A little bit creepy

Now that Christmas is over, I want you to try something. Take a song that mentions Santa Claus by name and replace Santa with "The Boogeyman." Let's try some on for size:

"He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness' sake." ("Santa Claus is Coming to Town")

Hmm . . . I didn't replace anything on that one. Let's try again.

"Jump in bed and say your prayers 'cause [the Boogeyman] comes tonight." ("Here Comes Santa Claus Right Down Santa Claus Lane")

There we go! In either case, the imagery is slightly disquieting, but it's okay because Santy Claus is good. Sure . . .

Christmas to me.

Christmas means different things to everyone, but it also means different things to the same people at different times. This is true for me as well.

Let's start at the beginning. When I was a kid, Christmas was all about family and presents. I remember Dad pulling down the artificial tree from the rafters in the garage and all of the kids helping to put it together. Mom would spend a whole week baking to put together goody plates for us to hand out when we went caroling. I loved waking up early to run to open presents, but the kids had to wait for the parents to get up, of course. Because Santa never came by our house, Mom and Dad would assign each kid to pick out a gift for another kid (I liked that because it helped us to enjoy the act of giving). Overall, I really liked Christmas.

The next stage probably started in high school. I didn't like Christmas a lot in High School. Because I sang in choir from eighth grade to the end of high school, for a solid five years I started singing Christmas songs in late September/early October. That meant that it was harder to get into the Christmas spirit for me. That continued after school when I started working retail, because I would hear the Holiday music all day long and would have to be jolly when all of the customers were jerks. This over-doing of the Holidays had the effect of turning me into one of those people that was offended by someone saying "Happy Holidays" rather than "Merry Christmas." I felt like Santa Claus was a "corporate tool," as I would often say. I just couldn't tolerate the idea that Christmas was anything other than what I felt it should be.

On my mission, I relaxed quite a bit. A lot of it was because we would work all the way up to Christmas (we weren't allowed to do any proselyting on Christmas, which I always felt was for the best) and I think because everyday was about sharing our testimonies, it was okay if one day was less Christ-centered. Or maybe I meant in spite of that . . .

That brings us to today. I accept the fact that other people will celebrate the Holiday in their own way. I read an article recently in the school paper, condemning people for saying "Merry Christmas" before the Holiday (apparently the two weeks before Christmas is called "Advent"). My response was, "Who cares? At least people are being friendly." Oklahoma is very predominately Christian, so there are a lot of people who argue to keep "Christ in Christmas" as we've heard before. Fine, but it's also fine if someone only wants to get ready for Santa to visit.

So that's Christmas to me, past and present. I feel good that Christmas doesn't make me angry anymore, because that just sucks. I'm also interested in what the future will hold and how I'll feel in about, say, ten years.

What's your Christmas like?

Don't Be Selfish

I recently received one of the best compliments I've ever had. Allison read something that I had written and told me that I'm a good writer. I've heard that before, but what was different this time was that she told me that I have a gift and that if I didn't use it, I would be selfish by not sharing it. I was touched. Since then, I realized that for the first time in my life, I'm excited that I'm dedicating my life to writing. I've always enjoyed writing and for a while now I've realized that I'm good at it, but now I'm excited to write. Good thing, too, because I don't want to be selfish.

Secrets from a cookie snob

I am a total cookie snob. This week was finals and there were some ladies (I'm guessing mom's of some of the students) were just handing out chocolate chip cookies. I took some, of course, and within the first bite I knew that they had used vegetable shortening. I've trained my pallet to be able to tell the difference, but that's not all. So, here I will share some secrets to make your cookies better.

• Use butter. Seriously, your cookies will be denser and more flavorful if you use butter instead of shortening.
• Use only 3 parts semi-sweet, 1 part milk. I'm referring to chocolate chips. If you use this combination, for some reason, the chocolate flavor will be kicked up a notch.
• Use Old Fashioned Rolled Oats. If your recipe calls for oatmeal, please throw out the quick oats. Rolled oats will make your cookies chewier and tastier.
• Not all cookie sheets are the same. It's a good idea to practice with different kinds of sheets when you try out a recipe for the first time. Some cookies work better with thick sheets, some work better with thin sheets.
• Raisins belong with pumpkin. Who started putting chocolate chips in pumpkin cookies? That's gross.
• Make the cookies you like. You know I why I rarely made peanut butter cookies? Because I don't like peanut butter cookies. (How does that make your cookies better? You probably won't practice a recipe you aren't eating.)
  

