The other day I was reading my journal. Almost every entry started with: well, it's been about a year since my last entry. Maybe I should catch up on my life. Then I'd list all the stressful relationships, school pains, and other drama that happened in my life in the previous year. That's kind of how I feel about this blog. I used to be so faithful at writing a post at least once a month. But then I didn't. SO... Here we go....
Thanksgiving break started this morning for me. But in reality, it's not a break at all. I woke up around 9 this morning (after passing out on the couch around 3) and came home to my parent's house. My goal today, just like every other time I have come home in the last 4 months, was to finish the fence.
In August, my dad hired me to put in 200 feet of vinyl fencing all around the yard. To the unexperienced, this seems like an easy task. Maybe a couple of days of hard labor, and it's done. False. That was totally not the case. First we had to get all the parts ordered. So 2 weeks later, the fencing came. We assembled it and put it in. Easy. Except for it didn't happen like this at all.
Two weeks later, the fencing came. Then we had to dig post holes. One of those gas-powered posthole diggers would work fine, right? Nope. The majority of the posts needed to be put in along a retaining wall. Chances of either drilling into the retaining wall or falling off the wall and dismembering someone were both high. So what did I do? you might ask. I dug them by hand. I got a nice posthole digger from the Home Depot. It was gas powered too. I ate some beans, gas came out (glycolysis, cellular respiration and the citric acid cycle converted the food into CO2 gas). Then there is the soil where my family lives. Horrific. Rocks all over the friggen place. In the process of digging the holes, I'm pretty sure I dug through a total of at least 4 feet of concrete or rocks.
Two weekends later, the postholes were dug. The assembling of the fence began. It went pretty smoothly, but after looking at all our parts, we realized that the chick who helped us order all our parts was definitely not working there because of her IQ. So we ordered more parts, waited 2 more weeks and assembled the rest of that section of fence.
Then there is trying to work with the boss. My mom realized that the fences didn't match exactly. So we had to order more fencing, wait another month, and then we start on the next section of fence. About 2 months into the project, we could see the end. Only 7 more postholes to dig, a gate to put in and then we were done. This was about a month ago. So one Saturday, we got out our gloves and got to work. This should only take a full days work. The full days work came and went. We still had 4 postholes to go.
One of the things that we noticed, is that when you're really close to finishing something, Mother Nature puts her foot down and says: suck on this, moron!!! We had to break through another 5 inches of concrete for one posthole, and the tree that we planned to just miss decided 5 years ago to send its main root straight down where we needed the post to go. So today was going to be the day that we were finally victorious. I grabbed the shovel and started digging around the tree. The chainsaw had a dull chain, so we took all of our tools and got them sharpened. 3 axes, a hatchet, pickaxe... We were either going to get the stupid thing out today, or die trying. After 4 hours, 2 broken chains, the bumper on our truck bent out of shape, a few broken ropes and bloody hands, we got the stupid thing out.
The moral? I'll tell you: things never take the time you estimate them to take. Like graduation. I'm working on year 5. This isn't supposed to take this long. Or getting married. Or making pies. Or cooking a turkey. So on that note: Happy Thanksgiving. Be grateful that you didn't have to pull out a tree today.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
The One
I often enjoy being satyrical and a bit facetious when I write posts. I feel like this one will have a bit of a different feel. This is why: a couple weeks ago, someone commented on how I beat the dead horse about all the girls that aren't my type....so what is my type. What is the perfect girl for me?
Warning: the rest of this post is slightly more serious, boring and written with a much different mindset than the other posts.
I really don't know where to go with this or even where to begin. In High School, I for sure would have said: the perfect girl is the one who isn't there. They steal your money, your heart, and everything else of value and you'll never end up marrying them anyhow, so why spend money on someone else's wife??
When I got home from my mission, it was a very different story. The perfect girl was the girl who I next met that was ready to get married. Then, of course, there was the list. I had a list of things that, when this perfect girl didn't show up on my doorstep, I could describe to God and he would send her to me. It was as follows:
1. She has to be tall. 5'10" would be sufficient.
2. She has to cook. A man likes a good meal. Can you blame me?
3. She has to be musical. There are few things in this world that bothered me more than sitting next to someone who was tone deaf.
4. She had to be athletic. As much as I love the girls who keep the cost of utilities down (providing shade in the summer, and warmth in the winter), I love sports! She would have to play with me.
