The "Summertime" List

These 85- to 90-hour workweeks are getting brutal. Despite my 2,000 IU Vitamin D "Super High Potency" supplements, the winter blues are creeping in early.

I am going to do my best to stay positive. On the few days the skies aren't gray and smoggy, I'm going to make a real effort to see the beauty in the snowy mountains. I'm going to take my wife snowboarding and go sledding with the girls.

And, I am going to keep working. I'm going to work like a mad man. I am going to plow through the overtime hours during the time of year when I don't want to be outside to save money for the time of year I do. I am going to pour as much money into savings as I can and for every $10 I put into a house fund, I'm going to put $2 or $3 into a "fun" fund.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to daydream a little bit while I plan it out. The list of things I want to do during the warm months of 2011 is already being composed. I know I'm supposed to be focusing on living in the moment, but when I fail to do that I feel like focusing on something you are looking forward to might be second best.

When I saw this video and realized it was shot in Alpine, Utah - the first line on the list filled itself in pretty damn quick!

I did this once before at Gunlock Reservoir with Johnny and CJ back in 2001. We strapped a wooden ramp to the end of a dock. I got "like three feet of air" that time. That boat ramp approach didn't lend us nearly as much gravity as this dirt hill does.

So far, Moab and Lake Powell also fall appropriately high on the list.

Winter months may be long and cold, but when tax season overtime is unlimited, at least the dreary hours will pay well.

Born in 1982

I never thought I would be a motorcycle guy. Back in high school and my first year of college, I did own a 1987 YZ 125 dirt bike that I loved. I raised all sorts of 2-Stroke hell in Kaysville; jumping over the roads in a new subdivision and racing it through dirt lots back when open land still existed in Kaysville. The fields and marshes I road it through are now the backyards of $500,000 to $750,000 homes. The Russian Olive tree I slid the bike into was torn up years ago, but I still have the scar by which to remember it.

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I broke 6 ribs over the handlebars of that motorcycle down in the sand dunes by Delta, Utah. I kept up with brand new CR 250's at the larger red dunes of the Mojave near Baker, California. During that same trip my rear hydraulic shock exploded and the rear brake cable snapped off and ripped through a few of the spokes.

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I am an intelligent guy, so I decided to keep riding and trying to keep up with the bigger bikes, even during the jump contests. When your dirt bike still has a rear spring but no hydraulic absorber, it makes the jumps even more exciting. The back end of the bike compresses as you approach and then "SNAP!" it cracks back into place, throwing you into an involuntary front flip so you lean back as far as you can, trying to yank the front wheel level before you hit the ground. Some times you pull hard enough and manage to land. Most of the time your corrective measures are too little or too much, and the resulting wrecks are as spectacular as they are entertaining to your buddies.

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As dangerous and idiotic as all of that may sound, I always thought it was safer than riding a road bike. I don't trust other drivers. I know there is a reason for the "Start Seeing Motorcycle" bumper stickers. I once heard that your life expectancy drops to 6 days as soon as you buy a bullet bike.

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Don't worry, I didn't buy a bullet bike.

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But, after a few conversations with Jenny and the stunning revelation that she wants to go on motorcycle road trips when we get older, I suddenly fell in love with the idea of getting a road bike.

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I wanted to get something cheap and smaller to begin with. I even looked at a few 250cc bikes until my buddy Josh warned me that I would look like a circus bear on a motorcycle of that size.

I looked for a 650cc or 750cc, but instantly fell in love with a 1982 Honda 450cc Nighthawk (the fact that the bike was "manufactured" the same year as I was didn't hurt, call me nostalgic if you must.)

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The bike is big enough to take on the freeway once I feel comfortable and confident enough to do so, but it is only about 350 pounds, vs. the 1,000 pound bike Jenny and I will most likely purchase when we get older, maybe a 1,200cc or 1,600cc.

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On Saturday we drove to Richfield to pick it up. Spencer was kind enough to donate his truck and his time to the task. It was a fun little road trip.

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Unlike most machines pushing 30 years (myself included) this bike has been meticulously maintained. It was purchased new and then passed from the original owner to his grandson. I am technically the third owner, but only because the first passed away long before the bike did. It only has 8,000 original miles on it (unlike the 30,000 or 35,000 you would expect from a bike this old) and has always been garaged.

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Last night, I took my first "long" ride--at least as long as it took for my fingers to go numb at 11 p.m. in December. It made me want to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance again. I think I will understand it much better this time around.

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Don't get me wrong, I'm not naive enough to think that 20 minute ride was enough to consider myself "experienced" by any means, but it did give me a glimpse of what compels so many people to reduce their highway cruising from four wheels to two. There is something incredibly freeing and therapeutic about it.

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Damn. Winter hasn't even started and I'm already counting down the days until Spring.

"You don't have a church?!!"

Today, with my digestion in overdrive, I try to write through my food coma discomfort. I feel none of the standard creative tingle, but I do have to jot down the funniest thing that happened yesterday.

We went to Thanksgiving dinner with my mom's side of the family, and it was actually a lot of fun. The girls enjoyed themselves and behaved beautifully.

My aunt, Jen, is about a year and a half older than I am. So, even though it seems like her kids should be cousins with my kids, they are actually my cousins.

We had Thanksgiving at her church, which was great and completely expected, but the real laugh came right after we started eating. Her middle daughter, Jaydee, who is three or four, explained to everyone that we were in "her church."

She then asks us, "where is your church?"

I laughed but then thought hard about what I could say without confusing this little girl. So, on perhaps an evasive whim, I said, "well, it is far away from here."

Then, Emma, (I love her honesty) said plain and simple, "We don't have a church."

Jen's oldest child, Kameron, dropped his fork and said in utter disbelief, "YOU DON'T HAVE A CHURCH?!!"

I was trying so hard to cover my face so they didn't see me laughing, but then couldn't contain it when Abbi (apparently thinking that Kameron hadn't quite heard Emma) clarified by yelling, "WE DON'T HAVE A CHURCH!!!!"

It was amazing. I couldn't help but just bust out laughing. I don't know if anyone else thought it was funny, but I'm pretty sure there were a few chuckles. I can't even describe how much I love those little girls.

We had a conversation on the way home about how important church is for many people in our family and that we always want to be respectful of that. We told them that it is something very special and that if--when they're older--they decide they would like to go to church, we will support them. But, we also told them that we don't want them to ever feel bad that we don't go to church as a family, even if other kids don't understand that and think it is strange.

All in all, it was really a great way to finally find some humor in an otherwise awkward conversation. You can always count on children to disregard the unspoken rule that some topics are off limits and get to the heart of the matter. They always seem to get straight to the point and I think there is plenty for us to learn by their example, especially for me.

Marry me, Juliette

I could think of plenty of worse role models for my daughters. They are HUGE fans of Taylor Swift. In fact, they put on concerts for us all the time. They crank up the CD player in their room and dance around in their "princess" dresses. They bring in the instruments from the Wii Rockband game and "play" along.

Oh, and don't let me forget the singing. I would have expected to hear little girls singing along with their favorite band by the time they reach age 10, maybe 8, but I doubt there are many things cuter than seeing a 5-year-old and a 3-year-old with play microphones, just belting it. (Watch your back, sneezing baby panda.)

Taylor Swift is playing in our house and car SO much, that I have experienced a recurring song-in-my-head-isode every morning for weeks. Through my grainy, sleep-deprived eyes I wander through the house getting ready for work, brushing my teeth, and always thinking or humming, "Marry me, Juliette..."

And, compared to the Barney years, this is just delightful.

My Amazing Aunt Laura (1954 - 2010)

I almost feel ashamed to be associating my incredible aunt Laura with the other drivel that has spilled onto these pages, but I needed a venue to share my thoughts about her funeral yesterday.

