Making Time

I have been thinking a lot this week about what I make time for. I find time for work, school, and even video games. Considering this, do I make time for the right things in my life? Should I be spending my energy in other areas? These are questions that are difficult to answer.

As a member of the LDS Church I have been taught to put God first. I believe this to be the correct way to operate, but also wonder why it is so difficult to do so. I imagine the answer is we are always being torn away from what we should be doing because this life is a test. This life is our chance to show we chose the good from the bad, the right from the wrong, the important over the trivial.

I am writing this post because I want to be good at making time for the right things before I start a family. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to come home from a long day at work, have a wife to give attention to and kids as well. In that scenario, there isn't much time for ones own endeavors. Don't misunderstand, I am completely fine with making my family my one and only priority. However, I must say, that type of living will be an adjustment.

Now is the time to focus on things that are of value. I should be focused on bettering myself and my wife. I should be focused on being a good student and also a good worker. Hopefully with this type of mindset I will be in the process of becoming an effective adult; the man that I one day hope to be.  

New Year - New Me

I haven't posted to this blog in a long time, a very long time. A few things have changed, so I will get you up to speed quickly. I'm currently living in Idaho with my wife, Vanessa. We are both students at BYUI and Vanessa is set to graduate next semester. I am a CIT major and am enjoying learning programming and web design.

The purpose of this post is to address and assignment that was given to me in one of my religion courses. The assignment was to post, by way of this blog, my religious thoughts this week. I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Many people know us as Mormons. Now, this post is not intended for me to tell you all doctrinal points I believe. It is however, a post on a topic I believe applies to each and every one of us.

I have been asked if I am a glass half full or glass half empty type of guy, and to be honest, I didn't know how to respond.There are certain situations that, no matter how much I try to remain positive, simply do not warrant a glass half full type of feeling. I believe the most important thing we can do in those situations is maintain a positive attitude above all else.

I recently finished watching a clip by Apostle Jeffrey R. Holland in which he mentions "even in the golden age of civilization, someone undoubtedly grumbled that everything looked too yellow."

We all need to do a better job at instead of looking at the one negative point in front of us, looking at the hundreds of positive ones around us. It is only by living in such a way that we come to live a truly abundant life; a life that is focused on all the good the world has to offer.

I hope that this year I can do better in my own life in this regard. When I step back and analyze my problems, none of them are so great that they can conquer me. Instead of complaints, I'm going to find solutions.

Object Essay - A Fathers Example

A Fathers Example

A steady thud begins to beat against the peeling, wooden door. Once exquisite, the door now bares the signs of heavy use. Small cracks course their way through, tan paint chips at each groove and turn. The door may not be much to look at, but it is steady, firm, and unwavering, much like what is about to burst through it.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” A voice resounds from the interior of the house. The beating slowly continues as a woman hops excitedly to answer the call. Dressed in a cactus green sweater, hopping about, my mother reminds me of a tiny grasshopper.

“Dad is home!” I think to myself. Finally my best friend, my hero, is home. In through the door he walks confidently; like a celebrity on the red carpet. With lunch-box in hand, he swings an arm around my mother, bringing her in close for a slight kiss.

“Ewww, kissing is gross” I say out loud. As the grasshopper and the celebrity continue their embrace, my attention is torn down. The leather of my father’s boot is shriveled and warped. Bits of it are withered and peeled back, revealing the metallic steel toe beneath. The yellow shoe laces, while still intact, are beginning to fray every which way. The scene appears as a sort of surgery, a surgery gone horribly wrong.

            “Hey dad, your boots are pretty beat up.”

            “Well, would you look at that?” comes his reply. As if he really hasn’t noticed the horrendous condition of his own boots.

            “Son, always remember, you can tell a lot about a man just by looking at his boots”.

Quickly, without much thought, I look down at my own small, dangling feet. Spiderman’s gaze meets my own as my eyes rest upon my clean, surgery free, white sneakers. Two Velcro straps on each shoe keep them snug around my feet. If what my father has just told me is true, I have a long ways to go before I become a man like him.

