Sunday, March 30, 2008

Provoking

"If love is a game, why should I be worried about being a player?"

I understand that one word titles are a good way to go now a days, so I decided to not worry much about the title of this one, and leave it to one word. Does that make me lazy? I probably should not have started with the saying that I did, but it goes well with the title, don't you think? Do you agree with the phrase?

Today, like other Sundays, I was blessed to be in good company with many friends. I was in a choir function type thingy, with plenty of good times to go around for all. The very foundation or reason for choirs necessitates that there be an almost equal number of male and female counterparts, which means that I was blessed with an array of wonderful women. I'm not exactly sure why it is that the choir that I'm in should be blessed with girls who are not only talented but also beautiful, but such is the case. At times like these (as in, on a daily basis) I'm caused to reflect on the various emotions that go screaming through my heart at the speed an emoted electron. Do electrons have emotions? I guess that it's unimportant whether they do or not (I'm guessing most people think no), especially considering that for the current blog, I'm not really interested in electrons, but in the odd workings of my own sometime oversized sometime undersized heart. Yes.

There is a reason why I mentioned the lovely display that almost daily is mine to behold in choir because it gives me the perfect staging area for a thought that I'm going to express. Women and men are different in only a few things, I've heard (though more and more I've been able to note the differences in a much easier way), and those differences cause distinct actions or chemical reactions. It's never chemical actions, it's always chemical reactions (which might explain why certain circumstances have the affects that they do). I've decided that, at least for me, there is something about the chemicals in my body that greatly affect the way I act, especially when it comes to the opposite gender.

I'm enchanted by the women that surround me. Divinity's sense of beauty is nowhere displayed as plainly and evidently as in woman. Only a God could conceive of a creature whose eyes could make your heart stand on end, ready to jump out at any moment and collapse in a heap as an offering to beauty; whose smile is like a drop of sunlight that clears away all the darkness of the soul; who with a tender word can remove all fear and doubt. How could someone's hair evoke images of pureness and herald angels?

What can I say? I'm smitten.

So, here's the odd thing: at various times in my life I have honestly been able to see and appreciate the beauty of women, but at the same time been completely uninterested in knowing any of them any better than I already did. That's not the best way of putting it, let me try a different approach, that also does not really capture the emotion, but will help: I was uninterested in having any sort of deep relationship with any of them. Odd? Yes, I think so; one assumes that closeness is always longed for.

I was explaining this today during my time with the choir, and most people didn't really get the point. It might have been because I first termed this oddity "my periods of sexlessness" (basically, that I had no real sex because I had no real want for emotional attachment. It made sense in my mind, I promise) and later on (as a near suggestion from one of my male friends of the choir) "the male menstrual cycle." Provocative to say, I know, but really I was just trying to come up with a way that was easier for women to compare with. It didn't work. Mostly they (the women of the choir whom I told) were just shocked, and didn't really get the idea at all.

Have you ever got fed up with the members of the opposite gender? Even to the point of a near murder of any true interest in any of their party? I'm sure that both groups have fallen prey to this malicious intruder, and so I hope that the girls who will no doubtably read this will forgive me for saying that such has been the case with me. Not now, necessarily, but it has been the case that I lose interest in any sort of showing of interest at all in the opposite gender. I've ranted before about my particular misgivings about the whole system, so I won't subject any reader who hasn't abandoned me by now to those memories. But the fact remains that a seeming chemical reaction has been produced to kill all real killer instinct, in the relationshipal sense. For me this has lasted up to a year, so something tells me that it's not just a mood swing.

I probably have already devoted to much time to this particular subject, so I will leave it at this: be kind to the opposite gender if they're a little slow to pick up on things. Maybe, just maybe, their chemicals all got together and decided to reject the system altogether, and the person is just trying to work out this odd hormonal imbalance.

This is one of the worst blogs I've ever written. How embarrassing.

Oh, the tangled webs we weave.

Monday, March 24, 2008

A Rant

This is the second blog I've written today, so please make sure to read both blogs, because both took very little time but were enjoyable to think up and write. So here it is: A Rant. This poem is actually titled "If"

If:

If, when I saw you,
I smiled and said hello;
Taking the time to call your name
To give you five minutes of fame.

If, when I saw you,
I said that it was nice
To see you one more time
So your jokes I could mime

If, when I saw you,
I asked you on a date
To go and do something fun
Perhaps to play out in the sun

If, when I saw you,
I was honest with my words
As I said that you were a good friend
The type that only God does send

Would you think that I loved you,
In any way more than just friends,
Because to you I’d always been true,
Like most everyone ought to be?

