For your entertainment...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhGGzB09wQk

Check this out, a doctor uses his body to illustrate different heart rythms and disarrythmias. His arms act as atria and his legs act as ventricals.

Enjoy

Bottoming out.

Have you ever experienced a clash of two worlds? You know, when the work you meets the school you, or the family you, meets the recreation you, etc. Well this recently occured and I thought I should share it with you all.

At work there is a group of us who regularly order out. We consider ourselves the "Hells Angels" of lunch clubs; we will eat whatever we want, whenever we want, and the rest of the hospital can go to hell if they have a problem with it. Cheese fries, ok. Six meat pizza with no cheese and no vegetables of any kind, ok. Two hotdogs, two bags of chips, a bacon cheese burger, and a soda, ok. We like our food, and we like our lunch break, and we will have them both! Give us lunch or give us death! I am even considering getting a tatoo on my stomach that states "yeah, I ate one of these too" over the image of a two pound gravy laden pork calzone. This would be the "work me".

Back at the ranch Amber and I have been eyeing our finances with the realization that remodeling a house has a big impact on your bottom line, and our bottom line couldn't go much lower to begin with. So we decided it would be prudent to begin packing a lunch. The "home me" was on board immediately. What a wonderful opportunity to save money and make my wife happy all at the same time! And so a couple of months ago I became a brown bagger. Ok, let me clarify that, Amber has been packing a lunch every shift she works, and I have been doing likewise just often enough that I can claim a "brown bag" title, but not miss out on the regular Rubio's/Cafe Rio/Hires/Crown Burger runs at work with the lunch gang.

Well all that changed last week when I finally put my foot down and became a purist.

No Seriously. So seriously in fact that I even went as far as to stop carrying money with me so as to not slip. I am committed.

I am happy to say that I have been doing quite well these last few days. However, what is it they say about temptation? That it is proportional to your level of determination. How true it is.

Yesterday morning I arrived to work with the realization that I had forgot to pack a lunch. Not to worry, I told myself, I can tough out one day with no lunch, right? To be sure I scrounged up a hefty breakfast and I went on my way.

All was well until 1000 hit and the lunch bunch started batting around the "Where are we eating today" question. Since I am usually the instigator of such discussions, and since I hadn't bothered to inform the lunch crew of my recent conversion to the religion of "what you got" cuisine, it wasn't long until I had several hungry eyes looking to me to make the final decision. I sat for a moment looking at my culinary compadres until I noticed one shady looking fellow hanging around the background and I recognized him as "work me". So that is what I look like I thought, kinda wild looking. I sighed, the time had come. I had to come clean.

I think they took the news quite well, I only had two pens thrown at me, one of which came from "work me", who muttered something that sounded like "uppity jerk" before he skulked off to go find a vegetarian to harass.

All the talk of food ended up being too much in the end, I had to eat something. So when lunch time came there I sat amoung my friends who pounded down P.F. Changs with obvious glee. Among the boxes of crispy honey chicken, beef with broccoli, and lettuce wedges sat my reserve package of ramen noodles and two ham sandwiches that I found in the back of the fridge from wednesday of last week. The bread was wet with condensation and the mayo was only clear around the edges, but the it tasted just fine to me. I had done it.

For a good time....

Ok, so have any of you tried to contact the DMV lately?

I have a vehicle that is slightly expired and in dire need of a new shiny sticker. So being the dutiful citizen I can be at times, I gathered the needed registration information and inspection certificates and ensconced myself in front of my laptop and commenced the process.

My first road block came with step one of the process. My address is outdated. Not to worry! The DMV people were thoughtful enough to include easy to read instructions on what to do in just such an event. The instructions include the appropriate phone number. What they don't tell you is by calling the number you must submit not only your intellectual faculties at the door but you must also give up any desire to live.

At first the "children of the corn" voice seems pleasant enough. She informs you that you have dialed the correct number in a voice sweeter than Amy's mothers from "Everybody loves Raymond". Shortly however, you become aware that you aren't in Kansas anymore.

You would think a change of address would be as simple making a phone call and then getting on with your life. Oh no....Naive little one. We are dealing with the DMV a governmental entity!!!!!

