New Ridiculous Me.

It's ridiculous it's been 4.5 years since I last wrote in this blog.
That's almost half a decade.
Oh.
My.
Head.
It hurts to think about the passage of time.
This blog makes it seem like I was here, yesterday, clacking away on the keyboard to publish my thoughts on some server in the vast web of the internet.
I could have SWORN it was just yesterday.
But it was that long ago.
Damn.

So, besides having my brain rotting in the noisy office environment of my current job, things have been interesting, to say the least.

Things meaning life "stuff".

I'm not depressed for the first time I can remember.
I mean, I had to get REALLY depressed, and then expunge it all in the last few years to come through to the other side.
I spent 20+ years depressed and I'm only 30 years old.
It was a rough couple of decades, not going to lie.
BUT - I did make it through, although a few times, I literally thought the depression and anxiety would kill me. I thought I would get a heart attack or aneurysm, or my liver would just decide to freaking quit on me because it was tired of all the shit.
But, here I am. No longer depressed. Brain intact. Liver functioning at (I hope) 100%.

Depression is pretty messed up, though. Even when it's gone, you almost miss it. It's like it tempts you to come back into it's suffocating embrace.
The further I get along, though, the less strong that temptation is. It was very strong at first. I felt like I had pulled myself out of a hole in the ground. Or like when people bury you up to your chin in sand. I felt like I finally worked myself free.
Then it started with the temptation. It was saying things like, "you were more interesting when you were with me. You were more creative. Look at you now, you aren't nearly as productive."
And, some days I believed it. I felt down again.
But then I'd wake up the next day and think to myself, "What was that all about? What a bunch of hooey. Depression is THE WORST."

Then Depression would be like, "Oh, yeah? That's only because YOU'RE the worst."

To which, I say, "Depression, go f*** yourself."

The depression and pain did lend a sort of desperate need to express emotions which I no longer feel compelled to do. Now, I do it for fun, not because I feel like I will self-implode if I don't.

But, it's interesting not being depressed, after having it be such a huge force in my life. It's like looking at what used to be a ferocious, scary, hunting tiger. But now, it's just sitting in a museum in taxidermy, roaring a silent roar, out of fake, glass eyes.
Inspecting it in this way, it doesn't look so ferocious. It looks a little silly, actually.

OMG, bad taxidermy:  Look it up. I find it to be hilarious.

More on bad taxidermy and my internal workings at another time.

Non-depressed-New-and-Improved, ridiculous me.

Flexibility vs. Ground

A bridge of "either" can only span two shores.

Never to touch a third shore.

It's reach has an end.

"Either" does not extend indefinitely into an endless abyss.

It is grounded, though inflexible.

A thin line of thought stretches from it's lonely island, seeking in the dark for some soil to plant it's tendrils and whispers.

The thought is glowing almost in the surrounding dark,  the finest focused fog, flowing through the vast invisible sea of questions and the unknown, meandering carefree in it's innate way. The thoughts roots curl and twist around the obstacles that are as dark and as invisible as the question itself; the roots, inch by inch, touch by touch, zephyr by zephyr navigate the slack water of the mind.

Can the Dead Change?

Seeing dead people wouldn't be inherently bad.
I wish I could, sometimes. There are a few people I used to know that I'd like to see again.
Do you still "know" someone after they've died?
Or would they be someone you "used" to know?
[11:32] : I feel like their death changes the way you see them, and they've gone where you can't go yet... so I guess it would be more like you "used" to know them. Even though, they haven't changed because
They are no longer living.
What do you think?
[11:32] Alexjonder: I'd say you still know them because they live on in your heart.
[11:33] RealKept: I'm just not sure death doesn't change people.
[11:34] Alexjonder: I'm not sure either.

Thud and Squish

Besides sounding like two names for some seriously unfortunate adventurous heroes, "thud and squish" is probably the best description of what's going on inside my thoracic cavity (don't Google that term unless you're prepared to look at gross anatomy... yes I Googled it to make sure it meant what I thought it meant).
I could also describe this attempt at trying to understand myself by writing about myself as a way to take what's all up in my frontal lobe and smear it on some kind of medium. Like all of the gutsy descriptions?
Oh, my gosh, (CAVEAT)
Thud and Squish can be two heroes that deal in the dirty underbelly of the world. They are alter-egos for two people who by daylight are ordinary garbage men, but they moonlight as alleyway protectors and investigate all kinds of scum.

(END OF CAVEAT)

Can you tell that things inside of me at the moment aren't all fuzzy and clean?
Right now, I'm recovering from being somewhat internally, emotionally, and rationally dislocated and slimy.
Like when you get done at the gym, and you're really sweaty and gross, and you overworked your shoulder, so it feels just out of place, and it bothers you, so you keep rolling your shoulder blade around, hoping it will pop back into a place where it feels normal?

Yeah, that feeling. That popping-your-knuckles-but-it-doesn't-make-them-feel-better-only-like-they-need-more-popping kind of feeling.
You know what I'm talking about.
That's what I feel like on the inside.

So, I can't quite put my finger on it. When I think I get it back in place, it just keeps moving on me, dislocation again, and making me feel all wormy and uncomfortable inside.
But I keep trying to put a finger on it, because what else am I supposed to do?
So, I put a finger on it today, and it went "thud" and then it squished under the pressure.
I've been trying to put my internal limbs of my personality and emotions back into some semblance of an order I find comforting and familiar, with very slow progress, for months. And months. Actually, for over a year now.

Something. Just. Doesn't. Fit.
So, to maybe draw a general circle around the thing that I can't put my finger on, I will share some quotes that have stuck out to me recently and see if I can see any kind of pattern or conclusion.

"I know the reason why I feel so blessed/ My heart still splashes inside my chest/ She's like a top/ She cannot stop/ She moves on." -- Paul Simon "She Moves On"

"They tell you how you're supposed to love God. Don't let anyone tell you how you're supposed to love anyone. " - Mom

"You can see things that I can't see, and that bothers me." - Me

Playing with Fire. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Burn, baby, burn.

Millions of acres of forest are burning in North America.
Millions.

This website gives the most concise fire information for Alaska, the Continental USA and Canada that I can find.
http://cwfis.cfs.nrcan.gc.ca/interactive-map

Here's a fun calculation:
Carbon dioxide, as we all know, is a greenhouse gas.
The millions of acres of burn is releasing literally tons of CO2. Not to mention that ONE healthy acre of forest absorbs, on average, 1.22 metric tons of CO2 PER YEAR (as calculated by the EPA: http://www.epa.gov/cleanenergy/energy-resources/refs.html)

So, the wildfires are burning, releasing tons of CO2, then, this problem is compounded because it will take 10 years, at least, for a forest to grow to the point where it can absorb 1.22 metric tons of CO2 per year. That is, if it can grow that quickly, given the current creeping drought status.
Millions of acres of forest are burning. This means there are millions of metric tons of CO2 being released, and any forthcoming CO2 that will be emitted in the future from other sources (factories, cars, etc), that would normally be absorbed by the forest, that won't be absorbed as quickly in the next 10 years.

One of the most infuriating things about these problems is there is, seemingly, no big solution for what one can do to mitigate the effects. There are small solutions: eat less meat, drive down demand for it, so farms produce fewer animals, therefore lowering environmental impact (due to large crops to feed them, transporting them, their farts, etc); or drive your car less; use less fuel; let your yard behave more naturally; conserve water by washing your hair less, taking a shower less, laundering more efficiently, reducing the size of your lawn, etc.; grow a garden and lower impact for transporting foods; don't own a dog; plant trees; take a reusable grocery bag to the store to keep petroleum down.