5. She had to believe and have a strong testimony of the Gospel.
These, I called the Big 5. So I sent the list to God, and waited for a reply.
Nothing.
So I amended my list: Blue eyes (because it's recessive and all our kids would have blue eyes. That is neat), Blonde hair (also recessive and our kids would grow up to be perfect: the Arian race lives on!), speaks another language (cuz I wanted to travel the world), intelligent (because I'm a nerd and need someone to listen to me when I become enamored by sex-linked traits, haplo-diploidy, and all other things biology), could sew (I didn't want to take my ripped clothes to a seamstress... that's just not right....), plays piano (I want my kids to know how to play. It's one of my biggest regrets: that I didn't practice more when I had access to a piano every day).... and on and on I went. I'm pretty sure God got the message, but I think I was a bit blind or just didn't listen.
Then, after several months of this nonsense, I gave up and said: just a girl who will stick around. So then the monster was released. I don't know what started it, but all of the sudden, I found lots of these. The only problem was that there were too many! I bounced from one to the next like the annoying red ball that bounces across the screen when you're watching sing-alongs. I pretty much tried 'em all. Big, small, short, tall, most of them were crazy, a few were cute, etc. You know how it went. I was never in a relationship for more than 14 days. I'd like to think it was the girls who were the crazies. but I'm not entirely convinced that I wasn't crazy.
Then it stopped. I met someone who took up a significant amount of my time. Someone who taught me what it is to feel love for someone else and to feel loved in return. But that took a while. In the meantime, I changed my criteria. It's a fairly long list, so don't fall asleep.
1. Has the Celestial Kingdom as her goal.
2. I have to be attracted to her.
And that's it.
Just kidding. There's more, but that's the gist of it.
She needs to be accepting, forgiving, understanding, loves me for who I am even after knowing all my faults and shortcomings, good listener and a great talker, ability to express herself and does so frequently, knows she's not perfect and works to change her life, can step back and relax and realize that her best is good enough.
Over the past several weeks I've come to know and understand that no matter what happens, God has my best interest in mind. He is going to put me with someone who makes me happier than I've ever been who will compliment me so perfectly that it will be a wonder that both of us haven't been married for years. I don't know if it's the current one, or if it is someone entirely new, but I trust His plan. I also believe strongly in the law of compensation: all the crap that we go through while doing what's right, will be compensated 10 fold if we endure it well.
So all of you hopeless romantics out there who read my blog: (first off...you prolly need to get out more. There has to be something better than reading this verbal vomit...) Love and eternity will come. I haven't made it yet, but I know that some day I will. The sun does rise the next day even when the love of your life breaks up with you.
Keep your stick on the ice...
Warning: the rest of this post is slightly more serious, boring and written with a much different mindset than the other posts.
I really don't know where to go with this or even where to begin. In High School, I for sure would have said: the perfect girl is the one who isn't there. They steal your money, your heart, and everything else of value and you'll never end up marrying them anyhow, so why spend money on someone else's wife??
When I got home from my mission, it was a very different story. The perfect girl was the girl who I next met that was ready to get married. Then, of course, there was the list. I had a list of things that, when this perfect girl didn't show up on my doorstep, I could describe to God and he would send her to me. It was as follows:
1. She has to be tall. 5'10" would be sufficient.
2. She has to cook. A man likes a good meal. Can you blame me?
3. She has to be musical. There are few things in this world that bothered me more than sitting next to someone who was tone deaf.
4. She had to be athletic. As much as I love the girls who keep the cost of utilities down (providing shade in the summer, and warmth in the winter), I love sports! She would have to play with me.
5. She had to believe and have a strong testimony of the Gospel.
These, I called the Big 5. So I sent the list to God, and waited for a reply.
Nothing.
So I amended my list: Blue eyes (because it's recessive and all our kids would have blue eyes. That is neat), Blonde hair (also recessive and our kids would grow up to be perfect: the Arian race lives on!), speaks another language (cuz I wanted to travel the world), intelligent (because I'm a nerd and need someone to listen to me when I become enamored by sex-linked traits, haplo-diploidy, and all other things biology), could sew (I didn't want to take my ripped clothes to a seamstress... that's just not right....), plays piano (I want my kids to know how to play. It's one of my biggest regrets: that I didn't practice more when I had access to a piano every day).... and on and on I went. I'm pretty sure God got the message, but I think I was a bit blind or just didn't listen.
