NEW SITE.

www.tehlemonsmith.com

Goodbye old blog, hello new domain.

Necessary Tools.

9:15 and still finding time to procrastinate from homework and packing. If you notice the blog acting janky, it's because I'm working on changing a few things on the interweb front.

Stomping the Yard or Garbage.

Summer officially begins in June, but it feels like it's already upon us. Summer brings fresh beginnings. For me, it's going to be a summer home. As of this morning, my current home contains me and me only. All the rooms are barren of furniture and belongings. My room will hold onto my things and me for a couple more days until I move down the road. New roommates, new home, new atmosphere. stoked.

365 Minus 144 Photos.

I was persuaded into starting one of those photo a day challenges. I haven't spent time with my camera in some time, so my hope is that this will get me into that groove again. Also, I'd like to see my photography improve. Practice makes perfect.

What does this have to do with the blog? Expects pictures up the twiddle dee twiddle dum.

May 25

May 26

May 27

5 Seeds.

I have five seeds that sit on my window sill. They sit there quietly, biding their time until they are placed in a more hospitable habitat. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with them. When I first found them I reactively decided to throw them out, but then hesitated. These seeds could produce any sort of vegetation. It is entirely plausible for these seeds to birth a mighty tree or rare breed of talking flower. Am I doing the world a great disservice by not planting these seedlings? Or maybe they are poisonous seedlings that will cause turmoil and strife wherever they grow. These are the types of questions and thoughts I need to mull over before I make an absolute decision. I will let you know of the outcome at a later date, until then they shall sit.

September, The First Day Of School

I

My child and I hold hands on the way to school,
And when I leave him at the first-grade door
He cries a little but is brave; he does
Let go. My selfish tears remind me how
I cried before that door a life ago.
I may have had a hard time letting go.

Each fall the children must endure together
What every child also endures alone:
Learning the alphabet, the integers,
Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff
So arbitrary, so peremptory,
That worlds invisible and visible

Bow down before it, as in Joseph's dream
The sheaves bowed down and then the stars bowed down
Before the dreaming of a little boy.
That dream got him such hatred of his brothers
As cost the greater part of life to mend,
And yet great kindness came of it in the end.

II

A school is where they grind the grain of thought,
And grind the children who must mind the thought.
It may be those two grindings are but one,
As from the alphabet come Shakespeare's Plays,
As from the integers comes Euler's Law,
As from the whole, inseperably, the lives,

The shrunken lives that have not been set free
By law or by poetic phantasy.
But may they be. My child has disappeared
Behind the schoolroom door. And should I live
To see his coming forth, a life away,
I know my hope, but do not know its form

Nor hope to know it. May the fathers he finds
Among his teachers have a care of him
More than his father could. How that will look
I do not know, I do not need to know.
Even our tears belong to ritual.
But may great kindness come of it in the end.

-Howard Nemerov



When I am lucky, I mean really really lucky I get a call from my boss asking if I can wake up at 5:30 in the morning to work the before school starts shift. I don't talk much during the shift, because my body doesn't truly awaken until around 8ish. So I sit on the table and watch the parents drop their children off. Some farewells are all smiles but others remind me of this poem.

I got a new computer.

and i think it might be a robot spy.

Get up and Move

What should we be doing with ourselves?

Lately I’ve been reading more on this subject than usual. Whenever I have one recurring thought sifting around it seems that I become bombarded with readings or conversations that add to the ever growing thought-dune. Maybe because its graduation season or maybe because I’m sensitive to it there seems to be more talk about what people ought to be doing with their life. Or maybe this is a constant conversation throughout the world or at least western societies. When I was younger I had the idea that once this question was answered it would leave you. But now I realize that this question will follow each of us through our lives looking for an answer and once the answer has been given it will be used to evaluate and shape our lives.

I have friends who have graduated and those that will become graduates soon and I’ve come to witness two types of graduates. The first type is the graduate with a plan. They are taking up jobs, traveling around the world, and jumping right into life. Then there is the second type, the waiting graduate. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Depending on the circumstance waiting is not always bad, but if you are going to sit on your bottom for some treasure to plop in your lap you are foolish. That isn’t going to happen.

