RoSA Returns

Goedemorgen. Ik heb teruggegeven.

WHOA. I return from my extended hiatus.

Let's face it -- in a figurative blogging sense, I'm feeling a bit like our Dutch friend, Mr. Rip Van Winkle: Slightly disoriented as I wipe the Blog Slumber from my bleary eyes; my blogging "muscles" are atrophied from sitting idle and have disintegrated into rolls of useless fat; and, as is evident from my greeting, my Dutch still sucks. So getting back into the blogging may require shaking off some rust.

Also, one actual and non-metaphorical thing that Mr. Van Winkle and I both did during our respective hibernations: We grew beards for a little longer than was prudent. See Exhibit A:

Exhibit A

...and, basically, the similarities end there. See, whereas Rip grew an awesome beard during his 20-year slumber, I grew an asymmetrical abomination. Even homeless men looked at me with pity in their starving eyes, thanking the heavens that, although they were without income, food, or lodging -- and possibly hope -- at least they could grow a decent beard.

AM described that "...it was part wolf, part molester, part santa, part amish", but I'm guessing that's just a kind way of saying "fully revolting." Sigh.

So, anything happen with you guys since June? Me? Oh, not a whole lot, really...

I went overseas for a good three months, where I got stranded twice in remote areas in the middle of nowhere and was able to witness the inner workings and daily living of the US Military (the latter basically means eating bad food three meals/day and living in poor housing conditions). It was an adventure.

The Beard in its nascent stages

Immediately after returning to the US, the beard had outlived its stay (see aforementioned homeless men pitying me as a possible reason), and let me tell you, trimming and shaving the thing was EXHAUSTING. The whole epic saga took at least 45 minutes and required the type of physical stamina and resolve that you only see/read about in classics like The Odyssey or Rocky. I unashamedly admit that midway through shaving I took a short break to rest my fatigued arm, and I may or may not have given myself a pep talk in the mirror sometime along the way ("C'mon, man, FOCUS! Don't let the beard beat you" "Pain is nothing. You're better than this!", etc, etc). I collapsed, completely exhausted, at the end of it all.

The two weeks after returning home were complete chaos, but I suppose it was for a good cause, because at the end of it all, I got married, which was all pretty awesome. It was all a blur of dresses and flowers and having my picture taken (ugh), but most importantly, a day spent with my lovely wife (formerly AM and now Mrs. RoSA, who I'm sure you'll hear from from time-to-time), my family, and all of my closest friends throughout the years.* Honeymoon involved flying to London to hang out for a bit, then catching a Transatlantic Crossing from England back to the US. You know, just like the Pilgrims did in the olden days!

*The whiffleball games played at my bachelor party were some of the funniest moments of my life

So yeah. That's been the last bit of the happenings here. Now it's back to normal life, and normal life involves blogging. Like I said, gotta shake the rust off, so bear with me.

PS Apparently this video going viral was the biggest development back in the States whilst I was away? This is brilliant, and I'm proud that -- despite a still-recessed economy and Sarah Palin actually being taken seriously as a political figure by some -- America was able to come up with this:



So run and tell that, homeboy.

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The Addiction and Teacher That is Speed Scrabble

Thanks to a scarring game of Risk ("Ukraine is not weak!!") back in 2000 I tend to avoid board games; the exception, of course, being the occasional game of Mah-Jongg. Who doesn't want to place vital organs as collateral for a $10,000 bet every once in a while, am I right?? Anyway, regardless of my professed dislike for board games, I have recently become addicted to Speed Scrabble.

What's Speed Scrabble, you ask?

Speed Scrabble (SS) is to nerdy board-gamers what cocaine was to 80s celebrities: It is fast-paced, exhilarating, addictive, and the source of numerous unnatural nosebleeds. In the case of SS, the reason is either because the game got so intense participants came to fisticuffs, or the breakneck pace and overexertion from the game melted their brains. (***If you're bored enough to read the rules, I will put those at the bottom***)

Let's just leave the Speed Scrabble-Cocaine analogy there.