Then, after several months of this nonsense, I gave up and said: just a girl who will stick around. So then the monster was released. I don't know what started it, but all of the sudden, I found lots of these. The only problem was that there were too many! I bounced from one to the next like the annoying red ball that bounces across the screen when you're watching sing-alongs. I pretty much tried 'em all. Big, small, short, tall, most of them were crazy, a few were cute, etc. You know how it went. I was never in a relationship for more than 14 days. I'd like to think it was the girls who were the crazies. but I'm not entirely convinced that I wasn't crazy.
Then it stopped. I met someone who took up a significant amount of my time. Someone who taught me what it is to feel love for someone else and to feel loved in return. But that took a while. In the meantime, I changed my criteria. It's a fairly long list, so don't fall asleep.
1. Has the Celestial Kingdom as her goal.
2. I have to be attracted to her.
And that's it.
Just kidding. There's more, but that's the gist of it.
She needs to be accepting, forgiving, understanding, loves me for who I am even after knowing all my faults and shortcomings, good listener and a great talker, ability to express herself and does so frequently, knows she's not perfect and works to change her life, can step back and relax and realize that her best is good enough.
Over the past several weeks I've come to know and understand that no matter what happens, God has my best interest in mind. He is going to put me with someone who makes me happier than I've ever been who will compliment me so perfectly that it will be a wonder that both of us haven't been married for years. I don't know if it's the current one, or if it is someone entirely new, but I trust His plan. I also believe strongly in the law of compensation: all the crap that we go through while doing what's right, will be compensated 10 fold if we endure it well.
So all of you hopeless romantics out there who read my blog: (first off...you prolly need to get out more. There has to be something better than reading this verbal vomit...) Love and eternity will come. I haven't made it yet, but I know that some day I will. The sun does rise the next day even when the love of your life breaks up with you.
Keep your stick on the ice...
Monday, August 20, 2012
Deceit
Thou shalt not lie. That's like the 7th Commandment or something, right? It's a funny thing. Deceit is defined by Google as: The action or practice of deceiving someone by concealing or misrepresenting the truth.
But is it really bad? Are there occasions that warrant and even require us to lie to make the situation the best possible? It's all about what is the best good for the most people involved. If everyone lived like this, wouldn't the world be a better place?
It's a topic I've been thinking about recently. And, I know it'll be a shock, but in relation to dating life. Once... (ok. So probably a lot more times than once.) I was on a date. And it was awful!!! I was trying to keep the conversation alive, so I was asking questions. When in conversation, it's nice to ask questions about the other person. However, it gets incredibly annoying and boring when the answer to a question includes one or more of the following:
1. Short, non-exciting answers. 2 words or less. (unless it's the favorite color question)
2. Ending the answer with: And what about you?
Seriously?!? Get your own questions. I know I'm cool and you're trying to be like me, but be original!
So back to deceit....
I take the girl home, give her a hug, cuz that's customary, and then bid her good night. Somewhere in there, the conversation goes like this:
Girl: Well, this is my place... I hope my roommates are still up cuz I don't have my keys... (the opposite of "you wanna come inside so we can make out??").
Guy: Yeah. That'd be bad. (Cuz it'd mean that if I didn't want to look like a total jerk, I'd wait for you to get in. I'm done with tonight!)
Girl: Oh good. It's unlocked! (dang... i wanted to stay with him so i can answer all his questions he has about me with short, boring responses and then ask: what about you??)
Guy: Cool. (OMG!!! Praise everything that's holy!!! My backup plan was to jump out of the 6th floor window.)
Girl: Well, I had fun! Thanks for tonight! (Here she's being honest cuz she got to be vague and evasive all night. Girls love that. I think)
Guy: Yeah. So did I. Thanks for coming. (But more so: thanks for letting me drop you off and get on with my life. )
Girl: We'll have to do this again some time! (Please ask me out again. Right now. In fact, ask me to marry you. I want your babies.)
Guy: Yeah. For sure! (I'd rather be alone the rest of my life.) I'll call you! (no I won't)(ever)(and I'll pray every night that I don't run into you on campus.)
Yeah. A little bit exaggerated. But you get the point? Sometimes it's just best to lie. That way, nobody gets hurt. (She'll probably assume that you lost your phone and if she goes to the temple every day that you'll show up one time....)