When I first moved out of my parent’s home I moved to the small coastal city of Santa Barbara. My experience in Santa Barbara was critical in the making of who I am today. The first few months that I lived there I sat. I was of the second type sitting quietly biding my time until I received my prize. I sat in hopes for friends. I sat in hopes for a job. I wanted a lot of things to happen, but instead of seeking my desires I sat. Needless to say, nothing happened. It was during those few months that I realized that we as individuals are given the will to steer our lives. Nothing is accomplished, if everyone is waiting for another to take the initiative. Part of my reason for sitting was in the belief that God would pick you up and carry you in the direction that he wanted. Thankfully I eventually learned this isn’t the case at all. God helps point us in the directions that He wants but He’s not going to be able to guide you if you aren’t moving.

This is just a rehashing of what more eloquent writers have already said, but it needs to be said until us sitters get it through those thick heads of ours. Stop sitting, go out there and make things happen.

advice.

Dear readers,

Have you parked on a hill lately? Remember to cramp those tires!

-tyler

p.s. cramping can be defined as a painful sensation in your muscles or an unneeded technical term for turning your wheels towards the curb.

Billabong Pro Teahupoo

Billabong Pro Teahupoo is knocking out their final heats before the Quarters today in Tahiti.

The surf is looking average and not the Teahupoo slab that we often see. Should still be interesting, as the day is starting off with Andy Irons against Bobby Martinez. I'm rooting for Santa Barbara raised Bobby.

Aliens and an Apocalyptic Earth

Two movies that are bringing the stoke.

District Nine.

Produced by Peter Jackson. Whether you loved, hated or just felt meh about King Kong there is no doubt that the man tries to make epic movies. He's the man behind Lord of the Rings, enough said. As for District Nine, it's got the middle east, aliens, racism and aliens. I've got high hopes for this one.

The Road.

The Road was written by Cormac McCarthy, the literary genius behind No Country for Old Men and Blood Meridian. If you haven't had the chance to read any of McCarthy's work I would suggest starting with The Road. It's easier to consume than some of his other works, as McCarthy has a way with using words that most never knew existed. The Road is a work that once started can not be set down. It's the story of father and son in a ruined world. The trailer portrays the story as an apocalyptic action plot, which it is not. I hope they stay true to the plot and feeling of the book in this movie adaptation. Nonetheless, I am excited to see this movie. Read the book before you watch the movie!

LeftRightLeftRightleft

Coldplay's handing out free downloads of it's Live performance to all it's fans.

Check It!

Who is John Galt?

There's this sign that is posted on the road to my work with the words, "Who is John Galt?" I looked it up online and according to Wikipedia it is an "expression of helplessness and despair at the current state of the world." The phrase is coined from the book Atlas Shrugged. I've been meaning to add something foolish to it since I first saw it, just because that's the way I work. I see an opportunity for foolishness, so I must take it. This is what I came up with....

Jesus is Bangala.

It's complete. I'm left with the knowledge of that which was once not there and a story that will forever be in my mind. Isn't that how all books are? Once finished, they spring through your memory in the most random of times bringing the ideas and themes straight to the forefront of your thoughts. My most recent read was The Poisonwood Bible. Just as other books based in foreign countries, my false concept of a land that I've never stepped foot on is shattered.

The Poisonwood Bible is the story of the Pierce family. Led by Nathan Pierce, his wife and four daughters follow him into the heart of the Congo to be missionaries. The tale is told by the wife and her four daughters. Through this story you begin to break the surface of understanding what Africa truly is. It's a country that has been manhandled by the world and left in shambles. The book gives ideas on how the world should go about fixing this wounded country, but as the book alludes it's not one action but many actions that will hopefully bring the country to it's feet.

I'd recommend this book to anyone.

The Talking Heart.

If my heart could talk I've decided that he would have the voice of an Australian, only muffled. It's still up in the air whether he would be into kangaroos and wearing aussie fashion, but I'm certain he'd have the boomerang from that mouse on the Rescuers Down Under.

Waxing gibbous.

I open the internet to find this on my Google reader. The moon phase today is "Waxing gibbous."

What?! Isn't that a Harry Potter Spell or possibly the scientific name of the anteater? Who decided to call the moon phase this silly name?

