Who would have thought....it was me.

Mike Morris Engaged!

This just proven...MIKE MORRIS JUST GOT ENGAGED!

To whom you ask?

His cousin, Tim Smith! Wow! We're so happy for this wonderful couple and you can just see how enthusiastic and excited they are! Also, as it turns out his cousin has been married for some time already.

In related news, they both will be featured on a "No Prop 8" Jerry Springer special as Tim tells his wife.

Trophies = Success

Growing up in the house of a guy who has 3 Super Bowl trophies can be at times…intimidating. Add to that a brother who would come home at the end of each sport season with a new trophy (usually trophIES since he got the MVP just about every time, as well). Multiply that by a mother would come home with trophies from tennis and a modeling portfolio. Then let the medals hit the fan when my sister, 10 years my junior, started coming home with trophies.
I am still trying to figure out where my athletic genes went.
My parents always would tell me that I don’t need trophies to feel successful or anything—but it is one thing to hear that and another to internalize these truths when success appears to be measured so often with the material bestowal of items akin to trophies. Trophies=success, right?

I remember the time I earned my first trophy. It wasn’t for football (HA!) and it wasn’t for tennis or basketball or modeling or anything like that…it was for acting.
It was my 17th birthday. I went to a competition and got 2nd place. I was proud of myself…until I saw my parents’ car coming to pick me up (thank you to NJ for not giving me my license until 18 years of age). There I was, holding my acting trophy; and I was embarrassed, realizing that it took me 17 years exactly to earn my FIRST trophy…and it was for acting. It wasn’t a “real” trophy—or so I thought.

I have since learned much more about life—about my life. Ya, maybe my father was a pro athlete and my mother was a model and ya, I may inherited the shallow end of BOTH their gene pools…but so what?! I mean, really! I don’t need to try to find my athletic genes if I enjoy skinny jeans. This is the lesson I have learned:

Do what you enjoy doing.

It is that simple.
Find out what you enjoy, why you enjoy it, and do it. If your best friend looks really good in popped collars and you don’t like that, don’t do it. If your cousin is an amazing painter and you don’t like it, don’ t worry about it. If your father is a fantastic business man and you don’t like it, don’t stress it.
For it all boils down to this: You don’t find yourself in any of these things, but you create yourself. So why not create a self that you like? You don’t have to be anything but you—just try to make it the best you.

So, yes, I agree, trophies do equal success. But not in the way you think of them. What you enjoy becomes your trophies. Have you ever seen someone complete their first drawing that they like? That is a trophy. Have you ever heard someone sing in their first musical? That is a trophy. Have you ever seen someone throw their first touchdown pass? That is a trophy. Have you ever seen a new father show a picture of his first baby? That’s a trophy worth celebrating.
Those are the “real” trophies.

“Real” trophies not about others telling you that you’re good at something, it is about you knowing that you enjoy what you are doing and are trying your best. So don’t get me wrong, Michael Phelps’ success are more than impressive—if that is what he enjoys.

Yet in the end, perhaps this is just a non-athlete’s ranting on the perceived success portrayed and embellished by our modern society via the abdication of objects depicting said achievements.

But, then again…maybe not.

Ears to See

Have you ever seen these?
They are ears.
People wear them….?
Like, to wear around “normally” (I use that word liberally).

Anyways…so I’m sitting in the dinning area on BYU campus and working on a project for Maybelline with Jonathan Walgamott, when I looked a few tables over to see a guy and a girl sitting there, both wearing these ears. I was a little confused and pointed it out to Jonathan. We couldn’t quite understand and wondered if this fortunate couple had met pre or post the ears. I was just happy they found each other. We just couldn’t see the reason for an extra set of ears…it seem so…I don’t know, bizarre. So much so was I perplexed, that when they were leaving, I called them over and asked them about the ears.
They seemed like they forgot they even had the ears on, “Oh, these? Ya, I’ve been wearing them for like 5 years. It is something that I really enjoy doing” The girl had been wanting to wear them longer, but her mother wouldn’t let her (imagine that?!). I felt satisfied with my answer. Then they turned the tables on me—
“And we were over at our table trying to figure this out, but we couldn’t…what’s up with your socks?!”
I was wearing bright yellow socks that day, just for fun and had forgotten.
“Oh, these?” I said, wondering how I was the one feeling weird with a pair of kids wearing fake ears, “I don’t know…I just…I don’t know. Wanted to wear yellow socks?” They kind of chuckled and we said goodbye realizing the irony of the whole situation.

