As the Halloween season dawns, I like to reflect on some of the things that scare me. Like thousands of BYU students, I am afraid to walk by the duck pond south of campus after 10 PM. Unlike these fellow students, a rape whistle isn’t going to do much to qualm my fears because I don’t think they have any effect on the ducks. You see, ever since I was a little boy, I have had an admittedly irrational fear of birds. I think it might go back to the time I visited the zoo with my family and a bird shot my father.
They say that many Americans list public speaking as their number one greatest fear, which means that they would rather be the guy in the casket than the guy giving the eulogy at a funeral. Well, I would love to give the eulogy at a bird’s funeral. The following are some of the traumatic experiences I’ve had with birds over the years:
- As a small boy I am riding my tricycle out by the pool while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Suddenly, a bird swoops down and steals the sandwich right out of my hand. My innocent mind is so shocked by this act of theft that I lose control of my tricycle and fall in the pool.
- As a lad, I watch my mother scream and call animal services to come remove a bird that had flown in through her bedroom window. “This animal must surely be terrifying if my mother required the services of a professional to remove it from our home,” thought baby Steven.
- My older sister torments me by telling me a story about a bird that attacked her while she was walking home from school. This bird allegedly swooped down and started pecking at her head as she ran her fingers through her hair, apparently mistaking her fingers for worms.
- In elementary school, my best friend A.J Moore releases his pet bird from its cage and makes fun of me as I run away.
- During a missionary lesson in India, a terrifying little chick jumps up onto my knee. I leap up into the air and the chick scampers away before it can do any damage.
- My older sister continues to prey upon my “gull”-ibility by telling me a story about a flock of seagulls that swarmed over her and stocked her while at the beach.
- After a long day of tracting in India, my greenie companion and I come home to find a pigeon in our bedroom. I make him scare it away while I hide in the kitchen.
- While riding my bicycle alongside my companion in Rajahmundry, India, we stop to watch as a flock of birds jumps down from a nearby roof and run across the street. Suddenly we realize that these birds are being chased by another bird, soaking wet in its own drool and making crazy rabid animal noises. Naturally, I make eye contact with this bird and it chases me and my companion down the street.
Now, the birds in that last story were actually monkeys, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.
Scary stuff, right? As you can see, my bird-phobia is based on actual terrifying personal experiences, as well as reliable first-hand accounts from my sister, who may have hated me as a child.
Now, as stated above, I know that to be afraid of birds is irrational. When you think about it, they are just harmless little rats with wings. I don’t even mind being near a bird as long as it's facing the opposite direction. That way I know it’s not going to suddenly take off and fly into my face. The problem is . . . you don’t have a lot of time to think when you have a hummingbird staring you down with murder in its eyes.
Many people have tried to talk me through this, but I think it’s just something that I’m going to carry with me throughout the rest of my life...maybe even into the next.
This bird-phobia certainly has its limitations, but I like to think I live a pretty normal life. I mean, I do have to be a little more creative when planning dates because feeding the ducks is never an option; I’m unable to enjoy large European cities because I’m too busy running away from pigeons; and sometimes I get uncomfortable when at the beach or running my hands through my hair. Other than that, life is normal. On the plus side, I have a sixth sense when it comes to awareness of birds in a general area. I just hope that when I become a dinosaur, I get to be one that eats birds.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Hawaiian Surferboy or California Dreamboat?
Countless philosophers and literary figures have tried to define the concept of "home." I define home as the most convenient place to say you are from in order to justify rooting for a particular sports team or wanting to work in Washington D.C. I recently told a Big Four recruiter that I didn't have a home and wanted to move to the East Coast. I didn't get that internship, but I think he was impressed. Most commonly, I either tell people that I am from Hawaii or California.
On the one hand, I have photographic and testimonial evidence that proves I spent at least three years of high school in Hawaii. In most of these pictures, I will be either on the computer or playing video games, but if you look closely enough, you can just make out the ocean in the background.
