Under the first ring you could hear another. It was quieter, almost imperceptible, it was almost unnoticeable, but it was there. It was odd.
"Hello."
"Umm, oh, hi."
There was a long pause here as the caller recollected his thoughts.
"Hello?" questioned the receiver, this time a bit agitated.
"Yeah, heh, sorry about that, um, hi this is Eric Cottrell, from your ward--" he let his voice trail off, waiting for some sign of recognition.
"Hi Eric."
"I was calling about the ward directory."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah, umm, I was calling because we don't have your picture and I was wondering if I could stop by in about an hour or so to take it. Would that be cool?"
"Oh, no, I'm actually going out right now. Sorry."
"Oh, no don't worry about it man; but do you think there would be a better time that I could stop by? Maybe tomorrow? Or maybe I could just get it off of Facebook?"
"Well, you know, I really don't think so... to be honest I don't really want to have my picture in the directory."
"Umm..." now there was another pause as the caller recollected his train of thought. "What?" he said to himself, "who gives a freak about their picture in some stupid directory. Its not like anyone's going to do anything weird with it... that's just odd."
"Hey, if you want, you can just put something funny in there or whatever. I just don't really want to be associated with a directory, okay?"
"Uh, yeah, okay, no problem man. Well, uh, thanks again. Talk to you later."
"Yeah, cool. Talk to you later."
It was until years later that the caller saw the headline-- "PROVO BOY DIES IN HORRIBLE PAPERCUT-DIRECTORY INCIDENT: FAMILY SHOCKED."

All Night Long!!!

Whatever happened to parties? When I was a boy a party meant that people were going to have fun. There would be cake and presents and games and even a special treat bag. Those were great parties.
Then there was an evolution to "boy/girl" parties (note: these were not hermaphrodite theme parties but rather parties in which both boys and girls were invited). I have always been very intrigued by those parties. I would usually stand and feel awkward for a while until my friends wanted to leave. I never really understood these parties. The old ones made sense, they were an opportunity to have fun. These new ones were so enigmatic to me. They were not fun. What were they for? In theory,the idea was for us to hang out. How can you plan to hang out? Doesn't that kind of ruin the point? On top of this, they generally had music playing just loud enough that you can't really understand what is being said. On top of all of this I usually knew only one other person.
This takes us to the present. After entering college, I realized that any hope of a return to the older kind of party was futile (note: actually, I have been to one of these kind of rehashed parties. NOT GOOD. It was just too weird.). I went to a few and found them very similar to the boy/ girl parties. Then, after quite a few unsuccessful parties, I realized that by just turning the volume up on the stereo, the boring boy/girl parties could become DANCE PARTIES. This realization saved my party life. If there is one thing that I like, it is shakin' it (note: if you don't know what it is don't ask.) Oh how I've passed the nights away into the early morning moving to the latest hits. It seems like they've all been so great. However, I've noticed a disturbing trend, for some reason people have been trying to revert to the old boring parties. I hope that by writing this, I can make a difference. People, if your going to throw a party MAKE IT LIVE! Turn up the rap music or just don't invite me.

How do we get to those other shores? To those blue hills?

My Dear Sweet Francis

Our life as dream
our time as a stream
Flows swiftly away
And the fugitive moment refuses to stay
That's what happens every week. Sorry mom, I always get a little behind in writing. I just wanted to say conference was great. I got to go to the last session on Sunday with Karen. It was a special opportunity to hear the prophet speak. One of the things I love the most about the messages of the prophets are their simplicity. Husbands love your wives, wives love your husbands, children love your parents, and vice versa. Man love your woman, woman love your man, isn't that a Crosby, Stills, and Nash song? I guess its pretty simple. It made me feel good to see President Monson express his great love for his own wife. There's no hypocrisy, just people who are doing their best. I'm glad to know that God, our Heavenly Father just wants us to do our best.

Karen and I took these pictures. I think I look better in the one with Karen's eyes closed. Sorry Karen.

