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.

Out with the Old, in with the New

Once again I am writing out of a sense of obligation. It's hard maintaining a blog. It takes a great deal of effort to find relevant things to say, and once you do, you have to fight off all the other things that take up time to actually write about them. But, this isn't an impossible task, and I could be doing better than I have been. Still, I guess in the big picture I am not doing so bad. There are a good many bloggers (yes you!) who blog less than I do. So there!

Anyway, I know it's kind of late to do an end-of-year/beginning-of-year blog. But that's what I am going to do.

In short last year ended on a high note. The reason for this was because I think I actually started figuring things out with ladies. (A surprise as much to me as it is to you). The crazy thing is that for the last month or two of the semester I actually had a plethora of girls in my dating pool which has never before been the case. (Because I have been clueless, doh!). There's nothing like a couple of solid dates to put a positive spin on things*. On top of this strange phenomenon, I passed all of my classes and aced all of my finals even though I am the laziest student in the world! So that made me happy too.

My break was good as well. I admit, that at times it was boring and I lacked things to do. But spending more time with my niece and four nephews made everything worth it (and I guess my siblings were fun too, kind of). Plus I went on a couple more hot dates. Holy crap! I am turning into a dating machine!

For the new year I hope to continue this trend. Things are looking a little sketchy as far as classes go--I have to rely on the mercy of a few teachers to get into the classes that I need, which is never that safe--but other than that I expect this to be an awesome semester. It will be my last, possibly.

Since graduation is looming so close, one thing I really need to work on is finishing my book. In a happy scenario, I would finish before the end of the semester, edit it through the summer, and submit if for publication towards the end of the year. Then, of course, I will get offered a big contract, I'll get paid a lot of money, I'll buy a house, and then I shall live in it as a successful writer. Naturally I shall continue to produce marvelous blatherings in various subjects and genres. In my career I hope to become successful in these genres: fantasy, sci-fi, normal fiction, historical fiction, western, narrative, drama/film, and in the words of a friend, "real." With all that dreaming out of the way, I have committed to work on writing more. I think I shall take my laptop to campus a lot more this semster so I can force myself to write. The last time I did this I cruised through 150 pages in one semester. Good luck.

To put it succinctly here are the three things I am working on for this year: Dating, Writing, School. I don't know if they are in order or not. Probably so.

*Lest you should get the wrong idea, I went on six dates this semester. A personal record (triple my previous semester record), but some people do that in a week.

Sunnyside Up

Since I live in an expensive new (to me) apartment with a pool, I decided to go try out the swimming. This was a new experience because apparently people don't really spend that much time swimming in these things. They actually lay around off to the side and get sunburned. And, I might discreetly add that there were several HOTTIES scattered about. So I gave tanning a try. It was interesting, but the whole experience presented a whole new puzzle in the social dilemma for this Alaskan male. How does one flirt/socialize/associate with a girl who is dressed in a tasteful one-piece without coming across badly?

Here's how I envision that they do it in California:

Man approaches woman sunbathing, subtly flexes muscles.
Man: "Just look at my chiseled abs and rippling biceps."
Woman (peering over rim of sunglasses, sighs): "I'm not impressed, but did YOU notice my sun-kissed legs that practically GLOW when they catch the light?"
Me, I mean, Man: ". . . , . . . Yes."
Woman: "Well stop drooling on my legs. I'll have to oil them all over again."

Blah! More on Dating.

I was in a dance lesson yesterday, working on the rumba, when my coach began harping on me for not expressing any romance as I danced. Naturally the next question he asks is, "when was the last time you had a girlfriend?"

Ummmmm, well, errr. . . never?

That opened the floodgates.

"How old are you?" At BYU? Old.

"What are you waiting for?" A good match, I guess. Chemistry?

"You know any two people (man and woman) can make a marriage work?" Yes, but that doesn't mean they always should, does it? Why rush into making an ETERNAL decision just because any two people can make a marriage work? Why not be patient and find the best match?

Here my dance partner chimed in. "You expect too much(A sentiment sometimes echoed by my sisters)! You should make a list of the three or four most important things that you want in a woman. . . don't limit yourself by unreasonable demands."

What? Unreasonable? Everything I ask is reasonable! So here it is, my list of reasonable things that I seek in a woman.

**Disclaimer: This is sarcastic; me making fun of myself. It is not meant to offend anybody or make girls feel inadequate.

Must Haves:
-Hot Legs.
-A fast car, preferably an Aston Martin, but I guess a Mustang Cobra would do.
-Obviously a religious compatibility that includes a temple marriage and tons of little tykes running around and yarking on the carpet.
-Brain. Not just any brain, a good brain. A brain full of knowledge and reasoning capabilities. Like Vesper Lynd in Casino Royale.
-Athleticism, grace, and poise. Imagine a jaguar reclined on a tree limb in the jungle, with its tail lazily swinging to and fro. Now transfer that same aura to the woman holding my hand :)
-Eyes that I could drown in.
-The soul of an artist. Culture.
-Survivability/Grit. Lost in the arctic? No problem.
-Musical. I like Rachmaninoff.
-Hair from a shampoo commercial.
-Shoot a 5" group from 15 yards with a handgun, blindfolded.
-Be proportionally sized to myself . I don't want to be one of them skinny Southern guys that's always bullied by his wife.
-On the other hand, she shouldn't be afraid of trying to bully me. I like that.
-Cook better than me. Gauntlet thrown.
-Take my breath away every time she walks into the room. . .or even when I imagine her walking into a room. I pretty much should always be in danger of suffocating.
-Bear tall athletic sons and beautiful daughters.
-Squeeze toothpaste from bottom.

