The Beginning of Something Better

Historically I've hated goal setting. I'm pretty much going to chalk that up to poor follow-through on my part. When it came down to it I didn't want to change as much as I wanted to avoid the discomfort of change. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I really want out of life. Accordingly, I've created a list of New Year's resolutions. I'm almost positive that this is the first time in my life that I've ever actually made such a list. It is as follows:

1. Spend time every day learning how to write, and by extension edit better
2. Learn to play the guitar
3. Help my roommate train for his triathlon

I enjoy writing, I enjoy editing. That's what I've said, but by and large my actions have not supported such a theory. I bought a MacBook recently that will go with me all over campus to be used to just that end. I also recently bought two new books with authors totally unknown to me (I'm halfway through the first). I made it a goal a while back to read a new book every two weeks. At the time the goal was realistic. Now, I will not have such luxury of time, but such reading will count towards my roughly hour or so spent daily writing, reading, or editing.

I took a guitar class during last spring semester and learned nothing. I didn't practice which meant I didn't want to go to class, which meant I didn't learn anything there either. It's absurd really. I paid to take the class "for fun" and I didn't do much of anything in it. My brother sent me a guitar tuner for my birthday. My birthday is in March, but he thought it was in January. Serendipitous if you ask me. Any time that I thought about practicing the thought of tuning the guitar, with a cd and listening, was too much for me. I did it a couple times only to ask Clark if it sounded right and wait the ten minutes why he undid the damage I had done. Again, I've been saying I want to learn guitar for a long time, but haven't done anything about it. That needs to change.

To clarify, I'm not going to be in the triathlon, but I am going to train with my roommate for it. I know he needs the extra motivation of exercising with a friend and I just need the exercise.

My goals are rather lofty in my own estimation. My reticence to set goals in the past has been driven by a fear that I wouldn't complete them. If I don't try at all though I'm certainly not going to make such changes. Here's hoping for something better with the new year.

Facebook is Useless...

I'm not real sure where I want to put this when I'm finished. That is assuming I finish it at all. That is assuming I figure out what it is. I think it's about time I rant a little about something that makes no sense to me, namely facebook. It doesn't serve any discernible purpose that I'm aware of beyond allowing you let friends of friends look at your pictures in a sort of stalker-lite fashion. It's not going to get you put in jail or slapped with a restraining order, but I'm guessing it's not quite the same, just guessing. I thought, okay, I've already got a blog, why would I need a facebook page?

The answer is that a ridiculous amount of BYU has registered on facebook. Short of the pseudo-stalking I can't figure out why. I've imported some 51 posts from my blog, but I don't think anyone has read them. I don't think people really go on facebook to write things. I've checked my friends “walls” and the latest comments are about a month old or they're a one liner like “Merry Christmas.” So I ask again, what is the point? How is it that a totally useless activity like facebook can draw in so many people, while blogging finds itself largely tossed by the wayside. Is it that people really hate to write that much? Is it that not enough happens in their lives that they view as extraordinary? I suppose, in all fairness, that I haven't updated my blog now for a month so I don't have much room to talk. But at least the page that I don't have updated serves some purpose. I'd post a short story or two I wrote, but blogger jacks up my formatting.

Give me Back my Ignorance

I've half-written a good number of poems, but I never seem to finish them. I guess I'm posting this for the fact that I finished it. The title of the poem is the title for the post.

Days I sought for voice
I already knew it
It didn’t hide in the shadow
The shadow of another man’s greatness
Not in the footfalls of an alien path
No, I had tasted and tested it
A wine of my own making
Made bitter by youth of mind
A blade forged in the fire of my ideals
Full of imagined fractures, faults

I buried it, thought it weak
Not for any lack of virtue or
Particular hint of vice
Voice would stutter like
Jagged breaths of frigid air
A sad little death rattle of clarity
Half-glossy sort of half-truth
You weren’t good enough
How could you ever be?

My throat ran dry like
A kind of fleshy river
Too long neglected
Too little appreciated
When voice returned
It was bitter
Disappointed
And coughing up the blood
The blood of my innocence
The blood of my ignorance

I Shouldn't Think in Public

I should explain something to Bryant...

When I walk around campus, the grocery story, or anywhere else by myself I think. It's not a normal, maybe not even healthy, sort of thinking. If you've ever gone a day without sleep and then finally crashed you know how enveloped you are in sleep. People could yell, fires could be set, but you would simply keep sleeping. Thinking is like this for me when I'm walking by myself. I'd be inclined to call it day-dreaming if I was actually day-dreaming, but I'm not. I think about a wide variety of things, but the common vein is: what can I do to change the way things are? It becomes such a draining sort of thing that the problem solving portion of my brain shuts down certain "superfluous" sections of my brain, most notably my social skills.

I ran into Bryant the other day in the grocery store with Kelly and I wasn't exactly...lucid. I can't remember what I said, but I did get the distinct impression I made an idiot of myself. Were this an isolated incident I could write it off as a fluke. However, I'm reminded of a similar incident that resulted in unanswered calls from a girl I had gone out with a few times. Basically, I ran into her in the library on my way to work and in my socially weakened state said something to the effect of: Hi! I'd stop to talk, but I'm on my way to work. I'm sure that's what everyone wants to hear: I'd rather go to work right now instead of find out how you're doing. Couple that with the fact she called me a few times since our last date and I hadn't initiated such a call and well...

I guess what I'm saying is that for all my thinking I act pretty stupid pretty frequently

Uncharacteristically Hopeful

I've thought for some time about doing some serious writing, but I've had some real doubts. There has always seemed to me something mysterious about books, or rather authors. So much of what I've read is brilliant. Reading those books, so well written that it seems effortless has perhaps elevated the nature of an author in my mind. I've had this misguided little image of someone sitting down to write and spinning literary gold at will. I've heard plenty of things said to the contrary, but none of that has really sunken in. Maybe it's one of those childish dreams or ideas that have been with you so long you want it stay true. It occurs to me that sounds an awful lot like some allusion to a personal apostasy, but it isn't.

I think what finally disillusioned me was the last story I wrote for my creative writing class. It couldn't be more than 750 words, about a page and a half. I spent somewhere between seven and eight hours on it. I guess in actuality I spent two or three hours of that on a different story and decided I didn't like it. Regardless I spent several hours awkwardly attempting to form a coherent little story. As my deadline approached I was panicked. I made a major change in storyline all of twenty minutes before it needed to be turned in. I hastily applied my changes and turned it in with a lingering sense of disquiet.

