A look at my iPod's notes

Every once in a while, I'll have a thought. Something so stunningly deep, so deeply meaningful, so meaningfully eloquent that I cannot stand to lose it. So I go and write it down on my iPod. There's a handy little "notes" program that pretends to be a very miniature legal pad. With a keyboard.

So now I've decided to go through these notes and show you all how wonderful my little tidbits of thought are. Prepare to be stunned.

Note #1:
"Every time you give the prayer your future spouse gets hotter.
Why not every time you sing the hymn or give a talk?
Every time you ditch church your future wife becomes a bigger nag?
Every time you finish a Personal Progress requirement your future husband gets poorer? [I think I meant richer. Oops.]"

Note #2:
"Blog ideas
Rick Palmer
Thinking
Disneyland and the Gospel
Intuitive econometrics
Orthodoxy is humility?
Tragedy envy
Children of Eden and allegory
Children of Eden and religious revulsion
Paz De Cristoj [typo!]
Atlas Shrugged and 3 Nephi
Things I miss about choir
The best place to sit on the bus
I am not funny
See, Kayla, I can sound dumb too [hmm. sounds familiar]"

Note #3:
"Institute is awkward."

Note #4:
"Flu Awareness Month?
Is anyone not aware of the flu?"

Note #5:
"Peregrine falcons on Temple Square

Joseph Smith Sr reunion--ecumenicism

We glorify civil disobedience in china... 'I'm a government official. I'm going to forget your name.'
'No one ever told me about polygamy.'

I'm going to become Mormon because of NuSkin.

I wish I were a sister missionary..."

There are many more notes, but I think this gives you a taste of the erudition of my everyday thoughts.

Fun with anagrams

Dave Barry started it. Mike Toludo (whoever he is) inspired it. And now, with the help of anagramlogic.com, I'm continuing it.

Michael Cates can be respelled:

• ate chemicals


• cats heal mice


• acclaims thee


• teal Mesa chic


• hates calm ice

Leah Francis can be respelled:

• her can fails


• rich ales fan


• elf cash rain


• half-acre sin

Andrew Kurth can be respelled:

• the raw drunk


• what drunker?


• hark, wed runt

Makenzie McFadden can be respelled:

• dame nicknamed fez


• amazed deck men


• demand mace ink, Fez


• ink me, man-faced zed

Kayla Legler can be respelled:

• kale allergy


• real keg ally


• ye legal lark


• And in her name you can find "ale," "keg," AND "lager." All that's missing is the plain and simple "beer."

My name is very infertile. This is the best I could come up with:

• Ken has an job


• joke ban hasn (No, I have no idea what a hasn is. But it's apparently a word.)


• Khan banjoes

By the way, I have ABSOLUTELY NO COMMENT on any of the things that happen to be in your names. I am NOT RESPONSIBLE for whatever happens to be in your own name.

THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF JAKOB KRISTIAN HANSEN

(not necessarily accurate; as I become older and older, the disutility of thinking seriously about my death lessens, and thus this document will become more and more reflective of my actual wishes as time goes on.)

First of all, we’ll have to discuss who gets my stuff:

Any chat logs found on my computer become property of the other party to the conversation; for any group chats, each party gets a copy.

My school papers and notes are to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. (Or, more likely in this case, the person willing to take them away for the least amount of money.)

Michael Cates receives all my non-Vassals compositions written after 2005. He also receives my iPod. I wish I could give him my piano, but I can’t. Oh, but he does get my copy of the New Oxford Book of Carols. If he promises to use it.

William Ramsey receives the rights to Vassals on the Loose and any other operetta-related things we may have written. If he so wishes, he can dig through the piles of my past papers to find these things. Or he can just be satisfied with the Word and Finale files.

Andrew Kurth receives all memorabilia relating to the fiasco that was Tigagech, as well as any of my voluntary writings previous to 2006.

Taylor Kerby gets anything he wants. That’s right, he can override anyone’s bequest listed here. But I’m sure he won’t. He’s just too nice.