I listened over and over and over and over to the list of options and no option for changing your address exists. I felt like I was wondering around Hogwarts trying to find that room that only appears when you really need it to. Apparently I didn't want the address change option bad enough.

I momentarily clapped like a school child when I happened upon an option entitled "Vehicle registration information" only to curse like a drunken sailor when I was informed "if you recieved a packet in the mail, open it, and follow the directions to renew your registration online... I think I might have shed a tear at this point.

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in a Seinfield episode??? In frustration I found myself mocking the voice on the other end of the line. Trust me, it does no good, the voice doesn't even flinch.

So, here I am, crying on any available shoulder (Amber retreated upstairs in disgust, her shoulder is apparently unavailable at the moment. So much for the myth that a crying man indicates sensitivity and is a desirable trait, she just called me a wimp).

Look, I am not about to suggest to anyone that we should boycott the DMV, (in case they are listening). I am however suggestion that if you find yourself in need of an address change with the DMV don't expect sympathy. These boys play for keeps. They will chew you up and spit you out only to kick you in the crotch as a parting gift.

Curse them, curse them all....

RECHARGE!!!!!

Just thought I would take a minute and report on another successful weekend spent at the Gorge.

This weekend my Dad and I took a couple of my friends to show them what "real" fishing is like. We spent three days fighting the sun, wind and rain in pursuit of the elusive thirty pound lake trout.



The first picture is Derek, a friend from Nursing school. He caught a twenty-five pounder the last day. I think he is happy, even though his face looks like he might be passing a stone. Lets just say it was cold, and he learned what it is like to try and pump a huge trout off the bottom of the lake with non-responsive/numb fingers and a touch of gas from the fish fry the night before.



My Dad caught a twenty pounder, and he let Kyle hold it for the picture. I guess he could tell that Kyle wasn't going to pose with one of his own by the end of the trip. Fathers intuition or something. Anyway, Kyle was a good sport and only inquired once as to why he was having his picture taken with a fish he didn't catch. He wasn't the only one wondering the same thing.



We had a great time and I enjoyed getting to know Kyle and Derek a little better. If you are wondering why there isn't a picture of me holding a laker, it is because I didn't catch one, duh! I guess I couldn't take the pressure! {:-)



We had a great fish fry of fresh caught lake trout, corn on the cob, and Crayfish. The crayfish was about the only thing I could actually catch. Props to Kyle for his award winning crispy trout and homemade tartar sauce.

Answer to the quiz

Curt is right, Oliver Cowdry did author section 134, and apparently on the same day, also authored a proclamation on the family. They were presented to the church at a general conference that Joseph didn't attend. Joseph did not initially endorse either but after a time he embraced section 134, as has each president since. The proclimation on the other hand wasn't endorsed.

There you go, interesting stuff!

To Constitute or not to Constitute

Many of you know that last month in Elders Quorum the President was giving a lesson about the direction our economy and the country in general was heading (Down the tubes). As he began his lesson he started pacing back and forth in obvious excitement (Pause) then he turned to me and announced to the class that in a month I was going to follow up with a lesson about the religious freedoms that were included in the original constitution that were now being denied to us [My mouth hangs open] (He then Resumes pacing). Hmmm.

As you can imagine I have spent the last few weeks with a nagging thought in the back of my mind reminding me that soon I would have to stand to present a brief treatsie on the thoughts and intents of our founding fathers regarding religious freedom. Hmmm. Needless to say, I wasn't excited.

Finally yesterday morning arrived and I knew my time was up. I spent a few minutes brushing up and then I reported for duty. To be honest, I had no idea what I was going to say. I was relieved to see I only had twenty minutes to present.

As I stood there, trying to frame my opening remarks, I asked an ice breaker question: "List for me some of the constitutional religious rights that are being denied you and I". (Not a hand is raised or a response shouted out, somewhere in the background a cricket began chirping).

I think to myself: OK, lets try that again. "Can any of you think of examples in your lifetime, where the government has restricted our ablity to practice religion"?
(repeated lack of respons except this time someone coughs).