I debated going to class the next week because I was sure I'd get my paper back with a C or D, a frowny (frownie, it's not really a word) face and comments to match. I went anyway. Part way through class, my teacher talked about how we did on the paper as a class and complimented me with how I introduced details in my story. I was taken aback honestly. He doesn't give out much praise, maybe one compliment per class, which means weekly. I ended up getting a 54/60 on it, the highest grade in the class. When I got my paper back several spots had been marked with "you lost me here." So I didn't exactly nail the thing, but I did at least do something right. All in all I'm feeling a lot more confident that with some work I can manage this writing thing.

Cleaning, Meth, and Me

Either my apartment is willing random articles into existence, or my roommates and myself are irretrievably messy. I haven't felt really relaxed or at peace in several weeks. Tonight was uber-crappy. I looked around my room and all I saw was vomit in clutter form. I made me nauseous and at the time I put things where I did there wasn't really any thought involved. Now I don't know how other people try to calm themselves, but cleaning has never been my modus operandi. Oddly enough though I gave it a try and I feel better, not good, but better. In addition to cleaning my room I took out the trash that hasn't been taken out since the last time I took it out a few weeks ago. By now that meant two full bags. I even took clothes out of my closet that I don't wear to give to DI. Sadly, the rest of the apartment is in a similar state of distress, but one thing at a time I suppose.

It seems cliché to me for cleaning to calm me down. I've never seen people do it before except on TV and the idea of taking advice from characters on TV doesn't sit well with me. I guess I shouldn't complain though, after all, my apartment is a little cleaner and I feel a bit better. Maybe there is something to that feng shui stuff, either that or I'm becoming anxious and obsessed with cleaning. But I swear I've never touched Meth.

Where Have all the Squitchy Thoughts Gone?

It's been slightly over a month since I posted last and well it's high time I remedied that. Being a naturally inquisitive and curious person I find myself in the most puzzling of quandaries. For the first time in a long time I don't have any questions to ask about...well anything. I feel a little like shouting "Level 2 reload, reload" to my brain. I'm fresh out of questions and that scares me. Yeah, not just disturbs, but genuinely scares me.

I've always had some great question to ponder during down time for my brain. I've got nothing. I'm not saying there aren't plenty of things I have yet to understand. I'm just saying none of the questions that come to mind hold my interest. Even as I write this I'm trying to think of an example of one of these great questions, but nothing doing. I guess if I could think of one on command this wouldn't be an issue. This has probably been the source of my posting drought. No it's not apathy or procrastination, but just a lack of things I want to write about.

The only solution I've come up with is reading and lots of it. One new book every two to three weeks should hopefully give my creativity a defibrillator like jump start. I'm thinking my selections should represent a veritable cornucopia of literature so any suggestions would be most appreciated.

A Tragic Sort of Happiness

Life has been really busy the last while. By really busy of course I mean that I'm actually doing some of the things I'm supposed to for a change. I'm working thirty hours a week and taking classes in the afternoon. I've even broken down and done some homework. My creative writing class for this semester has been great so far. I like his secrets to writing. His main two are:

1. Have a take
2. Don't Suck

As it turns out my teacher isn't a BYU professor by trade, but actually works in the Welfare department of the church office building, at times with my dad. I'm pretty sure that nepotism in this case will actually create more work rather than less. He has a high opinion of my dad so I'm guessing he'll be expecting good work. All in all my classes are good, my job is good, and well I'm still a terrible person. I'm pretty happy with things how they are, the caveat to that being I need to get more sleep. My brother called me today and let me know the treatment Angela (my sister-in-law) has been receiving isn't really helping anymore. The last time that happened they had to accelerate the transplant process (this was an earlier transplant, my kidney will be her third transplant). My brother Joe said he was going to rattle cages until he got them to okay the transplant. He said he was going to try for something in the next couple weeks. We'll see how that pans out since the last time I heard that was months ago, but she has gotten stronger since then. I can only hope that it works out this time. I can only imagine how hard this has been for Joe and Angela both.

Admittedly, I think I've kind of kept myself from feeling an honest sort of happiness since this whole deal started. I think there's just some native guilt in me that feels terrible to be happy when other people, especially those near me are hurting. I guess I'd rather be sad and connected than amused but cold to the emotions of others. I'm pretty sure that's a destructive sort of thought process, but just because I know that doesn't mean I can or want to change it.

The Job and the People

This last week with my class has been an eye opening experience. The guys that I work with have seen a great deal of ugliness in their lives. Whoever hasn't seen any nastiness in life has had their eyes and ears shut mighty tight. They probably know as few people do, the horrors that people can inflict on one another. Despite all of these experiences, or rather in part because of them, these guys are some of the most hopeful people I know.

Don't misunderstand, they don't walk around with bright happy faces all the time. Most of the time I see them go through the normal range of emotion that we all do. But, I think of how hard it is for most people to just manage being happy with relatively "normal" lives and I marvel at how these guys cope. Going into the job, I was worried about how much of a disciplinarian I was going to have to be. So far, everything has been much better than I worried it might be. I really like the guys and, if I'm not mistaken, they seem to appreciate me.

It's taken me a long time to really comprehend one simple principle: In life, people are what matter most. The challenges that these guys face come from some disconnect where they don't interact with other people in the best manner. I once stabbed a friend of mine in the arm with a pencil and have spent a large portion of my life in self-induced social isolation, so I'm not real sure how I'm supposed to help them with social skills. I have to say, it's nice having a job I care about for once.

Changes in the Status Quo

Let me begin by saying that the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. With all the time I've had open between not having work or school I still haven't managed to write an entry until today. Anyway, as a general update I got a new job. I'll be working at the Utah State Hospital with the high school aged boys there who have behavioral or emotional issues. I'll essentially be the TA for my roommate Steve who is now starting his first year of teaching. It should be a good deal different from my recent jobs in that I'll be working with other people for a change. I'm still waiting for the transplant. It looks like it'll be a while yet.

