Regression

It seems that when one wants especially to jot down all the jumbled up thoughts and observations that moment is precisely when those thoughts refuse to organize themselves into anything resembling coherency (which may or may not be a word, but for the present circumstances will be allowed past any and all detectors of falseness, seeing as this is, as you will see, nothing more than a schematic of my thoughts and often I think false things). Having said that, I say now, what a wonderful thing (which I have recently been told is a completely guy adjective, no pun intended for those who have seen "That Thing You Do.") it is to once again be joining the blogging world in trying to make sense out of the insanity that is my life inside my brain, which I assure you is much less organized than my bedroom, which my mother insists on referring to as the climatic chaos of an otherwise well developed habitat. Okay, maybe she doesn't say that on a regular basis, or at all for that matter, but it sounded fun in my head, so why not put it here?

This is, after all, an attempt on my part to get rid of a serious case of writer's block that I've had for almost a month now. Thoughts of how much I write about dating and relationships (which, coincidentally, take up a rather appalling amount of my thought time) and my complete lack of material, or the exact opposite of over abundance of writing material, have kept me in the dark as to what I should write about. Once again, in an allusion to the mad mad world that is my life, I told my mother that I feel the need to go on a date, but that I'm at a loss as to where to start. To which my mother wisely responded "well, you might try starting with calling someone and asking them out."

Word well spoken. Perhaps, I thought, those words would be a great motto for anything. It becomes a strange thought to do so when thinking "I really feel the need to go to heaven." I doubt that asking out heaven would really be the ticket, though a slight play on the words, and taking it more of in a symbolic sense than in an actual literal sense, might be exactly what one is needing.

The point of the rambling that has gotten me to this point is, of course, to say that the way I have chosen to get over my writer's block is to simply write. And write I am, (that is not correct but I don't care!), writing whatever random thoughts cross my mind! I'm hoping that what ends up recorded here will be both thought provoking and nonsensical, seeing as that is the type of writing that I find most enjoyable.

I think I'll start (or continue, as the case may more accurately be described) with an observation that came late last night, after I had finished being sick. See, I was sick for a long time, and spent, quite literally, the entire day in bed yesterday. In my delirium, though, I pondered over reactions that some girls had to a show, "The Holiday" I believe it was called, and comparing those reactions to other reactions from the feminine gender. I'd like to say right now, though, that the movie portrayed some pretty screwy philosophies. One of which was that physical displays of affection are cheap things that can be bartered about with reckless abandon and will not have any affect at all on what happens to the true love of people. I say true love because I mean the actual thing that joins two people together for more than just the duration of hormones. It's kind of weird, really, but different physical displays, hugs, kisses and, yes, the three letter 's' word that is so taboo in my culture (or at least in my head) that I will not actually write it here. Though, if movies are any indication I can spell it out, as long as I don't say it, and be a-okay! That's an odd thought, when you consider that I'm writing this.

Anyway, my point was about the reactions (I told you I would write this as it came to my mind! It's you're own fault if you didn't believe me). I've discovered a fool proof way to be attractive. Seriously! I've discovered something absolutely amazing. It seems that I was incorrect in my assessment of the character of Mr. Darcy, and why he's so attractive to otherwise logical women, as well as my overall assessment of the attractiveness of each and every one of Ms. Austen's male characters. What makes a man attractive (are you ready for this), are the three 'B's. British, Bounteous, and Beautiful. Yes, I thought of that while I was delirious, and yes, it made me laugh.

I realise that some people will disagree with me. They have obviously never been in a room predominated with females, all very vocal about their varying states of attraction toward male actors. Yes, indeed, after much thought, I have come to this fool proof conclusion. If you are British (the most important part of this being that you have a British accent, because it gives off the air that you know what you're talking about and you sound oh so sophisticated, which as Tolkien Boy, and English major, informs me, is actually a fact, that British accents make people sound more intelligent, even though they just may not be) which is unfortunately something that can only be given through birth but, in a pinch, just living in England until you have a believable accent will do, you're doing well. Now, if you're a rich British (that would be bounteous), then you're doing extremely well, and chances are you will be meeting someone important to you within the weekend.

All of these may be trumped, though, if you don't happen to be beautiful. I've found that small discrepancies on this account are forgivable, if you have the other two 'B's, but if you don't have one of the other two 'B's and are sadly lacking in this particular acronym, you're bound for trouble. Oh, the sad and sorry state that is life.

Actually, that brings up another thought. Are men thought cowards if they don't kiss a girl? Thanks to Disney and other related companies, the type of importance that is connected with a kiss ought to make the first kiss something of a ceremony, special and important. So, the question comes, when a guy is hesitant about kissing someone, does that make him a coward, or just wise to not go around sharing something that special with every girl he finds physically attractive? I've heard that emotional attraction can only grow with time, and that physical attraction is the only thing we have to go off right at first, and so I just have to wonder, if someone guards their lips, does that make them weak, or does it just mean that it's important to them?

