Is she gay?

I don't know why I'm bummed. but Emily Blunt may be gay.

I've lost a crush.

You can still have a crush on a gay person.

yeah, but the whole chance for sex is gone. What's the point?

and.....

Would you like me to point out the obvious that there never was a chance for sex with her anyway?

there it is.

see what I did there?

Yep...very clever.

Thank you. I try.

Black Friday

Another Black Friday (or is it "Can't have enough marketing crap" Thursday) and my OCD is once again assuaged. I am not too proud to admit that I have a hoarding issues with a few things, pencils, paper and candles. Pencils and paper I get satisfied during the Back to School sales. Candles are more sporadic, only coming to the fore on the cold part of the year.

Time to admit where it comes from. This is all part of my coming clean with my life and my feelings on certain things. There are triggers to aspects of our lives, and I might as well admit to a few.

Paper and Pencils
This really started during high school and perhaps earlier. I always tried to be as frugal as I could and most of the time it was a game. I once copied an entire year's worth of science notes on one 8x11 sheet of paper. I did it mostly to see if I could. It probably helped my memory quite a bit.
College reinforced this. Not having a lot of money to spend on things and the fact that going through paper and pencils (mechanical by this time) at a prodigious rate had a little different effect on the noggin. I don't think any kind of hoarding happened, but I learned to appreciate office products. Does that make any sense?
My mission drilled this into my skull with a vengeance. You see, you can only communicate with loved ones back home via letters. Since the beginning of my mission was overseas, writing on good paper with a fine point became critical. I fell in love with engineering paper during my first years of college so I wrote important people using that. Others were relegated to the smaller aerograms. My depression of that first year made me want to write and write the ones I love trying to make sense of the flood of unfamiliar feelings and try to ease the pain I was experiencing in merely existing. Since the bank wasn't delivering any of the money my parents were sending, I had to rely on food that members gave and the few Francs I could borrow. There were more than a few weeks where I had to choose between eating or writing, and I chose writing. I don't know how much I passed this on to those I was writing. I know I sent several letters to my parents asking for money. I'm not sure I ever told anyone else of the other background things that were going on.
After I was transferred back to the states, the depression still continued. I became more and more desperate in my writing as I circled the drain that appeared to be my life. Writing everyday became one of the few joys in my days. After the depression broke, my writing dropped off markedly. I didn't feel that I could trust myself in writing. My emotions had betrayed me, and that was reflected in my writing and I kept much of my communication at a minimum.
Restarting college ramped up the writing again. I was actually in my major and I went through that expensive engineering paper and mechanical pencils at an increasing rate. I was also a custodian in the business school. I had access and responsibilities to clean up classrooms and an almost limitless access to dropped pencils and pens. I kept them, and I used them, but I never used as much as I found. I still have a lot of them. Granted, I threw away many of the pencils, but I kept the leads. I have a LOT of leads to this day. It reminds me of the most hectic and probably the happiest time of my life.
I also used writing in dating. I had a very welcome habit of leaving love notes and love letters to the girls I was dating.
I buy a small number of paper pads and mechanical pencils every year. I have a set limit so it isn't like I have boxes of the stuff, but I do admit that I like to touch them every once in a while, just to remind me of a different time, if nothing else.

Candles
Not sure where this began. It was fairly recent, but I always have liked fire. Candles and matches have always had a thing with me, but nothing like arson or anything else felonious. I just like a flame, and a small one is nice to have around. I think I have this in check, but to use what I buy means I just have to be more cognizant of lighting them and using them.

Soap
This is more of an opportunity purchase. Walgreens once had good prices on it and I purchased it because it was a good price. Later, I realized that soap with tallow was ruining my skin during the winter months and I started getting soap that didn't have that ingredient. My stockpile in this is also shrinking.
Within this hoarding is the little soaps and shampoos that I collect from hotel stays. I have a small collection of these too, but I consciously use them as I can.

Cologne
Directly attributable to college. A woman I was dating once gave me some samples and during my mission, I would smell them just to remember what it was like being a normal person. I still use cologne as a way of remembering certain people and places. I probably have more cologne now than I could ever use, but I still enjoy the memories I have when I open them. It is like a scrapbook for me.

That's it. I might have a few more but these are the ones that tickle my brain more than others. Whenever I think I'm too smart to fall for any kind of nonsense, I remember that I still have some fairly primitive behaviors in my anxiety closet and I'm in no place to criticize others.

My Name Is Baby

my name is BABY and you lean out of your car and spit at my feet it lands in a puddle in front of me and i am thirteen and in a suburban neighborhood on the way home from school and i gag and run with my backpack banging like the echo of your words against my back like you are chasing me all the way home

my name is SWEETIE and i am fifteen in the city with my friends for the first time and we get a little lost and you follow us for a full block you name my friends HONEY and DARLING and WHY THE FUCK WON’T YOU TALK TO ME

my name is NICE ASS and it’s two in the afternoon and i still feel my heart slam against my ribs because i am under a hundred and fifty pounds and i have weak lungs and weaker fists and while you saunter down the steps, swinging the beer bottle in your fist, my father who is walking behind me shouts, “she’s seventeen, you dipshit” and maybe i’m near my family but i don’t feel safe until we’re home again

my name is JAILBAIT and my friend is laughing and we just graduated high school and we feel like we are on the brink of something beautiful and terrifying and she is in heels and about to throw up and you name her DRUNK ENOUGH and i have to physically drag you off and when we go home she cries for four hours because a night that should have been just teenage fun almost resulted in the end of her trust of humans

my name is LOOK AT THOSE TITS and we are on a college campus and the boy i am with holds onto my waist just a little tighter while you drive up next to me. you name him THUG and throw a bottle at his forehead. i can’t stop shaking until long after it’s over. he says “it happens,” and i say, “it shouldn’t.”

