Become a "fan" of Salvation!

Does it make me a bad person not to become a fan of all of the LDS apostles on Facebook? What is that in the service of anyway? I thought that we were supposed to become a fan of something if we were truly interested in it. That way, we can get excited when we find out that other people have our same unique interests.

I'm going straight to hell for that last paragraph. I'm certain that there are people who truly mean to be "fans" of these people and things. But to me, it just seems like a horrible Mormon bandwagon to jump on. On your home page, you see that someone became a fan of some church leader, and you don't really feel comfortable passing that statement by until you become a fan as well. You'll feel horrible unless you do.

I protest. As much as the world of Facebook is a joke anyway, I absolutely refuse to be psychologically coerced into becoming fans of "Mr. Whatsis" or "Something-or-other" bogus cause on Facebook. If there is anywhere I can maintain complete autonomy, let me do it in the world of virtual reality.

Do I honestly need a tag on my Facebook page for my spirituality to be understood?

Oh, and if you do perhaps think I'm a bad person for such musings, just make sure you collect all fifteen on Facebook so that you can have a complete set.

No Fear

Fear is a horrible motivator. We use fear to make things happen--to get our way. Parents count down the seconds until their child gets hammered on the butt for disobedience. Companies send out collection notices--"pay us, or else we'll screw up your life." A housing complex I once lived at posted a sign in their office: "The apartment that you looked and will go home and think about tomorrow will be signed and paid for by someone else today." So make a snap decision. Don't think or pray about it. Sign a year of your life away NOW because because you don't want to miss out on an opportunity. Be afraid so that we can collect rent for another unit.

Kill yourself to make good grades, because if you don't, you won't get into college. What about when you're in college? You better make good grades or else you won't get: a great internship, a scholarship, a good job. Run yourself into the ground for those grades or you'll end up selling insurance. You won't feel fulfilled, and no one will respect you.

What about finding a relationship? Cheers to the people who exercise in order to improve and maintain their health. Working out can be a wonderful, fulfilling activity. But, the masses? Our dating culture is about fear. You better be in shape or no one will love you. Or, to speak frankly, get ripped or you won't get laid. Women starve themselves, obsess about their bodies, go through numerous plastic surgeries that never end because they fear. "I'm afraid of being alone because I don't look perfect, so I'm going to change myself."

Fear is a horrible motivator.

A friend of mine always would remind me that we should all be running toward toward something, rather than always running away. We run away from the consequences of poor academic performance (no job, no scholarship, etc.). We operate on fear. What happens when we run toward the positive alternative? We fly.

If I want to learn everything there is about bookbinding or music (for example), I start living life. I read everything. I practice always. I take every opportunity to learn from those who are experienced in my craft. I do this because I really want to, not because I don't want a bad grade on a quiz.

I'm tired of being afraid.

Yesterday, I pulled out a DVD to watch after church--just to have something on while I was cleaning my room. V for Vendetta. I really don't know why I bought it. I think it was one of those previously viewed copies on the tables at Blockbuster. The deal was 4 for $25; I had three in my hand, and I needed a fourth.

In spite of all the blood, I had one of the most spiritual experiences watching that film. Everyone was afraid, so the corrupt government stepped in and controlled every aspect of their lives. No one dared to step out of line.

This character named "V" puts this girl through absolute hell. He simulates a torturous imprisonment. She has no idea it's not real, and she's ready to die rather than be made to fear. She's reborn.

I'd love for someone to put me through that same kind of crap just so that I'm not afraid. Instead, I have to do it for myself. If I'm afraid of failing, I just fail. Hit my head against that wall so that I can see what it is I'm afraid of.

In the end I want this:

...a definite turning point where the old life is washed away, and the new life is free from fear and full of choice.

What next?

We've hit my limit. Every semester, I seem to have a point at which I burn out and loose interest. I hit that mark two weeks ago. Yikes! That's only a month and a half of peak performance before I start making excuses to my professors and worrying about what a financially crap life I'm going to lead.

It's just school. It's jolly boring most times, especially in religion classes. I feel like I'm being spoon-fed a testimony, and I resent it. It's just a sappy, grown-up version of seminary. I got a 57% on my last exam, and I quit going.

I worry. I worry that I'm not worried. It makes me sick that I can't just force myself to want to do homework or want to go to class. Perhaps I'll just clean houses.

