What I Miss

I was thinking recently about what I miss most about being in a relationship.  These are the main things I came up with:

• I miss having someone to be cuddle up next to on lazy Saturday afternoons after the errands have been run and the chores have been finished.
• I miss having someone I can cook meals for, especially a big Saturday night dinner.
• I miss having someone to watch stupid TV shows with and laugh at how stupid they are (it's no fun by yourself).
• I miss having someone I want to shave my face for on the weekend, so I'm not halfway to a beard by the time I shave for church on Sunday.
• I miss having someone to just hang out with and talk to all the time.

Did you notice a pattern?  Yeah, Saturdays are still tough.  This past Saturday was really depressing because I didn't have any significant human interactions (interacting with a cashier doesn't count as significant).  While the ultimate goal is to have a wife and family to be around, even just having a girlfriend -- or a girl I'm dating but we haven't committed to be a couple -- still would give me someone that I can see and talk to and keep Saturdays from being a bad thing.  I can also hang out with friends and family, but it's hard to ask someone if I can hang out with them because I'm afraid I'm going to be sad if I don't.

We're still a couple of months away from my divorce being finalized, but once it's all done, I hope it doesn't take me long to be able enjoy Saturdays again on a regular basis.

You Think This is Bad...?

I was talking with Ian last week about how Maryland is a state with a lot of move-ins.  At work, at church, wherever, I'll met someone and eventually it will come up that they're originally from some other state.  Since I am too, it helps me feel at home.

Apparently (according to Ian), a common complaint from non-native Marylanders is that state taxes here are very high.  I laughed out loud when I heard that.  Being from California, things seem downright reasonable here!

As an example, a few weeks ago I pushed a yellow light too much and ended up running a red light.  I was caught on camera and mailed a ticket, proof of my transgression.  I was annoyed that I had been so reckless, but I happily paid the $75 ticket.  For those unaware, a similar ticket in the San Diego area would be around $300.  Technically fines aren't taxes, but the two are connected.

Ultimately, I moved to Maryland because I couldn't find work in the Golden State and my new home state has treated me rather well so far, so I feel just fine about any taxes and fines that have come my way.

Danglish

Since I work for a Danish company, a lot of the documents that I'm asked to edit are written in what the people in my office playfully refer to as "Danglish."  For the most part, Danglish is just poorly written English, though I have notice one characteristic: missing definite articles.

I found it strange that definite articles would be dropped, but indefinite articles would mostly appear in their proper places.  Curious, I looked up Danish grammar on Wikipedia.  Interestingly, indefinite articles are separate words from their nouns, but most definite articles are simply suffixes attached at the end of their noun.  With this in mind, it makes sense that native Danish-speakers would forget to add a definite article when one is warranted, because in Danish, most definite articles don't exist.

With what I learned by reading the crowd-sourced article, I'm actually toying with the idea of convincing my next manager to get Danfoss to pay for Danish lessons for me, so I can better anticipate the mistakes that will be made and, more importantly, be better able to describe to Danish speakers why my edits are necessary.  Plus, it'll make pronouncing tough Danish words easier, or at least less humorous.

Callings and Agency

Since my records have now been in my new ward for all of two weeks, I was extended a calling on Sunday.  Before I get to the calling itself, I want to say that I was surprised with how much consulting was done with me about what calling I should have.  The Bishop set an appointment with me to ask me what my preference was and where I wanted to serve.  I said that I would happily serve wherever I was needed, but that if I could serve with the adults for a bit, it would help me to get to know the people in the ward better.  Even so, I said that if I was needed in the Primary, I wouldn't put up a fuss about it.

After the appointment (which was before Sacrament Meeting), I joined choir practice a little late and lent my voice to the Christmas songs on the agenda (practicing a bit early this year).  Soon after I sat in an empty pew near the front, the Elder's Quorum President, Ryan, came up and started chatting with me.  Ryan has been very good to say hello to me every Sunday, so I didn't think anything of it this time.  However, he nonchalantly asked me if I'd be willing to be a Priesthood Instructor.  I was surprised at how casually he extended the calling, but I immediately accepted.  I was set apart in the third hour that day and I'm scheduled to teach my first lesson in three weeks.

I'm not used to being asked what kind of calling I want, but I'm happy to have the chance to serve in a capacity in which I'm both familiar and comfortable.

