Ghost of Christmas Future, I Fear You More Than Any Other

'Twas the night before Christmas, and I've got some blogging to do.  In the tradition of my old journals (which these blogs are a spritual spinoff of sorts) I now write my annual CHRISTMAS EVE entry.  

Christmas is the apex of the year, replete with holiday cheer, togetherness, and tradition.  Of course, it is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, but that never stopped us from some good ol' fashioned capitalistic indulgence.  I mean, Jesus got gifts, right?  Same thing.

One of my favorite traditions for the last five or so years is the seminal adaption of Dickens' A Christmas Carol, Scrooge.  I watch it every year and it always gets me out of my humbug "why  do they play Christmas songs so frickin' early" attitude and into the Christmas spirit.  

Scrooge is a detestable, loathsome creature...

Sometimes I in my most misanthropic moments, I remember Scrooge.  People can be really mean sometimes.

Everyone knows that Scrooge is visited by three spirits.  The first is the Ghost of Christmas Past:

My Christmas pasts have all been excellent.  I may be accused of selfishness or lightheartedness but I was pretty spoiled.  

Then, the Ghost of Christmas Present:

I love this guy.  And I like life!  This has been a great, if not rather snowbound Christmas.

Then the foreboding Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come:

This is the great variable.  What will my next Christmas look like?  What about in five years?  Ten?  Fifty?  Now I sound like some job interviewer.  

It doesn't really matter what my life will be like, Christmas is always the same.  I get to be with my family, and I get to enjoy life and give thanks for the babe born in Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas!  God bless us, every one!

Back from Deblogification

Night falls over the metaphorical world of this blog.  A hush trickles across the barren plain which is the repressed id.  Shaking free from the tentacles of dark, mysterious thoughts I pull myself towards a blurry light.  What is it, I wonder?  Lo,  it is the superficial superego which this megalomaniacal society forces upon me.  I momentarily unloose the brambles tying me to my deepest thoughts to sample the tepid waters of common thought.

For but a season I scamper about in this seeming wonderland.  I forsake the blogging roots which sustain me and try to go it alone.  The desire to rant, vent, or explicate I squelch, neglecting my most basic needs.  In my moments of deepest anguish I turn to apathy and complacency.  

Soon the ambivalency and lightmindedness of it all literally buoys me up and I float in the atmosphere.  While I hang high above in the haze, I realize I need some heaviness.  Some weight. Some are meant to live a life of ignorance and non-examination, but that is not the course for me.  I must return to my melancholy and semi-depressing blog!  For I have made a pledge!

From the frigid North I feel an ARCTIC BLAST of wind approaching.  Gusts envelope me and buffet me amongst the clouds.  I crystallize in the intense freeze and freefall to the earth in a familar hexagonal form.  Around me I see millions like me also parachuting to the firm ground.

For days I lay in a massive drift which blankets the landscape in a pristine white.  I find myself completely immobilized--nowhere to go.  How long will this last?  When will I be ready to return to the mire of the life I once knew?  

The sun breaks through the clouds at long last.  Slender rays pierce my sides and I disperse into water.  Rivulets form streams and I find the cycle returning me back finally to the briar pit which I so foolishly left.

As I ponder on this singular experience, the thought occurs to me that a cycle which perpetuates life on this earth--namely, the precipitation cycle-- mirrors a cycle that I have with my innermost self.  To wit,  I start off in the pit of intense self scrutiny.  I constantly wax philosophical and live life to the fullest (in my unique way), questioning everything.  Then the heat of artificiality, possessions, and gratification causes me to evaporate and I no longer think as deeply.  At the worst point, I become a slave to pleasure and I cast off my brain.  I then reach a barrier where I no longer can keep up the facade, whereupon I condense back into liquid and fall back where I was.  

To speak more plainly, I stopped writing posts for about a month.  Was it a formal self-imposed period of blogging detoxification?  No, not really.  Did I just start moving away from writing and didn't really feel like probing my mind and started worrying about other things?  Yes.

But I'm back.  Screw those other things. 

Totally Random, Yet Profound Thoughts On Plentitude, Harvest, And Napoleon

For some reason my blog editor changed and I lost all my options.

I am currently chatting on Facebook with one of my best friends from my mission, Speed.

I am wearing green corduroy pants and a baby blue polo.

My feet are propped up on the desk. It's comfortable.

I am abusing this Thanksgiving break with excessive amounts of sleep.

