Let Me Be Clear

In ten minutes I am going to bed.

Sunday is a day of rest, and if I hurry, I can still get some rest today.

I know that I am a bad blogger; I know that I have composed as many entries in my head as there have been days, but time has not permitted me to commit them to pixels.

I was forced to stay over my grandparents’ house last night under the threat of forcibly removing my car keys from my possession, so I gave in under the condition that we rent a movie.

We rented All the King’s Men. I’d love to tell you how the movie was, but after seven minutes I was out cold. I was awakened an hour into the movie and ordered to bed. I put up no defense, which is proof enough of exhaustion. I woke eight hours later, and as further proof of my exhaustion, was as tired when I awoke as I was when I feel to sleep.

But there were important things to be done today. Unfortunately, church just wasn’t one of those. I didn’t bring any change of clothes, and it’s an hour and a half drive to my place from the grandparents’, so that was a no go.

But there was Death by Chocolate, which was a fundraiser benefiting, come to find out, Rotarians. To be honest, it could have been Planned Parenthood, and I would have handed them my money, smiling all the way. If you ever want me to sell my soul, set the price in chocolate and it is all yours.

But none of this is the real point of this entry.

I need to do more research on this, but I have come to the conclusion that this life is all about me.

That’s right. My life ultimately has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do about me. That’s not to say I don’t welcome your presence in my life, or that I don’t love you almost more than life itself, but I am here to become something, and absent of that, everything else I do might as well have been in vain if I don’t become who I am supposed to be.

This isn’t a perfect theory, and I am much to tired to expound further, but the bare bones of it is that what I do for you is good in that it is service, and may help you become what you should (and how great is the joy of that man who brings but one soul unto the Father), but the reason I have this life and this body is that I must become. And the way I do that is to put God first and family second, and you probably rank third or fourth or fifth or sixth.

Don’t be offended. Be flattered that you even make the list, but don’t expect to cut in line, because it’s great that you are at the party, but this is my party and don’t you forget it.

Retrospective

I’m blogging almost exclusively because I haven’t done so in more than a week.

I read a friend’s blog, and the jealousy hits me. I want to write like that. I want to give you as clear a picture of my life as he does of his.

And yet, the picture he paints is not as clear as his words suggest to my mind, because I know that there are pieces missing. There are always pieces missing. That is what we writers do. We give you just enough of the picture so that you think you have it all, but we hide away our secrets, whether it be by cipher or plain silence.

As I write, the words are intoxicating. It’s like having the first glass of red wine after a long period of prohibition. Just the smell alone leaves you a little tipsy (and you think yourself far more clever than you really are).

Lately, I’ve made great fanfare of announcing myself as officially old. A quarter of a century has passed me by and I feel at once irrevocably old and painfully young.

I feel as if there is so much I could have already done with my life and yet all it has amounted to is unfilled potential. I know already that my life has glanced off of a trajectory for greatness–assuming it were ever on one, but at the same time, I feel as if I’ve grabbed hold of the steering wheel and jerked away from certain catastrophe at the last possible moment.

My failures are legion, but the failures passed on by my lineage and my raising that I’ve reversed are even more.

I’m not a Stanford-trained engineer. I won’t be a Rhodes scholar. I’ll never be famous or infamous.

But I am a success, even if I am the only person who will ever notice.

Resolutions? What Resolutions?

As I was working Tuesday night, the thought struck me.

I do an awful lot of thinking and writing and complaining about faith and the Church, but when it comes to the doing part… not so much.

The ever-wise brahnamin quoted Gandhi in a comment in the whine about Zion post, but wasn’t it also Gandhi who said that we must be the change we wish to see in the world?

I think it was.

Not So Much

But still kinda cool, given my Jeff Gordon fangrrrrlness…

Pretend this Title is Clever

Congratulations to whomever found this blog by searching for carnal hussy. I knew I needed a new modifier. Fits the bill rather well.

Speaking of fitting and not fitting, I don’t think I’ll ever fit in with Mormons.