I take courage and respond: "The reason that none of you can think of an example is that there aren't any. If there were we would all be aware of them. This government was founded upon the rights of religious freedom, and those rights are protected by the constitution." Thus ended my treatsie.

I then spent the remainder of the lesson discussing the 134th section of the Doctrine and Covenants, and finished off with the idea that things in this world are unfolding as they should, that God is in control, and we should spend our time in doing our responsibilities and let God do his. Or as Neal A. Maxwell put it, "Isn't it interesting that we who wear wrist watches seek to counsel he who oversees cosmic clocks and calenders".

P.S. Trivia time: Who wrote the 134th section, and is it a revelation?

P.S.S. On a random side note, here is a shout out to Crunchy Chedder Jalapeno Cheetos. Buy em, Inhale em, Love em.

Out.

To be continued

I am officially up to my eye balls in stuff to do. Therefore, this blog is taking a back seat to the remodeling of our house. I will blog when I get a chance in a month or two.

Until then faithful readers, entertain yourselves as you must until I return! HA!

One of life's simple pleasures

Charlie Pride has a song I love entitled "Roll on Mississippi".

Walking along, whistling a song
Half foot and fancy free,
A big riverboat, passing us by, she's headed for New Orleans
There she goes, disappearing around the bend.
Roll on Mississippi; you make me feel like a child again.

A cool river breeze, like peppermint leaves,
The taste of it takes me back,
Chew'n on a straw, torn overalls, a cane pole and an old straw hat,
Muddy river, Just like a long lost friend.
Roll on Mississippi; you make me feel like a child again

Roll on Mississippi, big river roll.
You're the childhood dream that I grew up on.
Roll on Mississippi, carry me home.
Now I can see I've been away too long.
Roll on, Mississippi, roll on.

Now, when the world's spinning round, too fast for me,
And I need a place to dream.
So I come to your banks, I sit in your shade
Relive the memories
Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn
Roll on Mississippi; you make me feel like a child again

Roll on Mississippi, Big river roll
You're the childhood dream that I grew up on.
Roll on Mississippi, carry me home.
Now I can see I've been away too long.
Roll on, Mississippi, Roll on, Mississippi.

Flaming Gorge is my Mississippi river. I can't describe to anyone how it feels to pull up on the banks of this reservoir. To smell the sage and water, hear the steady slap of water on the shore, and see the surrounding red rocks and clear blue/green water. Out in Lucern marina is collection of industrial sized tires chained together as a buffer from the waves. For as long as I can remember I have wanted to walk out on them.

I feel myself change everytime I return. I physically feel the worries and stress of daily life fall off. I feel more grounded, more real, more whole. I love going there.

I hope everyone has such a place of their own. Somewhere to go where they can regress to a simpler time when things weren't so complicated and uncertain. A place that to them is sacred and a joy. Regardless of the lack of shade. {:-)

Thanks to the boys for taking me there last weekend!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks to Dad for introducing me to a place that has become part of my identity. And congrats to Clint for joining the 30# club!

Mmmm, fresh Mex!

Yeah, definitely go here.

The fish anything is great, the chips (did you tell them they are the Lords chips?) are thick and salty, the beans are real and tasty. Did I mention the obligatory sauce/salsa bar? Enjoy!

What color is your strap?

The other day Clair and I were discussing my recent purchase of utility straps used to lash things down on a trailer or the bed of your truck (Refer to handy picture I downloaded). Somewhere in the middle of the conversation I heard myself say, "yeah, you can never have enough straps". To which Clair responded something along the lines of "I was thinking the other day I ought to pick me up a few of those". I commenced bragging about how I got the fifteen foot length for the price of the twelve, and only paid fourteen dollars. I believe I might have been rubbing my days growth of stubble and Clair may have had his arms crossed while nodding his head knowingly. I think there was even some Tim Taylor grunts tossed about. The air was rank with testosterone. You know the scene.

Now ladies, if you come upon two or more men standing around discussing something as ridiculous as towing straps just roll your eyes and walk away. And if you find yourself, as Ambo did, trapped and surrounded by said discussion, just ignore it. I cannot explain to a memeber of the female persuasion how it feels to hear in the insuing silence of such conversation a very feminine voice ask, "does it come in any other colors"?

