This is me, being bad, again

I love social experiments. Really, I do. In fact, over Spring break, I plan to partake in one. That way, when I come back next quarter, we’ll be able to talk about it right here on this page. So, onto the delicious topic for this week:

CommUnity. Ah, what a lovely word. Eleven credits shalt thou obtain; he who fails receives the cane. Believe me, like everyone else, I’ve had my bouts with those good souls, the keepers of the credit. On Tuesday, I was bored. Really – I was. You may not know this, but if you go out into the lobby to talk on your cell phone, they’ll politely (and sometimes not so politely) tell you to stop (and c’mon, let’s be frank with ourselves, we all know everyone still calls “CommUnity” chapel). So, fifteen minutes into the show, I step into the lobby, pull out my phone, and pretend to talk. As a social experiment nerd, I can’t wait for what happens next. As I observe those laborers of love with keen interest, I spy one usher who notices me. No doubt wishing I didn’t exist, and hoping to avoid all sorts of conflict, she timidly approaches me and awkwardly tells me to get off of my phone. Bam. Just like that. I stop, look at her, and reply, “Well, actually, I have all my credits.” Finis. She’s satisfied. She leaves. I’m thoroughly entertained. Good deal.

First off, I think all the ushers should get a copy of “Emily Post’s Book of Etiquette” and concentrate especially hard on the section dealing with phones. Secondly, I want to know why married couples get to skip out on chapel, and don’t tell me they’re able to get their “CommUnity” on at a different time and place. That’s not a legitimate reason (next time they tell me to get off of my phone, I’ll just say, “Leave me alone, I’m married”). Lastly, I’m going to leave you with this stick of dynamite. What would Jesus do? Yeah, that’s right. I just pulled the God card. I can see it now. I’m listening to the Sermon on the Mount, and Jesus comes up to me and tells me to get off of my phone (Jesus can do two things at once). But, personally, I don’t see Jesus doing that. Especially when He knows I’m talking to my soon-to-be brother-in-law whose mother just died of cancer.

Seriously, guys? CommUnity credit? Can’t WWU do a little better than that? I want answers! Excuse me now while I go start an apology letter for the hundreds of people I just offended.

The mediocre menace

I love him as much as I hate him. And especially on the college campus, where we’re all blooming so competitively well into adulthood, that scumbag called mediocrity can be sighted all over the place. However, the unbeknownst irony is that the mediocre menace is usually spied dwelling within ourselves.

Now, I’m a bit of an artist; I dabble in music and sculpting. As an artist, it’s quite easy to size up your aesthetic displays to those of other artists. As a musician, it’s even (arguably) easier. I can remember one such time back in the seventh grade when mediocrity pounded its fists on my door:

I used to play piano at a competitive level. One year, I got chosen to represent my district at an honors recital. This was a big opportunity for me; I would be able to witness the performances of fellow pianists from other counties – something that didn’t happen very often to a Grays Harborite living on an isolated peninsula. Needless to say, the experience was a lot of fun and truly gratifying. But, at the same time, it was truly terrifying. I witnessed piano wizards half my age play pieces twice as hard as mine, and I kid you not, some of these wizards (I swear) were still in diapers (to get an appropriate mental snapshot of what I’m trying to say, simply put Matthew Palumbo in the body of a six-year old. I know! Freaky, right?). After mediocrity had beaten my door down, I vowed to up my piano practicing by an hour every day.

So, in a sense, I suppose the mediocre menace can be a good thing; it drove me to become a better piano player. Simply put, the mediocre menace manifested itself as a mean motivator (say that five times fast). Alright, I have a feeling some of you still have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m talking about feeling inferior, feeling mediocre – feeling like you’re just not good enough. Well here’s news for you: there’ll always be someone cooler than you. Believe me – I know what I’m talking about. A guy I’d like to say I knew wrote a song about it. If there was anybody to overcome mediocrity, Ben Folds did it with flying colors. So, take some friendly advice from your BackTalk editor: when mediocrity comes nipping at your heels, take those feelings and bury them in the ground with a shovel. If you can bear it, manipulate that little menace into motivating you, but that’s it. Seriously, he’s out for blood, man.

My rampant reasoning

Sometimes I wonder about things (I know, it’s profound). I wonder about what to eat, I wonder about what to throw down on this blasted page (it’s a love-hate relationship), I wonder about God and sometimes, I even wonder if I’m going to remember a specific moment of wondering for another time. Shoot, I didn’t include wondering about life’s paradoxes. “We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.” Are you guys picking up what I’m putting down? Are you catching what I’m throwing?