Where Angels Fear to Tread

Yesterday I got a call from my old coach, Coach Wolfe. I have a message on my phone that anyone who reads this blog is as sick of as I am (Except my mom. I love you mom.). In the message I request a pep talk. I guess Coach Wolfe called to give me that pep talk that I've been waiting for. It couldn't have come at a better time either, I was kind of feeling down. His message went something like this "hahaahahaha!" It really took me back to my old little league days.
Coach Wolfe was a great man. He was as tall as steeple but as gentle as a flower. He had long hair and always wore sunglasses. I thought he was kind of a hippy. He usually didn't get very mad or make us work harder then we wanted to. He would give us pep talks about just having a good time and always making sure we wore a cup.
All of this stirred up some nostalgic feelings and somehow I ended up at this baseball diamond up the street. I sat in one of the old dugouts with the chain-linked fence and looking out I could almost see all of my old teammates running around on the field. Reed was catching, Eric Halstrom was pitching, and I was way out in right field. I liked playing in right field. I didn't know that it was the least important position. As a matter of fact, Coach Wolfe often praised my incredible hustle in right field. He'd frequently yell that to me. "Hey Brian," he'd say," great hustle out there in right field. Way to go man!" To this day whenever we play baseball, I trot out to right field knowing that its my zone. Nothing can get by me (of course not much even gets to me).
As I was sitting out there I remembered an old pep talk my dad gave me. Our team was losing and it was only about the 3rd inning. We all sat on the bench feeling dejected. My dad looked at me and said, "What are you doing? Its only the 3rd inning? The game is just getting started, you can't beat yourself now!" We did end up losing but I learned an important lesson about working hard. I think that's why I kept going back to baseball year after year. Even though I didn't have any talent, even though I was a scrawny little noodle armed kid, even though I felt like dying every time I struck out, I wanted to learn how to put in effort and not give up. Well, it was either that or the snacks they gave at the end...

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately

Yesterday (Sunday) I went on a long drive. I told my roommate Rob before I left. It was one of those long meandering drives wherein one seeks to better understand oneself but seems to only find that they've wasted about half a tank of gas. It was pretty enough though. I let the 89 take me where it wanted. That was to Scofield. As I was driving, I was reminded of this Hemingway story where the guy is out in the middle of nowhere and he just starts swearing out loud, just because he can. Its kind of weird to be old enough to do that (if I wanted to). I sat out by this old mine for quite a while and took a nap and just thought before I turned around to go. All in all, it was a fairly nice getaway. I guess I just needed some time to think.
When I got back, everyone wondered where I had been off to. I told them, but I think it would have been funny if I had ended up just driving off to Mexico and starting fresh. Maybe cut my hair and grow a beard. I think I'd probably end up working at Senor Frog's or selling chicles or something. I guess its better that I came home. If I hadn't , you guys would all be seeing this on the side of milk cartons in a couple of years

Last seen Age Progression

You Remind Me of a Girl That I Once Knew

This week I realized one of my old goals. To be an usher, nay, a head usher at stake conference. The prestige, the power, the respect, and, above all else, the usher badge. I remember thinking as a boy, that only the select best must be chosen after rigorous testing. Oh how I dreamed to be ranked among the tall sentinels that stood watch over the important proceedings. It was they who kept order.
I realize now that those dreams, as most of my other childhood dreams, were erroneous. Being an usher usually depends on whether or not you showed up 10:00 minutes early. I was designated an usher thusly.
Weird Guy: Hey do you wanna be an usher?
Me: Me? o.k.
It then became my job to be in charge of the "upper deck." This meant that I had to sit as far away as possible from the speaker.
The weird guy told me that it was "my show" up there and that I needed to take care of everything. I think I got way too into it. I was handing out hymn books and telling people to please be quiet, at one point I asked some people to leave (not really). I really wanted to go talk to people afterwards but I knew that a good usher never leaves his post. Instead, I made sure that all of the chairs were put away and picked up every piece of trash.
It was as i was putting a pen in a location where someone could easily locate if they came back that I realized that being an usher sucked. Ushers are usually guys that aren't married but are still young enough to stand for an entire meeting. Looking back, all of the guys I ever saw usher any stake conference were weird. As I left the conference alone, I made a vow: I will never again be an usher... unless they let me keep the badge.

