Degradation

I believe that one should support his president. Oddly enough, that might make me a hypocrite for what I am about to say. That being said, I continue on in my current train of thought.

I recognize President Obama's amazing story as one that epitomizes the American dream, a man being able to become anything he works towards. The mere fact of his being the first African American president makes him noteworthy, and that accomplishment should stand recorded in history throughout the ages. Having said that, I become increasingly concerned about the world society, and what is being lauded as heroic. As I understood it, the Nobel Peace Prize is something that has stood as a symbol of the heroes that often go unnoticed, ordinary people who have done extraordinary things to further the cause of humanity and peace.

Words, for me, and especially words that have had little time for impact, are nothing if not backed up with the action required to make those ideas become actual results. Awarding President Obama seems to be awarding words, not actions. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. The Nobel Peace Prize committee awarded that illustrious prize to Al Gore in 2007. It was rumored (apparently the nominees are kept secret for fifty years) that at the same time Irena Sendler had been nominated. Al Gore made a movie. Irena Sendler was instrumental in smuggling out or assisting over two thousand Jews to escape the Warsaw ghetto in Nazi occupied Poland. If the Nobel Peace Prize committee truly chose Al Gore over Irena Sendler, it would be a clear message that merely talking about current "popular" issues is a much better thing for humanity than saving thousands of children.

I believe President Obama could do great things in his presidency. I believe that many of his ideas could become very positive policy for America, and greatly influence the world. What I am sad about is that a prize that I saw as something special for heroes who have done great things is becoming a lip service for popular politicians.

Campus with a capital A (for awkward)

The pressing matter of school work is such that this is going to be very short. Yes, blog readers anonymous, I give you only a short entry, because I wanted to say something. Yes, something that has been on my mind. I've decided that, for all of my making fun of them, college campuses really are awkward. I've come to this conclusion because no one, and I mean that in the most general sense meaning that there are a few noted exceptions, of the opposite gender will meet my eyes unless they know me. Even I fall prey to this ugly social norm. Not always, and definitely less than it would seem most people do, but the fact remains, people are afraid to look me in the eye.

I figured it must be that my eyes have boogers in them. I mean, they're embarrassed for me. "Look at that guy. I bet he doesn't even know he's got eye boogers." I'll have to remember to check for that each morning. The other conclusion I came to is that I'm so attractive that girls have heart palpitations whenever they look at me, meaning their not meeting of the eyes is merely a matter of self preservation. Yes, that's right, I'm sexy, look away, quick! It's definitely not because I'm so hideous that I'm simply disgusting to look at. After all, I have been working out lately.

Maybe the reason people are loath to meet eyes is merely because they're terrified what might happen if they do. I'll admit that I believe that all men (and women when I'm being completely honest) have a little bit of the social awkward/creepy person in them. Or something that appears close to it. For instance, I personally have the temptation to say such awkward things like "Hello attractive person" or something like every time I actually do get the rare pleasure of locking eyes with a girl for a brief, heart pounding moment. Maybe, then, people avoid me because they can see the mischievous little guy behind the eyes who enjoys making others feel off balance.

Whatever the cause, go out and enjoy some socially accepted and awkward norms today. Make sure you don't meet anyone's eyes, though. I hear they have police for that sort of thing, and no one wants to be branded as "creepy."

Once Again. . .

Ah, to return once again to the void that is cyber space. To think that the only thing affected (or is it effected? I've never been good with vowels. I much prefer consonants-much more strong and defined) might well be some grand storage unit that will blink for once second to recognize the fact that new little zeros and ones have been stored in such a manner that they may be translated into something as silly and potentially odd as this blog, it makes me giggle. Or maybe the truth is simply that I enjoy laughing at myself, and my own unique, ethnic manner of saying things. I was told that there will be a new term, "Davidic," meaning in the manner of David. The only problem I see with that is that it may well be thought to be in reference to the biblic Davidic, which could lead to some misunderstandings. Especially because people seem to remember David most for his first public triumph and for his only recorded indiscretion. Indiscretion, ha. We've got too many nice words for when people make a BIG mistake.

Well, considering that I went from saying that it's nice to be blogging today, and to remember that I really do enjoy writing in a very loose manner (meaning that my writing is often unfocused. See prior paragraph for an example) to talking about David of old, let me just come full circle and say, it's nice to be back.