***

The difference between my father’s battle-ready boots and my comfortable easy-going sneakers is not something new. “Boots protect not only the foot, but also the lower part of the leg. This distinguishing feature has been evident since the very first boot” (McDonald 7). No one really knows who owned the first pair of boots, but you can be sure whoever it was wore them for the same reason my father does now.

            Early boots consisted of separate leggings, soles, and uppers worn together to provide greater ankle protection than shoes or sandals. Around 1000 B.C. these components were more permanently joined to form a single unit that covered the feet and lower leg, often up to the knee. In the 1700s, distinctive, knee-high boots worn by Hessian soldiers fighting in the American Revolutionary War influenced the  development of the iconic cowboy boots worn by cattlemen in the American west (McDonald 22).

***

When I received my first pair of boots I was far from being a cowboy. In fact, my first pair of boots were of the working variety. They reminded me of my fathers; except they were new. Not a scratch scathed the clean tan leather. Not a single speck of dirt found its way into the tread. The perfect boots cried out my inexperience to all of those I passed by. I was eager to get out put them to good use.

            Rays of golden light shimmer gently through the branches of the pine trees. Looking up, the light hugs my face, bringing sweat to my forehead.

            “Everybody stop!” Rick yells, his voice demanding yet understanding. The entire troop comes to a grateful halt.

“It’s finally time for a break” I think to myself, grateful to remove the large green monster Rick calls a “pack” off of my shoulders.

            “Bryant! Give me a bit of your beef jerky and I’ll give you a granola bar!”

Without turning around I know from whom the voice has come. Tom is a good friend, yet I feel he takes advantage of people sometimes, especially me.

            “Tom, I didn’t pack that much jerky and you know it” I say, trying to show the same toughness as our leader Rick.

            “What if it’s a chocolate granola bar?”

My young mind whips quickly into action. Chocolate is most definitely worth a bit of my precious resource. Tom isn’t trying to rip me off this time, this is a good trade.

            “Yeah, ok” I say, turning to face him. With a quick toss by both of us the exchange is complete. Nibbling on a bit of jerky, I find myself a smooth, gray boulder and sit down. Daring a glance up the line of my fellow scouts, I try to make out what Rick is doing. Biceps bulging, easily visible due to a sleeveless shirt, Rick appears to be checking his military-style boots.

            Before scout troop 589 ever set feet in the Wind Rivers of Wyoming, extensive planning had taken place. We had discussed not only what to pack for the trip, but even how to pack it. Clothing, medical supplies, and yes, boots.  Boots were considered of lesser importance by most of the troop because they either had a pair of the hiking variety, or owned a pair of comfortable shoes that could handle the beating of a twenty-five mile hike. I had neither.

My father was quick to help when I went to him with my quagmire. He gave me a pair of new, still in the box, work boots. The only reason my Dad hadn’t used them yet was they were a little small for him. The hiking trip would be the first time the boots had been on an adventure.

Mimicking Rick, I too look down and begin to inspect my boots. I am elated to see a thin film of brown dirt now canvases the boots.

“Now I’m becoming a man” I think to myself, happy and slightly relived the boots don’t look so new anymore.

As quickly as my thought about manhood enters my brain, it is replaced with a sharp pain coming from the heel of the left boot. Perhaps a rock entered the boot, or maybe my feet are just unaccustomed to walking so much. Reaching down, I begin to gently undo the yellow laces. The laces are still new enough that they quickly slip through one another, untying my knot gracefully. With a hand firmly around the back side of the boot, I pull with all my might. The pain continues to increase as the boot finally gives in and slides off my foot. What I see next makes me gasp.

Skin that once covered the heel is torn and lumped into a wrinkled mound. The skin now visible under the tear is a soft red. The quarter sized blister is extremely sensitive and burns even when not being touched. It seems becoming a man will have to wait.

***

Standard hiker wisdom dictates that unless you want to end your hike with weeping blisters, you’ll need to break your boots in (Steele). My loving father neglected to tell me this when he so graciously gave me my boots. In fact, he was more than confident the boots would be “great” to hike in. My blisters have proven him otherwise.

Those much wiser than myself have said the following.

