You can lead a horse to water..

... Jack Bauer can make it drink...

Okay, so I admittedly think that Jack Bauer of 24 is superior to Chuck Norris, but there *is* one matter of silliness that I've been holding onto for a while, and it's now time to share to the world at large. This is quite possibly my favourite Chuck Norris joke out there.

What you do:
Go to the Google search page (not Blackle, or other affiliates)
type in "find Chuck Norris"
click on "I'm feeling lucky"
enjoy the results. Brilliant. the end.

Every man is an island.

I stand by that. But clearly some men are island chains. Underneath, they are connected... (About A Boy)

Brilliant movie; one of my favourites. Not just because of the dry British humor and charm, but the underlying message-- our lives and happiness are dependent on our relationships with others. Well, that's the message I take from it, and as this is *my* blog that's the only opinion that matters. If you have a problem with it, you can start your own blog and describe my evil deeds to the uninterested world at large. See if I care.

One saying that I always have had trouble with is that on one can make you feel anything-- no one can make you happy or sad or angry; you choose to have those reactions on your own. I can see how that can work on a small scale, but it's not like the actions of others can't have any direct effect on your emotional state. That doesn't mean that they have complete control, but rather that you can't say that your emotions are entirely based off of yourself or others-- it's a mix of the two. If everyone were an island, emotionally isolated from the actions of others, then yes, each person would be 100% responsible for each emotion they feel. But men aren't islands... we are all connected.

"I've tried making myself happy, and she's tried making herself happy, but it doesn't work. You need other people to make you happy"
"But that's just the thing--- if other people can make you happy, then they can make you unhappy as well."

Happiness doesn't come easily, or at least it doesn't come easily for long. Anything worth having is worth working for. I think that the number one killer of relationships, whether romantic or platonic, is neglect. If you don't water your plant it will inevitably whither away and die. Some relationships are like cacti-- they only require occasional watering, while others have all of the hydration needs of... um... dogs (which are not plants, but they still need to drink every day). Still, you need to put effort into other people if you want to have returns from them, in this case the returns being an upshot of joy or well-being. I think in the church this gets taken care of through that whole 'service' branch, as well as home/visiting teaching. When your goal is to make other people happy, then you benefit from the positive spillover that their joy brings into your life.

When people say that no one makes you feel anything, but that you choose how you feel, I can't help but to think of them as somewhat selfish. Mainly because they try to pull that phrase after they've done something particularly annoying or rude and don't want to man up to their faults, but also because it depicts a careless regard that they have for others and the good and bad that they bring to life on the grand scheme. I can make you happy if you let me, but I can't make you happy if I do nothing.

*honk* Woo! Go my favorite sports team!

... *honk honk* Yeah! They scored a goal-unit! *honk* Beat the opponents... soundly... (Brian Reagan)

O Holy War! The stadium’s quickly filling,
To see our fight with the school from up North.
Long may Max Hall pass forwardly to Collie,
Or Pitta, Reed—yes our ball shall go forth.
They’ll dodge past defense, no- we’ll never stumble,
We’ll crush their dreams of busting BCS.
Fall on your knees! Oh see how the Utes crumble!
Go fourth & 18! We’ll live the dream & take back the Mountain West.

Led by the light, we heed the Word of Wisdom—
From coffee, tea, drugs, & beer—we refrain.
But at the U they think that it is all dumb,
So they’ll be drunk when they come to the game.
Our linebackers are nice and cleanly shaven,
While all their players look like girly men—
Dreads to their knees, they’re just a bunch of cavemen!
Oh please, just learn to shave! & be behaved, for you know we will win!

Bronco has taught them to show no compassion,
His word is law, and the Cougs shall obey.
Ne’er will their Offense see so little action,
Our D will make sure that we win today.
Sweet hymns of joy, our fight song chorus raise we, With all our hearts we praise the white and blue!
Mountain West Champs! Oh how we love a 3-peat!
Ra Ra, RaRaRa Ra! Go Cougars! Go BYU!
Ra Ra, RaRaRa Ra! Go Cougars! Go BYU!

Music is well said to be the speech of angels.

(Thomas Carlyle).

This post is going to be mainly taken from my personal notebook, which I carry around with me most of the time. To preface: I spent the week in Utah, visiting friends and my little sister, and for the most part being afforded the opportunity to ponder in a different setting than the unpleasantly hot Southern California. Naturally, being somewhat of an eclectic individual, I brought along my trombone, as if he were my companion and we were going on an exclusive getaway to the charmingly adventurous Provo scene... which pretty much meant that I couldn't stand the thought of not practicing for a week & it gave me something to do while everyone else was in class or work. I was fortunate to observe one and a half marching band rehearsals during my stay, both of which left me with a feeling reminiscent of attending a wedding of an ex-boyfriend... I mean, just having the irrepressible sentiment that I could have been there at that time, playing along as if my life as of 2008 hadn't even occurred... So, with that in mind, here it is from my musings while on the plane from SLC to Las Vegas:

" While praying just now, I was expressing gratitude that I've been able to practice & improve on trombone. It made me think of having a conversation with a dear friend-- one who will always be there as long as you come to them. & I realized that it's like prayer. My relationship with my trombone is very much like my relationship with God. The closeness of both is entirely contingent upon my willingness to act & seek. I have to put forth the effort to get to know how it works, how He has instructed me to live. He will always be there for me, willing to work with me to the extent that I do things in the proper order/manner. Just as Philip will always be there for me to take joy in... Also, a trombone is not something that you hide in a closet, away from the world, but rather something that you share openly with all you meet... I have always delighted in being able to share my music, & to participate with other trombonists in this feat. & with such hectic lifestyles & schedules, if you want to improve your relationship with God or bone, you have to make that time. They are beautiful relationships which can only be maintained by constantly engaging with them, or things that would strengthen those bonds (like service, or long tones). You can't expect to neglect your trombone for 4 months & still have the same sound on coming back as you had leaving. The same is true regarding H.F.-- you can't neglect your testimony, or stop praying/scripture study & expect to have your faith be as strong as it would have been had you continued on in those things.

"Faith requires trials-- events which stretch our pre-conceived boundaries of ourselves. You could be playing relatively well in your groups, & then find out that you're going to be section leader, or trombone 1A of the men's pep band, & all of a sudden be overcome with the enormous pressure of living up to those positions. The habits of playing, practicing, & behaving during rehearsals or games that you used to have must all be improved-- taken to a higher level. You can either rise to those occasions, improve your range, polish your etiquette, & vamp up your Cougar enthusiasm, or you can buckle under the pressure & refuse to grow. No one can force you to be a better person or a better trombonist; no one can change your connection with God, save you. Yes, other people can influence your desire to come closer to God, through their testimonies & their positive outlook on life; & people can influence your desire to become a better trombonist by the purity of their tone, their superior sight-reading skills, or their overall commitment to this wonderful instrument.

"I had an econ professor at Mt. SAC that said that the payoff you get from something should be directly proportionate to the amount of work you put into it. Basic economics, or thereabouts. Makes sense; it's a 'reap what you sow' policy. I've seen this in many of the day-to-day transactions & personal relations. If you study well & do the homework you'll learn the material, & if you skive off & daydream then you'll be hard pressed to come out with anything worth value. Same kind of thing with friends--- if you take the time to spend time with them then you'll have a stronger connection that isn't possible without it. However, I don't think this quite applies to the 2 main relationships stated before. When you take the time to know, serve, & love God, He will bless your life so much more than the efforts you put in (Mosiah 2:21--... I say, if ye should serve him with all your whole souls yet ye would be unprofitable servants.). With the trombone, I've found that the returns to practicing and playing have increased exponentially. Even a little bit of daily practice & such is met with the wonderful associations that you only get when you're one of the bones. For me, at least, just being able to share in my musical pursuits with others and rejoicing in really neat trombone arrangements is more than I can ever really repay.

