Service

Two Sundays past I heard a talk that focused on three different aspects of improvement. The first was scripture reading, the second was prayer and the third was service. I've been working on the first two and today I managed to do the third. My hometeaching companion came by while I was in the middle of a video game. I dropped the video game and got dressed, we were going to go bless one of the sisters we taught, and then one of my companions fiance's room-mate.

Joseph Smith once blessed two dozen odd babies and when he returned from doing so fell asleep quickly, exhausted. He said that the process of blessing was more draining than just about any other act he had done. I kind of know what he means, the focus and intent that went into those two blessings left me drained. Physically and mentally. I've rarely felt so good about myself as I did today. Another amazing thing is that the girls looked so much better afterwards, as though the focus and effort that I'd put into them had given me the ability to see them as the Lord saw them. Which made them beautiful.

I realized that I wanted to be someone that people felt like they could call when they had needs and wants. I wanted to be someone that could be counted on.

But most of all, I felt how grateful I was for the Lord's aid and love.

-Asmond (C)

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I think the mountain just might be too tall.

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My parents

I love my parents...

They came into town. I have an extra bedroom in my apartment. Heck, I'm really the only one who lives here. So they are staying here. My room-mates have kind of trashed the place. And I just haven't taken the effort to clean up, they cleaned for like two hours tonight. I don't deserve them.

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My super weakness

So, lately... for whatever reason I've actually decided I wanted to start working out. And I've started doing that. The problem is that when you don't work out for... years it's hard to get into it. I'm not in horrible shape... but I could stand to be in better. My muscles get SUPER sore particularly if I use a 'new' set... so I've taken to going to the hot tub to relax them... every time I go, even if I'm only in the jacuzzi for five minutes the next three hours are a struggle to stay awake. It puts me to sleep sooooooooooo fast.

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The Drive

My favorite part about living as far away from the epicenter of my social life is the drive home. Summer nights in Utah are something I'll never get out of my system. The day so hot and demanding turns cool, and as you drive past yards you can feel the wetness in the air as people water their lawns. My drive home takes me through a largely rural area. As rural as you can get without ever leaving Provo and Orem city boundaries anyway. The scent of the wet loam (I'm not really sure I can use the term Loam in this instance... I feel like I haven't baled enough hay to earn that right) fills me with joy. The wind rushing through my hair and against my face... If I could say that happiness had a physical representation, it would be that. Driving down a rural road in Utah at night with the windows down and a good song on the radio.

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More Dear

I was talking to a coworker today about how certain things are made more dear by the price we pay for them. And as I was walking by the cube of the girl mentioned in the post previous I wondered if my viewings of her do not increase in value to me based on their rarity and how hard it is for me to get them. They are limited to chance encounters, or me walking by her cube and peaking through the narrow gap where the partitions come together, a lucky glimpse of her face. These things are valuable to me, they are meaningful.

The things that come easy are soon forgotten, but the prizes fought and bleed for... we hold them close for ages.

To quote:

We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

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I see a woman at work.
I do not know her name, but she is beautiful.
Every time I see her our eyes lock, and we smile.

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For Janell

6) Do you own a Gundam?

No... but have you seen: This?
????

11) How well do you understand the statement “you cook
or you starve"?

I love to cook?

16) Three MUSTS of men:
1) Remove Spiders
2)Eat the left-overs
3)turn the grill on
4)mow the lawn
3)not correcting my inability to count

I could probably manage.

20) Definition of ideal home transportation methods

I'm not really sure what this means... but I think it would be wicked cool to have a fireman's pole in the house.

35) Will NEVER live in UT after college– especially with children

That's cool. Don't really care.

Do you feel the following to be of a brain-rotting nature:
44) Nintendo

Depends on the game. I think some games, particularly nintendo games (Brain Age) are good for the brain. Also depends on how often it is used.

46) TV in general

Mmm... it has a place... but I don't really watch it.

49) DVD player

No.

50) DSL

Ich, slow internet connections.

To what extent are the following accidents waiting to happen?
51) Trampoline

Yes.

52) Swimming pool

Home, yes. Public, not as much.

53) Wading pool

No.

54) Fireworks in closets

Yes.

55) Janell’s cooking

Insufficent data.

56) Janell’s organization system

I recall some posts about your system, seems better than mine... which is to throw it all away.

63) Does toast always fall butter side up or butter side down?

Who allows toast to fall? Burn them.

64) Is the glass half full or half empty?

What's in it and is it mine?

67) Have you ever eaten an entire box of Oreos?

Oreos don't come in boxes... except the BIG boxes... and no, I've never eaten 8 sleeves of Oreos in a sitting.

70) How many car accidents have you been involved in?

2. Neither of which I was driving for. Also, I've been in two collisions... which I was driving.

81) One pillow or two?

None?

87) Pencil or pen?

Pencil, Zebra .5 lead.

91) Is it true that flowers for no reason are the best?

True.

94) Whose parents are the best?

Insufficent data.

102) In the last 24 hours have you dissected something?

No.

111) Do you eat with your mouth open?

Only on purpose.

122) How do you feel about hunting?

Not interested.

123) Do you have anything against Easy Mac, Ramen Noodles,
and Campbell’s Soup?

Fine for you, I'll make something better if you'd care to wait.

127) How about Peanut butter and jelly, Tuna Fish, and Grilled
Cheese (slightly burnt)?

PB&J = no good, but... in regards to an earlier post
I'm allergic to fish, so Tuna is out.
I LOVE grilled cheese.

130) How do you tell when a pineapple is ripe?

I dislike Pineapple.

Translate the Following
135) PHC : PHP home compilier
136) PVC : Polyvinal Chloride
137) REM : Rapid Eye Movement
138) RAM : Random Access Memory
139) PRC : Peoples Republic of China
140) HTML : Hyper Text Markup Language

141) Did you just you a dictionary? No.

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Blessings of the Gospel.

If you aren't paying rent, you don't get to live in the apartment.

That's the contract. Now... apply that to gospel contracts.

If you aren't repenting your baptism doesn't do anything for you.

If you aren't being faithful to your wife, you aren't sealed to her.

That's the end. If you aren't filling your part of the contract God isn't filling his. Now granted, God's a pretty forgiving guy and 'his hands are stretched out still' but... it's all based on you and your willingness to do your part, since God is going to keep His end.

That's a little more blunt than I would have put it in the context that actually made me think this up. But... thinking about it makes me realize just how screwed I am.

Time to start riding again.

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Thoughts

Today it rained.

Today it rained and I walked out side and smelt the air, and the scent of the warm, wet wind took my mind back to a hundred moments unconnected except by that scent. I think I heard somewhere that the scent of rain these days is the result of pollution. And in my head I thought of the following scene:

Hero looked up at the rain, and let the drops fall softly on his hair. It wasn't a heavy rain, just a light drizzle. His soldiers moaned and hurried off to their tents hoping to avoid getting wet. Hero just let his senses wander, he marveled yet again at the smell of rain here. So unlike home, the rain here smelled pure and clean, not like the ozone filled scent of rain from his past. Or was it his future? Trapped in the past before combustion engines became the mainstay of society. Trapped fighting a war for an army history had taught him he would lose.

Hero sighed and shifted his cloak to cover his sword belt and flipped the hood up, he didn't look forward to rusted armor. But... how he wished he could be home where the rain was tainted and home was 400 miles and two hours away. He had been a no one there, and yet he longed for those days when all he had to worry about was if his drinking would make Wife angry.

"Wife." He said softly, letting her name escape--misting the air in front of his face. The words as visible and untouchable as her face was in his memory.

Horns called out shrill and morose in the falling darkness. Hero clung to the moment for as long as he could, one hand lifted to touch the smoke billowing out of his mouth into the chilled air, reaching out to touch Her. Just as quickly as the rain fell, he was brought back to the here and now, the Normands were coming and the men of England needed their commander. Hero nodded Baren, who he realized had been relating the most recent troop positions.

Hero looked up one last time, longingly, at the sky, and remembered the scent of rain.

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Just a quick update

I miss people. A lot.

Today I went to see Iron Man with my friend Jay. I miss being around people. I miss conversations that aren't about work. I miss feeling like I belong to a group of people. I can't wait to move closer to Campus, closer to people.

I just want to feel like my life has meaning again. Work isn't enough.

"I know that man up there on that cross. I don't know his name, but I know he got down."

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He had to take several deep breaths to steady himself, for this was the final and most decisive test of his skill.

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Tagged.

10 years ago today...
Krystal tagged me for this. Here are the rules: Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 3 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

5 things on my to-do list today:

Pay the remainder of my rent.
Don't get other people sick.
Get better.
Do the dishes.
Clean my room.

I enjoy:

Computers, computer games, video games, movies, books, nature, girls, flirting, cooking, programing, talking.

What would I do if I were suddenly a billionaire?

Fix my car, pay my debts... buy a new computer. On second thoughts... I'd just trade my car in and get a new one.

3 of my bad habits:

Lying/Extravagant Story Telling.
Sleeping in/staying up late.
Chocolate.

5 places I have lived:

Orem, Utah, U.S.A.
Chorleywood, Hertfordshire, U.K.
Grand Rapids, Michigan, U.S.A.
Watauga, Texas, U.S.A.
Mareietta, Georgia, U.S.A.


