Shut Up

I attended the local YSA ward on Sunday and joined them for FHE this evening.  I made sure I introduced myself to as many people as possible, but I ended up interacting with more men than women.  If I'm to be attending this ward moving forward (which I haven't decided on yet) than I'll need some guy friends too, so that's okay for the first week (rest assured, though, that I'll be focusing my efforts on talking to the sisters in the ward).

Well, this is a pretty young ward -- the men more than the women -- and I feel a bit out of place, especially when compared to my last ward where the average age in the Elder's Quorum was in the early-to-mid thirties.  What's one thing that all young men have in common?  They think they're right even they aren't (I suppose it could be argued that all men have this in common, regardless of age).  That can pose a problem when I offer an opinion (which is neither right nor wrong), only for someone to argue otherwise.  This very situation unfolded a few times this evening, with several different men spouting nonsense and backing up their claims with something approaching sense that only fell apart when examined with any scrutiny.  (And yes, the irony that I did this sort of thing all the time not that long ago is not lost on me).  I was starting to get annoyed when I realized the solution.

I can't convince them of anything, so I shouldn't waste the effort.  Basically, I need to keep my mouth shut.  And I just realized that this approach will probably help me stand out more: in a ward full of guys endlessly pontificating, the one who doesn't always need to be right is unique.

Sometimes we need to see our own flaws in others in order for us to realize how negative they are.  After my interactions tonight, I want to make sure that I'm better than that moving forward.  Here's to progress.

Seeing All the Errors

Recently, one of my coworkers asked for some advice planning out a big trip this summer.  He's originally from Estonia and is in Baltimore as part of a postgraduate program.  His current position is temporary (I think he worked for Danfoss in Europe, though I'm not positive), so he's planning to take full advantage of his time in the US by seeing lots of sights.  He spends nearly every weekend traveling to different locations all over the east coast, so for his vacation, he's heading west.  His plan includes places like the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Las Vegas, Joshua Tree National Park, Disneyland, the Monterey Bay Aquarium, San Francisco, and more, all in two weeks.  Like I said, he's making the most of his time here.

While we were sitting at a table in the breakroom during our lunch hour, my Estonian coworker pulled out his itinerary to ask the group of us questions to see if we could offer any advice.  The first thing I brought up?  His itinerary's title of "West Coast Trip" was inaccurate: the more correct title would be "West Coast and Southwest Trip."  As soon as I pointed it out, I realized that I was correcting an insignificant problem, and one that he hadn't asked for help with.  I immediately apologized for being overly pedantic.  In good humor, he scribbled out part of the title, leaving only "Trip" behind.

I have been a pedant for most (if not all) of my adult life, but I think I've been even more scrutinous lately.  I know that I'm doing it because my job is to catch errors and flaws in writing and when you do that day in and day out, it becomes hard to "turn it off" when I'm not working.  In an effort to be less of a jerk, I'm trying to be more aware of my corrections.  So far, I'm starting to catch myself as I make the unnecessary -- and unwanted -- corrections.  Now I just need to be able to catch myself before I say anything at all.

I Cost Too Much

The other day at work, I was talking to my manager, Magda, about how I was having trouble with the copyediting work I was doing.  In the instance in question, I was having to argue my case for the edits I made to two separate managers who are not native English-speakers.  This wasn't simply a matter of using a dashes instead of parentheses, but of using the wrong word.

The document I was proofing was explaining how some new packaging would secure the product better during transit and kept referring to the bottom layer as the "lower wedge."  I can see why that word was picked since wedges are sometimes used to secure things (like a door stop), but there were no triangular shapes to be found anywhere in any of the diagrams or photographs of the packaging.  I finally quoted a dictionary and highlighted why the word didn't fit.  Finally, the product manager saw the light and we compromised with "pack bottom."

When I related the story to Magda, she pulled up an email that she thought was similar.  In it, one of the people from product information (the group that I met with back in October) was dealing with a similar back-and-forth over several emails and finally got fed up.  "I cost too much to be spending so much time on this project," he wrote.  Magda made it clear that his choice of words was too strong, but she agreed with the sentiment.  My time is valuable and if people are arguing with me over something, I need to let them know that they're wasting the company's money, albeit gently.