"This goes out to every trombonist that I've ever had the good fortune to play with. You'll never really know just how much I've valued a duet or ensemble moment played along side you. & also, to Philip & Dusty, who have stayed with me loyally & are always reminding me what it means, in their own symbolic way, of how to draw closer to God. Thank you."

& I think to myself,...

... what a wonderful world... (Louis Armstrong)

Do you ever stop to marvel at all there is around us? The intricacies of a blossom floating serenely to the chilled November ground, or the way the wind blows up a storm of leaves that chase you down a rainy sidewalk? I am constantly reminded of all the mathematical miracles that nature exudes. Autumn is a spectacular time of year.

When do people loose this childlike wonder and excitement? Perhaps it's the necessity of adulthood to throw off the giddy acts of exuberance in favor of a more reserved type of nature adoration. Yet, I can't see much to hiding forever the joy of witnessing life pass by each day. Wouldn't the self imposed modesty of your affections really just be another way of lying to yourself? It just seems so depressing. I want to run into the wind with a coat clinging to my shoulders, desperately attempting to stay on my body and not get swept away with the horde of leaves and other tree debris as they come rushing by. I want to wear huge boots and jump into fresh mounds of snow for the mere pleasure of feeling it squish under my feet and watching puffs of white shoot off again as if the snow were falling a second time. There are days when I look into the dark and stormy clouds and imagine myself flying through them, cutting them apart like a machete to a bean bag, and laugh as the beads of water spill out onto the inhabitants below. When I see the sun setting over the desert, I imagine the sky to be permanently changed to red, or else a vivid green, or the more subdued tones of lilac and lavender. When I think of beaches, I fantasize about wearing shorts and a jacket, hopping from rock to rock overlooking a tide pool full of oddly assorted sea creatures. I revel in the old fashioned machinery that dots the countryside and speaks volumes of the technological advances that have come in the past fifty years. & every instance where I feel this way is accompanied by the shame of adulthood, and not feeling secure enough in that status to lay propriety to the wayside and just go crazy.

I would love to travel, wandering from one location to the next and drinking in the country, city, town-- whatever atmosphere that I find. I don't know why, but I'm often restless, never wanting to stay in the same area for too long. If ever I were to find a spot that I could consider on a more permanent scale as my 'home', then it would have to have all of the charms that I look for everywhere... Of course, a place can be breathtakingly beautiful and all the advantages of pleasant weather, but if you have no connection to the people who are there, then it's no different than the mundane, dreary habitation. Beauty has always been meant to be shared, and there's no reason to ever exclude someone you care about from all of the beauties of this world. I want to share the world, but that would mean opening myself up again to someone, all the while running the terrible risk of being further aggrieved by my associations. Maybe that's where people go wrong... Expressing joy in leads towards the chance of having someone or something enter into that part of your heart which, if abused, can never fully heal on its own. Save your inner child.

Everybody's got something to hide...

... Except for me and my monkey. (the Beatles)

3 random things that highlighted my yesterday:

• there was a random homeless guy holding up a sign by the freeway on-ramp, holding a sign that said something to the effect of his being hungry. I happened to be holding half of an Italian Club sandwich, wrapped, and thinking about how I wasn't really that hungry for it, especially if I was to get pizza at The Pie later on. So, I gave it to him. I hope he found it exceptionally delicious.
• this one's kind of awkward-- the flight from Phoenix to SLC was packed, so naturally I found myself right next to a guy from CA who's a student at Utah State. &, well, I'm really not the best at small talk, & it didn't help that I couldn't tell if by sitting next to him I was obliged to make conversation or flirt, or what-have-you... so that entailed a few strange, pointless conversations, but at least he was tolerable (though not handsome enough to tempt me....
• right as I got out of the flight area place, I was welcomed by my two good friends, Whit & Tara. I put down my carry on luggage just to take a breather and talk more freely. Well, this little boy, hardly bigger than my suitcase, comes up, grabs hold of the handle and starts pushing it. It was so freakin' cute, and his mum was rather embarrassed.... Apparently he wanted to help me push my suitcase. or he wanted to steal all of my clothing....
• this is the fourth thing, & I know I said three, but whatever. While at the Pie, I had a clumsy me-moment, and accidentally knocked over my water glass onto Tara's lap. it sucks because I was quite thirsty. Sorry, Tara... Also, a drunk guy tried to hit on Whit as we were leaving. Hilarious. the end.
  

Whenever this world is cruel to me...

... I've got you to help me forgive. Ooh, you make me live. (Queen, You're My Best Friend)

Relationships were so much simpler in elementary school. If you didn't like someone, you just wouldn't play with them. Playground sports were dictated upon who was the best and not the most popular. Minor hurts and pains were forgotten about, and just because you had friends of the opposite gender didn't mean that you had any romantic inclinations or expectations of them. Then again, perhaps the following link would shed some light on the more dangerous aspects of those early childhood cross-gender friendships (It's cute, and only last about 2 minutes):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6ylxWcwkUM

Instead of trying to figure out an appropriate way to bridge the previous stuff to the following, I'm just going to jump right in. I have about an hour until I need to leave for work and frankly, you're going to have to learn to deal with that.

Can a married person have good friends of the opposite gender? I discussed this with a guy that I had been dating for half a year, and we both decided that you can't. Not in the way that you have friends in the single sense. You can be friendly with them, but nowhere near the extent that an unattached person can associate with others. Gone are the days when you can casually hang out in a guy's apartment with his roommates while playing Guitar Hero & eating pizza. There's a certain level of emotional responsibility that you owe to your spouse, and you can't be truly keeping that if you're investing it in others of their same gender. Wait, this sounds a bit strange... I guess what I mean is that, you can have friends, but not good friends, not the emotionally connected friendships that are often formed in the single years, not the types of friendships that could give any hint of romanticism. I think that, in essence, your spouse becomes your funnel for the connections that you can safely make with unrelated members of the opposite gender. Other types of connections can be by nature a bit too risky, and a possible cause of jealousy or unneeded strain on your relationship with your spouse. If that makes any sense.

Imagine, just for now, that you are a 20-something year old single female. For no particular reason except for that of it being familiar to me, imagine also that you are an econ major that plays trombone. Most people find friendships where they spend the most of their time and emotional effort. So, in this scenario, you are surrounded by men. Naturally, friendships are formed in those situations, but there's two different paths. Either they can be shallow, or the "class/work only" kind of friendships, or else you can have an emotional connection. So, instead of talking about football or asymmetric information and their influences in auctions, you talk about life. Well, the asymmetric information could still be brought up, but more in how it relates to the changing influences of parents or roommates. Deeper conversations that reveal more than just team preferences. Ones that expose your feelings about religion, the world, and how to reconcile your fallen position to the course you want to follow. Maybe this is a feminine approach to relationships/friendships, but I never pretended that I wasn't female...

