Just a Few General Notes

My whole family is visiting Utah for almost the whole month of March. I'm pretty excited about this. It'll be nice to see them and I think we'll have lots of fun. Of course the reason that they are coming isn't very good. My sister decided to grow a big nasty thing in her stomach.


Of course, since I'm a bit of a geek this is the first mental image I had of her. . .growth.



Yes, every time I'm around her I'm half expecting a super cool scene from a sci-fi movie to take place. Unfortunately (?) her growth doesn't seem to be near this exciting, thus she actually has to have it removed manually--via doctors and stuff--which is why my family is coming down.

All joking aside this is actually a pretty serious tumor that she's growing. It's huge, and could possibly threaten her ability to have children. Obviously this whole situation has been pretty hard on her, but she's tough and will deal with it fine. She hasn't actually said very much about this to me because I've been spouting off and getting all whiny lately, for which I now feel very stupid.

Speaking of which, I have a new vendetta against returned missionaries. Well, not so much against them all, but against those who come home feeling like they're entitled to get a little action from the first girl they come across. You can make an educated guess as to why this is getting my goat. And I definitely don't like hearing returned missionaries brag about how quickly they made out with a girl after they returned home. Listening to those kinds of conversations makes me feel kind of like pulling out my red lightsaber and opening up a can of Darth Vader. Making out with a girl two or even three weeks after getting back just seems a little shallow to me. On the other hand, I may have a pretty skewed perspective on this. I'm a writer, a romantic if you want, and I still believe in the idea of true love. And here I am trying to find that one girl, the one who is my BEST friend, so that I can devote myself to her forever. . .but here I am also, 28 and still single. Which just makes me wonder if I've been doing this all wrong. I'm pretty frustrated about all this. Sure, I feel annoyed that I got beat out by some hoser who just got off his mission. But mostly I'm really just frustrated with myself.


The End.

Game Over: Part III

And I should add that the game really isn't over. Maybe I'll retire for a bit to gather myself together again, but there is some good advice in this song by Carrie Underwood.

Whatcha gonna do when the show is over?
Whatcha gonna sing when the song ends, yeah?
How you gonna cope when there is no closure?
Where you gonna reach when the goal gets higher?
How you gonna make it through when you think you lost your chance?

Chorus: Play on when you're losing the game
Play on 'cause you're gonna make mistakes
It's always worth the sacrifice
Even when you think you're wrong
So play on, play on

Even when the floodgates swing wide open
Never let current take you down, no
Even when you're not sure where you're going
Swimming through a mess and you can't get out
Just going through the motions and trying not to drown

Chorus

Even through a storm on the darkest night
Don't you ever give up the fight
Even when you feel you're all alone
Play on, play on

Chorus

Anyway, so the game isn't really over.

Game Over: part II

Here is a section from Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest that I found particularly interesting today. I've turned it into a a short-short play.

Vexation

Tia Dalma: You know of Davy Jones, yes? A man of the sea. . .until he ran afoul of that which vex all men.
Will: What vexes all men?
Tia Dalma: What indeed?
Gibbs: The sea?
Bald Pirate: Sums?
Wood-eyed Pirate: The dichotomy of good and evil?

Jack: A woman.

The End (and amen).


Of course there is more to the story. According to the movie a woman broke his heart, so Davy Jones cut it out and stuck it in a box.

There comes a point in every human life, or so I imagine, when that doesn't sound like such a bad idea; the idea of being able to separate oneself from the vulnerability of emotion (not so much the cutting out of the heart)...but I'm just being dramatic right now.

I've been spending the last couple weeks wallowing in despair, and I'm sorry that you've encountered it, even in a highly diluted form on my blog. I think I'll be somewhat back to normal in a day or two. Thanks for everybody who's been willing to listen to me blather on about what has been vexing me (same as what vexes all men).

Game Over

Lyrics from a song that are hitting the spot right now.


Lyrics | Silversun Pickups lyrics - Rusted Wheel lyrics

Erm, yes, this means that I lose.

And here is another song that also hits the spot while also being ironically appropriate.



Lyrics | Carrie Underwood Lyrics | Undo It Lyrics

Bl-ah-gging

My sister pointed out, yesterday, that it's been six days since my last blog post. I don't know what she wants from me, but here I am bl-ah-gging, because I can't force myself to do more productive things (like study for that English 451 Literary Criticism test, which I am going to fail, tomorrow).