I must say, I really enjoy having a boss who clearly has my back, almost as much as I do knowing that I'm a valuable commodity for my company.

Double-checking the Double-check

I made some cream puffs yesterday, but I couldn't figure out why the custard I made to use as the cream-filling was so runny.  I went back and looked at the recipe and discovered that I had misread it: instead of putting in one-and-a-half tablespoons of corn starch, which is what the recipe called for, I put in one-and-a-half teaspoons.  Corn starch is a common thickening agent and does its job well, but only when used in the proper quantities.

I'm embarrassed that I made such a rookie mistake, but hopefully my coworkers won't mind.

Overly Cautious

Remember how we had a massive blizzard a few weeks ago?  Well, the National Weather Service issued a warning earlier this week for another storm, albeit a much smaller one (only four to eight inches of accumulation were expected).  After the disaster that we experienced last time, I planned ahead and worked from home yesterday.

When it was all over, there was barely any snow.  It was snowing when I got up in the morning, but not very hard and nothing was sticking.  I decided to play it safe and stay inside, but there apparently was never a risk of getting stuck.  I'm a little embarrassed about my decision, but I guess it's better to err on the side of caution.

Though I do feel a bit betrayed by the NWS...

Christmas 2015

Christmas was a bit weird this year.  My past Christmases in Maryland have been spent with Ian and his family, but because of the way holidays are scheduled with him and his estranged wife, he didn't have his kids.  Since it was just the two of us, we kept things extremely low-key: I made dinner and we watched a couple of movies.

Thankfully, we also made a trip to visit the kids at their mom's house.  Oddly, Amanda's parents were extremely pleasant and I think they were genuine in their friendliness.  I don't have the highest opinion of Amanda these days, but her parents are fine.  I'm also happy that they were so nice because it made things less awkward for me -- Ian visiting his kids makes perfect sense; him bringing his little brother with him might have been seen as pushing it.  Thankfully, they welcomed us both with warm smiles.  We visited with them for about an hour before we headed home for dinner.  It was cute to see Henry continue to ask us to wait because he wanted to show us more toys that he had gotten.

On Boxing Day, Ian and I went and saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens (come back tomorrow for my review) and had the kids visit to open presents from me and their dad.  It was really nice to see for Ian because, despite all of the toys they opened the day before, the kids' favorite gift came from their dad.

Christmas this year was mostly a stag party, but it was still fun and I'm glad that it worked out how it did.

A Lousy Situation

The office where I work regularly has holiday themed activities: luncheons near holidays, an ice cream buffet in the summer, and a beard-growing contest during November.  However, the biggest activity of the year is the Holiday Party, which happens sometime in December.  Unlike the other activities, the Holiday Party takes place outside of work.  Last year, I didn't attend because I had only been with the company for a few weeks and I didn't really know anybody.  This year, I'm not attending for a completely different reason: I won't have a date.

The invitations that were sent out have encouraged everyone that attends to bring their significant other.  That's a nice way to include the spouses and girl/boyfriends of employees, but for those of us that aren't in a relationship or, even worse, are in the process of ending a previous relationship, it only serves to reminds us that we're alone.  I don't fault the party planning committee for including significant others at the Holiday Party, I'm just stuck in a lousy situation.

There's still hope for Holiday Party 2016, though!

Nicer Than I Have to Be

Last week I went to my local pharmacy to pick up my anti-epilepsy medication refill (early this time!) when I was told by the cashier that there was no prescription with my name ready to be picked up.  I had spelled my name for her, as I do with everyone, to ensure that she was looking for my name, yet she said there nothing that matched.  I asked her politely to look up my prescription to see when it would be ready -- I figured that since I was physically there, I might as well find out when I should come back.  She must be new because she leaned over the to the back to talk to the assistant pharmacist to ask the question rather than use the computer.  The assistant pharmacist recognized me and assured the girl working the counter that it was ready because she (the assist. pharm.) had filled it herself.

During this whole exchange, I could see a bag sitting on one of the "filled" shelves with the letters LAR written across the front of it.  I even suggested that it could be mine (again, spelling out LAR for Larsen), but I was assured that it was not for me.  Finally, the assistant pharmacist walked around to the front counter and pulled out the bag I had ask about and told the cashier that it was for me.  The cashier's response was: "Larsen?  I thought you said Lawson."  She never apologized, she never admitted fault, she just rang me up.  When the transaction was done, I said some words I wasn't expecting:

"Thank you."