What do you do, when you value one friendship above the others? What do you do if you realize that of all your male friends, there's one in particular that you couldn't stand to lose? When thinking about how relationships should change if either friend gets married, it's been easy for me to accept that there would be diminished returns from most guys. You have to make it perfectly clear that you think of them in only a platonic way. & above all you can't rely on them to comfort you if you don't make the team or tank your audition. There's a change in outlook. So what do you do if you find out one day, after months of retrospection, that you love your friend? You can't stand the thought of one day realizing that you can't keep this up forever, that someday they will marry someone else and you won't be able to talk to them again, because how could you honestly be around them without feeling that strong emotional attachment?

When my boyfriend at the time and I were discussing the marriage-friendship dilemma, I thought that he was talking about a good female friend of his, but I think he was talking about us. I loved him, with everything that I had, but he decided to break things off because he didn't know if he should marry me. Something about praying about whether he should and not getting an answer. Maybe that was just a polite way to say that he didn't love me in return. When there's been no visible wrong committed, it's hard to think of a reason to not stay "friends"... the ever dreaded and somewhat false assumption that two people can remain friends after one has told the other that they love them. We agreed that the only way to be able to move on was to stop associating with each other. It's hard to forget that you love someone when you are bombarded with instances to peer into his perfect blue eyes and remember all over again.

Again, I wonder.... Why would you fall in love with someone you're not even dating? Why should that emotion come when you had assumed long ago that there was only friendship between the two of you? Is it because of the realization that this type of friendship must have an end, and that you can't imagine a life without that person as your friend? I sometimes think that emotional attachments are cruel, because if you care for someone, they have the greatest potential to hurt you. What I wouldn't give to be back in kindergarten, where friendships weren't under the looming, watchful eye of love. For right now, I echo the words of a former roommate: "We can't have a DTR; we don't even have an R yet!"

He loves me... He loves me not... (every girl who's ever torn a flower to shreds)

I bet I probably could've crawled home by now...

... I need a drink. / Does chocolate milk come from a chocolate cow? It makes you think. / Oh no, all gone/ Nothing makes ya thirstier than Waiting, Waiting" (How to Eat Like a Child [& Other Lessons on Not Being a Grown-UP])

So, I am in a process of waiting and hoping once again... You'd think that I'd be good at it by now, but that kind of sloppy thinking leads to... uh, something bad. Anyway, because I don't feel like divulging to the world at large my current plight, I'm leaving everyone with a nifty moving picture box. I could go for a Snickers bar right about now. Enjoy!

Caer esta permitido...

... levantarse es una obligacion. (La Oreja de van Gogh)

Just what does the power of choice signify? In the politically charged media, "choice" too often refers to things which are more often than not resultant upon the inability of certain people to make the proper preventative choices, or else a lifestyle that may be argued to not even be a choice at all. Yet, I am pro-choice. Most people are, though, in the way I intend that statement to be.

I believe that everyone has a choice. This is not surprising coming from a person who has chosen to study economics, which is essentially the study of choices (well, the allocation of scarce resources to unlimited wants...), nor from an avid member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In both of those endeavours, the concept of choice is crucial, if not central to their very foundations. The four requirements for any economic model: Agents, Choices, Payoffs, & Constraints. These 'principles' can be found in the model of the plan of salvation found in 2 Nephi 2.--- :11, opposition in all things (choices); --:13, law (constraints); --:16, act for yourself (agents); & --:26, Knowledge of good and evil (incentives/payoffs). These can be a bit roughly stated, as I'm going off of notes I made instead of opening up my scriptures again (who does that more than once a day? *chiste*), but it makes me feel more confident in the study of economics if I can find those same characteristics in the gospel. Anyway, you can't avoid choice. The very act of refusal or inaction is a choice. Not every situation is going to present a clear, do-this-or-that, right-or-wrong type of scenario. Nor will there be a two-way split. Even for a presidential election, the choices aren't limited to McCain or Obama (although most intelligent people will see these, unfortunately, as the only rational options-- no need to throw away your vote on a third or fourth party candidate...). Sometimes, the best you can do is to choose to react well to a poor situation. This ties into my recent switch from being pro-life to pro-choice.

As a matter of principle, I do not agree with any endeavour that sheds human blood (well, if it's donated that's a different story...). I'm against war, the death penalty, and abortion in its selfish state. War, as I see it, should NEVER be a pre-emptive strike, such as the one that's been bundling on in Iraq. While it is prudent to apprehend and punish the terrorists responsible for the attack on the World Trade Centers (I cringe whenever I hear people say 9/11; honestly, that day happens every year, but the event to which people refer only happened once...), we aren't necessarily going after them. Instead, good ole Dubya has dubbed this a "war on terror", which can never be won, not without the powers of heaven in their full grasp, with the earth being renewed to its paradisaical glory... You can't have your enemy be an emotion or sentiment, it must needs be a literal, tangible group or person, otherwise there can be no real progress made. Anti-war, check. Death penalty-- for one thing, if you weigh all of the appeals, court costs, research etc. for someone facing execution, against the costs of lifetime imprisonment without parole, the latter will mostly be the less expensive route. But costs don't mean much to me. I'm in favor of abolishing the practice of killing convicted criminals, no matter what the crime. That doesn't mean I want to have tea and arugula with a man who killed his girlfriend and sent her innards to a local elementary school as sausages, I just echo Prof. Dumbledore's sentiments that there are things much worse than death. Check. Abortion-- I don't support it, but I'm no longer adamantly opposed to it. I still think it is a terrible alternative. Late-term abortions, when the person has obviously known and failed to act upon it earlier, are still things that cause me to shrivel my nose in disgust. However, I don't think I could take away that option for certain women. I've had a few... unpleasant.. experiences that have made me realize, if only a fraction of a bit, the horrors of a woman who has been violated, abused, or raped. The pain alone of knowing that someone has used you like that can kill the soul. Usually, it's not a stranger, but someone the woman knows. When you're that scared, confused, and hurt, it would be a sign of utmost courage to report the incident when it occurs. Or at least within enough time to be able to physically prove it happened in a negative manner. I believe that abortion can be an option when the pregnancy threatens the life of the mother, or in cases of rape/incest. But I fear that if the law were to narrow it down to only those situations, some girls, scared and hurt and confused, would be denied access to that... There should always be a choice in pregnancy, which is usually made when both parties consent to the act which initiates it. When one of the involved is forced, it takes away her ability to choose, and leaves her in a pretty terrible spot. I know the majority of my LDS friends probably won't condone my words, but gratefully, not many of them have had that terror in their lives. I can't say with a certainty who has, not just from confidentiality, but because it's a hurt you don't usually share with people.

This ties into something less political, te juro... For those of you in the know, which is surprisingly few due to my inability to articulate myself adequately and without prompt, I've been having a bit of trouble getting my mission papers in. Because of a long involving game of church policies and telephone tag between past & present bishops & stake pres., I didn't get to even start them until the very end of August. Dental was taken care of completely in less than a week. Yippee hooray. Medical would have been squared away before the ides of September, but there have been... complications.. Beware the Ides of September! It turns out that I *might* have a serious condition, but the doctors won't know if it's a lifelong, 'I'm going to have to learn to live with it because it won't be leaving me like my last boyfriend' kind of thing, or something that'll clear up with a few months or weeks of intensive treatment... I thought that the unpleasant medical procedure I went through on Sept 16 was going to hold the answers, but... okay, I had a sigmoidoscopy, but that only shed light (literally) on a portion of the problem, so on the 27 of this month I get to go in for a full colonoscopy so they can determine the extent of the problem. I won't take medication until then, because I kind of need to say exactly what I've been going through in order to show that I'll be physically able to handle a mission.

