the world is about to get a lot smaller.

No One Wins The Price is Right

Internet readers--yes, all four of you--I have a confession to make. I'm Mormon. Dyed-in-the-wool, true blue, card-carrying member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My parents are from Utah, my ancestors did the pioneer thing, and I am a Mormon. MOR-MON. I was baptized when I was eight years old. I served a mission when I was 19--in Idaho, of course. I go to church every Sunday, I pray, and I love it. My faith is everything to me.

The temple in beautiful, hipster sepia

So im'a wax religious a bit and let you in on a habit of mine. I try to attend the temple in Mesa regularly--usually once every week or two weeks or so. Now, for those of you who may not be familiar, temples are different than our normal meetinghouses where we hold Sunday services. In temples we remember God by making covenant promises with him. One of the covenants we make in temples is marriage.  We also go to the temple to perform vicarious ordinances for those who have passed away. It's a peaceful place--going there helps me reconnect with God and myself. What can I say? Mormons gotta morm.

Since my disposable income is, well, limited, I decided to take the bus for my regular trip to the Mesa Temple. My typical temple attire of shirt and tie this time came accompanied by a sweater, beanie cap, gloves, and a scarf to keep me company for the walk to and from the bus stop--perfect attire for a friday night ride on the city bus. I blended in well with gentleman sitting opposite me chomping on a three-foot slim jim who was wearing a black T-shirt bearing a bold, red "SWAG" on the front and KanYe shutter shades dangling from the neck.

Burying myself in Chinese flashcards, I ching-chong-ding-donged the rest of the 30 minute bus ride toward the temple, trying to switch buses midway but quickly abandoning that plan and trying to reenter the bus and being questioned by the bus driver whether or not I had a pass. I at last arrived, debussed, realized I overshot, doubled back, jaywalked, realized I left both my beanie cap and my gloves on the bus, and after a stroll through a neighborhood, now an hour after starting my journey, I reached the doors of the temple which of course were

locked.

An acceptable plan B

The temple was closed for cleaning--and has been for a couple weeks. Last week when I tried to go to the temple my car ran out of battery and saved me the trip. I received no such divine providence today.  But not to be defeated, I turned my temple trip into a self-guided tour of the Christmas lights on display, and also popped in on the nightly christmas concert on the pop-up stage by the temple visitors' center. The group performing just happened to include an old friend from high school.

Still hatless and gloveless, (but not scarfless -  ha!) I said hi to my friend and made my way solito back through the lights and toward the bus stop. As I passed the temple doors I noticed a familiar face reach for the door. It was Jacob, a friend who goes to my church. In the creepiest way possible I gave him an over-the-shoulder hello. He laughed at our surprise encounter but quickly asked where to go to help out with the temple cleaning. It was then I remembered that a couple of guys from my ward (not me) were scheduled to help out cleaning the temple. I offered to help Jacob find where he needed to go and decided to crash the cleaning party. I didn't take that bus for nothing.

Before I knew it I was on my knees coating a tiled floor with mild acid and scritch-scratching away grout dirt with a temple toothbrush. It wasn't the temple-going meditative experience I had expected, but then again, I hadn't expected a lot of things to happen on the night of December 9th.

After getting an insider tour on the not often seen corners of the house of the Lord, Ben, another guy in my church, and Jacob and I went back out into the cold and into Jacob's parked Malibu. He had offered me a ride home (what a sweetheart!) and offered Ben a ride to his car (lazy bum!). Our 2 minute car-to-car transfer chat was all about cars, so when we finally caught sight of Ben's ride, a shiny red beauty that may as well have been a Bentley, I coyly asked "How much' that set you back Ben?"

My ha-has and other feigned chuckles muffled Ben's smiling response: "nothing- I won the price is right."

My ha-has suddenly ha-halted. "What?"

"I won it on the price is right!" Ben continued. "I WON the Price is Right!"

a TV game show theoretically
impossible to win

Jacob and I found our laughter again. Ben wasn't finished. "Yeah, I won it on The Price is Right.  I also won a surfboard, a cell phone, a dining set from China, and four gold bars."

Jacob exploded--"GOLD BARS? Ben, I know you're an honest man, but gold bars??"

I was equally incredulous. There was no way this night was happening. It had to be the acid we were using to exorcize the grout. Nobody actually wins the Price is Right. I don't care who you know, nobody actually wins that show. The contestants are all actors, the prizes are fake, and the games are rigged. It's that simple. Don't cry, just accept it. Ben, you play quidditch for ASU. You did not win the price is right. We was straight trippin.

And then, like magic, the youtube proof was in front of me via Ben's iPhone. Halloween 2008, our friend Ben made it from contestants row, to under the arm of Drew Carey, to under the arm of the closing-credit models. Ben won the price is right. All of it.

That was my night. I expected a typical temple trip. Instead, I tripped on cleaning acid and found out my friend, sans-italian job, won four gold bars.  The moral of the story? If you want to live magical, take the city bus.