I realized as I was walking away that it wasn't that long ago that I would have chewed this girl out for refusing to listen to me -- because you can't simply mishear someone three separate times unless you're actively not listening.  And while she would have deserved it, I took the better path and just let it go.  I don't mean for this to come off as me patting myself on the back.  Rather, I want to illustrate that being nice to people, even those who don't deserve it, really is the better for everyone.  I didn't riled up unnecessarily and she was able to more quickly help the next customer in line.

I don't know why I've struggled with being nice to strangers, but I'm glad I'm seeing a positive difference.

The Beginning ≠ the End

Fast and testimony meeting is always a bit of a gamble: an open mic with the invitation to come forward and share sometimes results in someone being inappropriate.  Sometimes the one being inappropriate is a child or a new member and sometimes its an "old-timer."

Yesterday, after the Bishop bore a lovely testimony, an older member of the ward -- "older" referring to both his physical age and the length of time he's been in the ward -- got up and scolded the congregation for not taking the gospel seriously.  At one point he even shouted into the microphone "DO NOT TAKE THE GOSPEL FOR GRANTED!"  I don't know what he's experienced that gives him this particular impression.  My immediate thought was "This is the wrong place for this sort of thing" (the first rule of technical writing is "write for your audience," which implies that you know your audience; he did not know his audience).  It was jarring and an inappropriate use of the mic and time.

Thankfully, the rest of the testimonies that followed were positive and uplifting.  Not only that, but the rest of the day was, too.  I not only finished my meetings at church, but I also went on exchanges with the missionary Elders and attended Stake Priesthood meeting.  I got in a lot of church, is what I'm saying.

While the day started off weird, I'm happy that I didn't allow it mar the rest of what turned out to be a very good day.

Seeing the Real Message

Yesterday at church, we had a combined third hour focusing on emergency preparedness.  This subject seems to be getting a bit of a push from the leaders of my new Stake as we had a linger longer with a similar focus.  As I live much closer to the coast now, I'm guessing that the leaders want us to be prepared for storms and other disasters.

The meeting began with the Emergency Preparedness Specialist (or whatever his title is) standing before us and telling us that if we don't have food storage in place, we're committing a sin.  First of all, while we have been commanded to have food storage, not doing so would not be a sin but a transgression, as failing to have proper supplies is not a moral failing.  Secondly, I don't react well to being told to change my ways because I'm being bad -- I generally stop listening to the speaker, regardless of how worthwhile their message may be.  In my experience, you get better results if you tell people to improve while focusing on the benefits of changing, not on the negative aspects of maintaining the status quo.  To put it in gospel terms, you tell people about how great righteous living is, not how bad Hell will be.

The speaker continued to talk about all of the disasters he's seen averted by people being properly prepared, but I just sat there, stewing in my annoyance.  He compared the ill-prepared to the Donner Party, which I just find insulting.  He made assumptions about people not taking home informational pamphlets because we don't trust the government, which I find baffling.  I was so insulted that I nearly walked out after ten minutes.

I stayed, but only barely.  Eventually I figured out that while his presentation style is all wrong, his message is still a good one: be prepared.  I have several working flashlights and I try to keep myself well-supplied with nonperishable food, so I'm mostly prepared.  One area in which I'm not properly prepared is water, so I decided to pick up several gallons of water on my way home from work today.

It's frustrating when a good message is hidden within a bad presentation, but I'm grateful I was able to see through to the truth.

Weird Sadness

Allison's been served.  That means that our divorce is finally moving forward.  This is something that I've been working towards for months.  I've had several confirmations from the Spirit that this divorce is needed and necessary and I've been frustrated with the delays we've had with making this happen.

So, imagine my surprise that when I had finished making arrangements with Allison for her to receive the summons, that I broke down crying.  After all the pain and frustration I've already experienced, I didn't think I had any tears left.

