There are some things I want to do with my kids. Like watch Lion King. Or have them come in and snuggle with me and my wife on a lazy morning. Or... I can't think of anything else right now. But. I am excited to be a dad. And have fun times.
Having my nephews here for a few weeks has reminded me that fatherhood is not all sweetness and joy. Sometimes, kids are annoying. They cry. And whine. And poop. And lick things. In fact, that's 90% of what they do.
So, when my nephews do this, I leave. I go lay in my room, and succumb to the silence. But when they are my own kids, I can't really do that. I'm afraid that someday I will just look at my wife with tired eyes and say, "I don't really want to be a dad right now." But, of course, I will still be a dad.
Basically, the idea exhausts me. Maybe I will not be as prolific with my posterity as I had previously predicted. Oh well.
I am sick. It's nice to not go to work. But I will probably get a lot smaller paycheck in two weeks. There may be a correlation. Goodnight.
June 30, 2011
June 23, 2011
"It would be like going from a Hot Dog on a Stick, to eating a regular corn dog."
"You eat regular corn dogs all the time."
"Yeah, but that's just because we don't have Hot Dog on a Stick here."
"Yes. Hot Dog on a Stick is in Pittsburg for two years. That analogy just compounded all my worst fears."
"Crap."
"You eat regular corn dogs all the time."
"Yeah, but that's just because we don't have Hot Dog on a Stick here."
"Yes. Hot Dog on a Stick is in Pittsburg for two years. That analogy just compounded all my worst fears."
"Crap."
June 20, 2011
June 17, 2011
El sacapuntas es muy trabajador
I'm happy pretty often these days. Not all the time. But oftener than in days gone past. Basically, two people are to blame. Sarah and the spirit. You would think that they would make me different kinds of happy, but I've found that that's not necessarily the case. And sometimes they like, double-team me with happiness-making. That's a formidable combination, let me tell you.
That's about all I think I have to say about that.
We're getting our house ready to sell, which is a big pain in the face. I also have to move upstairs to my old room for a month, which is a pain in my soul. My entire life is down here. All my schedules and routines. Everything will be different upstairs. I will to wear clothes to and from the shower, for instance. Yeah. That's a big one. Also, it's just like, near everyone. Ugh.
I think I blogged once about how I need my solitude. I need my alone time, and my silence. That's why I like waking up before anyone else. But upstairs, it's different. My parents sleep like, not so far away. And they walk around. Ugh. I shall never be alone. No peace to be found.
But. I will survive, most likely. And it may be good practice for my mission, where you are never alone, ever. Unless you are in the bathroom. Granted, I know that that's very inspired, for like, a bajillion reasons. But it will still be excruciating for me. Especially if I get like, some weirdo companion. Which I undoubtedly will. But, I'll digress.
Father's day is Sunday. So there's that.
Lowe's is still pretty lame. I guess I have some 'friends' there. Which is weird. No one in my department, but a few cashiers. Obviously. Because I still don't know how to deal with men. Everything I say I'm like, "Wait, is this something another guy would say?" And I stress, and assume that they think I'm weird. Which, actually, they probably do. But with women, there's none of that. I'm just like, "Blah blah blah, I'm hilarious, and charming" and then they're like "Laugh laugh laugh, you're awesome." And all is well. Of course, the problem with this philosophy is that I don't discriminate. I am nice and funny and charming to attractive and unattractive girls alike. With attractive ones, they're used to it, and they understand it's just how I am, and we can be friends. But less attractive girls, who have no experience with men being nice to them, are like, "OMG, he wants to date/kiss/marry-for-time-and-all-eternity me. And then it puts me in an awkward situation. And I'm like, "Why must you punish me for being nice to the fat girl?" That's not true, they're not all fat. Some just have nasally voices, or other such abnormalities. The point is, is I'm not interested. I just charm, everywhere I go.
I have no idea where all of that came from. Sorry if it sounded mean, or conceited. It's not. I'm just saying. These things do happen. (Every time I say that, I hear Madam Carlotta in my head: "And until you a stoppa these things from a happening, thees thing, does not happen!"). Good flick.
Yes. Yes. These are the things on the mind of Edwardo of late.
Also. Family time for the next few weeks. I am excited to spend some time with my wee niece and nephews. Should be good.
That's about all I think I have to say about that.
We're getting our house ready to sell, which is a big pain in the face. I also have to move upstairs to my old room for a month, which is a pain in my soul. My entire life is down here. All my schedules and routines. Everything will be different upstairs. I will to wear clothes to and from the shower, for instance. Yeah. That's a big one. Also, it's just like, near everyone. Ugh.
I think I blogged once about how I need my solitude. I need my alone time, and my silence. That's why I like waking up before anyone else. But upstairs, it's different. My parents sleep like, not so far away. And they walk around. Ugh. I shall never be alone. No peace to be found.
But. I will survive, most likely. And it may be good practice for my mission, where you are never alone, ever. Unless you are in the bathroom. Granted, I know that that's very inspired, for like, a bajillion reasons. But it will still be excruciating for me. Especially if I get like, some weirdo companion. Which I undoubtedly will. But, I'll digress.
Father's day is Sunday. So there's that.
Lowe's is still pretty lame. I guess I have some 'friends' there. Which is weird. No one in my department, but a few cashiers. Obviously. Because I still don't know how to deal with men. Everything I say I'm like, "Wait, is this something another guy would say?" And I stress, and assume that they think I'm weird. Which, actually, they probably do. But with women, there's none of that. I'm just like, "Blah blah blah, I'm hilarious, and charming" and then they're like "Laugh laugh laugh, you're awesome." And all is well. Of course, the problem with this philosophy is that I don't discriminate. I am nice and funny and charming to attractive and unattractive girls alike. With attractive ones, they're used to it, and they understand it's just how I am, and we can be friends. But less attractive girls, who have no experience with men being nice to them, are like, "OMG, he wants to date/kiss/marry-for-time-and-all-eternity me. And then it puts me in an awkward situation. And I'm like, "Why must you punish me for being nice to the fat girl?" That's not true, they're not all fat. Some just have nasally voices, or other such abnormalities. The point is, is I'm not interested. I just charm, everywhere I go.
