Yes, I'm a Mormon, and yes, I attend a University owned by the Mormons.
We Latter-Day Saints believe in keeping the Sabbath Day holy. This includes refraining from participating in our usual labors. In order to encourage others to avoid their own usual labors, we are encourage to avoid buying things on Sunday. After all, if we go to a restaurant or a store, then we're making someone else go to work when we believe nobody should have to on the Sabbath.
Further interpretation is left up to the individual, and differences sometimes lead to philosophical debates between members. For example, I recently bought something from an on-campus vending machine on Sunday, a frequent habit of mine, and one of my friends claimed I was breaking the Sabbath.
I owe my mentality to my circumstances. I've lived in the freshmen dorms, where eating a Sunday meal at the on-campus cafeteria is both encouraged and expected. The Missionary Training Center feeds their missionaries at a cafeteria, too, and people staff both places each and every day.
As for my friend, I can't say his circumstances. I don't know what paths he's taken to get a different understanding than me.
But that doesn't mean either of us are wrong.
Sometimes, our personal beliefs just don't suit others, no matter how much overlap already exists. The important thing is to respect each other's beliefs. As we learn more about each other, we may even find beliefs we want to call our own.
So, yes. Your personal beliefs are flawed, but that just means they're not perfect. But then again, it's not a competition. Why not work with others to find those flaws?
And so many intrepid adventurers went seeking for dates and digits.
The thing is, everyone listed some sort of condition before expressing a willingness to actually go on the date. Some people were concerned their date might be sketchy or a creeper (which is a somewhat nebulous concept). Some people wanted an exact itinerary. Some people wanted their stranger date to be attractive, and some people didn't care either way as long as they, themselves, were armed.
Tinder was also mentioned in the comments as a basic illustration of this concept in actual practice. Since I don't have a smart phone anymore, I don't use Tinder, but when I was using Tinder, I formulated a technique that incidentally incorporated nearly every one of the concerns listed in your comments.
Obviously, if we both swiped right and talked, we found each other attractive. When setting up the first date, I never offered to pick the girl up. This was because I didn't want to have to ask for her address, and therefore give off that worrisome creeper vibe. Instead, I picked activities that could be held in a neutral, public place, like the local university. I also planned the dates for earlier in the evening, while the sun was still out, which helped keep the fright of the night down.
But why go on these sorts of dates at all?
As some people alluded in the comments, dates with strangers can be fun. There's usually a bit more of a story to go along with it, and the journey into the unknown can be exhilarating. As for my personal experiences, I obviously haven't ended up seriously dating any complete stranger I've ever asked on a date, but I've found some of my greatest friends from among such dates.
So go on! Ask a complete stranger out this week! If they say no, it's not like you lost anything, but if they say yes, who knows what will happen from there?
Happy Valentines Day week! I figured even the throwback deserved a dating theme.
When you read the original post, you see how confused and frustrated I was about my future. Things have changed since then.
I am more confident in my future. I have some tentative plans regarding my career and educational prospects. I am breaking into the literary industry. I forged connections I hope will leapfrog me to success. In a few weeks, I hope to be able to report on the status of my endeavors.
The moral of the story is, no matter how bleak and confusing my future may seem, when I press forward through the fog, my path makes more sense.
Well, I guess that's only one of two morals. Though I've laid a plan for job-hunting, I am still just as clueless in regards to dating. I would now hazard that Dating is Inferior to Job-Hunting, completely cutting the feet out from under the crux of my previous argument.
I am trying to save as much money as possible, and so found myself stymied by the cost of my books. I'm taking three classes in-person, requiring 7 different textbooks altogether.
I learned the University was selling new copies of these books for a total of $303.40. This came to an average of about $43.34 a book. The used copies weren't much better, coming out to a total of $248.95 and an average of $35.56 a book.
The on-campus store was not satisfying me with their prices. So, I did some research.
First, I went to the library. After poking around for a bit, I discovered that three of my textbooks were in the library. All I have to do is renew the three remaining books until I no longer need them. My quick run around the library saved me $74.70-$99.80.
I saved a further $23.20-$30.90 when I figured out the library had a digital copy of another one of my textbooks. This made me angry for reasons I will explain further down.
So now I needed three more books. This is a trick most of you are familiar with, but I went on to Amazon.
