I'M ABANDONING THIS BLOG!!

TUNE INTO THE TALK SHOW IN MY MIND!

(I'm not stopping my need to blog. I'm just making a new one. Click on the link above.)

Fantasy # 34 fulfilled...

Last week, one of my fantasies actually became a reality.

It's no secret that I've dedicated the last 8 years of my life to higher education and the study of child psychology.

I've had way too much time devoted to figuring out bizarre-ass behavior.

So when my mind is overflowing with the details of various psychological theories and frameworks, the knowledge creeps into everyday stuff.

One time, while pondering the sensory processing components of autism, I was eating a small bag of crunchy Cheetos. I was trying to chew quietly in class and while I was engaging in this not-so-simple feat, I experienced an insane amount of focus on the pressure, sounds, and taste of the Cheeto as I slowly grinded it down with my teeth. It was like the world ceased to exist and could only be found inside the crunchy center of the Cheeto. I likened that experience to what a child with autism may experience when exposed to other seemingly mundane environmental stimuli.

But I digress. This has nothing to do with my fantasy. I just wanted you all to know that sometimes I take my psychological studies and apply them to normal, mundane stuff.

One thing I've fantasized about is that I could become the world's first rock music psychologist. I would meet with folks, assess their iTunes music library and help them unlock the secrets to the universe with songs like Elliot Smith's "Waltz No. 2 (XO)" or R.E.M.'s "E-bow (The Letter)."

Well, last week just before I had to attend a meeting regarding a child with Aicardi Syndrome, I actually became a rock (maybe rap) music psychologist.

Our office secretary buzzed me and said there were two high school students that wanted to see me. "Me?" I thought, and walked down to meet them.

The two students were male and female, dressed sorta like trendy-skater-emo-looking kids. They explained to me that they were told I was a possible resource to discuss the impact of Rap music on adolescent kids for they sociology class.

I have no clue who gave them this idea, but it made me feel like the most important human on the planet. I basically could have just bitch-slapped Obama. That's how important I felt.

I have pretended to have this conversation in my car when I'm all by myself.

I've called into NPR when this topic has come about to add my two cents, but nobody cared. These students did. And I was going to grant them my audience.

The following is a transcript of our interaction:

Skater Kid: "Dr. Springer, thanks for letting us come in and ask you some questions."

Me: "Please, please, call me Doctor."

Skater Kid: "Okay, Dr. Springer, do you think rap music has an influence on young kids today?"

Me: "Absolutely."

Skater Kid: "How so?"

Me: "Well, I look at it like this: Words all by themselves are powerful. Then, you put them together in the form of a poem or rhyme, and they become even more powerful. Then, you add music and now the poem/rhyme is enhanced even more. Finally, you throw in some serious beats, a hook, and you've got yourself a friggin' nuclear warhead of power!"

Skater Kid: "Um, okay..."

Me: "Now, don't get me wrong, just because something is powerful doesn't mean that its bad. Rap music can be powerful but not have a bad influence on kids. Have you ever listened to Jurassic 5?"

Skater Kid: "Yeah, they're pretty cool."

Me: "Their rhymes are totally positively charged. They're powerful, but emit positive energy instead of negative energy. Some of Kanye's stuff is the same way. He's a little eclectic anyway...not just rappin' about money's and hos."

--Awkward Silence--

Skater Kid: "Um, okay, why do you think kids from Park City High identify with 'gangsta rap?' I mean, we're all pretty much middle-to-upper class white kids. What's up with that?"

Me: "Dude, that is a really excellent question. I don't think I've every fully understood that phenomenon. But if you step outside of it all, it kinda makes sense. Adolescence is a period of angst and identity crisis. I know you probably don't like to hear this crap, but teenagers spend a lot of time trying to form an identity. Rap music isn't just music. Hip-Hop artists are selling listeners on a lifestyle. If you're shopping for a lifestyle, their sellin' man, and a lot of your Park City buddies are buyin'. Does that make sense?"

Skater Kid: "Yeah. Woah. Did you get all that?" (Looks at silent high school girl. She nods.)

Skater Kid: "Cool. Thanks for your time Dr. Springer."

Me: "Please call me doctor."

The two teens then left my office into the parking lot where they began to make-out really awkwardly.

It was a great day.

When I die...

When I die, what will happen?

I've been reading C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce.

In this book, dead folks are confronted not by the Lord, not by the Devil, but their very own perceptions.

