Never Count Our Friendship

This is aimed at all willing to read and those willing to learn; I feel it must be understood.

Never count the bills we pick up for the each other, because I'll get it sometimes.  Never count the times I fail you, because I will do it again someday.  Never count the days we talk on the phone, the letters that should have been sent weeks ago, or hours spent together, because there will always be more.  Never count the hours I am unable to speak with you or give you advice, because I'm always devoted to you.  Never count the times I give you advice, because I often need to hear it more than you do.  Never count our friendship, because those things of greatest value aren't defined by numbers.

Never count me for good or evil, because I'll always prove otherwise.  Never count on me making the right decision, because neither of us know what it is.  Never count on my waiting, because I serve those most immediate.  Never count on my resolve, because I have faith in no end except ending all.  Never count my love, because you can't define how much you mean to me.  Never count our friendship, because I stopped keeping score once you won my loyalty.

Buddha Blogs

Years ago, in a surprisingly quiet classroom I saw a poster on the wall of a dear teacher.  It was a beautiful picture of a man walking into a valley with high cliffs around him.  The quote on the poster was, "At first, I walked along the floor of the valley for many years.  I looked up, witnessed the power of the mountains around me, and began to climb them, with much difficulty for I was weak and inexperienced.  After many years, I became agile and as strong as the mountains I conquered and then I looked down and beheld the gentle beauty of the green and flowing valley beneath me.  I descended and have since relished in the life of the valley floor."  Or something like that.  It attributed the quote to Buddha.

The man had three parts to his life.  He started in a life of ease, but he didn't understand it.  The path was flat and easy.  Water and food abounded around him.  He opened his eyes though and witnessed how much he was missing out on, so he chose to explore, climbing up the steep and dangerous slopes.  He was lucky to survive long enough to gain the strength needed to conquer his mountains.  He beheld his glory and reveled in it, because he was great.  But then he noticed the gentle stream below him, the calm valley, and remembered the ease and bliss of his previous life, so he chose to return.  That life, now understood by him, became beautiful in absence and learning.  Had he stayed there forever, he would have simply lived an ignorantly blissful life devoid of trial, strength, or need.  This is not a life I view as worth living.

Life is a progession of trials which test the ability to climb the next mountain.  Unless I become stronger, abandoning the weaknesses I had develop as a source of pleasure and thus addiction, a source of inaction and thus atrophy, and as a source of pride and thus blindness, I will not survive long enough to survey the obstacles of my past, the deeds of my present, and the choices of my future.  Not all pleasures become addictions, because many are needed to help us relax and renew, only those pleasures that distract us from that which must be done.  Not all inaction atrophies, because sometimes there is no action to take, only those actions avoided out of fear.  Not all pride blinds us, because we should all be proud of a bang-up job, only that which clouds our fear of the future.  (Pink Floyd just came on, I am pleased)

This is also true of every part of our life.  At first we are ignorant of everything.  Then we notice literature, art, martial arts, music, religion, sports, and many other beautiful dangers.  We attempt to conquer them or we don't.  Our success is defined according to the failures we survived and moved-on from.  Those who choose to come down early, just produce objects not worthy of masters' hands andminds, are little better off than those who never challenge themselves.

We can't be stagnant and great.  We must try ourselves upon the rocky slopes life placed around us or accept our place beneath those climbing.  If we choose comfort and safety we shall be content, but without pain we can never know true pleasure.  If we choose the trial of the mountain, we shall be miserable and tired and beaten, but our glory and happiness will be greater than that of kings, in the end.

Deal With It

I watched Stranger than Fiction for the first time tonight.  It was fantastic.  It just moved onto my list.  It was fairly predictible, but I was alright with that since the commentaries on life have become more and more predictible as I've learned about natural and literary symbols.  Nice, but boring.

As I watched Harold die, he is the protagonist of Stranger than Fiction, I came to two realization.  As the movie ended, I suddenly wanted to go outside and pound on the punching bag.  I had already done so early this day so I was tired, but it felt like the thing to do to make me feel better.  For me, fighting is one of the greatest ways to live.  The combative competition and my body reacting as quickly, powerfully, and accurately as I desire it to do so.  The control and sensations of muscles straining, tendons stretching, and pain awaken an often slumbering part of me.  And very little of fighting is physical.  I have never lost a fight I knew I would win.  That might sound silly, but every fight I have lost, I knew I was going to lose before it happened.  Watch Hero, I hope it makes more sense.  And the same benefits of fighting with my fists is achieved when I fight with other parts of my body, most commonly my lips, most commonly used in seduction or debate.  It's all a combat, just different rules.

I suppose it was not a realization, but another confirmation that I do not cry at death.  It bothers me in no way.  Honestly, it never has confused, scared, or disarmed me; I am not this way because of my faith, but because of my experience.  Death is not the worst part of this life.  I am incapable of mourning the eternal happiness of another.  And it is selfish of me to mourn for my own loss.  At a much too young age I was subject to pain indescribable; a pain that changes an individual.  No one dead is subject to that, so the only emotion I can feel for the dead is jealously.  And then (but only the first time freshman year) I realize that for every moment of physical or emotional pain I have endured, I have received happiness ten-fold from friends, family, and by existing.

One of my favorite scenes in Firefly is in one of the un-aired episodes where an old friend of the Captain and Zoe shows up dead.  Shepherd is walking past the casket and comes upon Jayne, who is working out.  Jayne asks the Shepherd if he'd like to do a couple reps and that he, Jayne, would spot him.  Shepherd declines and Jayne continues saying that if he killed a man in a fair fight or a man wanting to start one he had no problem with the man's death.  But this death made him feel...like he wanted to work out or be with a woman.  Shepherd responded that he understand, Jayne sought to feel alive when in the presence of death; he sought to simply acknowledge his five senses and prove he was alive.

A few thoughts on...stuff I guess

I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad, the most romantic thing I can think of right now is something along the lines of, "For now darling we must stand strong in the angry flames and endure the choices which coerced us there, but someday we shall be free.  Whether our freedom is a heaven or a hell doesn't matter, because we'll be there together.  So, you and me babe, how about it?" (I have a lot of songs going through my head right now)

The summer Institute class is "Preparing for a Celestial Marriage."  This is often quite boring for me because...well I will gone in two weeks, I won't be married for quite some time once I return, and the boy to girl ratio is never quite right.  But this evening's lesson was about finding an eternal companion and it was kinda fun.  We talked about what we looked for in a companion and after a while of hearing the same old trusting and goal-oriented and spiritual and oh so many cliches I decided to suggest a heart-melter.  I said, "I want someone with a beautiful smile that I get to see all the time because I can make her laugh."  I received chorused "ahhhs" from the girls.  But thinking about it seriously, I really do mean that.  The only two physical traits that I have seen as beautiful in an 80 year-old as an 18 year-old are their smile and their eyes.  They just seem to never fade in a person who is truly beautiful.  And if I can make someone laugh honest, gut-wrenching, boistrous laughter, it means we share a sense of humor and can get along most of the time.  That means a lot to me.

Tonight, I also had the chance to play volleyball with a bunch of strangers.  Some of the girls we played with, particularly these two gals, were quite attractive.  Like really attractive.  It was surprisingly nice to see and play with and flirt with two complete strangers I'll never see again.

On an important note, at least to me, I kissed a girl yesterday.  It was quite nice.  I won't see her again for over two years.  I also just realized that she is the last person I'll kiss for the time period.

Relationships

Romance is fun.  The stress of it.  The little successes.  Butterflies.  Timid glances.  Lustful looks.  Discussing it.  Rationalizing it.  The first kiss.  Yeah, it's a good time.  I've been thinking about relationships a lot recently, mostly analyzing my own experience.  This seems silly to me because I'm leaving in just over three weeks; I have no time to have a real relationship; I have no desire to get strung up before I leave.  While opportunities to be amoral have abounded, the one person I would have gladly accepted a promiscuous proposition from has received me with innocence, virtue, and simplicity.  Which, while I doubt she knows it, is exactly what I need and probably what I want.

In my endeavors to expose the whimsical woes of my many mischevious deeds I came upon two conjectures.  That the first kiss bares an alarming amount of importance and that the break-up really only allows concise closure to one party.

The break-up always bites.  Royally.  Having someone break up with you, no matter the reason or excuses, feels like a punch to the stomach.  I have some personal rules about breaking-up with someone, that I won't go into right now, that I hope makes it easier for the other person, but it hurts no matter how it's done.  But what about breaking up with someone.  A relationship can end well; neither person was really dependent on the other, both parties understand why it happened, and friendship is still available afterwards.  A relationship can end poorly, for any number of reasons.  Either way, when it ends, both parties need to move on.