My 3rd-level ASL book was the most expensive of the lot, primarily because it contained a DVD in the packaging. However, another look around the library revealed that the media center offered VHS copies, so I didn't worry about buying a used book and discovering it doesn't have a DVD. I paid the online bookstore $37.73, thereby saving $47.22.
I bought my two remaining books from Amazon as well. The University store wanted $66.10-$88.05 for the lot. By shopping online, I spent $34.13, saving about $66.10-$88.05 from those two purchases alone.
And my University never got a single cent.
If I seem pleased, it's because I am.
For starters, I think my idea to look for textbooks in the library was pretty ingenious. I'm aware that this is not a sustainable strategy--I checked out the only available copies for at least two of those books--but if you're a student, you may save some money by poking around your school's library.
I'm also pleased because I feel like the on-campus bookstore engaged in forms of extortion and deception.
Yes, the University gives students the chance to compare textbook prices over a wide spectrum of options, from its own store to Amazon to places I've never heard of, like Valore Books. However, the fact that the on-campus store sells books at prices so much higher than the market in exchange for mere convenience frustrates me. Many students and teachers grow annoyed when nobody has their books during the first week of classes because so many people, like myself, feel compelled to look for better deals.
In addition, the University has access to an online version of one of my textbooks. Rather than inform students of this option, they shepherd us to their store. Why are they even paying for the digital rights to that textbook in the first place?
Do Universities really need to sneak around to obtain extra cash from us?
At the end of the first day of the Winter semester, I was ecstatic. I was feeling on top of the world. I felt like I could do anything. I looked like this:
Then came the end of my second day.
SO OVERWHELMED.
It helped that, on the first day of classes, we reached the minimum goal for my KickStarter. I was pretty pumped about that. By the time the end of the second day rolled around, I was drowning underneath the full knowledge of the assignments and classwork I would have to complete before finals.
At the same time, even as I wallowed in despair, the second day had some bright spots. I got to spend time with some of my good friends. I figured out a way to manage my schedule over the upcoming weeks. I felt the Spirit guiding me in my words and actions.
You see, even when you're downtrodden, you're never alone. I recognized that yesterday. I hope you have chances to recognize it, too.
Good luck with classes, and I'll see you tomorrow!
One of my friends was holding a birthday party at a roadhouse. I wanted to go! After all, who doesn't like good company and ambiance, amiright?
The problem was, I wasn't going for the food. You see, I didn't feel like I could afford it.
See, I'd recently gotten a ticket (click here to read that story), and I was looking to buy Christmas presents, and I just don't budget well sometimes. When I'm considering things like that, I balk at spending ten dollars on a meal when a thirty cent thing of ramen goes just as far. I do love ritzier restaurants, especially roadhouses, but I was feeling thrifty that day.
So, when I arrived, I'd already decided that I was only going to buy a soft drink with free refills. I was relieved when I found out the restaurant offered complimentary peanuts as well. Feeling armed, I sipped and crunched and sipped and crunched all the way through dinner. I didn't have to go all fancy with my order. And I had a blast. The party was fun, and I appreciated spending time with the people I love, as always.
But that was the other cool thing.
You see, when my friends realized I hadn't ordered anything, they waited until they were full, and then started offering me their leftovers. I was already pretty stuffed on peanuts and soda as it was, but their acts of kindness touched me, truly. After all, they were basically throwing leftover dollars at me, food they could have saved for their own flagging budgets.
I'd love to be an author with millions of dollars, but I don't want wealth to improve my own style of living. I want wealth to help ease the burdens of those around me. After all, I've seen my own burdens eased time and time again, even in a roadhouse on someone's birthday.
For the last two months, my days have proceeded thusly.
I wake up. I get ready for the day. I spend about an hour working on Change and Cherish. I walk to school.
And then, it doesn't stop.
I slog through homework assignment after homework assignment. I go to class and work. I say hi to a few friends before dragging myself to bed. And then I do it all over again.
In this time frame, with the sole exception of this blog, I haven't worked for more than fifteen minutes in a single week on a personal project. If I find myself with any free time, I spend it snoozing or winding down. Sometimes, I snooze or wind down even when I don't have time to, simply because I cannot muster any energy to drag my nose against the millstone.