If you have read my other posts, you'll find that one thing that I find super attractive and give a lot of respect for is girls when they're honest about not liking someone. If you find me self-contradictory... whoops!
Also, I've been a bit deceitful lately. Sometimes people ask me if I want some cake, or if I want some of their candybar. I feel like they sometimes get butt-hurt if I reject their generosity as if by rejecting a bite of their Butterfinger I've also managed to insult their great great grandpa who fought in the world war, his wife who gave birth to 15 children who all in turn were nobel prize winners as well as insulting their dog, goldfish, and vegetable garden. So instead, I suddenly become allergic. To everything. One day I really didn't want a popsicle, so I was allergic to anything that was frozen above sea level. Or I'm allergic to wheat, food coloring, oil, sunshine.... When people inquire further, I pretend to be butt-hurt about it and they walk off feeling like they insulted my very existence. It's a fun game to play.
Back to dating.
I'm really quite sick of blind dates. Yeah. I'll go on one every now and again, but for the most part, I just recently started dating someone. (blatant lie). If you are reading this and realize that I lied to you.... WHoops!!
But is it really bad? Are there occasions that warrant and even require us to lie to make the situation the best possible? It's all about what is the best good for the most people involved. If everyone lived like this, wouldn't the world be a better place?
It's a topic I've been thinking about recently. And, I know it'll be a shock, but in relation to dating life. Once... (ok. So probably a lot more times than once.) I was on a date. And it was awful!!! I was trying to keep the conversation alive, so I was asking questions. When in conversation, it's nice to ask questions about the other person. However, it gets incredibly annoying and boring when the answer to a question includes one or more of the following:
1. Short, non-exciting answers. 2 words or less. (unless it's the favorite color question)
2. Ending the answer with: And what about you?
Seriously?!? Get your own questions. I know I'm cool and you're trying to be like me, but be original!
So back to deceit....
I take the girl home, give her a hug, cuz that's customary, and then bid her good night. Somewhere in there, the conversation goes like this:
Girl: Well, this is my place... I hope my roommates are still up cuz I don't have my keys... (the opposite of "you wanna come inside so we can make out??").
Guy: Yeah. That'd be bad. (Cuz it'd mean that if I didn't want to look like a total jerk, I'd wait for you to get in. I'm done with tonight!)
Girl: Oh good. It's unlocked! (dang... i wanted to stay with him so i can answer all his questions he has about me with short, boring responses and then ask: what about you??)
Guy: Cool. (OMG!!! Praise everything that's holy!!! My backup plan was to jump out of the 6th floor window.)
Girl: Well, I had fun! Thanks for tonight! (Here she's being honest cuz she got to be vague and evasive all night. Girls love that. I think)
Guy: Yeah. So did I. Thanks for coming. (But more so: thanks for letting me drop you off and get on with my life. )
Girl: We'll have to do this again some time! (Please ask me out again. Right now. In fact, ask me to marry you. I want your babies.)
Guy: Yeah. For sure! (I'd rather be alone the rest of my life.) I'll call you! (no I won't)(ever)(and I'll pray every night that I don't run into you on campus.)
Yeah. A little bit exaggerated. But you get the point? Sometimes it's just best to lie. That way, nobody gets hurt. (She'll probably assume that you lost your phone and if she goes to the temple every day that you'll show up one time....)
If you have read my other posts, you'll find that one thing that I find super attractive and give a lot of respect for is girls when they're honest about not liking someone. If you find me self-contradictory... whoops!
Also, I've been a bit deceitful lately. Sometimes people ask me if I want some cake, or if I want some of their candybar. I feel like they sometimes get butt-hurt if I reject their generosity as if by rejecting a bite of their Butterfinger I've also managed to insult their great great grandpa who fought in the world war, his wife who gave birth to 15 children who all in turn were nobel prize winners as well as insulting their dog, goldfish, and vegetable garden. So instead, I suddenly become allergic. To everything. One day I really didn't want a popsicle, so I was allergic to anything that was frozen above sea level. Or I'm allergic to wheat, food coloring, oil, sunshine.... When people inquire further, I pretend to be butt-hurt about it and they walk off feeling like they insulted my very existence. It's a fun game to play.
Back to dating.