The person who got broke up with though, has a much easier time of this I feel.  They have no choice in the matter.  The other person doesn't want to be with them or can't be with them and is leaving.  When broken-up with, often one feels anger at the other person and this acts as a catalyst to speed up and improve the moving on process.  While it often happens, feelings of "what could I have done" or "I'll try and win them back" do little good because they rarely help much.  You've been broken up with, just move on and be happy.

But what about the breakee-uper?  That is the silliest looking word...  We'll just call it the scumbag.  :)  I mean no offense to anyone, I've broken up with several people (I'm actually almost at 50% even for being in both positions) and I think it applies to the way one feels afterwards.  So, what about the scumbag?  They had a choice.  With that choice comes  the resolves from fretting over whether to do it or not over several weeks, which also forces one to endure the perpetuating poison of a rotting relationship and does not, in any way, ensure the relief from remorse one would hope for.  Or the gutwrenching guilt from ripping out the tender heart of one you care(d) about (which doesn't always happen, but I still feel bad).  Neither is all that fun.  Also, once it happens, you have the opportunity to doubt your decision for no limited length of time.  THERE IS NO LIMIT TO YOUR GUILT AND REMORSE!!!  I feel that should be made clear.  Seriously though, you know it's your fault it ended; even if they were a horrible person, you ended it; even if you had no choice, you ended it.  That kind of sucks to think about.  Which is why I think if we do break-up with a person, we've really got to make a point to move on, because I don't think we scumbags have the social right to feel contrition about our actions, because that is a royal mental-disturbance to the person broken-up with.  We're all going to have to break up with someone at some point I'm sure, but we've got to make it easier on both parties.

The first kiss.  So much history and delight held within one brief congress.  Hopefully followed by several more.  I find it best when spontaneous and spun upon unsatiated tension tying two up in unusual defiance aimed at the remaining world.  But, who kisses whom first?  I had a very close friend tell me that the guy should make the first move.  I actually agree with her for many reasons.  But I don't believe the first kiss is the first move.  A guy can declare a great deal of interest and sexuality towards a girl without kissing her.  Also, what do you do in a lesbian or gay relationship?  (I guess both guys could just ravage each others face at the same time, but that leaves the gals high and dry...literally.  Well, at least the dry part.  They can get high without other people.  Guys too actually)  Well, in all my conquests and submissions I've noticed one commonality and I actually noticed it from one of my biggest failures this last year.  That first kiss really decides who gets to hold the safe word.

There is something to be said about being submissive.  You get to say stop.  This isn't culture breeding or some secret nurture device trained in us.  I've yet to find a culture where the person receiving doesn't have the right to say stop.  When one is the initiator, one has the responsibility to keep things moving and to not stop until asked to.  I hate this rule, because I can't blame it on anything but human nature.  It like the play Dolls says, "A guy is just supposed to take whatever comes along, right?"  I always wanted that part, because I've been stuck in that situation.  Guys are traditionally the aggressor, even sexually, which means they are expected to be...aggressive, make the first move, go in for the first kiss, and not stop until their partner says stop.  I'm here to say I have limits, especially sexually, and if you push me I will break because I hate feeling awkward and have little control once I shut emotionally down (which happens when pushed past my limits), but I will be broken for a long time and you won't like me in that state.  It's scary.  And I've known (and dated) girls who have made the first move and went in for the kiss first and their partner said stop and the girls got offended or confused.  That first kiss kind of defines who has the right to say stop, because the person who initiated it is supposed to keep going.  I find the longer and healthier (if only one adverb exists, I haven't really noticed it) a relationship is the more balanced and less aggressor/submissive it is and becomes.  It's really good to see when it works.

Dreams

I dreamed last night. This is a rather unusual occurrence, as some of you may know, but not unheard of at any given time. On one hand, my dreams are strange and difficult to define, but, on the other, they are rather exciting. Ultimately, I don't like dreaming. Oddly, last night was . . . intensely pleasant.

First, some background physics. There is something called the event horizon; it is the point past which light cannot escape a black hole. Now, for years, I had believed that light would just get stuck once it reached this point, in a perfect situation. It would constantly be trying to escape the pull of the black hole and the black hole would constantly try to suck it in. Last night I realized the folly of this thinking because the gravity of a black hole is constant (ha, I made a pun) but the velocity of a photon of light (which for no conceivable reason acts like it has mass) is not accelerating, so gravity, no matter how small, will overcome the speed of light after a given amount of time. WHICH IS AWESOME! So pretty much what would usually happens is something like a yo-yo, the light speeds past the black hole, through the event horizon, and is suddenly pulled back to never be seen. This is what I was thinking about as I drifted into slumber. Well, that and a couple specific different girls and some teachers and . . . stuff really.

Anyway, the dream (and I was promising myself this would be short). I'm in some sort of alley, there are brick buildings, lots of cement walls and such. A nuclear explosion goes off nearby. In the process of being disintegrated (I die a lot in dreams) my old concept of the event horizon comes up and just a couple of atoms manage to keep themselves from moving in any one direction, so I, rather my spirit, attached itself to those little specks and materialized itself (sorry if there is any confusion. I've never dreamed or remembered anything in first person, always third-person omniscient). In hindsight, upon waking up, I decided that it was kind of like a ghost; my identity had attached itself to a the physical plane and refused to leave, but I am also able to interact with the physical world, I find shortly. I'm dead and I realize this, so I wander.

In my wanderings I come upon an alley with more brick walls and there is a car and I see this girl. I recognize her from this life as someone who I really care about. There are other people there, but none of them of any consequence. I see that she is in a similar predicament to me. She exists, but is only the veneer of a body. I, almost instinctively (which is strange, because I haven't ever in real life), went up to her, grabbed her behind the nape of her neck, and, with my other hand, connected myself to her waist. I began to kiss her. I realize this is a dream, but I have never kissed anyone so deeply and richly as I kissed this girl right then. Her taste and touch were terrific and tempting. The embrace was returned just as readily and amorously. As we continued to embrace, it seemed that each moment caused us to connect even more deeply. As we kissed, she wrapped her hands around my neck and lifted her legs around my hips. We drifted from the hood of the car to the side of it to the wall and down the alley. The dream continued for quite some time, with variously levels of confusion and disturbance on my part, but the part with the girl stopped. It was sad.

As I said, I realize this was a dream. I can hope that this would happen. And to some degree it might someday. I doubt I'll ever experience a nuclear explosion while in a brick-laden alleyway lit only by the dream of industrialization and destroyed by the vision of expansionism, but who knows? I can say that I haven't had the benefit of such unsatiating pleasure.

Trees

Many moons ago I was writing about something.  I honestly don't remember what.  Look for some post that I mention trees in it.  But I kept writing about trees instead of the matter at hand.  Well, I feel like ranting about trees.  Because I like them.  They're pretty.  And strong.  Good for climbing and shade and are beautiful in both summer and winter.  Not everyone can be described like that.

One of my favorite characters in all of the Lord of the Rings is the Ents.  They are such majestic and tragic characters.  Their Ent-wives have left them to a place no one knows.  The flowers were never quite the same without them.  They are slow to anger, but develop a great and mighty wrath over time.  I find that many people are like Ents, or rather trees in general.

We are ever changing.  From the time we are a sapling we are changing.  Like a tree, for the most part, it is easy to tell what type of tree we will grow up to be.  Tall or short, thin or stout, brittle or flexible, strong or weak.  But most young trees tend to be flexible.  Most old trees tend to be steadfast.  Just like us.  As we age, there are just certain characteristics we tend to take on.  No one can know the worth of a tree until it has come of age.  In youth, all tree serves the same purposes of growing up and filtering the air for their animal counterparts.  But until the tree is older and man or some other animal has need of it, it's purpose and worth cannot be measured.  A maple tree might be kept in a more natural state which it grew up in and be used for saps and syrups or it might travel and in its travels be transformed into timber and then into floors and desks and wardrobes.  An apple tree might never move from the spot it grew up on and produce basic foods for others or it might be tranferred to a factory and be used in the fermentation of beers or the preparation of meats.  A cottonwood might forever plague its neighbors by agitating their allergies and forcing them to do more work in a defense to keep the cottonwoods from spreading to another lawn or it might...I honestly don't know what good cottonwoods can do...I kind find them annoying myself.  But that furthers the point doesn't it, some trees are just annoying and always will be except to those few people who don't have allergic reactions to them.