I gave a talk today in church and remembered what I don't like about giving talks. Speaking in front of people isn't a real big deal anymore. No, the thing that bothers me is that after I sit down I immediately remember some four or five key points I managed to omit from my talk entirely. Oh well. Sorry this is such a lame post after so long, but at least it's a short lame post. I've written two other whole posts and just deleted them so this one at least made it to the blog, for what it's worth.

Sigh.....When Does That Life Stuff Happen

It's official, I'm painfully, woefully, and utterly bored. I was planning on skipping summer term and working fulltime. When the transplant stuff came up I figured I'd just have to give up on finding a new job and continue on at the library. I didn't think it would matter much because the transplant would be pretty soon. I've worked about ten hours in the last three weeks and, as of last Friday, I'm all caught up. I have no work to do at work. My boss won't be back for another week, which doesn't help matters.

So at this point, I have no school and three hours of work a week. I've watched TV, I've played my computer, I've read books, and I'm bored out of my skull. I'm thinking that I just need to quit and see if I can get some temp place to hire me. Since I still don't know when the operation is going to be, that's probably the only place that will hire me given I can't guarantee my availability for any real length of time. The worst thing is, with as little expected from me as possible you'd think I could take care of errands and such. I have a library book that is close to a month overdue, but somehow the less I need to do the less I do at all. It feels like my willpower has been in a cast and now it's all shriveled and weak. I hate waiting.

Patting Myself on the Back and Kicking Myself in the Butt

So a friend of mine recently commented that she had been reading some of her old posts and realized her recent entries aren't "up to par". I just went back and read my favorite of my own posts Love is like the deacon two-step, not the waltz and realized my own writing has taken a similar slide. So, both because I have time, and because I think everyone needs a little creativity every day, I'm going to start free writing at least fourteen minutes a day. I once did free writes for seven hours straight to make up for half a semester of slacking so I figure a few minutes shouldn't be too hard. Here's hoping I can get back a little of that style that's bled out of my writing.

Bear in mind the link will take you to the post, but you'll need to scroll down a bit.

Killing Our Own Dreams

I've been reading a talk recently by Bruce Young. I don't remember the title, but it talks about the miracle of faith and the miracle of love. Admittedly, I am a little wary of something being called a miracle. To me, it seems like the word miracle implies not only a fantastic or amazing event, but carries a connotation that that event is fantastic or amazing in part because it was the result of little actual work. In any event, I got past the title and kept reading.

I haven't finished the talk quite yet, but I have to say the ideas in it are provocative. I mean that in a good way, as in: "The talk provoked me to serious reflection." One of the main ideas he posits is that in both faith and love individuals often keep themselves from the very happiness they claim to want. I hated the idea. I still do, except now I think it could be true. It turns out, whether or not I like an idea has little to no impact on the veracity of that idea. His point is that with faith we have confirmations of what is true and yet, at times, we doubt those confirmations. We doubt that such a good thing, such a wonderful thing as the gospel could be true. Why do we doubt that? To paraphrase Bruce Young's idea with my words, we would rather be sure we're going to hell, than unsure if we're going to heaven. It goes back to pride. We don't want to be wrong. We don't want to be disappointed. So to avoid that disappointment we give up hope. I know I'm not the only one who hasn't pursued a relationship because I might be rejected or might be disappointed. Oddly enough I think Wayne Gretzky said it best: "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take."

It seems, at least at times, that people would rather not try and be sure of their failure than risk the possibility of being disappointed after hoping for something, never mind that there is the possibility for success through hope and effort. I think as far as dating goes it's being able to meet someone new and actually think something could come from it. The talk also points out that overanalyzation can kill a relationship.

You know I start posts off fully intending to write about something new, but somehow it comes back to the same things. I've already blogged about the human tendency to choose a crappy certainty over a happy possibility. Guess I'm all out of new ideas.

Reason and Faith are not Mutually Exclusive

I was at my parent's house yesterday and needed something to read while I ate my lunch. I came across this article from Jerry Johnston in the Deseret News and was very impressed. It's an interesting read, here's the link:
Reason and Faith

Man's Search for Meaning

I'm currently about half-way through Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning. I think I first heard about the book in high school and it's been kicking around in the back of my brain since. I was at my parent's house last Thursday and needed a book to read while I waited for tests to be done at the hospital. A couple of bookcases have migrated into my old room sometime in the past few months with my Dad's books in tow. It was here I noticed the book and started to read.

I think the vague impression I had of the book before I started to read was that it was a book all about how to be happy in any condition. This is part of the book, but for me not the primary message. Of course, if five people read a book, that is intensely honest and personal, you'll probably end up with five different messages. Anyway, for me the message was summed up pretty well when he said

"We need to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life--daily and hourly. Our answer must consist not in talk and meditation, but in right action and right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answers to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual."

Connected to this idea is what he says of suffering. He explains, and what mortal would know better, that sometimes our task is to suffer, but here he notes that "his unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden." So it's not a question of why do we suffer, but rather how.

A Pound of Flesh for Your Thoughts

I've had the same conversation a number of times in the past week or so. I'll ask what someone is doing in the summer, to which they will answer: school, work, both, etc. In polite response the question will be asked of me. Somewhat hesitantly, because it's not really the stuff of normal conversation I'll answer that I'm donating a kidney to my sister-in-law and I'll be off school and work to recover for three to eight weeks. I found out that I was a match a week or two back. Since then Angie (my sister-in-law) has had another stroke caused by high blood pressure from dialysis and stress. Of necessity this has accelerated the process of donation. On Thursday I'll go in for another round of tests, after which I'll be given tests followed by more tests. The operation itself is, to my knowledge, happening some time in the next week or so provided things go well.

The thought of several weeks of rather limited mobility, I must admit, is less than pleasant. Angie has had problems with her kidneys for a long time; this will be her second transplant. Right now she's still in the hospital from the second stroke. No permanent damage was done, but she's still working on normal consciousness; it comes and goes for the moment. I was over at my parent’s house for Father's Day and my nephew Logan said the prayer for dinner. He said "Please bless Mommy so she can come home and we can be a family again." My dad is still shaking off leukemia from a year ago, though he's started working part days. Thinking about this makes it pretty hard to take self-pitying thoughts seriously. Sure my job is crappy and I can't seem to fix a few things in my life, but what do I have to complain about? Albert Einstein said "Only a life lived for others is worth living." I hope that this experience will help me learn, at least in part, how to live that way. Being uncomfortable for a few weeks may not be much, but I hope it will be something like the widow's mite for me and my selfishness.