I have no idea where all of that came from. Sorry if it sounded mean, or conceited. It's not. I'm just saying. These things do happen. (Every time I say that, I hear Madam Carlotta in my head: "And until you a stoppa these things from a happening, thees thing, does not happen!"). Good flick.
Yes. Yes. These are the things on the mind of Edwardo of late.
Also. Family time for the next few weeks. I am excited to spend some time with my wee niece and nephews. Should be good.
June 11, 2011
Hoopla
I did not get nearly enough sleep last night. Whoever heard of going to work at 5:30 in the morning? I have, now, and I'm not a big fan.
I feel somewhat obligated to talk about my recent mission call, since it's like, the biggest news of my life so far. I've been called to the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania mission. You may notice that that is very far away from Africa or the Middle East (though, as my brother pointed out, I probably have about the same chance of being shot). I'll admit, I was/am quite disappointed. It's not that I doubt that this is where I'm supposed to go. I mean, the Lord knows best, and I know that going to Pittsburgh is both the best possible thing for me and the people there. I don't think the Lord was wrong. I just wish He was right, somewhere else.
But. It will be good. I'm sure of it. And maybe I'm just being told that I'm not quite as nifty as I think I am, and perhaps some humbling is in order. Who knows. But. I guess I'm still excited, to go.
Yeah, I really didn't have as much to say about that as I thought.
Yes.
I feel somewhat obligated to talk about my recent mission call, since it's like, the biggest news of my life so far. I've been called to the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania mission. You may notice that that is very far away from Africa or the Middle East (though, as my brother pointed out, I probably have about the same chance of being shot). I'll admit, I was/am quite disappointed. It's not that I doubt that this is where I'm supposed to go. I mean, the Lord knows best, and I know that going to Pittsburgh is both the best possible thing for me and the people there. I don't think the Lord was wrong. I just wish He was right, somewhere else.
But. It will be good. I'm sure of it. And maybe I'm just being told that I'm not quite as nifty as I think I am, and perhaps some humbling is in order. Who knows. But. I guess I'm still excited, to go.
Yeah, I really didn't have as much to say about that as I thought.
Yes.
June 5, 2011
Youth and Young Manhood; AKA "Can we build it? Maybe not."
So, I bought some tools yesterday. Nothing fancy. A hammer, a screwdriver with a 10 heads. A tape measurer. Utility knife. Just the basics.
But I think that's something I'm excited about, as far as being a man goes. When I'm off and have a family and whatnot. I will have tools. That's a sign, to me, of manhood. Especially in the church, it's like, you're always going to houses for service projects or fixing stuff up or whatever. You just need a hammer. Maybe a saw. Some of that business.
My work at Lowe's often reminds me of my desire to build houses. Basically I'm dealing with people who are building houses all day. I want to say, "Take me home with you! Teach me!" But that would be inappropriate. And awkward. And may get me fired.
I think there's a stigma against doing something like that. If I decided to be a builder, or do something with my hands as my profession, people would say, "What a waste." My sister, who's an English teacher, has been told on several occasions, "Oh, you're far too smart to be a teacher." It infuriates her, because it's like, that attitude is a lot of what's wrong with our education system. Stupid, poorly paid teachers often create stupid, uncaring students. Brilliant, inspiring teachers do the opposite. But we're moving away from my point.
I would like to build houses. My house, in particular. And it's a pretty handy skill. I mean, when it all goes down, and all things pass away, and there are no more banks or court houses or microbiology laboratories, a lot of people will be sitting around twiddling their thumbs (probably not a doctrinally sound assessment, but oh well). I think there will still be a need for people who know how to build buildings. Doctors and construction workers will be busy, people like my dad will be pretty bored. Even during the Millennial reign of Christ, if you want to get all deep, I think people will still be building. I mean, I don't think we'll all just sit on the grass all day and sleep under the stars. I don't think we'll just pray our houses either.
But. That's all moot. I'm going to go off to college and learn about something and then go do that something for my job. I'll probably talk a lot, and think a lot. And the hammer I bought yesterday will gather dust in my garage.
But I think that's something I'm excited about, as far as being a man goes. When I'm off and have a family and whatnot. I will have tools. That's a sign, to me, of manhood. Especially in the church, it's like, you're always going to houses for service projects or fixing stuff up or whatever. You just need a hammer. Maybe a saw. Some of that business.
My work at Lowe's often reminds me of my desire to build houses. Basically I'm dealing with people who are building houses all day. I want to say, "Take me home with you! Teach me!" But that would be inappropriate. And awkward. And may get me fired.
I think there's a stigma against doing something like that. If I decided to be a builder, or do something with my hands as my profession, people would say, "What a waste." My sister, who's an English teacher, has been told on several occasions, "Oh, you're far too smart to be a teacher." It infuriates her, because it's like, that attitude is a lot of what's wrong with our education system. Stupid, poorly paid teachers often create stupid, uncaring students. Brilliant, inspiring teachers do the opposite. But we're moving away from my point.
I would like to build houses. My house, in particular. And it's a pretty handy skill. I mean, when it all goes down, and all things pass away, and there are no more banks or court houses or microbiology laboratories, a lot of people will be sitting around twiddling their thumbs (probably not a doctrinally sound assessment, but oh well). I think there will still be a need for people who know how to build buildings. Doctors and construction workers will be busy, people like my dad will be pretty bored. Even during the Millennial reign of Christ, if you want to get all deep, I think people will still be building. I mean, I don't think we'll all just sit on the grass all day and sleep under the stars. I don't think we'll just pray our houses either.
But. That's all moot. I'm going to go off to college and learn about something and then go do that something for my job. I'll probably talk a lot, and think a lot. And the hammer I bought yesterday will gather dust in my garage.