When my personal physician told me 23 Sept. that I might be able to go on a mission in about 6 months or so, I was pretty devastated. I wanted to be gone by now, not have to wait until March or April... I thought immediately of all of the things that I "had to give up" to get to where I was... marching band, the company of friends, freedom, dating, tutoring student athletes in economics (I had grown quite fond of an Egyptian tennis player who's currently in one of the intermediate price theory courses)... so naturally I felt crushed and lifeless, as if my chosen path was laying destitute, bloody, and naked at the feet of an uncaring cannibal. It was a hard, stress-filled week. At least it was a bye week for the Cougars, otherwise I would have had to face the joyous pains of watching a football game of the team that I love, knowing that I could have been there cheering and playing. I was too emotionally exhausted to cry.

Then, a paradigm shift. I saw how extremely fortunate I am to be where I am. My problem started at the beginning of August, and the symptoms aren't exactly things that cause me to quiver in fear of my well being, except for when the pain pours on, but that only happens once or twice a month so far. Honestly, I wouldn't have thought about it much if not for one question on the missionary health forms. I started noticing more and more things that I would have shrugged off as 'one-time' occurrences and then promptly forgotten, to be repeated in a vicious cycle. The pain has only been something that has heightened in the past month. If I hadn't been planning on a mission, I would be in Provo, Utah, where I would not have easy access to health care, as I'm covered by Kaiser Permanente, which isn't exactly a Utah kind of thing. I wouldn't have known where to go or how to make things stop. & I'd probably just be looking to relieve the symptoms, which probably won't help much in the long run should it be serious. It's like I'm looking for my personal health "K-star-gold" in a Solow Growth Model centered instead around me--- I'm willing to endure more physical discomfort now in order to enjoy a better well-being in the future (don't ask me too much about macroeconomics, I'm probably going to have to retake that class anyway...) Another very fortunate thing is that, as I am still a "student", I'm still covered by my mum's health care service, which means that I only pay a reduced, $5 ffs amount for each hospital visit/procedure, which have been many, and probably very costly if I had to cover everything... If I had waited, as was my plan pre-June 08, until after graduating from BYU to set this in motion, and had I endured through the unpleasantness of this condition, then I wouldn't have the coverage I need. & I needed to get away from some people, okay- person, at BYU. It was completely unhealthy, which I realize now. I've been away from the terrifying company of the eligible bachelors of Provo, and able to grow in self confidence and respect, both of which had plummeted to dangerous lows during the past 8 months. & I learned where my priorities reside, because that's what I've chosen over the glamour of dressing in wool and moving mechanically around a grassy field. The only thing that could make me give up the music that I sorely miss and love-- God.

Faced with all of this- I have a choice. I am a girl; I'm not socially obligated to serve a mission. No one is forcing me to do something I don't want to do. This isn't like February. I have the power to choose my path, even now. So here's my plan: I go in for a colonoscopy on Oct 27, the same time that I can register for Winter term. I register for classes. If my diagnosis is serious, or would keep me from going on a mission before late February, then I'm back at BYU. If it turns out to be minor and patched with a few helps of lasers and drugs, then it's mission papers, ho! I'll need to discuss this with my bishop, of course, to see what he recommends as far as the papers are concerned, but that's what I'm banking on. If I'm back at school, then I'll come back to a mission after I've graduated, which should be a year from now. Of course, that's assuming that it's still right for me to do at that time. I've been wondering, with all of these things, if this isn't my personal test of Zion's Camp. It could very well be the adversary's attempts to thwart my mission goal, but this could be a period where I'm tested, like Abraham, to see if I'll put my trust in the Lord and do what He wants me to do. I've had a lot of time to ponder (nice comeback!... never mind...), and I think I'm emotionally ready to deal with whatever outcome I face. Two and a half years ago, I took comfort in the phrase, 'you're allowed to fall, but obligated to arise', in that I was able to let myself feel bad for once, knowing that I could then pick myself up. No need to feel bad about getting down as long as you know how to rise up. Now, I have realized that a sense of obligation isn't sufficient. Only by making the conscious choice to do good/do better can you really experience the true, liberating sense of your actions. Thank you.

Hi Susie! Guess what I brought for lunch.

(Calvin & Hobbes)

I'm glad that I didn't grow up during the Industrialization, when the government had no hand in how the "free market" operated. Looking at descriptions like those found in The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, makes me revel in the fact that my employers cannot subject me to workplace situations that are life-threatening, that health codes are in place, and that any US citizen can receive a wage no lower than the minimum value set by the state in which they reside. I guess that means that I'm glad I'm not working in a US based firm overseas, where these standards that are taken for granted at home are disregarded. I don't see what makes those markets so "free". However, the subject I wish to press upon tonight is not my view on the free market; for that I would wish to pour into all of my economic training and cite credible sources, making sure that I have the proper information. & I'm tired tonight, so whatever. To be continued, I suppose. No, tonight hits a bit closer to home. Mine, in fact.

Since the middle of July, I have been working at the same deli that employed me before I transferred to BYU. The time that elapsed between then and now was roughly 2 years. Before, work times were fixed at least a week or two in advance, you were never alone in the store (except for about 2-3 hours if opening), food and breaks were adhered to as CA labor laws permitted, supplies were obtained through a reliable source, and the finished product was uniform and more importantly-- fresh. Now...

Things changed, as they are prone to do. Alas, this change was mostly a downhill endeavour. There is no longer an on site manager. Employees working for CA minimum wage are expected to handle all aspects of the store, alone, for about six hours at a time. Because of pressure from the "managers"/owners, closing the store for the required half hour off the clock break is frowned upon, and the only way to take a bathroom break during those times is to lock up the entire store. There is no light outside the back door, or in the gated dumpster area in the corner that's shared by a few other businesses. The city only gives 2 parking permits for the businesses in the area (one goes to one of the owners who oversees catering, and the other is in the possession of a former employee who owned a massive truck that couldn't be parked on the street), so regular employees (there are four of us) have to park a few blocks away every day. Food that used to be delivered on a consistent and reliable basis are now ordered through the owners, which means that maybe they'll remember to pick up half of the items on the list, even though you're out of everything and have been reminding them for days. Not one of my coworkers holds any respect for the owners, although no one will confront them about how they should be managing their business. The last guy who confronted them about legitimate faults was fired, and in a time when the job market is slim pickins, no one wants to go through the hassle of finding another job--- yet. Health standards that were so rigid are now almost the kind of thing that are known but rarely followed. I've been scolded for trying to move some brownies away from the only hand washing sink in the work area because the owner wanted customers to see the freshly baked brownies. I'd rather them see my freshly washed hands, as the only gloves they provide for us are at least 3 times too big for anyone's hands. The sandwich standard-- what goes in each sandwich and in what quantity-- has all but evaporated, and different owners will tell you different things. The worst thing has to do with the soups. Yesterday, I threw away a soup that had been initially created two weeks ago. That. Is. Disgusting. Yet, every time that one of us employees made a prior attempt to toss it, an owner would come in, take a look at the soup, and then throw in a bunch of ingredients and expect to see it the next morning. Why, why would anyone expect that adding some fresh, delicious ingredients into a cauldron of crap suddenly transform it into something people pay money to eat? I've thrown away cheesecakes and "fresh" fruit that has had mold growing on them. I've watched my owner pick up plastic containers that have fallen to the floor, blow them off and use them, with the 5-second-rule as an excuse. I am the only employee who has a food handler's permit, which is for another state, & has probably expired by now. I have screamed in fear at least twice when leaving the dark store to the darkness outside because there have been people standing or walking close to the exit. I have burst into tears as I faced a rush of people, alone, and with a dwindling supply of food/drinks due to an unexpected rush from earlier. I have not seen one note of encouragement to motivate me to "do better" or "work harder" or clean up more thoroughly while manning the store alone, but I have received many chastisements from one of the owners, in front of customers, for not doing something the way that it "should" be done, like cutting the strawberries too roughly or refusing to place cooked food directly on the metal work surface that hasn't been properly cleaned... I don't even know when I'll be working each week until the Sunday before. In reality, it's not the "owners" who are running the store, it's the four "part-time" workers. (One of my coworkers, a student at a local college and soon to be dad, has recently had over 80 hours clocked for two weeks... Yet still the employers insist that they have a full staff...) & while we have the capability of running this store, and making everything effective and efficient, the owners get in the way... no one has any desire to work there any more.

