My New Duds

Does anyone know what that even means? I mean, the duds thing. I don't even know. But it sounds cool, and I think it might relate.

I just moved my computer into my room, out of the computer library. See, the library was established about a year and a half ago as a safe haven for all of our computer stuff. I moved my computer in there, Andrew moved his in there, it was good times.

Well, Michael is coming back from serving a mission in New Jersey, and he needs a place to sleep. Therefore, we've got to vacate that computer library that was originally his room, and change it back into a room as opposed to a library.

This is no easy task, I'm not too excited about it. I made the first step today, and moved my computer in here. It's pretty nice. I got a new monitor for my birthday, because my other one blew up. I had been using some old school deal that only went up to 1024 X 768 resolution. That was terribly low, now I've got this baby cranking at 1280 X 1024. It's good times.

So here I am, broadcasting from my room. It's sorta nice in here, the temperature is a little nicer. The sun isn't blaring into my face like it usually is, and the company is better. Now I'm in the room with Andrew, instead of in the room with a desk.

So, a post? Nah, I don't think so. I do have some stuff to write about, but I'm not really feeling like it right now. The important thing is, mileage count starts tomorrow. I'm gonna explain all of that madness tomorrow when I write, but I'm excited for it. I'm gonna hit 1000.

I told doc that I'm not taking jazz band next year. Yeah, it went about as everybody had expected. "...that's sad news...." and that was it. But in that sentence, I felt like I had just kicked a little puppy. Awwww. Sorry Doc.

Played 3 step tonight, sucked it up big time. It was still good times, but it wasn't as great as usual. Lots of our guys were at graduation stuff or whatever, so we were short handed. Oh well, they kicked our butts, and they deserved the win. Hats off to ya mountainview.

The last week of school is good times, you play frisbee every day. This is a good thing.

Very tired. Something good tomorrow yeah? Maybe. Oh yeah, I'm 16. Happy birthday to me yesterday. Not too much is going to change though. I don't get my license for an undetermined amount of time. Dates ought to be fun though. Now i've got an excuse to go see Xmen III and pay full price times two. Bunch of moochers anyways, can't pay for your own movie, can't open your own doors. I don't even know why we try.

Nah, but in all seriousness, it ought to be good. It's been good times. two days of school left, tomorrow is yearbook day, and friday is refund. Friday is also Brad's farewell frisbee friday. It's going to be intense, I might even cry a little.

Yup, it's go time.

Christopher Thatcher has entered text.

The Greatest

The Pictures of the Week

Yeah, that's me and kyle, with articially pee'd pants. We had to do that for the school newspaper last year. Good times at Ike, good times.

A big part of my childhood, the big van, as viewed from the computer library window. It's a good old van, but immobile for the past several years. It got towed away a few weeks ago, I'll never see it again. It served its country well. Here's to you, econoline.

And, that's a bunch of pictures of me. Picasa made that for me, it's a nifty little program. Endorsed by google, part of the google pack. My advice? Get the google pack, it'll make your life much easier.

The Quote of the Week
"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the Gift."
-Steve Prefontaine

Alrighty, howdy folks. It's been some time since I've written anything of consequence. There's been much to write about, but not so much time. This blog is going to be a little different from alot of my others. I'm not gonna tell so many stories, I'm gonna tell alot more ideas. So, I don't know if this is gonna work or not, but take it or leave it. I'm not forcing you to read.

But, if you read to the end, I might give you a cookie.

Friday night was something that I'd been waiting for for a long time. Friday night signalled the end of sophie school work. After friday night, nothing was really due. There'd be no homework, no pain. School is simply a bunch of parties now. I was up till 4:00 AM writing an English paper thursday evening, but that was the end. No more. Friday night meant freedom.

Friday night also meant frisbee. It was killer windy, but we were using the 200 gram anti-wind beast, and that negated the effect a ton. Once it got dark, we switched over to my lighty, and that worked pretty well too.

The important thing about Friday night was that it was grade A quality frisbee. It was just good playing. There aren't too many important stories that came out of Friday night. We hardly kept score, we were just out there to play. We had a good turnout, and we all played well. I had some very good plays, and some crap plays. Everybody played well though, it was amazing. It was one of those nights when you remember just how much you love everything about friday night frisbee. You love the people, you love the exercise, you love the frisbee, you love the score, you love your do-rag.

Frisbee, I haven't forgotten it.

So, it's wonder time. I'm gonna try something here. This is a dream of mine, in response to recent events. This is the ultimate spirit showdown.

Aight, so I was gonna write this as a little fiction piece, but that's just not working. So, back to old school style. w00t.

Spirit week has always had potential. In Junior high, it was my favorite week of the year. It was amazing. Every moment of school was competition. It didn't matter what we were doing, we were doing it for the good of the grade. It was alot like the society that 1984 is set in. It was for the grade, not for yourself. You went around and cleaned the lunchroom for your grade, for honor, for the glory. You made a fool of yourself, not to get attention like every other time, but you did it for the grade. You fought, you were willing to do it, all in the name of spirit points.

Then, in high school, that all sorta fell apart. Maybe it's because I never see TVTV, maybe it's because I'm disconnected, but spirit week came and went without me noticing it. Sure, I dressed up, but there was no big build up. There was no constant reminder that I was working for the good of my grade. There was no reason for me to do anything different in my life. There was no opportunity to do something great until Friday afternoon at the assembly.

It was fun to dress up, I had a good time, but I was one of few who did dress up. There was no benefit to dressing up, I just made a fool of myself for attention.

And so here, my friends, is my idea. The idea for the greatest spirit week ever. Is it possible? Probably not. Will it happen? Not unless I suddenly become the dictator of a high school when I'm old and have alot of money. This would be tough, but it'd be the very best.

This time, it's for glory. I'm not sure what spirit week was about this past year. I don't really know what it was all about. But this time, it's about glory.

The whole month has been building up to this week. There was a kickoff assembly, and there was planning, lots of planning. The Seniors even went so far as to have auditions to find out who would be their champions. They're in it to win, but it's too early to hand over the cup just yet.

See, you can't forget that it's spirit week this time. Everyone that is dressed up gets a point. The whole week is full of opportunities to get points for your grade. There are 5 great opportunities to dress up. No pajama day, because pajama day sucks. Nobody knows what the 5 days will be exactly, but there's no hawaiian day either.

At lunch, there's always a competition going on. This is where the grassroots occurs. This is where you choose a random audience member from each grade to come compete. You play twister, you pull them up on stage and ask "What will you do for 10 spirit points?". You let them decide what they're going to do with the ice cream, but whatever they do, it better be worth 10 spirit points. If it's not, well, they don't get the points. You test them to see who's the bravest, who can limbo the lowest, and who can dance the best. This is the place for grassroots. This is where you entertain the masses with trivial little games.

Points are deducted for however many tardies your grade has this week. Ultimately, everything counts this week. The economy is weighed in a manner that is fair to all. I'm not sure how that's gonna work yet, but that'll get worked out later.

So, you know that you've got opportunities to score points always. Ultimately, the more people in your grade that participate, the more points you get throughout the week. This leaves it up to you, the people that aren't drones, to convince them to dress up. How are you going to do it? That's just one of the challenges of Spirit Week.

But really, the capstone to spirit week is always the spirit bowl. But, instead of a bunch of random competitions that somebody thought up in a dark basement, this year we know what's coming.

It revolves around 4 main events, events that are too grand to be done in the auditorium, too grand even to be done on the field. The events are the DDR dance off, the Halo showdown, another various thing I haven't nailed down yet, and the greatest ever, the Taylorsville High School Text Adventure.

See, instead of random events that you may or may not win at, this time, you know what's coming, and you train accordingly. You know that in the DDR dance off of death, you're going to have to dance better than the seniors. You know that there's going to be a 5 song tournament, you know what 2 of the songs will be, and the other 3 are chosen by the competitors. Since you're one of the competitors, I suppose you know what 3 of them are. You want to choose something you're good at, but something the others won't be able to beat you at. You know that they're going to do the same.

You know the DDR dance off is coming, and you plan accordingly. You can elect 2 or 3 champions to compete in this event, with one coming off as the true champion for your grade. You pick the most asian, the fastest, the kid with the lightning feet and the soulful beat. (Yeah, that rhymes.) The seniors have a dance off the week before to find out who their champion is going to be. You're not that well prepared, but you elect your best, your finest, to represent the peoples.

But, how do you keep people entertained through the entire competition? Nobody wants to sit and watch as 9 champions get narrowed down to 3, and then those three have to dance through 5 more songs to find out who the grand champion is. That's boring. So what do you do?

You take a leaf out of NBC's coverage of the olympics. You recruit the finest from TVTV, and if that doesn't work, you recruit me, and you do a tape delay. You record some of it a little earlier, and then you make a story out of it. You do biographies of the champions, you do interviews with the champions once they're done. You show the video at the bowl, people cheer, they get pumped.

