Love Rexburg

Have I mentioned I love love Love LovE LoVE LOVE Rexburg! And I feel your LOVE Rexburg! right back to me, oh yes I do. My life couldn't be any better.

So this morning I arose from my bright orange hammock hanging in exctasy between to white poles on the pleasant edge of the cottonwood courtyard, had a good scripture read, and headed off to the library at about 0745hrs after a good four hours of sleep to write 1,500 words, and edit 3,000 more before 1200hrs. In the library I proceed to write a good 1,500 scholary words. They flow out of my arms and onto the computer screen nearly free of air. They navigate the waters of definition of such complex terms as Justice and Freedom and cheerios, and proceed forth in such perfection that three hours later when all is written, I notice to my amazement that they need little editing, nearly none above a few typos. To my pleased amazement I format and turn in the paper. I edit the 3,000. I turn them in. Never in my life have I been able to write such a well-founded piece with no need for editing. I live to edit. Usually I edit my papers up to 5 or six times. Thats the way I write them. But not this one. I consider it a miracle from on high.

Especially considering that my predicament was not a result of procrastination only. The Saturday previous sickness had sit in. Sunday morning afternoon many bizarre dream hallucinations, body pains, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea, I attend the 3 hours of church and return to my bed. I wasn't feeling well to say the least. No jam was held. That's saying alot. For the first time in about six months. I'm out cold from sunday to wednesday, at which point I think about getting better. About thursday I'm better. Friday I'm good. My teachers extended my finals till this morning for me. Thank you BYU-Idaho.

So, just in closing to this rather unusual rant (there many for things I could rant about which are causing me extreme joy), I'd like to say- I Love Rexburg.

Protests and Charities

So I though an update appropriate. I am currently involved in a handful of protests and my toes are in the door of a charity here and there.

The man in the apartment above me- Ziggy, they call him- yelled down to me the other day: "Let's start a revolution!" My heart leaped up and my hand slapped down on my old wooden stool as I vocalized agreement. By golly, you're on to something, pal. Ziggy, or Bradley, is preparing a sizable paper for submission to the city and school authorities. It advocates better bicycle rights. His comment on revolution was response to my article published last week. Colter Nattrass and Matthew Kiddle also wrote Letters to the Editor in response, calling for regulation reform.

College will be abused in the near future. Torn to shreads in similar fashion to those poor old boys of 1st West. If we don't remember our past, we will lose our future, said Ssimbwa of Uganda. That's the truth. College ave. is no place for enormous towers. Especially not when poleline road is undeveloped for miles. Build elsewhere- not on top of history. Keep Rexburg Real.

On that same note, I attended the chaotic feeding ceremony of Kiwi Loco this weekend, and they were immediately replaced onto the boycott list. Thousands of flavors and none of them come close to Mill Hollow. And its not Rexburgian. Go elsewhere. The King's Fort is no place for you. I don't want to place yogurt in my own cup.

Future Protest. The schools refusal to allow fund-raising. I'm unaware as to the motives as of yet: if they are good, which I assume they are, I will not protest, if they aren't, I will. Their policy was brought to my attention tonight at the viewing of Cultured Pearl: Voices from Uganda. The after party in the lobby. We talked and chitted and chatted about fund-raising. Brenna and her pal Lexi desired to form a group on campus for next semester, in hand with Invisible Children. Their previous fundraising attempts were shut down. Brother Piggot's was as well. Hence the showing of the documentary off campus at the cheap theatre. The why will be investigated.

I will be working with enoughtospare.org in the future, Piggot's site. Perhaps renovating it for him. I love volunteering. I could see Brenna's excitement.

Charity. Now that I am receiving some money for my photography I plan on donating 50 percent of the profits to charities supporting preventive measures. Preferably disaster prevention. If anybody know's of some, let me know.



That's it folks.
He who has ears to hear, let him hear.

Get on your Bikes and Ride

Lately, many antagonistic statements towards bicycles and their riders have perpetrated my ear canals; this pains my heart and stings my soul. 

“Bikes are too fast and dangerous” to be on the sidewalks with pedestrians, but they are “too slow and distracting” to ride on the road with cars. Pedestrians argue to ban them from the sidewalks, and car drivers want them off the road.

Good logic and respect for history prompt me to argue the opposite: bicycles should be the sole means of transportation on the inner-city streets of Rexburg and campus sidewalks of BYU-Idaho. Pedestrians and automobiles should be banned. 