I used to wonder why the employers didn't pay a higher wage. In a intermediate price theory class that I took over a year ago, we discussed the interesting relationship between worker/boss. The employee has a natural disposition to shirk, while the owner has other obligations that keep them from overseeing the work constantly. If the employee is caught shirking, then the owner will fire them, or reduce wages, or some other negative impact. If the employee is making a starting wage that matches their other work options, then switching jobs if caught shirking is relatively costless and therefore shirking is worth the risk of being caught slacking off. If, however, the employee is making more at their current position than other entry-level jobs, the cost of shirking increases. Say they are making $4 over the wages offered at other firms in which the work is identical--- they wouldn't want to risk being lazy and fired, because then they would make $4/hour less at their next job. To combat that? They work a little bit harder. Going back to one of Mankiw's ten points of basic economics, incentives motivate people. Duh. With the workload my employers are expecting us all to bear, it baffles me that the only time they've raised wages was when CA increased their minimum wage. They may say that they're losing money on this store (business can be brutally slow, + they really don't manage things well), but as they are expecting one employee to take on the task of three, then they haven't taken into account the huge amount they're saving on not paying to have three people on the clock when one would "suffice".

I used to take pride in the higher quality of food found at my place of employment. I used to be able to expect the standard to which my work would be held. I used to feel safe in the store. I used to be able to take a break during a shift just to sit down and recoup after a hard few hours bustling around. I used to be able to park directly outside the back of the store & not have to walk 3 blocks to my car on a dark side street. I used to not be afraid of assault or attack while working or leaving work. I used to care about my work. Guess things change, eh?

Ay... Avast!

(cool points for naming the movie and character/actor)

What was the pirate movie rated? ARrrrrrrr....
What's a pirate's favourite holiday? ARrrr-bor Day....
What's a pirate's favourite element? ARrrrr-gon....
Why are pirates pirates? Because they ARrrrrrre....
What's a pirate's favourite state? ARrrrkansas....
What did the pirate choose when asked to pick his poison? ARrrrrrrsenic....
Where does a pirate keep his jam? In a jARrrrrrrr....
Why did the pirate fall asleep in the middle of the day? He had nARrrrrrrrcolepsy...
Which Star Trek captain did the pirate think was best? PicARrrrrrd.....
What type of mystery books does a pirate read? the HARrrrrrrdy Boys......
Why did the pirate quarantine his ship? SARrrrrrrS...
Where do pirates go to get their fast food fix? ARrrrrrrrby's....
Which of the Beatle's do pirates like best? Ringo StARrrrrrrrr....
What mode of transportation does a pirate use? A ship, but when he's on land it's a cARrrrrrrr....


jokes courtesy of Piratejoke.com..... enjoy the remainder of the holiday while ye still can... And an extra dollar off yer booty if ye order your sandwiches and smoothies in yer best pirate voice. Arrrrrr....

Everybody's got plans...

...until they get hit. (Mike Tyson)

I'm just going to stop planning things. No more rigid guidelines of my own making that I feel extra pressured to complete by a fixed timeline. There are just too many variables in life that make everything into an impossibly complex game tree for which I am a player who doesn't know the node that she's really sitting at... I thought that my actions that led into the weekend would most definitely lead into the outcome of having my mission papers submitted to at least my bishop, as the other possible paths involved seriously dominated strategies. I had not foreseen the path that led to me needing to go to a larger hospital so that more skilled physicians could determine the severity of the strange & rather personal health predicament in which I find myself at the present day. Well, past month and a half, actually.

Emotionally, I'm like potpourri. Before this unpleasant health realization, I was already juggling with the thrill and pressure of doing the best I could to be a great sister missionary, the pain at leaving the band that I love and regard as a second family, the edge of uncertainty as to when I would get called on a mission & whether it would be before Fall term ends, and the overall feelings of loneliness and despair at being stuck without any friends and limited family/friend contact in Southern California.

Now, alongside the lovely list above, my life has lurched into a completely different game tree that has me and my plans pitted against "fate". New sentiments that have arisen inside of me include annoyance, fear, and gratitude. Perhaps in that order, too. I'm annoyed that my plans continue to be frustrated, as I had just come to accept that my enormous game plan had been abandoned last second as I moved back home for the summer and dropped all of my classes. Why should I have to face another stumbling block that might just make the alteration pointless, make my sacrifices worth nothing but the pain of losing out some brilliant experiences in a different location? My fear comes into the uncertainty of my health predicament. I'm afraid of the emotions that I would have to come to terms with if these issues prevent me from serving, afraid that the letdown would simply devastate me and send me back to the emotional state that I was in for almost all of the first half of this year.... Yet, perhaps overshadowing that (well, shadow isn't exactly the best visual aid there, as it tends to come across as the type of emotion that sheds light on something,... meh...) is the sense of gratitude that I have to actually be in the place and have the time to fix whatever health problem this turns out to be. Although I don't know what's causing it (that would be the fear), I'm pretty sure that it would still have plagued me if I hadn't been planning to go on a mission now, and if that were the case, then I would be stubbornly in Provo, enduring the occasional pain (which seems to be increasing, though at a decreasing rate). Perhaps, should this be a serious condition, catching it early and being in an area where my health providers reside is a good thing. Surely I wouldn't have even taken notice in the symptoms if there hadn't been a question on the personal health history form on the mission papers... I seem to be quite lucky in that regard...

So, it seems as though the best that I can do is to try to complete the plans that I set forth to do. Whether I get to follow through, that really isn't in my hands anymore. I guess it never was-- the only difference is that now I'm acutely aware of how little I control anything but my will. & even if I don't get to do this, I'm still going to try; I'm giving my will to Him.

No healthcare system is perfect...

...because infinite demands must always be met with finite resources. (Ikegami and Campbell)

I used that quote in my paper on the Japanese Health Care System, mainly because it sounded pretty & I needed to put in more quotes (most of my citing was just paraphrasing). Anyway, the point to all of this is that

I AM DONE WITH MY ECON PAPER!!!

(finally...)

Hmm.. for some reason I was hoping to make that all bigger... Oh well, the message is still the same. I can't believe how relieved I am to have that over with. Gone. Kaput. The only thing that will make things better is to get a call from Professor Showalter in the morning or afternoon telling me that he did get my email. Otherwise I am going to absolutely go crazy with fear and despair. & after all that I've been through to get this paper to this stage, I am NOT about to let it slip through and be for nothing.