Maybe it just means that they don't have very much experience kissing and so they put a whole lot of thought into the whole thing.

Probably.

I discovered something amazing. The reason that Nintendo games aren't really that satisfying is because you can't talk about them with your friends, really. I mean, if you talk with them about loads of yard work, and how beautiful your yard looks now, the things you've done, and about the sexy new tan you have (I'm borrowing someone else's words at this point, I'm sure) then you have something that other people will listen to. But if you start talking about "game high points" and "records," most people don't really find that all that interesting, and it's actually pretty hard to talk about.

Not that playing Nintendo is a bad thing. I love it, especially when I really don't want to think about anything at all. Then Nintendo is great, because I don't have to think. Maybe it's due to the fact that it's basically a computer that generates information based on a set amount of rules and those rules must be followed throughout the game and are relatively finite in number. That would mean that our impressive brains lock onto the "code" or set rules extremely quickly, and then they go on computer mode, where they basically produce what is required at the correct moment. Our minds become little more than computers. And computers don't think. Which means, at that moment, we don't think.

Look out, Plato, here I come.

Well, I think that about kills my writer's block. Or at least I hope so. I hope that you enjoyed my ramblings. They may not have been as rambling as I'd hoped, but, hey, nothing organizes like seeing the chaos written down.

Completely Random

Amidst the strife that surrounds my life at this time of year, I've had a lot of really strange thoughts and seemingly random observations. For instance, I've noted that I dislike seeing beautiful women. That might be because my heart does a little flip and belly flop every time it happens, and that can be painful, and may lead to heartburn. The scientists are still debating as to the validity of that statement.

Finals is a great time to get frazled. Everyone expects it of you, and honestly, it's a natural thing that happens. I've actually discovered that taking tests and writing papers can be more enjoyable than some classes are. For example, my current political science class is of such a kind that I would probably be better off not going to class (which I will no more forever) and just reading the book and taking the tests. It's not really that much different from what I do anyway, seeing as the minute I sit down, open my lab top, and connect to the Internet my mind checks out anyway, and my professor could announce that the entire class would be receiving 'A's on the final as long as they were willing to go and talk to him before hand, and I would completely miss it.

I've had a lot of interesting experiences this semester with my laptop. One day in Spanish, the professor was explaining a rather potent piece of poetry when I guffawed out loud. You see, I was chatting with a humorous friend, and the joke she had said moments before was the type that made it hard for me to control the laughter. I was subjected to one of the most evil stares by the professor. Good thing she was a substitute and not my regular teacher.

I've also found out a lot about girls. I have been chastised a few times for contradicting myself here in this blog. Self contradiction seems to be a human normality, and I no longer feel bad about it. Philosophy may hold that contradiction means weakness, or even that when one contradicts one's self then it is a sign of lack of intelligence, but I've come to the conclusion that all imperfect beings are in a process of gaining further understanding, and so it becomes very common to contradict what one has said before, as greater knowledge becomes part of who we are.

I mention self contradiction because I've discovered that everyone, including myself, is confused. I mean it. There are a few basic truths that anyone can know, but past those building blocks of knowledge the grand majority of everyone is just as lost to what is really going on as I am. For example (this is part of what I've learned about girls. Hold your breath, here we go!), I understand that girls would like to be appreciated for their talents, their personality, their way of thinking, and the different things that describe them, and not (heaven forbid) for their divinely shaped bodies. If I'm wrong in saying that girls often express the desire to be cherished for their personalities and their amazing souls over physical appearance, you may correct me if you wish (but I probably won't believe you). Now, if you take that idea, and compare it to a statement I heard, "Dating really is a game. You have to talk to a guy two or three times before he'll even consider asking you out on a date," from the very lips of a pretty sensible girl that I know, you must concede the contradiction. If a guy is expected to ask a girl out before he even talks to her, what must he judge on? Looks, and looks alone.

I realize that this particular argument has many holes, but just to add to the feeling, another person I know stated that she was waiting for a missionary, and the specific thing that she listed as being important was that he is taller than she is. I understand that girls enjoy feeling protected and taken care of, and that this may lead to girls desiring someone they date to be larger than themselves, but the emphasis is still the same. it was a little disconcerting, really, though I was glad for a little glimpse into what someone thought.

I may have inflamed countless people by now. It's kind of fun, actually. You see, I'm just as confused as you are, and must therefore not be taken any more seriously than the most foolish, or any less seriously than the most wise.

Girls are not, by far, the only ones living a double life. Guys as well (and I should know, I'm one of them) frequently lament the fact that no one actually appreciates "them." You know, the part that they hide so that no one can see, the part that they make very sure will never see the day light, and then they complain that no one seems to understand them. Sound familiar? Well, let's just say I have a lot of personal experience with that one.

