Death Cab Concert

After my overnight jaunt north to Grand Teton National Park, I cruised back to UT to meet Javier, Carlos, and Stephanie for the Death Cab for Cutie concert. We also ran into random other friends and acquaintances while waiting in line, which was refreshing because as we were waiting in line, Javier and I were commenting that we were, by far, the most ancient people there and feeling a little out of place, so it was nice to see some other familiar faces, not that it really was a problem, but y'know.

Well, after a two-hour delay (one band canceled and there were apparently other delays), they let us in. After warning us we could not bring in chairs, cameras, or outside food, everyone filed through the lax security with our chairs, cameras, and outside food.



We joined the crowd in front of the stage to hear Tegan and Sarah, who I wasn't familiar with but really enjoyed. In fact, I think they were the highlight of the concert for me. Sorry, Death Cab. They were cuter than you and more engaging/personable.





But after Death Cab started, and the crowd pushed robotically forward like starving livestock to the trough, I decided I'd had enough of molesting and being molested by strangers and losing my hearing beat by beat and receded behind the crowd. I sat for a while then ran into some acquaintances and visited with Death Cab playing in the background.



After the concert, we had half-priced appetizers at Applebee's and went to my place to finish watching part 3 of "The Tin Man," an awful Sci-Fi Channel miniseries that was nevertheless entertaining mostly because of Zooey Deschanel, who is totally fun to watch in everything she does, and who I totally plan to ask out if I ever run into her. She's quirky.

So in one day, I took pictures of wildlife in Wyoming, went to a Death Cab concert in UT, and watched a low-budget Sci-Fi Channel miniseries. It was a splendid Memorial Day.

Jackson Jaunt

Because my Memorial Day weekend trip to Vegas fell through, I was free to join my fam in Jackson, Wyoming briefly. I did some other things on Saturday, and on Sunday, I decided to join the fam just south of Grand Teton Nat'l Park. So Sunday afternoon, I packed up some stuff and headed out on a 5 1/2 hour drive through Wyoming cowboy country.

Along the way, I witnessed two livestock jailbreaks (one of cows, one of sheep), a random pronghorn in a cow field, a large bikers party at someone's house, and some beautiful, beautiful skies.

As I entered Jackson, I realized it reminds me a lot of Park City, but it's more spread out instead of having one or two main streets where all the action is, and Jackson is more "old westish" than Park City, and it's a bit more touristy and less chic. It's more like "cowboy chic", you might say. To each his own.

I arrived just after dinner, just in time to head into the park to grab some last-minute photos before the sun went down. I drove with Ez, Nikki, Tori, and Tyler. We had a good time driving around snapping shots of random animals and sights and chatting. I also learned Jesse McCartney thinks he's a rapper. And I laughed. A lot. Good times.





It had apparently been a bright day.



Elk and pronghorn together.




This next picture was taken right before Zack unleashed his destructive power and ate most of Tyler's arm. At least in Zack's dreams. You can see him holding it inside. He wants to strike, but he knows Mom will be displeased if he eats her grandchildren.




The sunset was great. Brought out all kinds of colors in the clouds and the water.







There was a bit of a storm in the distance, so I had to snap a shot.



Tyler rarely misses and opportunity to practice his destructive abilities. This time, it was the snow's turn to learn who's boss.



More of the fascinating clouds.




After hours, get out of the park! The animals start acting strange and dark...



The next day, the first thing we witnessed after entering the park was a coyote dashing across the road. ...followed closely by one ticked off elk. It was great! We watched the surreal scene unfold across the prairie, as the elk relentlessly harrassed the coyote into the trees on the other side. I figure it served the coyote right, just for being a coyote.



Sandhill crane.



Moose.




Blackbird.



Humans.



Surprisingly empty prairie.



Apparently, this heron and seagull were buds.



And I've not seen all that many pelicans in my day, but this one was comically scrappy-looking. It's that time of year.



After the brief morning tour of the park, I headed out of town to get to a concert in Lehi. There were some places I wanted to stop and take more pictures, but I was on a time crunch, trying to get back in time for a concert, and the thunderstorms also put a damper on the photo ops. But someday, it'd be nice to take my time a little more and get a closer look at the meandering Salt Creek at the southern edge of Bridger National Forest, try some Bear Hug fudge and Gunnar's pizza, and take more pics of the red rock and the yellow rock along the way (the change is surprisingly sudden).