Love you Ambo. {:-)

How do you describe life as a student?

For years I have lived happily with jeans from the discount rack, or the twenty dollar specials found in most major department stores. I even cruise to the local DI for work jeans. You tell yourself that you are being a wise or savy shopper, I mean, who would really pay a hundred dollars for a pair of jeans??? But the truth is you really can't afford the one hundred and fifty dollar pair, the one hundred, or even the fifty dollar pair. Not when you have text books to pay for, lab fees, etc.

The other day Ambo announced that she was done living with a husband whose jean selection consisted of two choices, 1) the "classic" tapered jean from Eddie Bauer (my dress jeans) and 2) a pair of "nutters" as I call them, they are the result of an earlier attempt of Ambo to domesticate me. Since then I have gained a few pounds and the jeans haven't grown with me.

So off to the Mall we went and after some minor haggling and compromising we came out with two pairs of real, live, reputable jeans that fit!.!. We went straight home and tossed out the old.

The only problem came a few days later when I slipped a pair on and noticed something didn't feel quite right. After zipping up I stood for a moment and tried to figure out what was wrong. Finally (I am rather slow) it occured to me that they were stiff. Almost like they weren't broken in yet. Almost like the material they were made of was thick enough to warrent some use to wear them down.

This was a revelation to me! I had become accustomed to paper thin denim, and now I had denim of substance! I ventured a shakey guess that as a result of this new quality these jeans might actually last for more than a year.!.!

The next shock came a few minutes later as I walked about the house. These jeans were actually comfortable! I didn't have to suck anything in to get them on and I could sit again! I have long ago given up the act of sitting while wearing my Eddies or Nutters, that was simply out of the question in social settings, and as for private settings it just wasn't couth either.

John and I were sitting in the hall today in between classes talking about how hard it is as a student, being a father and a husband. Impatiently wanting to be able to give your wife and kids everything they need and want but with the realization that we really aren't making any money. We talked about our wives who take such a gamble on us, and who support us as we struggle to make ends meet. How much they sacrifice, and silently cope with the realities of life. How readily they stand with us as we strive to slay the dragons of life. How grateful we truely are that at the end of the day there is a warm, comfortable home to go to, with your best friend waiting to hear about your day. A warm meal to eat, and a soft pillow to lay our heads. And how grateful we are to be married to women who have their eyes on the final goal and who support us despite everything we put them through, and despite the temporary lack of prosperity in our lives.

During our conversation I thought about pants.

So, here is too the discount shopping life of a student, here is to the makers of cheap denim who allow us to stay clothed during those never to be forgotten times, here is to the makers of quality pants (The light at the end of the tunnel)! And espeically, here is to our wives and families who sacrifice to help us accomplish the goals we made. It really is worth all you go through to get to them! At least it will be once you actually graduate!

Trivial Pursuit

Just so you know, I invented Snow Skiing. Yup.

Let me tell you how it came to be. Back in High School two of my friends and I got caught up in this crazy little scenario. We found ourselves high in the back country with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a six foot two-by-four. It was the height of winter and we were racing. I don't know where we were going or why, all I know is that I had to get there before the other two, and I had to get there now!

Off we raced! Over hills and through valleys. Across great meadows and streams. We raced across the top of the snow with out falling into it as though it were frozen solid. At some point it occured to me to lay on top of my two-by four and slide down the backs of the hills and into the valleys, and so I did. Much to my surprise I didn't stop in the valleys but raced across them and up the next hill even gaining momentum until I launched off a peak and got major air! Not to bad for a roughly hewn two-by-four and a guy who weighs a buck seventy!

When I landed I became aware that several native americans were standing by watching me in complete shock. (Can you blame them?) They lead me back to their camp and fed me dinner. At some point during the night one of them dubbed me the "yellow flower" for my abilities (if someone could please explain the correlation between two-by-fours, sliding, getting air, and a yellow flower I am open to suggestions).