And then you wheel out the last three, to do the final dance off. You've already done the first 4 songs. You've shown the highlights. You've shown everybody that will watch the scores so far. You've talked about the prospects. You've shown them exactly how many points the juniors need to win it, how many points the Seniors need to hold on to in order to keep the victory. Everybody knows it. And then, you wheel them out, and you watch them dance it out live. On live television, you interview the champion. You make it work. It's more of a technical marvel than it is a DDR marvel. It's harder to make the coverage work than the actual competition work, but it's worth it. People get excited.

The Halo works in a similar fashion. The other event, which I'm not sure about, is the same idea.
Then, we get to my favorite. The Taylorsville High School Text adventure. This requries a crazy amount of support from the TVTV folks, but it'll be the best.

You have one champion from each grade, and really, they're sent on a crazy treasure hunt through the whole school, armed with nothing but a cell phone.

It's a text adventure, you're getting sent clues with texts.

Imagine, you're alone in the halls. You have no idea where the other two are, but you're just following the directions that keep making your phone vibrate in your hand. They told you to go to room I-204, so you did it. They told you to walk to the computer, and type in "walnuts" when it asked for a password, so you did. That gave you another clue, you followed it. When you get where it sent you, you texted back to the magical man in the sky, and he told you to run to the commons, and ask the giant statue what to do. Through some magic, he sent you on a hunt, to find something. To go somewhere. It's a challenge, a treasure hunt. There's mystery, there's surprises. But ultimately, it's just you, your cell phone, your wits, and, if you've got verizon, the rest of the network.

You've been following the clues for 15 minutes now. Maybe more, maybe less, you're not sure. Things are getting intense. You've already been in places in the school that you had no idea existed. You were directed to the secret key that let you into the secret closet in MJ's room, there you found the Helmet of Truth. They told you that you'd need this in your final battle, and you trust them. Why not? They keep giving you clues.

They make you take a picture of the lunch lady, after you've found her in her secret lair. They've made you figure out logic puzzle after logic puzzle. They've asked you to find mr. Olsen's car in the parking lot.

The whole way, the scary man with the camera is following you. It's like some crazy reality show, everything you do is taped. It's a little too difficult to play this one live, just with how far the camera has to go. And so, it's taped, and then edited at lightning speed. You might even have to compete the day before, nobody knows. It's all for the audience though.

It's the great finale. You don't know how the others have done, you only find out once they roll the video. It's like NBC, everybody loves the olympics.

Of course, these are only the 4 big events, the big crowd pleasers. People train for these forever. You get your DDR champions honed down to DDR legends. You know what' s coming, so you can prepare. It's like a track meet. The only reason anybody goes to a track meet to see slow people run is because they're related to them. The reason people go to track meets, aside from family obligations, is to see the real legends run. The people who are entertaining, fun to watch. Nobody wants to see me get up there and stumble through DDR. I want to see Azn pope robert get up there and fly. This way, i can do that, and my grade can still be amazing.

Of course, you can't just tape the whole spirit bowl, that's lame. There are live events on stage. The sumo wrestling, the American Gladiator combat, the trivia challenge. There's all sorts of stuff. But really, it's all about the olympic coverage.

That's what I want. I want something to plan for. There could be more events. I'd love to see a big Ultimate Frisbee match, divided by grade. I'd love to see a crazy triathlon through the school, where you've got to swim, climb, run, crawl, dodge, dance, then take a test. I'd love to plan it, and I'd love to see it taped, then edited, and covered like the olympics.

I want spirit week to be important again. i want to dress up, and I want to see everybody else dressed up. I want the opportunity to be great. That's why frisbee is amazing. It's because every single play in Ultimate, you've got the opportunity to do something great. That's the only difference between life and Ultimate. In life, the opportunity to do something truly great only comes once every long while. In Ultimate, it's every single play. Every play you have the chance to make that great layout D. You've got the chance to dive for the catch, to do great cover, to make that great pass. That's what Spirit week needs to be. It needs to be about unity, not about random mystery events. Support your team, support your grade, support your champions. It goes down to grassroots, as well as to the champions.

Everybody has to be important. Everybody has to dress up, everybody has to get to class. When that's over with, everybody has to help win something at the assembly.

I want to see the text adventure, I want to see the race. I want to play frisbee.

I want spirit.

I got spirit, do you got spirit?

I didn't think so.

Get some, then video tape it.

So, I'm not sure if this made any sense. I guess i gotta publish this now. i had more to say. More will come tomorrow. But for now, that's the greatest Spirit Week ever. G'night all.

Champion

I'm a champion. It's 3:01 AM, and I just finished my English essay. It's a fun essay, most of it is built around a musical chairs analogy. Yeah, that's right.

I finished, I did it, I'm a champion. I pulled it off. The last real assignment of Sophomore year. Fear me. Not only that, but I just smashed a spider most of the way. I'm pretty sure I didn't kill it though. But c'mon, how useful is a 6 legged spider anyways? That's right, not very.

So, I'm very happy. I pulled it off. w00tah.

My name's Chris, I win
My name's English, I'm teh sucks.
My essay roxxorz.

G'night all.

Jay Murda

So, I really want to just bust out and write. But nah, no time, it's 12:36, and I'm not done with my homework yet. I'm close though, so this is good.

So, expect something good. Not tomorrow, cause I've got alot of work. Probably not Friday, cause I've got alot of frisbee to play. The forecast says it's going to be windy, and that makes me cry on the inside. However, we will fight through it, cause we're troopers. We're not about to let the forces of nature keep us from Frisbee Friday.

Tomorrow I write an English paper, the last real assignment of Sophomore year. Mmm mmm good. Tonight, I prepared a report on Jay Murda. Who's Jay Murda?

I'm Jay Murda.

Shorted

Ya know what? I'm happy.

Nick keeps getting after me cause I'm so optimistic. He's got a point, I am optimistic.

And, coincidentally enough, I feel good about that. I'm happy with the world as it is. Sure, there are problems, but things are going to be alright. Things are going to keep getting better. By the same token, things are going to keep getting worse as well, but there'll be a division. Things will be the best they've ever been, and the worst they've ever been.

You can take this two ways. It really all depends on what side you want to be on. You can be the guy with cancer who dies because somebody shot the ozone down, or you can be the guy that is saved by the most amazing medical science anyone has ever seen. Do you know what they can do? I was talking to a cancer doctor the other day, and it's amazing. Mind boggling, and tumor blowing.

But in the end, things are going to be good. Things are good. I really really believe that things are going to be great. I know they are. The future, as I've said so many times before, looks bright.

This is Christopher Thatcher, signing out for the night, but not before telling you all to keep up the good work. Keep holding on, things are getting better every day. Sure, bad stuff will happen, but it's important that stuff like that does happen. It gives us opportunities to learn and grow and appreciate the good times. I don't know why some bad things happen, I don't know why things have got to be rough. But, from somewhere, I know that things are going to turn out ok. Things are going to end up great. There's no reason to doubt that, it's just a matter of timing. So hold on little buddies, and I'll do the same, and things will be good.

Take that you downers. Smile, things are getting better.

Gonna be a long one

The Picture of the Week

Yup, that's me, drooling like a horse. That wasn't staged, that was taken by my brother as I took a nap one day. I had only been asleep for about an hour, and he saw the madness and couldn't resist taking pictures. The little beep from the camera woke me up, so we got a better picture of it, free of obstruction.

Dang straight.

The Quote of the Week

"Don't knock the weather. If it didn't change once in a while, nine out of ten people couldn't start a conversation."
- Kin Hubbard

Ya know, there are just some things that you want to do, but can never really find the time to do. If you really want to do something, you'll make time for it, if it's really important to you. But what about stuff that isn't amazingly important, but stuff you'd still like to do? Unless you're good at using time, it's not gonna happen too often. I'm not good at budgeting time too well. For the last two weeks or so, I've wanted to bust out and play some DDR. It's been a while since I've just jammed out. I've only got one pad, me and my sister used to play alot together, just switching off. That hasn't gone on for a long time, so I just haven't been playing. But, I got the DDR dreamin', so last night at 11, instead of doing the algebra I should have, I tuned up my white-boy DDR skills.

I sucked big time, but I did get my ENTIRE shirt wet. You all know I sweat. I sweat more than anyone I know except my brothers, but last night was something pulchritudinous. It was just coming out. I really don't think that any of you aside from Andrew have ever beheld such sweat coming from me. During hockey season in gym, the Canadian version of Christopher Thatcher got a sweat ring all the way down to his belly button. Last night, the Asian version of Christopher Thatcher transcended the ring, and the shirt became one with the perspiration. It was complete. No fiber was spared. I was waging a war of attrition against the parched weave of my shirt, I was there to liberate the thirsty threads, the thirsty seams. In South America, they refer to Simon Bolivar as "The Liberator". In the DDR realm, they know me by one name only; "The Dominator"

In less dramatic news, I ran a 5:02 at the meet yesterday. It was the region JV meet, which basically means it's a tri meet that doesn't count for anything, but there's six schools there. So, it's like a hexameet. Anyone who made state, and most seniors don't run. This means the competition is less fierce, and it's alot more laid back. So, I got third in the mile, and I'm pretty happy with that. The Jordan Freshman Phenonemon won with a time of about 4:59. Had I had 50 more meters, I would have caught them. But alas, I did not, and I'm really happy with how I did. Sure, I didn't break 5 minutes, but c'mon, 2 seconds off? That's close enough for me! New PR, w00t.

