On A More Serious Note: Not Good Enough For Me

With the heavy "discussion" about the issue of same-sex marriage this week, I have seen and heard the arguments on both sides of the issue.  None of the arguments are new to me, or likely to anyone.  I served an LDS mission in Fresno, California from 2007-2009 in the heat of Proposition 8.  Growing up in northern Utah and never really having discussed the issue, I felt very unprepared to respond to the questions I received from people on the issue of same-sex marriage.  Now that I've had some time to think about it, I've realized that most of the major arguments both for and against support of same-sex marriage are really missing the point.

There are masses upon masses of people who claim that those who have homosexual feelings should have the right to marry whomever they want.  After all, what business is it of mine what they do with their lives?  Do they not have the right to be happy and to spend their lives with the person they love?  Shouldn’t we be more concerned about children having parents who love them than we are about the genders of the parents?  Many of those stating these claims are my fellow Latter-Day Saints who feel that somehow our living Prophets and Apostles, who receive constant revelation from God, are being insensitive to the LGBT community.  While I admit that these claims make perfect sense logically, they are not good enough for me. 

I sincerely believe that those who have homosexual feelings have every right to the pursuit of happiness in this life.  What I know for sure is that while homosexual feelings are not a sin in and of themselves, homosexual relationships are sin.  I also know that no one is forced to sin – we may be very strongly tempted to sin, but we always have a choice.  Finally, I also know that because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can always find our way out of temptation and away from sin.

Therefore, the choice we have when any of us are tempted with any sin is to either turn to Christ and let Him help us through it, or to give in to sin.  Through years of my own mortal, sinful behavior, I have come to understand that when I sin it is because I lack the faith in Christ enough to allow Him to satisfy my desires for sin.  When I sin, it is because I forget that Christ declared that He is the Bread of Life, and that whosoever should come unto Him should never hunger.  When I sin, it is because I don’t trust enough in Him as the Living Water, even though He promised that whosoever drinketh of the Living Water should never thirst more.

So then, what kind of disciple of Jesus Christ would I be if I were to stand aside and say that I am OK with letting people give up on the Savior’s Atonement?  Do I not have a duty as a Christian, not even necessarily as a Latter-Day Saint but just simply as one who believes in Jesus Christ, to proclaim to the world that Christ has paid the price for our sins, and that we can go unto him and have our hearts changed?  I know as certain as you know that you are reading these words that there is a better way to find happiness than giving in to sin, for wickedness never was happiness.

What I do not know is if we can completely change our mortal appetite for sin.  In other words, I don’t know that anyone with homosexual feelings can ever change those feelings.  What I do know is that Christ can give us a new heart, and that as we turn to Him in all things, we can overcome the desire to sin with a desire to stay true to our faith in Christ.  That is not easy for anyone, but it is possible for everyone. 

If you were to ask me how one with homosexual feelings is to overcome those feelings, or find happiness in this life if they are expected to deny themselves of the kind of relationship with a loved one that we all come to desire, I would tell you that I don’t know.  I would tell you that I do know that it is possible because Christ’s Atonement has made it possible to keep His commandments and find happiness in this life among all circumstances.

Let us have a little more faith in Christ.  Let us turn to a loving Heavenly Father for guidance.  Let us trust that He will make all righteousness possible for us.  Let us stand up for what we believe in and invite others to have a little more faith in Christ as well.  I know that Christ lives and that anyone struggling with any sin can turn from their sins, give them to Christ, become a new person, and find happiness.

The Time I Got Really Freaked Out By An Old Person

For decades, or perhaps even centuries, educators of children have wrestled with the issue of how to discipline misbehaving students.  What is a teacher supposed to do when they have a rowdy, hyperactive, back-talking miscreant in their classroom?  What can an institution of general education do with students who fight in the hallways or bully other kids?  I suppose there is extensive reading available to those who wish to study these and other similar questions further, but the brain geniuses at my high school decided there would be separate grade in each of your classes that measured your behavior and contributions to the positive classroom environment.  If you got a “U” (which stood for Unsatisfactory, a shaming term isn’t it?) you had to “make it up” by paying a fine, performing community service, or working out a deal with the teacher that gave the “U” in the first place.  There were a variety of ways one could make up a poor citizenship grade, and there were a hundredfold more ways to earn a poor citizenship grade. 

One might assume that only the most heinous of infractions could land someone in the “U” bucket, but someone decided that tardiness, of all things, was the most heinous of them all.  Showing up late to class only four times had the potential to get you labeled as juvenile criminal according to the high school, and you were forced to make it up, otherwise you would be barred from graduation.  This is the situation I found myself in when, through (probably) no fault of my own, I had racked up enough tardies in Jazz Band for my teacher to decide to give me a “U.” 