Leah Francis gets my laptop. I think she also gets ownership of my blog.

My pecuniary assets will be completely liquidated, placed in $1 bills, and given out one by one to unsuspecting individuals. There will be a 10% margin of error for graft and embezzlement, if you absolutely must have some of my money.

If you aren’t listed here and you want something else that’s not listed here, talk to Taylor about it. And don’t be offended that you aren’t listed here. I may not have anything concrete from my relationship with you, but you can still have a piece of me.


My funeral will be joyous and lively. Crying on the day of my death is expressly forbidden. There shall be a 10,000 voice choir which will perform works by Ligeti, Messiaen, Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms, ending with Mozart’s Requiem. This will take a long time, so members of the choir can take individual breaks if needed. Beyond that, it should be a simple, refined affair. Follow the standard LDS funeral form, but keep in mind that anyone crying will be forcibly removed from the room, including speakers. And don’t give me any of this “tears of joy” nonsense. Two words: NO CRYING.

See, Kayla, I can sound dumb too!

So, my English class currently consists of a set of three "Catapults" prepared each day. Sometimes I really like them and write great stuff for them. Other times, well...

Nothing I can write will better convey my contempt for this activity than a blank page. Actually, that’s not true. A satirical response will.

He reads Derrida and draws from it a life-force. He rails against society with the fury of a lion that has been tortured by an idiotic child with a BB gun. He aims to show his utter superiority—his tone, topic, and manner all convey this.

Or maybe:

In order to disguise himself, he began shopping—finding a collection of items just strange enough to suggest that a real (though eccentric) person were buying them. He apparently wants to claim the persona of a young father sent on a shopping errand with orders to buy the hodgepodge of items the household is missing. While shopping, he became hungry and decided to grab a Snickers bar and eat it.

When the police finally found him, he was looking for the store brand of Cheerios, which were on sale. When he saw the police, he dashed off, dropping his Snickers bar, and the police gave chase, eventually catching him in the poultry section. His white, battered Hyundai Elantra was unharmed in the chase.

Or this:

Then, of course, I would do every risky thing that I might ever want to do. After all, the potential loss is a lot smaller now: fewer than three days of life rather than my indefinitely greater previous potential lifespan. So, bungee jumping, cliff diving, and the rest.

UPDATE!!!! From today:

I blink and the room changes. Stark, geometric slabs give way to nuanced, organic flows. Heavy substance flees for open space. Reason and thought retreat; exuberance and joy replace them. I blink again and the ordered world returns.

(Content may have been edited for anti-clarity.)

(NB: Kayla, I'm not saying here that you sound dumb. Rather, I'm saying that I don't always sound smart. (NB: "NB" stands for "Nota Bene," or "Note Well" in Latin.))

I really like my English class

Because we do a lot of fun writing. Like this—the prompt was, in essence, you are Aladdin, trapped in the cave with the genie, and must choose a wish. Choose something awesome, or you're not getting out of the cave.

Let me get this straight. I’m trapped in a cavern, alone with my pet monkey and a genie, and I have to, this moment, pick the one thing I want most in this world? And it can’t be anything lame like a million dollars? I have to come up with a creative and unique wish that probably could only be fulfilled by a genie? At least the cave isn’t actively collapsing on me, so my decision time is only limited by how long I can last without food. And Abu, he’s a pretty big monkey, so if worst comes to worst…

That’s it. I know. I want food.

Not just any food, but all food. I want to be able to have any food I want, whenever I want. I am perpetually hungry; either I don’t want to bother preparing food for myself, I don’t want to spend money on food, or I don’t want to spend time eating it. This wish would at least get rid of two of those problems.

Or maybe I could just say that I never want to be hungry again; if I want, I can eat, but only because it tastes good. That way I don’t lose the marvel of a delicious meal, made all the better by the hard work I put into it.