My family is all out on a walk but I stayed home.

Monty Python & the Holy Grail is a very quotable movie.

I have a bad habit of twirling my hair and I'm doing it right now.

I am a hairy man, but sometimes in the gym locker room I see guys that put me to shame.

The drawers to my dresser squeak when I open them.

The hair treatment I spoke of a few entries ago? Totally using it. Is it working? I don't think so.

Sometimes I also bite my fingernails. It's another bad habit.

In Computer Science class I learned you could never really write a code that could produce a totally random number.

Most of my family just came for my sister's wedding so they aren't here for Thanksgiving.

If you want to subscribe to my blog, you can do that at the end of the page with an RSS feed in conjunction with a blog reader like Google Reader.

I like to read things about Napoleon Bonaparte. He was a fascinating man.

There is a park in Prague called Letna that has a huge pendulum looking thing that swings back and forth.

Some mornings I feel I will wake up to find myself transformed into a giant insect.

The new Indiana Jones movie and the new Star Wars movies prove that George Lucas totally had no idea what made his earlier movies so magical.

The first letter of each word of the title of this post spells out a chemical frequently digested on Turkey Day.

Sometimes I wonder if everything that happens to me not only is a big joke that everyone is in on, but that the joke is not a really funny joke but just something lame like a knock-knock joke or a "why did the chicken cross the road" joke.

If in some far off corner of the universe a doppelganger of myself is also sitting at his computer writing a blog post on Thanksgiving, I think it is a really big coincidence that they would have Thanksgiving on an alien planet.

Could I create a rock that even I couldn't move?

I had cold pizza and carrots for breakfast.

...wherein our hero Joel reviews his week

 

1. Wednesday--I went on a day hike with two friends, found an Italian restaurant in Troutdale, bought fake lottery tickets for a birthday party, lost my wallet, found my wallet, went to the gym, changed into my church clothes at the gym, went to a birthday dinner, the lottery ticket prank backfired, left midway through the dinner to catch the latter half of my temple recommend interview, went back to the dinner and ate my food, went to pick up my date for the remainder of the night, went to the airport to pick up my sister, changed out of my church clothes, then went to the birthday party, then dropped my date off.
2. Thursday--my sister took out her endowments and my family starting coming for the big wedding.
3. Friday--Played Trivial Pursuit and watched a Czech movie.  Avoided wedding preparations.
4. Saturday--My little sister Jessica got married!  I went to my first ever temple wedding, which was very special.  Then we stood around in the cold and had our pictures taken in the cold Portland rain.  There was a lavish luncheon at the Governor's Hotel downtown, where we served hors d'ouerves and filet mignon.  I assembled and DJ'd the music for the luncheon, and I am proud to say it went off without a hitch.  It was mostly old standards like Sinatra and Bennet--not really my style--but my sister digs it.  I was a little nervous that I would not get the right songs for when the newlyweds dance, but providence smiled upon me and I did not get a disapproving stare.  Of course, in true fashion I left my mp3 player at the hotel.  I skedaddled out of the luncheon and over to a Bed, Bath and Beyond to get my sister a gift and also my mom for her birthday.  Hey, I procrasinate...is that a crime?  Then I went to my house for the reception.  I felt antisocial, but I made my sister a nice card.  Everybody wants me to get married.  Congratulations Jessica.
5. Sunday--My Mom's birthday.  Happy Birthday, Mom!  I went to church, and someone convinced me to leave after sacrament with the promise that they would never talk me into that again. 

I, for one, still listen to the radio

Everyday I listen to the radio.  Not really because I choose to, but because it's my only choice. There's no CD player or even tapedeck, so I am regulated to the airwaves of old.  For a while I was rocking an adaptor for my MP3 player, which was really quite awesome.  But then one day it was gone--I think someone stole it just to force me to listen to the radio again.

