1. Every time that I think to myself, "If Utah stayed this green all year long and never got any hotter than this, I would complain a lot less," it gets hotter (within a matter of minutes).
2. I have decided that after I graduate next Spring, I want to go work at Disneyland for the Summer. Yes, I've been told by friends who have done the Summer "Internship" at Disneyland that it the actual jobs are awful...but I figure, if I'm going to have an awful job for a few months, I might as well be working and living at Disneyland.
Also, will I actually do it? Nope. So, really, who cares how awful it would be if I actually did it? I sure don't. And, dang it, I want to work at Disneyland.
3. BYU really needs to host a giant, campus-wide party for students and faculty on the Monday after Women's Conference. Because, face it, we're all partying (in our own ways) to celebrate the departure of all the upper-middle-aged women that had temporarily invaded campus, anyway. We might as well combine our individual partyings and make it official.
4. As much as I dislike taking classes during Spring/Summer, it beats the pants off of whatever else I'd [realistically] be doing if I weren't going to school full time.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Some Thoughts on Life:
1. I'm not very good at being landlocked. For some reason, not living next to the ocean adds unnecessary stress to my life.
2. As I mention frequently, I'm not very good with living in deserts. Normally I attribute my dislike of deserts to the heat (because that's primarily where my dislike arises from), but I think, at times, it has also has a lot to do with the lack of constantly being surrounded by a forest. Forests are as important to me as cool weather, overcast skies, oceans, and seagulls.
3. I don't think girls fully appreciate how hard it is for a guy to get a girl to talk to him, by herself, so that he can ask her on a date without the unnecessary pressure (that would be put on her) of him asking her in front of other people.
4. I'm pretty sure every time I've ever asked a girl (who I was actually interested in at the time) on a date, I knew (beforehand) that she wasn't interested in me.
5. I'm also pretty sure that I have 25 years worth of poop jokes pent up inside of me, as I was far too mature of a kid to ever tell them when it would have been age appropriate. Instead, as 25 year old, I find myself telling poop jokes whenever somebody else, legitimately (and lightheartedly), brings up topic.
2. As I mention frequently, I'm not very good with living in deserts. Normally I attribute my dislike of deserts to the heat (because that's primarily where my dislike arises from), but I think, at times, it has also has a lot to do with the lack of constantly being surrounded by a forest. Forests are as important to me as cool weather, overcast skies, oceans, and seagulls.
3. I don't think girls fully appreciate how hard it is for a guy to get a girl to talk to him, by herself, so that he can ask her on a date without the unnecessary pressure (that would be put on her) of him asking her in front of other people.
4. I'm pretty sure every time I've ever asked a girl (who I was actually interested in at the time) on a date, I knew (beforehand) that she wasn't interested in me.
5. I'm also pretty sure that I have 25 years worth of poop jokes pent up inside of me, as I was far too mature of a kid to ever tell them when it would have been age appropriate. Instead, as 25 year old, I find myself telling poop jokes whenever somebody else, legitimately (and lightheartedly), brings up topic.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Journal Writing:
I decided a few months ago that I needed to start writing (for myself) more. So far, I've actually done quite well. I've been, somewhat, regularly been writing in my journal, writing essays (that I typically post on facebook) and even forced myself to post a few blog entries.
Though my blogging, as usual, has proven to be less than impressive, I'm actually rather proud of myself for finally getting back in the habit of writing in a (physical) journal--as well as with the quality of what I've been writing everywhere except on my blogs. No, that doesn't particularly help anybody who happens to read this particular post. But, it is what it is.
You are missing out, though. Sorry.
Though my blogging, as usual, has proven to be less than impressive, I'm actually rather proud of myself for finally getting back in the habit of writing in a (physical) journal--as well as with the quality of what I've been writing everywhere except on my blogs. No, that doesn't particularly help anybody who happens to read this particular post. But, it is what it is.
You are missing out, though. Sorry.