Hurray For Stop Action

On Saturday night I went and saw the new film Be Kind, Rewind. Can I say here's to movies with heart? If its playing at a movie theater near you, I recommend it. It took me back to the days when I too was a fledgling filmmaker in Claremont, California. If I remember correctly, most of our movies involved incredible special effects and breathtaking stunts. Here's one of our old scripts:
Will: Hey bro, what's up?
Brian(facing away from the camera): Oh, my eyes hurt so bad!
Will: What is it? Let me take a look.
(Brian turns around quickly, revealing giant swollen eyes [made using ping-pong balls])
Brian: I think I have pinkeye.
End Scene
Afterwards, Amy made this guy that was trying to get with her stay and watch it. Amy laughed her head off. The guy didn't know what to do. It took everything in him not to gouge his eyeballs out and stick them in his ears to avoid the misery. When I someday accept some award for that film, or any other award which I am sure to accrue, your name will be on the list under little people.
Unfortunately that film was destroyed. Will recorded over it. Here's another movie.

Sweded - Ghostbusters

To The Point

So, I can honestly say that this was the worst valentines day I've ever had. If you know me, you already know why, if not, don't ask.
On an unrelated topic I do think it's appropriate that our celebration of love coincides with the death of a martyr.
Laura, I'm sorry that you never got the flowers, just wait till it stops raining though, there'll be poppies all over for you.
P.s. I found this picture of myself floating around the internet.

Sing, Sweet Nightingale

	Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music --- Do I wake or sleep? -- John Keats
	When I was a boy, there was a nightingale that lived in a bush by my window. Very late, as I would lay in the peaceful dark of the night, I would hear it singing. When we moved, I missed her evening song. I would lay awake at night and never know what it was I was missing. I suppose I never really recognized her. It wasn't until years later that I realized what it was. I was in front of a friends house, and in the middle of our conversation I heard the old melody. I probably looked crazy, but I just sat there, transfixed, listening. There are somethings that revive our senses. This last week was a bit melancholy. I haven't slept very well. I keep having strange dreams. I wake up a billion times, and walk in haze for most of the day. Friday, however, as I was walking home, I heard a bird sing. This is a rare occasion int the cold winter months. I had been staring at the ground for most of the day, and for the first time, I looked up. It was just a little black bird but it was beautiful. I realized that it was a beautiful day. I saw the other birds flying about. It made me glad. I am glad that God sent little birds to brighten our dreary days. I am grateful that he sent his Son to lighten them. I hope you all can enjoy yourselves this week.

Just this once...

I spent the weekend getting in touch with my Italian roots. I went and saw Puccini's Tosca Friday. Incredible. If you get a chance, worth it. Then Saturday, we watched the Godfather(don't worry, it was edited). I realized that if you are very careful, you can turn murder into art. I topped it all of by having a big Italian dinner on Sunday. We had meatballs, sausage, and indigestion. Mi piace la vita italiana!

Yeah, That's Right!

Do you want to see your precious b-boy?!?!??!?!?!?!?

So you thought only moms could hijack blogs?!?!? Well, we got news for you, there are also multilevel crime organizations that are interested in such practices!?!?!?! And we have some demands:
1) Root beer in all the drinking fountains, and we mean everywhere, not just at school. 2) More and more affordable lacoste shirts!?!?!?! 3) Longer weekends (and we don't mean more days... we mean actually somehow making them longer).
Unless our demands our met, you most likely won't get another post for at least a week?!?!?!?!?!?!

THE WHAT?!?!?!??!?!

I'd like to bust a rhyme and drop a line
to my man ERC, that cat is always on time
and even when I'm not he's still doin' fine
cause my boys well known from Mississippi to the Rhine
Well recognized on any plane that he be flyin' in
All the fly honeys wanna know what car he ridin' in
My homey push the whip a bonnaville on every trip
comin' quickly with the hit with all the rhymes that he flip
If big lips can sink ships then my man comes equiped with the dangerous quip to take 'em all for a dip, yep, he can kiss 'em off with the tip of his lip just as quick as the flick of a cigarette tip

Big ups to my boy ERC, better late than never.