5 jobs I have had:

Overnight Stocker - Walmart
Installation Specialist - Apex Security
Game Adviser - GameSTOP
Technician (in charge of the public printing system on campus) - B.Y.U.
Assistant Manager - Coldstone Creamery

5 things you might not know about me:

I play MUDs.
I purchased my first watch ever just four months ago.
I'm addicted to Dove.
I only get four hair cuts a year.
I have been to all 48 mainland states.

I'm tagging: Th., Emily, Sarah.

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Confused

For the first time in a long time my emotions have gotten in the way of my mental capacity.

I do not know how to explain this feeling in my chest. I can't describe it as good or bad, I can't explain the cause of it, I can't even try and say things it is like. Because I simply don't know what words I would use.

If it had a color, the color would be muddy and gray, twisted and changing not storm like, too much brown and greens for a storm. But over all gray.

If it had a taste it would be mac and cheese with chili, and green beans, pizza and ice cream, some corn and a half a hot dog.

If it could be spelled, there would be a silent x, two l's but not together, a smattering of r's, a ph, but no fricatives.

I don't know where it comes from, I don't know how to get rid of it. All of my fixes have failed. I am at a loss as to what this is or how to fix it. I feel like a teenager again is this how what emotions feel like? I don't remember this sort of semi-pain. I only call it pain because that is the closest thing to it that I have a word for. I have begun to feel again, but I don't know how to deal with this I don't want to shut it away I want to sort it out but I have no idea how to do that. I think I would like to cry. That somehow weeping would get rid of this... mass in my chest.

How I want to weep. To curl up into a ball and wear myself out in crying. To squeeze this thing out of me like a towel until it has dripped away and left me dry and sane again. How do you cry?

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Some business to be taken care of:

First, there is a new interest in my life (when ISN'T there a new interest in my life?) her nick is 'Rain' or 雨(romaji ame).

Second, I predict that the new apostle will be a non-native English speaker. We are an international church and God has called two of his apostles to him. Age may have had something to do with it... but I think he also needed some representatives from other countries speaking more openly from the podium. I'm voting for Carlos R.M. Costa or Merril J. Bateman. I admit Bateman is a throwback favorite of mine since he was the president of BYU and I met him...

Third, if you haven't heard Uchtdorf has taken President Hinckley's (uh... in number not in position) spot on the First Presidency.

Fourth, and the real reason for this post:

雨(rain) has introduced me to something called the Hinckley Challenge. Which is basically a repetition of the challenge President Hinckley gave while he was alive only in 97 days, instead of a year. That's a day for every year he lived. I've decided to take this challenge and find that it is helping me find myself already. 雨 is a good influence on me. :) It's funny how things develop. I'll probably talk more about her in the future but... not yet.

風

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My tribute

I imagine it happened something like this:

After a round of chemo, the normally vibrant old man was tired. He was at home, a grandchild sitting next to him, in her chair. He looks at the chair, and longing is in his eyes. Then he looks at his grand child, and smiles, soon he asks for a moment so that he can pray before retiring. In his prayer he asks simply if his work is done for he longs to go home. The sweet assurance that he has come to love enters his mind and he slips peacefully into sleep.

The next day he calls his family together, to say goodbye. And like Lehi of old he give his advice to each. And then, he slips peacefully into another kind of sleep. Where his master and the woman of his life and dreams were waiting.

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Eyes to see, but no hands to heal.

I don't suppose I have much to say. I have a pseudo date with the girl that I went to the concert with on Friday. That should be entertaining. I just had a discussion with my non-LDS roommates about well... sex. In such a graphic manner as I have never before discussed the subject.

And then I talked to a dear friend of mine and they told me about getting drunk. I don't really consider myself an emotional person... but my upbringing has made me very indisposed to certain things. Like sex and substance abuse. I am sure that I have a myriad of sins and vices that eat away at my soul just as quickly... but when presented with a doobie I don't have to think. The answer is no.

But hearing about him drinking... I felt a wounded. I firmly believe that there is a path to happiness. The individual steps of that path are many but the concepts behind them are the same. There is an ultimate truth, this may be why I am so resistant to drugs that affect my mood (make me happy) because you must find happiness inside yourself. You can't rely on some external stimulus to make you happy. You have to be happy despite the external stimulus.

I don't know how to help my friend. They have some challenges that I don't know how to climb. Some challenges which I will never personally be asked to defeat. How do I let him see what I see? I see so much pain in the world but have no hands to mend. I hope God knows how to heal the hurts I see. I have to have faith that he does, I do have faith that he does. I just can't stand to see such dear friends pierced by so many wounds.

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Shucking the Soul

Have you ever had one of those moments where... all the disgusting clinging leaves and corn silk/corn hair suddenly fall free of your body and you--the part of you that is you and nothing else--are able to float in some sort of strange ethereal jelly? Divulged of all the trappings of mortality you exist in a plane of consciousness that allows you simply to be?

I had one of those moments today. I went to a piano concert at BYU where the splendidly talented gentleman played Fredrick Chopin's Piano Sonata 2 (The funeral march) although his version was much better (probably because it was in person and not by some crappy video camera...)

It was amazing. And when I came back to earth... I felt lighter.

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Something I've been thinking about for a while...

I just can't think of a good way to do this because the written form is more different than the verbal form.

[her-oh-in]


























Which were you thinking:

n. A white, odorless, bitter crystalline compound, C17H17NO(C2H3O2)2, that is derived from morphine and is a highly addictive narcotic. Also called diacetylmorphine.
n.

1. A woman noted for courage and daring action.
2. A woman noted for special achievement in a particular field.
3. The principal female character in a novel, poem, or dramatic presentation. See Usage Note at hero.

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Out of Georgia

I'm leaving here today.

First thing I did when I woke up an hour earlier than I had planned: Defend the Jehovah's Witnesses. Weird.

I find it strange how people who preach free thought seek to limit it. (Atheists in their need to destroy religion.) How people who pretend to follow Jesus Christ cannot seem to love their neighbor. How the Muslims feel the need to attack everything that isn't 'me.'

I re-entered the LDS faith because it taught to accept all truth. And yet I find most members willing only to walk safely behind line of 'accepted' truth.

Why is mankind so afraid of everything that he cannot identify as 'me?' How can we expect to be happy if we live in a constant state of fear?

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I'm scared. It's all going to change starting tomorrow. I'm not going to let another amazing girl slip through my fingers.

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Christmas Wishes

I hope everyone has the best of days today, this season, and throughout the coming year.

Things I wish for you:

To be filled with the love of the Savior whose birth we celebrate, and life we seek to emulate. I hope this love manifests itself in two ways, your love for others--your ability to see past their shortcomings and flaws and truly wish them the best--and that you may love yourself so completely, as HE loves you.

Good music. To uplift the spirit, fill the heart and rest the mind.

Laughter. To cure the sadness, to forge precious memories and to light the darkness.

But mostly just the first, God bless you my friends, my brothers and sisters.

-CAB

P.S. Please respond to the last post!

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A character in a story

If you were a character in a story... how would you be described upon introduction?

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The Tempest is Raging

Master, with anguish of spirit
I bow in my grief today
The depths of my sad heart are troubled
Oh, waken and save, I pray!
Torrents of sin and of anguish
Sweep o'er my sinking soul
And I perish! I perish! dear Master
Oh, hasten, and take control.

Today my father couldn't sleep. As I keep hours that allow me to be awake during the night. I also was awake. He wanted to have a talk with me. We covered a wide array of things and ended up talking most about Love. When it comes down to it, everything is about love. It is the driving force in everything we do. Those who lose it, cease to function unless they can replace it. It started because we were talking about my sister, and his worries for her. I didn't know how to answer his queries. So I gave him the answer that works for every question about how to help someone:

Walk forward. And love them enough that they want to and can follow.

That's the gospel boiled down into simplest form. What God does for us, what we do for others. I guess John said it first, "God is Love." (1 John 4:8)

All this time searching for meaning to find it in the words of one very old gentleman (I suppose he has or will soon celebrate his 2000th birthday) who knows a lot more than I do. I was also asked advice from a young acquaintance of mine about how to deal with a sticky situation with a male friend of hers who has become excommunicated from the church. I gave her much the same advice only modified since she has no stewardship over this young man.

My father also said that he didn't think I would be happy if part of my profession did not involve listening to people and helping them solve their problems. I agree. Does that mean I need to become a shrink?

The winds and the waves obey Thy will
Peace, be still!
Whether the wrath of the storm tossed sea
Or demons or men, or whatever it be
No waters can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean, and earth, and skies
They all shall sweetly obey Thy will
Peace, be still! Peace, be still!
They all shall sweetly obey Thy will
Peace, peace, be still!

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Asmond Evoloution

Alright, sorry this has taken so long, a pictographic history of Asmond with strange comments interspersed.


Asmond as a newborn. Please note the belly button. This disproves many false traditions concerning my birth.


Asmond as a slightly less new, newborn. Prior to my ability to walk. Dang straight, how many of YOUR kids could support their own weight/balance before they could walk?


Heck, I was even CUTE once... It was a long time ago.