my name is DAMN GIRL and we are walking down the street. there are ten of you and two of us and you snap a picture when you think we’re not looking. you tell us to either come inside or you’ll fuck us on the street. you all laugh like this is funny. this is compliment. this is just something boys do to get ladies.

my name is LITTLE LADY, my name is FINE MISS, my name is FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR FRIENDS, my name is LOOK ME IN THE FACE, my name is STOP FROWNING, my name is SMILE, my name is WHY DID YOU EVEN GLANCE AT HIM YOU WERE ASKING FOR IT, my name is THIS IS A COMPLIMENT so i looked it up according to Oxford that’s “a polite expression of praise or admiration” i think you’ve got the definitions mixed up

my name is PRETTY THING, my name takes nice words and make them into bullet wounds my name is NICE BODY and no girl i know has dated a man who catcalled her, my name is GREAT RACK and it turns out that if you shout things at a stranger, they sound like knives more than flowers, my name is WOMEN LIKE YOU NEVER KNOW THEIR PLACE and every single “nice” thing you say to a woman is something you’d never utter to another man because you know that it’s derogatory, my name is PRINCESS and A REASON TO GET PUT IN PRISON and if another man spoke to your mother sister girlfriend like that, you’d kill him

my name is SEXY and every time i hear someone raising their voice i am thirteen again and i don’t know who you are and i’m running home with a weight on my shoulders and your words like a slap to my spine and your laughter like a hanging, i am scared and alone and suddenly so small,

and compliments are supposed to make me feel good not afraid for my life, compliments are a way of saying “i care and i appreciate you and i thought you should know it,” and if you really meant it as a compliment, you’d care about how i would take it - but you don’t mean it like that, you mean it to show off, you mean it to make us object, you mean it to shove our names into your back pocket so you can tell your friends “i saw the HOTTEST LITTLE THING yesterday” and they can groan about how we just walked away because you don’t see us go home with keys in our fists and all the lights on and we keep 911 dialed just in case and we triple-check our locks and we don’t fall asleep at all because your compliment knocked us over and took who we are

if we are all saying “it doesn’t sound like a compliment, it sounds like a threat,” if you really wanted to make us feel good - wouldn’t you stop doing it?

—COMPLIMENT =/= CATCALL

Location, Location, Location

I think it is about time I tell some of you where I am in my life. 18 months or so ago my family and I stopped attending the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. For some, this isn’t new information. For others it may be. I just want to say that we’re fine. Tracy and I are doing fine and the kids are thriving in their schooling and other aspects of their lives. We are happy where we are.

Why we aren’t attending is a personal question, one I won’t address here. It was a major life change and one that upset how I identified myself. It wasn’t an easy road re-evaluating how I felt about certain aspects of my life. However, it was a good move for me. I don’t regret it at all.

I’m not here to preach any new-found insight. I’m just here to announce that I’m finally comfortable in my own mind to state where I am in the world.

And a beautiful world it is.

Sooner or Later

I have always used my trips and my rides to try and calm the demons in my mind, to think over the questions and the quandaries that exist in my reasoning. I took my last rides as part of that continuing task. Aside from my falling from the bike, as documented earlier, I really didn’t do any demon killing. The absence was startling, and refreshing. After one of the most emotional times in my life, I’m feeling that it is over. My normal interests and passions are returning, hopefully without the annoying things that I’ve purged from my life.

I had a song go through my mind during my ride up to Minneapolis. While the song is directed at a person, my own take on it wasn’t pointing to another person. I generally don’t want to purge people from my life. The reference that I used was towards the person that I used to be. I think I’ve figured some things out in my life and had to change for my own sanity. I’m content with where I am. It's about time.

Alan Parsons Project
Sooner Or Later

Oh what a price we pay
For the things we say
And the closer I get to you
The further you move away

All the lies we tell
In the games we play
And the longer I think it over
The harder it is to stay

Sooner or later I'll be free
To leave the past behind
Sooner or later you're gonna be
The last thing on my mind
Little by little I'm finding out
The truth behind your eyes
Maybe if I don't show
I thought you might like to know
You're gonna be the last thing on my mind

You didn't want to know
I could have told you so
But the moment I think it's over
The further there is to go

Just a little word
Such an easy way
But the longer I think about it
The harder it is to say

Sooner or later I'll be free
To leave the past behind
Sooner or later you're gonna be
The last thing on my mind
Little by little I'm finding out
The truth behind your eyes
Maybe if I don't show
I thought you might like to know
You're gonna be the last thing on my mind

Youtube Lyric Video

The River, the Ditch and the Tent Poles

I can’t say I’d been looking forward to the trip, but I had been planning it for some time. Last year I wanted to make a trip along the Illinois River. Well, I wanted to make that trip and then a trip up the Mississippi to the Twin Cities. The rivers carve out a valley in-between the bluffs and I find the terrain very therapeutic. Still, there is yet another huge project at work and I’d be leaving in the middle of that to take this trip. It isn’t that I feel bad because the corporation gives me paid time off and if I don’t use it, I’d be stuck taking it in January or just losing it. I’m not the one that schedules it in the middle of the summer either.

So I was off. Right away, I should have seen the signs that this wasn’t going to turn out the way I had planned. I got on IL64 and somehow fell in behind a truck that was hauling or had hauled manure. Since that is the best road west for me, I figured that I’d get an opportunity to pass him. No such luck, for this was a work day, and I was going against all the people coming in for work. I was stuck, at least until Sycamore was in the rear-view. I kept fading back as much as I could to try and get a breath of fresh air. I wonder if the truck-driver even noticed it anymore. At the first opportunity, I headed south, figuring the grid system would take me straight to IL38. Nope. I was in a grid but got on the one road that doesn’t head south all the way down. After a bit, I did get on IL38, but I figured I lost some time, not that I was in a hurry.

