Evolution, Speech, and Religion

Evolution stopped with speech. Religion started with speech. Religion ended evolution.

Name the claimer.

Hopes and Dreams and Smitherines

I was hoping something in stake conference this weekend would give me some comfort or some answers. I must just be too closed off now, because I thought some stories were interesting, but none of it touched me the way I thought it should have. There are moments of intense feeling about nothing in particular, and then the rest of the time is just the numbness of nothingness.

I did, however:

finish One True Thing. Fabulous read. Just fabulous. Thanks to Amy for the suggestion.

start Dr. Zhivago. Those Russian novels have names that really get to me. They have like three different official names, then they have nicknames that I cannot possibly tie with their real names. I am maybe twenty pages in and I turn to the character chart at the front every time it names someone.

think that Elder and Sister Osguthorpe were really nice, especially since each time he got up to speak, he invited his wife to speak for a few minutes. That is respect.

guess the new stake president.

meet Sister Osguthorpe.

shake Elder Russel M. Nelson's hand.

shake Wendy Watson Nelson's hand.

have an interesting conversation with Bob Ligget about Church corporate culture and missionaries who don't really want to work.

see Uncle Scott's new fixer-upper house in Pepperwood. It is humongous. The office is my favorite. It has floor-to-ceiling book shelves with the classy sliding ladder, lots of windows and glass doors, and a piano. Wow. He's planning on doing a lot of work and selling it for several hundred thousand more than he bought it for.

rage about the twenty minutes I spent looking for that card for Daniel that has disappeared after Thursday's attempt to deliver it.

get myself to go to game night, where Tanya and I lost in Perudo.

visit Scott, who, in my opinion, needs to end a relationship, the sooner the better.

Domestication

If picking up Sica from school, washing dishes, doing laundry, and sewing clothes that have been sitting in a pile for several months counts as being domestic, I was domestic today. What about the fact that yesterday I finished scrapbooking my whole life (I hate scrapbooking and intend to do it all digitally from now on) and the additional fact that I sent more than 35 notes complete with photographs by snail mail to people I haven't seen for years? I know, it's a shocker. I'm very proud of the fact that my favorite pair of pants no longer shows my pasty leg (a year and a half ago when Joey saw the hole, he said, "Are those garments?" Nope, just my pasty leg). I'm also proud of the brown cardigan that I sewed to fit me better, despite the fact that Mom said it probably wouldn't work. I guess blogging doesn't count as domestic, though. Or writing a critical analysis of a Jefferson Lecture.

I thought I related to Jo March years ago. I feel more and more like her every day before she went off to the big city. "I just feel so tragic," I believe she says in the movie. "I can't stay here." Unfortunately, she felt okay with talking to and hugging Marmy after she said that, and I don't.

Recent Fortune Cookie Fortunes

So, I decided to share some of the fortunes I have gotten out of cookies recently. They are always good for some introspection. I enjoy the ones that actually predict something or encourage you in a direction, rather than giving a statement that is nothing new, such as, "You are crazy."

"Your dream will soon come true."
"Your dream will soon come true."
"Your dream will soon come true."
(Yeah, that's not a mistake, I got three of them! Does that mean three separate dreams will come true, or is it just extra testimony to the fact that my dream will soon come true? What dream?)

"Don't give up what you are doing, you will succeed."
"Trust him, but still keep your eyes open."

And, my favorite:
"You would make an excellent critic in anything that peaks your interest!" That sounds like an intellectual to me.

Old Ears Vs. Young Ears

I tried out http://www.ultrasonic-ringtones.com/. Here are my results:

"You are in your twenties

You can still hear reasonably well and you can play this without my old fart colleagues hearing it which makes you feel kinda good.
The highest pitched ultrasonic mosquito ringtone that I can hear is 15.8kHz"

Apparently some kids made up these ringtones that only younguns can hear in reaction to some British dudes inventing an annoying buzzing sound to drive away younguns who hang out in areas where they are not welcome. Read about it here.

I listened to it online. I find it funny that the old guys who invented it think it sounds like mosquitos. They can't hear it, so they don't know that it just sounds like a constant swishy static, like someone saying, "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh" for a really long time. I guess if I listen hard enough, I can hear a high-pitched part too. Anyway, I know the sound would bug me enough to keep walking, but I hate repetition like that. How funny. If you want to hear the sound without reading the article, click here.

I don't know how fair it is to cause pain to some people in public places. Read the comments at the bottom of that article, they're really interesting. Here's my favorite:

Rachel
I am ashamed of anyone on this site that thinks that this is a justifiable means. I am 22, have a degree, have never been drunk in streets, and am generally a 'model citizen'. They have recently installed one of these outside the shopping centre in Wimbledon, which is next to the station. Now, whenever I queue to get a ticket, I can hear it. Is that fair? It hurts my ears and makes me feel dizzy and sick. Also, the effect from it lasts even after I move away, I still feel ill for about 15 minutes afterwards. I see no reason why I should be subjected to this torture. They could play classical music or something to deter people without causing harm, but when a noise causes pain that should not be allowed. Even if only a small percentage of people are caused pain by this, it should not be allowed. This should be illegal.

Classical music for torture, that's a new one! Paul, what do you think about this?

Another kid's boss plays it in the break room!

Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow

Ow ow ow ow ow. This morning I woke up even earlier because of the pain (2:49). I hate it. I felt too tired to do anything about it, so I just lay there until it spread and hurt until I couldn't stand it anymore. Then I put on some sports relief rub, took some acetaminophen (it hadn't been six hours yet for the ibuprofen which is going to take its toll on my stomach some day), and microwaved my rice bag (much to the chagrin of my parents, I'm sure, who are on the other side of the wall from the microwave). How can I become so stiff while I'm sleeping? Isn't sleep the ultimate relaxer? Ow. I don't even want to hold my head up.