My only solace is found in my relationships and in writing this blog. In these, I'm doing something for me.
But I miss writing novels. I miss feeling like I had time to be quiet and think about life. I miss not feeling guilty whenever I try to relax or spend time with my loved ones.
What's worse, I'm trying to graduate this August. So I'm looking at jobs and I'm looking at grad school and I'm trying to care about either of them. I'm trying to decide what I want to do with my life. And I'm stressed out.
I want to be a professional writer. I want to write books and the like. However, there is no guarantee I will ever find employment in that line of work. So I'm in school to receive an education to support my hobby.
But I also want a family. I can't just accept employment with mediocre pay. Odds are, I won't be paid enough to raise children with just an English degree.
So then it comes down to it. Do I want time to pursue creative pursuits? Better not go into grad school for the next two-to-three years. I don't have enough time to be creatively active as it is.
Of course, if I want to have a family, then I might regret not going to grad school if I'm forced to spend even more time working to make up for my low income.
Of course, going to grad school will barely help with the money thing, because the only programs I feel able to stomach are teaching K-12, or becoming a professional librarian. Neither of these positions pay anything worth mentioning, which means I'd come out of school with a ton of debt and no way to pay it off. After all, my kids' mouths gotta come first, right?
And either way, only people who know me personally compliment me on my writing skills. I'm obviously not that good at writing. Why bother improving that talent anymore? I'm going to be busy trying to earn money or going to more school to earn barely any more money.
What's worse is that I'm imagining making sacrifices for a potential future family, an abstract concept I can't grasp because I haven't even had a girlfriend since I came back from Jamaica. I certainly don't feel prepared or worthy to enter into that sort of covenant with someone.
I work hard. I have tried my very best to become a published author, to make a splash with my writing, to balance my personal ambitions with my pursuit of an educational degree.
I feel like my personal ambitions and accomplishments make me unique. I care about how that makes me feel.
I often feel like no one else cares. People only seem to care about my degree, which is basically a luxury item I paid someone else to forge on top of a conveyor belt. My degree won't make me unique in the slightest. If anything, it's just molding me into another identical cog in a manufactured machine.
And it doesn't matter! In the end, neither my personal drive nor my educational degree will be rewarded. None of my diligence or ingenuity will result in any rewards.
"Your novel concept is interesting," someone might say. "But not something I want to represent. And you powered through a Bachelors degree in three years? Now, that's interesting. Oh wait, it's in English? Go spend more money you don't have and more time you don't want to give up and get a better degree. Sorry you wasted so much time doing something you love instead of doing something that will be useful."
I feel like many people around me are just going through the motions, doing nothing but what their educators and faceless suited potential employers are telling them. They go to class, do their homework, and get their degree so they can be shuffled off into some machine. They don't accomplish anything for themselves.
I feel like I have dreamed and tried to rise above that monotony, but because I am apparently not notable enough to draw anyone's attention, my personally-motivated extracurricular efforts are ignored.
So, now what do I do?
I can't just use my time to work on my creative projects, because then I won't have money to support my faceless future family.
I can't earn money with my creative projects.
Best case scenario, I go to grad school to get a job that hypothetically will grant me more money and more time, even if I have to shoulder a stupid large amount of debt to pull it off.
But in those two or three years I spend trying to invest in that potential freedom I still may never taste, I won't have time to write. I might become stagnant in my creative abilities. If you don't use it, you lose it. If that happens, I'll lose a large part of what I feel to be my identity.
So, I'm stuck. I don't currently want or even need extra money, but what if I have four extra mouths to feed? I want to use my time pursuing my hobbies, but I apparently don't have any time to do so. I will starve if my hobbies are my only active pursuit.
So, yeah. I hate my future because I feel pulled in every direction, trying to please people I don't know. But what do I know? Maybe they're right. You can't have a nightmare if you never dream.
I know some people have made one of the sacrifices I've described here. I don't criticize you for whatever choice you ended up making. However, you can't look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't hard.
That's right. Today I'm talking about one of my biggest pet peeves.
I don't have any classes that have rows for seats, but when I went to a recent devotional showing here at the Y, I saw her doing it.
Sitting on the edge with about fifteen empty seats in the middle.
I was on the wrong side of the room to get a proper picture, but as I sprinted around the chairs to position myself properly, I kept seeing it happening.