So, the next time you are playing trivial pursuit and are asked who invented snow skiing, what the first snow ski was made of or if you are asked to interpret a pictograph of a yellow flower you will know. You can thank me later.

Aren't dreams a crack up???

For Sale!!!!

A report on the house hunting....

Do people not realize that the minute they decide to put their home on the market it stops being a home and becomes a house. A house for sale. People don't live there any more. Take the family photos down, take the dream catchers down, put away the nic knacks and belly button lint collections, hide your medications, and for heavens sake, put some doors on your bathroom cabinets! (Somethings you can't un-see!)

The other day Ambo and I walked through a potential house and I thought I would share the experience with you. Not that we are realators or anything, but I am pretty sure that what we experienced was the very definition of what not to do.

Ambo and I pulled up on time, knocked on the door and were meet by the home owner (strike one). He invited us in, explaining that his realtor was running late. As we walked into the front room we noticed a man standing against the wall with a binder in his hand, we learned that he also had been scheduled to walk through with the same realtor at the same time as we were. (Strike two). The home owner invited us to show ourselves around, and we did so as he commenced bustling around putting clothes away and such. (Strike three).

The realtor showed up a short time later and he commenced playing catch up with us by showing us rooms that we had already been in and when asked how long the home had been on the market he won us over with his stuttered reply "umm, 60 to 90 days" (wrong, the house has been on the market for as long as we have been out of ours, that was over five months ago).

Unfortunately the tour only continued to trend downward. Some of my personal highlights include: The two or three minute pause while he groped in the dark trying to locate the light switch "that is around here somewhere". After patiently waiting the proper amount of time for him to make a complete fool of himself I pointed out the piece of string that was dangling down from the ceiling immediately inside the closet, exactly centered in the door frame, the same irritating piece of string that had been bouncing off his head as he feverishly looked for that dang switch! I then illustrated the proper technique by grabbing said string and with a praticed tug, filled the cramped closet with glorious light.

Next up was a tour of the Kitchen. Did you know that if you take your garden variety acquarium rocks and glue them to your cupboard doors in various shapes and patterns it will look exactly like you would image them looking? Yikes!

The home is a tri-level and true to form there is a hand rail separating the main level from the basement family room. Apparently the homeowners, yes the ones who are still flitting about trying to look busy, felt they would like more privacy between the two rooms, solution? A piece of blue foam taped to the baluster! More privacy, and additional sound proofing! So practical.

I could continue with things like the dog run with astro-turf, the muddy tour of the back yard, or the "immaculate landscaping" that includes a collection of various lava rocks, and a four foot Gargoyle that greats you next to the front door.

Before leaving the almost mute realtor really put the pressure on by informing us that traffic has really been picking up lately, they even had an offer, but they turned it down as it was too low. Imagine that.

The Godfather

Let me just tell you a little something about me and food. Ambo was reading her scriptures today and came across a verse she felt compelled to point out that it reminded her of me. . I can not disagree.

Today I had the honor of going to Gandolfo's. Derek, a fellow student, has been talking up this eating establishment for months and today I finally gave in. He ordered the "urban cowboy", and I cornered the "Godfather", a foot long bun filled with breaded chicken breast strips, marinara sauce, and mozzarella cheese. And I topped if off with a side of "Mermaid Salad".

Wow, if that sandwich had been wearing a ring I would have kissed it and excepted his "offer I can't refuse."

And so, if you are in the mood for a wide range of sandwiches including several vegiterian and breakfast offerings, salads and soups, I would have to join Derek in ushering you through these doors. I don't think you will be disappointed.

Does anyone else have any eating establishments they would recommend to me? I am not above driving or even flying to partake!

InkHeart

I love to read. I don't get to read as much as I would like these days, but I always manage to sneak in a fiction or two during a semester, and this one is no different.

However, I have pretty narrow standards when it comes to choosing a good read. I don't like to take many chances as my time reading is in short supply, and there are a lot of so-so authors and so-so stories out there.

One of the measuring sticks I use in gauging the worthiness of a story is #1 Peoples reactions to the book and #2 what catagory it falls under. If people are litterally ga-ga over a story (you know, star trekie types) that is a red mark, and if it belongs to a catagory like space travel, or fantasy, etc. (do you see a common thread forming?) that is another red mark.