Another thing about trees is if you spend a great deal of time cultivating them and they don't turn out the way you wanted them to, we are often disappointed.  Apple trees are hard work.  In the 9 years I lived on a farm cultivating apple trees, we only had two harvests worth dealing with.  Other than that, the trees were pretty and annoying obstacles for moving the lawn.  It wasn't until recently that I realized how selfish I was.  Yes, my family did not enjoy the intended fruits of our labors, but we had a beauty all to ourselves and a lazy place to rest our heads in the sun.  When a tree is a sapling, it is hard to identify, but we shouldn't be disappointed when it grows up to be a beech instead of an apple, because we still helped something grow and helped make the world.

Finally, in raising a tree proper, there are a few curiousities I find.  It grows best alone.  When hiking, one often sees groups of two or three trees (or more) growing in a tight little circle.  Sometimes those trees grow together into one conglomeration, but what usually happens is one tree kills the others off in order to survive.  Trees grow best alone, away from their mother tree (I know most tree are hermaphrodites, all except junipers actually, but it's still the mother half that gives birth), in a harsh environment.  There is a reason seeds have a way of getting out into the world.  If they just fell straight down, most older trees would end up killing them.  Except most pine trees, because pine trees require less light, let more light through, and often work together in tight-knit groups to survive fires and winds. (all trees have developed their own communities to survive and grow alone or work together to survive large disasters.  Sounds familar)  Also, when I say harsh environment, I don't mean desert, I mean a place they have to strive to live.  Example, a tree that is watered every day often dies or is uprooted because its roots to not need to search for its own water source to live.  The roots never form a stable foundation so when the winds come the tree fails.  I feel like our roots are our identity.  If we are too sheltered by our friends and family, once a trial comes we are unable to withstand the test.  We have to search for ourselves and decide for ourselves who we are, what we stand for, and what that makes us.  Also, strangely enough, a tree needs to be pruned fairly regularly too.  If not, it becomes a tangled mess of broken branches, lifelessleaves, and catastrophic canopies.  It can't receive light where it needs it.  Well pruning keeps us from getting top heavy.  It keeps our egos in check and our information straight.  It lets us receive light and truth where we need it most, our core leaves or ideas.  If we aren't pruned properly and regularly, we become a mangled mass of knowledge and have no way of expanding in a way that improves ourselves.

Seven Deadly Sins

So most of this was thought out a very long time ago, but I like it.

A lot of times it seems that the actual purpose of a law or commandment may have been lost throughout the ages. Either because people no longer have the same problems they once had or they are advancing and are given higher laws which are more encompassing. Originally the commandment was thou shalt not murder (or thou shalt not kill depending on your translation of the Bible), but Jesus Christ said, "But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire" (Matthew 5: 22). Instead of just murder being wrong, humans are told to no longer be angry at each other lest they be judged and condemned. It isn't enough for us to control our physical actions; we must control the emotions we feel for each other too.

So, in order to be sacrilegious and silly, I rewrote the Seven Deadly Sins how I felt they should be in this modern age. I feel it should be said that I don't judge people according to any of these. I just think they could help some people, but are not required to be happy or accomplish anything involving this life or the one after.

1. Lust. I know it's in the original seven, give me a break. It is still a very serious problem for a lot of people. But I define it slightly differently than I usually hear. Lust is the fulfilling of physical/sexual desires solely for the fulfillment of physical/sexual desires. Two people having sex is not wrong if done correctly. Sex is a very intimate act and should be a mutual experience. Both parties should want it, enjoy it, and be happier because of it. If either party is participating for no reason other than to be satisfied I think it is wrong, mostly because it is a betrayal. An act as intimate as sex needs to be shared at many levels, but if one person isn't sharing the emotional connection sex should form, they are forsaking their companion's emotions and that is quite rude if you ask me. Lust does not apply to sex only either. Any desire to be physically satisfied for no reason other than to be physically satisfied is greedy and selfish. If someone wants to discover what turns them on or figure out what feels good to them, they don't have a singular goal to be satisfied; their goal is to learn as well. But staring at pornography for hours, in example, is wrong, because it, in almost every case, serves no purpose other than to satisfy some strange desire to be physically satisfied, but not emotionally. That's why it is wrong, to be truly happy we have to be satisfied on more levels than just physically. Giving in to such base desires with no higher goal is reducing ourselves to something less than the beauty we are.
2. Hatred. I find that hatred follows wrath rather closely, but it's more in-depth.  It is not enough to simple control our physical outbursts to non-violent means against a person.  In fact, often times refusing to be physically damaging to a person and being creative in the way we punish them can be more hateful and destructive than simply beating them up.  Thoughts create emotions and emotions create actions, so unless we can stop the hate at the thoughts (which are really hard to control without years of practice and conditioning) or emotions, we're gonna end up hurting someone else as well as our self.I have found the best breeding ground for hate is when we refuse to forgive someone.  And sometimes forgiveness is hard.  Like, really hard.  But we've gotta do it, because if don't forgive others their trespasses who are we to expect others to forgive us of our sins?But I also mean hatred towards ourselves.  For a lot of people, loving and accepting others is easy, but learning to love ourselves is the much more difficult battle.  We have to learn to love ourselves before we can truly learn to love others.  And it is hardest to forgive ourselves when we know we are wrong.
3. Waste.  So often today people just waste.  They waste time, resources, energy.  It reminds me of what sloth used to mean.  It wasn't the sitting around doing nothing that was wrong, it was the fact that they were missing out on so much around them.  Today, we waste our time online, on games, on cellphones, on blogs..., and on so many little things.  We are accomplishing nothing of value.  Granted, sometimes you learn something really cool or new online, but is it worth the hours you spent otherwise?  I enjoy Facebook as much as the next, but I try to use it just to check up on what is going on and make sure my friends are still alive and well.  A lot of the time, I use computers to help me relax.  I play mindless games, chat with no purpose, and increase my nerdery through various webcomics and websites.  It helps me detox at the end of the day, but I shouldn't do it so much.  Wasting my time and energy on things that provide no enlightenment or improvement wastes ourselves.
   I also believe that we often waste opportunities all too often.  We could do great and amazing things, except we choose to be comfortable and safe.  As I did not overtly say, but meant before we too often choose what makes us feel safe instead of what can improve us and make us happy.  Life is an adventure, so let's be adventurous.
4. Deception.  Preventing others from learning the truth.  Lies.  Little ones, white ones, little white ones, big ones, huge ones, destructive ones, ones concerning the ancestry of a child, any lie is a lie.  But I have found that lies are often not the problem, it is when we deceive deliberately.  We avoid subjects and conflicts.  We beat around the bush.  We spin words in such a way so that we are not lying, but we're keeping half the truth locked-up.  This is, usually, not far to either party because the one who knows is refusing to share the burden, probably harboring ill thoughts, which leads to #2, and that's no good for a relationship.  It isn't fair to the other side either though because they can do no good to save the relationship.  We've got to be honest and not just the bare minimum.  Honesty breeds trust which breeds love.  Usually.  Most of the time.  I hope so at least.
   As we are friends (at least I assume we are if you've been willing to read this much) I make two promises to you.  I will never forsake you.  We are friends and I will keep that foremost in mind no matter what happens or comes between us whether it be money, time, or women (or anything else likely to.  I just find those come up more often than not).  I will never lie to you, but I will probably be forced to deceive you at some point.  It might be about a crush I harbor on you or a something you've done that bothers me (because I try awful hard to keep that first promise and haven't ever broken it, as far as I know, and would hate for you to be the first one to prove me wrong) or whatever, but I will probably avoid the subject or talk in such a way that you won't ever know what is actually going on, but will still feel satisfied.
5. Hypocrisy.  You see what I just did.  I was a hypocrite.  I am expecting others to do that which I am unwilling to do.  First off, I'm sorry about that.  Please forgive me, cause seriously it isn't something I can change.  There are things about me you won't accept, because you just don't know me well enough.  The way I define hypocrisy is important though.  It is the expecting of something you are unwilling to do.  This can be a physical actions, something as simple as asking someone to build a part correctly or to pick someone up after school.  More often though I find it is emotional and mental things.  I expect other people to be as compassionate and forgiving as I try to be, but I often fail at it.
   I believe there are two other parts to hypocrisy:  Giving advice you would not follow yourself and not following that which you know to be true.  Just to combine them, I believe we should only give advice we know to be true.  For the sake of calming opposition, believing is seeing so all truth is individual.  Debate me all you want (seriously, if you disagree with me I'd love a second opinion).  So, when I someday write down my list of truths (there are currently fifteen) please understand you might disagree with them, but that doesn't make them any less true.  So, when we know something is true, when we've had enough experience in this life that something about it just needs to be defined in order for us to deal with it, we need to be willing to accept and follow it.  One of my truths is that "if the truth hurts change it."  It's a little harsh, but I spend a great deal of time and energy making sure every fact in my life is not going to hurt during those moments I'm forced to look back on myself and realize what I did wrong.  I spend a great deal of energy making sure my definitions of this life don't make me feel bad about myself or others.  If I don't do that, I'm a hypocrite and am held liable in the eyes of man.
6. Ignorance.  Since we're talking about truth, I'm gonna keep going with it.  Ignorance is the refusal to learn and grow, the refusal to face and accept truth, and the refusal to learn who we are as individuals.  I find ignorance is kind of a deception of the self.  It is the individual choosing to be a sheep in the herd instead of an individual worth something more.  It's willingly pulling the wool over our own eyes.  It is...I don't got no more sheep references...sorry.  If we refuse to grow, we stay very comfortable right where we are.  We move neither up nor down, neither left nor right.  We tell ourselves we are safe.  The problem is the world moves around us so we lose our footing and fall.  We stagnate and become wretched creatures not content with anything.  We can't just stay safe, we have to explore and learn.  If not, we are condemn to be thrown with restless violence round about this pendent world. Or to be worse than worst...imagine howling.  Props to whoever gets the reference.  It's a great play.  Also, refusing to learn truths that life attempts to teach us I find is also a sin.  If you know that you are miserable when you get drunk, but do it because your friends are...you're an idiot to drink!  If you don't like working manual labor, but tell yourself it's the only way to make enough money to be happy...you're an idiot!  I'm not even going to be nice about this one.  If you do something that makes you unhappy in the attempt to make yourself or another happy, you have no idea what is going on and need to get ahold of yourself.  If you have something to teach yourself, just learn it already.  You'll be happy.
   I find the refusal to learn who you are is one of the most tragic things in this life though.  Why wouldn't we want to know what makes us who we are?  Why wouldn't we want to know what turns us on, excites us, or makes us tick?  Is it truly that terrifying to learn of the man or woman behind the mask?  Yes.  It is that terrifying.  It is the scariest thing we can do, break ourselves down enough to see who truly stands in the mirror.  But we've got to do it if we ever wish to be successful, happy, or move on.
   