Would you pull me into a corner?
Would you ask if I cared?
Would you ask where we were going,
Even if you barely dared?

And what if I were to tell you
Even with my inner grief
That I do not make choices that fast
Then I’d heave a sigh of relief

I do not think I’ll be married
Anytime soon, you see
Every time I go on two dates or three
I must turn tail and flee

For it seems that my greatest sorrow
Can be summed up in this rhyme
When it comes to truly knowing me
Most girls haven’t the time.


This poem was inspired by thoughts that have been floating around in my head lately. It appears that there is an anomaly in Utah culture, or perhaps I should say Utah Mormon culture. I don’t think Mormon culture is a bad thing, per se, but there are extremes to be found left and right, and the one part of this culture that I wish to discuss this evening happens to be running around rampant for all parts of the state, and most especially (it seems) among the types of girls that I come in contact with. Maybe the guys too, maybe even I have this extremity as part of my psyche, but I hope not.

There is a “I’ll be getting married first/soon,” type mentality that is driving bonkers. I gave it this name, but basically it’s the idea that marriage must of a force come as the very first priority in any situation, and with any type of friend. I admit, shamefully, that at moments of weakness I have found myself a victim to this ideology. The idea that every relationship must be weighed by it’s potential to provide a soul mate. Too bad, really, that such should be the case. We cancel ourselves out of some really wonderful experiences by not allowing the moment to grow.

I’d like to share an example of closing off options. I don’t mean to say that this is always a bad thing, sometimes the options that are at hand feel awfully good (that’s so good it’s awful) so being closed is not a bad thing at all, and sometimes you wish the option had never been opened in the first place, in which case it’s usually okay to close it up. But, having said that, too often I (and I like to think I’m not the only one – it makes my silliness more bearable and less dagger like) fall prey to the “Okay, been on one date (or two, three, even up to five), now I know that person!” And then I think “well, I don’t know if I’m really a match for that person, on to the next one!” and I don’t even give it time to see what’s up. Sure I have a good time, but ask on a second (or third or fourth as the case may be)? Please, I already know them. I’ve been on one date, right? I had a serious conversation, right? I asked how many kids they wanted to have, what more could I need to know? (I’ve never actually asked that on a date, seems like it’d be a pretty creepy question to ask. Especially because mostly I’ve been on first dates)

I hope the point I’m getting across is slightly clear. My first point is that it takes more than a couple of dates to get to know someone. I say this as much for my benefit as for anyone. On a personal note, it’s really weird to deal with someone telling you that you’re not a match for them after two dates. I understand that this is not normal, but it makes me wonder if I’m really missing out on that much by not asking people on more second dates.

Another crazy thing that happens with this whole “Marriage First, Fun Later” mentality is that otherwise confident guys are driven into the paintwork, because they suddenly worry that just by asking a girl out she’ll think he’s smitten with her, that he loves her, and that just like the princes of fairy tales (and therefore Fake, Fake, FAKE!) he’ll swoop down and carry her off, and in three months they’ll be kneeling across an alter. I understand that girls are carried away in swoons of fantasy, and that this is all well and good, but please let the guy figure out how he feels before asking him to determine what sort of relationship you’re in. Most people that I know take some time to really understand how they feel, and one date is not enough time to really explore how much they like someone. Second dates are rarely enough time, as well. It may be asking a lot, but please, PLEASE! Forget the girl and get a life! Okay, I was joking, I actually wanted to talk to the girls. Don’t force guys into deciding what they feel before they really do. It takes patience, I’m sure, but let him figure the situation out. It’s better that way, anyway, because then you can see if you really like him.

Which leads me to my last complaint of the evening, or rant, or whatever you want to call it, which is directed only to girls, because at the moment I feel like ranting at your gender in particular. I hope that you have the sense to give yourself enough time to understand how you really feel about the situation before you close yourself off to anything. Someone told me that this is the time for correct decision making, and I whole heartedly agree. Take the time, and realize that going on dates does not always equal marriage, nor does it even always mean ‘set apartedness.’ Give yourself some room, give the guy room. Please, don’t try to force the speed of anything. If it’s supposed to be quick, it’ll happen quickly, I’m sure of that.

Coming from a guy who’s not afraid to admit it, if you don’t, you’re going to scare the willies out of the guy. Either that, or the guy won’t have the guts to say slow down (once again, to my shame I’ve been there), and the end won’t be very fun.

Did that make any sense at all? If not, I’m sorry, but it felt so good to write it, that I won’t be taking it back. So there.

To rant, to sing, perchance to dream.