I have A Red Headed Friend With the Last Name of a Material (ARHFWLNM-in case I make reference again. Hey, that almost rhymed!) for my abrupt return to the realms of the unseen and unheard, to where my voice is as a whisper coming out of the screen. Spooky. Someone should make a movie. Or maybe they already did. . . anyway, thanks ARHFWLNM for suggesting it, I'm afraid that my long absence from the writing scene has made it rather difficult to come up with a plot, and I needed to get back to writing as soon as possible, so as to return to at least some semblance of good writing. I don't think it will happen here in any great way.

I have a confession to make. Two, actually. The first one, which does not fill me with shame, or even a hint of regret, though perhaps a little trepidation, is that Major Bubbles (that's me, just to remind myself) has finally chosen a major to pursue. It's an interesting thing, deciding. I've always thought of it as a limiting of the prospects, as somehow making my future less expansive, as if by deciding to pursue something, I would immediately have less potential. Hence, in the major decisions of my life (and often the smaller ones, as many of my friends will attest) I am reluctant to make any sort of real decision. "Let's wait and see how it plays out" I say, hoping that the best the way, the way with the most potential will burst upon me one day, like the sun, creeping over the horizon, filling me with the zeal of a new day, with fresh opportunity and a newness of life. I don't think it works like that. It's more like the sun is already up, and I'm in a shaded place, and once I take a step, maybe two, I burst into a marvelous light that was just waiting for me to step into it and suck it up. And then get burned. Okay, not really, maybe just gloriously golden. Oooo- alliteration- me likey. Anyway, I've realised that the making of a decision is what actually opens up the path for you. Eventually you come to a place that's not just a crossroads, it's an open plaza with an infinite amount of choices. If I use another analogy in this paragraph, you have my permission to shoot me. Cybernetically, that is. Really, though, the decision opens up opportunities. Unless it's a bad decision. Those have the tendency of taking away the options. As soon as I decided to pursue physics, a plethora of new choices to be made sprung upon me, and I felt a little like the little kid in a toy store where you can touch everything and not get in trouble. If you ever find that store, let me know, I'd like to spend a few hours there.

My other confession is that I watched a proclaimed chick flick, and I liked it. Yes, readers, I watched "You've Got Mail." Shameless. It even calls it one of the best romantic comedies ever. Yes, a most definite chick flick. Actually, I've seen commercials about how manly men (that term seems somewhat redundant, doesn't it?) haven't watched that particular show. Seriously. It was a car commercial. Anyway, it was a shamelessly chick flicky movie, and I, yes I, well, I loved it. I've been sick for the past while, and the truth is that I was laughing so hard I had to pause the movie various times so that I could finish coughing, get a drink, grab another cough drop, and settle back in (I have a wonderful movie watching couch that feels kind of like it's hugging you all the time. Marvelous). Maybe I should apologize to all the manly men out there (wouldn't womanly men be an oxymoron? What other phrases could you use? Boyly man? Girly man? (okay, I've heard that one) non-genderly specific man? Maybe I should rethink my phraseology), but I don't think I will. Mostly because watching the silly movie made me happy, and I definately needed that in the middle of my sickness.

So, get out and make those decisions, and watch those ethnically inappropriate shows. I'll be sitting here on my non-genderly specific blog site (figuratively, of course), enjoying the blogs I have already written.

The First Last

This blog is meant as an addendum. An addendum to a very blessed year.

Perhaps you think me a bit religious for stating it that way. The truth is that I'm a lot religious, and possibly even more so then before, which means that it will most likely be leaking out in what I say. I hope, however, that I will continue to tickle neurons in a pleasing manner, and not go about beating them with yea verily's. Yea. And verily.

Anyway, yes, it is a post script, an ipso facto, a post mortem, an after death, and a lot of other things that I can't recall nor would you really be that interested if I could. I'm normally the type to celebrate the end of something. Partly because it signifies a relaxing of sorts-the end of the day brings the sweet release that is sleep (to sleep, perchance to dream. . .of that one girl I saw today. . .Okay, so Shakespeare didn't actually right the last part, but we all know that he was thinking it, or something close unto it), the end of a semester means lots of parties and more time, the end of a week brings a time for resting, the end of a job normally brings new and exciting opportunities, the end is almost always accompanied by something even better, something new and fresh. Something that is to be celebrated.

This year is most definitely a year that has many things coming after. I can only recall once in my life when I have ever wished myself back at the beginning of a stage-and that had more to do with what I hadn't done during my time then what I had. I find myself, now, in the interesting position of wishing that I had more time, just as I am.