Tuesdays with Media: Home

This past weekend, I watched Home while I was visiting with the Larsens.  Neither Ian nor I had seen the film before, but the kids both had.  If you're not familiar with the movie, here's the trailer:

The first thing that jumped out to me about this movie was how it lacked any and all subtly when it came to storytelling.  The climax was broadcast in the first fifteen minutes and the characters' personalities are as flat as can be.  Ian said that the movie felt like it had been made by committee and that everyone was simply following a film-making formula and I agreed with his assessment -- imagine our surprise when, during the credits, we learned that the movie was adapted from a novel.  Having not read the novel, I honestly hope that the movie butchered the story.

One area in which the movie does well is with its designs.  The two alien races seen in the movie, the Boov and the Borg, are both strongly influenced by some of the most alien-looking animals on Earth: cuttlefish (or perhaps octopuses) and starfish, respectively.  The Boov especially are designed to be as cute as possible while still looking other-worldly.

I had heard positive things about the movie due to its central human character, Gratuity "Tip" Tucci, being of mixed race.  I support having characters of all races in works of fiction.  In fact, most of the characters in my stories -- the human ones at least -- are never described beyond their gender, but I have written multiple characters that are minorities.  Even so, characters need to be well-written and properly developed first and foremost and that is not the case of Tip.  Part of the problem is the actress playing her, pop singer Rihanna.  For someone who is not an actress, the performance is decent enough, but the character never comes to life.  But even if the producers had gone with a more experienced voice actor (like the amazingly talented Tara Strong), the character of Tip is just never really developed beyond being a headstrong preteen girl.

Another area where the production design wins points is in the alien technology shown throughout the story.  All of the Boov's tech is based on spheres and bubbles and is bright and shiny.  On the other hand, the Borg's tech is triangular with sharp edges and everything is dark and industrial in tone.  These desperate designs helped to better differentiate the two races from one another while still keeping them distinctly "not human."

In the end, Home is completely uncreative with its story and characters while having a very unique look and feel to its design.  As a visual spectacle, the movie is pretty fun -- too bad that's where most of the enjoyment ends.  Home is harmless to watch with kids, but if you skip it, you're not missing much.

Home is distributed by 20th Century Fox.

Repurposed

I am writing this post from the same computer that I've used for the past couple of years, but I'm using it from a new position: seated at a desk.  This weekend, Ian helped me pick up a desk that was being discarded from my office and take it back to my apartment.

A few months ago, I noticed that a lot of desk chairs had accumulated in one corner of the warehouse that's near my pseudo photography studio.  I jokingly referred to that part of the warehouse as the "office chair graveyard."  More recently, an unwanted desk, a couple of whiteboards, and a few pieces of abstract art were added to the collection.  I asked about what was going on with all of the stuff and was told that these were items that were no longer needed in the office and were being collected to make it easier to get rid of when a disposal service came to get them.  I was also told that if I wanted anything, I was welcome to it.

This last Friday, I visited the Larsens after work and ended up staying over until Saturday.  I helped Ian do some work to get rid of some cat odors from his carpet and I mentioned offhandedly that I could get a free desk if I arranged the pick-up with someone with a truck.  He immediately asked if I wanted to go pick it up that day.  I was surprised, not at his willingness to help me (as he has proven that several times over already), but I didn't expect him to jump at the chance to help so soon.  The kids were with their mom, so we finished the work on the carpet and drove to the office.

When we arrived, I showed Ian what was available and made it clear that if he wanted anything in the pile, he should take it.  I already knew what I was taking (the one desk and a particular desk chair), but Ian tested out several chairs before finding one with which he was happy.  With the furniture firmly strapped down, we drove to my apartment.

I honestly can't think of a time that I've had a personal desk of my own since high school.  Even if I'm forgetting of some time since then that I was properly desk'd, I certainly haven't had a desk since I was married.  Having a laptop has meant that a desk was a luxury, so I've been doing fine without one.  Still, it feels nice having an official place to sit and do computer stuff in my home.

Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

I want you to do something for me.  Find a dollar bill, the denomination is unimportant.  Got it?  Okay, look at it with the portrait facing up.  Now, fold the bill in half so that the long edge is shortened.  Do that same fold again, so that the bill is its normal height but only a quarter its length.  Now look at the folded bill and imagine a brown wolf spider about that size, only the legs half off of the edges.  That's what I found in my apartment Monday morning.

[Pause for screaming and/or skin-crawling to subside]

I got up earlier than usual on Monday so I could go into the office and teleconference with the other technical writers in Denmark.  However, I was also expecting maintenance to come by to repair a busted closet, so I decided to tidy up a bit.  I'd kept my room mostly in order, but I had some jeans on the floor that I needed to fold and put in the dresser.  I picked up the jeans and saw the wolf spider on the floor.  I immediately dropped the clothes and shook my arms and legs -- not because I wanted to make sure I didn't have a spider on me, but because I had an extreme case of the willies.

