A Poem!

Once again, all you yellow lovers (and yellow haters who happen to be reading this), it's time for another poem! There were a few interesting things that happened while I was writing this poem, so I hope you enjoy.

Footpath

I arose one day
To find myself surrounded
By trees, I was in a forest,
The song of birds sounded.

The trees were high
The canopy was thick;
Only allowing the occasional sight
Of sky, of clouds, of sun light.

Looking closer to my level
I saw thick foliage all around me
And though some small footpaths went from my spot
The way ahead I could not see.

“Perhaps I’m in a dream,”
I thought; the twilight of that shaded
Place made it seem surreal.
But no, there is no imagining that is that real.

I felt an urgency to move on
From that place of my stirring
Toward some real or imagined goal
That my spirit was luring.

One of the occasional rays of light
Illuminated a small game path
Barely perceived upon the forest ground
I began to follow it like a hound.

One step, two, the path seemed clear.
Then, abruptly,
It was gone.

I looked around, where should I go?
I could still feel that pulling
Something that called me on,
Though the twilight was lulling.

Another path
There! Off to my right
I started down with haste,
Grateful for the sight

The path was etched
By others who had passed
I followed with happiness
Moving quickly at last,

But as I went the trail thinned,
Lightened,
Then disappeared altogether;
Or so I thought.
Confused I paused;
What now?

All around me a wall of shrubs
Blocked all view of feasible ways;
To blaze a trail through the this thick hedge
Was as desirable as throwing myself from a ledge

There was one path that seemed
To go straight through the most thorn’d bush
But the path was so faint, I was unsure
And to a slightly less prickly way I was lured

And so I pushed through, where it seemed best
Through pressing plants and clinging vines
Until before me a blackberry plant formed a wall
Impassible, formidable, and tall.

And so I went back,
And went through the prickles
To follow the faint path;
A tree had fallen along that way
And made across the blackberries a highway.

And so I went on
Ever trying to find that place
That called and said “come find me.”
I’d follow a path
It would disappear
Each on in succession
Would take me ever more near

But each path in that forest
Would never go as far
As I would have liked.


The twilight in that grove slowly faded
As the unseen sun lied down to rest
And declare an end to that day’s work.
So, I made my night’s nest.

When I awoke again
I had returned to my bed
Where reality is what everyone says
And not what goes on in my head.

And so, my friend, I leave
You to wonder, if real or false
Was this twilit wood
Or even if as to being it should.

Two Questions

"If you run your hand along the rail, watch for bird poop."

This blog is a little different than normal. Mostly because this time, instead of me telling you my thoughts, I would like to know yours. I have two political questions that are interesting me lately, and I would like to know all of your thoughts. And so I pose you these questions. Seeing as these questions are in affect yes or no, an explanation is of course desirable.

First: Do illegal immigrants have any sort of contract to obey the laws of the country in which they are residing?

Second: Is illegal immigration a capitalistic institution?

I have a few thoughts on these subjects (which I’m sure will be forthcoming). But I’m curious of your ideas. Let the debate begin.

Words

"The truest friend does not doubt, but hope"

"In the game of life, choose the orange car."

"Pleasing everyone is impossible. Just worry about pleasing God and yourself."

"Getting is most of the fun. Having is only fun if it's a relationship."

"Smile. Almost always someone will think you're beautiful."

"You never know who likes you. Might as well act like everyone does."

"Judging is different than condemning."

"Making others smile is a lot more fun than trying to make yourself smile."

"Love is impossible to describe, impossible to mistake for long."

"To love one's self is the beginning of a life long romance."

"To laugh at one's self is the beginning of a life long comedy."

"God is love."

"Honesty before comfort."

"When playing the dating game, the first move is checking the hand."

"People change. Let them do it."

Words form one of the most powerful forces that we experience in this world. I can think of few things that move me to action as words do. Because words are humanities intent to communicate, to give understanding and meaning to what is seen as well as what is not seen, they are a powerful tool because they transport our emotions through the sometimes cold and lonely space between us. Like the sun shining through dark rain clouds, words illuminate our lives, they can do amazing things. So, here I'm sharing a few words that I like. Some are mine, some are quotes.

"Smiles have power."

"Saying sorry isn't hard if you actually are."

"It's just barely possible that you might be wrong."

"Happiness is the true objective of everyone. If you help others find it, you might just find it yourself."

"Thanks!"

Feel free to put your own phrases in. There's always something wonderful to hear.

Sorry

Many times in my life there have been reasons to feel sad. Sad because of physical pain, sad because of being denied some privilege (that was especially present in my youth), sad because of rejection from those I thought my friends, lots of reasons why to be sad. The worst sort of sad is the sad because my own actions have been uncalled for, that they have caused pain in someone. This is a bad sort of sad.

I have been informed that I have reason to be sad, and I wanted to apologize, because I hope that it will help. An anonymous person stated that something that I said in my last blog was like a slap in the face to all my female friends. I’m sorry or in other words sad because of that. I really didn’t mean it as an insult, nor to say that I don’t appreciate girls in general, but rather that romantically I have been dormant in past experiences. Another comment was just as true, that often those moments are brought on by rejection, but the point here is that I am sorry if I hurt any of my friends.

I appreciate the patience that my friends show me. Women are the handiwork of divinity; I believe that with all my heart. I’ve always been glad for the touch of kindness and gentleness that they have provided in my life.

Mostly, I’m just sorry if I hurt you. I really didn’t mean to.

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.

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!”