Ghost Ridin' the Shamoo

So shall we come to look at the world with new eyes. It shall answer the endless inquiry of the intellect, — What is truth? and of the affections, — What is good? by yielding itself passive to the educated Will. ... Build, therefore, your own world. As fast as you conform your life to the pure idea in your mind, that will unfold its great proportions. A correspondent revolution in things will attend the influx of the spirit.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I feel bad. I went to church twice on Sunday, and I don't think I made the most of it. I found that if one goes to a meeting early in the day, and then goes to another later, it is very difficult for said person (me) to give the same fervor at both. So, as I sat in my second Sunday school meeting, I noticed that my sarcasm began to peak. This particular lesson was about the love of God. We were reading from John's epistles, these of course being an excellent discourse on God's supreme affection for us. The teacher put forth the question "What are things that demonstrate God's love for us?" Various members responded. Then one of them made the following statement: "I think that we can see God's love in the beautiful things around us. Why else would a flower be beautiful?" It was at this point that the unholy ether began to rain down sarcastic thoughts upon my otherwise unsullied mind. Is that the only reason? I immediately recalled what I had learned in molecular biology and Bee Movie. I nudged the friend next to me and told him that the young man's reasoning was faulty and began to describe evolutionary mechanisms that could better model the reasons for flower beauty (e.g. the attractiveness of a flower and its ability to procreate through the aid of pollination by bees). I'm pretty sure I ended up drawing some meaningless chemistry on a slip of paper just to get a laugh. I want to apologize to that guy for belittling his comment, unfortunately I cannot. I do realize however that he is right. Flowers are beautiful. Grass is green. The sea is vast. The heavens are vaulted. I don't think that science can really explain everything. Math may give us the string length; physics may give us the harmonic intervals; biology can explain how the ear perceives the note, but none can fully understand why the melody affects a person so. Let us then follow the Transcendentalists and accept that somethings simply are.
Thus we come to this picture of my grandpa. This picture is great.

Comience la Fiesta!

18 years and 5 days ago the world realized one of the most significant events of its existence. That's right, a pink, bloody, screaming, ball of energy that seemed to be born already knowing every swear in the book breathed her first breath. Behold and yea, LAURA! Upon hearing of the birth of yet another Boyer girl I ran into my moms room and cried into her pillow... for joy.
Oh yes, I was overjoyed and who would have known that my joy could have blossomed to its current state? I did not. I don't think I could have gotten a better deal. From watching her break her foot jumping off the couch to watching her break guys hearts, Laura has been the best sister ever(sorry Karen and Amy)!
Laura, I'm sorry I couldn't be there but when I get home Saturday mas cervezas en Tijuana! Vatos Locos para siempre guerra! Aye, aye, aye!!!!!!!!!!!

No Swell, Oh Well

This is what we did on Thanksgiving. If you pay attention, we fall after almost every trick.
p.s. My brother-in-law edited this and chose the music. I like how he chose a song that makes obvious references to drugs. Thanks Joe.

Swingin'

My mom always calls and asks what I do on the weekends. I always say "ma, c'mon, you know me, I don't do nothin'" What she don't know can't hurt her, ya' know?

So danço o Samba. Those are some sweet kicks.

You can compare the pictures, I think you can see the resemblance . If you have the time blow 'em both up and do a line-up.
Meg tried to cover her face for the picture. Eric photoshopped it in. Meg, sometimes it's just better to take the picture.

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear has grown familiar with your song;

The first snowfall is usually the best. It generally gets very cold beforehand and then, when it finally does snow, it warms up just a little. At this point, you haven't entered into the doldrums of winter, so when it snows its almost like a miracle from heaven. You wake up and the whole world is hushed and everything looks so pure and white. I can see why this would be a good time to quietly think of the birth of the Savior.

Do You Know Where I'm From?

This is just up the street from my house.

It was nice to have a break this week. My grandpa had this extra camera and he gave it to me. Maybe there'll be more pictures on here from now on. Either way, these pictures are just here to let you know who I is.