Anyway, I had my reservations about making the trip for such a sort visit, but it was totally worth it to spend some time with the fam and to grab some nice shots of more critters and a sunset. Good weekend.

Reasons To Stay, Or Why I Didn't Kill Myself

Revelation: I've thought about killing myself a time or two. It was in high school and junior high. Definitely not at all recently. I never tried it. I wanted to. There were times I just didn't know what joy life held for me. I didn't want to deal with life anymore. I didn't see any good way out of what I saw as entrapment between a rock and a hard place.

I knew I had a relatively easy life in many ways, and my childhood was genuinely a good one, as far as I could remember. But now I had all these emotions I couldn't figure out. I didn't know how to deal with them. Sadness I didn't know how to cope with. Dilemmas I had no answers for. Anger I couldn't explain. Passions I thought were dark and abhorrent. A body I hated and was intensely ashamed of. I think it's what they call "adolescence".

I'm glad I didn't off myself. I've had some good years since then. Very good years. I hope there are a few to come as well. I'd like to think there are. I've gained a lot of social skills and coping skills. I've made and strengthened some lasting relationships. I've had some beautiful, memorable, and educational experiences. I've learned to savor some of what life has to offer and to bridle what must be bridled without feeling like the passions I'm bridling are terrible monsters. In short, it would have been terribly short-sighted to end things when they were hard, since out of the difficulty has come so much growth that has brought a life richer and more fulfilling and interesting than I foresaw at that time.

So why didn't I do it at the time? I remember thinking about the ways I could do it. Overdose on some over-the-counter drug. Gun in the mouth. Slit wrists. Noose. Tenth story leap. Carbon monoxide poisoning (the most likely candidate). Purposely catch a fatal disease. I thought of what might be most effective, most fool-proof, least painful, hardest to botch, least messy. I wasn't interested in a half-hearted attempt to gain sympathy and attention. If I was going to do it, I wanted it done right, no embarrassing aftermath, explanation, and psychiatric evaluation.

I pictured, in my mind, what my funeral might be like, who might attend, what might be said. I didn't picture many people going. I couldn't figure out what they'd say in eulogy.

Now, I want to clarify that I never actually came close to attempting suicide. I never bought the needed implements or thought about it more than briefly. I was never so "serious" about doing it that I started planning it out. I never really talked about it with anyone. I don't intend to belittle the grief of those who have attempted it or feel it's their only option. I don't want to make it sound like I was on that same ledge or set myself up as having been more distraught than I was in order to prove a point. I'm only saying I know a little of what it feels like to not see any way out of misery other than to leave the circumstances the only way I knew how.

What kept me from looking more seriously for ways to end my misery by falling into what I perceived as a sweet, peaceful darkness?

1) I believed in life after death, and I believed that I would carry my unresolved baggage with me there and would still have to deal with it anyway, making any "relief" only temporary in the grand scheme.

2) I knew that at least one person in my life would likely fall apart if I left her in that way. I simply couldn't serve my own desire to escape at the expense of my mother's happiness. I didn't know if she would ever recover from the trauma.

3) I'm a stubborn cuss, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this, that I didn't have to run away like a scared little boy and that I could take life on and prove that other people and situations weren't going to get the best of me. I believed, deep down, that suicide was a false and cowardly "way out" and that somehow, I was going to prove to myself that nobody, not even life itself, could take away my freedom to control myself now and in the future.

4) It seemed terribly selfish, beyond vindictive, to take the "easy way out" and consequently leave a mess and/or trauma and/or void in others' lives that they would then have to deal with the rest of their lives.

5) I certainly didn't want to be remembered primarily by this one dramatic act. I wanted people to think of me as a person when they remembered me, not always think first of how I killed myself.

6) I was afraid of not doing it right and being left living with scars, brain damage, or social stigmas the rest of my life.

7) Somewhere, deep down, I knew things might get better. Maybe it would take years, and the thought of carrying on like I was for that long disgusted me, but I figured if it was 5 or 15 years of misery followed by 60 years of happiness, maybe it was worth the wait.

8) I realized that if any of my friends committed suicide, I'd be devastated by the loss, hurt by the fact that they wouldn't stick around for me, and worried about their eternal welfare. I didn't want to put them through that on my account, in case they did care.