Well, as with every rule, there are exceptions (i.e. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, The Lion, witch...etc.). Amber recently read Inkheart by Cornelia Funke and I took one look at its cover and immediately dismissed it with two red marks.

Good thing there are do-overs! The other day Amber informed me that I was going to read this book next, period.

Talk about dilema's! Because I didn't want word getting out that I was reading such a sissy la la book, I began reading in my bed room, with the door closed after everyone else had gone to bed.

I must say I was pleasantly surprised! Although I am only half way through I must say this is a winner! And so, for any of you who truely love to get lost in a book, I would recommend this original, quirky tale. Just make sure you don't read it aloud!

I have a few other recommendations for good reads this Summer, The Appeal by John Grisham, The Shape Shifter by Tony Hillerman, and anything written by Louis Lamour. As for Nonfiction, The Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey, The Proper Care and Feeding of Marriage by Dr. Laura, The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls, and anything witten by Neal A. Maxwell.

Enjoy!

Born Again!

After reviewing my current thread of blogs the thought occured to me that I have slipped into the habit of blogging about the mundane, boring things of life. You have my appology! This must stop for at least two reasons: First, when I see people I have nothing to talk about because it is all on the blog! I like to bore people with my non-fun life.

Second, who wants to read a blog by one of the most boring people on earth? Not me.

So, today is the turning of a new leaf! Expect to see new things from this boy!

P.S. Curt, I have that video from last week on DVD. Give me your address and perhaps I can send it to you! Email it too me.

(Shaking Head) Stess, who'd of thought?

By a raise of hands, how many of you are currently or have ever been stressed to the point that it effects your mood, your thoughts, and your actions? Does this occur rarely, almost never? Or does it occur more times than not? If you belong to the later group: congrats! You are killing yourself, literally.

I just got my hands on a recording of a lecture given at the U by Robert Sapolsky, a Neuro-Endocronologist from Stanford. In short, he knows exactly what stress does to the body and how the body reacts to stress. If any of you want a big dose of "Chill Out" feel free to borrow my copy and prepare to get motivated to relax! (Warning: this is a lecture given to pre-med students and is anatomically and physiologically correct. To put it lightly, it is exhaustive in its effort to uncover just how stress effects every function of the body). It is clinical, funny, very educational, and he does a great job. I would give it a pg-13 rating and I do recommend it to everyone, with the understanding that it is for adults, you have been warned.

As a teaser I would ask you to think back just fifty years and list the top five causes of death, now flash forward to the present day and answer the same question. Fifty years and more ago death was caused by things like Scarlet Fever, the plague, pneumonia, etc. Now, with the one exception of cancer, the leading causes of death are heart attacks, strokes, diabetis, etc. It really is a telling thing.

Well anyways, on to happy subjects. I am back in the saddle again, with four-wheel drive once again as an option in my arsenal! Greatest invention ever!

To the spider...

I have made some new friends these last three weeks. Fortunately none of you will ever meet them, at least we hope you don't.

I just wanted to thank a certain little spider for making my time with these friends a most educational and enjoyable one.

One of my friends, whom we will call Raul, talks with God. I mean 24/7 verbal prayers, no scratch that, they are verbal arguments with the man upstairs.

Apparently their story goes back quite a ways. From what I could discern it would appear that Raul was the desperate loser in some cosmic chess match with God and he has not gotten over that ill fated game.

Out of spite the winner forced the loser to participate in the creation of the world. As such, Raul is responsible for all of the evil, sadness, and misery leveled upon humanity. He is so sorry and so angry at God for tricking and using him. I witnessed his endless cursing and blessing of God for two long days, and while I found it facinating, I also found in disturbing.

Therefore you can imagine my joy when yesterday I was met at the door by Raul who was holding an imaginary leash. I and "Luke" his pet spider, were immedietly taken on a tour of the joint. We learned all of Raul's favorite haunts such as, the opening to the "dungeon" where the creation took place, where he prefers to sit and eat lunch, his suite, and of course the medication counter where he works dispensing medications to the patients there (Raul isn't a patient at the USH, he is a doctor who lives with his patients, he finds it is more therapeutic for them if he is always on site).