I just wanted everyone to know, is all. If you want to see my dastardly deed, then please feel free to email me. I also have a pretty awesome term paper from my history of creativity II class that is entertaining to read, if you're interested (it compares jazz, impressionism, and guerrilla warfare). Okay, I definitely need to retire; the hour of repose is drawing nigh unto me...

In the tradtion....

The Cougar Song
Brigham Young University
By Clyde D. Sandgren, 1932
Rise all loyal Cougars and hurl your challenge to the foe.
We will fight, day or night, rain or snow.
Loyal, strong, and true
Wear the white and blue.
While we sing, get set to spring.
Come on Cougars it's up to you. Oh!

Rise and shout, the Cougars are out
along the trail to fame and glory.
Rise and shout, our cheers will ring out
As you unfold your victr'y story.
On you go to vanquish the foe for Alma Mater's sons and daughters.
As we join in song, in praise of you, our faith is strong.
We'll raise our colors high in the blue
And cheer our Cougars of BYU.

I had hoped that it wouldn't hit me like this, but it has. I sorely miss Marching Band. Like, it's almost pathetic at the way I've been pining away for it the past few weeks. Granted, I had been looking forward to this week since the end of April, so it's no surprise that since my personal plans have changed like this that I would suddenly become indifferent to the vibrant life and thrill of donning a thick wool jacket and unflattering slacks and blowing your heart out on the smooth grass of LaVell Edwards stadium. Still, it's unsettling to me that as I whip up delicious smoothies and sandwiches inside an air conditioned building that I would long to be outside in loose-fitting attire and sweating after they tell us that we'll be "running through pre-game for the last time today" for the fifth time in a row... As I try my best to prepare myself to go out into the service of the Lord with all my heart and mind, I find that a large part of my heart is still inside my trombone, just bursting to escape into the Wasatch Mountains... I know that the Cougs will have a stellar season, & I had been looking forward to seeing David Tafuna in action (I helped him out in some of his classes last year as part of my job as a tutor at the SAB), and watching as they annihilate the much loathed Yewts, but I won't be doing that now. All I really want to see happen (other than many Cougar victories) is for my mission call to come sometime this semester. Not only do I need that to properly file a deferred enrollment, but I don't want to have missed this football/ marching season in vain. I love those bones, and even if they forget me, I'll never forget what those people have done for me.

Life is an exciting business, ...

...and most exciting when it is lived for others. (Helen Keller)

It is without much further ado that I happily announce that I have started my mission papers! Most of my known associates will have no idea as to the degree of difficulty that it's been for me to reach this spot on itself; suffice it to say that this hasn't been a splendid year for me in the emotional camp... Yet now my lifelong goal is withing grasp, and I feel as though I can finally let myself move forward and drop the spotlight that's been hounding my personal life. I don't want to spend another year and a half as a clueless, self-absorbed little Mormon girl in the middle of Mormon Mecca-- I want to get out there and focus everything I have on the people that really need it. Am I ready for all of the rigors and difficulties of missionary life? I don't think anyone really is, not 100%, but I'm gearing up for it. People may spit in my face and threaten my life, but that won't stop me from going out and bringing some people to a better understanding of Christ and His atonement... I know that any little thing I can do for people now is better than what I might be doing for myself in a worse mindset.

I hope that I can get things underway quickly. I wonder if this might be how the 10 virgens of Christ's parable felt while they waited for the bridegroom to come. All I can do is to prepare myself in the best way possible and try to do some good on my way out. I'm trying to forget the sadness that has flooded to me because of what I gave up for this week. Admittedly, it was the hardest thing for me to let go for the next two years: marching band/pep band. Those musical groups have quite literally felt like family for the past two years... I think of my section as my surrogate brothers and sisters, helping me to deal with life at Provo. There are so many cool trombone/ other instrumentalist friends that I'm leaving so last minute like that probably will be all graduated and/ or married by the time I get back from wherever it is that I'm going... I wish I could have had a better good-bye, but I didn't know I'd be leaving until this past June. Up until then, I was all set to become section leader for this season. I realized the other day as I was mopping up at Podge's, that the only possible way for me to willingly leave the band is because I love my Heavenly Father. There's no other way. Some people cry because they won't see their biological family for 2 years, but I know that they'll still be around when I get back. It's the musical family that I'll really miss. But there's no other business that I'd rather undertake right now than the Lord's.

Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend...

... inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. (Groucho Marx)

I've been meaning to post this train of thought for a while, but my internet time is very few and far between. Translation: internet is for directly connecting to people through emails and such, and blogging is secondary. Never matter, I shall divulge my inner musings now...

About a month ago, I was waiting for my older sister to get ready for church (the single's ward here starts at 1pm, and my older sister likes to wake up at the wee hour of 11:45am... tragic, I know). Anyway, I abated my boredom by taking up the time with my usual associates in this household: my 1 year old golden retriever, Willow. Technically, Willow's still a puppy, but she is also technically fricken' huge. That's the technical term... However, she still acts as if she's the size of our Lhasa Apso, Ralph, which translates over to her inability to eat anything unless you're there encouraging her to do so. Perhaps she's merely spoiled, but that doesn't matter. Anyway, I was there, about an hour before church, sitting next to Willow's food while she leaned up next to me and ate her food.

I realized that despite her physical appearance, she was very much a puppy. A child, if you will. Suddenly, I got it. We are all children of God. Spiritual Puppies. Even though we look like fully matured human beings, we are no different from my Willow Pillow. Just as she is dependent on her human masters to survive and be happy, we are ultimately dependent on the Master. He sets out our nourishment, and it is up to us whether we want to partake and live, or refuse and waste away until life ceases to offer us its wonders. We're often told to become like a child in the gospel-humble, submissive and teachable -- but sometimes it's hard to imagine just how much we really are. It's kind of like being told to act our age, really. Stop pretending that we hold all of the answers, solutions, and know-how when it comes to life, and realize that in order to really survive we must rely on our Lord & Savior, and trust in Him like puppies to their masters...

It must be Thursday. I never did get the hang of Thursdays...

Holy canoly, I haven't written in a while. My bad. Obligatory recap: I've gone home. Well, I went back to the place where I grew up, at the very beginning of July. So, things have been drastically different. For starters, I don't really have a room. Well, I have a bed and a pathway to a door and a bookcase, but the majority of my room has been hijacked by my mum's kindergarten supplies. I get my room back as soon as my incredibly messy older sister finishes moving her room into my oldest brother's old room, and then all of the kindergarten and sewing supplies will be transferred to her old room. It's this whole messy juggling act that makes me really wish that I could be back in Provo sharing a room with someone who has about twice the volume of possessions as myself. The only roommate I ever had that owned less than me was Risa, but I think that's due to the huge cost of transporting things from Japan to Utah and back... Either way, my stuff is at the opposite end of the house and I won't be able to set up my computer until the rooms get back in their proper order. Internet is a luxury good.