This being the day after our nations anniversary, it is prudent to recall the role the bicycle played in making America

Most of us slept through history class; I wrote stuff on my desk with silly puddy and mocked my teacher’s over-sized tunic-shirts. But that’s what the internet is for: to catch us back up. So regarding bicycle history, one blogger points out, “The bicycle, quite literally, paved the road for automobiles. The explosive popularity of the human-powered, two-wheeled vehicle sparked road construction across the Western world’s cities.” 

Starting with the velocifere of Count Mede de Sivrac and the Hobbyhorse of Baron Von Drais de Sauerbrun, the bicycle revolutionize the world. Evolving from its humble beginnings of intra-garden transportation to the elegant penny-farthing, a favorite of upper-classmen, to the modern cycles we enjoy now, the bicycle in all its many forms has proven implemental in American history. 

Bicycle travel got in with the in-crowd in the late 1800’s and rapidly grew in popularity in the U.S. from then on. So much so that from the 1870’s to 1920’s bicyclitiers of all sorts joined together in the Good Roads Movement, calling on the government to build better roads for inter-city travel. This resulted in the decision of New Jersey to participate in road-building projects, becoming the first state to ever do so.

The two-wheeled vehicle emancipated the amercain woman.“Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel." said Susan B. Anthony. All of you girls enjoying comfortable clothes and free movement can thank bikes: they  cut a whole seven pounds of extra weight off from your garbs by providing women with a reason to free themselves of corsets and giant skirts.  

Also, those guys that flew that airplane back in 1903- they were bike mechanics.

So, that being said, should we support and promote the bicycle simply out of respect for the past? Nay. My argument extends to the present benefits provided by the modern bicycle.
The bicycle is the most efficient major form of land transportation in the modern world. “It takes less energy to bicycle one mile than it takes to walk a mile. In fact, a bicycle can be up to 5 times more efficient than walking,” and many times more efficient than cars, says www.exploratorium.edu.. You can play with your suped-up 5.0 liter V-12 engine with hemi’s, and you can fill it up for $4 a gallon with all the gasoline this earth retains, but I’ll take my bike, I’ll fill power it with my own two legs, some local collard greens, and my momma’s granola.  Let me repeat. Cycling is more efficient than all other major forms of on land transportation, including, walking, carpooling, trains, and even horseback riding.

I do not stand alone. Nation wide a trend strengthens. It grew out of a dream. A town is in production in South Carolina. A car-free town, with sustainable places for people to live, and to work, and to play. They call it Bicycle City. It is the first of its kind, but many more will follow, popping up all around the American countryside. This is the future of happiness.
The bicycle made America. Picture America without highways, without planes, and without women’s rights. If you can, then go ahead, get rid of the two-wheeled menaces; ban them from the sidewalks, and the roads, and from all places but the garage. Kick Mrs. Anthony out of the voting booth, throw the plane out of the sky, and toss the unsustainable resources of our gifted home atop the fire.  But if you can’t, then let them stay, let them stay alone, to ride on the roads that they paved and the sidewalks that they once owned.

It is as Goldy Locks said: cars are too fast, walking is too slow- bikes are just right.

I-Prostitute (Unedited)

 I sat on a stool furnished with newspapers in my editors office. I read the below article to a board of three. The reading ended before I read the title "I Am a Plasma Prostitute." And it began shortly thereafter. "I'm sorry, we just can't publish the word prostitute, not on this campus," was the general gist of things. Well, I thought, that's what blogs are for. Every computer a printing press in today's day and age. He who hast ears to hear, hear.

The dusty hot weather dial is cranking up as snow fall slows to only “now and then” for our beautiful springtime Rexburg, and all the boys and girls are starting to show some skin for summer time loving. Skirts shrink up to knee level or lower, shorts remain non-existent, and the T-shirt sleeves crowd the mid-upper-arm all around campus making for a prime situation to meet your special someone. Flower prints, happy plaids, and radiant polka-dots illuminate the world side-by-side with the brilliant greens, yellows, and pinks, of the plasma arm-band. That’s right folks for just 1-3 hours and the little prick of the needle, you can receive up to $30 dollars cash, a cool neon colored arm band, and label yourself a plasma prostitute.

People argue that they are not plasma prostitutes, I argue otherwise.