Well, besides giving me a good morning laugh this now known moon fact has given me two goals for the day.

1. To inform everyone I come into contact with that the moon phase tonight is waxing gibbous.
2. To look at the moon tonight and decide if the moon is in fact waxing gibbous.
   

Francis Chan.

Clickeh

Watch/Listen to Living to Display the Gospel. Found this through another blog, but after watching I had to share.

Conversation.

Some Jehovah's Witnesses knocked on my door last week. Before I knew what was happening we were in the living room talking about the disciples, the bible and San Diego. Nothing strengthens your knowledge and understanding of your faith more than having to explain it to another person.

Glorify God.

"I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure." -Eric Liddell (Chariots of Fire)

Wild Bees!

Readers, it's not every day that I wake to surprises, but today is one of those days. As I write these words, there is a multitude of buzzing, bzzing, bees making sweet sweet honey in my backyard. They've taken up shop right in the back of the old shed that sits in the forest of weeds. I've already ran outside, investigated the whole situation and have come back unscathed and pleased.

Last night I was reading a novel called, “The Poisonwood Bible.” It's a fiction about a missionary family that goes to Africa to preach the gospel. In one of the chapters there is mention of an African who harvests honey from the wild bees. Lighting a torch he raises the smoky fire around the hive and the smoke drives the bees out. The temptation to give this a try over the weekend is strong. The thought of eating fresh honey seems marvelous, but my roommate thinks it's downright foolish. Not only do angry bees sting, but the honeycomb outcome could be a failure. Bees are prone to all kinds of parasites, and if they become infected the honey can be bad. I'm still uncertain if the risk is worth it, but if the weekend becomes dull I might just go for it.

I will have to think this one over a sandwich of peanut butter, honey and banana

Prophets: God's Mediators/God's Crazies

Ezekiel is weird, like really really weird. Reading about him is captivating, but let's be honest if there was a guy walking around San Diego baking biscuits on a pile of burning shit to symbolize a famine, all the while claiming that it was God who told him to do this I'd be skeptical. Not only would I be skeptical, I'd think the guy was ape-crazy or into hardcore drugs. Man, the bible is strange. God told Ezekiel to do that. To eat bread that was baked on a fire of dried dung to symbolize a famine that is associated with a siege. Granted it was a method of trying to tell Jerusalem what was going to go on, but still it's weird. Weird. weird.

The church I go to has been going through this whole series on risk, taking risks. They want people to mentally grasp the power of the resurrection. The resurrection is powerful, it's huge. It's the pivotal point of Christianity where we get a glimpse of God's plan for mankind's restoration. Everyone nods their head in church when asked if they believe in the resurrection. But why don't we show it? If we believe that a man was resurrected, that he died and then rose again because he wasn't just a man, he was a God man. Than why don't we act like it? Why don't we tell more people about it? I talk more about the newest episode of The Office than about God. I talk more about gas prices and their effect on me, than Christ and his influence on my life. And you want to know why we don't talk about God with others, it's because we are scared. We're scared that people will think we are weird, we're scared that people will be skeptical of what we believe. Something is wrong when we would rather be comfortable around people than share something that has eternal consequence.

This whole situation is more ironic because we've all heard this rant before. We read or hear or think it and become convicted. Mentally we tell ourselves that we need to change, but we don't because we are pussies. That's the truth.

What is good.

a long drive with a friend.

santa cruz surf.

exploring a castle.

hanging out at the laboratory with doc and hazel.

Picture of my Food on a blog. LOL!

Yes Mother, I know how to cook. Well, sort of. This is a called the "Fiery Breathe of Oscar." Starting with a chunk of frozen hamburger and ending in a mixture of the forgotten foods from the pantry, it ended up making a decent meal. It almost reminded me of a home cooked meal that my mom made, if she had forgotten to cook the rice.

In other news, I started schoolery online. Not only do I feel myself getting smarter, but I am getting brighter. Not the smart definition of bright, more of the sunshine bright. I've started radiating much like how a heater puts off heat or a microwave throws out waves. This new phenomenon probably has a lot to do with the fact that I got scorched by the sun over the past few weekends.