One friend, whom I will anonymize, put it this way:

This is utterly ridiculous to admit, but I dreamed about Speed Scrabble last night. I actually awoke to myself arranging words beginning with "q". Kinda weird.

Lessons Learned

SS has even taught me some valuable life lessons. The two that come most readily to mind are "pride cometh before the fall" and "those who forget history are doomed to repeat it."

Let me share a story that illustrates both. In the first game of what would become a 3-hour SS marathon, I came storming out of the blocks -- jumping out to a quick lead and catching my opponents at unawares. I foolishly declared:

"I guess you could call that my Pearl Harbor."

I guess it seemed like an apt analogy at the time, what with the quick strike and my Japanese heritage and all. For all of you not familiar with the Pacific Theater of WW2, however, here's the major problem with my poorly thought-out analogy: Japan LOST WW2! It was decimated!! Japan may have "won" Pearl Harbor, but even Admiral Yamamoto said afterward: "I fear all we have done is awakened a sleeping tiger." And he wasn't talking those pansy circus tigers that jump through hoops. He was talking the mean ones that want to tear your limbs off and eat you (avid PETA supporters being no exception). Pearl Harbor was really just the beginning of the end for Japan.

And so it was with me; my initial victory accomplished very little except to "awaken the tiger" (read: gave Mitch a reason to shut my gloating mouth up and decisively trounce me and everyone else under her feet). It became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I doomed myself to suffer the same fate as the Empire did in WW2 because I declared victory too soon.

So, chalk one History Comparison FAIL for me. Sigh.


***Speed Scrabble Explained***
You lay all of the scrabble tiles facedown in the middle of the table, everyone takes seven, then tries to build their own set of words as quickly as possible, using all tiles. Once they have used the seven tiles in their own hand, they say "go" and everyone draws two from the pile and so on until all the tiles are used up. Then you count up points based on the points on each tile, subtracting points for the tiles left over.

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Deadliest Warriors -- Photo of the Week 25 May 2009

Late posting. Was on some vacation.

Taken from the blog at foreignpolicy.com, with a caption that reads:

"Belarussian special forces soldiers use a sledgehammer to break flaming bricks on their backs in Minsk" (emphasis added)

I don't claim to know what is going on in the former Soviet republics, but man.

Anybody seen this show called Deadliest Warrior? Talk about a rallying point for all Renaissance Fair and Quill & The Sword types. This show spends an hour simulating ancient warriors (ie Spartan vs. Ninja, etc) fighting against each other, then has a real-life re-creation at the end. Geeks unite.

Anyway, I showed Josh M this photo and here was the ensuing IM conversation:

JoshM: dude, that belarussian guy needs to be on deadliest warrior
Me: dude is nuts
JoshM: this week they are doing the braveheart guy versus shaka zulu
Me: maybe they'll bring in mel gibson for the re-enactment
JoshM: and wesley snipes as shaka zulu
Me: wesley snipes could use the employment. i don't know if portraying mel gibson killing shaka zulu would do well for his already racist image
JoshM: good point
JoshM: he may have turned down the offer

Too bad.


You better have had a happy Monday, what with the day off and all. And taken a second to remember why we had the holiday.

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Seven Years Later...

It doesn't happen very often, but I get this way every once in a while. You know, sentimental.

Anybody who has read the blog long enough to suffer through my Pamplona gibberish and mourning of the passing of President Hinckley has figured out that on the rare occasions that I get this way and write about it, it is self-serving; for me, I find my scattered thoughts take on the semblance of something cohesive as I write them. This guy's article also may have been part of the impetus (if you don't want to read further, at least read the article).

Stick with me here for a second, if you don't mind. This won't get political (as I hate politics).

On 9/11/2001, I was in the MTC (Missionary Training Center for the LDS Church) preparing to serve in Japan for two years. That day was a blur -- but not for the same reasons that it was for most Americans. All days in the MTC are a blur of classroom instruction, lectures, cafeteria food, etc.