My sweet wife has been a friend of the Savage family since preschool. Their home was a refuge from the normally judgmental Utah suburbs. When we heard of Laura's accident, I was upset. Jenny was distraught. When we heard of her passing, I was heartbroken, but Jenny was absolutely floored.

Here I was learning of the death of my own aunt, and needing to console my wife who had no blood relation to her but who had still been so impacted by the life of this wonderful woman that she couldn't even keep her footing. I guess that already tells you a lot about Laura.


My initial feeling is one of deep regret -- that I didn't know more about my own aunt. I wish I had spent more time in her home. I wish when I was a child that I hadn't been such a complete jerk to her daughters. Despite my childish, mean words and lack of respect, she still loved me.

I never knew what an incredible writer she was. I held it all together until her daughter Heather read a poem that Laura kept in their home. And then I really lost in when I listened to one of her own poems written at the age of 11, read in my grandfather's choked voice. I have never seen that man cry, and it was overwhelming.


I don't remember the exact verse Heather read, but from what I can find online it was something like this:


"Cleaning and scrubbing will wait 'till tomorrow, but children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow. So quite down cobwebs! Dust go to sleep! I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep."

When I heard that "Babies don't keep" line I just broke. Laura's legacy made me want to race home and hold my own daughters and beg them to forgive me for every single time I have been too hard on them. She reminded me of one of the last movies I watched with the girls, and the harsh realization that I have become more like a Mr. Wilson, the old curmudgeon and less like a Dennis the Menace.


Laura, with her love for life and her endless drive to do everything she could for her daughters and grandchildren, seems to have striven for the latter throughout her years, despite her struggles. Luckily, at her graveside I realized that I was not alone. Her life was reminding many of us (if not all of us) to be kinder to our children. To hold them close and love them completely. To do everything we could to boost their confidence and live as an example of love and acceptance. To ask ourselves the tough question "what will this really cost me?" in every situation where we might feel "inconvenienced" by our offspring.


She showed us what a truly successful life looks like.


Another thing that amazed me is the people she brought together. All of the petty garbage was set aside so that people could join to celebrate her life. Without hesitation Jenny and I joined in hymns, prayers, and set foot back in an LDS chapel after years of avoidance. We didn't give it a second thought. It also made me realize that there is a direct correlation between your last visit to a Mormon church and your last taste of potatoes topped with Corn Flakes, which are beyond delicious. ;)


Laura's funeral also brought together three women in my life I would never have expected to see in the same room. My mother, my ex-step mother, and my current step mother. They didn't sit together and hold hands or anything, but I can tell you that it was a genuine MIRACLE that they were all able to forget about their relationship quarrels during Laura's service.


I wish I had known more about my aunt. I wish I had spent more time with her and known what an incredible writer she was.


From a religious standpoint, I was so grateful for the peace that the gospel has provided to her family and loved ones. Part of me envied their certainty and I genuinely, deeply hope that they are right.


Yesterday I felt something I haven't felt in a while. I don't mind at all associating that feeling with what I used to call "The Spirit" and I certainly don't discredit that.


Even though I can't bring myself to associate those feelings with a particular religious affiliation, I can say without a doubt that they do make me want to be a better man. Laura's life makes me want to do more with my own. She makes me want to be a better husband and a better father. She makes me want to seek out more areas of improvement in my own life and give more to those around me. She makes me want to focus even harder on that which truly matters, and aggressively cast aside all of the other time-wasters that do not.


And for all of those things, I will always be grateful for her and indebted to her life and example.

The Suit Dilemma

I am going to tell you ahead of time that this post is not meant for you. Please feel free to read along if you would like, but I will warn you beforehand that what follows is yet another futile attempt by Dan's colliding brain hemispheres to debate an internal argument.

Today's Debate: Suiting Up - Bunker Gear vs. Pinstripes


Why don't we just agree right off the bat that Dan Workman is one finicky bastard? Seeming to be tossed to and fro by every gusting wind of choice while simultaneously suffering his mini-midlife, this self-centered boy watches gray hairs emerge and realizes the time to become a man is at hand. Will he choose the best path for his family? Will he grow up and finally set aside his cargo shorts and skate shoes? We'll find out... on next week's episode!!!


Just what the hell am I supposed to do with my life?!


For some reason the "Get busy living..." line from Shawshank Redemption has been in my mind lately. Anyone who reads this blog (though I can't for the life of me imagine why) already knows of my fascination with the passing of finite minutes.


As of today, November 5, 2010 I have spent exactly 28.35 years on this earth and internally that seems to be the exact deadline to stop "floating" through my career.


Smarter men make this decision much earlier in life. Braver men never feel the need to make this decision at all. I, on the other hand, am flogged every waking minute with the urgent need to stop wasting my potential, whatever that may be.

And here I am, 28 years and change into my life in probably the best overall shape I've ever been in with a job that I'm not passionate about but at the same time in a very advantageous position. I also happen to have a great boss who truly wants me to succeed at whatever I decide to do. This is where the battle begins...


In the red corner we have the "natural man" (no religious connotation intended). This version of Dan is so dominant over the being that he must be restrained in order for any progress to be made. He is the one who will pull over on the side of the freeway, delighted by the discovery of a free hat or t-shirt. He loathes spending more than $6 on an entire outfit and--were it an actual possibility--would spend his days running through the forest barefoot in only tattered shorts with a knife in one hand and a spear in the other. He believes firmly in a life without technology, wants to spend time every day chopping wood and dipping beeswax candles and would NEVER be caught dead writing on a blog. This version of Dan wants to embrace everything animalistic within him. He wants to wield an axe and kick down doors. He wants to gorge on undercooked or even raw meat and spend the rest of his days with grime packed underneath his fingernails. He is a nomad. He is brimming with testosterone and craves adrenaline. He is always uncouth. He drives without a seatbelt and raises his middle finger to anything established or organized. He is a man of action, rushing headfirst into every new adventure and wanting to experience everything that life has to offer. Because of all of this, he probably won't live to see 40. He also desperately wants to be a firefighter.


In the blue corner, we have the "rational" version of Dan. This loving father and husband wants nothing more than to provide for his girls. He wants to give them every comfort they desire and then some. He needs work, and help, but has the potential to be the post-bath version of the Encino Man. He cleans up pretty well when he wants to and actually looks alright in a suit. He has a pretty good head on his shoulders and has the potential to excel at a career that requires creativity and people skills. In a blurry haze, a distant future, he can see himself playing golf with clients and picking up his clothes from the dry cleaner. He keeps a schedule and never lets himself forget that he is an adult. He only wears his cargo shorts on the weekend and even then, he ALWAYS remembers to wear socks with his skate shoes to minimize the smell. He shaves and flosses with regularity, not just while driving and running late. He doesn't worry about money, because he makes more than he ever dreamed possible. He still lives in a humble home. His wife drives a 2009 Subaru Forester and he drives a 2005 Tacoma. In the garage next to it sits a $3,000 to $4,000 motorcycle which he always rides whilst helmeted, because safety is more important that thrill. Maybe he still cliff dives or bungee jumps or sky dives once a year to keep from becoming a complete and total pussy, but he works hard to make that adrenaline rush last at least 8-12 months. He sips at it and savors it, rather than looking for every chance to bathe in it. When his kids watch the latest Pixar movie, they get it on Blueray in 1080p and on at least 50 inches. And, most importantly, even though they don't expect it of him, he has the means to take his kids to Disneyland and his wife on an anniversary cruise, just because he feels like it. He thinks about things like retirement and college funds. He wants to give his children a better future than his parents and his wife's parents left to them. Maybe he works for a volunteer fire department once or twice a week. And, only very rarely, when nobody is looking, does he eat steak with his fingers.


The decision looms, demanding attention before January. On one hand we have a ticking clock, reminding me that I will never be able to become a firefighter after age 32 in some departments, age 35 in others. I have a slot waiting for me at the DATC fire academy and applications floating around all over the country. I have the opportunity to do something that excites me personally, but somewhat at the expense of my family. Will daddy come home after work this week? Will I be left raising these kids on my own? Will we have enough money to make ends meet? Is choosing a job for myself and my passion an act of selfishness?