It's hard to say exactly why I feel this way. There are friends around, and while it may be true that the amount of association will decrease their friendship most certainly will not. There are positions that have ended that ought to feel more of a relief than a sadness. There are responsibilities that are no longer mine that I ought to be glad to see go. There is a period of indecisiveness and lack of direction that is drawing swiftly to its end that I should be cheering out with the greatest enthusiasm.

And yet, past all of the reasons why I should be glad to welcome the next moment in, I'm given pause here at the end of this one. It's been a time of happiness, a time of friendship. This time has been among if not the best time of my life. I am hesitant to let it leave me.

Funny thing, though, it will whether I let it or not. The only question is, will I end up sitting around complaining that I missed my taxi, or will I go ahead and hop on the next one that comes along? Yeah, I think I'd like to get wherever it is that I'm going. I guess I can just be glad that there's always something better on its way.

So look out Major, here comes the world.

And, I'm Back

It is the undesirable truth that I am wont to let things slide in my life when other factors become so insanely involved that I must indeed focus almost all of my psychological effort on them. That being said, rest assured that I am still full of quips about dating and relationships, seeing as I seem to know as little about them as I did before, and my poking fun is really a very small mind trying to get a grasp on a rather large subject. Much like black holes, which I discovered this semester to be small in size but rather large in implication. I think I can safely say that I'm flattered, for the most part, that one of my friends bequeathed me with the term of an emotional black hole. Though I might have preferred being referred to as a white hole-not that I'm racist or anything of the sort, but it's just more adequate description of both my skin color and my disposition. If you want more explanation, just ask me, I'll be happy to pontificate for hours on end. Because that's what I do. I pontificate.

Whatever.

Anyway, I'm back! Yes, it's been a long blogless existence for the past while, and much has occurred and been transcribed. Or just scribed. Among many other things, I've discovered the joys of owning a cell phone, and seeing minutes fly by in a relativistically disgusting manner. I think that cell phones warp space-time to the advantage of the phone companies. How else can something so small use up so much time and cost so much money? It's boggling. I have discovered something, though. Something that is vitally important for existence. It's so impactful, actually, that I think I would rate it above black holes, above all of astronomy class, and maybe, just maybe, even above chocolate chip cookies and ice cream on sunny Sunday afternoons. Yeah, it's that important.

Putting it simply: no matter how many gadgets you have to improve/facilitate connection with others, your social life will not change if you don't.

It churns out that our electronics merely act as an extension of our own conscience. If we're the type that sat by our phone in the olden days (or doors if you are even older than phones) waiting for someone to call, the only difference between today and then is that instead of sitting around and waiting, you'll be walking around anxiously while repeating to yourself: "Why isn't anyone calling me? I'm a loser!" Well, hopefully you aren't doing that, but I sure did.

Whenever I used to walk into my house, the first thing out of my lips (after the cordial greeting of loving parents and all that warm fuzzilicious stuff) would be "did anyone call for me?" Does that make me sound like a girl? I hope not, because the truth is I still do it, even though I'm now the owner of a cellular device meant to make my life so much more gratifying and instantaneous. I barely know how to wait for anything anymore, now that I don't have to. Anyway, the point is feminine or not, I really do/did ask all the time if someone had called for me.

You lovely ladies might be thinking "what a slob-always waiting for the girl to call, never taking the initiative to make the first call." I really so no reason to defend myself, seeing as in my experience I'm not the only offender in this regard, and when was the last time YOU went out on a limb to show special regard for someone? Huh? Huh?*

Anyway, my point was not to complain. My point is that people don't change when they have new technology. I discovered this one day as I sat in my room, thinking about and looking at my cell phone. "This was expensive" I thought. "What the heckola is it doing for me?" I sat, I looked, I willed someone to call me, text me, give me the shivers that are only slightly related to the vibration the phone makes (actually, it still creeps me out to have something vibrating in my pocket. I yelled at work the other day and was the proud recipient of some very odd looks) and then I suddenly realized "Hey, I can't expect anyone to call me if I don't call them!" So I called a friend of mine, just for the heck of it. And then I texted another person. And then I started a tradition of making at least one random text per day.

I admit, it's been a fun experience to do so. For the most part, people respond in a positive manner, and I feel good about myself. While it is true that as of yet I still don't get non-recall type calls, it doesn't really matter. I have discovered that, with cell phones and other stuff, what you send out you will get back.

And that is a long post for a really short discovery.

*I actually think it's admirable of girls to wait for guys to call, in case you were wondering. The changing dynamics of this world have me all confused about where exactly I draw the line, but I thought you'd like to know that really, guys can be awfully chicken. I know, I am one!