Monday, March 19, 2012
The Fray:
As I near my 25th birthday--amidst the mounting stress of getting my butt kicked both by school and by life--I am reminded that despondency is entirely unbecoming of a person anywhere near my age (a lesson I learned many years ago).
Yet, nearing my 25th birthday--and, having both school and life thoroughly kicking butt--I find myself ever more aware of the reality that as one ages, he only becomes more justified in being despondent.
Being fully aware of my own inadequacies and my lack of control over entire facets of my life, it's not a matter of bucking up and working for the life I want. The life I "want" (i.e., a life with a lower butt-kicking to rewards ratio) cannot be worked for. The only way to increase the rewards of life through one's own efforts is to voluntarily expose oneself to more butt kicking (thus, having no real effect on the actual ratio of butt-kicking to rewards).
The options really are to lay down and die (metaphorically, of course), or to move on despite having no real hope that life will ever get less sucky.
Clearly, the latter is the better choice (and the choice that I choose). But, I'm currently having a problem seeing how moving on despite having no real hope that life will ever get less sucky is any different then (metaphorically) laying down and (metaphorically) dying.
Quitting is quitting, whether you're moving on or laying down. Despondency is despondency, whether you wear it on your sleeve or hide it under the bed.
Yes, life is sucky. And, yes, it's possible to look past the suckiness. And, yes, people should look past it. And, yes, I do look past it on a regular basis.
But, at the end of the day, there are some days (or weeks, or years) when the suckiness piles up and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. And, sure, you can "look past it" but that doesn't change the fact that you're still surrounded by suckiness. Some of which is your fault, some of which isn't. And, most of which, you couldn't get rid of if you tried.
Not that I'm being despondent. Because that would be unbecoming of me.
Sometimes life is just hard.
Yet, nearing my 25th birthday--and, having both school and life thoroughly kicking butt--I find myself ever more aware of the reality that as one ages, he only becomes more justified in being despondent.
Being fully aware of my own inadequacies and my lack of control over entire facets of my life, it's not a matter of bucking up and working for the life I want. The life I "want" (i.e., a life with a lower butt-kicking to rewards ratio) cannot be worked for. The only way to increase the rewards of life through one's own efforts is to voluntarily expose oneself to more butt kicking (thus, having no real effect on the actual ratio of butt-kicking to rewards).
The options really are to lay down and die (metaphorically, of course), or to move on despite having no real hope that life will ever get less sucky.
Clearly, the latter is the better choice (and the choice that I choose). But, I'm currently having a problem seeing how moving on despite having no real hope that life will ever get less sucky is any different then (metaphorically) laying down and (metaphorically) dying.
Quitting is quitting, whether you're moving on or laying down. Despondency is despondency, whether you wear it on your sleeve or hide it under the bed.
Yes, life is sucky. And, yes, it's possible to look past the suckiness. And, yes, people should look past it. And, yes, I do look past it on a regular basis.
But, at the end of the day, there are some days (or weeks, or years) when the suckiness piles up and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. And, sure, you can "look past it" but that doesn't change the fact that you're still surrounded by suckiness. Some of which is your fault, some of which isn't. And, most of which, you couldn't get rid of if you tried.
Not that I'm being despondent. Because that would be unbecoming of me.
Sometimes life is just hard.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Paradigms:
The other day I happened to watch the last 30 minutes, or so, of (500) Days of Summer. As weird as it may sound, as a result, I learned a number of life lessons.
1. Considering my personal disapproval of one of the most significant traits of Summer (the season) (i.e. the heat), I find it extremely [unfair?] to cast Zooey Deschanel in a title role, where her character's name happens to be Summer. Especially when that character fits into the story, loosely, as "the one that got away." Fate 9,542,089,938; Thane 1 and 3/5.
2. I finally realized that I am actually as old as I act. Or, rather, I am as old as I should be acting--and am fully capable of acting. My entire life, I've always been the freakishly "responsible" kid, who got along as well with adults as I did with my peers (if not a little better). Grownups loved me. Not only because I was an oddly respectable kid who didn't get into trouble, but because I was the kind of kid who had the potential to become somebody.