Why Shakespeare is Great and how the Devil is Crafty

I've worked at the BYU library for seven or eight months now and things get pretty boring. Just recently instead of listening to music at work I've started to listen to books on cd. I decided to start listening to the classics; since, by now I've realized I probably won't read them. So I listened to the Merchant of Venice by Shakespeare, which I enjoyed, but was rather surprised given it has a happy ending. I didn't think he did happy endings, but what do I know? My knowledge of the bard is probably equivalent to the information off of cereal boxes. Anyways, I love his use of language. As I was walking home from work I thought about what the world would be like if people actually spoke like characters in a Shakespearian play. Conversations in general would be much wittier. For example, if someone offended their significant other with a careless remark they might say "Though my tongue be given to offend, I pray thee let my lips amend." Don't get any ideas though I'm getting a copyright.

A few weeks back I posted a quote from a man named Leo Buscaglia. I was so impressed by the quote myself that I went on eBay and bid three dollars on one of his books. The shipping was free so I figured I was getting a good deal. I promptly forgot about it until I received the book in the mail. The book is entitled Loving Each Other: The Challenge of Human Relationships. One of the questions he asks, "Why are people so afraid to love?" struck me as interesting. I guess the short answer is fear of rejection. In an ideal world this wouldn't make any sense, how could giving love be anything other than positive? I blame the devil. Showing love is equated with weakness far more often than with strength. This has at least two immediate effects. First, it means that people are far more reserved with who they show affection for. Second, the recipient of such affection is predisposed, at least to some degree, to view the giver as weak. I think it has something to do with a horrible twist to the spirit of independence that the media so heavily promotes.

Introspective Insomnia

I've had a couple of little ideas for things that I could post about, but nothing really big. Since I don't feel like sleeping now I'll see what I can make out of them on the fly. Think of it as one of those "Our powers combined..." sort of moments, except that I have always hated Captain Planet. Seriously, what were they thinking when they gave a guy the power of heart? I'm pretty sure the whole idea stems from some writer's insecurities. Maybe he didn't get enough love as a kid. Anyway, Captain Planet bashing aside here's what I've been thinking about:

1.College is expensive
2.Dating is hopeless
3.I need a new job

I had been planning on taking summer classes, but I really don't think I can afford to. I already have too much debt and too little to show for it. No I'll be working full time during the summer, and who knows, maybe even fall semester. This brings me to my third point. I haven't forgotten the second one, but one and three are connected so play along. I've determined that my job at the library is not at all providing what I need. It's in no way, shape, or form challenging on any level. It benefits society slightly less than warning labels on toothpicks and yields marginal financial returns. Plus my schedule is too flexible, now for many people this would be a plus, but for me it's a big negative. This stems from the fact that I'm lazy so I put off work because I know I don't absolutely have to go into work.

Okay, points one and three out of the way, on to two. I was reading in Proverbs the other day when I came across 13:12 "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life." I'm not entirely sure I understand what the verse is saying. It could mean that when we defer or put off having hope that we feel heartsick, but when what we hope for happens we'll be happy. If this is the case I don't get the big message here. I mean obviously we'll be happy when what we've been waiting for happens; no surprise there. But what does it mean to put off hoping? Does that mean we hope for something, but we need to be patient for it to happen? Does it mean we have to hope because if we don't we'll feel even worse?

My guess is that it means the latter. I suppose it makes sense with the adage "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Sounds like one of those "wintry doctrines" Elder Maxwell talked about if you ask me.

If someone figures out a shortcut to enlightenment and inner peace let me know.

To Risk or not to Risk

First of all, no, this is not a post about the ridiculously long board game. In fact, it's not much of a post at all I'm just going to put up a quote.

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental
To reach out for another is to risk involvement
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self
To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd, is to risk their loss
To love is to risk not being loved in return
To live is to risk dying
To hope is to risk despair
But risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing
They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, or live.
Only a person who risks is free.
~Leo Buscaglia

Look and See How Clever I am

I've been doing this whole blogging bit for close to a year now and I think it's time I get back to my roots. When I started the blog, I admitted it was more than anything a way to see if I could impress people in a literary fashion. I'd like to think that I've had a decent post or two (bear in mind I said I'd like to think). In any event, yesterday was a reminder to me of the less than noble goal that started me writing.

I was visiting my parents and talking about Lincoln, the Civil War, and well cookies. My dad has this theory that a cookie only has half the calories when it is broken in half. Never mind the fact that he still eats both halves. He defended himself by saying that there was a method to his madness. I responded, "Just because there's method to your madness doesn't mean it's something other than madness." I was quite pleased with myself; I still am.

Something like this doesn't just happen though, no this took years of preparation. I remember that fateful day, so many years ago, that my brother told me, in reference to some less than cordial individuals, "It's all about mind over matter. I don't mind because they don't matter." Ahh, so good. I still smile every time I think about it. Some time later I was on my way to seminary when I noticed one of the school signs had been graffitied. Added to the list of items such as: no skateboards was no dumb people with a smiley face. That made my day. One of these days, I think I'll make myself some t-shirts or hats with such witticisms. As far as I can tell, Despair.com has a commanding influence on the disaffected masses, especially the college going variety, and I want a piece of the action.

The Comfort and Luxury of Mediocrity

So I've decided something; people don't like the unknown. Sure, we may say that we like trying new things, but let's admit it's all show. When I ordered calamari for the first time I didn't imagine that it was going to taste like calamari tastes. How could I? I had never tasted it before. Instead of imagining how it actually tasted, I imagined a vague sort of good taste and dug in. What I expected, wanted to happen was to taste something I recognized as tasting good. How many times have people tasted exotic food and said "It tastes like chicken." It seems that we have a hard time processing new experiences; they never stand on their own, but have to be compared to previous experience. When I tasted calamari I liked it, but not I would argue because it has an inherently "good" taste, but rather because it has a familiar taste. In this case, I'm guessing salt and MSG tied it in with the rest of my meal.