I have 12 presets for the FM dial, which I punch through rapidly, 1-12, probably 50 times each day, searching for the elusive good song.  They are organized from lowest frequency to highest:

1. 92.3 This is the first of my presets and therefore has alot more of an oppurtunity to be listened to than the ones further down the list.  They have a 25-song classic rock set, which is far and away the longest set of any Portland station.  I don't usually listen until 10 AM, when the morning talk is over.  Tuesday is "Twofer Tuesday", where they play two songs for each artist.  Grade: A
2. 94.7 This is an alternative rock station that I actually never listened to like a year ago but now that it is my second preset it gets alot of play.  At 8 AM I'm not listening to much else so I often listen to the "8 at 8", where they play eight songs in a row which share a common theme.  They gets bonus points for playing music in the early morning when most stations have crappy morning talk shows.  Grade: B+
3. 95.5  This is a sports talk station that I listen to nearly everyday.  The early morning sports show (why do they still call programs on the radio "shows"?) is local and I listen to it often, despite the annoying hosts.  At 9, the "Jim Rome Show" starts, which I have been listening to for years.  I usually base the next three hours of radio listening around this show.  My love for this program is a whole 'nother story.  Grade: A-
4. 97.1 Random radio.  Used to hate it because it replaced the oldies station, then I warmed up to it, now I love it!  Grade:  A-
5. 101.1 This is another station that I never used to listen to.  They play heavier rock, and the songs I get into are usually the older ones anyway.  Points taken away for a very late start to their music library--like around 11 or so.  Grade: C+
6. 101.9 KINK plays artsy-fartsy music, which is so hit-and-miss.  Often enough it's good, but you usually don't recognize it, which makes it hard to get into.  They also play music in the early morning.  Grade:  B
7. 103.3  Ok, I admit it:  I have a soft spot for soft rock.  They would have a higher grade, except for this week they already switched to their all-Christmas rotation.  Tsk tsk.  Grade: B
8. 105.1 I only like about 20% of the songs on this station, so often I skip past this preset (along with 103.3 now that they are playing Christmas music).  It is just a filler station, needed to fill up 12 presets.  Grade: D+
9. 105.9 As good as a substitute of the old KISN station as you can find.  I also have a softer spot for oldies, and they play them long and often.  They also play a fairly decent amount in the early morning.  Grade: A
10. 106.3  I barely even get this station--I think it's based in Corvallis.  Sometimes it comes in pretty good, and they often play some cool classic rock.  Just because of the bad reception, I often skip it, and that also unfortunately knocks down its grade.  Grade: B-
11. 106.7 I still don't really know what this station is all about--but they say they play songs from the 60s and 70s.  So they are in-betweeners.  Usually good stuff.  Grade: A-
12. 107.5  This is the ultimate filler station.  I needed a 12th preset, and once I heard one song playing that I think I kinda liked.  So I skip this preset every time.  Grade: F+

I know, I know.  There's Z100, country stations, or whatever.  No thanks.  I am open to switchng up my presets, but I never know about new stations because I never go off the beaten path.

AM, you ask?  Why yes, thank you.  I often listen to 970 in the early morning wasteland for the "Dennis Miller Show", which is often quite funny.  Then there's a big drop off, but occasionally I dabble in 1080, another sports talker, and then also 1190 for Rush and Dr. Laura.  All the other conservative political shows I've listened to, but I'm usually 95% of the time not in the mood for it.  

I've pretty much listened to every morning talker and all the other talk shows too, just to give them a chance.  One day I listened to Christian radio (not the music but the preachers).  Today I decided to listen to classical (that was the first time ever).  

About once every three weeks I just turn the radio off and I let my mind fill up the void.  That's pretty scary, huh?  Someday I'll post all the topics that recycle through my head on the radio-free days.

I decided to review my week with a fresh, cheesy sonnet...

Monday—my  mood hangs low and blue;

Unused keys spill on the table.

‘til Tuesday and a friend still true

Buoys me up and makes me able.

                                               

Wither Wednesday— the keys are lost,

Locked, dangling, and out of reach.

Thankfully Thursday in the wind tossed,

Blew, shaking a moment to teach.

 

Frigid Friday— keys firm in pocket;

Magic waning and heart explaining…

Latter-day Saturday lights a rocket;

Hope waxing and dreams restraining…

                                               

Sleepily Sunday I put in the key—

Keep driving, driving through eternity.

Not only am I Caucasian, I'm also white

This post has been in draft stage for a while because I’ve aborted all previous attempts and wanted to do it right.  According to Dr. Taylor Hartman’s Color Code, I have a “white” personality. There is no other pop-psych theory that so guides and influences my life. It has an unfairly disproportionate place in my thoughts and skews my perceptions of people, including myself. I first learned of it during my mission—my mission president was an ardent believer in the color code. He would assign companionships based upon the interactions between the colors.  As a result of my “whiteness,” I was assigned to be with a lot of “reds.” When I was put in a threesome with two other “whites,” my mission president told me that it was a source of concern for him.