On the normal way down along the Illinois, on IL29, I decided to take a side road to see Depue. I’ve been on that road several times and never took a look at the town off the road. I was rewarded by a villiage, probably not long for this world, with a railroad depot (closed) and two engines for the Illinois RR tooling around. I wandered around and took a few pictures. I also stopped by Bureau Junction rededicating myself to start that bicycle ride along the canal.

Then the adventure began. As I was heading past Joliet, I passed a road up the bluff and on the top was a totem pole. In keeping with my desire to see interesting things, I turned around and headed up the hill. It wasn’t too bad, but it did have a steep switchback and I must admit that I had never tried to negotiate that kind of thing with the bike. There was an SUV headed down right at the time I arrived at the switchback and I had to slow to let it pass. Unfortunately, I was in second instead of my expected first and the motor started to sputter. I gave it a little more gas hoping to tease it into keep going. It stalled. I started to drift back and while I hit the brakes and put my foot down to steady the bike, my foot hit nothing and over I went into the ditch. It was pretty quick. I honestly had only a few thoughts. My head hit the other side of the concrete ditch and I was very thankful that I had a helmet on. As I scrambled out from under the bike, I took inventory. I wasn’t hurt. I looked back down the road to see the SUV that was coming down stop and then continue on. I can’t say I can blame. I’m a biker. Who the hell knows what kind of disposition I might have been in? I looked at the bike as it sat horizontally in the ditch. I was reminded about people as they mention their father passing, how someone so powerful and strong was now so frail and weak in their death bed. I looked at the bike the same way. It was a great machine, and now how am I going to get this hunk of metal out of a ditch, on a hill? I set my helmet down on the inside hill and it promptly began to roll down the ditch too. I must have been a sight running down the ditch trying to retrieve the helmet before it became too battered to use.

After a few people stopped asking if I was alright and if I needed to call someone, “I’m fine. I’ll call someone when I get my wits back, thank you.” I started to strip the bike of what I could to try and make it lighter. The saddle bag that the bike was resting on was going to be a challenge. I was trying to lift the back of the bike and turn the key to disengage it from the frame. A wonderful woman stopped and got out and asked if she could help. I was frustrated and she and I did get the bag off, but the contents were trying their best to come out of it. With the bags off, I grabbed hold of the handle bars and told her that it was very top heavy so this wouldn’t be easy. I think I pulled every muscle I had in my arms getting the bike upright. I thanked her and while she stood there, I made sure the bike would start, as I needed it to run to get it out of the ditch. A guy driving a septic truck stopped and I told him that I needed to maneuver the bike backwards down the ditch until I could get to a place that I could drive out. Another man stepped out of a jeep as he was told someone was stuck on the hill and needed help. As I sat on the bike, they lifted the back end of the bike so I could get down to a culvert where they backed the bike and I could get out of the ditch. I was dubious as the slope was such that I had to get speed up to make it out and my feet would have to leave the ground. I had only about a foot of slope to climb, but I was still nervous about letting the bike fall again, this time with me on it and no saddlebags to protect my legs. Still, a sort burst of the gas, and I was out. I was still shaken and the guy with the jeep invited me up to his house so I could gather my nerves.

At his house, I tried to get a signal to call Tracy and let her know what happened. The damage on the bike was mostly scratches and the cap on the end of the handlebars was off slightly. I figured a few whacks with the hammer could set that right. I told her that I was cancelling and heading home. I honestly didn’t know if the bike was screwed up or not. I purposefully got this bike because it could be beaten up and abused.  I didn’t want a bike just to look pretty and if it got scratched and dented, it really didn’t matter to me. My bikes and cars are just stuff, and I’m not defined by my stuff. Tracy told me to keep going if I could, to get my confidence back. I kind of wondered at that statement. I didn’t feel any less confident. I’ve been falling off bikes since I was 3. My only concern with the motorcycle is that I didn’t want to do it at speed. This had made the third time I fell on this bike, all from very slow speed or a stop. Pfft. As long as the bike was OK and I wasn’t bleeding, I was good.

I headed back on the road and wandered my way down the Illinois. One thing of note happened before arriving into Joliet was a flock of pelicans that were overhead. They formed into a V and then it broke up and then other Vs were formed all while moving in circles. It was a fantastic sight. Riding down in the valley and with the bluffs on one side of me made me feel like I was in a different place. I was reminded of riding on US89 in Utah with hugging one side of the valley with mountains or hills on the side. It was a beautiful ride.

The part of the ride that I wanted to take was now ahead of me. South of I-72, the fields would give way to forest, ivy covered forest. I felt completely removed from the Illinois that I dealt with day to day. I passed by a lovely little power-plant, a beached riverboat, and some quaint little towns that tried to get tourists to spend their dollars there. The last time I was through this section of the state, I was coming north and I liked the different perspective. I went down to Brussels and was met with the juxtaposition of corn-fields and cliffs. One outcropping reminded me of Squaw Peak in Provo and I attempted to get the corn and the cliff together. I couldn’t do it well as there were powerlines along the way and it was getting difficult to get on and off the bike. I had stiffened up since my fall and the drugs made the pain less, but the leg was getting awkward. As I drove on through the area, I noticed that each little puddle or pond had an egret, a bird that I’m very fond of. I wish I could have stopped and taken a picture of each one, but experience has shown me that a camera phone just doesn’t do it justice.