Our 4x400 team did way good too, I was super happy about it. See, the 3200 race is right before the 4x400. Me, I didn't wanna run the 2 mile yesterday, so I didn't. I really should have, cause I could have got third easy, and second with a little effort. Had I been willing to bust it, I might have even had a shot at first. But ya know, I don't mind, cause alternate Thatcher got 1st, and that's just like me getting the victory, except he wears a skyline uniform and runs faster than me.

But anyways, I was totally fresh for the 4x4. I was excited for it. Usually we don't have enough guys, so we end up scraping guys, usually guys that just ran the 3200. Our 4x4 team is usually abysmal, so abysmal in fact, that by the time our 4th guy gets the baton, the other teams are done, or nearly done.

However, we had 4 fresh guys for the 4x4 yesterday. Kirt Heywood led off, he handed to Sievert, he handed to me, and Taylor Laj-y was our anchor. That wasn't the original order the coaches put it in, but we figured that it'd work out best. The only real difference was that I was supposed to anchor, but we decided to switch to taylor down at the line because he's faster.

So, Kirt ran a way good leg, and Sievert ran a way good leg, and I think I ran a dang good leg myself. Laj-y wasn't fresh, so he didn't run as great, but he still did fairly well. I made up some ground on my leg, so I was way happy about it. I love that race, it's so fast, but not so fast that it takes the brain out of it. Distance is all about your brain. Your body comes secondary. In a distance race, you're only running the very fastest that you can for one or two hundred meters. Everything else is something less than that. You've got to think about it, you've got to be able to push yourself fast enough to compete, and stay with the guys in front, but you can't push too fast, or you fall over and die. Idealy, you ought to fall over the finish line, and die right there. Your last breath ought to be about 20 meters from the finish line, and in a perfect world, you'd sprint those last 20 on brain damage fumes.

Of course, that never happens. But, that's the glory of distance. It's 60% mind, 40% body. If your body isn't in shape, you can't do anything. However, somebody that is willing to work harder than me that isn't in quite as good of shape can kick my butt any day. You've just got to pace yourself just right, and be determined.

It hurts out there, and it takes alot of power to tell your body that it doesn't hurt. That's why distance is great. With the short sprint races, it's all about how your body is tuned. There's no brainwork involved. You run forward, moving your legs as far and as fast as they go. Your brain ultimately has to shut off, and your body just gets into that cyclic rythym, and you go. In 100 meters, there's no room to think about race strategy, about how much you hurt, about anything. It's just go. There's no room for mind over matter, it's just matter.

That's why I don't like sprints. That, and the fact that I suck at them. Which brings me back to my original point, the 4x400 is pretty much the coolest race ever. 400 meters is one lap, and you run it as a sprint. It's not a full sprint, but it's dang dang close. I run 100 meters in about 13.2 seconds. I run a 400 in about 57 seconds. That's 14.25 seconds for a 100. So, it's pretty close to just plain out booking it. So, you've got the sprint work. However, it's long enough that your spirit, what's inside, actually counts. This isn't just a mindless dash down a straight line, this is a fierce and furious race in that endless oval they call a track. A kid with liver cancer can run a 100 meter race, and finish it just fine. It's only 13 seconds, 11 or 12 if you're fast. Nothing hurts for 13 seconds. You can hold your breath for 13 seconds. You can get in insane freezing water for 13 seconds. 13 seconds is underneath the threshhold of pain. You can do anything for 13 seconds. So, the 100 is painless.

The 400 is a pain factory if you do it right. In the mile race, you absolutely sprint the last 150 meters or so as fast as you can. You're pushing it, your legs are the loosest they will ever get, your body is literally bulging with adrenaline, you go for it. You've saved up enough for this final push, you sprint in to your reward. In the 400, there is no such feeling. If you save enough for a death sprint at the end, you have run too slow in the beginning. You try your hardest to push and sprint and get out there, but your legs refuse to move any faster. The last 150 meters burn your legs, a sensation distance guys hardly ever feel. It's fast, but it's long in it's own short sort of way.

In the end, the 4x400 combines all the good aspects of track. You're out there running your hardest, with just a hint of spirit pushing you from within. You run fast, your body is getting pushed, not punished like a distance race. You know that it will be over soon. There's never the dreaded, empty stomach feeling of "Great, 6 laps left..." like you get in the 3200. Your brain doesn't even function until you've run 100 meters, and your body doesn't start hurting for another 50. By that time the idea of reaching the halfway point and really pouring it on keeps you occupied, so you can ignore the pain. The 300 curve is the hardest part, you're trying to build up to that death sprint, but it's not there inside of you. It comes anyways, nobody knows where from. We've got a crack team of researchers from MIT looking into it, but so far we've got nothing. So, you find it somewhere, and you go. That last 400 is emotionless, your brain turns off for that final push. You go, but even though your brain is quiet, the subconscious is painted like a giant mural on your stride, your shadow, your everything. They can see it, even if you can't hear it. Determination is solid, steady, repeatable and predictable. Your steps come the same, your arms move far and faster, farther than they need to. You're going, and you're going to finish. If your mind has given out, your steps are sloppy, your head looks around for some release from the terrible competition you and your body are in. Your stride betrays you in the 400, it'll give you away.

Whoa, poetics aside, I love that race. It's got speed, it's got you, your body, and your spirit giving it your all. It's got teamwork, it's got a shiny baton, and it's 4 minutes long. It's dramatic, it's powerful, it's everything track ought to be, and nothing that it shouldn't.

We got 2nd. From the way I write, you'd think we just won state. Nah, it was 2nd, at the JV meet. That's not much, but it was fun. We're taking it as seniors though. We've got Blake, who runs a 53 second 400. He went to state this year, and he always runs with the A team. I'm not too great at the 400 right now, but I think I could train up to it. Kirt has mad skills, he'll be dang good. I don't know if I'll even be on this amazing team, but wow, we've got potential. It's go time.

Break Time:

I said that this would be a crazy long post. I've got alot of stuff stored up there. If you want to stop now, go for it. The rest isn't going to be track related. I'm moving on to other topics. I promise, it'll be there tomorrow, so if you're tired of me, leave, and come back later.

There are two weeks of school left. This is a good thing. But, it also means there's alot of homework coming up. Things that I'm going to have to start working on.

In English, I've got to read 1984. It's finally gotten interesting, but I need to finish it about a week ago. Then I've got to write some essay comparing a character from 1984 to some character in another book I read. Yeah, I definitely didn't read another book. So, I'm using some character from the database of books I've read, and comparing him to some guy who's government says it's a crime to think. Makes for a dull boy.

I've got to do my algebra presentation thing on how people use math in real life. I don't even like group work in that class. It's hard, cause it's a bunch of people I don't have classes with and robert. I'd honestly rather do it myself. And so, I think I'm going to.

Those are pretty much it, but they're projects, and it's the last 2 weeks of school. That's a bad idea. I'll get em done though, but I can guarantee I'm going to procrastinate and then stress over them the night before they're due. Alas, that's my fate, I'll take it like a man.

Mesh networks are really cool. I might have mentioned them before. One of these days I'm going to write the future. I've got ideas. They're nothing but ideas. They're not money making schemes, they're not brilliant ideas about how the world is going to be. But I've got a picture of the future, and for some reason I want to get it out. One day I will. The problem is, it's not my style. Writing like that, not my style at all, so it's hard. One of these days though, one of these days.

Zero is an interesting thing. You can't divide by it. I honestly don't know why. I never really knew why. I always assumed that it'd end up as 0. I know it's a rule and all that you can't do it, but why not? Why can't we solve it? Why can't physics solve it? Why do graphs do that weird asymptote thing? Why can't it just be a happy straight line, devoid of huge gaping gaps in logic where 0 found its way into the denominator? What's the deal with zero?

I have no idea. But it's out there. That big zero. There's just some stuff that's gonna confuse you, so you can't do it. You pass any other value into it, and shabam, things work out great. But there's just that one number, that one idea that might not even be a number, that thought that is and yet isn't, that can't be passed into the equation. It confuses everything.

Zero is interesting, but I have an appreciation for zero.

I have a good idea for something to get the crowd involved. But, I don't feel like writing about it right now. I'm excited about it though, it'll be interesting. Also, I updated the gallery I think. I might have. I dunno, I plan on doing that after I finish writing this. But that doesn't mean I'm going to. I plan alot of things.

So yeah, I think that's it for tonight guys. This wasn't as long as I expected it'd be. I expected more. The track thing totally came out of nowhere too, I wasn't even gonna write about track. And there I went, writing like an animal. I swear I write the same thing every time I write. About how the sprints suck and how the distance rocks. How it's about what's inside, not about your legs. About how I almost hit the mark, but never quite. Yeah, it's look goosebumps. It's the same book, republished 132 times, with new names in the blanks. And this time, instead of the magical hand that kills things, it's a magical can of creamed corn. Spooky.

Region dance on saturday. Gonna be good. There's gonna be food, and girls, and more food.

Anything else? if you want to run cross country, it's gonna be fun. I'm getting good. I'm on two weeks break right now, workouts start soon. Ah, it's going to be nice.