I'm really quite sick of blind dates. Yeah. I'll go on one every now and again, but for the most part, I just recently started dating someone. (blatant lie). If you are reading this and realize that I lied to you.... WHoops!!
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Baited
January, I successfully started walking (I had surgery in December, and was on crutches for 6 weeks). I got this super cool cane from my brother for Christmas (my family called me Tiny Tim for the holidays... cuz I was on crutches. It's funny because it's like in The Christmas Carol Tiny Tim was on crutches and so was I for Christmas. It's even more funny now that I'm over-explaining it.) Speaking of over explaining... I was at a bonfire the other night, and I told a joke. Nobody laughed and things got a little awkward. So then I over-explained the joke. Still nobody laughed. And then I found $5! Also, other names people called me include: gimpface (still get called that today), cripple, hobbler, gimp, potato, and ugly. Not sure why I was called that last one. I lost 25 lbs while crippled. I was fit!
Back to walking. I got going with physical therapy, basketball, and dating again. Actually, I went on a couple dates while I was on crutches. It was a new experience. Usually, the dude is supposed to be ... manly: assist in all the lady's needs. Turns out, while one is on crutches, it's pretty impossible. Opening the car door takes a miracle. I tried to take one of my dates her meal. I ended up looking pretty lame. Then she took it from my hands as I hobbled behind her. At the end of the meal, she sat back and watched me attempt to take garbage to the trash. She said: you look like T-Rex when you do that. I had to grab the crutches under my armpits swing them forward, plant them, put all my weight on them, hop forward, and land, the whole time holding trash in both of my hands. Can you see T-Rex?
On another date, it was snowing outside. I was wearing Chuck Taylors. On one foot. Chucks are inherently un-traction-y. Add snow, and it's an ice rink. Add crutches: embarrassment. I was slipping all over the place, hardly able to move, and my date just sat there and watched. And laughed. Pity points counted for nothing that night.
Other than hobbling around during January, I started working. I'm planning on becoming a High School Biology teacher. As such, I wanted to get at least a taste for what it would be like. So I signed up to substitute teach. My first experience was at American Fork High School. It was a math class. I was still on crutches. Have you ever had a substitute teacher on crutches? There's a reason why. It's effin difficult! I was supposed to hand out a quiz. You see the T-Rex? Yeah. That's how I looked. Luckily, students were nice and I survived.
One of my favorite classes to go to this semester, was a biology class at Mountain Ridge Jr. High. The reason being: I wasn't baby sitting. The teacher actually had stuff prepared for the class, and I put in my two cents as well. During one of the classes, a girl in the back raises her hand and asks: Mr. Clement, are you single? I said yes. She says: why? I wasn't sure what to say to that. It is, after all, a good question. I'm 23, living in Provo, and I served a mission. What else do you need to get married? In answer to her question, I said: I'm sorry tho. I'm off-limits. Her: Why? Me, out of frustration of rubbing in my failure: I'm Gay!
Then I realized how that might be a bad idea, so I said. Just kidding. I'm straight. I then made up some excuse. I think I lied and said I just got out of a relationship. Well, I didn't think much of the experience, until the next time I went to that class. As class was starting, the same girl walks through the door, takes one look at me, and says: Alright! We have the gay sub again!
I corrected her, told her one of my many dating experiences to prove that I was, in fact, straight. Then we started class.
I told this story to another Jr. High in response to the question: what's the strangest thing that's happened while you were a sub? The next day, I get a call from the secretary. Apparently the student I told that story to told someone else, who told someone else and by the end of the day, I was telling students to call me the gay sub. That's frowned upon in Utah Valley. I was asked to never come back.
I've never been whistled at, winked at, or hit on more than when I'm subbing. Can you say: Jailbait?!
Back to walking. I got going with physical therapy, basketball, and dating again. Actually, I went on a couple dates while I was on crutches. It was a new experience. Usually, the dude is supposed to be ... manly: assist in all the lady's needs. Turns out, while one is on crutches, it's pretty impossible. Opening the car door takes a miracle. I tried to take one of my dates her meal. I ended up looking pretty lame. Then she took it from my hands as I hobbled behind her. At the end of the meal, she sat back and watched me attempt to take garbage to the trash. She said: you look like T-Rex when you do that. I had to grab the crutches under my armpits swing them forward, plant them, put all my weight on them, hop forward, and land, the whole time holding trash in both of my hands. Can you see T-Rex?
