Tenacity

I've astounded my colleagues at work by working twelve hours last night, going home to sleep for four hours, then coming back to work for six more hours. I call it my Shock and Awe Self-Sleep-Deprivation Tactic. It's meant to intimidate my coworkers into giving me their lunch money because if they don't I'll just go all crazy on them and not sleep. It's not working yet, but I'm an optimistic guy with high hopes.

The Shock and Awe Self-Sleep-Deprivation Tactic is akin in actual utility to the renowned Suicide Nosedive freestyle crutching move I developed for the Crutch Challenge 1998. The Crutch Challenge was the brainchild of several of us BYU freshman with a lot of intellectual capital to offer – why we were unwilling to invest it in university study is uncertain. Our friend Jason had been on crutches for I think a year or more following foot surgery. As one may imagine, he was handy with the crutches.

One day while waiting in line for dinner at the cafeteria, I took Jason's crutches and began staggering about without using my feet – only crutches. This evolved into contests to see who could walk the farthest with the crutches without his feet touching the ground and who could perform the coolest tricks, all of which eventually culminated in the Crutch Challenge. The event consisted of a distance walking event (no feet touching the ground) and a freestyle competition. Jason had the advantage in experience, coordination, and ugliness. I had the edge in raw idiocy. Thus I developed the Suicide Nosedive as the show-stopping conclusion of my freestyle routine. For the move, I wrapped each leg around the shaft of each crutch, then simply fell face first onto the hard stage floor. It was an exercise in sheer brilliance.

I lost the Crutch Challenge despite the Suicide Nosedive. Jason got the sympathy vote from the judges because his foot was all bandaged. The point of the story is my Shock and Awe Self-Sleep Deprivation Tactic works about as well as the Suicide Nosedive. I've received no lunch money.

Halen fell out of his crib the other morning. His face landed on a plastic tub of toys. He's now added a cut across the bridge of his nose to his assortment of bruises and lacerations. I think my favorite Halen move is when he puts on one of my hats so it completely covers his face. He struts about the house, absolutely blind, and frequently walks directly into door jams.

The most memorable such instance was when he strolled into a door jam with my hat on, bonked his head, and fell flat on his butt. He sat there, presumably dazed (though we can't know for sure seeing as how the hat completely covered his face), then got up without removing the hat, and walked promptly into the same door jam, toppling back onto his rear. This time he whimpered a bit but again did not remove the hat. He raised himself into a wobbly standing position… and lurched forward, a resounding thunk resulting when he again clobbered himself on the door jam. We decided he'd had enough of a beating for one day and cradled him until the stars and birds stopped fluttering about his head. What persistence and tenacity in such a young lad! We're so proud of him.