Implement these tips, then leave comments about how they worked for you.

Missed deadlines . . .

I was asked to write the obituary of grandma Miriam. She passed away last week and I was honored when Dad asked to me to do it, but because of a miscommunication, I missed the deadline by 2 hours. That was really disappointing. So, not let it go to waste, I'm going to post it here.

Obituary for Miriam Royle Larsen

Miriam Royle Larsen, 87, passed away this past Saturday, December 11, 2010 at Utah Valley Medical Center. Miriam was born on May 27, 1923 in Lehi, Utah to James Freeman and Lavinia MacAllister Royle and was the sixth of seven children. She loved music and even held the lead in her High School musical, The Pirates of Penzance. Miriam served a mission in Texas for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints during 1945, the last year of World War II. Miriam married her sweetheart, Alvin M. Larsen, on April 1, 1949 and together they raised four children: Marc, Sydney, Mirial, and Carolyn. She loved her children and was a loving mother and a fantastic homemaker. Throughout her life, Miriam happily served in the church with many different calling, including Sunday School and Relief Society teacher as well as Primary chorister and ward choir director, which also incorporated her passion for music. Everyone who met Miriam saw in her the gregariousness and warmth that made her so endearing. During her final years, she suffered severe hearing loss and macular degeneration, but none of that stopped her from reaching out to friends, family, and those around her, offering her warmth and friendship. She is survived by her sister Jo, her four children, 17 grandchildren, and 16 great-grandchildren. Services will be held at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints meeting house at [physical address withheld] with the burial to follow in Lehi.

10 things about me that may be surprising . . .

1. I'm taking 15 units next semester (really 20, since my internship only counts for 3), yet I've started seriously thinking about applying to be a columnist at the school paper. That probably means I'm partially insane. Allison's been supportive, which may mean that she is, too.
2. I've been to therapy twice in my life. The first time to deal with a powerfully controlling addiction. The second time to deal with nearly debilitating anxiety. Both times helped quite a bit (the second time happened this semester).
3. On the weekends, I sometimes play a video game called Fate.
4. I've been lectured multiple times at work that I need to be nicer to my co-workers. Allison thinks that's stupid. Even so, I'm up for a promotion (finally!).
5. I haven't read a single novel for fun this whole semester. That's been tough.
6. I'm a jerk pretty much every time I have to deal with customer service in any way. It gets in the way most time, but sometimes Allison sics me on particularly difficult workers. I really don't know why I do it.
7. I own a belt that I bought on my mission that was made by an Amish tanner. It's really good quality and I like it, but it doesn't work anymore. Since dropping six inches from my waist, I should just add holes, but I never have.
8. I've only recently gotten over being embarrassed by my undersized calves. I still think they're small, but I've made good progress on them.
9. When I was in California, I felt that I was conservative. Here in Oklahoma, I feel that I'm much more liberal. My political views haven't shifted much.
10. I own more shoes now than I ever have. Seven pairs.

What were you surprised by?

An Open Letter to Pixar

Dear Pixar,

I really like your movies. I remember watching Toy Story when it was in theaters with my family. I liked Monsters, Inc. so much that I saw it twice in theaters (a rarity for me). I enjoyed The Incredibles so much that I bought it (I own about 7 DVDs). And Wall-E shows what can be done with a minimum of dialogue and Ratatouille was such a simple story that was told very well. I have fond memories of nearly all of your films.

Nearly. Up was a mess. You captured our hearts in the first five minutes of the film and before the story had even started, I felt a deep connection with the protagonist. That's amazing storytelling. But when you get down to the main plot, things go south. I'm guessing you wanted to be sure that the story was intense enough for young boys (I assume that was the target demographic) stayed interested in a story about an old man, but you don't let the audience breathe. The story ends without any real catharsis and feels like the story ran out. I'm not suggesting that your characters should not face peril, but it should be properly balanced with the humor and heart that made your earlier films so great.

