Tutorials Done My Way

I have created a new blog! Find it at http://marcphillipstutorials.blogspot.com/. It covers all the technology tutorials and other goodies that I had originally placed here.

How to Mount an Amazon S3 Bucket to a Ubuntu Linux File System

This post has been moved to my new tutorials blog (found at http://marcphillipstutorials.blogspot.com/2013/07/how-to-mount-amazon-s3-bucket-to-ubuntu.html). Take some time to look around!

Importance of Timing on Earth

The following is an excerpt between my roommate Jake and I while sitting in church. The speaker made reference to an oft quoted saying that our generation has been saved for this time on Earth, alluding to the idea that our generation of souls is somehow more special then others. Our question and response is as follows (slightly edited for clarity):

Me: Has everyone who has ever lived been foreordained to come to Earth when they do?

Jake: So you are asking if everyone was sent at a set time for a specific purpose, are we really special?

Me: Correct.  Personally, I don't think so. I feel it is rhetoric by some members of the church to make us feel better about living in such a time. But, for the sake of argument, let's suppose these people are correct. Does God then send a person to Earth at a specific time to do a specific work?

Jake: Yes. We have the examples of Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ, Moses, etc. They were sent at specific times to do a specific work. However, it is hard to see in such a seemingly non-consequential lives as ours such a thing happening. Just like a mission, I think that wherever or whenever you go, you can have a good experience. Some places and times just maybe are more beneficial than others.

Me: So you suppose all man has a reason for being here at their given time? Or is it just a crap-shoot for most when they arrive?

Jake: A specific reason? No. Not all men are sent for specific reasons. However, I would like to believe God sent us at times and to places that are most beneficial for us and mankind.

Me: So God is a consequentialist? Interesting. So essentially only a few individuals are foreordained for specific time periods to influence the whole of humanity? And the rest were sent at their time because they were best suited for that time?

Jake: That is correct.

Me: So these people were foreordained to do something in this time, but only because they fit it well? Is it then true that the marginal benefit of their placement on the Earth greater than anyone else? Or such that their marginal benefit is most in that position given that someone better went somewhere else because they had a higher marginal return? This keeps with the idea that God is a consequentialist.

Jake: Most of us could have been plugged in at any other time and done the duty necessary. We don't believe in a soulmate, but we do believe that many people would fit as a spouse for anyone person. I don't see why it would be any different for our placement on earth. In regards to the marginal benefit, I don't know, but I feel it varies from person to person.

Me: I agree, humanity is ultimately variable. So is there not a "hardest" time or a "most valiant" generation?

Jake: I believe that there is not.

Me: Do you then also believe that humanity falls into wickedness so easily because the majority of us are wicked? Or does God send people down into pockets where the disposition of the majority causes them to fall into wickedness? Is there a lack of valiant people there for a reason? Is God placing these people there because they were the least likely to succeed anyways, thus most beneficial to get them out of the way?

Jake: There is a lack of valiant people for a reason, but not because God made it that way. He works the best with the constraints he has (our own valiancy). I don't like to believe though that God packages the less valiant people together in certain times; however, it's somewhat hard to deny given historical precedence of apostasy, or even the groups of people who blatantly turned from God found in the scriptures. Why did those exist if not for the planned placement of souls?

Me: Exactly my thoughts. Now, if God plans the placements of souls in such a way, is He doing it to spare the righteous and to condemn the wicked? I think not, for that would imply a partial God, one who places some of His children in a no-win situation. I believe God doesn't actually put pockets of wicked souls on the earth, but rather allows like-minded souls to gather and then to propagate their wickedness. Do the children of these wicked men receive the same condemnation as the parents merely because they were taught to live that way? How much of our own wickedness is from our personal choices and how much comes from our upbringing?

Jake: So are you implying that possibly we chose to come down at a certain time with souls we associated with? You've tapped into the nature vs. nurture debate. I believe some comes from nature and some from nurture, but I don't dare attempt to define in what proportions. On an earlier question, if God does plan the placement of souls, maybe it's not to condemn the wicked but rather to spare them. Are they not better off sinning due to lack of knowledge and prophetic guidance than with it?