At the same time, dozens (if not hundreds) of men with more credentials and qualifications fight in this job market to get a position just like the one I already hold. Without meaning to I have been working toward a promotion since 2006. I have developed skills and qualifications that may very well have opened up the entire country and the potential of a six-figure income. I have a manager who is backing me 110%, a very limited number of other people standing in front of a very limited number of doors, and only my own dragging feet to hold me back. I am working for a company that will explode with opportunities for advancement during the next 5 years. I don't care about money but after years of working in finance I do understand what it can mean for my wife and daughters. With that in mind, I feel a little like Scrooge McDuck, poised on diving board of gold with a welcoming pile of cash below.


Do I take the plunge or do I throw it away? I don't care about wealth and I know that regardless of my income I will do everything in my power to instill a sense of humility and work ethic in my daughters, but does that mean I should stay poor on principle?


Is there really a line between selling yourself short and selling out?


The brutal truth is this:

On the firefighting front, I am already coming in late to the game. Aside from possible physical changes (for better or worse) I won't be bringing anything new to the table at age 31 than I am now. Now or 3 years from now I am going to be testing against 18-year-olds, which doesn't concern me from a physical standpoint but will always be the case in this career.


During that three year period, at lot could happen with my current job. I could probably get those promotions and there would be new offices opening up all over the country. "You look at a map and tell me where you want to work," my boss says to me. "We'll make it happen." That is, of course, no guarantee. But at the same time, in this industry assurances like that are few and far between.

So, the rational thing here is to give the white collar work a little more time. It makes sense. It is reasonable. But even with that understanding I can't seem to make myself give up my slot at the DATC, even though I know that money might go to waste. I also can't imagine turning down an offer if I make it through the testing process for the Wichita Falls Fire Department in Texas that I will be starting next week.


I don't expect any of you to read this, let alone help me make my decision. But maybe 15 years down the road I will be able to look back at this with either gratitude or regret in my mind. Maybe I'll be working in a nice office and feeling my heart ache every time I see a firefighter in the jump seat driving past my window. Or, maybe I'll be struggling to pay the bills, working a second job on my days off and wincing as I haul some fatass out of a window after my third shoulder surgery and wishing I'd allowed the more mentally sound version of myself take the wheel back in 2010. Either way I am determined to hit the ground running once I choose which direction to take in this fork of life's road. I like to meet all of my bad decisions face first at a sprint.


Eenie... Meenie... Miney... Mo? But even that just leaves me with the new decision on whether or not to include the friggin Tiger's Toe verse...


“All our final decisions are made in a state of mind that is not going to last.” -Marcel Proust

"Native American" Summer

A year ago, we expected to still be in Texas for another Halloween. Trick-or-Treating in Texas was a riot. It had a similar feel to when Jenny and I were kids. People still made haunted houses in their front yards. The neighborhood was packed with tiny Princesses and Transformers. They didn't seem to have succumbed as fully as Utah to the dreaded "Trunk-or-Treat" BS that seems to be packing our children with even more sugar without even making them walk around the block to get it.

And it was so warm...

I wandered around behind my own Tinkerbell and Snow White. They had no need to cover their costumes with winter coats and I was comfortable in shorts, Jenny in her tank top. It was a lot of fun.

The Sun-Lover in me will miss the Texas climate this year. It was a lot of fun to see people mowing lawns around their Christmas yard decorations. But I can't remember a fall in Utah that I have enjoyed as much as this one. The warm days and lack of freak October snow storms has helped me ease out of summer better than previous years. It seems like this year the leaves will actually have time to drop one by one, rather than being ripped down full branches at a time by the weight of early snowfall.

We've had a great time this fall going for relaxing walks, taking trips to the park, visiting a number of corn mazes and even playing in the woods for an afternoon, launching boats of bark and twigs into the stream.

As far as work goes; the overtime has been a little brutal. I don't know if I will be able to do back-to-back 80-hour weeks again anytime soon. But, the paychecks have opened the door for a lot of fun, a bit of catching up with year-end expenses such as new tires and car repairs, and maybe even a little savings to make plans for next summer.

Winter, we'll see you when you get here. No need to rush. Travel safe and take ALL the time you need.

"The" Gays

(I am adding to this because I feel like this post has become an important and civil conversation with one of the smartest women I know. Melissa, I hope you don't mind.)

This is one I seriously debated blogging about. My history with Mormonism makes my current relationship with the church and its members a tenuous one. I have been very reluctant to directly discuss my personal reasons for leaving the church, because (as I have mentioned in the past) I do not want anyone to feel like I think my reasons should be anyone else's reasons. I hope that make sense.

However, recent events make me feel the need to express my opinion - not based solely on a church matter but instead a civil rights matter. I no longer watch General Conference, but during the last few years I have read talks that have been forwarded to me by friends and family members. For the most part I have still enjoyed them as much as I did when I was a member of the church. They generally carry an uplifting message directed toward the family or goodwill to mankind - topics I can ALWAYS get behind as long as nobody is trying to exclusively claim them.

But, Elder Packer's comments about homosexuality really upset me. While I was still part of the church, I had the opportunity to become friends with several guys my age who were struggling with their conflicting identities of gay and Mormon. One of them even told me about his suicide attempt after being kicked out of the house when he "came out" to his Mormon parents.

He had grown to HATE the part of him that was gay and I could tell from his story that he wanted nothing else but to "overcome" his "tendencies." He had even considered self mutilation and chemical castration.

It was something that I couldn't relate to but at the same time seemed to understand perfectly. I knew what it was like to be ashamed of my own sexual inclinations. Even though my attraction was of the hetero- variety, I still felt like it was something I always had to battle against. I knew what it was like to hate my own urges because they have no place in an unmarried Mormon's life.

When I heard the introductory lines to this segment of Elder Packer's talk, my heart sank. There is already so much implication to the words "There are those who would tolerate..."

In my opinion, it just goes downhill from there. How horribly disheartening it must be for struggling Mormon youth to hear this from one of their highest earthly leaders. Imagine the guilt, shame and fear you would feel to be told by "on high" that this part of you, a part that feels so natural and ingrained, is inherently evil. You can understand why gays and the family and friends of gays (both Mormon and non-Mormon alike) have been so concerned by these comments.

While Elder Packer made it clear in his talk that the church will not change, I was reminded of comments by Brigham Young in the Journal of Discourses that had very similar implications for African Americans.

Also note that for the first time in nearly 40 years, changes have been made to the conference talk after it was delivered. (Side note; after some research I found that the "book" in reference was None Dare Call It Conspiracy by Gary Allen.)

While it has significant scientific backing, I will still consider it my "opinion" that some people are born gay. With that in mind, I wrote the following letter to the Utah Pride Center:

"To tell you a little about myself, I am straight, happily married, and
ex-mormon for about two years now. I have tried several times to get
my family out of Utah into an area that is more accepting and open
minded, but family ties and close friends keep bringing us back.

When I was mormon, I was devout and even a solid missionary. I worked
hard to serve the people of Mexico in my own way (mostly by helping
them dig ditches and harvest crops, rather than try to "change" them
religiously) but I suppose you could say that I was still a
"successful" missionary - as the church would call it.

I do not regret leaving the church. In fact, it was probably one of the best
decisions I have ever made. My wife and I are in a much better place
and I feel like my children will have the opportunity to grow up in an
environment of love, acceptance and open-mindedness.

My one regret is that I haven't made more of an effort to diversify my
group of friends. It's not that I feel like I should seek out or treat
differently those of different races or sexual orientations, but when
I look around my group of friends I am struck by the same frustrating
realization as when I look at the majority of Utah: we are almost all
white and straight. In some ways I think it would be wrong to seek out
friends based on their darker skin tone or gayness, like some twisted
sort of diversity hire. At the same time, though, I feel like those of
us who love and accept you should be going out of our way to include
you when so many in this state are working hard to exclude you.