Toy Story 3 went even further. You didn't have work to make a connection with the audience because we already knew all the characters. Unfortunately, when you decided to show how much peril the characters could face, you really pushed the envelope. Who approved the rating for this film? How did it manage to get a G rating? The climatic scene has the main characters joining hands and accept their fiery doom as they slowly descend into the bowls of an incinerator. Yes, they're saved at the last moment, but how could that have been intended for kids?

Pixar, I'm not asking you to stop making films. I still respect what you do, but, please, stop breaking my heart.

Yours,

Jordan

With Great Facial Hair Comes Great Responsibility

Clearly, I have great responsibilities ...

... because this is one great beard.

Pleasant Accident

So, Sunday is Laundry day in our home. It's also the day that I call various members of the family and do my best to keep in touch. Because I'm such a popular fellow, I try to rotate from week to week who I call. Since I called Oceanside last week, I called Utah.

No answer.

So I called Hawaii.

No answer (which is to be expected, what with Baby Henry being hospitalized).

So, I called Oceanside again. Isaac picked up. I was surprised because I was expecting to talk to Mom and Dad, but I'm not against speaking to my baby brother.

The conversation was led by the boy and it was definitely focused on the gospel, but I must say, it was what I needed. It's no secret that life is not always easy and right now there are extra struggles that Allison and I are facing, so having a gospel-based conversation was really uplifting.

But that's not all. Isaac and I haven't always had the best relationship. To put it bluntly, I beat him up a lot when we were younger. I mentioned this at one point during the conversation and apologized for the way that I had treated him. He has every right to hold that against me, but his response was a simple, "You know I love you, right?" It was humbling and I have to say that I'm surprised at the great guy he's grown into. I was happy that I called and that we had the chance to better get to know each other.

So, two posts in a row about how I have awesome family members. Will you be next?

Profile: Dad

So, I interviewed Dad for an assignment for one of my classes. I was supposed to interview someone in the profession that I plan on entering, so interviewing the man that inspired me to be a writer was the best fit. It was interesting and fun, but there were things I didn't know. I thought I'd share them.

• Dad got his first job as a tech writer before he had even completed his Bachelor's degree. It was only by about two months, but the man at Burrows was so impressed that not having a degree wasn't enough of a setback.
• Part of the reason Dad was so impressive was that he had worked with computers, which made him like a sort of wizard. Seriously, this is the era of punch card programming, so the fact that he was excited to work with computers made him a desirable employee.
• In college, he produced a pamphlet on improving one's interviewing skills and tried to market it to nearby employment agencies (sadly, no one was interested).
• While the writing was fun, the deadlines weren't. He didn't say this, but I got the impression that since he was recognized as a skilled writer (even won awards for the work that he produced), he was given more work.
• His past work as a tech writer has uniquely prepared him for language pathology (he understands language, he knows how to draw information out of someone, he knows how to use words or illustrations to his best advantage, he understands the importance of the order in which to present information, etc.).
• As a technical writer, he never got credit for what he wrote (I've got to admit, I took that one hard. I should have realized that that was the case, but it was humbling. You have to work hard and make something as clear as possible and in the end, the only thing it says is the company's name).
• He compared technical writers to artisans and creative writers to artists. In that sense, it can be art, but it has to be useful first.

So, those are some things that I didn't know about (but probably should have) about the single person who has had the biggest impact on my own writing and communication style (Allison said that Dad and I speak in the same rhythm). Did anybody else learns something here?

Swears

At work, when things don't go my way or I'm annoyed at something, sometimes I swear. But while my coworkers might say [expletive] or [expletive], I keep things a bit less explicit. In fact, sometimes I'm teased because of the words I use as swears. I thought I'd share some.

• Crap-in-a-hat (this is used when "crap" won't suffice)
• Crapola (slightly less emphatic then the above swear)
  
• Dagnabit
• Great Googily Moogily
• Poot
• Harupmh

If anyone has any more fun (family friendly) swears, leave them in the comments.