In the past few months, this theory of personality cropped up again in my personal relationships.  It soon dominated my thoughts where it had once gradually receded.  I began to color people into a certain personality and expect them to act a certain way and I likewise rationalized my own behavior.  I have friends that also buy into the color code, and we would discuss at length the different permutations and practical applications of the “code.”  One of these friends, whom I thought I had a great relationship with, decided that based upon this predetermined pattern our personalities were too incompatible.

Now, I have to confess that I have never read this book from cover to cover. However, I am confident that I have discussed it often enough and read enough snippets that I think I am not missing the point on any of it, and I daresay that none of what I will mention misconstrues the book in any way.  In these discussions I have learned that people of my personality type, “white,” are never very big believers in the color code, and if you haven’t guessed it already, I follow blindly in lockstep.

That being said, I have been in awe at how well the code describes in a seemingly accurate way the behavioral patterns of different people.  When you hear the descriptions of blues, yellows, whites, and reds, you feel like you know people like this.  I feel like after a few exposures/interactions with a new person, I generally know where they would fit in the color code.  I even find myself catering to their personality, since I determine whether they are motivated by power or fun or intimacy or peace.

I will now attempt to list off the top of my head the specifications of whites, intermingled with my own thoughts.

1.      Motivated by peace.  Whites are peacemakers. For me, I would just say, that it’s hard to pinpoint any one thing as motivation.  Not because there’s so much motivation, but rather because nothing really motivates me.  If you asked me to list all of my motivations without knowing about the color code, I doubt that I would even think of writing “peace.” Not that I don’t like peace, but I just don’t think I would think of it. 

2.      Introverted.  I think that generally whites are the most introverted of the colors.  This is definitely true in my case; I have no problems with this stereotyping.  There have been plenty of times in my life where I have been downright scared of people—mostly those power-hungry reds.

3.      Adaptable.  I also agree that whites have to change the most from their natural personality to even survive in this world. Staying white will get you killed.  I pride myself when people are aware of the color code and guess that I am a different color than white.  It makes me think that I am doing a good job as a chameleon. 

4.      Easy to fall in love.  Yes, I find this true in my life.  I usually fall in love with girls and am ready to be loyal to them long before they feel the same.  This usually leads to a whole lotta heartache.

5.      Value quality over quantity.  I don’t need a million friends; I just want a few real friends.  I don’t want to have a long to-do list; I just want to have a good, happy day.  I don’t want to get things done; I want them to be done right.

6.      Anti-groups.  Yeah, I don’t like groups.  I am not a natural leader, and I don’t feel like I can participate in a conversation where there are more than 3-4 people.  No one ever hears me. I don’t feel like yelling. Everyone else in the group is a jerk because they won’t listen to me.  You can forget trying to organize any activity—no one will come.  I like the thought that I have heard expressed: “Whites rarely speak up in groups, but they usually have the most thought-out opinions.”

7.      Private with feelings.  I have been astounded at how personal some people are in their Facebook statuses and blogs, because I usually want to put my best face out in public and don’t want people to know when I’ve had bad things happen to me or when I’m depressed.  Admittedly, I’ve dabbled in it a bit myself, but I attribute that to my adaptability and my “other color”-envy.  I suspect that blues are the most responsible for spilling their icky feelings online.

8.      Passive-Aggressive.  I take a bit of exception to this one, because I feel like it is a buzz word that whites are hit with, when no one has the same definition of this term and everyone draws people in before attacking them—not just whites.  Besides, it’s a dang good strategy.

Now, there are probably more things, maybe even major things that I am forgetting.  There is also the huge issues of secondary colors and how I mesh with the other colors.  But I think I have painted a picture.  And yes, for the most part I do agree that these attributes describe me fairly adequately.

My personal take on the whole color code is again influenced by my mission president.  I learned from him that any two people (or more for that matter) can make any relationship work if they are both actively trying to make it work, regardless of the colors.  I learned that all of the colors have strengths and weaknesses and that we should focus on the strengths.  We shouldn’t use the weaknesses as excuses.  We should value everyone with all different personalities.  Beyond that, I believe there are subtleties and exceptions that make each person unique and uncategorizable. 

I hope you all have enjoyed this intense evaluation of my personality.  Please feel free to sock it to me, if you’ve got something to spout off about.