Are people really willing to give up a lifestyle their accustomed to, without a guarantee it will actually work at all?
The inconsistent rhetoric of climate change, when it first came to light, I think really damaged the opportunities we had early on to begin to curb the exacerbating problem. Some people started blowing the horn before the rest of scientific community could conclusively agree to their claims. Now they are unified, but the seeds of doubt were already sown.
Not only that, the way it was presented divided people instead of unifying them.
This should be an easy issue:
"Hey, we, the scientific community have observed and discovered something really important for everyone to know. It's really good we caught this now because the effects for everyone on the planet could get pretty awful if we ignore it. This discovery, like other monumental discoveries will help us improve the world we live in! Go us for being so smart!"
But, that didn't happen when the mass media disseminated the information.
And, even if you don't "believe" in the widespread climate change, you can still agree that making the world a healthier place IS THE MORAL ISSUE, not climate change. If it were a different kind of pollution, the same moral issue is keeping/making the world a healthier place. Leave it better than you found it, right?
That's something we should do anyway because it's imperative to the future of mankind. I mean, we all live here. Except for astronauts. They live in space.

In any case. Life goes on. The sun will come up tomorrow. Maybe made more hot by all the gas in the atmosphere, but the sun will still rise. Unrelentingly.
I just hope I can greet it with the hope that people can come together and begin to resolve their differences for the betterment of the planet, and not keep sticking to their factions, ignoring the real issue.

Utility Function quandries

What's your utility function?

In it's very geeky way, it's oddly more direct and clear than asking "What's your calling?"
In Artificial Intelligence, as my friend explained it to me, the utility function is the thing that the A.I. unit MUST complete. If you tell it to beat you at chess, it will do what it takes to beat you at a game of chess.

  The reason why it's more direct, and probably a bit more helpful is that it doesn't require some outside entity (necessarily), nor does it require "waiting". When one talks about one's "calling" it's a little more oblique, as if someone has to call YOU. I suppose you could take the antithesis of that view and decide your "Calling" is what number you decide to dial, as if you're the one doing the calling. Like, what do you CALL to? Not what CALLS to you?
One is more active, the other is more passive, you see.

Anyway, my friend asked me what my utility function is. And it took me a while to figure it out. It is also coupled with the question, "How do you think?" which he also asked me. I am eternally grateful for my friend. He is the best friend anyone could ever ask for or imagine. Especially because he leads me to discover things about myself that I didn't even know existed. He's THAT good. Because usually, I think either what I know about myself is enough, or I don't need to know anything else about myself. But oh, how wrong I am...

Anyway, for example, his utility function is to teach, essentially and to love. He thinks in a very step-by-step way, which is a very useful way for a teacher to think. Incrementally, and gradually coming to a point.

My utility function is to mediate. To be a diplomat. And I think in a very relational way. As if everything fits into a giant system, and I want to understand how all the elements work together, not necessarily how the elements work by themselves. I mean, that sort of information is also interesting, but it's the ties between events, objects, people, etc. that really interests me.
  For example, he would look at an apple and try to figure out how big it is. I look at an apple and wonder where it came from, who picked it (if anyone did), did bees pollinate it or was it a fly, how far did it travel before it wound up in my hand, and so on. The more information gather, the more complex I realize the world is, with all of it's systems, levels of humanity, interconnections of paths, etc. This way of thinking very much fits into my utility function: mediation and diplomacy. With both, one needs to understand the history of all the elements, their reason for being their, their effectiveness at resolving problems, etc. Rather than finding an isolated solution, I seek to find the solution by combining elements rather than by isolation.
I also am beginning to wonder if that's why my memory capacity is so strong. Because I make a lot of connections with information, facts, places, etc, I wonder if that's why I can remember so much random stuff. It certainly would explain HOW I remember things. It's usually relational. I'll look at a rope coiled on a dock (an all too infrequent happenstance for me... I miss coastal living) and I'll remember something I learned sailing. Or I'll remember a day on the lake with my father, with me coiling the lines on the dock in just that way.

Seattle, Wooden Boat Museum, July 2013

In a way, this coil represents my thoughts. It's carefully constructed, with different spirals of information, but they all touch in some way, and they are all the same line, although occupying a different tier of data, memory, or ideas. Every major thought or experience I have is enriched as I add more and more line to the central or working end of the line. Sometimes they take me a while to unravel. Slowly, as some lines have been sitting on the dock for far too long and are stiff and brittle, rough with sunlight and exposure to the elements unprotected, untended. A happy rope is a working rope. Gone unused, ropes get old very fast and decay.

I'm just blathering at this point. Although it is true my mind probably works that way. I see everything as part of one whole. It's just the one whole is so huge, it's hard to see it all from one tiny vantage point. It's one line, so my friend was right when he said he thought I think in a linear fashion. Which is sort of true. It's just a huge frickin' line. Or it's a fabric. Hell, I don't know what it is. 

But then again, that's not my utility function, is it? I don't want to figure out WHAT it is. I want to figure out how it works together. It's a lot less straight-forward. But it suits me, somehow.

Anyway, my other utility function is to love as well, take care of people the best I can and adopt a child. I want to adopt a child so badly, it's not even funny. I don't know why it would be funny, anyway, but someone adoption is ingrained into my life goals. I guess "The Rescuers" made a big impression on me as a child. As did other orphan stories. Except for Annie. Geeze, I find her annoying.

ANYWAY

In other news, I'm applying to grad school, because with all my utility function, I love the environment and plants. My friend jokes that I'm going to turn into Zyra one day. Yes, I just revealed I'm a League of Legends nerd. My summoner name is "RealKept" (Was, now it is "Thx4AllTheFish"). Add me if you want to play.

I'm applying to get into a Landscape Architecture program. I'm trying to write my letter of intent now. I figure I should start on that and my portfolio first because they are SO difficult to write and compile. I've actually been "working" on both for a couple months now. "Working" being defined as "stressing out over and thinking about constantly". So, it's nice now to write something that feels as if it has less riding on it's success. I guess I just have to treat the letter of intent the same way I treat this blog, at first anyway, so I can actually get something down and not freak myself out over it's importance. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

I want to get into MLA SO BAD YOU HAVE NO IDEAAAAAAAAAAAAA...

I guess I'm going to start freaking out again now, so I'll save you the over-powering use of ALL CAPS and just cut it off here.

Nerdy, sweaty, overly-meta-at-the-moment, ridiculous me.

The Vicious Cycle of Contorl, Stress and Relaxation.

The other day, I was visiting my darling and his parents, and I discovered for the first time the SNL skit "Cooking with The Anal-Retentive Chef" with Phil Hartman.
Very funny.

Not really what this particular entry is about, but it does lead into what I'm grappling with, personality-wise, with myself. I like to have these little sessions where I'm just thinking to myself. It helps me clear my cluttered head.
So.
Many.
Irrational.
Thoughts.
But that's what panicking and anal-retentiveness does to a person. Not that I'm an extreme case of anal-retentiveness, but I must confess that I am a pretty awful perfectionist. Which is enough to drive a person out of their skin, sometimes. Being somewhat anal-retentive and perfectionist tends to make me a tad on the controlling side. Not that I'm manipulative, but I'm accustomed to being in control. If something's going to work, I'm going to make it work, because I am in control.
There's nothing that quite states being out of control like saying to yourself "I am in control". 
Because, really, if you were in total control, you wouldn't have to convince yourself that you're in control. So, by saying it, does that really help? Or does it just perpetuate the kind of delusion that one has when they think they're in control? I tend to think it's the latter.
Because, really, there are few things we have control over- and the things we do have the power to master are very rarely things that we freak out about having control over, right?
I mean, you know you can do it, no worries, no stress; so, there's no reason to repeat I am in control like some kind of person obsessed with driving safety.
So, whenever I catch myself wrangling with feeling the need to be in control, I get a flood of thoughts that I must sort out... which is what I'm doing right now.
And I'll tell you why- although, even as I write, the anxiety of control is already dissipating, but I digress...
I'm acclimated towards dominating challenging situations. Except recently, as in the last 6 months when I have felt overwhelmingly like a failure. I quit two jobs, my relationship crumbled, friendships soured- and possibly expired-, moving back in with my parents was no triumphant feat either (although I love them), and my love for adventure dwindled.
I'm beginning to see the rekindling of a life I want to participate in, and I begin to feel it's warmth.
But for several months, I have felt powerless and in a kind of stupefaction that goes beyond depression and rules in the flat grey world of apathy. It's a nasty place. It doesn't even have the decency to shroud itself in a kind of dignified darkness. It's featureless, abandoned, tasteless void. And I hate that place more than I hate having depression, or any other anxiety; this realm is the doldrums of the soul.
And I'm pulling through to the other side. But it's taking a long while.
In the mean time- because the landscape of my mind is frighteningly blank, I feel this encroaching, unseen doom (even though this is completely irrational), because things are quiet... too quiet. Like the moment in a horror film before something terrifying happens when everyone holds their breath.
And I guess that's what it is, I've been holding my breath for ages, and I feel the suffocating effects. And why have I been metaphorically holding my breath?
Because I want to survive, and I feel like that's the best way for me to do it.