7. Forgetting.  Finally, the end.  Forgetting is, in a sense, the opposite of ignorance and I believe it to be a higher sin.  As ignorance is the refusal to learn, forgetting is taking what we've learned and throwing it away.  We forsake the truths we've learned, the experiences that taught us those truths, and the people who taught us how to be human.  When we forget our past we forget what made us up to be who we are and when we forget who we are we forget our goals and aspirations.  We lose our purpose and I think that is one of the scariest things in this life.  Without a purpose I have no reason to live and that truth can wear on you pretty quick.

Dante's Couple

(So this was written quite some time ago. I keep editing it every time I look back on it, but will post it in its present form. It is inspired by the sign posted at the entrance of Dante's Inferno, which was conveniently posted on the door of a couple friends)

Part 1:

By Zeus' mighty arm, I spied a man, with not guile nor charm, bent upon a hill with his wife, ill. A brilliant flash with thunderous crash illuminate actions rash. A bold oath to slay them both so he'd not live to cry. A simple lie to keep them together in the tumultuous weather.

Part 2:

A tisket, a tasket, a journey in a basket to the place of forsaken race. Where men are treated as beef on their way to eternal grief and women lose hope as they learn to cope with the pain for their vain gains. Lucifer's domain.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here,
for ye shall learn to fear.

Hope is no blessing, but a curse. Only evidence of worse, much worse to come. For the sum all the forsaken souls is equal to but one righteous' whole. God's eyes do not blink, but nor do they think to judge a man as a man, instead of a tool in His hand.

Part 3:

A wife lays still. A man becomes ill. A bloodied knife claims a life. Now two. He knew the cost of having lost his life, his wife. His soul departs as his heart breaks in the wakes of despair. He no longer cares. A journey together in order to weather the slaying storm which formed in her heart. A parting act. A death pact.

His soul froze as he witnessed his rose's ascent with the consent of St. Peter, who freed her. Chilling hands wrapped bands about his soul and began to pull. As tears filled his eyes he heard her sighs. He realized his mistake. She had been faking for their sake. Her sinless soul saved to walk the gilded path paved in Heaven. His corrupt corpse condemned to forever dwell in the hushed silence of his own Hell.

Ten Things

Ten things I wish I could say to 10 people. These aren't meant to be any person in particular, but have been things I've wished to say to several particular people at different times. (well, most of them have been meant more than one person)

1. I love you now and forever. I'm always gonna be there. I'm always gonna protect you. I'm gonna screw up over and over, but as long as you'll wait for me, I'll wait for you, and we'll make it together.
2. I'm an idiot and I make a lot of mistakes. Please excuse me for misunderstanding and not being eloquent enough.
3. You are colorful...but I don't mean that a good way. Please...please clean yourself up and find happiness again. I got my act together, that was the deal.
4. Honestly, I was more interested in figuring out your past and present than figuring out how to include myself in your future.
5. Why can't you trust me?
6. Yes, we've drifted apart, but do we actually have anything to say?
7. I really do/did like you, but it was just the time was wrong.
8. I hope we save the world someday.
9. I apologize for all our arguments (I'm kinda lame about what to argue sometimes), but I kinda think they helped define our relationship and strengthened both our views.
10. Who are you?
    

The Several Fails in the Tales of Lucy Gale pt. 2

Lucy Gale was a merry ol' soul and a merry ol' soul was she. She was taken by the hand of a sickly old man, whom, with she, tried a real man to be. With a quickie outside and a rather fast drive, she was left unsatisfied by he.

His words had tempted her with fruits of knowledge and fruit of another kind. He had perverted her body with a snake and with fantasies her mind. She now had knowledge of good and evil, but knowing lust and slut are anagrams only gets you so far. She had been forced passed her bar and down on her knees, but all her plees and nos came out as please and knows. She judged him by the fruits of his labor and her sins began to show. Her innocence did little to protect her as the only response he ultimately heard was "sure." In the end, she had consented, but that was the only option he ever presented. She had said no and he said experiment. She said "I can't" and he misunderstood what she meant.

It happened. It was fast and dirty, in the gravel and dog shit. It seemed so appropriate in hindsight. Her feet and hands were scarred where they touched him and the ground. Her side was blemished where he came. It seemed so appropriate in hindsight. He sneaked off into the night, she retreated to her home. It never seemed appropriate.

I wonder if Eve ever felt guilty for that one

First off, I like having a place where I, for the most part, know who is going to be reading what I write. It is nice having a place to just rant or rave. I enjoyed writing my last post. It actually made me a little emotional. I also realized I only personally own one of my ten favorite movies (To Be or Not to Be) and my family owns only six others, with two different brothers owning the only copies of two of those movies. Meaning I only have access to 5 of my favorite movies at any given time. I do not approve.

But the real reason I wrote this is kind of embarrassing... I enjoy judo. I can get aggressive and do not have to worry because we all know the rules and aren't going out of our ways to harm each other. I can fight until my bones ache, my skin tears, and I bleed. It is very satisfying on several levels of humanity. My mortal shell is trained by others through repetition and trauma. My spirit exercises its freewill and desire by battling another. My mind has the chance to calculate, deceive, and plot against others, but in a way that will not land me in jail. My being is uplifted.

I am by no means the best in the class. I am just a yellow belt and while I could take most of the yellow belts in the class, I would still lose most of the time to some of the yellow belts. Also, there are a bunch of people who have just never tested for a higher belt. There are a few guys who just wear their white belts to mess with other people... Anyway, the moral is that I get beat up most of the time. Partly because I want to get better, so I try to spar more skilled people, and partly because I still have difficulty just holding my own. Occasionally I get a really good hold or throw in and it just works, but only occasionally.

Well, a couple weeks ago, we were doing randori, which is just simple free-style practicing, you face each other and try to throw/trip/reap the other person to the ground, and I was up against a higher belt who is substantially smaller than me (20 lbs probably). Well, using my size mostly, I do get a pretty good throw on him, but I hit him against the ground pretty hard, but he breathed out appropriately and just needed a slight breather afterwards. After I beat him, I still had time left in the imaginary match, so someone else came in. This next kid is someone I started the class with, so we are at similar experience levels. I think I'm a little bigger than him, but we're about the same height. I got a really good osoto gari on him, which is a leg reap, and he slammed into the ground. I did not mean to hit him so hard. Honestly, when I fight my legs start to shake. I get nervous when I fight. I want to win, but I don't want to get too excited and lose control. Unfortunately, I think that happened a little bit and he didn't breathe out when he hit the ground and I kinda broke his rib, which I found out today (I was wondering why he wasn't showing up in class anymore). I am glad to say I was successfully thrown twice by the next guy I sparred, but geez. I broke someone's rib. His rib had just healed too. Come on...I'm not supposed to do that.