By the time I left for the day, I must say I was amazed at Luke's stamina. He went many places that no one or no thing should ever be forced to go. And he did so quite cheerfully as he was always willing to go on to the next stop of his own little tour of hell. I petered out after the third or fourth stop and just contented myself with observing the goings on.

But here is the amazing thing: By the end of the day I caught Raul smiling as he would talk to, hold, and pet Luke!

So, , here is to Luke, the spider who could do what even God couldn't: make Raul smile!

P.S. some of this tale is true, some of it isn't. But since when is reality or truth really that important?

USH #2

As for an update. I truly don't know what to say. My clinicals at the Utah State Hospital are not over, I have one more week. But that isn't the main reason that I am without speech. I really don't know what to say about my experience. The individuals I have met are incarcerated for a number of reasons, some of which are among the most horrific imaginable. And yet I didn't see them as they were when they committed the acts. Some of which were done in rage, some in lust, others while under the influence of drugs or alcohol and all were done by those who suffer from some degree of mental illness.

The men I met were all calm, collected, well medicated and some were even very intelligent. Such as the individual who, while quizzing me about the members of the new first presidency pointed out that Presiden Monson is the 16th President of the church, and that the sixteenth letter of the alphabet is P, as in Prophet. Coincidence? I think not.

But seriously, the people in front of me, many of them, you wouldn't think they had any degree of mental illness. It is hard to describe that experience. You know what they did, you know how ill they are, and yet there is no evidence, nothing agrees with the information, nothing confirms what you have read, or what you have been told. I hate to admit it, but you do begin to trust and listen to the patients as they insist they aren't ill, that they didn't do what they had been convicted of, and that they really are going home later in the afternoon. It plays with your mind!!!

So when I say I don't know what to say about my time with them, I mean it. There were a few choice experiences that I will spare you the details, unless you are really interested in exploring your morbid curiosity, then feel free to ask me next time we meet. Otherwise, I am going to spend a few moments redefining my own personal reality, if you will excuse me.

To whom it may concern....

There is such a thing as Mental Illness. This is coming from one of the greatest skeptics of all time. I have always known there were legitimate cases of mental illness out there, but I felt that many have used the difficulty in diagnosing such disease as an opportunity for attention, or a way to get out of dealing with life. And unfortunately there are some who do just that.
This week I was assigned to do a few clinical rotations out at the State Hospital for the Mentally impaired. I was assigned the forensic unit, which houses patients that have commited crimes and are either not guilty by reason of insanity, guilty but not fit to be housed at the prison, or are awaiting competency hearings to determine their mental status in lieu of a trial.
In report I learned a little of each patients background, their diagnosis and treatments, and also what each had done to land themselves in such a fine establishment. I must say I had a fairly decent cross section of criminal society to observe for the remainder of the shift. Some of them have been battling mental illness from childhood, and others developed symptoms in adulthood. One only developed his mental illness after a traumatic brain injury suffered in a car accident which culminated in his committing murder.
I spent the entire day out in the common area watching the patients mill around, talking to each other or themselves. Occasionally one would come up and ask me who I was. Surprisingly many were very "with it" and were able to discuss what they had done to deserve such treatment, and even express their gratitude for the help they were recieving.
Their entire day is spent in a living area of about 2000 square feet. That includes the kitchen area, their bedrooms, the staff area, the common area, the bathrooms, and the hallways. In this particular wing of the hospital, approximately 24 patients lived in a kind of linked existance. All but one were free to come out of their rooms and walk around and interact with each other and the staff. Many of them never went out side, never went out of the unit as a matter of fact. Some of them had been in this unit for years and would never leave it. They just roamed around, bumping into each other and living for the next meal. On one wall, a piece of paper hung with a list detailing just how many laps up and down that hall equaled one mile, under the list was a challenge to see how many miles you could walk in a given day.
One patient told me that he had been living there for two strait years, but "was getting out soon". When I pressed him for more information, he grew quiet and stared off down another hall where two other patients had just finished lap number whatever. I told him I was glad to hear that there was an end in sight and he could soon be back with his family. I am not sure if he heard me or not because when I turned back to see if he was listening he had shuffled off to ask a staff member when lunch was coming. I guess that is how they keep time there.