Besides the brightness, school is well. I take three classes every eight weeks. Right now I'm nearly halfway done with a basic accounting, biblical studies, and theology 101 course. courses. Accounting is what it sounds like. Boring as hell. The theology and bible class are awesome though. It's weird to see that even though I've been in the Church my whole life I'm still being taught absolutely new things when it comes to the bible. Right now, I'm blazing through the old testament with my textbook at hand as it helps commentate and explain passages and narrations. The first time I read through the whole old testament was a few years ago. I would compare my first reading like watching a few random episodes of LOST. You get a story here and there, you kind of understand what's going on, but you are missing a lot. This second rereading is like watching seasons 1-5 back to back. You still get all the little stories, but now they aren't just random stories, they are all connected. You've got all these weird characters, bogus laws, and crazy nations living life and although at first you think they are totally unrelated, through time you realize each story is bound together in one giant story that has no ending, just many epic climaxes. I like it.

Bank Teller Riddlers

I'm fighting for U2 and Kanye's fans.

Bank Teller Riddlers Composed by Tyler.

Mouth 0. Sheriff 1.

My nails. They are little buggers that won't stop growing. They've got wicked sick powers that make them grow like beanstalks. Little clear beanstalks that don't need magic beans to get going. Life's pretty good for them, except there's this outlaw that comes into town and starts pushing everybody around. His name is “The Mouth.” He's downright nasty and has no manners. He barges into town demanding everything and taking what he wants. The nails are no match against this villain. He plunders daily and leaves nothing but ruins. The nails hate the mouth. I hate the mouth.

Whenever any small town is threatened by a group of mangy rustlers, there is one man who can take them on. He's the sheriff and let me tell you, he is one badass cowboy. He's got accuracy up the wazoo and the reflexes of a lion. In my case, this would be my mind. The sheriff rides into town and notices that Beanstalk Town is messed up. He sees one of the little beanstalks all cut up. Sheriff gives little beanstalk some water from his canteen. Sadly little beanstalk's heart stops. He will grow no more, but right before his last breath he tells the Sheriff all about The Mouth. Enraged the Sheriff shouts for The Mouth at the top of his lungs.

The Mouth has just finished shooting everyone in the saloon. He hears the sheriff and guzzles down a glass of whiskey before making his way to the dusty main street.

The Mouth. The Sheriff. No one else. It's quiet and both men squint through the sunlight at each other. The Mouth starts to talk, but it's too late the Sheriff has shot him dead. This isn't fairytale land, this is real life. This is Beanstalk Town and this is their story. Deal with it.

Q.C.

"That's strange, I've never been able to taste pumpkin spice before."
-Quentin Comdel

He was born in Russia during the great escapade of King Toutille. Upon his birth his parents were placed into instant conflict. Their newborn had a disorder. Doctors of the time were baffled because they had never seen anything quite like it. Modern day doctors have since named it the "Little Shakey Dance" disorder. This abnormality would cause the baby boy to shake, shake his booty. He was a dancing baby. The second a beat entered through his little ears he'd be grooving and moving to the beat. This struck horror into the hearts of his parents because during this age dancing was completely forbidden. King Toutille had signed a decree stating that all dancing Russians were to be put to death. His reasoning was that the power of dance was too great, if it was harnessed and placed into the wrong hands it could have devastating effects.

Long story short, Quentin grew up in the underground of Russia. He learned to harness the power of dance at the age of eight. He spent the next 5 years of his life learning all manners of dance and inventing some moves of his own. At the age of 13 he waltzed into Moscow to the beat of "PapayaPapaya." Officials tried to arrest him but were unable. King Toutille declared war against Quentin and sent everything he had at the boy. Quentin shimmied into a contagious disco fever sending the whole Russian army into a great dance. The King contracted the fever but his heart was made of pure evil, so he died. Quentin Comdel took over the kingship and danced the rest of his life away. He even danced on the moon one time.

-The End

Plants, Sun, and Gardening Gloves.

This is my last week as a paid handyman. I spent the last six months tending the property of the historic Rosecroft Estate. As this final stretch has begun, I find it ironic how I can tell that I'm going to miss the place. It was definitely a job that grew on me. I remember the first time I drove up to start work. I was greeted with a firm handshake from a quick talking American man. That handshake initiated the hundreds of hours that I would spend pruning, grooming and cleaning.