I'm thinking that the reason people don't try new food or new things in general is fear of the unknown. Why don't I move to say Boston and try to make a life for myself there for instance? It's foreign to me, I don't know what to expect. It could be a great decision, it could ruin my life. This is where mediocrity comes into play. Mediocrity is safe. I would here propose that a great many opportunities and lives lived in greatness are kept out of reach by the safety net of mediocrity. Though I'm loath to admit it, being a victim of mediocrity myself, especially scholastically, I'm inclined to think that mediocre results often come from a lack of self-confidence.

That's the beauty of doing a half-hearted job I figure, no one can really say if you succeeded or failed. Additionally, we can tell ourselves that if we did this good when we weren't really trying that we'd do really great with something we cared about. Would we though? Mediocrity and apathy go hand in hand and if you ask me, (pretend you really would) apathy is infectious. Once introduced to one aspect of life, apathy spreads to every aspect of life. As for me, I'm going to try not to cut myself so much slack that I get dashed to pieces on the rocks below.

Something I've Been Meaning to do

My parents had this idea that they wanted all of their kids to play musical instruments. This worked just fine right up until me. Why was I any different? They never encouraged/forced me to learn one. I never wanted to learn one, having been witness to many of my friends afternoons' spoiled by having to practice. Wow, that sentence sucks, but it's late and I'm not changing it. Anyway, this semester I'm taking a guitar class and I've enjoyed it thus far. I'm hoping that learning a musical instrument is good for my patience and self-discipline. A coworker pointed out that "chicks dig it." I was with some friends the other day and one of the guys started playing a guitar, yeah it's true.

My fingertips are sore, but then again so are my arms since I started a weights class as well. I've also started playing some tennis, which is good, just not as good as racquetball. Natural sunlight, who needs it? I guess in short I'm trying out a few new things. One of them is bound to be worth something in the end. I also just finished reading Shadow of the Giant. I quite enjoyed it. There are a lot of good questions and ideas about human nature in the book. I'm thinking I may start reading some more poetry, get acquainted with some of the classics. Trying new things, yeah I'm enjoying it.

What Can Change the Human Heart?

First and foremost, credit where credit is due, the impetus for this post is something from what my friend Frogkisser wrote in her last post. The question posed is: can someone's nature be changed or is it fixed. The gospel perspective here is a decided that depends. Do they want to change? Do I want to compromise for them?

It's a great paradox of human nature that some of the best most sincere change as well as some of the most superficial and shallow change in human nature can come from relationships. I think the thing I wonder is: how long can we or someone else be happy living contrary to who they are? My guess is not very long. Do we really want someone to love a cheap facade we put up for them, all plastic flowers and fake dialogue? At this point, I've just realized I never have any original or new thoughts just new angles on old issues. It all comes back to honesty and being yourself again. I think my pontificating train is still derailed. I'll keep at it.

The Summer, The Spring, and a Random Thing (or Two)

The end of the semester is near, so very near. Strangely with all my finals yet to be taken I'm not worried at all. I think it has something to do with my decision to fail that "Methods in Social Research" class early in the semester. I guess once I decided to fail on purpose, it's been hard to get worked up over the threat of doing mediocre in the classes I like. Soon that will all be over, at least for a day anyway, and then spring semester starts. I've never done spring or summer semester before though so I'm easing myself into it. My classes consist of: History of the English Language, Weightlifting, and Intro. Guitar. I think somehow I'll manage.

All of that is subject to change though. My sister-in-law needs a kidney transplant and I might be the donor. My brother wasn't a match so in all likelihood I won't be either, but you never know. I'll get the blood work done in a few weeks and find out. If I am compatible I'll be at home for about six to eight weeks while my body adjusts to using one kidney instead of two. I really hope that I do match. She needs the transplant and I can tell it's been worrying my brother since no blood relatives were matches. Additionally, I think it would be good for me to spend a few weeks feeling crappy. It'd be a good humbling experience.

Reunions, FHE, and Apathetic Mediocrity

I went to my first mission reunion on Friday. I didn't make it to the last one so this was my first reunion. I can't say it was a real good experience. A couple of speeches were made that could have been skipped by and large. The slideshow was shown with the disclaimer that it had been thrown together in about ten or fifteen minutes. The food consisted of pizza and pop with the only real Norwegian food being the token bags of pepper kakker (basically ginger snaps). Oh, and incidentally no emails were sent out except by those who hunted down the information and then sent it to one or two people. The whole deal smacked of little to no planning. I suddenly understand why so many people don't go.

In a similar vein our FHE group is pretty much on life support. As of last week, there about six of us and half of those are from one apartment. I never had FHE growing up so the mission field was the first time I really went and then obviously only on certain occasions. I've really appreciated FHE since coming to college, but I have to admit I feel very little motivation to go right now. I think the problem with both my mission reunion and my FHE group can be traced back to apathy and mediocrity.

It's a question of "Which comes first: the chicken or the egg?" In this case though it's, "Which came first the apathy or the mediocrity?" In the end it doesn't really matter which comes first becomes the one breeds the other and vice versa. If an FHE is lame I become more apathetic and if I become more apathetic the next FHE is lamer. Just a vicious little cycle to be aware of.

Buffering 23%

According to my Linguistics professor every time there is a revolutionary invention people tend to make that invention into a symbol for thought. The light bulb was one such invention. Cartoon characters often have light bulbs appear over their heads to indicate that they've had an idea. Then of course there is the phrase "The lights are on, but no one's home." Anyway, in that grand tradition of making technology a symbol for thought I submit this thought. I'm pretty thoughts are like a streaming video. When everything is working right the picture is decent and the sound is correctly synched. Sometimes though the video catches up to what's been buffered and the video lurches along in two second clips if something isn't done to fix it. I've haven't felt particularly inspired as of late. Strangely, I haven't been thinking about new philosophical subjects much. Even when I try to do so my train of thought seems to get derailed rather quickly (another example of technology as thought). So I've concluded that I'm at the buffering stage in my philosophical pondering. In all likelihood it means I need to do more reading to stimulate my brain. Does anyone have any books to suggest?

Mae: Suspension

Just a video from a little band I've come across.

Happy Birthday and Delaying the Inevitable

Today is my birthday, my 23rd in fact. To celebrate, I'll be taking a Statistics test and working. Potentially those fun-filled activities are to be followed up with a little trip to IHOP and some philosophical discussion. So I was thinking about the whole birthday practice and I'm asking that gifts be given to me in the form of quotes. No books of them, no long lists, just one or two quotes with something of weight to consider. Something like "Selfishness is self-destruction in slow motion." Got to love that Maxwell. In all honesty I'm writing now because I am delaying my stats test and work just a little longer. It's my birthday I get to be a little lazy right? That would beg the question "What's my excuse for the rest of the year?" but I'll just gloss over that.

