2 HUGE BUCKETS OF FRENCH FRIES".  The only part of that that I can understand was that "pies" and "fries" rhyme. Maybe they got them mixed up. But see, French Fries come in small, medium, large, and BUCKET. I'm confused about what part of "apple pies" can be mixed up for "THE BIGGEST QUANTITY OF FRENCH FRIES YOU CAN POSSIBLY GIVE ME".

I mean, I don't just mean the biggest package of fries. I mean a bucket. 2 of them.




Yeah. Two of these. That's what McDonald's understood instead of two small apple pies.

Anyway, I don't eat at McDonald's. But the main thing I agree with other countries is t hat we waste a ton of food! Not just food- we Americans have lots of trash. For example, for Christmas I just got a USB thumb drive that plugs into the computer to store data. It's only about this big:




Life size USB drive

The packaging it came it was in a plastic window about the size of a Rubiks cube, which was inside of a sheet of cardboard about as wide as a piece of paper, and tall as my computer screen. All that packaging just so it would scream the attention of a consumer walking down the isle it was hanging from in the store. I can't use that cardboard, so I recycled it*. I admit it, it was wasteful.

But I promise I'm doing my part! Just to not make it go to waste, I wear the same shoes I've had since I was 16 and I eat food that I don't like. So don't worry, I'll get wet feet, wear ugly clothes, and will get sick from things I eat, but I will not let it go to waste! You people can rest easy.

We're ALSO not like this:

Well, I'm not anyway. Some people might be. It's not exactly something I go around asking people- "Excuse me, fellow american- do you believe that we should try to conquer the entire world and make EVERYONE an american as we are?"

But if you really are interested, I'll try to take a poll around BYU campus.

Yeah, it's true that we have a bunch of troops in other countries. These are people that are risking their own lives to do what their own leaders tell them to do. If our county was ever under attack, it would be these people who would be putting their own life on the line to defend me and my life. I respect these men very much.

But what I'm trying to say is that they're in the other countries for reasons decided by the government of the U.S.A.. The people that trained them and give them orders are people in the government. I have not yet even voted for a single member of government. I'm not going to get into whether or not I agree or disagree with the people in our government, I'm just trying to separate myself from them. What I'm trying to say is that any bad or good political decision, including wars and general global bossing around- has NOTHING to do with me.

Then again, if you're a fan of the American culture and never had any of the above concerns, by all means- keep it up!

Anyway, welcome to a very small window of american culture via my blog. If you have any questions/concerns feel freen to leave a comment- I'll get to it and do what I can to make you enjoy your stay. Although for some of you I must apologize- I don't speak the languages of France, Thailand or Slovenia (to tell you the truth, I'm not even sure which language they speak in Slovenia). Beyond the micralce of Google Translate, I'm going to have a hard time communicating with you people, unless you speak English. And if you don't speak English, what the heck are you doing on my blog? How'd you find it, anyway if you were searching for it in your native language?

_________________________________________________________________________________

*I grew up in Oregon, where recycling is available and encouraged. I also encourage it. However, where I currently live makes recycling very hard. Recycling and Sales tax are two things about Utah that I want to fix. You can do your part by writing nasty emails to the U.S. government.

Why I'll never be married - Part 3

Sorry to end the happy ending, but yes, the door was opened, but no, we didn't make it to the temple. Why not? Well, let's read on!

The smoking tow truck man managed to get the door unlocked simply by lowering the window. I felt really dumbe tow truck man, though, was really happy with his creative success, and obvious triumph over my stupidity. He smiled as he went to his car to get the paper for me to sign to say that it was okay for him to take my money.

Nadia opened the back-passenger side door to put away the scraper, and made extra care to leave that door open as she opened the passenger door to get into the warm car- obviously taking extra special care to leave at least one door open at all times lest we lock ourselves out again. She hopped in the car to hop into the warm goodness!

Now, since I was especially freezing, I was excited to get into the warm car, too! I opened the door to get in, but something happened that I didn't expect- instead of making me feel really warm and good again, I started to feel faint. My vision started to blurr and the voice of my 11-year-old boy scout leader (my dad) somehow found the inner microphone in my brain and echoed in a haunting voice: "When someone is in danger of hypothermia, make sure you do NOT heat them up too quickly. For example, it would be a bad idea to stick them in a car that's been heated by the heater to be really warm. This could send the victim into shock, which would only make things worse."

Now, I don't think I was in danger of hypothermia, but I was certainly REALLY cold. Especially my feet.

As my vision and mind were swimming, smo-tow man (Nickname for him- "Smoking Tow truck man" is now "smo-tow man"- k?) thought it would be a perfectly good time to get my signature. Of course being who I am, I first pretended that nothing was wrong, trying to fight to stay coherent enough to simply sign his stupid piece of paper.

Now, you know no matter how many rules, guidelines, laws, etc. there are, there will ALWAYS be something that falls through the cracks? Maybe this isn't the best example, but I think it qualifies. I think there should be a universal law that says you NEVER ask anyone for their signature to validate a credit/debit card transaction when the person that needs to sign is too cold to even feel their own fingers. I can promise you that that signature looks nothing like my real signature. I'm actually expecting a call any day now from someone who sees that signature and says "Uh... that's not you!". In fact, that might be a good thing so that I can say "You're right- that's not my signature!" so that they assume that someone stole my card so I don't have to pay it. I'll make that choice when it comes.