Taking the good with the bad.

First off, thanks to everyone that fasted this last Sunday. While Allison hasn't found work yet, I'm still confident that it will happen shortly. She has been applying to everywhere in town and I've even been asking around at work if anyone knows of any openings (which did give us some new leads). It's important to not give up.

The Lord has blessed us in a different way. I've made more money this week than I have in a long, long time. That's significant. I work hard, but I also have faith that the Lord will bless me with what we need. A while ago, Allison figured out what I needed to make every day for us to get by. I nearly always make that (which is an increase from when Allison was working).

However, with the additional funds come other challenges. Our SNAP benefits (food stamps) have been revoked. It's really silly because the reason cited was that I make too much money. Since Allison is a full-time student, she's required to work 20 hours a week to qualify for benefits. That's fine, but it also means that I'm the only one on the application. So, I make too much money for one person, but I'm making money for two. This is really frustrating and an additional reason why we need Allison to find work.

I'm doing my best to be patient, and for the most part I am, but I'm still nervous. I know that the fast that so many people participated in has not been ignored by the Lord, but I don't know how much longer we have to wait. Like I said, I'm confident that because of the fast, Allison will soon find work, but . . . will "soon" be soon enough? I pray daily that it will be.

Flossing, The power of

Oral hygiene is important to me, but let's face it: flossing sucks. I mean it's important and everything, but man is it annoying. With the other steps of cleaning my mouth, there are fewer steps. Like brushing my tongue requires only picking up the brush and applying it to my tongue. Similarly with teeth brushing, though the application of paste is required. But flossing, man, it's like its own little process. You've got to pull the floss out, you've got to wrap it around your hand, you've got to get all up in to your grill and wiggle it all about. (Show of hands: who's tired just reading that?)

Here's the thing, though. If I actually floss, I work harder on brushing. My mouth feels cleaner if I floss, but only indirectly so. Maybe it's all the effort of getting all up in there for one step that pushes me to just continue to be all up in there (last time I'll use the phrase "all up in there" this post, promise).

In an attempt to floss more, I bought some floss picks. You know what? It really is easier to floss with picks and I've been flossing every night for over a week now, which means that the rest of my mouth is cleaner, also.

So I guess that means that Allison and I should have corn on the cob for dinner soon. You know, to put flossing to the test. Updates to follow?

Group Math

I've decided that as a waiter, I'd rather have 3 tables with 2 people each than 1 table with 6 people. While it's the same table and would be roughly the same amount of money, there's a threshold for how many people can be present before the ability to do math decreases dramatically. Generally, smaller tables will tip higher than 15%, likely because they aren't interested in figuring out the math and just put down a couple bucks per person. However, if the group exceeds 4 people, I can pretty much count on not getting a good tip. Sometimes I'm proven wrong, but more often than not I won't even get 10% on bigger tables.

But this is just an underlying factor of group situations as a whole. If I'm having talking to someone about politics, it's usually very civil and we can express ourselves honestly without bickering or name-calling. Once we get to larger groups, suddenly all liberals are baby-killing hippies and all conservatives are Bible-thumping rednecks. It's a shame we can't keep the social dynamic of small groups in the larger settings.

The problem is anonymity. With a group, while it's made up of people, it's easy to label "them" as one thing and stop thinking. And it's not just about other groups. People within the group are faceless in a way simply by being in the group. How many times have you been at church and seen someone you only vaguely recognize? And that's at one of the more intimate group settings. I'm not saying that we should know everyone everywhere. Not only would that be incredibly difficult, being lost in the background is okay at times. One thing I miss about Southern California is the acceptance of anonymity, whereas here people feel that they need to get to know everyone. Well, not everyone, but a lot more than I'm used to.

What's my point? I guess just that groups make people stupid. No, that's wrong. Groups can make people stupid. Being part of a group without losing track of who you are can be tough, but it's so important.

So the next time you go out to eat with a group of people and realize the tip is smaller than it should be, don't be stupid.