I had never been faced with the task of making up a “U” before, so I talked to my teacher to see if I could strike out a quick deal with him to get it over with, but he insisted that he wanted me to have the experience of going to “The ‘U’ Class” to work it off.  The advantage, I thought, of going to the “U” class was that I would pay a smaller fine and not have to do community service.   The class took place right after school on a certain day of the month, and I showed up (on time) to get it over with.  Whether it was the usual protocol or not, those in charge of the class had decided that all the students would go to one of the local rest homes and help the patients there play Bingo.

By the time we all arrived at the rest home, the lively participants had already begun the game.  My fellow offenders were assigned out to different patients, and I was assigned to an elderly woman named June.  I introduced myself and attempted to engage in some form of small talk.  I casually asked her how long they had been playing the game, and she replied rather convincingly that she didn’t know.

Little did I know, she literally had no idea how long they had all been playing Bingo.

The game progressed excruciatingly uneventfully.  The prizes consisted of pieces of fruit, cans of non-carbonated beverages, and the occasional fruit snack or package of peanuts (for those who could still chew them.)  June was quiet most of the time, but the old woman sitting next to her was rather chatty.  Eventually it was announced that the Bingo game was over.  At that point, somehow the task fell to me to wheel June back to her room.  I asked a nurse for directions to the number of her room, and she responded with some vague directional that really only served to let me know that my destination was on the same floor we were currently on.  I walked into the hallway with June and set out to get where I was supposed to go.

As I walked slowly down the hallway, I couldn’t figure out the pattern of the room numbers.  They seemed to be in a completely random order and the signs on the ceiling were not helping me at all to find the room I was looking for.  What felt like tens of minutes (probably not very long at all) went by and I stopped and had to ask myself the hard question: “Where am I?”

Almost as soon as I had thought it, June said it.  “Where am I?”  Her question took me by surprise.  I assumed she had been living in the rest home, so it didn’t even dawn on me why she would be wondering where she was.  Why wouldn’t she know where she was?  She was where she lived!  I decided I must have imagined her asking that question and continued on.

I hadn’t taken more than two steps before she asked the same question.  “Where am I?  I don’t know where I am!”  Although this time, there was a little more urgency in her voice.  I decided still not to answer her, because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I didn’t know where I was either.  I didn’t want to lie to this poor old person who didn’t know where she was, and I decided that hopefully she might subscribe to the theory of “no news is good news.”

Not only had I not seen any people walking through the halls, but I had gotten myself completely turned around in this rest home and the numbers on the rooms around me weren’t even close to the room I was looking for.  At this moment of perfect confusion, June started yelling “Help!  Help!  I don’t know where I am!”  I stood in one spot thinking about how lost I was at the same time and yet there was still no help in sight.  It was all I could do to start screaming in absolute exasperation.

I realized that June had no idea at all that I was right behind her so I thought maybe it would be a good idea to try and calm her down.  I explained that I was just taking to her room, that she was safe with me, and that we were almost there.  My calm tone of voice surprised me and I congratulated myself on pulling myself together so quickly to be so awesome.

It didn’t work.

June became even more frantic in her cries for help.  I didn’t know what to do anymore but all of a sudden, I found her room.  There it was!  Right in front of me!  A beam of light coming out of heaven itself couldn’t have made my goal more inviting than it already was.  I was sure that as soon as June was in the familiarity of her own room, she would know where she was and would calm down.

That didn’t work either.

“What is this place?  I’ve never been in this room before!  I don’t want anything to do with this room!”  Did I have the right room after all?  I left June in her wheelchair and left the room to check the name on the door.  Sure enough, there it was.  And like an Angel sent from Heaven, (although apparently not with the same positive disposition) one of the nurses appeared out of nowhere and began debating with June regarding her residency there in the rest home.  June insisted that she wanted to go home, but the nurse assured her that her children had put her there and that the fact that her name was all over everything in the room meant she was supposed to be there.  I wasn’t sure if that was mean-spirited or not, but I didn’t stick around to find out if June was eventually convinced.

Needless to say, I pretty well managed to avoid getting another "U" after that.  I am also slightly afraid of old people.