Someone clambered over her.
Another person climbed on top of her.
Three people shoved their way past her blockading legs.
Finally, I stopped and took a picture of the offender.
See, nobody likes crawling over somebody else, especially a stranger, to get to a seat. It's uncomfortable. It's awkward. What makes matters worse is that you feel guilty. Oh no, you think. I am inconveniencing this person.
It makes sense for people to covet the end seats. It makes it easier to leave when the event is over.
But come on, people. I'm tired of climbing over you, especially when you give me a look like I'm being rude for wanting to sit past you. If you want me to be considerate, be considerate too!
All right, I'm off my soapbox now. See you tomorrow!
This past weekend, I attended the BYU v. ECU game held at the Lavell Edwards Stadium here in Provo.
I was slightly torn about the game to begin with. Many of my dearest and closest friends were hardcore ECU fans or alumni back in high school. Most of them ended up attending ECU as students. Don't get me wrong, though. I definitely wanted my school to win. I just knew I couldn't crow as loudly as usual if BYU won. After all, I have relationships I strive to maintain.
As part of my experience, I trekked from the student section across the stadium to give the ECU fans look over. I knew it was a long shot, but if any of my friends had decided to travel across the country and forgotten to tell me about it, I wanted to see them.
Unfortunately, I don't think anyone I knew was there. However, I was impressed by the ECU fan section.
One sliver of purple among a sea of blue. I had an incredibly difficult time getting a good picture of the section because they were swallowed up so much by the Provo pride. Despite the overwhelming opposition to their team's cause, the ECU section still managed to make themselves heard. Even from across the stadium, I could hear them cheer as loudly as they could whenever their team made a victory on the field. They made their presence heard.
It was one thing being a BYU fan, proudly wearing a giant 'Y' emblazoned on my shirt. I felt safe in the crowd. I was a member of the ROC. It was another thing to be a fan on the opposing team, especially when there was so few of them. Something about football games prompts thinly veiled hostilities between sides, and I felt it when I went up next to the ECU fans.
Regardless, the ECU fans didn't back down. They feared no backlash. They cheered and hollered and screamed for their team to succeed. They were fierce. They stood for what they supported regardless of the opposition.
Sometimes, life tries to crush what I believe, what I support, what I hold to be true. I know it can be easy to crack under extreme pressure from an opposing side. Despite this, I am grateful for the examples of people who stick to their guns and defend their position, whatever that may happen to be.
I am a strong advocate for being open-minded and acknowledging the good in every point of view. That doesn't mean we can't be firm in what we believe ourselves.
I recently entered a writing contest hosted by BYU.
I lost.
Today, I present the essay I wrote.
Your Unseen Influence
I step into the
‘X’-shaped administration building from the North entrance. I used to frequent
this structure as a nervous freshmen, understanding it contained many answers
to my questions. Now, I rarely give the edifice a second thought, using it only
as a shortcut in the most peculiar of circumstances.
Today, though, is different. I have
yet again determined I dislike my chosen major. My education has worn me down
physically, mentally, emotionally, and, most importantly, financially. Despite
this, I am looking at seeking several more years’ worth of loans as I change
tracks and embed myself in even more semesters of school. I know I am pushing
back my career and what I believe to be freedom, but I am stuck, unsure of my
next step.
I slow down and stop. I don’t want
to go to class. What good will it do? I’m not learning anything that will help
me in my career. I’m not helping anyone, and certainly not myself. I briefly
contemplate dropping out of school, getting a part-time job off-campus, and
just having fun with my free time. It sounds like an easier life than what I’m
currently living.
As these thoughts burrow deeper into
my mind, I unconsciously meander over to a painting on my left-hand side. The
administration building’s namesake, Abraham O. Smoot, looms over me, his
peaceful smile accentuated by his classic neckbeard. I’ve heard this man’s name
a lot, but I can’t honestly remember why he’s so important. I look at the
plaque below his likeness and learn that he was the first President of the
Board of Trustees. His plaque credits him with saying, “… I love that school …
It must live.”
I appreciate the distraction from my
thoughts. In another time, my curiosity would have died long before I found the
right person or book in the library to tell me who Abraham was, but today, I
have a phone with access to the internet. I plug Abraham’s name into a search
engine and poke around.