ANYWAY-
Back to the control thing- this sort of loosely ties into it, but I don't really care at this point because it's kind of late and I'm exhausted.

BUT-
I'm not a controlling person. I don't seek power, I don't want people to do everything I want, but I do want things to work out. So, in my insane little way, I think that I can will things to work, in what I deem a favorable way. So, I try to control things. Because I want it to work out perfectly. Anal-retentive.

But what happens when things work out pretty much perfectly and you're NOT controlling anything? It takes away a sense of pride of accomplishment, is what it feels like. I feel totally out of place when things go well from no direct effort of my own. It feels so weird to have things go in a positive direction without feeling like I'm forcing gigantic magnets of matching polarities towards each other.
To be more specific, it doesn't feel just "weird" it gives me anxiety. A lot of things give me anxiety, I'm kind of an anxious person if I'm not careful and don't CONTROL IT.
God.
Damn.
I can't get away from it!
It's like a never ending loop.

Anyway- things are going really well. I need a job, but my tax returns were pretty sweet this year, so I'm not as stressed out about it as I was.
But life is pleasant. It's good, it tastes of honey and music. Which is NOT what I'm used to. I'm used to striving for a foot hold in the edge of a cliff. And lately, I have been spoiled with what feels like a magical elevator in comparison. So easy. Too easy.

I just MUST learn how to relax. I'm getting better at it.
But I'm trying really hard not to stress out about relaxing more.
Gotta let go of the control and the stress. I need to just accept the good things and be grateful.

Sleepy, incoherent, chasing-my-own-tail ridiculous me.

Laughing at the world.

I have a friend who always laughs things off. Doesn't matter what kinds of things it is, invariably he laughs at them loudly. Sometimes, he laughs at them so loudly, I think he's trying to show those things that he's more powerful than them. Maybe he is.

But here's the thing about indulging in one point of view, one philosophy, or one knee-jerk reaction: eventually, most of us say the same thing, "That's just the way it is" or my all time least -favorite, "There's nothing I can do about it" and when we get to that point, what have we learned? We've learned what works, what suffices, what fits the bill. And we stick to it because it's familiar, and at least we think we know, and that comforts us.
I'm just as guilty as my friend who laughs at everything, though, because I tend to treat everything as a problem. And most things in my life aren't problems. I'm a spoiled perfectionist,  believing that I can make life perfect, and rather than seeing where I am now, I see where I am 10, 15, and 20 years from now. It sort of makes enjoying life difficult. But I don't laugh it off. I don't laugh at things that make me angry, and I don't try to make jokes out of things that make me sad. I try to feel all of those things because there was a time I felt nothing at all, and those were the times I was most unhappy. So, although I don't have a single treatment, like laughter, for anything that comes my way unexpectedly, I do tend to rely on my critical crutch; leaning like a cripple on a rickety stick. The stick is my judgement, and sometimes it's so rickety and I lean so heavily on it, I don't trust it. My rational judgement, that is. I think because I was cut off from my own emotions for so long, I hesitate to use them as a guide. It's something I'm working on.
This is all vine-like, ambling around the point like the tendril-grasping greenery; the point is I quit my jobs for reasons I can't fully explain or understand. The level at which it was making me unhappy was beyond rationale, laughter, joking, or fixing.
But the thing that really scares me is that I'm seeing a pattern of cut-and-run in my life. Not because things are too difficult. I don't know why. But I have an easier time finding something new, than living with something old. And I fear that my cut-and-run approach is going to effect the people in my life that love me. Because I'm happier on the run and people want what's familiar, and they want it to stick around; they want comfort and I give that to them, but rarely is the feeling of comfort mutual.
So, my dilemma now is sitting tight or wandering into the wild.
I don't want to be kept, but then again, I don't want to be alone. And my relationship now always keeps me in the limbo position. I'm alone and kept for half the time, and the other half I'm free with a companion.
So, do I keep with what's familiar because it's good for another person, and I think it's good for me? Or should I just cut the lines and run away like I always do?
I feel like I should change my ways and not become the person who just wanders with abandon. I should try a new philosophy, and new way of life, and maybe figure out why this familiarity thing is so popular.
Maybe I could try laughing more.

Alone, ennui, ridiculous me.

We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us

I'm at a cross roads. I'm going on another adventure and it's very uncertain what will happen to me. And for once in my life, I don't have any immediate goals, other than moving to Boise.

I graduated, so I have no classes, I haven't gotten a job in Boise yet, so...

CRAP.

I just remembered I forgot to call the apartment complex I was going to visit this week and tell them I'm coming next week instead. I should really keep a list of things I NEED to do, and a list of things I WANT to do.

Ugh.

Anyway. So, I don't have a job in the town I'm about to move to. I barely have enough money to make it there, but I had to pick a direction and run with it, as impractical as that may be.

I'm super excited, though. Mainly because it's been about a year since I had a travelling adventure. And I try to have at least one big travel adventure per year. I love travelling. If I could somehow find a job that paid my travel, I would be in heaven. Maybe I should look into writing a travel show like Rick Steves or something. I'll look into it. 

Anyway, the possibilities are unforeseeable at this point. Anything could happen. Of course, it's a little daunting that ANYTHING could happen to me. Something less than pleasant could happen. But I've had less-than-pleasant things happen to me in the past and I've turned out alright so far. Although I do have a pretty strange fascination for villains and their grotesque ideas of justice.

But that's for another time.

For now, I don't know what's going to happen, but I know no matter what happens, my parents will be there for me, my friends will still be my friends, and my man will love me. I hope. I'm never entirely sure, but if I were completely sure, I might take them for granted, and that's no good at all.

I try to appreciate and be thankful for everything I have, every day. I realize with all the commodities we have in our country today, we often forget that happiness and well-being isn't always about "having" something. I'm not saying that we shouldn't have health care, or charities, or things like that. But, really, I know people who have more than they could every possibly need or want, and they're still unhappy. 

But this isn't new. And I don't think money is the root of all evil. I think, "We have met the enemy, and he is us." to quote Walt Kelly's possum cartoon strip, Pogo. 

But not until we acknowledge this can we get out of our own way and enjoy and know what it's like to improve ourselves, learn about other people, and ultimately love them for all their flaws.

I just have to keep reminding myself of this. Because it's so easy to blame other people for our problems. Maybe other people impose difficulties on us, but it's how we handle things, and what we decide to do that we are responsible for. I want to be responsible for my own actions. Not matter where I go. Now matter how uncertain my adventures are, and no matter what happens to me:

I won't surrender to myself.