The trip across the Illinois on the ferry was uneventful, and I did have a front seat view. I was reminded of a book that I read from Neil Peart when he was taking his epic ride around North America. He was riding on a ferry and took his helmet off and worried that people would recognize him. He usually travels under a legal alias. I had no such worries and the biker that entered the ferry with me let me know that accidents happen and I shouldn’t feel that bad about falling.

I got to Pere Marquette in short order, looking forward to getting the tent up, a shower and rested for my exploring the next day. I found a spot (I was the only one in the whole place tent-camping) and got out my brand new tent. I spread the contents and realized….hmmm, no tent-poles. DAMN IT! NO TENT POLES! No cell signal to call Tracy so she could find me a place to stay….I have to get on that bike again and ride down to St. Louis, most likely. AUGGH!

If you have never been down along the Illinios and Mississippi confluence, I highly recommend it. It is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Coming up the river was some piece of equipment on a barge that I couldn’t identify. It looked like a turbine and rocket booster, combined. I wish I could have stopped for a picture. I did get to Alton, IL and called Tracy to help me find a place to stay. The place chosen was just off where I spent much of my time last time I was down here, right on Route 66. It wasn’t a place to write home about, but it had a clean bed and a shower. I hobbled across the street a few times for soda runs because I needed fluids, and not the warm water I brought with me.

The next morning, I rode down to Walmart to find chain-lube. I was worried that I drove 400 miles the previous day and all I could envision is the chain getting red-hot and breaking on the long, highway-speed trip home. No luck finding what I wanted there. Well, off I go anyway. I stopped at the Walmart at Litchfield and found the lube I wanted. It probably wasn’t needed, but I always fear my chain breaking. By the time I got to Bloomington, I was hurrying to beat some weather moving in. My last trip home from St. Louis also featured that exciting task. That time I got soaked by a cold rain and worried about hypothermia. I didn’t want that to happen again. Just south of Peru-LaSalle, I stopped at a small park to rest my eyes. There are times I get tired and restless and I found that if I could just close my eyes long enough for me to hit REM sleep, I’m good to go again. I wonder if anyone else has to do that while driving? Anyway, I reached home safe and sound.

Not bad for a few days off. I’m still stiff and my right side is still sore. I hope that will go away in a few days.

Wood

 I had to head up north to pick up my son from my parents' place, as well as help my parents with the winter’s wood. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the trip; an early six hours drive time but with a bad night’s sleep before hand and a very stressful couple of weeks at work to start the break.

An unexpected calm has taken over me. It wasn’t really on my radar either. I’ve been drawn to make the week meaningful with my kids, to let them know how much I think about them. I’m usually not this paternal, but the pull I’ve felt with them has been quite strong. I’ve been splitting wood for my parents and this morning, I realized that my three oldest kids were out there with me. A memory of mine was being made.  It was odd in that when I was growing up, I hated all wood related activities, yet here I was appreciating my own children and their doing this for their grandparents. Maybe what was remarkable is that they didn’t complain a bit. Not a bit. Now, I know I’ve changed too. I am not bothered anymore on the task. I’m the first one out the door, just to get it done, if for no other reason.

Changes. Perhaps that is what has been striking me.

The past few years have brought a lot of changes to my life. I’ve had to ask myself some very hard questions. I’ve asked myself what I truly believe, and that answer has turned my life upside down, putting me on a different path than the one that I had been forging for the past 30+ years. I’ve spend a large amount of time trying to understand, really understand, what I feel and some other things in my life. I know I can’t change the decisions in my life, but I had to understand them in the newer light that I’ve accepted. I needed to know that they were decisions that I can live with.

Who do I want in my life? I know I have little control over that particular portion of my life. I cannot make those decisions for others. I have a new set of friends, different things to talk about. Is this really what I want?

All these things kind of fade in the background as I once again embrace my past. I look up at the moon overlooking the family farm and realize that I’m at peace with where my life is right now. There are some things that I’d rather change, but over the past couple years, being at peace where I am is something that I have been pursuing relentlessly. Maybe I have arrived.

Cat Love

Yeah, I'm kinda weird. I stumbled upon this intimate moment while looking for work for the kids to do, because I'm kind of a tyrant that way.

Because

Because I should have listened to myself when I was a teenager.

Because I was driven by gratitude.

Because I was thirsting for acceptance.

Because she tried to trap me and I was confused.

Because I needed something at the time. Anything.

Because I met some wonderful people, the best people in the world.

Because I was lost, frustrated, starving, depressed, and arrogant.

Because I had nowhere else to go.

Because I was crazy about her. I loved her.

Because it was easier than thinking about it.

Because there were friends there, and they cared about us, and we cared about them.

Because it was a good place, and it was so hot here.

Because I missed her.

Because nothing else was happening, we might as well try it.

Because she lived next to a volcano.

Because we had money. Can we ever do anything better with it?

Because I needed to apologize.

Because my daughter asked if we were atheists, and I could tell her that she can believe whatever she wants to believe.

Because I was tired of trying to make it work, trying to have it make sense.

Because after so long, honesty was easier.

Because I was tired of hiding.

Why I Post What I Do

I've gone through several phases of what I post on Facebook, and what I post on this blog. I think that just speaks to the phases that all people go through as they go though their lives. I've had three distinct phases since joining FB. In my first phase on FB, I posted a lot of jokes. I was getting re-aquainted with some of the people in my past. I was just beginning to wrestle with some of my feelings that something wasn't right.

The second phase was one of frustration and reflection. My life was being turned upside down by some of the people I knew and met. My world was becoming much, much wider and I was trying to take it all in. I was questioning everything and coming up with different answers than I had in the past. My relationships were changing, becoming deeper and more varied. It was a very turbulent time in my life, and the life of those with me.