This is another reminder that love is complicated.  You hurt someone and they hurt you and they hate you and you can't help but get angry when you talk to them and the best thing for both of you is to end your relationship, but you're still sad to see them go.  You remember how they laughed at your jokes and how they pushed you to be a better student and how the smell of their mouth was the most wonderful aroma you've ever experienced.  Despite all of the reasons that prove you need to go your separate ways, you're still sad about it and wish it could have ended differently.

Not knowing how to process these feelings, I shared them with Allison.  She confessed that she was sad too, adding that it was "weird."  Yeah, after all this time, it is weird to feel sad about getting divorced.  Weird, but, again, for the best.

Second Chance

My first Sunday in my new ward wasn't as nice an experience as I was hoping for.  How was my second visit?

Well, Sacrament Meeting was ... distracting.  Look, I'm just going to say it: two cute girls that are home from college were the main speakers.  With my divorce (hopefully) imminent, I need to be aware of who's around me.  Nothing happened -- I didn't even introduce myself -- I just noticed, that's all.

Once Sacrament Meeting ended, a brother came up to me and introduced himself.  It was nice to have someone come up and be friendly and we chatted for a few minutes.  As we were talking, one of the Bishop's counselors (not the one I spoke to last week) told me that the Bishop wanted to meet with me when I had time.  Since I didn't have any obligations, I excused myself to see if the Bishop had time right then.  On my way to his office, I bumped into the other counselor, who said that he and his wife wanted to invite me over for dinner.  I said that sounded great and that he should let me know when they'd like to make arrangements (I haven't heard back from him yet, but my records still haven't been transferred, so he probably doesn't have my contact information).

I was able to catch the Bishop as he was headed towards his office and he said that if I waited about ten minutes, he'd be able to meet with me.  I readily agreed and sat down.  Soon after I sat down, another brother sat down next to me and we chatted while we waited for the Bishop to be available.  After about fifteen minutes, I was called in.  The Bishop simply wanted a chance to talk with me a little and get to know me a bit.  I suspect that I'll be getting a calling as soon as my records arrive, though he did make sure to give me his contact information so I can get in touch with him before I have access to the ward directory.

The rest of the day finished out pretty uneventfully, though yet another brother introduced himself before Priesthood started.

I think I was unfair about people not being terribly friendly on my first Sunday.  I was expecting more people to introduce themselves to me, but I was the new guy who stood up and said his name in Sunday School and Elder's Quorum: the introduction was done by me, so they didn't need make an effort.  How many times have I made the effort when I've seen someone I didn't recognize?  Not often enough for me to be disappointed.  Plus, last time nearly all of the ward leadership was reorganized, so it was easy to get lost in the shuffle.

I know that the Lord has directed me to live in this ward and one of the reasons why is to meet the next Mrs. Larsen.  I was excited to be there, so I wonder if any greeting would have felt satisfying.  Whatever caused me to be overly judgmental, I'm glad that I got over it by my second visit.

Time of Transition

I went to my new ward yesterday.

I had a little trouble finding the meeting house.  I need to go back and look around, but I don't recall seeing a sign facing the street saying what kind of church it was.  Having not seen the building, I passed where my GPS said it should have been and had to turn around.  What stood out to me was that I noticed that a large satellite dish, which I then saw was attached to a church.  The parking lot was large and mostly empty.

Inside, the ward was definitely smaller than my last ward.  One thing I found odd: they never opened the curtain to the overflow.  They didn't need to, but I still found it surprising.  Apparently, my ward building is also the Stake Center, but my ward is the only one that meets there regularly, which I find odd.  Perhaps its the most centrally located building but there's not enough membership in the area to warrant another ward.

A good portion of Sacrament Meeting was taken up with reorganizing most of the ward leadership.  We got a brand new Elder's Quorum Presidency, a new Relief Society Presidency, a new Primary Presidency, new Ward Mission Leadership, and a few other auxiliary leaders.  I don't know anyone, but this seems like a good time for a new member like myself to move in, what with everything in flux.  I do wonder how long I'll have to wait before I get my first calling.

Not a lot of people introduced themselves to me.  I made a point to meet the Bishop and I got to chat with one of his counselors for a bit.  I didn't get his name, but when I mentioned that I was a technical writer, he commended me for doing a job that is so important (not the usual response I get) and he mentioned that he spent some time in Solana Beach and spoke highly of Oceanside when I said that was where I grew up.  The member of the Stake Presidency who was visiting also introduced himself, as did one of the counselors of the new Elder's Quorum Presidency, but that was it.  There were a few other people that welcomed me to the ward, but none of them told me their names or shook my hand.  Maybe they need to warm up to me a bit?  I don't know, but it does seem a bit strange.