I really didn't mean this to be solely about oddities of the various genders (or perhaps just of people in general), but there it is. Perhaps, in the end of the day, we'll all realize that what we truly want is to feel appreciated for everything, for our minds, for our talents, for our bodies, and yes, even appreciated with our weaknesses and faults; and maybe, just maybe, when we realize that we already do that to others, or when we start doing it to others, we'll realise that it's already happening.

Windows

This poem comes as the realization of a promise I made to a friend, Annie, a while ago. Here it is, a poem:

Windows

Windows with crystal clarity
Show worlds just beyond our feeling,
That with their vibrant colors
Our breath, our words they’re stealing.

Content, one may consider
A view through crystal of celestial blue,
Free of clouds of strife, the very sky
Reflected in paradise’s dew.

Though the scene may show
Either deep heaven or shallow cover,
The beauty holds the viewer still
In awe of the heavenly color.

Another opening may betray
A glimpse of deep blue-green ocean,
Where shining sun reflects in rays
And enchants like a wizard’s potion.

A window there is that gives a view
Of liquid earth, a deep brown foam
That speaks of life, and with its charm
Makes a heart feel at home.

And yet another view is had
Of golden fields that glow;
That fills one with bursting energy
And lifts when one is low.

Satin black can be seen
And commands the viewers eye
It holds it steady to be sure
It catches each glint passing by.

These and other sights
Have been my pleasure to see.
Each window shows true beauty
And a glimpse of eternity.

Threads

Having something that reports to you about the viewing of your blog is an amazing thing. I have discovered that, shocking though it may sound, I have more people who visit my site on or directly after the day in which I post something new! Like flies drawn to a light, guys to a beautiful girl, or girls to a life-loving man, there is a dramatic increase in how many people actually look at my site after I post something. It behooves me to post more often, then. That being said, let us on with this blog.

College is a befuddling and interesting experience. Befuddling because it establishes a pattern, a set way of doing things, and then it puts kinks all over that pattern, like someone who crochets and intentionally puts a few weird angles or odd colors, just to give the feeling of chaos. Weaving in and out of every day's repetitive journey are strands of beauty that may be anywhere from blatantly obvious to divinely subtle, and are easy to miss if one doesn't pay attention. There may be a smile from a nearly unobserved but beautiful person. Perhaps, as one walks along a bird will sing a strain that resonates deep though it be but a simple tune. Every once and awhile, a thread reveals itself as being both long, beautiful, and masterfully woven into the very fabric of life, as a great creator puts on the touches to a tapestry of grace and wonder.

I'm normally not a particularly passionate person. There are few subjects that really create any sort of true emotion, the type that causes me to wish for better things (in the subject in particular) or that evoke the kind of actions that are normally accompanied by deep feeling. Among the few is this country in which (for the most of the people who read this) we live. The United States of America. Ever since I returned from Mexico, I've been so grateful to live here. This, my friends, is a land where opportunity is common commodity, and where anyone, with drive and ability, can become anything. I never felt that as strongly as when I had just recently returned to America. I do not know if this same opportunity exists everywhere, but I know it exists here. I love this country, and am grateful to have been put here.

Recently, there was a show done by the Ogden LDS institute entitled "This is a Great Country." I was blessed with the chance to be one of the hosts for that show. Normally I don't mention specific details about anything that I do, because I enjoy thinking that some of the people who read this have no idea who I am, but I will make an exception this time. I enjoy acting, and that really was the idea I had in mind when I auditioned for the part. Of course I was excited that I got the part, and have enjoyed it.

There is something that I didn't realise until the show was actually going on, though. Something beautiful. Patriotic shows are uncommon for the Ogden LDS institute. I understand that they only happen every decade or so. It is not very likely, then, that I should be part of a patriotic show, and less likely that I should be a host. As I thought about that, I realised that I had been placed in a particular place and time, just to bless me. There was a thread, going back to before I left on my mission, that had woven nearly unnoticed through a couple of years in my life. There truly is a master weaver, and I'm grateful for that particular thread in my life.

Perhaps most of the time I don't find threads that are that long or that graceful. However, I find threads that make my life beautiful.

Once Again

I was recently shocked to discover that there are blogs of people that I actually know in real life that are dedicated completely to dating. I thought that I was the only one who was compulsive and obsessive enough to actually write as much as I do about dating and relationships and the general turmoil of my soul that results in these blogs that are often contradictory and rather incoherent. Indeed, shocked I was. As was Yoda. However, I was afterward told by a good friend that really, dating is an important element of the lives of people found in my circumstance (that is, single, not dating anyone seriously, and being told by society that we are all freaks and should have some good sense beat into us, even if it must be done with awkward moments and bad dating experiences). How I love our culture!

