Humidity pt. 2

The other day I had my teeth cleaned. Last time I had my teeth cleaned at this particular place, the dentist, he said this to me as I was leaving the building, "Do you work out? You got a nice shape." I didn't know how to respond, so I said, "Thanks"

This office is a bizarre place.

While the dental assistant hacked away at my mouth, K-love was in the background. For those of you reading this and are not familiar with K-love, it is the local Christian music radio station that plays such cutting edge hits as DC Talk, Carmen, and the new John and Charles Wesley hymn.

Anyway, as I sat there rocking out to 4Him, I realized something. There were a lot of demands on my mouth. Confess! Spit! Wider! Don't Gossip! etc.

It's moments like these that I miss about the south.

Humidity pt.1

Where have you been?

I was out.

Where? Were you with her?

Well, maybe, stop judging me. MOM! I LOVE HER!

You don't know what love is!

Oh, is that right, you and Dad gave me a great example!

That was a dramatic performance of my absence from the blogosphere. And also some thoughts on divorce.

I've missed you all. Let me catch you up on the West Coast rumblings.

The end of the quarter almost took my life. I almost stopped living. I had a ton of reading and major papers. But, let me tell you about what I did this past weekend.

Last week, after completing a 15 page paper on the Tower of Babel and giving a presentation on the immigration law in Arizona, I flew to Jacksonville, Florida. This was a wedding of expectation. It was 3 years in the making. I remember the awkward non-dating time all the way to the awkward, "I think I love this girl" time. To be honest the later was more terrifying to me.

Hunter Price and Beth Fricker tied the knot, as they say. It was an exciting time and I almost cried 3 times. It was one of two things:

1. Something was in my eye

2.Hunter was getting married,

To be honest, it was number two.

The wedding was beautiful. Beth, the bride, was beautiful. The day was Humid. So humid in fact I could see the humidity. A person would create ripples in the humidity by walking. Gross.

But, I'm not convinced that it did not add to the magic of the day.

There is something to be said about having your friends and family there on your day, participating in the most life changing decision you will ever make. The one thing we had in common that day was a shared love and affection for the couple and the God-awful humidity.

It was lovely.

You may or may not know this particular fact about me. I am not a dancer. I've heard rumors that rhythm is a dancer. Gloria Estefan says that the, "Rhythm is going to get you." I've discovered both of these things to be true. I danced my heart out. After the rehearsal dinner a few of us went to a Saloon.

Yes, a Saloon.

We line line danced, and a Cowgirl tried to teach me how to line dance. I then became uncomfortable when she began to touch me in ways that were not allowed in the old west.

We then "Club Hopped". I have never done this or was even familiar with the concept. Apparently, this is when you go to multiple clubs in an evening. We went to the second club, we were not allowed immediate entrance to the club because the cops were, "busting a perp". This had good time written all over it.

At this point, I got the bug. I just had to cut loose, footloose.

Kick off your Sunday shoes

Please, Louise

Pull me offa my knees

Jack, get back

C'mon before we crack

Lose your blues

Everybody cut footloose

This is also to say nothing of move busting I did at the wedding, the picture above is evidence to that. I also me my dancing soulmate. His name is Sean. We were meant for each other on the dance floor. Any time I groove now, I feel as though something is missing, Sean is missing.

It was a party to say the least.

I returned to California working off a total of 7 or 8 hours of sleep and dominated a few exams. So for those of you considering a Masters Degree the key is to have as little sleep as possible. Trust me. I'm almost 25. But, thats a conversation for a different blog.

I want to write more but Johnathan wants to show me a youtube video on meteors and that sounds way better than Blogging right now.

To be continued...

Into the Great Wide Open

My mom, comedienne that she is, used to say the same thing when anyone asked her about camping, "My idea of camping is a Motel 6!"

Years later I have realized that my mother has scarred me. I don't really care for the outside. I have been known to say, "I hate the outside". My idea of fun is not necessarily sleeping on the ground, cooking over a fire, biodegradable toilet paper and packing out what you pack in (Especially when referring to T.P.).

When I was living in Columbia, I was involved in a youth group, I can say with confidence, I have never met a more active group of students in my life. If they weren't outside sleeping on rocks, climbing a tree or eating bark then they were wasting their time. So, as an involved leader in this group would go camping, but I would not like it. It was humid, the smoke from the fire would get in my eyes...why I was invited I'll never know.

I blame my good looks.

So you can imagine my surprise when I was invited on hiking trip.

Hiking is another interesting phenomenon. People ask me:

Matt, do you hike?

Well, I walk, I assume the principals carry over.

My wit and charm is often lost on them. Anyway, to the hiking trip. This trip had a name. We were going to hike the "Bridge to Nowhere". This did not sound promising to me. My idea of going nowhere is mostly reserved for when I talk about my life, girls or our welfare system (hi-yo!)