While in Hawaii, I attended Mid-Pacific Institute, a private school for those who can’t get into Punahou or Iolani but still want to feel superior to the world. I was one of about ten or so haoles (white people) in my graduating class; as a result, I came to BYU thinking I was Asian.
I'm not gonna lie. I like the attention I get when I tell people I'm from Hawaii. However, even people I met on my mission to India intuitively knew that I wasn't a native of Hawaii. The truth is that I spent most of my childhood in sunny Southern California.
I was born in the O.C, which you might recognize from such shows as the O.C. Please refer to that show for more information about my childhood there. At the age of twelve, I moved to Moorpark, California where I attended high school with Dennis Pitta, star tight end at BYU and now with the Baltimore Ravens of the NFL. On a side note, Dennis Pitta would probably be unable to identify me from a group of strangers on the street.
My family still owns our home in Moorpark, a beautiful brick mansion sitting atop a hill and surrounded by twenty acres of avocado and lemon orchards. We initially sold it to a man who was later arrested for using his airline to smuggle drugs for the Mexican mafia. That transaction didn't go through, and we kept the home. Every Christmas my family meets up at our Moorpark house, and guess who doesn't get to go home to Hawaii . . . Steven Benjamin Hilton.
I actually haven’t even been to Hawaii for over a year, but I do love the place. I don't know of another place on Earth where a guy could move into a new high school during his sophomore year and feel so welcome. And on the rare occasion that I get to return, I love kicking it at home with my boys Kirk Fong, Frederick Rohlfing, and Jordan Berardy . . . provided they want to come visit me at my house, because it’s a long way down from the top of the ridge.
So, I’m going to have my cake and eat it on this one. I’m both a Hawaiian surferboy and a California dreamboat . . . ladies.
On the one hand, I have photographic and testimonial evidence that proves I spent at least three years of high school in Hawaii. In most of these pictures, I will be either on the computer or playing video games, but if you look closely enough, you can just make out the ocean in the background.
While in Hawaii, I attended Mid-Pacific Institute, a private school for those who can’t get into Punahou or Iolani but still want to feel superior to the world. I was one of about ten or so haoles (white people) in my graduating class; as a result, I came to BYU thinking I was Asian.
I'm not gonna lie. I like the attention I get when I tell people I'm from Hawaii. However, even people I met on my mission to India intuitively knew that I wasn't a native of Hawaii. The truth is that I spent most of my childhood in sunny Southern California.
I was born in the O.C, which you might recognize from such shows as the O.C. Please refer to that show for more information about my childhood there. At the age of twelve, I moved to Moorpark, California where I attended high school with Dennis Pitta, star tight end at BYU and now with the Baltimore Ravens of the NFL. On a side note, Dennis Pitta would probably be unable to identify me from a group of strangers on the street.
My family still owns our home in Moorpark, a beautiful brick mansion sitting atop a hill and surrounded by twenty acres of avocado and lemon orchards. We initially sold it to a man who was later arrested for using his airline to smuggle drugs for the Mexican mafia. That transaction didn't go through, and we kept the home. Every Christmas my family meets up at our Moorpark house, and guess who doesn't get to go home to Hawaii . . . Steven Benjamin Hilton.
I actually haven’t even been to Hawaii for over a year, but I do love the place. I don't know of another place on Earth where a guy could move into a new high school during his sophomore year and feel so welcome. And on the rare occasion that I get to return, I love kicking it at home with my boys Kirk Fong, Frederick Rohlfing, and Jordan Berardy . . . provided they want to come visit me at my house, because it’s a long way down from the top of the ridge.
So, I’m going to have my cake and eat it on this one. I’m both a Hawaiian surferboy and a California dreamboat . . . ladies.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Steven Hilton - Future CPA or guy with a personality?
If I like three non-gospel related things in this world, they are chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, myself, and attention. So, I decided to create a blog. And I can think of no better topic to launch off this blog than the topic that dominates my life from the months of September to April of every school year . . . the topic of accounting.