9) I knew, deep down, there were people, even if only a few, who truly loved me. And though they may be able to recover and move on with their lives, I would possibly be causing each of them more sorrow than I was feeling.

10) I believed suicide to be murder of the self. I saw it as a rejection of God's plan for us, the opportunity to learn from the experiences we have here. I saw it as a defilement of the gift of life we were given. Even if that "gift" seemed like a cruel joke at the time, something inside of me told me something which is reflected in the Doctrine and Covenants of the church, section 121: "thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes." I leaned on the promise that somehow, if I stuck with it, as much as I hated the prospect of doing so, the eternal rewards, the experience and perspective gained and the joy given afterwards, would all be more than worth it in the bigger picture.

11) Maybe, just maybe, even though life sucks right now, I need to be here to help someone else in some way someday, and I would be robbing them of that help if I don't stay.

12) I knew that "I'll show them" didn't make sense. If I intended to make "them" miserable, the approach was flawed because if they were made miserable, that meant they truly did love me, and I would probably realize it one day if I stuck around, and if they didn't love me, then they would be only mildly affected by my passing anyway.

Incidentally, I don't judge those who have already passed on by their own hand as being hellbound. I don't know if their minds were their own at the time they did so. I don't know what stresses and pressure they felt in their life that I have never even begun to deal with. I simply don't know. I don't have to. What's done is done, and they've made their choice, and it's not mine to know what they've done or where they've gone since then.

But for those of us still here, still trying to work it out, let's do what we can to help each other find a reason to love life a little more and to see the bigger picture. Let's foster decisions which will bring happiness and integrity. Let's do what we reasonably can to make sure none among us feels completely abandoned and hopeless. Let's provide an ear and a shoulder without reprimands. Let's intervene and correct when necessary but remember that to do so successfully and personally, we must build a solid foundation of trust and love steadily over time.

Not all of my reasons will apply to all people. My thoughts were fairly rational. As hormonal and moody and depressed as I was at times, my mental faculties were intact. My judgement was not affected by addictions or extreme duress or drugs. I shudder to imagine how much harder my situation might have been, how much more clouded my judgement, had those things been part of my life.

There are myriads of reasons people commit suicide. I haven't even begun to touch on all of them here and probably have not even made a convincing argument, based on my own reasons for scrapping the idea, against suicide, for some readers.

But to those who do feel out of options, who long for the release of endless sleep, and who do have yield over their own minds, I earnestly and passionately hope each finds his or her own reasons to stick around, to push through a little longer and refuse to let circumstance remove their determination to choose life for themselves. There is someone who would feel your loss terribly and traumatically. There is someone you may someday help if you stay. There is so much more to life than what you currently see, and with help, patience, and perhaps after a lot of tears, you'll eventually find it and be ultimately glad and grateful you stayed.

Stories From Seattle

We finally worked it out: a weekend for me to go to Seattle for a few days to take care of my nieces while Erik & Pam go out on a weekend date.


Airport Adventure

My usual plan of parking in economy outside the airport garage was thwarted by an unexpected closure of that section. After finally finding a spot, unloading my two bags, and running to the shuttle stop to barely catch the shuttle, I realized this was just the beginning of the shuttle’s tour. And I forgot to note what section I was parked in. Oh well. I’ve never had a problem before.

I told the security officer ushering passengers into their respective lines that my flight was leaving in 10 minutes, and she muttered something friendly about seeing what we could do, made a token movement towards her fellow TSA officer at the front of the line, and then lost the thought and went right back to sorting the arriving passengers into their appropriate lines. She was fulfilling an essential role, and the airport would certainly fall into chaos and mayhem if she distracted herself with my trivial time problem. I was, fortunately, waved through the security line by some very helpful, jovial women who appealed to the nicety of the others in line who, in turn, begrudgingly forced compliant smiles as they waved me on.

I arrived at the security checkpoint and swiftly removed as much as decency laws allow, hoping to ensure a smooth passage through the metal detectors. “Bag check! Bag check!” Somebody’s bag was apparently in need of a thorough manhandling. Nobody responded. The TSA officer had to stop scanning bags to do it himself. My flight was scheduled to leave in two minutes.

