When to fold em and when to hold em

Let me pose a question. When do you take a risk and when do you back down?
Everyone has a different philosophy when it comes to risk. There are those that play the game of life in a very conservative fashion. Always take the sure route, they say. While they do know that there is no such thing as a sure thing, they are more than willing to go with the odds. If there is doubt, then they don’t take any chances. It’s just better to play it safe.

Then there are those that throw caution to the wind. They are all about taking action and putting matters into their own hands. They look at many opportunities as high-risk, high reward.

The tricky thing about risky situations is if the wrong decision is made then there is this lousy thing called regret that comes into play.

I have one problem. I have this fear of regret. I am afraid that one day in my life I will think back to a certain circumstance and wish that I had done something different. It is never good to be motivated by fear but I do not see it as one of those kinds of fears. I classify it as a desire to eliminate the opportunity for regret.

So when I said that I have one problem, I meant to say I have many and this is just one of them. Another one of my stumbling blocks is the fact that I feel the need to act in every situation. I think when I was a kid I feel in love with Nike’s slogan “Just Do It.” For some reason I think that clearing the air with a quick ramble of my thoughts will make things aok. Many might say that this comes back to bite me in the butt. I would like to think that I’m proactive. I tell it how it is.

Looking back on a these situations that have occurred during my life, I am constantly reminded of the adage, some things are better left unsaid. The more that I hear it, the more I wish that I could follow it.

There is another saying I head once and I hope that I can recite it properly. It goes, it is better to keep your mouth shut and have people think you are an idiot than to open it and expel all doubt.

I guess if I am an idiot then people have no doubts. Make no mistake about it, there have been times when I have opened my trap and the situation was worse off after the fact.

There is one consolation that I get from being open and that is I will always know. I will always know that I did something and that I didn’t wait for something else to control my destiny. I stepped into the batter’s box and took my cuts. So what if I struck out. At least I went down swinging.

Winter Semester 2009- A Learning Experience

Seeing how today is the last day of classes here at good ole BYU, I decided that I would write down a few of the things that I have learned in the past semester. I find it interesting that the things I learn usually have nothing to do with the subject matter in my classes. This is probably due to the fact that I am a bulimic and anorexic learner. Anorexic because I don't study or attend class nearly enough and bulimic because the only times I do study are right before the test and I end up vomiting it up right after. It's unhealthy but just like the real eating disorders, I will need special therapy in order to break the habit. Anyhow, here are a few of the thing that I learned from my classes.

From my broadcast journalism class- Don't buy books for a class unless it is absolutely necessary. There is nothing more frustrating that buying two hundred dollars worth of books and then never using the darn things once. In this particular class, which is downright silly,I think I used one of the two books once. Now both of the books are collecting dust in my room. I'm glad they are serving their purpose.

From my New Testament class- When I am older, don't digress about my medical history. I took this class from a great man by the name of Stephen Robinson. He is an amazing gospel scholar and I have a lot of respect for him. There only thing that I could have done without in his class was his continuous references his his medical history. I can understand that he has a lot of health problems and that it is a significant part of his life but I really don't want to hear about his kidney stones or bladder infections on a regular basis. So when I get old and I have my fare share of health issues, I will just keep them to myself.

From my hockey class- it is better to give than to receive.

From my management communications class- I am not good enough for the accounting program. Don't get me wrong there are a lot of people in the accounting program that are good friends of mine. However, a group of future accountants in this class made me realize that I want nothing to do with them and their profession. Maybe its because I didn't dress up everyday for class or because I didn't treat every assignment like a life or death competition. It could be the fact that I'm not a super elitist. Either way, I'm sure in their eyes I'm just not good enough for their crowd.

From my humanities class- never take a class that starts a 8:00 a.m. I made this mistake my freshman year and for some reason I didn't learn my lesson. I think I made it to this class a grand total of 7 times the whole semester. It didn't help that the teacher had the amazing talent of taking a potentially intriguing topic and making it as interesting as quadratic equations. Here's to you Brother Anderson.

From my marriage prep class- I am not ready to get married. That one is pretty much self explanatory. Most of you who know me well have known this for a long time. I'm glad that I had to take this class in order to make this discovery.

There it is folks, my top-quality college education in a nutshell.

Whatever you are doing right now, just drop it and run.