Dreamers vs. Pritchetts

I watch the show Modern Family, which airs on ABC. The show's most recent episode was a Thanksgiving story, to be sure, but more a story about dreams and dreamers--and their arch enemy, reality. Cam, the pink-shirted, husky gentleman in the focal point of the freeze frame above, is one of those dreamers. For years he has enjoyed "delighting" listeners in conversation about one of his tall tales in which he and his friends launched a pumpkin the full span of a football field. The pumpkin, according to Cam, sailed through the opposite goalposts and into the open roof of the school principal's car.

Through all the years of telling the tall tale of his "punkin' chunkin'" experience, his partner Mitchell Pritchett and other members of the Pritchett clan never believed that the story was true and that it was merely an exaggeration. In the episode as well are the spouses of two more Pritchetts, Phil Dunfey, and Gloria Pritchett who both complain that the Pritchetts are dream-stiflers. All of the conflict culminates in the scene pictured above where Cam sets out to validate his story and chunk a punkin' just like he did those many years ago. As the extended family runs out onto the football field to prepare for the test, Phil exclaims: "Dreamers versus Pritchetts!"  The realistic Pritchett's then watch with all the cynicism they can muster as Cam pulls back the pumpkin and prepares to launch.

Dreaming is hard work. Despite the quantity of inspirational rags to riches, basement to boardroom, nobody to known-by-everybody tales, we still find ourselves up against an army of Pritchetts who seem to find security in disbelief. They have got evidence, sure. Dreaming is risky--unwise, unsafe. Dreaming is also time-consuming and often expensive. Dreams are often deferred as fast as they are dreamt. 

Langston Hughes wrote this:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I surely cannot compare myself very well with Mr. Hughes, as his experience in life as a Harlem Renaissance poet was a bit different than mine. But I think he was onto something universal with this poem he titled based on the concluding two words of the first line. I'm a dreamer. I believe life should be exciting. I believe in going big or going home. I believe in living magical.

Sadly, for better or for worse, the magic we seek to conjure does not come. We reach into the hat and come out rabbitless. When I was little, I watched Thomas the Tank Engine and wanted to be train engineer. In middle school, I read Rich Dad, Poor Dad and fantasized about being a really-rich real-estater. As a high school student, I went to AP English class and yearned to be a "stand-and-deliver" English teacher. Older, I started playing piano and dreamed of playing Debussy on a Steinway. 

All of those dreams have since been deferred. Some have dried up, some fester, and some just sag.

The crazy thing about us dreamers, though, is that we never seem to stop dreaming. We are rebuffed at what seems to us every turn, but we still keep punching our way through. How beautiful it is that the persistence often brings success. We know the names. We know the stories. Here's one: my uncle dreamed of starting a hot dog stand. He kept his day job, stayed grounded, but three years ago he started his hot dog restaurant in a small town in Utah. He grills hot dogs and they are to die for. He chunked his punkin' through the goal posts and just nailed the principal's car.

So here I am again, dreaming. I'm keeping my feet pointed toward a day job, but my eyes toward the stars. This blog has everything to do with my current dream. I want to create a blog that chronicles my efforts to live magical--specifically, my current adventures as a Chinese learner living with Chinese natives. I want to make a blog that people enjoy reading, and, even better, that brings together two of the most powerful nations in the world. I want to make an English version. I want to make a Chinese version. I want to have beautiful photos to draw in readers. I want to have interesting writing that keeps them reading. I want to update each of these two blogs bi-weekly. I want to commit myself to that, and keep it.

My Dad loves the musical Man of La Mancha. It must be hereditary, because I love it too. The movie version starring Peter O'Toole and Sophia Loren tells the story of a man gone mad who mistakes a mundane journey for a glorious knight's quest. Here is a famous monologue spoken at the play's climax:

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? 

To surrender dreams --this may be madness; 

to seek treasure where there is only trash. 

Too much sanity may be madness! 

But maddest of all is to see life as it is and not as it should be.

Sounds good to me. Look out Pritchetts, another dreamer is on his way.

"Want to go to the dance? Gotta wear the shoes." ~ Phil Dunfey

The Top Ten Businesses Most Likely to Survive the Apocalypse

For us God-fearin' folk, we hold the belief that one day Jesus Christ himself will come again, cleanse the earth by fire, and thereafter rule and reign over a thousand-year period of peace and happiness--a period of time we call the Millenium. Those that will survive the rapture will be good people, though not necessarily adhering to a specific sect or creed.

For me, though, I don't usually think of who will survive the apocalypse, but rather, which businesses will survive to enjoy millenial patronage. These businesses must be awesome--REALLY awesome. Forget the Better Business Bureau, we're talking DIVINE establishments. Consumer oriented, helpful, ain't-goin'-cheat-ya establishments. Though it's up to the Son of God himself to decide which enterprises make the cut, may I offer my opinion as to which companies will be our go-to when the world gets it's garden of Eden status once again:

1. Amazon.com - definitely our one-stop millenial internet shop. I mean, already in our cold, fallen world this company manages to offer an incomparable variety of goods at great prices. To top it off, spend just 25 bucks on a single order and they'll ship it free. Don't forget the unbeatably celestial customer service. Just think, when Christ is here as king, Amazon will probably send an angel to deliver your new sonicare toothbrush--and that angel will probably give you a hug and offer you a foot massage.