“Experienced hikers have tricks to break boots in quickly. Some apply mink oil daily, others swear by the Army method of fully immersing booted feet in water and walking in them until they are dry. The best method is still brief daily use. By walking in boots every day, the uppers will naturally wear to the shape of your foot, and the soles will wear to your gait” (Steele).

If I would have known the tricks of so called “experienced hikers”, I may have saved myself a great deal of pain. But I did not, and the only way to eventually become experienced is to first walk the path of the un-experienced.

***

Beginning as a roar, the noise now reaches a crescendo, and pierces my ears. The Makita chop-saw slices through the #4 rebar like butter, despite the dreadful racket. A small look downward revels sparks showering my leather boots in a striking dance of orange and yellow. The once light tan color is now a muddy brown. Stained with oil, crushed by cement panels, and burned by sparks, the boots barely resemble their former selves. They have become something different, something better.

            My feet are no longer sore, nor are they bothered with blisters. In fact, my boots are remarkably the most comfortable shoes I own. They have come a long way since our first adventure in Wyoming, and so have I.

            “Hey Bryant, nice job cutting that bar” says my boss, John.

            “Thanks, I think I’ll bring ear plugs next time” I reply with a chuckle.

Taking a moment to wipe my forehead, I set down the saw, relived the job is now complete. Looking up into the clear blue sky, I take in a deep breath of fresh air. Without much thought, I think of how grateful I am to be alive, to have a job, and money to pay my bills.

“Those boots are pretty beat up” says John, looking awkwardly at my feet.

“Well you do know what they say don’t you?” I reply.

A smile begins slowly in one corner of mouth and moves its way to encompass my entire face. Looking John firmly in the eyes, without blinking, I say what was taught to me a long time ago.

“You can tell a lot about a man just by looking at his boots”. 

Why Mitt Romney WILL Win Ohio

Bryant Godfrey

Ohio

Recent Election Returns

       
The process of electing the President of the United States is greatly determined and associated with certain “battleground” states. Since the 1980’s Ohio has been one such state.

The state of Ohio has seen an interesting change in its partisan leaning during the last few elections. In the year 2000 the state leaned slightly republican with 50% of the vote going to George W. Bush and 47 % to Al Gore. In 2004 the state saw a slight increase in the republican vote with 51% voting for George W. Bush; however the democratic vote also increased slightly to 49%. In the latest election of 2008, the state shifted slightly with only 47% voting republican for John McCain and 52% choosing democratic candidate Barack Obama.

The change in percentage in 2008 was not enormous, but it was enough to shift the balance of the state and choose the democratic candidate. It is also interesting to note that during the last three elections the state has chosen the candidate that was eventually elected President, thus making the state a great indicator of who will most likely win the election.

United States House of Representatives elections in Ohio 2010 fared better for the Republican Party than the democratic. The republicans added five seats to the U.S. house while the democrats lost that same number. Currently the state has thirteen republican seats and five democratic.

        
This data shows that the state slightly favored Barack Obama in 2008. The Republican Party has been able to regain some lost ground with the election of five representatives to the U.S. House versus the democratic loss of five representatives. The margins are not wide and even relatively small factors could play a huge role, however the state of Ohio currently leans slightly republican.

Economic Conditions in the State 

According to percentage of gross domestic product, Ohio’s largest industries are manufacturing, trade, and transportation. The state’s two leading export commodities are motor vehicles and machinery. Ohio’s two largest manufacturing industries are closely identified with a number of nationally recognized firms with a major presence in Ohio, including General Electric, General Motors, Ford, Chrysler, and Honda. The service-producing sectors produce 80 percent of the state GDP and will account for virtually all job growth over the 2008-2018 period.

During the 2008 – 2012 recession, Ohio has seen expected ups and downs. The economic fall was not a drastic one when compared to other states. State unemployment spiked during the end of 2009, and the beginning of 2010 with 650,000 jobless. Since the beginning of 2010, the state has seen a continuous decrease in unemployment and currently approximately 440,000 are without work. This decrease is due to many conflicting factors; however, the continued allocation of funds for the auto bail-out and the rebound of a robust real estate industry should mostly receive credit.      