Movies

Well, since it has been almost a month since I last posted, I have decided to start off with something rather simple. Here are my ten favorite movies and my reasons why. They aren't the most dramatic, the most daring, the most exciting, the funniest, or the best; they just happen to be my favorite movies which I will spend a great deal of effort to get you to watch and enjoy. Also, I will not be underlining titles because...that'll just take too much time.

But first, honorable mentions which came extremely close:
Casablanca, The Dark Knight, Gladiator, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Prestige, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, and Howl's Moving Castle.


10) O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) This movie is screamingly funny. I love the characters and how they help, hate, embrace, betray, and befriend each other throughout this film. The music is incredibly beautiful (I occasionally catch myself singing "Down in the River to Pray" or whatever it is called). The lighting is gorgeous, the scenes are remarkable, the acting is delightful, the characters are vast and varied, and I love how classy of a retelling it does of The Odyssey.

9) Fight Club (1999) It's delightful. I loved the tones set by lighting and the beautiful portrayals of all the characters. I saw the twist coming a mile away, but was still fascinated and very impressed by how it was implemented throughout the film. The confusion on people's faces as the protagonist beats or berates them and then Tyler Durden coming around and helping them up or beating them further down. It made me laugh, but in that way which I have to laugh otherwise it would bother me. The themes and lessons were delectable. The fights were impressive too.

8) Newsies (1992) Come on, I had to have a musical on here. Also, it stars Christian Bale (and since I already cut The Prestige from the top ten, I was kinda wounded already). The music is lively and heart felt and performed very well. Open the gates and seize the day! come on, who doesn't want to start a riot and save the world. With a cast that you've all seen in other movies, but never known it, and choreography that simply kicks butt it is one of my fondest childhood memories and one of my favorite movies. I would watch this at any time with anyone and could probably recite every line and song.

7) Battle Royale (2001) This movie will mess you the freak up. I have never seen so much emotional and physical violence in a film and feel every moment was justified. It made me question and solidify my morals and beliefs. The ending is a little awkward, but the rest of the movie is so startlingly poignant I love it completely. To what extent will people go to protect themselves or their friends. To what extent will a government go to be self-sustaining. What can someone endure before they crack, what justifies a person, and how do our choices and friendships protect or betray us? I love this movie and I hope we see it together someday so I can rant and explain all my emotions during it. It is an excellent example of relationships and their worth in the end.

6) Inherit the Wind (1960) Ahhh, we finally get to a classic. First off, this is my favorite play. It is so powerful and helped me come to terms with some of my own dilemmas. Reading it opposite Claire is one of my favorite memories. Also, it has Spencer Tracey in it. Do you really want to question that? I thought not. This movie is a delightful showing of two friends who combat over religion as if it were game in a courtroom, but it is game to neither of them. This is their life, their explanation, their purpose on the line and they are being forced to either accept the truth they've been telling themselves or get lost in the fray. They both come out standing, but only one is satisfied by his work. They both win, but only one is able to celebrate his victory. They accomplished their Earthly purpose, but only one lives. This movie helped define what a movie should be in my eyes.

5) Seven Samurai (1954) No one has seen this movie. No one. Except Emily, but she is abnormal. Seriously, I think this is one of the greatest movies of all time, but no one has seen it. Also, it was remade as a western film titled The Magnificent Seven, which was later spoofed by The Three Amigos. It is also the oldest film on this list. It tells the tale of Japan as they started to abandon their old traditions and honor in order to embrace the rest of the world, but ignore the problems that still exist amongst their proletariat. A village is being ravaged by a group of bandits each season after their harvest. The village is kind of sick of this and sends someone into town in order to hire mercenaries or whomever they can find to protect the village and kill the bandits. The problem is the village has no money (so they lie about it), the samurai are scarce (but have no money so must do whatever jobs pay), and the bandits are coming soon (which doesn't need parentheses, but I want to continue the parallelism). Six samurai are hired, but a young punk, eager to prove himself, sneaks along and there are seven. They come to a spat with the villagers as the villagers have been killing rogue samurai off over the years (which is kind of justified as the samurai used to almost be worse than the bandits, but had honor and rules instead of chaos and murder), don't have the promised money, and expect the samurai to do all the work and die so they don't have to be paid. The samurai's honor overcomes them and they promise to finish the job they said they would do. The fights are tragic and lovely. The growth in all the samurai is startling and real. This is a another film everyone must see if nothing but to experience what we've been missing over the years.

4) Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) I like how all three old flicks are right next to each other. What can't I say about this film? It's classic. It's beautiful. It's tragic. It's exciting. It's emotional. The romance is even acceptable I feel. From start to finish I was never bored, wanted something else to happen or be explained, and I never knew what was going to happen next. It's beautiful. Honestly, I can't say enough about it, so just go watch it yourself.

3) To Be of Not to Be (1983) It is a remake of a 1942 film abut WWII (which is impressive if you think we were still in WWII when the original was made). It was one of the first films to address the treatment of gays during the holocaust. It is Mel Brooks, so I think it is screamingly funny. But also one of the most captivating movies I've ever seen. There are so many one liners that I can't tell you them all right now. It is very multi-faceted as it makes you laugh, cry, anticipate, and laugh again, because it wouldn't work for Mel Brooks if it didn't.

2) La Faute à Fidel (2006) The English title is Blame it on Fidel, but I saw it in French first, so that's the title I remember. OH MY GOODNESS!!! I love this film. Were it not for the beauty and art work the number one film has, this would win. Honestly, the last two films are so head and shoulders above the rest I don't know why the rest of the list exists. This is also my indy-pick, because no one, I assure you no one, has seen this film. At least in the US. I saw it at a French Film Festival at NAU one weekend and can't get over it. It is the only film to make me want to cry because children are playing. The film was so powerful it overcame me completely. It's the story of a young girl whose parents are French activists in the 1970's. It is also filmed entirely from her perspective. If she can't see something, such as the tops of roofs or over most things, the audience can't. But you can still hear things or see the shuffle of feet or tear gas as it permeates the crowds of protesters. This girl is subject to the skewed views of her grandmother and nanny, but then given differing views by her parents and is just confused by the whole ordeal. If you ever find a copy of this buy/steal it for me. Please!

1) Princess Mononoke (1997) If you didn't see this coming...we need to talk and then see this, because it is the most glorious thing I have ever seen. You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep any other anime from the top ten. First off, the art work is gorgeous. Each frame is hand done. Colors and outlines combine into a glory that rivals my view of celestial ideals. The characters are my favorite from any movie. The romance is beautiful, well placed, but not overpowering. The story is sweet and filled with so many ideas I can't express them all. Honestly, I can't explain or verbalize everything I learned from this movie. It shows some of the most powerful female characters I've ever seen too, all of which are based off of wolf images. The plot is long and enjoyable. My favorite part, there is no antagonist. No one forces the story to move. No one opposes the protagonist. It plays out like real life where we are surrounded by people and forces which constantly strive with each other and with us, but no one truly antagonizes us (at least if we are living the way we should). I love the relationships between people and nature. Also, a friend just told me about this, it is a scholarly text even because it addresses something often not thought of today: the emotions and dilemmas someone experiences as they are transported from a third-world/village/simply life to a first-world/big city/upbeat and crazy lifestyle. Ashitaka is taken from his gentle home to a world which does not even believe he still exists and is forced to embrace it in order to cure himself of the wounds that other-world created in him. And I love his sister! It is so tragic that she is never seen or heard from again, but it just makes the sacrifice more real to me.

Well, there they are, my favorite movies. If you haven't seen them, do it. If you have seen them, specifically with me, I hope our relationship grew because of it.

Choice vs. Opportunity

My Intro to Politics class has been studying basic political theories. Liberalism, both classical and modern, Realism, Marxism, Feminism, Conservatism, and a whole bunch of others. One day we were comparing Classic Liberalism and Modern Liberalism, what big differences they have and why those changes were made. While it was never specifically said, I felt the difference ultimately came down to choice or opportunity.