Also, being in Southern California comes with the drawback of not having contact with friends anymore. When I was in Provo, even though I was terrified to be around a lot of people at a time, I could still have contact with peers, friends, supportive adults... Here, there's just... the female side of my family and the handful of people that I work with at Podge's La Verne Juice Company. I can't awkwardly relax with my dear friends when I feel in a funk, or walk around campus in the middle of the night/day if I get restless. I'm trapped at my house or at Podge's, with the weekly venture to the church building. I can't stand being confined like this. Especially when I have no one to talk with. No one that I want to talk with. At least not about what's on my mind. I have no idea how to confide anything in my mum, Jacie's always gone with her friends, and Katie's still with a guy who's 15 years her elder, not Mormon, works at Target (not management) and possibly gay. CA died for me a few years ago. It's still just me and the dogs, but at least now I get to leave the house everyday to go to work.

I don't know if I can actually do it. I've been in a depressed, pained way for about half a year now and they don't let people do what I'm trying to do unless that stuff is completely resolved. I gave up so much to get here, and I don't think I could handle not being able to do it now. I need to get better, but part of that getting better involves talking with certain people that I have been waiting for three months now to talk with. I want to tell all, but not to all. There are so many conflicting emotions, and all I'm really certain about is that I can't stand leaving without talking to a certain someone first. I don't want to lose them. Yet, I fear that I already have. I've lost so many things already, that I guess I have to give it up to ever really gain something in return.

Fish are friends, not food.

That title is a lie. I've never had a fish friend in my life, unless you consider the Applewood apartment pet, Rufio the Beta fish... Then again, he started off anorexic and later decided to up and die with clean water, so...

The point is I've finally started reading and researching for my big health care & economics paper. It's on the Japanese health care system and how it relates to the US, whether we could or would even want to implement some of their practices, why we're different, and so on... I've learned quite a few things that are pretty interesting, and have a handful (literally) of useful notes on the inner workings of the system. Still, I don't have as much as I would like to have, but it's pretty neat. I guess it's easy to learn a lot of things when you don't really know anything about the item of interest to begin with. Oops... The actual point is that all this researching Japan business has caused me to become very hungry, and what else would I crave after reading about the land from which my first non-related roommate hails? Sushi. I must have sushi! Oh, the way that the rice, seaweed, fish, and veggies combine in that magical way that makes every bite a memorable experience... (it doesn't help that I haven't eaten anything in about 6 hours).

I have wanted sushi now for a long time, but my appetite has failed to be satiated. Why? For some reason I have this thing against going to a restaurant by myself. I have no problem getting take-out food, because then even if I have to wait in line for a while (like at Cafe Rio), I can always pretend that I'm ordering for some friends as well. I don't tell anyone that, but as long as I think that, then I assume that others might give me that possibility as well. This thinking gets helped out quite a lot if I can talk to someone on the cell phone while in line; people might think I'm getting an order for a friend or significant other who's running late or taking care of other special arraignments, so I have no need to feel awkward (more awkward than I usually feel). Coincidentally, if I have ever called you and asked if you would like for me to get you some food from somewhere, that is why. The big secret is out (to all 5 readers? I don't know who actually reads this blog...). I can't stand being alone in restaurants or other places that seem to have been dominated by groups and date-like expeditions... Also, I want a variety of sushi, which is something that is more easily attained by spreading out the marginal cost of new varieties among a group of friends at a respectable all-you-can-eat sushi location...

So, why not just get a group together to get sushi? Well, the last part of that question contained the answer: sushi. Not many people like sushi, or at least not many people prefer sushi to other types of food that they can get. I was lucky enough FW semesters to have roommates who loved sushi, but also unfortunate enough to have lost their digits and doubt I could get in contact with them again... My current assortment of friends, mostly girls, don't like sushi. Not enough to buy it. So what does that leave me with? If I can't get sushi with friends, then who else can I get to have sushi with me? Ah yes, this is BYU-- so naturally the answer must be dating. That's it! I should go out with a guy and get sushi on a date! Brilliant! Oh, wait, no... not going to work... I seem to have forgotten some of those norms of life, one of which being that it is usually the guy who does the asking and choosing of location and activity of said dating events, the other being that I am, well, me... the second clause guarantees that the first part won't even happen... Of course, that is quite the assumption to make, but I tend to base assumptions off of past experiences, and the past 4 months have acted as an indicator to me that I am not what the guys of BYU have interest in as far as those activities are concerned... I'm just a bit too shy, too strange, too different, & not quite attractive enough to cause anyone to notice me in that sense. & given the kind of emotional struggle that I've been through this year, sometimes I don't mind that lack of attention. Sometimes I freak out if a guy even looks at me, like I get terrified of him and what he could possibly mean by that. Other times the distress I've been through makes me want to get out even more, to find out that not all guys are jerks and some can be quite charming... & then there are times like this, when I'll be leaving in a week, and I really, really really want to go out to eat at someplace I've never been before and have a conversation with something other than an inanimate object. I want sushi! (double meaning there)

I think it's amusing that this post started off about food and ended more about dating, while an earlier post started out focusing on dating and then changed to food. That's all. Tchau.

Don't talk at all! Show me!

Conversations are weird. No, let me change that... Conversations are downright awkward and quite often just feel unnatural. ...If you happen to have the same name, birthday, and Social Security number as myself, that is... I often wonder why that is, but have found that wondering about them never changes the fact that the human discourse, as described above, tends to stay the same for me. (You'll notice that I didn't actually define conversation or discourse, but merely described them. I find that when you define something it really defines you... & well, I've started to get quite paranoid about stalkers, & the last thing I want is some creep to look me up in the dictionary...) Technically, that means that I am the cause for the strange disarray that all conversations with me involved flow... usually in such a manner as to describe a person with Parkinson's disease and slightly blinded trying to decorate a cake under a black light on a houseboat... as I *am* the only common factor of all of my conversations... but I don't feel like taking that much responsibility. Where would be the fun in that? There's the off chance that everyone with whom I've ever shared a few sentences happens to be slightly strange and not the material of eloquent discourses, but that is quite improbable. However, just because something is highly improbable does not make that event impossible. That's why you have to include nodes and actions on game trees that will never be reached, because there must needs be a plan for every possibly event, not just the probable ones...

I must make it clear that not every dialogue I've participated in merits the use of crickets as a background track. Sometimes things appear quite normal and polite. Most of the time I don't participate much, so there's nothing strange to note. However, there have been enough strange exchanges that necessitate me to reevaluate how I talk with others... except since I have never evaluated it before, not formally at least, this makes it an evaluation without the re- added to the beginning...

Every person is different. It seems logical then that every person has a unique set of thoughts-- some people will have similar ideas and speculations, but your thoughts are never exactly the same. Conversations then are most natural when two or more people who share a similar thought set let each other know how similar their thought sets are. Even if people disagree on certain issues, their way of relating to and making known their preferences are similar enough to make sense to each other. Naturally, people with similar thought sets congregate with each other, forming bonds and units of people (work, dating, sections, revolts, etc).

My problem is not knowing which units I mesh best with... I admire so many different types of people that it is hard for me to find someone with a thought set similar to my own. Most of the time I can go off into any subject, but deciding upon that subject gives me the most unease.. "I am willing to amuse you if I can, sir-- quite willing; but I cannot introduce a topic, because how do I know what will interest you?" (Charlotte Bronte) It's because of this sentiment that to some people I come off as quite the dullard, while other of my friends are continually amused by my antics (although perhaps they just enjoy the dullard type). I find that, especially with attractive specimens of the masculine variety, I am speechless merely because I want to be able to talk freely but have not the slightest idea as to what would interest us both to the same degree... I can't readily see the connections of similarities... Especially if I already know about them through friends and like what I've heard--- that's when I'm most likely to clam up and act shy and aloof... much to the chagrin of those that know me and think me charming, witty, and good company (are there any of those?)