Well friends, associates, mystery blank, I think it's time for me to go. I've been writing for a very long time. I think I might have a little fear of saying too much. Hmm, that's a new thought, I just barely had it. But ya know, I think it makes sense.

I'll have to sleep on that one. But, mystery blank, have a good night. From me, the man who writes too much and doesn't say enough, have a good night. Be happy. Don't be afraid to get out there and fight for the things you want. Don't be a pushover. Get out there and work hard, stop being a slacker. Just do it. It doesn't matter why, it doesn't matter if you're not going to get anything out of it, just do it. Do it because it's the right thing to do. Don't do it. That stupid thing that sounds a little shady? Don't do it. But that other thing, that thing you don't want to do, but know that you ought to do. Just do it. Go for it, it doesn't matter why, you know you ought to. Thank you Nike. Just do it.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's day everybody. My mom is amazing. She's the best. My mom could beat up your mom. But really, she's an amazing lady. Go mom go.

So here we are, it's been a while since I've written anything. I always want to write, but never really do. I figure it's because I put it off too long. I wait until night to write, I don't know exactly why. By the time it's night, it's usually too late. So, that's why things have been sparse. I'll try to write more, or something like that.

I've always got something to say. Every night my mind is filled with ideas and scenarios. I don't know why I don't write more, I'd love to. So, maybe I'll start doing that.

I'm trying out for Junior Choir tomorrow after school. I'm pretty excited for that. It took me a long time to make the decision to do it, but I think that it's going to be the best one. I'm very excited to not be taking jazz band next year. Jazz band is really cool, it's a great class, and it's alot of fun when you're there, and you just start grooving. But ya know, it's gotten to the point where for whatever reasons I can't play as well as I used to, and so it's not fun. I get in there and mess up, and that just makes me feel like a dork. It pretty much ruins my day. Not because the class isn't great, because it is, but just because I can't perform at that level. So, I'm excited to not have to worry about that next year.

Does this mean I can sing? Nah, not at all. I haven't sung anything but hymns in ages. I'm always running around singing stuff we play in band, but that's not really singing, that's just doing something with the notes, I'm not exactly sure what. That's always fun, but whatever. I was going to run through the audition song with some friends last night, but we were having too much fun to do that, and Dad was going to help me today, but we never really got to that, so it's 10:35 and I'm probably gonna go down and teach myself how to sing once I'm done with this. Hooray.

But, long story short: I know exactly what the guy to girl ratio is going to be in Junior Choir. I know "how much fun it's going to be!" I know guys. Give me a break. I can't tell you how many girls have accosted me this last month trying to trick me into trying out for Junior Choir. It's been outrageous. It'd be awesome if any of them had original arguments, but they don't. The last day to try out was week before last I think, I'm late. I never got around to it, because I didn't decide that that was what I wanted to do until very recently. I decided to do it for 3 reasons.

Number one was to be with my friends. This year I had very few classes with my former posse. I have one class with James, one class with Kyle, and no classes with Levi. This my friends, is terribly depressing. Me and Levi never hang out. Number one reason was for those guys, as well as my lady friends that I never see. It's like a good old fashioned reunion.

Number two was to escape jazz band. I like to think I'm good at alot of things. I'm not one of those people that says "I suck at this..." when really I don't. If I don't suck at it, I'm not going to say I do. Girls do this often, lots of guys do this. I really don't like to do it. So really, when I say I suck at something,I genuinely do. I suck at that trombone these days. I don't know what it is, I can't hit the right notes. My lips are gone or something. I know it's because I don't practice, but the fact is just that; I don't practice. So, Jazz Band is a crap shoot for me, by my own choice, not by any one else's fault. Doc's amazing, he's a stud, you can't not love Doc. But really, I want out, because I blow. Therefore, I take Junior Choir to run away.

Number three is that I genuinely want to learn how to sing. I figure it'd be nice, instead of just pretending all the time.

So there you have it. I didn't do it because it'd be an easy class, or because it'd be so fun, or because "there'll be two girls for every one guy!" ohmygosh, I don't care.

Sorry for the bitterness.

So, regions was wednesday and thursday I think. Something to that effect. I ran a 5:05, and that's not too bad, but definitely not as well as I had hoped. During warmups I really jacked my foot, and it's still bugging me. Apparently there's some hole of death by Jordan's tennis courts where we were doing our little dynamic stretches, and I totally rolled my left foot into one while I was doing the communist march. It was about 10 minutes before the race, and I didn't know if I'd be able to run or not. It stopped hurting, so I ran on it, but it's been a little screwed up ever since. I iced it night before last, and that helped a bit, I think I'll do that again tomorrow.

JV regions is on tuesday, that'll be fun. The rule is, you can only run events that you didn't run at regions in JV regions. So, no mile for me, no 3200. This means that this year, I won't be able to beat a 5 minute mile in a meet. that was my one real big goal for track, and I didn't do it. That's depressing and all, but I'll get over it, it's no big deal.

But, I'm excited for the meet. Providing that my foot stops hurting, I'm going to have alot of fun races to run. The 800 will be an adventure, but I figure I can do pretty good in it. The 400 will be alot of pain, and I know I won't run great, but it'll be fun nonetheless. Anything under that distance is just a joke for me, so whatever. Maybe I'll learn how to pole vault tomorrow, and do that too. We'll just have to see.

Which brings me to my next point, the deeper philosophical question of the day. Have I become a jock? See, I've run track since 8th grade, but I've never ever thought about it this much before. All the sudden, I'm thinking about track way more than I think about frisbee. I rarely ever think about frisbee anymore, it's always about track. I write about track. I eat so I can run faster in track. I get more sleep because I've got a meet. I worry about my foot because of track. I wear sunscreen so I don't die at track. For the first time in my life, athletics is becoming important to me.

So what's the deal? Am I a jock? I've been a nerd all my life, proud of it. However, that's my definition of a nerd, not anybody else's. This is newschool. It doesn't even mean what you think it does. Whatever idea about that word you've got, throw it out. It's new.

Anyways, it's a bit of an identity crisis for me. But really, no matter what title I assume, I'm still me, and I'm alright with that. I'm down with loving track. It's good for me, and gives me alot of cool opportunities. Track won't really take me anywhere in life, but it's nice to go out there with some friends and run. It's nice to be able to be on a team, to have some unity. It's nice to hang out with some older guys and learn from them. The distance team is really cool, it's a bunch of good guys. The sprint team isn't the most wholesome bunch, but the distance team is really cool, they're great guys. It's nice to hang out with those guys, and to get a little help in life from them. I've got nothing but respect for Clements and Whiting and Porter. It's good times.

School is almost out. I'm not exactly an excitable person. I'm very boring really. I mean, school's almost out. You'd think I'd have some emotion for that right? Nah, I'm down with it. It'll come. And when it does, I won't get any more sleep than usual. I'll go to work pretty soon, I'll run summer cross country. It'll be life.

Who is Brandon Hu? Brandon Hu is a legend. He has the high score on phoenix on all of your calculators. Jason Liu is the only person to have figured that out. Therefore, he wins the prize.

I will write him a poem tomorrow.

Alex Trebek: "Christopher Thatcher is about to do this, and then go to bed."

Contestant A: "What is, learn how to sing?"

Alex Trebek: "Correct, for 2,000 Junior Bacon Chesseburgers."


*edit*

So, dad just helped me learn how to sing. That was nice and fun, so I'm pretty happy about stuff now. Yeah, g'night champ.

*end edit*

G'night all. Happy mother's day. Keep up the good work. The future still looks bright. This post was sorta less than happy. I really am happy. Take it for what it's worth, but not anything more than that. There's alot to talk about, but not enough room to type it. Maybe sometime in the future. It's life. I like life. You ought to like life too, because things are going to be ok. Sometimes we get confused, but that's just cause we're looking way too closely. We need to take a step back. Just step back from things and things start to make sense. Today is just one day out of the year, and this year is just one tiny year in the 72 that you're statistically supposed to live. That's not very big. C'mon, just do the english assignment, it's good for you. Things are going to work out, the big things really aren't all that big, and the little things are apt to be the one's that end up important. Work hard, and don't give anything less than your best. You know what's right and wrong, so do what's right. Do it, and life will be good. G'night all, go tell your mothers or whatever special ladies there are in your life that you love them.

Talk

Talk is cheap. The fact is, I ran a 12 minute 3200 today. The last 3200 I ran was 11.29. So, I added 30 seconds today. Why? Well, there are all sorts of reasons, but the fact is, talk is cheap.

For all my talking about domination, all my thoughts about how hard I was gonna push it, it didn't come true. I ran crud today, it wasn't even good. And really, I'm ok with that. The point that I'm trying to make though, is that talk won't get you anywhere. Results get you places. Talk doesn't go anywhere, talk is cheap. I can talk all I want up here. I could type all night till the sun comes up, and it wouldn't really get anything done. You know what gets stuff done? Results. Getting out there and doing something. For all the talk, it boils down to what you've done with your life. What have you done? What have I done?