Language Police

The nice thing about this blog is that the only person who really has to feel bad if there is nothing here is me. Isn’t that nice, you can enjoy this nice, empty space that’s right here guilt free! It would be wonderful if all of life were that way, but it seems to be an acute irony that the moments that are unfilled we must feel some guilt attached to it. Not only do we have the pain of emptiness, but we feel bad about having that emptiness altogether. A double dose of pain. It’s an interesting state of affairs.

That last paragraph made no sense, and certainly had no relevance to the short blog that I intend to write this evening, being Sunday, but will most likely not be posted until tomorrow evening, Monday. So it is that I begin this entry, yet another example of why it’s not good to spend too much time thinking. Almost anything can be humorous if you think about it long enough, or analyze anything enough.

For example, have you ever considered what would happen if the reactions we have to certain situations were literal? I mean, if what we say when most we’re surprised were taken literally, it could account for hours upon hours of amusement. Let’s say one of you sneak up on me, and catch me in one of my less guarded moments, the moments when I happen not to be taking great care of what issues out of my mouth. There is a wide variety of things I might say, some more vulgar or provocative then others, but for the sake of the blog, let us consider that I say something that for me is borderline expletive.

“Holey Crap!” might be the term used in this case (I honestly hope it wouldn’t, I’ve been trying to exterminate all those sorts of phrases from my own usage of vocabulage, but once and awhile this one does escape me.)

Now, apart from the humor of seeing me frightened, this particular phrase can be interesting if taken literally. Stop for a moment and think. By uttering this phrase, what am I suggesting? Am I suggesting that the fright was so great as to ensure the excretion of excrements (can I say that?)? Am I exclaiming at a rather remarkable sight? What would move me so as to exclaim something that seems completely unnecessary and inappropriate for the situation? What kind of an image do those words evoke? Obviously they’re meant to create more an emotion than an image (if you wish, go ahead and ponder on what my exclamation would look like if it were an explanatory clause describing an image), but those words seem to me to evoke more of a feeling of mild disgust than that of fright. Perhaps, if I were more literate, I would say something more along the lines of “Oh my beating heart!” Perhaps I might say “my jumping soul!” Or, if I was really feeling ambitious, I could say something a little longer, like “My heart pounds as if to leave my chest, my blood runs hot through all my veins. Oh fear, I know your name.” Though, honestly, you’d probably look at me pretty strangely if that were my reaction to being frightened.

The same curiosity holds true when you think of the uses of different adjectives and adverbs. The most unusual are expletives and mock expletives. Have you ever tried to explain in a different language what “dang” means? Telling someone that the tool you are using is only a little bit better than on the highway to hell doesn’t have quite the same affect as you might wish. Because the literal translations lose a little bit of the feeling in the language jump, it becomes difficult to come up with a proper replacement. For instance, in Spanish there’s a word that’s really quite offensive, but the literal translation for it is “guy,” or “gal,” respectively. When I get really mad, all I have to do to keep myself honest is look at someone and say: “You are such a guy!” Whereupon they look at me with an odd look, and then put me in a straight jacket. It would be really offensive in Spanish, but because the actual word is so silly, it means nothing once you change it.

Now, if you think about the various expletives used in modern society, it’s a lot of fun to think of the literal meaning of some of our more vocabulary challenged friends. When a four letter word is used every other word, it can make for a really interesting image. Try it sometime.

I personally think there should be a language police. When someone says something that is completely out of place (such as my holey excrement statement) there should be someone there to blow a whistle. “Foul! Flagrant misuse of an adjective!” It might make my life more interesting, but at least I wouldn’t worry as much about our slow revolution to the cave man setting of emoting through grunts. We would probably be more volatile, though, considering our history with music, and our grunts might even take on new levels as we bang our heads up and down, and then onto something, and then we would be unconscious.

I think the idea of language referees would be especially fun in relationships. Communication is hard enough in this world of wild and crazy people, and it might just help us all be better if we settled into using words that actually exist and can be used in a proper way. “Foul, exaggeration!” “Five minutes time out for flagrant use of cliché!” You might even have some really interesting calls: “Five point deduction for incapacity to form a complete sentence!”

You would be surprised the misuse that our language receives. These things should be taken care of. So, next time you hear an exclamation, don’t just think of the feeling, think of the meaning of the words use, and please don’t copy everyone else in their sillitude.

“Foul! Word invention!”