Little did I know that walking outside, (thats right, your not fooling me, hiking is just walking when you are OK with sweating) could be so pleasant! We hiked through the San Gabriel Mountains, forged rivers and avoided rattlesnakes.

Overall an exceptional day, I had the opportunity to see a portion of California otherwise I would have never been able to see. Growing up in Myrtle Beach, rarely are there natural things taller than I am. Hotels, yes. The ground, not so much.

Well, what else is going on?

A dear friend and former roommate, Hunter Price, is getting married on June 5th and I'll be flying to Jacksonville, Florida for that. It's a joyous event. Or At least thats what I'm telling myself, I can't help but think of Wayne's World when I think of marriage:

"Garth, marriage is a punishment for shoplifting in some countries."

I'll leave you with that.

On a scale of 1-100

How much better would my life be if I could breathe underwater? On a scale of 1-100: 7 billion.

I've lost it. I'm not sure I have ever had it. I'm not even really clear what it was, but it's gone.

My mind. It's gone. It resembles something like hummus.

I have resigned myself to really consider the big questions. Like the one at the top here. What would I do if I could breathe underwater? Swim all the time.

How sweet would it be if I could live in space? On a scale of 1-100: 10 billion

There is no doubt in my mind, if I am ever given an opportunity to go to space, consider it done. Whether it is Star Trek or the movie Moon, I'm there. Space, the final frontier. I need to explore. Here's the problem, I don't think I am any way prepared, academically, to go to space. Although, if we need to figure out how to evangelize space, I'm your man. Suffice to say, if there are any really rich readers out there, WESTCOASTMATT would be willing to go to space, I am not above doing Janitorial Duties. Keep me mind.

How much do I want to punch babies? Scale of 1-100: 100

I was at Starbucks the other day, you know, being a hip, cool student. Reading in the sun with my dark roast coffee. I'm feeling sufficiently arrogant and better than every one until I feel something hit me in the back of the head. A blueberry. I turned around and, what looked to me to be a 10 year old boy, launching these berries at passersby. Slowly, these blueberries became lethal and this sniper began to zero in on my head. I, casually turned my head to look at the responsible adult and give a visual cue to communicate, "Your kid hit me with a blueberry, please begin with the appropriate beating." To say the least, these bleeding heart liberal californians apparently don't believe in a healthy punishment.

I on the other hand became the man I am today because the stiff right hook from my father.

The end of my third quarter is approaching. This also signifies the halfway mark of my masters degree. Slowly, I am becoming a relative expert in the world of Theology. Maybe not an expert but someone who could in theory be viewed as someone who knows what they are talking about.

This brings me to some ideas for my next Master's Degree:

Hip Hop. Specifically the work of MF Doom and Jurassic 5

The Coen Brothers: The use of dark images in comedy

Shoes: Nikes Air Max 90's, Adidas Star Wars Edition. Why Nike is better than Adidas.

These are just a few thoughts on my continuing education.

Summer Loving

I'm currently taking applications for my summertime girlfriend. It will consist of hand holding and musical numbers. An Essay and 2 letters of recommendation are required. Freckles are a plus. Also, no commitment past Labor Day

Saturday, May 1st was a bizarre day. Really nothing about it was a typical day in my life. It started with heading into Downtown LA with a class group. We we're supposed to "observe" a community. Well, downtown was having a Cinco De Mayo celebration, and I can't think of a better use of my time. Taquitos and Margaritas were flowing like wine. (I'm not sure how the metaphor applies to taquitos...go with it) While we were downtown, we decided to "stop by" the march on city hall in opposition to the recent activities in Arizona.

I'm not sure how many protests you have attended, this was my first. It was philosophically interesting, but emotionally disconcerting. There were more or less 250,000 people in downtown LA, marching and protesting this recent bill. I don't know where you stand, but I make it a point to not talk about serious things, ever.

I'll leave it at this, what has Arizona really ever given me? A boycott doesn't really affect me, now if you ask me to boycott the GAP? Then I have some serious problems.

My day continued with homework, and then bizarrely enough I ended up watching The Notebook. But, let me tell you the circumstances surrounding it. I came home around 8:30, made a PB&J with raspberry jelly, a Gin and Tonic and sat down a balled my eyes out.

That darn Rachel McAdams is a spirited lady.

So, because of the events of my saturday, I have decided to hire for a new position.

"Summertime Girlfriend" The ad is at the top of this blog and any/all who are interested should reply by a comment to this blog.

Why the application? Well, I'm just trying to weed out the ones who are not interested in musical theatre. I think thats reason enough, I can have standards, right?

Also, if these marches are an indication of anything, it is the fact that the world is coming to an end. Maybe I am more sensitive to it now that I live in california - and a stiff breeze could knock this state into the pacific - but no one wants to be alone during the apocalypse.

Am I right?

Everybody's working for the weekend.

Whoo!! What a weekend. Let me tell ya! This is why I moved to L.A.