It's my Birthday! And Othello is histrionic (new word I learned yesterday)

Dear Journal,

  Normally I don't start blog entries with "Dear Journal". But I hold my journals dear, none-the-less.

  Today is my 24th birthday. Yippee. Feels like any other day, really. I had a phone interview with Wells Fargo; it must be the worst way to interview someone. I understand business efficiency and looking for set responses and all that, but I can never avoid feeling as if the person on the other end of the line hates me. I'm just one more eager job-seeker in a long line of job-seekers, and I never know how they go. One of my specialties is being able to talk to people tete-a-tete. Phone interviews take away all my powers, save the wonderful quality of my voice.

  Anyway, I've been flitting about, here and there, just thinking and mulling things over in my head. I came home from working at the radio station and I was eating a DELICIOUS juicy peach (food is one of the best birthday presents, by the way) when I realized what I wanted to write. I want to write, of course, a cursed play. Wouldn't that be awesome? A play as cursed as MacBeth or Coriolanus, or Hairspray. The reason why Hairspray is cursed is because unless you're a huge fan for whatever reason, you have it stuck in your head FOREVER. Not the music. Just the hair, and the clothes, and the ill-represented atmosphere of the 1960s. My point being, for some reason, Hairspray is my cursed musical. It's annoying, is all I'm driving at. I find the message clumsy, obnoxious, and condescending. But at least there's a message, I suppose.

  Anyway, writing the next curs-ed play. Cool, right? Of course, I don't want bad things to happen to people in the theatrical arts, but a little mayhem now and then is pretty delectable. I don't mean mayhem so far as people getting shot, and things falling onto actors, or things of the sadistic kind. It's just alright to stir the pot every now and then, which brings me to my first project.

  There is no better pot-stirrer than Iago from Othello. The guy is a gossip GENIUS! I think he would be similar to someone in gossip rag media, or a paparazzi photographer; following the stars, wanting to be in their shoes, allowing others to live vicariously through his lens. And what's the biggest pot Iago stirs? Othello himself.

  Profile: Othello
  Personality: Pretty vain, serious trust issues
  Anger Management skills: None
  Intelligence: Dumber than Iago, and that's all that's necessary.

 I think of Othello as sort of a vain actor. In the original play, he enjoys recounting his tales to Desdemona (although, of course, she never gets tired of listening to them), he is melo-dramatic, histrionic, and easily manipulated. He's got some people-skills problems, to say the least. Othello craves attention and goes out of his way to put his life in danger (and make a big deal out of it).
 The problem with Iago and Othello, while they could possibly be great friends, is that Iago is also a tad affected, theatrical, and a glutton for the lime-light. Since Othello gets the most attention, Iago dislikes him intensely, although he really has no logical reason to. Except maybe that Othello slept with his wife. But did he, though? No one is sure whether Iago is lying or not. He can't be trusted.
 But, with all of his problems and intelligence, Iago is dangerous. Because he pretends to accept his position happily, to soothe any suspicions. He's almost a genius, but not evil. Just a sadistic twerp.

  Anyway, an updated version of Othello should be written soon-ish, I hope. I plan to make it shorter. MUCH shorter. I figure if I want to learn how to write plot structure and characters, I should do some practical studying cough-stealing-cough from one of the masters. Shakespeare is the king of English tragedies and unlikable characters, it can't be denied.

Going to start writing now. Over and out, journal, dearest.

A list of very ridiculous questions.and answers

1. Real name : Hannah Laurel (insert name no one can pronounce here)
2. Nickname(s) : Commonly "Han". Sometimes "Hollywood", "Hotshot", "Haner", "Banana", etc.
3. Fav. color : The rainbow plus black. And brown. Minus the icky dusty blue.
4. Male or female : I'm actually a dude. Yeah, I was surprised, too.
5. Elementary School : home schooled
6. Middle School : home schooled
7. High School : Home schooled
 8. College : LCSC, UI, UB (UN).
 9. Hair Color : Brown (to keep it simple)
11. Sweats or Jeans : Preferably neither, but America isn't very open-minded about public scanty-ness.
12. Phone or Camera :... how are these two technologies even comparable?
 13. Health freak : I like to pretend I am. I basically try to be healthy so I don't die sooner than I have to. There's a lot of wiggle room in that philosophy.
14. Orange or Apple : Oranges.
15. Do you have a crush on someone : Crushes are for tweenies and people who don't grow up and address their feelings. It's a tepid way to love. And love should never be tepid.
16. Eat or Drink : I'd rather have water than food most times. I can take being hungry. I HATE being thirsty.
17. Piercings : Used to have one. It got infected and it was super gross: therefore, no more piercings.
18. Pepsi or Coke : What a dumb question.
 HAVE YOU EVER?
19. Been in an airplane : No, I can fly. No need for airplanes.
20. Been in a relationship : Yup.
21. Been in a car accident : yes.
22. Been in a fist fight : Yeah... a couple. Not very fun. Makes me all shaky. Fights do that in general, though.
 23. First piercing : "Helix" in my upper ear cartilage.
24. Best friend : My dad, probably.
25. First award : I don't remember.
 26. First crush : Hahaa-- Walt Disney's nephew. The guy who spoke at the beginning of the Snow White and the 7 Dwarves video tape we had.
 27. First word: "Eh", probably
29. Last person you talked to: My sister
30. Last person you texted: My boyfriend
31. Last person you watched a movie with : My sister
32. Last food you ate : An egg (YUMMM)
33. Last movie you watched : Black Beauty (part of it, anyway... I can't sit through more than 10 minutes of it)
35. Last thing you bought : LOTS OF MUSIC
36. Last person you hugged : My sis
FAVE:
37. Food : All kinds of Stew. And salmon.
 38. Drink : Lemonade
39. Bottoms : Dancing ones.
40. Flower : ALL OF THEM. How can anyone choose?!
 41. Animal : Frogs/turtles/snakes. I love reptiles.
42.Color : See Stupid Question #3
 43. Movie: Beauty and the Beast
 44. Subject : I love talking about politics, asking questions about people's religious beliefs, and basically picking peoples brains. I love picking people's brains. I like it when people pick mine, too.
HAVE YOU EVER: (Put an X in the brackets if yes)
45. [x] fallen in love with someone.
46. [x] celebrated Halloween
47. [x] had your heart broken.
 48. [x] went over the minutes/texts on your cell phone.
49. [x] had someone like you
51. [] got pregnant.
 52. [] had an abortion.
53. [x] did something I regret.
54. [x] broke a promise.
55. [x] hid a secret. (what else do you do with a secret?)
 56. [x] pretended to be happy.
 57. [x] met someone who changed your life.
58. [] pretended to be sick. (who cares?)
59. [x] left the country.
60. [x] tried something you normally wouldn't try and liked it.
61. [] cried over the silliest thing. (I never cry over silly things. If I'm crying, it isn't silly. Not to me, anyway.)
 62. [x] ran a mile.
63. [x] went to the beach with your best friend. (so much fun!)
64. [x] got into an argument with your friends. (pretty regularly)
65. [] disliked someone. (I dislike how people behave or treat me. I don't really dislike anyone seriously. Except Hitler.)
66. [] stayed single for 2 years since the first time you had a boyfriend/girlfriend (what?)
 CURRENTLY:
67. Eating : My dead skin cells from my mouth. And lots of bacteria at the back of my throat. Yum.
68. Drinking : Drinking the AWESOME sounds of David Bowie!
69. Listening : David Bowie- Magic Dance
70. Sitting/Laying : On the couch... sofa? what's the difference between a couch and sofa? Is there one?
71. Plans for today: Work, see my boyfriend! repossess my umbrella... other stuff.
72. Waiting for : time.
YOUR FUTURE:
73. Want kids : Yeah, in a general way.
74. Want to get married : When it's right.
75. Career: theatre designer/ radio person/ the most awesome person I can be.
76. Lips or eyes : "The eyes are the surveyor of the heart"
77. Shorter or Taller : Most people are taller than me, so this is kind of a moot point.
78. Romantic or spontaneous : They should be the same thing.
81. Hook-up or relationship : Hook-ups are fun. But relationships are fun AND nice.
82. Looks or personality: personality
 HAVE YOU EVER:
83. Lost glasses/contacts : Nope. Hopefully my eyes stay in good condition.
84. Snuck out of a house : Why would I sneak? I have a key.
85. Held a gun/knife for self defense : No.
 86. Killed somebody : Like I would really admit I murdered someone. NO! I mean I've never killed anyone.
 87. Broken someone's heart : Probably. Hearts are easy to break.
88. Been in love : REDUNDANT
89. Cried when someone died : Of course. Sometimes I cry when people don't die, too.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
90. Yourself : I believe in my potential.
91. Miracles : More like really AMAZING things happening for no particular reason, not miracles in the sense of god setting things up. But does that really make it less amazing? The answer is no.
92. Love at first sight : Yeah. There's all kinds of love. I have definitely loved some of my friends the first times I saw them. It helps to love people at first sight when they're doing something really awesome or kind or totally being themselves.
93. Heaven : Not really, no. I think heaven is already on Earth, we just don't always see it. I don't think it's exclusively accessible after death.
94. Santa Clause : no
95. Aliens : YES. The probability is in life's favor.
 96. Ghosts : Yeah.
TRUTHFULLY:
97. Is there one person you really want to be with right now : Yes. Always. But I like being by myself just fine, too.
98. Do you know who your real friends are : I always assume people are my friends until proven otherwise.
99. Do you believe in God : Not exactly. It depends on which "god" we're talking about. I believe there is a power greater than myself that exists. I believe there is good in the world, and that good is created by people, not god. But people's good actions do have a driving force behind them, and that's what I think is god. I believe he's in people, not externally controlling them. It all depends on how you look at it.