I had a very inspiring conversation with my roommate the other day. He was venting his frustrations about school and how it can be counter productive at times. We then went on to talk about what we would do with out lives if we could just drop out of school. If that does not get you excited, I don't know what does. The thought of having a real, or heck even a fake job, where I can come home from work and not have a care in the world makes me giddy. This is a very bad sign seeing that I still have two years of college left. It a good thing I care about that piece of paper with my name on it. Of course I value and love my education but good golly, I can only write so many papers and take so many tests. So just is case there is a day in my life where I go AWOL, you will know where to find me.

Your first bet would be to go back East to NYC. There is a good chance I will be sitting against the east tower on the Brooklyn Bridge, playing my guitar for the masses. These people won't be there to listen to me specifically but one way or anything they will hear me play. Ever since I witnessed one of the worlds finest street performances in the French Quarter of New Orleans, I had a desire to try my hand at it. And lets get serious, if you can make it in the Big Apple, you can make it anywhere. It wouldn't be a very fancy set up. Just me, my guitar and a little bucket adorning a sign that says, "Please donate to the Human Fund."

If by chance I am not in city the never sleeps, I'll be in the one that sits a mile high above sea level. That's right, Denver, Colorado. This is also the home of my favorite but not famed baseball team, the Colorado Rockies. It has been my boyhood dream to work for their organization. My most recent idea would be to work as a translator for the Latin players on the team but let's get serious. If I to scrub the toilets in Coors Field or drive the team bus, I would do it in a heartbeat.

For this next one we head north to Alaska. I know what you are thinking and no I do now want to race dogsleds. Originally I wanted to be captain of one of those big ships that carries lots of oil in it, but some drunk nincompoop had to ruin it for me. Since that is not an option, ice fishing is the next best thing. That is a lie, but I would like to try it before I die.

Here is a list of my other random desired professions.
-High school football coach in a random town in Montana
-Owner of a restaurant that specializes in mozzarella sticks
-Toll Collector on the Jersey Turnpike
-Something to do with bananas in Ecuador- preferably picking the bundles
-School bus driver...heck I could do that anywhere
-Fireman...but only if I can be the guy who controls the hose. I don't walk into burning buildings
-Minor League Umpire- Once again, baseball.
-Duct tape industrialist- don't ask

Well there you have it. Give me reason enough to leave and I will go to one of these many places and live the simple life. In all reality I will be here in Provo, working for a piece of paper with some fancy writing on it. Just reading that last sentence makes me depressed. I'm outta here...

Jake’s Ambiguous Night Enduring Tunes

It came to my attention the other day that I have returned to slob face levels of blogging. A dear friend of mine had mentioned that she checked my blog every so often and was disappointed to see that I was slacking. So after a good talk with this friend, I decided that I needed to get back in the saddle and write my little heart out.

Staying true to the name of my webpage, I am writing this post at approximately 3:04 a.m. Many people wonder what I do during the grave shift. While it is a perfect opportunity for me to work on my homework, I usually write and listen to music. Hooray music.

There are certain songs that the later at night you listen to them, the better they are. I don’t know if it’s my lack of consciousness, but I find certain songs to be very profound at such obscure hours. Let me share a few of these songs.

Jumper by Third Eye Blind- This song is one of my all time favorite songs from one of my all time favorite bands, and I think that it is great any time of night.

At the Bottom of Everything by Bright Eyes- I love this one mostly because of the story that Conner Oberst tells of the plane crash. It makes me think a little about the way we see things.

Northern Downpour by Panic! At the Disco- If you are looking for an easy-going tune this is it. It makes me want to walk around looking at the stars.

Everything’s Not Lost by Coldplay- I remember discovering this song while delivering pizza back in 2006. I was listening to the Parachutes CD and I came upon this track. It’s defiantly a marijuana song; one that leaves you dangerously relaxed.

Tea for the Tillerman by Cat Stevens- This one minute gem always puts a smile on my face. It starts out all nice and bluesy but then goes full circle brings in a choir to sing two words. Genius.

Well friends those are just a few of my favorite night time tunes. I am off to go play some late night basketball.

ACTF- How did I get here?

Dearest Friends,
This week I have had the the grand opportunity to enter into a new world or culture and insanity. This place is what I like to call theater world. You see, every year the constituents of theater world decided to hold a festival, appropriately named The American College Theater Festival. People from around the Western United States gather together on the campus of a selected university to perform, observe and instruct about theater. It is a wonderful conference/gathering. For some odd reason or another I was selected by BYU to attend this event and participate in the Irene Ryan Acting Competition, along with 17 other BYU students. Seeing how this trip was all expenses paid and that Southern California is a lot nicer than Provo in February, I decided to enter into theater world. By doing so I have put myself in a very interesting environment of people and practices that are very foreign to me. It will be a "fish out of water," experience if you will. Due to this very unique situation, I have felt it necessary that I document my adventures on a daily basis, and let everyone else know what this theater world is all about. I hope you will find my adventures enjoyable and if the content permits, humorous. Do enjoy!