Bad Music

Have you ever enjoyed something that was mostly good? Mostly likely, since there's little that's perfect in the world. But how mostly good does it have to be to counter-balance the slightly bad? Or, to put it another way, how many swears do there need to be in a song before you quit listening to it?

For me, I've gone through this with a few bands:

• Cake's cover of "I Will Survive"
  "I should've change my [expletive] lock
  I should've made you leave your key"
• Queens of the Stone Age's "Quick and to the Pointless"
  "Oh, baby, baby, please
  [expletive], [grunt]!
• Flobots' "Combat"
  "To get you to bomb back
  Two fisted contact to
  Get the pond packed
  Cause I'm on some [expletive] that exists beyond that"

You get the idea (by the way, I don't listen to those songs anymore). Further, what does a song (or band, even) have to say to be offensive enough to push you away? There's the Spoon song "Jonathan Fisk" where, seemingly randomly, right in the middle of the song, there are the lines, "Religion don't mean a thing / Just another way to right wing." I get that they're frustrated with right wingers using religion as justification for political choices, but the rest of the song is about a bully (Jonathan) that followed the singer home after school. It's just so weird because the offending lines don't fit with the song. I don't like the message of John Lennon's "Imagine," (so I don't listen to it) but at least it's the whole song that pushes the message.

What am I getting at? Swears or other things that are offensive can sometimes be overlooked if they are small enough and the song is good enough. But sometimes the good can't outweigh the bad.

Wives: good cures for hubris.

So, I'm a pretty smart guy. I have a broad field of knowledge from which I pull and do so daily. I also appear to many people to be even smarter than I actually already am (no easy feat) by having a substantial vocabulary.

You know who isn't impressed? Mrs. Larsen. I do not mean this derisively or negatively in any way. It's good for me.

Part of the problem is language. I, like many of my kin, have a good understanding of the English language and can, to use the vernacular, BS my way through a lot. As Plato argued in his dialogues, you don't have to be an expert, just convince your audience you are. I speak directly and confidently, which is roughly 80% of persuasion. Sprinkle in a few facts (like I did when I name-dropped Plato back there), and suddenly you're a scientist*.

But the thing is, I'm not that smart. I'm not a moron (most of the time), but really I probably would land only above average with the population as a whole. I forget this sometimes. When I do, Allison is nice enough to bring me back down to earth.

That is not to say that she doesn't encourage me to do my favorite thing ever (explain), because she totally does. But if I go too far, she'll be there with perspective. For example, if I tell her I made a smart comment in class, she'll congratulate me. If I say that I'm the smartest or that everyone else is stupid (this has happened), she'll remind me that not everyone comments or maybe I understand it better or that I am good at explaining things and not everyone is or maybe this subject isn't their forte and they're only there to fulfill some aspect of their otherwise unrelated major (there was only one other tech writing major in my tech writing class, after all).

Humility can be a tough thing, but if done kindly, wifely correction can be very helpful (and Allison is nearly always very kind).

*A scientist being what most people think of as a brilliant person.

Testing, 123.

I have three tests this week, so no real post today (this one is totally fake and I will deny its existence).

No Complaints.

One of the best talks from the latest General Conference was President Monson's "Attitude of Gratitude," but I've been struggling with his advice. I complain a lot. Even here, on the internet, which we know is supposed to be a place free of negativity. I'm working on it, but still need some work. So today, a list of things that are good/I enjoy:

• I enjoy my History of the English Language class so much that I read my text book for fun.
• Yesterday, Allison asked me to explain what I've learned so far [giggle].
  
• She liked it, too.
  
• The weather has been rather pleasant for over a week.
• Allison and I exercise at the gym together four times a week (it's good and good for you!).
• I've had a great week (in terms of tips) at work.
• Until recently, I've been getting a good amount of sleep.
• I have a fun calling at Church.
• I seem to be doing well in my classes so far.
  

Just like the song says.

Spanish, too.

Allison and I only have one class together this Fall and it's Spanish II. We've both taken Spanish I twice (once solo, once together), so it is nice to at least appear to be nearing our conclusion with the language. However, our teacher likes to focus on topics outside learning the language of Spanish.