I was taught at an early age to ignore my hair being all crazy like. I kinda like it.


Remember what I said about the hair... yeah.


Ahh, sweet birthday pictures. Apparently I was mostly photographed on my birthday. I think my parents were scared of how awesome their child was.


I know you aren't supposed to have favorite sisters... but who cares? This is mine. Also, I have no idea what was in my mouth.


I had such a mischievous grin... I'm sure that's gone now.


Ahh SANTA! I look giddy. I was giddy once... weird.


The proof that I was once athletic; and my little sister was cute.

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This Just In:

Natural Selection Dooms Humanity to Stone Age!

While working in the pharmacy section of the evil store that I work at the other day I encountered a strange sight(not for the faint of heart in fact... don't follow most of these links.). A gaggle of young native Georgian woman. Now, I was in the pharmacy section of the store. Do you know what is in the pharmacy section of the store? Things a single LDS male need not think about. This group of young women ( probably 15-17 in age ) were followed around by two hoodlum looking young men of the same age. They of course followed at a discreet distance, but made occasional remarks and were talked about... Anyway, they were looking for a pregnancy test. Of course they glanced about and finally chose to pick the cheapest one, after all results don't really matter. Then they grabbed some condoms. I personally should have thought the condoms be purchased long ago.

Natural selection is Darwin's theory that allowed for evolution. Basically the strong and smart survive long enough to reproduce.

So here is the problem: Humanity has eliminated ( except to a very small degree ) the process of natural selection in our reproductive cycles. Just about anyone can live to be old enough to reproduce, you don't have to be strong, you don't have to be smart. In fact, the smart ones prevent child birth completely. (I tired to do some research on this... but it took too much time/effort so I'll say that it may or may not be true... but it FEELS true.) Now with notable exceptions the more educated you are the fewer children you have (another one of those feels true things.)

So... how are these things related? If you equate money with being smart or strong, and poor people have more children. These are the same people that left to fend for themselves by providing food and shelter, would have died. So, we've eliminated natural selection from humanity. So what? I probably wouldn't be around if I had to provide for myself... I may be smart but I'm not strong.

However, I have noticed another trend in Americans. We like to marry people who are like us. Physically, mentally and spiritually. So smart people marry smart people, strong people marry strong people. Eventually we become morlocks and eloi. Gosh, I wish I could think up some sort of original thought. Stupid H.G. Wells came up with this blog YEARS ago. Only 'better.'

Oh well, moral of the story, you smart people, marry strong people and have smart, strong kids.

The end.

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All over the place

While taking a shower just now I realized that either my blogging style reflects my mental babble, or my mental babble reflects my blogging style. Because I THINK in blogs. So... here comes some things I've been thinking about lately:

My parents left for Indiana yesterday, I've had the house to myself since then. I tried out being naked. Not as much fun as you'd think, apparently buttocks are more sensitive than one realizes plus... you feel guilty about sitting down because you'll leave butt juice or cooties or something everywhere you sit. Not a pleasant thought and you can't go downstairs because the stairs are right before the front door, which has two rather revealing windows on either side of it. Yeah, I don't think I like naked.

I'm really grateful for Easter at the Bockholts. I wish I could do Thanksgiving there, and only partially because of Sister Bockholt's pie. Mmmmmmm. Chocolate silk pie. Mmmmmmm. I owe a lot to that family and I don't think I've ever properly thanked them. So thanks. Pass it on to the rest of your house! And Happy Thanksgiving! I wish I could be more like them, married for one thing. Incredibly jealous of that, but also... these are people whom I have known for a very, very long time. I like them despite and maybe because of their flaws. That's gotta be a good thing. I miss them. I don't miss the dogs though, so scratchy. :)

On account of it being thanksgiving I'm going to actually make some real food. Chicken, rice, onions, pees, and peppers. It's going to be tasty. Just wish I had some chocolate silk pie.

Also, clarification, if you read this blog odds are I miss you. I can't think of anyone that has the address that I don't miss immeasurably. I generally think of my blogs as going to a larger audience than they actually are though. So... yeah. :)

To food!

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So much to say

I've been planning this post for a long time. And as such there is so much to say that I will not cover half of what I wanted to write. So, forgive me and I hope you know there is so much more between the lines.

1. I work at a large department/grocery store where I do overnight stocking of (mostly) the housewares section. I understand about 2/3rds of what my coworkers say. Their accent makes things INCREDIBLY difficult. It also makes for some funny/irritating things. For example... shopping carts here they are called buggies, but since Georgians have an accent to me it sounds like they are saying bungies. I hate it, and on that principle alone I have refused to call them anything but shopping carts.

2. I don't think I'm a good match for "hopelessly romantic" which is a nym for a girl most of you don't know, and don't know the nym for. My apologies for not keeping up on my life as much as I should. I am in fact still infatuated with Unicorn. I think I'll actually do something about it when I move back to Utah in less than a month and a half.

3. Cathi Palmer wrote me a few messages. I quoted her a bit ago and somehow she managed to find my blog. That's cool! While I was on my mission a poem she wrote was included on the back page of The New Era, I clipped it because I liked the poem so much... and I think I kinda liked the picture too. The poem has stuck with me and often comes to mind when that sense of something inside me refuses to voice itself. I have to admit... I had pictured her as somewhat younger (mostly because it was in The New Era) than she is more of a peer it's strange how the internet can bring two together two people from such differing backgrounds and stations in life together.

4. I just reread "Speaker for the Dead". How did I miss all the psychology the first time through? I mean... wow! I blame the fact I was 12 when I read it.

5. I've recently reread "The Screwtape Letters" and can I say that it took me about 10x longer than it took me to read Speaker. I want to re-read it again, such amazing concepts!

6. I recently read Ender's Shadow and one of Bean's comments really struck me. While he was in the transport from battle school to tactical school he was isolated from his peers. He stated that his thoughts circled back in upon themselves and it was harder to think clearly. I feel much the same way in my self imposed isolation. There is so much I want to talk to people about... but I just don't have anyone around.

7. One of the greatest parts about my job is that while it keeps my hands busy my mind is relatively free to wander. I think I'll have to make it a point in my life to have some sort of regular menial task that frees my mind to do just such a thing. That aspect of my life more than anything else has sped my recuperation. I have always filled my mind with... titillations. The forced introspection has done my soul much good.

That is all for now. I miss most of you and am working on missing the rest. :)

-Cam

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Prayers?

It's funny how things work in life. I've been living in GA for about two months now, and I life hasn't really gotten a lot better. I'm coming more in touch with my wishes...but doing things is still an incredibly difficult thing for me. It's just too hard to try these days.

Anyone who meets me in person will probably not realize how hard it is for me to act, in person I am generally a very outgoing person who likes to do things with others. I hope they don't see the almost paralyzing lack of fear that I suffer from. Yeah, lack of fear. I think a little bit of fear is a good thing, fear of being alone, fear of dying, fear of being made to look a fool, fear of being caught. I don't experience those fears and so I calmly let life pass me by without even trying to ride the rapids. Last semester I had a movie night at my apartment every week. It was the hardest thing I did that semester. It required planning, it required work, and it usually involved disappointment.

I had to pick out the movie, I sent out invites, I created a facebook event, I had to find the movie, I had to make sure all the AV stuff was ready for the movie, I cleaned the apartment, I went and personally invited people. I don't think I realized just how hard it was for me to do it until just now. The hardest part was sitting there, waiting for people to show up. I tried not to care, but sitting outside on the porch until 30 minutes after it was supposed to start waiting for someone to show up...

Anyway, one of the successes of those events was that some people did in fact show up. One was a girl who we will call Ohio. I talked to Ohio and enjoyed the company but that was about it, Cowboy roomie #2 said he liked her and there was no way I was going to be able to compete, so I put it out of my mind. Still, we were friends. When I came out to Georgia we began a facebook correspondence which isn't unusual. But today as I was responding to one of her messages something struck me.

She said she had been praying for me. Now, for I'm not sure if we will ever find out just how much merit our prayers have, but I imagine sometime when I get to heaven I'll find out that x prayed for me and because of that y happened. My mother when I was a teenager and struggled with some of the hardest decisions and realizations of my life, things that brought me back to church and away from the pains that I otherwise felt. Things that healed me body and soul. And now, Ohio praying for me, may very well be connected to the events of last Tuesday.

I haven't been sleeping well, which isn't an usual thing for someone who is running from life and has no obligations, but this particular morning I went to sleep around 7 and got out of bed at about 7:30 unable to sleep. I got on my computer, and for some strange reason I filled out an application to work for a company online. I answered all their silly questions and figured they'd give me a call in a few days...

They called me later that afternoon and asked me to come in for an interview. I got the job, I start tomorrow.

Thank you Ohio, thank you everyone else. Perhaps with your prayers I'm not as lost as I thought I was.

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My favorite room

In my parents big new house we have a lot of these new fangled rooms that we didn't have in our old big house. For example, we have a bonus room. This room is really just a craft room but you can only enter it by going through either the bathroom or the library. The Library is another one of these new rooms we didn't have in my old house. I think this is mostly because we had so many bed rooms in my old house.