I stole some books out of the closet at work today. People just leave such beautiful books in the closet and forget about them. I stole an old copy of Oliver Twist and a really nice side-by-side translation of The Qur'an. Christopher West (if you read this post), I have a feeling that these books are yours. If they are, just tell me and I'll give them back. I can never feel good about stealing books.

The only class I feel really engaged in is my bookbinding class. It's lovely. I took it once already, about three years ago. This time, I got to write my own syllabus. Instead of doing the normal, simple, prescribed styles of binding, I get to do all leather. Leather work is hard. There are special skills involved. Since you turn the ends of the leather to the inside of the book, you have to taper it down to reduce bulk. New tools, new skills, etc. I research it all on my own, and I love it. It's proactive learning. No one is telling me what to read or study; I get to choose it all. This is the kind of learning that I absolutely thrive on. It's a ruddy shame that all of my education cannot be like this. I'd do so well.

So I need that change that I was looking forward to at the beginning of the semester. I need this back:

He's such a lovely boy. Anytime I'm around, he just can't stay away. He butts into my personal space. He has no regard for anything but to be loved. Here's a year out of eight that I've wasted. I don't want to have to miss him for the other seven years of his life.

What a horrible post. Instead of only writing stuff that I can be proud and feel good about, I'm writing whatever. Holding off until I can come up with something tasty has resulted in creating posts every month or so. I guess you just write until something good comes out. It takes practice like anything else.

Everyone should just go to sleep today and forget about everything.

It's all my fault

I need to update my blog...

I really enjoy looking at other people's blogs and keeping current with what is going on in my people's lives (yes, my choice of words is awkward, but I just couldn't bring myself to type "peeps"). It's such an easy way to stay in touch. But it gets ridiculous to try and type everything that's going on in your life. There just doesn't seem to be time or motivation on most days. And then you get into those moods where there isn't anything you can say that doesn't make you out to be a total freak.

But it just doesn't seem right. You get to read up on all of your people, but they don't really know anything about you and your life. As I told Clay, it's as rude as those people who show up without a gift at your birthday party; you just can't show up, eat the food, and leave without bringing the host a present.

Don't get too excited, though. It don't have anything to say. This is just an acknowledgment of fault.

More later...

Happy Nude Year

I feel so nice. Everything looks beautiful. I feel quite affectionate to people I don't normally like. I am on Lortab. Lets do a post.

When I'm on Lortab, I want to write thank-you letters. I recall the most insignificant things that people have done, and I honestly think, "My life would never be the same without them. I want to write them a thank-you letter." What a joke.

I am grateful. I'm a grateful person. But writing thank-you's for things that don't matter? I just have to laugh at myself. I want to run up and give people hugs. I want to take in a stray cat. I want to go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to feel the towels. I want to read Chicken Soup for the Fat Sap's Soul and cry over the fuzzy stories. I want to write a letter to our senators and tell them that there needs to be more art programs in our schools. Then I want to stand outside Burgers Supreme and smell the char-broil smoke being piped out into the surrounding neighborhood.

I don't take Lortab that often. I just take it when I need it. If I take it too often, not only will I become addicted, but my body will acclimate, and I'll need higher and higher doses in order for it to be affective. It may seem like I'm a pill head, but I'm not. It's too easy to reach for a bottle of meds when things are rough. They only mask the problem. I try to find Zen when the FMS pain becomes unbearable. And when I can't find it on my own, I let Lortab take me there.

All the same, I might name my child Lortab--if I ever decided to have one.

It's only fitting to talk about the New Year on the first day of the new year. I've thought about giving some advice to myself. I don't want to call them New Year's resolutions; let's avoid cliches at all costs. Why advice, you ask? Well, since I didn't have my lips all over someone at the stroke of midnight, I have to get my kicks somewhere.

No. 1 - Don't try to lose weight. Instead, try to lose your appetite. Run head-long into a post about every three days to give yourself a nausea-inducing concussion. You won't really want to eat, and your problem will be solved.

No. 2 - Be more vulnerable. The more one tries to protect themselves from potential threats, the less one is able to feel. Pretty soon you find that you're just a walking corpse. Christ was vulnerable, and he was able to love and feel more than anybody. Just relax, be brave, and be with the people you want.

No. 3 - Volunteer. Your beautiful little boy may be in Texas, but you can still care for little doggies. Lots of animal shelters would appreciate the time, not to mention what being with the little guys would do to your spirit. Start small, and make it a habit.