I just want you in the LGBT community to know that there is a quiet
portion of the community like us who genuinely love and support you
for who you are, and even though we may have been raised with a
backwards mentality, we know now that you have been wronged in the
deepest sense of the word. We want desperately to know you and become
friends with you, but just like seeking out black friends would almost
be a form of racism, we know there is something a little off about
trying to make gay friends. That may sound odd but in a way we feel
like the greatest form of service we can provide you with is by not
treating you differently, but by instead being kind to everyone -
regardless of race, creed or sexual orientation. Perhaps I am just
rambling and still backwards (if so please tell me and help me move
forward) but I want you to know that we are here and we support you.

For those of you who are still Mormon; I want you to know there is
still hope. Please don't let recent comments bring you down. After
all, Brigham Young said similar things about African Americans 151
years ago. So, don't be disheartened by Packer's comments. With that in
mind I offer to you my new bumper sticker idea:

"Gay: The new Black of the Mormon church."

Just remember, it is only a matter of time! ;-)"

(Melissa's comment still hasn't shown up, so I am including it in the post itself, because I think it is a wonderful perspective of the other side of this conversation.)

Please, please, please tell me you've actually watched or read the
actual talk, in it's entirety.

It concerns me, the divisiveness created by those (not you, not your
honest and concerned post) who haven't actually listened to the man.

He did NOT say that gays are NOT born that way.

He did NOT say that a person can just "change" their sexual preference,
or even elude to it.

He did NOT suggest that the "tendencies" and "temptations" themselves
are sins. It is the acts that are sins. The LDS website has / had
posted there it's official stance on the matter and stated this very
clearly. Tendencies are not the problem, not the sin, nor will they
keep you from serving within the church, nor will they keep you from
the blessings of heaven. We all must face and overcome the natural man.

When Packer said in his talk that such tendencies can be "overcome" he
did not exclusively elude to homosexuality, but included and stated,
ALL immoral, impure acts and human tendencies(according to LDS
doctrine). Which includes the example you gave of being a heterosexual,
but expected to be celibate until you are married -- and celibacy even
if you never marry (is that our nature, to be celibate? Or even
monogomous? I married at 19 and that was hard enough).

Still, his message stated that the God's laws won't change (which you
disagree with, ok) but that we can all, ALL OF US, take comfort in
knowing that we can overcome those temptations that contradict
progression and the laws of the gospel. He said that we are all capable
of obeying the commandments, we can do it. That we are not given more
tempation than we can bear - that's the promise and message of the talk
(I think).

I have not brought up this topic with anyone else and I only bring it
up with you because;

You are so willing to be open and try really hard not to be combative
and I trust that you know I'm not trying to fight either, even if I
disagree with some things.

I'm not even trying to change your mind or "fix" your opinion, either.
Especially since you come from a place of compassion and concern. I
just thought maybe I would straighten up some of the accusations and
misquotes I keep hearing about (it's bugging me).

I guess I feel defensive, because I do have a testimony of the gospel
and I also believe that Jesus is the ultimate example. It makes me so
sad to think that your friend was kicked out when opening up to his
parents. That's so not what Jesus would do. It's contrary to the
teachings of the gospel as I have come to understand it in my searching
and studying.

I think that is one area that is improving in this LDS culture and I
pray and hope, hope, hope that it's members will really embrace
wholeheartedly the Savior's example. He never, ever condoned sin, but
He also never, EVER turns anyone away when they need Him. Ever. Always
it was and is Love.

I do have a few gay friends/relatives, some mormon, some not. I live in
an area that's pretty diverse for Utah (many, many languages spoken
just on my street, like 7 or so) - That doesn't mean anything other
than I agree with you, about the benefits of living in a diverse place.
Different cultures and lifestyles are not so scary when you serve and
love others, especially those different from you. I think some people
don't want to wrestle with it. But it's so worth it when we are talking
about God's children on earth.

That's all, I've rambled enough for a lifetime.


Love You. And I'm not just saying that so you won't hate me after this
LOOOOOOOOONG and preachy comment.

(I am adding the following, not because I want to have the last word but because I want this conversation to continue.)

Melissa,

Thank you so much for the comment. I got the email but then it didn't appear on here, so I hope you didn't delete it.

First of all, I did not find anything you said to be "preachy" in any way. I loved everything you wrote which is why I really hope it stays on the blog. I appreciate it and in some ways I think you did call me out, which is always necessary.

Yes, I did watch the whole talk because it is important for me to understand the context of quotes. I realize that there are plenty of things that I wrote here that could be taken as very "snarky" or jabbing comments. For those I apologize.

I really love your conviction and I know I've told you before how much I admire it. I do understand the church's stance on the family and in many ways agree with it. I do not blame the church as a whole for the actions of those very un-Christlike parents.

I understand that, in full context, Elder Packer's comments can be applied to all who are striving to overcome temptation. While he did not say that they are not born that way, he did say, "We teach a standard of moral conduct that will protect us from Satan’s many substitutes or counterfeits for marriage. We must understand that any persuasion to enter into any relationship that is not in harmony with the principles of the gospel must be wrong. From the Book of Mormon we learn that “wickedness never was happiness.”

Some suppose that they were preset and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn temptations toward the impure and unnatural. Not so! Remember, God is our Heavenly Father."

To immediately follow a clear statement regarding relationships that are not harmonious with the gospel (married man and woman) and then clearly state that these individuals cannot "suppose that they were preset" is what is concerning me and so many others.

(Talk in full context here)

I suppose that is where we must disagree. I have met people (the aforementioned friend included) who wanted nothing more than to be "normal" and wish that they had never been subject to their "queer" (and by that I do mean odd - pun intended) feelings.

What stands out so strongly to me is the abuse and bullying that many of these individuals experience from a very young age. For many of them, despite their efforts to be what their parents or those around them want them to be, they can't escape something inside them.

I do believe there are those who perhaps have a "wide" range of sexual attractions and maybe "choose" to focus on their same-sex rather than opposite-sex attractions. But, I really do think that the majority can recognize their "tendency" (not "temptation") from a very young age.

Elder Packer asks "Why would Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" and I think that is a great question… from both sides of Theism.

Why would anyone who wants nothing more than to be ridded of their homosexual tendencies make the "choice" to be outcast and ridiculed by nearly everyone they love if they really had the option? If being gay was once and for all determined to be a chemical or mental dysfunction rather than a genetic marker (which hasn't happened as far as I know, despite some past hype about a "gay gene"), and scientists finally discovered a miracle pill that would “set the gays straight”, how many of them do you think would be lined up with credit cards in hand, ready to pay any price?

How many black Mormons would have done the same before 1978 if they were told that by making a certain church contribution they would finally have their “mark of Cain” removed as they had been promised if it meant they could partake in the acceptance and blessings of their gospel?

How many "reformed homosexuals" really exist? Wouldn't it be more likely that there are simply some who have done a better job of suppressing a part of themselves and commit to a life of lies and misery because of the overwhelming pressure of their church/family/society?

I have never had to suffer through something that I imagine to be that heart wrenching but to a certain degree I know what it is like to try to be two people. It is hell and I would never wish that on anyone.

Like I wrote before, I know it can only be considered my "opinion" (despite the studies that have been presented), that people are born gay.

Isn't it unfortunate that there are people living today who aren't victimizing anybody but still want desperately to be something other than what they are? Sure, there are those at this point who I've seen try to argue that a pedophile or rapist don't feel like they can change their sexual urges either. I don't feel like this even merits argument because there is a world of difference between two consenting and loving males or females who want to live a committed relationship and someone who takes a woman or child by force? Doesn't that boil down to an issue of power and control rather than sex?