Recently, Amy and I had a funny discussion about how our family doesn't fix things. We just "make do." If the handle breaks on something, you just figure out how to use it without the handle. She said she is always surprised when Paul says, "We should do something about that . . . whatever," and then he does something. When the Glausers say, "We should do . . ." it means, "We should, but we don't want to spend money on it," even if it means that the problem will worsen and become more expensive with time.

So the whole reason for that last paragraph was for me to say that it's been 7 years. That is a long time in the life of a 22-year-old. Sure, I've gone to a physical therapist and a chiropractor (heavenly) and even a spine-stretcher. But I've never stayed for the long haul. I've never committed my money to really getting rid of the problem. Ow. What kind of doctor do you go to for problems holding your stress in your neck and shoulders? (It's always worse when I am stressed, which makes it even worse because when I can't sleep I get more stressed, which means more pain, and less sleep, and more stress, et cetera--I call it the deadly cycle, especially when it gets to the point that I cry because I'm just so tired but I can't sleep and it hurts.) I have no idea what our current insurance would cover. After the episode at the pharmacy, I don't think I care to find out, which will probably bring me to 8 years. I should have done something about it while I was on DMBA, but I was too busy working like a mad man, and transportation to and from would have taken so long my hours would have been funny. Excuses, excuses. Maybe I'll explore the options when it's really time to get up. Or maybe it will take a few more crazy nights like this for me to give in.

Chicken Time

Sorry, I just had to put this somewhere. You can tell it comes from Uncle Rick because of some of the totally Republican-sided views. However, look forward to the one about the peanut butter cups . . .

DR. PHIL:
The problem we have here is that this chicken won't realize that he must first deal with the
problem on "THIS" side of the road before it goes after the problem on the "OTHER SIDE" of
the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by not taking on
his "CURRENT" problems before adding "NEW" problems of roads.

OPRAH:
Well I understand that the chicken is having problems, which is why he wants to cross this
road so bad. So instead of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take falls,which is
a part of life, I'm going to give this chicken a car and a driver ...so that he can just drive
across the road and not live his life like the rest of the chickens.

GEORGE W. BUSH:
We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken
is on our side of the road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us. There is no
middle ground here...

DONALD RUMSFELD:
Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the satellite image of the chicken crossing
the road.

BILL CLINTON:
I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your definition of chicken?

AL GORE:
I invented the chicken!

JOHN KERRY:
Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong
road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken's intentions. I am for it now, and will
remain against it.

ANDERSON COOPER/CNN:
We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have
access to the other side of the road.

JUDGE JUDY:
That chicken crossed the road because he's GUILTY! You can see it in his eyes and the way
he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN:
To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART:
No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was going. I had a standing order at
the Farmer's Market to sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level.

DR SEUSS:
Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the
road, but why it crossed I've not been told.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY:
To die in the rain. Alone.

JERRY FALWELL:
Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The
chicken was going to the "other side." That's why they call it the "other side. Yes, my
friends, that chicken is gay. And if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we
boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media white washes
with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side." That chicken should not be free to cross
the road. It's as plain and simple as that!

BARBARA WALTERS:
Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first
time, the heart warming story of how it experienced a serious case of molting, and
went on to accomplish its life long dream of crossing the road.

JOHN LENNON:
Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads together - in peace.

ARISTOTLE:
It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

BILL GATES:
I have just released eChicken2006,which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your
important documents, and balance your check book. Internet explorer is an integral part of
eChicken. The Platform is much more stable and will never cra...#@&&^( C \..... reboot.

ALBERT EINSTEIN:
Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

COLONEL SANDERS:
Did I miss one?

Golden Swirl and Life

I had trouble sleeping last night (we're back to the old neck and shoulder troubles, completely linked to stress), and when I got back to sleep I dreamt that I got a job at Golden Swirl again. Everything was exactly the same except for the location (somewhere in a Salt Lake City business building) and the blender (it did really well, but it just didn't have that black thing with which you poke the stubborn stuff down). Everything was going well, I easily fell back into the old routines, and the girl who was training me was impressed. The only problem was that I couldn't find things. I would look and look for the medium cup and I couldn't find a single bag of cups anywhere. I was about to look in the attic with seven customers waiting when the girl who was training me came back and pointed at them, right where I had looked. This happened several times. I couldn't find the right thing, I'd look in the logical place and not find them, and then she would point in the exact same place and there they'd be.

Now, I'm not much for dream interpretations, even though I do plan to write a book full of them some day just to make money. (It is my theory that even if I put right in the front that these interpretations were made up on no basis whatsoever, people would still buy the book.) However, this dream just seemed to apply. I'm looking in all sorts of directions for something to make my life fulfilling, but I just can't find the right thing. Do I need someone to point it out to me?

If I eat frozen yogurt every day, will I get better at figuring things out? Ha ha.

Intellectuals

In Tom Wolfe's Jefferson lecture, "The Human Beast," he said someone told him, "Intellectuals are people who are knowledgeable in one area and speak out in others."

What do you call people who are not yet knowledgeable (as in PhD-ed) in one area but still speak out in every area possible?

May Day! Indigent Quagmire

In the indigent quagmire: I stepped away from my normal dating ukase and malaise and now I regret my credulity that it would turn out well. Part of me wishes to supplant the person who might be viewed as the wrongdoer, or even to hope compunction upon him/her, but mostly I just feel great disappointment in the situation and in myself. You do what you have to do. It's interesting that something so logical can hurt so much.

I am not impassive as it originally seemed.

May Day!