For example, we spent the entire class period yesterday talking about the United States' relationship with Cuba. This involved a brief discussion on immigration and wow are people ignorant about immigration. I thought it was bad in So Cal, but these kids were feeling bad for the Cubans, who get automatic amnesty. What about the Guatemalans who work their entire lives to save enough to pay a coyote to take just their kids up to the US to be dropped off in the middle of the Texan desert? Anyway, Allison and I were annoyed that the other students where looking at the subject of immigration as if it were so simple.

What's my point? We were having the discussion in English. How does it help me better understand and speak Spanish if we have a discussion on Cuba/US relations in English? And today, the last ten minutes were spent, I kid you not, naming famous Hispanic athletes. In English.

I want my money back.

Pants

Hey, I'm wearing pants! I haven't done that for months.

Of course, I mean I'm wearing long pants. Jeans, in fact. That means that it's not disgustingly hot outside. Which also means that in a few weeks there'll be snow on the ground.

Still, I'll take the snow over the heat.

OSU must answer for its sins.

There was a Football game last night (in Stillwater, the game of American Football is capitalized). This meant that students (who pay for parking passes), faculty, and staff were not allowed to park on campus after 1pm. My last class on Thursday doesn't even start until 2pm, so class was canceled.

Why would OSU make such a stupid stipulation? Because even though it has Boone-Pickins stadium, which is a very impressive and professionally sized stadium, it has no parking for it. At IHOP, which is about a half-mile from the stadium, the manager had to wait outside to shoo away people trying to park directly in front of the restaurant. OSU demands parking and Stillwater kowtows.

Look, I get that Football will always be apart of college life. And it brings in money that is used in other areas of the University, which is good. For the most part, I've just conceded that Football will be a burden from time to time, but it's just there. However, without the University, there wouldn't be any sports. So, how does it make any sense to have Football at a time that it requires the cancellation of classes (one of Allison's classes was canceled even though it was much earlier in the day to simply avoid the problem altogether)?

On an unrelated note, prescription drug abuse in Oklahoma has more than double in the last 5 years.

Larsen Award

I've decided that as a family, we should have our own award for doing things so totally Larsen-like (because Larseny sounds so illegal). So, if you see someone doing something that is eponymous of this family, give them a Larsen Award.

Example:
I was at a work meeting, going over the new menu the restaurant will be using. It quickly became a session of "Morning Crew Sucks." Since I work one shift a week with the morning crew, I was asked if I noticed a difference between the two crews. I responded by saying, "The difference is palpable." Since no one knew what I had said, I corrected myself and said that I could easily tell the difference between the level of teamwork.

During my next shift, my manager asked me what I meant by "palpable." I said it meant a feeling so strong that you can touch it. He didn't believe me, so I told him to look it up on an online dictionary. He did and my definition was an almost word for word match.

For something like that, I would be eligible for a Larsen Award. Alas, the only rule (I made it up, so I make up the rules) is that you cannot give the award to yourself. However, I have already given the newest Larsen (I don't care what her last name is, she's still a Larsen) a Larsen Award.

Now go and bequeath!

Bloopers!

Since it's Spring Break and it's Allison's turn to be sick, no new video. Instead, you get outtakes from our previous videos.

Moral Obligation

I just found out some shocking information about one of my coworkers at IHOP. This coworker is (I'm guessing) in her early 40s and when I started she was working just the graveyard shift. Last Saturday, she worked in the morning. I asked her if she was changing to mornings and she said she was. I asked why (really just to make conversation) and she said it was because she had a problem with someone she worked with at night. I was curious (since I know the people that work graveyard as our shifts overlap by bit) who, so asked if she was comfortable elaborating. She did, with the assurance that I would not pass on who it was.

It's one of the managers. I know the manager and work with him quite a bit. I figured she didn't like him because he can be very abrupt and can come off as rude to some people. Well, that wasn't the problem.

She was being sexually harassed. Severely. He would come up behind her and kiss her on the neck, slap her on the rear so hard that it stung for the rest of the shift, or “rub his hands all over” her. She was going to quit, but the general manager said he would change her schedule and she would have to work with the other manager again.