May 27, 2011
Prolific Panda
So, I work at Lowe's now. Which isn't bad. Good, actually, on most days. I sell people a lot of wood and concrete and sheetrock. And roofing.
It gets kind of lame sometimes. But, it's work, so that is to be expected.
The music situation at Lowe's is pretty weird. Far more Gwen Stafani than you would expect outside of a Japanese sweatshop. That's a generalization, since I don't even know if they like Gwen Stafani over there. Perhaps I should give them more credit. But, you know, "Harajuku girls". They also play a lot of weird 80's stuff.
There's this song I really like. And it comes onto the radio every once in a while. It's the "Girl, put yo records oooon, tell me your favorite soooong" one. I like it a lot. And it's not available on iTunes. So. That sucks.
The quality of people who work at Lowe's isn't very high. Mostly they're not very good people. Some are just like, crap human beings. Others just get drunk all the time and have sex with as many people as possible, but are still, like, "nice". Which I think counts for a lot. I mean, someone who never grew up knowing that stuff like that maybe isn't the best idea, can't really be expected to know. But they can still do the best they can with what they have. Other people just like, thrive on making trouble for other people and causing pain and making fun of people.
We just hired like 40 Serbians yesterday. One who works near my department is pretty cool. He's a dude, but there's a lot of women, who are cute and European and have awesome accents. I mentioned it to this guy and he was like, "yeah, I was actually surprised." But, he said he thinks that they are "free". I don't know if that means they're single, or just excessively promiscuous. Or both. They are Europeans I suppose.
It's funny how certain stereotypes are true. I dated a European girl for a while back in high school, and I've hung out with this guy a decent amount. Neither of them smelled very good. I mean, he smells worse, because he's a boy, and works at Lowe's. But with Anne I'd be like, hanging out with her, and I'd just be like, "This... is not pleasant." Then again, I had no such experience with the German girls I knew. So maybe it's on a country-by-country basis.
I'm like, semi-dating this girl. We don't really know what to call it. Due to the mish, and other circumstances, we don't really want to be like, "bam, 'dating'". That was excessive punctuation. But, yeah, we don't really have a good word for it. In the beginning we were still calling it a 'friendship', which was just not appropriate at all. So we looked up some synonyms. The one we've settled on is "like-minded". We are in a state of like-mindedness. Which basically means that we really really really really like each other. Which is good. Good indeed.
I really like her. Dunno if I got that one across.
That song is stuck in my head now, the one that's not on iTunes. I think they have some like Kidz Bop or other cover version on there. Not the same. I remember one time I bought a Kidz Bop CD, because I didn't really understand the concept behind it. I was like, "Oh, these are all really good songs, I'm glad that they collected them onto one CD for kidz like me." And then I played it and it was like, "Oh, these are actually sung by kidz, not the people who actually know how to sing them." It was like, taking something good, and then just making it suck. And selling it. To kidz.
In case you didn't notice, at's 4 in the morning. 3:50. I worked a 15 hour shift Wednesday night, then came home and slept for 2 hours, then went back for another 8 hour shift. Since I was then so tired, I thought, "I won't take a sleeping pill, because I'm just naturally exhausted and will probably sleep for more than 8 hours anyways." Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Because my need for sleep has no correlation to my ability to partake of it. So here I am, in the early hours.
I haven't written anything lately. It's funny, if someone like really pressed me hard enough to ask "what I do", I'd probably say that I was a writer. But, I'm not, really, since I don't write, ever. I'm a thinker. Which is alright, I guess. I often have good ideas for stuff, which I type into a 'note' on my iPhone, and then forget about. I'll post a couple here, though they will probably make no sense.
No, never mind. Just went and looked at them. They're dumb.
I'm rambling, a bit. Mayhaps I should try to get some more sleep. I have today off, though. My not-girlfriend can't go on an awesome hike with me anymore, so I think my dad wants me to hang out with him. Since my mom is in Utah, we've been a couple of lame bachelor's. And I worked nights every day this week, so I just realized he's probably just come home and watched NCIS and ate honey bunches of oats by himself like a sad panda. Me and my dad are a lot alike. But who knows, maybe he just like, made a ton of crazy-big business deals instead. In which case, we would be less alike. But I bet it was NCIS. The point is, I should probably hang out with him, because he's probably a lonely panda. Man. you can pretty much put "panda" after any word and it becomes hilarious.
"You look like a tired panda today."
"I ate like a hungry panda."
"You're like a boy-panda, that likes other boy pandas. A gay panda."
Oh man. I'm done.
It gets kind of lame sometimes. But, it's work, so that is to be expected.
The music situation at Lowe's is pretty weird. Far more Gwen Stafani than you would expect outside of a Japanese sweatshop. That's a generalization, since I don't even know if they like Gwen Stafani over there. Perhaps I should give them more credit. But, you know, "Harajuku girls". They also play a lot of weird 80's stuff.
There's this song I really like. And it comes onto the radio every once in a while. It's the "Girl, put yo records oooon, tell me your favorite soooong" one. I like it a lot. And it's not available on iTunes. So. That sucks.
The quality of people who work at Lowe's isn't very high. Mostly they're not very good people. Some are just like, crap human beings. Others just get drunk all the time and have sex with as many people as possible, but are still, like, "nice". Which I think counts for a lot. I mean, someone who never grew up knowing that stuff like that maybe isn't the best idea, can't really be expected to know. But they can still do the best they can with what they have. Other people just like, thrive on making trouble for other people and causing pain and making fun of people.
We just hired like 40 Serbians yesterday. One who works near my department is pretty cool. He's a dude, but there's a lot of women, who are cute and European and have awesome accents. I mentioned it to this guy and he was like, "yeah, I was actually surprised." But, he said he thinks that they are "free". I don't know if that means they're single, or just excessively promiscuous. Or both. They are Europeans I suppose.
It's funny how certain stereotypes are true. I dated a European girl for a while back in high school, and I've hung out with this guy a decent amount. Neither of them smelled very good. I mean, he smells worse, because he's a boy, and works at Lowe's. But with Anne I'd be like, hanging out with her, and I'd just be like, "This... is not pleasant." Then again, I had no such experience with the German girls I knew. So maybe it's on a country-by-country basis.