I'm currently in the third phase. It is one of rediscovering some of the things I was when I was a teenager. It is one of honesty with myself and those that I am intimate with. Long talks. Long letters. My children are getting older. I am communicating with almost everyone on a different level.

When I was contemplating this blog post, I was going to respond to a post I found online about men's greatest fears. I'll see what it is like answering why I post and also respond to the article. I warn that this might give you more information about me than you ever cared to know. If you stop reading now, I won't tell anyone.

Fear #1: My sexual desires are not okay

Ever since puberty I've been ashamed of what I thought, what I felt. I was a christian. I was told by Jesus that I shouldn't look at a woman, to lust or desire. I don't know about you, but with all the testosterone being pumped in a male's body, I don't know how a boy can do anything but think of sex and girls all the time. We are, quite literally, wired to do just that. Well, that was evil. I'd never make it to heaven, would I? I spent decades being ashamed of how sexual I was. It was damaging.

I was also a romantic. I wanted an incredibly intimate relationship with a woman. I didn’t want just a girlfriend, I wanted someone I felt honest enough to share my fears and hopes. I wasn’t that interesting a person, I realize, but that is what I wanted. I wanted something that I thought wasn’t very masculine. Why would a woman want someone like me? I’m highly emotional. I’ve no looks to speak of. I have nothing to really attract a woman, did I? Yeah, I can do math pretty well, but that isn’t really a selling point, is it? And I wanted something that the bravado of youth frowned upon. I didn’t really care about what my male friends thought, I was more interested in what my girl friends thought. Even more internal conflict….

I didn’t date in High School. I didn’t feel I was mature enough, and I didn’t think anyone would really want me then. What interactions I had with girls didn’t work out very well.

Even after decades of marriage, I’m still unwrapping my anxieties. It is much, much easier now. I’m more willing to talk about things than in the past. I’m slaying my demons as fast as I can. That is why I am currently posting a lot of thoughts on romance. Many of them are things unsaid, feelings that I had that went unexpressed. I wanted to be this honest, this open when I was dating, when I was married, when I met the wonderful women in my life. They were so wanted, and I was too afraid to let them know, too afraid to show what I felt.

And really, have you read how some people can write and express love, longing, and desire? I wish so much that I had that talent. As I’ve spread out into more varied reading, oh the things I am finding. My wife bought a book of love letters a few years ago. It was a revelation. Someone else had also felt these things, and they wrote them down with such talent and art.

Fear #2: Other men will think I’m weak

Men must be tough and overcome all obstacles. Never show fatigue or fear. Do not show anything except strength and confidence, right?

To be honest, how I’m perceived by other men is the absolute last thing on my mind. Never cared. It wasn’t with men that I wanted any kind of deep relationships.

What I did care about was how women perceived me. Dating was awkward. I wanted dates to go well, sure, but I didn’t like all the pressure on me, as we were on a date “together”. I couldn’t just come out and ask for suggestions, as that wasn't, um, normal. I did try to make my dates interesting, but a lot of it was just goofy stuff, and the most memorable weren't necessarily planned. I'm not good at entertaining. Entertainment isn't what I wanted out of a date. I wanted a romance. I wanted to know the girls I was out with. How does one do that when you are also afraid of rejection, afraid of not showing confidence? The big answer, you don’t.

 

I had expectations of what kind of a person I should be, and I couldn’t live up to that. Somehow, I was to be all things to her. That is what I was told by media, church and friends. I should be strong, handy, romantic, aloof…and I couldn’t be all those things. Almost everything drove insecurity into me during my teen years. About all I could do is think. I liked to think. Plumbing or carpentry? Nope. Cars? Don’t care. Quadratic equations? Now you’re on to something! What kind of a man is that to attract women? “Hey! I know how an operational amplifier works. Does that turn you on? How about single side-band radio or differential multivariate calculus? I bet that makes your motor purr!”

All I wanted was someone to talk about what my life was like, what her life was like. To hold hands on a walk. To tell bad jokes and play horrible tennis and climb a mountain or two. I wanted someone to let me run my fingers along the side of her neck and let me whisper how much I love being with her and how beautiful she is. I wanted her to close her eyes and think of me. I wanted someone I could tell my fears and be accepted. I want to accept her and everything that she is. What I wanted is love. That is what I craved.

I never gave a damn about what a man thought of me.

Common Core

I've been seeing numerous posts about Common Core recently, mostly negative, showing math problems that students are required to solve using methods other than the standard algorithms. After reading up on what Common Core actually is and at the risk of inciting a riot, I have to say that I don't think these math frustrations have much to do with it. For the last seven years, I've been homeschooling my kids using a curriculum that met state education standards for all 50 states. This year, we switched to public school and the schools my kids are attending are already using Common Core math textbooks. The math they are learning and the methods they are being taught this year are pretty much exactly the same as what they were learning here at home in many respects. Now, I know that many people reading this put their fingers in their ears and started "La la la-ing" as soon as you heard the word homeschool. But please here me out...there is more than one way to conceptualize and solve any of the four standard math operations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.) Learning multiple methods makes a lot of sense, considering we all learn differently. If I had known, as a child, that I could conceptualize long division a couple of different ways, I think I would have embraced math and not felt so tortured by it. The standard algorithms work for most people, that's why they're standard. But gaining a deeper understanding of why 56 divided by 8 is 7 may require more than memorizing that particular math fact. I advocate memorizing math facts, but I also advocate understanding the process and if there is any connection to Common Core, it's that particular nugget..

Glitter Soap

Rather than lots of little posts on Facebook, I decided to do a single post here.