Ohio has fared quite well in spite of the recession which will highly favor President Obama; however, it is important to note that the auto bail-out was started by President Bush in his last few weeks of presidency. The people of Ohio understand that President Obama has, in reality, done little to help them. Republicans have offered stout opposition to spending of government funds in the failing auto industry which will hurt them. Mitt Romney was an auto company Chief Executive; this experience makes him the better choice to continue to stimulate Ohio’s economics.

Further Analysis

             
President Obama will do well in Ohio because of how well the state economy is doing. However, informed voters will understand that the President himself has not had a lot to do with how well the local economy is doing. The state has been able to weather the recession so well mainly because of well thought out programs and cuts made by Governor John Kasich.

              
The main issue on everyone’s mind will undoubtedly be the economy during this election. Informed voters will understand that their lives have been much more affected by their republican Governor than their democratic President. This will really pack a punch during election time. Voters will realize how well republican ideals and ideology have influenced their state and want more of the same from Mitt Romney.

             
The creation of new jobs will also greatly affect the outcome of who will win in Ohio. President Obama has been most severely criticized for not reducing unemployment below 9%. However, he can't force businesses to hire.

             
Mitt Romney's plan is to minimize government in business. Only the private sector has the economic muscle to create the millions of jobs needed. To do this, Romney proposes lowering personal, investment and corporate taxes. Informed voters from either political party will easily see that while current policy has worked, it hasn’t been enough. Clearly Mitt Romney does not have a solution to every problem; however he does bring a new perspective, due in large part to his business experience, that the people of Ohio will want.       

            
Ohio does not have many racial minorities with 83.6 percent of the population considering themselves “white.” This large percentile of whites and more specifically, white males, will undoubtedly favor the Republican candidate. Jonathan Chait of New York Magazine states, “To squeak out a majority, Mitt Romney probably needs to win at least 61 percent of the white vote.”  

           
Mitt Romney also has in his favor the large amount of citizens, who consider themselves religious. According to recent polls and surveys 76 percent of Ohioans identify themselves as Christian. Both the large percent of white voters and Christian voters are up for grabs, anything could happen, however it does seem that Mitt Romney currently has the upper hand.

Conclusion and Prediction

             
The margins by which Ohio will be won will be tight, and almost any factor could swing the state one way or the other. With that being said, Mitt Romney will win the state.

             
To win the state; Mitt Romney must get at least half or more of the 76 percent of the state who call themselves Christians out to vote for him. It will also be necessary that he has campaigned well enough that regular citizens see how the government, under his presidency, will help them individually. Small business owners must believe that Romney has more business experience, and because of that experience, will know how to help them better than President Obama.

            
The people of Ohio, even those generally pleased with the current President, must believe that the government should step back. They must believe that they do not need to be governed more, but that they need a more efficient government. If Mitt Romney has instilled any of those thoughts or beliefs in the people of Ohio, he will win. On the other hand, if he has failed to do even one of the previously discussed items, he will narrowly lose.

Newspaper Sources

“Ohio among three key states in presidential election pollster says,” Stephanie Warsmith, Beacon Journal, September 13, 2012

“Fast Check: Presidential candidates on auto bailout,” The Associated Press, NY Daily News, February 21, 2012

“Auto industry in middle of US-China trade conflict,” Paul A. Eisenstein, NBC News, September 17, 2012

“Gov. Kasich takes stage at GOP convention, tells of real progress in Ohio,” Henry J. Gomez, Sun News, August 28, 2012

“Team Romney White-Vote Push: This Is the Last Time Anyone Will Try to Do This,” Jonathan Chait, New York Magazine, August 27, 2012

Personal Essay 8.8

Bryant Godfrey

English 1010

Professor Scott White

24 September 2012

8.8

            Three minutes. My entire being awakens to violent shaking. My body tosses to and fro, like a small rescue boat trying desperately to make it across the Atlantic Ocean. Child sized, the aluminum bunk bed begins moving to the center of the room. The cold, metal window grate I hopelessly cling to, praying the movement will stop. Three minutes is all it takes to profoundly change my life forever.