But back to the talk... when so many young people are committing suicide, being bullied, or even being murdered because they cannot change or refuse to reject who they are, it must be devastating to be told by such a prominent church leader that they simply must overcome their temptation. Granted, Elder Packer's approach is 1,000 times better than the truly hateful christian extremists who spit and scream and hoist their "God Hates Fags" signs.

I think everyone is tested in their lives, if not by God than simply by life itself. My concern is for individuals who are already in such a deep personal agony because they feel that there is something "evil" or "wrong" with them, to be told that the reason they haven't been able to change is essentially their fault. I know Elder Packer never says that, but his talk does imply that if they simply work harder and pray more diligently, they will be fixed. And that is what I have the hardest time with.

It was probably unfair for me to make the comparison between the gay Mormons of today and the black Mormons of 1977 and earlier. There is no need for us to get into or debate whether or not certain church revelations have coincidentally followed political pressures.

In fact, it may have been a very insensitive joke and maybe I am still missing the whole point. Maybe I’m just venting my overall frustration toward anyone who tries to make the consenting-adult-behind-closed-doors activities of other people their business. Maybe I am just that much more entwined in Satan’s grasp. But, I can get behind Packer’s BOM quote that “wickedness never was happiness” because I’d imagine it goes both ways. I don't feel like true happiness can be wicked. And, the happiest I’ve ever been was the moment I decided that I am still worthwhile, even with all of my faults and imperfections. That was the moment that I decided that it was okay for me take charge of my own life and responsibility for my own progression. It may be very “wrong” of me to feel like I get to pick and choose the areas of my life I want to improve and the pace with which I want to improve them, but I feel like it is healthy. And, I feel like if a lot of confused youth and teenagers were given that kind of go-ahead we’d find a lot fewer of them hanging in their closets. We’d see far fewer marriages and families shattered 10 -15 years in because someone decides they have lived the lie as long as they could.

Who knows though – my blog my opinion, right? I look forward to responses, especially if they can be as constructive and educational as Melissa's. Thanks again, Melissa.

Those Crazy Workmans...

Warning: This will be a long post.

Jenny and I have been emailing each other today. We have been trying to figure out why our sense of complacency only seems to last six months at a time. What I am going to include below is an email exchange we've had today. I am doing this because I am sure our family and friends have wondered why in the hell the Workman family keeps moving around (Utah to Wyoming back to Utah then to Texas then back to Utah and now to... Mexico? Panama? Australia?)

Yes, we have seriously considered it.

The question is... why?

Today we seriously asked ourselves this question, and I don't think I've ever seen an email exchange that more clearly displays the thought process of two individuals who are really trying hard to work together for the best possible outcome. I don't mean to say that we are exceptionally bright individuals; in fact our previous attempts and failures would attest to the contrary.

But, the truth is we really want to make sure we do whatever we can to get ourselves and our children into a situation of our design. That means trying desperately to leave behind the priorities of those around us and society as a whole and really gutting our lives down to the core of what is really important... to us.

Based on our long conversation last night (which should be adequately re-capped through the following emails), Jenny writes the following:

Jenny:

I love you! Sorry for all the restlessness.

Me:

Don't worry about the restlessness. I think Spencer made a good point last night about how much friends are a part of your life. In reality, so much of our lives have revolved around our group of friends, and that would be something nearly impossible to replace. I want to give you a home and I think that is something I'm working toward. I think we can forget about the caretaker jobs and things like that because they would feel as temporary as this situation. What I think we really need to discuss is whether or not we should be working toward buying (or building) a house. Maybe we should start looking at building lots out in Farr West or something like that. Maybe we should start considering our options for creating an actual home. Or, maybe we should forget this cruise and instead set a goal in mind for the next 5 years. If we really set our minds to it, only ate out like once a month, lived on a VERY strict budget, worked off rent at Josh's house and I plowed through overtime as much as possible, we could probably save up enough to buy a house with cash, or at least put 50% to 60% down and get a very cheap 15 year mortgage.

Maybe that is the way to go. If we are able to budget on that type of situation in a farming community like that, maybe I could be working as a manager of a feed store or doing some other job that let me work near the girls. More than anything it would be giving you a small home that you know is yours and you don't have to ever leave. Ogden will keep growing as they improve the image and I could probably find something there in the future, especially if I finish my degree.

There are options but we probably have to stop fantasizing about Mexico and Tennessee, because I think we both know those are only temporary solutions. Then again, it is hard not to when we both feel like life may be very temporary. Stupid 2012, making us feel like it is foolish to keep money in savings.

Jenny:

Sorry- I am really happy where we are. I don't want to pressure you to buy a house. I don't even know where i want to live so buying a house until we know for sure what we want is not an option. I feel like you feel like I am expecting you to provide this little impossible fantasy for me, but I'm not. I will be fine here for a long time. It all just comes back to not wasting our time. I know our relationships with our friends are very important. It is just hard sometimes to think about that over the other frustrations with Utah. It is important to remember that though. It's just so frustrating to be stuck in this cycle and to have tried a few different times to get out of it and to just keep coming back to it. I know it's my fault that we keep coming back. I am sorry I feel crazy sometimes...

Me:

It is nobody's "fault" that we came back and I am not upset about any of the decisions we made. I feel like coming home from Texas was a no brainer, and I feel like we got what we needed out Wyoming. I think we both are looking for simplicity and there are a few things we know we agree on:

1. We do NOT want to live in the suburbs
2. We do not care about image or luxury
3. We do not want to uproot our children more than we need to, we want to feel settled
4. We both know that our current situation is good, but cannot be permanent, which probably makes us feel restless
5. We both feel some pressure to find out where we CAN feel settled, but that hasn't happened because (like always) there are too many options
6. We both want to stay near our friends - staying near family and babysitters happens to be a bonus, but not a requirement
7. Neither of us want to make decisions based on other people's opinions or priorities
8. We both want to maximize our time together as a family, which we are not doing at the moment - so we feel like a change needs to take place

In reality, these conversations have probably been coming up just because this last week was so shitty. That is the truth. We haven't had hardly any time together and that has been rough. On the other hand, it makes me wonder how well we will handle the next couple of years of school. If this week was so hard on us, can we buckle down and do this for 200 weeks to get me my degree? I don't know.

Jenny:

I really love that list. It is perfect. Thanks for understanding how my brain works better than i do! I think all of those things are true. One thing, how important is getting a degree to us? Is it something that we really want? Is is worth the time put in. It has the potential to get you a job that involves writing, but is it more for that or for following what we're "supposed" to do. It has the potential of making us more money in the future. It will be hard to wait for the future, but I know we can do it if we think it is a priority and is important for US. Maybe we just need to have clearer goals in mind to get through the "getting there" part. It is hard to not look at our other options of how or where we could be living. The different options are endless. The friend thing is what keeps us here. I feel like that is all, and that is why it's hard not to look elsewhere. I need to come to terms that that is enough to keep us rooted here. But, is that a selfish decision because of how living here will affect our kids, or is it better for them if we are near our friends. I know it's important to them that we're happy. That makes a difference in how they are raised and how we interact with them. I can't straighten my brain out right now. Too much swirling around all at once. Maybe this is how you always feel Haha!

Me:

Yes, that is pretty close to how I always feel. There are so many factors and for some reason they always bring me back full circle to where I started.

Here is what I am thinking about the school thing:

1. I really HATE being away from you girls. I mean, I despise it. But, I know that right now I can't be a provider and spend all day with you, and being the former seems more important at this phase of life. The truth is; the girls need you around a LOT more than they need me. To survive and be comfortable they need the money I can provide. To be safe and secure and smart and loved, they need you. I have come to terms with that. It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you all of the time, but it seems like if there was ever a time I should be gritting my teeth and getting through school, it should be now. Technically, it should have been BEFORE we had kids but that is no longer an option.