September weather

The weather has settled into a state of constant perturbation, which means the rest of the residents of the town have settled into cozy sweaters and jackets. People have started to warm up together when walking around and there are more smiles as the fresh wind breezes by their mouths.

Unlucky Rabbit

Why are rabbit feet lucky?
I'm sure there's some long convoluted explanation that could somewhat attempt to justify it. But, really? You get your foot chopped off and you're lucky?
It's a sick world we live in.

On another note...
I've been back in the USA for 2.5 weeks now. My grandmother's 87th birthday would have been tomorrow, if she hadn't died 3 weeks ago.
It feels strange that she's gone. When she was here, she wasn't all here. But still. It feels weird. When my grandfather died, it took me a month to realize it. He had a way of irritating my grandmother by talking into the other phone while she was on the line. He knew she was speaking to someone, but he would always interrupt and be aggravating and jokingly chortle into the phone, "What do you want? What are you selling? We don't want any". I called one day, and when he didn't pick up the phone after a while, I thought to myself, "Where is Paw Paw?" And then it hit me. All at once.
The funeral didn't do it. The repeated visits to his grave didn't drive it home. It was the absence of his voice on the telephone. And I realized I'd never hear his voice again, except in my mind, or except by providence's benign design. Or who/whatever that's out there that defies the human intellect and existence.

I've been fighting the whole blindly accepting an assumed "universal truth" of one God. I mean, there are people in the world who believe there are many gods, and I can't tell if people that insist there is only one are any more happy than the polytheists.

I doubt a lot.
Some people have claimed I won't be "saved" because of that. Because I doubt. But I doubt that. If there were something to be saved from. Which I also doubt.
One thing I do not doubt, however, is the fact that there is something far greater in the world, galaxy, and universe than my religious affiliations. It's petty peacocking to claim one has a "better" view. One corner of the world is never darker or lighter than another. We all know there's more out there than we little humans will ever know.
And that is the greatest and most wonderful thing of all: the unknown. Not the explainable, the rational, the quantifiable, or the tangible. It's all things that fall outside these realms which draws me into belief of something greater than my own problems, or my own ego.
The sun shines on all of us.
No one is better.
And no rabbit is luckier than another.
Some just get their limbs chopped off and get claimed as lucky.
I'd rather keep my limbs in tact, thanks.

Unlucky, doubtful, sad, ridiculous me.

The Ridiculous Philosophy

So, there are a million and a half ways to describe, define, quantify, qualify, identify, and sort the world, universe, or a blade of grass.
It's like a ribbon, it's like a string, it's like an atom, it's short, tall, green, blue, tubular, conical, the list goes on forever.
It would be simple and easy to spend life doing all of this beauracratic listing of important things in the cosmos.
But why?
Although psychology is often poo-pooed in the scientific world for being "soft" or being "psuedo", it has it's valuable insights. Almost every human endeavor is instilled in childhood, by nurture and nature. How we are born, raised, and grown. And every event in our lives culminates into who we are right now, in this very time and space. Neurogoly/psychology has also proven that the human mind doesn't perceive time in a linear fashion. Something like this is pretty fundamental, it makes perfect sense. The time we have fashioned is artificial. It is not an absolute. Western philosophy once believed the Earth is at the center of the Universe, and to some people it still is, if you think about it in an Earth-centric sort of way. We can't help it, as beings, we see things from our point of view first before we see it from another point of view.
Anyway, my philosophy is this: rather than spend all the time in one's life... I mean, we are animals. ANIMALS. We like to laugh. We like to enjoy ourselves. Explaining the universe with a mathematical theory is all fine and correct, but it just turns into an interpretation thing. Only the people with the knowledge of science can have the answers, and once again, a circle of interpretation through a talking head (like the Pope interpreting the Bible) happens again, and again, and again.
The system is cyclical. People's life spans are just so short they don't learn about or recognize the patterns. But all the evidence is there. Science is the new religion, and there are the "believers", the "non believers", the "literate" and the "illiterate". It's the time honored tradition of the human race.
People say, "Oh no, that doesn't happen. But it's so easy to blind ourselves to our follies."
I say life is meant to be laughed at. If you can't have a good sense of humor, life isn't worth much. And we want life to be worth something.
I believe that peace is in the world. It's like a great river that constantly flows around us, we just don't always have the guts to immerse ourselves and simply let go of the bank. To let go of the stony ground, although we may be gripping it until our hands seem like a part of it.
My ridiculous philosophy is that philosophy is ridiculous.
Why take things so seriously?
There's nothing for it but to be. And that's all. It's incredibly easy. Who cares if it's simplistic or seen as naive and stupid? Happiness, love, and peace are the only things worth all the pain. Why endure the pain longer than necessary?

Enough of the preachy, philosophical, ridiculous me.