So what did I learn?
I guess, in a way, we all are wearing our metaphorical yellow socks (mine just happen to be, well…actual yellow socks). So wear them proud.
If you don’t feel like you have any "yellow socks"…you just need someone with the right set of eyes to tell you …or at least ears.

Oh, That Bitter Crylstal Ball!

I know, everyone is eagerly awaiting this blog post. My mother promised to go onto my blog (though she hasn't read it yet), my father said that he glanced at it (most likely while working out), my roommates still don't know that i have a blog, and my buddy Brandon is sitting behind me in class watching me type my blog excited that he is getting publicity and becoming famous for being on a blog (but the joke's on him...its my blog.). So i guess that i'm the real one that's excited about this whole blog thing. Anyways....for those of you that have been sitting there all day refreshing this page awaiting this post, without further delay.....

I remember an essay i wrote to get into Newark Academy, the highschool to which i went (yes, that is the proper phraseology. My parents didn't pay for private school so that i would end my sentences in prepositions). the question was this, 'If you could look into a crystal ball, what would you want to see?'
As an 8th grader, thought a lot about it and came to a conclusion: i wouldn't want to know anything. I decided it would be better to wait and let the future come.
Now, 9 years later, i look back and ask myself the same question and find myself giving the same answer, but for slightly different reasons. Do i want to know what is going to come? No, i don't. But i realized i cannot just sit and wait for the future, but that the future is created by my actions today.
But...that being said, a couple weeks ago, i got a brief glance into a crystal ball of sorts. A few weeks ago, I went to NYC and saw what ad agencies are like and saw where i want to be after i graduate. I loved it! and as sure as i was that i wanted to do advertising, i know now more than ever that this is my future. The zing the pop the freshness and the life seems to have been created just for me. But, this brief glance into my future has caused more current problems than i would have thought.
Why is this so difficult?
Because i'm not there.
I'm still in school.
It at times seems so trite. I was sitting there learning about these dead philosophers who had everything to say about nothing and i just wanted to pour salt in my eyes. i mean, it just doesn't matter what kind of social contract Hobbes feels is best or how Rousseau was a sexually disturbed child. Their opinions are so far from reality, and so far from my reality, that their words are about as important Bob Barr’s political agenda.
When it comes down to it, i am happy that i know where i'm going, but it is difficult to be where i am. Yet still, i am enjoying where i am, just looking more and more forward to where i'm going.
Yet still, when i get there to do advertising in NYC i'll probably be looking forward to my next move and then my next and then my next. i guess what i'm really trying to say is that we need to be content but not complacent in the current condition--a task i have yet to master.
For crystal ball or not, the future will come, and it is based upon what i do today.
So as I sit here and slowly let this 70% coco dark chocolate (thanks Amber) melt in my mouth, I realize there are so many variables in the future, that the only thing that is sure in my crystal ball is an increased waist line.

(A random post you ask? HA! If this is random, you obviously don’t know me.)

"A tall coffee with whipped cream...hold the coffee"

This morning was a grande-mocha-frappacino-double-mixed-with-an-expresso-shot kind of morning, if you know what I mean. But, since I’m at BYU and Mormon, I settled with a king size pack of Sour Punch Straws.
You see, Saturday night, I go home early from the football game to start a paper due at 12noon Monday (today). I get home and to my horror realize that I missed something about the paper: it was a paper that was to be written about a 250 page book which I didn’t own. I emailed my professor and he simply said, “Ya, that is a problem. Go to the library.” I was 1 hour away from a date I was NOT going to miss and so decided I would wake up early Monday morning to take care of business.
I woke up late, did some meditation and scripture study, calmed down and walked to school. It was going to be a long morning. The first problem was finding a place to sit where I wouldn't talk to everyone. I figured the random-collection-of-music-that-nobody-played-section would be a good choice to prevent distraction. I sat down, turned on some music that would have made these composers roll over in their grave, opened up my sour straws and got to work.
I read the book, wrote my paper, and even have some time to blog about it.
Who needs coffee when you have sour straws and a limitless supply of procrastination-produced pressure?
Certainly not this always-alliterating animal!