On a more serious note, the last month or so has been more or less torturous to me to one degree or another. I've been trying desperately to figure out what the problem was. Finally, last night as I was praying one of those look,-I-know-you-know-what-you're-doing-but-I-don't-know-what-you're-doing prayers and things became clear. I was reminded of the importance of our thoughts. I really believe that there is no other way to truly be happy in life short of focusing our thoughts and consequently our actions on the things of eternity. For me right now, that mainly means thinking more about other people than myself. I hope that doesn't come across as cliché, but either way the principle holds true. Martin Luther King Jr. said "Life's most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others?" Guess that means I need to leave my ivory tower a bit more often.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

A Taste of My Taste

Between three months at an insurance company, three at an engineering supply place, and four or five at the BYU I have had copious amounts of time to listen to music. Each of these jobs has been mindless enough that they allowed me to listen to music while I worked. In the summer alone, I was working full time so that meant eight hours of music a day five days a week for a few months. Early on my good friend Brett informed me of Yahoo's music services. I tried the free trial of their launchcast radio and quickly became hooked. At first it was slow going getting my "personal" radio station fine tuned. Over the months though, I've been pleased to come across quite a few new bands that I enjoy immensely. As a public service, I will list my top three favorite new bands, a few of the songs I like the most, and what they have to offer.

1. The All-American Rejects: "Move Along," "Swing, Swing," and "Your Star" Emo/Indie band with some good lyrics and upbeat rhythms. Both of their cds are high quality.
2. Death Cab For Cutie: "Crooked Teeth," "Marching Bands of Manhattan," and "The Sound of Settling" Soothing melodies and clever song lyrics. Features the former lead singer of The Postal Service. Transatlanticism and their latest cd Plans are my favorite albums.
3. Snow Patrol: "How to Be Dead," "Chocolate," and "Spitting Games" Another classic "Run" was recently posted on Provo Platinum, which in no small part inspired this post. Emotion charged vocals and hypnotic beats of pure goodness.
4. Guster: "Fa Fa," "Two Points for Honesty," and "So Long" I heard "Fa Fa" years ago and the chorus was forever popping into my head, but I didn't know the song or band name. Thanks to James who reintroduced me to the glory of Guster. Very catchy and singable, (yes, that's a word now) the songs have some noteworthy ideas.

So originally this was going to be a list of five bands, but it occurs to me that it is now one in the morning and I want to sleep. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to post. In any event for what it's worth here are some songs I recommend. I'm sure you can listen to them somewhere, somehow. They're worth the effort.

Pandering to the Masses

Being an astute observer of cartoons I've come to love a variety of shows that both well-written and entertaining. The best of the best as far as I'm concerned is as follows:

1. Teen Titans
2. Invader Zim
3. The Tick
4. Big Guy and Rusty
5. Batman Beyond

Aside from being high-quality however there is one other common thread connecting these shows. They've all been canceled. I'm appalled when I consider that, in contrast, Power Rangers still lives on in some form to this day after some twenty different variations. The irony is that the title of the show (lightspeed monkey force to ultra rescue people) changes more often than the plot of the individual episodes. If you've seen one episode you've seen them all. You'd think with all the monster attacks the city would start to look the worse for wear, but they must have some killer construction crews. The hardest part of the writing is probably deciding what to name the monster. I mean the name Obliveron sends a totally different message from Decimax. We all know that the public school system has been failing for some time now. I turned to cartoons to compensate, but where will the rising generation turn? Spongebob? I really hope not. It just goes to show that the masses will support crapulence they know and understand over genius they don't. I just barely found out that Teen Titans was canceled. I'm very disappointed with the viewing public.

Reflections on Failure

Okay, as a disclaimer my failure wasn't really spectacular in the sense of being a spectacle so much as being spectacular in it's ramifications. Having finally decided recently what my major is going to be, oh yeah again, (English Language in case you were wondering) I also decided to major in Sociology. I would explain how I took my time in deciding on the double major since I took so much time to decide on English Language for my first major, but I didn't really take any real thought with the second one. I realized that I would have a lot of time in my schedule since I only had eight religion credits and one and a half credits of wellness to finish for my core requirements. Since I like Sociology and had the room I thought I might as well.

The unforeseen complication was that to major in Sociology I enrolled in Stats 221 and Soc 300 (Methods in Social Research). I loathe these classes. I took the first test in my Soc 300 test two weeks ago and just found out today how I did. I failed and failed badly. My teacher allows people to correct errors on this test for 60% of the credit. Sadly, If I got the extra 60% of each question I missed I would only get a 60% on the test itself. I've never done so incredibly badly before. Even before getting the grade on the test I was thinking about dropping the class. I say drop the class, but this late into the semester I mean stop going to the class and fail rather than go to class and fail.

More than anything this just reinforces to me the importance of basing my personal happiness on the truth of the gospel. School seems to be a losing battle at the moment and other fronts aren't doing too good either, but the gospel is true. I know intellectually that things will get better, but right now it doesn't feel much like it. In an effort to be healthy I've decided that I need to be okay with sad. I'm not sure why I'm posting this. I pretty sure that I repressed my emotions for so long that now that I've learned how to share my thoughts I have a lot of making up to do. It's said that life is bittersweet. I believe it.

A Reality Check: The Thing I Hate Most

A while back, someone in my stake presidency suggested that some people need what my good friend Ryan Daniels has dubbed a reality check. To paraphrase he said that some people don't get dates because there are problem areas with their, shall we say, presentation of themselves. Do your clothes make you look bad? Should you lose a few pounds? Is your laugh obnoxious? These were some of the questions he said we need to ask ourselves. To clarify, he said that such issues are not critical, but that they would affect our lives so we should be aware of them. He danced around the idea about losing weight before he spit it out; it was as sugar-coated as possible given the subject.