No. 4 - Change your wardrobe. There is absolutely no reason why you should spend more than fifty-cents a shirt and two dollars per pair of jeans. Then, as you walk around town, people will assume you are a transient and give you hand-outs. You'll save money and make money. Genius.

On that same note, be concerned about money--don't make it your life's worry. If you have to declare bankruptcy, move out of your apartment, sell all your things, live on the street, then get killed in a gang fight, it's okay. You will have had a life, and you will have learned some pretty important lessons. Learning, not gaining, is the most important part of life. Keep that in your mind this year.

No. 5 - Turn off your iPod. Turn off the television. Cancel a few activities here and there. You need time to meditate each day. Now some people can make do without thinking and reviewing what is going on in their life. You cannot. Give just a few moments to sit and reflect. Little Daisy Brown came into work the other day, and she was so content just to touch (not have) the paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling. Just ponder life, and the more simple pleasures in life will come. Ponder, and you will have fullness.

Have a happy 2009--with whatever you decide to do with it.

And so, today goes like this:

So I prefer Blogger to Facebook--just so you know. I got on Facebook this morning (first time in a month), and I had no clue what to do with myself. I had a few friend requests, so I accepted them. I found a few new friends, so I requested them. Other than that, what do I do? I can't just write on people's walls; they'll think I'm weird! If you can't tell by that last statement, I'm no initiator. People have walls for a reason: you write on them. And I only accept Facebook friends that I really like, so there shouldn't be any reason why you'd think I'm weird. One of these days, I'll get over my ridiculous cyber anxieties, and we'll have lively conversation.

So I was late to work to day. We're not talking slap-on-the-wrists late. This is boot-you-rear-out-the-door late. As a senior operator, I was supposed to open the office this morning at 6am. I woke up at 7:30am. Lovely. I can't decide whether I'm more overcome with fear for the repercussions this will have on my employment, or if I'm more put out because I didn't get to shower before work.

Since getting tattoos, I like to wax my arms so that the tattoos look better. I haven't waxed them in a month, and now I look like this:

It's no wonder I haven't waxed them in a month. It's too hard to wax anything yourself, unless you can go like this:

I'm grateful to a lot of people for feeling like a burning monk (see last post), being accused of laziness, and telling me about it. Everyone's life sucks in some way, and I'm glad that some people can talk to me about their personal hells without feeling like their struggle is less or more important than the next guy's.


That little boy cannot take a drink without sticking his whole face in the water bucket. He comes out sopping wet everytime. He's always loved being wet. When I first brought him home as a 9 week old puppy, I shut off the sprinkler system so that he would get wet at night. Then, I thought to myself that he has to learn for himself to stay dry. But he never learned, and he never cared. I would come out every morning to feed and hug my boy, and his fur would be matted together from the moisture. He'd just sleep right through the sprinkler cycle right in the middle of the yard. And that one, horrible night that I spent at the old apartment, I took him out to use the bathroom in the morning, and the sprinklers were on. He just walked right through all of them, sniffing around, looking at everything. Pistol loves a good mud pile... he's such a pill. The only water he hasn't loved is bathtime, and this:

I decided that this post needed to have some kind of positive material, owing to the last post. So, I'm glad I could write about Pistol. There's no brighter spot in my life than that little boy.

Where did you go?

No posts for two months. No apologies. No excuse. No motivation.

Here's a brief update on how everything has been going. My body always feels like this:

But people think I'm this:

So my grades look like this:

This is always in my head:

While this is always in my heart:

And I can't believe that this got married:

I don't take all the exercise that I should, so I look like this:

That's how life is, so if you're inclined to judge, get the hell off my blog. Yes, my life and your life can be hard at the same time; it doesn't need to be a contest.

I'm failing school. I hate my grandparents because they choose not to do anything for themselves. My harp teacher refuses to give me the benefit of the doubt, and I always feel like a goober around her. Everybody wants something from me. I don't have a place to live or enough money to live off of. I'm tired of Utah. I hate being put in a box by most everyone around me. I don't respect myself because I'm playing the victim. And I hate not having my little boy with me.

Before the straw breaks the camel's back, I'm moving away. I don't know if it will be before the winter semester starts or after it ends. I'm still deciding on what place will be most affordable. Let me know what you guys think. Vote on a city from the list of places I've wanted to live in on the left.