If that's the case, will I encounter tons of Mormons engaging in some eternally long-lasting Sacrament Meeting? Will my guide be a former scout leader whom I despised asking me to join in? Will my acceptance of his invitation bring me closer to God? Would my declination bring me farther from God? If so, do my perceptions get me closer to God, or farther from him?

I haven't finished the book yet, (I'm only a couple of pages away...), but there is an interesting exchange between a mother who is met by her brother on the border of Heaven. She demands that she be met instead by her son that had died in his youth.

Her brother tries to tell her that her son has progressed past the borders of heaven, into "deep" heaven, and that she must voyage to deep heaven with her brother instead.

She refuses. She says that she believes in a God of love, a God who promised a reunion with her deceased son.

Their exchange is deep and emotional. Her brother is asking her to trust him that they will eventually get to deep heaven but that she is not ready to see her son. His reasoning is that while a mortal being, the mom let her grief consume her and she lost her life to grief. And now that she has lost her life to grief, she is on the verge of losing her soul to it too.

She balks at his reasoning and firmly stands her ground that a God of love would not forsake her now. She chooses not to go to "deep heaven" because of this.

Is this an accurate portrayal of what happens on the other side? For some reason it seems feasible.

What will I be asked to do to get to deep heaven? Would I let my own reasoning prevent me from going there? Is deep heaven really a place I want to be in?

The answer to that question will always be: "Is there someone there you cannot be without?"

Is that person the Lord? If it is, then you're going to "way deep heaven."

If not, well, I guess you never wanted to go to heaven in the first place.

Iz thiz yur Generazion?

Hallo, Earthmanz.

I'z frum the future. I'z an roboto.

Below are the BEST ALBUMZ OF THE 2000z.

Duz Earthmanz agreez?

20 Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights
19 Spoon - Kill The Moonlight
18 Kanye West - Late Registration
17 LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver
16 Sufjan Stevens - Illinois
15 The Knife - Silent Shout
14 Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavillion
13 OutKast - Stankonia
12 The White Stripes - White Blood Cells
11 Ghostface Killah - Supreme Clientele
10 The Avalanches - Since I Left You
09 Panda Bear - Person Pitch
08 Sigur Rós - Ágætis Byrjun
07 The Strokes - Is This It
06 Modest Mouse - The Moon & Antarctica
05 Jay-Z - The Blueprint
04 Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
03 Daft Punk - Discovery
02 Arcade Fire - Funeral
01 Radiohead - Kid A

The Earthmanz "Prophet" sez:

Best? Or favorite? I don't know if I dare to go out on a limb and say these are the best, but they are my favorite:

20. Deftones, White Pony
19. Nine Inch Nails, With Teeth
18. ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, The Century of Self
17. Radiohead, In Rainbows
16. TV On The Radio, Return To Cookie Mountain
15. Local H, Here Comes The Zoo
14. Modest Mouse, Good News For People Who Love Bad News
13. Red Hot Chili Peppers, By The Way
12. The Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots
11. Interpol, Turn Out The Bright Lights
10. Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
09. Arcade Fire, Funeral
08. Radiohead, Hail To The Thief
07. Elliott Smith, From a Basement On The Hill
06. Tool, 10,000 Days
05. Death Cab For Cutie, Plans
04. Black Mountain, In The Future
03. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Howl
02. Brand New, The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me
01. Tool, Lateralus

Earthmanz "Ben" sez:

My faves since the year 2000:

20. Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks: Real Emotional Trash

19. Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes

18. Iron & Wine: The Shepherd's Dog

17. Interpol: Our Love to Admire

16. The White Stripes: Get Behind Me Satan

15. Deathcab for Cutie: Plans

14. Band of Horses: Cease to Begin

13. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: Howl

12. The Black Keys: Attack & Release

11. The Killers: Hot Fuss

10. M. Ward: Hold Time

9. Kings of Leon: Because of the Times

8. Okkervil River: Black Sheep Boy

7. Elliott Smith: From a Basement on the Hill

6. Radiohead: In Rainbows

5. Wilco: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

4. The Strokes: Is This It?

3. My Morning Jacket: Z

2. Dr. Dog: Fate

1. Arcade Fire: Funeral

100th post bitches!!

Wow. Almost a month of no blogging. There was a time when I thought that was impossible...but alas, here we are dear readers, (if there are any of you left).

My balls have been considerably more busy the past few weeks. I've got a new job trying to help kids who:

a) Throw chairs at their teachers.

b) Poop their pants on purpose to get back at their mom.

c) Speak to their hand like its Hermoine from Harry Potter

d) Snort coke in the bathroom.

e) all of the above.

If you selected "e," then you are correct.