Me: That was what I was attempting to get at with my last question. If a wicked person sins in darkness of truth, how much is it accounted against him? Can/will the atonement bridge the gap of knowledge and light they have received to allow that weak/wicked soul a chance at full redemption?

Jake: If a wicked person sins in darkness of truth, they can't be held quite as accountable. I understand why certain information is withheld, but completely shunning someone from any gospel truth to merely lessen their punishment when they would have been more guilty if they had an "equal" right to knowledge as anyone else seems to be artificially inflating salvation. You can't deny that everyone is not given an equal chance in this life. That is because the Spirit World is in place to give everyone an overall equal chance. But couldn't this have been averted if everyone was given an equal chance in this life (not considering the fact that we are given resurrection)?

Me: Ignoring the fact that you are attributing something to the Spirit World that doesn't make sense in this context, you are essentially saying that everyone is given an equal chance to sin as all others, and, by extension, an equal chance to do good? By this logic, every destitute, poor, and starving person should behave like Valjean if they are to be saved.

Jake: In the grand scheme of things everyone is on equal footing, but not in this life.

Me: If this life is inherently unfair, then would God placing the weak in hard, unfair places to protect them against the full extent of the law really inflating salvation, or is it wisdom in God to maximize the number of souls who will return to Him?

Laughably Ignorant

Of the many things that I do not know, there aren't many that I am willing to admit that do not deal with relationships, women, or Pinterest. But there is one topic that I am most certainly among the most ignorant and uncultured human being to have appreciated its majesty in the past several millennia, and that is the unfathomable realm of dancing. Despite my ersthwile slender physique and refined gait, I have not yet captured or even begun to grasp the intricacies of this discipline.

Last night was the quintessential moment of my education in what I do not know. My dear friend Heidi is a member of the BYU Contemporary Dance Theater, and they had a performance that I attended with some mutual friends. Hours of practice and work had been poured into this performance, and the energy in the room was palatable as we took our seats in the second row of the theater. From this angle we could literally see up their noses (and we were close enough to actually do so had the desire lighted upon us). A small blues band on stage played some dulcet tones as we waited for the dancing to begin.

What I beheld over the next hour and a half is still much a blur to me. I remember lots of hands in the air, many a kick and a twirl, and a lot of exuberant smiles. At one point the dancers were acrobats, leaping and vaulting over bars, running down and around the aisles, twirling into the arms of other acrobats, and sliding gracefully from mark to mark. Transitional pieces included a wonderful animated short that captured the spirit of the art, creating a majestic hybrid of forms that rarely is seen in today's cinemas. The culmination of all the thematic expressions was summed nicely in the last number, which dance featured a delightful performance by Heidi, a treat that I did not expect.

Overall the details of the dance do not stick with me as I move away from the event. What really sticks with me is the feeling I had whilst watching the mesmerizing movements of so many slender and elegant forms parade around in unison on the stage. Feelings of remorse, joy, loss, and redemption somehow, inexplicably, crept into my mind as I took in the action. Though I have been told countless times that art has the power to move the deepest hollows of the soul, I was not prepared for those movements to take shape in my conscious mind. Indeed, it didn't even occur to me that I could actually come to embrace an idea through dance, as though each step reverberated with the truth of a thousand words.

What power does this thing called dancing hold? How was it able to actually make me consider the themes that ran so powerfully throughout the choreography, existing in the ethereal realms of communication that I am so woefully inept at accessing? Through what unguarded hole did these impressions creep, for I truly did not know that the dancing before me was actually founded upon these themes, embracing them at the very core of their motion.

To me the beauty of dance is ultimately twofold. It is at once so incredibly beyond my grasp and comprehension that I do not understand even the basics of how it is done. But on another, much more deep-seated level lies what I think attracts all mankind to this form of expression, and that is the ability to speak without vocalizing. Language is, at its best, a clunky medium through which the base emotions and desires are expressed. Then comes the non-verbal cues of speech that help fill in the gaps left by our inadequate words. And then there is dance, that full-bodied correspondence of the soul that leaves both parties with a sense of something expressed that runs deep within the veins of our existence.