Or perhaps with so much of the ward leadership in flux, one new guy was easy to get lost in the shuffle.  I'm hoping that next week things will be a bit friendlier.

Dare I?

Here's an interesting dilemma I'm facing this weekend: I should be moving into my new place tomorrow, but my muscles are still recovering.  How much do I do?  Dare I do any of the heavy lifting myself?

That's right, I found my new home last week.  I was surprised, but last Saturday I was prompted to submit an application and yesterday I signed the lease.  It's not perfect -- no place is -- but it has all of the features that I was looking for and it's ten minutes from the office.  Best of all, the Spirit confirmed that I should move into the ward associated with this apartment.  I am sad to be leaving the good people of the Ellicott City Ward, but I'm excited to meet the new people who are going to be a part of my life.

Hopefully, I'll hear back from the Elder's Quorums of both my current ward and future ward so I;ll be able to move without having to put myself at risk.  That's gotta be a weird introduction: "Hi!  Thanks for helping me out with this move.  I only have a few items, so it should go quick.  By the way, I injured myself earlier this week, so I'll simply be supervising.  Great to be here!"

You Don't Even Know Me

One of the recent times that my sister, Margot, visited, she commented that I needed to share my thoughts on a matter because my face was blank and she didn't know how I felt about it.  I was a little surprised, but I guess I have trained myself to have my "standard face" be one of no emotion.  That could allow some people project onto me emotions that I'm not actually experiencing.  Perhaps that's what happened yesterday.

Yesterday evening, I was driving home from mutual where I was helping to supervise a joint activity between the Young Men and Young Women of our ward and a neighboring ward (it involved plenty of water balloons) when I stopped by a nearby grocery store to pick up a quart of milk.  I had had an enjoyable evening and had gotten a chance to talk with some of the other adults with whom I am friends, so I was feeling pretty good.  However, when I walked up to the store's entrance, a woman who was waiting for her ride told me to "Cheer up: at least you don't live in Texas" (I assume she's referring to the floods that are currently affecting the people of the Lone Star state.)  I quickly went from "neutral" to "majorly annoyed" and I said what first came to mind: "You don't even know me."  I never stopped walking during our exchange, so I went inside and never heard her reply, if she gave one.

I recognize that she was trying to be nice, cheering up a guy who she assumed was not having the best day.  But my day had been fine.  She was making assumptions about how I should express myself when I'm alone.  In doing so, she replaced my "simply not smiling" with a scowl.

There's a bit of a parallel here with women who get told something like "You'd be prettier if you smiled" by random guys as they're walking somewhere.  No, I don't have it nearly as bad -- I'm a college-educated, tall, white, Christian man; I am a member of the least oppressed group in history, not withstanding the Church's early years.  But regardless of gender, why do people feel the need to give advice to random strangers on their mood?  For all that woman knew, I knew one of the victims that the floods claimed and her comment could have caused me to burst into tears.  I could have been from Texas and missed living there, in spite of the recent events.  I could be dealing the sea of emotions that comes with getting divorced.  And so on.

I should say that I calmed down pretty quickly after the interaction and by the time I had paid for the milk, I was back to "neutral."  Still, I find it very bizarre (and, yes, frustrating) that someone told me to cheer up when I recognize that I'm the happiest I've been in years.  A lack of tears doesn't mean someone isn't sad, just as a lack of a smile doesn't mean a lack of contentment.

Sharing Food and Experience

Yesterday, I attended dinner at the home of the other counselor of the Teacher's Quorum, along with Samuel and a couple that I didn't know.  The food was lovely (homemade fish tacos), but the company was even better.

And that surprised me.  The other couple that I was introduced to were friendly enough, but the missus was a bit aggressive in her friendliness.  While I have gotten better about warming up to people, I still need some time before I feel comfortable around someone new.  This particular woman did not share that point of view and that made my discomfort levels rise.  Over the course of dinner, however, I relaxed and became more comfortable and even shared some personal things about myself.  After Samuel mentioned that he was separated from his family, the topic turned to me and my marital status.  When I shared my situation, the woman that had made me feel uncomfortable earlier told me that she and her husband had both been divorced before they married each other and that even though they had had their struggles, they were happy they had found each other.