2. So, my choices are: do I continue the course we have gone during the last couple of years and hope for a different result (which is the definition of insanity), or do I hope that we do have a future that carries over more than the next few years and buckle down to work for something better.

3. This is where it becomes an all or nothing thing: I can either plan for the end of the world in the near future (which means cashing out savings and trying as hard as I can to put us in a situation where we can enjoy each other for every minute of every day) or I hope for more time (when the girls are 10 and 8 or somewhere along there) when I have used both my current job's income and the education it can help provide to try to give us time together at (what I see as) a crucial juncture of our daughters' lives - when they are old enough to hold onto the memories for a lifetime, but young enough to still want to spend time with us (me).

4. This is where school comes in; yes it will take away from a lot of my time. Yes it will keep from home. Yes it will result in tears of sweet girls who miss their dad. But, with FAFSA and tuition reimbursement, it actually has the potential to improve BOTH our current situation and future situation, which seems like a pertinent motivator. If I decide to go through school, work overtime and continue to push myself, my body and my sanity to the limits, I will be royally disappointed and pissed if some massive earthquake wipes out civilization (or at least the Wasatch front) in a few years. I do NOT want to die with money in savings!! But, then again, if I have simply been led to believe in some doomsday myth that has always existed throughout the last 100 years with just different names (second coming, cold war, bay of pigs, Obama administration) then getting through school while my children are still young enough to perhaps not remember is probably the most responsible thing because....

5. Who knows, by the time the next 5 years blow over, maybe we'll all be telecommuting to work. Maybe I will still be working for Fidelity, keeping my benefits and retirement plan, working from a home office doing emails or even chatting online with someone in Bangladesh who needs to restructure their IRA. I don't really know. Right now the real decision has to come down (in my opinion) to two fairly simple gambles:

A. Will the world last more than another 10-20 years?
B. Will going to school during the next 3 - 4 years actually make us money?

And the answer to both of those questions seems to be; "go for a semester and find out."

This is how my brain works. I'm sorry to have subjected you to it!

Jenny:

Sorry- I can't tell what you meant with that last line? Sorry to have subjected me to it? SO we are buckling down and getting through school. SO- lets do it then. No more craziness/restlessness. That is the plan- so lets get it done :) It will be hard, but it's definitely do-able. Love you!

Me:

I meant sorry to have subjected you to my crazy brain. I didn't mean any decision has been made, but I do feel like it would be foolish to NOT try at least a semester of school at the U when it is paid for and possibly profitable. Does that mean we will last long enough to finish my degree? I'm not sure, I guess we have to wait and find out.

Losing Face(book)

I did it. I deleted my facebook account.

I had planned to wait until I could get home and save all of the pictures and notes and stuff, but it just felt like the right time to get rid of it.

A few months ago Jenny and I both had broken blackberrys and ended up using "loaner" phones with no internet for a while. During that time I hardly ever used facebook because logging on at the home computer felt like a real waste. I justified my facebook time by only doing it on my phone while multi-tasking with something else less important... like working or driving.

Honestly, facebook can be great for remembering birthdays and getting pictures of somebody's new baby. It keeps you up to date on your favorite bands' touring schedules and reminds you that your favorite tv show will be on that night. It does all of those things while chewing away at your life a few minutes at a time.

In Texas, we all got so into facebook that we would all sit around in the living room, everyone on a different computer or laptop and play virtual farming games. We would all be in the same room but somehow still miles apart. This is what we consider "socializing" these days.

Now, take a step back and think about that for a second...

Remember in the early 90's when our parents would tell us to turn off the Nintendo because we were wasting our time? Remember when they told us to go outside and play?

Now, 20 years later some of those same parents are sending us online requests for virtual seeds or fish food. We are replacing actual conversation with "pokes" and clever 420-character updates. Before long, this useful tool that allowed you to reconnect with lost friends is actually putting distance between you and those same individuals. Because, why pick up the phone or meet for dinner when you can write on someone's Wall?

Before long, getting caught up with your real "friends" takes longer and longer because for every one of them, there are five other people who you barely know or remember that have "collected" you as a friend. You are spending precious minutes your life sorting through requests to join online mafias or attend a Harry Potter costume birthday party for your fourth-cousin-thrice-removed. All of the sudden you wake up and realize that you are caught in this social web that constantly begs for your attention but provides very little real interaction.

You are forced to accept or deny the requests of a friend of a friend of a friend and begin to feel like Kevin Bacon in the middle of some twisted "six degrees" game.

Anyway, I just suddenly realized I'm done with it. I don't want to respond to any more friend requests with, "Now, remind me how we know each other." I don't want to have any more public debates about politics or religion or whether Max Hall's hatred is justified.

I love conversation. I even love a good, healthy, constructive debate - I am an ENTP personality type, after all. I just want to be able to see your face in the process. If we are going to disagree about something, I don't want to have to gauge how much of your anger is real and how much is just isolated keyboard courage.

I want my kids to grow up in a society where people still get together on a Wednesday afternoon to mill around in the backyard with a cooler of beer and soda--where the grill and the fold-out table are the only common network we need.

I know I can't make the change for anyone else, and I know that for a lot of people these online networks are their most comfortable means of connection. Personally though, leaving it all behind just feels like a step in the right direction.

Please just don't do it any faster than you have to.

I mean, I know that Emma already started school a couple of weeks ago. I get that. But today was the first time I actually drove her to the elementary and dropped her off.

I'm not going to lie. Seeing her run down the sidewalk in the new school shoes we picked out together, her Tinkerbell backpack too big for her and bouncing as she ran - it fucked with my head a little bit. Normally I try to avoid such language in this blog, and if it offends you, I apologize. But this time there really isn't any better way for me to describe it.

Watching my little Emma, my first baby, the one they say looks so much like me... watching her walk into that building, grinning and waving at me as she went, it was like the process of losing her had officially started.

I know there are plenty of you who will say that she will always be my daughter. After all, the, "Daddy, I'll always be your little girl," line is one of the most cliche in the movie industry. But, the truth is that starting now she is steadily going to want more time with friends/activities/boyfriends and away from home. I hope she will always want to come back, and I know there are many years ahead of us. But the countdown has begun. From here on out the percentage of her time she wants to spend with me will be on a constant decline.

I know that is the way it is supposed to be, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I understand that she has to grow up, and I want her to. I just want her to do it as slowly as possible.

The Day I Finally Lost It...

This particular post has a soundtrack. For the full experience, please listen to this in the background while reading. Jenny, I know you're sick of 311, but even you. ;)

311 - Unity

You know those videos online of those office workers going completely berserk and beating up coworkers or smashing their computers and printers?

Well, that was me today.

Almost.

The other day my sweet wife told me that she really wants me to find a job that comes more naturally to me. She knows better than anyone how poorly I fit into this office environment. She knows I should be outside, getting dirty and working with my hands or something along those lines.

Today, sitting at my desk I had the closest thing to a panic attack I think I've ever felt. I have never been claustrophobic but I could feel the walls of that cubicle actually closing around me.

I had to run, to escape.

Considering my lack of other gainful employment, not to mention the benefits and insurance associated with my current position, I thought it best to simply grab my iPod and keys and walk away for a while, rather than just up and quit my job.

I know it probably sounds a little crazy, but I just ran. I mean, I bolted down the stairs three at a time and as soon as I was outside I just sprinted away from the office. My legs couldn't carry me fast enough.

Within less than a minute I was frantically unlocking my car and before long I was screeching tires out of the parking lot and practically rallying that little Civic toward the closest hill I could find.

I rolled the windows down and cranked the music. I breathed deeply of the fresh air and the farther away I got from my desk, the calmer I became.

Before long I was in the Avenues, east of downtown Salt Lake. I kept climbing, looking for an open road, but instead found a large church parking lot next to a park.