Tomorrow we're going to finish the meet. Since it's regions, it's a 2 day meet. Today I ran the 3200, tomorrow I run the 1600. Today I ran terrible, tomorrow, I'm going to run with a purpose. Tomorrow is redemption. I've already been the region II fat kid once this week, I don't want to do it twice.

You know, this whole post is starting to have a very "I'm a downer" feel to it, and I know that Nick is gonna call me on it. Really, I'm not a downer tonight, I'm just busting out what I've been thinking all day. It's not depressing, it's just the way that I feel. I don't think it's sad, I think it's pretty decent. It's a good lesson to learn. You can talk all you want, but when you get out there to real life, it's results that matter. I don't care how well you talk, if you can't flip burgers, Artic Circle won't hire you. Life, this is where it counts.

Life is a very interesting thing. It's hard to step back and look at a bigger picture of life. It's still something that I have trouble doing, but I've been trying. People give us advice all the time. They tell me what classes to take, what things to do with my free time, what books to read. They tell me what to eat, how to eat, and where to eat. They tell me to get plenty of fresh air and exercise. They tell me that it's not a trash can. They tell me all sorts of things, things that are designed to, in the end, make my life better.

But the truth is, they've never been me. I've never even been me. Tomorrow, I get one shot at May 11th, 2006. I get one shot at being 15 years and 346 days old. No one sitting around here has been me tomorrow yet. Nobody went to the track meet today and ran the 3200 in 12 minutes in my heat except for me.

Hi, I'm new here. I've never done this before. I'm going to school on may 11th, 2006 for the first time tomorrow. I've never been to Taylorsville on may 11th, 2006 before. It's going to be an entirely new experience for me. Going a little deeper, You've never been to school on May 11th, 2006 either. You've got no idea what's going to happen.

Hi, you're new too. Maybe we can be friends.

But probably not, I'm out of deodorant.

Blogtastic

The Picture of the Week

I'm not quite sure where this one came from. Months ago I was just playing around with the tupper-symbol in photoshop, and ended up with this. It's all sharp and fuzzy at the same time, I like it.

The Quote of the Week

"People might not get all they work for in this world, but they must certainly work for all they get."
- Frederick Douglass

Can't argue with that one.

So, happy Sunday eh? It's the start of a new week. I'm fairly excited about it. Looks like we've got CRT's all week, so that means no homework. Not too shabby. Hopefully I'll get an A on MJ's test. I finished it last time, pretty decent too I think. Yay for actually doing the homework so I understand the content. Bunch of slackers anyways...

Just kiddin, you're all alright.

So, I've noticed a serious lack of unity in the world around me. More especially, a serious lack of unity in the blogosphere. (Man I hate using stupid terms...)

So, here it is, the network as far as I know.

cjthatcher.blogspot.com Christopher Thatcher
cjthatcher.googlepages.com Christopher Thatcher Gallery
fuzzypandas.blogspot.com Nick Morandi
fcwhiteblues.blogspot.com Jaron Frost
fcblackblues.blogspot.com Jaron Frost alternate

I know that the list is very very incomplete. Problem is, I have no idea who's got what out there. If you've got a blog, let me know so I can throw it up here. If you know somebody with a blog, let me know so I can throw it up. I'm only gonna list blogs that aren't extinct, otherwise the list would be alot bigger. I think this could end up sorta cool, we might as well know what we're all writing right? So, leave me a comment telling me, cause I need some more names.

By the way, everything listed up there so far is pretty good I think. They are recomended by me. So go, spread the love.

Also worth noting, myspace is for suckers. Just say no. It's not even good. In fact, it's bad. If you're worried that there's somebody you'd never talk to except for myspace, learn to email. Just say no.

Hmm, what else, what else? I'm the scout camp dance champion of the world. Yeah, we did the Indian Lore merit badge at the district camporee, and I dominated the dance scene. After we were all done with the merit badge, we had a "pow wow" at the end, where everybody got in a big circle and indian danced. The top 20 were then sent to the semi finals, where they danced some more. Then, the top seven were selected, and then sent up on stage to dance it off. It was dance till you drop, as soon as you start sucking, you got pulled. The last two standing one.

That's right, I was one of those two. You can't touch this mad indian dancing skill. *shakes ceremonial stick at y'alls*

That's all I got, read the post underneath this one, it's a sorta good one. Leave me a comment telling me if there's any blogs I've missed. Keep up the good work.

Christopher Thatcher -out-

The Lies Your Parents Told You

Slow and steady does not win the race. For years and years in elementary school, all of our teachers told us this every day. Every single day they'd tell me to slow down, that slow and steady wins the race. That I didn't need to finish my assignment so fast, that it was ok to not be the first done.

When it came time to do the physical fitness test, they told us the same thing. Don't sprint the mile then walk then sprint then walk then sprint then fall over. It's a better idea to jog the whole thing, you'll get a better time. Slow and steady wins the race.

They tell you the story of the tortoise and the hare. They tell it so convincingly that you begin to really believe that there was a mythical tortoise that beat the magical hare. They become real people to you. No longer a fairy tale, but a documented piece of history, and important piece of history.

It's a bunch of lies. They lied to you. How do you feel about that? I feel angry and betrayed. I'm here to tell you that the establishment has been leading you astray since day one. It's a giant conspiracy. Our most recent intelligence (and I'm talking recent) all points towards the Russians.

Friday afternoon was the Cougar Last Chance track meet. It's the last chance to qualify for state. In order to go to state you've got to have a killer time. So, for the mile it's 4.30 something. The whole idea behind this track meet is that it's the last chance to make it. It's the cougar last chance.

The only race I was signed up for was the 3200 meters. That's 2 miles. 8 laps. I was used to doing fairly well in these races, getting 5th or 6th at tri-meets.

There weren't too many people in the race, probably only about 18. I figured I had a decent shot at doing ok, in theory I was racing against a bunch of sophies and freshmen. So, the race starts, and I'm excited. I'm wearing whiting's spikes, I'm wearing insanely short shorts, and my thighs are luminous as ever. For the third time that week, it was go time.

Now, the thing about 3200 meters is that it's long. I swear I've said this before. It's easy to get distracted. Shiny objects, ya know? Yeah, this paragraph is a repeat. Go to 20.

The race starts, and the madmen jump out of there like madness. They are hauling it. I'm with them the first 100 meters, around that first curve. My brain however, is starting to go into survival mode. I want to win. I'm plotting the way I'm gonna dominate. That's what you do when you've got 3200 meters to think about stuff. That's a long time to make a plan.

While I was calculating, I was also beginning to disbelieve what was going on before my eyes. My comrades, my brethren, were throwing away everything that the establishment had so graciously engrained in us. Every part of me inside says "Slow and steady wins this race." But they, oh no, they were HAULING it. Their pace was ridiculous. They couldn't do this, they were going to make their teacher mad, AND lose the race.

This made me half incredulous, half excited. A dead contestant means an easy contestant to beat. While my comrades were dashing the tortoise and the hare on the rocks, I was biding my time. I knew that they couldn't keep this up forever. They were going to fall over and die, and I was going to win.

I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to run my first 4 laps at a good pace, but not too harsh. And then, I was gonna bust it for the next two, and really bust it the last two. I was going to dominate, and pass them around the 2nd to last lap. THey were going to fall over, and I was going to step over their limp forms to victory.

How could I lose? The establishment was on my side.

Yeah, they lied to me. I got slaughtered. These robot boys just kept on running. I don't know how they did it. There was no mercy, they just went, and I didn't. They ran fast, but I was slow and steady.

Slow and steady doesn't win any races.

Ridiculously fast and steady, now that's where the money is at.

It doesn't help that due to the 3200 being so long and boring, I forgot what my plan was. C'mon, you guys don't realize how easy it is to get distracted. I forgot the whole "Bust it the last 4 laps" part of the plan. The "easy does it" part lasted for 8 whole laps. oops.

You know what establishment? You suck. Way to ruin my high school track career.

See, it's funny how I can make a 10 minute and 40 second race into such a long story. I'm longwinded, but I like it that way. If you don't like it, go to Russia. Maybe you can help them sabotage the United States olympic dreams with their tortoise and hair lies some more.

More to come later tonight yeah?

Why I write

The Picture of the Week

The Quote of the Week
"Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it."
- Mahatma Gandhi

Why do I write? Somedays I don't know why I write, but I'm very glad that I do.

If I were to walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a car, there'd still be a little piece of me up here. I wouldn't be lost forever. Maybe some day, in some distant time, somebody will stumble upon this place and remember me. Maybe when I've ridden off into the sunset, somebody will say "Remember Thatcher? He did great things."

Of course, that relies on whether or not I do great things. Nobody remembers the slackers. "Nobody mourns the wicked"

There are some pieces of writing that I am genuinely proud of. Sometimes I write things that I really just don't like, but other times I surprise myself. There are alot of words on this blog. But ya know, if I were to get hit by a car tomorrow, I'd be happy if only a few of them ever get remembered.

So here you go, my top 5 favorite posts ever. Feel free to go back and read them if you're feeling bored, I'm proud of them.

Game On [Friday, Feb.10, 2006]

- "Tonight we proved to the world that dreams are real, that anything can be overcome with determination. Tonight we stood up, and proudly announced to the audience that we were not going to lie down and die. Tonight, there was power running through us all. A power that you couldn't see, a power that you couldn't quite name, but a power that brought us together."

