'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.
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.
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.
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.
Thursday--my sister took out her endowments and my family starting coming for the big wedding.
Friday--Played Trivial Pursuit and watched a Czech movie. Avoided wedding preparations.
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.
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.
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:
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
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+
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-
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-
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+
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
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
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+
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
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-
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-
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.
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.
I need to establish a more consistent daily blogging pattern. I find that at the end of the day I am often tired and uninspired. I need to mix it up. It started to remind me of having to finish a homework assignment that I had procrastinated to the last second--a feeling I did not really miss.
Some nights my life got in the way. I think that trumps the blog. Sorry blog.
Now I am just reaching. Those are really the only reasons.
This will be a weekend review and not the full week because I think my life is not really that exciting especially when compared to others. Someone I know seemed to copy my idea in their blog and their week put my week to shame. Plus my weekend was the most exciting part.
Weekend in Review
On Thursday night I went to the most incredibly awesome Blazer game I had ever been to. I am a huge Blazer fan, and have amassed under my belt a large number of games in my career as a fan. But I had never been apart of something like this before:
On Friday night I went with a group of people to the Ape Caves. I had been a few times before, but there was a twist this time: we went in the dark. We also went to a different cave that is a little more treacherous and adventurous than your grandpa's Ape Cave. There's nothing like bumbling into people in a dark, wet cave and then drinking copious amounts of pristine (?) cave water.
On Saturday night I went and saw a laser-light show at OMSI. It featured the music of one of my favorite bands, Radiohead. The show itself was a bit of a "Let Down," but it was a fun night. Afterwards I strolled along Waterfront Park on a balmy night in beautiful Portland, Oregon.
Basically it was a three-night trifecta. Sunday was hectic again. Today was a horrible day. More later.
I dropped my ballot off today in the spirit of procrastination. I know that my vote doesn't count much, seeing as how we don't really live in a "true" democracy as the ancient Greeks did and that we have a screwed up electoral college system. I'm still waiting for the day when we have a compulsory Internet directly-elected voting system. But, alas, I live in America, not Joelmerica.
I wish unto Barack Obama congratulations. Mostly I wish myself congratulations on surviving this torrid political season.
To my newfound brothers in the Constitution Party, I commend you on the well fought battle and say "better luck next time."
I think I can still fit in this week's week in review before midnight, to conform to my goal of having a post everyday, which I also altered to just the weekdays (since I ran out of time this Saturday and Sunday). Besides, I'm having trouble sleeping, so it's like two birds with one stone.
I don't think this week on the surface will seem as exciting as the week before, but believe you me, it was another rollercoaster for yours truly. Some of the most poignant experiences I will use my blogger's license and omit. They will be forever lost, and I for one, would like to say "Good Riddance!"
Monday, Monday. Can't stand that day. Entirely forgettable.
I'm also having a stupor of thought for Tuesday, so there must have been nothing noteworthy. It was the first Blazer game, which I was all pumped for, but then we injured our #1 draft pick who was hurt his whole first year and we lost to our most-hated rivals, the Lakers. I place a lot of personal satisfaction on events like this which are outside of my control, and this one was disproportionately disappointing.
Ah, Wednesday! My day off. I went with my Wednesday posse to the Deseret Industries in Portland and sorted out clothes, making cool sound effects with Mike to pass the time. We met a service missionary who later on in the week would introduce me to a girl. That's a little foreshadowing for you. Then I had sushi for the second week in a row, and then caught The Secret Life of Bees, which is a movie based on a book I had read. It made me feel good. I like my Wednesday posse.
Meh. Thursday. I worked, went to institute, and then went home.
Friday was of course Halloween. After the second Blazer game which was a lot better outcome, I dressed up as a Sith Lord and went to a Halloween dance. I saw many friends, and also many not-friends. It's not like we're enemies or anything, I just don't know them yet and hence am not friends with them.
Saturday I went and helped clean the church, then wussed out on the Guns and Meat activity because it was raining, which opened up the possibility of going to Mike's rugby game, in which he scored thrice and I was the sole supporter amongst his friends, which led to Triple Steak Burritos, which kept me well-fed during the fireside at Lake Oswego, where I met the girl previously discussed in the third point, and then I drove back my Saturday posse to the 'couve, singing along the way with Natalie who was car sick, and then we saw Ghostbusters and then I got made fun at while playing Scattergories.
Sunday was another loooooooooooooooooooooooooong day at Church. Plus it was fast Sunday. I made some awesome cookies for BTF made of chooped up Reese's PB cups, which won no prizes but won the silent majority of people's hearts, minds, and stomachs. After church I finally finished my square T-shirt and then played Scrabble to an unexciting result.
