tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53219925447136323182024-03-05T12:38:44.398-08:00The BrogThe comings and goings of a college man-child.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-10538197832379861412010-01-11T10:38:00.000-08:002010-01-12T08:51:23.282-08:00Emily the Cheerleader<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDm1KdjYU9GzBytCKfXTk29gzvFDHwtV5nkHqmN5M-k9JHBD_lUCWKDvATenFm2cUpwH1Bow4UFXx8VWJrxFapdD8_A500FMhERtHq3JpxceY-YleLyuL5AAFLhu88rR4ccF5A6AF5CI/s1600-h/Brad_Em1.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 205px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425554214297480002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkDm1KdjYU9GzBytCKfXTk29gzvFDHwtV5nkHqmN5M-k9JHBD_lUCWKDvATenFm2cUpwH1Bow4UFXx8VWJrxFapdD8_A500FMhERtHq3JpxceY-YleLyuL5AAFLhu88rR4ccF5A6AF5CI/s320/Brad_Em1.JPG" /></a> During my long winter break (I’ve been out of school since December 8th) I’ve been able to do some really fun stuff. I went up to Washington DC for New Year’s Eve and rolled in the New Year in style. Our church basketball team started its season with an impressive win against my parent’s home ward. But the most interesting and probably the most fun I’ve had while on break was going to my littlest sister’s high school to see her fulfill one of her dreams of being a bona fide cheerleader!<br /><br />Emily is a very special individual. She is mentally handicapped, but in spite of her challenges she has managed to teach me more than I could ever hope to teach her. She inspires me, and I couldn’t be prouder to be able to be her brother. She can always make me laugh. Recently she has become infatuated with playing practical jokes on her friends and family. Krystal is her favorite target. She always manages to scare her no matter how many times Emily plays the same trick. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6D3x9FRZ0ti1HVzpknTYW-2ekx5NQDcHrajjpGBbIoUfgoN2LYLHvFFnQFj60rVqszFnULmfXAKOul3tV6iMYdUayYqW0mf3QhzVikzws0btkVCwwj0ELS-L0shB-LGmlIqNP28tpvI/s1600-h/lion.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425554876907840562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6D3x9FRZ0ti1HVzpknTYW-2ekx5NQDcHrajjpGBbIoUfgoN2LYLHvFFnQFj60rVqszFnULmfXAKOul3tV6iMYdUayYqW0mf3QhzVikzws0btkVCwwj0ELS-L0shB-LGmlIqNP28tpvI/s200/lion.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YcWeQFdhqYljTa6RHUijnn2TwIUWu-IDPdJRc3CV5yCaCaYvqRAMHBwDFUjj5MpropKDlKJ7fvEYSu3YciKBNQ5k2v0JKTxZmcwg8NBmvRIay8mL8ylRL9C_bZgYYUc3EMZFXScVWro/s1600-h/with+friend.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425554669172944482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8YcWeQFdhqYljTa6RHUijnn2TwIUWu-IDPdJRc3CV5yCaCaYvqRAMHBwDFUjj5MpropKDlKJ7fvEYSu3YciKBNQ5k2v0JKTxZmcwg8NBmvRIay8mL8ylRL9C_bZgYYUc3EMZFXScVWro/s200/with+friend.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Emily’s special education class was able to form a small basketball team with some of the students playing and others cheering from the sidelines. Emily is really a natural when it comes to basketball! Any shot from 12 feet away from the basket and in is almost always guaranteed to go in. The ward girl’s basketball team has enjoyed having her play with them. When they first started to play other local wards the opposing team would just stand around and let Emily have a free shot at the basket. However, now those open-shots are a rarity as Emily has established herself as a “not-so-secret weapon” and teams guard her just like anyone else because she’ll make every shot if you let her. I thought for sure that Emily would want to play basketball on her school team, but girls will be girls. The second Emily found out that she could be a cheerleader instead of a ball player, she made up her mind that pom poms and a cute skirt were more her style than sweatbands and basketball shoes.<br /><br />I have to say that I was excited and at the same time a little nervous going to see Emily, the cheerleader, perform. I know that Emily is so very special, but I wasn’t sure how the rest of the students present in the gym would act. I suppose that I feared that the worst in people would come out, and that I’d have to hear the students casually tossing around terrible derogatory names. In all honesty, if I didn’t have the chance to be around Emily all the time, I’d probably slip up too and do the same. However, I was pleasantly surprised and ultimately grateful that the students were compassionate and supportive of their often forgotten classmates. They cheered and clapped when appropriate. There were laughs and snickers, but I felt that the laughter was more of the laughing with than the laughing at sort.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwvUkuQy3gONNvBKmlSO4cCXlk3HaMLVyAzyHeZRTV1TZp71mpgBMHkLZ4-4mY_46lh-8IPSqUt7apm4ZFFreHqi-a-RhqEOxbMAAqqrzsBs_w-1XKEE68zrBaM7B2W4D_U54_2KRfOY0/s1600-h/scpre.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWeiexjCbK1U82wmnxO5LKc6fux3dYemJeGXlVXy_gGjSOH8QnhvsyZfNu9osJ1BzpPGKlQBtW8l8ZXbw1MXpDZ62XeOLu_1pxSUMk2aeek4PESCrTVzCs5CbAzbE5KwSWqs1sGS9oaAc/s1600-h/scpre.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425557631273123170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWeiexjCbK1U82wmnxO5LKc6fux3dYemJeGXlVXy_gGjSOH8QnhvsyZfNu9osJ1BzpPGKlQBtW8l8ZXbw1MXpDZ62XeOLu_1pxSUMk2aeek4PESCrTVzCs5CbAzbE5KwSWqs1sGS9oaAc/s200/scpre.JPG" /></a>Unfortunately Emily’s school lost the game, but I couldn’t have been more proud of her. She was so great and I couldn’t believe the amount of courage, confidence, and swagger that she had out there on the court. Really what more can I say but that I am so proud to be her brother!<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425555945065809778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWdlGRcMpdLGN42zJsL2QGiCnsxvRe3aL5oguU2h6CVz7hf2AKbnaQsoRj5M1GhRflR7CyuMEuPaCOVg_CMJm-ZRKBbaV2WYo7lAuKd_1M6_H55k7IqdogD-d_Es2zTSe67-Zlk3ijy7E/s320/us.JPG" /><br /><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwkLFIncou7BNP8FWRkQEDAg-IUbIU2ZwRIaRkYyB68OJ-cU2oBdojUomdLYUUbmW650WpLO-0XkGDzfta3' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p></p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz32HAPpNi0qeN2Qcrf7mSwhPr_rbWp6-TPsrDlWo_mK6o9Bj5bZ21AqVqOcvLmT-ol0-KrI8osMW1HfvkcBQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzOfTIlU7-Xq6TDznVVm4vbmA9kM4qx-ZaMamWZogkRoXTrgBmnXppAbc67t3N7TVDv2_uR6Uul2T6JbI_JFQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-42841464295289409482009-12-30T22:15:00.000-08:002009-12-30T23:06:26.234-08:002009 Treated Me Just Fine<span style="font-size:130%;">Please forgive me for the lame title, but I couldn’t resist rhyming the words "Nine" and "Fine."<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WzP-kZU8v75yo-ZwYyojWPGrbgEMgxy9oKzeLPKimvt6LF0WAl7KyVCymIUSInvxp3c1jL5KAmDMsnLat5JVfrue1TstONthcbGGHFYQ_wIc3_Q6HsuitXCNHy5xwxzS6xUpkDt4oBM/s1600-h/house.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 185px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421284280083556866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WzP-kZU8v75yo-ZwYyojWPGrbgEMgxy9oKzeLPKimvt6LF0WAl7KyVCymIUSInvxp3c1jL5KAmDMsnLat5JVfrue1TstONthcbGGHFYQ_wIc3_Q6HsuitXCNHy5xwxzS6xUpkDt4oBM/s320/house.JPG" /></a>Besides my time as a missionary in Italy I’ve never been very good at keeping a "journal." It’s not that I don’t want to, but I just never seem to find the time to write down my thoughts, feelings, or what I’ve been up to. So at the beginning of the year (early on in my blogging career) I made the goal to blog at least 12 times in 2009. Once a month didn’t seem too outrageously hard or overwhelming. And so here we are December 31, 2009, and I’m writing my 12th entry. Mission accomplished!!! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_EjH6RAd9PQ2va0Gq_edV4KW1NxwOGvv_IW6WMAsZSBmRytjgNnJi3cx_Lv2wjPnRjsLFytZfFUTuwinyML4zZl-_Sy-PyZHzHfS6otWypROzBKCwDFBRTbZRCpXIeB50w6IF3_jM6w/s1600-h/fami+dinner.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421285494331679138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_EjH6RAd9PQ2va0Gq_edV4KW1NxwOGvv_IW6WMAsZSBmRytjgNnJi3cx_Lv2wjPnRjsLFytZfFUTuwinyML4zZl-_Sy-PyZHzHfS6otWypROzBKCwDFBRTbZRCpXIeB50w6IF3_jM6w/s200/fami+dinner.JPG" /></a></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wQdRtCnJ4hIRIxGXDgloWgjnyzAs-VkvjzZyo2R4d8jLd7rKGu0ZAeNzOEMFDm6kswPNtLBtqHPmu_9mTiLNR2WTbftZiYDhR2TMPPnl3xn00oDhVpfL4oPZrhL1JgPGTjmf-hUnkIY/s1600-h/glasses.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421285786019155618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wQdRtCnJ4hIRIxGXDgloWgjnyzAs-VkvjzZyo2R4d8jLd7rKGu0ZAeNzOEMFDm6kswPNtLBtqHPmu_9mTiLNR2WTbftZiYDhR2TMPPnl3xn00oDhVpfL4oPZrhL1JgPGTjmf-hUnkIY/s200/glasses.JPG" /></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wQdRtCnJ4hIRIxGXDgloWgjnyzAs-VkvjzZyo2R4d8jLd7rKGu0ZAeNzOEMFDm6kswPNtLBtqHPmu_9mTiLNR2WTbftZiYDhR2TMPPnl3xn00oDhVpfL4oPZrhL1JgPGTjmf-hUnkIY/s1600-h/glasses.JPG"></a></p><br /><p></p><br /><p>Christmas in the Zentgraf House was again enjoyable. It was kind of surreal to think that perhaps this may be the last time that we are all together as a family for Christmas. Whitney will enter pharmacy school next fall, and I intend to enroll in a master’s program (preferably outside of Richmond, Virginia). While things may be changing, one thing was exactly the same as last year. Last Christmas almost our entire family was sick, except for me. Being the only healthy individual in the house I felt it was my responsibility to see that we had a good Christmas Eve dinner. This year nobody was sick, but, through an unexpected turn of events, I won a 30-pound turkey, which became the main course of our family dinner. You may be asking yourself how I managed this feat. In short, me and a couple of friends were having "guys night out" at a restaurant famous for, among other things, their wings. It just happened to be turkey-bowling night at th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjro_c5vTCUoUTUABTv5OXlqq3A91-29sNAzBjq10Oh6jRf3YvIiftJqwf1gq2RLYguU2cD_xB8JN86G2p6A9aiw30K2H2vYkksAGoPX_zB7Q0Bl5Is17V86c21pL1eCQ2ExMsuiGRXxxo/s1600-h/new+pic.GIF"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 234px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421283497285997250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjro_c5vTCUoUTUABTv5OXlqq3A91-29sNAzBjq10Oh6jRf3YvIiftJqwf1gq2RLYguU2cD_xB8JN86G2p6A9aiw30K2H2vYkksAGoPX_zB7Q0Bl5Is17V86c21pL1eCQ2ExMsuiGRXxxo/s400/new+pic.GIF" /></a>e restaurant, and the hostesses convinced my friends and I to participate. The 3 of us were joined by 4 other "bowlers" who would throw a small 10-pound turkey wrapped in duct tape at 10 pins located on the other side of the restaurant. We were set to "bowl" 4 frames, and after the 3rd frame I was inexplicably near 1st place. In between our "rolls" we made sure to chat up our hostesses so as to get on their good side. On my final roll I got a strike, my victory appeared immanent. But a lucky spare by the last competitor gave him a one pin edge over me. As he came over to our table (which was were the hostesses were sitting and compiling the scores) he asked, "Did I win?" I already knew that he had, and my head was bowed in defeat. But then I heard one of the hostesses say, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIMIZ6m5iKKJbfr1Ni5BBLev0NOrR4LFYbGGkn_yNR0iBx8wrKGczrgQKi-rYokgbDaBtJbgyxb7WnCs2C_kgPPOEKbplYnlYKhc1TKzRppDhD6TJU2X8-qs3sYapaSzksXDQzjcKQbk/s1600-h/DSC06158.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421282079233365138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIMIZ6m5iKKJbfr1Ni5BBLev0NOrR4LFYbGGkn_yNR0iBx8wrKGczrgQKi-rYokgbDaBtJbgyxb7WnCs2C_kgPPOEKbplYnlYKhc1TKzRppDhD6TJU2X8-qs3sYapaSzksXDQzjcKQbk/s200/DSC06158.JPG" /></a>"Awww I’m sorry you were so close, but you didn’t win." My head jolted up just in time to see her slide the score sheet under a stack of otherwise unimportant papers, where it would never be seen again. The would-be-winner returned to<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIy2lPxQZjd-Z4Y5mMBZx4ZjBz8Jklky_aKFL76PBf5cPZVCSOF6sF29C2N_c3H2qo4LviQEqQnqzrOuEAuIeSP8Otdvibwp9aAzV0XRj4YrSaIQh0Bi6iv1pC8-OCtWXoqSgVrLU6I8/s1600-h/turkey+leg.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 199px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 147px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421286645830583698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIy2lPxQZjd-Z4Y5mMBZx4ZjBz8Jklky_aKFL76PBf5cPZVCSOF6sF29C2N_c3H2qo4LviQEqQnqzrOuEAuIeSP8Otdvibwp9aAzV0XRj4YrSaIQh0Bi6iv1pC8-OCtWXoqSgVrLU6I8/s200/turkey+leg.JPG" /></a> his table somewhere on the other side of the restaurant, and the hostesses turned to me, winked, and said, "Congratulations! You won!" I suppose it was a combination of my good looks, charm, and their inability to perform simple addition that ultimately led to my victory, and leaving the restaurant with my 1st place prize of a 30-pound turkey in my arms.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9p-i4e7CBtNE9nkB37dce36WcaJk4WjshEKlTPqgdgUjqhcZOhOJfg1eEQrE_Y81P_ofLFfSGyprnafgEbmyEKEJaDKck7BMUwbiT-Ct5ymBPrf19ZgkN-EFb07XYPeD5nGRalYlUM98/s1600-h/tree.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421287529092666258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9p-i4e7CBtNE9nkB37dce36WcaJk4WjshEKlTPqgdgUjqhcZOhOJfg1eEQrE_Y81P_ofLFfSGyprnafgEbmyEKEJaDKck7BMUwbiT-Ct5ymBPrf19ZgkN-EFb07XYPeD5nGRalYlUM98/s200/tree.JPG" /></a>Christmas day was great! Santa had brought each of us everything a kid could want. This year I realized that I’m becoming more of an adult because I liked seeing people open the presents I got them more than opening my own presents…Well maybe that’s not entirely true! I still really like opening my own presents, but it was genuinely enjoyable to watch my sisters and parents open the gifts that I had gotten them. Krystal got a board game that we could play as a family, Whitney got a CD and T-shirt from one of her favorite singers Lupe Fiasco, and since Emily is so into trying to scare people and play practical jokes on them I got her a remote control tarantula. See the video for <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9snKuR1J7y4dcMT0NlOuxzH0-YkNMuENRN-DlUMs1SeXjBQEFo23br6FfCYwXJFf0eaoHaOCHeIaBzKcm2EsxMVw3DIxBaxNCOS16CHsaD5kcIsMa5-IIEaGuPmqErdW03DKmmhxT1M/s1600-h/mom+coke.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421287826103596242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb9snKuR1J7y4dcMT0NlOuxzH0-YkNMuENRN-DlUMs1SeXjBQEFo23br6FfCYwXJFf0eaoHaOCHeIaBzKcm2EsxMVw3DIxBaxNCOS16CHsaD5kcIsMa5-IIEaGuPmqErdW03DKmmhxT1M/s200/mom+coke.JPG" /></a>her reaction. Us kids pulled our resources together and got our parents some really awesome presents. We got Dad an authentic game-ready USC football helmet. He was so surprised, and he loved it. We got Mom a poster-sized picture frame that had 40 slots for pictures. We filled in each slot with different pictures of each of us kids from when we were little. It turned out to be a lot of work and very time consuming, but in the end it was well worth our efforts.</p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421288164854264162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3BpxrXzQ3q3WxBuCuYPBRdfngC8LxtN1jCgwwfb4LX93fhQRuj8Wv9mW9AHVRG3BPu8WtQSV3USMl0Wgggru05FHdZP2Nztka1s0-lkXVxipcJKWlfK1bLThuBvhL4fKYQDnOkDHsRKc/s400/mom+and+dad.JPG" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FIfjTevbZpVrGoC4rzttX4XaOBL3Y3SOSy7eR7nDD1dTdmuPSjPh-pUrgMjyAsyfUdwkGDFJtalfk7LVtdEdHMaIpXWag5HsjpLasq1dS2rasgH498DckkVAMNBYsBACrArXq3CntSA/s1600-h/dad+emily.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421289316376740706" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6FIfjTevbZpVrGoC4rzttX4XaOBL3Y3SOSy7eR7nDD1dTdmuPSjPh-pUrgMjyAsyfUdwkGDFJtalfk7LVtdEdHMaIpXWag5HsjpLasq1dS2rasgH498DckkVAMNBYsBACrArXq3CntSA/s200/dad+emily.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-bTVdXIPUssPCIkzgItvmP3n7UQlTSEq92yREarBuw-PMee96W8EhpoK_f9o5LJtvlWf0anJMK0koa8z2_ks654W4JNdODlDTZo60ci3X8tGgjYZu0-kAsv02zCEJpAvYhHjxUTHTz8/s1600-h/krys.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421288954212827698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-bTVdXIPUssPCIkzgItvmP3n7UQlTSEq92yREarBuw-PMee96W8EhpoK_f9o5LJtvlWf0anJMK0koa8z2_ks654W4JNdODlDTZo60ci3X8tGgjYZu0-kAsv02zCEJpAvYhHjxUTHTz8/s200/krys.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz7uxb19ov7Mml6PRHrJZJTX1fcExgg7Q-D1k1gqafxP8XD-cKzJL2BQLtsbLT5XVEPWZV7zalrQTmBb7TSHg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>So as 2009 comes to a close I can’t help but think that this year was a pretty good one for me. I did a lot. Some highs and some lows. Some excitement and stress, and a little day to day monotony. I lived, loved, and lost. At times I worked hard, and other times I hardly worked. In all I feel I that this past year has been worthwhile. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from keeping this blog it’s this: our lives, even the seemingly mundane happenings of day to day life, can be interesting and sometimes thrilling if we are able to recognize the tiny miracles that happen to us each day, and share the stories of these miracles with those around us. With that final thought I wish everyone a fantastic New Year, and encourage everyone to see their lives for what they really are: rewarding, interesting, and worthwhile. </p></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-6293150743075560312009-12-14T15:04:00.000-08:002009-12-14T17:31:10.405-08:00I'm Back!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOFcPyvIxU6jE28T2VnS3ob2I4CYmLT9gKOZ9ZR-vucN_10G2DSOZoPUcnynnq3XRNtnCYvlu9NQJB1UckHWZxss0ftPIReO2C4zOcAgqFfjBnVVjXWS-BTtbex5bhAW88x5xPU1H2V8/s1600-h/Jamz_7.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 208px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 293px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415248250063100514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOFcPyvIxU6jE28T2VnS3ob2I4CYmLT9gKOZ9ZR-vucN_10G2DSOZoPUcnynnq3XRNtnCYvlu9NQJB1UckHWZxss0ftPIReO2C4zOcAgqFfjBnVVjXWS-BTtbex5bhAW88x5xPU1H2V8/s320/Jamz_7.JPG" /></a> Well it’s been quite a while since the last time I blogged. It’s really not my fault. I had the best intentions of continuing to log my misadventures, but school has a way of consuming most all of my free time. In reality it has been a relatively chill semester. I took the fewest number of credits (15) than I have ever taken in my entire college career. These few credits seemed even easier due to the fact that 3 were an open lab period that didn’t have a scheduled class meeting time, and a Conversational Italian class comprised 3 more credits. I aced the Italian class, not missing a single question on any quiz or test. In spite of my low workload I seemed to be busier than ever. Most of my time was spent working on my senior design project, which has been at times exciting and rewarding and at other times exhausting and arduous. The development of the project has been going well, and it has the potential to become a viable and marketable product.<br />Admittedly it hasn’t all be study and no play in the last few months.<br />I’ve had the chance to do and see some cool stuff. My second cousin came to the U.S. for 2 weeks to visit our family and see America, I went to see a monster truck ralley down in Hampton, VA, and I took the Graduate Record Exam (GRE) which is an exam that all potential grad students must take in order to be accepted by a Graduate Program.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirIU2m4csboS__6ercDrdyxZOmpAnD-1W-ayP-yBvNZxHiNCssxWWEKq-LrYSB19-HzLF2yJ1ty8L5UcjtsGVE9q4ysB9ArZTtR9g06zidFnPCPh3Vh70nfsptwCYHKxsIRjEyALwNtk/s1600-h/pics_DC3.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 209px; HEIGHT: 285px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415241083522996402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirIU2m4csboS__6ercDrdyxZOmpAnD-1W-ayP-yBvNZxHiNCssxWWEKq-LrYSB19-HzLF2yJ1ty8L5UcjtsGVE9q4ysB9ArZTtR9g06zidFnPCPh3Vh70nfsptwCYHKxsIRjEyALwNtk/s320/pics_DC3.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8L-hnOcVPNMJbX7ueO4Ms1rGl2Qvlcq3PI5__HpvqDe0XIw4w9MUrD3vUU5LeQrPJSHxFxcfrxBroyiF86zDiZioe4iPuBzgbhD0HiP6NSvc4o2d55XOQNA5vtpNOGqbNiGqDtaNHmhY/s1600-h/pics_DC5.