Stray Mulch

Mmmm. I like today, it was pretty nice. The temperature was nice, the sunlight was super cool, the wind was blowing, and things were just dandy. It was a really nice day, pretty peaceful. I should have taken a picture.

This post has been in the works for a very long time, so it might end up pretty long. There's a ton of stuff that I've thought of this past week that I wanted to include, but since I didn't write it down, alot will be forgotten. That's alright though, I hope that the good stuff will stay.

Friday's cross country practice was super super cool. We decided to do some cross training, so we did our workout in the pool. I really enjoyed it, even though I swim like crap. Honestly, I never really learned how. I've got no skills, but at least I tried hard. We played some pool-basketball when the hard work was done, and my team got thoroughly owned by kirt/kurt/kert/whatever. That boy's got skills I tell ya. Moral of the story is, cross country is going well. Hansen knows what he's doing, and I think the team is going to be good. We're still very very short, we need more people. I don't think that's going to happen, so we'll just have to focus on making the people we've got into crazy running machines. We'll get there. I'm tired of having us be the region II whippingboys.

We had a scout camp last night, that was cool. I really like scout camps, up until the point where you've got to make the kids start working on something. It's fun to hang out with them, they're pretty funny guys. I'm a ton older than all of them, so they think I'm cool, it's great. We went out to antelope island for a bit, but since we couldn't get a reservation we ended up sleeping in my backyard. But really, it was good times, alot of fun. Antelope island was super beautiful, way awesome. My arm is sore from skipping rocks, I finally succeeded. I had never ever been able to skip rocks before yesterday, but I was kicking their butts. It was pro, I had 7 or 8 bounces sometimes. Whoosh, I love gyroscopic intertia.

Anyways, scout camp is really fun until you tell them to do something. Then it's frustrating, cause they're not very good at tents, or service, or listening, or gathering around, or doing whatever it is you need them to do. Yay for a whole generation of ADD children.

I washed the van today. I spent about an hour on it, because I'm not too efficient. I'm not good at washing cars, but I enjoyed it. I was home alone, so I popped my speakers from the computer up on the windowsill and played some music while I washed. I worked pretty hard on it, washing and whatnot.

Yeah, in the end, it's still ugly. It just has less bugs on it. Despite my washing, it's an ugly van, but I love it anyways.

Has anyone else noticed that technology doesn't ever happen as fast as people say it will? By all means, it could, but it doesn't. Why is my car not running on hydrogen? Why do I still do dishes? Why do I still get a cold? Why is the PA system at taylorsville still hard to hear?

Stuff doesn't happen as fast as people say it will. Nobody really knows why. Sometimes it's funding, sometimes it's just the fact that people aren't willing to take a chance on it. Sometimes old stuff is so engrained in people that changing to DVD means work, and that's way too hard.

See, progress shouldn't be stopped by this stuff, should it? When we think of killer alien civilizations coming to kick out butts, we don't think that they have inferior style death lasers because the government keeps giving the weapons contract to the same people who have had it for hundreds of years. We expect state of the art kill-rays, cutting edge destruction, provided by their best and brightest. We don't expect politics to get in the way of their war machine.

But here we are, and the same stuff is happening. If the aliens don't do it, why should we? It's cause we're old school, because we're not entirely focused on progress, we're focused on other such fun stuff.

Case in point: Where the crap are my metrics?

When the angry aliens come to kick our butts, I expect them to have a measurement system that makes sense, is uniform throughout their scary armada, and that is based on the number 10. Anything less, and I'd feel cheated by the intergalactic invaders. I mean, we got beat by guys without a standard measurement system? That's bubkiss.

See, the blue aliens and green aliens on the ship are going to get along great. And they're gonna have the same measurement system. They're not going to be flying any of their probes into the moon on accident cause they're measurement system sucks. They're an elite fighting machine, and their grandma uses the same measurements.

And here we are. Are we going to be able to compete with the alien scum's elite synchronized measurements? Are we going to be fighting them away from our barbecued meat with yard sticks, or with meter sticks? When the time comes, will we be ready to rise up and defy our alien overlords, and with fire in our eyes, declare that no, they'll never ingest our pasty white 68 kilogram bodies? Will we be victorious, or will we be defeated by the culture who didn't care about grandma in her lexus, the culture that changed the roadsigns anyways, the culture that smells funny and has goo all over them?

It starts here. I'm preparing now to kick those crazy moonjerks out of here. When they get here, I'm going to be using metrics. And I'm gonna pick up my meter long stick, and wail on them until they can be wailed upon no more.

I'm not going to wait for them to start teaching it in public schools. I'm not going to wait for them to change the roadsigns. I'm not going to have them forcefeed it to me. The stand starts now.

As of now, I'm converting to metrics. There will be people that tell me it's hopeless. People that tell me I'm a fool for driving 48 kilometers per hour in a 30 mile per hour zone. People that tell me a 5k is too far to run, that 3 miles will suffice. You know what I say to those people? Get out of there, you sick alien parasites. Burrow out of their spinal columns, and give me my friends back.