Well, this post is up against the end of the day, so I'm going to publish it before it lapses into my Tuesday post, which I hope I will get to. Ciao!
These last few days I have observed, studied and quantified the strange North American habit of decorating houses for holidays. I am not talking about your standard "Love" or "Snoopy" flags, no no--I speak of those who have climbed their way inside society to reach the very pinnacle of their field. The motives for such flamboyant eccentricity remain mysterious; however, I hypothesize it lies in a combination of vainness, unmanaged pyschological issues, pure unadulterated idiocy, and extreme "keeping up with the Joneses" hyper-competitiveness. I have ruled it out as a rite of passage or as part of some peacock-like mating ritual.
Equipped with a puke yellow expeditionary van and a trusty phone-camera apparatus, I ventured out into the wilds of suburbia to photograph these strange phonemona. I collected what I surmised to be the most extreme examples of this rare condition, and present it here for my peers to review.
In Picture 1, we see an arachnid theme which is repeated on many of the houses. I postulate that these people place a spiritual/religous value on the spider, and particular emphasis seems to be shown to the spider's web. A variation on this theme is shown in picture 3.
Picture 2 as well as Pictures 4-5 introduce a graveyard/cemetary motif, clearly showing the high emphasis the native McMansion dwellers place on ancestors. In pictures 4 and 5, great care was taken to add on an extension to the front porch of the house, showing unusual devotion to the holiday.
This holiday known in the native tongue as "Halloween" gives way to a rash of decorating-intensive holidays, beginning with "Thanksgiving" and proceeding to the granddaddy of them all, "Christmas"to then be followed anticlimactically by "Valentine's Day" and "Easter." I hope to update this with the crem-de-la-crem of those holidays in the future.
Ok, I got my haircut today and all the lady could talk about was how I had so much gray hair. Now, it looks a lot worse before it's cut, but you can still see the specks when it's short. It's really weird because it's just on the sides, but not really anywhere else. To humor her, I started talking about how I should dye it even though I never really considered it before. But after I left, I went into Fred Meyer looking for the hair dyes she was talking about. I still need to sleep on this, but I think in 2 weeks or so, in the midway point 'til the next haircut, I might give the stuff a try. It would really be a psychological blow if I were to give in and do this, you know, mostly because it makes me feel really old and really stupid. Then she tried to soothe the trauma of my premature gray hair by saying it makes me look distinguished. Of course, I don't care about looking distinguished yet. Maybe in like twenty years, but not yet! So here's some pictures, which actually don't show the grayness that much.
As many of you no doubt know (and as I often like to vainly remind people), I served my mission in the CzechRepublic from 2001-2003.If you like this picture here, you can see more of the silliness in my Facebook photos.But my mission wasn’t all silliness; it was actually a salad bowl mixture of intense work, heart-breaking grief and soul-fulfilling joy.To paraphrase Dickens, it was the best part of my life; it was the worst part of my life.
Many times during my mission I thought of ways to improve the work—to make it more effective and more efficient.Some of the ideas I had were beyond my control, like some of the fundamental structural elements of the missionary program.I would like to preface this by saying that the missionary program is inspired and that this all just a bit of fun.
1.I think that missionaries bound for foreign language, foreign culture missions should get their mission calls much earlier, like perhaps at 12 years old or even earlier.They can begin to learn the language and slowly learn more about the culture.This increased time will soften the steep learning curve which hampers much of the mission.When they are 16, all the future missionaries should spend part of their summer in their mission as part as a pre-mission camp where they can become accustomed to their country and get excited about their eventual mission.Converts who join the church later can fulfill the stateside missions, which they are better at anyways.
2.Instead of going to an MTC, all missionaries should spend a few weeks in a same-language, same-culture mission just so they can get some of the basics down of serving a mission.I think the last 6 months of a mission the missionary should get to decide whether he should stay in his mission or serve it out stateside.
3.The missionary look should be relaxed a bit.It looks way too formal in some situations and I know it turns just as many people off that it turns on.On my mission it always looked absurdly overdressed compared to the rest of the people. I still think there should be a dress code, but the rigid always white shirt/always dark suits look is unparalleled in the rest of the business formal world, which I always assumed the missionary look is based on.
4.Abolish contacting and tracting.These always scared me to death, and I hated it because I knew people hated it and I knew I would hate it if it was done to me.
5.Abolish district leaders, zone leaders, and especially assistants to the President.Spread the power around.A mission should be a true democracy, without the pettiness of power struggles.
6.Adopt a more presentational, passive approach.Instead of meeting everybody (including all the crazies), set up shop at certain spots, and let people come to you.Advertise, market, hold events so that people become interested and come in under their own volition.This is already done to some extent, in the form of English classes, sports nights, visitor’s centers, etc.