I’m disappointed to discover that
precious little of Abraham’s influence has been recorded in easily accessible
databases. My attention span doesn’t allow me to linger for too long, but I
learn that Abraham died without a dollar to his name. Brigham Young University
had once been on the verge of financial collapse, and Abraham had sold
everything he owned, even his own home, to ensure that the school would live.
As I slide my phone back into my pocket, I assume Abraham’s sacrifice is the
reason why I was able to enroll here at all. Without him, there wouldn’t have
been a school.
I sit on the bench to Abraham’s
left-hand side. Abraham may not have known if his sacrifice had meant anything.
Perhaps he worried that the school would collapse regardless of his status as a
benefactor. I suspect he died praying his life of service had made a
difference.
I look around the administration
building, named after this great man. Even setting aside the rest of campus,
this structure alone is beautiful. I look at the intricately designed tile
floor, the majestic columns, and the unique marble stairs. I smell that
indescribable scent, crisp and poignant, that permeates every step of campus. I
peer out the glass doors and see hundreds of students passing by, confident and
assured.
I smile. I hope Abraham can see
this. I hope he can see what his contributions did for us students. In knowing
what I do about him now, I find it fitting that his namesake is literally the
‘X’ that marks this campus’ spot.
Then, I remember.
I’m not here so things can be easy.
I’m not here because I know what I want to do in my life. I’m not even here for
myself.
I am here because I want as many
opportunities as I can to lift others to their true potential.
Abraham
may have never met me, but he gave away everything he had to ensure I had the
same opportunity to give of myself, as he did.
I stand up. I may have missed the
opening prayer, but I can still make it to class. I don’t know where I’ll be at
the end of my education, but I do know I want to make a difference. And once I
step out into the world holding whatever degree I choose, I know I won’t be
disappointed.
This past weekend, I went to the BYU vs. Boise State football game hosted at the Lavell Edwards Stadium right here in Provo. LET'S HEAR US ROAR!
And now, the overly long recap nobody was asking for!
DISCLAIMER: I totally didn't keep a good record of what the score was as I was doing these tangential things, so forgive me if my play-by-play of the game itself is a little off.
I have a habit of being fashionably late to things, and the game offered no exceptions. When I finally left my apartment (literally a five minute walk from the stadium), my phone was telling me that BYU was up by 7. Woot, I thought.
I came into sight of the field about five minutes into the first quarter. It didn't take me long to realize that, while I was fashionably late, I was also unfashionably dressed; I was wearing a bright blue shirt, and it was Whiteout Day. I felt a little like an idiot purposefully trying to draw attention to himself for no good reason.
Not only did I not know it was Whiteout Day, I wasn't entirely sure where the student section was. I kept calling the friends I was supposed to meet up with, hoping they would pick up, but they didn't. It was as I was seeking to hide my shame and find my friends that I ran into a solution for both. A couple of my excellent RA friends were chilling at the 50-yard mark, and they happened to have an extra white shirt for me. We parted ways shortly thereafter, but I had another goal in mind ...
I really wanted a CougarTail, aka A Big Ol' Honking Maple Bar, to share with the friends I was supposed to be meeting. Of course, I was beginning to doubt I would find them, so I decided to seek out the friends who gave me the white shirt, instead.
It was about the second quarter at this point, and I saw the Marching Band gearing up to rumble. I was in a marching band once upon a time, so I excitedly snapped this shot.
I was pulling out my phone to call my benefactors when I accidentally ran into them again on the other 50-yard line. They denied my offer to share my Big Ol' Honking Maple Bar, but they certainly didn't mind posing for the most excellent of selfies.
I'd actually purchased the BOHMP from another former coworker of mine, and realized I'd forgotten to properly record the encounter (this was a recurring theme of the night). So I went back to prove to all of our other former coworkers that we were the fir rill dill. At this point, I believe I'd circled the entire stadium at least three times.
It was about 10-7 at halftime at this point. I had given up on meeting up with my original group of friends, and I still had a couple of other individuals I wanted to meet as well.
Of course, then the marching band came on, and I had to seek a better view near the top.