On another date, it was snowing outside. I was wearing Chuck Taylors. On one foot. Chucks are inherently un-traction-y. Add snow, and it's an ice rink. Add crutches: embarrassment. I was slipping all over the place, hardly able to move, and my date just sat there and watched. And laughed. Pity points counted for nothing that night.
Other than hobbling around during January, I started working. I'm planning on becoming a High School Biology teacher. As such, I wanted to get at least a taste for what it would be like. So I signed up to substitute teach. My first experience was at American Fork High School. It was a math class. I was still on crutches. Have you ever had a substitute teacher on crutches? There's a reason why. It's effin difficult! I was supposed to hand out a quiz. You see the T-Rex? Yeah. That's how I looked. Luckily, students were nice and I survived.
One of my favorite classes to go to this semester, was a biology class at Mountain Ridge Jr. High. The reason being: I wasn't baby sitting. The teacher actually had stuff prepared for the class, and I put in my two cents as well. During one of the classes, a girl in the back raises her hand and asks: Mr. Clement, are you single? I said yes. She says: why? I wasn't sure what to say to that. It is, after all, a good question. I'm 23, living in Provo, and I served a mission. What else do you need to get married? In answer to her question, I said: I'm sorry tho. I'm off-limits. Her: Why? Me, out of frustration of rubbing in my failure: I'm Gay!
Then I realized how that might be a bad idea, so I said. Just kidding. I'm straight. I then made up some excuse. I think I lied and said I just got out of a relationship. Well, I didn't think much of the experience, until the next time I went to that class. As class was starting, the same girl walks through the door, takes one look at me, and says: Alright! We have the gay sub again!
I corrected her, told her one of my many dating experiences to prove that I was, in fact, straight. Then we started class.
I told this story to another Jr. High in response to the question: what's the strangest thing that's happened while you were a sub? The next day, I get a call from the secretary. Apparently the student I told that story to told someone else, who told someone else and by the end of the day, I was telling students to call me the gay sub. That's frowned upon in Utah Valley. I was asked to never come back.
I've never been whistled at, winked at, or hit on more than when I'm subbing. Can you say: Jailbait?!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Random Ramblings
I currently find myself in an interesting predicament. If you've read some other of my posts, I had surgery on my knee and have found that I am not able to do a lot. (If you still haven't come and visited me or made me baked goods, you still have time. I will be on crutches for another 3 weeks. So hurry up.) It's quite annoying actually. I'm a very active person and these past three weeks have been super killer: watching movies almost constantly, TV shows, sleeping, not eating. And I read a couple books! That's my accomplishment for the break. I'm usually not one to read. But look at me now! This is the predicament I'm talking about. I can't be active. The most I do is hike up to campus. And that's no small feat! For some reason, when I wasn't crippled and didn't mind walking half-way across the city, there were always parking spaces for the handicapped, right close where I'd need to be. Well, now that I am crippled and can barely hobble from my bedroom to the crapper, all the parking spots are taken! The audacity!!
I've also been doing a lot of thinking. It started this evening around eleven o'clock. I thought about life for a whole ten minutes before my stomach convinced me that I wanted a bowl of Marshmallow Mateys.
And this is what I thought about: It's 2012 now. Apparently the world is going to end.
Now, where did this idea come from? Apparently the Mayan calendar ends sometime this year and that's when the world will spontaneously combust. Really? All those people who get spooked into believing stuff like that. There's a case that could be held that they really don't deserve to live past the date. Please also include, with these, the people who actually give their bank account information and $1000 to that dying prince in southern Africa who just needs someone to inherit their millions of dollars. Classic!
People. Let's be honest. The Mayans never said that the world was going to end. They were simply convinced that by this time, we would have evolved enough to find a better way of keeping time. So much for survival of the fittest.
Ya. You're right. I didn't spend all of my ten minutes thinking about this. Actually, what I was thinking about was lifetime supplies. I decided that if I could have a lifetime supply of anything, it would definitely be Taco Bell. I don't know what it is about T-Bell that I love so much. It's like Heaven and Hell wrapped together in a little to-go baggie. All that delicious, deep-fried, heart-stopping, greasy, tasty, filling, juicy, goodness packaged so nicely.
