Sunday, February 25, 2007

Aspire Higher? NOT!!!!

Here's something to think about:

I’ve been noticing something more and more, and as I analyze it, I’m finding it to be more and more interesting. The question I frequently ask myself is: “Why do people aspire to mediocrity and are okay with that?”

Ever heard the quote "Aspire Higher" or "Do your best in all you do" ? I just really don't see that a lot anymore, and I do look for it. I’m not trying to raise myself up higher than anyone, but so many times I see things happening and it’s just the very minimum, and more frequently not even that. Stuff like “I’ll settle for a C rather than an A,” or “At least I’m trying” are things I hear a lot. Disrespect to people who disserve respect is another “cool” thing to do. "I don't need to do this," and "Well, I'd rather do that," are things that people say to try and rationalize their doings. I just don’t get it. I can see that some people are just lazy and don’t want to do anything, but that doesn’t constitute mediocrity. Nothing does. Everyone should do what they are capable of, and to the best of their ability.

Personally, I try to do the best I can whenever I do something, and I don’t get any satisfaction out of doing the minimum. I don't see how anyone can get satisfaction in doing just "the minimum." I can't force anyone into doing their best to achieve the highest, but imagine what this world would be like if everyone did just a little bit more.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

At school? Why?

So, I want to pose a random question. Our school is busy; all the time. Before, during, and even after school. I want to know why the school doesn’t tell us of things happening after school?

For example, a few weeks ago, there was a huge storytelling festival at the school. Supposedly, we had “the worlds best liar” at our school, telling stories. Who wouldn't want to hear the worlds best liar? Who knew that he was cmoing to Orem? Who told me? It surley wasn't the school, but actually a graduated friend, Natasha.

I think that the school should tell us what things are happening after school, whether they have to do with what’s going on at school or not. It would be nice to know what’s happening in the building where I spend over 20 hours a week. I guess they don't tell us becuase they think we dont care. But I do, and I know of thosers who care. Listening to the worlds best liar might just actaully be a great, cheap date idea! :)

Sunday, February 11, 2007

I don't know why. . . .

So basically, instead of analyzing a why question, I'm going to tell a story, and leave it with a Why question, becuase I don't really know the answer yet. . .

So, I had just taken my little brother Tyson to a birthday party. I decide to stop at the video place before I go home and pick up a movie. (I got DaVinci Code by the way) Anyways, over a course of events, (including thinking about Aja, and unprotected left turns, etc.) I made a concious decision to make an unprotected left turn. For those of you who care, I was at the street next to Sconecutter and Papa Murphys. I remember something telling me to reroute and make a protected left turn, but I didn't. Now I wish I had.

The next part happens over the course of about 25 seconds.

I look both left and right and see that there is some traffic but none in danger to me. I thought that there was a "shard left turn lane" where I was going to go and didn't even see the barrier splitting both sides of the street. I commit and start to turn like I'm going to get in the lane, when all of a sudden I'm on top of the barrie with my right front wheel. A sickening scraping noise tells me something is wrong. I swerve left, almost instinctivaly knowing what to do. There are two cars in the lane ahead of me and I swerve once again, missing them narrowingly. After another swerve, I'm on a residential street and I pull into a multiplex parking lot. I see a truck following me and assume the worst, that I had hit them.

25 seconds are now over.

I go up to them and see if I hurt them, and they say no. They are a bunch of hiks from Spanish Fork, or somewhere. They tell me I'm leaking something. I tell them I'm screwed. To make a long story short, we determined that I was leaking "tranny" fluid, and that I need someone to come get me. I call my parents (who are on a date at University Mall) and they come pick me up. We tow the car home, and park it for the repairs that it needs. The bombardment of why questions then comes:

Why didn't you pay attention?
Why couldn't you stop?
Didn't you see the barrier?
Why this?
Why that?

I still don't know the answer. . . .