That was when I discovered that these stairs are the worst. My massive feet wouldn't fit on the shrunken middle steps, meaning I had to stride extra powerfully to avoid stumbling or tripping. Why would anyone build these non-euclidean steps? I thought angrily. Then, I realized that people with bigger feet generally have longer legs, which the architect probably anticipated. I thought that was clever, but also rather discriminatory. Maybe I didn't want to use my impressive pace to avoid half of the proffered stairs, eh?
I ran into a whole bunch of friends during halftime, but had too many distractions to remember to properly record them all. Sorry, guys! Either way, now that the third quarter had begun, I vowed to pay more attention. After all, I'd spent most of the first half running laps through the stadium between plays so security didn't bust me for loitering. So, I moved toward my ROTC friends over by the cannon.
I'd told them I would say hello, but when I neared the sideline, I realized they were standing a good distance from the stands. Not only that, but they were wearing earplugs. I yelled their names a couple of times, but I got no response. Finally, I sent them this text.
Then I sent them this picture.
I stayed there for a while, hiding from security behind a lost Boise fan, before getting antsy and moving down the stands again.
Of course, Mangum's propensity to throw crazy long bombs down the field gave us another touchdown. We were definitely behind at that point, but you could feel the morale in the stadium pump up.
I'd finally worn down my restless nature enough to want to sit down at this point, and who should I run into but my roommate's girlfriend! She was kind enough to loan me a ticket with a specific seat number, which I didn't have because of my student status.
I ended up sitting next to three children who had apparently participated in over three football games that day. I was impressed with their devotion to the sport. After about five minutes, I got bored just sitting down and struck out back near the field. Around that point, the fourth quarter began, and for those of you who know how the game went, things started to get seriously intense.
I decided to work my way back over to my ROTC friends. Right around when I met back up with that lost Boise fan, BYU scored another touchdown, inching its way toward matching Boise's own collection of points. I wanted to get a video of the cannon going off, but I fumbled and ended up just getting a picture of the smoke.
Boise had the ball, but our defense was slamming on them. It didn't take long for possession to turn over to us. Then, all of a sudden, on the fourth down ...
MY CAMERA IS NO GOOD. I don't know what happens to the reel right when the catch is made, but I somehow managed to time that perfectly. That was the game-winning TD right there, but we weren't even done yet.
It's hard to tell, but the fans started to light the stadium with their cellulars at this point.
The ROTC were getting ready to do their 28 push-ups for the 28 points the team had scored at that point. I actually took a video of them doing those 28 push-ups, but then, Boise threw an interception, and we got another touchdown. It was ridiculous. So, the ROTC had to go again, and I took another video.
Of course, the fans were ecstatic at this point. A whole heap of them rushed the field, fireworks started going off, and many tears were shed.
I chilled in the stadium for a while before finally hiking home. For the rest of the night, I heard shouts and cheers, and would occasionally join in the revelry by opening my door, conveniently facing the street, and joining in. My ROTC roommate eventually came home, tired but as thrilled as I.
It was quite the night, my friends, quite the adventure indeed. If you were there or watching, be sure to let me know what your favorite part of the night was!
I'll be honest with you; this beetle has absolutely nothing to do with the post. This particular insect was just more visually appealing than the other subjects we will be discussing presently.
Several of my comrades have returned from their forays into the basements of my workplace complaining of a most insidious group of marauders - the deadly spiders.
Of course, from what I can gather, most people only dislike spiders because of the way they move. Something about the way those eight little legs churn give people the willies. I've also heard that a lot of people are scared of being bitten by a poisonous spider. That's a genuine fear--I've seen horrible pictures of the effects some spider venom has on human flesh--but it's rather racist to assume every spider you run into is poisonous. Look up the poisonous spiders in your area so you can identify them. Odds are, 95% of the spiders you run into are completely harmless, right?
Right?
No? You still want to assume all spiders are poisonous? All right, I'l try a different tack.
The common house spider is one of the least proactive predators on the planet. Seriously. It weaves a web and waits for something to fly into it. Yes, I'm aware some spiders are more hunters than fishers, but let's be honest here; the spiders we're familiar with are probably all web weavers.
The cool thing about these web weavers is that they straight-up protect us from far more aggressive insects. Take the mosquito, for instance. Not only can those little blood-suckers fly, they are able to maintain a near-invisibility when their nighttime hunting begins. They leave bites all over your body, which itch like the dickens, and you can be sure they didn't sterilize their proboscis after biting your friend and then coming after you.