Déjà Vu

Probably the most ridiculous thing about me is my brain's lack of respect for ordinary social conventions. Conventions such as time, or normality of dreams, or perhaps just the ordinary denial of existence of anything that can't be consciously identified.
Ever notice how often the consciously unidentifiable becomes regarded as worthless?
If anything the unidentifiable should be worth more since it is within the mysteries of the world that lie the most important discoveries.
But I digress.
Like I was saying, my brain has no respect for social norms or the term "impossible".
In a world where we can't explain how an electron moves from ring to ring around a cluster of nuetrons and protons, the word "impossible" should probably not exist.
Impossibility, like Time, is a matter of perception.
By all accounts of the physical rules of the Earth (as per Newton and Einstein, etc.) the behaviour of said atoms is phyisically impossible.
And yet, it happens.
So, doesn't this denote a sort of out-dated understanding?
No.
It is simply one way to understand the world. And so far as observable data and general rules about the earth, it works. The problem is when people start trying to use these tools to measure things they were not made for: like the universe. Trying to measure the universe in means of light years and miles per second is like trying to measure the Earth's density in the weight of rabbit fur.
In order to more fully understand things, ideas must adapt. Ideas we have now, especially about the importance of controlled testing, are antiquated. The reason why I think controlled testing is sort of antiquated is the importance placed on statistical evidence. It's all very interesting, but all it does is perpetuate our ideas we have about the world. Sometimes, looking in the "wrong" place is the only place to find an answer. The answers lie in the "wrong" and unlikely places. The most rational thing is the supposedly "irrational", because the universe doesn't operate in any way in which humans can possibly understand with their reason. Our reason is so primitive, it's silly for us to parade around like we have the answer.
The singular most important answer is there is more than one answer!
And also that irony and self-contradiction are extremely helpful. If we don't doubt ourselves, how do we discover anything new?
Anyway,
I was going to write about my episodes of déjà vu, which ties into all of this other stuff I've been talking about...
Okay, so when I was about 10, I had a dream I was playing soccer and talking to my friend Ethan about Burger King.
At the time, I had never played soccer and didn't know anyone named Ethan. Four years later, when I was 14, I was playing soccer at the YMCA with my friend Ethan and we were talking about Burger King. Everything in that moment looked, smelled, and felt exactly as it had in my dream. I had dreamed it, but it was happening. At the time, I had to sit down because I almost fainted.
This sort of thing happens to me all the time- except now I'm used to it so I don't feel like I'm going to pass out. It happens to my father as well, and my sister.
In neurology, my dad says they explain it like this:
The human brain doesn't recognize Time. Time is an artificial custom imposed by society to make sure people show up at the same time, same place, type thing. Just like boundaries on maps are simply conventions used by humans so they can have something to talk about.
Anyway, so the human brain doesn't perceive time like a clock: so when one has déjà vu, one has already experienced the event, but a part of the brain tells you it happened before... Now, to add to the confusion of this, when I was 10, I distinctly remember waking up and remembering my soccer dream, which is one of the reasons why it shocked me so. So apparently, if I understand this theory correctly, which I kind of doubt, the dream when I was 10 was an echo of something I had already done when I was 14. They call them reverberations, but isn't that SO FREAKING COOL?!
People say there is a rational explanation for everything, but wouldn't it be so amazing if the most rational explanation is the lack of rational reasoning? What if we have been so caught up in using our logic, we have forgotten that we have other faculties as well. It's almost like we've become so dependent on our logic, that we're afraid to use any other part of our brain: the part that we don't really pay attention to. The part they call our subconscious, may not actually be out of our conscious reach, but is simply more subtle and less developed.

It comes down to letting go of the world and all you've learned and embracing the unknown. It sort of borders on mystic: but that is where science and religion meet. Both attempt to explain the unknown, but both, in their pure form, are based in the pursuit of the unknown. But sometimes, the unknown can be the most known and it is, most certainly, the most important.

Anyway, I am tired.

Ridiculous, unconsciously, irrational me.

Steampunk Palin: Palin is too Funny

This is a piece I wrote for the collge newspaper...


Call it poetic justice, call it irony, but Sarah Palin is now officially a comic. Whether you are Republican or Democrat, admit it, she is hilarious in a twisted sort of way, as is the latest piece of her propaganda. It is “Steampunk Palin“, and she, within it’s graphic pages is a half-robot, half-human kicking political butt in a future hypothetical universe where Al Gore is the evil mastermind she is fighting for a solution to clean energy because all natural resources are totally destroyed in a terrible war. Oh, and Obama goes by the name “Robama“. Did I mention Russia is also waging war with Alaska’s border? Well, in the comic, Russia, our cold-blooded enemy, is back to wreak some revenge on that dastardly nature reserve! It is truly the work of a demented media genius. This is not a practical joke arranged by the Democrats. But what is funnier is “Steampunk Palin” depicts Palin, along with her pair of amazing breasts, as the hero of the day, naturally.
Sometimes there just isn’t enough barf in the world.
“Steampunk Palin” is the epitome of political ploys playing dirty. Political comic book heroes like Palin are trying to reach out to young voters, by appealing to their tastes. But, there are more palatable tastes to appeal to, and better ways to get attention.
“How stupid do they think we are?” You may ask.
But is it really stupid? “Steampunk Palin” reflects a trend in popular culture to turn political figures, Republican and Democrat, into comic-book-style super heroes, and action figures-- you can get a John McCain or a Barak Obama action figure for roughly $15.00 online. They blur an already fuzzy line between product consumerism and the politician, cultivating an idea that political power can be bought. These toy ploys do little to cultivate respect for the politicians or bring attention to their plans for the country, but instead reduce them to fetishes, talking heads and plastic parts. Fetishes that are encouraged, like the eight pages of “Steampunk Palin” devoted to robo-human Palin in pin-up get-up; a puzzling interpretation of Palin, which is difficult to stomach. Even for staunch Palin supporters, this must seem a bit out of line, and it is doubtful the majority of Republicans will point out what a great testament it is to their political party. One cannot correctly judge an entire party on the antics of one member-- if that were so, everyone who knew Sarah Palin graduated from the U of I would think all of us attending the university to be very annoying conservative Republicans--but we judge anyway. And that is what political cartoons are for: judgement. They set up scenarios which lend us to judge political events in a certain light. They generally appeal to our sense of morality and sometimes our vanity. But whatever moral high ground “Steampunk Palin” is trying to appeal to, it has the repugnant smell of the incredibly strong hubris of the person it romanticizes. As a cartoon, it is simply selling to the fetishes surrounding Palin and her sexual appeal. As a political cartoon, it is worthless since it does not actually follow any sensible line of political commentary and has no valuable input for current political issues. “Steampunk Palin” erects, excuse me, raises, I mean, places Palin at a new, exciting level of bare-faced self-righteousness. But more than that, it blatantly tells it‘s readers that America needs “Steampunk Palin” as a delivering savior from the bad guys. While the vigilante savior of “Steampunk Palin” is hilarious, it still makes the innards churn with shame for whoever thought of it. So, thank you, “Steampunk Palin” for playing to our insecurities about the safety of our country, completely insulting our intelligence, embarrassing Sarah Palin by selling her image as a pin-up, trying to squeeze a few dollars from us, while offering no practical advice to solve any problem because all the problems presented in the comic are imaginary. But most of all, thank you for making us laugh.

Time, post-modernism, humanity vs. everything else

So, haven't journaled a whole heck of a lot recently.
I've just been pondering the linear and non-linear qualities of time.
One bit especially has been nagging me since this evening when I saw a theatrical production at my university...