It was this job that taught me to innovate, engineer or just plain jimmyrig your way through problems. I became a wizard of power tools, the master of the broom and a brush artist. My hands learned how to work the soil in ways that would put Gaara to shame.

Reminiscing will occur about this job, but for now there will only be smiling. The feeling of having just left a job is so great that I'll be wearing a grin for the next few weeks. Farewell Rosecroft!

Comedian Louis CK.

If you haven't seen this floating around the internet yet, you will see it now.

Paste Creatures

Everybody has rituals, except for me. That's false, completely false. I'm riddled with rituals. Like Clint Eastwood has his gruffy voice so do I have my rituals.

Before I plunge my body into the ocean to partake in it's stoke I stand on the sand and deliver a prayer to God. It is my routine, I never miss it, nor do I prethink about it. It just comes to me when it's time. I picked up this ritual through a friend. It was something he always did before he surfed and it was something that I grabbed ahold of.

As a kid my dad made deviled eggs sandwiches every sunday morning. To this day I don't understand why he did it, especially since that after a few years of it my brothers and I refused to eat them. He ate frosted flakes on the weekdays before heading off to work, so the only reason I can find for the egg sandwiches is that he had more time on Sunday before church and he liked them better than pancakes. Whatever the case, that was one of his rituals.

Than there was the other day when I was preparing my toothbrush with toothpaste. Before I put it in my mouth I turned the faucet on and wet the paste. Why do I wet the paste? It's something that I've done for the past twentytwo years and haven't ever thought about until this point. As everyone has heard we, humans, are creatures of habit. We have rituals, routines, ways of life that we act through day in and day out. It's important for us to take a look at them and question them. I'm not saying it's time for us to stop making our deviled eggs sandwiches, but maybe it's time for us to change the way we brush our teeth.

President Pretend Day

Once a year we have one day that is set aside for remembrance and honor of the Presidents of the United States. Thinking back I have never sat down on a President's Day to remember the present and past Presidents. It seems to me that the majority of Americans, including myself, just enjoy the day for it's addition to our weekend. I don't think anything is wrong with that but I believe there is a solution that will fix this broken holiday.

I'd like to propose that instead of making this a day in which we think about our presidents, we make it a day in which we all pretend that we are the President! It would be awesome. Dressing up is optional, but ditching out on administrative duties isn't. Everyone would wake up and have a meeting in which they'd have to make really tough decisions that would alter the lives of people you've never met. Around lunch time you could imagine yourself spilling some coca-cola on the desk in your very own white house. In the evening, you'd watch some television and than go to a fundraiser dinner.

During my President pretend day I'd give people handshakes and always have a smile at the ready. I'd go hang out by the pool at Camp David and than jog around town with a group of secret agents always at the ready. Shouting out that I am the President would be necessary every now and than just so others knew that I was the President and not them. Oh, and if I had to pretend to be one certain President. I would pick Abraham Lincoln, except that I would pretend that I dodged the assassination bullet and went on to become one of the greatest President this country has known.

One last thing...does anyone else think that it's funny that we have a mountain with the faces of Presidents carved into it?

We cut the legs off our pants.

The past month has been much more musical than normal. I set up a piano keyboard next to my computer and ever since music has been abudant. I rediscovered Basshunter and all of his swedish techno beats. It's funny how a song can have such a powerful effect on a person and his/her emotions.
All it takes is fifteen seconds with the thumping beats and my mindship takes sail across the great sea of imagination. Last time I finished a full Basshunter song I was convinced that I was going to commandeer the Star of India and set out into the great blue.

Also on my music playlist is the always smiling Matt and Kim. Matt and Kim are so happy that it makes me smile. I hope they make you smile too. My goal for the next week is to learn this song on the piano and than find a drummer girl.

Listen to music, it's got powers.

ink pen.

