the beginnings of a petition for spring break

Why can't I be like the sand children born of the simple elements of the earth who peacefully pass through their lives repeating "don't ruin my home" under the clear blue sky of southern Utah? Here I sit under floors of concrete and steel making my way through an electronic abyss. If I utter a word, if I even think a word, more words come crashing out of this technological marvel spilling colors, fonts, and links onto my lap like the shattered glass of a rear window. Seriously folks. I've been sitting here for way too long reading about tort law and no-fault litigation getting thoroughly nowhere; especially nowhere near understanding the slightest bit about medical malpractice which is the subject of my bioethics research paper.

And the worst part is... there is no spring break in sight. I'm as enthusiastic about learning as the next guy, but this college senior has about had it with the unbroken string of "school days". They tell me it's so I have a jump start on the summer jobs. I just think it's so the powers-that-be can sit back and watch how long it takes for Spring Fever to turn into a full fledged case of Library Junky complete with the side effects of a hiking withdrawal, and then laugh.

But the secret is... I'm going to Hawaii behind their backs. And no amount of biochemistry is keeping me from the redrock this year. You just wait and see.

and that's why they call me...

My sister named this one Swiss Breakfast. She knows me too well. See, I have this vision where my kids will grow up on breakfasts full of cheeses, museli, room-temperature yogurt, croissants, and nutella--in essence, all that is swiss breakfast--and one day they will come away from some event realizing that not everybody eats the same breakfast as they do. I mean, how many times have you looked in the fridge and thought, "I want to eat my brie and Wasa for breakfast... but that's just not done in these parts." Well, not in my house. I'm breaking the chains of dry cereal breakfasts and asking Marshmellow Mateys to take a back seat (not too far back though). It's whole milk or bust. But before you turn away in a she'll-never-do-that manner, just remember, my sister painted Swiss Breakfast here... and it happens to be a very good likeness too.

thanks for the new look, kel.

why spring is my favorite season

Thank you for the sun! I cannot tell you how great the sun is and I probably don't have to. You know that it has been cold for far too long when you get the sensation of thawing out in the sun. And that's what I feel like; I am thawing out. But not in a soggy-semi-frozen-will-you-"dethaw"-this-for-me-vegetable-product sort of way; rather a look-the-tulips-are-coming-up way.

and that's all I've got folks.

man, this thing really can't go public. it's a shame.

and everything went white

and I don't know how it happened. I don't remember asking it to make everything white. Maybe it's a sign.

It's cold out there...

I'm very cold out there...

Walking to school, I'm very cold out there...

I'm pretty sure it is just going to get colder out there...

Perhaps it helps to know it's cold out there...

It should be warm out there...

I'm not out there...

settings or bust

When to let the blog go "public", if you can even call three sporadic readers the public, is the next question on the list. I have to admit, I have reservations. I mean, every time I come to this blog I think, "Man, this person's blog needs some inspiration!" And then I realize that this blog is my blog and I turn sullen.

That "delete this blog" button is looking awfully tempting.

But perhaps not all is lost. Perhaps one day while sitting near all these computers, I will gain through osmosis the knowledge it will take to unique-ify this blog. Maybe find myself an appropriate avatar (see look, I'm already catching on), or figure out how those one dudes put lobsters behind everything. Not that I want lobsters, but it was kind of cool if not annoying.

Anyway, the fact is that jackie smaz deserves better, and I'm not sure I'm the chosen one. Maybe the computer gods will take pity on me and send me a comment or two on this one. I mean... this strait blue sea of blaa-ness has got to go... somehow.

hmmm...

there is a voice inside of you
that whispers all day long
I know that this is right for me
I feel that this is wrong
no teacher preacher parent friend
or wise man can decide
what's right for you
just listen to
the voice that speaks inside
-shel silverstein

I memorized this poem as a kid. Sometimes when my head is full of nothing, my head fills itself with this... and sometimes shakespeare that I've memorized and no one can place.

yet hear leartes? aboard aboard for shame! the wind sets in the shoulder of your sails and yet you are stayed for?

and I don't know the rest.

to z or not to z

I'm sorry about the title, but it was just too easy... I couldn't pass that up. And so...

I was informed the other day that the jackie smaz I'm thinking of perhaps spelled his name with an extra 'z'. At first I was frustrated. But then a reliable source told me that it's all the better, because I am not jackie smaz (z?). It was really a relief. I was sweatin' bullets there for a minute.

So, I went to ol' google, and asked him if there was anything on jackie smazz, and this thing came up with this goofy looking avatar and a comment that said "I'm male and I'm single" and that just made me frustrated again. I should really avoid google when I can.

So! It's jackie smaz, and I'm sticking to it. I'm not adding an extra 'z' for added effect like the Grizz, and the Freezz, and the Starzz (do they even exist anymore?) did for the Jazz, I'm not stooping to their level, and I'm happy about it.

So here's to jackie smaz. The one who made us laugh. The one who made us cry. The one who didn't discriminate against animals and gave them their time to shine.

seventeen

May I just say, that it's a pleasant surprise to be
reminded that it was in fact my birthday day on the 17th.  Really.
I'm always surprised, as if the number 17 only exists
in February; like it's only really 17 when the number
2 is before it or the word February is after it.  For
example, I don't think I ever think that 17 loaves of
sour dough bread, or 17 plantains are of any
significance to me even though, as my friend always reminds
me, 17 is my birthday, no matter what the occasion.

and I think that's great.