I said a quick prayer and decided to suck it up with the hose of the vacuum.  Once the vacuum was set up, I attached the wand so I didn't have to get any closer than necessary.  I tried to suck the spider up, but it walked away a little, apparently only annoyed.  I was already feeling anxious, but after a failed attempt at eliminating my foe, my anxiety turned into panic.  The problem with finding arachnids on carpet is that it's really hard to smash them.  When I was in Oklahoma, Allison and I found two live scorpions in our apartment, both on the carpet.  I smashed the first with a hardcover textbook, but it took six or seven really hard whacks to kill it.  Allison sucked up the other one with the vacuum, which is probably why I thought to use that tactic again.  (In case you're wondering, I'll take scorpions over spiders any day.)

I said another prayer, this one while stuttering, and felt prompted to use the vacuum again, but this time I used the spinning brush.  The spider hadn't moved since the last attempt, but I was still freaking out.  I psyched myself up and quickly ran it over with the vacuum.  Well, I tried to run it over.  What ended up happening was I shoved the spider against the baseboard and smashed it.  Not what I was going for, but I'll take it.  However, the spider still wasn't dead!  I had busted it up pretty bad, but it was still trying to hobble away.  I switched back to the hose (and wand!) and sucked up the half-dead spider.  With the spider finally dispatched, I relaxed and let out a quick scream.

This was not the first spider I've found in my new apartment, but it is the first one that didn't spin a web.  Spiders with webs, while I don't like them, are pretty harmless.  And yes, I know that the only poisonous spider in Maryland, the black widow, spins a web.  I'm not talking about physically harmless but psychologically harmless.  If the spider is a spinner, it's going to hang out in the corner and leave me alone.  Wolf spiders don't spin and can get ridiculously big.  That makes it tough for a man who, for the most part, has conquered his arachnophobia.  I've called the apartment manager about the problem to see if we can figure something out because three-inch (plus!) long wolf spiders are not acceptable.

Tuesdays with Media: Neighbors

Is it cheating for me to just provide a link to a new story without providing an analysis?  Or would it be cheating in a different way if I analyze something that I also wrote?

While I figure this out, enjoy this (very) short story.

Small World

This past Friday I attended a game night hosted by a family in my new ward.  The family's adults are Dave and Naomi, the latter of whom I wrote about a couple of weeks back.  It was a lot of fun and I got to interact with plenty of people I hadn't met before by playing lots of weird and silly games.

At one point during the night, Naomi referenced the area from which I just moved and asked which ward I had attended.  I told her and she asked if I knew a family that also attends the ward in question, the Simciks.  I told her that I was very close the Simcik family and that I still stayed in touch with them since moving from that area.  I asked her how she knew them.  Apparently, Mark and Lori's daughter just married Dave's cousin.  He and Naomi had attended the reception a weekend or two prior.

In most circumstances, I would brush it off as being a coincidence or at most serendipity, but this feels more divinely organized than that.  Perhaps I'm reading too much into it, but it was a loving connection and I was glad to make it.

The Rack

Have I mentioned how little I use my dishwasher?

On My Own?

Near the end of the workday on Monday, my boss called an impromptu meeting with all of the members of the department she oversees (just me and one other person).  Since I had no idea what the purpose of the meeting was, I panicked a little and thought that we might be receiving a reprimand -- I couldn't think of anything that had been done that would warrant one, I was just nervous.

As it turns out, my boss -- the head of marketing -- gave her two week notice.  She admitted that it was a really tough decision since she not only likes working for Danfoss, she likes working with us, her subordinates.  The reason for her move is that she had an opportunity to move back to the area she's originally from and decided to take it.

And now the big question: how will this affect me?  I don't know yet, but probably not a whole lot.  Even though I'm in the marketing department, I only occasionally work on assignments for marketing.  Most of my time is taken up working on standardizing installation guides and writing/filming videos.  There certainly are marketing things that come up on a regular basis, but they're simple projects that I finish quickly.  In fact, for the last few months, I've been working mostly independently from my boss.  She and I would meet every couple of weeks to make sure we were both on the same page, but she wasn't giving me assignments and I rarely reported to her when I completed a project.  When her replacement is hired, that may change, but I won't be lost during the interim.

The other person in the department, Michael, is in a much tougher position.  He only started three weeks ago, so he's still learning he's role.  Plus, he is definitely a marketing person and had been working very closely with our boss on most of his assignments.  I'm sure something will be worked out, but he's going to be feeling her absence more than I will.