The other day I was taking a shower and as I was washing some sensitive parts, I felt the soap was particularly, oh, scratchy. Soap isn’t supposed to be scratchy. I looked at the soap and realized one side was red. White soap isn't supposed to be red. So, I put that soap aside and used another bar to finish the deed. After towelling off, I looked more closely at the soap and noticed glitter in the red coloring. Since I wake up so much earlier than anyone else in my family, I just set it aside and decided to address it later. Later happened to be the next day, when I learned that Tracy already spoke to the kids about it. It appears that not one of the kids painted one side of the soap with nail polish. Must have been me, as there isn't anyone else owning up to it. So, this wrapped up another episode of strange happenings in parenting. Because I'm a parent, I washed my genitals with glitter soap.

I watched an episode of Star Trek, The Next Generation the other day and the old Scotty, James Doohan, starred. In it, Jordie and he were discussing their first starships and how much they loved them.

Scotty: Ah, it's like the first time you fall in love. You don't ever love a woman quite like that again.

I thought long and hard about that line. I think there's a lot of truth in it. The problem is, in my case, I wasn't all that good at it. I would hope that engineers in a starship are a bit better at their job than the first time they fell in love.

I sent Tracy a link to a blog post recently. Shame in LDS Culture. I only had a few thoughts beyond that expressed in the article. I remembered back to last Summer when we visited Utah. I was concerned with the current modesty culture that is underway in Utah and how it might affect my daughter. She likes wearing tank tops and I didn't want there to be any issues with any interaction she might receive there. Nothing happened that I recall. My only other thought on this is that regardless of what might be taught culturally, males will like females. In the article, it was cleavage that was what was discussed, but that is a narrow way of looking at how men view women. The curve of a breast, shape of a thigh, turn of an calf, profile of the face, depth of color of the eyes, all of these can cause a man to look at a woman. It is hardwired into the genders. We will attract each other, regardless. Men like women. Women like men. Yes, theoretically, a woman should be able to wander naked and not be leered at or looked at with an objective gaze. But, to be realistic, we should wear what is comfortable and realize that no matter what we do, we can't control what others do with it or think about it. Stop shaming our daughters into not liking their bodies, and stop shaming our sons for being attracted to girls.

"Will I Be Pretty?"

I stumbled upon this on a friend's FB post:

Will I Be Pretty?
Katie Makkai

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” What comes next? Oh, right! “Will I be rich,” which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry. “Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?”

But puberty left me this funhouse-mirror dryad: teeth set at science-fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pockmarked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.

“How could this happen?! You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb, that’s why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were six, otherwise your nose would have been just fine! Don’t worry, we’ll get it all fixed,” she would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way, then that, as though it were a cabbage she might buy.

But this is not about her. Not her fault–she, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides; teeth corralled into steel prongs; laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand-new nose the surgeon had carved. Belly gorged on two pints of my own blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you?!”

All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood, “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” Like my mother, unwinding the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her, “Pretty. Pretty.”

And now, I have not seen my own face in ten years. I have not seen my own face in ten years, but this is not about me. This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in six malls to find the right cocktail dress but who haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath the tyranny of those two pretty syllables. About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crestfallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.

This, this is about my own someday daughter, when you approach me, already stung-stained with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters! You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely pretty.

Will I Be Pretty?

Am I Ever Going To Change?

I'm tired of being me,
and I don't like what I see,
I'm not who I appear to be
So I start off every day,
down on my knees I will pray,
for a change in any way
But as the day goes by,
I live through another lie,
if it's any wonder why

AM I EVER GONNA CHANGE
WILL I ALWAYS STAY THE SAME
IF I SAY ONE THING,
THEN I DO THE OTHER
IT'S THE SAME OLD SONG,
THAT GOES ON FOREVER
AM I EVER GONNA CHANGE
I'M THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME
WHEN I THINK I'M RIGHT,
I WIND UP WRONG
IT'S A FUTILE FIGHT,
GONE ON TOO LONG

Please tell me if it's true,
am I too old to start anew,
cause that's what I want to do
But time and time again,
when I think I can,
I fall short in the end
So why do I even try,
Will it matter when I die,
Can anyone hear my cry?

AM I EVER GONNA CHANGE
TAKE IT DAY BY DAY
MY WILL IS WEAK
AND MY FLESH TOO STRONG
THIS PEACE I SEEK
TILL THY KINGDOM COMES
--Am I Ever Going To Change, Extreme



I listened to this song on a live CD that I recently purchased. I remember listening to it on CD ever since we lived in Phoenix. I've always felt that it was speaking to me on a very distant level. Why would I need to change? I've a pretty sweet life going on. I don't need to change.

I took a job at Motorola 20 years ago this April. I've been challenged on a lot of levels, but for the past 15 years or so, it seems that I've been doing the same job. While I tire of it, as it makes some demands on my free time, it is such a secure job. I've not wanted for anything. Again, life has been pretty sweet.

I'm getting older. Do I want to stay where I'm at or do I want to break out and do some living of a different life? I miss the mountains terribly. I wouldn't mind starting over, releasing some of the emotional and physical baggage that I've accumulated from staying in one place so long. I've made a lot of changes already in my life the past 3-4 years. My thinking has changed quite a bit, but do I make a further jump, change my life a little more? Not sure.

Damn song is starting to speak to me on a more personal level, and I don't like. it.

Am I Ever Going To Change (Live)

Clockwork Angels (The Book)

They continued ahead as night wrapped around them, smooth and quiet. The Commodore showed him how to find their course with the liquid-crystal compass, how to check the way the wind blew, how to keep them aligned with the proper vector so they could find the destination rails again when it came time to land.