Spiritual things. As Adventists, I suppose wondering about those things can be taken as a bad sign. I mean, wondering often leads to questioning, and questioning your spirituality is definitely a bad thing, right? Well, to be honest, I have no idea. Basically, I’ve made the realization that the more I know, the more I don’t know. So, what about doctrines? Why is it when someone mentions the 27 Fundamental Beliefs, there’s always some joker that makes a wisecrack about how there are 28 now? We all know what follows: we pat each other on the back and have a good laugh. Ha. Funny. So, why are we laughing about what we supposedly believe in? Is that really a laughing matter? What are doctrines? The more I wonder about them, the more I see them simply as man’s manifestation of describing God’s will. Whoa, hold on a second. Isn’t man imperfect? Are you sure we can trust him with that? Yikes, now that’s what I call going out on a limb. We better leave those big decisions to the traditionalist and baby boomer generations. So, what about our generation? What about the millennials?

I’d like to believe that our generation isn’t so different from others. Both exemplify personal growth, both think anything is possible, both strive for optimism. But if all that’s true, then why can’t we decide whether to have drums in the church, if we should be nice to homosexuals, or decide if CommUnity is a religious or scholastic experience?

When it’s all said and done, I hope to believe that we’re not so different. That is, I want to believe that we’re sort of the same — generational differences aside.

Valentine's date? You got it.

Hi, I’m Brendan Hay, an ordinary college student who goes through life just like you. That’s right; I put my pants on like everybody else – one leg at a time. Except, today, I’m no longer Brendan Hay; I’m Brendan Hay the Love Guru. Picture me as the lovey-dovey idea fairy who shoots you with heart-tipped arrows. So, here it goes, ten of my personal favorite groovy date ideas:

Mystery Dinner (group) Date: Have any of you ever done a mystery dinner before? Holy cow, they’re fun to get into! Get a mystery set and plan out all the characters. Send out invites and make sure everyone comes in costume. Stay in character even during the dinner part.

Casino Night (group) Date: Alright guys, think Monte Carlo. Think super formal. Have someone with a house host the event. The couples can get together and play various card games (poker, blackjack, etc.), while sipping their favorite bubbly (non-alcoholic, of course). Oh, and remember, only Badventists gamble.

Classic Date: Here it is; dinner and a movie. But, there’s a twist: make the meal together. Then, afterwards, get cozy and watch a pirated movie on a laptop. What? Did someone say pirated?

Thrift Store Date: This one’s bound to get a lot of laughs. Go to a thrift store and pick out each other’s outfits for the night. Each person has to solemnly swear to wear what the other picks out though! Then, go about your date doing whatever.

Picture Date: First, find a children’s book with lots of pictures. Then, buy a disposable camera. Go through the book, reenacting the scenes as you go about your date, taking pictures with the camera. Afterwards, get the film developed and make an album to commemorate the date.

Stalker Date: For all you freaky people out there, go into town and find some couple who are obviously out on a date. Follow them around and do whatever they do. Just don’t follow them home, or to the projects in Lincoln Park …

Double Date with your Parents: Never mind, that’s just weird.

Park Date: This one oozes with romance, but depends on the weather. Plan a picnic in a park setting. Feed a loaf of bread to some ducks together. Then, find a fountain and take turns tossing in coins, saying your wishes out loud in the presence of your significant other. Caution: hearts may melt.

Deviant Date: A personal favorite. Kick off the evening climbing the fire escape of the Marcus Whitman in downtown Walla Walla. After escaping the police, drive over to Walmart and do every Walmart prank in the book (google Walmart pranks). Finish the date by jumping the gate at the Hampton Inn to use their hot tub, free of charge. If you get caught, tell them Brendan Hay sent you.

Nostalgic Date: Do whatever you loved doing as a kid together. Fly kites, build a puzzle, play a board game together or break out that old-school Nintendo 64. After all that silly goodness, make some macaroni and cheese, build a fort out of chairs, pillows and blankets, and watch “DuckTales the Movie: Treasure of the Lost Lamp” inside. Oh, yeah.

Mix ‘em up: Don’t know which awesome date to pick? Throw all of the above into a paper bag, shake them up and pick one (just hope you don’t pick the double date with your parents).

Chivalry

Katie Currier and I thought it would be interesting to do a little piece on chivalry. Now, you might be wondering why on Earth I’d put something like that on my BackTalk. Well, I happen to like social dynamics, and quite frankly, you should too. It may not be obvious at first, but being chivalrous towards a woman goes way back to the middle ages (you know, knighthood, knightly virtues, honor and all that jazz?). Now that you’ve made the connection between two closely related words (chivalry and knights), I will allow you a brief moment of ascertainment (I had one).

Contrary to popular belief, being chivalrous is not just exclusive to gentlemen showing respect to ladies. It goes both ways. So, to all those feminazis out there, when a man opens a door for you – don’t get angry because what he’s really doing is simply treating another human being with respect – gender aside. Hmm, now what a nice thought! Also, as so many men forget to realize, being chivalrous towards a lady is often found quite attractive. Doing those small, chivalrous deeds is easy. They’re the brownie points of the flirting world! When it comes to chivalry, WWU is on good terms. Katie believes there is a good supply of well-mannered men here (and I’m sure Jon Gienger is one of them). When entering a building, she’s found that a man (if one’s nearby) will almost always hold the door for her.