But... the library is my favorite room. It's actually two rooms with a large arched entry between the two. It has books in it. Lots of books. My mom is a librarian and between her, my dad and the rest of the family they have managed to acquire 10 bookshelves worth of books for themselves. Sorry 11. The room also contained a huge new desk that is absolutely amazing and beautiful. This is set up in the middle of the main room of the library. Behind it is another desk where my dad's ancient (four years old) pc sits. My laptop sits on the big desk and another older desk sists to the side and contained the router, cable modem and printers.

The Thomas Kincaid painting that my parents picked up in Hawaii sits on the floor leaning against one of the bookshelves just waiting to be hung. The phone outlet hangs out of the wall it's wires exposed to the prying public. The mid-sized closet is full of my Dad's old jackets in horrible fleece and even his old worn out leather one. With a few garment bags holding what must be some dresses of my mothers. I had no idea she had dresses that needed garment bags.

Only two of the bookshelves are in this, the outer room, of the library. They contain the children's fiction and romance novel sections of our library, I told you my mom was a librarian right? Next we move over to the reading area of the library.

A large black bean bag sits in the middle of the floor where I have placed it so as to be within easy reach of everything. A comfortable recline-able black leather chair and footrest/food rest sit in the other corner. The beanbag is nearest my guilty pleasure section. (Do not read the book: The Secret Journal of Brett Coulton by Kay Lynn Mangum by the way... such a horribly good read) LDS novels. Then it hits the church section. Travel books and reference media. Two lamps one the stain glassed touch kind that seem to be in every den known to man kind and another the large standing-room kind that was invented because apartments stopped putting in central lighting.

And on the desk, or on the floor near the bean bag. Somewhere near where I am, the vanilla cinnamon candle and a small box of matches.

What's your favorite room?

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Candles and Cinnamon Bears

In this big house where my parents live I sometimes have a hard time finding things. One day while glancing around and through cupboards I chanced upon a treasure trove of old memories. In the form of candles.

When I was younger, I'd spend a lot of my time in my room reading. Well, being as I was a prepubescent boy my hygiene wasn't exactly... exemplary. As such, the room began to smell, a little, of course since I was sitting in the room reading I didn't smell anything. But every time I, or my mother, opened the door the smell leaked out. And soon that little smell became a big smell. My mother asked me to keep the door and window open in an effort to allow fresh air in. That didn't work. So she gave me a candle.

It was a cinnamon vanilla candle from the Salt City Candle Company. I love the smell of that candle. But I'm a boy, so I didn't actually light the candle, just kept it in my room with the top off. My mother would come in occasionally and light the candle when the smell became... overpowering. The candle lasted years.

I think it no great surprise that I liked it so much. That smell became instantly associated with some of the happiest times of my youth. Sitting quietly in my room my mind safely whisked away to worlds where magic and dragons were real and love was how every story ended.

Looking back on those times I wonder if I have in my some innate love for the cinnamon smell it contained or if perhaps it's scent combined with those memories created in me a love for the scent. Either way, I am in love with all things cinnamon--except the actual taste of cinnamon which doesn't at all remind me of the smell and I don't really find very pleasing. There is only one universal exception to that rule... cinnamon bears. I love cinnamon bears. Let me restate that just in case you didn't understand it before. I love cinnamon bears. Emphasis on the love, accent it, bolded, etc., etc., ect.

In high school I would often go down to Macey's and purchase myself a pound or two of the sticky red substance. Only to devour it within hours. Now, cinnamon bears are one of the few things I've never been selfish of and would always offer to share my bears in the hopes that all could enjoy their tantalizing nature. Most of the time it served me well. But once, just once it led to one of the greatest violations of my young life.

There I was sitting in the movie theatre with a girl. Sharing my bears like always, they had been snuck in of course anyone who purchases candy at the movie theatres is silly. They sat calmly on my lap and anyone could reach and grab a few to be enjoyed in their seats. I passed them around as is wont to be done in such cases and then made sure that they returned, very promptly to me. You may think harshly of me for this, but I assure you I was only looking out for the thing which I loved.

Well, a girl (who... I guess you could call my date) was sitting next to me... she reached over and took the bag. I was flabbergasted. I had already passed the bag around in my perfunctory duty and here she was stealing my cinnamon bears. She had not asked for the bag, it was easily within reach of her hands but no that wasn't good enough she stole my cinnamon bears. I was flabbergasted. I was appalled. I would have none of that. I rallied my troops and went to rescue my hostage. But, and I can only assume that in her devious womanly nature she had planned this well in advance, somehow in the ensuing battle. There was a causality, my hand. This ruthless girl had traded my hand for the bag of cinnamon bears. Now at first I thought it a fair trade, but then... I realized what I was doing!

I was no spring chicken, I was a freshman at BYU! I knew what happened when girls held your hand, it's not pretty. I'll spare the details for those of you who happen to have maintained your innocence but I assure you... it's enough to make the hair on your chest curl. But still... I was willing to sacrifice for my cinnamon bears.

As should you. Do not allow them to take your precious sweets from you! NEVER GIVE UP! NEVER SURRENDER!

** The previous became a rant on the evils of womenkind because the author was again under the influence of the sweet, intoxicating aroma of cinnamon vanilla. He is not to be held accountable for his actions. And please... send him cinnamon bears, Georgia doesn't have bin candy! **

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Across the Country

Well, as some of you may know... and as most of you may not. I've moved. Across the country, to Georgia. I hate it.

For the longest time I've said that the only thing I feel these days is sadness and depression. But then I met... let's call her... Emily. Emily is a girl much like myself with all the issues and problems that arise from being like me. Emily moved to Spain, then I moved to Georgia. I thought I might love her... but now I realize that I don't, I'm fairly bad at showing the part of me that actually matters.

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself...

I moved to Georgia because I felt it was the right thing to do, not because it was something that I wanted to do, or even really felt like doing. But because I NEEDED to do it. I think for the first time in a long time God managed to send me a message. I thought I had hit rock bottom... but I didn't. I think here I finally emotionally have. Rock bottom isn't full of depression, it isn't even full of anger. It's being alone. I've always felt alone, but now... now I am alone. I have come to realize how much I need other people.

I was asked what I'm doing... and the answer is exactly what the pause has indicated: nothing. I have become a void, dull.. listless. I even missed my To the Left by Th. I realize now... maybe just a little what outer darkness is all about, why being together with your family is so important. I know why people get up in the morning, why they move about and exist. It's for that hope, that chance, that maybe today... maybe today they'll find family. And if they've found it, they get up because... they've found it and you never want to lose that. You'll give up everything for that chance, that opportunity.

I miss everyone so much. I know what I want now... I've just got to find a way to remind myself of what it is that I want. Something that reminds me right when I wake up in the morning. To give me a reason to wake up.

-Me

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To DC

Well, after a few miles I've successfully managed to make my way from Provo, UT -> Washington, DC via Goshen, IN. It is to date, the longest road trip I've ever made, although falling far short of the longest vacation but will achieve both of those ends in the near future. Which is sad... because the vast amount of legwork to be covered will be made without companionship in the car.

Thoughts on the Journey:

1. While sweets may sounds like a good idea, they very rarely are a good idea for a long road trip. Do not purchase too many of them, but rather enjoy a plethora of options for your food resources. Mainly focus on healthier foods because they won't make you sick after 4 hours of sleep in Iowa, and driving 12 hours the day before. With 10 more hours of driving the next day.

2. Our bodies are strange things, you learn this after having three people cramped in an 8 by 8 square for nigh on 48 hours straight.

3. Compromises are strange things.

4. I hate it when other people fail to do what they are supposed to do. I wonder how often I fall into that category?

5. I really kinda do like my family... who would have thunk.

6. I hate how easy it is for a girl to control the thoughts of a man. All I wanted was a few hours with my cousins. They are such cool people. Compromise will only make me feel better if you marry this girl soon. Otherwise... I hate you.

More info on the actual journey:

We started Friday at about 9 am. Jay drove through to Laramie on I-80. I drove from that point, where I started to drive. I drove from Laramie to... somewhere in eastern Nebraska. Along the way we found a fantastic lightning storm. Uncharacteristically dry but... it heralded the rain that would come in the subsequent 14 hours of driving. I miss Texan lightning storms. After Ryan picked up driving at about 11:30-12:00 we headed through the rest of Nebraska and on into Iowa. This is where I slept, in the back seat of the car... in the rain... Ryan drove for a few hours and then Jay took over again, he drove until 7-8 where I picked it back up just in time to drive through Chicago. I hate Chicago. I finished all the way through to Goshen, where my aunt and uncle live. We power napped, ate some real food, and showered in Goshen. From there Ryan drove another two hours (he hadn't slept the night before...) into Iowa. Jason finished up what was left of Ryan's 4 hour shift, I took over from just west of Penn through to Maryland. From which point I acted as Navigator to Jay as he finished up the last leg of the trip. Driving times:

Jason: 17.5
Cam: 18.5
Ryan: 6

Coming soon: DC, DC -> NY, Wicked, NY, NY -> GA, GA, GA -> Home.

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How I'm doing.