Of course, I would still lose the increased enjoyment of food brought on by hunger. So I guess what I really want is the ability to control my hunger. When I want to be hungry, I’m hungry. When I don’t, I’m not. Okay? Now get me out of this cave.

Memories from Red Mountain choir

• A choir that's willing to try anything awesome


• Going to Singers while it's still dark


• Caroling


• Any and all festivals


• Bus rides


• Singing the national anthem


• Caroling


• The Madrigal Dinner


• Making sarcastic comments to people during choir


• Having to change costumes during a concert


• Caroling


• Robson almost dying at Jazz-Mad (not the almost dying part, but the part where Taylor Kerby grabbed everyone for a group prayer)


• Singing Lamentations of Jeremiah in the line to Indiana Jones


• Singing as we walked out of the choir room


• Having Dr. Hughes come in and work with us


• Learning a song a week before performing it


• Clinicians with bouncy hair


• Caroling

I am not an ASU student

Or, more accurately, I am not a Sun Devil. I don't subscribe to the sense of group identity that seems to define ASU students. I happen to attend ASU, but only because of the benefits it brings me. I don't attend ASU to join an arbitrary union of students bound by common allegiance to athletic programs. I attend ASU to 1) learn, 2) get a degree, and 3) get scholarship money. Honestly, does Michael Crow think he can buy my allegiance with a measly $15,000 per year? I have my own sense of group identity quite separate from anything ASU offers. I am probably more loyal to Red Mountain than I will ever be to ASU. And given my lack of conspicuous school spirit at Red Mountain, it's surprising I'm not plotting the demise of this great institution of higher learning.

Sweet lady irony rears her head (hurrah for mixed metaphors)

In English today, we discussed the importance of considering audience when writing. To build this skill, the class broke into groups to come up with pro- and con- arguments intended for a particular audience. The topic: the drinking age.

None of the members of my group seemed to want to do anything. One seemed bored and unmotivated, another seemed unsure of his ideas, and the third seemed...drunk.

Maybe I'm being overly harsh. Maybe she was just really tired. Then again, maybe she was high. I don't know. But she seemed drunk. She didn't seem to have all her cognitive skills at her fingertips. She was giggly and sometimes burst out with random thoughts: "Oh, I just realized! A private eye could be a private eye, but also a private I, like a private investigator!" (This topic derailed our class for 5 minutes.) She complimented me on my handwriting several times. Except for my "d"s. She liked her own "d"s better. She sat on the table instead of a chair.

I guess I've done that before, though. In class, no less. But that was AcaDeca, not English 102. And I wasn't drunk.

And I feel really mean now. Still, the irony's too good to pass up.

Please remember to take your personal items when exiting the bus.

This new announcement accosted me when I boarded the bus Thursday morning, shortly after the heartwarmingly maternal "Please watch your step" that the doors command when they open. It joins the perennial "Attention, passengers. The fare box will only issue passes when the correct fare has been paid." (I always mentally replace this announcement with "Attention passengers. The fare box will only issue passes when DEATH is on the line!" Wouldn't that be so much better?) And of course are the frequent (and frequently absent, when the system is broken) announcements of "Approaching (Street Name). Transfer to (Bus routes)." This announcement is rather funny when I get to ASU, because at the stop I exit at, there are a huge number of transfers. So the announcement goes "Approaching—College Avenue—Transfer to—Route one—Route forty-four—Route fifty-six—Route sixty-two—Route sixty-six—Route seventy-six—Route eighty-one—Route ninety-two...Orbit Circulator." There isn't a recording for every single stop, so they string together a bunch of recordings for each section of the message. It sounds as if the woman announcing pauses every two words to gather her thoughts.

Back to the original pronouncement. It's extremely well enunciated. So much so that I can hear the explosive initial "p" briefly overload the microphone. And do they really have that serious a problem with it? I know occasionally elementary school students will leave items on buses, but that problem diminishes as the students age. On a bus used by the general public, no one should be leaving their personal possessions.

Isn't it great how much amusement I can get out of analyzing such quotidian things as the announcements on buses?