People who have asked me what I want to be when I grow up have gotten a wide variety of different answers throughout the years. In kindergarten, I told my teacher that I wanted to be a dinosaur. Some jerk must have squashed that dream, because by the time I reached first grade, I had decided to be a power ranger. From there, I dreamed of being a major league baseball player, an author, a professional basketball or football player, an astronaut, and a pokemon trainer. Now, I haven't really ruled out any of these, but at the moment, I am pursuing the glorified path of the CPA, or Certified Public Accountant.
One day, while doing homework in my college dorm room, I got a call from my mother. From previous experience, I knew that if I didn't answer, my mother would call some poor BYU employee up and yell at him for not knowing where I am and not having curfews and bedchecks, so I answered. "Steve," she said, "I just talked to your Uncle Rick, and he says that accounting is really boring." She then proceeded to lecture me for thirty minutes about whether I wanted to be a boring person. The same mother who had lectured me as a kid that I was "putting all my eggs in one basket" in regards to my dream of being a professional baseball player was now lecturing me about picking the most stable career on the market.
It's a few years later and I am now a first-year masters student in the number one accounting program in the country . . . maybe even the universe. Is accounting boring? Heck yes! I'm actually considering relocating my bed to the tanner building. With the boring nature of classes and the seven plus hours of homework every night, I get a lot more sleep in my accounting classes than I ever do at home.
So, why do I do it then? Well, I do it mostly for the ladies. I also do it because its a solid foundation for any future career in business, its a field in constant demand even in a tough economy, and because maybe I like depreciation, fraud detection, and income taxes . . . but mostly, I do it for the ladies. And even though I've chosen accounting as my field of study, I'm constantly trying to keep my options open. I still plan on writing a book, and who knows, maybe one day I'll even become a dinosaur. The only difference is that any book I write now will probably be about accelerated cost recovery rather than wizards and magic.
In regards to the question posed in the title, you'll have to decide for yourself, but I'd like to think the answer is yes.
People who have asked me what I want to be when I grow up have gotten a wide variety of different answers throughout the years. In kindergarten, I told my teacher that I wanted to be a dinosaur. Some jerk must have squashed that dream, because by the time I reached first grade, I had decided to be a power ranger. From there, I dreamed of being a major league baseball player, an author, a professional basketball or football player, an astronaut, and a pokemon trainer. Now, I haven't really ruled out any of these, but at the moment, I am pursuing the glorified path of the CPA, or Certified Public Accountant.
One day, while doing homework in my college dorm room, I got a call from my mother. From previous experience, I knew that if I didn't answer, my mother would call some poor BYU employee up and yell at him for not knowing where I am and not having curfews and bedchecks, so I answered. "Steve," she said, "I just talked to your Uncle Rick, and he says that accounting is really boring." She then proceeded to lecture me for thirty minutes about whether I wanted to be a boring person. The same mother who had lectured me as a kid that I was "putting all my eggs in one basket" in regards to my dream of being a professional baseball player was now lecturing me about picking the most stable career on the market.
It's a few years later and I am now a first-year masters student in the number one accounting program in the country . . . maybe even the universe. Is accounting boring? Heck yes! I'm actually considering relocating my bed to the tanner building. With the boring nature of classes and the seven plus hours of homework every night, I get a lot more sleep in my accounting classes than I ever do at home.
So, why do I do it then? Well, I do it mostly for the ladies. I also do it because its a solid foundation for any future career in business, its a field in constant demand even in a tough economy, and because maybe I like depreciation, fraud detection, and income taxes . . . but mostly, I do it for the ladies. And even though I've chosen accounting as my field of study, I'm constantly trying to keep my options open. I still plan on writing a book, and who knows, maybe one day I'll even become a dinosaur. The only difference is that any book I write now will probably be about accelerated cost recovery rather than wizards and magic.
In regards to the question posed in the title, you'll have to decide for yourself, but I'd like to think the answer is yes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