Thank You [Thursday, Nov. 24, 2005]

- "Thank you Mr. Fiack, for teaching me algebra, even though I hated it, I learned everything I needed. Thank you Brough and Sharpe, for oppurtunities to prove myself. Thank you Mom and Dad, for everything. You're the very best parents ever. I wouldn't be anything without you guys, thanks so much."

The Best Game Ever Played II [Sunday, Nov. 20, 2005]

- "at 13-13, play starts to get fierce. It brings out the very best and worst of all the players on the field. When you make a good play, you know it, and your heart goes wild. When you screw up, it's one of the very worst feelings you've ever had. You've invested so much into the game, it hurts to lose it. Your legs hurt, your hands are getting hashed from catching, swatting, and throwing. Your lung hurt from the cold air, your breath comes out hard and short, and very frosty. But you know why you're in the game, and you know that you want to win. You put everything out there. This is when Frisbee gets real."

Feel Free Not to Read This [Saturday, Jan. 7, 2006]

- "Sometimes you just gotta spill your guts. This is what I want to talk about. This is what I'm talking about now. The problem with this is that you don't know if anyone is catching your guts. this is a very indirect gut toss. your guts can sometimes hang in the air for a week before somebody catches them here."

*note, I originally didn't want anybody to read that post. However, I've come to realize that even when I'm having a crappy night, I'm still me, and I still think like me. It's important that we're always us, even when times are rough. It's me, even if I don't like it.

Sing [Wedsnesday, January 11, 2006]

- "I smile anyways. I smile because life doesnt suck. Even if sometimes it's not the best in the world, its really the roxxorz in the end. Why? Cause I can type in l33t all I want, and there's no chinese censor deleting this trash. Cause downstairs, my mom is sitting reading the paper, and she's the best cook I've ever seen. My pops is watching simpsons, and he's just a stallion. He's got one kidney, he's a heck of a scoutmaster, and he makes fun of the same people I do. In 8 hours, I'm gonna wake up, and say "Good crap, it's too early" but Im gonna roll out anyways, and go to school, and enjoy it. Cause MJ can't live forever. Cause there's gonna be snow frisbee on friday. Cause my mouse has a right click."

Whoosh. There you have it. The reason I write? Because I don't want to be forgotten.

Freedom is on the march. The real kind.

That's all I've got for tonight. I hope you're all doing well. Expect good stuff this week. I slacked last week, but I'm going to write something awesome soon. I've got lots of good stories to tell. (Dance champion, Frisbee mutual, and that's about it) But oh well, keep up the good work. If any of you have anything you want me to post, any work you've done, any suggestions for picture of the week. Let me know eh?

It's go time.

Word Up

-Edit- So... there's some funky ads at the top of my blog. That's sorta hilarious. Yay for adwords. Sorta off the wall though.... So... let's see if we can rock the vote eh? DDR. Dance Dance Revolution. I'm looking for cheap Dance Dance revolution pads. Maybe for the PS2, or for the Xbox? I want a sturdy pad that will hold up. How about one for cheap? Free shipping? Score! -End edit-

No excuses. No time for them. No drawn out introductions. It's 11:05, and I've got to write something, mostly because I want to. So, here they are, the top two stories from Christopher Thatcher's week.

You know what? No. I just wrote a bunch of hud. It's not even good. It's a long drawn out story that doesn't need to be long, or drawn out. In fact, it can be pretty short. Here's the condensed version, take it or leave it. The big version is underneath it, but you can really ignore it. I left it unfinished. Here's the real version:

Yesterday was a tri-meet, and I was prepared to dominate. I really wanted to run super fast, and beat my old record. My old record was 5.22, and I set that in 9th grade. It's embarassing that I hadn't beat it yet, but hey, whatever.

Yesterday was the perfect day for a meet. School went well, and the weather was beautiful. Nothing stood in my way. I was going to break that record with a fierce fury.

The race started, and I went out strong. Everything felt great, systems were go. The race went just normal until the last lap. Coming in to the last lap, I was in 4th place. There was a guy ahead of me, but I knew that If I tried really really hard, I could catch him. He was definitely within reach, but it wouldn't be easy. It's hard to judge sometimes what we are capable of. Sometimes we never know what we truly are able to do until we go as far as we can go, and then we fail. Often, we never really do make that breaking point.

Well, philosophical questions aside, I knew that I could catch this guy. He had a decent lead on me, but I'm tenacious. I picked it up for that last lap, and so did he. It was a footrace, and I was gaining on him little by little. He was ahead of me all the way down to the last 200 meters. Entering the curve by the flagpoles, I picked up into my end race pseudo-sprint. It wasn't quite my end race sprint, but it was close, a little warning for him.

He still had me by a couple feet coming into the last 100 meters. I knew now that he knew how desperate the situation was. It's hard to sneak up on somebody in a mile race. If they know that you're coming for them, they're going to do everything that they can to avoid the humiliation of getting passed in the last 100 meters. You've just run 1500 meters, and you do not want to lose all that hard work to some pansy boy that's been behind you the whole time and is about to sprint in to beat you. It's just not something that people want to do. Now, if you can sneak up and pass them without them realizing what you're doing until it's too late, it's great. Nobody randomly speeds up to make sure the imaginary man doesn't pass them. But when they know, they're going to fight you all the way to prevent it.

Now, some ninja runners can sneak up and pass people pretty well. I am not one of those. Imagine a winded rhinocerous trying to sneak into the whitehouse. I'm over here snorting, and breathing like a madman. You could hear my nose whistle all the way in the top row of the bleachers. This guy knew I was right on top of him, and he wasn't going to let me have it.

My pseudo-sprint proved insufficient. He held the lead as we rounded the curve for the last 100 meters. I really considered taking a proud 4th place for a minute. It would be the best place I've ever taken in a meet. There's no shame in 4th.

There's no shame, unless it's go time.

...It was go time.

So I poured it on. I left it all on the track. He was there, and I was there, and I took him. I don't know this guy's name, I don't remember what school he's from, and I've got no idea if his neckbeard was cooler than mine or not. The mystery man was sprinting it in, leaving it on the track, and I was too. I passed him with 60 meters left in the race. I was up on my toes, arms pumping, knees high, everything burning. As I passed, I knew it wasn't over. He would fight me all the way to the end, and fight he did.

It all happened in the span of 20 seconds. In those 20 seconds, I had to figure out if it really was possible. I had to figure out if I was willing to attempt the insane, and push my body that much harder. It was go time, and I went.

I crossed the line, knowing full well that I had just taken 3rd place. I give my sticker to Ms. Ward, and then find out my time. 5:03.

A new personal best.

That's right, I smashed my old record by 19 seconds, and got 3rd place. I really shouldn't have gotten third... Clements wasn't running, neither was whiting. Both of whom would have smashed me. But ya know what? I don't care. I'm crazy happy to limp off the track with a 3rd place and a new record.

Region is coming up this wednesday, and I'm gonna break 5 minutes. No battle.

So, I got 3rd in the 3200 too. That was a good race. But what can you say about 8 laps? You run it, and you try to pass people. You try to run faster than they do, so you can get to the finish line before they do. It's a nice race ,I finally enjoy it. I pushed it, and I got 3rd. I am very happy about my performance.

So, that's my track story. 5:03. I love track.

The following is very long, pointless, and quite boring. I encourage you to read it only if you are ready to hear something very redundant, overly dramatic, and quite fruity. It's all yours if you want. if you don't, well. Go find out who is Brandon Hu. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read the post underneath this)

Jason Liu has already found out who Brandon Hu is. I will release the first hint today.

Brandon Hu is a very important person. What was his impact on the history of the world?


Begin Drivel~
Yesterday was a tri-meet. Like I've said before, tri-meets are alot of fun. Very few schools there, it's small, it's fast, and it's fun. The weather was absolutely beautiful. The sun was up, there wasn't too much wind, the temperature was beautiful, and there wasn't any precipitation anywhere except my armpits. In short, it was the perfect meet.

All day I had been excited for it. I woke up, and thought to myself, "You are going to dominate today." All day I was waiting for my chance to go out there, and really see what I am now.

See, the sad truth is, I ran a 5.22.25 mile in 9th grade at the district meet. That was a killer time for me, way faster than I had ever run before. I was super excited about it. Well, I hadn't ever been able to beat that time. All through cross country I never timed a mile. All during indoor track I was a slacker and didn't try my hardest. At the Jordan meet, it was super super cold and wet, so I know I didn't run my best. I haven't been able to run too many miles this year that were timed. I was still a sophomore that wasn't as fast as his freshman forebearer.

So, that's been embarassing the whole year, but I was ready to change things. There was nothing standing in my way. I was going to go out there, and run my best race. I was going to put it all on the line, and then come back and see what magical numbers my efforts produced. It was all about ME. I wasn't running for the team, I was running to find out what I really am capable of. To find out if I really was a pansy boy who couldn't match last year, or to find out if this whole track bit really was worth anything. I just had to know, otherwise I was wasting my time.