How does this man still have a job?! If the GM knows, why hasn’t he been fired?! Not only that, but the offending manager’s wife works at IHOP, too!

The victim said she will not try to fight this because she moved here to get away from another sexual predator and doesn’t have the energy to fight another case. Well, I’m not going to sit back and let this manager get away with this. This probably isn’t the first time he’s harassed an employee and I’m betting it won’t be the last. After talking about what I learned with Allison, it’s clear that I can’t allow this to continue. I have no idea what is required of me to fight this, like if I need a statement from the victim, or if the offending manager has to be caught in the act, but whatever it is, I’ll do what I can.

There is one issue that I’m a bit nervous about and it’s race. The offending manager is black and the victim is white. I’m afraid it may seem that I’m fighting against because I’m against interracial relations. Obviously, I’m not, but (as I’ve written about on here before) racism is alive and well in Oklahoma.

I’ve spent some time gathering information (like the last names of the parties involved) and now I’m ready to contact the corporate office. I hope some change can actually happen and not simply be told nothing can be done.

Video Update (Feb. 22 - 28)

The fanciness continues . . .

Video Update (Feb. 8 - 21)

Well, aren't we fancy.

A great compliment.

At IHOP, I serve a lot of people that feel that it's perfectly alright to ask me personal questions ("Are you in school?", "What are you studying?", etc.). For the most part I don't mind and just consider it part of my job, but I'm still a bit annoyed having to pretend to be interested in sharing this information with complete strangers.

However, the other night an older couple engaged me in a conversation:

Them: You aren't from around here are you?

Me: Oh, is it really obvious? I'm from San Diego, California.

Them: Oh! You're just so polite, it was clear that you didn't grow up here.

They then explained that they moved to Oklahoma many years ago, but that they were from other parts as well. It's nice to know that it's not just Allison and me that think the people in Oklahoma are on the rude side. And what's so funny is that when we first moved here, everyone said we'd like how nice everyone is. I suppose they have a different definition of "nice."

Update Video

Video Update (Jan 17 - 30)

I swear I'm still here.

Isn't it interesting how both this semester and last semester, as soon as I put in my proposed schedule for updating the blog, I become too busy to update at all? I suppose that's irony for you.

Any-whey, I do want to thank those of you that went to the trouble of reading and then commenting on the post with my story. It's always nice to know that as a writer you get your point across.

And that's my point. I'm taking my first of three classes with Technical Writing in the name. Since that's what I want to do, I should be enjoying it. And I am. But I also really liked writing my little shoe story. It was short, fun, and I got to make a point. I chose the topic and length (it had to be 500 words for the assignment, but it's well over that).

I guess what I'm saying is that I liked the challenge of writing something fictional. I'm not sure when I'll be able to write fiction, if I write professionally (as Dad warned me about). And, as it is, I wouldn't have written that short story if wasn't for class. I'm going to try to write another short story during the course of this semester. Just for fun. I want to see if I can do it, when it isn't an assignment. I may never get to it and that's okay too (there are a lot of assignments this semester). Anyone want to see a particular topic or genre?

Video Update

Shoes

I don't feel like writing right now, but I do want to have a second post this week so I'm posting a short story I wrote for my Advanced Comp class last semester. I like it and thought it was cute so I'm posting it here. It may seem long, but that's just because the column is so narrow. Enjoy.

Shoes: a Secret Life

“Right,” the Left Shoe whispered through her laces. “You awake?”

“Hmm?” replied the Right Shoe. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m up. What’s going on?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m just thinking about how things have changed.”

“What do you mean?” Right yawned.

“I mean, I started out in China with all of my sisters. I can still remember coming off the press, not knowing what the world would hold. Then, you and I were married and wrapped up tight and put in the box for the honeymoon. Now, we’re here in Oklahoma and it seems like all we do is either sit in the closet or get shoved on the Owner’s feet. It’s like we’re slaves.”

The Right Shoe shrugged (not easy for an immobile object). “Well, yes, we’re a couple, but it’s not like we had a ceremony.”