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Lovely Day

There are at least three possible subjects for this blog, all of which would be equally interesting and entertaining, depending on what type of entertainment you seek. If you seek humor, I could speak of a gaping hole in my back (I am officially holey) which I would use as a parody on my own life, and how most of it is complete, with the few exceptions that are like open wounds. It would be funny, I assure you. Is it weird that my parents are more concerned about a flaming sore than I am? Or I could talk about spring break, adventures taken in surfing, dating, and nintendo playing. I admit the last took much more time that I anticipated or was healthy for me, and I am now penitent. Partly because of the massive amounts of homework that face me. I could write about the joy of childhood, and how I never really got past the age of eight or nine in my mind. My body is pretty big by now, but it's not a good match with my childlike brain. What can I say? Flying cubes fascinate me, and make me feel like a little kid in a toy store.

But, no, as fun as all of those might be, I've been very thoughtful lately. As is a common event with the deeper emotions of any soul, these things should not be understood by anyone unless that person is willing to understand them. Not be understood unless willing to understand? Does that sound silly to anyone else? Anyway, the point is that I like sharing what I'm feeling, but sometime I have to share them in such a way that in order to grasp the true meaning of what I'm saying you either have to know me or be willing to put a little effort into understanding my twisted brain.

The best way to say a lot while actually saying very little is through poetry. I like poetry, though judging by the comments left by people it would seem that, of the entries allready found in this blog, the poetry is the least popular. However, I'm not writing this for you, I'm writing it for me! So there! I'm going to post my poetry, and there's nothing you can do about it!

I guess you could stop reading. I've heard that literature unread is a dead thing, but it's living in me, so I'm not too worried. I hope you enjoy this poem.


My Own Road

The road behind is well worn.
Ages of men walking there
Have broken down all the thorns,
Giving the path signs of wear.

Since the beginning I’ve had
A map, a plan, a set way;
Through all the hard and the bad,
Friends who lead with what they say.

But here the marked path ends
Atop a small hill that brings to sight
A gorgeous surrounding, beauty all around,
Until the view is blocked by a massive mountain.

The way to go is up, this much I know.
There, where others have gone,
Taking roads that were all their own, unique;
And now I stand on the hill, deciding my own path.

To my left a valley small
Of a golden field that glows
With sweet grass that to me calls
To play, and my travels slow.

To the right a shaded dale,
With a pond of clearest blue;
Where sun twinkling cannot fail
To capture your gaze, it’s true.

Between the left and the right
Endless choices may be seen;
Some are beautiful to sight,
Others present country lean.

I may be standing here
For awhile, the way I want to take is unsure.
I’ll choose eventually what for me will shine
As the best, because you see;
The road I choose will only be mine.


Because I wrote this poem, I naturally like it. There were a couple of stanzas that suprised me with their imagery and how close they came to the reality of the situation, but, then again, you might not know what the reality is, and I don't want to make things too easy for you.

Ah, but life is lovely, isn't it?

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Homework Sonnet

It just so happens that in my Spanish class we are currently studying various works done by dead spanish poets. That being, said, one of the structures that most facinates me is that of the Spanish sonnet. I recently had a humorous conversation with a friend that made me want to write a poem about the subject discussed. So it is that I present the "Homework Sonnet." I confess that it did not work out the way that I was expecting, but you can be the judge of its comparable worth, or lack thereof.

Homework Sonnet

Today’s homework fell in love with a beautiful lady.
He laughed with happiness as he went along with her.
He left with what I’d written, and now I’m not sure
What I was thinking, he took my thoughts with acts shady.

Homework is happy to be with her, and I understand.
Anyone would be glad to be with someone so beautiful,
Smart, funny, loving, happy; a person so dutiful,
Who could fill someone’s life with just a brush of a hand.

My teachers say I should spend more time, more effort thinking
About my homework, so I their demands may satiate,
Saying all of this work a good life to me is linking.

Even though all should combine against me in this debate
My heart cannot yield to their cry, from this it is banned;
The truth is that more than despise it, my homework I hate.

Thank you.

I apologize for the lack of writing in the past days. You would be suprised the stress that is introduced into one's life by having three tests on nearly the same day.

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Truth and Masks

I have a continuation here! A continuation of a previous blog, titled "snighted." I finally have come to a conclusion as to one of the reasons I felt the way I did, and why I felt snitty and gritty. With a little bit of sauce thrown in on the side. Most likely those of you already familiar with this blog will have guessed the subject of my discontent, but let's wait a little bit before discuss that particular idea. I'm going to do something that, for the most part, I have not done in this blog. I want to explain something that the scriptures taught me.

I'm an avid believer in things that I can't see. I believe in lots of things, things that are true, things that are important, things that are trivial, things that are beautiful, things that are mediocre, and things that are just my own fantasy making me want to believe. Most of the time the things that I believe that don't make my life more wonderful come with a lurking suspicion that they aren't really true. I don't know if you can really say having an insurmountable doubt can be coherent with belief, but after all, if it's not true, then it's not really faith, is it?