Owen steered the airship right across the stars, and they flew by night into the mountains.

The proceeding quotes from the book are indicative of how this book read. The highlighted portions are lyrics, song titles or album references. While it may also be indicative of the sad life I lead, it did provide some of the joy in reading the book.

It isn’t for everyone. It ties in very closely to the album of the same name. It is a chronological telling of the album.

The ending is what caught my interest, considering my recent life changes. Owen is presented with two competing ideologies, ones that will never get along, both clamoring for his heart and soul. In the end, he leaves them behind, crosses the sea to once again find his love, to tend a garden for his children and grandchildren. A beautiful, if not fitting ending for the protagonist. It isn’t like other books. Here is the promised man to put all conflict to rest. Unlike Harry Potter or any other number of messiahs, he departs the field of battle entirely. He does what the other messiahs only wish to do. That takes courage.

It was a good book. It took me too long to read, but that’s on me. The book is a simple read, with plenty of illustrations and references to Rush’s other works.

Book of Mormon and DNA

My post is a hodge-podge of links and thoughts. For that, I apologize.
The LDS church came out with an essay on the Book of Mormon and DNA, Book of Mormon and DNA, and I must say, I'm rather disappointed. Look, I'm an engineer. I'm used to the practical. I also was involved with LDS apologetics for a time. I know the arguments. I didn't get too far into this before I noticed some problems.

The first most noticeable one was in the fouth paragraph, It hinted at agreement on the predominant theory that American Indians were from the land bridge from Alaska. The DNA is very conclusive of that. The issue is, by agreeing with that, the simple act of agreement, means that the foundations of the LDS Church are washed away. They came to America 16 to 14 thousand years ago. That throws the Adam/Eve story under the bus. The Tower of Babel, Noah's flood, Joseph Smith's and his successors' pronouncements about the Lamanites, Doctrine and Covenants 77, Most of the Pearl of Great Price...etc., all go away. You declare the world older than 7000 years old, and you don't have a prophet anymore.

The second issue came in the Fifth paragraph.

The Book of Mormon provides little direct information about cultural contact between the peoples it describes and others who may have lived nearby. Consequently, most early Latter-day Saints assumed that Near Easterners or West Asians like Jared, Lehi, Mulek, and their companions were the first or the largest or even the only groups to settle the Americas

That directly contradicts the Book of Mormon.

2 Nephi 1:9 Wherefore, I, Lehi, have obtained a promise, that inasmuch as those whom the Lord God shall bring out of the land of Jerusalem shall keep his commandments, they shall prosper upon the face of this land; and they shall be kept from all other nations, that they may possess this land unto themselves. And if it so be that they shall keep his commandments they shall be blessed upon the face of this land, and there shall be none to molest them, nor to take away the land of their inheritance; and they shall dwell safely forever.

 I didn't go much further. Like I said, I know the arguments. They don't work. They simply don't work.

I won't go on much further, as I can let others speak to it more plainly.

MormonDiscussions Thread
Simon Southerton (He is a member that was excommunicated when he did his own DNA studies back in the 1990s and found that the science doesn't agree with the church's position.)
Doctrinal Drift and the Book of Mormon

One of the best responses I found on Facebook. Like a few other things, Facebook and the more recent people that have left the church have spawned some fascination responses to the church. I include the post below with the author's approval.

My take on the new DNA article.

Elder Oaks: "It is our position that secular evidence can neither prove nor disprove the authenticity of the Book of Mormon."

Well it certainly could prove the authenticity of the book. Just find Zarahemla with King Mosiah's inscribed tomb. Or find evidence of a highly literate American civilization that lasted about 1000 years and worshiped Jesus Christ, including a verbatim account of the Sermon on the Mount which they taught to their children and grandchildren in peace and prosperity for over 200 years. It would be very easy to prove the authenticity of the Book of Mormon via secular evidence if any secular evidence existed. Elder Oaks' statement seems to admit that such secular evidence will never be found. I agree. 

After hundreds of thousands of archeological digs in the Americas, from the Hudson Bay to Patagonia, from Bristol Bay to the Cape of Sao Roque there is not a single civilization that could be the Nephites. There was no literate civilization of millions of people who built major cities and had a developed written language including measurement system, currency system, legal system (with lawyers and judges), and a major proselytizing religion with a living scriptural tradition. 

While we will certainly uncover a new ruin next year, a new grave, a new village or city even, it is inconceivable that in all our searching mankind has overlooked an overlooked entire civilization of the size and maturity of the Nephites. 

Secular evidence will never prove the authenticity of the Book of Mormon, not because it couldn't, but because it can't. It didn't happen. 

Now the religious teachings are another story. Nothing would make me happier than to see Church leaders take seriously the teachings of King Benjamin in Mosiah chapter 4 or Moroni's voice of warning set forth in Mormon chapter 8. I would like greater focus placed on the teachings of the book (in general), not less. I find the discussions of its historicity distract from its message. 

The Book of Mormon is scripture. So is the book of Genesis. The world wasn't created in 7 days and a flood never covered the entire earth. No guy named Lehi sailed with his family to the America's and had half his kids cursed with a skin of blackness and no highly literate society spent 200 years studying and living and teaching the New Testament sermons of Jesus in the western hemisphere. Just like the vast majority of Mormons don't have a problem appreciating Genesis while accepting it is nearly all fiction, the same should be true of the Book of Mormon. It is time for Mormonism to grow up and accept the reality of the situation. 