Dance is, and always has been, and always will be, the elucidation of our individuality within our commonality. It is universally understood, and yet deeply unique in the individual who expresses, and individually powerful to the spirit who receives.

26 Birthdays

I wanted to write something at the beginning of my "Golden Birthday" in commemoration of the event. It is not that the "Golden Birthday" is special, but it is a fun idea that I would like to observe. Like so many other great nothings in our lives, the "Golden Birthday" gives us more cause to celebrate than we normally ought. Yet, in some way, is it not essential to the proper welfare of humanity that we create more jubilee than is necessary? Perhaps it is not so dramatic as that, but we can pretend anyways.

Now that I have reached this "Golden Birthday" of mine, I am not so sure that I am happy to have reached it. You see, with a title like "Golden Birthday" you really can't get much better going forward. Sure, we could come up with some more excuses to slather on additional celebration by saying that the square of the "Golden Birthday" be called the "Platinum Birthday", and in so doing we must celebrate to the fourth power of awesome. Perhaps we could say that the year our birthday causes us to turn a prime number could be called the "Prime Birthday" and to celebrate we eat an undivided pizza by ourselves. Or we could even celebrate our 31 birthday and call it the "Pi Birthday" where you must eat an entire pie. The possibilities are endless. Nevertheless, we do not have such traditions in our culture.

Although I have always wanted to start a major cultural trend, I do not think I shall succeed with this cause. Therefore, I relinquish myself to the fate that awaits, and shall grasp this resplendent year of mine by the ephemeral horns of its existence. Indeed, that I should do anything less then wonderful would be a crying shame, a most mournful waste of perfectly good potential. This day shall be - wait for it - legend - wait for it - dary!

So how will I start my day? It has already stared. First, I shall sleep until I wake up, which shall be followed by a rather vigorous yawn that will signal me rolling over and falling back to sleep. Upon waking the second time I will likely take some sort of cleansing routine, be it a shower or a bubble bath. Accordingly, I shall fall asleep in said routine for approximately four minutes. Afterwards I shall sally-forth to Tucanos, whereupon copious amounts of red meat and fried bananas will be consumed. From there I will fall into a splendid food coma, such an one that man has never seen before. It all gets sort of hazy from there...

What good is there in a "Golden Birthday?" I can't really say, but I do know that I really look forward to eating a small coop of chicken hearts and a few bundles worth of fried bananas. And, with luck, I will finally come to appreciate the fact that I have more Golden years ahead of me than I am leaving behind.

Inexplicably Emotional

Perhaps there is something wrong with me, or perhaps there is something wired askew in my emotional circuitry, but I am at my most emotional when I am extremely ill. And I do not speak of the malady of mind, but indeed of physical distress. As though shivering and sneezing and moaning like an operatic zombie isn't enough, my body decides I also need to throw in an extra dose of estrogen to kick-start the waterworks over every little thing.

For example, today I lay watching the Special Edition Lord of the Rings Blu-Ray appendices and began to have some intense emotional stirrings. I do claim to often become deeply contemplative whilst watching LOTR the movie, but what sober-minded man weeps at the information found in the documentary? Honestly, had you witnessed this event today you would have supposed I had viewed a masterful mash-up of A Walk to Remember and Bambi. Tissues were not found in sufficient abundance to stem the flow.

Okay, so I exaggerate perhaps a little; but the fact remains that I have been inextricably emotional, and it is not constrained to just this past week. Every time that I contract a sickness of some form where I enter a weakened and ailing state I begin to feel great swellings of unwanted feelings. The slightest provocation sends me careening down a slope of tender and lugubrious weeping.

To be fair to myself and my manhood, it is not just anything that sets me off. It wasn't the description of the art used to model Rivendell that sent me into hysterics, nor did the decomposition of the process used to make elvish ears cause my mournful demeanor. Indeed, these were welcomed respites from the demonstrative parts of the film. No, the parts that did touch me so fervently were at least thematically grand, and on their base level should have evoked some sort of response from my psyche.