2. Watson's Flowers in Mesa - When I think flowers, I always think Watson's. Family owned for almost a century and worth it's age in gold. The service is superb, the prices are decent, and the products are beautiful and elegant. You can tell they really care about flowers. When the moon turns to blood, don't you worry about Watson's. They'll sail on a flowery cloud of righteousness all the way through to deliver us a beautiful bouquet when the world stops shaking.

3. In-n-Out Burger - In-n-Out is in the world but certainly not of it. While the fast-food joints of world hide their underpaid employees behind a wall and set them about shuffling together frozen, year-old ingredients before bagging them and throwing them out a drive through window, In-n-Out rises above. Rolling throug the drivethru lane gives you a open view of all the relatively well-paid cooking staff as they prepare your fare. Then there's the barebones menu--priced for the common man--and for the five bucks you'll hand over for a combo meal, you'll get a delicious burger with special sauce, fries that are fresh cut on-site, and a beverage of your choice. Don't forget the free-agency to customize your order however you want. Best of all--pleasant, well paid staff that just look so adorable in their cute, old-school uniforms. Earthquakes in divers places can't topple In-n-Out.

4. Café Rio - Any restaurant with a cooking staff that will shout in unison whenever I get extra cheese, extra meat, or a free meal is a restaurant that will be permitted to tarry when the Savior comes again. And the staff? They sure know how to make a burrito. Service with a smile--now that's a millenial merchant.

5. Kranky Franks - Right now in our cursed world you'll only find this gem of a hot dog stand in Springville, Utah, but when the Earth gets its paradisical glory, you'll find a franchise around every street corner. Maybe I'm biased (the owners are my aunt and uncle) but the deliciousness alone of the flagship dog--dubbed the "Danger Dawg"--is their ticket straight to a perfect location in your local millenial food court. The small town, family style service doensn't hurt either.

6. Happy Cleaners - When the Messiah is here calling the shots, you'll need to make sure you look sharp. Keep your suit coat classy during the Millenium by dry-cleaning it at Happy Cleaners. Yes, they'll clean your whatever. Yes they'll do it at a decent price. And YES they will do minor repairs and button reattachments FREE with your cleaning. A holy business isn't hard to spot--Happy Cleaners assuredly passes muster.

7. Kat's Korner - Saturday nights in an era of millenial peace will never be boring thanks to Kat's Korner, the best spot for swing dancing on earth. The dance space is small--but the music is always fresh and the atmosphere is safe and super fun. Prices are heavenly--dancing the night away is only $5 for students and $7 for older, richer people. With celestial crowds, I'm sure the only thing that could make Kat's an even hipper dance space is more real estate, which will be no problem after the world becomes a sea of dance-ready glass.

8. Lon D. Lawrenz, DDS - With all the candy we'll be able to eat guilt-free during the reign of our Redeemer, we'll likely need a good dentist to match. People from all over the world will be driving their personal, supersonic jets to Tempe for dental service by Dr. Lawrenz. Just walking into the office makes me feel like I've died and gone to heaven as I'm greeted personally by name by the desk assistant. After being rolled up as a scroll, the Earth will still be blessed by the personal-touch awesomeness of Dr. Lawrenz and his equally divine dental hygenist staff.

9. Pixar Animation Studios - With the disappointing Cars 2 and the upcoming I-feel-like-I've-seen-this-movie-a-million-times-before-princess-flick Brave being the only products of Pixar convincing us that we haven't yet opened the seventh seal, Pixar is a no brainer for the millenial nice list. Pixar has proved time and time again that it is possible to make amazing movies that the whole family can enjoy. They're funny, they're heartwarming, and the animation just gets better and better. For restoring our faith in good, wholesome, top-tier media, Pixar is a shoe-in for millenial movie dominance. Don't fret, Dreamworks fans. Even the unrighteous will be resurrected after the thousand years are over.

10. Costco - The Millenium is going to be AWESOME and we're definitely going to be throwing a LOT of parties. Thanks to a celestialized Costco, we'll be well stocked for our get-togethers and much more. Costo may have changed its name from Price Club of old but the glory of wholesale prices has never changed. The stores are immense, but when you get hungry from making your weekly pilgramage to the back of the store, there's delicious tastings and free samples to sustain your journey back to the check out lanes. And after-shopping appetites are easily whetted by the food court. One dollar and fifty cents for a polish dog and drink? There's no doubt Costco will be our number one "terrestrial" supplier for all our thousand-year needs.

What about you? What businesses do you think will be around your Millenial corner?