I turned my iPod as loud as it would go and ripped my shirt off as fast as I could. I popped the trunk and clawed aside the tool box and tire iron to get my longboard out.

With "Unity" pumping into my ears, I set off down the first slope on the north side of the parking lot. Immediately I could feel the breeze over my skin and scalp. The grin that peeled apart my lips still hasn't left my face.

It has been a while since I hopped on the board, and my first few pumps were a little awkward and choppy, but before long the rhythm smoothed itself out and I was carving down toward the road. I jumped off the board and picked it up so I could run back up to the top of the parking lot. During my second run I could hear a faint shouting through my music. I turned and saw a man in a shirt and tie standing at the open door of the church.

"You can't do that here!!" he shouted, apparently for the second or third time.

"Sorry," I said, and put my ear bud back in before rolling down to the far side of the parking lot. I picked up my board again and this time ran across the grass to the sidewalk track around the adjacent park.

The grin on my face widened at the "CLACK-CLUNK" sound of my wheels passing over the sidewalk cracks. I crouched as the hill began to slope and the clacks and clunks closed together as my speed increased.

Ahead of me the sidewalk took a sharp turn to the left around the baseball diamond. I was already getting a speed wobble and wasn't sure I'd be able to hang onto the turn. Heelside turns are not my strength on the longboard.

I slid my lead foot forward to even out the wobble and bore down on my heels as the turn approached. I drove downward with my quads and laughed out loud as the sidewalk brushed the fingertips of my left hand. My rear wheels began to break away from the concrete and I was sure I had lost it, but before I knew it I had pulled out of the turn and stood up. I was flying.

Then, a new obstacle arose on the horizon. A woman lying on the grass reading a book. Good for her. And, an elderly man walking a dog toward me on the sidewalk. There was no way I would be able to stop in time, so I did the next best thing and leaned back so I could ease the front left wheel of my board onto the grass. I made it maybe 10 or 15 feet before friction overtook speed and that wheel sunk into the sod. They must have watered last night.

Time stopped and I was airborne. Still wearing my dress pants and work ID badge, I watched in slow motion as the ground passed beneath me. I wrapped my left arm around my waist and began rotating before connecting with the earth. Favoring my left side turned out to be a bad idea. My right shoulder has been sore lately, but I doubt sliding on it would have hurt as much as sliding on my new tattoo did.

And did I slide.

I was laughing hysterically, feeling more alive than I have since my bungee jump. Based on where my board was when I stood up, I must have flown/slid at least 30 feet. My entire left side, from my bare shoulder to the ankle of my dress pants, was stained in green. The stinging in my ribs just added to the euphoria.

I collected my board and did one more run through the church parking lot before tossing it back into the trunk and driving back to work. I could feel the sweat evaporating on my back and chest and the tingle of the grass still clung to my side.

Sitting back at my desk, the cubicle walls don't seem so small anymore. The pile of processed junk food on the team cabinet no longer made me angry. Colors seemed brighter. Water tasted fresher.

It only took about 30 minutes to reclaim my life this morning, and I'm so glad I did. Whether my reaction was a step back toward sanity or farther from it... I don't even know. The funny thing is; I don't really give a shit.

Be The Fat Girl of the Bunch

I hate to double-dip my blog day, but this is something I've had on my mind lately.

We often talk about "body image" these days. In reality, we just mean "self esteem" but since that is so directly tied to your figure in this culture, the two have unfortunately been meshed into one. Body fat percentage seems to directly correlate with self worth.

I've been trying hard this summer to get into shape. I do push-ups and pull-ups every day at work. I do dips every chance I get. I work out on the Bowflex at home and do P90-X with Jenny whenever I can muster the energy - though she is FAR more consistent than I am.

At my work, there is a steady barrage of crappy food. Every week someone brings in pastries or candy, and that is on the schedule. Aside from the Wednesday Treat Day, there are also constant pot lucks and company-wide "bonuses" like root beer floats, pizza, donuts... you name it. It is amazing that a company with the most sedentary employees would be so eager to pack them full of empty calories.

Not wanting to die of a heart attack by 40, or accidentally crush/disgust my wife with an obese and flabby figure, I almost always pass on these company treats. In fact, it has gotten to the point where my coworkers will actually make fun of me for not eating the ice cream bars they pass around. They have competitions to see who can down the most, and then tell me I'm being a "girl" because I won't have one. They laugh at me when I bring in a bunch of carrots for lunch.

The joke's on them though, because when my Wednesday rolls around and I have to bring treats, those bastards are stuck with eating fruit or nothing at all.

The other day our systems were down so the managers sent us to a movie. Before the movie started, there was some issue with the projector and one of the guys said, "have Dan go up there and knock some heads around!"

Then, when some teenage guys in front of us started to get rowdy, another one said, "maybe we can have Dan go over and beat them up!"

"Yeah, Dan, at least go scare them!"

"Scare them?" These same guys who give me crap for eating vegetables instead of twinkies treat me like some kind of mercenary. What is that?

I suppose it is "rare" for those in my office to hit the weights. Most cubicle drones succumb to the overwhelming lethargy and simply let go of themselves - chalking it all up to "the job" as if it is completely out of their control.

I'm not writing all of this because I feel like there is something exceptional about my attitude. I just think it is a strange phenomenon. It seems like we adjust our personal image for our setting. For example, while I might feel pretty good at my office just by being under 300 pounds, when I go work out on the Air Force base with Josh I feel like a weakling because I can't bench 400. Anything over about 5% body fat there is practically obese, considering the abundance of gymrats and muscleheads.

Anyway. Not exactly sure where I'm headed with this, but I guess what I'm realizing is that it is a bad idea to compare yourself to anyone if it is going to change your own body image - in a good or a bad way. Focus on your own progress and work on achieving your own personal goals. But, if the group you surround yourself with gives you the inclination to either keep pushing weights or keep slamming the nachos, the former is probably the healthier option.

Be the fatty of your group.

Let Them Build Forts

I haven't been the best dad this week. Despite my efforts to be kind and patient, I have snapped at my kids more than once. Today I will bring home ice cream, and do my best to apologize while they are in their freshly-bribed sugary haze.

It was brisk outside this morning. I had to defrost my back window and even run the heater on the way to work. Summer is winding down.

I am listening to "Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey" by the one and only Chuck Palahniuk again. In the book he talks about chewing road tar. I googled it to see if people really did that, and stumbled upon this article:

http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/localnews/columnists/sblow/stories/DN-blow_01met.ART.West.Edition1.4601573.html

I loved this article, and it makes me realize something else about the type of dad I have been. I can't say whether it is good or bad, but I am very protective of my girls. Perhaps overly so.

It made me ask myself the question, "If they were two boys, would I be raising them differently?" and the honest answer was a resounding, "hell yes!"

I don't think that is very fair to them, but I can't help but treating them like little princesses and wanting to pad the world around them. If they were boys, I would be telling them how much chicks dig scars and trying to toughen them up.

I started thinking about the world that we live in and wondering how necessary my protection really is. I started searching around online for statistics about crime during the last 30 years, and to my great surprise, violent crime rates were at their very peak during the late 80's and early 90's - just when I was running around the neighborhood.

Granted, at the time I was living in Centerville, Utah and spent my days catching grasshoppers and tadpoles. It wasn't exactly Detroit.

But are my daughters really at any more of a risk now than I was then, or Jenny was for that matter? We may be more aware these days of local sex offenders and cyber predators, but is that sick portion of our population really any more prevalent than they were 20 years ago?

I'm sure our parents wondered the same thing. They grew up in the 50's and 60's and probably didn't know what to make of our generation of Nintendo's and Walkman's.

I want my kids to be able to roam the neighborhood and have adventures. I want them to have a close group of friends and spend long summer nights begging for an extended curfew so they can play kick the can or capture the flag.