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 213px; HEIGHT: 285px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415241182391378274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8L-hnOcVPNMJbX7ueO4Ms1rGl2Qvlcq3PI5__HpvqDe0XIw4w9MUrD3vUU5LeQrPJSHxFxcfrxBroyiF86zDiZioe4iPuBzgbhD0HiP6NSvc4o2d55XOQNA5vtpNOGqbNiGqDtaNHmhY/s320/pics_DC5.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSOBf0JZi-JSrwjA_DZj2YO7tZGwZd4V_sJ6puy8KeLsgrQtYRMo-f0rQ1oOJIt2ZNt0t03TtKJSK8CHtLr8kuEkeU13-sp-js7gMhaT1kROs7Ptf-_3Re7Fpt3dBqWMQ75lwoFiOzL6g/s1600-h/Peter_1.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415233923348604322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSOBf0JZi-JSrwjA_DZj2YO7tZGwZd4V_sJ6puy8KeLsgrQtYRMo-f0rQ1oOJIt2ZNt0t03TtKJSK8CHtLr8kuEkeU13-sp-js7gMhaT1kROs7Ptf-_3Re7Fpt3dBqWMQ75lwoFiOzL6g/s200/Peter_1.JPG" /></a><strong><u>Peter Comes to America:</u></strong> I’m not sure who had more fun while my cousin Peter was here, Him? Or us? We had made a list of "American Stuff" to do, and during his two weeks here we accomplished nearly everything that was on our list. We showed showed him "normal" American stores like Super-Walmart, Costco, and the mall. We went bowling and played LaserTag. We ate ice cream, pancakes, and lots of McChicken sandwiches from McDonalds. We showed him the Atlantic Ocean (he’d never seen the ocean in his life), and we toured the nation’s capital, Wa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3z5yNfy2Xq5yuK5xgtLCd3rUXigNsW0CBBgcdsLBetPM_1DCXP-B9MiGSNZmZE0FeI249Qzw9ziL-9YnNT1bVcQ7EOiSWNbWwo25Q3TNS-dYqtLcTCXNpqvFISRsH8zqRWm5VMVv7DQ/s1600-h/Peter_2.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415234286174943890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3z5yNfy2Xq5yuK5xgtLCd3rUXigNsW0CBBgcdsLBetPM_1DCXP-B9MiGSNZmZE0FeI249Qzw9ziL-9YnNT1bVcQ7EOiSWNbWwo25Q3TNS-dYqtLcTCXNpqvFISRsH8zqRWm5VMVv7DQ/s200/Peter_2.JPG" /></a>shington D.C. He played Guitar Hero and even took a trip to the dentist. It was a blast for everyone. Here are some pictures from the action-packed two weeks. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMx0ez3pQN1rBO7_R52ifW_qG9wstVuNoGq6fvVRkfjJ_uCXylB7eRxj0AWCN3PmgG-BDuOFM-KJaX1-zfVjPIEnchD0-2oEOBbMqloWFEpoinLqqqIW43PBhc5zQlpG-_k5KDYGt9UB0/s1600-h/pancake.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415235240765326722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMx0ez3pQN1rBO7_R52ifW_qG9wstVuNoGq6fvVRkfjJ_uCXylB7eRxj0AWCN3PmgG-BDuOFM-KJaX1-zfVjPIEnchD0-2oEOBbMqloWFEpoinLqqqIW43PBhc5zQlpG-_k5KDYGt9UB0/s200/pancake.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsli10wKWNXF8fHY5jQT6xJzCLgZYXyShgY3MBfV7mOXe8BHeFZyLqUKKIQI-uH1Z8OH-ppozTY0wjqq12xUBY1UkC2QhDintX8xPHIc5yUd6LZ5sGjdoh98DvNfD6d9XeaNFIDqnp6A/s1600-h/pics_DC3.jpg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAUpnxrSSqaSWLbLGaJjAPQ_UmbjXn84Swtcw892HZp6e9KfnzjdezB4_OW4Wv5NEOzkqpygFrRtE4t8nmU4gcw-LXyweinZqMZpvwDLI6_1lTEVhFHa9edPqveIPj1j0MUGQGq0yrhA/s1600-h/pics_DC5.bmp"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwrmqdlixXhobaya2v74QzxdP1WAoI8qiMZCzIcjJUVniQ2FWF9QN6QTxlM5h44iTzyG7Kyu2vn1AdWIbpt1a5A3EsfXTi1fZO42f0LMYUi4RCsVcF4Upiw47_Aeg-tHE2jZ4P0u70hI/s1600-h/pics_DC4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415236402570253634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFwrmqdlixXhobaya2v74QzxdP1WAoI8qiMZCzIcjJUVniQ2FWF9QN6QTxlM5h44iTzyG7Kyu2vn1AdWIbpt1a5A3EsfXTi1fZO42f0LMYUi4RCsVcF4Upiw47_Aeg-tHE2jZ4P0u70hI/s200/pics_DC4.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jVRZdFhPxlO2IeixXy7nwTm3amQTfJRhLrQ9qIxNit234dYOD5wUFX9XVs3qmU3iM8WBkFmcGXEWbcQZpFI7jJKet0kDTGpLFnragCdpWhuYEE1PcER1OeDpgM08d_J8yk9Xn-lykmM/s1600-h/pics_DC2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415237974127782658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jVRZdFhPxlO2IeixXy7nwTm3amQTfJRhLrQ9qIxNit234dYOD5wUFX9XVs3qmU3iM8WBkFmcGXEWbcQZpFI7jJKet0kDTGpLFnragCdpWhuYEE1PcER1OeDpgM08d_J8yk9Xn-lykmM/s200/pics_DC2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415233139744605602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmk6r6PhITBCwfASta8oOrFM0IyCfvRxALNVZu-Nw6IfHHBBw5gzP3LVxLlWADDLqB7xCkvgRQSkOqnZ_G5h5gtwe50iiV32Ct7B3iJOumaUVFC_3SOGkJXhvLJZN_iDUfV_Z3ZYTL5EE/s400/pics_DC1.jpg" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDuOOe4127ctGdGAJ54ZzgyMC3jtMNG3f814b4OotTSlFRKR5Eft1SVFylRrLkYjPo8M-2Mx3dIkhxFXJE8fsLujWiCqUseBTyzLpwnE-xUh3qwHghONZoi3PTz5c51wNG4AuItOPnCY/s1600-h/pics_DC6.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415243630490369266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDuOOe4127ctGdGAJ54ZzgyMC3jtMNG3f814b4OotTSlFRKR5Eft1SVFylRrLkYjPo8M-2Mx3dIkhxFXJE8fsLujWiCqUseBTyzLpwnE-xUh3qwHghONZoi3PTz5c51wNG4AuItOPnCY/s200/pics_DC6.bmp" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sxSbf337_haA7jTO3IoxbbE2suHZveqUiWqfDj9CsvYuq7AUZS_zTnV-bJ7ce6QWcupJP_HoVQhWhyphenhyphenqTjTP6z76VT2S75ttgXZBvIWGyOXF2l_gRF8tjfRolCK6-39Fn6F78hzbOAKM/s1600-h/pics_DC9.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415243914430796466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sxSbf337_haA7jTO3IoxbbE2suHZveqUiWqfDj9CsvYuq7AUZS_zTnV-bJ7ce6QWcupJP_HoVQhWhyphenhyphenqTjTP6z76VT2S75ttgXZBvIWGyOXF2l_gRF8tjfRolCK6-39Fn6F78hzbOAKM/s200/pics_DC9.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5mq7M4qCPfoovzLXyAVIawmC_YRERKS1dwTudQNoi1juu36hxLS3lSQB5q01RbffV36O9KEd6GULQU5KwmZNiOk1yY4y-cWtOEGjz0RCs-lFmAFMnCRGnSgw68MMtWghwkgLp86HqPA/s1600-h/pics_DC7.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415244263194387874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5mq7M4qCPfoovzLXyAVIawmC_YRERKS1dwTudQNoi1juu36hxLS3lSQB5q01RbffV36O9KEd6GULQU5KwmZNiOk1yY4y-cWtOEGjz0RCs-lFmAFMnCRGnSgw68MMtWghwkgLp86HqPA/s200/pics_DC7.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsKTjT_sjeHPt5ghcmSu-SfamhEKr0wv-Hm321LeLbKg5O33aJl9k5dV43A3TUVOF6Ig-RL4UdgulxTJijsZgXlB9snM0F7KfBVrLu2_B7qBeH5TYWE4tz3AG4Ehkc8IsDGk1AlE1pNs/s1600-h/pics_DC8.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415244400029165650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsKTjT_sjeHPt5ghcmSu-SfamhEKr0wv-Hm321LeLbKg5O33aJl9k5dV43A3TUVOF6Ig-RL4UdgulxTJijsZgXlB9snM0F7KfBVrLu2_B7qBeH5TYWE4tz3AG4Ehkc8IsDGk1AlE1pNs/s200/pics_DC8.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdm7xp8qOxUWhZNchpOix2jKZXKxoAuxwnHdGiBYMK9j-5P9yugrPzK1-AVUPcLkzAtpujyBOjZBUtGeMCq9sN6IpBX78kT5vtb4VZMkGsiCbVHg6JFtQFfGP1BAOnUBodyBzqskiil8/s1600-h/Jamz_6.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415251763320353778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdm7xp8qOxUWhZNchpOix2jKZXKxoAuxwnHdGiBYMK9j-5P9yugrPzK1-AVUPcLkzAtpujyBOjZBUtGeMCq9sN6IpBX78kT5vtb4VZMkGsiCbVHg6JFtQFfGP1BAOnUBodyBzqskiil8/s200/Jamz_6.JPG" /></a><strong><u>Monster Jamz:</u></strong> One of my best friends from college, his family, and I went down to Hampton, VA (near the beach) to see a monster truck rally. It was nothing like I had ever seen before, so big and loud! Paul and his family are from Martinsville, Virginia which is considered "the country". Throughout the weekend Paul and his family were kind enough to introduce me to the finer points of Red-Neck, or to use the Political Correct terminology, Appalachian-American Culture! We went to the Cracker Barrel Restaurant, I got to experience Bass Pro Shop, and then the Monster Truck Rally! The pictures really say it all.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxHOO8IAK-3tZFN3-QE6158Lrb7JGNiXZKlEr4OWB6Io4tGsSXeFV8jAx9X5yTMOMCteO4YxjMfHbdX60m7R_LEDlS9pLxYHoJDRioXAVLHcLac64uJWRswrm_KgybAoppGNNR6Y7Kss/s1600-h/Jamz_3.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415248835517312002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxHOO8IAK-3tZFN3-QE6158Lrb7JGNiXZKlEr4OWB6Io4tGsSXeFV8jAx9X5yTMOMCteO4YxjMfHbdX60m7R_LEDlS9pLxYHoJDRioXAVLHcLac64uJWRswrm_KgybAoppGNNR6Y7Kss/s200/Jamz_3.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-Qf0_sneE3ID6wbf3W5KnFz6pJfBdIZ7umTHMMvUwhTj0nYJePQu21izW6OKhdnhN3Q7KiaC_P2qS6HV2foBRyKGNT2p0ItzHRHv9G_fJ3ob40oJ86sgwfL7kT6trl19LSo5ut5qTio/s1600-h/Jamz_1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415248900315344146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-Qf0_sneE3ID6wbf3W5KnFz6pJfBdIZ7umTHMMvUwhTj0nYJePQu21izW6OKhdnhN3Q7KiaC_P2qS6HV2foBRyKGNT2p0ItzHRHv9G_fJ3ob40oJ86sgwfL7kT6trl19LSo5ut5qTio/s200/Jamz_1.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd20I-yNT1Lqus-gaW8U0e0iD8L6pahKZVodhnwjrczZGkMP4_nyVc-03W7fZ9Ole41STXZM9nfboMq_tO_3jgOoRJsi5PZEvvCjISQx_rXqFpHhGhqSf8OiH-N4OiQ_ZsmfRzIbZxMSo/s1600-h/Jamz_4.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415251016006677282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd20I-yNT1Lqus-gaW8U0e0iD8L6pahKZVodhnwjrczZGkMP4_nyVc-03W7fZ9Ole41STXZM9nfboMq_tO_3jgOoRJsi5PZEvvCjISQx_rXqFpHhGhqSf8OiH-N4OiQ_ZsmfRzIbZxMSo/s200/Jamz_4.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwV5_FHeJznCFpfa1NtQSa0vmwdHweCrb6gUdOq1REAdSb24V0gQHoews8nzOOUNJXj707Mg9BTcbI0KfRkgtfZbCkL9Nl36y6_sQ4ZOjM3YId290Hk0PGh1xDpAV6mI7n3QdTXe-kbo/s1600-h/Jamz_2.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415251192997668034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvwV5_FHeJznCFpfa1NtQSa0vmwdHweCrb6gUdOq1REAdSb24V0gQHoews8nzOOUNJXj707Mg9BTcbI0KfRkgtfZbCkL9Nl36y6_sQ4ZOjM3YId290Hk0PGh1xDpAV6mI7n3QdTXe-kbo/s200/Jamz_2.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /></p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p></p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415254998682218290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8RqMjq6kXao4ggE64zj3B0ESLOPEgaeIvIvwvpzjlJUpvc0qCYtt8mBRbqQswyaZGtD9UJobIocU6WUBQXAYaIEYhZW3PlUmv1ltolxTQsXs46bBglEc9YI9Dx_jIdZLNimq5eCBCe2c/s400/Jamz_11.JPG" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqvN3DpssJbGyMFAsOcpFzyjjF6jl_hV_yfsaZdbinGwNZgAfVCyWXe8HgTZUv2wnJnG1851uswkM1m-6KwPdOxIsoZmaVwbK5A5T7o1hz7yArk3Ludhuy_JLb6-qSL8YTvQnh6m77sQ/s1600-h/Jamz_5.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415251371684964898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqvN3DpssJbGyMFAsOcpFzyjjF6jl_hV_yfsaZdbinGwNZgAfVCyWXe8HgTZUv2wnJnG1851uswkM1m-6KwPdOxIsoZmaVwbK5A5T7o1hz7yArk3Ludhuy_JLb6-qSL8YTvQnh6m77sQ/s200/Jamz_5.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchgCU6nEfxG8n71HH2cfwkMkKy7GsOOxoGVmm5ujedvUtDdOk_LBnkbKecIQMJNDGw1cvj5D6M6YE4aqqCZ0KT-SZ3gP9Ke1qS4rHmvQdpMOwC6AcYhe_4zqHmWEgrDfjMfU7MZy1Nac/s1600-h/Jamz_8.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415251553840423058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchgCU6nEfxG8n71HH2cfwkMkKy7GsOOxoGVmm5ujedvUtDdOk_LBnkbKecIQMJNDGw1cvj5D6M6YE4aqqCZ0KT-SZ3gP9Ke1qS4rHmvQdpMOwC6AcYhe_4zqHmWEgrDfjMfU7MZy1Nac/s200/Jamz_8.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><p><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUlKs6WyFkcz-YecZeAw5dU5QHD0V-7bydIHjjyQi8XtZCUv16Dld25vpwKryeo_eVXJVTK0J6i19Toobby2AMJ_adDBoqaCp9p1b-P4nthp78p0IHMWKX8bg7DABbZg-Ml7X_0LpjDI/s1600-h/Jamz_9.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415254499133461282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUlKs6WyFkcz-YecZeAw5dU5QHD0V-7bydIHjjyQi8XtZCUv16Dld25vpwKryeo_eVXJVTK0J6i19Toobby2AMJ_adDBoqaCp9p1b-P4nthp78p0IHMWKX8bg7DABbZg-Ml7X_0LpjDI/s200/Jamz_9.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUAOaaU5jbqsBL6dzCfDQ7zhDSXrlhWNNds4R4sRAGDc0fZBiM-pQLY18QEw_I7wdHVFfupxW9SzEfW85j1UQVNf0aqy5OeSX3XGnJSj324ppDnNtdkoXWLT2ZbV7s1w04ItKghup2Bs/s1600-h/Jamz_10.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415254707970873794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYUAOaaU5jbqsBL6dzCfDQ7zhDSXrlhWNNds4R4sRAGDc0fZBiM-pQLY18QEw_I7wdHVFfupxW9SzEfW85j1UQVNf0aqy5OeSX3XGnJSj324ppDnNtdkoXWLT2ZbV7s1w04ItKghup2Bs/s200/Jamz_10.JPG" /></a></p><br /><p><br /></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>All of my finals were finished by December 9th but I couldn’t relax until I had taken one more test, the GRE. This test was proba<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQfyMrNddR-swjphTTu08sB6MMSoZ0DQybe_SImXCf6zCzBuwQRW4xwado5y7U7EN4eOKQcbJu2AZh6mV1HtUPigwpQ5LYU5fBrArM8mYiIfMyfoh3cKueJaij-od_VRxB4HVc_omvQQ/s1600-h/the-u.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415268024579204674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibQfyMrNddR-swjphTTu08sB6MMSoZ0DQybe_SImXCf6zCzBuwQRW4xwado5y7U7EN4eOKQcbJu2AZh6mV1HtUPigwpQ5LYU5fBrArM8mYiIfMyfoh3cKueJaij-od_VRxB4HVc_omvQQ/s200/the-u.jpg" /></a>bly the most important test that I had taken since the SAT. Since I’m a senior in college I’ve had to start contemplating my future. Among my future aspirations is the desire to obtain a Master’s degree in Bio-Engineering. I’d really like to study at the University of Utah. It’s highly ranked nationally (12th in the nation) and studying at the U would be exciting and give me the opportunity to have a change of pace by moving to Salt Lake. Because the U is so highly ranked and respected by most everyone (except those silly BYU fans) I needed a high score on the GRE in order to have any chance at getting in. I was pretty stressed out. I had practiced test questions all summer long, but during the school year I slacked off and didn’t do any real test preparation until two days before the actual test. Fortunately I was able to do very well! I got a 740 out of 800 on my math section (I really needed a high school on my math…it’s pretty much expected since I’m an engineering major) and I got a 550 out of 800 on my verbal section which isn’t too terrible. 1290 is a very good score, and along with my 3.94 G.P.A. I’m feeling a little bit better about my chances of getting into the U.<br /><br />Who knows what these next few months will bring but I’ll try my best to document it as it happens.</p>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-1674659332979815472009-09-24T19:03:00.000-07:002009-10-18T15:48:39.187-07:00The AcademicI can hardly believe that I'm a Senior in college. Time sure has gone by quickly. I've been looking forward to this year mainly because after working peddle to the metal for 3 straight years I had planned for this, my last year to be my easiest (full of slack classes). I'm taking fewer credits (15)than I have ever done in all of my college career, and to make things even easier, 3 of my 15 credits are a Conversational Italian Class! It's really not even fair. I just sit back and listen and never have to study ever! I actually finished my quiz last week in less than 15 minutes, and I walked out thinking 100% no doubt about it! That, my friends is an awesome feeling.<br /><br />Even though I am taking fewer credits than ever, strangely, I seem to be busier than ever! Most of my time has been devotes to my Senior Design Project, which involves developing a device that will help surgeons treat ankle arthritis. Below is a copy of the project proposal that my partner and I will submit to the School of Engineering for approval. (After I finished reading this I couldn't believe that this stuff came out of my head...college must have made me smart or something because it sounds like something out of a textbook!)<br /><br /><br /><strong>Design a Jig Guiding Insertion of Three Screws for Ankle Arthrodesis<br />Designers: Hieu Ta and Bradley Zentgraf</strong><br /><br /><strong>Problem:<br /></strong>Arthritis is a painful degenerative condition associated with biological joints. Arthritis of the ankle alters normal ankle biomechanics, causing pain and discomfort. Due to its degenerative nature, ankle arthritis must be resolved through some form of non-operative or operative medical intervention. However, if associated pain persists or becomes debilitating, surgical intervention will be required. A wide assortment of surgical options exist, of which ankle arthrodesis has emerged as the “gold-standard.” All arthrodesis techniques require an adequate interface between bone surfaces to facilitate osseous integration and fusion. Additionally, union requires stabilization through some form of internal or external fixation. Research has indicated that ankle arthrodesis performed with three cannulated screws provides satisfactory stability and union. Challenges associated with three screw fixation techniques include allocating adequate space for screw insertion on joint interfaces, finding the optimal screw orientation and position, and creating reproducible results.<br /><br /><strong>Objective/Proposed Solution:<br /></strong>Design a guide jig to aid in obtaining reproducible and optimal results in ankle fusion procedures. A successful jig design would optimize screw position and orientation, avoiding contact between the implanted screws, decreasing surgery time, increasing joint stability, decreasing the probability of malunion, possibly decreasing the amount of recovery time, and improving the overall quality of life for patients that undergo ankle arthrodesis.<br /><br /><strong>Design:<br /></strong>Design a jig that will serve as a guide for surgeons in producing optimal results for three screw internal fixation techniques. This device will be able to create reproducible results in a wide variety of patients The device will first be designed and put through a series of simulations modeling soft tissue with the program SolidWorks. Modifications will be made to the device after testing. A testable prototype will then be constructed, and subsequently run through a series of bench tests involving PVC pipe, saw bone, and possibly a cadaver ankle. After each test, analysis will be performed and modifications made.<br /><br /><strong>Expected Results:<br /></strong>Upon completion of this design project, a device will be constructed that will potentially increase the success rate of ankle arthrodesis and shorten the overall procedure. This system will potentially offer better treatment for those who suffer from ankle arthritis, and a more user-friendly treatment option for the surgeons who perform these procedures.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-63080929022352898072009-08-01T09:35:00.000-07:002009-08-01T09:44:47.529-07:00Shady Maple Smorgasbord<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEoxgN_iKQUIDMOO4SmtsfhCe9X-YLDdgXi7u04Q41FzzI496WBtUODV1VZKWgIQSMEbPoeQV9RvDwj0aXlJ6db2Qn6Jp5SKeUa_u-rCiWsH3X6b-UWUNYLdJphBf2XFtsDhJTCfOo7I/s1600-h/70346-shady%2520maple%2520pano_two.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 174px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365037191025517890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEoxgN_iKQUIDMOO4SmtsfhCe9X-YLDdgXi7u04Q41FzzI496WBtUODV1VZKWgIQSMEbPoeQV9RvDwj0aXlJ6db2Qn6Jp5SKeUa_u-rCiWsH3X6b-UWUNYLdJphBf2XFtsDhJTCfOo7I/s320/70346-shady%2520maple%2520pano_two.jpg" /></a> My family came up to Philadelphia to see the sights and visit with me. To celebrate Jay, Sheena, and I thought we would take my family out to eat. So, Friday night we all went to the famous Shady Maple Smorgasbord! Shady Maple is a truly unique place. It features miles and miles of homemade Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine, all of it there for you to eat and eat and eat until you can’t eat anymore. Buffet places are very funny. At least for me, whenever I go to a buffet I feel obligated to eat as much as I can so as to make the restaurant pay dearly for giving me free-reign over the food bar. Many of you may do the exact same thing. Instead of just saying what I had to eat at Shady Maple I thought I’d do it in a more comical manner…<br /><br />The following is a fictitious conversation between myself and a waiter that would have taken my order had Shady Maple not been a buffet. Enjoy…<br /><br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> Welcome to Shady Maple sir. May I take you order?<br /><strong>Me:</strong> Yes. I think that I’ll start off with something light. Perhaps a fillet of Cajun catfish, as well as smoked salmon, and a thin slice of beef brisket. Also could you fit in a skewer of fried shrimp? For my side dishes I’d like some potato salad and a dab of pasta salad.<br /><strong>Waiter: </strong>Certainly. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cxt0PyKRCYtMMoRY1ZqrcSVZ-eN_RYS7sj5NCgdRIo0yDSp1yzw-DT0g6EA15MxRYY63aV4SyExIQM7EuTeveZhjO6Q3UpJ6HTTlhB7E6IknK965OjJOVlr3lm-iuPBsoXVph11jVBI/s1600-h/Smorgasbord%2520Food%2520Buffet_one.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 161px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365036732631851650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cxt0PyKRCYtMMoRY1ZqrcSVZ-eN_RYS7sj5NCgdRIo0yDSp1yzw-DT0g6EA15MxRYY63aV4SyExIQM7EuTeveZhjO6Q3UpJ6HTTlhB7E6IknK965OjJOVlr3lm-iuPBsoXVph11jVBI/s400/Smorgasbord%2520Food%2520Buffet_one.jpg" /></a><br /><strong>Me:</strong> Oh yeah I’d like 2 homemade rolls: one wheat and the other white with jalapeño slices in it.