Some of my greatest heros are fictional--Alyosha from the Brothers Karamazov, Hugo's Jean Valjean, Steinbeck's Tom Joad and Abraham and Joseph and Moses too. I have no problem adding Joseph Smith's Alma the Younger and both Moronis to that illustrious list. No one should refuse to appreciate the Book of Mormon just because others believe the story literally happened--it would be like refusing to learn from Aslan of Narnia because some people believe there really are portal holes in the back of wardrobes into fantastic worlds of magic. Don't reject the good because of other people's mistaken beliefs. 

Specifically about this DNA article: 

1. Science is never done so reserve judgment.

This is true on its face, but inapplicable here. The fact that we don't know everything doesn't mean we don't know some things. We know from the DNA that there wasn't a population of millions of people in the Americas who came from Jerusalem in 400 BC. For sure. No question about it. 

2. There were other migrations of populations from Asia. 

Yes. Thanks for finally directly admitting it. My seminary teachers insisted that the "land bridge from Asia" theory was completely false and inspired by Satan to shake our faith. Really. 

On this point, I lost all faith in any Church published book last year when I found that the book Articles of Faith by Apostle James E. Talmage had been significantly altered on this point sometime between the first printing and the 1989 edition that I had as part of my missionary library. Talmage was absolutely certain in 1901 that the Nephites and Lamanites filled the whole of North America from east coast to west coast. Pseudo-Talmage in 1989 only says that a traditional belief was that Nephites spread into some part of North America. The book contains no note/forward/appendix/introduction saying that significant passages had been completely rewritten. This is considered completely dishonest without question in the publishing industry. (I wrote a post about this a few months back with exact quotes and page numbers.)

3. There are some very few middle eastern DNA markers, and scientists don't know when they were introduced. 

Yes. This a factually true statement. But we do know that they were not introduced by a single group in 600 BC who came to number in the millions. Again, the Church uses a legitimate scientific uncertainty to suggest an uncertainty that doesn't exist. No credible DNA scholar suggests that the trace amounts of middle eastern DNA found in native american populations could have been introduced as the Book of Mormon says they were introduced. 

4. Scientists believe that small migrations probably happened from time to time. 

Yes. It is almost certain that they did. But none of them created a highly educated and refined civilization numbering in the millions with highly advanced economic, legal, political, and religious structures. Citing a sole eskimo grave in Greenland hurts your argument, doesn't support it. 

5. The Founders Effect means that maybe we don't find the DNA evidence because Lehi, Ishmael, Zoram and all the males among the Mulekites had male ancestors that didn't come from the Middle East ala Perego's long lost male ancestor from East Asia. 

Not very likely. We are talking about at least a dozen men from Jerusalem here, some of them from the royal family. What are the odds that all of them, or even most of them, had a male founder with a different haplogroup than modern descendants from those Jerusalem people who stayed behind. This is silly.

Perego's DNA shows he is European with a distant male ancestor from East Asia. The DNA of modern Native Americans show they are Native Americans with distant East Asian ancestors. Modern Jews have DNA different than either Perego or modern Native Americans. 

So, yes, we don't know the Founders DNA for the Nephite/Mulekite men with certainty because we haven't found their graves. But for this argument to have any validity, we have to assume they were all, nor nearly all, from male lines that differed from the male lines of the Hebrews that stayed behind. This is really reaching for straws. 

6. A population bottleneck could have eliminated the Hebrew DNA. 

Yes it could have. But the scriptural record they say is historical doesn't record such an event. In fact the Lamanites are so numerous they cover the land at the death of Moroni. 

The massive deaths in the 15th Century just before and after European contact among native populations might have bottlenecked out Hebrew DNA evidence. But hundreds of genetic samples have been taken that pre-date the 15th Century population crash have been found and evaluated. They do not significantly alter the DNA picture we get from the living DNA. And none of them have come back Hebrew. 

7. Genetic drift could have hidden any trace of Hebrew DNA. 

The studies I have read say that the population with a dissapeared DNA trail must be very small for genetic drift to take it out. Notice the wording of the article: "When a small population mixes with a large one, combinations of autosomal markers typical of the smaller group become rapidly overwhelmed or swamped by those of the larger. The smaller group’s markers soon become rare in the combined population and may go extinct due to the effects of genetic drift and bottlenecks as described above." They never say how small the population has to be. According to the scientists, the population has to be smaller than it ever was for the Nephites/Lamanites/Mulekites. There were millions of Nephites/Lamanites/Mulekites spread out over thousands of miles. Genetic drift would have taken over a million years to wipe them out of the DNA record. This isn't a few dozen marbles in a jar we are talking about.

Conclusion: There are ambiguities in the DNA analysis. The ambiguities do not rise to the level where the Book of Mormon story is plausible as a history. No non-LDS DNA scientist is going to look at the data and conclude that the historicity of the book is likely. At best they will say it is difficult to prove the negative and by bad luck every male child of the Hebrew line might have died at childbirth in some generation and because they can't prove this tragedy didn't happen it is possible. But they won't be joining the Church on that chance. 

Elder Oaks' fear that secular evidence will never prove the Book of Mormon is well founded. His hope that secular evidence will never disprove the book's historicity is looking increasingly shaky every year as more and more data come in. 

It will be nice when we finally move on from the endless debates about historical veracity and appreciate the beauty in the teachings, just like we do with the Bible. A hundred years ago you would be in very serious trouble if you were to try to say out loud in Mormondom that the Book of Genesis was fictional. Now you would be in the majority of educated Mormons, including the Brethren (although they would prefer the term "metaphorical" to "fictional"). Hopefully it doesn't take us another hundred years to get to that point with the Book of Mormon. 

The fact that I spent a Friday night researching and writing this shows how pathetic and sad I still am, clinging to the frustration of a faith betrayed. I really am about ready to move on. Maybe this is my last hurrah.

https://www.lds.org/topics/book-of-mormon-and-dna-studies