Telling a kid that he's abnormally mature for his age doesn't really mean that much at the time. If anything, it's a simple recognition that he doesn't live up to the potential for idiocy that his youth qualifies him for. Truth be told, kids (and teenagers) really don't have that many responsibilities. In fact, their only real responsibility is to not screw up their life so bad that they can't fix it when they get older. (Which is extremely important, it just doesn't compete with the sorts of responsibilities that adults have to live up to on a daily basis). The statement that adults mean as a compliment is--in reality--more of an investment in the kid's future than anything else.
You see, most kids who are unusually responsible/mature for their age never have an opportunity to live up to their potential while in their youth. They're kids. And, they know that they are just kids. And, everybody else knows that they are just kids. Being responsible and mature, for a kid, means that they don't get into trouble (or, at least, not as much as they could). And, that's about it.
All of that said, I have not yet managed to live up to my potential. Since I got back from my mission three years ago, I assimilated as well as I could into college life. I assumed that was what I was supposed to do. The lifestyle at BYU allows for the reality that some male students don't begin their college careers until after they return from their missions. As a freshman, I was--naturally--mature when compared to freshmen who had just graduated from high school, but that was about it. As a recently returned missionary, I was still getting accustomed to regular life. I used my fellow BYU students as models of how I should act.
The problem is, most male BYU students--though more mature than their younger counterparts at other universities--are not nearly as well-grounded as their actual peers. Yes, missionaries gain important life experiences on their missions that help them develop their sense of responsibility and their ability to live up to that responsibility; but when they get home, it is extremely difficult for them to not pick up--socially--more or less where they left off two years previously. While still attending college, it is very hard not to act and feel like an average college student, even if most people your age have graduated and are starting their careers.
As it turns out, I am, in fact, twenty-four years old. I am at a point in my life where my age finally allows me to live up to my potential. I may still be in college but that is no excuse not to start living like the adult that I am.
3. Also, while watching the movie, I became fully aware of the type of adult that I want to be. There are certain ideals that the more salient parts of my personality are well suited for. While not necessary for me to be a well-functioning, successful, and content human being, it would be impossible for me to live up to my full potential if I did not cultivate those attributes which are most important to me in the process. In short, while watching the movie, I was given a glimpse of the person that I need to become in order to have a fulfilling early adulthood.
How I managed to get that vision out of the movie, I may never know.
4. Finally, the movie served as a reminder of a few of the things that I have come to value most in life. Insofar as the emotional struggle that the main character (played by that one guy) endures serves as a general outline for the most persistent and obnoxious failures in my life, I am particularly able to appreciate and to sympathize with the lessons that he learned along the course of the movie. Ultimately, I have come to highly value honesty and openness in my relationships with other people. Communication is important. Having the guts to do what is right and necessary to try to cultivate it is extremely important to me.
Having no one of importance with whom to exercise such honesty (though the story-line of the movie serves as the emotional epitome of my life, it is also happens to be a million time more interesting than my life has ever actually been), I am prone to forget how valuable it is to me. It would be a shame if I don't remember it when I finally find an opportunity to do so.
1. Considering my personal disapproval of one of the most significant traits of Summer (the season) (i.e. the heat), I find it extremely [unfair?] to cast Zooey Deschanel in a title role, where her character's name happens to be Summer. Especially when that character fits into the story, loosely, as "the one that got away." Fate 9,542,089,938; Thane 1 and 3/5.
2. I finally realized that I am actually as old as I act. Or, rather, I am as old as I should be acting--and am fully capable of acting. My entire life, I've always been the freakishly "responsible" kid, who got along as well with adults as I did with my peers (if not a little better). Grownups loved me. Not only because I was an oddly respectable kid who didn't get into trouble, but because I was the kind of kid who had the potential to become somebody.