It doesn't help that I dislike small talk. I think I once offended a rather attractive member of my Game Theory class when I told him on the first day of class that I thought small talk was so small minded... I just wanted to skip to the part of the acquaintanceship where both people know each other and are free to talk of bigger things, more substance, or more random. Small talk makes me think that you're interviewing someone to be your friend, but asking all of the least important questions... The answers might give you a clue as to what to talk about in the future, but most of the time there's not much depth to be gained from "What's your major? Where are you from?"... It very much reminds me of some lines by Robert Frost:

Say something! And it says, 'I burn.'

But say with what degree of heat.

Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade,

Use language we can comprehend.

Tell us what elements you blend.

It gives us strangely little aid,

But does tell something in the end.

That's why I feel awkward in conversation, I guess. Getting past the small talk; saying something more than "I burn"-- getting to know more about someone than the superficial 20 questions gig... Perhaps I need to wade through more 'small talk' before I can jump into the exotic. It's just so dang hard most of the time. I wish I could see every one's thought set and determine which intersects are the most inclusive with my own. (AB n ??) {AB "intersect" random person} ((the n is supposed to be an upside down U))... the end.

Out damn spot!

So, some guys stopped by this morning before 11... thank goodness I was already wearing pants... uh... anyway, apparently they came by to clean the carpets. Whit mentioned something about it, but I didn't realize it was today. My first thought was that it was a sneaky ploy to steal everything from our apartment while Whit was gone doing whatever, & I had to be at work at 11:30... but I didn't care enough to call her to verify their presence. They gave me about 45 minutes to get things off the floor and straighten up, which was nice of them. If I had been truly worried about their criminal appearance, I probably would have transported Philip & Dusty (my trombones) to the Kick Astrovan (my transportation) before I left... but I didn't. Later, after work and a few various meetings that I'm obliged to attend, I noticed an orange slip of paper saying that men would stop by to clean the apartment sometime today, which made me feel much better about the whole thing. However, I really would have preferred that they had cleaned the carpets at least a month ago... I don't think the previous inhabitants of this condo kept things very well in order, and the overall dirtiness of the carpets caused me to have much disdain towards them... then again, I prefer things to be kept in a clean, pleasing fashion, so any type of dirtiness makes me feel ill at ease... I mean, how are we supposed to think of our homes as a place of refuge, rest, and all around feeling good and such if the place is a pigsty? The carpets felt pretty darn weird to walk on while they were drying. the end.

He likes it! Mikey likes it!

I often wonder why there is such a dichotomy in the romantic affairs of the people I meet... There are so many attractive persons that go on with little to claim in the affections of the opposite gender, while people that I find quite offensive that appear to not be lacking in lady or gentleman-ly comforts. Okay, yes, there are many reasons to explain this phenomenon that I constantly witness (one which I find a bit too tedious to detail when I assume that many are already familiar with the setting; your own imagination can paint a much better picture of this than my words can), yet they all seem a bit detached, or at the very least not filling enough of the measure of this epidemic...

One explanation is the simple matter of preferences. Preferences vary between people, which is a large part of why people like myself can even study economics without worrying about the subject dissolving in its usefulness with the advent of some miracle drug. So, while I think that some people are "dateable, very dateable" and others in whose presence I wouldn't care to spend 5 minutes of my time, it becomes obvious that there are enough people with the opposite sentiment to make that not the case. For example, a guy that I dated for a while this past year, who I frankly didn't think much of towards the end of the whole ordeal, found love in a certain young lass and they were wed at the end of April. He was, honestly, the last guy I could imagine that would be able to deal with a family life, but she didn't think that was the case, and now they are married.

I've heard the notion that "there's someone out there for everyone", but that always seemed ridiculous. That's a vaguely specific statement to me. I reject the notion of a Saturday's Warrior type soul mate--- if that were the case then I'm certain that mine died quite a while ago... No, a better way for that oft repeated phrase would be that there are types of people out there for every type of person... Of course, that is too wordy to be cross-stitched onto a pillow with flowers bordering the edge, so it will never catch on. It's true, though,,, at least, I hold it as being an accurate portrayal of my perceptions of life.

Life is like a very random smorgasbord of people and experiences. There is something for even the wildest taste out there... If I were to compare people to food, then I'd say that the majority of the girls that go on frequent dates are like pizza; they seem like a safe venture to the hungry male, but only because they don't know what else they want... most people like pizza, but if they had the opportunity they might opt for onion rings, or calamari, or herb roasted peppers stuffed with feta cheese, etc. They just need to try it. Dating, however, has a huge time cost associated with it. If you only have so much emotional units to put forth in a finite amount of time, then why try sushi if you think pizza is just fine? You might hate sushi, or you might love it, but you won't know until you try. Most people will never try sushi, because they assume that there's no possible way for them to like it. I thought I would hate it; I can't stand cooked fish, or any form of salmon, so why should the raw stuff be any better? Yet I tried it once, daringly, and now I absolutely love it. Except the salmon, that's just gross... but people are like that. People will stick to their own perceived flavor of dates, and then they'll never know what life has to offer them - what joys there are to be discovered. In the meanwhile, those of us who are self proclaimed yellowtail rolls will waste away if no one comes to try us dipped in wasabi laced soy sauce. There's nothing wrong with the people who don't date, per se, it's just that they aren't pizza, so people are afraid. & I just lost my entire train of thought, so that's my cue to stop rambling on about abstract food related dating stuff. the end.

What's in a name?

This is the obligatory first sentence to let the non astute reader know that I have created a blog. Honestly, your stumbling upon it must have been some indication... But I must go along with formalities and such in order to get onto what I would really like to talk about, and that is names.

Shakespeare is often quoted as having written "What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet". The Simpsons gives the retort "Not if you called it stench blossom." Names then become very important not only in coming to a consensus as to what it is you're talking about, but also how you view things. Take for example the following list of synonyms: Rad, awesome, cool, neat-o, nifty, and so on all give off slightly different vibes even though they all in a sense communicate that you approve of a certain noun or verb, but the selection of any one of those over the others tells a great deal about who you are. It is your style, your essence, your very tribute to the world. Names, word choices, punctuation --- they all say so much, often literally, about who you have made yourself to be.

& now to explain this blog's name, "The Hour of Repose." In one sense, I wish to make this medium of expression a place to rest from the world I live in. It also happens to be part of a passage from one of my favourite novels, Jane Eyre:

"It is always the way of events in this life, no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired."

I have often found myself quoting this at different times of my life. It just describes me so well... my life keeps throwing events at me at the exact moment when I think I have a handle on everything... My life is filled with movement from one place to the next, never really feeling as though I am 'at home' until I am called to leave.

In the coming weeks, after I finish a health care & economics paper on the workings of the Japanese health care system and the likelihood that the US could implement or copy some of their styles, I shall be going home, to my Claremont home. Yet, I do not wish to leave this place. I was just getting to a point where my shyness had suceded enough to let me talk with people around me and socialize, and then the voice called me to rise and move home... There are so many people that I really wished to have known better, but I will now probably never know more than as a familiar acquaintance. I don't know why I have to go home now; why the events that are to come into my life in the next few months have decided to choose now as the 'right time', but when I hear a theoretical voice telling me to go and do, I do it even though I have no idea why. There are other thoughts, meaning I have other thoughts on this matter, but I must be off to Idaho now. So many journeys...