Spiders eat these things. By the dozens. Spiders are useful. Spiders are our friends.
These arguments fell on deaf ears. An exterminator was called to eradicate the spider population in the basements. Though I never saw the sight, hundreds upon hundreds of our mosquito-eating friends lay prone on the floor, their legs pointing toward heaven.
I kid you not, literally a day after the extermination, I heard people complain about mosquito bites for the first time all summer.
I truly do believe God puts everything here on earth for a reason. "Why did he put spiders on the earth, then," someone might ask. I would respond that the spiders are here to protect us from mosquitoes. "Why did God put mosquitoes on the earth, then?"
So we can appreciate spiders all the more.
You, too, have a purpose here on earth. There are so many things you do, every day, that someone notices and admires. No matter how insignificant or disregarded you may feel, your contribution means something. It has worth. Don't be afraid to let your light so shine.
Sometime last week, I was visiting a friend on the South side of campus. When I returned to my car, I discovered I had procured a parking ticket.
Lovely, I thought.
When I discussed this unfortunate turn of events with my direct supervisor later on in the day, he told me he thought the parking ticket was, in essence, placed on my car unlawfully. He directed me to my university's parking regulations page, on which I soon discovered he was correct. The wording of this document justifies my being parked there at that time, I reasoned.
So, when I had the chance, I went in to contend the citation. I first had to fill out a form explaining why I felt as though my ticket was unlawful. I accomplished this with a calm and respectful tone in my writing, specifically citing the article I had read to determine my innocence.
Finally, after a short wait, I was ushered in to speak with the lady overseeing my case. I expected some sort of greeting or salutation, but despite the fact I was the only one in the office, the lady started barking at me before I'd even stepped all the way into the door. In the short conversation we had, I maintained a respectful and level tone, for which I was rewarded with belittling statements and a complete disregard for my well-crafted argument.
I was informed, right off the bat, that "nobody had ever come in to complain about this type of ticket, except for those who haven't read the parking regulations." This sentence was repeated several times, as if to accentuate how daft I was supposedly being, and was almost always in response to my direct quotations of the regulation document itself. In the end, despite my calm suggestions that the lady's interpretation of the cited regulation was not made explicitly clear in the document itself, she explained that the language was clear, and that I needed to do a better job 'studying it for next time.'
So, yes. In the end, it came down to the linguistics of the document. When I pointed this out, the lady informed me that she wasn't going to argue with me, and that, if I stopped, she would agree to lower the ticket's cost from twenty to ten dollars. I almost took the twenty dollars as a matter of principle, but, thinking about my next meal, sighed and agreed.
Really, though, if it came to it, I wouldn't have minded paying the whole twenty dollars. That wasn't the real problem I had with the entire exchange. I was frustrated because, first and foremost, I shouldn't have had to pay any money at all. Even if the lady's interpretation was the correct one, it should have been written in such a way that there wouldn't be a misunderstanding. Second, I was not respected despite my calm demeanor and my genuine concerns.
From the get-go, that lady was raring for a fight. She expected me to come in swinging, and so swung at me first.
In mulling the situation over, I feel like my frustrations would have been greatly mollified if I had been treated properly from the get-go. I honestly harbored no bitterness about the ticket itself, but now, I am still nursing a grudge against the lady, who I feel was inclined to treat me like dirt instead of like a person.
Sometimes I worry I come across this way to people. I get concerned if I notice I'm coming out swinging instead of beginning with the building blocks of mutual respect and trust. When I have experiences like the one I had at the parking ticket office, I take the opportunity to step back, reevaluate myself, and commit to not becoming that which I hate. And, then, of course, I write the experience down.
Yesterday, I found myself in a strange dimension wherein I was confronted with nothing but walls and walls of key hooks, extending far into the distance everywhere I faced. This, of course, wasn't the perturbing thing. No, the perturbing thing was this annoying blue light shining into my right eye. Where the heck am I? I kept thinking.
Photographic evidence of my claim to an insane journey through time and space.
Then, all at once, I remembered I wasn't in an alternate universe at all, but, instead, working a shift at a dormitory helping to orient brand-spanking-new college freshmen.
I get those two mixed up all the time!