<br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> Of course. Would you like anything else?<br /><strong>Me:</strong> My man, you better stay right where you are! ‘Cause I’m just getting started!<br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> My apologies sir.<br /><strong>Me:</strong> Okay, next I’d like a plate with several pierogies, a small Chinese spring roll, some French fries with cheese and ketchup, and a slice of fresh raspberry bread. I’d like some more shrimp as well, but this time I’d like them breaded and fried.<br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> Anything to drink sir?<br /><strong>Me:</strong> Yes, I’ll have a glass or two of water. No sodas for me. I’m trying to watch my figure you know.<br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> Okay and…<br /><strong>Me:</strong> Wait! Actually could I have a cherry slushy?! I saw the machine on my way over to the table. Could I have a small one of those?<br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> But of course sir. I assume you’ll be wanting dessert.<br /><strong>Me:</strong> You betcha. I’ll have a slice of key-lime pie, raspberry cheesecake with a chocolate crust, and to finish off this meal I think I’ll have some of the éclair casserole.<br /><strong>Waiter:</strong> Right away sir. I’ve have that out for you immediately. Enjoy your meal, and be sure to come back and see us again.<br /><br />I’m almost ashamed to admit that this is exactly what my order would have sounded like if I had been forced to verbalize it! I know! I know! I’m disgusting, but I did share some of it with my family that was sitting around me, and if it’s any consolation I didn’t eat until the next day at dinner!!!Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-65079954986057267532009-07-17T18:25:00.000-07:002009-07-17T20:17:41.268-07:00V.I.P. STATUS<a href="http://www.exit21.net/RegisterVIP/Images/bouncer.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 142px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.exit21.net/RegisterVIP/Images/bouncer.jpg" /></a> I don’t understand how I can be so lucky sometimes; I must have been born under a lucky star or something. I recently stumbled into a once-in- a-lifetime experience while I was at work. One of Jay’s colleagues, Steve, had scored two premium tickets to watch the reigning Wimbeldon Champion, Serena Williams, play an exhibition tennis match in Philadelphia, and unfortunately Steve’s friend who was originally going to come wasn’t able to make it (unfortunate for Steve’s friend! NOT FOR ME OF COURSE!). I later found out that I was the third or fourth person Steve had tried to give the ticket to, but when I found out about the chance to see Serena “freaking” Williams play tennis, I was immediately down for the adventure!<br /><br />I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I decided to tag <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIvfIgNOv_JYvWOLMidi2NSSgLFWy6bYq0lcfeAiN5RZuhF20MzqCjn9iyOnE0iLSHu4bYnGgofiHyTTGKLELKKpvQKl-g6xG30fZoz70nv8nWxv_VehOa8Dyix_gOpmESmEPdkpets0/s1600-h/pimp2.0.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 287px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 215px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359612200571073138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIvfIgNOv_JYvWOLMidi2NSSgLFWy6bYq0lcfeAiN5RZuhF20MzqCjn9iyOnE0iLSHu4bYnGgofiHyTTGKLELKKpvQKl-g6xG30fZoz70nv8nWxv_VehOa8Dyix_gOpmESmEPdkpets0/s320/pimp2.0.jpg" /></a>along with Steve. I didn’t realize that we were going to be living the V.I.P./Boss Status life! (Looking back I should have expected as much; Steve is probably the most “ghetto-fabolous” person I know…simply stated, he’s a P.I.M.P. with a capital “P”!)<br /><br />You may be thinking that I’m exaggerating when I say “Boss Status”, but you have no idea! <a href="http://images.sportsnetwork.com/tennis/getty/women/serena/2009/wimbledon_trophy180.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 180px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://images.sportsnetwork.com/tennis/getty/women/serena/2009/wimbledon_trophy180.jpg" /></a>Before we even watched any tennis, Steve and I were able to see Serena give a private interview for about 40 people. We were served cold beverages and h'orderves on silver platters while we waited for the interview to begin. It was enough to make you feel like you were a celebrity yourself. We were even given free grab bags of stuff just for showing up. It was so cool to hear Serena talk about her recent Wimbeldon experience! She had hoisted the prestigious Wimbeldon Trophy only 9 days before and there we were sitting not 15 feet from her! You don’t have to say it, I know, total V.I.P.! (<a href="http://www.wimbledon.org/en_GB/news/match_reports/2009-07-04/200907041246717336796.html">http://www.wimbledon.org/en_GB/news/match_reports/2009-07-04/200907041246717336796.html</a>),<br /><br />The VIP evening was not even close to being <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zuVOCnDGhfgTZzqsN2uQ23DuWsiw4Rj6duhkZr7ysQjYFyFnp3lXtNY50sKPCMZusc4BdZKu4ESHjzAJAbCMUohHQR3N16qmlyCf8XUoN-zzGPruUfFPtBounUqGeEkMLaogTB9iIys/s1600-h/interview.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359626817854063778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zuVOCnDGhfgTZzqsN2uQ23DuWsiw4Rj6duhkZr7ysQjYFyFnp3lXtNY50sKPCMZusc4BdZKu4ESHjzAJAbCMUohHQR3N16qmlyCf8XUoN-zzGPruUfFPtBounUqGeEkMLaogTB9iIys/s200/interview.jpg" /></a>over. In fact it had really just begun. After listening to Serena’s interview we were escorted to a buffet tent that had been constructed outside exclusively for VIPs like me and Steve! It was kind of strange for me to be among so many people that reeked of money and “high society”. Everyone was dressed in designer clothes and looked like they had just come from the local country club; women with matching earrings, necklaces and bracelets were all around, and little kids were decked out in Lacoste “this” and Banana Republic “that”. While waiting in line for our food, Steve asked me, “Can you smell it?” at first I thought that he meant the food, but then I realized he was talking about all the money that surrounded us. I suppose that tennis is one of those sports that attracts a more affluent crowd. Much like other sports such as golf, horse-back riding, etc. it takes money to participate; not like basketball where all you need is a 15 dollar ball and you’re set! Also while waiting in line we <a href="http://z.about.com/d/hotels/1/0/L/c/PR_buffet.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://z.about.com/d/hotels/1/0/L/c/PR_buffet.jpg" /></a>unexpectedly brushed shoulders with Serena Williams as she passed us on her way to the court as well as the great tennis-icon Billie Jean King who is still affiliated with the sport. We were a little star-struck, but we played cool so as to fit in among the rest of our VIP counterparts. However, you can’t teach an old dog too many new tricks in one day; once we got to the food tables, we piled on as much as we could on our plates and stuffed our pockets with complimentary sodas and water bottles (I guess I have a ways to go before I’m to fit in among the cultured elitists of the greater Philadelphia area). Sufficiency fed and watered, we made our way to the stadium where the match would be played.<br /><br />As we waited in line among the “commoners”, we over-heard a white man say that he hoped no one was sitting in his seat. Steve, being an African-American, turned to me and jokingly said that this was one of the biggest differences between white and black people. He said, “White people are always saying that they ‘hope nobody is sitting in their seat’. While a black person says ‘there better not be anyone in my seat or else!’” I had to laugh at the subtle truth in this statement.<br /><br />I didn<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBK8uKiEDz-jqhmyVeU3Rtr6Gb7o-p1Gd7IO1mo5D6gRa5TOMYmBrYPs87v6b2bq3Np9Z0ivhePpaXLyskzSlgyUNRSTjseTZgHRyVi4VVvK8Ai6AY5sg5VsUk9TemxvXlena0tnvLKJg/s1600-h/serena+ad+court.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359627242483770594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBK8uKiEDz-jqhmyVeU3Rtr6Gb7o-p1Gd7IO1mo5D6gRa5TOMYmBrYPs87v6b2bq3Np9Z0ivhePpaXLyskzSlgyUNRSTjseTZgHRyVi4VVvK8Ai6AY5sg5VsUk9TemxvXlena0tnvLKJg/s200/serena+ad+court.jpg" /></a>’t realize at first how good our seat actually were until one of the ushers started taking us to our seats. We were like the Energizer Bunny, we kept going and going and going down, closer and closer and closer to the court! When we finally did stop, we were right on top of CENTER COUNT sitting in the 5th ROW! Steve immediately began snapping pictures of Serena with his “paparazzi-approved” camera, and I did likewise with the camera on my phone. The exhibition was a team match tha<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y5anR9xSc4YgeWaK926uZAUa1POZ-4NMEE_zNU1pJKOFC8GLtrVr3sOjkqGsO3KnlDpOJbS7vH7NeNBShCmY_vCTuvxeek1_zSwb0iZbVyaAsLMb7y6kLj0zsN2NlADjysYQV3p_zxk/s1600-h/serena+and+tem.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359627688474509026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y5anR9xSc4YgeWaK926uZAUa1POZ-4NMEE_zNU1pJKOFC8GLtrVr3sOjkqGsO3KnlDpOJbS7vH7NeNBShCmY_vCTuvxeek1_zSwb0iZbVyaAsLMb7y6kLj0zsN2NlADjysYQV3p_zxk/s200/serena+and+tem.jpg" /></a>t featured 2, four person teams (2 men and 2 women per team). 5 sets of tennis were to be played during the exhibition: 1 set of Women’s Singles, 1 set of Women’s Doubles, 1 set of Mixed Doubles, another of Men’s Doubles, and a final set of Men’s Singles. Steve and I stayed for the first 3 sets only because; let’s face it, after watching Serena Williams play tennis, who really wants to sit and watch a bunch of nobodies?! Besides when you’re a VIP you never stay till the end of anything! Show up late and leave early right?!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-j8BZOyrOHz1LqsczKYk-nbUWct3PonEufVYzdnaaH4bsKiKD6IJk-hMe1KmtRimcxWqrTqFEwEcSXzPuQKPzTg6RSDhZdLvwgrMXUgdvVCbhY3wRI9EzKFwmraCdO53pj_XT6UHWRUk/s1600-h/me+at+tennis.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359628248477454274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-j8BZOyrOHz1LqsczKYk-nbUWct3PonEufVYzdnaaH4bsKiKD6IJk-hMe1KmtRimcxWqrTqFEwEcSXzPuQKPzTg6RSDhZdLvwgrMXUgdvVCbhY3wRI9EzKFwmraCdO53pj_XT6UHWRUk/s200/me+at+tennis.jpg" /></a>Before leaving the match I thought to myself, “Man, here I am sitting at center court in the 5th row! I’ve seen Serena Williams both play tennis and give a personal interview, I got catered meal, and all of this was comp-ed?! I could really get used to this!” (haha) It really was a once in a life-time experience, one that I won’t soon forget.Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-6120930616012285582009-06-27T19:49:00.000-07:002009-12-18T15:25:05.090-08:00Wedding Crasher<a href="http://www.aflcanada.com/northwind/wedding_crashers.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 229px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 303px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.aflcanada.com/northwind/wedding_crashers.jpg" /></a>Since I’ve become some-what of a grown-up by working a grown-up job this summer, 8 to 5 every day Monday through Friday, I decided I’d do what all grown-ups do! And that is GO ON A MUCH NEEDED VACATION! Luckily, one of my best friends from the mission (Scott) was getting married in Salt Lake City, and this provided me with just the opportunity I needed to get away from work for a few days and have an adventure in the great state of Utah.<br /><br />Looking back on the adventure that was, I’ve drawn some surprisingly similar parallels to one hilariously funny film, Wedding Crashers (of course the TBS version only). So let me “Lock it Up” for you and tell you all about it…<br /><br />The first thing that I had to do was actually get to the wedding. Being from Virginia I’m not the most directionally-inclined person when it come to navigating the desert-like terrain of Utah. I’ve been visiting family and friends in Utah since I was 3 years old but I’ve never quite gotten the hang of the whole “grid system” (200N, 400S), even though e<a href="http://www.wallybloss.com/PB190134.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 184px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.wallybloss.com/PB190134.JPG" /></a>veryone in Utah continues to tell me that it’s the easiest thing in the world. Frankly I’m much more comfortable following directions like “go about a mile and turn right at the second light after the Dairy Queen on your left”. But when people start jabbering on about go east a mile then bare south, I begin to get a headache and start to wish that I had remembered to pack my compass. Lucky for me my Grandpa Bunnel (my mom’s dad) is a retired engineer and a capable cartographer. He drew me maps to and from Salt Lake City, to and from the reception, and he probably could have drawn me a map to and from the moon if I’d have asked him to do so. :) Each map contained multiple routes of arrival, just in case I was somehow able to get lost. And so it began, dressed in my Italian suit and armed with my hand-drawn maps (I brought my GPS too) I made my way to the Salt Lake City Temple where I’d have the privilege of seeing my friend and his wife be sealed together in marriage.<br /><br />I really wasn’t too worried about parking. My friend, Scott, had said to park in the deck next to the Temple and simply inform the attendant that I was there for the Palmer wedding. My Grandpa had also conveniently drawn the location of the parking g<a href="http://la.curbed.com/uploads/2008-06-permit_parking.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 181px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://la.curbed.com/uploads/2008-06-permit_parking.jpg" /></a>arage on his map. The parking garage was directly under Temple Square and was in between the Church Office Building and the Temple itself. I located the place without any real problems and made my way down the ramp into the deck. I had failed to read the blaring sign in front of the ramp that stated “PARKING BY PERMIT ONLY”. So as I pulled up to the attendant’s window I told him what I thought to be “the magic words”, “I’m here for the Palmer Wedding” and he looked at me as if I were speaking Greek. It was a little awkward; I must have looked like a very confused, but well-dressed country bumpkin from the backwoods of Virginia. Then he said, “Umm, yeah, you aren’t suppose to be here!” I was pretty embarrassed, but thankfully the man took pity on me and gave me a parking permit for the day and said “I’m being nice to you. Just go park over there in L2.” It didn’t even occur to me until later that I might have been parking my car right next to President Monson (Haha…”Hey what’s shakin’ Tommy?”). I was so excited about my good fortune that I parked in the first available spot I could find, jumped out of my Grandma’s car, and began searching for a way out of the labyrinth-like parking garage.<br /><br />It’s still a little unclear to me how I actually managed to get out of the parking garage. I remember going through one door here, up some stairs there, and then inexplicably I somehow found myself outside in the middle of Temple Square. It felt great to walk around the grounds and see all the people getting married (I heard someone say that 55 weddings were happening that day at the Salt Lake Temple) and how happy they all looked being surrounded by their families and loved ones. I took some time to look around the visitor’s center and I even ran into a sister missionary from southern Italy. My good <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNZzfEEHKOW3kazaviXj8EcWDpedDAyD3jkNJbUhMerzMyhyphenhyphenktDFMz6Cy3Auxiia2NF7g5SjauyAg1TexuDehmobuVSYOFbuaufEBrTAz1CWXplCxh1YIb9ld629LcoP_wnOpDaO3GIA/s1600-h/bzpic1.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 314px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 236px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352208611710012562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNZzfEEHKOW3kazaviXj8EcWDpedDAyD3jkNJbUhMerzMyhyphenhyphenktDFMz6Cy3Auxiia2NF7g5SjauyAg1TexuDehmobuVSYOFbuaufEBrTAz1CWXplCxh1YIb9ld629LcoP_wnOpDaO3GIA/s320/bzpic1.bmp" /></a>mood suddenly turned to panic as I realized that I had no idea where exactly I was to be in order to see my friend’s wedding. He had told me to be at the Temple by 2:10, but now that I was here it occurred to me that Temple Square was a pretty big place and that I had no earthly idea where I needed to be. In a strange twist of fate (that I’m sure could only have happened in Utah) I ran into an ex-mission companion (Anziano Payton Johnson) and a kid that I had grown up with in Richmond, Virginia (Ryan Witt). These two very familiar faces were able to help me find first, the entrance and second the waiting area where I needed to be.<br /><br />Sitting and waiting for my friend’s wedding ceremony to start I felt a little more calm because I was in the place that I needed to be. But then as I scanned the room it occurred to me that I didn’t recognize a single face in the crowd. My mind began to race in panic as I realized that the only two people that I truly knew in the wedding were the bride and groom themselves! I had seen their parents once before but could not confidently pick them out in a crowd. In truth I didn’t know them from Adam, and I was sure the feeling was mutual on their side! As I waited along with about 60 other people for various weddings I heard an announcement for “the Palmer Wedding”, and so I took this to be my cue to follow the crowd of people that were heading to the pre-assigned location where the wedding would take place.<br /><br />As I followed the crowd I couldn’t help but feel very “single” (I think I was one of only two single people invited to see the actual ceremony!) and I felt the burning eyes of the other people in the crowd. I could almost hear their thoughts: “Who is that clown? He must be with the _______ (fill in “bride’s family” or “groom’s family” depending on who was looking at me).” I ignored the looks of everyone else as best <a href="http://dimacs.rutgers.edu/ysp/images/Hmmmm2746.gif"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 198px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://dimacs.rutgers.edu/ysp/images/Hmmmm2746.gif" /></a>I could and eventually I found a seat in the back of the room. Soon we were joined by my friend and his soon-to-be-wife and all of my mishaps, miscues and mistakes were forgotten. Scott saw me first as they came into the room and I could tell he was ecstatic that I had made it. Being able to be witness to such an important moment in my friend’s life made it all worthwhile and I felt honored to have been included. The ceremony was beautiful and at its conclusion I was able to embrace my friend and his wife, they expressed their joy and excitement that I had come so far just for them, and I was able to formally congratulate them.<br /><br />Since a wedding is an event that “has to always be remembered,” pictures are a must. This wedding was no different. The forecast had predicted <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2244/2093329523_3bf4f0a1d4.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 263px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2244/2093329523_3bf4f0a1d4.jpg" /></a>torrential showers, but the rain had held off most of the day and it appeared that we would be lucky enough to avoid getting wet altogether! However, our luck soon ran out. It seemed that as the photographer instructed us to “say cheese” for the first picture, the skies opened up and let loose all they had. We were instantly soaked and left fleeing for cover from the grape-sized raindrops. Someone in the crowd joked, “Well, if rain is good luck, then you guys will be the luckiest couple there ever was!” It was quickly determined that the photos would have to wait until another day, and that we would go straight to the reception that was happening in a town called Midway (about an hour from Salt Lake City).