I was welcomed over to the other line by another polite lady, and I was through and running as soon as I had my shoes back on, my laptop tucked away, and my bag of liquids re-packed. As I arrived at the gate, I saw my plane out the window. “Sorry, they closed the doors three minutes ago,” the lady behind the counter informed me, surely with a touch of satisfaction. Drat. OK, I sat down and played Lemmings on my laptop, waiting for the next flight out in 50 minutes, which actually only arrived 25 minutes later because it was a direct flight. Not a bad deal. I should try this running-up-to-the-gate-at-the-last-minute-to-barely-miss-my-flight thing more often when the direct flights cost more. No. Bad.


Getting to Seattle

Twenty minutes later, Clint walked up and sat down next to me. I thought he had already left Utah to go back to Seattle, so that was a pleasant surprise. We chatted in the airport and on the plane, and I headed off to meet Zeke for lunch in Bellevue after our arrival at Sea-Tac. Lunch was good. I have yet to find Thai food in Utah that can rival Seattle’s random hole-in-the-wall places. And I had forgotten how engaging our conversations can be. We packed a lot of talk into a brief lunch.


Nannying Begins

An hour and a half later, Erik and Pam were on their way to their weekend date, and I was rushing Kayla and Elleny off to pick up Julia from her friend’s birthday party, and her friend’s dad answered the door with his shirt on backwards (it was a backwards party) and asked if we were staying or picking up. Upon informing him we were there to haul her away, he said we might have to drag her ‘cause the party was going for another hour. Great. Fifteen minutes on the job, and I’m already the incompetent uncle botching things up. Kayla borrowed a swimming suit and stayed to play on the huge inflatable water slide castle while Elleny and I went to rent a couple of movies for the weekend.

Back at the house, while I cooked spaghetti, Kayla worked on her Zoo Tycoon zoo and Julia and Elleny jumped on the trampoline. We ate dinner and watched Underdog, which wasn’t as horrifically bad as I had expected (but was definitely a one-timer), and while the movie finished, I attempted to make chocolate chip cookies using their sometimes-semi-functional oven. They turned brown fast and cooked unevenly (the bottom burner is out), but with the little extra butter I threw in, they were perfect doughy/crispy cookies to eat with vanilla ice cream. So that’s exactly what we did, with a dollop of cookie dough in each bowl. Yum.


No, That's Not Jam

Then Kayla needed something to drink. Little did I know this was about to become a kid-sitter’s nightmare. I offered to grab her some water, but she wanted milk and said she’d get it. Normally, this would be fine. She’s perfectly capable of getting her own milk. But it’s funny how a seemingly small thing like an unfortunately located jar of strawberry jam can make a long night out of an otherwise mundane task such as removing a milk carton from the fridge.

When I heard the crash, I knew it was not a happy sound. I looked over, and there was a large, broken jar of strawberry jam on the floor right next to her foot. I told her not to move as she started to say “ow” repeatedly. I jumped over and told her to sit down onto my arms, and I carried her over to the chair at the table. Jam was dripping from her foot as I carried her. When it just kept dripping, even flowing, I told her to sit tight while I grabbed my phone and looked for a towel. As she looked down at her messy, red foot, she asked in a tone that indicated she probably knew the answer but didn’t want to hear it, “is that jam?” Now, a more comfortingly deceptive person (AKA wise parent) might have just not said anything or said something like, “Don’t worry, it will be OK,” but having never seen quite such a gash in person before, perhaps I was in blunt “efficiency” mode and just blurted, “No, it’s not.” I added something like, “But we’ll take care of it. We’ll get some help.” I called the parents to ask where the nearest hospital was, and they said to call 911 and have her taken to a nearby medical center.

As I dialed 911, I realized my search for a clean towel in the kitchen was a bust, and meanwhile, a truly impressive pool of blood was forming under her foot, increasing her concern. I grabbed a purple hand towel from the bathroom (I figured a color which wouldn’t show how much blood was seeping through might be a good idea to minimize any alarm on her part…or mine, for that matter). The person on the phone recommended putting a dry towel on the wound and applying pressure, an idea I didn’t relish especially because of the possibility that there may be glass still in the wound, but I wasn’t about to go poking around in it to find out, and we did need to stop the bleeding, so apply pressure I did as gently as I could while still having an effect.