I did think about blogging about my top 100 favorite all-time songs, but that was ridiculously difficult and now I appreciate the makers of such lists much more.

Instead, I'm going to continue to blog about stupid stuff I think about. For instance:

1. Why do I continue to be a Mormon?

I've contemplated this daily for the past 7 years. Recent events in my life and the very public life of the Mormon church has made me actually check myself and the belief system that I have lived by.

The resolution to this awfully serious dilemma has been boringly simple and perhaps simple-minded:

I am a Mormon because I believe in Christ. My belief in Christ is the reason.

2. Why is football so effing awesome?

Mostly the cool uniforms and the organized violence. Also, the strategies and talent of the athletes is just so beautiful.

3. I'm really excited for this movie.

4. This movie was awesome:



5.I just downloaded this album. Its balls. My buddy Dr. Belnap turned me on to this guy, and well, he's awesome, (and sensitive!)

Peace.

Welcome to the Occupation: A Retrospective.

This is my 99th post as a blogger on "Welcome to the Occupation."

I started this blog in an effort to ditch my previous "Mental Floss" blog that was receiving too much attention from people I didn't think would be paying attention.

Blogging is good times. A good way to tell the universe what you think and that you exist.

Anyways, anytime you've done something 99 times, I think you deserve to reflect upon it.

Behold, my reflection:

My first blog was the source of my blog's namesake. Its an old R.E.M. song.

I've always dug R.E.M. and I don't know why. Val can't stand them and any time I try and bring them up in conversation, folks sorta politely agree with me that they're cool.

I don't even know what the song is about, but I remember listening to it in the 4th grade whilst mowing my lawn. It had words that sounded really smart with music that sounded really cool and grown-up. I don't know why I liked it so much.

Did I want to say smart words and sound all grown-up? Is that what blogging is all about?

Anyway, below you will find my first post in its entirety:

Hang your collar up inside

Hang your dollar on me

Listen to the water still

Listen to the causeway

you are mad and educated

primitive and wild

Welcome to the occupation

Here we stand and here we fight

All your fallen heroes

held and dyed and skinned alive

Listen to the Congress fire

Offering the educated

primitive and loyal

Welcome to the occupation

Hang your collar up inside

Hang your freedom higher

Listen to the buyer still

Listen to the Congress

Where we propagate confusion

Primitive and wild

Fire on the hemisphere below

Sugar cane and coffee cup

Copper, steel and cattle

An annotated history

the forest for the fire

Where we open up the floodgates

Freedom reigns supreme

Fire on the hemisphere below

Listen to me

Listen to me

Listen to me

Listen to me

Here's another blog I labeled "The Ubiquitous Family Blog."

My Family Outside in Our Backyard.

My Girls and I Sitting on the Porch of Our Huge-Ass Mansion!

(Where's Waldo? I mean, Val? Look closely!)

While I enjoy looking at family blogs, I specifically chose to not do a family blog, cuz I'm sort of a goof ball, and well, me being a goof ball could interfere with the reality of how much I love and enjoy my family. So, I just threw this one in to be a part of the family blog stuff, even if for one day. Oh, and I wanted to use the word "ubiquitous." (Again, I want to sound smart and grown-up...weird.)

This next post I was very proud of. I love music and I love making playlists, and while Apple's Genius program on iTunes is an amazing technological treat, I enjoyed challenging the cold dark machine with my own snobby insight. (Plus, I still have this playlist saved and its a very good listening experience to this day.)

Just like John Henry of olde, I took on the machine, and I did defeat it.

Allow me to explain: Whilst I was engaging in an indulgent love affair with my iTunes musical library, an update prompt interrupted the action. I clicked "yes" so my mind, body, and soul could continue to bathe in the musical lovefest erupting from my ear buds.

I was super frustrated when I had to restart my 'puter to finish installing the updates. But because Macs restart in mere seconds, I was reunited with my lovely iTunes. But there was something new! This little atomic icon bearing the name "Genius" was there...

Apparently this little icon creates instant playlists from a song, or artist, or album of your choice in nanoseconds! This got me more than a little excited, because, as much as I truly enjoy making a playlist, I've been busy as of late, and well, my playlists are getting old. So, I put it to the test!

In the blink of an eye, Genius had created a pretty impressive playlist from Coldplay's "Strawberry Swing." Just a couple pleasant surprises came up on the playlist: Ben Folds "Still Fighting It" and Interpol's "The Heinrich Maneuver".