Anyone for court?

Is anybody else worried? I guess that I am, in the deepest sense of the word, a lot more conservative and anti large government then I thought I was. Not that I plan on going and buying guns and stockading myself. First off, I don't have any crazy girlfriends, so I would be lonely, and second off, I think my dad would be mad if I made the government blow holes in his newly constructed garage.

Plus, I'd get hungry. Yay for the nobility of laziness!

Anyway, I say that I'm worried, in this case not so much because of the government as a whole. I'm thrilled to welcome, along with the entire society of the nation ( I hope) our newest president, who has the promising aspect of having the impossible expected of him to look forward to for at least the next four years, maybe eight. My worry comes, rather, from some human rights progress that has been made by our court systems.

It seems that this past June, the supreme court made a ruling on a petition that directly affects how states are able to prosecute people. Specifically, in the case of Kennedy vs. Louisiana, our highest interpreting power decided that it is cruel and unusual punishment to inflict the death penalty on any person who has committed an individual crime that did not intend the death of the victim or that did not result in the death of the victim. In other words, unless someone died, the death penalty is now a no no for the entire nation. Which could be seen as either a triumph for human rights world wide (I'm told that most developed countries don't even have the death penalty) or a blow to state rights. I'm not sure how I feel about this particular issue, so I will desist.

However, I am a wee bit concerned about how the court has legalized morality. I'm worried about how they interpret it. According to the sylibus of the Kennedy vs. Louisiana case, the Amendment’s Cruel and Unusual Punishment Clause “draw[s] its meaning from the evolving standards of decency that mark the progress of a maturing society.” Trop v. Dulles, 356 U. S.
86, 101. The standard for extreme cruelty “itself remains the same, but its applicability must change as the basic mores of society change.”

My dad says that societies must change how they enact laws, and that it's actually healthy. I admit, I find it just a wee bit creepy that our morality, especially as it relates to our judiciary system, where it is so vital that it be clear, is defined by the progress of a maturing society.

Perhaps, though, I'm just overreacting.

Working under the influence. . .

I'm writing this at work (shame!) and under the influence of music. Horrid, I know, because not only will I be prone to making frequent stops so as to assuage my guilty conscience, but I will also be making periodic, rather nonsensical insertions of music lyrics.

Such as this: When marimba music starts to play, hold me close, make me sway.

Which actually has something to do with what I wanted to say. Which is, simply, make me sway. Well, music does that, as does dancing in general, because I love dancing. I was at an institute function on Friday where there was dancing. I was entirely set on going home as soon as the music started, having had a couple of bad experiences with the type of music (it's just hard to dance to, it's not bad) that is often played at those types of circumstances. However, after the music had started, there was a spirit of frivolity and enjoyment that I just could not neglect. And so I merrily joined in with those people who were shaking themselves about in a wee little jig, and I discovered that I still love dancing. Almost to the passionately stage, but not quite. It's a little bit before passionate and a little past indifferent interest. It's an indifferent passion. I love oxymorons!

The holding of members of the opposite sex, no matter how contrived or practically meaningless it may be, is something of delight. I mean, of course, that hugs, snuggling, cuddling, massage giving, hand holding, etc, are all wonderful experiences. Dancing definitely is included in this list. Yep, definitely.

I've reached an interesting stage of life. I think most people go through stages, and I find myself on the brink of a new one. One of my friends (actually two of them) stated in quite a state of vexation that they were ready to be engaged. I refrained from pointing out that they're not in a serious relationship at the moment because, well, I didn't want to get my eyes poked out, I value their friendship, and let's face it, we live in Utah, and when has not being in a serious relationship stopped anyone from getting engaged within a month? Life is crazy.

Don't think for a moment that I'm saying that I'm ready to be engaged. Because, when I think about that, I most definitely am not. First off, I wouldn't have any idea how to ask the question, I have no experience with not flirting (I have been referred to many times as a constant flirt, I have become somewhat consigned to it), and more importantly the idea of me being engaged is just weird.

The thing is this: I feel open to the possibility of a more dedicated relationship. I think I've been afraid of girls in general for most of my life, so this is a big step for me, just being open to the idea. Having observed my friends and such, now is the time when lost of problems will arise, I will be in a constant stage of vexation, either because things are going poorly in the relationship sector or because they are going well.

Humans are so weird.

And, now, see, I have posted, and can get back to my guilt free monotonous work. Viva Vexation!