Prositution: figurative, the “unworthy or corrupt use of one's talents for the sake of personal or financial gain.”

This definition provided by the Oxford Dictionary contains three parts that need to be defined: 1) If plasma donation satisfies these 3 qualifiers, “unworthy or corrupt”  “talent” and “personal or financial gain” then it is appropriately labelled as figurative prostitution. Let us work Backwards from the end.

Personal and financial gain? Easy, they flaunt themselves on the hairy nose of plasma donation. Ask any student with neon colored band and they’ll respond with any combination of the words “college student, poor, money, survival, dates.” $50 for two donations or 4 hours in a week, isn’t much but when it’s all you got it ain’t bad.

Talent? It hides itself within the deep pockets of the donation process. A “natural aptitude or skill,” it does not reveal itself at first glance. As one donor said “You lay down and endure a little bit of pain for an hour and get paid 20 bucks." However, according to the Plasma Proteins Theurapuetics Association, a donor must be above 18 years of age, weigh at least 110 pounds, and be healthy. Also blood vessels must be of a sufficient size. If you do not have these traits then you do not have the talent to give plasma, end of story.

The first two qualifiers being satisfied we are left with one: is plasma donation “Unworthy or corrupt?” To answer this we must answer the questions:  for what is the plasma used? and for what motives is it given?

What is it used for? Bottom line, no fooling around: it is used to administer life-saving therapies and medications to the ill. Victims of hemophilia, Willebrand disease, primary immunodeficiency disease, Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency, and sufferers of burns, trauma, and shock all benefit from the curing power of donated plasma. Hemophiliacs run healthy plasma through their veins to help prevent them from bleeding.

For what motive donate?  If your motive is corrupt, then all of the above qualifiers will be checked positive and you will indeed be labelled a plasma prostitute. If your motive is benevolent then you may qualify to be something slightly better. An example from two internet chatters serves to illustrate the former.

“Who here prostitutes their bodies by selling their bodily fluids twice a week for cash? Just curious”

“Ive been meaning to start. How much do you get?”

Plasma prostitute.

By definition paid plasma donation (slightly contradictory) may indeed qualify as figurative plasma prostitution if it is done for self-centered or corrupt motives. You can embrace or deny it.

As for me and my house, I’ll be the first to proudly declare it: I am a Plasma Prostitute. I sell my bodily fluids for $50 a week, and I’m never going back.

In fact, I beg your pardon, I must depart, or I’ll miss them before they close. Tchau.

Outdoor Activities lead students on a river rafting trip down the Salmon River, Saturday. The Salmon River flowed at a high of 18,000 CSF for the week as 36 students and faculty floated down the river digging in to fight through heavy rapids, making the trip the semester’s largest.

The guides and faculty did everything they could “to make the trip as safe as possible” for participants, said Joe Temus, trip leader and volunteer for the Outdoor Activities. To ensure safety the group utilized a two man inflatable ducky, and a two-person river catamaran to float alongside the 4 larger rafts ready to provide care for any mishaps.

The water was cold and murky as logs and debris floated down the river, however the weather provided sun on the summer day.

The 3 larger rafts carried the majority of student participants with about 10-12 people each, and were guided by student volunteers Lauren Perry, Susan Briggs, and Joe Temus, all certified to guide white water rafts. Faculty advisers Morris Christensen and Scott Hurst headed up an 8 man raft and the river catamaran, and Lydia Montour managed the 2-man ducky.

The trip left from the Outdoor Resource Center at 6 pm on Saturday, 25 June, after the students checked onto the trip using their I-cards and and signed a risk waivier acknowledging the potentially fatal risks of white-water rafting, and a short briefing. The group then drove 4 vans across 3 hours of highland plains and the Lemhi River Valley and turned north at Salmon, driving another 30 miles to their put in.

Students gathered their gear and prepared themselves as faculty and volunteers shuttled the vans to the end of the stretch.

“the most stressful part of the trip was the river, which is the way it should be, and it was big and it was fun, everyone was just so happy and stoked it seemed, the water was big, the waves weer ebig and it just kept on copming at you,” said Temus.

Student participants have filled up each of the white water trips this semester.

“We had lots more girl than guy participants,” Hurst noted because, “girls aren’t video game addicts for one, that might be one reason.”