It's go time. The girls are running their mile, and I'm getting suited up. My mom had bought me new socks the day previous. They were way thick, but super comfy. I like them alot. They're really tight, so I can have my fruitsnacks in there, and they won't slide down on me and cut me. So, I've got my sweet shorts on, and I'm trying to squeeze my foot into Trevor's spikes. See, Whiting is a stud. He's got two pair of spikes, one pair for distance, and one for sprints. He wasn't using his distance spikes, so he let me borrow them again. So, I squeeze my feet in there, and I'm feeling pretty good about things. I down some fruitsnacks just for good measure, and get ready to face my destiny.

Girls finish, nothing spectacular to report about that because no T-ville girls run the mile. What's with that? I have no idea, but whatever.

We line up, and things are looking pretty good for me still. No sudden change of weather. No javelin related accidents, just a clean track, a clear sky, and some really, really short shorts.

So, the gun goes off, but I'm sitting here in lane 2 or 3. The way the mile race works is a little different from most races. All the short distance races are staggered. So, the guy running in lane 8 starts way ahead of the guy running in lane one. That's because he's going to run alot longer in lane 8. So, the distances are really all the same, they just look like they're not.

With the mile, you all start on one line, but it's a curvy line. It starts out with the straight finish line for lane one, but the curves out in a gentle arc. So, the guy in lane 8 is standing pretty far ahead of the guy in lane 1. The idea is, the guys in the outside lane have an opportunity to cut in instead of getting owned.

Unforunately, it's sort of a broken system. It gives a huge advantage to the guys way on the outside. No matter what, somebody is going to cut in too soon, making all the inner lane guys slow down to prevent death. So, I was thinking that I'd be safe in lane 3.

And, true enough, I didn't die. But I sure did get cut off and then boxed in.

When you get boxed in in a race, you have a two options. One option is to try and find a way out, and then bust out to the outside lanes, pass the box, then re enter the good lanes. The other, more favored option, is to sit there and slow down and be a pansy boy.

Nobody likes being a pansy boy. I hopped out a few lanes, and proceeded to dominated. I was going sorta fast all the way up until I found myself in 4th or 5th place. I decided that was as good a place as ever to hop back into the real world.

And so there I was, just running. I felt pretty good, my legs were solid underneath me, my breathing was coming pretty easy, and the spikes just made me feel cool, lets face it.

Coming in to the 2nd lap, things were pretty stable. There was one guy that had a pretty good lead, a guy in 2nd that was moderately behind him, and a guy in 3rd moderately behind him too. I was sitting in 5th.

Long story short, I crept up on number 4, and then passed him. Coming into the 4th lap, the 3rd guy was pretty ahead of me, but I knew that I could get him. I knew that if I tried really really hard, he was within reach. I picked it up for the 4th lap, using strength I really don't usually use. He was ahead of me all the way to the very last 100 meters.

~end drivel.

Well, G'night all. I'll write something good soon, I promise. Until then, keep watching the skis.

Who is Brandon Hu?

Today was a very unique and interesting day. Messed with my brain a bit. Someday soon I'll write about it. Right now though, I need to go to bed.

However, I promised a good post. Well, this isn't quite what I was planning on doing, but it's something else that I've wanted to do for a while, so here it is.

With the Paint Competition wrapping up (we're basically waiting for Levi now) I wanted to give you all something to do again. This is perhaps less difficult, or perhaps much more difficult. Some will find this task very easy, others will find it terribly difficult.

Your task, is to find the answer to the question I posed earlier. Who is Brandon Hu?

Brandon Hu can not be found with google or wikipedia, I already checked. Brandon Hu is a mystery man, but someone within reach. When you find out who Brandon Hu is, you will know for sure. There will be no mystery. He won't be found, then wondered whether it's 'the' Brandon Hu. Oh no, when you find him, it will be him.

The first person to email me telling me who Brandon Hu is will recieve the prize. No idea what the prize is, but it's gonna be good.

The rules for this contest are very simple. You can use any means you want to determine who is Brandon Hu. When you find out, email the answer to me, don't leave a comment. If you are stumped, I will release clues periodically.

I would like to remind you all that Brandon Hu is a real person. He is not hidden. You are all very capable of finding out who this real person is. Who is Brandon Hu, and why is he important?

Go my friends, run, and find out.

Adventures in C Minor (finished)

Happy wednesday evening everybody. It's been a crazy long day, and I haven't written for a while, so let's get down to business.

In reality, I don't have any business. Nothing really. No pressing things I gotta talk about. I've got plenty of stories to tell. So, without further ado, it's story time.

We had a track meet today, but it was just a tri-meet. Tri meets are pretty fun, because it's just 3 schools. Sometimes there's 4, but usually just the 3, and it's inter-region play, so it's not too competitive. They only last 4 or 5 hours, and they're generally alot of fun. So, I was looking forward to it. Not too much pressure, and the weather was looking great. I was gonna smash my mile time into the ground, and just dominate.

So, I get my awesome shorts on, and we book it on the bus over to Alta. Our track has really spoiled me. When I show up to a meet I expect a world class track with awesome field stuff and some quality bleachers. Nah, they've got a 6 lane blacktop. Not bad, but not amazing. I don't really mind what I run on, but I sure mind what kind of rake they use on the longjump pit.

I don't long jump. I tried it once, it didn't work. Basically, you run along a little bit of track off to the side of the real track, and then at a certain point you jump, propelling yourself up and forward. You then proceed to land in a big strip of sand. The sand is supposed to be soft and happy and great, but for some reason it never is. So, you run and jump into a bunch of sand, sounds like kicks.

And sure, it is. I'm not sure why, but coach henderson was in charge of the long jump pit today. Why wasn't it some alta guy? No clue, but usually at tri meets we switch jobs around. So, henderson is over there, and he says he needs some people that don't have early races to go help. Since I don't have any races till after the mile, I figure I'll go help.

Screw it all. I'm tired. I didn't get home till 9:00 tonight. I'm finishing this later. Just you try and stop me. Cliffhanger? Nah, that story wasn't going anywhere anyways. I'll finish this tomorrow, of, if not then, later. Yeah, have a nice night y'alls, I'm sleepy.

Alrighty, I'm back. It's now 11:32 Thursday night. I'm a little bit sleepy, but tomorrow is friday, and if there's nothing good up here by then, bad things happen. So, happy times!

Anyways, I'm put in charge of raking this long jump pit. See, when people run and jump in the sand, it gets all screwed up. It's supposed to be a happy level strip of sand, but when somebody jumps in it there's a huge hole where their feet went and a bunch of sand that they pushed. The next person can't exactly jump right into that, that'd be terrible, so I'm supposed to rake it onto nice even action so it's fair and not dangerous and happy.

If you'll notice, alot of emphasis was placed on keeping the sand happy.

Anyways, it was a terrible sand rake. Not even good. It was a one way rake. You could rake it one way all nice and even, but if you tried pulling it back, oh no. You dug holes when you tried to pull it back. Bad things happened when you pulled it towards you. You only get to push, no pulling. Don't even try to pull.

So, with my strategic options cut in half, evening out the sand pit was a daunting task. I however, prevailed. I suceeded in thoroughly dominating that sand pit. That sand now fears me as the greatest sand-leveler ever, even with a crappy rake.

The moral of the story? If you're going to run a long jump pit, be sure to get a good rake. Honestly.

Anyways, the other cool part about the meet. Generally I run the mile. That was my main event back in junior high, and probably my best event. I did alright in the 800, but I was definitely a mile guy. So, that's what I expected to run in high school. Well, either I didn't make that clear enough, or coach just likes to mess with my brain or something, cause I rarely run the mile these days.

I was way excited to run it at the meet though. I was gonna get myself signed up for it no matter what they said. I was gonna smash my time into the ground. My personal best is 5.22. That's great and all for junior high, but in high school that makes me look like a fatkid. So, I was way excited to beat it, and I was confident. The weather was great, my body felt ready to go for it. Don't worry, coach didn't put me in the mile.

I got signed up for the 400 open, the 3200 (that's two miles) and the 4 X 400 relay. You've got to understand here, 400 meters is just one lap around. That's not very far. That's a sprinters race, not a distance race. I guess coach wants me to work my speed or something, but wow, I got tramped. I ran a 59.6, just barely barely under a minute. Not too great, I'll have to work on that.

So, that was a draining race, but I had alot of time to chill out before the 3200 started. I was pretty excited about the two mile though, because I ran a pretty good race last meet, and I was just excited to run today. I don't know what it was, I usually dread meets, but I was so ready, it was gonna be great. So, they do first call for the 3200, then second call, then final call, then final call again, and then a third final call. I don't know what it is about these guys, they did about 3 final calls on each event. It sorta cheapened the whole experience. Final call is supposed to be final call, but it wasn't even close to final call. I was infuriated.

So, we line up, and since we don't have too many people running the 3200, we run the guys and girls together. There's only 4 girls running or so. Whiting was awesome and let me borrow his spikes for the race, and I was pretty excited about that. Spikes are pretty amazing things. They are these tiny tiny shoes that weigh almost nothing, and they've got spikes on the bottom. Like, spiky things, that did into the track, giving you pro traction. They're designed to make you run like a gazelle. You fly with these things on, I don't know what the deal is.