Aside from the grandeur of my thoughts, there was no other reason for why I felt so distraught. However, I feel as though sickness is a blessing to man when he has locked away that emotion which he does not wish to feel. Of a truth I have not wished to touch upon these corners of my existence because I had long since abandoned them for what I had deemed more practical. Things such as logic, reason, duty, and pragmatism surely could supplant these feelings in my life, these feelings which had on so many occasions seemingly betrayed me to the dogs. What need had I for something so treacherous as the affectations of my soul?

But alas, like a forty-thousand pound hammer left hanging by a failing and neglected thread, my "weakness" came smashing down on me when all other fortifications had failed. The blubbery nonsense of pent-up stress and disappointment began to manifest itself in bizarre ways. Weep at the mention of an actor who took his job a little too seriously so he could deliver the best performance of his life? Why not! It's pretty much on par with watching a three-legged dog save a baby from some burning wreckage. Mourn over the ending of the appendices you've been watching for 6 hours? Of course! I bet Victor Hugo cried when he finished Les Miserables, which is practically the same experience.

Of all the moments I cried (okay, in reality, I only teared up, but by Jove it was very close to crocodile tears), none hit me more than the discussion of the fellowship built around the actors. Naturally such an event would not cause even the most distraught soul to cry, for it was an inherently happy moment; but something else about the statement really caught my mind. In the documentary they spoke on how this band of actors formed a bond through a common purpose, a sense of grandeur in the task ahead, and in the shared mutual respect amongst themselves.

I know, this truly is the deepest well of human sobriety. Naturally all humans would find such a thing intrinsically touching and profoundly thought provoking. But to me, at that moment, it struck me with a wonderful beauty that my ill-induced fervor surely catalyzed. What a glorious thought it was, to imagine that we, as humans, gain camaraderie not so much by the acts, but by the intentions of our actions.

My emotions are a tricky thing, I know. This is why I do not play with them often, nor let them out to play for many others to see. But I do feel blessed when nature smacks me with its heavy hand and reminds me of the frailness of my existence, because I almost always gain a new insight about my life. Ailments such as these cause me - nay, force me - to contemplate on my existence, on who I am, and how I am to play my part. And it is after these times that I realize that I don't hate my emotions, I just can't handle them around all the time.

Moments of Growth

There are moments in life that you wonder what you did to become such a vessel of wrath. These times come and cause you to quiver, to ache, to see the very gaping mouth of Hell before you, which causes you to cower and to shrink. Moments such as these cause you to stretch forth your arm and question the very God of Heaven and Earth, to call out in anguish for answers, demanding that He hear you and give you vindication. There are moments in life when you see this Hell coming, and you blanch with dismay at the coming sorrow.

But then there are moments when nothing at all happens in your life and you don't even realize that such a Hell exists. There are moments when you look up over the din of your life and see that you have grown from those times. Although we don't like going through hell, it nevertheless makes us gain something we did not have before. These moments help us realize that having nothing happen at all isn't so bad.

And then there are moments when you do nothing at all, yet you ultimately grow as if put through a dozen crucibles. It is my belief that the majority of growth we receive does not come until after we have pondered on an experience we have had. My life here in Provo has seen its ups and its downs, and I have certainly gone through moments of Hell where I sat shivering in the dark loneliness of despair one experiences at such times. But I have also had moments where nothing happens and I just live my life.

Yet despite what moment I am having in my life, I am always perplexed by the idea that we must grow so we can survive ever greater trials. What is the point in growing if it just to allow us to fight an even bigger Hell ahead? I have never fully given credence to the idea that we suffer so we can grow.

Let me tell you of an experience of real growth that I have had just recently. This moment was truly a growing moment, and yet it is my strong belief that it was not meant to prepare me for some future event. Indeed, it is my strong belief that this moment occurred to make me understand an aspect of growth I did not understand: the capacity to live a joyful life.

To begin, let me give a little background. Recently I have been interviewing for jobs that will help launch my career after I graduate next April. From this search I have landed an interim job with a company named Axciom that could turn into a full-time career after graduation . Though I am not sure that I intend to stay with Axciom long term, I am definitely interested in working for them in the near future on some exciting new projects. This fact is crucial in leading me to the moment I am about to relate.