I had just been thinking recently about how weird it was that I was in the marketing department, despite doing so little marketing.  Now I'm thinking that it's a bit of a blessing, since I've mostly been working on my own.  Let's hope that my next boss will be as willing to let me run free as my soon-to-be-former boss has.

Tuesdays with Media: A Real-world Troll

About a year ago, I defined what an internet troll is in order to explain some principles of proper communication.  Today, I want to focus on why some people become trolls in the first place by using as an example, someone who does not limit themselves to saying terrible things on the internet:

Not all trolls live under bridges.

Donald Trump is currently pretending to run for the Republican Presidential nomination, but don't be fooled into thinking that he's serious about it.  Since he announced his candidacy, he's only said inflammatory things that would be sure to be passed around every news outlets.  Are there other candidates that are campaigning that we should have stronger borders?  Sure, but the rest are diplomatic about it, not saying that Mexicans "are rapists," among other terrible things.  Even his supporters thought he crossed the line when he implied that a female debate moderator was acting crazy because she was menstruating.

Trump has no previous political experience, his company has filed for bankruptcy four times, and he's changed party alignment as frequently as most people change socks.  This is not a man that has any real chance at becoming president.  The only reason it looks like he has a chance right now is that there are way too many GOP candidates right now.  Once things shake out a bit, Trump will drop out, just like he did the last time he ran.

If you're of the opinion that any publicity is good publicity, like Trump apparently is, then trolling is a very effective technique.  If, however, you actually want to both make a positive difference within our country and convince people to agree with you, then you may want to stick with showing how diplomatic you can be.  So, for the foreseeable future, expect Trump to show up in news headlines -- in strictly negative ways.

Unplanned Invitation

Yesterday at church, I was chatting with the Elder's Quorum President (turns out he's preparing for the New York City Marathon) when he was called away.  It was only a few minutes before Sacrament Meeting was scheduled to start, so I just sat where I was and read the bulletin.  A few minutes later, he came back and asked if I wouldn't mind helping to bless the sacrament.  I said that I, in fact, did not mind and I followed him to the sacrament table.

(As a quick aside, my ward has a lot of recent converts, and many of them are either single or are young families.  As a result, we have a very small youth program, including Aaronic Priesthood.  I had noticed that adults blessed the sacrament every Sunday, but this was the first time I was asked to participate.)

I was asked to bless the water.  When I was younger and regularly blessing the sacrament, either as a priest or as a counselor in the Elder's Quorum Presidency in the Young Single Adult Ward, a leader brought up that too often, those blessing the sacrament were rushing through the prayer and not allowing people to appreciate the words being spoken.  So ever since then, whenever I'm asked to bless the sacrament, I slow things down and give longer pauses between phrases.  I don't know if anyone got something more out of the way I said the prayer, but it at least helped me from making any mistakes.

While I was not expecting to be asked to bless the sacrament, I was happy for the opportunity and grateful that I was worthy to jump in, despite being unprepared.

Popular Title

Often when I take my lunch break at work, I'll read the scriptures to prepare for the upcoming discussion in Sunday School that week (sometimes I'll run an errand on my lunch, which is why it's "often" and not "always").  This week, I read about the testimony and subsequent martyrdom of Stephen.  In his testimony of Jesus Christ as the Son of God, he compares the Savior to Moses, saying that Moses was an example to the Messiah to come and how Christ was that prophesied Anointed One.

This was nothing new to me as I've read Acts several times before.  However, what struck me was that when Stephen recounted the story of Moses, he quoted the LORD when He spoke to Moses in the burning bush: "...I am the God of thy fathers, the God of Abraham, and the God of Issac, and the God of Jacob." (Acts 7:32)  This is a commonly used title that appears throughout the scriptures, so why did it stand out to me this time?

Moses was raised in the Egyptian royal family, adopted by the daughter of the Pharaoh.  Moses was "learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians," which likely meant that he had been educated to believe in Egyptian theology.  While we don't know how strongly, or even if, he believed in the Egyptian pantheon, we can probably assume that he was at least familiar with polytheism.  (He also very likely knew that he was a Hebrew since he was willing to kill an Egyptian taskmaster to protect "his brethren.")  So when the LORD introduced himself to Moses, He wanted to make sure that Moses did not confuse Him with one of the false gods with whom he was likely familiar.  By using not just one but three prominent patriarchs to establish Himself, the LORD ensured that Moses would not mistake Him for anyone else.

And the title stuck.

Not the most earth-shattering piece of insight, but it made think me about a story and a title that I've known for a long time in a brand new way.  Which, by the way, is a great example of why we keep reading the scriptures over and over again.