            We walked through the unpaved, dusty streets. Doors slammed coldly in our faces. It had been, in every way, a normal day in the life of a Latter-Day-Saint missionary. The large, uncluttered sky was becoming dark as my companion and I staggered the last few steps to our apartment. The door to the cast iron gate, which surrounds the abode, squeaks out a scream as the key hits the lock. Our feet are sore. The once neatly polished black shoes are now hidden under a thick layer of tan, colored dirt. I think to myself, “I have never been more tired in my entire life.” Somehow, even with the exhaustion, I cannot help but notice the large smile enveloping my newly colored face. I love Chile, no matter how tired I am.

            The best part of the day had now arrived, sleep. With a bit of effort, I haul myself onto the top bunk of the bed. With the gray wool blanket snuggled tightly against me, it doesn’t take long to drift off to sleep and begin dreaming.

A sound, deep and profound, begins to slowly enter my ears. The volume of the noise increases until it reaches a beastly roar. I am jolted awake. The entire house and everything in it, has begun to quake and tremble. Having had no previous experience with an earthquake, my first instinct does not surprise me. Get out NOW. As if in slow motion, I leap from my perch on the bed and hit the tiled floor. Someone has managed to, in the darkness, find the keys and open the front door. In a matter of seconds all four of us are outside, taking it in, watching, hearing, feeling the sixth largest earthquake ever recorded.

Three minutes was all it took for the 8.8 magnitude quake to decimate the small town of Hualqui. It is 3:34 A.M and it is into the darkness we intend to venture, however we need supplies. Upon re-entering, it appears the house has vomited. Books, pamphlets, and shattered glass make up a haunting mosaic on the tiled floor. We quickly put on jackets, pants, and shoes. I snatch my black Nike backpack from the bedpost, toss my Black Diamond headlamp awkwardly upon my head, and we are off.

It isn’t until outside again that the gravity of the recent events really hits me. Words like earthquake, injured, and killed, all go sprinting through my head.  I am informed by my companion, Elder Gary, that we have a plan.

A bright, red sun is just beginning to peak its head over the nearby mountains. The gray, eerie fog that crept in overnight, now slowly wisps away into nothing.  We have been hiking for about an hour, twisting and winding, following the road to Chiguayante. The plan that my companion spoke of is just this; get to Chiguayante and re-group with other missionaries.

The distance we must go is six miles, and I feel we have made impressive progress. The people we pass seem stunned, even bewildered, not knowing what their course of action should be. Many of their wrinkled, tan faces look down, no doubt comparing the cracked, tan earth with their own faces. Being focused on the people and their faces, I hardly notice the vehicle that has pulled up alongside our small quartet.

With some resemblance to its original white, the rust covered Suzuki L40 squeaks to a halt next to us. “What is this thing? My four-wheeler has bigger tires than that!’ I think to myself.

The van is miniscule, probably intended to seat a maximum of three passengers. I am astounded when the passenger side window rolls down, and I see at least seven people squished into every crack and crevice the van offers.

“Do you need a ride to Chiguayante?” pipes a woman with a large mole on her cheek.

“Um, yes, we actually do.” I reply, already nervous of my decision.

            It takes a moment for the four of us to heap ourselves into the already overloaded van, but somehow we fit. The van reeks of sweat and has trash filling the remaining crevices we somehow manage not to fill. Formalities are exchanged between us and our band of rescuers. I give my name, where I am from, and how long I have been in the country; surprised they can understand my broken Spanish.

            After what seems like an eternity, trapped inside our sardine-can size prison, we reach our destination. One by one we slide out of the van, grateful to be out of the putrid situation. Turning my head slightly to the right, I see a comforting, secure sight, the church. Massive white walls, and a forest green tin roof make up the exterior of the building, however it is not what is outside I care about. Deep down inside of myself, I know that inside that building await my comrades, just as scared and unsure as I am. I know the hell the earthquake created is far from over, but that I do not have to face it alone.