I was talking to my friend, and we were discussing four year-olds.
Well, he asked me, "Are you a four year-old, Hannah?"
And that got me thinking, "You know, actually I am still four years old. At least part of me is. I mean, it's in my history, therefore it happened, therefore it is still part of my being, correct? So, in fact, I am still four years old."
Time isn't linear. I keep trying to figure out ways to illustrate this theory. To me, time is a spiral or a coil. It doesn't go in a straight line, it overlaps and builds on itself. Neither does the beginning of a person's time disappear, it still exists, but no longer exists physically, therefore it doesn't logically exist for other people, but for one person it does.
If that makes any sense...
Each human being has their own history, their own time structure. Time is relative, yes, but I believe it is even relative down to the very core of an individual. Yes, we have 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour, 23.25 (to be technically correct) hours in the day, etc. but those are only unifying strictures, very complex and clever strictures by which humans decide to pace their lives. DECIDE is the major key here.
There is always the argument of what separates us from the other birds and beasts of the world.
First of all, physically, nothing really separates us. Two legs doesn't make us superior, it only makes us more superior in our own environment. Try having a swimming competition with a fish... humans aren't going to win. But, they'll win a walking competition any day.
Trying to tout physical characteristics as superior to other animals is ridiculous.
Some say it's the brain.
I'm sorry, but a species that does some of the dumb things we've done hardly has bragging rights.
Third, humans apparently possess a "soul" or a conscience that other animals don't have. What defines a soul? And besides, there are plenty of humans that believe not all humans have souls. And conscience? A conscience we choose to ignore?
This brings me to my conclusion: what defines us from other animals: if humans must seek a way to define themselves, which in itself is a rather vain and self-conscious act... probably the most self-conscious act any species could committ, then the action of self-definition, or at least the search for a self-definition is probably THE defining characteristic of the human race. Not to mention self-consciousness. Of course, there are people in the world who do not attempt to identify or define themselves, and there are plenty of people in the world who are not self-conscious in the least. However, these people have not met "society" or, although I hate the term, the "modern world". Which also brings into light a problem about most theorist and philosophers is they take their world they live in (I live in modern America, for example), and they assume that their view of the "world" is correct. But what world is that? Is it reality for other people? NO! Everyone should be their own philosopher, because everyone's world is different. My world is not the same as someone from France, or someone from Australia. There will be similarities, but I cannot assume that my view of the world is correct based on my VERY limited view of the "world".
People are always concerned about the rest of the "world". The rest of what world? What rest of the world ACTUALLY comes into contact with us? I ponder this... Yes, we are all connected, but the irrational fear and paranoia people experience about the "real world" is ridiculous. There is no such thing as the "real world". We are all in the "real world", it's not some separate intentity that is mysterious and dangerous. If anything, the "real world" is simply knowledge and novelty. It's things that one has never been exposed to... terrible sentence, please ignore the grammar... but that doesn't make it any more REAL than the current life and world of the individual, it only makes it different.
Anyway...
This is all very post-modernism theoretical speak, but the funny thing about postmodernism is the fact that although it is, to me, anyway, a theory meant to explain and define the "post-modern" age in which we live (whatever that means...), it fails to do so by being completely open to interpretation and definition.
Which brings me back to the human race: the attempt to identify and define ourselves is the most defining characteristic of the human race, or at least the human race I've run into,
and
an individual's perception of time and space is completely singular, but strongly influenced by societal strictures and customs.
Time is a custom, not a given.
And it all comes down to the one. We should all be our own philosphers.
Speaking of time, sleeping time is upon me, and I wonder... what would it be like to live in a world with no clocks?

Mormon Missionaries.

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting at my apartment having some lunch. I heard some talking going on next door. I heard one girl and two men speaking for about five minutes. The girl's tones were apologetic and supplicating. The men's tones were persuasive and studied. "Hm," I thought to myself, "must be some missionaries". Although, I was unsure if they were Jehovah's Witness, Mormon, or Evangalists. Soon, there was a sound of a dismissal, and I heard my neighbor's door close. About 30 seconds later, there was a knock on my door.

A series of thoughts about not answering the door raced across my mind. Then I got a cruel thought.

Fishing.



I opened my door and saw two blonde, blue-eyed boys standing on my door step. The taller one was smiling at me, the other one was looking at his shoes.

"Hey, guys," I said. I waited for them to speak.

"Hi, how are you?" the taller one asked.

"I'm great. How are you?"

"We're good, thanks," the taller one replied, the other one forced a smile.They were dressed in the traditional garb of Mormon missionaries: white shirt, slacks, tie, nice shoes, a sad sagging back pack, holding their book of Mormon and pamphlets.

They asked me about what I was studying, what year I was, we got on the topic of musical instruments and talked about that for a minute or two. They had had a little reprieve, I guess, so now it was time for business.

"I'm guessing you know who we are?" the taller one asked.

"Yeah, you're LDS missionaries."

"Has anyone ever told you about what we do?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever known any Mormons?"

"Yes, I know several Mormons. I have some good friends that are Mormon. I dated a Mormon once..."

"Oh, really?" They raised their eyebrows.

"Yeah, although it didn't work out, obviously," I said.

"Huh." They feigned surprised.

"I even visted the LDS center on campus a couple of years ago. Because I was dating a Mormon, I wanted to figure out what exactly it was all about, so I went.""How did you like it?"

"Well, the people were really nice, but I couldn't agree with a lot of things they said. I'm pretty stubborn in my own beliefs and I couldn't go along with some of what they said. I mean, I agree with a lot of principles the Mormon's have. But I tend to take bits of religions that make sense to me and leave the rest of it."

"Well, is there anything else you want to know about what we believe?" The taller one asked, facing the other one as if trying to engage him with what was going on. The other one just barely held back a tired sigh.

"Yes."

"Alright, then."

"I never asked my friends because I thought it was inappropriate to put them on the spot and also because I wouldn't want to make them feel uncomfortable, but, what do you believe happens to non-Mormons when they die? Do you believe they go to hell, or heaven, or just float around in the after life?"

"Well, we believe that when everyone dies, they are judged at the gates of heaven and are given one last chance to repent and be in the faith, or not. If they don't choose to accept the Mormon faith, then they..." the taller one trailed off a bit,

"Go to the other place," finished the other one.

The taller one threw a look at the other one, who was a little more awake now.

"Okay, so it's like you believe that at the end of the world, we all get judged and go to heaven and make our choice."

"Yes."

"But what about the atheists? And all the people in China and Africa and Europe that never heard about Mormonism, do you think they will be judged in the same way as the Mormons are?"

"Well, I think there are lots of good people out there that aren't Mormon," the taller one replied sincerely.

"Yeah, there are great people in the world that just, unfortunately don't belong to the Mormon faith," the other one said insincerely.

The taller one looked unsteady.

The other one continued, "That's why we do the missionary work.""So, you think that even if they are good people, if they don't accept your religion at the gates of heaven, they won't get in? So they are judged by their belief instead of their actions?"

"Well..." they looked uncomfortable, "What do you believe?"

"I'm sorry I'm being so hard on you," I apologized, "I just want to know so I can definitely say whether I agree or disagree with Mormonism or not. I don't agree with what you've said. I don't know if there's an afterlife or not. Frankly, I don't care, but I'm pretty sure if we are judged, we'll be judged for who we are, not what religion we are. Death doesn't distinguish between religions, and I don't think God, or whoever runs heaven or the afterlife, or what-have-you, does either."

"Okay." They said.

"Also, I had another question," I continued, "Why do men and women have separate places and time during the church hours?"

The taller one looked at me and hesitated.

"I mean, why do you have to separated the two sexes? Why do they have to be taught separately? What do you learn, as a man, that the women do not learn and vice versa?"

They proceeded carefully. I could sense they were trying to be tactful about answering me. I asked a question, and like my friend Alex always says, "the way people answer sometimes tells you more about the person than what they actually say." I waited for their answer.

"Well, " the taller one began, "the men... we're... well, since I'm a man I could have the priest hood."

"Okay..."

"And, well, the men don't know what the women learn."

"I do," said the other one.

"What?" asked his comrade, "how?"

"My mom talks about stuff that they learn." He replied.

"Really." The taller one sounded slightly taken aback.

"Yeah, she tells us everything," the other Mormon said, looking at me intently.

"Well, I don't know what they talk about..." said the taller one a little loftily, "what do they talk about?"

"She says they learn about how to do girl stuff like how to be a good mother and wife and things like that, " replied to his mate, "My mom tells everyone in the family what to do." He said to me, as an afterthought.
This reminded the taller one, so he said, "OH, yeah, my mom is like that, too. She rules the house with an iron fist."

They shared a laugh about this.

"But, I think," continued the tall one, "That girls are better at some things than men... like, I think girls are more... charitible," he finished rather lamely. He looked to his comrade for help.

"Yeah... girls are sooo awesome." The other one said.