The catch is, they're like 60 bucks a pair, so I've never invested in them before. So, I'm excited to be wearing spikes, and I'm excited to run. We line up at the line, and I look around. Checking out the line, I figure out that I'm probably the biggest guy there. It didn't look like there were any seniors around. There were probably only 15 or 20 people running anyways. Nobody likes the 3200 anyways, so none of the all stars were running.

Now, you've got to understand. Sometimes people do dumb things. Seeing that there were no amazing all stars at the line made me think: "Hey, you've got spikes on. You've got amazing track shorts on. Your hair looks good, and your neckbeard is coming in great considering it's only been 3 days. You can win this race champ."

And so I decided then and there, that I was going to win this race. I was gonna be a mad man. I was determined to anihilate everybody else in that race. It was go time.

Now, aside from not having a good rake, the guys running the meet were short on ammo. About halfway through the meet they ran out of bullets for the start gun. So, the commands were "Runners, on your mark" and then a man shouting "go!". So, we all line up, and I scoot out to the outside of the waterfall, so I'm a tiny bit ahead of everybody else, but on an outside lane.

The guy yells go, and I just sprint out of there like a madman. I'm pretty sure I cut some people off, and for that I apologize. I was just a little too enthusiastic. But anyways, I popped out there in front, and I was definitely in first place coming around the first curve.

Being in first place is a new feeling for me. I'm never in first place. That just doesn't happen, but yesterday it did. I was the man. I was it. It was me. I was in front of EVERYBODY. and good crap, it felt good. With my spikes of death, and the happy sunshine pushing me on, I was running like a graceful giraffe.

Now, I'm not sure why, but every time I passed people from Taylorsville, they'd shout "Good job Thatcher, pace yourself!" This was markedly different from what they usual yell; "Good job Thatcher, push it!" I wasn't sure what the change was all about, but I sort of liked it. I was booking it.

The important thing to remember about a 3200 is that it's 8 laps. That's 4 more laps than a mile.

Graceful Giraffes can only run for 2 and a half laps until they start to want to die.

So yeah, I had 2 and a half laps of glory. I was running so fast, and I felt so good. There was nobody even close, I was ahead and I knew it. I even tried to look like clements as I ran, because he just looks so cool when he's in first place. I like to think that I made a pretty good likeness. For 2 and a half laps, that race was mine.

And then, I sorta died. Yeah, you can only run fast for so long until you remember how much lap 3 hurts. After a couple seconds of that, you remember that you've got 5 more laps to go fatty. By now people are passing you, and you stop caring. You'd love to take first, but it's just not gonna happen. You had your moment to shine, now you're just here to burn some calories.

And so it was, 2 and a half laps. I got 8th place or something. No girls beat me, that was awesome. I learned 2 very important things during that race. Number one, was that when I begin to think that I'm going to win a race, I should probably sit down and take a breather, because there's something wrong, and I'm gonna end up making a fool of myself. Number two was alot more important though, and alot more life altering. Number two, I learned that they really are out to get me.

So, as I'm out there running, and then subsequently shuffling, I realize that there are alot more people yelling for me than usual. I mean, I knew that the spikes were cool and all, but I didn't think they'd make my life that much better. As I passed the skyline coach, he kept giving me advice, encouraging me. The only problem was, his advice was always 5 seconds late.

In fact, everybody's cheers were 5 seconds late. Random people I didn't know kept telling me I was doing great 5 seconds after I ran past them. I didn't know what was up, but I sort of liked it. I mean c'mon, everybody loves fans.

Coming around the 300 curve for lap 5 or 6, an emotional brick hit me in the chest. I could hear a couple guys coming up behind, and I knew they'd pass me sooner or later, but I was going to delay the inevitable as long as possible. I'm just running along, and then the skyline coach, as clear as a bell yells "Thatcher! Make your move now, get around this guy as soon as you're on the straightaway!"

And then it hit me. The skyline coach didn't know my name. He didn't think I was cool. He probably wasn't even jealous of my track shorts like I had assumed. Right then and there, I figured out the saddest thing since my pet cat died.

There was a kid named Thatcher on the skyline team, and he was definitely about to pass me up.

I got beat by somebody with my own name. Somebody who's cheers I had been riding the whole race. Somebody who probably has a better neckbeard than I do.

My life is meaningless.

All kidding aside, wow, that was a shocker. Sort of a hurtful shocker, I'm not gonna lie. There's another Thatcher out there, and he beat the crap out of me.

You know what this means? I've got two options. Train crazy hard so I can beat him next time, or, better yet, kidnap him and assume his identity. If he's got a better neckbeard, I see no reason to keep on being me when I could just as easily go on being him. He runs faster, and c'mon, neckbeard.

So there it is. Neckbeards and track meets.

Life is going pretty good. I'm trying to install solaris on the Annie-computer I got, but I'm not having too much success as of yet. I'll have to work that all out tomorrow, it's getting pretty late. The T-ville invitational is this saturday, and it ought to be pretty good. It's gonna be forever long, but it'll be a fun meet. We'll see some really good athletes, and then we'll see clements beat them at the mile. Hooray!

So, that's all I got folks. The MS paint competition is still going on, if you want to submit anything else. I'm going to close it down soon, I'm basically just waiting for kyle. Thanks to everybody who participated, I'll figure out a way to vote soon.

There's some good stuff on the horizon, just you wait.

Things are looking up, in fact, things are up. Every time I say that they're gonna be good. Well guess what, things are pretty good. Today, things are good. Yeehaw.

Bienvenidos

Happy Day! It's the week of April 17th to April 22nd. That's only a 6 day week. Who knows why.

What's New:
April 17th, 2006:
-4 new pictures in the gallery
-new welcome post

Events for the week:
-Late Start Day Wednesday
-Track meet weds. at Alta
-T-ville Invitational @ Tville Saturday.

Picture of the Week

Yeah, that's my brother. What a stud.


Quote of the Week

"Having a relationship is alot like peeing in a urinal. Great and all, but if you get too close it'll come back and hit you."
-Christopher Thatcher

That's right, the quote is a Christopher Thatcher original. I'm pretty proud of it actually. It's witty, funny, and accurate. Score. If any of you are offended by that, I apologize. It was just too good to pass up.

So, things are pretty good. I'll write tomorrow or something good. Anyways, happy last day of spring break. I'm still accepting paint art, so hurry and finish it up and send it over. Well, Hooray. Till then~

Back, to the Future

It's funny how our surroundings can have such an impact on our inward feelings.

Starting blogs is hard. My blogs are always too long. I'm going to write this whole thing in 15 minutes so it doesn't get too long. Ready, go.

Today is April 13th, 2006. The weather is pretty typical for Spring in Utah. It smells exactly like spring ought to. In the end, it's spring, and the weather is gorgeous. It's not perfect frisbee conditions, but it's still amazing weather.

My feelings are directly tied to the weather. I mean, I'm almost always happy, but the things I want to do are tied to the weather. They say that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory, and I suppose that's true. Weather is tied to my memory a ton, especially the way that the weather smells.

Today has a very unique smell.

Last year about this time, life wasn't so great. Lets face it, things sorta sucked. I'm pretty sure I missed all of spring last year. It's just not there.

That means when I go outside these days, I'm taken back to the past. Not to last year, but to the last time that I really stopped to notice the weather, the end of 8th grade.

You have no idea what sort of impact this is having on me. Everything about me is yearning to go back to April 2004. All I want to do is capture the flag. Welling up from deep within me is the primordal urge to run, dodge, hurdle, and then grab the bandana and book it. It's an undeniable force. It's just what I want to do.

Spring 2004, here's to you. I long to be there. Before I had to worry about stuff. Back in the day when night games meant playing games outside at night. It didn't mean watching a movie, it didn't mean playing catchphrase again. It was exactly what it said. Sometimes I forgot my belt and we had to play halo, and sometimes we had to play a little DDR, but in the end it was good times.

It was the future. It was really the first time I had ever started hanging out with girls outside of school. It was when we started growing up. We were growing up, but not changing. Now everything has changed, everybody has changed. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but things are different now. They're not so innocent. Back in the day, it was me and my boys for life. It was always gonna be that way, things were always gonna be great.

Now, maybe things are great, maybe they're not, nobody knows for sure. The real thing though, is that they're not the way I thought they'd be. They're not the way anybody thought they'd be I think. Back in the day, we got a glimpse of what the future could be like. Well, the future is now an alternate, and it's a good alternate, but I can't help wanting to be back, back when the air was clean, the grass was green, and the flag was within my reach.

I know I can't really go back, but my subconcious really wants to. I find myself sitting here, looking at the messenger window, waiting for all my good friends from 2 years ago to get online. It takes a while to remember that I'm 730 days too late.

The weather takes me back to a more innocent time. A peaceful time. I know that life wasn't perfect, and it wasn't any better than it is now. But ya know, just for today, I want to go back.

Here's to you, timeline at the dollar theaters. Here's to you, capture the flag in that circle over there. Here's to you, DDR in robert's basement, and here's to you, my perpetually lost belt. You've served your country well.