Movin' in the Rain

Due to a mix-up, my records were delayed in being transferred to my new ward.  That's been frustrating because I haven't been able access the member directory or activities calendar for my new ward.  It also meant that I was still receiving emails from my previous ward, including from the Elder's Quorum.  I mostly ignored them, but I got one last week that caught my attention: my good friend and old home teacher, Dan, would be moving with his family and could use some help loading up the moving truck.  Despite the fact that I knew I had no obligation to help out with this move, I replied back that I'd be there.

The move happened yesterday evening, which gave me time to go home, eat, and change into more suitable clothes.  As I drove, the heavens opened and it rained so hard that my windshield wipers had trouble keeping up.  Just before I arrived at the family's apartment, the rain subsided and eventually stopped.  The ground was wet, but it wasn't raining.

I got there later than I wanted to (my driving slowed due to the rain) and immediately got to work.  I helped move as many big, heavy pieces of furniture as I could, reasoning that that's what they needed help with the most.  We made it through all of the big stuff and were started to finish up with miscellaneous items when it started raining again.  At first we just trudged along, continuing to fill up the truck, but it wasn't long before we had to stop and wait it out.  Most of the workforce was stuck in the truck, not wanting to even sprint for the building as they would probably have been soaked through by the time they made it -- the truck was parked only about fifty yards from the door of the apartment building.  I was stuck inside, but I was able to chat with some of my old ward mates.  After about twenty-five minutes of hard rain, it finally stopped and we were able to finish loading the truck.

As sad as I was to move out of my old ward, knowing that this family was going to be leaving in a few months anyway made it easier: I was close with both Dan and his wife, Allison, so knowing that I'd be losing them soon enough even if I'd stayed made leaving on my own was that much easier.

I contacted my previous bishop and my records should arrive to my current ward sometime this week, but I'm glad that the delay happened so that I could help out some friends one last time.

Tuesdays with Media: Them Shoes

Have you ever heard a song that you like the first time you hear it, but some time later when you hear it again, it really speaks to you?  Such is the case with the song off the album Every Hour is a Dollar Gone by Patrick Sweany, "Them Shoes":

The music is guitar-driven and strongly on the blues side of rock, the tempo constantly goes from fast to slow and back again, and the vocals have more than a little pain being sung out with the lyrics.

Speaking of lyrics, they're highly metaphorical and their real meaning may not be clear the first time or two.  Such was the case with me, which is why I didn't "get" the song the few first times I heard it.  Here's one of the verses:

No one said it would be easy
Sometimes it is hard to do
It isn't like the TV
You see the cold hard truth
And the things you see in movies
Just don't come true
So here's a little feedback
You gotta wear your shoes

Sweany talks about how life is hard and you don't get a happy ending like in movies or on TV, but then he gives "a little feedback" and says to wear shoes?  Like I said, it's a metaphor.  What he's saying is that you have take life as it comes, whether good or bad, and accept it.  "Wear your shoes" means not hide from who you are or what you've become and to live your life.

But as creative as the music is and as touching as the lyrics are, this is a song where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  Even with what I just detailed above, there's something else about the song that speaks to me and connects with my soul.  I rediscovered this song last week and have listened to it several times since, partly because it's catchy, but mostly because I'm moved by it.

Every Hour is a Dollar Gone is distributed by Nine Mile Records.

Hardest Working Writers

I attended my new ward's choir practice for the first time yesterday.  The stand-in chorister (the official chorister and pianist are out of town) enthusiastically welcomed me, adding that the choir is "pathetic" -- I think she meant that there aren't enough regularly attending members, since there was no bite to her words.  The song we practiced was on the upper end of my register, which was made even harder since I was fasting and my larynx needed lubricating, but otherwise it wasn't an overly complicated song (for the bass part, at least).

After we finished up, the stand-in pianist said hello to me and welcomed me to the choir and to the ward.  I thanked her and said something positive in return and went and found an empty pew on which to sit.  As it turned out, I happened to sit right in front of her and her family.  This sister, Naomi, asked me a few more questions, like where I had just moved from what brought me to the area.  When I said that I had moved there for work, she asked what I did for a living.  When I told her, she said that "technical writers are the hardest working writers in the world."

Not only did she know what technical writing is (the second Sunday in a row that's happened), but she has a great admiration for it.  I, of course, asked how she knew what tech writing was and she said that she had majored in English and had worked as a high school English teacher for a while.  She then added that "we English majors have to stick together."

To think, I didn't like this ward when I first moved in and now I've met two people that have great respect for what I do.  Amazing what happens when we stop being overly judgmental, isn't it?