Telling a kid that he's abnormally mature for his age doesn't really mean that much at the time. If anything, it's a simple recognition that he doesn't live up to the potential for idiocy that his youth qualifies him for. Truth be told, kids (and teenagers) really don't have that many responsibilities. In fact, their only real responsibility is to not screw up their life so bad that they can't fix it when they get older. (Which is extremely important, it just doesn't compete with the sorts of responsibilities that adults have to live up to on a daily basis). The statement that adults mean as a compliment is--in reality--more of an investment in the kid's future than anything else.
You see, most kids who are unusually responsible/mature for their age never have an opportunity to live up to their potential while in their youth. They're kids. And, they know that they are just kids. And, everybody else knows that they are just kids. Being responsible and mature, for a kid, means that they don't get into trouble (or, at least, not as much as they could). And, that's about it.
All of that said, I have not yet managed to live up to my potential. Since I got back from my mission three years ago, I assimilated as well as I could into college life. I assumed that was what I was supposed to do. The lifestyle at BYU allows for the reality that some male students don't begin their college careers until after they return from their missions. As a freshman, I was--naturally--mature when compared to freshmen who had just graduated from high school, but that was about it. As a recently returned missionary, I was still getting accustomed to regular life. I used my fellow BYU students as models of how I should act.
The problem is, most male BYU students--though more mature than their younger counterparts at other universities--are not nearly as well-grounded as their actual peers. Yes, missionaries gain important life experiences on their missions that help them develop their sense of responsibility and their ability to live up to that responsibility; but when they get home, it is extremely difficult for them to not pick up--socially--more or less where they left off two years previously. While still attending college, it is very hard not to act and feel like an average college student, even if most people your age have graduated and are starting their careers.
As it turns out, I am, in fact, twenty-four years old. I am at a point in my life where my age finally allows me to live up to my potential. I may still be in college but that is no excuse not to start living like the adult that I am.
3. Also, while watching the movie, I became fully aware of the type of adult that I want to be. There are certain ideals that the more salient parts of my personality are well suited for. While not necessary for me to be a well-functioning, successful, and content human being, it would be impossible for me to live up to my full potential if I did not cultivate those attributes which are most important to me in the process. In short, while watching the movie, I was given a glimpse of the person that I need to become in order to have a fulfilling early adulthood.
How I managed to get that vision out of the movie, I may never know.
4. Finally, the movie served as a reminder of a few of the things that I have come to value most in life. Insofar as the emotional struggle that the main character (played by that one guy) endures serves as a general outline for the most persistent and obnoxious failures in my life, I am particularly able to appreciate and to sympathize with the lessons that he learned along the course of the movie. Ultimately, I have come to highly value honesty and openness in my relationships with other people. Communication is important. Having the guts to do what is right and necessary to try to cultivate it is extremely important to me.
Having no one of importance with whom to exercise such honesty (though the story-line of the movie serves as the emotional epitome of my life, it is also happens to be a million time more interesting than my life has ever actually been), I am prone to forget how valuable it is to me. It would be a shame if I don't remember it when I finally find an opportunity to do so.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Guitars:
Living in Provo has made me extremely musically deprived. I don't have convenient access to a piano at the apartment that I currently live in, and I absolutely refuse to bring my acoustic guitar down from Washington as long as I'm living with roommates. My guitar isn't anything particularly special; it's definitely not a Martin or anything like that, but it's still nice enough that it's going to stay at home until I get my own place.
I have a harmonica, but it's buried in a box somewhere under my bed. I really just don't want to have to deal with confused roommates walking in on me while I'm practicing it...for some reason that just seems unnecessarily awkward. Harmonicas are cool if you know what you're doing, but people tend look at you really funny if you don't.
However, I have discovered a solution to my musical dilemmas. What I really need is an electric guitar. Not only are electric guitars more compact and harder for roommates (and their friends) to break, but people generally don't touch other people's electric guitars. It's kind of weird, but it's the truth. Also, electric guitars are significantly easier to play than acoustic guitars, which should help me get better at guitar a lot faster than if I were only practicing on an acoustic.
Also, as weird as it may sound: electric guitars can be played quietly. Strange, huh?
Now, I just need enough money to pick up a cheap guitar and amp...
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