<br /><br />Umbrella in hand, I ran through the rain to find my car. This proved to be much more difficult than anticipated because the door that I had used to get out of the parking deck had somehow managed to disappear into thin air. For close to 15 minutes I wandered aimlessly through the waterlogged streets in and around Temple Square to no avail. Dejected, I finally consigned myself to swallow my pride and simply walk down the entrance ramp that cars use to enter the deck. However the parking attendant that I met at the top of the ramp didn’t find my plan as acceptable as I did. Instead she directed me to a stairwell that would lead me to the parking garage. At long last I made it out of the rain and amongst a multitude of compact cars and a few luxury sedans. I dried off my face, collected my wits, and thought, “Okay, now where did I park my white…dodge stratus…uh oh!” I had forgotten that I had left my car back in Philadelphia and that I had driven my Grandma’s car to the wedding! I couldn’t even remember what type of car Grandma had! Was it a Ford or Toyota? I think it was gold, or maybe it was silver? Oh no it was definitely brown…I think?! “It’s alright,” I <a href="http://www.iwatchstuff.com/2009/03/06/seinfeld-parking-garage.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 313px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 206px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.iwatchstuff.com/2009/03/06/seinfeld-parking-garage.jpg" /></a>thought, “I just need to find L2. How hard could that be?” It was at this point that I saw a D13 posted on column and realized that L2 wasn’t a parking section at all, but rather that it merely indicated that I was on Level 2 of the parking deck! Maybe you’ve seen the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry, George, Kramer and Elaine get lost in a parking garage? This was exactly what happened to me! I walked around for almost a half an hour pointing and pushing the automatic lock button on the key-ring at pretty much anything that had 4 wheels, 4 doors, and was some form of gold, silver or brown! I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. It must have been quite the site!<br /><br />I am happy to report that I did eventually find Grandma’s car (a gold 4-door, Toyota Avalon; I’ll probably never forget that again!) and made it safely to the reception. The reception was very nice. Friends and family had come from all over to give <a href="http://astoriedcareer.com/hello%20my%20name%20is.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 271px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 156px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://astoriedcareer.com/hello%20my%20name%20is.JPG" /></a>their best to the new couple. Since I had attended the wedding ceremony, many of the family members at the reception were interested to meet me and introduce themselves. I had to answer the question, “Who are you related to?” about 20 times! I wanted to adhere to the strict code set forth by my Wedding Crashing Brothers: Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, but I couldn't bring myself to follow <strong>Rule #14</strong> (which says that You're always a distant relative of a dead cousin) by answering as follows, “Oh…me? I’m Cousin Steven’s sister’s brother! You know the one with the face?!” I was too afraid of being caught in my “lie”. Instead I had to explain that I was merely a friend of the groom from our days in the MTC before our missions in Milano and Rome, Italy. In spite of barrage of questioning, I felt much more in my element at the reception, mainly because it was full of eligible young single ladies. :)<br /><br />See <a href="http://www.tbs.com/stories/story/0,,133461,00.html">http://www.tbs.com/stories/story/0,,133461,00.html</a> for a complete list of The Crasher’s Code.<br /><br /><strong>Rule #1</strong>: Never leave a fellow Crasher behind. Crashers take care of their own. This is the first rule of wedding crashing. Since I had come without a <a href="http://www.brides.com/images/vendor/dressgallery/bridesmaid/davidsbridal/00_main/8133181334_primary.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 212px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://www.brides.com/images/vendor/dressgallery/bridesmaid/davidsbridal/00_main/8133181334_primary.jpg" /></a>“wing-man” I was free from the clutches of <strong>Rule #59</strong>; however, coming without a wingman did put me at a disadvantage, and I had to be careful not to get cornered into any unwanted situations. I was on top of my game! The Greeting Line was one of the first things I participated in at the reception. The Greeting Line itself is something of an enigma. It’s a line of about 20 people, but only two with which you really would like to speak. So you essentially have to make small talk with all these people before the bride and groom and then continue the unwanted conversations after the bride and groom until you finally lumber through the line. I was pleased to see that at the beginning of the Greeting Line was a large group of bridesmaids! Following <strong>Rules #13</strong> and <strong>#17</strong> I made small talk with the lovely ladies. One commented on how my dress shirt was textured, and the sly devil had to feel the material for herself. After I mentioned that my suit jacket’s material was “textured” as well and we had a good laugh.<br /><br />After I had finished going through the Greeting Line I had an important decision to make. Two tables with open seats caught my eye. One was obviously full of ex-missionaries from the Rome Italy Mission, and the other table was lined with bridesmaids and girls that had done the bride’s make-up. The decision was pretty easy…and I sat myself down with the ladies and began to work my magic! Lock it up!!!<br /><br />The reception was great! We saw Scott and his wife cut the cake and <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4O_zqqxLRqWYmA5UZR-rgxL96_pEHm2b_h43p_Pe2K211q0uRdF4gdmjeCMV-GqgJRSxPzAe5jfDWe_f23hgaWiSkGAI0Hzn0dHCYjxNULeLr5sTydcdiVS7Ki6dA1Tgz4IsAW44zyM/s1600-h/bzpic2.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 172px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352209864121564834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio4O_zqqxLRqWYmA5UZR-rgxL96_pEHm2b_h43p_Pe2K211q0uRdF4gdmjeCMV-GqgJRSxPzAe5jfDWe_f23hgaWiSkGAI0Hzn0dHCYjxNULeLr5sTydcdiVS7Ki6dA1Tgz4IsAW44zyM/s200/bzpic2.bmp" /></a>then proceed to smash cake pieces in each other’s faces, dance their first dance, and of course the bouquet was thrown to a pack a ravenous single girls! Before I left I made sure to thanks Scott and Sarah for letting me come and celebrate with them. They in turn thanked me for coming and let me know how much it had meant to them that I had come so far just for them. Before I left Sarah made sure to let me know that she had seen my shenanigans with her roommates. She said, “I saw you over there workin’ it with my friends!” I said, “You got me all wrong. I was just trying to show some good old ‘southern hospitality’.” She didn’t believe me for one second, and we had a good laugh before we said our goodbyes.<br /><br />In closing I’ll leave you with this parting phrase and words to live by: Lock it Up!Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-24652763114821612192009-05-23T20:15:00.000-07:002009-05-30T11:39:49.733-07:001 in 6,720<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2389/2531731228_0906b14b8f.jpg?v=0"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2389/2531731228_0906b14b8f.jpg?v=0" border="0" /></a>Well it’s been a while since I last blogged, and so much stuff has happened to me. I wish I could write about it all, but there just isn’t enough time. So let me first give you a quick recap of what’s been going on, and then I’ll describe a particularly crazy awesome experience that happened to me. Do first, the quick recap about what has been going on in my life: I finished my junior year of college! (Wow, I can hardly believe it either), I survived Organic Chemistry with an “A” first semester and a “B” second semester, I was released from my calling as Secretary of the Stake Young Men’s Presidency and subsequently called to be the 1st counselor in our Singles Ward’s Elders Quorum, and lastly I moved to Philadelphia for the summer to work full time and “earn some serious coin” (thanks Sheena and Jay for letting me crash your place for the summer, you guys are the best!).<br /><br /><div><div><div>Now for the crazy cool once in a life-time experience. This past semester I took a c<a href="http://www.egr.vcu.edu/facimg.ashx?id=121&maxw=200&maxh=200"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://www.egr.vcu.edu/facimg.ashx?id=121&maxw=200&maxh=200" border="0" /></a>ourse called Digital Signal Processing. This class was essentially a computer programming class that utilized the program MatLab to generate, filter, and isolate biological signals. It sounds confusing and hard and…well, it is! To make matters worse my professor, while a he was a very jovial and friendly Asian man, he was…well, I’ll just say that being from China, English was not his strong suit. In fact, I’ll say it frankly, his English was atrocious! He would mumble and jibber on about this and that, and whenever he would get stuck linguistically he would break out into unexplainable laughter. Learning the subject of Digital Signal Processing (DSP) was as you can imagine quite the challenge for me. The first exam did not go as well as I expected; despite my best efforts I scored 72%. I was determined that my 2nd and final exam would go much better (it had to if I wanted to have any chance at getting an “A”). </div><div></div><div>As the 2nd exam approached I made sure to study as much as I could so that I would be thoroughly prepared. The day of the exam arrived, and I felt confident that I would perform well. But as I opened the test booklet and scanned over the exam, my heart raced and I began to freak out at all of the problems on the test that highlighted principles and topics that I hadn’t expected.<br /></div><br /><div>I took a second to calm myself down, took a deep breath, and methodically began to work my way through the test. As I worked my way through the test I bega<a href="http://www.retailerdaily.com/uploads/against-all-odds-logo.jpg"></a>n to feel more and more confident that I was actually doing the problems correctly, but I was working at too slow a pace! Only 5 minutes remained in class and I still had an entire section left to complete! It was a matching section that included<a href="http://ist.njit.edu/software/images/matlab2008a/matlab2008a.png"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" alt="" src="http://ist.njit.edu/software/images/matlab2008a/matlab2008a.png" border="0" /></a> 8 equations. 6 of the 8 equations had to be matched with their corresponding graphical output; sounds easy right? Well maybe it sounds easy, but when you have no idea what you’re doing and you’re playing “beat the clock” it’s a lot harder and more stressful. So there I was, no earthly idea what I was doing, with a completely bank page in front of me. What was worse was that this matching section constituted 25% of the total test! So there was no margin for error! I could drop from A to C without even blinking an eye. I worked feverishly, trying to figure out at least one of the problems, but the more I tried the more confused I got. Soon the professor was calling time, and I had still only answered one of the questions (and I wasn’t even sure that I had gotten that one right!). So having consigned myself to lose an immediate 25 points on my test, I thought, “What the heck.” and randomly matched equations with plots. I made the long walk up to the front of the class to turn in my paper and asked the Teaching Assistant to have pity on me, and then I left disgusted with my apparent failure. </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>A few days later I was in my professor’s office asking a homework-related question when I noticed a stack of graded<a href="http://media.digikey.com/photos/Altera%20Photos/DK-DSP-2C70NBoard.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" alt="" src="http://media.digikey.com/photos/Altera%20Photos/DK-DSP-2C70NBoard.jpg" border="0" /></a> exams on his desk. Curious, I asked if he had gotten to mine. In his broken English he said that he had, and then he said, “You do very well.” I was completely confused. I had to be misunderstanding him. How could I have possibly gotten a good grade?! I was sure that I couldn’t get anything higher than a C, so how could I have possibly gotten a good grade? But as I picked up my graded test, I about fainted as I saw a big fat 85 on my paper! I was elated. How could it be? I had guessed on the entire matching section! Could it be that I was lucky enough to have guessed correctly? I looked at the matching section…I had done the unthinkable…out of 6 answers I had correctly chosen 5 of them (at random I might add). My good fortune would eventually prove to be enough to allow me to get an “A”. Without my lucky guessing I’m not sure whether or not I would have been able to get an “A”. </div><br /><div>Maybe you’re not impressed with this story, but let me crunch some numbers for you. The odds of <a href="http://www.retailerdaily.com/uploads/against-all-odds-logo.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 277px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" alt="" src="http://www.retailerdaily.com/uploads/against-all-odds-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a>me doing what I did on this test were astronomical! Choosing the correct answer from a list of 8 possibilities is in it of itself amazing, but to do it 5 times is down right crazy improbable. I calculated the odds: it’s 8 factorial for all the possible choices I had, i.e. (1/8) x (1/7) x (1/6) x (1/5) x (1/4) = (1 in 6,720). Basically, the odds weren’t in my favor! But it must have been my lucky day. Thinking about it now I probably should have bought a lottery ticket or something. If I were to have this kind of luck every 6,720 days I’d have to wait another 18½ years before I have another day like the one I had the day of my test. Hopefully I didn’t use all my good luck prematurely. I’ll probably need it again someday soon!</div></div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-80014319186009021832009-04-26T16:28:00.000-07:002009-04-26T16:38:39.186-07:00Inspector Zentgraf<a href="http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2006/02/20/Inspector_060209025713725_wideweb__300x452.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px" alt="" src="http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2006/02/20/Inspector_060209025713725_wideweb__300x452.jpg" border="0" /></a>In passing, I recently told a friend that I had a "type A" personality. She started to ask me a few questions about my habits and then she suggested that I take a personality test. It was a short test that took only five minutes (found at <a href="http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp</a>).<br /><div></div><br /><div>The following are my results. I found them to be pretty interesting and quite accurate.</div><div></div><br /><div>Portrait of the Inspector (ISTJ) </div><div><br />The one word that best describes Inspectors is superdependable. Whether at home or at work, Inspectors are extraordinarily persevering and dutiful, particularly when it comes to keeping an eye on the people and products they are responsible for. In their quiet way, Inspectors see to it that rules are followed, laws are respected, and standards are upheld. </div><div><br />Inspectors (as much as ten percent of the general population) are the true guardians of institutions. They are patient with their work and with the procedures within an institution, although not always with the unauthorized behavior of some people in that institution. Responsible to the core, Inspectors like it when people know their duties, follow the guidelines, and operate within the rules. For their part, Inspectors will see to it that goods are examined and schedules are kept, that resources will be up to standards and delivered when and where they are supposed to be. And they would prefer that everyone be this dependable. Inspectors can be hard-nosed about the need for following the rules in the workplace, and do not hesitate to report irregularities to the proper authorities. Because of this they are often misjudged as being hard-hearted, or as having ice in their veins, for people fail to see their good intentions and their vulnerability to criticism. Also, because Inspectors usually make their inspections without much flourish or fanfare, the dedication they bring to their work can go unnoticed and unappreciated. </div><div><br />While not as talkative as Supervisor Guardians [ESTJs], Inspectors are still highly sociable, and are likely to be involved in community service organizations, such as Sunday School, Little League, or Boy and Girl Scouting, that transmit traditional values to the young. Like all Guardians, Inspectors hold dear their family social ceremonies-weddings, birthdays, and anniversaries - although they tend to be shy if the occasion becomes too large or too public. Generally speaking, Inspectors are not comfortable with anything that gets too fancy. Their words tend to be plain and down-to-earth, not showy or high-flown; their clothes are often simple and conservative rather than of the latest fashion; and their home and work environments are usually neat, orderly, and traditional, rather than trendy or ostentatious. As for personal property, they usually choose standard items over models loaded with features, and they often try to find classics and antiques - Inspectors prefer the old-fashioned to the newfangled every time.</div><div><br />Queen Elizabeth II, Harry S. Truman, Warren Buffet, Queen Victoria, James K. Polk, and J.D. Rockefeller are examples of Inspector Guardians. </div><div></div><br /><div>The Guardian type most driven to perfectionism and detail is the Inspector (ISTJ). They are attracted to fields where accuracy and precision is needed. They are often found in business and/or finance in positions such as accountant, insurance underwriter, office manager, or bank examiner. Like the Supervisors, they may find their niche in civil service as a detective or an IRS agent. Professional positions in teaching or medicine and legal and technical occupations are also attractive. Says Benita, "I found that I wanted to work in a position where I had the time to make things right. As an estate planner, I enjoy helping people work toward a safe and secure future."</div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-16631980266760500982009-04-03T16:14:00.000-07:002009-04-03T16:44:18.592-07:00Crazy Dreamin'<a href="http://www.achieve-with-hypnosis.com/images/Man_daydreaming.GIF"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 352px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="http://www.achieve-with-hypnosis.com/images/Man_daydreaming.GIF" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>So…I don’t know how often it happens to you, but it seems that I have crazy weird dreams pretty frequently. My "psychedelic" dreams, like most I imagine, are generally brought on by an overly robust late<a href="http://images.teamsugar.com/files/upl1/6/61259/24_2008/pizza%20box.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 165px" alt="" src="http://images.teamsugar.com/files/upl1/6/61259/24_2008/pizza%20box.jpg" border="0" /></a>-night snack or school stress, but regardless of the motive, they are always so "out there" and full of the most random things! Most of the time when I wake up after a weird dream I can only vaguely recall having a weird dream and the details are just a fuzzy blur of insanity. But the other day I woke up and could remember every single silly detail, so I felt obliged to share it with someone. Hopefully you think it’s as weird and funny as I did.