Classical Liberalism, supported by John Locke, claims that people deserve to be equal. Well, this equality is freedom from being forced one way or another. What equality means according to him is the freedom of choice, without a government or other people forcing us to choose a certain way or belief. People are not born in the same situations, but our decisions move us up or down; they benefit us or bring us down, but we should always have a choice as to what action we will take. Economic inequality is acceptable, because it is based off the consequences of those people's choices. Classical Liberalism is very akin to Libertarians of today, as they believe government should be very limited and should stay away from individuals' lives. We have the right to choose our actions, but not the consequences of our choices.

Modern Liberalism claims that Classical Liberalism allows too many people to be oppressed due to their initial placement in society. The Democratic Party follows Modern Liberalism rather closely. A girl born to a single black mother in Detroit does not have the same possibilities that I have, because of her initial standing. What good does choice do her if she has no opportunity? The government should spend a lot of money making sure she can do the same things a WASP can, even though the white kid would have to pay for her/his choices out of her/his own pocket. Usually this plan means building that girl up. Sometimes Modern Liberals say that the higher class should be brought down so that the lower classes do not feel as oppressed though.

I think both sides are valid. Giving people equal opportunity is innately a good thing. But problems occur when you can't give someone else an equal footing, so you start taking away other people's ground. And we should all have equal choices, but we need to treat everyone with the same consequences which should take away opportunities. Once you take door A you can't go in door B. It wouldn't be fair. There can't be exceptions to that. The biggest problems I see occur when the consequences of my choice affect your opportunities. If I choose to rob a bank and take your money, where does that leave you? If NAU chooses to have a quota for 15% of their incoming freshman class to be of Asian descent, where does that leave Native Americans and everyone else? Most of the time one's choice does not affect another's, but in those cases I'm not sure what to do. Asians deserve to go to college, but is it fair if they receive an automatic advantage? What about health care, tax reform, or military service? If the government spends a bunch of money giving someone health care for life and I suddenly need an emergency heart transplant that the government promised to pay for, but can't, where am I? If I make a huge sum of money and another doesn't, should I pay the dividend to make up for it? If I have to serve because I'm a supposedly straight male, should women, gays, or children? If they all choose to have the same opportunities, should they have the same obligations?

Worse yet, I don't think any actual issue is simple enough to define as an issue of choice or opportunity.

Cuddling Club

Ironically titled CC, but these are the rules, recently made, for Cuddle Buddies in the Cuddle Club.

1. You do not talk about cuddle buddies.
2. YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT CUDDLE BUDDIES! Seriously, once you start telling everyone their name and face you start breaking rule #5 and ruining every good thing you had going for you.
3. If someone says stop, goes limp, or taps out the cuddling is over for the night.
4. No shirts, no shoes.
   
5. Under no circumstances is attachment allowed, as long as you're still cuddle buddies. The relationship may advance or evolve into an emotional connection accompanied with a real relationship. But in that fragile cuddle buddy state, emotional attachment must be avoided.
6. Only two enter at a time. But allies can be requested from time to time, given that both sides agree on their gender.
7. Be forward about rule #5. If one party doesn't know the rules, heinous hate may ensue. Just make sure everyone is on the same page and agrees with the rules.
8. Cuddling will go on as long as it has to.
   
9. Understand that 75% (totally just made that up. It's probably around 80 or 90% actually) of cuddle buddies will break rule #5. It's gonna happen.
10. Enjoy every moment before rule #9 ensues and ruins everything you've worked on. It's meant to be fun.

Judo

So, I competed in a Judo Tournament yesterday. It was a lot of fun and quite the adventure, so we'll start at the beginning. (some of these dates might be a little off, but in general they are right)

*Two weeks before tournament*
I hear about the tournament and decide it would be a lot of fun to get beaten up. I tell Kendall, our Judo Club President and person with paperwork, and she gives me a release form saying if I die it isn't anyone else's fault. I also hear about weight classes and how no one knows what they are, but they matter a lot. I injure my wrist, without known cause or known understanding as to how it hurts. I have to move it a very particular way to hurt it.

*One week before tournament*
I find out I need to register for the tournament, but no one has registration forms... Also, a guy in class, Corey, who does parkour and I might be going out with him on the town some night soon, tells me I need Judo Insurance. He is a bit of a jokester so I ignore him. I actually learn some throws this week so that I could actually compete.

*Week of tournament*
Test for my yellow belt, which I have been told I will never receive until I earn my orange belt. Finalize a ride to and from tournament. Decide to go down Saturday morning and weigh in then, instead of night before like most people. This means I will have to starve myself slightly in order to remain a consistent weight. I also buy boxer briefs. While incredibly uncomfortable (at first, I am getting used to them. It isn't that they aren't soft, they just cling/squeeze in ways I don't feel they should) they add a little protection while getting thrown around.

*Day of tournament*
Wake up at 4 am, in order to get ready and be on the road at 5 am, to get to tournament center at 7 or 8 in order to weigh in a register. I shower, pray (mostly for safety and for the team to do well), get dressed (boxer briefs are so weird feeling!), don't eat..., check my packing list, and meet my ride in the parking lot. Drive down goes fine. We get to the high school it is being held at and look around for entrance to gym. We can't find one, but we see a bunch of cars outside so we call a friend at the tournament and he informs us we are at the wrong school. We drive to another, nearby school that had people at it. It is the wrong school. We get directions and find out we were almost 10 miles away from school tournament was being held at... (We found out later that the driving form had the wrong address on it and mapquest has no hope of getting you to your destination if your destination is wrong) We finally reach our destination about an hour later than we planned on. I go in and start registering. I find out Judo Insurance is real and find myself despising a system that requires you to pay someone else to pay you if you injure yourself willingly... I pay for insurance and the tournament fee. I weigh in at 138.8 (YES! I am still under 140! Seriously, this was a very exciting moment. It meant not eating was worth it. It also means I've still gained almost 10 lbs of muscle since graduation, 20 lbs since junior year, and lost a little bit a weight since Christmas. Also, it meant I was in the lightest division at this tournament). I sit around. I continue sitting around. Tournament for children doesn't start until 10 am. Adults until noon. I wait around some more. I warm up. I wait around. Tournament starts for kids. Some very entertaining matches actually. Two boys ran at each other, one planted, turned, and flung the other boy. A very good and well earned point. They were 8. I was very impressed. Other Flagstaff people show up. Finally, it is my turn to start. I go in against a green belt and hold my own for a while, but he gets a throw in, we go to the mat, and he chokes me. I tap out as the judge calls for us to stop and reset. As he called it. Had I held out a second longer I could have continued the fight and done something. I was not pleased by myself, but figure the guy would have beaten me anyway. It is double elimination. I fight again. Go up against a white belt. He is bigger than me. He gets a really really messy throw on me and I land almost on top of him and immediately have him in a hold. But the judge calls it a full point (why, I am still not sure. I would have won had it only been a half point. Spencer was truly not pleased at this point, but accepts the judges ruling. The judging of much a throw was worth was very inconsistent throughout, but it depended on how much a judge saw and felt it should be worth) and I lost.

Most of the team did okay, but our two highest belts at the competition lost their two matches too. One of our guys took second in the novice light-heavy weight division. Tournament ended around 5 and they asked us competitors to help clean up mats. They are quite heavy and I felt kind of exhausted afterwards.

The ride home went relatively well. It could have been worse. No one died. But I got back about 9pm. It was a 17 hour day and totally worth it. I got to watch the sunset and talk with a fantastic girl, so I was happy.

Why Spencer is a perpetual destruction machine

AHHHHH! I just spent over an hour writing about trees. TREES!!! They are beautiful and provide we with great pleasure; I get to climb them, eat their fruit, bask if their shade; I have a very healthy relationship with Mother Nature's wood. Unfortunately it was a completely different metaphor than I was aiming for. I will still use it, but it wasn't working out the way I wanted.

Also, I started this two weeks ago. Two weeks! Argh, why can't I finish this stuff. I am displeased with myself now, so this will be finished and I will post something else soon.

We are stubborn people. It makes sense. If we were rubbery or translucent we would not be strong enough to hold another up and shelter them. No one would be able to depend on us and we wouldn't be of much worth then. So we must be strong. Just like a tree, we grow stronger over time at the little things of life try us. The tempests of time, the search for water among rocks and hard places, and the endless reach for enlightenment force us to grow and become stronger. This is good, but when do we grow the fastest and strongest.