The only news we received in the MTC that day was a brief announcement from the Mission President: That the WTC and the Pentagon had been crashed into and nobody knew much else. That was it. Rumors abounded,* but in my information vacuum of an environment I got nothing tangible. I mean, technically, my geographic location was in the United States, but the life of a missionary is so detached from the world of media (no TV, news, phone calls, or internet) that you're as informed about current events as someone living in the jungles of the Amazon. I went from the MTC to Japan in October. I didn't see images or video of the 9/11 attacks until Aug 2003, when I got back from Japan. Almost two years removed. That, combined with my teenage naivete, prevented me from fully grasping the significance of what happened that day.

I wasn't here to witness the tragedies of that day and what came in their wake. How it affected Americans. I guess I have a decent grasp of the "big picture" effects 9/11 had on America, but I have no personal perspective -- I just don't feel it to the extent that those who watched it all unfold do. In some (perhaps strange) way, I want to. I want to feel more, because I feel I owe it to those who were victims, and to every American that was so deeply affected by that day. But I can't. I was too far removed to ever form a strong personal connection.

Maybe that's why any opportunity I get, I try to form one. Maybe it's why I made sure to go to Ground Zero on a visit to NYC, and why I bought and (partially) read the 9/11 Commission's report. Maybe it's why I constantly ask people "What do you remember about 9/11?" and I listen, fixated, as their eyes go out of focus and look off into the distance as they vividly recall where they were, what they saw, and, most importantly, what they felt that day.

Maybe it's why at midnight this past Friday, I found myself at the Pentagon 9/11 Memorial, hoping maybe this time I could feel some stronger connection.

I think it came as I sat next to the bench -- there is one for each victim who died at the Pentagon -- of the youngest victim. He was born in 1998. I just sat there, silent, staring at nothing, finding myself fighting back tears for this child and all of these victims that I didn't know. More than that, though, I was saddened by a different realization: That the building of this memorial -- as beautiful as it was -- was even necessary in the first place. That hatred was the driving force behind 9/11 attacks. That that hate still exists today. That 9/11 seems to be exploited to divide us rather than unite us. That we forget more easily, seven years later... (half the articles I wanted to read off of news sites were gone by the next day)

As I dragged myself away from the memorial, I resolved that I would try harder to remember that day. Up until last Friday I found it difficult to, both because I wasn't here for that day, and because each day further removes me temporally from 9/11/2001.

I will need memorials like this to help remind me...


______
You can see some pictures I took while there.

*My personal favorite was another missionary's far-fetched speculation that he heard "Salt Lake [was] going to be attacked next"; as Seinfeld says: "The egotism of the average human being is just astounding..."

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My Thanks

Through a recent effort to inform myself about the world and its history, I've unfortunately found that in our world, war is not always avoidable.

In fact, it seems that wars are not just unavoidable on occasion -- they are inevitable. Conflict appears to engulf all global issues, and it is usually the result of indiscriminate hatred or some moron who feels they are entitled to more at the expense of the freedom of others... or some twisted combination of both. It is an unyielding disease of take, take, take, and it is more than a little depressing to read about day in and day out.

Lately, however, what has struck me more poignantly is that there is a flip-side to that coin: Giving, e.g. those who serve or have served in our Armed Forces. Their motivations for enlisting may differ slightly -- some fight to protect the freedoms of loved ones at home. Some, for the freedom of people in other countries. Others, to try and improve the world around them. I can't speak for each individual. When it comes down to it, the universal and unifying aspects to it all is their willingness to serve and sense of duty.

My heartfelt gratitude goes out to those men and women who, without hesitation, willingly go to distant and foreign lands to fight because they love their country and their fellow man.

I don't know why, but recently, every time I hear the National Anthem at a sporting event, or see uniformed servicemen walking through the airport, my eyes well up. It makes me grateful for what has been given by them and their predecessors, and makes me think about what I should be willing to give; not just to ensure the future freedoms of our country and the world, but also as a token of my gratitude for all of those unknowns that willingly served their country.

Happy Veterans' Day, everyone. Whether you agree with America's involvement in current conflicts or not, remember why we have it.

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