<br /><div><div><div><div><br />Before delving into my dream a little background information is necessary. In one of my classes, Biotransport Processes, our grades are calculated from only 9-10 graded assignments consisting of quizzes, lab reports, and homeworks. Each of these assignments carries the same weight, so it’s important to not mess up on these assignments. Every other week we have a quiz on the material that we covered during the previous 2-week period. The instructor of this class has one important rule: DO NOT MISS CLASS ON QUIZ DAY! We only have 15 minutes on quiz days to complete the quiz and if we are not present than we receive a big fat ZERO for a grade, with absolutely no chance to replace this grade. There is a Final Exam that is offered at the end of the semester that can replace up to 3 of our lowest quiz grades, but a ZERO cannot be replaced no matter what!<br /></div><br /><div>Onto the dream…<br />It was just another normal Monday <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiVcu1DWOnpoLvdrZks9M1cJMiRIlozt339J5DGwTKHg7sbJwcmLlpwNpJPRwUscC2I-a344RyvQQt3XlFVqjAQ7ckiSwUD73ipC_D4ZfWQmuohuoFP583Tevv_9uShrQkfZKT9P2EMm0/s400/dreaming.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiVcu1DWOnpoLvdrZks9M1cJMiRIlozt339J5DGwTKHg7sbJwcmLlpwNpJPRwUscC2I-a344RyvQQt3XlFVqjAQ7ckiSwUD73ipC_D4ZfWQmuohuoFP583Tevv_9uShrQkfZKT9P2EMm0/s400/dreaming.jpg" border="0" /></a>morning and as usual I was on my way into the city for my Biotransport class. I thought that I had left the house with plenty of time to spare, but then all of a sudden I looked down at the clock and I noticed that I was already late for class! So I continued on with new motivation to quicken my pace. I couldn’t be late for my quiz and afford taking a zero! I raced down the narrow and pot-hole-ridden streets of Richmond in search of a free parking spot. I was already 10 minutes late! Finally I found a vacant parking spot on the sidewalk and decided that I’d risk the parking ticket so that I could at least try and start my quiz. I was now 13 minutes late. As I entered the classroom, my instructor (who is also the Department of the Biomedical Engineering Dep<a href="http://library.uvic.ca/site/lib/instruction/research/images/professor_003.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px" alt="" src="http://library.uvic.ca/site/lib/instruction/research/images/professor_003.jpg" border="0" /></a>artment at VCU) stared at me and said in his nasally voice, "Well, look who decided to finally show up." I tried to apologize as I sat in my normal chair, but he wasn’t listening. He just put two pizza boxes in front of me and then handed me the quiz. I was, well…confused to say the least! Why was he giving me two boxes of pizza? I opened one up and saw a hot pepperoni pizza inside. I was tempted to take a slice out and start eating, but I thought better of it deciding that it was a "clever ploy" by my professor to distract me from starting on my quiz. So I looked down at my quiz and read the first question: "Which restaurant recently won an award for its clean eating conditions?" A) IHOP B) The Waffle House. </div><br /><div>Yes I know that this is a very random question to have on a college exam, but that’s was it was.</div><br /><div>I recalled hearing over the radio during my morning commute The Waffle House had just won such an award. So I was inclined to circle choice B. But, then my common sense kicked in and I remembered that just a few days ago I had eaten at a Waffle House (which I really had done only a few days before) and it was still one of the <a href="http://www.theonion.com/content/files/images/onion_imagearticle2910.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 322px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://www.theonion.com/content/files/images/onion_imagearticle2910.jpg" border="0" /></a>most disgustingly gross places to eat! I was torn between following my common sense or just circling an answer. So there I sat, stumped as to what the correct answer could possibly be. Then as I closed my eyes and was about to blindly circle which ever answer my pencil landed on, my professor called time and quickly came and took my paper away.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>"Well," I said "it looks like I’ll be taking the final exam to make this one up." </div><div><br />My professor looked at me as if I was speaking Chinese. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "You know that you can’t possibly make this grade up." </div><br /><div><a href="http://www.mobishark.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/disbelief.png"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" alt="" src="http://www.mobishark.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/disbelief.png" border="0" /></a>Now I was the one who was confused! "What do you mean?" I replied with a hint of anger in my voice. "I was here for the quiz…well, sort of…and so I’ll just take the final exam and replace that grade with the abysmal one that I will get on this quiz." </div><br /><div>He looked at me, then my paper, and then at me again! "This," he said pointing at my paper "is a ZERO! You haven’t written anything. In fact you didn’t even write your name, so as far as I’m concerned you weren’t even here for class today." I looked at my paper in disbelief. He was right. I hadn’t written a single word on my paper, and it was certain that I would be getting a zero on the assignment. I tried to argue the<a href="http://www.kalavati.org/images/how-does-stress-affect-health01.gif"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 294px" alt="" src="http://www.kalavati.org/images/how-does-stress-affect-health01.gif" border="0" /></a> unfairness of the situation, but my mouth couldn’t form any audible sound. And so my professor walked off laughing and leaving me to my two boxes of pizzas.<br /></div><br /><div>This is the point where I sat straight up in my bed in a cold sweat! For a second I wondered if what I had dreamed really had happened! I looked over at my alarm clock and even though I originally wasn’t going to wake up for another half an hour, I decided that I was going to get up right away and not risk arriving late to school!<a href="http://www.speeddemons.com/cars/mopar/787-hp-challenger/burning.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 483px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px" alt="" src="http://www.speeddemons.com/cars/mopar/787-hp-challenger/burning.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-67755806772225773052009-03-11T10:05:00.000-07:002009-03-11T11:29:37.595-07:00Storming the Court<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311979416383984914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 203px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 306px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9S08_WijgaCPy1KneHYMW-2Aqn88FY89Fl0aGZW3xZVsw5qdDudMdw0SrI3F887HKO1foW4nsjoJVVxu-Ei_3d6jOFha5ukcArnuIk3WhdKWX_xkPFJkCCTIcXQKLPoBPgnPNwAA3oN8/s320/CAA" border="0" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBZEaRV73B-E_M4lVUwpiKjH3CGPK3Etxdp1nEeGeB8TG1t95c8H-OnIzTnuAel2tei3hoQIvBnxOnm8eGNmuCLJDB4ILdqBSq_S3LinHgJ1pILwLzwdKjet1Wc6xW4hk9J2EaVQK4ME/s1600-h/CAM"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311979671058219186" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBZEaRV73B-E_M4lVUwpiKjH3CGPK3Etxdp1nEeGeB8TG1t95c8H-OnIzTnuAel2tei3hoQIvBnxOnm8eGNmuCLJDB4ILdqBSq_S3LinHgJ1pILwLzwdKjet1Wc6xW4hk9J2EaVQK4ME/s320/CAM" border="0" /></a>Have you ever watched a college-sporting event where a team wins the big game and then all the fans run onto the playing field to celebrate? Doesn’t that look awesome? Haven’t you ever thought, "Man, I’d love to do that too!" I sure have!<br /><br />Monday I had the chance to fulfill this dream of mine as my school’s basketball team reached the conference championship game and handily defeated our arch-rivals the George Mason Patriots! Winning this game meant that our team would be going to the NCAA Tournament, so naturally it was big deal for us! We as fans did our part to get the "W". We worked hard the entire game by yelling, cheering, and boo-ing every chance we got!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzK-OgitscWiWqYvAutIqUcbPj1tbD-nHpwHtj5zx1nA2V9J8vWKI2GD9AsSqz6L9xWHM8j2UfnvqMpKFo_TQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />We jumped around the entire time only sitting down whe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w1FEVpQUbYNDOr9x0__k7wTfj89OojkUqxeMn8Mq5h9M-5memvyZEHJAP1BrzkAqq7AR_JIIakL7M2FlG2fYh-2ZnJIhjcEzQXrtSEHHOd0PyfdMNvvYJRTl-LEvqEwYpjfyz2idlUE/s1600-h/BA"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311980737748995074" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3w1FEVpQUbYNDOr9x0__k7wTfj89OojkUqxeMn8Mq5h9M-5memvyZEHJAP1BrzkAqq7AR_JIIakL7M2FlG2fYh-2ZnJIhjcEzQXrtSEHHOd0PyfdMNvvYJRTl-LEvqEwYpjfyz2idlUE/s200/BA" border="0" /></a>n half-time came. The stadium was electric with the enthusiasm of the crowd. At times you could hardly hear yourself think. Our team dominated the entire game. And as the the final minutes of the game ticked away our team was leading by 15+ points and Whitney and I decided to join the mass of students that were leaving their seats to go line up along the side of <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXiZNSDzU28jp3-Kl_k5dohifgF7fapSQpwiLTKQkFbLZcm0oZnZ4owpoo9bpnJKK9F_T55alJErJO5DojgwkszMg73ULtued3hIg1rqRgbDbZeZcrYFUS4IwT0Z9wlyd5kkyR87EaQ8/s1600-h/meoncourt.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311994076194478242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXiZNSDzU28jp3-Kl_k5dohifgF7fapSQpwiLTKQkFbLZcm0oZnZ4owpoo9bpnJKK9F_T55alJErJO5DojgwkszMg73ULtued3hIg1rqRgbDbZeZcrYFUS4IwT0Z9wlyd5kkyR87EaQ8/s200/meoncourt.jpg" border="0" /></a>the court so as to run on as soon as the final buzzer sounded! I ran out to center court and jumped up and down with the players and rest of the fans! We chanted V…C…U! and hooped and hollered because for the moment WE WERE THE CHAMPS!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmQiAzaiup2FaVfAWJLjuNwqOwxGX6NqLZY0_hQgErnCglejWoBcoNX77CCOBzm5Oztzl0E1A1M4Ss5tY5z8OEPIs6pdmWO245qB0G9mUAq5c-fVDBwVBoUfbHR181YXA-HoHiqaZeeU/s1600-h/BM"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311980361352927682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmQiAzaiup2FaVfAWJLjuNwqOwxGX6NqLZY0_hQgErnCglejWoBcoNX77CCOBzm5Oztzl0E1A1M4Ss5tY5z8OEPIs6pdmWO245qB0G9mUAq5c-fVDBwVBoUfbHR181YXA-HoHiqaZeeU/s320/BM" border="0" /></a>I was in the middle of the fray and was close enough to give high-fives to our two star players: Eric Maynor and Larry Sanders! We stayed on the court as the Championship Trophy was presented to our team and even watched as our players performed the mandatory college basketball ritual of climbing up a ladd<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aH-t971BnObh23BK4Ed7Osn43FvdiLuSJMkWjN80DzQ_VQ5kZmruscTkqEMgOmdLDK_2R5drSc9OVCiVpKLPFNpIt3hp_RngZdvjyB8ekSJsL8I_T-04xPtJ2Kp6Is6CAaR37ncryFc/s1600-h/net"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311990786029962450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aH-t971BnObh23BK4Ed7Osn43FvdiLuSJMkWjN80DzQ_VQ5kZmruscTkqEMgOmdLDK_2R5drSc9OVCiVpKLPFNpIt3hp_RngZdvjyB8ekSJsL8I_T-04xPtJ2Kp6Is6CAaR37ncryFc/s200/net" border="0" /></a>er to cut down the net on the basketball hoop. As Whitney and I left the stadium the city of Richmond was still booming with energy. We high-fived complete strangers on the street and the night sky filled up with car horns that blasted non-stop! We were champs! And no one could say otherwise!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyiO9DlK8zwA5CdFdDkTw3fCP3RGJrMW9AYjqc__lOAAS7uU_TZoYba6gjK8mpTyWRZZ08wr_aRxe_2fn69qV9Us6u4h1_wxMKRsx4-70HUyLHz5XLhSTFK1VnmJXvMVlmmfxLgIBYk0/s1600-h/court.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311994976997421106" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyiO9DlK8zwA5CdFdDkTw3fCP3RGJrMW9AYjqc__lOAAS7uU_TZoYba6gjK8mpTyWRZZ08wr_aRxe_2fn69qV9Us6u4h1_wxMKRsx4-70HUyLHz5XLhSTFK1VnmJXvMVlmmfxLgIBYk0/s320/court.jpg" border="0" /></a>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-76906078121145841512009-01-22T15:30:00.000-08:002009-01-22T16:08:48.342-08:00Profiling for a Lab PartnerI’ve been in college now going on 5 semesters, and it seems that every semester my course load <a href="http://www.travisusd.k12.ca.us/gwest/teacherwebfolder/jscholz/Images/girl_shaking_science_experiment.gif"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 204px" alt="" src="http://www.travisusd.k12.ca.us/gwest/teacherwebfolder/jscholz/Images/girl_shaking_science_experiment.gif" border="0" /></a>is always filled with long tedious lab periods. I remember that my very first semester I had 3 labs: General Chemistry, Animal Biology, and even an Intro to Engineering lab. The thing about labs is that they are always more work than they are worth. Every week you are in lab for an insanely long period time (up to 3 full hours), and then the rest of the week is taken up with writing up the stupid lab report about how you "attempted" to perform the lab, and yet it somehow failed miserably anyway. I heard that, "Prayer will never be taken out of schools as long as teachers continue to give exams".<a href="http://www.stevespanglerscience.com/img/cache/bcb9b8db117ee64376aedaf7af3595ca/184.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px" alt="" src="http://www.stevespanglerscience.com/img/cache/bcb9b8db117ee64376aedaf7af3595ca/184.jpg" border="0" /></a> I agree completely with this last statement and add my little pearl of wisdom, "that as long as students continue to perform simple experiments, the basic laws and theories of physics, chemistry, and all other modern sciences will continue to be disproved on a regular basis."<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div>I used to think that having three 3-hour lab periods a week was terribly unfair and completely abnormal (which in speaking with other students whose majors are "normal" and NOT Biomedical Engineering, I’ve discovered that this is the case), but si<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/cd/Slackers.jpg/402px-Slackers.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 219px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 353px" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/cd/Slackers.jpg/402px-Slackers.jpg" border="0" /></a>nce my schedule hasn’t deviated much in the three years that I’ve been in college, I’ve come to accept the fact that I’ll never be able to escape labs as long as I’m in school. I’ve taken so many lab classes that I’m not sure I can remember them all: Animal and Plant Biology, Chemistry, Organic Chemistry, Engineering, Electrical Circuits, Physics, Physiology, Biomechanics, Biomedical Instrumentation, Biotransport, Digital Signal Processing, and I’m sure I’m leaving out one or two. However, if there is one advantage to taking so many labs it’s that you become very proficient in picking out just the right lab partner! This is key to one’s success to surviving the weekly 3-hour-1-credit-hell know as lab! I learned this lesson my very first year in college. I wasn’t pro-active in choosing my lab partner and so I got the "bottom of the barrel". I soon found out that the "bottom of the barrel" doesn’t always come to class (mine came 5 times out of 9…which is above 50%, but just barely…haha) and they tend to leave things until the last minute. So my freshman year, while I sat alone soldering together "our" robot project I vowed never to let someone else chose my partner for me.</div><div><br /><a href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mfl/lowres/mfln26l.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 332px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px" alt="" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mfl/lowres/mfln26l.jpg" border="0" /></a>This semester started off no differently than any other. 3 labs on my class schedule meant 3 chances to get screwed with another leech of a lab partner. Today, I started my Organic Chemistry Lab. Organic Chemistry is a hell in it of itself, so combine it with a lab and you get hell squared! (I think I now understand what the Italian author, Dante, was talking about when he wrote about the "Ninth Circle of Inferno" in his Divine Comedy). Since I didn’t know anybody that was going to be in the lab section with me, I decided that I would arrive several minutes early. This way I would be able to scope out any "potential" lab partners, thereby assuring myself that I wouldn’t be stuck with some bozo of a lab partner that would just sit back, do nothing, and make me do everything! But actually….come to think of it, if I were someone that wanted to find a lab partner that would do all of the work for me so that I could kick back and chill, I would most definitely show up early on the first day of lab too. That way I could find some super-smart kid that would do all the work and I could just show up and reap the benefits (Dang it! My plan may have back-fired on me!!! Curses) </div><br /><div>As I stood outside of the lab room, a few people caught my eye. Some good, some not so good. Blood-shot eyes and bed-head were definitely negative marks against potential candidates; while clean shaven faces and lab books in hand were signs that I <a href="http://rhyn.files.wordpress.com/2007/12/1065479188_ebd73d600f.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px" alt="" src="http://rhyn.files.wordpress.com/2007/12/1065479188_ebd73d600f.jpg" border="0" /></a>might be getting closer to finding my new lab partner for the semester. I finally decided that this one dude in my lab looked pretty smart, and that I would try to be his lab partner. "What made him look smart?" you may ask. Well, for starters, he had glasses! You can always tell a bookworm by his glasses. Since he was early to class and carried his lab manual with him, I thought that we’d make a good team for the semester. Plus he was Asian. We introduced ourselves to one another, and I soon realized that we were actually in the same Organic Chemistry Lecture class. There are about 200 of us so it’s not surprising that we hadn’t really ever met before. But <a href="http://wwwdelivery.superstock.com/WI/223/1613/PreviewComp/SuperStock_1613R-15127.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px" alt="" src="http://wwwdelivery.superstock.com/WI/223/1613/PreviewComp/SuperStock_1613R-15127.jpg" border="0" /></a>what was surprising was what I learned next about my new lab partner. He told me that he was actually the President of the Pre-Med Society! I could hardly believe it! I had hit the jack-pot of lab partners! President of the Pre-Med Society! You know this guy needs an A in Organic Chemistry. He’s got to apply for Med-School someday, and all pre-med students are always studying so they can make the good grades they need to get accepted into Med-School. So it would appear that this semester is looking up for me, and that I won’t be stressing out over lab partners that don’t show up to class. Atleast I hope not…knock on wood.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-83474844281763360512009-01-01T14:59:00.000-08:002009-01-14T11:58:50.152-08:00The Brog: Holiday Edition<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3O-uQ2CCflDAgsuTa0YMtmIyINk1GX35EL9oEjIVAq5TYGtbOv6kFjwP5_1TnB6Zh6M363XkO4dRqLhLAlRNgV1iLPyw71o3tVWBESxfEa6YHm01e_yd7Mjp7qTV2q3wh6jvQtjKwBCc/s1600-h/DSC05495.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286466382053494242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3O-uQ2CCflDAgsuTa0YMtmIyINk1GX35EL9oEjIVAq5TYGtbOv6kFjwP5_1TnB6Zh6M363XkO4dRqLhLAlRNgV1iLPyw71o3tVWBESxfEa6YHm01e_yd7Mjp7qTV2q3wh6jvQtjKwBCc/s320/DSC05495.JPG" border="0" /></a> I had the best intentions of blogging all about my holiday happenings, but as I’m sure you are well aware, time has a way of slipping through your fingers just like sand. You just never seem to have as much time as you think you do. And so, I hope you will accept my apology for the lateness, read on, and enjoy the Zentgraf Family Holiday report.<br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Thanksgiving: I think that Thanksgiving is slowly becoming my most favorite holiday. While on my mission in Italy I missed out on two consecutive Thanksgiving feasts. Even though most simple Italian dinners can make you feel like it’s Thanksgiving everyday, there is just something about sitting down to a big plate of mash potatoes, gravy, turkey, stuffing, homemade rolls, and pumpkin pie that makes <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisidfBxWw9VNdFVy_2RZaa6SxC2c-phA2kizaS5yWqayGJ7T1Og3c_GSfn6AYgs1or7gyzlRc35_OK2I6F0E89eGDm6XsN3WGatf6N9HkwEt1UlXYq_Zaj09MnY-2Uie-jw-fhmsOUKTY/s1600-h/DSC05474.