I was asked today how I was doing, and as I am in a habit of answering all such questions that are asked in earnest here goes:

1. 33.6 that's the standard answer.
2. I've been better, there are things in my life which I find amazingly worthwhile, but at the same time I am amazingly broke. So, I'm thinking about money issues a lot, or not thinking about them a lot depending upon the day. I need to get a new job, or at least another one. But I can't because I'm leaving town soon to go on a road trip I absolutly cannot afford in a car that needs repairs that I can't even dream of being able to pay for.
3. I'm listening to Josh Groban's The Prayer, which is amazing, and I am doing much better.
4. For the first time in a very, very long time I feel as though I am feeling again. I have a bad habit of shutting emotions away into a corner and ignoring them. I am making a conscious choice to feel and I am actually doing it from time to time. It hurts, I feel alone... a lot. I guess that's what happens when you spend most of your time shutting people out so that you won't feel. But God how I wish I felt loved sometimes.

Thank you for asking. I love it when people really mean it. How are you?

-C

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A song without Words

I'm going to wax arrogant for a moment. I'm fairly good with words, they come easily to me and... seem to be good friends in life. Not really spoken words, but written. But every now anad again I reach that ponit.

It's the point when the words fail me, the depression, anger, joy, hope, fear, love... they become wordless chimera's haunting at the very edges of my mind. It is in these moments that I must turn to alternative sources of expression. Sadly... I do not have many. I am not a great song writer, singer, painter, or sculptor. And thus the emotions sit there and burn unable to escape their prison.

Last night was one of those moments. I sat around a fire, isolated by the closeness of others. I sat while others enjoyed themselves dancing, or even the solitude of attempting to bear ones soul to another. I needed to purge, I needed the tears to fall. I could not say the words, I do not know the words that would have helped me. In that moment there was no avenue of expression that was open to my pursuit. It was an agony, dying, but unable to be killed. To quote Pirates. Again, my words fail me, the words of other fail me. I do not know how to release those Daitya plague my peace of mind and beg to be released but know not the path.


"If you will sing me a song without words
That will express the feelings I cannot write,
I will compose you a poem
That will release the music you can almost hear."
- Cathi Palmer

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Five questions

The idea is that you are asked five questions by another blogger... then people ask you for five questions and pass it on in that respect.

1. You're the only person I know who has met Chuck Norris. No one I know has seen you and Chuck Norris in the same room. ERGO, I think you ARE Chuck Norris. Am I getting warm? How warm?

Answer: See answer to #2.

2. For some reason I have never seen a photograph of you that I find looks like you. ERGO, I think you are a vampire. What's your favorite flavor?

Answer: Come now, first Chuck Norris and now a Vampire? The world itself could not contain the awesomeness that is me. Now to answer your first question, your question contradicts itself. Either I am the only person you know to have met Chuck Norris or I am Chuck Norris. I cannot be both at the same time, for we have many mutual friends. As for my favorite flavor, it's not so much the blood type that affects the taste of blood... but rather the person. I'm currently a fan of high maintaince blonds, they have a sort of... tangy taste to them, although I've always been a sucker for a red-head. (But you can't turn a red-head into a vampire... there skin just becomes too white to deal with.)

3. I just bought a bag of marshmallows and four bags of Reese's pieces (the 17oz ones) and I am not ashamed. What's something YOU are not ashamed of?

Answer: Nothing... and everything? You see I have come to the point that I don't even consider what other people think in regards to my actions... so I am neither proud of nor ashamed of anything I have done or will do.

4. Thirty-five years ago, neither of us was born. Thirty-five years from now, some people still won't be. Could you give us some examples?

Answer: Examples of people who still won't be born in the year 2043: My seventh-born son. Harry Potter, Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore. A strange crossbreed between man, thinking screwdrivers, and Whales. However, I will note that CATS will have been born at this time.

5. Nobody's looking! (Pause.) So...what did you do while no one was looking? Be honest now.

Looked around to make sure no one was looking.

Now! If you want to play, leave a comment and I will visit you (or email you) and ask you five questions all your very own. Or not. Whatever.

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A dreaming Svithe

I woke up this morning to a dream, not an uncommon thing for me to do... the dreams premise was thus: That I had been called back to finish off the last three months of my mission. So, after the typical very strange moments at the beginning of the dream where I was assigned my companionship (usually a threesome for some strange reason), and getting to know them. I got to experience my first companionship study. And... for some reason the district leader and his comp were there as well.

He posed a simple question, one which I can't now remember the exact verbiage of, but which goes something along the lines of: "What is the cause of all the world's woes?" One of my companions (who was a very attractive girl by the way...) answered half jokingly, "Wal-Mart." Which was funny but at the same time I can see why she thought that. Big business which separates people from each other, that removes the connections in life for the sake of convenience. But that wasn't the answer, so my DL asked me what the answer was.

The following was my answer:

"I am firmly of the conviction that any time someone goes out and breaks a law of the gospel it is because they are not having an emotional need met. Very few people in the world are so mentally deranged that on a happy, good day they would go out and kill someone. It is always because they are feeling a lack, a void, and they seek for something that will help them fill that void. If you feel as though no one loves you, then you will turn to a violation of the law of chastity or a chemical addiction in hopes that you will somehow meet that need. These people who do this... they aren't for the most part bad, they simply don't know how to fix the pain, and they are trying the best way they know how to feel complete, whole.

“It is our responsibility as missionaries, and as followers of Christ to show them the correct method of meeting that name, the way they can be filled without resorting to a counterfeit. We have been given a precious gift, the knowledge of how to be happy. It isn't always the easiest thing in the world to do; in fact it's going to be harder by far than any of the counterfeit options.

"It is my conviction that there is no NEED that God will not meet and give us in a timely and efficient manner. Now, there are plenty of wants that God will not give us at based off simple request, but no needs, absolutely none. He will be there to give us the necessities of life, and in doing so will give us some of the most sublime, and special moments of human existence. We must teach people to hunger for those moments. Make the fruits of the spirit our wants and we will never need again.”

I’m so very thankful that I could call this a dream and not a nightmare.

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Answers and a Svithe

Well, since you asked for it... and as I tend to like to please my readership. (Thank you all four of you.) The answers to the questions/requests posed.

Laulau: What do you mean about the grass? As for more clues, the bad guy in Movie M also played a part in 2 M. Night Shyamalan movies. Both characters, incidentally, were hard for me to enjoy on screen in those movies because of his performance in Movie M.


Morgan: I worry about me too sometimes. Luckily... so does my Father--in his hands is my path. For the guessing... see Laulau's comment.

Theric: The code (my code?) was actually conceptualized as a way for me to do what Elder Maxwell always recommended: "try to place each step, where he would have tred." As for the movie, see my response to Laulau.

The Svithe!

It is interesting how when you actually try and do what you should, doors open. I know that I'm not ready to go back to school... this is something that I can accept these days. Because I cannot go to school, I cannot work at the place where I previously had. So... I've been forced to find a new position, tonight as I was entertaining Rockflower's request to eat with her and Cpt. Jax's family... I was offered a informally offered a position with Cpt. Jax at his place of business. It is an idea I would love to take up. Cpt. Jax is an old friend of mine who I sadly haven't spent much time with since the two of them were married almost a year ago. (I'm still very sorry that I missed the wedding... I don't deal well with things like commitment... even other people's.)

Anyway, I guess... what I'm saying is this: Sometimes, the resonance comes when you least expect it.

As I re-read that post... I'm struck by how similar the issues presenting me then are with the ones presenting me today. I would despair that I might never recover except something a wise neighbor told me the other day... Which will be the REAL svithe I think.

We are all sent here to learn something from life. And we can't expect ourselves to learn that life lesson easily, or quickly. If it were easy... it wouldn't be the reason we were sent here.

My lesson? To discover how to love, others, deity, and most of all... myself.

-(The man behind the facade)

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Giving your Life for Something...

Tonight, I sinned.

I watched a rated-R movie unedited. I'm not ashamed of it, in fact... something that it proposed has become/will become the subject of this post. And so, without further ado, the post:

In the very last lines of Movie X(No, lets not call it movie X, x gets too much face time as a random variable, lets call it... *Movie M.) In the very last lines of Movie M, *Semi-love says, "Is *Idea worth one good man's life? He believed it to be so." Now, tragically in Movie M, *Hero did in fact give his life for Idea. But, I got to thinking (now, now, don't get mad at me for thinking, it's what I'm best at) Hero didn't in fact give his life for Idea, he died for Idea, there is a difference. (Which is of course, simply commenting on the actual reference in Movie M, not to the fact that he also lived for Idea prior to this event.)

What is the difference you ask? Well, to give your life means you must... live. To give your death means to make yourself a martyr for a cause. Now here come some rhetorical questions: Which is greater? Can you do the latter without first doing the former? Why is it of such great worth to do either?

Now for some answers (Yes, sometimes rhetorical questions have answers... I just don't want YOU to answer them--yet.) Neither is greater, but are of equal value. Yes(but not really). Because the only thing we have to give in all of existence to God. Is our agency, what we do with that freedom of choice... that is completely and utterly up to us.