Now, this is one of those nuanced little parental experiences. How do you hold pressure on the gushing wound of a ten-year-old while her 7-year-old sister is increasingly upset and alarmed by the whole scene, and the 4-year-old looks at the blood, politely informs you she’s eaten all the cookie and ice cream she wants for tonight, and backs away gingerly? I kept my attention on the injured patient first and foremost to try to help keep her as calm as possible without seeming insensitive and unconcerned by trying to make her laugh. Delicate balance. Tough stuff. Kudos, parents, for mastering this sort of thing.

As we waited, Julia was very helpful as she calmed down enough to help me by putting Dusty in his kennel and taking down the gate to the dining room, which she did just as help arrived. I was relieved when a neighbor showed up with motherly instincts and support, along with the medics with their calm approach and jovial attitudes. Who cares if they’re insensitive, right? They were great, too. Even made balloons out of their rubber gloves. I don't know whether it was cute or slightly freaky, but it was entertaining and distracting.

When we unwrapped the wound, the bleeding had stopped. I noticed my fingers were lightly stained. Apparently, the blood had soaked through several layers of towel. I was glad I’d chosen the purple one which had disguised that fact. With the bleeding abated, I could see the wound fairly clearly now, jagged and sunken in.

With competent medics attending to the wound and Kayla calmed down a little, I went to see Julia and Elleny. Elleny was doing better, but Julia was quite upset. I tried to comfort her a bit before going back to make sure Kayla didn’t feel abandoned with a bunch of strange men. Patti, the neighbor, was a GREAT help, too, as was her daughter, Kayla’s friend. I think Kayla and I were both quite happy to have them there.

Long story short, Elleny decided to finish her cookie and ice cream after all, Julia played with her friend and calmed down, and Kayla got a blessing from me and a neighbor before loading into Patti’s van to go to the hospital to meet her parents. They all came home at about 2:45 am. Erik and Pam had left their luggage at the hotel. I find it comical that they rented a room to give their luggage a lovely place to spend the night. It still makes me laugh. But they got their credits back, so there’ll be another weekend. Kayla now has 9 stitches and is getting around quite effectively on crutches. Poor kid. She was such a trooper through the whole ordeal.


The Post-Trauma Weekend

Saturday, I went yard-saling (we went in shifts because poor Kayla wasn't in any condition to be up and about yet), and I didn't find a tent or a Nintendo 64 (just to play Mario Kart 64 – SO fun), but I was quite happy to bring back my $0.50 treasure for the day: 4 lawn darts. I went to work out at my old gym and found that my membership was somehow still active (free corporate membership from my job there). We hung around the house and had a good, laid-back day. Erik and Pam went out that night again, and this second evening was much less exciting, thank goodness. The girls had eaten dinner at a friend's house. I ate leftover spaghetti, which I had also had for brunch. Good thing I've always loved spaghetti.

Sunday, we went to church and played around the house and ate dinner. I also made more cookies, this time using the pizza stone, at Pam's suggestion. The cookies came out brown and crispy on the top and almost entirely uncooked in the middle bottom. I flipped one over, and it looked like the underside of a mushroom. I decided to fold them in half, so the goo was trapped between the two crispy halfs of the top. Cookie tacos. Delightful. Pam suggested putting caramel or something in the middle, but there was no caramel to use, so I sprinkled the gooey undersides with cinnamon and nutmeg before folding them up. Loved it. I'd do that again.

That evening, I was off to meet up with the old gang: Stacey, Matt, Stephanie, Joe, Colton, Jenny. We talked about doing a potluck, playing an outdoor game, playing board games, watching a movie…we ended up chatting and catching up for 4 hours and sharing pie and cookies and music. Joe kept trying to convert us all to adoration of Dolly Parton, but we would have none of it. He insisted we were missing out. I'm sure he's right. Matt and Stephanie turned me on to a few bands, including Muse, Lily Allen (yes, Kim, I know you've told me about her before *grin*), and The Boy Least Likely To, mainly because of "Be Gentle With Me", because of the chipper phrase, "I'm happy because I'm stupid." I tried to turn them on to Beady Belle, Mardi Gras B.B., Sia, and Jesca Hoop, but I think only Jesca Hoop stuck. Jenny told us all about Colton's new temp job and his boss who seems to have adopted him. Stacey shared some fun teacher stories and reminded me of her eerie ability to remember dates. It was a great evening. Loved it. I kicked myself for not getting pictures. I always forget because I’m just too busy enjoying everyone’s company. Oh well.