I'm like, semi-dating this girl. We don't really know what to call it. Due to the mish, and other circumstances, we don't really want to be like, "bam, 'dating'". That was excessive punctuation. But, yeah, we don't really have a good word for it. In the beginning we were still calling it a 'friendship', which was just not appropriate at all. So we looked up some synonyms. The one we've settled on is "like-minded". We are in a state of like-mindedness. Which basically means that we really really really really like each other. Which is good. Good indeed.
I really like her. Dunno if I got that one across.
That song is stuck in my head now, the one that's not on iTunes. I think they have some like Kidz Bop or other cover version on there. Not the same. I remember one time I bought a Kidz Bop CD, because I didn't really understand the concept behind it. I was like, "Oh, these are all really good songs, I'm glad that they collected them onto one CD for kidz like me." And then I played it and it was like, "Oh, these are actually sung by kidz, not the people who actually know how to sing them." It was like, taking something good, and then just making it suck. And selling it. To kidz.
In case you didn't notice, at's 4 in the morning. 3:50. I worked a 15 hour shift Wednesday night, then came home and slept for 2 hours, then went back for another 8 hour shift. Since I was then so tired, I thought, "I won't take a sleeping pill, because I'm just naturally exhausted and will probably sleep for more than 8 hours anyways." Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Because my need for sleep has no correlation to my ability to partake of it. So here I am, in the early hours.
I haven't written anything lately. It's funny, if someone like really pressed me hard enough to ask "what I do", I'd probably say that I was a writer. But, I'm not, really, since I don't write, ever. I'm a thinker. Which is alright, I guess. I often have good ideas for stuff, which I type into a 'note' on my iPhone, and then forget about. I'll post a couple here, though they will probably make no sense.
No, never mind. Just went and looked at them. They're dumb.
I'm rambling, a bit. Mayhaps I should try to get some more sleep. I have today off, though. My not-girlfriend can't go on an awesome hike with me anymore, so I think my dad wants me to hang out with him. Since my mom is in Utah, we've been a couple of lame bachelor's. And I worked nights every day this week, so I just realized he's probably just come home and watched NCIS and ate honey bunches of oats by himself like a sad panda. Me and my dad are a lot alike. But who knows, maybe he just like, made a ton of crazy-big business deals instead. In which case, we would be less alike. But I bet it was NCIS. The point is, I should probably hang out with him, because he's probably a lonely panda. Man. you can pretty much put "panda" after any word and it becomes hilarious.
"You look like a tired panda today."
"I ate like a hungry panda."
"You're like a boy-panda, that likes other boy pandas. A gay panda."
Oh man. I'm done.
May 10, 2011
Updates
So. Here's the gist of it.
I work at Lowe's now. In the lumber/building materials department. It's alright. I basically just help people find the wood or sheetrock or roofing or concrete that they want. Then I help them load it on their cart, and then I help them put it in their truck. And when things get low, we 'downstock' and bring the stuff that's way up top, or out in the yard, and put it in the 'retail space' where people can actually buy it. That's pretty much my job, right there. Sometimes I cut wood for people, on our ginormo saw in the back.
Like I said. It's alright.
I put in my mission papers this week, so that's cool. In a couple of weeks I should get my call. Woo.
I started reading this really good book. Life of Pi. But, I kind of suck at reading, so I stopped. Shame.
I ate a lot of froot loops this week.
I've run out of updates, which is really depressing. But that's my life. Lowe's, froot loops, not reading Life of Pi.
Shame.
I work at Lowe's now. In the lumber/building materials department. It's alright. I basically just help people find the wood or sheetrock or roofing or concrete that they want. Then I help them load it on their cart, and then I help them put it in their truck. And when things get low, we 'downstock' and bring the stuff that's way up top, or out in the yard, and put it in the 'retail space' where people can actually buy it. That's pretty much my job, right there. Sometimes I cut wood for people, on our ginormo saw in the back.
Like I said. It's alright.
I put in my mission papers this week, so that's cool. In a couple of weeks I should get my call. Woo.
I started reading this really good book. Life of Pi. But, I kind of suck at reading, so I stopped. Shame.
I ate a lot of froot loops this week.
I've run out of updates, which is really depressing. But that's my life. Lowe's, froot loops, not reading Life of Pi.
Shame.
April 24, 2011
April 23, 2011
Midnight musings
It's strange that I sometimes embrace my depression, that I would sometimes rather wallow than climb out of the pit.
I was thinking about some things the last couple of hours that really sunk me down. Not to tears, but to a lot of regrets and sadness and, to a certain extent, helplessness. I finally forced myself to close my email and stop staring at ancient history, and I got ready for bed with a pretty troubled mind. As I knelt and prayed, though, it was interesting what I asked for. I didn't ask for Heavenly Father to take away my sadness, or help me stop thinking about these things. I just asked for things to be better in the morning. I knew that I wanted to lay down in bed and think about this stuff, I wanted to allow my depression to seep in a little deeper before I cast it out. This certainly isn't the ideal way, but I suppose there must be something cathartic in letting yourself work things out in your mind as you fall asleep. Maybe it's just a way of closing the book. When sleep rolls in, the problems roll out, ne'er to be heard from again. Who knows.
On another note, I had a very interesting experience with the scriptures yesterday. One particular chapter that struck me unlike almost anything I've ever read. The Lord just said, "Yeah, this is for you. Really. Listen up." It was an answer to some prayers that I've had for a long time, and also some words of counsel and chastening that perhaps I didn't know I needed. Either way, it was a marvelous experience to have the spirit witness so plainly that these words were what the Lord needed to say to me right here and now. People say they'd do stuff if Christ or an angel came down and showed them a sign, or gave them instructions. But frankly, I can't find much difference. If you're in tune with the spirit, it speaks just as clearly and powerfully as any thundering from Sinai.