Must Nots:
-Be insane. That didn't work out so well for Mr. Rochester.
-Be an ogre or troll. I know in the animal kingdom, the males are the pretty ones, but I don't want to be the pretty face in my family; I'm much better suited for the role of ogre.
-Be fixated, beyond all reason, on power or status (example: Lady Macbeth, numerous biblical women, Hillary Clinton).
-Engage in any questionable activities like drugs, or killing innocent people.
-Zealously cling to parents.
-Shoot me in my sleep.

See, that list isn't so unreasonable.

Here's the short version: She must be my best friend. The End.

Ha Ha! Joke's on Me!

I was going to write this blog post while relaxing in front of the TV at the end of the day, but I'm not getting anywhere because of Top Gear. It's quite literally the funniest television show I have ever seen. Basically, it entails quirky British humor and awesome cars. Since I have been watching in the last hour, they've mounted a Mini Cooper with rockets and jumped it off a a ski jump, played a game of "ice hockey" with a bunch of Suzuki economy cars, raced a 700hp super car around a track. . . and off it, and raced through an obstacle course while being shot at by a paintball tank. It's a brilliant show, enough that it could be the first show that I actually put on my schedule.

Anyway, it has ended now, so on with the meat of my post.


My English 343 (Modern Drama) professor is requiring a theater review for one of the assignments. It so happens that the only show that I could review (by tomorrow) is Thoroughly Modern Millie, which I watched last Thursday. It was marvelous, by the way, and I may post my review on here if I should ever get about to writing it. That's not the point of this post though. The point is, that I decided I would take advantage of this opportunity to take a date. So, a week before last Thursday, I worked up the nerve and asked a girl that I know. Now, last semester I felt like she was sending me positive vibes, and as far as I knew, she was quite single. So I asked, and wouldn't you know it. . . she's already dating somebody. But wait, she's not just dating one somebody, she's dating two! And she still offered to see if she could make time in her schedule to work me into the mix. Errr. . . OK. Of course you can probably guess that I went to Millie all by myself, and you would be correct. But it's not a big deal, some other time perhaps.

Guess that should teach me a lesson about procrastination, eh? Maybe I'll go watch some more Top Gear (starts again at 9!).

This Wall can Talk

A girl that I am attracted too came up and started talking to me this evening. I was certainly pleased by the attention that she gave me but I did nothing to express this. I just stood there, like an idiot, with my arms crossed, and gave a good simulation of a wall that could talk.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Duty and maybe Love

First of all I must congratulate myself; this is my 50th post that you have the pleasure of reading. What a milestone! To celebrate I am writing while drinking 750ml of hot chocolate and premium protein. MMMMmmmmm!

I was going to write something big and introspective for this, but I didn't like how it was turning out so you get the short version:

Yesterday was ward conference, and the counselor in the Stake Presidency implied that we elders should be dating three times a week. What!? How can anybody even afford that? My "interest pool" can't even supply enough girls for me to be dating that much.

I guess I wouldn't feel guilty if I was dating once a week. . .or month. I'll not even give a number to how many dates I have been on in the last five years, but I will say that it is a small number.

Anyway, guilt. I guess I'm not doing my "job."

You can't guilt me into finding my best friend! You can't make me arbitrarily assign that label to a girl even if I am dating her regularly. On the other hand, that option will net more girl friends than whatever it is that I claim to be doing. Blah!

I'm from the mountains. . .and I'm lookin' for a wife?

I was talking to one of my friends the other day, and they mentioned to me that I need to change my approach to dating and women. You see--and this is probably the only time that I am going to explain this--Joseph can't talk to women without turning into a monkey who doesn't speak coherant language. It just doesn't work. So what does he do? Not much. So, my friend said to me that I need to change my approach and do what the first brother in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers does. Now I haven't seen that movie in a long time, but the essence of the idea is that the brother comes down out of the mountains and starts going through the town proposing to random women. I think this might be a close approximation of what he says: "Hi, I'm from up in the mountians and I'm looking for a wife. . . I won't be in town long." Maybe I'll watch the film again to see the more subtle nuances of his approach, because that's exactly my situation. I'm from the mountains! I'm from the last real wilderness in the United States! People don't call me "the Bear" for nothing. And I ain't going to be to town for long. . .hehe. I don't know that this is going to work on the local women; I don't think they're really that into "mountain" men. Though, as far as mountain men go I've got much to offer besides the thick beard that I grow to help keep my face warm in the bitter cold. I can sing, dance, play guitar (for those lonely winter nights, woot!), cook, whatever. . . I'm a cultured mountain man, and that's worth something, that's worth a lot.

Anyway, onto more important things. . . Today I was offered a job for the National Park Service. I am going to be rolling in the dough this summer--which is good because lately it has been rolling out. I can't even describe how happy this makes me. All I can say is boo-yah! Boo-yah (with a clenched fist and flexed arm muscles)! I'm going to be a carpenter/maintainance worker/mountain man for the trail crew of the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and Preserve, the largest and most rugged of all the National Parks in North America. Meaning, I get on an ATV--with a shotgun in my hand and tools at my back--and travel through the rugged land and fix things for eight days, then I wrastle grizzly bears and other leisure activities for six days. Boo-yah! I get to party in paradise and make a lot of money at the same time.

I'm in the middle of class as I write this. I should probably be paying attention, but I don't really care that much. I've become much less devoted to school than I used to be in the past. It's pretty shameful. Oh well. After four straight years of the grindstone--five in total--and no end in sight, I'm not going to be too hard on myself. That's why Alaska will be so great for me; I've been gone so long. Alaska will restore my soul.