Tactics for Evading Much-Talkers

Have you ever run across someone so unbelievably chatty that you wanted to murder them in the face?  I’m fairly certain I am not alone in this.  It always starts so innocently; perhaps you are standing in a hallway talking to someone, maybe you’re sitting in your apartment, maybe you’re walking through campus, but wherever you are, over-talkative people strike often and without mercy.  They’re not bad people, so you’ll say something like “Hey what’s up!” or, “Hey how’s it going?”  A normal person may respond with a simply reply or may actually repeat the same thing and go on their way.  Unfortunately, people who leave their mouths on autopilot take this as an open invitation to give you as much information about themselves in as much time it takes before you smack them across the face and take off running. 

As I was pondering on this problem recently, an idea came to me for an alternative greeting for people such as these that you would rather avoid talking to but don’t have the heart to treat them how you would truly like to treat them, i.e. telling them to just keep walking, or to get out of your apartment, or to please stop talking to you for the rest of eternity.  I thought I would share this idea with the masses so you could either share in the glory of avoiding long one-sided “conversations” or tell me it’s not working and you’re still getting attacked by useless information.

First of all, for this idea to work you must allow said chatterbox to greet you first.  This will work to your advantage anyways, because if they fail to acknowledge you, you are in no way obligated to say anything to them and you can move along and count your blessings.  In the event they do extend the first salutation, the magical phrase is this: “Hey, good to see you!”  If you say this with the correct tone of voice, as if you are completely fixated on your current destination, train of thought, task, etc. and have no intentions of deviating from that course of action, you can almost certainly avoid any additional talking with that person and continue safely on your way.

Let me explain why this phrase is ideal for avoiding endless-talkers.  First and foremost, “Good to see you” is a common phrase exchanged at the end of a conversation before two or more people part ways.  Although it is commonly spoken at the beginning of conversations as well, there is definitely a difference in the tone of voice that could convey either “Good to see you, I can’t wait to talk to you right now!” or “Good to see you, it’s been great to finally talk to you again!”  This goes back to the importance of using the right tone of voice when employing this evasive tactic and ensuring that your tone of voice says, “Good to see you, but not good enough to spend precious moments of such a short lifetime speaking to you!”

The real gold in this phrase is that it is, in fact, a one-sided conversation in and of itself.  To explain this, let me break down this phrase into four pieces:

Hey — This is the most versatile part of the magical phrase, as the word “Hey” could potentially be switched out for any useless salutational phrase of your choosing.  Words like “Hello,” or “Hi,” or “Howdy,” or even a light-hearted “Howdily-doodily-do!”  Any way you say it, this takes care of the greeting part of your conversation.

Good — Not only is this word thinly veiling how you feel about seeing the person again, but it also serves to answer the most common first question in any conversation; “How are you?” or “How’s life?”

To — Normally, this word would be part of the infinitive “to see” which is what “Good” is describing.  In our original context, “to see” is referring to “you,” the person who you are desperately trying to avoid.  However, in this breakdown, “to” is doing something entirely different.  Now that you’ve firmly established your greeting and the first part of your one-sided conversation with “Hey, good,” “to” is representing everything that you could possibly say from the beginning of the conversation to the end of it.  Much like we say “A to Z,” or as I so masterfully eluded to about 20 words ago, “Beginning to end,” “to” here is summing up your entire possible conversation into one word and getting right to the grand finale:

See You — Herein lies the genius of this phrase.  Not only is this phrase casual and all encompassing, but it also has a built-in parting exclamation.  What’s more is that because it is only “see you,” you have not specified exactly when you would like to see that person again.  You might as well have said, “See you when I would like to see you again, which would preferably be never, but in an extreme case, at your funeral.”

The only downside to using this phrase is if you happen to come across someone of whom it actually is good to see, you may have to change your approach.  For example: “Greetings, friend!  I am pleased to see you at this time and would like to catch up on old times with you through friendly conversation and banter!” or something non-threatening like that.

Scottholemew's Written Grammar Appendix

This week I was in a lecture in my Business Communications class.  One of our areas of study throughout the semester has been on proper written grammar.  In our discussions, there was always this lingering feeling that the correct way to write anything depended on either who would be reading your work or who was giving you advice on how to write it, but the difference was never really big enough or subjective enough to be of much significance.  Until this week.  In this particular lecture, the professor gave us two completely opposite examples of a phrase and asked us which one was correct.  When she told us the answer she felt was correct, another student in the class pointed out that the author of our particular textbook teaches that the opposite was correct.

I wish I had written down what the exact phrase was, but the moral of the story that I came out of that class with was that written English is completely subjective and it does not matter in the slightest whose rules you are using when writing.  Therefore, I give you:  "Scottholemew's Written Grammar Appendix"

Rule #1:  When writing a number, many often wonder whether it is proper to write out the number in word format, or whether they can just put the number.  I say, write it out IN ALL CAPS.  Additionally, it is appropriate to begin the number with "#" and ending it with an asterisk (*).  It is also recommended to put an explanation of the number at the end of the sentence.

     example:  "I counted #FOUR HUNDRED THIRTY SIX* people at the seminar *436."