Legit, as they say. Real legit.
I was thinking about some things the last couple of hours that really sunk me down. Not to tears, but to a lot of regrets and sadness and, to a certain extent, helplessness. I finally forced myself to close my email and stop staring at ancient history, and I got ready for bed with a pretty troubled mind. As I knelt and prayed, though, it was interesting what I asked for. I didn't ask for Heavenly Father to take away my sadness, or help me stop thinking about these things. I just asked for things to be better in the morning. I knew that I wanted to lay down in bed and think about this stuff, I wanted to allow my depression to seep in a little deeper before I cast it out. This certainly isn't the ideal way, but I suppose there must be something cathartic in letting yourself work things out in your mind as you fall asleep. Maybe it's just a way of closing the book. When sleep rolls in, the problems roll out, ne'er to be heard from again. Who knows.
On another note, I had a very interesting experience with the scriptures yesterday. One particular chapter that struck me unlike almost anything I've ever read. The Lord just said, "Yeah, this is for you. Really. Listen up." It was an answer to some prayers that I've had for a long time, and also some words of counsel and chastening that perhaps I didn't know I needed. Either way, it was a marvelous experience to have the spirit witness so plainly that these words were what the Lord needed to say to me right here and now. People say they'd do stuff if Christ or an angel came down and showed them a sign, or gave them instructions. But frankly, I can't find much difference. If you're in tune with the spirit, it speaks just as clearly and powerfully as any thundering from Sinai.
Legit, as they say. Real legit.
April 7, 2011
March 26, 2011
Meg
A terrible thing happened to a friend of mine yesterday. And it reminded me of someone that I, sadly, have not thought about in a while.
Megan Anne Brandon was a friend of mine, though not for a really long period of time. We knew each other in middle school, and were pretty good friends for the first few months of my freshman year. Then, in November, she shot herself.
It's tragic, you know? She was 14. The sweetest girl you could ever meet. I understand, mostly, why she did it. But even right now, it just fills me with grief.
I've been thinking, this morning, about where she is now, and what her future is. Considering the circumstances of her death, and the events leading up to it, traditional Christian theology would probably say she's damned. That infuriates me. The God that just damns people willy-nilly just doesn't jive with the reality of a loving Heavenly Father. That's the same kind of God who says, "Oh, I'm sorry, you lived in India and you never got baptized? Tough luck." Or says the same to infants who die without baptism. It's just like, really? Who do you think God is?
When you think about it, when you know who God is and what he wants, that just doesn't make sense. If he's really our Father in Heaven, literally, if he is the father of our spirits, he wants as many people to return to him as possible. He sent us here, he wants all of us back. He would have to be about the worse plan-maker ever to send billions of his children here with absolutely zero chance of ever returning. That's not just foolish, it's cruel.
So I'm grateful to know that that's not the case. I'm grateful to know the truth; to know what's what and who's who and how it all fits together.
As for Meg? I don't usually romanticize God or Christ. I usually think of them in a manly sort of way, lots of respect, gratitude. Love, but not in a soppy, emotional sort of way. In this case, though, I'm confident that Christ met Meg those years ago. I think she cried on His shoulder. I think He comforted her. And I know without a doubt that I will see her again.
And that's worth something.
Megan Anne Brandon was a friend of mine, though not for a really long period of time. We knew each other in middle school, and were pretty good friends for the first few months of my freshman year. Then, in November, she shot herself.
It's tragic, you know? She was 14. The sweetest girl you could ever meet. I understand, mostly, why she did it. But even right now, it just fills me with grief.
I've been thinking, this morning, about where she is now, and what her future is. Considering the circumstances of her death, and the events leading up to it, traditional Christian theology would probably say she's damned. That infuriates me. The God that just damns people willy-nilly just doesn't jive with the reality of a loving Heavenly Father. That's the same kind of God who says, "Oh, I'm sorry, you lived in India and you never got baptized? Tough luck." Or says the same to infants who die without baptism. It's just like, really? Who do you think God is?
When you think about it, when you know who God is and what he wants, that just doesn't make sense. If he's really our Father in Heaven, literally, if he is the father of our spirits, he wants as many people to return to him as possible. He sent us here, he wants all of us back. He would have to be about the worse plan-maker ever to send billions of his children here with absolutely zero chance of ever returning. That's not just foolish, it's cruel.
So I'm grateful to know that that's not the case. I'm grateful to know the truth; to know what's what and who's who and how it all fits together.
As for Meg? I don't usually romanticize God or Christ. I usually think of them in a manly sort of way, lots of respect, gratitude. Love, but not in a soppy, emotional sort of way. In this case, though, I'm confident that Christ met Meg those years ago. I think she cried on His shoulder. I think He comforted her. And I know without a doubt that I will see her again.
And that's worth something.
March 21, 2011
*Cleverness*
I started a journal, like, a real one. It's alright. I don't really know how to write in it, so it feels really awkward. It's like, who am I talking to? What's my audience? Is it just my 'future self'? Or my future wife, or my eventual posterity? I would write different things to each of those people. To myself I would probably put more personal things, things I've figured out, little details that it might be fun to remember. If my wife will read it, then I probably shouldn't put in a ton of details about my current besottment, because if it's not the same person she probably won't appreciate it. If my future kids will read it, then I don't really want to put in stuff about depression or struggles or like, bad stuff, because, you know, they're my kids. Daddy will be perfect in their eyes, can't be shattering that illusion.
Speaking of kids, I really want them. I'm so pumped to have babies. Tons of them. We had a joke in our apartment last semester that, one of the things you have to talk to someone you're in a serious relationship with is "the P word". So it was like, "Mike, have you talked to her about the P word yet?" P is posterity. But basically no one who's not Mormon would ever use that word, so it's funny. Somehow. I don't know.