One thing that I believe without having doubt is that the book called "The Book of Mormon" is an inspired work. It comes straight from God, and it's a divine thing. Most everyone who reads this blog probably already knows where I stand on the issue, but I rarely describe why. I believe in this book implicitly for a couple of reasons. If you wish to speak logically, I could talk about the amazing accuracy it has at keeping track of all the tiny details that most of the time go astray in contemporary writing. The little things like names, places, time frames. The Book of Mormon has about three different stories going on at nearly if not exactly the same time at different parts of the book, and keeping track of all those different details seems to me to be a pretty difficult task for anyone that didn't have divine help. I know I couldn't. The Book of Mormon is also historically accurate as far as science has determined. Logically, it would make sense that it's true then, it makes matters simpler on that face.

However, the true basis of my belief has a lot more to do with personal experience with the book. First off, every time that I read it, I get a happy feeling, a peaceful assurance that life really is good. I love happiness and feeling like things will work out, so anything that helps me to feel that is naturally attractive. That's true for just about everything, even girls. If they make me happy, I like them. Weird, I know. Digressions apart, no matter what I read in The Book of Mormon, it makes me happy, it makes me actually relax and feel at peace. That constant comfort is one reason that I know that the book is good. The second reason is that the Book of Mormon opens my mind. Before I explain this point, I just have to say the third reason that I know The Book of Mormon is true is that God told me so, through the Spirit. I know it's true.

The Book of Mormon opens my mind in ways that are hard to explain. It feels like most of the time that I wade through a mental bog, where nothing is really clear. When I pay attention to what I read in The Book of Mormon, though, the bog is gone and the world is like a clear morning right before the sun comes out, when everything is beautiful and new. Every day can be a wonderful renewal, and reading that book clears the congestion away from my head. It's my key to the door of understanding, and I'm not talking about just spiritual matters. I was blessed to learn something about relationships, and what girls want, and it came on the tail of a thought that I had while I was reading The Book of Mormon. That book is celestial.

I've taken the time to say because I needed to say it. I learned something today while I was reading. During a soliloquy by one of the prophets of The Book of Mormon, Nephi, it says "Do not slacken my strength because of mine adversities." Problems, or adversities, come in many varieties, and often mine are the mental type that I create on my own. I've noticed, though, that these problems are my excuse for being weak. When I have problems, I have the tendency to excuse my weakness because it's just a little harder. Things that normally I would do with a smile become dreary and hard, just because of something else that might be going on. Understanding that such a reaction is a common thing, even for a prophet, gives me courage to not do so in the future, and to try hard not to fall prey to that.

And now I come in a full circle to explain my snittiness, what has been on my mind and has become a subject of consideration. And yes, I'm afraid that it does come from my varied experiences in the dating or not dating scene.

People wear different masks, of that I'm completely aware, seeing as I do it myself. Maybe it would be easier if every time we changed our attitude we had a physical mask that we could put on to reflect that change. It would be pretty cool, because I would have some wicked masks. Maybe something simple sometimes, a plain wood deal. Perhaps other masks would be more exotic, with feathers, or buttons, or maybe musical instruments. Maybe some wouldn't have a mouth, or eyes, or one would cover ears (that one would be fun in some circumstances, though maybe not very nice). There would be the interested mask, the uninterested mask, and things would be very easy to discern.

What frustrates me is when there is a change of masks that makes no sense. I'm thinking of specific instances, so please don't assume I'm talking about you, unless I actually am talking about you. If you're a guy, rest assured that I'm not talking about you, but I think if you are a guy you will agree with me. Imagine this: you go on a date with a girl that you're kind of interested in, and you have an enjoyable time. You think that it's likely she had a good time as well, because all the signs are there. She was smiling as she said goodbye, she hugged you with both arms and for longer than half a second, she laughed during the date and actually talked, and everything seems to be good. Then after the date, you see her in a situation that's pretty common, say you have a class together. She acts like you're just any other guy. No one special at all. Perhaps that's the real indicator of whether or not someone is really interested in you, but it is frustrating to think during the date that maybe your interest is mirrored in the girl, only to find out that it's not at all. Sigh.

In defense of all the girls who have unwittingly fallen into the category of mask changer, I admit that when I go on dates my goal is to make the girl I'm with have as good a time as possible. That's just gentlemanly. I worry now that I've inadvertently given the impression that I like someone when I liked them as a friend and not as a romantic interest, but it's still frustrating to see masks change.

Thanks for reading the whole thing. The first part is most definately more real than the second