Every Dance I've Ever Gone To

Spring Fling 2013

Homecoming 2013 

Sadies 2013

Preference 2014

Morp 2014

Prom 2014

Homecoming 2014

Sadies 2014

80's Dance 2014

Preference 2015

El Cheapo/Hoedown Throwdown/Spring Fling 2015

Prom 2015

Good at Nostalgia

I have a great memory, so I've always been good at nostalgia.
I remember the first day of middle school. My mom told me "say hi to everyone and ask their names". I did.
I remember the summer day when I went on the bike ride with Jason and Connor to Snoasis. It was new that year. I thought they were so weird, but so was I.
I've always been good at nostalgia.
I remember the year that we started playing night games on my street. I was in charge.
I remember the made up animals, the french drama and the PE's where we would just watch March Madness and I would say silent thank you's.
I've always been good at nostalgia.
I remember when I thought I would marry my sister's best friend and she would marry mine.
I remember how big my friend group was. We would sit in my front room trying to decide what to do and end up talking until they had to go home.

One day I will harness the power of nostalgia. I want to make people cry because of it. I want to make them feel the emotion.
I want them to remember, the way I do.
Because I've always been good at nostalgia.

Scandalous Footage

Sorry I'm posting another video, but we made this for the Utah High School Film Festival and it just goes so well with the shoe prompt. Please let me know what you think of it.

It's All Downhill from Here

I never thought I would be this close when I was finger painting with chocolate pudding.

It seemed like this was taking forever when I was trying to memorize that poem.

'Graduation will never come' were my thought when I was writing my first research paper. 

Read this book.

Don't forget to analyze.

Did you finish your math homework?

I didn't understand it either.

Pacers.

Conjugations.

Memorize this.

Practice makes perfect.

There's a test next time. 

Word banks.

FRQ's.

What's your name?

I like you, do you like me?

Check YES or NO

Crushes.

Blushes. 

Drama.

Did you hear?

Can I have your number?

Prom?

Late nights.

Car rides.

Fast food.

Dancing.

Spring break of our senior year just ended. That marks 13 spring breaks. 

46 more days until we graduate. 

6 more weekends. 

If you didn't believe it before, you'd better start now. 

Because the end is coming pretty fast, but the beginning is coming a little faster. 

And I never thought this was actually going to happen. 

But I'm going on a mission and your going to college, and he's joining the military and she's getting married and high school is over and the rest of our lives are around the corner and my head is telling me that I'm ready but my heart is asking if I really am.

This is the grand finale. 

It's the denouement. 

The curtains are closing, the credits are rolling, and the clock is ticking down. 

And I've waited for this my whole life.

And I don't know about you, 

but I'm feeling 22. 

(that was getting too intense) 

I am NOT Philo Farnsworth

Because I'm better at making videos than making a blog...

The Consternation of Occurance

Tonight my sister made some "Creamsickle Pudding" that she found on pinterest.
When she ladled the soupy mess out of the bowl, we laughed until we cried
Because sometimes things don't turn out to be the way we think they will.



We didn't plan our date that Saturday until an hour before.
It had the possibility of being scattered, rushed, and a complete disaster, but it was one of the most fun dates I've ever been on.
Because sometimes activities don't turn out to be the way we think they will.



When Nelson puts our names up on the board our eyes will first rush to see our own,
Then as we scan the screen and see who that was, we'll probably laugh, or gasp,
Because sometimes people don't turn out to be the way we think they will.



I'm laying on my death bed, surrounded by family or maybe I'm all alone.
My breathing becomes shallow, my mind flashes to when I met her-- unexpectedly.
I remember the vacation where everything went wrong, the job where I should have gotten a promotion but was fired instead, the people I met who shouldn't have stayed around so long but I am certainly glad they did.
Because sometimes life doesn't turn out the way we think it will.



AND THAT'S OKAY. 

This Makes Sense

Where?

Where?

Underwear.

Petunia. 

The Power in You

This is my niece following in my footsteps.

She's pretty cute, huh?

But I fear for her...

I fear that she will grow up and be afraid to be herself.

I fear that social pressures will ruin her self-esteem.

I fear that the glimmer of fun and hope in her eyes will die.

I fear her comparing herself to others.

I fear the comments people will make to or about her.

But I love her. So I will protect her. And I will do everything in my power to help her love herself. And I will continue to kindle her humor, and safeguard her tender heart, and teach her that the only thing to fear is the power you have inside yourself.

But that's not so much fear as it is respect.

And I'll teach her that too.