As I was holding the paper and pen to sign, I felt myself get weaker, so I leaned up against the car. "That'll support me for a bit longer." I thought. Nope- my body wasn't even strong enough to support itself with the car's help, and I slid a little down the side of the car. Not enough to get hurt, but enough that Smo-tow man noticed.

"Hey, man, are you alright?"

Now, looking back, I can see the point of view from Smo-tow man. He gets out of his truck, struggles with the lock, and finally gets it open, and then hands the bill to the customer. The customer then faints. Now, if I had thought of this THEN, I might have beefed it up a little. The response to "Hey man- are you alright?" might have been:

"Oh... what? Sorry. I- mean, I was distracted. What a PRICE this is, eh? I think... oh, gosh... I can't breath... hospital! I can't..." [*FAINT*].

Then I might have been able to play with his emotions enough to make it free. I mean, let's face it- why should I pay him to ROLL DOWN MY WINDOW? Just because he has cooler toys means I have to pay him to watch him play with them? For anyone wondering, the total price to watch him play with toys was $75. Yeah- my dad told me to go to college so I wouldn't have a job like Smo-tow man? No, Smo-tow has the  best job ever! He plays with toys for 8 minutes and gets $75 for it??? Well, at least now if I fail college, I'll have a plan B. Err... maybe that would actually be plan F by now. But those are thoughts for a different post.

Instead of making a big deal about it and finally putting my years of high school drama club to good use, I did the more manly thing. I responded "Yeah. Just feeling a little faint".

He suggested I sit down in the driver's seat which is what I wanted to do anyway. I don't know to this day how I managed to sign my name with fingers I couldn't feel, with eyes that were making everything blurry, or a mind that was struggling to stay conscious, but somehow I did it.

"Alright, you're free to go! Just don't drive if you're not feeling alright, okay?"

"Sure thing!"

I sat down in the driver's seat, and reclined the seat to just rest for a little bit. I couldn't see very well, but I knew that Nadia was concerned about what was going on. I learned my lesson when I was 18 that driving while feeling faint is a bad idea (another post for another day). So I told Nadia my brilliant plan to make everything better:
"Uh... I think I'm just going to lie down for a second. I'll be okay in a few minutes."

And I lied down. I don't know for how long. I'm not sure if I really blacked out, but if I did, that's when it was. All I remember after that was waking up to "Trent, you're shaking! Here, move over- I'll drive."

I still felt weak but managed to get over to the passenger seat while Nadia got into my seat. I took my shoes off at Nadia's suggestion to warm my feet up by the heater. Nadia threw her coat on top of me and adjusted the seat/mirrors and started to drive. We hit a few stoplights, so I think it took about 5 minutes to get there. I remember only a few things from the short trip- my feet burning with the cold, shivering uncontrolably, and a short glimpse of Nadia's face looking down at me with genuine fear for what was going to happen to me. I tried to tell Nadia that I was just weak from the cold, but that I'd be okay in a little bit, but I guess that's hard to sell when you're grimacing from pain.

By the time we got to Nadia's apartment I was feeling better. Still weak and very cold, but better. I sat up, and in an effort to convince Nadia that I was going to be okay, I even took the time to tie my shoes. Well, at least I tried. My fingers were still really numb, so I think in ended up inventing my own way of tying my own shoes. I got out and walked up the icy stairs to Nadia's apartment where I lied down on the couch while Nadia piled all of her best blankets over me and sat on my feet to keep them warm.

At this point I was done shaking, it was just a matter of getting warm again. I knew everything was going to be alright. So I thought I'd cut the tension with a little joke-

"Well... snowboarding later today will be the next adventure, right?"

Apparently I spoke too soon. Nadia reprimanded me for taking it all so lightly, and explained how she was scared that something was going to happen to me.

Now, I'd love to say that something really did happen to me. I think this would be a much cooler story if it somehow involved me getting hit on the head with a lead pipe while successfully defending Nadia from the clutches of a terrible biker gang.

Nope. I fainted from shock by being exposed to a warm car.

Things did get better from there. I warmed up, I could feel my feet again, and it took some time, but I still convinced Nadia to go snowboarding with me later that day. She fell down a lot, got frustrated, and I learned that the best way for her to learn how to do it was by me leaving her alone, but when we were done she said she wanted to go again, so I'm going to consider it a success. In fact, even if I'm wrong, I'm going to completely ignore it and say that snowboarding was a success- if not, then NOTHING was a success that day!

Anyway, so I think my blog's image of myself should change. I'm not sure if it's a demotion, or a promotion, but I think I'm done being portrayed as this guy:

and I should find a new image. Something a little more fitting to my weak little self. Maybe...

Or maybe this one. Yeah... that seems a good mix between the two:

(No- no political message intended- simply a picture of a grown man crying. Beyond sales tax or anything else I deem appropriate to later talk about, no politics will be discussed here)

Ignoring the fact that it's Glenn Beck, I'm going to use this image to represent the fool x infinity from now on. Well, at least until I find a better picture of something less controversial.