Additionally, he suggested that we should ask someone we trusted about some of our strengths and weaknesses. A potentially sticky situation, but perhaps needed. I decided to ask my friend of roughly ten, twelve years Clark what I dislike the most (this was another question he said was useful). Clark thought a minute and responded, "You hate it when things are supposed to work and they don't." The more I've thought about it the more it rings true. Not having a reliable internet connection to my computer bothered me because it was supposed to work. Was it inconvenient? Yeah, but I could use three other computers in my apartment to access the internet and countless more on campus. No, I was upset because I wanted to be able to depend on the connection working and couldn't; it should have worked, but didn't.

Not surprisingly I find myself trying to become more reliable myself because I don't like unmet expectations. According to my Sociology professor the number one reason cited for divorce is unmet expectations. So there it is, people want something to depend on.

Butterflies and Razors

Okay so I wrote this about a week and a half ago when my internet was not working. I'm pretty sure originally typing it in Word and then transferring it over lowers the quality; it's just not the same. We did finally figure a few things out about Comcast and why we've had so many problems with them... but that's for another time so without further ado,
Butterflies and Razors.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about change. I have a roommate getting married, a friend coming home from a mission, and my five year high school reunion all coming up. I’m not sure why exactly, but I don’t think I’m the same person that I was even six months ago. This semester has not been a real great one for me from a scholastic view of things, case in point I forgot to take a test worth 25% of my final grade. Dating hasn’t gone much better. Just not finding that “click” factor where things just work. I talked to my teacher today and he’s letting me take the test on Monday. I’m working on the happy resolution to the dating issue, but one thing at a time I guess.

Change is a compelling element of life, literally. People, places, attitudes, everything changes over time, as a result we have to change too. I’ve heard it said that you can never go home again. Others have said that you never step into the same river twice. Life would be easy if we found our way to that one safe, good place and stayed there the rest of our lives. However, much like that really comfortable spot on the couch, there comes a point at which the human spirit is restless. I’m guessing for most of us that other things force us to change more often than we feel restless for change, but it does go both ways. Change is a scary proposition, a step into the unknown, the dark. Sometimes we are excited, scared but excited, to see where new paths take us. At other times we walk nervously, waiting for the axe to fall.

It’s been posited that the flapping of a butterfly’s wings in one hemisphere may cause the hurricanes in another: the aptly named “butterfly effect.” It seems to me that the theory implies that we can’t know why anything happens; there are too many variables to understand why things happen. The other side of the coin is the idea of “Ocham’s Razor.” For my purposes, think of this as the theory that the simplest explanation is usually the right one. I hold with this one.

I think we have change because we need it. Whether we thrive on change or would rather avoid it, change makes us grow.

Can I see your soul please?

So it's late and I'm tired. Somehow this seems to drive me to blog more than to sleep. No wonder I don't sleep enough. Hmm drawing a blank. Yet, I feel a certain sense of obligation to try to write a thoughtful post. After all, it has been over a week and my counter did just pass 1,000. Both good reasons to blog. Reasons, but not topics.

I think I'll have to turn to something I think about a lot, honesty. Today at work, I overheard some girls talking about how great conversation is and one of them remarked, "I think it's sad that we hold back being completely honesty from everyone, but our closest friends." That was a paraphrase, but pretty close. At this point, I really wanted to join in the conversation, but I was working at the time and felt like taking time to talk would be dishonest by getting paid to talk. I guess for me it was really comforting to know that there are other people who think about this stuff. They even talked about treating everyone like a person, at the bank, grocery store, wherever. It was one of those moments that I was glad to be part of the human race. It reminded me that human kindness is alive and well. I really wanted to start talking to them about the ideas they presented. It seems like conversations of that sort don't exactly pop up every day. I blame much of my antisocial/elitist behavior in high school on a distinct lack of such conversations. I just wasn't much interested in "small talk." My tolerance for small talk has increased over time, but I'd still rather talk about what makes people tick over the latest movie.

On a related note, I've realized I could never marry someone who is a poor conversationalist. It's funny that reminds me of a conversation when a girl told me that one of the most attractive qualities a guy can have is confidence. I've thought about that a fair amount and it seems to explain that age-old question I've had of "Why do nice girls go out with jerks?" It would seem that part of the answer is that the jerks are at least confident enough to ask the girl out, whereas the shy, nice guys often don't. In high school I didn't date much. I didn't think that girls were interested and I didn't want them to go out with me if they didn't want to. I didn't think for a second about the thousands of years of tradition that state it is the male's role to initiate contact. Add this to the fact that I hated small talk, which meant in high school I didn't talk much, and suddenly my high school experience makes sense. I was always waiting for someone else to show interest in me; I'd respond when they did. Incidentally, several did that I was too daft to realize at the time. What a horrible way to live...just waiting to be loved. I know now that many if not most people live like I did. Waiting, crying, bleeding, and dying for love. My friends, I don't pretend to have all the answers, but this much I do know: if we want love we have to give love. It means letting people see who we really are. No bravado, no sarcasm, no games.

Some not-so idle thoughts on idleness

Well I've been stranded from the internet again due to crappy Comcast service. Another irate email has been sent and the problem has been solved at least temporarily again. I've been thinking a lot about what I'm doing with my life these days. As much as I complain about classes and work I do have a certain amount of "free" time available to me. I remember hearing on the mission that you could tell a lot about a missionary from the way they spent preparation day. I daresay there is something to be said about people from the way they use their free time. Let me be painfully honest and say that I doubt anyone reading this has wasted more time on a consistent basis than I have. I'll admit I have an addiction to video games and cartoons.

Seriously, I mean I don't get the shakes when I haven't had a fix, but its still an addiction. I think it all goes back to the curfew of my younger years. Until halfway through my Sophomore year of high school my curfew was 6:oopm. Yeah, I know, laugh. I'd come home sometime between 6:00 and 6:30 depending on which of my parents were home and fire up the old pc. I never did homework, aside from major projects. As a result I had a ridiculous amount of time to play on my computer. I have to admit that all of those years has taken a bit of a toll on my creativity when it comes to free-time activities. I'm trying to figure out how to use all this time I suddenly have. Today it was all used up in FHE and homework. Admittedly, I did watch an episode of Smallville. I realized yesterday that I never make goals because I don't want to fail. What is failure though? I submit that failure is more due to apathy as much as ineptitude. I suppose that is the bitterest pill of all; I fail to reach goals, not because I can't but because I won't.