If you want some updates on my commitments, you may be disappointed. I talked about how I was going to learn Arabic, learn to write with my left hand, get good grades, and all of that. I know no Arabic, I didn't write with my left hand even once, and I'm probably going to flunk out of school this semester. That's maybe an exaggeration, I will probably only fail half my classes. I actually want to get a 1.75 (cross your fingers) because then if someone asks what kind of grades I got my first year at college I can say "4.0... If you add both semesters together!" And we will laugh and laugh and it will be a grand old time. And hopefully they will forget that that means I got terrible grades.
Speaking of being funny, it's really early/late. I made a cake last night, cherry chip. It smelled like my birthday. I had like 3 cherry chip cakes for my 18th birthday, because I told people how much I loved them and so like 3 different people made them. My parents were out of town for my birthday, so Loni spent the night and we ate Dino Nuggets and cake and sweet Maui onion chips and watched Avatar: The Last Airbender all night. We never got to finish the 3rd season before I left, sad. It's a good show. That Sokka is really funny.
As I continue to vomit words onto this keyboard, I've realized something. This aggression will not stand. Does that make any sense to you? Probably not, because it's nonsense. I don't know why anyone would ever say it.
Yeah. I'm gonna go now. I'll probably delete this when I read it as a coherent human later. Yeah.
Speaking of kids, I really want them. I'm so pumped to have babies. Tons of them. We had a joke in our apartment last semester that, one of the things you have to talk to someone you're in a serious relationship with is "the P word". So it was like, "Mike, have you talked to her about the P word yet?" P is posterity. But basically no one who's not Mormon would ever use that word, so it's funny. Somehow. I don't know.
If you want some updates on my commitments, you may be disappointed. I talked about how I was going to learn Arabic, learn to write with my left hand, get good grades, and all of that. I know no Arabic, I didn't write with my left hand even once, and I'm probably going to flunk out of school this semester. That's maybe an exaggeration, I will probably only fail half my classes. I actually want to get a 1.75 (cross your fingers) because then if someone asks what kind of grades I got my first year at college I can say "4.0... If you add both semesters together!" And we will laugh and laugh and it will be a grand old time. And hopefully they will forget that that means I got terrible grades.
Speaking of being funny, it's really early/late. I made a cake last night, cherry chip. It smelled like my birthday. I had like 3 cherry chip cakes for my 18th birthday, because I told people how much I loved them and so like 3 different people made them. My parents were out of town for my birthday, so Loni spent the night and we ate Dino Nuggets and cake and sweet Maui onion chips and watched Avatar: The Last Airbender all night. We never got to finish the 3rd season before I left, sad. It's a good show. That Sokka is really funny.
As I continue to vomit words onto this keyboard, I've realized something. This aggression will not stand. Does that make any sense to you? Probably not, because it's nonsense. I don't know why anyone would ever say it.
Yeah. I'm gonna go now. I'll probably delete this when I read it as a coherent human later. Yeah.
March 14, 2011
Shapes
I spent way too much money in Portland this weekend. Like, 900 bucks. Crap. But it was a good time nonetheless.
My sophomore year in Geo/Trig, me and Karlie Ellingson were like, "Man, it would be so cool to be ambidextrous. Maybe we should make ourselves learn to write with our other hand." (I was right, she was left). We did it for about 30 minutes.
However, today I decided that I'm going to take a risk. I'm going to ambidextrize myself. For the next month, I will not write with my write hand. At all, unless I forget. You might say, "But what about your signature? Surely such a fine, handcrafted (ha!) piece of art as that can't be imitated with your left hand." Fear not, my signature is a quarter inch scribble, followed by a giant squiggly line. Unless I'm signing it electronically, then it's just like one line randomly somewhere on the pad.
But anyways, with any luck, I will soon be ambidextrous, which will be awesome. Maybe I'll wear an eyepatch on my good eye, too, so that my entire body will be symmetrical.
Probably not.
My sophomore year in Geo/Trig, me and Karlie Ellingson were like, "Man, it would be so cool to be ambidextrous. Maybe we should make ourselves learn to write with our other hand." (I was right, she was left). We did it for about 30 minutes.
However, today I decided that I'm going to take a risk. I'm going to ambidextrize myself. For the next month, I will not write with my write hand. At all, unless I forget. You might say, "But what about your signature? Surely such a fine, handcrafted (ha!) piece of art as that can't be imitated with your left hand." Fear not, my signature is a quarter inch scribble, followed by a giant squiggly line. Unless I'm signing it electronically, then it's just like one line randomly somewhere on the pad.
But anyways, with any luck, I will soon be ambidextrous, which will be awesome. Maybe I'll wear an eyepatch on my good eye, too, so that my entire body will be symmetrical.
Probably not.
March 13, 2011
This one's for you, Charlie
I'm one of those people that doesn't win things, or at least, that's what I'll tell you. Whenever there's a contest or raffle or something there's always a group of people who can be heard saying "I've never won anything, ever. It's really my turn to win something." That group of people includes, generally, every single person who entered the contest. If you listened to all of them you might begin to believe that all contests, from the 1st grade spelling bee to the state lottery, were in fact rigged so that there will never be a winner. Most people who claim to belong to this state of perpetual loss are, in fact, in a state of perpetual forgetfulness. I think most of us have actually won things many times in our life, they were just insignificant enough, or occurred long enough ago, that we don't remember them.
With that in mind, I've decided to go through my life and think of all the times I've ever won anything. Let us begin.
In middle school I won a handheld karaoke machine. It was for a bingo game, held in the cafeteria, for people who had like sold a certain amount of magazines and turned in their paper about it or something. Of course, I didn't sell anything, I just stole Trevor Evans' paper and erased his name and put my own in (who uses pencil on those things? Get with the program.) I suppose that was a win in and of itself, since I got to miss class for no reason at all. For those of you who are worried about Trevor, don't. I distinctly remember seeing him at the Bingo thing and being like "Did you really go out and sell more magazines? Get a life." In the end, though, I won a handheld karaoke thing. It was purple. Erika Devereaux approached me afterwards and asked me for it, since I would never use it. I was a jerk, so I said no, and it sat in my house for a couple of years before I threw it away.