I had to try it once more. This time it was Dr. Dog's blissfully rockin' tune, "The Beach"...what followed blew my mind. It was as if "Genius" opened a secret door to heaven where mind-blowing tunes just hang-out and say, "Sup, Ben!" Here is a list of just some of those tunes:

"Stormy High"- Black Mountain

"Your Protector"-Fleet Foxes

"For Real"-Okkervil River

"Black Wave" -The Shins

"White Chalk"-PJ Harvey

The list went on and on including exactly 25 amazing songs. This result both amazed and perplexed me. Were my own unique, created-just-for-the-right-occasion playlist skills about to become extinct? This is a skill that I have prided myself with since the mixtape? Gone?

Genius and I had a throw down. I challenged its algorithmic mysteries! I fought its cold, dark, and beautiful song selection process! And I defeated it! I defeated the machine! But alas, I was not alone...

I found Genius' weakness through the summoned spirit of Elliott Smith. Genius cannot make a good playlist out of his songs. Genius doesn't get Elliott Smith, not like I do. Playlist after playlist I clicked the atomic icon, daring the machine to give me something as devastatingly beautiful as just one Elliott Smith song...IT COULD NOT DO IT!

Go ahead, try it. Genius can't do it. And I can, and I did: Behold!

"Twilight"-Elliott Smith

"A Lack of Color"-Death Cab For Cutie

"End of the Day"-Beck

"Neighborhood # 4 (Kettles)"-Arcade Fire

"The Biggest Lie"-Elliott Smith

"Black Eye"-Jeff Tweedy

"Weight of the World"-Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

"Between the Bars"-Elliott Smith

"Jesus"-Brand New

"Satisfaction"-Cat Power

"Eli, the Barrow Boy"-The Decemberists

"As Bad as it Seems"-Hayden

"While my Guitar Gently Weeps"-The Beatles

"Flightless Bird, American Mouth"-Iron & Wine

"The Funeral"-Band of Horses

"Never Knew Your Name"-Mason Jennings

"A Stone"-Okkervil River

"Come Pick Me Up"-Ryan Adams

"Kings Crossing"-Elliott Smith

"I Wanna Be Adored"-The Stone Roses

"To Be Alone With You"-Sufjan Stevens

"Country Death Song"-Violent Femmes

(I've included only some of the songs from this playlist on my blog, to experience a "true playlist, you would have to hear these songs in order, in its entirety, but my blog is just a taste.)

R.I.P. Mr. Smith

This post showcases my obsession with the size of Urban Meyer's balls:

This post was titled: "Got Balls?"

Urban does.

This next post was unusually fun to write and really strange to throw out into cyberspace. For some reason it felt good to release it from my brain, and I think its what I was looking for when I began blogging. Just some bizarre insight and experience that came directly from my head...it was cool.

Maybe its the psychologist part of my brain.

Maybe its not.

Maybe its the almost frighteningly natural tendency to watch what people do. You know, full-blown voyeurism.

It's like non-verbal eavesdropping.

I don't know what it is, but I do it. I did it last night at a rock concert.

Here's the social scene:

Outdoor, free summer concert at the Gallivan Center downtown. The Black Keys are the headliner with the opener Human Highway.

Its basically your typical rock concert scene: Grungy, punk-ass teens, hipster-elite-lit-majors, hemppies, college-grad wine drinkers, normal looking dudes, flamboyant homosexuals, etc.

I bump into "Jenson" the same guy I see at every concert I go to. (We were Samgoody mates.)

I settle my spot to the left of the stage next to the VIP box. While I was pondering how people got to be VIPs, I witnessed the following scene take place within the VIP box.

Imagine, if you can, a casually dressed caucasian male with designer glasses and dark, well-coifed hair. I'm going to call him "Jeff." By his side is a plain looking woman with short blonde hair. She is dressed casually as well, (some sort of summery blouse and shorts, flip-flops, etc.) I'm going to call her "Rachel."

I couldn't tell if they were work buddies, casual daters, or actually married. Rachel had a sort of "willingness" to be engaged with the Jeff, but he wasn't paying close attention to her. Then, some Tom Selleck-looking dude comes up to them. He's all rugged and tan with some very expensive shades hanging from those lanyard-thingys.

Their greetings were really superficial and Tom Selleck dude shook hands quite effeminately. I couldn't make out their conversation, but I imagined it was about where they had been this summer: Alaska, Fiji, Cape Cod...somewhere exclusive or something.

They had to be wealthy, or liked pretending they were. I have this sensitivity to wealth that I am uncomfortable with. Perhaps its an insecurity, or a disdain, or both for people of wealth. Its like I resent them, but wouldn't at all mind being them.