All of the talks in church yesterday were on goal setting and achieving. Certainly that's been an impetus for me, but the ideas have been there for much longer. So tomorrow I'll be taking some time to make goals and figure out how I'm going to achieve those goals. I already feel better.

Just some stuff

So my internet connection hasn't been working since Thursday and neither has my phone. I spent a fair amount of time cursing Comcast in the last few days. Of course by this I mean I've been saying "Curse you, Comcast!" every time I pass the phone. My connection is finally back and I hope it stays that way.

I got a call about a week and a half ago from the local Smith's. One of the guys at the photo lab informed me that they had a roll of film for me from October. Despite his best attempts I could tell he was somewhat disgusted with my negligence. I finally went to pick it up on Saturday and discovered that 35 out of the 40 pictures on the roll were from my mission. Yeah, so that makes the pictures just over a year and a half old. Two of the recent five pictures were from when we duct-taped Christie to the wall for FHE. In case you've been waiting in suspense they came out pretty badly. Maybe that has something to do with the film being old? Who knows?

On an unrelated note, my brother ended up with an extra TV and so our apartment now has one. I was reluctant at first, but in the end the ability to watch Teen Titans outweighed my concerns and I acquiesced. I catch the 7:30am episode every weekday before going in to work. I've heard lots of recommendations for shows like 24 and the like, but I think I'll just stick with Teen Titans. After hearing multiple stories of how people are hooked or addicted to other shows I've decided I have enough addictions already.

This one's for Russ. So while I can't say for the moment that I like chick flicks, I can't deny I like sappy movies. I blame it on Clark's influence. We watched the Disney Channel's High School Musical. I liked it. I think movies like it are kind of like candy. You just can't think about what you're taking in, just relax and enjoy. I think I've come to enjoy the ridiculous in various forms. Maybe, I'm lightening up.

Love is like the deacon two-step, not the waltz

So I'm pretty sure I just caught on to something most people have understood intuitively their whole lives. Maybe it's my OCD tendencies to want perfection in certain aspects of life while others wallow in crapulent mediocrity, maybe it's because I expect the world to work according to my personal sense of logic, whatever the reason I've always expected every problem to have a perfect solution. I realize now that this is irretrievably naive. Plans fail, people change, and things don't work out perfectly. I guess it comes back to well, relationships.

Not just romantic ones mind you, but all relationships. Sometimes I think we need to say things in relationships that aren't easy to say, they're messy. The alternative is to be silent. Ideally we all fall in love with someone who is equally, madly, in love with us and we all live happily after. The reality however is that, in my experience, no relationships are so cut and dry. A guy goes on a mission and a girl he loves gets married. He finds a new girl and his friend is interested in her too. The girl doesn't notice the guy until after he has decided to move on. All of the above and many more situations come up in life. There is no fast or easy solution to any of these scenarios. Any solution that actually works involves risk and more than likely a great possibility for embarrassment. It also involves unequal portions of poetic moments and awkward behavior. Every once in a while, I'll stop and think to myself that life is beautiful. It's usually not poetic, predicable, or even palatable at times, but then sometimes it is. Life is like finger painting: some people are hesitant to get involved or get dirty. They convince themselves it's better not to try than to risk looking foolish. Other people dive in, mix the colors, and make life interesting. I'm not so afraid of finger painting any more.

It is not the critic who counts; not the one who points out how the strong stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to those in the arena; who strive valiantly, who fail and come up short again and again; who know enthusiasm and great devotion; who at the best know in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if they fail, at least fail while daring greatly, so that their place shall never be with those timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

~Theodore Roosevelt

Ah the Eclectic Magic

Last semester my roommate Randy proposed and we carried out a masquerade. We provided plain masks and mask enhancing materials. It was sweet. This semester he has once again hatched a madcap plan. This semester's celebrations will feature a beatnik theme; think beginning of "So I Married an Axe-Murderer." We'll be distributing flyers ahead of time, but the gist of it is that people should come with a poem or story to read and that clapping will be replaced by snapping. That's the rough idea at this point though we'll probably embellish as we go along. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, because of the French influence on the beatniks we'll be eat cheeses, brie among them. This has reminded once again of my determination to create a writing club at BYU. I've given it some thought, but I haven't decided what kind of writing to do it for. Poetry comes to mind as perhaps the most casual and universal, but I don't know if that's what I really want to do. If I am going to put real effort into this I want it to succeed and be something I'll care about. The other concern I have with the club is whether or not enough people will come to make it worth it.

I've decided to make sense

I've decided there is absolutely no point in using the Brekkjern pseudonym. Anyone who reads my blog knows me anyways so what is the point? Maybe it was just general paranoia with the internet that made me create a pseudonym or maybe it was peer pressure. Either way I've put all of that behind me now. I don't think it has ever been helpful and occasionally been annoying. After all, one of the things I try to cultivate within myself is being open with other people so the pseudonym seems counterproductive. Not that everything I do needs to make sense, but it usually helps. I currently enjoy video games and cartoons that by and large make limited to no sense. Though, if I wanted to stretch, I could say that they serve a logical need in that they entertain me.

It's late and all I really wanted to do was use my name to post things so there it is.

My name is Aaron Thompson and I'm a recovering elitist. It's been three days since I last struck a haughty pose or made a snide remark.

(Support Group) Hi Aaron.

When two gerunds love each other very much...

I'm not really sure what this blog is supposed to be about. I think this is because for once I don't really have any paradoxes or mental quagmires occupying my thoughts. In the midst of my near-constant pondering I have wondered what it would be like if I wasn't obsessively thinking through my past experiences or evaluating the merits of divergent philosophies. I think somehow my brain is taking a breather. It's still working full-time just not overtime for the moment. It's strangely refreshing or rather refreshing, but strange because I'm not used to it. I went to a party for New Year's and had a pretty good time. We played games, talked, and I wrote haikus with fridge magnets, typical stuff. Luckily a friend of mine received the college and genius editions of the fridge magnets. I'm jealous. How am I supposed to compete when she has words like elucidate, ersatz, amalgam, and let's not forget Kafkaesque. The haiku I can remember went like this:

to elucidate
is a vapid endeavor
the mind is arid

I think the other one was:

language languishes
as droll usurps pithy thought
question the banal

Oh, by the way, I changed my description of the blog just under the title. Actually, I've changed it four or five times with no comment so I thought people should be aware it is subject to change, as are most things in life.