7.Become more service-oriented.Programs involving humanitarian efforts and charitable works should be entrenched in each area where missionaries work.
OK, I realize that these are pretty revolutionary ideas and are controversial, having their own benefits and drawbacks.Here are a few things I think should be kept the same:
1.Companionships.
2.Morning study.
3.(Most of the) Rules.
4.Preach My Gospel
Man, wouldn’t these changes be so cool?What do you think?
Why? Because lately, it just seems like I have to dodge people forcing me to set goals like a world war one flying ace avoiding flak. Have all you goal-making purists ever noticed that goals are never mentioned in the scriptures? Yeah, didn't think so. Oh, and have you ever thought to consider that they are a modern-day invention, and not necessarily a part of a well-balanced life? Do you think people like Julius Caesar, Martin Luther, or even King Arthur needed goals? Oh, and did you stop to consider the world is ruled by those people with personality types who have a natural propensity to set goals? Look at what a great world we live in!
Ok, yeah, I know that I have set goals before. And yes, I am just as bad at meeting my goals as anyone else. I admit that has soured me a bit on this whole goal thing. But really, deep down inside me in the quadrant next to my repressed subconscious, exists a tiny sliver of respect for the theory behind goal-setting.
So, I am a hypocrite, basically. I'm just like everyone else. Fine. I admit it. I love goals! Give me some goals!
An indefinite number of goals
Read everyday
Read the scriptures everyday
Pray everyday
Write everyday
Apply for jobs
Research going back to school
Stop doing stupid stuff
Ask girls out
Write a blog
Outline story ideas
Move out
Stop playing computer games
Do home teaching
Use my Wednesdays effectively
Declutter my room
Maintain all those things that I already do really well
Go on Jeopardy!
Get married
Have kids
Have a stimulating career
Teach in some capacity
Eventually write a story everyday
Eventually write 500 books
Somehow dig up some motivation to start doing any of these things
Repent everyday
Have a condo in the South Waterfront
Commute to work by using transit
Go back to the Czech Republic
No matter how many times I fall short of my goals, I still somehow keep trying
Seek out Czech-related activities
Stay (or regain my ability to speak) fluent Czech
Write another essay
Lose some weight
Exercise
Run
Bike
Play tennis
Play other sports
Stop twirling my hair
Stop biting my fingernails
Keep a good attitude
Maintain a perfect balance between all areas of my life
I'm really reaching now
Still, there's some good ones further down on the list
Stop falling in love with girls before I've dated them
Play Scrabble competitively
Get LASIK eye surgery
Get a laptop
Overcome my fears
Be Perfect
Watch less TV
Well, that's a good start. Maybe my next step will be to categorize them, collate them, pare them down, prune them, and then replace all my be verbs with active, vibrant verbs. Oh crap, then I suppose I should actually start trying to meet them.
While I was driving today, like a bolt of lightning I started receiving pure intelligence flowing into my brain, communicating to me the topics for about 10-12 additional blog posts. I ripped off a page of the route manifest in a fury and scribbled down the knowledge being sent me. Up until this informational revelation, I had been wandering around this blog wilderness like a weary desert traveler. I would stumble upon the occasional rhetorical oasis amidst days of incoherent wandering. On many days, my withered fingers would posture reluctantly at the keys while my parched eyes gazed into the electro-luminous screen, searching the void of pixels for any shred of meaning that I might possibly distill and gather but a few drops of sweet, blogging nectar. The incomprehensible horror of this endless stupor I took as a mirage—what to do but wait another day for my muse to recover herself.
But now I found, as it were, an old abandoned well in a ghost town, offering me a fresh new source of ideas. So I hereby announce the beginning of a new era for this humble blog, eclipsing the previous era of mediocrity and emerging into the light of a new day, head held high. I pledge to myself, to this blog, and most importantly to my scant readers, to layout this fresh new stream of data in the form of a new post everyday. At the very least, I hope this to last for about 10-12 more days, to flesh out the original outpouring of ideas. My fervent desire is that this plan will serve to prime the pump, and tap into an even longer reserve of endless days of blogging, until we reach that yet-hoped-for day-when-no-blogging-is-to-be-done.
Oh, where to begin? Shall it be the love letter to all the girls I've loved, the rant on goal-setting, the universe that is concealed in the word "No", or my week in review?
Yes, today it shall be my week in review, which I by this motion proclaim to write every Monday from henceforth, but I'll let some of those other topics tease you. For this week only, I will begin on the Friday I returned from Montana; beginning with the moment I crossed the plane of the State of Washington.
I returned from my previously mentioned excursion to Montana with my aunt, weary from my adventuring. We listened to a book-on-tape called The Paid Companion, which I paid attention to most of the way, although I started to zone out right when the tension was rising and was reaching its climax. After the Tri-Cities I drove the rest of the way, which was surprisingly refreshing after a few weeks of not driving.