I've won some stuff from my dad throughout the years. He likes to offer exorbitant sums for trivia questions that he's sure I won't know the answer to. I once won a dollar for spelling elephant correctly (I know that isn't an exorbitant sum). On our sailboat cruise in Mexico, he offered me 50 dollars if I could tell him who "took the purse". I said "Judas Escariot", and I think my mom wanted to swear at him. But, of course, she didn't.
As a side-note, I can only remember my mom swearing like 3 times in my life. Once was at my dad when I was a kid. It was about me and my brother. I think my dad had been a jerk to us and her mama-bear hackles rose up and she threw the D-bomb right in his face. BAM! Another time, it was totally random, we were going to the airport in Fairbanks, and I was being a whiny little twerp, and like was complaining about carrying the suitcase into the airport, and she was like "Well I'll carry the damn thing myself." I remember I was just like, confused. I didn't really know why she would choose that particular moment of all moments to unleash her inner demons. I think there was another time, but it's not coming to me right now.
Speaking of "I think there was another time, but it's not coming to me right now," I think there was another time when I won something, but it's not coming to me right now. Dang.
With that in mind, I've decided to go through my life and think of all the times I've ever won anything. Let us begin.
In middle school I won a handheld karaoke machine. It was for a bingo game, held in the cafeteria, for people who had like sold a certain amount of magazines and turned in their paper about it or something. Of course, I didn't sell anything, I just stole Trevor Evans' paper and erased his name and put my own in (who uses pencil on those things? Get with the program.) I suppose that was a win in and of itself, since I got to miss class for no reason at all. For those of you who are worried about Trevor, don't. I distinctly remember seeing him at the Bingo thing and being like "Did you really go out and sell more magazines? Get a life." In the end, though, I won a handheld karaoke thing. It was purple. Erika Devereaux approached me afterwards and asked me for it, since I would never use it. I was a jerk, so I said no, and it sat in my house for a couple of years before I threw it away.
I've won some stuff from my dad throughout the years. He likes to offer exorbitant sums for trivia questions that he's sure I won't know the answer to. I once won a dollar for spelling elephant correctly (I know that isn't an exorbitant sum). On our sailboat cruise in Mexico, he offered me 50 dollars if I could tell him who "took the purse". I said "Judas Escariot", and I think my mom wanted to swear at him. But, of course, she didn't.
As a side-note, I can only remember my mom swearing like 3 times in my life. Once was at my dad when I was a kid. It was about me and my brother. I think my dad had been a jerk to us and her mama-bear hackles rose up and she threw the D-bomb right in his face. BAM! Another time, it was totally random, we were going to the airport in Fairbanks, and I was being a whiny little twerp, and like was complaining about carrying the suitcase into the airport, and she was like "Well I'll carry the damn thing myself." I remember I was just like, confused. I didn't really know why she would choose that particular moment of all moments to unleash her inner demons. I think there was another time, but it's not coming to me right now.
Speaking of "I think there was another time, but it's not coming to me right now," I think there was another time when I won something, but it's not coming to me right now. Dang.
January 15, 2011
*Spoiler Alert* We live happily ever after
Today was not a great day for me by most people's standards. I left the house once, to go to a job interview for a job I didn't want and to withdraw 55 of my last 90 dollars for the month to buy a textbook. The only people I spoke to were a couple of my roommates, for probably 5 minutes tops, and like 3 texts to a girl I don't really like.
Needless to say, when 6:00 rolled around, I looked a little like this:
No, not snuggly. Sad.
(On an unrelated note, while I was searching for that picture I came across this.)
So, I thought, you know what every sad panda deserves? Something unhealthy, to make him feel sad tomorrow as well. So, I set off for Taco Bell.
Halfway there I though, "No, Ed. Be strong. Taco Bell will not bring you joy and friendship. It will only bring you sadness and food poisoning.
So I resolved to just walk, and see where the wind blew me.
And, 15 minutes later, I reached the outskirts of Rexburg. I forgot that this town will do anything in its power to crush spontaneity.
Thoroughly disillusioned with the world, I started to trudge home. (Ten minutes later- there are no good 'trudge' pictures out there).
Long story short- I went to Subway. And that, my friends, has made all the difference.
Afterwards, I looked like this:
No. I did not bite into my delicious 6 inch turkey on wheat and find a golden ticket, (thank goodness).
Instead, I saw her.
Yes, confession time. I have a crush on a Subway girl. It's an expensive habit, but well worth the effort.
You see, I don't know her schedule (we haven't reached that point in our relationship yet). So, I'm forced to go to Subway pretty much every day, whether she's working or not. This leads to a lot of disappointment (and $4.24 charges on my credit card).
But, tonight she was. So all is well in the world.
You might say to yourself "*something rude*" but you would be wrong. One day, just by chance, I'll be standing behind her in a line somewhere, and I'll say "*words of exceeding cleverness*" and she'll turn around and smile and WE'LL BE MARRIED ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN.
You're all invited.
Needless to say, when 6:00 rolled around, I looked a little like this:
No, not snuggly. Sad.
(On an unrelated note, while I was searching for that picture I came across this.)
So, I thought, you know what every sad panda deserves? Something unhealthy, to make him feel sad tomorrow as well. So, I set off for Taco Bell.
Halfway there I though, "No, Ed. Be strong. Taco Bell will not bring you joy and friendship. It will only bring you sadness and food poisoning.
So I resolved to just walk, and see where the wind blew me.
And, 15 minutes later, I reached the outskirts of Rexburg. I forgot that this town will do anything in its power to crush spontaneity.
Thoroughly disillusioned with the world, I started to trudge home. (Ten minutes later- there are no good 'trudge' pictures out there).
Long story short- I went to Subway. And that, my friends, has made all the difference.
Afterwards, I looked like this:
No. I did not bite into my delicious 6 inch turkey on wheat and find a golden ticket, (thank goodness).
Instead, I saw her.
Yes, confession time. I have a crush on a Subway girl. It's an expensive habit, but well worth the effort.