This blog is actually not about the adverse effects of society on my sanity. No, indeed, that argument is nearly impossible to truly take one side or the other, seeing as my sanity was already in question long before I ever entered the arena of "on the market." A coworker referred to a recently engaged person as "off the market," which was an accurate reflection of common opinion, though I admit I don't appreciate the feeling behind the words. Once again, I digress.

Have you ever noticed that during life we have love cycles? I wrote about them in "Provoking" which was not received with open arms, but the principle was still a true one. Jewelsp suggested that the dark parts of the cycle, the times when no one is appealing as a romantic interest, come at moments when one is hurt and recovering. It's easy to understand how a broken heart would have a hard time risking injury again. Those moments of complete romantic abstinence are only part of the cycle, though. I understand that some people have learned to avoid those ugly parts well, and get through them quickly. However, it is still part of a cycle, and one that is pretty violent in my life. In one day I can go through and entire cycle. Starting out where all and every attractive girl is a romantic interest, then where it settles on one particularly attractive person, the hopes (of that day, week, month, year) then begin to be formed, then either satisfied or crushed. If satisfied, there's a small circle back to the hopes part, and more hopes are built up and either satisfied or crushed. If the hopes of the person in the cycle are crushed, then it seems natural to move into a period of hurt.

This hurt takes many forms. To start off, most people seem to just feel hurt. They feel weak and incapable of reaching out to anyone (and most of the time feel the need to have someone reaching out to them). Then the defense mechanisms set in. Some people have the destructive sort of mechanism, either loathing of all around them or self loathing, where no one is good enough or they'll never be good enough. Frustration abounds, and yes, I have been in this stage before, and I'm very familiar with the easy transition from the ache to anger. Not a good way to go, really. There are other defense mechanisms, such as hiding pain and making yourself busier. You might try acting as if nothing is the matter, or one might even act more cheerful than before.

Eventually there is something that brings the sharp realization that you have a problem. Oh, by the way, I'm talking to myself here. If it just so happens that none of what I've said applies to you (it might just be likely), you may discount what I've said, because this is all to get ready for what this blog is really about, anyway. When the realization comes that you are hurt, and that you need healing, there's lots of places to seek it. There are plays that help you work through emotions that are portrayed on stage that are similar to the ones you have, there are scriptures and prayer for greater understanding, light, and compassion, there are a multitude of things that help us feel what we have to feel in order to begin healing.

Once healing begins, we make a slow climb to the top of the cycle, with little encouragements here and there, a smile, a friendly hello and hug, a random phone call or email. Whatever the way, we end up once again attracted to everyone (and attractive to lots of people, I might add), and in love not only with other people but also in love with life and ourselves.

Now, I wrote all of that so I could write the next part:

Love songs are a natural stimulant of this cycle. Seriously! Love songs encourage love in general, which helps us be interested in everyone. I say that loosely, of course. If everyone was interested in everyone the world would be as crazy as I am. Love songs also push towards singular attraction: that special feeling toward a special someone. Yes, love songs can be the catalyst to push a young man or woman to action.

This is usually where love songs get me in trouble. That might be because some songs are clearly written for some types of people. A song that features long blond hair has me forgetting all about the brunette beauties that I know. And don't even get me started about eye color. Plus, there are certain songs that just go with specific personalities. Argue with me if you will, but the truth is that some songs just match!

Is it bad that I'm convinced into love by a song?

Anyway, love songs also help us past the hopeful stage, either in the direction of satisfaction and enjoyment of being preferred and preferring another's company, or into the crushing of hopes. Do you think hopes give out a juice when they're crushed? I think it must be a pretty sour one.
Mostly, for me, love songs make me face the fact that I don't have the relationships that my overactive imagination would have me believe that I have. I sing or listen to the words and say "gosh, that's not my life." And then a tear falls. Oh, so sad.

Love songs can also help one feel the emotions needed for healing to begin, and even instill new hope. I love love songs.

My personal love cycle might be described a little like this:

"Feeling Good" -- "Come to Me, Bend to Me" -- "You Don't Know Me" -- "Alejate" -- "If I Can't Love Her" -- "She Was There" -- "Feeling Good."

That's about what my last cycle through love songs was. Even one song can go through almost all of the stages of this cycle. Fore example, "If I Can't Love Her" features hopes and aspirations, the darkness of despair, anger about hurt, and the defense mechanism of cutting one's self off from the world. It's an amazingly bitter song, but it helps to get a lot of emotion out when one sings it.

So, there it is, once again, a story about something to do with love. I wanted to write something different, I really did, but my life is distraught right now with all the tests and various activities that are going on. So, if you didn't enjoy this, I'm not sorry, because I liked writing it.

So there.

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.