This concept terrifies me. My life has not been a life worthy of a movie, nor has it been lived for an idea. My life has been lived for myself. It is a selfish life a life which, like so many times before, I will endeavor to change. So... I have been thinking what exactly out there is there for me to give my life to? Politics--I don't have the temperament or history. Knowledge/wisdom--knowledge/wisdom without application is useless. Action--again, action without knowledge/wisdom... useless. No, there must be an overarching concept, an idea comparable to Hero's Idea, to which I may devote my life and gain such pleasure and glory as to be carried by my fellow men upon their shields at my $death.

What is this concept? The easy answer: God. So many men have lived and died to God however, some good... and we won't(isn't won't a funny word? It's a contraction of will not...that's weird.) speak of the others. How do you live up to that? No, I have a much simpler... and perhaps more complex idea at hand. I propose to live my life in devotion to an idea. That man kind is in need of Brother's Keepers. From hence forth let me think no more of myself, but that in doing so I may better others. Starting now, the many shall be my focus, the individual my concern, the betterment of Earth my priority. Beginning today I will forget myself and get to work.

*As a game, I'm going to give everyone(as in... the three people who actually read this) an opportunity to guess at the actual names/theories behind the faux names given. Reply via private channels so as not to ruin the game for everyone else.

Movie M = ?
Semi-Love = ?
Idea = ?
Hero = ?

$ The act of carrying a man on shields is common in several cultures, the Nordic being the one that comes to mind. But, in essence it was given to warriors who died in battle, and had done one of the the following A. died in such a way as to bring great honor to them, or B. lived in such a way as to bring great honor to them.

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Rock Bottom

The time has come for a good talking to…

Yesterday, my neighbors decided to have an intervention for me. You see, about a month ago I quit a game called World of Warcraft because I felt as though it was consuming too much of my time. Little did I know, that the frequency with which I played had more in relation to an inner turmoil than any actual addiction. Everything came unraveled the week before my parents moved.

I can’t say that I’ve ever been very close to my family in any sense but the basest, proximity. But… lately I’ve been feeling a need which I have been unable to meet. In my distress I have turned to a new source, my family, and found some strength there. But it seems fate conspires against me in this. Two weeks ago my parents moved to Georgia.

Now, I said that everything came unraveled and I really do mean everything. I stopped even pretending I was in school, stopped going to work, ceased contact with friends, and severed connections with the heavens, I even grew a beard. I’ve taken some small steps towards recovery, but the road is distant. I’ve hit the rock at the bottom, and I think it finally knocked some sense into me.

I’m not really sure how to explain all of this, my sleep cycles are all messed up, I have trouble staying asleep, getting to sleep, and waking up. The inner core of me has run empty. I am left with a husk, But I’m going to try and breath life into it. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to go pray.

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Check Mate

The game is over. It has been for a while... but I've decided to stop playing.

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Pride and Prejudice

Having finished the book, I will now attempt to reveal my thoughts after my 7 hour perusal.

My manner of reading:

A short disclaimer, for the book was engaging...I read the first half of it from a website on my computer and the influence of my eyes caused it to be a slightly painful instance, which was my improved by the borrowing of said book from Lyndsay Hampton, of which I am most appreciative. Thus the first half of the book was read yesterday while the latter half was digested this morn, ending at approximately ten past three this Monday afternoon.

The Style

M(r)s Austin's writing style is engaging, relying to a great extent upon the reader's imagination to form physical description of the characters and places. The bulk of the book is related in dialog between characters or as monologues and written missives. As such very little action is needed and the whole reads most remarkably like a script from which the imagination is to provide the missing aspects of imagery and action.

It is a style that I find pleasing and while she is wordy, she does not leave the dreadful distaste for the canvas that sometimes comes after 6 pages of describing a couch that comes with some other authors of the age--coughHemingwaycough--

and is a delightful respite. Not only that but in that most of the message is communicated via the means of conversation it reads easily and does not require any reviewing of material to feel that the message is 'got.'

The Characters

The true treasure of the book lies in it's wonderfully robust characters. In that the book is divided principally into couples, I find the characters easy to describe in the same manner.

Mr/Mrs Bennett: Far and away some of the more entertaining characters in the book, each brings a savor and freshness that is quite incalculable in regards to the success of the book. From the absurdness of the mother to the...humor of the father. They quickly became some of my favorite characters and stayed there for the duration of it's pages.

Mr/Mrs Bingley: One of the more boring couples, which annoyingly had prominence in the plot. Each are more or less devoid of actual character and are instead portrayed as completed products from the beginning. Of particular interest to me is that while displaying Mrs Bingley as beautiful, no actual description was ever given, allowing for the reader to create for themselves the ideal of beauty.

Mr/Mrs Collins: Perhaps one of the few messages not central to Lizzy appears here as Charlotte putting aside her own personal aspirations accepts the...incalculably awkward Mr Collins to wed. Allowing for a growth in Lizzy as she comes to the realization that there is importance in marrying one of influence. An idea not commonly accepted as pure in our day and age of "love matching" but which finds merit in M(r)s Austin's works. I ponder upon the application that would happen if our society were to return a little more closely to status affecting our choices in life...And think that little of value would be lost if we were to return to the state of familial piety and honor that is enjoyed during that time in that place.

Mr/Mrs Wickham: An opposite for the next couple in all respects, and to me, they seem to have been thrown in simply to advertise the healthiness of the Darcy marriage. And nothing can so recommend them more than Mr Bennett's opinnion stated late in the volume: "I shall like all of my new sons-in-law, but Mr. Wickham the most."

Mr/Mrs Darcy: The main attraction of the book. Mr Darcy is far and away one of the best characters I've read of in literature. His general worthiness in all aspects of his life are such as to make him, aside from Jean val Jean, a man most worth of emulation. In all that he does he attempts to do the honorable, and just. Making every choice seemingly correctly. He does not experience much actual growth, except what would appear to be a general warming of his heart towards the end of the book, as seems appropriate for a man who has finally found joy and love in another. Elizabeth on the other hand...I have to admit I was unimpressed with our heroine, and for the most part found her unworthy in most respects for the admiration of Mr Darcy. Her virtues so less pointed out that in the end, she asks Mr Darcy why he began to love her, to which she herself responds that it was only because she had the gall to challenge him. Which is well enough I suppose as she had a lively mind and goodly wit, and was by no means physically repulsive. Which is apparently all one needs find in a woman--however much more is expected in a man. At least that is what it appears to me, now, by no means am I implying that I dislike the couple, merely that it seems to me Elizabeth grew more in the process of reading and still has much more left to grow. Which might be occasioned by her very youth.

Lady de Brough, Lydia, Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley, etc: Most of the other characters are there for the plot's convenience. And require no exceptional mention, but to say that they fulfill their roles remarkably well.

I do believe that my review should soon be concluded, but I shall now give my overall impression, that the book was worthy of the praise it has gotten, if, for the sake of Mr. Darcy alone regardless of it's many other charms.

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Jane Austin

Those of you who know me...know that I HATE Jane Austin. Well...I got to thinking about it today while watching Emma and...well, the thought came to mind that I might just hate Jane Austin because I read her when I was very young and--embarrassingly--didn'

t get her. So...I've decided to give her another go. Why am I writing this? I want some suggestions as to which I should read.

So...please, tell me what you think, and why?

Sense and Sensibility
Pride and Prejudice
Emma
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey

That's the list, I want to read one of her books, not a short...so...

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Jealous

It comes quickly, from out of no where. It strikes without remorse into the most protected and precious parts of you. Worming through your body insidiously until it has eaten everything good and precious.

This thing called Jealousy, a horse that refuses to be tamed. It comes around women, in the work place, around good friends. It comes when we should be happy for others, when they accomplish something of importance.

You know, I don't really want to talk about abstracts right now, so instead I'll explain why I am feeling jealous. Please note, that this is not a solitary experience, this is a law of nature that applies to me and my relations with the opposite sex. There is a girl, that I met and thought, "Hey, I'd like to get to know her better." Said girl met me, but also some of my friends. Later, from a source we discover that she likes one of the people in that group of men she met. It has NEVER been me.

I'm really trying to discover my character flaw here, what is it about me is so lacking that others seem to have in such...abundance? I don't think I'm outrageously ugly, I have at least some sense of hygiene, I know the difference between there, they're and their and can use these words correctly. So what is it? Why am I always second or higher/lower(depending on how you look at it) on the scale?

If it happened once...or twice, that I could understand. But as I said before this seems to be a recurring theme. Last night, we watched Singing in the Rain. I felt like I was Donald O'conner. There, funny, extremely talented...but I don't get any of the girls, and really...I'm just there for comic relief and plot advancement. I really don't know why this bothers me so... and you know...at this point in my life I have a girl I'd like to date...and things are progressing...so it isn't even really so much an issue since I'm not REALLY interested in these girls anyway...and neither are my friends usually. I guess...I just don't feel special--and that's a hard thing to deal with.

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Sacrifices

How do you measure the value of a choice?

If I choose to shave, regardless of my ability to do so...does that make the action inherently more valuable? Does the fact that it will cost me more mean anything to anyone else? I've been told on several occasions that when I compliment someone it means more than if other people compliment...mostly because I so rarely compliment, and thus...the rarity of the act causes it to gain value.

There are things in my life that I know that I need to do, I don't want to do them however because they push me outside of my comfort zone, they require that I stretch and become something other than what I currently am. I am currently making steps in that direction...but progress is slow and unwieldy.