Additionally, when the number is being expressed as a measurement, like dollars or meters, it is now appropriate to do it Twitter style, like this:

     "Your payment of (@DOLLARS)#ONE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN AND ELEVEN*(@CENTS) is now due *$1,627.11."

Or,

     "Please check your tires every #SIX MILLION(@KILOMETERS)* *6,000,000km."

Rule #2:  In a series of adjectives, why overload a sentence with unnecessary commas?  Just use slashes!  Also, use an ampersand (&) in place of the final slash.

     example:  "I would like to order #THREE*(@POUNDS) of lean/juicy/delicious/fantastic/meaty/beautiful/edible/great/sweet&spicy ground beef, please *3lbs."

Rule #3:  Ever had trouble distinguishing between paragraphs?  Not if you format your paragraphs like this:

Many things are important in life.  Some people think that water is pretty important.  That’s debatable.  Food/clothing/shelter&companionship are equally controversial.  Apparently, the most important thing in life is knowing how to format business reports.  This is the message I seem to be getting in my classes. Good thing I only have #ONE* more report to write in that class *1.

Homework in Conspiracy Theory

I really wish I could make stuff up as good as this.  But when I come across events like the following in real life, it serves as a perfect reminder to all of us that sometimes truth really is stranger than fiction.

I was reminded today of a young boy I met in California, about eleven years old, who had a strange theory.  He was absolutely convinced that inflation was being caused by the U.S. Mint.  Now, I've taken a few economics courses in my day and I understand that this is a completely reasonable theory.  The more money you make and print, the higher inflation goes up.  However, the difference between reality and this kid was that the image he had in his mind of what was going on was that our friendly U.S. Mint executives were sitting in their offices, essentially holding down the "Print" button 24/7 in an evil plot to drive up the inflation rate as high as they could as they laugh maniacally and smoke cigars that become more and more expensive by the second.

I could see that this was the idea he had not only because of the possessed, hypnotic look he had in his eyes as he explained this to me, but because his solution was to nuke the U.S. Mint, and he was dead serious about it.  This child looked like he had come straight out of a horror movie and needless to say, he frightened me a great deal.  I was quite relieved to know that I would only once have to try and convince him that Jesus still loves him even though the U.S. Mint was apparently run by Satan himself.

It makes me wonder where children get ideas such as these.  I always thought it was from crazy parents, but some essays I came across at work today made me think that perhaps my junior high school was one of the few schools in the country that did not offer a class on Conspiracy Theory.  Without going into all the painstaking details of the business, in my part-time job I deal with grade-school essays and poems that are sent in for publishing.  My job is to type the entries that have been accepted into the computer.  Now, just because they end up on my desk does not mean that they must be published.  You would not believe some of the strange things that kids come up with these days and a lot of those somehow make it all the way to me.  Today was one of those days.

I began with a packet of entries, most of which had already been entered into the system, three of which were left for me to type.  They were all from 7th-grade students, not much older than the aforementioned demon-child. The first essay started out normally enough, talking about a current event.  Specifically, the oil spill in the gulf.  It didn't take much more than a few sentences for me to realize that this poor girl was severely misinformed.  After claiming that B.P. crashed and "exploded" the oil tanker on purpose, she lost all credibility in my eyes.  She also discussed how B.P. was not actually cleaning up the oil, but would just take it straight out of the ocean as the orders for more oil came in.

She further went on to explain that if Americans did not stop "taking" oil from B.P., we would lose many animal species to extinction like ducks, penguins, seals, "baby belugas," and other such cute sea animals.  I must admit that I've never actually been to the gulf coast, but I'm pretty sure that half of the animals she listed off do not live in the gulf.  Maybe she was talking about other areas that B.P. drills in.  I'm not quite sure why, but she stated something to the effect that since there was oil in the gulf, obviously there was also oil in…the great lakes.  "COINCIDENCE?  I think not."  Let me know if any of you are following her logic there.

Ultimately, her essay was rejected due to the fact that she rambled on way beyond her word limit.  I set it aside and wondered what the brain geniuses from this school could come up with next.  I was not disappointed.