Well, continuing with tree metaphor, a tree that is watered every day, left to grow recklessly, or protected from the wind will never grow to be as strong as I would need it to be to protect or please me. So the more the trials the tree tries to overcome, the stronger the tree is, meaning that a lot of very intense trials would make the tree nearly indestructible, such that it could even serve my children. If the trials don't destroy the dear tree of course. No woman or man can weather the raging tempests of life alone. Sequoias are a magnificent tree, because they are very brittle trees. They don't bend, they shatter and splinter. So, to protect themselves they grow in such a way that their branches become a very dense canopy. So dense, in fact, that when mountain gusts (which would destroy a solitary sequoia) beat upon the forests of sequoia the wind bounces up and off the trees without harming them. They stand together and reflect the test of time. It's beautiful.

Small tests are great, but they only do so much. Stretching the same muscles and tendons to the same point everyday does very little over time. Biking the same path every morning to class, even with the hills along the way, will only keep us at a set leg strength. We learn at an accelerated rate when our body is forced into an uncomfortable situation. We don't have to improve at this intense rate, but in Fight Club, the protagonist talks about how middle-aged men would show up with weak muscles and sagging bones, fight a couple times, and leave practically feeling and looking like an Adonis. This is impressive. This is true. Fighting is a great way to work out your body, because it forces to use every muscle in such a peculiar way that if your body doesn't become stronger, you won't be able to continue. The fear of a broken nose is enough for many people to work themselves harder. I had a friend today say that she doesn't feel satisfied by a work-out if she can hold her full weight on her arms afterwards. If her body is that weakened, she is going to become stronger much faster. Arnold Schwarzenegger, when he was a young lad, would go to the gym and work out until he had to convince a friend to carry him home, because all of his muscles were too weak. He became Mr. Universe for several years and is one of the strongest men history has known. While disturbing that he would do that to himself, it worked; he got the results he wanted.

Along this same idea, we have to have time to rest. Even a tiny force can weaken us too much over time.

This exhaustion does not just apply to physical strength. Mentally we can work ourselves at a higher degree than schools teach us and we can improve at a steeper rate. Instead of just learning the materials a teacher gives us, we can read other books on the subject (which I find quite fun with philosophy and sociology classes), study the text before a professor teaches it so we can strive over its meaning and implication before given the answer, and discuss classes and lessons with people with more experience or people at your level (then you both get to learn more).

And, again, these same ideas can be applied and proven through emotions. It is hard for children to deal with pain because they have never experienced it. Loss is very hard for a spoiled child to deal with because they have been given so much so freely. Happiness can even be a confusing emotion to understand if a childhood has been particularly absent. As we experience all these emotions more and more we gain knowledge and control over them. Also, particularly pleasant or horrific events give us even more experience in a short time. A first kiss or the death of a family member open us to see life in a new light. Along with this enlightenment we are allowed to understand more about life (philosophies, religions, relationships, etc) and we improve ourselves vastly, if we choose. We could instead just enjoy, or despise, the moment and stay that way until it passes and gain nothing but experience.

Years ago I thought we only grew when we were broken or injured in some way. I have since learned that this is not true. And I am glad it is not. We grow or decay steadily based upon our use of an idea, muscle, or belief. We naturally grow as a child because we have nothing and so every action is a mistake that harms us. We naturally decay as adults because we are no longer empty and simply desire to live peacefully. I don't want to just live though, I want to thrive. Someday I will rest. Someday I will stop. Someday I will live, but until then I must fight in order to become the strength that others may need.

The Several Fails in the Tales of Lucy Gale pt. 1

(This was actually the first blog I wrote, but I didn't post it at the time for a myriad of reasons. Strangely enough, if I just posted it, it would appear as the first post of my site...I do not approve, because I want people to be able to read it or at least see that something is different. Anyway, I decided I will start writing about her, because I want to)

A Chance to Sail
Senior Prom! She had been told it was the second biggest night in a girl's life, only to be bested by her marriage night. She had been worried that no one wanted to go with her. Maybe she would be one of those gals who just goes because she didn't have anyone to go with, but all her friends wanted to go. She'd take pictures. Tell them she had a great time. Laugh and giggle. Make sure they were all happy. But she had a date. He was nice, very cute, intelligent, talented, and seemed like he might actually like her. She was so excited. Not so much for Prom, but because of having a date with this wonderful guy.

The day came and they went on their date. It was with a group of friends, mostly her friends, at a nearby lake. A couple of the guys in the group owned some canoes and ocean kayaks, so they were able to go out and paddle around the lake. It was a blast. Just rowing and talking. No worries or hassles, just some quiet time to burn at a lake. It was peaceful. They told jokes and laughed. A wonderful day to spend with a wonderful guy.

They got home, changed, went to dinner, and then went to Prom. It was loud. And there was bad music. She got one slow dance with him the whole night. It wasn't that he didn't ask her, there was only a couple slow songs at all. She wanted a chance to impress him. A chance to be close to him. Not some silly party with football players stripping down throughout the night. A disappointing dance with a wonderful guy.

It came time to say goodbye. Now she had kissed a few people before, but she wasn't sure what experience he had had, but she really did want to kiss him. Just a kiss. It was Prom after all. She knew what other kids would be doing. She also knew that he might not want a kiss. She was okay with that. She had a great time and enjoyed his company immensely. She didn't need a kiss to make the day any better, but that didn't mean she didn't want it. The final moment on the doorstep came, she knew she needed to make her move now if it was going to happen. She froze. She thought, "we're friends. I don't want to trade that for a kiss that might offend him...c'est la vie." And they parted. She still wishes she'd have taken that kiss from some guy.

Parents

My father just sent me an e-mail. He does not do this very often, so when he does I usually enjoy whatever he has to say. My parents' anniversary is Groundhog's Day, so they were married today, 29 years ago. They chose the day because it helps them remember what day it is, because it is a holiday, but not a very important one, so it will never be overlooked by other holidays. Also, it shortly precedes Valentine's Day, meaning they can save money by doing something special two weeks early. The e-mail simply talked about the week of their marriage. My dad drove from Provo, Utah, where he was attending school, to Boise, Idaho so they could be married in the Boise, Idaho temple. Well, his little car did not have an accurate speedometer. He had planned on getting to the temple early and being able to walk around with his bride. When he thought he was going 60 mph, he was actually going 45...but he made it to the temple on time (kinda) and walked in about 5 minutes early, but he didn't have his temple clothes on. Anyway, they got married.

This was a story I had never heard before. He told others in the e-mail, but I thought this was the most entertaining. Especially because my father has an obsession with starting on time and showing up early.

I love my parents. They have had a very colorful relationship over the years, but everything turned out in the end, every time. They almost divorced when I was about 8 years old, but a miracle happened and it kept them together long enough for my dad to change. His personality did not change, but he changed why he did what he did and he changed what he did. He loved her, but she never could notice. So now, when he wants to say "I love you," he vacuums or does the dishes. He was angry for years, because of his past, his father, and it was a release, but he changed over the years to accept what life gave him, to not sweat the small stuff, and stop being angry for the sake of anger. He is not the man my mother married, but he is the man she wanted to. She was always the gal of his dreams and still is. They have not had the happiest marriage, but they have had one of the best and involved and healthiest relationships I know of, because they support each other and do things together still (hikes and choir) and still love each other. Physical romance is less often, but lust and communication and love still abound between them. They still have dreams together and I think that's the best thing a couple can do.

Stories

Recently, I had the opportunity to give an uplifting message to some members of my ward. Nothing big, just a short story, a scripture reading, a message from a speech someone gave, or something small and meaningful. Well, while looking for something suitable I came upon these three stories. They made me happy.

One night, at 11:30 PM, an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rain storm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her - generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxi cab. She seemed to be in a big hurry! She wrote down his address,thanked him and drove away. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached. It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes but my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others."

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10 year old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. "How much is an ice cream sundae?" "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied a number of coins in it. "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired. Some people were now waiting for a table and the waitress was a bit impatient. "Thirty-five cents," she said brusquely. The little boy again counted the coins. "I'll have the plain ice cream," he said. The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and departed. When the waitress came back, she began wiping down the table and then swallowed hard at what she saw. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.

Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it if it will save Liz." As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right way?" Being young, the boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood.

Be Happy

So, I was going to talk about the prodigal son, but I'm presently talking to a lovely new friend and have no desire to write about something depressing!

This is something I learned years ago, but occasionally forget. Every time though someone reminds me of it, either by being so disagreeable that I have to remind myself or by being so great that I can't help but think of them and it at the same time. Also, a book I read recently really emphasized it for me and gave me a new perspective on it.