Ode to Facial Hair

Its weird.
Growing up I always wanted you.
I've had you for quite some time now and being honest, I just don't think you're worth it.
Sometimes you can make me look rugged and manly, but then you get itchy and uncomfortable and I just start to look homeless.
You're a hassle to shave so I don't want to but then there's the homeless thing.
When I try to grow you out for such purposes as Movember you make a mockery of me.
I like my five o'clock shadow better.
Maybe one day we can work things out but today is not that day.
So goodbye until Tuesday, for that is when you usually comes crawling back.
With utmost sincerity,
Philo

Questions About Life

I have some questions about life and if someone can answer them that would be great:

Why is it a natural tendency to judge?
Why do we have to do a service project for Gov and Cit?
How am I so conflicted about graduating?
Why is everyone always tired and hungry?
Who figures out statistics about how many people die and are born and are bullied and are alive?
How can music change my mood so quickly?
Who came up with language?
Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? (I know those answers, lol)
How do we know that everyone sees the same colors?
When will people realize that power and riches aren't an equal trade for millions of lives?
Who should I ask to prom?
Seriously, who?
Why daylight savings?
Why poverty?
Why 3 meals a day?
Does anyone even care?
Names?
Grammar?
My strange fascination with the attention span and weird viral trends of the internet?
Where will I be in 5 years?
Does anyone even care?
Does anyone even care?

DIY: Live

You wanna know how to live?
Laugh until you're positive you have a 6 pack
You wanna know how to live?
Lie to someone just to make them feel good
You wanna know how to live?

Get so into a song that you get chills

You wanna know how to live?

Listen to your grandparents tell stories and lose track of time

You wanna know how to live?

Sleep in

Eat that

Try something new

Fail
Do it again
Scream and dance like a maniac when it works

Have fun serving someone

Kiss

Make out

Make it good

Make a mistake

Figure out who thought of calculus

Hate them

Sneak out

Defend someone

Offend someone

Pretend

Fall in love

Fall in a pit

Play in mud

Go to a fancy restaurant

Feel complete happiness

Feel bad for yourself

Tell someone how much they mean to you

You wanna know how to live?

Do it yourself.

If You Have Time to Kill...

This brought me great joy and maybe it can also do the same for you.

The Underdoge

I wish I could write a post about bricks, or make up some super amazing metaphor about bricks or take a picture of a brick, but all I've been able to come up with is this:

So I am going to be completely honest and say that I disappoint myself when I do my blog. I know it shouldn't be that way, but it is, and I think it's because I am comparing it to everyone else's. My background is of clean, white hexagons. That is me. I'm not a poet, I'm not indie, and I haven't really loved anyone, I'm just a comedian. An OCD one. I could put my background as a nice field or an antique radio or a girl covering her eyes, but I won't because I'm a boy and plus none of those things matter to me.

I know my blog isn't the greatest. It's because I'm a procrastinator.
I know that's an excuse, but I'm more than willing to use it, because it's a true excuse.

I love looking at YOUR blog! It's so good!
And I might comment on it if I like it a lot (and FYI I like all of them a lot)
But I will probably comment on the blogs that don't have any comments, because I root for the underdoge.
(Also don't think I comment out of pity, because I don't. I will search and search and search until I find something I truly like about it and that will be my comment.)

My mom always says:

And so I do. Sometimes I don't, but sometimes I do.
You may not know what I'm saying, and neither do I.
So look at this and imagine me saying "WOWE! GO U UNDERdoGe!" and be satisfied by what I am.

My First Kiss

I knew I was going to do it during the whole date. She was going to college, so this was my last chance. I parked up at Squaw Peak.
Cliche.
We sat out in the cold for 45 minutes cuddling because I was too scared to make the move, even though I'm pretty sure she knew it was coming. It's like she was holding out on me for fun.
Two cars of teenagers pulled up and asked me to take their picture. It was a good picture for how dark it was outside.
She sneaked back to the car. I got in, turned it on, and thought the moment was gone.
Then that romantic corner of my mind that is severely underused took charge and I heard myself say:
"I really want to kiss you."
"Okay."
I think I blacked out.
Boy it was good.
"That wasn't good, lets do it again."
Okay, maybe it wasn't as good as I'd thought, but I didn't argue with her.

The Slippery Slope

I have a problem with closings and maybe that's why I wrote "break up" on my checklist.
Insensitive. Ya, I know. It was practical.
I'm not very versed in the language of love
But I'm pretty good at French.

I like love.
You could say that I like like love.
It makes me tingle. 
(That sounded weird)
In fact, I was thinking over the weekend and I'd be such a good boyfriend.

One day.
One day.
One day. 

(that was dramatic, which I wouldn't be if I was ur husband)

It appears that this is now a plea for marriage.
I am so sorry this is what happened.
It started off so good! I knew where it was going! I had dreams and plans for this.
But that's like love isnt it?
It starts off so good, you know where it's headed and all of the sudden it takes a weird and dramatic turn and then what the heck you're married and staring at each other in your honeymoon hotel room.
This is the end now.

Ya... I have a problem with closings.
But look how good I am with openings!