Leaving the Candy Shop

Imagine you are a kid that was given $5 and 10 minutes to go into a candy store and pick out your favorite piece of candy. Your tongue salivates and your nerve receptors start to trigger a chain reaction of excited bliss. You are told that you can try one piece of any candy you want, with the caveat that you can only buy ONE type of candy.

You are set loose.
You go at it...after all, 10 minutes is not a long time.

You grab a jellybean, a sour straw, a Swedish fish, a chocolate kiss, a gummy bear, a gumball and you shove them all in your mouth at the same time. But that is just the start. Before your teeth even clench for the first bite, both your hands are full again of different candy that continuously gets crammed into your mouth.

You carelessly and panicky proceed in a state of mind where timeless is your only reference to reality. Then you look at the clock.
9 minutes are up.

What have you found? You can’t possibly tell what is your favorite kind of candy, they all taste the same. One mound of delicious amazingness lost on a pallet drowned in sugar.

***

And here I found myself but a few weeks ago with dating. It all kind of tasted the same. But I’ve left the candy store and this is what I’ve realized: I’m happy. And I’m floored with what I’ve found thus far—if I just breathe and give it a chance. Sure, I may have a canker sore or two, but I am happy because I’ve been exposed to a whole world outside of that one little shop and that brief 10 minutes.

And you want to know the best part?

I’ve still got my $5…

The Dating Game...from Hell to Heaven.

it has been said, 'you have to go through hell before you get to heaven' 

I agree, but just wish that didn't have to be so literal with dating. i mean, let's look at this--you find, you try to become friends (which doesn't work out how it is supposed to), try to go on dates (which are typically far from amazing), and then wonder when or if you can or should call again. i mean, dating is like a full time job with little pay, and in my experience, few benefits (if you know what i mean). 

I had a friend that ended the remnants of a pseudo-relationship (those are the best....TO END!). i look at the whole entity of their relationship and just think to myself, 'she doesn't know how good she has it'. i wonder how many people thought that as i was dating some of the amazing girls i have. and in retrospect, it is always more difficult.

but in the end...it is worth it. Although i look at how much money i've spent on dates and realized that i could have saved a few thousand dollars and just got a book at the library about life to learn all the lessons i have learned, it has been a wild trip. a trip that soon has to come to an end.

So while i am still single, i've decided to break up with a large part of me: my single life. I have had this love affair with her for too long and i'm ready to move on. so i did it, i wrote her a brake up song, told her it was me and not her, and now i'm watching her crawl back. But it is over. I am through with my single life.

I feel a lot like this ship. i've wondered whether it was coming in from a long voyage, or on its way out. But i cry,  "o captain! my captin, our fearful trip is done".  I am going into harbor and away from the tumultuous seas of singledom. Over-dramatic? Yes, mother, probably. 

Do i care that i publish this online when anyone could read this (including the girls i'm trying to date) and get scared off...no. why? because let's be honest, besides me, you are probably the only other person to read this. So as long as you don't tell....i won't either. ;)

The Shouts of Blogging

hm. Blogging. i left to Ukraine and hardly heard the word and i come back and tell myself i'll never get into it, but here i am...blogging.

i am still trying to figure out what this is all about, i mean, here i am...writting this blogg which no one even knows about. for what reason? will an employer look at this? will some girl i hope i will win over read this? will anyone even glance at this?

i guess a part of blogging is a public vomit session. my shouting to the world. i will shout with all my multiple misspellings, partial thoughts, and careless struggles.

I say whatever i want to the world and the world can hear (if they even know or care). but i do. this is my blogg. I am Zack Oates.

welcome.

beware.

Home is where the closet is...

ya know, a lot of people ask me where i'm from. perhaps the "unusual" outfits, perhaps the occasional accent when i ask for "exta mustad," or perhaps just the fact that i'm always speaking of "home" as a different place. But when it comes down to it, to me, home is where the closet is. and while some may say that it is where they grew up or where they went to high school or where their family is...all of that was my home. you grow up, you grow out, your grow into your own home.

So sometimes it may be in NJ, other times at Foxwood, and sometimes even in the cargo bay of a plane, i'm home.