You see, I don't know her schedule (we haven't reached that point in our relationship yet). So, I'm forced to go to Subway pretty much every day, whether she's working or not. This leads to a lot of disappointment (and $4.24 charges on my credit card).
But, tonight she was. So all is well in the world.
You might say to yourself "*something rude*" but you would be wrong. One day, just by chance, I'll be standing behind her in a line somewhere, and I'll say "*words of exceeding cleverness*" and she'll turn around and smile and WE'LL BE MARRIED ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN.
You're all invited.
January 13, 2011
Things I've decided
To learn Arabic. Or at least attempt to gain some basic understanding of it. There's a thing called "wikiversity" which is like a wikipedia university thing. They have lots of lessons on stuff. It's cool.
That Clive Staples Lewis is a genius. Seriously. Best book on religion I've ever read. He's funny, logical, passionate, and just plain brilliant. He was also an atheist for like 30 or 40 years, so his description and reasoning behind finally converting is really interesting. Again, it was the logic that got him.
Believe it or not since I stopped taking math at the end of my junior year I have not gained any sort of proficience in it. Apparently cheating your way to a D+ for 3 years doesn't qualify you for college math.
Not only did I not learn math in high school, I also didn't learn study skills or critical reading skills. I read a page in a textbook and then I realize that I don't know anything I just read. It's frustrating. Also, textbooks are incredibly boring. They make me want to die.
Finally, Moleskine notebooks really are great. I actually refuse to write in anything else that I plan on keeping permanently. It just feels good to write in them.
That wasn't a very good 'finally'.
Finally- ink is far too expensive. Everything is far too expensive, actually, when you're poor. So that sucks.
Also- click on the link and watch the video full screen. Trust me.
ANGELS & AIRWAVES "LOVE" MOVIE TRAILER #3 from Angels and Airwaves on Vimeo.
That Clive Staples Lewis is a genius. Seriously. Best book on religion I've ever read. He's funny, logical, passionate, and just plain brilliant. He was also an atheist for like 30 or 40 years, so his description and reasoning behind finally converting is really interesting. Again, it was the logic that got him.
Believe it or not since I stopped taking math at the end of my junior year I have not gained any sort of proficience in it. Apparently cheating your way to a D+ for 3 years doesn't qualify you for college math.
Not only did I not learn math in high school, I also didn't learn study skills or critical reading skills. I read a page in a textbook and then I realize that I don't know anything I just read. It's frustrating. Also, textbooks are incredibly boring. They make me want to die.
Finally, Moleskine notebooks really are great. I actually refuse to write in anything else that I plan on keeping permanently. It just feels good to write in them.
That wasn't a very good 'finally'.
Finally- ink is far too expensive. Everything is far too expensive, actually, when you're poor. So that sucks.
Also- click on the link and watch the video full screen. Trust me.
ANGELS & AIRWAVES "LOVE" MOVIE TRAILER #3 from Angels and Airwaves on Vimeo.
January 10, 2011
I don't need no other lover
It was a very strange morning. My alarm woke me up and I rolled out of bed and went into the living room. As I walked out of my room I had words flowing in my mind.Within 30 seconds of being awake I had started to write a poem. Within 5 minutes I had written 3.
Inspiration, you might say. Perhaps a vision.
I'm afraid not.
But I'll share the second one with you.
It is
Perhaps,
The most essential fact of human nutrition
To know that you may grow old on bran flakes and olives,
And suffer a young, cruel death
by Captain Crunch
Oh what the heck, I'll throw you the 3rd.
There is something
comforting,
even mystic.
Some ancient Kabbalah rite that
surely
must go into the making of a Flintstone vitamin.
In other news... Well. There's not really any other news. I've started school. It's going reasonably well. If anything of note occurs you'll be the first to know.
I promise.
Inspiration, you might say. Perhaps a vision.
I'm afraid not.
But I'll share the second one with you.
It is
Perhaps,
The most essential fact of human nutrition
To know that you may grow old on bran flakes and olives,
And suffer a young, cruel death
by Captain Crunch
Oh what the heck, I'll throw you the 3rd.
There is something
comforting,
even mystic.
Some ancient Kabbalah rite that
surely
must go into the making of a Flintstone vitamin.
In other news... Well. There's not really any other news. I've started school. It's going reasonably well. If anything of note occurs you'll be the first to know.
I promise.
January 9, 2011
Thoughts on death
You might have heard about the shootings in Arizona. Some angry constituent tried to shoot his congresswoman, and ended up killing 6 and injuring 12 others.
One of the people he killed was a 9 year old girl. She was born on September 11, 2001.
This is her:
I like to think that I have some pretty liberal views for a lot of criminals. I believe in people's ability to change and reform, and I think that the justice system should reflect and support that.
But I can't help feeling that this guy should be taken out in someone's backyard and shot. Really.
I read an interview with a man who worked on a firing squad for like 20 years. He was a religious guy, and they asked if he ever regretted it or felt bad or whatever. He said he had felt more remorse over squirrels he's killed. He said that sometimes you get defective merchandise, and your only choice is to return it to the manufacturer.
I would disagree with him in a lot of cases. But this guy, crazy as he may be, I feel like there's not much of a punishment we can give him here that would suit him better than what he'll get afterwards.
One of the people he killed was a 9 year old girl. She was born on September 11, 2001.
This is her:
I like to think that I have some pretty liberal views for a lot of criminals. I believe in people's ability to change and reform, and I think that the justice system should reflect and support that.
But I can't help feeling that this guy should be taken out in someone's backyard and shot. Really.
I read an interview with a man who worked on a firing squad for like 20 years. He was a religious guy, and they asked if he ever regretted it or felt bad or whatever. He said he had felt more remorse over squirrels he's killed. He said that sometimes you get defective merchandise, and your only choice is to return it to the manufacturer.
I would disagree with him in a lot of cases. But this guy, crazy as he may be, I feel like there's not much of a punishment we can give him here that would suit him better than what he'll get afterwards.
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