I almost laughed.

The taller one looked worried and a little annoyed. I could hear him thinking, "Okay, you're not helping."

I didn't say anything. I just looked at them. I was thinking to myself, "Okay, so if girls are more charitible, and to me, churches are supposed to help others, wouldn't it make sense to have the women running the church?"

I think they could tell I wasn't buying it, so I eased them of the suspense.

"Well, I have to disagree. I respect your beliefs, but I couldn't possibly be part of a religion that wouldn't allow me or my daughters to have any real say in what was going on. To be a member of a church or religion and put time into an institution that didn't recognize you as an equal would be pointless."

They shrugged.

"I do agree with Mormonism in the fact that they focus so much on the teachings of Jesus. I'm not part of any church or religion in particular, but I think Jesus is the man."

"Yeah, Jesus is awesome." they said, almost in unison.

"I also think the Mormon's sense of community is good, and the fact that they are such a tightly knit bunch, I think it's a good strength. But, I notice that they exclude a lot of people as well."

"So, can we ask you a question?" the taller one asked.

"Of course," I replied.

"What comes to mind when you think of Mormon missionaries?"

"Blonde." I said.

"What?"

"Blonde. I think of blond hair and blue eyes."

"What, really? Huh. You know, you're right. I never thought about how many people were blonde. But... yeah. Huh. I never noticed that."

"I really noticed it because, I'm from South Carolina, and white people are in the minority there, and blonde people even more so. Most people are dark haird and dark eyed. I came to Idaho and was amazed: I had never seen so many blonde haired, blue eyed people in all my life!"

They laughed.

The taller one said, "Yeah, I'm from Chicago... it's a little weird being out here in Idaho where everyone is white. I agree."

"Where are you from?" I asked the other one.

"Utah. Although we have a large immigrant Polynesian population for some weird reason. And Mexicans." He made a sucking sound through his teeth, like the sound someone makes when they pull off a band-aid.
The taller one angrily glanced at the other one, looked quickly back at me and smiled apologetically. He changed the subject quickly,"Well, most people think we're rude or pushy. You don't think that?"

"No, I don't think so. I mean, I've never met a rude Mormon missionary, and you're doing what you think is right, and there's nothing wrong with that. I don't like it when people are really rude to missionaries. Because, you have to do it. It's part of your faith. Who am I to judge you for it?"

They smiled.

"Some people are really rude." The other one said.

"Yeah." agreed the taller one.

They were silent for a second.

"Do you mind if I give you something?" the taller one asked.

"I don't mind... what is it?"

"It's a card with our 13 pillars of faith."

He dug around in his deflated back pack, "I just have to find it. I'm using it for a book mark."

The other one looked at his fellow Mormon, looked at me, and looked irritated.

"Ah, here it is." The taller one handed me a card with a picture of Jesus surrounded by kids.

I glanced at the back of the card with the writing.

"You know why I think Jesus liked little kids so much?" I remarked

"Why?"

"Because children don't judge other people. They have no preconceptions or prejudices. They have to be taught all of that by other people."

"Well..." said the taller one.

"Yeah, Jesus loved children because they are gullible and will do whatever you tell them to without thinking, " drawled the other one.

"Um," I hesistated, "that's not what I meant... I think Jesus would want us to use our brains"

"Yeah," the taller one quickly responded trying to rescue the remark, "I think he wants us to think for ourselves."

The other one shrugged.

"Just look over those if you like," the tall one said.

"Yep."

"Well, it looks like the Jehova's Witnesses have been here," said the taller one with a little grit in his voice.

"Jehova's Witnesses," said the other one, shaking his head.

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"They leave 'X's and 'O's on your door frame. And gold tacks. 'X's mean the person rejected the word, O's mean the person wasn't at home, gold tacks mean they had a conversion."

"Oh. What's on my door frame?" I asked, looking for the mark.

"There's an 'O' on your door frame," they replied, "anyway, we should be going."

"Yeah, I need to be going, too. I have to eat lunch and do some stuff. Sorry to give you an earful. I don't get to talk about what I believe that often."

"Yeah, well maybe we'll come back some time. You can catch us up with what's going on."

"You don't watch TV?"

They shook their heads.

"No internet either?"

"Nope."

"Whoa. Well, just to let you know, there was a gas explosion in California, killed about 6 people."

"It would be in California," the other one remarked.

"And Obama's ratings are down."

They both nodded violently, "Not surprised," said the tall one, "The Mormon church doesn't claim or support that man."

"Every president loses ratings in the second year," I replied, "But feel free to come back any time. You're welcome here."

"Maybe we should stick a gold tack on your door frame."

"If you want to," I said, "keep the Jehova's Witnesses away, I guess."

"Well, you have a good afternoon."

"You, too."

I shut the door and laughed to myself, "What an interesting conversation," I thought.

Feminism at it's Worst

I am a woman.
I have had many conversations with women in the past, and as soons as I hear them say, "Men are stupid," I reply with, "Not all men are stupid. Some men are stupid, just like some women are stupid. Simply because we are women does not automatically make us intelligent." To which their retort is almost always, "are you a feminist?"

This is where it gets difficult. Feminism has come to be tautological with man-haters. At least in my experience. Feminism used to be a fair-minded enterprise, but now it has become an exclusive mindset with rules and, the most damaging thing of all, excludes men.
To begin with, feminism was a movement to provide equal opportunity, education, and political power for women. To make life more fair for women who wanted to better their own lives, to give them the freedom to better their own lives as they pleased, and to basically make it a constitutional given that if all men were created equal, then so were women. After all, all men come from a woman's womb, correct?
And techinically, in eutero, all humans begin as a female. It's only after they have had development in the womb their chromosome changes and the little fetus becomes male. I'm no expert at genetics, but these are the basics, people.
So, it makes sense that men and women are equal.

Then came the popular, "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus", and the sexes have gradually been more accepted as different species rather than different genders. The most popular phrase, when a man makes a mistake is, "Boys are stupid," harking back to kindergarten and the playground romances of young children. Not every woman says this, but we have all probably heard it, or a variation of it. This is what I call the "Us and Them" syndrome. Here we are, "Us", on one side of the street, and there they are, "Them", on the other side of the street. Somehow, this makes each side of the street superior and the other side of the street inferior. It's a flaw in human nature that is difficult to avoid, in fact I have fallen into the mistake myself. The reality of the situation is the road is the same road we must all walk down (cue Bob Dylan music here), some people just never cross the road to the other side to actually understand what's over there.

Exclusive Feminism, or Xtreme Feminism, as I like to call it, does not good for the cause of humanity. It only sets up an already strained and confusing relationship between the sexes. I understand the importance of "girl power", but when does girl power become a practice of sexism and discrimation? And I hate to point fingers in the community, but the U of I Women's Center is, in general, I find, hostile towards male involvement. Perhaps if feminism was a more inclusive philosophy, rather than a defensive, "Uterus Only Club", men could learn more about what women go through, rather than being frightened away by all the anger bombasted at them from the Xtreme Feminists. And, in return, a woman's knowledge of man could be improved as well, because as much as we like to pretend, we women don't know everything. I know I don't, anyway. And being a woman, I think I can guess the rest of us don't either.

The human race can not exist without men and women. Yes, we are different, but neither of us are devoid or deficient of emotions or feelings.
So, when someone asks me if I'm a feminist, I say, "No," because feminism is the same as machoism, in that it severely limits my perception of life. I believe we all have our mistakes, our triumphs, our perfections, and our faults. And none of "us" are superior to "them" in any way.
So, I would like to suggest a new kind of "ism" and call it "humanism". Maybe we can change the negative, "Us and Them" syndrome into a more positive, "We" syndrome.
Yes, the sexes are equal.
If we are not equal in perfections, we are at least equal in faults.