I arrived to a house that had been substantially redecorated in my absence, in preparation for my little sister's wedding. Also conveniently present was my little sister, who finished her second trip home during the time of my trip.
The square, lacking for three weeks one-fourth of its membership, reconvened to much giddy celebration and failed shirt making.
I saw a rugby game. Didn't understand it. I found my wallet which I had lost the day before.
I returned to church after a few weeks' absence and felt an overabundance of joy to find many friends still brothers and sisters in the gospel.
I returned to work and reinvigorated my atrophied work ethic.
I did sealings at the temple, forging bonds on earth that will be bound in heaven. I also tried to forge some of my own feeble bonds, to no avail.
At this point my high from returning home intersected with the rising curve which I will call "Reality/Stuff that sucks".
Somehow I spent a lot of time talking and hoping and trying but ultimately not getting something that I wanted.
I got mad that I was not getting what I wanted.
I tried looking for that "something I wanted" in other places, trying to fulfill an intangible yet unbearable chasm in my heart. Went too far, regretted it. Then I tried to make peace with my mistake, only to make the same mistake again.
Oh yeah, like the eye of a hurricane I spent some time with an emerging new friend and had a lot of fun. That wasn't so bad. I mean, how can you beat a set weekly date, sushi, and a free movie?
I played catch and had pizza and worked out with my BFF. Plus we had a lot of man talk.
In this relatively tumultuous time of my life, I spontaneously picked up a couple of hitchhikers and they gave me $5! Wow, sometimes I wonder if I am really white…(not the skin color, mind you)
I again sought sanctuary at church, only to realize that all of my plot lines converge at church, so it ended up being awkward! and kinda painful. I guess I do it to myself.
But seriously, I also did find solace in my leaders and in sympathetic friends on Sunday.
Sunday night played games. Nothing more fun on a Sunday night. Nope. Nothing!
YEEAHH! That felt better. This week, for me, was a rollercoaster. My prediction for next week: more of the same, maybe a bit more boring. Who knows? You'll find out next week. In the mean time, get ready for a new post tomorrow that will blow your socks off.
People suck. Relationships suck. I don't know why I ever get involved with anyone. They just walk all over me. It's the story of my life: I build up a lot of trust in a person over a period of months, than they completely take advantage of my feelings, then we have a falling out, and I feel like I can't trust them, and I feel like I can't trust anyone, and I decide to not get close to anybody for a period of couple of months.
It's my "trust" cycle. It has happened many times. Now I feel like I don't even want to try anymore. I'm in that stage.
Why are people like this? Why do they make each other miserable? I want to know!!
I'm just walking along, living my life, trying to find people to trust, and then BAM! out of nowhere someone completely pretends to trust me and begs to be trusted and I fall for it and then that same person leverages that phony mirage of trust into a situation full of pain. It's a classic bait-and-switch that I've fallen for many times.
I want to trust people. How can I even live my life if I never trust anyone? But when I don't feel like I can trust my friends I find myself cold and alone.
Every waking moment of existence I make a choice. I select the choices based upon a myriad of factors, seen and unseen. As a result of each choice, more choices become available. However, the results of previous choices sometimes limit future decisions. Every once in a while I make a choice outside of the spectrum of normal choices.
For example, each day I choose to get up and work. Except three weeks ago today, I decided that instead of doing my normal job and living my normal life in Vancouver, WA, that I would forsake all routine and all civilization and all relationships to go to Montana and live in a cabin. Why did I choose to do this? Based upon the decisions that I had made in my life up to that crucial point, I had never before made such a rash, unpremeditated move.
Here, in list form, I present the rationale:
My aunt offered to take me along on the trip right I was getting ready for work on Monday morning. It seemed appealing over work.
I like to take trips.
It had been a long time since I've had an extended vacation.
This is the silliest thing of all, if you think about it. I wanted to show other people that I would do this sorta thing. I mean, that I was capable of making a spur-of-the-moment decision of this magnitude. First of all, I'm sure no one even pays that close attention to me and what I'm doing. Second, what kinda reason is that?
My personality has been pigeon-holed by others and I believed in the stereotype they created. But now I showed them that they are wrong, so there!
Here's another list, this time replete with the activities I partook of in Montana:
I cut down firewood.
I read several books.
I wrote.
I slept. A lot.
I went to General Conference.
I went on a hike up to a waterfall.
I saw a bear.
I made apple juice.
I got set up with a girl.
I played ping pong.
I grew a beard.
I stacked firewood.
I thought of coming back home.
It was a good, spontaneous trip. But I'm glad to be back in my unspontaneous life.