Recently, if you can believe I have felt super claustrophobic. Yes, mock me, living in one of the largest, and most famous cities in America, I complain about feeling boxed in. But, I have. I spend way to much time in the library.

This is not false humility. (That does not suit me, I think I'm great)

"No, no, it was my pleasure to give that Hobo $100!"

"I am not that smart, is a 2400 on the SAT really that good?"

But, I default to the library. When I think about where I should go to complete homework or study, I just end up at the library. It's like the auto-pilot turns on and without thinking, that's where I go. There are plenty of cool, hip coffee shops or Java Huts (as they call them here in LA), but I just go to the library like a huge loser.

Anyway, this weekend I had a much deserved blast in this town.

Friday, April 23 2010

Here in LA, the birthplace of Cinema, Turner Classic Movies held the 1st anual Classic Movie Festival. I had the pleasure of seeing Casablanca (one of my favorites of all time) in the famous Grauman's Egyptian Theatre. It was an original recording on loan from Warner brothers. This was an exceptional experience that you kind of expect to happen at some point while living here. At least I did. But, what was a little less likely, like seeing a shooting star, I was hit on. BY A GIRL!! I know, bizarre. This happens so infrequently, that you could set a broken watch by it. Buick was a sponsor of the festival, and while sitting in the drivers seat of the new Lacrosse one of the associates, while asking me car related questions asked what I drove,

I responded. "A Ford Explorer"

she then said, "Ooh, I would like to ride in that with you"

Awkwardly, not knowing what to do with my hands, "Um...can I get my free tote bag now please?"

Saturday, April 24 2010

Here in LA they have the Festival of Books. Which is just a bunch of publishers come and talk about books. Authors come and speak about their books. And you, the patron can spend money on books. I did not do much other than walk around, wishing I had more time to read books on Cooking, Knitting and Aliens: Fact or Fiction.

Sunday, April 25 2010

Sunday began like any other sunday. The alarm went off around 8:45 for church at 9:30. I was immediately annoyed that I needed to get up, but more annoyed that I have to pee. And by pee I mean, if I hold it any longer I'm going to pull a muscle. After church Sam and I ate some indian food.

Typical Sunday, nothing special.

Here's where it gets good. We stepped on the metro around 4:30 to head downtown to go to the Gibson Amphitheater. The Gibson holds about 6,000 people and has held the Grammy's, MTV Movie Awards and Possibly Purina's Dog Show (Don't quote me on the last one).

However, we went and saw CONAN O'BRIAN!! I could not have been more pumped, excited, ecstatic...I can't think of another word to express my emotional state. Let's suffice to say that I was beside myself. (Look at that, I came up with another one.)

Conan was great, hilarious as always. He had plenty of guests as well. Jim Carrey, Aziz Ansari, Sarah Silverman, Jack McBrayer and Jonah Hill to name a few.

A much needed weekend in the midst of a busy quarter filled with unfunny things like, systematic theology, the book of Genesis and ethnography's of clowns. (Oh wait...that last one is funny, my bad)

By the way, no one calls coffee shops, Java Huts, I just wanted to mess with you and see if I could get you to say it. But then I regretted it. Because how embarrassing would that if you came out here and said, "Hey, let's go to a Java Hut and chill" Everyone would point and laugh and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Not even Hitler, history already has a skewed view of that guy.

Mixtape

Here's the problem with Grad school.

It is seriously getting in the way of my TV watching. I mean between the 300 pages of reading I have from week to week, when do these professors think I have time to watch such gems as; Glee, Friday Night Lights, How I met your Mother, Chuck, 30 Rock, Community, Lost to name a few.

So annoying.

Life here on the West Coast has entered a monotonous place. School, school, school. I have found a way to break the monotony. At least for me anyway. I have discovered a website that may or may not have been created for me. www.8tracks.com

It is a place where people can make playlists out of their own library and post them for others to listen to. Its a great place to discover new music and share music. There is something hippy and bohemian about it. Don't get me wrong, I hate hippies. Like HATE! But, I like that they share.

But, this website I think is a genius idea. I have always loved making playlists. Anytime there is an opportunity, I sit at the computer and think through the songs. It is not an easy task. You don't just randomly pick songs place them in a devil may care manner. Songs need to have a flow. One needs to bleed into another. I needs to be a natural progression. You can't play Damian Rice and the next song be Rage Against the Machine. It doesn't work and throws off the party. You also have to take into account the guests. The "DJ", if you will, cannot play a lot of songs the audience does not know, the music should accent the group. Accent the conversation but not overpower. The DJ cannot be self indulgent enough to only play what he wants to hear, the DJ needs to throw in some Beyonce', Sting and a few obscurities here and there to encourage a broader listening palette.

Well, that gives you an insight into the weird, bizarre mind of Matt Johnson and the things I deem important. One of those things is a solid playlist.