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286466932853774546" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisidfBxWw9VNdFVy_2RZaa6SxC2c-phA2kizaS5yWqayGJ7T1Og3c_GSfn6AYgs1or7gyzlRc35_OK2I6F0E89eGDm6XsN3WGatf6N9HkwEt1UlXYq_Zaj09MnY-2Uie-jw-fhmsOUKTY/s200/DSC05474.JPG" border="0" /></a>you feel great and glad that we celebrate past historical events by stuffing our faces with food! As is the normal Thanksgiving tradition here in Chesterfield, Virginia, Thanksgiving means Turkey Bowl! Over 40 men, young and old alike, woke up early Thanksgiving morning to show off their lack of skill. It really is quite the spectacle to see everyone who comes to the Turkey Bowl trying to look like the pros. Everyone wears their sports jerseys that no matter how much we would like, still can’t transform us into the real pro athletes, the cleats that don’t make us any quicker than we already are, and the gloves that don’t help us catch the ball even when we’re wide open! Everyone had fun, fortunately no major injuries occurred, and 3 ½ hours after it began, the Turkey Bowl came to an end, and we all left the field tired and ready to eat. The Zentgraf Thanksgiving Feast was shared with another family, the Gomez family, and their 5 kids (all under 12 years of age). And our day was filled with the three F’s: food, football, and friends. </div><br /><div>Since Thanksgiving came so late this year, Whitney and I only had one week of classes before <a href="http://www.pmf.ukim.edu.mk/PMF/Chemistry/teachers/DarMar-zz.gif"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 173px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px" alt="" src="http://www.pmf.ukim.edu.mk/PMF/Chemistry/teachers/DarMar-zz.gif" border="0" /></a>our fall semester concluded. This fall Whitney and I have been in the same Organic Chemistry class. It has been quite the experience for the both of us. Most of the time we’ve gotten along and not annoyed each other too much. There has always been a "friendly" debate in the Zentgraf house as to who the smartest Zentgraf is, and this class presented the perfect opportunity to put this debate to rest once and for all. With such a short period of time before the start of our final exams Whitney and I set our differences aside and took over the kitchen turning it into our very own Chemistry study hall with an explosion of old exams, flash cards, text books, and other scrap pieces of paper on the kitchen table. The final exam was very difficult, but fortunately Whitney and I were able to do well enough to both get A’s in the class. Unfortunately the answer to who the smartest Zentgraf child is, remains unanswered. I was lucky <a href="http://www.bcpl.info/teens/teens_study.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 278px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px" alt="" src="http://www.bcpl.info/teens/teens_study.jpg" border="0" /></a>enough to get an A thanks to a generous class curve while Whitney logged a 90% grade without the curve! But I was able to excel in the laboratory portion of the class while Whitney encountered some difficulty, falling just short of the A grade. So I suppose we will just have to wait another semester before we can say who is the smartest. :) However when all is said and done the answer may not be Whitney or myself because Krystal consistently brings home report cards that are overflowing with A+ marks! </div><br /><div>Christmas: This Christmas our family exchanged some early and unwanted "presents." My Dad was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9ja_sV7pJVLU-2z5apYpx65m51NTH3YyNMMCI9VQUGMaPv6Yt9q61YKehQ2YC3_rRc8lNIfOM2A4i4PCdUCOkjDfepG6M8-bvNCwhq6fsG2axqZmuGlzM0swnZcCcxXddrtQLQO5zpc/s1600-h/DSC04776.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286469267942064706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy9ja_sV7pJVLU-2z5apYpx65m51NTH3YyNMMCI9VQUGMaPv6Yt9q61YKehQ2YC3_rRc8lNIfOM2A4i4PCdUCOkjDfepG6M8-bvNCwhq6fsG2axqZmuGlzM0swnZcCcxXddrtQLQO5zpc/s320/DSC04776.JPG" border="0" /></a>the first to give his cold to my Mom, who then returned the favor by giving it to me, and now Whitney has received a late Christmas present by starting to need to take tissues with her everywhere she goes. Mom’s cold was so bad that she couldn’t even make Christmas Eve dinner. With Mom out of commission and Dad just getting over his cold, the focus shifted to me to make something for Christmas dinner. Luckily I learned a thing or two about cooking on my mission, and I decided to make one of my favorite Italian dishes for<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-15AEXUYFehdSvC3hny0vDFzyZmdeNQ0msw0WKb-Ofd-hdBsCKBHEh1wHCmoGGG8w1tjkc4eC9-BNrZz7OCZwpDc_of9F2oBvxBObMIe1-rmq-YUVE-6mxKI_XuYkufiSaWHTDatA0U/s1600-h/DSC04779.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286469551950809394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-15AEXUYFehdSvC3hny0vDFzyZmdeNQ0msw0WKb-Ofd-hdBsCKBHEh1wHCmoGGG8w1tjkc4eC9-BNrZz7OCZwpDc_of9F2oBvxBObMIe1-rmq-YUVE-6mxKI_XuYkufiSaWHTDatA0U/s200/DSC04779.JPG" border="0" /></a> Christmas dinner, which is Arancini Siciliani. Arancini are rice balls that are held together with Parmesan cheese and eggs and then filled with a homemade meat sauce and mozzarella cheese. The rice balls are then covered with flour, eggs, and breadcrumbs and finally deep-fried in peanut oil. Making Arancini Siciliani is a lengthy process but they are well worth it because they taste like heaven on earth. The following pictures show the starting and finished product and some of the in-between steps. My mouth <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fUuym4xtYOpXFqIyXLv_FHFZbiQLiFVnzK8NZF8CINCz-5Etmby52CCtmFL7jZo5m2AcQbwGYE9syhbqIMUGVcB0E8c9YPqLUOQW0xZVSLrXQqyZaLeKA73J0rS-333mWrUi8PKhm4c/s1600-h/DSC04785.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286470263618003970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 314px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fUuym4xtYOpXFqIyXLv_FHFZbiQLiFVnzK8NZF8CINCz-5Etmby52CCtmFL7jZo5m2AcQbwGYE9syhbqIMUGVcB0E8c9YPqLUOQW0xZVSLrXQqyZaLeKA73J0rS-333mWrUi8PKhm4c/s320/DSC04785.JPG" border="0" /></a>starts to water just by looking at the pictures. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0hJLCloomwi6q8xgI-DqoXN1IiwbHW5QsEJDStA7sQhFQH95Nq-DhSExX-8o4xYc0V7dmgP1gGUsR77JfVF5NiEHsRV5qZQJxfQtW1354OaDyiA7UCdDP4WyWiejQftSqDlyOGgE1q0/s1600-h/DSC04782.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286470497722343106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 194px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0hJLCloomwi6q8xgI-DqoXN1IiwbHW5QsEJDStA7sQhFQH95Nq-DhSExX-8o4xYc0V7dmgP1gGUsR77JfVF5NiEHsRV5qZQJxfQtW1354OaDyiA7UCdDP4WyWiejQftSqDlyOGgE1q0/s320/DSC04782.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br />The day after Christmas was a red-letter day in the Zentgraf household. A year ago Emily received a Yoshii stuffed animal for Christmas, and in the past year Emily and Yoshii have been inseparable! They are practically an item, and Emily takes <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqYJ85tDdBy2nst6U77-4U81lUEVZqrmei9DAyB2LEC_q5xsjTU1z94weQTv3JjhtFWab-HNx5kyVZOEG_8exiZVJdYehNByIU23lgBIKaFOu0DEIIXTv3cbX7TqTFGSl5qQhSFyK8ew/s1600-h/DSC04795.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286472732993630402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 234px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqYJ85tDdBy2nst6U77-4U81lUEVZqrmei9DAyB2LEC_q5xsjTU1z94weQTv3JjhtFWab-HNx5kyVZOEG_8exiZVJdYehNByIU23lgBIKaFOu0DEIIXTv3cbX7TqTFGSl5qQhSFyK8ew/s320/DSC04795.JPG" border="0" /></a>him to activity night at church, at night they have long talks in her room, and if she could she would take Yoshii to school with her (but we have to draw the line somewhere). Yoshii has basically become a regular member of the family, and so according to Emily’s wishes we had to celebrate Yoshii’s birthday! There we were on December 26th, the whole family, gathered around a birthday cake singing Happy Birthday to Yoshii. It <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-79WRQ2lhRZNXb3IUE5s-bOJ73Toikw0dwrsXgOuKOjS4PZ4eboOpUkAq8lpgM9-1u3G8cQD3ROR0_-9e2C-e1cu3QxdqhtvM5u-IXP5DwowSTiZXlM-SFc2X_pCu9Jf0FTQ-JB8UJc/s1600-h/DSC04793.JPG"></a>was a little weird, but Emily sure did enjoy the joke. :)</div><br /><div>This year I was asked to help out with one of the young men’s church basketball teams, and we recently had our Christmas Basketball Tournament. Our team was a definite under-dog! Of the 10 players on our team, only one of them is over 16 years old. Mark is our go-to-player mainly because he is over 5 feet tall and is the only kid who can score with any consistency. The other 9 players on our team are all deacon-age and most are barely 5 feet tall! Since our roster is filled with so many "vertically-challenged players" we have decided on a suitable team name: Mark and the 7 Dwarfs! :) My fellow coach and I didn’t really have very high expectations <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgok3qOILhi93qhE8GN33Q0kAguwgp7oQjy95nm9BoYv5u6EIf9ihPOIwc7ItpYpgEl453hFM1SVLHouHYOeq_96Ehv4_jwDdp5MpShl9hiFlpHo2l4U2yl3BFvZ369YZital-rQUNV-1I/s1600-h/DSC04801.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286480701025431682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 323px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgok3qOILhi93qhE8GN33Q0kAguwgp7oQjy95nm9BoYv5u6EIf9ihPOIwc7ItpYpgEl453hFM1SVLHouHYOeq_96Ehv4_jwDdp5MpShl9hiFlpHo2l4U2yl3BFvZ369YZital-rQUNV-1I/s320/DSC04801.JPG" border="0" /></a>for our team’s ability to win games, but we entered the tournament with a desire to have fun and help our youth do the same. Amazingly our team, on the back of a 30-point-per-game scoring average by Mark, notched a 2-1 record falling just short of the championship game! It was a very exciting tournament for all involved! </div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>New Years: This year’s New Years Eve Party was a true test of my partying endurance <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8FugbTkqtcp9Vzn8vGTGg6Oar4ciNJS11f7Wrq72b8Mk3f-zw9GstkaZs6JFoSx_RqUBR3XbqaCp3s1liCVSpDLrhH-_gFq-FxPlSTeTOENcz7Frv7XkyBR81H4glinb2UdQsu7-jRc/s1600-h/PIMP"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4w9t7Du3rBY_FtH2frrFm9JH3KHO2frpFOSkuM65ql1-jTBjneN7v1f_iK_Yu2Oyfr1466NEtjNpEqXKy7bvmkTDyyYLbI6KyFkTKwgvWFkFTzVfmypnzcIXVkktul95tzRoS7XS-ZAc/s1600-h/WALL"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286932441914917842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4w9t7Du3rBY_FtH2frrFm9JH3KHO2frpFOSkuM65ql1-jTBjneN7v1f_iK_Yu2Oyfr1466NEtjNpEqXKy7bvmkTDyyYLbI6KyFkTKwgvWFkFTzVfmypnzcIXVkktul95tzRoS7XS-ZAc/s320/WALL" border="0" /></a>capabilities. Whitney and I decided to join a large group from our Singles Ward that was going to a regional activity in Virginia Beach. In all about 30 of us Richmond-ites, in several vehicles, made the two-hour drive down to the beach where we were certain a night of non-stop dancing, food, games, and flirting with some lovely ladies awaited us. We left Richmond around 6:30, however, my evening got off to an inauspicious start when I quickly discovered that I would be making the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zF-6uXusDjFjLiFbciSkgHvhTvPWvY2vD3MNzZXmK51Ak59AotTZkD8FJpMIHRO1QFNnsmGEC0Ah4RiQzElN65VGxyoG2tfaRmO2TPBZBRhzlma6d9CNzbkFzcI9iFKrbJEKfOFG-I0/s1600-h/FLIP"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286932633694863250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 187px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4zF-6uXusDjFjLiFbciSkgHvhTvPWvY2vD3MNzZXmK51Ak59AotTZkD8FJpMIHRO1QFNnsmGEC0Ah4RiQzElN65VGxyoG2tfaRmO2TPBZBRhzlma6d9CNzbkFzcI9iFKrbJEKfOFG-I0/s320/FLIP" border="0" /></a>two-hour car trip in a truck filled with 6 guys and 0 ladies (a ratio that is definitely more conducive to "bro-mance" rather than some good old fashion romance!). To make matters even "more awesome" I was to be tightly nestled in between two very large single dudes throughout the duration of the trip! :) The ride down to the beach actually turned out to be a lot of fun, and my car, the self-proclaimed "half dirty dozen," had our own pre-party in the truck listening to some bumpin’ music and "pre-gaming" about how we were gonna put some smooth moves on some unsuspecting ladies before the New Year arrived. :)</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XmkUNsmbcLPvqdHkBl-DMwczFVz1c-xHdP5Cg6UFTWCHy8bOEXbXFYe4QNKF6BC-1xaoqUKRX5VDT6Fd16dHj4PSOvygLxBsw_Qg_rpovZHZfEl12qDRfQasq8up_L60xLGaJh18Mqw/s1600-h/BUNGEE"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286929891044274706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 189px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1XmkUNsmbcLPvqdHkBl-DMwczFVz1c-xHdP5Cg6UFTWCHy8bOEXbXFYe4QNKF6BC-1xaoqUKRX5VDT6Fd16dHj4PSOvygLxBsw_Qg_rpovZHZfEl12qDRfQasq8up_L60xLGaJh18Mqw/s320/BUNGEE" border="0" /></a>The New Year’s Party was held in a local church building near the beach, and when we arrived we were greeted with a mile-long table of hot-wings, chicken, and cake, a dance floor for getting your groove thing on, and even carnival games that included a giant Velcro-wall and a very fun bungee-rope contraption. The selection <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzEgdIRMIdtsyfIHLJyHcvUnR5AytuhsdPW3RaAI5CZ4PYKOu1ttSSzbHMOLI7-sdIledzkoVOe-uDQyECI_8NlnxhT1WQlzRD1fL2riIQY2PU2uOoczHukBakh8A6Zbr1skwqkmphBk/s1600-h/FALL"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286930161905102402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzEgdIRMIdtsyfIHLJyHcvUnR5AytuhsdPW3RaAI5CZ4PYKOu1ttSSzbHMOLI7-sdIledzkoVOe-uDQyECI_8NlnxhT1WQlzRD1fL2riIQY2PU2uOoczHukBakh8A6Zbr1skwqkmphBk/s200/FALL" border="0" /></a>of music left something to be desired, but as the evening progressed it seemed that the DJ’s music standards digressed transforming the YSA activity into more of hot nightclub. Early on during the more lame stages of the activity, the group flirted with the idea of leaving the church to go form our own new year’s party on a sandy beach with a small bonfire to set the mood. However, indecision and a wind-chill factor as low as 18 degrees were the main reasons that this private party never occurred. Inevitably 2009 arrived, and every guy in the building quickly tried his best line on the nearest girl in order to roll in the New Year with a kiss ;) </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpzzD8Vlhuoj60JaHFkt7mCVJI9mfJqWrr8ZnJrvkiCrw9auGhLhm90nmt75q9HuT3qT7AJX53V3vdEAB3R0vYL0aluT5FVFu6Wg5gNi4M4FftXrWKDERj3aOiJewYFEFFBaWgVSZuuw/s1600-h/GIRLS"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286930734319121938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpzzD8Vlhuoj60JaHFkt7mCVJI9mfJqWrr8ZnJrvkiCrw9auGhLhm90nmt75q9HuT3qT7AJX53V3vdEAB3R0vYL0aluT5FVFu6Wg5gNi4M4FftXrWKDERj3aOiJewYFEFFBaWgVSZuuw/s320/GIRLS" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The caravan of Richmond-ites left the party around 1:30 am for a Mom and Pop Pancake Diner that was right on the oceanfront. One of our number was accidentally left behind at the New Year’s party when people (myself included) decided to switch up the seating arrangements, but he later rejoined us at the diner and we all had a good laugh at his expense. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCEPTcQxJ_U6eqQyJwuZmPnWZZVRqP6bOHY1CNdnQIp6S9hCvtWQaPI1YqDR2adJkSZjo9NE_XRWDuJpU_OQZqnUVrLoCvSiAfggloWtPiRLljolFgQg26KZszoTB3v1OiWG_mf_2W58Q/s1600-h/PIMP"></a>Finally around 3:30 we decided that we had <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1LhUqIzIMBN2sr0DM0ZCKUP4urm8GDauREbG7Cb6LgkN_zyYi36_8UZMZvscfW4pDk4wHTYZrKgdlhXC-tGTfrDhyHW6iBRsjBdSzZG9-i4yLRiaSPhGUN1mcb_YpwUqphKWItgbI3c/s1600-h/PIMP"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286937683917034306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1LhUqIzIMBN2sr0DM0ZCKUP4urm8GDauREbG7Cb6LgkN_zyYi36_8UZMZvscfW4pDk4wHTYZrKgdlhXC-tGTfrDhyHW6iBRsjBdSzZG9-i4yLRiaSPhGUN1mcb_YpwUqphKWItgbI3c/s320/PIMP" border="0" /></a>had our fill of the diner’s food, and that the diner employees had had their fill of us. It was time to return back home, and once again I changed cars but this time it was to drive Whitney’s car back home so she could sleep and I could fight back any drunk drivers that might have been on the roads. And so early this morning, around 5:45 am, my New Year’s party marathon came to it’s conclusion as I slipped into my bed, pulled the covers over my face so as to hide the early morning sun from my view, and thought to myself "Happy New Year to All!" and finally fell asleep!</div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-77738403319579594562008-11-09T08:33:00.000-08:002009-01-01T18:19:09.375-08:00Look Mom! I'm on TV<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3M8CZjszL0BkQhlfbztyL4pi-v7M3VJH-6n7oLjrgjlCtCsbU88RRbLup1FS6G8QwT3iFM9B_ClOOef7QPnGZ5rcnajNipCm1CXIkUg_RELtzmuBvbdDPT3AimKRn_b3OF4SKAIzgNkU/s1600-h/alf%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266701660491256130" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3M8CZjszL0BkQhlfbztyL4pi-v7M3VJH-6n7oLjrgjlCtCsbU88RRbLup1FS6G8QwT3iFM9B_ClOOef7QPnGZ5rcnajNipCm1CXIkUg_RELtzmuBvbdDPT3AimKRn_b3OF4SKAIzgNkU/s320/alf%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a> One of the coolest things that me and my dad do together is go see the Washington Wizards basketball games up in D.C. It’s something that we’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ve</span> been doing for years and years and years. I first remember going to a game when I was about 6 or 7 years old. As a little kid it was always an adventure for me. We’d make the 2 ½ hour drive up to the old arena, enjoy an action packed game, and then sometimes we’d even stay the night at my grandparent’s apartment that was just outside of D.C. When I was really young we would maybe go to one game during the year, and usually we would go to the games not to see the Wizards, but rather we’d be there to see the OTHER team that was playin<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJVOaVr1-y8QgYDtZoQOqDMRto4AzP3RbEZw5bsBOWky4hsF-gjlSXblZJb4UEjiI8cWBwor3Aifq-iBj6T_2vrJs4Mqshiz6RpyL2muugkkLVpEvoD1DxO6bH5L5qZyeWnZtdSvsBGw/s1600-h/whiteout_380_080501%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266701963214120098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJVOaVr1-y8QgYDtZoQOqDMRto4AzP3RbEZw5bsBOWky4hsF-gjlSXblZJb4UEjiI8cWBwor3Aifq-iBj6T_2vrJs4Mqshiz6RpyL2muugkkLVpEvoD1DxO6bH5L5qZyeWnZtdSvsBGw/s320/whiteout_380_080501%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a>g. I remember seeing Michael Jordan and the Bulls once and another time the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Shaquille</span> O’Neal led Magic. I remember being truly amazed by how talented and big the players were. Since we would go to games so rarely, my Dad and I would always stay after the games had ended (thinking about it now I suppose we did it more so to avoid being stuck in the terrible traffic that follows all sporting events) and try and snag an autograph as the players left the stadium on the way to their cars. We were lucky enough to score an occasional signature, even if we were asking ourselves, "Who was that guy again?"after the player had signed a scrap piece of paper. :) After waiting for autographs in the freezing cold we would head to the car and my Dad would make the long drive back down to Richmond while I would sleep the whole way dreaming of the day when I too would make it to the NBA! <div><br /></div><div>This past Friday my dad and I again went up to Washington D.C. We go a lot more often these days, and now we cheer for the home team! :) It has been a great way for us to just hang out and spend some time together. This particular game I finally was able to realize one of my biggest dreams…I got to be on the scoreboard. Now we’re not talking about being on the screen for a few seconds. We’re talking me, on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">HD</span> Jumbo-Tron, my face, like 15 feet by 15 feet for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">atleast</span> a few minutes. It was freaking sweet! I was chosen to participate in one of the prize-give-away contests that they do every home game. The contest was simple enough, there were three balls on the screen and inside one of the balls was a Wizards player. The balls were mixed around and scrambled up and after being switched around I had to choose which ball had the player inside. If I was correct our entire section would <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8uXNAgyerzp__zUPvcUvvJlWxLwPTDt53hEWgwySQn3N6us3Jb8BAspKk18kTHMW19LB-TKkvuYINR1X2RCmMpfxcsI4lhDG45YvNjOJPmQw-XwtpqpurBkH5_4BhceXixlSRhiWZIw/s1600-h/marriage-two-men-fighting%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266702771411318786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8uXNAgyerzp__zUPvcUvvJlWxLwPTDt53hEWgwySQn3N6us3Jb8BAspKk18kTHMW19LB-TKkvuYINR1X2RCmMpfxcsI4lhDG45YvNjOJPmQw-XwtpqpurBkH5_4BhceXixlSRhiWZIw/s200/marriage-two-men-fighting%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a>have T-Shirts thrown to us! If I was wrong the section next to us would get shirts thrown to them. So the pressure was on: choose right, be the Hero; <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">choose</span> wrong, be Boo-ed out of the stadium. Fortunately for me, I chose right. And the entire stadium erupted in cheers and applauded their approval (except the section nest to us I guess! They <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHi0cecEl4Zb-ZcnVRZxcWRGYEqF7VIzVvJuWIVJzocF9UL4bBfZfkLsbDBH8Gw8fYAkpD5MggOHwtvHKiFZQOs9iEJliq_SxwtNnmOPUtWwEf4PzzQvW6tvGfoKsEK1aINENQEr9mE_M/s1600-h/watschen_00%5B1%5D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266704194368489026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHi0cecEl4Zb-ZcnVRZxcWRGYEqF7VIzVvJuWIVJzocF9UL4bBfZfkLsbDBH8Gw8fYAkpD5MggOHwtvHKiFZQOs9iEJliq_SxwtNnmOPUtWwEf4PzzQvW6tvGfoKsEK1aINENQEr9mE_M/s200/watschen_00%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a>probably cursed my name. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Haha</span>) And so with my vi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfvItmYBb_Ekm7AvbPNX_lo8UnR4Q0lCXjwW_ZrzUWYGKFz_P7l3SYR14W41GZdKqZhian57tfbeRom1JvcC-wyX2VJ3_AHOXT4xNbnuIN5lJggfqUt-1LDA_NV6xHUqSFNGU_VOPY-kQ/s1600-h/watschen_00%5B1%5D.jpg"></a>ctory came a shower of T-Shirts! It’s funny how getting a cheap T-Shirt can make grown men dived over their neighbor and/or wrestle with each other; you’d think that they were giving away 100 dollar bills instead of a 5 dollar shirt. I of course, as the conquering hero, was assured a T-Shirt and I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">didn</span>’t have to fight to get one.<br /></div><br /><div>As I sat down I saw this little kid in front of me with his Dad. The kid was maybe only 9 or 10 and had been too short to grab a T-Shirt for himself. We was looking at me and I could see that he had really wanted to grab one, and now that he had come up empty-handed he was sort of disappointed. I sat down and looked at my T-Shirt that I had won! I thought to myself, "This kid wants and needs this shirt more than I do. And besides, it was cool enough for me to just be on the big screen " So I tossed the kid my shirt and went back to watching the game. The kid’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and his Dad looked at me and whispered a thank you to me while he high-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">fived</span> and hugged his kid as they celebrated their "spoils". </div><div><br /></div><div>Material things <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">aren</span>’t everything. I realize this a lot more as I’m growing up. It’s the journey and the experiences gained along the way that are of real worth. Getting there really is half the fun! And I’m glad that I could make that little kids day…and be on the Big Screen.</div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-54700729616728920592008-11-08T16:19:00.001-08:002008-11-08T16:31:51.084-08:00Who do I look Like?<a title="MyHeritage - free family trees, genealogy and face recognition" href="http://www.myheritage.com/collage" target="_blank" alt="MyHeritage - free family trees, genealogy and face recognition"><img style="WIDTH: 456px; HEIGHT: 502px" height="578" src="http://storage.myheritagefiles.com/M/storage/site1/files/05/40/82/054082_676383a7c261947o5mnw32.JPG" width="500" border="0" /></a> <p>When I saw my cousin Melanie's Celebrity Collage, I was so jealous that I wanted to make my very own. So I picked a photo of myself and saw my results. The first time I did a collage, my top look-alikes were Tom Cruise followed closely by KEITH RICHARDS!!! ahhhh! So I quickly decided that I needed to try a new picture of myself :) and so here's my second attempt at a Celebrity Look-alike Collage of myself. ;)</p><p><a href="http://www.myheritage.com/">MyHeritage</a>: <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/celebrity-collage">Celebrity Collage</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/page/roots">Roots</a> - <a href="http://www.myheritage.com/page/genealogy-sites">Genealogy sites</a><img style="VISIBILITY: hidden; WIDTH: 0px; HEIGHT: 0px" height="0" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.10NXC/bHQ9MTIyNjE4OTkzNDI1MCZwdD*xMjI2MTg5OTU3ODU5JnA9MTEwNTcxJmQ9Y29sbGFnZSZuPWJsb2dnZXImZz*yJnQ9Jm89MWM3YmMwZjU*NjY5NGQyMGIyMGU2NzNhZTA3MDhmMTc=.gif" width="0" border="0" /></p>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-29362397802307886852008-10-15T13:50:00.000-07:002009-01-01T18:18:16.268-08:00What's in a Beard?Being a die-hard Chicago Cubs fan I was so excited for the Major League Bas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7U4LXVbpcXjsCiaRyde-eaXSYDU4zh24B51EKm8c6fKOQkzL0fd3c_YCgK-g3Tk7gC1qmOB81soSC_sON86kfP3PNuOhMcLKI89Dx0oxi1EId384_LAZO6WAStrOzjsZl0Y2QcilBMjE/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257488706669048658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7U4LXVbpcXjsCiaRyde-eaXSYDU4zh24B51EKm8c6fKOQkzL0fd3c_YCgK-g3Tk7gC1qmOB81soSC_sON86kfP3PNuOhMcLKI89Dx0oxi1EId384_LAZO6WAStrOzjsZl0Y2QcilBMjE/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a>eball Playoffs to begin. The Cubs had successfully navigated there way through the regular season winning their division title on route to the best record in the entire National League. This year was going to be our year! The year that the Cubs brought home a World Series Title after making there devoted fans wait 100 years exactly! Having the best record in the National League meant that the Cubs would face the lowly Los Angeles Dodgers who had snuck their way into the playoffs by default after barely finishing over 500 and still being the "best" team in their division. Winning their first round series against the Dodgers should have been a breeze for the Cubs! In fact I remember seeing a poll of 7 baseball analysts in ESPN.com and every single one of them had the Cubs winning the series!<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><p>But after the Cubs dropped the first two games in their best of 5 series, I could see that they needed a little bit of Brad Zentgraf intervention. Therefore, I did the only thing I could do to help the team. I declared that I would NOT shave until the Cubs won against the Dodgers! "Playoff-Beards" are actually quite common a<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0JJYDlVGChnGOyFja7z3GDXnY1dS5u08rh2PeOggzvCp00NwnP6qBpflJZ0JSGSvlqXoOs8dKqj_1dS2YON5U8WPShQUntx2iFWbwfM6uMotGlQErCUNDLWHd49s7NmrgqxLejabctk/s1600-h/show.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257491138095880546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0JJYDlVGChnGOyFja7z3GDXnY1dS5u08rh2PeOggzvCp00NwnP6qBpflJZ0JSGSvlqXoOs8dKqj_1dS2YON5U8WPShQUntx2iFWbwfM6uMotGlQErCUNDLWHd49s7NmrgqxLejabctk/s200/show.jpg" border="0" /></a>mong pro athletes, especially when it comes to baseball and hockey players. And I set out to show my support for my team in the only way I could think of! Unfortunately for me, the Cubs didn’t get the memo about my added support and went on to lose Game 3 effectively eliminating them from the playoffs and dashing every Cubs’ fan’s hopes of seeing a World Series Title brought back to Wrigley. </p><br /><p>I then came t<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4odpaKJy8wp_VdPKhqGymkd7vwrM1nCtZe0k89-QZE0VX89mV-l6_EvixiFK7OL8QcqSmRzU38hF3KGsIZuWaWALU7TpAAP0i-nkbfsFN2U-cXe5jhEBWj0xMaHmXjOm9Jf0K5-8-x8/s1600-h/DSC05410.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257487414530656386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4odpaKJy8wp_VdPKhqGymkd7vwrM1nCtZe0k89-QZE0VX89mV-l6_EvixiFK7OL8QcqSmRzU38hF3KGsIZuWaWALU7TpAAP0i-nkbfsFN2U-cXe5jhEBWj0xMaHmXjOm9Jf0K5-8-x8/s200/DSC05410.JPG" border="0" /></a>o a cross-roads of sorts. While I had just the previous day claimed to never shave until the Cubs won a World Series, I was now faced with the terrible realization that this event would not happen for ATLEAST one full year! And even though I would have to eventually renege on my original purpose in not shaving, I didn’t want to let a perfectly good "Playoff-Beard" go to waste! And so I did the next most logical thing…coming in a close second<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8Q5ZSCi7zJYfa3lacAF52aNBjCoFGQky8eDzPjjAWv6pKrVao9YLH1pHdgqle7QA_k2INhHD2IDutV62mVt5dr_ztMjPDz8LUO5Kdk3Fsprl8vUOZG2V8sDky2s7G-mofUEXg2YHHaQ/s1600-h/DSC05404.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257487672176553234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8Q5ZSCi7zJYfa3lacAF52aNBjCoFGQky8eDzPjjAWv6pKrVao9YLH1pHdgqle7QA_k2INhHD2IDutV62mVt5dr_ztMjPDz8LUO5Kdk3Fsprl8vUOZG2V8sDky2s7G-mofUEXg2YHHaQ/s200/DSC05404.JPG" border="0" /></a> place in popularity to the "Playoff-Beard" is another phenomenon that sweeps the nation on most every college campus this time of year, and that is the "Mid-Term-Beard". </p><br /><p>It’s been almost two weeks now and my Mid-terms have come to a close. And with the end of my Mid-Terms comes the end of my "Mid-Term Beard" and all of the gloriousness that goes with it! I’ll be sad to see it go, but it’s for the best. It does look pretty gross! Haha Today I got my first Mid-Term score back in my Biomechanics Class…98%. I guess you can’t mes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5AGOCo20zGkjVuDu6mnJXNhZxKZk-rsZDBW8Wel3rbOc0NagpXnw5rpUVMzX6zOk-OLtmgMUVA1ihItw5FLx4DBeZEIZEyY2PEDpG8M8w0oIwHvTm4vOBA74pjtJqShGJX84lvsFy-U/s1600-h/DSC05411.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257486475301604338" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5AGOCo20zGkjVuDu6mnJXNhZxKZk-rsZDBW8Wel3rbOc0NagpXnw5rpUVMzX6zOk-OLtmgMUVA1ihItw5FLx4DBeZEIZEyY2PEDpG8M8w0oIwHvTm4vOBA74pjtJqShGJX84lvsFy-U/s200/DSC05411.JPG" border="0" /></a>s with results?! I hope my "Finals-Beard" will be as successful! :) </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-35156060397078215662008-10-14T17:04:00.000-07:002008-10-14T17:21:39.747-07:00DJ B-rizzleSo I don’t know how many people know this about me, but my current calling in the church is the Secretary in the Stake Young Men’s Presidency. It really is a great calling and I really enjoy it a lot…most of the time anyways J When I was called to this position about 8 or 9 months ago, my old seminary teacher, who I had had a great relationship with, was the President. So working with the youth, planning dances, and organizing youth conference together with him and the other counselors never felt like work it was always just good times. About two months ago, the Stake Young Men’s Presidency was dissolved and a new president was called. But lucky for me I was retained as the Secretary!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcpYLKfAydsVYKpnq8O7tgHEJsmFBoj7nV2uNt0Yosw2kh23Rth3bO_HdRmPgfYZ49P5ZeylZkcCF5nZF1EWYs75YAT_-6Ssfs8k9NBRsiujHa6g83AcLWRMiDmbGvgTBlhO1PRP9wPA/s1600-h/DSC04725.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257166980791749298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcpYLKfAydsVYKpnq8O7tgHEJsmFBoj7nV2uNt0Yosw2kh23Rth3bO_HdRmPgfYZ49P5ZeylZkcCF5nZF1EWYs75YAT_-6Ssfs8k9NBRsiujHa6g83AcLWRMiDmbGvgTBlhO1PRP9wPA/s320/DSC04725.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />One of my responsibilities is that of Youth Dance DJ!!! Naturally, after discovering that I would have DJ responsibilities my first order of business was to pick out a DJ persona. I’ve settled on DJ B-Rad, but any and all suggestions are welcome (haha). The whole DJ thing is a pretty cool gig, and I enjoy it for the most part. It took some getting use to, and I had to start from scratch and compile a whole new library of dance music (my second order of business). The Vanilla Ice, Men in Black song, and 80’s music was getting a little too much airtime for my liking! But now the music selection has pretty much caught up with the new millennium, with a few classic exceptions. And the youth have really show there approval of my "apparently natural" DJ-ing skillz (I say natural but it is more than likely a lucky coincidence that the youth don’t hate me because…well heck I’ve never done this thing before!).<br /><br />I’ve never really had any complaints from kids or adults about how I do my DJ-ing thing…Until this past Saturday. Good grief…<br /><br />The funny thing about working with the youth, and I’m sure any other adult who has been in my position can relate, is that the youth can/and most often do change their opinions on everything. One minute you can be their hero and then next they hate you with a passion. I had several snot-faced brats (excuse my heated-ness, but I hate when people are rude and inconsiderate and annoying) most all of which were from the other visiting stakes (our dances are most often Tri-Stake extravaganzas) came up to me and say, "Why don’t you play any good music! We can’t dance to this!" I wanted to say, "Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize that your dance move repertoire included on the ability to jump up and down like a complete baffoon and follow the directions told to you in line dances like the Cha-Cha-Slide!" (Can that even be considered dancing?). Anyways…I normally don’t let that kind of stuff get under my skin and this time was no exception so a few minutes later all was forgotten and everyone, including myself, was back to having an enjoyable evening.<br /><br />But than an adult leader from who-knows-where, I’d never seen him before, had to come and push my buttons! The dance had been going on for almost 2 hours and I had settled into my normal DJ-flow (2 or 3 fas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhiXdjZ-fh1w2VwGICSFSAXCwfjs41PBO6rTkw7HxN7L-d7jTGmwRXmZwG7Tm6NsRVMSS8Eoqzh0KGDW5dRvKbGqwbakXfSZmqzZFXXa1YFgJyb0BVozwItaOXfertyiDhhpmcEjB4Hw/s1600-h/08Anger_Management.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257168165187406898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMhiXdjZ-fh1w2VwGICSFSAXCwfjs41PBO6rTkw7HxN7L-d7jTGmwRXmZwG7Tm6NsRVMSS8Eoqzh0KGDW5dRvKbGqwbakXfSZmqzZFXXa1YFgJyb0BVozwItaOXfertyiDhhpmcEjB4Hw/s320/08Anger_Management.jpg" border="0" /></a>t songs for every slow dance)…that’s just how I roll. Ya feel me? Well, a slow dance was playing, and Bro. Bust-Your-Bubble felt the need to approach me and say, "Ahhh (big sigh), well look at that. This is the first time that I’ve seen the youth happy tonight. These youth come to dance with and meet new people, and they can’t do that with all the fast music." I was immediately on the defensive and said, "Look pal, I’ve been consistent, 2 or 3 fast song for every slow song. And I think it’s going pretty well so you can just settle down." To which he responded, "Well, this is you show and I’m not about to tell you how to run it but couldn’t you play 3 slow songs for every fast song?" This guy was like 50-something and I just wanted to slap him around a bit for the dumb things that he was saying; I especially got angry when he felt the need to come back 5 minutes later and tell me the exact same thing.<br /><br />I don’t know what it was, but for whatever reason this guy really got my goat and really had gotten under my skin. But I guess patience with others is a virtue, and a virtue that apparently I needed to work on that night.<br /><br />An interesting aspect of my calling, not related to DJ-ing youth dances, is all the meetings I get to sit in on and participate in. I often find myself sitting in a room with the other leaders, people who are two or even three-times my age, and then other meetings I’m in we are there meeting with the youth who are several years younger than me. I’ve noted on several occasions the disconnect between the age-gaps. I don’t consider myself a kid anymore, but I’m sure as heck not an old fart of a leader either. I’m somewhere in between. And I hear the grips of the youth about how the leaders won’t allow this and that and then I see the logistic problems that the youth never even consider. It is all just one big mess that makes me laugh sometimes. But I suppose my unique point of view is just one of the reasons why I am where I am. And I’m sure the same can be said for all of us. We each have special talents and abilities that enable us to succeed and/or contribute in the places that we find ourselves. And apparently DJ-ing skillz are a part of my resume' haha!Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-21768747616494545462008-08-17T20:40:00.000-07:002008-08-17T23:25:36.305-07:00The BlurWell this summer has been just a one big blur! I almost don’t know where to begin, but allow me to try and explain…<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div>In May, exactly one day after taking my last final, I hopped a plane back to Italy! I was so excited to go back and see the country that I grew to love over the 2 years <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84hiYUbjYiPJdCXtKjDow1ymwPvLYRrGCUV_WQSYOdhuK570K6295QfOXmaHAqhTdrKjU6ZwNU3Gw-BThznEzbk3wmp4we-GNqLtfZgR4ndAEbMsjaOb8p-56yWYXXbps4s84hybw4tQ/s1600-h/DSC04862.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235714758673098018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84hiYUbjYiPJdCXtKjDow1ymwPvLYRrGCUV_WQSYOdhuK570K6295QfOXmaHAqhTdrKjU6ZwNU3Gw-BThznEzbk3wmp4we-GNqLtfZgR4ndAEbMsjaOb8p-56yWYXXbps4s84hybw4tQ/s200/DSC04862.JPG" border="0" /></a>that I lived there. I spent 13 wonderfully, jam-packed days touring old mission cities, members and investigator, ex-companions, and of course I couldn’t pass up seeing some of the sites and just being a relaxed "tourist". For me going back to Italy was a chance to unwind and reminisce about everything that had happened to me in the last year since returning from my mission. My mom was (as you can imagine) a bit uneasy about me traveling around all by myself. Before leaving she would ask me: How are you going to do this? Who are you going to stay with here? and What are you going to do for food? etc… I can’t say that I blame her for worrying so; I mean she is my Mom and that’s what mothers are suppose to do, but I wasn’t worried one bit because I was going to be back "home". </div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDzVZi04ZxdVaHzQrjvpjGsBQ9oM0xrpGEQ14kUJnM3QI_n__O02SLYXxl7QySDxuUFvhtaMF92aEYJfwknmbzVenPMU6xwp56qNW9EI-801wWifNUZI55qUAei64y_IdyOCLL8WUgsro/s1600-h/DSC04989.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235731915301736786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDzVZi04ZxdVaHzQrjvpjGsBQ9oM0xrpGEQ14kUJnM3QI_n__O02SLYXxl7QySDxuUFvhtaMF92aEYJfwknmbzVenPMU6xwp56qNW9EI-801wWifNUZI55qUAei64y_IdyOCLL8WUgsro/s200/DSC04989.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPaLOgSekPEL2Yv0hQn4GNbdJ7rBgF7ZBmBf2CTp-m12cZcgl-ZEJsgG3OMUoU3v-h723PZC92Ukc9yR2oqhvMQLJJxFNpDwSN_g_MwA0yxIwK1mJiokDZwvzxH2w5KGXNYcRyqc4VkU/s1600-h/DSC04947.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235732134547328098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPaLOgSekPEL2Yv0hQn4GNbdJ7rBgF7ZBmBf2CTp-m12cZcgl-ZEJsgG3OMUoU3v-h723PZC92Ukc9yR2oqhvMQLJJxFNpDwSN_g_MwA0yxIwK1mJiokDZwvzxH2w5KGXNYcRyqc4VkU/s200/DSC04947.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlV1mIiKLhlLmWXvxHi3TAqmPCKsi8cXCWgDtF8c2Syg5MbpBrE-N7Y6xbJwE8IqgLW9_DOpiwvRs1dbalMRdChQvnRMr78bUuFGmznpxSTOKx55B8m0hsoB5kwbsmeyUFcGCxlfqj69k/s1600-h/DSC04989.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol5f_Q_pfGqUDfREYvBjhwZMy3wGZxazYLuty80dIBgeBE47CzRVuygGVWwix7O6flxg_G5orgpLRivBpRKI_eNnyEO7FH44C8Ty_d6fhyphenhyphenv2wSJDtJHFkyO_M3iWqaZcLQIVRE8FGSfQ/s1600-h/DSC04947.