The particular moment I wish to describe played out much like a Hollywood nostalgia scene, where the main character arrives upon a place to perform an act when suddenly he enters a trance and the world around him changes. In this trance he sees himself, but many years younger and much more anxious and excited about his endeavor. Much like in those movie settings, our character watches as his younger self bumbles through the learning curve of life, striving to understand how to accomplish this pivotal moment that will set him on a path that leads he knows not where. He is filled with such hope, such brightness, and such conviction that what is ahead will be wonderful.

This moment, this scene from a movie that I so vividly lived, occurred the other day when I went to the library to print off and send in some papers for my new job with Axciom. I decided to go to the main floor's computer lab because it has a nifty machine that allows for sending scanned documents directly via-email. Because I don't go into this room often nor have I spent much if any time in this room during my time at BYU, I was not expecting to have waves of nostalgia rush over me. Nevertheless, what I experienced was nothing short of trip down memory lane.

As I signed and scanned my papers into the machine (all 32 pages, which is a whole other topic of discussion) I looked up over the computer aisles filled with students. While viewing these desks, each with a student, each busy with the matters of their lives, I suddenly saw before my eyes the unfolding of the aforementioned movie scene, complete with slow-motion editing and blur effects to add tear-jerking sobriety. It was altogether beautiful, and yet somehow wistful, almost sad.

What I saw in this film scene was the first day that Paul and I came to live in Utah after our missions. I remember quite vividly the feeling I had at the time. Neither of us had any idea what lay ahead, having just left behind our family home for what was probably the last time of claiming it as our residence. We were fresh and anxious to move on, and I know Paul was excited to get past an incident with one of his recent converts (a story for another time). In this particular scene we had come down to BYU to begin searching for jobs wherever we could find them. Having had little success, but undeterred, we made for the BYU library.

It was this moment that I saw in my mind's eye, that day when we came into the library to search the internet for jobs. Paul was sitting next to me and was searching for jobs around Provo; I was looking at the job listings on the online BYU jobs board . I remember the warm ray of sunlight coming through the window, being mid-afternoon in August, and thanking God for the invention of air conditioning. I remember that I clicked on a link to apply for a position in the Admissions Office at BYU; and I remember thinking that the 50 cents above minimum wage was a pretty sweet deal.

But what I remember more than anything is the feeling, that inexplicable, wonderful feeling of hope, of joy, of knowing that I was here with my best friend and that we were going to have a multitude of awesome adventures. I remember looking at Paul and laughing because he was having no success finding a job, and I laughed because he was just so frustrated. He had applied to so many jobs, and so many of them had been duds, or scams, or just downright insulting in their compensation. The sounds of others around me seemed so dull as we sat there, encapsulated in our little world, laughing as Paul and I talked and joked while we searched for jobs in the computer lab of the BYU library. We were so free, so lighthearted, and we looked forward to what may come.

As I sat there, scanning my documents and reminiscing about the bygone era, my mind started to wander past that scene. Suddenly the setting turned into one scene after another, as though a video montage was being viewed in my head.

I saw Paul coming home and telling me about a job he got at some Google ad-word agency. Later he came in and told me about how much he hated working there, how they were crooked, and how he wish he didn't work there. Then came the next scene where he walked in to tell me about this girl he had met at this job whose name was Amanda, and he told me how he sat and talked with her for hours. From there I saw the time when I first met this girl and thought "she is too good for Paul, what on earth did he say to trick her to come here?" I remember seeing me, looking incredulous, and thinking that it wouldn't last.

Then I saw my brother Dan, sleeping on his bed in the apartment next to ours. I remember going into his room to wake him up so he could go job hunting. I saw him turn around and give me a dumb smile, playing the fool because he was too tired and didn't want to go. Then the scene flashed forward several months to a new apartment, a new scene. I see Daniel sitting on the couch bathed in a soft glow of green from the rope lights lined above our apartment. He is sitting there, cuddled next to a little girl under our dingy-blue comforter. I remember thinking how cute it was that Dan was talking with this girl, and that I hoped something would come of it. From there I skipped forward to a scene that occurred in Manti, where Dan and that same little girl knelt facing each other across an alter. I recalled the feelings of joy I felt that Dan was happy, and that he had finally decided to get out of bed.