That blue light was just horribly filtered sunlight! Silly phone camera.
As I watched these numerous freshmen come in with their luggage-laden families, I was heavily reminded of my own experiences in coming out to school for the first time.
Before I moved out to Utah, I was living in North Carolina. My best mate was also coming out for school, and he wanted to bring his car along. So, he opted to drive across the nation. I, of course, thought it would be much smarter to take a plane.
"Saves money, son," my dad said as he stuffed me into the passenger seat of my friend's car.* "Builds character."
Photographic evidence of my dad physically forcing me into my friend's car against my will.
So across the nation we two amigos coasted, enjoying company, scenery, and rockin' jams for what was supposed to be three days.
"Goodness." I stared into the smoking remains of the engine block. "This will be great to mention in a blog post about four years from now, don't you think?"
My friend shot me a withering glance. "What are you talking about?"
So, it turned out to be four days. But, in the end, we made it! Well, actually, my friend wanted to get off to his place, so he just drove me up to my dorm, kicked me out, said, "Good luck!" and drove off.*
So, my very first time living alone was forayed, well, completely on my own. I had to find my own place, get my own key, find my own university identification, and get a job ... all on my own. I was rather grateful for the experience, because it built my confidence and empowered me.
The downside to that experience is that it gave me a superiority complex. I now snicker at the kids who walked in with their families. Noobs.
However, in all honesty, our life here on earth is much like heading off to college for the first time. After learning for a time in the presence of our heavenly parents, we were sent off, by ourselves, to brave earth and all that it had to offer. Of course, we weren't really alone. God is still watching us, every day, answering our prayers, nudging us in the right direction, and lending us a hand when we need it.
Maybe I should cut those freshmen some slack.
Love you guys! See you tomorrow!
*If you ask him his account of the story, he will deny this ever happened. I can't** confirm who is more correct. Or won't confirm. Maybe.
Two of my thirteen favorite missionary companions, along with a wife, came down to visit Provo this weekend. Naturally, we got together yesterday to p0wn some noobs in the deadly arena of Laz0r Tag.
It was actually a pretty cool experience, seeing how effective certain individuals were in regards to their team.
The four of us did a pretty good job trading off as each other's back-ups, and as such, were generally able to mow down the opposition fairly effectively. There were a few individuals on both teams--including one notably large opponent who thought he was Rambo and kept recklessly charging right into our lasers--who felt like their attempts at being a solo operative were helping rather than merely feeding the other team's score.
The teamwork prize, though, went to a trio of peers, possibly a little younger than the four of us, who found a very strategic position near our base that we could not directly assault nor ignore without running headlong into their lax0rs. It proved extremely aggravating trying to flush them out, especially since they were quick to return once they'd reloaded. In the end, their tactics proved decisive in the second game, and we ended up forking the victory over to them.
In the same regard, I am very much someone who prefers to strike out on my own when it comes to any sort of endeavor (I mean, I write a daily blog. Not the best team-building exercise). However, as I have witnessed the value of teamwork in everything from my missionary experiences to something as simple as laz0r tag, I have gained an appreciation for it.
I have a meal plan with my University on account of my employment, which gives me access to every on-campus food vendor. Given that the various restaurants are closed at certain parts of the day (like at 3 am) and that I'm often too lazy to actually leave my dorm to attend them, my first resort for food is usually ...
... THE VENDING MACHINES.
I know none of you suspected this, but I want to be on the record as saying that VitaminWater did not pay me to promote their product.
The problem with this set-up is that I have now eaten every option from the vending machines literally five times each. I desire to eat almost nothing from these machines anymore, which is why I've taken to sticking with nothing but my favorites.
It's funny. I have all these choices to choose from, and yet all I do is gravitate toward the same choices I did from the beginning of the year. After having my fun experimenting and trying new things from the vending machines, I've more or less settled into a routine of eating habits. In all honesty, having exceedingly more choices in the first place really didn't help me make decisions any better, either. Really, the many choices only served to compound and lengthen my decision-making process.
I suspect this is true with life. I think sometimes we, as spiritual beings, yearn for greater agency, and experience a period in which we try other paths away from the gospel to find greater happiness. However, as we continue trying to understand life and everything afforded us, I think we will find the most happiness always comes from God. I know this.