I received the gift of a Precise V5 Rolling Ball pen constructed by Pilot over the summer. It's smooth flow of ink and fine tip made it the ultimate writing utensil. I used it for the better half of a year. It's magical ink produced drawings, writings and signatures. It followed me through life. It saw me through the paperwork of jobs, tax returns and random doodlings. Without it I would have survived, I would have been able to live life but the joy of the pressing it's buttery tip against paper is a joy that I would have never known.

Goodbye Pen, you were good to me.

Longer Posts on the way

Don't ever trust a badger.

Believe it!

There needs to be some kind of limit controller that only allows a person to view so much television and internet per week. My mom would tell me that it’s already been invented and that it’s called self control. Well if that’s the case, mine is broken. From time to time I get pulled straight into some new show and if it’s got action, suspense and a case of the funnies than it straight up shakes me as a person. It started with LOST and branched out to The Office and Arrested Development. A few months ago I was introduced to 30 Rock and I allowed it to suck up my time as I enjoyed episode after episode until I was eventually caught up. Well folks, it has happened again. This time it happens to be a cartoon, a Japanese cartoon. It’s the story of a young boy named Naruto. He’s a lovable, knuckleheaded kid who aspires to be the leader of his village. One of the cool things about this kid (besides the fact that he is a badass fighter) is that he’s got this list of ‘nindos’ as he calls them. They are his morals as a ninja and as a person. He never gives up and he doesn’t run away. Another is that he never goes back on his word.

If anyone questions him on his integrity or his goal he lets his nindos known. He shouts them out at times to let everyone know what he’s about. If people don’t believe his words he backs them with actions. I like this characteristic. I like it a lot. I think I’ve gotten too comfortable with being quiet. There are times for silence, but there is also a time for words. Loving words that let others know who you are and what you stand for. I’ve been inflicted with this idea that it’s better not too spout off my mouth. At times yes, it might not be appropriate. But there are times when words are needed to be said and I’ve kept my mouth shut. Shame on me.

For now on I will not hold my tongue when words are meant to be said. That is my nendo. Better to be outspoken, than not to be heard at all right?



I’d also like it to be known that I have been fully nerdified. The only thing holding me back from complete nerd was comic books and anime. Let’s just say they aren’t holding me back anymore.

A Messy Day with lots of "That's what she said!"

Years from now we will all be married, well maybe everyone except Thomas (I jest, I jest). At some point our wives will look us in the eyes and ask the question that all married women ask their husbands.

“Can we please have the floor tiled?”

She’ll hand over the number of a professional tile layer and start talking about how the carpet, hardwood floor or carpet just isn’t cutting it anymore. We’ll glance at the number on the card and shake our heads. Little does the wife know that no tile layer is needed, her very own husband can do it! As we drive off to Home Depot for the necessary tools and supplies we’ll reflect on December 23rd of 2008.

It was Christmas time and all of the friendlies were home for the holidays. There was Mike, Thomas, the Vevoda brothers and Tyler. Earlier that week while hanging out Jon, the older Vevoda brother, had told us about a fun room his parents were creating. The room’s sole purpose was for T.V., LANs, and laughter. As he painted the pictures in our minds he told us that it needed to be completed before Christmas. The room was nearly ready it just needed to be tiled. Jon was going to attempt it solo, but we instantly knew what had to be done. Gathering knee pads and our spirits we congregated in the room on the day before Christmas Eve. The air that day was chilled and rains came down in showers. The moody weather had no affect on us as we started to plan on how to tile the floor. The sum of our knowledge on laying tile added up to about ten points on a scale of 100. We did not know how to lay tile, but we were determined on figuring it out. We realized that there would be different tasks. Globbers, spreaders, cutters, measurers, and layers were jobs that needed to be filled. We each took a position and were responsible for learning and mastering our newly given skill. Each person was needed and everyone relied on each other. The work went slow and the day had ups and downs. There were power tools that broke and scuffles over how to properly spread a dallop but we persevered. It took about twelve hours and on the morning of Christmas Eve it was complete. The floor had been tiled. We were all dead beat tired but it was worth it. We now were tile layers.

As we worked through that day I thought it was ridiculous how someone would allow some college goofballs with no experience in laying tile to lay their tile. Ridiculous or not, I’m thankful. We gained a skill that day that will travel with us through our lives, right beside the memories of that day. It will also save us a buck or two when our wives want something tiled.