it's gonna be a long line on Tuesday...

Great resource to learn the candidates' positions:

toot toot

The Typophile Film Festival opening credits, our senior class project, won a silver cube at the Art Directors Club awards, and a silver pencil at the One Show advertising awards. The internet tells me it's getting a lot of attention, which feels great because it took so friggin' long to finish, and it's a nice little ego boost.

Watch it, read it, download it, love it.

Thanks to Cole Nielsen and Brent Barson for all their work entering it into shows.

trying to look good limits my life

Stefan Sagmeister, Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far

Let's not wait till the water runs dry...

Cut Copy last Friday was great and fun, fun and great. I'm pretty excited about the concerts this summer. I've got my must-sees figured out, but here's the list of those that haven't made the cut yet, because (a) I can't afford them (b) I would go see them purely for sentimental reasons and can't justify the cost, or (c) I secretly listen to them in the car by myself, and no one will come with me. Go ahead and speculate which band goes with which excuse.

Blind Melon//May 12
Del the Funky Homosapien//May 23
Death Cab//May 26
George Clinton and the Parliment Funkadelic//June 1
Erykah Badu//June 3
Kanye West, Rihanna//June 9
Stone Temple Pilots//June 11
RZA//June 15
Naughty By Nature//June 21
311, Snoop Dogg//June 30
Journey//July 19
The Police//July 19
Flogging Molly//July 19
Steve Miller Band//July 30
James Taylor//July 4
Jack Johnson (yeah Bardhi, I said it), Rogue Wave//August 18
Boyz II Men//August 28

By the way, anyone heard who might come to the Gallivan Center Twilight Series, the free Thursday night shows?

(fairly typical) conversation with Grandpa Don

Don: Hey Chris...can I ask you to do me a favor?
Chris: Yeah Grandpa, what's that?
Don: Well...I have a role for you in my play...I think you'd be perfect.
Chris: Sure, I'll be in the play.
Don: There's just one thing though: there's a kissing scene. You'll have to kiss your cousin.
Chris: No Grandpa, I'm not going to kiss my cousin.
Don: It's not a big kissing scene! Just a peck. C'mon, I need you!
Chris: Who do you want me to kiss?
Don: Your cousin Christina.
Chris: No Grandpa, I'm not going to kiss Christina.
Don: C'mon, it's not like you have to kiss with tongue! Just a quick kiss!
Chris: No Grandpa.
Don: Oh come on! I can't believe you're going to wuss out on me...I'm mad at you...
Grandma Shirley: Donald, you're a dirty old man.

Duncan

I was visiting a friend today when a funny old gent popped in, well groomed, jolly 'ol accent. He rang the doorbell, knocked, whistled, called out for someone at home, then walked right in the door before anyone could get there. Someone was burning brush a little distance from the house, it had reminded him of the way South Africa smells when they burn the fields, and he wanted to share that. He was so excited, said he hadn't smelled that for ten years.

After he left my friend told me his name was Duncan, he's 78, from South Africa, and has terminal cancer. He and his wife had been living in my friend's basement for the past two months since they lost their home. They're moving to England later this week to be near his wife's family when he passes. Duncan's cheerful, says he's lived a full life and is ready to go. He's content. In two minutes I knew he was my hero.

And I've been wondering: what it will take for me to be that content with my life someday? What will I have to accomplished to feel ready for it to end? How do I narrow down my options? My interests are like the buffets my grandparents used to take us to—I like pizza, I like omelettes, I like soft-serve, but I only have one stomach and two pockets...where do I start?

I try to remember that I'm ALWAYS going to miss out on A LOT somethings. I've always hated that, wondering if I chose wrong, if I would have been happier somewhere else doing something else. So many places to see, so many adventures. Oh decisions...the awful truth of life. College made me believe that I can do anything I want, but growing up is making me realize I can't do EVERYTHING I want.

What I'd really regret is a life full of a little bit of everything, but not giving my all to a few good things. Like buffet cooks—seriously, how good of a pastry chef can you be if you have to make mac&cheese, fried chicken, and jello every night? Maybe mediocrity isn't just due to a lack of passion, but allowing myself to be passionate about too much.

I've been blessed with enough already to keep me busy for a long time. I never became a great surfer, still haven't become a musician, never played college basketball; all things I KNEW I wanted at one time. But if any of those things meant traveling a different path with different people and different experiences, then I'm perfectly happy with what I've had. So If every experience comes with an opportunity cost, which other opportunities am I willing to forgo, and which am I not? I just need to embrace those few directions that are most important to me. I think I'm getting a better idea of what they are.

So that hopefully someday when I'm a 78 year old South African man, I'll be ready to go, too.

this weekend

I realized that I actually like black licorice.

I realized that feta makes everything betta.

I dreamt that I had exposed a big energy company's recent Go Green campaign as just a shallow marketing plow, and that they had no intention to change their business. I was down on the beach protesting when I became aware that I was surrounded by assassins. Big Energy was plotting to kill me. I eluded the assassins and, disguised in a suit, snuck into Big Energy company headquarters, past a couple secretaries, pushed over a security guard, and busted into the president's office (who I think was the guy who played the father on Big Fish). President Wrinkles waved off the security chasing me, agreeing to talk to me face to face. Our conversation went nowhere, my righteous indignation did nothing to sway his arrogant position. A mammoth body guard in a suit walked in, pulled a knife out of his jacket, the president nodded his head, and the guard slammed the knife into the desk top.
I spotted a pair of rusty scissors on the desk and slid them towards me. It was apparent that if my argument could not bring about a change of heart for Big Energy President, one of us was going to have to kill the other.

Bum bum bummmmm....

december

I'm 7 years old.

I hope he's still around when I have kids.

Playdough People

My cousin got married this weekend. This is exactly what his wedding dinner looked like.

I will deeply miss President Hinckley. I owe so much to him for his service and his testimony.