Sure, I’ve got the no drinking coffee, tea, and alcohol thing down, God monopolizes my Sundays, and I’d like to have a gaggle of kids (or not), but I just don’t get the whole faith promoting story mindset.

All of those stories just suck the hope right out of my faith. They tell me that we think we need to be the same to be right. Maybe not “we” per se, but a portion of those whom we look for guidance. And even a small portion is too large a portion.

I look forward to Zion, when our hearts and our wills will be aligned for good (and for Good), but I think we will always retain our individuality, and that God would have it no other way. And I don’t mean I-like-green-jello-and-you-like-red-jello individuality.

I mean I’m economically conservative and you’re economically liberal individuality. I mean I watch TV on Sundays and you don’t individuality. I mean the kind of individuality that allows us to hold completely different opinions, but be equally righteous, ceritus paribus.

I think I hope in vain.

But I hope anyway.

Time Well Wasted

I just may be allergic to sleep.

Sleep is simply a waste of time. I mean, who wants to spend one third of his day doing absolutely nothing with his eyes closed, when he could be doing nothing with his eyes open?

Speaking of open eyes, I have had a twitch in my left eye for almost a week now. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a little annoying and a little worrisome. I swear I watch too much House, because after a few days of this, I noticed it was a reoccurring thing, and my first thought was Could it be neurological?

I was supposed to blog something really funny that happened at work today, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was. The phrase ‘I’ve GOT to blog that’ came out of my mouth. I was standing by the fry station and I was laughing really hard. But no, I have no idea what it was. My bad.

You’ll never get the fifteen seconds it took you to read that back. Never. Nope. Sorry.

And I will never get the 45 minutes back that it took me to watch Friday’s DVRed episode of Glenn Beck on CNN Headline news. He interviewed Janice Dickenson. Yeah, the annoying woman from Surreal Life and America’s Next Top Model. Waste of airtime. Glenn, what were you thinking? Were you thinking? Did it just turn out differently than you had imagined?

I threw up a little in my mouth.

You know who else makes me throw up a little in my mouth? The President of Iran.

Will someone just assassinate him already?

Lunatics Running the Asylum

This was part of a text message I sent earlier today. Spending a day at work is exactly that; watching the lunatics run the asylum. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. But work is just work and doesn’t really matter, right?

Well, maybe, if it didn’t make me such a godawful horrible person in the meantime.

I don’t often say anything I shouldn’t, but I think things I shouldn’t almost minutely.

Like, “Sweet Father in Heaven, why did you make people so stupid?” I’m not being profane. Just meanly inquisitive.

It’s like all the dumb people either patronise where I work, or actually work there. It’s really hard to be Christlike and try to do one’s part in ushering in Zion when people are so incredibly STUPID.

How can I love these people when I can’t even take them seriously?

I tell Linds all the time that I just don’t understand how stupid people can be happy. Mostly because I cannot even imagine what it is like to be stupid.

Seriously, is that hard to just… uh… use your freakin BRAIN?

Clearly I am overworked and lacking in any type of charity.

Stupid.

Yeah Buddy

There’s nothing in the world like a vacation, even if that vacation does include working 40 hours a week.

I’ve gone to a movie, a new year’s party, and a really lame church dance. I read an entire book that had absolutely nothing to do with economics. I wake up in the morning and turn the radio on for three hours, instead of listening to three hours of lectures. I stay up really late and it doesn’t involve homework!

This is the life that I only dreamed  about two months ago.

Yeah, nothing groundbreaking, profound, or funny here.

I’m too busy being lazy.

B to the Z

In keeping with my New Year’s Resolutions, I finished Glenn Beck’s book tonight. It is due tomorrow, after all, and I wouldn’t want any late fees.

It has inspired me to come up with a new slogan for the year. It will be the motto that will keep me focused on what is really important. And it’s interesting, because it’s not new. I used it for a few years and I always liked it. I even named a blog and a website after it, back in the day.

Building Zion, One Prayer a Time

Did I mention that boys suck?