A Few of My Favorite Things

Monday, I worked out again at the Gold's in Redmond, possibly the best Gold's I've seen, then drove through some of my favorite areas, including crossing the 520 bridge over Lake Washington, into the U-district, and meandering up Ravenna Blvd. I forgot how charming and beautiful the Seattle area is. I did, of course, stop in at the U-Village to grab some amazing chocolates at my favorite chocolatier: Fran's.



I met Justin downtown for lunch and bumming around Seattle. We ate at The Salmon Cooker, had dessert at Procopio (I had pineapple-basil and kiwi gelato), and sampled and purchased far too much cheese at Beecher’s, and then finished off the Pike Place tour by buying my favorite lingonberry-mint balsamic vinegar and some lemon garlic and orange olive oil at Sotto Voce. That evening, I did dinner and FHE with the fam and headed back to Bellevue for a last hurrah of banter with Clint and Justin (and, at the end, Mark) at the Cheesecake Factory (avocado eggrolls and vanilla bean cheesecake...yummmm...).


Side Note

One of these days, I'll learn to remember the little quips and hilarious stories my friends and family share, so I can share them in turn. But for now, I'll just say that I really enjoy the comedy of daily life sometimes. And between my quirky family, the things the kids say and do, and the stories my friends tell, these trips to Seattle always provide plenty of opportunity for laughter and uplifting reflection.


Forty-five Minutes Wandering Economy

Tuesday morning, I flew back to Salt Lake in time to get back to work just an hour and a half later than my usual shift. Or, thus it would have been had I written down the location of my car in the economy lot. Funny how far you can run without realizing it when you’re hurrying to catch your plane. Mental note: write down the parking section next time.

The Enigmatic INTP Psyche, Part 2

For an explanation of this series, see Part 1.


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The INTP has a whole set of skills which he knows that he would be proficient at, yet other people may know little of this. He is satisfied with the knowledge that he has these skills but often sees no requirement to demonstrate this to others.

Yeah, this is probably true. I always had to prove things to myself and didn't care much whether I could prove it to other people. Most of the time, at least.


INTP's put great weight on being individuals and essentially different from other people, who they often view as being too alike and too interdependent.

I used to be more this way. I appreciate the need for a little interdependence now more than I used to. I still think people are way too mindlessly sheep-like in their tastes and opinions, though. And I suppose this all ties into the fact that I actually kind of enjoy being a bit of an anomaly. ...in many ways. I like to be the "weird" one in a society. Go fig.


The opinions of others are rarely given much weight in themselves. All opinions must get filtered through an analysis procedure to test for viability. No title or claim of being an "expert" carries any weight with an INTP.

I don't know if it carries NO weight. It just doesn't negate the need for analysis. Why don't more people realize this? Ideas should stand on their own. Of course, there's always the issue of other people having perspectives I don't, so that's where the trust and respect for generally-sound opinions comes in. Sometimes, I just have to shrug and say, "I don't know everything, and I can't disprove it, so I'll file it away as something to consider."


Independence, derived primarily from strongly introverted Thinking, leads to perhaps the most difficult aspect (for others) of the INTP, namely stubbornness.

I am NOT!


If an INTP is pushed into doing something he will automatically resist. The reason for the resistance is simply that any action must first be filtered by the introverted thinking, guided by the extroverted intuition. He must be given the chance to reach an independent decision, approving or rejecting the action. Hence, he must withdraw to allow the analysis process to work. If withdrawal is not allowed then stubborn resistance is the inevitable result.

Um...yeah, OK. Seriously. Do NOT press me. It yields few...nay, NO results. You're gonna have to back off before I'll make the call. That's why pressure tactics do not work on me. I typically just shrug and walk away when someone tries to put the pressure on.


However, others may not always find the INTP excessively stubborn, since the decision-making process can sometimes be rapidly accelerated when intuition takes the upper hand. The best way to get an INTP to do something is to suggest the idea as an option and let him sleep on it. Ultimately, the INTP must always believe that it is his decision. Once he is satisfied that the decision was independently reached, then he is content.

Duh.