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxi_BdIe3CTXpOjvE5EsqUKl8FJa-AZP3i1Jc0-OOjXJAaYaYyyE1OFrxrMgtkQpB0G_H11BHEl0etMpapZNGqOduEw2uQcCaygWbFw64oAlnKO1c3FJvgFX02rxblHwXedyNWH3NoJA/s1600-h/DSC04807.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235708321573729986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="150" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxi_BdIe3CTXpOjvE5EsqUKl8FJa-AZP3i1Jc0-OOjXJAaYaYyyE1OFrxrMgtkQpB0G_H11BHEl0etMpapZNGqOduEw2uQcCaygWbFw64oAlnKO1c3FJvgFX02rxblHwXedyNWH3NoJA/s200/DSC04807.JPG" width="190" border="0" /></a></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk489atD9f_FOLxU2MNWQEnapprF_gT6ww6LEqocw_c7I2YkkogVZ5ylUY9ibgTIM7wZtXHiyFvD6foDiWd8jaTAEQJ_vwgcxTCnXvGb4Aa9NwPjjIImWtJyMoHDnmIg9GoLQBjjxUdKI/s1600-h/DSC05046.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeXCfWNAHX3CEs7dL4o4ilj5w3-x8LUxxsQEgsIiHNe-PJ6Ns0aTTuOw2H4oCZ_mFEdzfk6ElxbvGuatUhhgoZ-tQXxp7EHfMDK1YDCyY3i8F3CJTxeVM-Xf10lF4Q77iCxbxdj8faSM/s1600-h/DSC05046.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235738349250048962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeXCfWNAHX3CEs7dL4o4ilj5w3-x8LUxxsQEgsIiHNe-PJ6Ns0aTTuOw2H4oCZ_mFEdzfk6ElxbvGuatUhhgoZ-tQXxp7EHfMDK1YDCyY3i8F3CJTxeVM-Xf10lF4Q77iCxbxdj8faSM/s200/DSC05046.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div>My trip that I had planned out for myself included visiting the cities of Alessandria, Vercelli (both cities in which I served that are near Torino where they had the Winter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIpgEE2H_Wzhlyl1UCi_Z61YVygI997jg3i_rV4qKVe9IPh528YuOxqGlPvxrPAjjvDFKU0zyFslTCLerNBDcHJu3G34KbsGlonCd7OGvM1SRKSB1Bfy0wuGK5GeXn0GCFsYxoEZpLrE/s1600-h/DSC05047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235733599363110178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIpgEE2H_Wzhlyl1UCi_Z61YVygI997jg3i_rV4qKVe9IPh528YuOxqGlPvxrPAjjvDFKU0zyFslTCLerNBDcHJu3G34KbsGlonCd7OGvM1SRKSB1Bfy0wuGK5GeXn0GCFsYxoEZpLrE/s200/DSC05047.JPG" border="0" /></a> Olympics in 2006), Genova (a beautiful city that lies on the Mediterranean coast, where I always wanted to serve but never did), Verona (this historic city is the setting for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet), Mantova (a small quaint city just south of Verona; the only thing that made me stop in Mantova was the fact that my Greeny was finishing his mission there and I wanted to pay him a visit. We ate a pizza together and laughed about the good old days), Trieste (another city in which I served that is North of Venice and adjacent to the country of Slovania), I stopped in Venice as well, and finished my trip in Florence, where one of my ex-companions lives. WOW! That was a mouth-full and it was just my itinerary. Honestly I loved my trip and everything about it, but after coming back I needed a vacation to recuperate from my "vacation". </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235720044503157698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHy_g8nSj-Ec7IqVll4rCI5KRTIukJ_NMJ0NP6047CzyuxxErCfe6KFlyQbrxlPW4BszaJdkP7xPCaMwWyBPB0_L5h8-Gwc8MKN07EwE5WCEFt-n10darn75bcMBSgV10FOagurgF1pUM/s400/DSC04912.JPG" border="0" /> As you can see I did a lot of traveling from place to place during my trip, and I was able to pass the time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEI4n7LylfWSKZ5EPurrsdBYaMd5bHUug70npoEq7QBY3PVTE4ON2WMWmmFxCmC-ru5snXTKaOn6n5Flw7NAx_BPz5_p_xYW5vkYXS9wfQWcQkcM9If8go-OSGHi4bL5KBtpxePThtlk/s1600-h/DSC05058.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235715320008377522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEI4n7LylfWSKZ5EPurrsdBYaMd5bHUug70npoEq7QBY3PVTE4ON2WMWmmFxCmC-ru5snXTKaOn6n5Flw7NAx_BPz5_p_xYW5vkYXS9wfQWcQkcM9If8go-OSGHi4bL5KBtpxePThtlk/s200/DSC05058.JPG" border="0" /></a> by just kicking off my shoes and curling up with a good book while I rode the trains here and there. I brought along Elder Groberg’s Memoirs, The other Side of Heaven. It was an amazing book (if you haven’t read it I encourage you to pick it up). It was a pretty cool way to spend my travel days, looking out the window at the rolling hills of the Italian countryside and remembering all the things that I had done, then being able to read about Elder Groberg’s mission adventures and seeing some of the similarities in what he thought about his mission and what I had felt about mine.<br /><br /></div><br /><div>During this trip I was finally able to make to Venice! Believe it or not, during my 2 years in Italy, I actually never did make it to Venice! I did see Venice from the train station once as a missionary, but unfortunately, I never got the chance to experience it for myself. Ironically when my family came to pick me up from my mission they had just been in Venice the day before! "Oh, Venice is so amazing!" they said. "You know what we’re talking about. You saw it right?" But…alas I hadn’t. So nothing was going to stop me this time. It really was out of this world. Nothing else can compare to it. I’ll let the picture speak for themselves.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30xCkuMoKDm0NcSKq6yi116o1Lie3FNobR5BuV7W26JUhsbN-lICgIjYXpW5WiH6SyTRcYZFAj8zjWH41CLWU1mVolpQ2wsYYOqD9ls7nKRjQKLSeMm0lSdD7KQ3kglvQT7o8HdpbB8s/s1600-h/DSC05068.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235710529407917570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30xCkuMoKDm0NcSKq6yi116o1Lie3FNobR5BuV7W26JUhsbN-lICgIjYXpW5WiH6SyTRcYZFAj8zjWH41CLWU1mVolpQ2wsYYOqD9ls7nKRjQKLSeMm0lSdD7KQ3kglvQT7o8HdpbB8s/s200/DSC05068.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8w4Bat78y1-tM2imYe3Ksy8Hf1xA0T16QI0uO7lZGvw_lSF2xiKZyRKy4qcKVzOHanCkynng0fsoOxpvVrx75OXKxfjkIN7qbYzVkPiXhOcIRiDxfnk5vwGKmlqIZ51sjoNeUPaTLfic/s1600-h/DSC05099.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235710841158911922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8w4Bat78y1-tM2imYe3Ksy8Hf1xA0T16QI0uO7lZGvw_lSF2xiKZyRKy4qcKVzOHanCkynng0fsoOxpvVrx75OXKxfjkIN7qbYzVkPiXhOcIRiDxfnk5vwGKmlqIZ51sjoNeUPaTLfic/s200/DSC05099.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235706825604267906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 166px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="166" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPBeNMslSDqHPw1B_wUMa9cNKyOTHfGpYLWNFKSupEbz3ibdEOnscDW2TUQNNxiAP8rUO9Op94U6w8fE-93Vhqw3rWiYREWeebwbqaddcDhOEJWjui91iQYzLmb0XIYkTGukIPkvPoDQc/s200/DSC05062.JPG" width="200" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235711423399909634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg9Jk1qeKF77qi3Dl90bK2Gcl_MsgMapio2XxeAAWfWpI06etFbvmffQbSi8DB0pfUVIaBbvpdh-R80QdGuaqJCtR53udyPBxprTyYA0gZpbusR9RHmv6RI0QdPG4fsW-vWyknmxizfiE/s320/DSC05138.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCutOuQVhf2mqjyirJ4TJAy5abaQLt2X0I7059xCe-wGiZVAcJVASxN01hU0oSxY7lYT4kG3FcB130vGCiJ78Wd78rvycAcwosLqttPAk8f3R1d64TOK2dR1jCP42iCMJ80DlnX4Z1Lp4/s1600-h/DSC05278.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235712759867637090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCutOuQVhf2mqjyirJ4TJAy5abaQLt2X0I7059xCe-wGiZVAcJVASxN01hU0oSxY7lYT4kG3FcB130vGCiJ78Wd78rvycAcwosLqttPAk8f3R1d64TOK2dR1jCP42iCMJ80DlnX4Z1Lp4/s200/DSC05278.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWuRMkxjCUuXkaMvhML7A0kWEg9xoSxRb7mmTs8FYvi5kCAgbTAC6HzAII_jmee0-uGxnQq8F-6p1cUlxpS4hjbCo4bxJLqqLy2Ry6FTJZMrazooyttsy23uZuQjWHuduE6HVoKqZuSE/s1600-h/DSC05077.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235713093528049042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWuRMkxjCUuXkaMvhML7A0kWEg9xoSxRb7mmTs8FYvi5kCAgbTAC6HzAII_jmee0-uGxnQq8F-6p1cUlxpS4hjbCo4bxJLqqLy2Ry6FTJZMrazooyttsy23uZuQjWHuduE6HVoKqZuSE/s200/DSC05077.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div>Florence was equally as amazing. I think it’s probably my most favorite place in the entire world. My ex-comp, Alessio Ferrini, was there to pick me up from the train station and the few days that I spent there were non-stop party! We went to some natural hot springs near Pisa, competed in a birthday party cook-off, went to a soccer riot (I kid you not!), rode mopeds through the Florentine streets at about 50-60 m.p.h, and a lot of other "cultural activities" that missionaries cannot do! :)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQgMrr1c5dJUX6hRGiUvSispPT-VqRRZdtq6Wuco29sJp1saNXgyTChQScIbkOlu3wMW25CgrOdmu2NUvaKL7y8tpGwOJ9opkyx1BZ2J1Gvl5ivrWjAbIflxhairj4iSfktrcXJgHi2M/s1600-h/DSC05196.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235716678991050194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 197px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="150" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQgMrr1c5dJUX6hRGiUvSispPT-VqRRZdtq6Wuco29sJp1saNXgyTChQScIbkOlu3wMW25CgrOdmu2NUvaKL7y8tpGwOJ9opkyx1BZ2J1Gvl5ivrWjAbIflxhairj4iSfktrcXJgHi2M/s200/DSC05196.JPG" width="188" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhsCt7Inv2zae1HQr32ltO-DQ0ex8w-DUOpTEqwKoEIqxKXZfQrEoHlrKQc3SbPFn7jLtsL0sdxC_YCNX8Z9HukQxHJXAOllOw8tN0066PvnYkDPiHLRL3roQLq_f7frxXo_Esv9sUWg/s1600-h/DSC05013.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235719065352825810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 188px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="150" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhsCt7Inv2zae1HQr32ltO-DQ0ex8w-DUOpTEqwKoEIqxKXZfQrEoHlrKQc3SbPFn7jLtsL0sdxC_YCNX8Z9HukQxHJXAOllOw8tN0066PvnYkDPiHLRL3roQLq_f7frxXo_Esv9sUWg/s200/DSC05013.JPG" width="189" border="0" /></a></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235716945878267154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 188px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="150" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80SP63wwAh5Wjkt96IeYMGnCgZRW27vJQWZHf51nEZIOAL8BXVHcde1A0Lyvgouu1OvMEWXOECPJkvOHqqKM5Ttf_7qaRjNQBha1bltsK-aMMkYrYI4FtQJSS0fwvMCtRB51iXkmkT2o/s200/DSC05171.JPG" width="192" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzNNEXI2UxymsEAHJxW5FzH1xToHOSXuZhHpJosvD3yb4b2lGCDKAw1jMy2sKUI70bjxpiHmDfVHlKuv-9LTg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div><div>So that basically sums up my Italian vacation experience. Cool, right? Enough excitement for one summer some might say, but not me. Exactly one day after coming back to the Sta<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhw2sItS1zQ-iiVC3KME-tmdyiE5NK1QNhU3V24eBoteFkX5uCDs-S_ye1kRPoBV1_e2ZUSCTlRDunOs36zB9-_T8RFc_zf4bz5gYh9KXfHm_amYKChnssLmAeRaXMpJNJEc6ls3JTSg/s1600-h/DSC05282.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235716103815170642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhw2sItS1zQ-iiVC3KME-tmdyiE5NK1QNhU3V24eBoteFkX5uCDs-S_ye1kRPoBV1_e2ZUSCTlRDunOs36zB9-_T8RFc_zf4bz5gYh9KXfHm_amYKChnssLmAeRaXMpJNJEc6ls3JTSg/s200/DSC05282.JPG" border="0" /></a>tes, still suffering from jet-lag I might add, I started a 4-credit summer course in Electrical Circuits. Not nearly as fun or exciting as a trip to Europe, but to my displeasure, it was something that had to be done. So twice a week I would drive myself 40 minutes down to the local community college where I would sit in a classroom for 6 hours straight listening to jibber jabber about Ohm’s Law, RLC circuits, imaginary numbers, and phasors (no not the stuff from Star Trek, but nice try anyways…). It was, shall we say an exercise in self-discipline and patience. I ended up with an A in the class (the teacher was very forgiving in how he graded certain assignments and everyone did quite well in the course), and looking back on the whole experience I feel it’s like a lot of things in life, you just kind of suck it up and bite the bullet and then after it’s done you say to yourself, "Man, I’m glad I did that. But I’m even more glad it’s over." You know one of those experiences that takes only one time living it to learn what you needed to learn from it. :)</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>My circuits class lasted only 8 weeks. Not too long, but believe me the end couldn’t come quick enough for me! And so after such a grueling summer, I decided that I deserved a much needed break…two days later, I drove to Philadelphia where I would be working with my cousin Jay for the remaing 5 weeks of my summer "vacation". </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXo-XHbjPv_YasaYZIXm4reGmwiH-_AmdxKqXiE1K8zgV-GeIOyWho0OY1hPjsIu_e_CZjr8Uy-osl06jcNslEyoc5N-g80yg84yb1s5QjQuTK6vmmhpVk9K3lyEyIyYrew2N6hoKWNn8/s1600-h/DSC05300.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235731063756336978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXo-XHbjPv_YasaYZIXm4reGmwiH-_AmdxKqXiE1K8zgV-GeIOyWho0OY1hPjsIu_e_CZjr8Uy-osl06jcNslEyoc5N-g80yg84yb1s5QjQuTK6vmmhpVk9K3lyEyIyYrew2N6hoKWNn8/s200/DSC05300.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RPrONSfDSnqeEuoCwx5TJYYkbB99bUBcoX1U5FxvNmI1JEJV1diOWFC7XytCsdszAyhla1zQ_HMm32n3u8CYOzgCajRuxFxt3k0RQXvrqfvBWwEK4XcwxlkoIZpjEFspuhw3XTkE_wo/s1600-h/DSC05339.JPG"></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImwX6EJa9sh9I9IANlzOuXQSi1o4Oxp0mA8SdN6AcqDkLmfJO2QXK2Akn8NpJVs18kRmcNBhWJ5pLahwz4hPKvNxttv8iq97k8ZEyKnRAujHoePUQE2BiUgz-BGlrsyjh_8z1ZXQMDcU/s1600-h/DSC05339.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235739799926872050" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiImwX6EJa9sh9I9IANlzOuXQSi1o4Oxp0mA8SdN6AcqDkLmfJO2QXK2Akn8NpJVs18kRmcNBhWJ5pLahwz4hPKvNxttv8iq97k8ZEyKnRAujHoePUQE2BiUgz-BGlrsyjh_8z1ZXQMDcU/s200/DSC05339.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAkBOHJwyv5DxpxIQcdUlbn3nCLWVA4RYD-uYmG20LVcPF1k3zq4okToZO35sApsVRtq9lv-d0lbdMRouu4nMRPk0zRf5REnbsw0ZZ6vEGBt-1wqEPN_kKSR7i5dz9qtLdhE9WmrOMiQ/s1600-h/DSC05339.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div>Going up to Philadelphia and working a full-time job was a great experience. I can’t thank Jay and Sheena enough for opening up their home to me. Their house was transformed into a pseudo-frat house with me, Spencer, and Joseph (a friend of Jay and Sheena’s) all staying over. It really was so much fun living together. Joseph brought his Wii up from UVA, and nightly Wii challenges soon became the norm around Alhmer Manor. I think it was my first time having a real fixed job from 9-5, everday. It was interesting work and I can honestly say that I enjoyed it even though it may have been a bit repetitive at times. I tried to make sure I always did some fun activities during the month in which I lived there. I was able to go to the "Shore" (not the beach! It’s the SHORE in Jersey don’t cha know), a Phillies game, saw Batman in Imax (1.5 times due to technical dificulties at the theater), and I even ran the Rocky stairs. Now I can cross that off of my "things I need to do before I die" list. :) In all it was a great experience, and I’m glad I had the chance to do it.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQNZyZaztHCXeHx1UmrwKOYV2C1UcawZdq1ykh2PES8hpeVPjH-a6l0EEjtZiInzPcdk9S8zyNxsbXNMkAWODppyejecVY-UdK1x8z28RuuZgOS8-Ltl6-PTD3CWRvMRn4lshh3zXoCA/s1600-h/DSC05356.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235729157515115986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQNZyZaztHCXeHx1UmrwKOYV2C1UcawZdq1ykh2PES8hpeVPjH-a6l0EEjtZiInzPcdk9S8zyNxsbXNMkAWODppyejecVY-UdK1x8z28RuuZgOS8-Ltl6-PTD3CWRvMRn4lshh3zXoCA/s200/DSC05356.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHPXV9Rx-gvl5giZquZLGH7Kr_rpadXvsKpTlFf4JJYHMXUu17-is78Lgbmo2-HkZY4qJK2xYImoaaH9fBAfkq1lg7fhbmdRFdh4sTaJBluaal9mZaBsIUf36lD8KjBwZj0JyePUZs0k/s1600-h/DSC05345.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235729460210577538" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" height="150" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHPXV9Rx-gvl5giZquZLGH7Kr_rpadXvsKpTlFf4JJYHMXUu17-is78Lgbmo2-HkZY4qJK2xYImoaaH9fBAfkq1lg7fhbmdRFdh4sTaJBluaal9mZaBsIUf36lD8KjBwZj0JyePUZs0k/s200/DSC05345.JPG" width="257" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0lTEHB1r7baoCounAw3urErgC0S6SBN8j1w2ugmVSXn4i_ZVMRpY0TwSpl1Rp6IfdhQRMUURug5BazdAC2QAt1MtQ4-ivPDTawbUW-EnwlfQQHGbh8Hg3FiU_BRBdQYm_ossBLS3Mrg/s1600-h/DSC05340.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div>So here I am, 3 days before school starts up again, wondering where my summer break went. I was discussing this phenomenon (losing an entire summer…bam, like that) with my dad, to see if he could shed some <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0lTEHB1r7baoCounAw3urErgC0S6SBN8j1w2ugmVSXn4i_ZVMRpY0TwSpl1Rp6IfdhQRMUURug5BazdAC2QAt1MtQ4-ivPDTawbUW-EnwlfQQHGbh8Hg3FiU_BRBdQYm_ossBLS3Mrg/s1600-h/DSC05340.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235726637689053362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0lTEHB1r7baoCounAw3urErgC0S6SBN8j1w2ugmVSXn4i_ZVMRpY0TwSpl1Rp6IfdhQRMUURug5BazdAC2QAt1MtQ4-ivPDTawbUW-EnwlfQQHGbh8Hg3FiU_BRBdQYm_ossBLS3Mrg/s320/DSC05340.JPG" border="0" /></a>light on the situation. His response, profound and at the same time a slap in the face: "Welcome to the real-world. Where summer vacation doesn’t really exist!" Well, I guess I’m growing up, and that this "Man-Child" just experienced a real "Man’s Summer", full of work sprinkled with some childish fun (that, by the way, he had to pay for himself :o lol). Growing up is a beast sometimes, but everyones got to do it sometime I suppose. Good thing I don’t plan on doing that any time soon! Haha.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5321992544713632318.post-33265407990649532692008-08-12T15:38:00.000-07:002008-08-12T19:10:36.808-07:00The Beginning...<a href="http://www.madrelinguaitaliano.com/images/bologna.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.madrelinguaitaliano.com/images/bologna.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>So I suppose the beginnings of this Blog occurred while I was on my mission in Italy. Every week I had the opportunity to write to my family and tell them about the wonderful and exciting things that I was doing in my new "home". I grew to enjoy filling my emails and letters with intricate details and neat facts of the comings and going of my daily regime. And it never ceased to amaze me how by the time I was about ready to click the send button or put on the last stamp on the envelope, a detailed and interesting full-length story (sometimes a thriller other times a comedy or even an occasional tragedy) had somehow snuck its way onto my page. My letters and emails soon grew in popularity and before I knew it, my humble following of "faithful family member-readers" had become a hoard of eager readers that ranged from family members to friends and even some people that I had never even met before in my life, who all tuned in to see where their "fear-less friend/hero" had turned up this week and what sort of mess he had gotten himself into this time.<br /><br />It was quite the interesting experience for me, as I would sit down at my screen each week and try not to disappoint my new "fans" with the mundane and boring. And even though my life wasn't always full of nail-biting drama or lotto-winning-moments, I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed searching for the positives, the "silver-linings", and the small miracles that would fill my emails with "good news"...or at least interesting reading material. (Because nobody likes to read bad news or uninteresting garbage).<br /><br />So I suppose that having to write for an audience taught me to look at things in a new light and with positive outlook. Always trying to see the glass half-full instead of half empty. And that was a wonderful lesson to learn in such an unexpected way.<br /><br />Upon returning from my missionary service in Italy, I was casually chatting with one of my wonderful Aunts, who had followed my missionary adventures and mishaps from the very beginning. She said, "You know I miss hearing your funny stories and lessons learned etc... You know you should really start a Blog." It may have been in jest but it really made me think how great it was to be able to look back on such a long period time (2 years) and see just what wonderful things I had done and learned. And so here is for my Aunt and anyone else who may or may not be interested in the daily adventures and mishaps of a silly college boy trying to find his way on the wonderful "stage" we live on called LIFE! Enjoy...</div>Bradhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05726157817281597867noreply@blogger.com4