This...entry is all over the place and for that I apologize, it's strange how a choice someone else makes can affect your life in such a profound way. Hitler decides to take over Poland, and the lives of billions are changed forever. They had no say in this choice, they were sucked, irrevocably into the whirlwind of chaos that was the inevitable outcome. As such, my parents have similarly made a choice of magnitude for me. I have blocked feelings for so long that I'm not really sure what this feeling is...it becomes hard to recognize what they mean anymore. Is this fear? This churning of the stomach, the burning pith of a comment just out of reach to my tongue--is this how 'normal' people feel about the everyday foibles?

There is a core to all things, there is a core to this, these feelings of inadequacy and doubt. It's strange to think I actually believe myself inferior, I've maintained my ivory tower elitism for so long. But I don't think I can make it alone anymore, and the fear that the only people who ever really cared will now be hundreds of miles away...it scares me. Where can I turn for peace? Am I willing to accept that offering? God have mercy on my soul, give me strength I pray.

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Musings

I'm in a melancholic mood, so forgive me if this isn't up to snuff, this is written for you, but it isn't written to you. Yeah, I know, I'm strange.

For those of you who don't know, I am afflicted with an illness which makes me feel as though I should not have any kind of intimate relations. I use the word intimate is a very loose sense to mean any sort of romantic relationship. I feel that to do so would be making a commitment that my body is not prepared to keep. lately, I've been seeing a specialist for some of the more...interesting side effects of my illness.

The most difficult part about this whole thing...is that if you get into the habit of telling yourself that you can't have a relationship yet, that you need to wait, to see if things clear up, to see if you're at a point when you can make that commitment. Well, after a while you get so used to shunting emotions to the side that you stop realizing that you're doing it.

I'm afraid that there are very few indeed who are in on the inner workings of my mind enough to understand the esoteric nature of this post...and my apologies for those of you who are new here. Lately, I haven't written much, but I often times write so that I can express those...emotions that I so rarely put to the light of day. There is something cathartic about writing a missive that no one else reads...except that I have every intention of letting everyone read this. I'm not a very private person in a lot of ways, it's a defense mechanism. I let you see so much, in the hopes that the gardens will be so expansive that you will never guess or wonder at what the house contains. And so I walk the house alone, waiting for someone to care enough to walk past the gardens. And at the same time fighting tooth and nail to keep you there.

It's a strange dichotomy, I don't know how to share those parts of me anymore, the parts of me that are most precious. Know that in there, deep inside, the thorns of the garden are gone and I love you. I love you whole heartedly, for all the good that I see in you, for the pains that you hide, for the joys I sense surging through you. I wish I could help you...but I'm too afraid to leave the house.

-Cam

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A few posts

The below are a few posts that I've written elsewhere and decided to import here... See, I'm not a slacker...

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The reason for the Season (Part 1)

I've been meaning to write this post for some time now. I'm not really sure what this is supposed to say...so bear with me.

Thanksgiving, I feel that this should be one of the least anticipated holidays of the year. Because I feel as though it should be a spirit that we cultivate throughout the year. However, I feel as though I don't cultivate that spirit enough, and so I've taken these last few weeks to contemplate all of the many things of which I am grateful. My mom, sisters and others have told me that I am...Scrooge-like in that I have refused to give out a Christmas list, or have complained when others have put up Christmas decorations. My reasons have been simple, I wanted to focus on my thankfulness before I felt ready to focus on my Saviour.

Essentially this is going to be one of those: I'm grateful for... messages, so don't feel obligated to read further...this one's for me.

I'm thankful for:

My mother, who is becoming more and more the dream I've always wanted. My Father, for his example, his testimony and his hard work. My siblings, for all the things we share. To my friends collectively, for the support, examples and love they give me. For Jason, the person I turn to when life seems too hard to handle. To Chris, for some comic relief, and a constant reminder of yet another set of things I should be doing. For Ryan's goodness in everyway, and the dedication he gives to his goals. To Morgan, for the insight, and the fun. To Kit, for being the strongest man I know. To Sam, for his pure heart and gentle ways. To John, for the level headed support and guidance. To Tom, for being a rock amidst the hurricane. To Spencer, for his faith in me and in Deity. To Jed, for the compassion and charity he so freely gives. To Jeff, for his passion. To Josh, for his smile, and his care for many. To the other Jason, for the example of perseverance and love. To Jeremy, for the hope, and the conversation. To Jacob for his BFG ways. To all of the men just listed: For helping me see beyond the moment.

To others: Em, for reminding me of paths untaken. To BAWB, for his calmness. To all of my poke friends, for helping me feel wanted. To All of my IM buddies, for keeping me occupied through the day. To Pam B. for hope, and for a reason to wake up.

And most of all, to my father and his first born Son. For hope, for love, for understanding, for an example, for all the time they've taken, for faith and for reassurance. I love you all, but them most.

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A million things to do

A million things to do today,
they clatter and clutter and
carve up the minutes and hours.
Bills to pay, and places to be,
Work to be done, races to run.

All is done, the sunlight gone,
By the bed I kneel and utter:
Father, I hurt today,
I did this and that, but am empty still
I needed you most,
and you weren't there for me.

Then to my mind a picture came,
Another and another.
My neighbor who with joints aflame
Waved through the pain.
The lady who worked and slaved away
Wanting only to be home and play.
My mother who called and asked how I was
A curt response that was please don't delay.

And with a small voice he gently replies:
These needed me too--
Through you I had hoped to be with them
So perfect to a task to fill up your hole.
Forget not the weary, the hungry, the cold.
In them I will answer, in them I will be.

And with a silent cry I rose from my bed,
"Better tomorrow, I'll do what you will."
A million things to do in a day,
They don't clatter or clutter
and carve up the hours and minutes.

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Fire in the Bosom/Veins

Chant with me, just a moment,
"I am me, I am, I will stay."
Plunging through the river,
Holding on to life.

They say, the burning is God,
Telling us it's okay.
But rushing through the fire...
I doubt his hand in this.

I've felt that fire, long ago,
When a white shirt and tie were mine.
Fighting sun, and rain and fire,
Just to raise someone a little higher.

A fire like that--purifying,
His intervention clear, the witness
And not so different than the fire,
Of another agent's plan.

Two fires, so different,
So similiar.
Bitter to feed the fire.
Sweet to balance the act.

A pilgrims wandering once tred,
Becomes the markings of trails
Crossing chasms of fire,
Leading to his hearth.

What's in a point?
What makes it sharp?
Solid to touch, pushing fire:
Into the veins, the hair, the sinew.

Burning from the blood,
Burning in the blood.
Fire raging inside the mind
"I am me, I am, I will stay."

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Going Again

At the urging of my bishop, I have begun visiting with a professional pyshcatrist. I've tried to think what exactly that means for me.

One of the things that I think was particularly interest was that she said they only typically do around 16 sessions. Sixteen doesn't seem like a very large number considering that you are attempting to get someone sorted out and functional within society again. But perhaps that really is all that you need.

I'm just so tired of being alone, I'm so tired of having no one in this life to turn to. There is only so much that the savior can do for me. Yes, I know that he loves me, and yes I know that his is a perfect, undying love. But I also know that except under very special circumstances, that love is a love without physicality. I want more than anything someone who I can hold as I watch the stars. I want to feel her shiver and snuggle in closer as the wind blows. I want to sit there and whisper the inane, silly things about life and have her giggle back. I want to wake up excited in the morning to hear what she has to say. I want to feel that tingle down my spine as my hand brushes against hers. I want to feel fire from my fingertips to my toes when I realize that something I have done caused her pain, I want to have the desire to, above all else, remedy that failure of mine. But most of all, I want someone whom I can share my life with. I want someone who understands me and whom I don't have to feel like I need to dress up in order to keep them around. Unconditional love from a mortal.

Is that even possible? Are their marriages out there that end up like this? Or is that just a thing that happens while you date? I don't want to settle, can people find that oneness in God? I want to feel pain again, because I want to love again. Why is it so hard to open your heart to someone?

-Asmond

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Commiseration(The PBU)

I have discovered that, contrary to all rational thought, one can only emphasis with people who you share a common experience with. And thus it is with great excitement that I garner unto myself this most recent of accomplishments.

I was found worthy of one choice and particularly debilitating experience. The pre-emptive breakup. Now normally the word pre-emptive is used only with things like nucular missiles or Canadian domination over the world. As for break-up...well the word conjures images of broken hearts, angry phone calls, bitter words and various other forms of angst.

But the preemptive breakup is a wonderful thing, it's a girl (or guy) telling you, "Yeah, don't even think about it." You aren't even good enough to give it a try and SEE if it works out, you're straight up rejected! I'm going to admit, sometimes the PBU is needed...it's just really hard to tell when that's the case. To use the PBU when it isn't needed... Well, you can imagine the apolitical repercussions that particular chain of events might have.

Anyway, my particular PBU wasn't too bad, she came over, she dropped off food, then proceeded to have the PBU. The problem is that the PBU was so blatant, all the signs of a full blown DTR were there. "Hey, I need to drop this off, when are you going to be home." "Is anyone else there." "Hey we need to talk." Nervous walk, failure to make eye contact. It was almost enough to make me laugh, had I not be expecting it and fortifying my tender heart against it. After all, the only thing worse than a PBU that isn't needed is when the recipient of the PBU laughs when you deliver it.