Seven ways to color me a freak.

I recently got "tagged" and ordered to reveal seven strange things about myself. Sounds like an excuse to shoot yourself in the foot and then blame someone else... I am in.

First: I do not have a thyroid problem.

Second: Today I spent no less than twenty minutes creating six different mini sandwiches out of ritz crackers, smoked garlic beef sausage, different cheeses, and different mustards. In short, I like a little variety in me life, and organization, each sandwich was arranged according to which cheese and mustard was used.

Third: FACT: If I could choose a super power it would be the ability to be invisible, or fly, or be invincible, or run really fast, or...

Fourth: In my dreams I have fought the following: The German's, the Japanese, an infestation of insects, broken water pipes, several very bad men, several very bad women, a balloon with an attitude, and last night I got pick pocketed. You had better believe I got my wallet back, I always win. On Chuck Norris's wall he has a poster of me.

Fifth: I can spin a yarn. I mean, I can tell a story with the best of them. As a child I had the penchant of being a bit of a story teller, and in frustration my Mom tried to get me to come up with a way to notify everybody that I was telling a story, and not out and out lying. I came up with the term a "plastic story", because, well you know, plastic isn't real, it is made up.

Sixth: My favorite movies aren't my favorite movies because of the story, or the actors, but because of the memories associated with them.

Seventh: I think the greatest gift that God has given his children is our ablity to choose to be wrong. And I adore those who exercise the time and effort and courage it takes to be right all of the time in all things that really matter. Thank you GBH.

Warning: What ever you send your wife will end up on the internet

LIMBO, how low can you go?

On my desk there is a small metal box in the shape of a rectangle. Three sides and the top are solid tin, but on the front there is a slit from which a small golden arrow protudes out and then bends to point strait up. If you saw it out of the corner of your eye you might think it was one of those old school thermostats from the fifties and sixties, like the one featured on the classic film "A Christmas Story". However, this isn't a thermostat at all but an instrument used to gauge the level of blah reeking from my life.

There have been many times when the arrow has been pegged all the way to the right, indicating a life ripe with out right exhaustive opportunity, adventure and challenges, the kind that makes you want to stick your head out of the open car window while doing sixty-five like a deranged bloodhound or wet yourself, which ever you prefer.

Then there have been periods of my life that were not so exciting and the needle would register more to the left. Once or twice I think it has even dipped far enough to approach the notch that reads "Little House on the Prairie" and TV dinners boring. This level is, at best, severely self destructive both to your self-esteem and your overall health, I do not recommend spending much time in this neighborhood as you are likely to loose your desire to breath.

Overall I consider myself to be a happy, positive, fairly upbeat fella. But these last couple of months have been unusually trying. The main culprit is nursing school. I have never been involved in something so time consuming, energy intensive, anti-climatic, unorganized and such a frustrating and impotent use of my time in all of creation. Additionally the sudden sale of our home with our lack of any concrete plans for the future have left us in utter LIMBO, with no daily routine, no space to call our own, and no end in sight. Over the holiday I have been on break so I haven't even had school or work to distract me. It has me feeling like Bob Murray in "Groundhog Day", except I don't have an annoying insurance salesman to punch as a release.

This potent combination has been draining to say the least. You can imagine my angst when I looked at the Bored-o-meter and found it pointing at an all time low... "watching granite disintegrate". I cried, and I am not ashamed to admit it.

Well, ok, the box doesn't sit on my desk, in fact it is in my head and sometimes I talk to it. But that isn't the point, the point is that...the point is... well, I don't know what the point is. Just remember that no matter how bad your life gets, just think of my bored-o-meter and thank the good lord you aren't stuck in front of a TV being taught a life lesson about milking cows by Michael Landon while you gnaw on a salsbury steak with a half baked brownie for desert, wishing you were half baked yourself.