Yes, I said bl-ah-gging. Maybe I can shorten that to blah-gging

Basically my life over the last couple weeks has been very blah-esqu. Blah, blah, BLAH!!!

I suppose, if anybody even reads my blog (I can't tell because nobody COMMENTS anymore) that you would like more of an explanation. Here it is: Girls are frustrating. They make it so that I can't sleep or eat according to the course of normal, natural human function. Not only that, but they are confusing as well, giving you one message one day, and then the very next day they are sending very different--even opposite--signals. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Blah!!!

Of course I tend to build things up in my mind much more than I should. Every little event seems to have drastic consequences for good or ill. Which is stupid. I'm being stupid and I know it. But I can't help it, and that is super frustrating.

Even worse: Valentines Day weekend = super sucky. And not just because I'm an emotionally constipated mess. This could have been an awesome weekend! There was a large group of my ballroom friends who went to California for a competition this weekend. And it was just one big fat party. I was invited along, multiple times, and I almost went before I remembered that I committed to dance (as a substitute) for a show on Saturday. Naturally, after everybody had left, the guy whom I was filling in for showed up on Friday and asked if he could have his spot back. Therefore, I was suddenly uncommitted from that, but too late for me to do anything about it; too late to change my plans.

Also, I was invited by a girl to Big Band Night, which sounded like an awesome party on Saturday night. It would have been awesome! But once again I thought I was committed to this dance show so I had to turn her down.

Basically I missed out on two super cool events because of this. I still went to the dance performance (as a van driver) and that kept me occupied for Saturday night, but that wasn't near enough to save this three day holiday weekend from being extreme BLAH!!!

I feel like I missed out on some pretty good opportunities. Instead I've been moping around my apartment trying to kill time. I've dabbled at watching the Olymics, pretended to do homework, played at playing guitar, and otherwise been completely unproductive.

Blah!!! I can't focus on anything, and haven't been able too for the last three weeks. Blah, Blah, Blah!!!

The End

Conversations on Sex

For the last several summers I've had the privilege of working with a pretty crusty group of guys, and when we are out alone in the wilderness their conversations often turn towards the things of the "natural man" (yes I am speaking about sex). I don't mind this so much because I know that their values are much different than mine. But when I encounter the same type of conversation on campus at BYU, I am much more disturbed.

This happened to me almost two weeks ago. A group of my friends and I were sitting in the hall studying between classes when the conversation began to take a turn in this direction. It was mainly directed by one young man who took it upon himself to "educate" those sitting in the hall on the nuances of human reproduction. He was very proud of his expansive knowledge, and he acted as if he was doing us all a favor (though he said nothing that I hadn't already heard before). Several of the people he was speaking to were 19-year-old freshman girls, and this is what bothered me the most. How could he have the audacity to take it upon himself to educate these girls? Granted, some of what he was saying was true (in regards to the importance of knowing what exactly is going to happen after the wedding) but the hallway on BYU campus, with none of us even approaching marriage, is not the appropriate time or place to gain this knowledge. He was way out of line. But what frustrates me the most is that I just sat there and stewed. I did nothing to curb the conversation. I should have stopped it, but I didn't, even though I could tell that some people (one girl in particular that I am trying, clumsily, to woo) were uncomfortable with the conversation. I went home that day and I felt guilty because I had let the conversation run on. I was the oldest there by a significant margin, and therefore I felt that it was my responsibility to protect the innocence of those freshman girls, but I didn't. For which I am sorry.

But this is an illustration of why I love Utah, Provo and BYU in particular, so much. So many people speak negatively of the so-called Utah "bubble," but it is really a great thing. It is so refreshing to be here among people with standards. To not hear cussing on a constant basis, to not constantly encounter base discussions on sex. For instance, when I was a freshman in high school on a long bus ride for a basketball trip, I overheard a conversation from two girls who were 14 and 15 years old in which they were discussing, quite casually, how they liked to have sex with their boyfriends. I never would have heard that in Provo.

Or at least, I shouldn't have heard that in Provo. It really disappoints me that I did. And the attitude of the young man disappoints me as well. He was proud of his knowledge. I for one, wish that I knew significantly less about sex. I'd much rather find this out sometime before my wedding night, through the appropriate channels, rather than all these random conversations that I encounter all the time. I don't hold it against the people that I know back home, but I lost a lot of respect for this young man at BYU. But, once again, I'm more disappointed in myself because I was the good man who did nothing.