Suddenly a dark cloud came over my vision, and John walked into my apartment... No, just kidding, it wasn't dark. But I did see before me a vision of walking into John's room and finding him with his roommates playing video games. I saw multiple times where John and I were sitting and discussing things, him at his computer and me standing next to him. I saw the times when John and I sat there and discussed the state of the ward, of the family, and just about anything else. I saw that John and I actually had a relationship now, something we did not have before.

And that is about when the visions of my life in Provo stopped. I sat there for a minute and pondered on the things that had been laid before. I noticed that they were not filled with the sorrow, the pain, the utter disappointment I had felt over the years here. There was no mention of the awful hell I had at times felt. I noticed that I did not see any of the times I spent studying, or the times I spent programming, or complaining to my classmates about the ridiculousness of the workload we were given. I noticed that none of the jobs I had been given were even mentioned in my vision. Indeed, the only thing I even noticed about my life is the last vision I saw before I woke from my revelry.

To take a step back a minute, I want to say a few things about the self-wroth of a man. Every man wants to think that what he is doing is important, that there is some underlying purpose behind the design of his actions. What man wakes in the morning and says "I'm going to be utterly conspicuous today in both word and deed!"?

What I saw at the end of my vision was probably among the most poignant of all my visions, for it was not just about me. What I saw was me, surrounded by my family, holding some documents in my hand. These documents were similar to the documents I had come to scan, for they were an acceptance letter for my career. I saw in my hand what my time in Provo had done for me, the culmination of my efforts and struggles here in Provo; the capstone of the investment of my talents. Next to me stood my brothers, holding what their time had given them. That girl Paul told me about, Amanda, was now standing next to him, and in her arms was my beautiful niece Lily. Amanda then walked over and handed her to me, and I gladly took her and began to throw her up into the air as she gleefully quacked with joy. All my family laughed as we watched the wonderful blessing God had given us here in Provo; and as she laughed and smiled she filled the room with the merriment of innocent love.

I handed Lily back to Amanda and turned to face my family. I looked at my paper and saw the significant difference in the number for my pay from that first job I was so happy to get those years ago. I looked, and I saw the growth that I had achieved. My grasp around my paper tightened as I looked back up again to my family, and I saw tears in their eyes as they waved to me while I turned and walked away.

Then the scene faded, and I pondered about what I had seen. Though I had not achieved my goal of finding a wife; and though the path I thought I was going to take that day in August was vastly different than the path I have ultimately walked; and though I did not end up where I thought I would or ought to be, I nevertheless have ended up where I need to be. I look back at that closing scene and I realize that what I had accomplished was establishing a stepping stone to something greater. What I achieved was realizing that I needed to be here to appreciate what I have moving forward.

I look at that closing scene, and all the scenes leading to it, and realize that my time here in Provo was for two reasons only - to get a degree, and to learn to love my family. All my life I had figured my main purpose was to get married and raise a family, and that the degree was simply meant to support that family. But my time here has taught me differently, it has taught me that my degree is meant for me to do good, and that my family is there to be my support.

When Amanda handed me Lily in that final scene my heart was filled with joy, joy so inexplicable that only those who have experienced it understand. Lily has been the capstone to my learning here in Provo, and it has given me more reason to look forward to the future than anything other thing in my life. She has brought a happiness to my world that I didn't even know existed. Her existence has made my relationships with all my family even sweeter. And now that she has arrived, I know that I am ready to go face the world with my family ever there to have my back, regardless of whether I stay or go.

And that is a real moment of growth, that moment when you realize that come hell or high water, everything will be alright. That moment is where true growth occurs, when you realize you are not alone, that you are not ever alone, and that hell has not the fury you supposed. These moments of growth teach you to enjoy life, to love what you have, and to never let go.

Then, one day, when the innocuous events of life occur and you find yourself wandering into a library to scan some trivial documents, you will realize that, indeed, hell hath come; and it was not very frightening after all.