Gander

Every once in a while I like to stop whatever I am doing and take a quick look around. Not really to smell the roses but to look at them. See how much they have grown. So what do my roses look like? What kind of roses are they? Are they even roses? Well let’s take a gander shall we?

It’s Friday night. I am sitting on a couch at my place of work and that’s not a typo. I got stuck working the Friday night shift in the summer when I started my employment here, hoping that it would change after a few weeks. A few months later and here I am. I don’t really mind working on Friday nights. From an economic standpoint, it couldn’t be better. Instead of spending money on dates and other festivities, I make money and do my homework at the same time. Am I very responsible, or did responsibility hunt me down and force itself down my esophagus? I’ll take the latter.

It’s January 16. That means that I am two weeks into another rank-n-file semester of college education. After an inspiring conversation with my friend Jeff, I am deciding to be motivated and put in at least 74% effort this time around. This date also means than earlier today I put a few pieces of paper into an envelope that some might say will determine my future. I’m not all about that though. Whoever says that other people will dictate what my life will be is full of hooey. Sure, people might reject my applications, resumes, forward advances, ext., but that just means that there is some other bold adventure waiting for me. As one door shuts, thirty seven more open.

It’s 2009. I am twenty two years old. When did that happen? If you happen to find the fifteen year old that is my existence, tell him that he has some catching up to do.

It’s now 3:23 a.m. and it’s time to hit the time clock. Good night kids.

The Life of Derek

Every once in a while you hear of someone and you wish that their life was fictional. Your mind does a double take and questions if this person is really living this horrific reality. You want to question if what you are hearing is true but something tells you there is no room for speculation. The adversity is real. For the story I want to tell tonight, is a story that I never heard. I saw it firsthand.

I saw Derek, a six year old boy that had nothing to live for but at his age he didn’t understand. He had a mental disability that made him different than most of the other kids. He struggled in school, trying to learn English and forget Spanish.

I saw his grandmother, Juana, who was struggling to stay afloat as a seamstress. She loved Derek more than anything, and did what she could help him. Because she was an illegal immigrant, she couldn’t do much.

I saw the house where Derek and his grandmother lived. It was a small place buried in the middle of the Hispanic community. There were two bed rooms. One was for Juana and Derek and the other one was for a lady named Ana Maria who rented the room for her and her 3 sons. The garage served as a working space for Juana and the living room also had a bed for Derek’s father for when he returned home.

I saw Derek’s father the day he came home from jail. Why he was there I was never sure, but it had something to do with substance abuse. It’s my guess that is why Derek’s mother had left him.

I saw Derek’s mother, living on the other side of town with a different man, starting a new family. She blamed Derek’s father for his disability and inability to learn. She said it was the drugs. I want to say that she was better off with her new life but she could never escape her past.

I saw the pictures of Derek’s two older brothers who I never met because they were both in juvenile detention centers for gang violence and drug possession. One was 16 and the other 14. I don’t know if Derek knew where they were or what they had done but he missed them.

A year later, I saw a framed picture of his oldest brother that was put up in commemoration of his death. A few days after getting released for the detention center Derek’s brother was killed in a car accident. His friend, who was driving the car, was intoxicated. Once again, I’m not sure if Derek knew what exactly happened to his brother. All he knew was that he missed him.

I saw the look on Derek’s face the day his father lost it. His dad sat there with a bottle of wine in his hand and tears in his eyes, trying to fight the urge to drink. I remember trying to calm his dad down but the more I said the louder and more frustrated he became. Derek had seen his father overcome with emotion before but not like this.

It would be an understatement to say that Derek has emotional scars. Some run deeper than others but each has its mark. I used to wonder if he would ever heal but something told me that he already was.

They say that the body of child is very resilient. They can recover from surgery and broken bones a lot faster than an adult. I’m sure that also goes for the heart of a child.

Ever though there are so many unanswered questions in his life, I think the fact that Derek doesn’t know everything gives him a fighting chance. Instead seeing the tragedy that everyone else does, he might be able to see something different.

He has hope. I might not see it, but it’s there.