To finish, I thought it’d be fun to include a few of the lesser-executed acts of chivalry: 1. Men, if you’re sitting at a table with a woman or women, stand up when one arrives or leaves the table. 2. When walking with a woman downtown, take the side closest to the street. 3. If you’re driving a woman home, get out of the car and open her door when you get to her house. It looks super fly, and you’re in a much better position for that goodnight kiss.

While on the topic of chivalry, some of you may have found the content of last week’s page to be provocative in nature. If any of you interpreted it as sexual harassment, I humbly apologize. Brendan Hay is a chivalrous man. He does not sexually harass. It just isn’t chivalrous.

What kind of Adventist are you?

I’m not one for labels or stereotypes, but when it comes to Adventists, there are so many flavors. For those of you I’m about to offend, I’m sorry, but sometimes I really can’t help myself. I do want you to know one thing though: I had a blast creating these terms. WWU, you put a smile on my face. Enjoy.

Badventist: Often looked down upon by other Adventists. Partakes in partying on the weekends and other forms of sinful debauchery (including drinking coffee). Group includes business majors and Steeler fans.

Dadventist: All those upstanding father figures out there. Alex Bryan, Dean Evans, etc.

Fadventist: Obsessed with aesthetics. Generally drives a nice car and has to have the latest iPhone. Also, supports the construction of large, monumental, statue-like structures on Adventist campuses …

Gladventist: Our school might only have three African American professors in a sea of white faculty, but this one Jamaican man has enough enthusiasm to count as twenty. Can I hear an Amen, Pedrito?

Madventist: Generally not so fun to be around. Will often be the first to point wayward souls in the right direction. If things get nasty, they may even split up your church. Yikes!

Padventist: Paddy McCoy.

Radventist: These people reek of awesome. They are generally known to have Brooklyn accents, and will occasionally interrupt large audiences with their creative intellect.

Sadventist: I’m sure you get the idea. Fortunately, there is a cure for Sadventists. Send those poor souls to Berean Fellowship, or inflict them with a little Dr. Tony Campolo. All you need is love, yo.


Best place to make out on campus?

Guys, I love it when you kiss, grope, and fondle; it reassures me that Adventists are actually capable of producing offspring. But, given the latest circumstances, I’ve been pressured by my peers into suggesting a few locations that might turn your public displays of affection into private ones.

The bowels of Rigby, late at night
Why not turn that little escapade into a science experiment? I’ve never seen anybody down there past 8 p.m.

FAC practice rooms
Hey you two! Get a room! Seriously, there’s no easier way. Some of the rooms even come with keys …

President McVay’s Desk
Go to it while he’s on his lunch break! I dare you. Ohhh boy!

My house
For an hourly fee, I might let you use the basement.

Excuse me while I go to a corner and shrivel up into a pile of dust now

Embarrassing moments. Everybody has them. Unfortunately, some of us may be in tune to our embarrassing side a bit more than others. I would argue to say I am one of the unlucky ones. Allow me to illustrate:

There was that time when I was in middle school, and I was on my way to a Youth Rally at the Buena Vista Seventh-day Adventist School in Auburn, Washington. It was a two hour drive, so my bladder was quite delighted when we had finally arrived at our destination. Running into the school, and not thinking which door I was going through, I proceeded into a restroom free of any urinals. For some reason, the mysterious absence of man’s #1 depository failed to grab my attention. I turned to the nearest stall, and no sooner had I gone in, two persons with not-so-masculine voices came into the restroom and located themselves in the neighboring stalls on either side of me. Terrified at what I had just done, I lifted my feet up and stood on the toilet, crouching in the most awkward position possible. The moments that followed were, needless to say, embarrassing.

Or that one time, when I was speaking to a bunch of preteens at Camp MiVoden for church, and was inadvertently stung by a bee. Getting stung by a bee in front of young campers however, wasn’t the embarrassing part; the expletive that reactively escaped from my mouth, was. Some of you reading this may actually have been there, but are recalling that no such utterance ever occurred. Well, it’s quite obvious, at least from my perspective, that your guardian angel was probably plugging your ears.

So, there you have it: a couple of Brendan Hay’s finer moments. Now, should we be ashamed of moments like these? No, I think not. These are the moments when we are in life’s spotlight; these are the moments when we know we’re actually alive (from personal experience, I can say that interrupting a televised sermon in front of two thousand people makes you feel very much alive, sorry, Garrett).

So, treasure those moments, for they are the moments in life that make it worth living.