But regardless, the PBU came, then she tried to skip out like a rabbit caught in the farmer's carrot patch. Which is understandable, but was hardly needed.

All in all, my first PBU went just dandy. It was still prior to making any emotional ties and I still have a good friend. And now, if you will excuse me, it's time for some rebound action.

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As I read.

I've been putting it of for long enough, it's time to open them again:

3 Ne. 23-24: "And it came to pass that it did last for the space of three days that there was no light seen; and there was great mourning and howling and weeping among all the people continually; yea, great were the groanings of the people, because of the darkness and the great destruction which had come upon them.
"And in one place they were heard to cry, saying: O that we had repented before this great and terrible day, and then would our brethren have been spared, and they would not have been burned in that great city Zarahemla."

I talks of people in darkness, and the pain--nay the anguish--that this darkness is causing them. Am I feeling that pain? It it the darkness that causes this? Is there a darkness upon the soul? These were those who were righteous and yet...they were given this darkness. And it caused them pain. Who am I to contend with such? Is it past the time of my repentance? No, I am still alive, I am still able to ask. Am I willing to do so?

3 Ne. 9:13 "O all ye that are spared because ye were more righteous than they, will ye not now return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?"

Can you hear the pain in that voice? The longing? I have not yet been destroyed, he still wants me. Can I? Can I do it? Do I have that kind of courage? What does it take to be converted?

3 Ne. 9:20 "And ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit. And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost, even as the Lamanites, because of their faith in me at the time of their conversion, were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and the knew it not."

The conditions, the reward. Baptism, cleansing, fire, purifying. Faith, faith in what? In his ability to keep his promises, in his love, in his grace. Could he ever want me back?

3 Ne. 10:4-6 (sorta) "how oft would I have gathered you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." x4

Is he saying that he does? He is. I suppose it's time to open up again, to him. I'm afraid of prayer, it makes me vulnerable. But I can't go on with the nothing.

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Dishes

I really do think that it's impossible to be happy while doing the dishes--alone. Not because dishes are such a horrible task, but rather because it is a moment when your hands and body are busy but your mind is free to wander. It's a moment of reflection. It's a moment of depression. As you sit and scrub those dishes, you are able to think back upon the many failures of life, the foibles of youth, and the catastrophes of early adulthood. I am sure that later I will think of other things as well, but currently that's all that I have to think about...so that's what I think about when I do dishes.

I hate dishes, I hate the way it makes me feel--not doing the dishes...but rather just the fact that I think when I'm doing them. I realize that most of my blogs are rather depressing, but that's mostly because I only blog when I am depressed...otherwise I'm out doing things that are really exciting to me. So, take that into account as you read. The two month gap between my posts a while back is a good sign on my part. Now life sucks again. It's moments like this that I hate being alone. Doing dishes with someone is a great experience. I love doing it with someone, because you have a chance to sit and talk, while doing constructive things. It's probably one of the greatest things in life.

What am I saying? I hate being alone.

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100 Posts

In slightly over a year and a half, I've finally managed to hit 100 posts.

It started in February, and this September...well, quite a few things have happened in between. I've changed, I wish I could say I've grown. Truth is, I'm in pretty much the same state I was in when I started this whole business. My major has changed, I have more friends, and more enemies, but when it all comes down to it, who I am...the core, is still the same. And I still don't like it very much.

Where have I gone wrong? What part of growing up am I missing? Am I supposed to stay stagnant for so long? Has it really been a year and a half of lost faith? Am I where I should be? Am I where I could be? What could I have done better?

Against the nature of rhetorical questions, I'll answer myself.

I stopped reading my scriptures. I've given too much time to different worlds and have forgotten the real one, it's responsibility that I'm missing. No, I should be much better. Yes it has, but there have been moments, beautiful moments, where you had your faith again...oh that it were a moment to last eternity. No, you failed to do your duty, you should be further, you need to stop **** and ****, and start **** again--Not to mention ****. See last answer.

Today Morgan said that my posts always made her want to be better. I don't know about that, I'm just trying to figure all this stuff out, but I know where I want to be, and this is where I share my thoughts on where that is, and how to get there. I want to be happy, and I think I'll never be able to so long as I keep looking inside mater for that joy. Happiness is not a quantity that can be measured, so why should it be found in things that can be? The same is true of all things that we find valuable, Loyalty, Love, courage. You don't see people walking around saying, "I have 325723 love today guys!" It's funny, the only way to measure happiness is to discover unhappiness. The same is true with love, and companionship. How I wish the world weren't so cold and alone. How I wish I could remember him.

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A facade

I just finished watching "Howl's Moving Castle" and I must admit that I quite enjoyed it. My head and heart are full right now. I'm not really sure what is going to come out so...please forgive me.

Lately, I have been attempting to overcome a rather disturbing illness that seems to have gripped me and refuses to let go. I have told no one, and I don't think that I'm going to tell you now. But suffice it to say that it is something that causes me no small amount of consternation. In addition to this illness which besets me I am afraid that I have fallen away from the one thing that truly makes me happy. My God. I have found many substitutes for this pleasure. But, none fill me up, none manage to...how do I say this, they do not complete me. Perhaps that is the secret in life, you are only complete when you are not alone. And the only person that can be with you always is God.

I have left him alone, and now I must seek him out.

A little more about my sickness: I am diagnosed with a chronic illness which I have no doubt will someday lead to my eventual demise. An addiction of sorts, not of the body but of the mind, it requires that I have infusions of chemicals in order to meet that addiction. It is this exact malady which causes me to run from relationships, which causes me to form so little attachment to the things of this world. You see, my foot has been one step outside the doorway leading to the next for so long that I've forgotten what it means to be here...fully here.

I don't expect anyone to understand this, and if you think that you do...well, you probably don't. The only way you would understand it is if I explained it to you, and there are few, if any, that I would feel comfortable doing so.

*wry smile* Just another layer of isolatism that I heap upon myself to prevent anyone from seeing me...I have a friend who has often said, "I think I know you better than most--if not all--and I still think that I see only 30% of what's really there." He is correct, he knows so little about me. No one knows me, and I fear no one ever will.

-Cam

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Missing time

Sorry that it's been so long since I posted last. It seems like forever, and that's fine. I've lost my laptop and have been 'borrowing' computer time while I have it late at night. Tonight I met a girl, we'll call her Hana (if you know me in real life, this is a pseudonyms, not a real one) she's great--one problem--she has a boyfriend. A fairly serious one. I don't really want to date her, mostly because of the boy, and I have no desire to break up a relationship that could possibly end in eternal bliss. But I have noticed how much I miss having a girl. It's little things. Like the scent she leaves on a pillow or article of clothing.

Like watching a movie and having something to lean on. Like not feeling so incomplete all the time--missing half of my mind. I miss the goose bumps when you see her again, the instant happy of her smile. I miss the consideration and expectations given to each other.

It's a thousand little things, these are things that I love about being in love. The sad thing is...I don't think Hana is getting those things with her boyfriend. And it scares me that she will simply 'go with the flow' and never get goose bumps, never have a stupid grin creep across her face as she thinks about him. I'm afraid she'll never be in love.

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Resonance (Four Svithes)

Today, I walked a girl home from our apartment. Not because I liked her or anything of that nature, but because of whom I want to be. We talked about a myriad of things as we strolled the half-block to her apartment. Some of those truck home.

She said: intimacy is the only way relationships are anything but superficial. At the same time, I realized that the same is true of our relationship with God. In order for it to be anything beyond the superficial it must needs have some sort of intimacy. "Is there intimacy in our relationship?" I heard a voice speak in my head, and I realized the answer is no, at best we are indifferent friends that see each other and wave. What is intimacy? How does one cultivate that intimacy? Effort, lots and lots of effort.

As I walked back home, barefoot, I felt the warm cement with my feet and marveled. Although the sun had set almost a quarter of a day earlier, still the stones retained the warmth they held some of that warmth within them, and were willing, and able, to give some of it to me. The same is true with our immortal souls, no matter how dark we think the night has been, it is still a summer day, the warmth and love of Christ and The Father suffused our souls for millennium prior to our earthly entry into life. Some of that brilliance remains within every child here.

I often see new people I meet as jig-saw puzzles to be put together. If I can simply find the right pieces eventually I will be able to see how they fit together and have a complete understanding of them. Going along with 1, this removes the intimacy from the relationship, they are simply a logical puzzle that I can figure out given due time. I hate that side of me, and I hope that someday I might be able to fix it. To see them instead as people, with depths un plumbed that can only be shown by a guide, yes on occasion you can see a nearby cavern, but you never really know what is on the other side.

I stated earlier that I was walking her home based on who I wanted to become. I want to be someone who is genuineally concerned with the welfare and safety of others, not only physical but spiritual and mental as well. I cannot wait for the day when I shall see those around me and finally understand what all of those stains REALLY mean, I suppose I should get to work cleaning those, too much time spent looking for those flaws not enough time spent actually doing it.

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