Something else I was thinking about was what I could really do without for the rest of my life. I would have to say that I wouldn't mind at all if I never had to sleep again in my life. That would be so enjoyable! I would get absolutely nothing done! Ever! OK. That's a lie. I would get so much done. However, here is my reasoning: I really don't like sleeping. It's never refreshing. I wake up, and I'm always sore. It's like I just got out of surgery or something. Sleep is just so... bleh. Cuz once you wake up, you have to get ready for the day. If you never went to bed, you'd never have to change out of your clothes. You'd stay fresh because you'd never go to sleep in your own filth. You could have at least five meals a day! That would be the life! You wouldn't have to have a bed, wash your sheets, or take up that space in the apartment. You'd never sleep through classes, so you could just go and do something else that's fun instead of going to the classes you would have slept through. Think of all the time you'd have!
And that's all the time I had to think. Come to think about it, I don't even think it was ten minutes. Probably less.
Something that I have been wanting to blog about, and maybe I'll just end up putting this in another post, but my experience with homosexual situation. Now, before I start telling stories, I want my readers to know that I'm straight but have no problem with gays. Being in Mormon-ville, people around these parts don't really know how to respond to situations that are provided in places like... San Francisco. So that's why I tell these stories: those to whom I tell these stories get feeling uncomfortable. So here goes!
The first gay experience I ever had was on my mission. I had a fairly young companion and one day we were riding our bikes down the road. Someone yelled at us: hey Elders!
This was in The Netherlands. Nobody knows us as Elders except for members of the church. And if these were members, we wanted to stop because nobody else wanted to talk to us that day. It wasn't a member. It was an old man on a bench. We were on our way to an appointment, so we got an address and set up an appointment.
When the day came, we biked to his place and got to know him. He lived in a cozy apartment and knew a lot about the church. He said he had a baptismal date at one point but couldn't make it. We reviewed and got to know him. Something didn't feel right tho. So we set up another appointment to get him back to church and into the water.
When we came back, he wasn't exactly interested. He kept making jokes about how he always took The Book of Mormon to the bathroom with him in case he ran out of TP. He then asked us to stop teaching him and asked us a question: Are you guys open minded? I thought I was, and so did my companion. He insisted that we weren't. He continued and said: I'll be honest. The only reason I invited you back was because I thought you two were attractive and I thought I could get you to come over so we could become more than friends. My companion and I grabbed our bags, walked out the door without saying farewell and never talked to the man again.
Another experience happened this last summer while I was staying in Oregon. I tend to be on the social end of science nerd. While I was up there, I got to know the other students that weren't from BYU. One of them in particular seemed especially friendly in return. I didn't really think anything of it till I invited him to church. He said: I don't think your church would like me.
Why?
Well, let's just say that my church asked me to not come back.
Oh? Why's that?
They didn't like the way I lived my life and who I am.
Huh. Well, you won't be able to do certain things, but we accept people from all backgrounds and wakes of life.
No. I'm pretty sure you people won't like me.
Try me.
Alright. I like boys.
Really?? "I like boys"???? Is that how a person comes out of the closet. That just makes it sound a little too Michael Jackson. But whatever. He came to church with us and enjoyed it. However, I almost regret inviting him. The next day I went out to shoot hoops and relax before finishing up my study journal. After a little bit he walks out of his dorm and makes his way over to where I was shooting. I had my shirt off and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He stops, sits down and just watches me. All at once, I remembered a whole slew of things I had to be doing right that very instant. I had my very own stalker for the rest of the time I was up there.
I never know how to end my posts. Maybe I just say "goodnight" or something. Or do I just stop typing and publish the post? Maybe one of these times, I'll write all the profanities I can think of in big capitol letters. Or tell a politically incorrect joke? Or maybe there are rules! If there are... screw 'em! I'm done here!
I've also been doing a lot of thinking. It started this evening around eleven o'clock. I thought about life for a whole ten minutes before my stomach convinced me that I wanted a bowl of Marshmallow Mateys.
And this is what I thought about: It's 2012 now. Apparently the world is going to end.
Now, where did this idea come from? Apparently the Mayan calendar ends sometime this year and that's when the world will spontaneously combust. Really? All those people who get spooked into believing stuff like that. There's a case that could be held that they really don't deserve to live past the date. Please also include, with these, the people who actually give their bank account information and $1000 to that dying prince in southern Africa who just needs someone to inherit their millions of dollars. Classic!