You ever hear the secret to happiness is just being happy? Oddly enough, it is true! Well, kinda...mostly...pretty much. Most have spent so much of their life trying to be happy without realizing everything we need for it is right by us. Or in us. Or something like that. We've been born with certain gifts that allow us to find happiness no matter where we are. Well the book I read described it as the sin of five senses. I originally thought of it as simply choosing to enjoy enjoyment. I'm not sure what title to give it, but I feel it is the ability to be happy by choosing to, because no matter how dark a day is we can still enjoy the experience it gave us.

First, the sin of five senses. No, it is not actually a sin, but how often are we told not to feel? Stop and smell the roses is cliche, but it is true. Spending time to enjoy the fact that we can feel is one of the best ways to spend any day. Actually see something. Taste something new. Lay down on the ground and feel the way your bare arms brush the roughness of the carpet and the way your bones try to sink into it. One of the happiest days of my life was spent walking down Broadway feeling the wearied walls of whimsical wonders and sensing their stories, hearing the stories of dancers who had all their hopes on only their skill and luck, seeing them perform in the streets and stop traffic, smelling their sweat mix with the grim of a big city, and tasting the mixture of street food with smog and tainted light. Rarely have I been so thoroughly satisfied. I could have chosen to be angry. A bunch of gypsies jumped me and stopped me from getting someplace. I was forced against a wall. They refused to let me go and forced me to participate in their heathen ritual. They even held up traffic and caused a scene. I was overwhelmed. Had I chosen to see it as others on the street saw it, my day would have been ruined. We've got five senses, why do we ever not use all of them at every time we can. In many ways I believe sushi and sex are the singular greatest things this life has to offer. I love sushi! I probably will love sex! When I eat sushi I eat some ginger first. I like the flavor and texture and it smells great. When I plop a spicy tuna roll into my mouth I first let it sit. No chewing. I just run my tongue along all it's surfaces. The firmness of the tuna. The rigidity of the rice. The bumpy, sliminess of the seaweed. I don't chew my first roll of sushi, I slowly break it apart with my tongue enjoying the individual textures and tastes. The next roll is enjoyed in one delicious bite, combining the glories of each part. Sushi satisfies my sense of smell, taste, touch, and sight. The people I eat sushi with and being in a sushi bar satisfy my need to hear. Sex is very similar, just more intense. The physical intimacy of private touches. The smell of your partner's sweat. The sweet taste of their lips combining with their bitter sweat creating a flavor unique to each partner. Hearing them moan, simply talking to them, the creak of the bed, the laughter at being so happy, and hearing silence afterwards. Seeing them lay there in front of/next to you, bare emotions and body, with nothing but desire. If only their was a way to combine them...Sushi and sex that is.

Just a point of personal note. I feel sight is overused and thus the sense that provides me the least pleasure. At times there is someone so beautiful it makes up for the darkness of artificial light or a place so inspiring you stop using your eyes to see at all. My favorite sense is touch. Any touch anywhere. It is a treasure. My next favorite is smell, because they are so broad and they tell a story. I remember a night I was Sufi dancing I was partnered with a man I thought smelled. It bothered me for a moment, until I realized I had never smelled something like him. It was thick and based in sweat, but also had a hint of spices and hard-work. I began to relish every time I passed him in the circle.

We each have a choice. We always do. Choosing to not be angry or sad is good. Choosing to be happy is great. Granted, it is hard, sometimes life is hard and days don't go right, but it is simply a choice. If it's nature, my Jewish guilt bears harshly down on me for each moment I spend not smiling, because I may have ruined someone's day by scowling at them accidentally. If it is nurture, my LDS upbringing harms me each time I forsake another's emotions in favor of stewing in my own. Either way, I'm screwed whenever I don't try to better someone else's day. I'm okay with it, it makes me be a better person most of the time. So choosing to be happy is just dandy, but what about choosing to enjoy enjoyment? Emotions are great because they let us feel something. When you chose not to feel anything for years, they matter a lot to you, even more than your physical senses. Choosing to enjoy the little things around us. The sunrise and the warmth it spreads over us. The cool shivers we receive while star gazing. The smell of wet grass. We cannot enjoy life until we choose to enjoy the enjoyments we pass by every day. Little things pick us up. Little things keep us sane. Once we ignore the tender mercies granted us each morning the rest of the day goes down hill. My favorite thing of each morning is jumping out of bed, stripping down, going to the shower, and feeling the hot and cold of the shower (not by choice...the showers refuse to stay a consistent temperature...) run over my body creating red streaks and cold shivers while I wash. I get to wake up, get naked, and touch myself without any remorse. I look at myself in the mirror, dripping wet and only in a towel, and see who others will be meeting that day. It's fantastic. I get to enjoy the body I have and genuinely smile each morning.

Tears

He tiptoed, not wanting to be caught, through the soundless aisle filled with the wooden epitaphs of great men and women. Sacred, final words which spoke of emotions and experiences he had never had lay all around him. The straight golden hay on his head was too long and was tossed back carelessly as he sought his treasure. His heart raced and his forehead perspired. He felt he had reached his destination and began to dig, his shaking body struggling with its load. Dust startled his eyes and he almost cried to cleanse himself, but knew the consequences and simply wiped his eyes off on his tattered sleeve. Finally, after half-an-hour, he heard the familiar thump for which he had waited. He gently pried open the cover and began to read.

A young lad, he was content with his situation. He was more experienced than most his age, but he never knew. He was weaker than most his age, but he never cared. He had been hurt just as much as anyone of any age, but he never cried. Crying always led to pain which he couldn't control. He had learned early on and had spent great labors to not cry, no matter how much it hurt. Unfortunately, any loss is a loss and what he lost took more than he had thought.

Every hello makes a goodbye more meaningful. Every failed chance for a kiss makes the real thing more magical. Every sunset makes the sunrise more monumental. The end requires the beginning and the beginning requires the end, otherwise we'd never notice. Sex occurs after birth and birth after sex. Each storm needs a sunbeam to cheer it up and each sunbeam needs a storm to cheer up. Love requires two people and two people require love.

The smudged symbols gently caressing the tome's skin with lips of pure intent gave him innocence. They were not an escape as they had been to his mother, but were instead a device to control himself by relinquishing his control. He was not guilty of his actions if he was not the cause of them. At least that is what he had told himself at the time. He would learn that inaction to prevent a known outcome was just was sinful as causing the action to occur yourself.

Tears, no matter the reason, made him want to punch something; it was not anger or frustration, but a pure desire to hit something. Fights rarely occurred, but injuries were common. A shun from a brother, a split knuckle, or scalding shower usually satisfied justice. He never knew why he cried, but he did learn of some stimuli that made him cry without fail. Well, they worked most of the time. He figured if he released his tears on purpose, he could control the outcome.

Necromancy raised by thorough study of the magical combinations of symbols invoked the resurrection of long dead emotions. By blaming their existence on a book, he managed to never let them leave his safety. They were reburied in the tomes each night as the light went out. He cried when he read of the fall of Cain, when Samwise became mayor, when Daisy held Benjamin in his last moments, and when Henri stabbed the heart of Villanelle, because he gave himself to the story. His empathy made the story real. He told himself he had control, because he gave control to the stories meaning. Even if it appeared he did not have control, he claimed to choose what controlled him.

He was not unhappy. He was never sad even when he cried. He never smiled; he was never happy. He relinquished control over himself in order to stand blameless. Unfortunately, the blame had always been his, because he chose to do nothing. He never helped himself. One night he accidentally slept with his book and was buried with it once the light came back.

If there wasn't a first, everyone would be better off

Blast it all. I just feel sappy. I try to write, but nothing wants to be said, well, not entirely true. I tried saying it twice, but I fear I will not only fail to communicate, but also offend and alienate. Metaphors are gone, rhymes are overused and weak, and no muse is mercifully minding my aching need to know that now is the right time to write totally meatless morsels of well-meaning messages. I've got nothing. I want to say something about choices, because every choice we make is really our existence voicing its opinion of what we feel the future should hold. Each decision commissions the Earth to build another wall, wrapping mortals in another rather righteous round ring, defining us, masking us. But we can't leave it all up to chance, because chance is just a fancy way to say that our voice concedes to the deeds of previous needs. I'm just sick of being told to bleed for the deeds of dead men and chancing my life to the insane antics of anglo-saxon angels told to teach timid little me to finally find faith in their ideals. Do we allow ourselves to be defined by our actions or do we let chance decide the actions and we decide the possibilities? Do we accept that we are who we act out? Do we let fate or predestination or flipism shape our road and if we do, do we watch each other or the road shift? Is it fair to let our choice be taken from us in the attempt to clean off the makeup masking our minds and bodies? When does a mask stop being a mask and actually attach itself to its owner?