So that's it. I'm on metrics. I weigh 68 kg, and I'm 183 centimeters tall. I run 1600 meters in 5 minutes, 2 seconds. I got 10 frisbees in the mail, each weighing 175 grams. Life is good, and those aliens don't stand a chance.

Really, we can't wait for metrics to jump upon us. We all want it, we all know that it's what must happen. Nobody in their right mind thinks that we can preserve this blasted english system for too much longer. Nobody, nobody but the cosmic spies, trying to keep us in ignorance.

But if we're going to convert, we've got to do it now. We're the solution. Not our children, not our parents, but us. It's me, and it's you. The greatest generation didn't pull it off, so we've got to. We don't need world war II to make us feel cool, we just need metrics.

So here it starts. With me. Nobody is feeding this to me, it's my choice. The metric rebellion is upon us. Who's with me?

The project: 100% metric use this coming week. No more English for me. When I drive, I'm gonna drive in metrics. When I talk about stuff, it's in metrics. When I run, I run in kilometers. When I drink milk, I drink in liters. I'm sticking it to the man, join me.



You know, there are 3 other blogs that I frequent. Nick's, Jaron's, and Marissa's. All of their URL's start with an F. Which brings me to my next point. Me, Nick, and Jaron are not all that similar.

I mean sure, we all poop. Everybody poops. we've got all that human stuff that makes us 99.9% similar to one another. I've written about it before. But really, take away the poop, and we're not that similar. I like both those guys, they're way cool, but we're way different. Not to mention, my URL starts with a C.

Marissa is a girl, and we're pretty different too. We're all unique, bring something different to the table. There are lots of people with blogs, and way too few people that write in their blogs. They come and they go. What's the point? I don't know.

Ya know, a few days ago I called to memory something that I had said ages ago. Way back in the day, before I started talking about 'back in the day.' This was the real day, probably when I was 6 or 7.

We were going through a carwash, one of the cool automated ones. I thought it was way cool, what with the spraying, and the brushes, and the haven glaven.

So, I said to my mom, "When I've got a car, I'm gonna go through one of these with all the windows down. That'll be cool."

So mom says to me, "Haha, by then you'll care alot more about the interior of your car. I bet you won't."

She left me with two questions in my head that day. Number one, what the crap is an interior? Number two, will I really change my mind?

Here I am, 16 years old, I've got a license, and I'm insured. I can drive. I don't have a car, but I can sure drive to and from cross country. I will never drive through a car wash with all the windows down, I care way too much about the interior of the car. Mom was right.

The trouble is, way back in the day, I really meant it. I really did, I wanted to do it, and I thought I would. The 7 yeard old version of me said it, and he meant it. Over the years, I've changed. Looking back, I think that I was an idiot for wanting that. I'm different, but the 7 year old me is still the same. He still said it, and he still meant it.

Case in point: We're going to change. I look back to stuff I wrote a year ago, and I'm way different. I think that some of the stuff that I said was totally ridiculous. I think I was an idiot.

But the truth remins, I meant it. That was me. Pure, unfiltered me. It's not the same me as it is now, but it was me.

So here I stand, saying this all today. This is me. 16 year old me, and I mean every word of it. When I look back on this in a year, I want the 17 year old version of me to know loud and clear that this is what I really mean. This is what I want to say, this is what I think. You might think I'm crazy, you might think I'm dumb. You know what older me? You better run faster than me, or I'm coming for you. If you don't throw a frisbee farther than me, you're in trouble. If your kidneys hurt, you're an idiot. Old me, you better not be lame. You better have a job by now. Old me, you're on metrics. That's not even a question. Old me, this post is what now me really thinks and really feels. Now me says hello, how's the future?

This is really me, this is what I mean. As I change, I'll think that parts of this post are ridiculous. But for now, this is really me. That's the best that I can do.

Hmm, the winds of change are blowing. Sorta like Canada blows, but more in my direction. I think I'm ready to stop repeating lines from previous entries, and start being alot more social. Yup, I don't think I'm tired of girls anymore. Nah, I don't 'like' anybody, but I think I'm ready to consider the possibilities. It'd be nice to have a reason to do my hair in the mornings.

So, quick review:
1) My van is still ugly, despite my best efforts
2) The scout troop needs to start ordering ridelin in bulk
3) Aliens are coming, and the blue ones and green ones get along
4) I'm gonna smack an alien with a meter stick.
5) They're gonna eat you unless you join my frisbee club and use the metric system
6) Me and Nick, we're tight, but I'm not Nick, and he's not me, and that's ok.
7) I mean this stuff, at least I do tonight. Maybe I won't mean it tomorrow, but for tonight, this is pure.
8) I'm not afraid of girls. If ever there was a time to flirt with me, it'd be now.

And so there you have it. Good times, good times indeed. I got 10 frisbees in the mail on friday. That enbiggens my frisbee count considerably. I now have 12 functional. 11 of them are 175, 1 of them is 185 and lit. Wheels are in motion, cogs are turning. I'm 183 centimeters tall, and I'm loving it. I'll cya'll later.

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