Either way, my douche-bag radar went off. Especially for Jeff. He was basically ignoring his date, looking in the crowd like an aloof dog. They held their beers and continued to make small talk.

Then, enter Uber-hipster and his pregnant suicide-girl partner. He wore a vintage Joy Division t-shirt, dyed black hair and tight-emo pants. I'm going to call him "Dexter." His partner was in a tight, form-fitting black and white striped tank-top and a black skirt. I'm going to call her "Gina."

Some how Dexter and Gina know Jeff and Rachel. Its got to be work. Dexter and Gina seem real nice. Dexter has some significant acne scars that made me think of adolescence and how he probably had a pain-in-the-ass adolescence. But now, he's where he always wanted to be: VIP seats at a rock show with a pretty (and pregnant) gal-pal.

I felt proud for Dexter. Rachel was real nice to Gina and then Jeff butts-in and says: "Wow. You're really pregnant! Rachel's dream is to be pregnant!" Rachel looks a bit embarrassed by his comment. Dexter and Gina felt awkward.

So they chit-chatted for a while with their VIP badges dangling from their necks. (I noticed myself really wanting one of those damn badges...I wanted one. I thought to myself, "What if I asked one of these people to just give one to me to get in?")

That thought trailed off as I was enjoying the mopey-pop-alt-rock-folk of Human Highway. Then, Jeff really quickly turns around on his cell phone and says: "Hey man! How many? Where you at?" He proceeded to jump onto a folding chair and call out to his buddy. He nods his head and jumps back down.

He turns to Rachel, Dexter, and Gina and grabs their VIP passes from off their necks!

Because Gina and Dexter are "cool" they don't want to be "uncool" and just kinda go with it. Rachel acts a little bugged by it. Interestingly, Jeff doesn't take his off.

2 minutes later, Jeff comes back with three friends and they all have this mini-celebration, pound fists and drink beers.

I was jealous. I wanted to do that! I was semi-pissed off.

Then, in my head I thought about social constructs.

On one hand, I was pissed off that this VIP booth even existed at a free rock concert. "Its a free concert!", I mused, "The one time most people get a free ticket to a cool rock show, and these bastards still have to have their own section!"

On the other hand, I wanted what they had. I wanted to be the VIP douche! So, I discovered that I have sort of been lying to myself. I want to pretend I go to concerts to "enjoy the music" and be a part of the cohesive energy of a rock show, but here I was obsessing over some socially elite group of people that could give a rat's ass about my position!!

Mind boggling, yet intriguing.

So VIP dudes go about their business, then a spunky and tatooed event-staffer comes up to the group and notices the missing VIP badges of Rachel, Dexter, and Gina. She says: "I need to see your badges."

Here's what I was waiting for. This brave little tatooed girl confronting the elite. She was determined, man. Not letting up. The tension was getting thick.

The dudes Jeff let in didn't say a word. Everybody else tried ignoring the staffer, but she just waited to see the badges. She probed Dexter and Gina first. Instead of asking Jeff to bail them out, they took the fall!!! I was shocked!!

For Dexter's whole life he's probably "takin' it" for dudes like Jeff. The pasty, acne ridden art student falling prey to the alpha male for the zillionth time!! I was sort of sad for Dexter.

Jeff didn't say a word. Finally the dudes he let in gave up their VIP badges and Jeff and Rachel just sort of stared blankly at each other.

Right then, the lights came on, the Black Keys entered the stage and melted the night sky away with their crazed-out blues-rock.

That's what I observed at the rock concert. What does it mean?

Probably nothing, but...

I learned that I'm not as liberated from social constructs as I thought. I also learned that if I truly did reject the VIP social class stuff, I wouldn't have cared about what the social elite do with their time and money. In fact, I would have pitied them. Instead, I freakin' observed them like it was a reality TV show, and I'm not sure why.

I learned that we like to organize in groups and that groups will eventually find a way to differentiate from one another for better or for worse. I learned that those with more social currency can't help but advertise it (VIP) and abuse it (Jeff skanking badges).

Then there were the rest of the people just having a good time.

Well, next post will be post # 100 and I have no idea what it will be about.

Is it real? Yes, sur.

Last night was surreal.

Brother Joseph and Emma invited circus freaks to Harmony, Pennsylvania.

We discovered what happened to the missing 116 pages to the fabled "Book of Mormon."

Then we ate the golden plates.

And then there was Jack the ripper and his prostitute victim.

Then there was the boxer and Annie Oakley.

Was that the prophet?

See for yourself...