People. Let's be honest. The Mayans never said that the world was going to end. They were simply convinced that by this time, we would have evolved enough to find a better way of keeping time. So much for survival of the fittest.
Ya. You're right. I didn't spend all of my ten minutes thinking about this. Actually, what I was thinking about was lifetime supplies. I decided that if I could have a lifetime supply of anything, it would definitely be Taco Bell. I don't know what it is about T-Bell that I love so much. It's like Heaven and Hell wrapped together in a little to-go baggie. All that delicious, deep-fried, heart-stopping, greasy, tasty, filling, juicy, goodness packaged so nicely.
Something else I was thinking about was what I could really do without for the rest of my life. I would have to say that I wouldn't mind at all if I never had to sleep again in my life. That would be so enjoyable! I would get absolutely nothing done! Ever! OK. That's a lie. I would get so much done. However, here is my reasoning: I really don't like sleeping. It's never refreshing. I wake up, and I'm always sore. It's like I just got out of surgery or something. Sleep is just so... bleh. Cuz once you wake up, you have to get ready for the day. If you never went to bed, you'd never have to change out of your clothes. You'd stay fresh because you'd never go to sleep in your own filth. You could have at least five meals a day! That would be the life! You wouldn't have to have a bed, wash your sheets, or take up that space in the apartment. You'd never sleep through classes, so you could just go and do something else that's fun instead of going to the classes you would have slept through. Think of all the time you'd have!
And that's all the time I had to think. Come to think about it, I don't even think it was ten minutes. Probably less.
Something that I have been wanting to blog about, and maybe I'll just end up putting this in another post, but my experience with homosexual situation. Now, before I start telling stories, I want my readers to know that I'm straight but have no problem with gays. Being in Mormon-ville, people around these parts don't really know how to respond to situations that are provided in places like... San Francisco. So that's why I tell these stories: those to whom I tell these stories get feeling uncomfortable. So here goes!
The first gay experience I ever had was on my mission. I had a fairly young companion and one day we were riding our bikes down the road. Someone yelled at us: hey Elders!
This was in The Netherlands. Nobody knows us as Elders except for members of the church. And if these were members, we wanted to stop because nobody else wanted to talk to us that day. It wasn't a member. It was an old man on a bench. We were on our way to an appointment, so we got an address and set up an appointment.
When the day came, we biked to his place and got to know him. He lived in a cozy apartment and knew a lot about the church. He said he had a baptismal date at one point but couldn't make it. We reviewed and got to know him. Something didn't feel right tho. So we set up another appointment to get him back to church and into the water.
When we came back, he wasn't exactly interested. He kept making jokes about how he always took The Book of Mormon to the bathroom with him in case he ran out of TP. He then asked us to stop teaching him and asked us a question: Are you guys open minded? I thought I was, and so did my companion. He insisted that we weren't. He continued and said: I'll be honest. The only reason I invited you back was because I thought you two were attractive and I thought I could get you to come over so we could become more than friends. My companion and I grabbed our bags, walked out the door without saying farewell and never talked to the man again.
Another experience happened this last summer while I was staying in Oregon. I tend to be on the social end of science nerd. While I was up there, I got to know the other students that weren't from BYU. One of them in particular seemed especially friendly in return. I didn't really think anything of it till I invited him to church. He said: I don't think your church would like me.
Why?
Well, let's just say that my church asked me to not come back.
Oh? Why's that?
They didn't like the way I lived my life and who I am.
Huh. Well, you won't be able to do certain things, but we accept people from all backgrounds and wakes of life.
No. I'm pretty sure you people won't like me.
Try me.
Alright. I like boys.
Really?? "I like boys"???? Is that how a person comes out of the closet. That just makes it sound a little too Michael Jackson. But whatever. He came to church with us and enjoyed it. However, I almost regret inviting him. The next day I went out to shoot hoops and relax before finishing up my study journal. After a little bit he walks out of his dorm and makes his way over to where I was shooting. I had my shirt off and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He stops, sits down and just watches me. All at once, I remembered a whole slew of things I had to be doing right that very instant. I had my very own stalker for the rest of the time I was up there.
I never know how to end my posts. Maybe I just say "goodnight" or something. Or do I just stop typing and publish the post? Maybe one of these times, I'll write all the profanities I can think of in big capitol letters. Or tell a politically incorrect joke? Or maybe there are rules! If there are... screw 'em! I'm done here!
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