            I look to my companion. He is not there. I look back to the van. It is not there. It is in this moment I realize where I really am. I am yanked back to the present. The tan micro-fiber couch is comfortable and familiar, it is the first time I have felt it in two years; I am finally home. I sit upon it, contemplating the events that shaped me over the course of the last two years. Vivid and bright, the memories of the 8.8 come flooding back. A familiar grin begins to envelope my face once again. I think to myself, “The earthquake was the most difficult thing I have ever been through, how did I do it?” It is then that I realize it wasn’t my personal strength or survival skills; it was the strength I found in numbers. When life continues to up-heave and quake everything I know; I don’t have to face it alone. I am prepared and ready for any subsequent 8.8 experience that life has to offer.

            I calmly tilt my head downward; glancing at the metallic Fossil watch situated firmly on my wrist. The grin on my face grows a little more as I realize something. I have been on the couch for exactly three minutes.  Three minutes was all it took.

           

           

           

 

           

           

English Assigment - My day sounds like this

Uprooted

Losing something is never easy when it is significant to us. We find ourselves engrossed with trying to find what we have lost again, or exchanging it with something else. As a young man, I was faced with situations and experiences regarding death. Not knowing exactly how to deal with my emotions, I found that particular music helped me to understand what I was experiencing.

 “The Good Left Undone,” by Rise Against speaks of such emotions. During our periods of grievance, we may feel as if we have been uprooted and thrown away. Rise Against captures this intense feeling in the lyrics saying,

“I wrapped a hand around its stem and pulled until the roots gave in.”

 When in high school, one of my friends was heartbreakingly killed in a car accident. I well remember feeling “uprooted” by the new feelings and emotions, many of which were foreign. The artist continues by saying,

“All because of you I believe in angels, not the kind with wings no, not the kind with halos, the kind that bring you home.”

            Weeks passed after the accident, and I was still besieged. The only thought, in which I found solace, was that my buddy was now in a better place. I don’t believe that he has wings or a halo; I believe he is still the same incredibly gifted young man that I had the privilege of knowing for a short time.

“Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal. Red light, can't stop so I spin the wheel. My world goes black before I feel an angel lift me up. And I open bloodshot eyes into fluorescent white. They flip the siren, hit the lights, close the doors and I am gone.”

The artist Thrice captures what being in an accident is like in the song, “The Artist In The Ambulance.” I can only imagine my friend Chris’s “world going black” and him feeling an angel lift him up. The only difference is that in the event spoken of in this song, the person lives and Chris did not. I have been involved in one car accident during my twenty-three years of life. I vividly remember the sensation of blacking out. I remember walking away from the now, totaled Chevy Camaro, dazed and confused. Following the accident I remember thinking, “Why was I able to walk away from that? Shouldn’t I be dead? What makes me so privileged that I am still alive?”

These were tough questions for a nineteen-year-old mind to process. I now know that it was necessary for me to go through that accident. I needed a push to find my purpose in life, and live that life to the fullest. I found that push in the smell of leaking oil and burning plastic, the nearly fatal slam of an airbag into my face, and the stark realization that I had been as close to death as I was to life.

            Thinking of my experience dealing with the death of my friend and my own accident, in which I nearly died, one emotion stands out more concentrated than all the rest; pain. I was emotionally inured and felt pain when Chris died. I was physically wounded in my own accident and remember the pain as a result. The song “Pain” by Three Days Grace taught me an important lesson; pain does not have to be bad or negative.

“Pain, without love pain, I can't get enough. Pain, I like it rough 'cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all.” 

I could use the pain, the uprooted feeling in my heart to move on, but how?

It took me a long time to realize that my grieving period needed to be over. Chris wasn’t coming back and neither was my beloved Camaro. It didn’t do me any good to stay home and feel sorry for myself. The time had come for me to channel my pain into propelling myself forward, and I did just that. I went back to school, out with friends, and lived the experiences that Chris would never get a chance to. I bought a newer, safer car and put tons of miles on it. I lived my life to the fullest, not regretting one moment. I took my uprooted feelings of pain, hate, depression and planted them back in the ground; right where they belonged. I planted them firmly, never looking back to see if they are growing, and I don’t intend to do so.