The next essay got off to a rocky start by asking if I was aware how much money the government was stealing from me to fund space exploration.  He explained that they do this by sending random, inexplicable bills for large amounts of money to us.  Have any of you received a one of these bills?  Because he stated this like everyone had been wondering where these mysterious bills had been coming from.  He went on to blame the very act of space exploration for inflation, unemployment, the current state of the government, and natural disasters.  You read that correctly.  If you thought the moon was evil enough for causing the tides, I'll bet you didn't know the hellish chaos being caused by all the satellites and rockets being thrown out into the void.  Specifically, tornadoes and fires.  He wrapped up this brilliant thesis discussing how Americans need to turn back to the concept of popular sovereignty to stop the government from wasting any more money on space exploration.  This essay was also rejected.

Seriously though, where are kids getting this stuff?  I don't know about you but the most pressing current issue on my mind was whether or not it was really OK to keep your hands in the air during a roller coaster.  I think these are the type of kids that need to be tied to a chair and forced to watch several hours of Spongebob Squarepants to mellow them out a little bit.  After rejecting the second essay, I was seriously doubtful about whether the third essay would make it through the "Bizzaro-meter."

In the end, I let the third one slide even though it implied that the NFL was responsible for animal cruelty.

"What's This Big Square Thing?"

The following is an experience I had and documented earlier this year.  I posted it on my Facebook page, and my sister posted it on her blog:  http://gloriouscliche.wordpress.com/

"Most people in the older generations are under the strong impression that all of us in the new generation or pretty technology-savvy. Or at least computer-savvy. This has been one of my own strongly-held beliefs… until I took Management Information Systems this semester at USU. I’ve now realized that there is a large portion of the population that, when staring point-blank into a computer monitor, become at least three times as dumb as they normally are. Let me explain.

For anyone not familiar with MIS (Management Information Systems), the class itself is basically set up thus: it teaches you some basic principles of business management (specifically interacting in the Information Systems side of things), it covers basic and intermediate Microsoft Excel techniques, and touches a bit on web design. It really is very simple, or so I thought.

A perfect example of people freaking out in front of a computer happened today in class. Our professor told us he was going to go over some new Excel features that we hadn’t used before. Like ALWAYS, we’re required to start by opening up an excel file that has all the information on it so all we have to do is manipulate it the way we’re supposed to. So, the professor opens up the folder with all the files and explains that instead of only opening up one file, we would be opening up *GASP* FOUR files. After naming only two of them, a loud buzz falls over the classroom as people start freaking out before they’ve even opened up a file.

“Wait, which file is it?”

“I don’t see that one!”

“Is it this one?!”

“I still don’t… oh wait, here it is! Wait no, that’s not it!”

Ten hands go up before he even finishes telling us which files to open. In hopes of answering people’s questions in one shot rather than individually, he tells us that two of them are Text files, one is the excel file, and the fourth is an Access file. Unfortunately this just further confuses everyone since apparently no one knows what a text file is (even though we just finished creating HTML on Notepad) and everyone gets confused when they open it up (if they actually find it) and, heaven forbid, it’s NOT an excel file.

So while the professor has to go around and help half the class just find the files we need, I open up Solitaire and manage to win my first game before the professor makes it back up to the front of the classroom.

…

Okay. So we’ve finally found all the files, so we’re ready to start and blast through this thing right?

Step #1: Click on File > Save As… to save all the files to the desktop so we can find them easily when we need them later. Simple enough right?

While everyone is happily saving along, all of a sudden we hit another bump in the road. Uh oh, the read-only Access file doesn’t work like all the other ones!

Once the professor realizes this, he shows the simple solution up on the big screen. Solution: The “Save As…” button is in a different spot.

The familiar hum returns as people become confused. A different spot? Will it still save my file? Why is does it say this on the screen? How come my screen looks like an excel file and not an access file?

Just when the professor thinks everyone is on the same page, another hand goes up. “Uhm, my Access file didn’t save to the desktop!” Professor goes over to computer, and shows him *once again* where the right button is.

Wow, we haven’t even started working with our Excel file have we??? Ok, let’s get started. Step #2: Click this button, and choose this option and choose this text file that we just saved to the desktop to import the data.

Miraculously, everyone seems to be on the same page up to this point.

Ok, this box will come up. MAKE SURE THIS OPTION IS CHOSEN and then click Next, and you will see this box come up.

The hum returns as everyone starts talking and fifteen hands go up because a different box came up. It was quickly apparent that it was because the wrong option from the first box was highlighted, but he is forced to explain it individually fifteen times.

Just as he’s about to move on, (I’m really not making this up or just trying to throw out stereotypes) this blonde girl across the room shouts out that she still has no idea what files to save to the desktop.

On the bright side, I’m getting really good at Solitaire.”