Love,
    philo

Blurry

When I take off my glasses:

lights turn into artistic, flickering splotches

people turn into indistinguishable outlines

words turn into monochrome lines

and the E looks like an F 

and the T looks like an I 

and the G looks like an O

and the W and the U and the V and the M all look the same

and hate looks like love

details blend into backgrounds, faces blend into crowds, colors blend into each other

then my mind is set free and I get to see whatever I want to see.

I get to be the architect, the artist, the creator.

When I take off my glasses, the world is a little blurry, but I'm not blind. 

a human experience

my dog was shaking for some reason
he was probably cold
but i always worry that he's going to die
i always worry that im going to die, too
he was laying on me while i watched tv
because procrastination is a better alternative than
                  homework
                         packing
                                making decisions
he thought he heard the doorbell
and he always freaks out when it rings
like i always freak out when
                  a cute girl talks to me
                          theres hair on the soap in the shower
                                  i get defensive
he shot off of me
and the front door never saw him coming
he scratched my stomach because
i dont clip his claws nearly enough
because there are "more important things to do"
                 go to work
                         socialize
                                watch tv
and he stopped shaking
but i started bleeding

Banterings about the Muffin Man

Do you know the muffin man?
Well what's his address?
He lives on Drury Lane. Why do you care?
Is he the one with the blue Ford?
No. He drives a red Camaro.
Business must be good.
Stocks in muffins are way up.
I've never liked muffins. I'm more of a porridge guy. 
Gross.
You remember Little Miss Muffet?
Ya.
She was SUPER afraid of spiders.

We Don't Have to Be 50 Shades of Office Cubicle Grey

I don't know if this is supposed to be about how we have all lost our imaginations, or about how we are afraid to act young, or about crayons, but let's just say that it's about all those things and let's just say it's about a little more. Because we are told to think outside of the box, but when we do we get punished, penalized, and persuaded that we were supposed to do it this way and we shouldn't have done it that way. 

We are told that we shouldn't have used cerulean where black could have sufficed. We were taught that angle A was perpendicular to angle D and we were asked to prove it and we couldn't say "because that's the way it is" because there was only 1 right answer, and that wasn't it.

We were taught to stay inside the lines and you wonder why we can't think outside the box? We're told that everyone is gold, and then they average us out, define us by letters and numbers and slide us through the machine and hope that we don't ALL come out a murky brown or an office cubicle grey. 
We think that all we can do is hope that we aren't the ones shading in a monotone world, but sometimes we are, and that's because of the news, and the government, and  the pessimists who drain the color out of our faces and then splash it back in politically correct terms of white, black, yellow, and make us think that the world isn't worth the time we spend outlining and color coordinating,
BUT
IT
IS.
Some of us still appreciate the pinks and oranges of a sunset.
Some of us still love the reds of lips, and the blues of eyes.

Some of us still have rainbows swirling around in our heads waiting to be chosen from a box where the people we let borrow our crayons only replaced the blacks and the whites.
But when we remember that we can still color with the atomic tangerines and the razzle dazzle roses and the screamin greens we rediscover ideas and opinions and facts that we forgot were even there. And our imaginations are a little rusty because we left them out in the rain for a couple years, but we can sand them off and do a little tweaking and look at that, it's just like new.

Then we see the color of the world, and surprisingly it's not just 50 shades of grey.

Because we all get to be the color WE want to be.

-PF

I am NOT Anonymous

The word "anonymous" has two meanings:

1. of unknown name; whose name is withheld
2. lacking individuality, unique character or distinction

I am here to tell you that although I may be anonymous, I am not anonymous. I am here to tell you that I am the person that always had to try for friends. I am here to tell you that nothing comes easy to me except making cereal, falling asleep and being inside my own mind.

But I am not anonymous.

I cry when I need to, even though I hate the taste of tears.
I love the sound of my laugh, even though I hate the sound of my voice.
I have always been afraid; afraid to ride a bike, afraid to put my head under water, afraid of change. And it's not because I fear death, it's because I fear the unknown. Looking down into the abyss, or looking up into endless sky, or looking forward at the series of doors waiting for me to find the courage to open them. And I am afraid.

But I am not anonymous.

And sometimes I feel like a 2 year old who cant get his shoes on, and in a moment of triumph I  mutter to myself, "yes", only to find that I put my shoe on the wrong foot. But I can still walk, and because I can still walk, I am a success.
I am a success.

And I am not anonymous.

And sometimes I think that I am profound or that I am poetic, and no one else can see it. But I can. And because I can see it, I don't care if you can, or you, or you. You don't know me. You don't know that I love God, and that I love my dog. You don't know that it's impossible for me to make decisions. And you don't know what I know, and what I've seen, and what I think, and what I feel.

And you may not even know me.

But I am NOT anonymous.

And I never will be.


(PF)

Anything Can Be Poetry