For the future the Outdoor Activities plans to offer expanded trips during the off times, and provide more leadership opportunities to help students to grow. White water rafting on the snake river, star-gazing, and Road Biking every Wednesday came recommended as end of semester activities from volunteers and faculty.

Comments from my roommate Joe: "This has been a great year for rafting, there's a huge snowpack up in the mountains and the rivers have been running longer and bigger than usual.  Unfortunately this also means flooding for others.  Rafting is an activity where if you just rent a boat and hop in the river you can get really hurt, there's a bit of experience and knowledge needed.  We're really lucky that the school provides these kinds of activities so that lots of students can safely experience things like whitewater rafting."

What I learned in DC

Every man is a politician. In the words of former Senator Smith of Oregon, Whether you know it or not, it's all politics.

Some time ago, about 4 years know, I visited Washington D.C., our nations capitol, with my good friend Justin Oldroyd and many others. We ground herbs in the basement of the Smithsonian with an hindu, we witnessed the beauty of the Washington monument, and we were awestruck by an exhibit of foreign art. In parting we realized we hadn't yet seen all there was to see. In realizing our future was parted and I knew we would come again.

This week I returned. I saw. I beheld. I loved. And I know I will come again, next time to stay.



I have a few posts in the making for things I learned on my trip. I hope you will join in me enjoying them as they are posted over the next few days.


GS

Love Bob Marley. Keep Marajuan Illegal.

 The upcoming rebuttal for the rebuttal in the scroll. And yes, I did write this while listening to the best of Van Morrison.

First off, let us not use the vulgar Mexican slang word marijuana, and refer to the material at hand by its proper name: cannabis.

Cannanbis is a tall plant used to produce hemp fiber and as psychotropic drug. Cannabis contains 400 different chemical compounds including psychoactive A9-tetrahydrocannabinol. “11 percent of the US population over the age of 12 uses cannabis annually, including 28 percent of people aged 18-25, and over a third of children in their final year in school.”

The opinion of cannabis and its effects, like many things, swing on a pendulum. It has moved from the widespread international banning of cannabis products in the early 20th century to the rise of illicit drug use by the counter-culture of the 1970’s to the present day trend of legalizing it for medical use. However, as the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime stated in a recent study “the pendulum may have swung too far in the opposite direction.”

It has become a somewhat childish trend to argue for the legalization of cannabis because “yeah, dude, we’ve got to protect our rights, man” because Bob Marley was legit and its all about the Love. Lets put the coolness of tie-dye and and dread-locked hippies aside for a moment and consider reality, not idealized philosophical big words.

I offer 5 points against the legalization of cannabis.

One. If cannabis were legalized because it only harms “oneself” then it logically entails that all other similar substances would also need to be legalized, including less-favorable substances such as LSD, cocaine, and heroine.

Two. The presumption that legalizing the drug will undercut and destroy the black market trade of the substance is established on muddy grounds to say the least. Cannabis would likely become purchasable in the local gas station pinned with a sin tax and an age requirement. Why pay the extra price and fake your age when you can just shoot a text to your home-dizzle down the street?

Three. Its a gateway drug. Even though people say its not and nicotine may be a more effective instigator. Allow the DEA to summarize: “since legalization of marijuana in Holland, heroin addiction levels have tripled.”

Four. Lets learn from precedent. Alaska supreme court legalized cannabis use for adults over 19 in 1975. By 1988 the cannabis use for 12-17 year-old Alaskans was more than twice the national average for their age group. In 1990 Alaskan residents voted to recriminalize the use of cannabis. Lets not repeat history.

Five. When you suck back on that bong, you won’t be the only one affected. Locke didn’t mention marijuana. He did mention fences. He would have liked your joint to have a governement enforced fence around it ensure nobody jacked it. However, if when you inhaled your psychotic fumes and then consistently decided to do something foolish, like hop over some on elses fence and steal their big screen TV, Locke would probably have said, “its time for you to give up that weed, brother.”

Brief example. My friend’s Eagle Scout project in a neighborhood park installing benches, of course. One bench went missing. We found our bench in a shady fort on the backside of some nearby wetlands. An empty, over-sized Hawaian Punch bottle lay on the ground with a tube stuck in it for sucking. We took our bench.

But who’s to say, that was in terrible Washington, maybe weed smokers in Idaho do inconspicuous acts of kindness.

All in all this is my argument. That being said and done, if I get to smoke my weed in a pipe, maybe I'll be in.