It's interesting to find other people that can relate with what I'm going through and to receive encouragement from them.  I know I'll find the woman that I should be with when the time is right, but is still nice to be supported by people that have already walked the same path.

The Sadder Thing

On Monday, I took some time off of work, went to my county's Clerk's office, and filed for divorce.

Yeah.

While I was standing in line, directly in front of me was a couple waiting to get married.  Not applying for a marriage license but actually getting married.  I thought to myself, What's sadder, filing for divorce or getting married in jeans with no family present?  But even after just a few seconds, I realized that I was harshly judging this couple.  It was 9 am on a Monday morning, so all of their friends and family were probably at work.  And maybe they didn't dress up not because they didn't care, but because they're poor and didn't have anything nicer.  They were both wearing white tops and they looked well-groomed, so they took at least some care.

So, I realized that the question that I sarcastically asked myself pointed to the simple fact that joining your life to another person's, even in less-than-ideal circumstances, is an expression of love and hope.

And getting divorced is just sad.

Teenagers, Unplugged

On Wednesday evening, I participated in a Teacher's Quorum activity by being a driver.  The activity was that, as a Quorum, we went and visited a couple of less active members to invite them out to some future events and activities.  No one was home at either house, but it was good of the boys to make the effort.

While I was driving, I got hear what the boys in my car were talking about.  I ended up with the nerdy kids, which was weird.  As someone who was definitely a dork in high school, I thought I'd be able to join in on their conversation.  Well, not really.  They talked a lot about video games, which are fine, but since I don't usually spend my entertainment time with that particular medium, I didn't really know what they were talking about.  Then they started talking about cartoons, which I have at least a cursory knowledge of most animated shows, except for anime, which is what they were talking about.  I asked a few questions here and there and tried to be involved, but it soon became clear that I was being out-geeked.

While all of that is fine (I guess), I am concerned that they spend too much time online, especially one boy.  The internet is full of terrible things, but I'm more worried about them not developing social skills - an area in which these boys appear to be delayed.  Life is hard enough to navigate normally, but it can become a bit of a nightmare if you don't have the right social skills.

One of my goals while I'm serving in this calling will be to help these boys feel more comfortable offline.  I don't think that's the main reason I have this calling, but I do think that it's one of them.  And as someone that is still a nerd but much less of a dork, I think I'm just the one to do it.

The Ugly Side of America

Samuel experienced his first real encounter with racism recently.  At the job he was working at, he was berated by his boss for talking back (he was trying to explain something that he did, but it was seen as back-talk).  Some of his coworkers told him that he was mistreated because the white manager always talks differently to the minority employees.  They told him that the best tactic is to simply agree to avoid conflict.

Samuel came home angry, but mostly confused.  He told me that in his native country, people judge others based on where they are from or what family they are a part of, but not because of how they look.  Plus, he told me that he thinks of me as his brother and I've never treated him differently simply because he's from Africa, so he just assumed that all people thought the same.  That is to say, some people are good and others are bad, but you judge them by what's in their heart rather than the color of their skin.  His bigoted boss was a real shock.

I am saddened that Samuel had to experience something as terrible as racism and that it took coming to the US to see it firsthand.  However, the restaurant he was working at has closed down, so he won't have to deal with that pig-headed boss.  Not only that, but he's already lined up his next job, this one run by a member of the ward, which almost certainly means that he won't see racism like he so recently did.

Again, I'm really disappointed that Samuel had to go through what he did, but I'm happy that I was able to be a good example and proof that just because one white person is a bigoted creep, not all of us are.

Feeling It

What to feel really old, even though you know you're not that old?  Go on splits with the full-time missionaries in your ward.  The conversation may include the following topics:

• When you served your mission (I completed my mission about a decade ago).
• What it was like when you served (months after I came home, usage of the discussions was discontinued).
• What music you like (the same genre as them, but you don't recognize any of the bands that they name that don't count as "classic rock").

I don't regret my time recently spent with the Elders, but man is it weird being on the other side of the interaction.