“The inspector paired us together and signed the marriage certificate.”

“That was a certificate of inspection. Anyway, our ‘honeymoon’ was just the trip over to the United States. And we’re here because we are incapable of independent movement.”

The Left Shoe looked dejected (which is much easier than shrugging). “Well, I liked our honeymoon.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy that time we had alone before being taken to the store, but that was a long time ago. Besides, we’re a pair of shoes for the Owner and we serve him. And what did you mean ‘we’re like slaves’?”

“Well, I don’t feel very well cared for by the owner,” said the Right Shoe.

“But,” said Mr. Shoe, “you said you were thinking about what’s changed. We’re treated just as well as when we were brand new.”

“I know, but some of the other shoes are treated better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Dress Shoes get shined and I heard that the casual shoes got mud wiped off of them. We’ve had mud on us without the Owner cleaning us off,” she said with some indignation. “And He didn’t even put us in the closet today.”

“Well, no He hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. Wait a minute, where’s all of this coming from anyway. We’re treated well enough and now you want to be cleaned and polished? Is something the matter?”

“You know Sgt. Combat-Boot that shares the closet with us?”

“Yes, of course,” said the Right Shoe. “He and his wife were in the armed forces together but they’re retired now.”

“Well, I’ve been talking to him lately.”

“When? I’m always with you.”

“It was last week, when the Owner just threw us in the closet and you were over by the Thongs.”

“They go by the name ‘Flip-Flops’ now. ‘Thong’ is … well, it’s inappropriate.”

“Really? Well, when you were catching up with the … ‘Flip-Flops’” she said deliberately, “I got to know Sgt. Combat-Boot and his wife better. He says that they used to be owned by someone else and that the Owner bought him used.”

“Used, huh? I had a feeling they were a bit weird.”

“No, not weird,” Left said firmly, “just different. They said that they used to get polished all the time and their old Owner would wear them all the time. But one day, He just gave them up and took them to a second-hand store.”

“Well …” Mr. Shoe began, but sounded less confident this time. “We’ve heard about other Owners. The Flip-Flops have been worn by the Owner’s Wife.”

“Yes, but that’s different. Being lent out is one thing, but the Combat-Boots were abandoned. They had done their best to serve their Owner and he just gives them up. How do we know that our Owner won’t do that?”

“I guess we don’t. That’s the whole point though. We were created to serve Him with all our soles, but we don’t know if it’s enough. We just do our best and hope.”

“I still don’t know. The world made sense before, but now I’m confused.”

“It’s tough sometimes,” Right said, “but we just have to work hard and believe.”

The door to the bedroom opened and the Owner emerged. He walked over and picked up the Shoes and went back into the bedroom. There, he opened the closet door and gently placed the Shoes in their spot between the Casual Shoes and the Flip-Flops. He closed his door.

“See?” Right said brightly. “He did remember us.”

“Maybe,” Left said cautiously optimistic. “Maybe He does care.”

“Of course he does. Besides, he’s been wearing us the most lately.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’m probably just being silly. Still, I’m glad we talked about this.”

“Me, too. Sometimes, you need to question what you believe to realize you know it’s true. Good night,” said Mr. Shoe.

“Good night,” said Mrs. Shoe.

New Semester, New Goals

Well, here we are on the first day of a brand new semester. I feel I may be over doing with taking 14 hours of classes and working 45+ hours a week. I'm already exhausted and it's only the first day; last semester I didn't get exhausted until at least the third week.

Good news, though. Because I'm working so much, money's not so tight. I'm busy, but soon the wife and I will be eating caviar and lobster for every meal.

Speaking of the wife, Allison is taking 14 hours as well. She's in her last class of the day as I type this post.

Anyway, you may be wondering why I put "New Goals" as part of the title. I want to post more often. I'm not sure how often yet, but more than simply the Sunday update video. I'll have to gauge the work load before I make a decision, but I do think it's important to do a text based update. I have a knack for writing and I should use it for more than just my assignments.

Here's to the future, where I'll update at least a couple times a week.

Video Update (Dec. 7 - Jan. 3)