No handlebars

I sold my car. I bike everywhere. Biking on the brain, I guess. I just realized I have lots of drawings of bikes. Here are some. Enjoy.

Touchy Touchy

Last night I found myself at a concert. Voluntarily, of course. I didn’t just wake up there or get beaten, blindfolded and dragged there. Point is, there I was. We had to get through the swarms of spectators, my friends and I, and as we’re moving through, I realized I was purposefully touching almost everyone I passed. A hand on the shoulder here, a hand on the waist there. And afterward, I’m thinking, “what the heck am I doing? What merits such deliberate invasion of another’s personal space?” Because not only was I the culprit, for no sooner had I realized this that I saw everyone doing it. Touching and passing and holding and pressing, and for no REAL need. Mind you it’s all in the realm of appropriate behavior. We’re not cupping a feel or squeezing a rump as we pass. But why? What strange mentality falls over the crowd where suddenly touching almost every person you pass is so comfortably justified? Do we really feel we need to let that girl know we’re passing them or have to alert that dude we’re coming through in case he abruptly lashes out with his fists? Why would he lash out with his fists?
It’s the “collective concert conscience” I’ve decided. We’re all there, together, to experience the music and the performance. We like to know we’re all brothers and sisters, and united in the same music-consumer cause. And so when we pass said male or female, and gently hold their arm as we pass, or place our hand on the small of their back, we’re not saying “watch out, I’m coming through” but rather “I’m glad you’re here. Enjoy the show. You’re a beautiful person.” The spirit of the spectacle blows away all cares of your comfort zone. At least, I sure hope so.

7 Reasons why I'm a dweeb.

So I’ve got to admit something about myself. This is just how it has to be. I realize there are some things about me that would clearly put me in the nerd category. I just feel it’s time I address them.


1. I love Final Fantasy. You don’t get it. I LOVE it. Thanks to Josh Hughes letting me borrow his Playstation in 8th grade and his Final Fantasy VIII, I became an addict. Maybe I have the soundtrack of every game on my ipod. All 12 of them.


2. I play Starcraft. Well, I do occasionally. I’ve only recently played a few games. But when I was in elementary school, this too, was a huuuuuge pastime of mine. I can still tell you the pro’s and con’s of the Zerg, Protoss, and Terran. I personally, prefer Protoss.



3. I not only play Dungeons and Dragons from time to time, I draw pictures of it. Yes. I’m not even ashamed. I think it’s great. It’s a release from the norm, I get to be creative, I get to be with friends, and I love drawing up different characters. Plus I have a dexterity of 13 with a +2 saving modifier thanks to a magical Elven cloak I found at the bottom of a cave once guarded by a Dragon I vanquished.


4. I’m an Anime fanatic. Akira, Ghost in the Shell, FLCL, Cowboy Bebop, Samurai Champloo, you name it. We’re not talking about that Pokémon or Dragonball Z crap. No, we’re talking LEGIT. I think it stems from my love for Japanese culture. But go ahead, call me a Manga fan, an Otaku. I don’t care.


5. I have an entire collection of Warhammer 40,000 models. Each model, individually assembled and painted, all a small part of an enormous army I had built up from 5 Space marines and a Dreadnought. Now, over the course of 4-5 years in my youth, I now have a force to be reckoned with. Probably worth over $2,000.


6. I like to put sentimental papers and notes and ticket stubs and such in my journal. Deal with it.



7. I cry to Disney/Pixar/Dreamworks movies. Summer of 2002, late at night, alone in my room with Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. I cried when the horse jumped the cliff and escaped those bad military men.

A Prayer for more Moisture

Ah yes, the wonderful month of October, where our lives are richly blessed with the inspiring words and heartfelt anecdotes of the General Conference sessions. What a most splendiferous time of learning and understanding. No time is more looked forward to in the LDS community (besides a Temple marriage or a much anticipated Potluck of course)And I, the Mormon that I am, am easily numbered among the throngs that flock to the television screen, mind alert and ears and heart open to the promptings of the spirit. And with the wonderful blessing of rain pouring down upon the roofs of our abodes, pitter-pattering away in Mother Nature’s lullaby, I found myself in a state of euphoria. Truly, such discourses as Elder Uchtdorf’s "Come what may" and Elder Holland’s "Ministering Angels" were most appreciated in my life.

But, If I might make one, simple suggestion:

As our fellow brethren stand at the podium, and commence in the offering of prayers for more moisture and such, is it too much to ask that we offer them some moisture to their mouths?! What, are they applying Elmer’s Glue to their lips before they address the congregation? I mean, yeah, I get a little dry-mouthed due to nerves and such, but man, a simple glass of water can change all that! Don’t get me wrong, the prayers are the most beautiful, devoted petitions I hear, but that doesn’t mean the corner-of-the-mouth, sticky, pasty sound of peeling mucus membranes doesn’t reach my ears as well and cause slight (yet reverent) convulsions in my spine. I’m just saying, there is no way on earth I will EVER ignore that clammy cacophony of cottonmouth conversing that occurs at General Conference prayers. Just put a little sacrament cup-size water there, or a quick spray of kool-aid, or something. I love my brethren, and I love the church. But that sound, as unintentional as it is, is just unholy.

What Mormons are into (Part 1)

My Utah Observations have recently accumulated a large quantity of pointless information. I decided to record them. I pray, brothers and sisters, that this becomes a continual service of mine.

Especially for Maggie

This was supposed to be a simple drawing, which then turned into a four part comic strip, which then transformed into this, a minute long film. I hope Mag Pie can truly appreciate how much I love her hugs. This one's for you sweetie!!