But with those desires for their childhood experiences comes an underlying fear. I was talking to one of my coworkers the other day. He has three kids and the oldest is his 8-year-old daughter. He and his wife have set a very strict rule of no sleepovers - ever. At first, I thought that was total overkill, but then he told me why they had come to that decision.

Last year his daughter had been good friends with another girl on the other side of the block. This other girl's father was a religious and local pillar of the community. The girls would spend all afternoon at their house, jumping on the tramp and playing games. This coworker told me, "If my daughter had asked me to have a sleepover at their house, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I would have just told her to have fun."

A few months ago, that other father who was so liked and respected in their community and church was arrested and a giant stash of child pornography was found in the basement of his home. When this coworker told me about this, his face went pale.

I could tell that he felt guilty for having ever put his daughter in that situation. It was like he felt he should have possessed some sixth sense to weed out the creeps and sickos. I'm sure I would feel the same way. Unfortunately, these days it seems like more of a matter of luck than a matter of parental diligence. Nothing happened to his daughter, but anyone hearing the story probably gets the chills because you recognize how near to the viper's den she had actually been playing.

As parents, we are constantly surprised by our children. We are amazed by how quickly a two-year-old can escape from your sight and then use that split second to cut their foot or burn their hand. Things like that make us feel like massive failures.

Then again, other times you will wake up in the morning and find your five-year-old pouring a bowl of cereal for her little sister, and you can't help but want to trust them completely.

I hoped writing this would help me sort out the dilemma in my own head, but it hasn't. I guess all you can do is just be as diligent as possible. Keep track of your kids, but don't be that killjoy parent who is a pain in everyone's ass. I wish there was some easy-to-find line between neglectful and sheltering on the parenting style spectrum, but there isn't.

Maybe next year I will have them skip soccer and put them in karate instead...

"What?! You have a crush on him? Me too!!"

Watching Dave put on his glasses and do a little dance around the stage was probably the highlight of the concert. After serious disappointment last year due to a canceled show; Dave and his Matthews Band may have made us wait longer than we'd have liked to but they more than made up for it.

The show last night was incredible.

After almost 7 years together, Jenny finally fessed-up to having feelings for another man. Luckily, I was also crushing pretty hard myself. Not falling in love with Dave Matthews is like not falling in love with a puppy in a pair of sunglasses.

In all seriousness, the level of musicality brought to table by each member of the band is astonishing. And yet, despite all of the individual talent, they manage to mesh perfectly without any one showboater trying to put himself above the music. Seeing them play live is something everyone should do at least once. I mean it. Even if you aren't a big fan of their music on the radio or not much of a concert person. You will still enjoy it.

I also wanted to toss in a couple of videos. The first one is just to give you an idea of the energy the band brings to live shows. Plus it is a "fun" song they only play live - as far as I know. It is an "adults only" theme, so heads up there! Oh, and be sure you are paying attention to the little dance at about 3:45 minutes in:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUGhuzsLN_E&feature=related

The second one is such a beautiful example of the voice and lyrical genius that took Dave from waiting tables and acting part time to forming one of the most influential bands of our generation:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gl38_ypN0yM

And to think I paid them to do this to me...

So, the other day some friends of ours invited us to come swim and hot tub with them. You know how swim shorts tend to billow in a hot tub? Well, they started giving me a hard time about my tan line and fish white thighs. I spend most of the summer shirtless, but rarely have an opportunity to sunbathe the way they do on those beaches in the south of France.

To avoid future taunting, I thought I would spend the $10 for a session in one of those nicer tanning beds. You know, the ones that supposedly don't have the "burning" rays?

Always trying to get the most bang for my buck, I said "sure!" when the lady asked me if I wanted to go the full 20 minutes.

Well, it worked. I no longer have a pasty white section in the middle of my body where my shorts usually are. The lines are still there, but now instead of going from brown to bright white, they go from brown to lobster red.

Why, oh why do I do these things that I do?

A Permanent Solution to Temporary Insanity

So, yesterday was a crazy day. Awesome, but crazy. I don't think that level of euphoria is natural, but as far as I can remember, I didn't take anything. I did eat large quantities of fruit and peanut butter, but I doubt the two are related.

On yesterday's blog, I wrote about wanting to remember that feeling. I have been trying for a while to decide on a tattoo I could get that would help me stay focused on living, rather than drifting. Today, I re-read the post, already trying to recapture that sensation, and I came across the line " I hope that I can always live life with a sense of urgency, but not in a hurry."

I don't if everyone will feel the same way, but I started to feel like "urgent" was really the right word. One of its many meanings is "without delay" and that just really hit me today.

Determined to start living my new principle right away, I rushed into one of the things you should probably never rush into... and got it tattooed on me.

"Live Life Urgently"

All I had to decide on was the font. I chose old typewriter script because I thought that might be a secondary reminder to spend more time reading and writing. Who says you can't pack more than one meaning into your ink?

A Wednesday for the Record Books

What a breathtaking morning it was. From every visible standpoint, today is a day like any other. I have no idea what is different about today, but I am in an exceptionally good mood. As soon as I splashed water on my face this morning, I felt unstoppable. I feel strong, capable, brimming with potential, and yet have no expectations of the future. Damn. I just feel good.

There was a light rain in the air on my way to work. The sun was hanging just below the horizon and the water-laden clouds were bursting with color. With the windows down, each breath was ambrosia. What a day!

I really can't explain the source of this feeling, but I wish I could. I would bottle it and save it for days to come. A mere dropperful of whatever this is would plow through even the worst of the winter blues.

I think the overwhelming sensation today is one of gratitude. I know I've beaten this dead horse to pieces, but every time I remember to focus on what I have, it makes for a brilliant day. A fully capable body, a sharp mind, the love of three beautiful girls, a marriage that would be hard to top, and the endless support of wonderful friends. I am financially poor but rich in all of the ways that truly matter.

I'm sure my wife and friends are sick and tired of hearing about Fight Club, but the more I read the book and watch the movie, the more it takes an almost biblical position in my life.

I am not my job.

I am not how much money I have in the bank.

I am not the car I drive.

I am not the contents of my wallet.

I am not my f*&%ing khakis.

At first (or maybe even fifth) glance, the premise of Fight Club seems nihilistic and chaotic. Neither the film nor book resolve anything. It provides no clear path or answers. But, every time I watch it or read the book, I am reminded to not waste time. Ironic, I know, that watching a movie would make me NOT want to waste my time. Funny enough, the DVD actually addresses this irony in a split-second warning that appears before the movie begins:

"If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all who claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think everything you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told you should want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned ....... Tyler"

I recently learned that I am an ENTP personality type. It was amazing how much you can learn about yourself by answering 4 simple questions, but so many of the things I read about the type helped me make sense of other aspects of my life. ENTP's don't do well with structure or organized religion. We hate schedules. We act ADD (which I thought I really was for years) because we love the concept of a new idea, project or challenge, but once we have figured out how to accomplish it, we find the actual follow-through tedious and boring. We feel exempt from the rules.

This is such a disjointed post, but these are things I needed to put into writing. I want to be able to go back and read this later on in life. I hope that just the memory of this day will give me a boost of gratitude for all that I have. I hope that it will be an attitude adjustment. I hope that I can always live life with a sense of urgency, but not in a hurry.

Anything could happen. Today could be the day the driver of the car next to me suffers an aneurysm and crushes my Civic with their jacked up pick-up truck. However it happens, it is inevitable. We are all living on borrowed time. The timer has already been set for all of us. Eventually, the "ding" will sound for each and every one of us. So be it. Doesn't that just make today that much more precious?

Hug your loved ones. Turn off the TV. Log off facebook. Get outside, it is beautiful out there. Escape from the hustle and man-made-mayhem. Run through the woods. Explore. Turn over rocks. Catch a butterfly. Eat something that used to gross you out. Call someone you haven't talked to in a while. Drive with the windows down. Let the world in.

P.S. This is my new favorite 311 song